#same way I think they should share an apple without batting an eye

[worstloki]

Thor and Loki sharing a plate and everyone thinks it’s so weird but they are ignorant of the truth. The brothers are avoiding the need to do dishes after every meal as they can now alternate the washing

[hournites]

Bait & Switch

Hournite Week 2021 - Day 3: Secret Admirer 

~.~

“And then we can head to the Pit Stop for—eeep!!” Beth jumped from her locker as a piece of white paper landed in her hair.

 “Oooooh!” Yolanda poked her side. “Is that another letter?” 

 Beth reached up for the standard printed paper sheet folded in three. She glanced at it, biting her lip as she scanned the page. “Looks like it, yeah!” 

 “I’m sorry,” Rick interrupted when Courtney grabbed Beth’s arm to squeeze. “Another what?” 

 “Beth’s been getting letters in her locker.” Courtney pointed to the little green shelf attachment Beth had on her inner locker next to magnets and pictures of Yolanda, Court, and Rick. A small pile of like creased letters accumulated there, sitting innocuously. 

 “Love letters,” Yolanda chimed in. 

 Rick’s frown stayed in place. “Since when did Beth have a boyfriend?” 

 “I don’t,” Beth corrected him. “I mean, not yet? I don’t know? I haven’t reached out or anything, I just started getting them a few days ago. I’d ask Chuck to scan them for fingerprints or something, but...you know.” She laughed a bit, pushing down the way Chuck’s blown in frames still stabbed at her heart. “Anyway, there’s no handwriting since it's printed, see?” She handed it to Rick. 

 “Hey Beth, I notice your yellow shoes.” His eyebrows raised past his hairline. “Why does this kid have a foot fetish?” 

 “Rick!” Courtney scolded. 

 “Sounds like Bowin.” 

 Yolanda scoffed at the Isaac comment. “As if Isaac had the balls.” 

“To you, maybe.” Beth took the letter back when she realized Rick wouldn't appreciate it. “To me, it’s kinda sweet?” She flashed her friends a shy smile. “They always have something to say about what I’m wearing.” 

 “So they’re watching you,” Rick deadpanned. “Not creepy at all.” 

 Her face fell. “You think it’s creepy? Like ISA creepy?” 

 “Rick!” This time it was Yolanda. Courtney swatted his arm. 

 “Hey!” 

 Yolanda veered Rick off to the side, speaking in a hushed tone. “Believe me, you and I both know the guys here can be horrible, but this all seems very PG. I don’t see anything wrong with it, and neither does Courtney. Can we not ruin this for Beth?” 

 Rick pursed his lips, but Yolanda crossed her arms until he gave in. 

 ~.~ 

 One letter turned into two, and then three. Rick leaned against the metal row of lockers as Beth tried to catch the fluttering paper before it touched the dirty floor. 

 “More mystery mail?” 

 “Second one today, I didn’t get one yesterday, I was wondering if they forgot.” She tucked it in her pocket and went for her lunch bag.

 “You’re not going to read it?”

 “I thought you weren’t interested.” 

 Rick straightened his back. “No no, I’m interested! I’m very interested.”

 “You just want to make fun of what they said.”

 “No!” Though he was lying and Beth knew it. 

 They walked to the cafeteria, Yolanda and Court were already eating their lunches.

 “C’mon,” Rick pestered the girls. He leaned his arms on the table conspiratorially. “Don’t we all want to hear what Beth’s secret lover has to say today?”

 “I don’t have a secret lover,” she protested, but the girls got excited at the news of Beth getting locker mail twice and Rick leaned back in his plastic chair, satisfied.

 “Secret admirer, then.”

 Beth shot him another look of exasperation, but he merely raised his eyebrows at her.

 “What,” he countered. “Is that not what it is?”

 “Um, yeah,” she scooted in her chair, pressing the letter down and smoothing it out, refusing to look up at any of them, embarrassed. “We can call them that. Aw! They said I’m pretty!” Beth squinted at the paper. “Oh, they spelled it wrong.” 

 As much as he found Beth’s notes weird as hell, he got a rise out of watching her stammer and flush at all the attention. Courtney’s usually the one to flail around with massive blushing and her awkward high pitched voice when confronted about Cameron. In all honesty, hearing Courtney gush about Cameron without either of them making real moves on each other got tiring. Yolanda never looked like she wanted to talk about a love life for herself ever again, so Beth’s bright eyes reading out loud her dumb letters were new. He’d never seen her so eager to get to her locker. She’d drag him out of their class together to make a beeline for it. Really, it was cute. Maybe that’s why Rick couldn’t stop teasing her. 

 ~.~

 Later that week, the group sat together at lunch as usual. Courtney’s hair would not stay up in the messy bun she’d been trying and failing to pull off. She kept wrapping a hair elastic around the ball of blonde curls. Rick watched as she huffed out an annoyed breath at the fifth time it flopped over the front of her face. 

 “You need a mirror,” Rick pipped in unnecessarily. He smirked when she glared at him. 

 “I give up!” Courtney reached across the lunch table to grab Yolanda’s wrist when she gave up for the sixth time. “Help?” 

 Yolanda laughed, scooting her chair over and said, “I’ll just give you a braid.” 

 “Oh!” Beth jumped in her seat as if she just remembered something. “My letter today said something really nice about my hair!” She unzipped her school bag to bring it out. Yolanda peered over at it while she continued to fix Courtney’s mess. She read it out loud for them. 

 “That’s not even that great,” Rick pointed out when Beth finished. “They like your hair. So what? Your hair always looks great, there’s no effort involved on their part.” 

 Beth frowned at her letter. “Really?” 

 “It’s superficial, don’t you think? They don’t say anything about why they like you as a person.” 

 “Yeah,” Courtney cut in. “Probably because they don’t know her that well? Cut them some slack?” 

 “I don’t need to cut anyone any slack.” 

 Yolanda took a bite out of her apple. “If you liked someone, what would you do?” She batted her eyelashes at him as she chewed on her snack, clearly expecting a lame answer.

 “I don’t like anyone.”

 Yolanda shared a look with Courtney. Courtney would do that a lot with Mike and Beth would do that a lot with himself but when Yolanda did that with Courtney, Rick always felt a bit paranoid. 

 “Is that illegal or something?” Rick muttered, stabbing his fork into his food.

 “No,” Yolanda replied, dragging out the syllable carefully. “But let's say hypothetically that you did, would your answer be the same?”

 Now Beth was waiting intently for his answer as well. 

 Rick pushed his plastic tray away, no longer hungry. “If I liked someone I’d let them know… like a normal person.”

 Courtney stifled a laugh that irked him. Her ice blue painted nails covered her mouth to half hide whatever joke she had within. 

 Yolanda tugged at one of her stray curls as a warning. “Court.” 

 “What now?” Rick groused. 

 Courtney leaned forward, gripping the edges of the table. “Would you actually?”

 “No offense Court, but if I liked a girl, I wouldn’t run off to tell you about it.”

 Now Courtney really did laugh, but Rick was dead serious. If he liked someone, he wouldn’t make it overcomplicated. If it were someone that could actually like him back, he’d just be honest with them. No frilly notes or secret rendez-vous. 

 He pushed Beth’s little love letter across the table. Beth took it wordlessly, mouth pressed in a careful line, eyes inquisitive. 

 Not that Rick had much time to think about what he’d do if he did like anyone. There wasn’t much time for Rick to develop feelings other than the deep-rooted anger and hatred that brewed for years over the conditions of his life. 

Rick shook his head at her. This wasn’t anything complicated. If he were the one secretly crushing on Beth, he’d tell her. He said as much to the girls when they pestered him some more. “It’s not that hard.”

 ~.~

 Beth got new letters every day for the next week. It became routine for her to read them during their lunch period. The girls pushed their chairs closer together to scrutinize the text, eyes peeled for anyone they might think to be the secret admirer. Rick played along half-heartedly, though mostly ate his lunch suppressing eyerolls. 

  “That top looks great on you. Also, why did you take off your rainbow necklace? It's cute.”

 “Hmm,” said Yolanda. “Maybe it’s a girl.” 

 Rick scraped his plastic fork against the paper plate on his lunch tray. “Maybe they should stop staring at Beth’s shirt.”

  “I don’t mind,” Beth said, looking up at him. 

 Rick scraped the styrofoam plate again. These letters weren’t amusing anymore.

 ~.~

 Beth approached him that day after training. She drummed her fingers against the green cloth of her cape along her arms, craning her neck up to look at him as he raked through his upswept hair. They were in the loft of the Pit Stop where they’d dumped their bags. Beth was on the couch, in no hurry to change into fresh clothes because she hadn’t sweat through hers the way he had. Chuck was still offline, so she had been cautioned to stay a few paces behind the others for protection. She usually chose to stick by Rick. 

 Rick shook out his aching fingers. His hood was hanging low over his shoulders and the heaviness of his suit weighed after the effects of his tapered strength. 

 “What?” he asked after several moments, acutely aware that she just stood there, staring.  

 “Is there anything you’re not suspicious of? Sometimes you just have to trust people.” 

 Rick sighed, turning around. He thought this was about the training or the sweat or the way his hair stuck up like a cartoon and he didn’t have enough gel to smooth it back down, but Beth clearly wanted to revisit their conversation from lunch. He’d rather not. “If this is about the letters—” 

 “It is. What’s your deal with them, really? Even my mom knows! She thinks it’s funny! I’m having fun!” She grinned widely and threw out her hands to back up her words. Like he needed to see her laugh off the fact someone was following her around the school without coming forward about it to prove it wasn’t something to be reasonably concerned about. 

 Rick sat down beside her on the couch, taking a moment to articulate his phrasing. He didn’t want Beth to bristle at his tone or words. He’d made the mistake enough, seen the hurt written on her face way too many times. She could handle his heat, but it always left Rick feeling shitty to realize she needed to guard herself around him. Steel herself to get offended. He needed to stop offending her, Beth was quite frankly the kindest person Rick knew. This was why Rick felt strongly about the twenty-seven ways this secret admirer situation emerged red flags. “Don’t you want to know who they’re from?” 

 Beth shrugged. “It’d be nice.” 

 “Would you date them if they revealed themselves?” 

 “Um.” Beth flushed. “Maybe? I don’t know. I’m not planning any weddings but I’ve thought about it, I guess.” She side-eyed him. “Are you going all big brother on me now?” 

 Rick almost said yes, but bit his tongue at the last second, making a face. It didn’t feel quite right. He opened his mouth instead to retort about protecting the team. Beth accepted it well enough, wrapping her arms around his middle to thank him for bothering enough to care. Rick stiffened at her hug, thrown off by the carefree way she clung to him. He placed his hand on her back and she pushed her head further against his shirt. 

 “I don’t want you upset with me.” 

 Her words stabbed at his gut. “I’m not,” he said, surprised and dismayed. Of course she’d perceive it that way even after he tried. “I’m not, Beth. Though I guess you’re right, trusting people isn’t my thing.”

 “I know, I didn’t mean to be so defensive about it.” She looked up at him and removed her cowl. Her hair sprung out high, decompressed from the tight, restraining fabric.  “It’s just that I wish when a note makes me smile...You’d smile back at me.” 

 He didn’t say anything for a moment. Beth crossed her legs, eyes and hands now at the clasp of her vintage cape. Her hair expanded, reclaiming its crown over her head. It bloomed in front of him. Not just the hair, her wisdom and hope and trust to share that so candidly with him. 

 “I’ll try?”

 A tiny pleased smile began as her thumb looped through the hook. “You will?” 

 “Yes,” Rick said. 

 The green of the cape flashed in front of them. Only a trace of that smile remained once it was neatly folded on her lap.  “Thank you.”

 ~.~

 Rick tried. 

 It was like now that Rick gave her his disgruntled blessing of the elusive secret admirer, Beth no longer capped the word count on her inner novel of thoughts about it. She’d speak freely without checking back or worrying that Rick would make any comments and Rick had pretty much shut up about it to her face. 

 This was her thing, and it made her happy. Why did it matter what Rick thought about it anyway? 

 Though it did matter, exactly because of how happy those typed letters made her. It wasn’t wrong that Beth saw the best in people or found cheerfulness in all uncertain things. Rick was glad for it, honestly. That persistence in her wrestled with his own stubbornness— somehow it evened each other out. Beth’s drive blazed a fire that refused to be stomped out. Rick liked that drive in her. He appreciated it, even, just as much as it sometimes drove him insane. He didn’t want to be the one to smother that flame— Not him, or anyone else. 

 ~.~ 

 Rick didn’t realize he was intentionally hanging around Beth’s locker to scout out her secret admirer until he caught them in the act. 

 He straightened up from his slouched position against the wall across the drama room, taking in the uneven dirty blond haircut and letterman jacket worn by the person in question. 

At first, Rick figured the guy was at the wrong locker. He stood there rummaging into his gym bag for something. But then he produced a familiar folded paper and Rick realized this was the guy. Beth’s guy. It got very real. Beth had a guy. This guy wanted Beth. Liked her. He liked her and wrote stupid letters every day with things in it that actually made her want to like him back. And he had freckles and looked pretty short, and would probably make her laugh and would offer her his jacket to show her off to the dicks on the football team. 

Rick’s eyes narrowed, seizing him up. That was right, the guys on the football team were dicks. Beth’s secret admirer was friends with them?

 She wouldn’t take that well. 

 He looked new. Young, even. Not any of the faces he’d cataloged that tormented Yolanda over the last year and a half. Should he follow him? 

 Rick lurked. 

 The kid glanced around nervously, letter slotted in the hinges for the locker. How many days had it been? Two and a half weeks? How was this guy still skittish for sneaking around the school to send love letters to a girl? Wouldn’t he know one of these days he’d get caught?

Alright, Rick had two options. He could turn around and keep this to himself. Never say a word to anyone and let this guy and Beth work out whatever they have and just.... watch.

Or he could walk up there right now and get information. What the hell is your deal? Do you have a foot fetish? Are you another supervillain freak? How did you meet Beth? Why are your notes so uninspired? Do you even know her? Are you embarrassed that you’re into her? Why do you care?

Rick's legs marched him over, having made up his mind.

“Hey!” It came out harsher than he intended by the reaction of the football player. He yelped, backing up against the locker and widening his eyes at Rick. 

 “It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” This poor kid’s voice cracked. 

 Rick squinted at him. “Who the hell are you?” 

 “Huh?” 

 “Your name. Parents? Date of birth. Alien status?” 

 The kid didn’t say anything. Rick sighed, already regretting it but knowing he’d have to in order to speed this along. He slammed his fist against the nearby locker, cornering him. The kid looked properly terrified. At least it was something to know those Rick Harris rumors were still thriving. “Well?” 

 “Joe! Joseph Kindersef. Son of Harold and Shoan Kindersef. August 9th, 2006. Um, Non-alien?” 

 “Sounds like something an alien would say.” 

 “I swear I’m not an alien! I’m just a freshman!” 

 “If I back off, are you gonna run?”

 “I’m on the football team!” he yelled out as if that question was undignified.

  Rick rolled his eyes. “You’re fourteen years old. I don’t care what team you’re on. Are you gonna run?”

 “No.”

 Rick relented, pulling back to put some room between them. “So, you’re the one writing to Beth for the last few weeks?”

 “Yes, but—”

 Rick pulled a face. “She’s a bit old for you, don’t you think?”

 “Maybe, but—”

 “Beth really likes the letters, okay? She doesn’t need someone that’s too much of a coward to come up and talk to her. So pick it up and do something meaningful or leave her alone.” 

 Joseph squeaked. “I can’t.”

 “Okay so—She really likes yellow and cute shit so try sticky notes to include—“ Rick backtracked and paused. That didn’t sound normal. “What? You can’t? Yes, you can. You just have to find the guts to tell her who you are and ask her out so she can finally meet you so she can decide if you’re worth a—”

 “No!” Joe cut Rick off. “I can’t leave her alone!” 

 Rick’s stomach sank. Joe heaved, eyes blown back wide as he grimaced as if waiting to get yelled at again.

 But Rick lost the wind in his rant, lowering his voice to a shocked whisper. “What do you mean? You don’t…want to be Beth’s boyfriend?” 

 “No! I don’t really know her! I don’t get what the big deal is!”

 Rick nearly slammed him back against the metal row. “Then why are you leading her on?”

 “Oh my god!” He weaseled out of Rick’s grip, hands up in surrender. “I swear, I can explain! Just don’t beat me up, I get enough of that from the team!” He dropped his gym bag and kicked it, yanking off his letterman jacket. “God, I’m sick of this!”

 Rick was at a loss for words. He clenched his jaw, keeping his fuming to a minimum to give Joe a chance. Not that he deserved one, in Rick’s honest opinion, but Beth probably would’ve wanted to at least hear his case before Rick undoubtedly scared her only potential prospect of a boyfriend away with a piss stain in his pants. 

 He furrowed his brows. “Sick of what?” 

 “This!” Joe gestured at the floor. “Blue Valley High! The goddamn team!” 

 It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The thought of it all made Rick sick to his stomach. Of course, in a twisted way it all made perfect sense. There was no villain here, only two victims. Raze the newbie recruit on the team and mercilessly bully the girl that raises her hand one too many times in class all at once. Force Joe to do the dirty work and laugh at Beth’s disappointment when her non-existent secret admirer gets shoved in her face. 

 Wonderful. Great plan for a group of football meatheads that barely even grieved Henry Jr’s death. Rick hated this school so much. 

 “Can’t you just stop?”

 “No!” Joe insisted. “I can’t, I would’ve if I could!” 

 “What are they doing to you?” 

 Rick knew the answer wasn’t going to be pleasant. He crossed his arms, eyebrows raised as he stared up at the ceiling while Joe lamented over the football hierarchy in disarray, wanting to make it past waterboy dweeb status, razing punishments incorporating the abandoned construction porta potty beyond the field parking lot, and the daily checks on Joe the team did to ensure he’s following their crazy rules.  

 “You know what I wanna say?” Rick told the guy when his sob story was over. “I wanna say that’s your problem.” Because after this and his last encounter with Sportsmaster Rick was very close to never watching any organized game in America ever again. 

 “It is my problem.” 

 “Actually, it’s not.” Rick scowled. “You’ve entangled Beth Chapel into this, so you’ve made it my problem.” 

 Joe stared at him. Rick muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his face. For some reason he pictured Courtney. If she were here right now with him, Rick could perfectly imagine what she’d say: This was part of what it meant to be a superhero. You are a superhero now. 

 Rick knew this, theoretically, but thinking about that word in association to himself still felt beyond stupid. Stupid, but so painfully accurate by the way a feeling ate at his insides to help this pathetic freshman. Not just because of Beth. Rick had a magical hourglass and a skintight suit and belonged to a secret crime-fighting team. But it wasn’t just about crime, it was about injustice. And this fits that bill to a tee. 

 He flapped his hand at Joe before he could change his mind. “Go. I’ll take care of it.” 

 “Huh?” 

 “You don’t have to do this anymore.” 

 “But they check at lunch every day for the letters and there are still two and a half weeks left in the month—” 

 “I know!” Rick groaned just thinking about all the ways this was going to ruin his entire schedule. The sneaking and evasion. The random class cutting he’d have to pull off inconveniently now that Yolanda and Pat have drilled it into Rick that he needed to get a decent pass... 

 Joe stepped away, looking over his shoulder at the deserted hallway, unable to believe his newfound freedom. “You need to make it sound like you care or else they’ll get suspicious,” he stressed.

 “I get it.” Rick shooed him away. “Trust me. I get it.” 

 The anxious red splotches all over Joe’s face faded away. He sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his varsity jacket. “You really want to help me?”

 “Just tell me what I need to do to make this work.”

 He pulled out his dad’s notebook from his bag as Joe ranted about the nonsensical expectations the football team had of him, and what they had planned for Beth via public embarrassment by the end of the month. His dad’s handwriting blurred past as he clicked the top of his ballpoint to start on a fresh page, jotting it all down. He ended up with over a page and a half.  A page is more than he thought he’d need. It was excessive and tedious and stupid enough to put an end to today. He wouldn't, though, end it today. Because of one thing Rick knew for certain. He was going to one-up the Stockholm secret admirer deal Joe had going on. Two weeks of nice deeds weren’t completely out of his reach. 

 ~.~

 Rick stared at the blank word document in front of him, tucked into the furthest computer monitor desk at the very corner of the library. Sneaking in here was easy, though it was stressful enough to make Rick’s hands sweat. It was dumb, nobody questioned a student at the library over lunch. The tenth graders came in anxious packs to prepare for their PSATs, and the juniors freaked out over college pamphlets at the communal tables. Nobody would care that Rick Harris was hunched over a keyboard, glancing down at his lap to refer to an original letter for help. 

 Beth didn’t even notice Rick swiped a letter from her. Her locker door swung open while she chatted about the science homework and then the muffins she planned on making and then the recipe Barbara sent to her phone that she pinned on her Pinterest board. That Pinterest board was very important, something she’d curated since elementary school after her mom accidentally forgot to include a lunch for Beth, exhausted by the first surgery she’d operated on as the new head surgeon at Blue Valley Medical Centre. This was all new information Rick only learned from their walk to get her lunch box, so Beth’s talkativeness did have its advantages some days. Rick reached over and plucked a folded letter from the pristine metal basket right over her head to stuff in his back pocket. Even if she were ever tall enough to catch that, the muffin recipe had too many steps for her to list to ever let her take her eyes off her phone. 

 Rick stood firm in his belief that Joe’s letters were creepy and lame, regardless of how the creepy and lameness parts were now halfway excusable under Joe’s duress and whatever. Still, he couldn’t deny he needed one in his possession to study. At least as an example for formatting one correctly if he wanted to pull this off; the font and size had to be exactly the same. And, most importantly, the letter provided a base of comparison to work from to make the letters going forward less weird. 

 Rick knew Beth better. He could do so much better. And he should, anyway. There’s no harm done. He’s going to have to tell Beth at the end of the month what exactly happened to her secret admirer, so she’ll know Rick became the author somewhere along the line. He’d never be caught dead authoring notes that made it sound like he had a foot fetish or some other weirdness. And if Beth likes the letters more, Joe won’t get as much shit either. 

 So why wasn’t this working?

  Hey, Beth. 

 Rick stared at the screen. His eyes were dry, he needed to blink. A Hey, Beth wasn’t going to get anyone anywhere, and this letter had to be slotted through that locker rust a good half hour before the class that went into lunch.

  I just wanted to let you know how kind you are. I saw you today give away your extra hair elastic to the other girl in the hallway—

 No.

  Beth, 

Your laugh is out of this world. 

 Rick slammed his palm against the backspace button, the stiff keyboard jam startled the senior girl half-napping over her notes beside him. He deleted the word document altogether and started over. Nobody needed to see that. That sentence came out of nowhere. Forget that it was bad and sounded like Hallmark garbage, reading the words on the computer mortified him. Maybe it wasn’t out of limit to find Joe and force him here to do the actual writing himself. At least as a draft for Rick to work with. No wonder Joe’s letters came out awkward and stilted. But where would he even find Joe and was the answer something Rick even wanted to find out? 

 Rick didn’t like Beth like this. How was he going to write to make it seem like it could be implied that he did? This was fucking hard. 

 “Since when do you study?” 

 Rick crumpled Joe’s letter into his fist. He minimized the tab for the Word document. Yolanda’s braids swept over the built-in camera of Rick’s computer monitor, peering down at him with an eyebrow raised.

 “Since today.” He clicked on the school browser to type in one of the chemistry learning sites he went bleary-eyed scrolling through last semester late at night. 

 “When’s the test?”

 He shrugged. Her braids swung over his screen again. Rick shot her an exasperated high brow, flicking them away. 

 Yolanda shook her head at him and took the next seat. The binders she pulled out for her math assignment told Rick she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Fine. Rick put the letter on hold. It wasn’t something he wanted to rush anyway. 

 ~.~

  Beth, 

Your laugh is special. Because you can make anything sound great, and find laughter in everything. It’s what you do and who you are. I wouldn’t change that about you, ever. 

 Rick skipped the last ten minutes of class to get to Beth’s locker while the hallway was still empty. In slipped the letter. Out went his breath. 

 They were just words. Once he was able to wrap his head around that fact it got a lot easier. They were just words. Nice words. For Beth. It didn’t really matter if they were poetic or fancy. They were genuine, though, because Rick wasn’t going to lie on top of everything. But they weren’t in the sense Rick felt anything romantic for her. If Beth and the girls read it and felt otherwise, it was only because they were under a preconceived notion. One Rick would explain away when it is all over. 

 Above all, he was sparing her any humiliation by lifting her up and giving some nice compliments. It was a win-win situation. Once Rick was able to digest that, it got a lot easier to justify the emotional connection he teased out of himself to work the right sentiment he needed and had written down. 

  ~.~ 

 The problem was, sometimes letters didn’t cut it. Rick didn’t always have the right words. It was because he knew how Beth’s face brightened up when he wrote something right. She’d let out a breath that was almost a sigh, hugging the letter close. It would put her in a mood nothing could deter for the rest of the day. It’s what Rick noticed two weeks ago when these started, but it was all the better now, admittedly, when they came from him. She’d show them to her mom over FaceTime at lunch, to Barbara and Pat. Beth shared her secret admirer letter with anyone that had an extra second to spare.

  When Rick missed the mark, that was too obvious. Yolanda and Court never seemed to pick up the difference, and Beth never appeared dissatisfied, but Rick knew it wasn’t what she deserved.  

He’d tear out pages in his notebook before and after classes Rick took without her, practicing what he’ll type up by the time he gets to the school library. The pencil in his hand would tap against the paper as he ignored the lesson, thinking about how to best word how much it meant to him to see her turn around and flash him one of those breathless grins without giving himself away. He’d shred the paper after, stuffing it in the trash. The best parts Rick kept memorized to reuse the next day. 

 It took another three more neutral letters for Rick to change tactics. Instead of stressing over ways to tell Beth things he didn’t mean without revealing his identity, he found a way to work around keeping the secret admirer ploy alive while cutting out the amount of time he spent failing at writing. Small things he could afford like her favourite chocolate bars when he filled his car with gas at the station, or cheap bracelets from the dollar store to add when he wasn’t confident that he wrote enough. 

 He kneeled down in the wet grass by the bike rack behind the school on a Tuesday, weaving in the red and yellow roses he plucked from a nice garden a block down Main street through the handlebars of Beth’s teal bike. Beth was the type of girl to press flowers in books. She’d find the roses and would smell them and then keep them with the intention of saving them forever. 

When he managed to get the stem properly wrapped around her handlebars, he realized Beth forgot to lock in her bike properly. He fixed it, then leaned back, appraising his work. 

 He froze when he felt a warm breath against his neck. 

 “I didn’t know you were a part of the garden club.” 

 Rick dropped his hands to his sides, gritting his teeth through a polite nod at Isaac Bowin, who was peering over the bike rack in his pristine band clothes. “I’m not.” 

 “I see.” He scratched his nose. “That’s Beth’s bike.” 

 Rick eyed him. “I know.” 

 “That’s a nice gesture. I didn’t know you liked her.”

 “She’s my best friend.” Rick stood up and brushed the dirt from his pants. “It’s not like that.” 

 Isaac shrugged. “It looks like that.”  

 “Okay,” he replied lightly, rolling his eyes. Rick knew he was saving a high school freshman from being bullied by substituting his required secret admirer quotas because of his newfound moral superhero standards, but conversing with Isaac Bowin was something Rick hadn’t yet tolerated the patience for. He slipped his bag and walked around the side of the school building to go through the back. “Bye.” 

 Later that afternoon, Rick got tackled by Beth. He tensed as he always did when someone got a hold of him from behind, though he released the tension immediately when he looked up and saw her. 

 “I got flowers!” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from his seat at their shared sixth-period class. 

 “Did you?” He replied, measuring his tone. 

 “Roses! They were on my bike. I wasn’t sure if I locked it properly this morning so I got a hall pass in geography and went to check, and they were there!” 

 “Wow,” he said. “That’s pretty thoughtful, right? Do you like them?” 

 “Are you kidding? The KitKat was great but the last time I ever got flowers was like, my fourth grade spelling bee from my mom!” Beth moved her hands from his back to slide into the seat beside him. “They’re so pretty. I love them!” 

 Rick glanced at her empty desk. She pulled out her school bag and pencil case. “So where are they?” 

 “They’re safe.” She hauled out the large math textbook and flipped to the middle, revealing the two roses, freshly pressed in. “I want to keep them forever.” 

 He knew it. Rick suppressed his grin. “Cool.” 

  ~.~ 

 “... You warm my heart, Beth.” Beth paused, taking it in. She looked dizzy. “Oh my goodness. This is a lot.” 

 “Stop. That’s stupidly cute.” Yolanda groaned as she ran a hand over her face as if the sweetness pained her. 

 “You’ve gotta write them back!” Courtney urged, taking a swig of juice. 

 Beth wrinkled her nose. “I dunno.” 

 “What! Why not?” 

 “I don’t want to scare them off?” Beth took her eyes off the letter at last, raising her head to meet Rick’s eyes. She straightened her back immediately. “Why are you smiling like that?”

 In spite of himself, it grew bigger. “Like what?”

 She didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes squinted and she tilted her head as if to study him. “I can’t explain,” she said at last. “It’s just different.” 

 Yolanda and Courtney stopped talking to watch him too. Rick felt his face heat up at all of their attention. “Shut up. I’m being supportive,” he mumbled. “It’s what you wanted.” 

 ~.~ 

 The thing with Yolanda was that she didn’t fall for bullshit. Rick should’ve known. Books against the table with a slam, she leveled Rick a serious look of incredulity in their next class.  “Who are you and what did you do to my best friend Rick Tyler?”

 He stuck a hand in his pocket. Still grinning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “Says every suspicious clone, ever.”  

 “I’m not a clone.”

 “Then what are you, sick?” She poked his cheek at the stretched corners of his mouth. “You’ve smiled more in two days than I’ve ever seen you smile in three years and in art class you were zoned out completely.” Rick batted her hand away when she clapped a whole palm over his forehead.

 “I don’t have a fever.”

 “You’ve got something .”

 “I don’t,” he insisted again. “I’m fine.” 

 “Well I’m not an idiot,” Yolanda settled on as class started. “But whatever is going on, keep at it. It’s a good look on you.” 

  ~.~ 

  Three reasons why I’d date Beth Chapel 

  I’d be dating the smartest girl in school 

I could share the homemade food she brings for lunch

I’d see one of those perfect smiles & it would be just for me 

   ~.~ 

  Three reasons why Beth Chapel should date me 

  I’d let her sit shotgun in my car 

 She could talk to me all day about whatever she’d like and I’ll listen to it all 

She can stop wearing fuzzy sweaters to classes without heaters because I’d give her one of my jackets so she’ll stay warm 

I actually really like her

  “Ah shit,” Rick whispered harshly to himself at the computer monitor in the library. He buried his head in his hands, putting the computer to sleep. It was supposed to be generic. Nice enough that Beth would feel touched but not personalized enough that it could directly trace back to Rick. It was his ‘66 he was thinking about in the first sentence. Her effect on his mood was when she placed her arm on his during an imploring talk in the second. And the way Rick knew exactly which jacket he’d like to see her swallowed in with the pooling cuffs rolled up six times to reach her wrists for the third. And now that it was out in that 12 point font, Rick didn’t even want to delete it. 

 “Shit. Shit. Shit. I"m a fucking idiot.”

 He whacked the side of the iMac too hard to wake up the monitor and printed the thing before he could incriminate himself more by adding extra lines. The heat that crawled up his face was sign enough that this was bad, but he’d felt that same sickly warm feeling drop in his stomach sometime before his brain kicked in to realize what he’d done. He was supposed to be doing a favour for his best friend to not humiliate her unjustly by being her pseudo secret admirer.

 Not actually become Beth’s secret admirer. 

 The next morning, Rick waited until Beth raised her hand for a hall pass during their class before lunch. Their teacher handed over the laminated card for Beth to go to the bathroom. Rick counted five seconds then leaned over and dragged her backpack from the dusty classroom floor to his side. 

 She started keeping the letters she liked the most in the pocket folder of her agenda. Rick pulled them out, unfolding the papers as he read them over, eyes scanning over what he’d been writing to her, trying to find the moment in which his feelings for her morphed into something more. Rick felt stupid, reading back. 

 He never wanted to lie to Beth, so he hadn’t. 

 He couldn’t lie to himself either. This started before meeting Joseph. This started before the letters. Hell, it might’ve even started before the JSA ever stopped Project New America.

  A part of Rick wanted Beth all along.

 ~.~

That evening, Rick locked himself in his bedroom and wrote a long and frankly terribly written letter to get his feelings off his chest. Staying up all night to perfect it, he overslept halfway through the morning. He drove to school late and worried over how to get through the day. His entire schedule was thrown off and he needed to both find a way to get his letter in and survive seeing Beth that afternoon. Bad turned to worse when teachers chased after him to pile on detentions for skipping class after he’d just started to improve his attendance. 

 If he wanted to make this work he was going to need support. He needed Court. 

 The only time Rick found Courtney alone was during dodgeball in gym class. They were somehow the only ones left on their team. Courtney used handsprings and cartwheels to avoid the red rubber balls as though her gym mark should be the deciding factor of her Stargirl training success. Rick didn’t take it as seriously, but that’s exactly why he was still winning. He launched the ball to the other side, hitting Cameron Mahkent square in the face. 

 “Court, get Jenny out, and then we can free the rest.” 

 “Good plan.”

 Rick picked up another that ricocheted off the wall, missing both targets. “Hey, you know Beth’s letters?” 

 “Yeah?” Courtney hit Jenny, who yelped in her expensive tennis skirt, manicured hands protecting her face even though she got her hip instead. 

“They’re me.” Rick caught a ball and everyone came hollering back into the game. Courtney gaped at him, motionless in front of the red line. Rick tried to warn her when another ball came flying, but it bonked the side of her curly hair before Rick could push her out of the way, and then another ball assaulted Rick from the other side, disqualifying them both. 

 Rick explained it all once they got to the bench. The important parts, at least, without any of the messy stuff. Joe’s razing and the awkward excuses to use the library computer every day. 

 Courtney grinned so wide. “Shut up!” 

 Rick regretted telling her immediately. She shook his arm like she wanted to make a protein shake out of it. “Shut up! Stop! Are you kidding me? That’s so sweet!” She slapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my god. Oh my god! That’s why you’re smiling so much! You like her!” She gasped. “You love her?!”

 “Woah,” said Rick, grabbing her wrist to keep her from bouncing off the gym walls. If he wasn’t careful she’d text Pat this for his advice or something which would be horrifying. “I didn’t say anything like that.” 

 Courtney rolled her eyes, undeterred. “Okay okay okay but you totally are into her. Like a lot!!! A lot a lot, oh my god, Rick this is such big news! You’re falling for Beth!”

 “Oh my god,” Rick muttered to himself, wanting to disappear. “Court, if I say yes will you please be quiet?”

 Courtney squealed, dancing in her seat on the bench. “You didn’t deny it!”

 “Okay calm down.” 

 “Why are you telling me? Are you going to confess? Do you need help?” 

 “I need you to print out her letter for today and get it in her locker. I don’t have the time.” 

 Court clapped her hands and squealed. “Yes! Deal! Done!” 

 ~.~ 

 “You know what?” Beth layered on an extra woolly sweater over her already thick-fabric shirt. Just by looking at it Rick knew it was expensive and set off some type of fashion pattern-texture dichotomy scheme. Though, what mattered was how warm it made her after shivering all throughout their homeroom period. What mattered was how she clutched at her sleeves now, creating friction to sweep out the cold that seeped into her bones. The way she held herself in front of him and how she’d feel if Rick hugged her like that soft-spun sweater instead.  She pulled a sticky note out of her school bag’s front pocket and stuck it to her locker door then stepped away from it, nodding along for Rick to follow her down to their first class. “You’re right.” 

 “I’m right?” For his credit, Rick was cold too. The school heater conked out over the weekend and the weather was abnormally cold, even for their chilly Spring Nebraska. He shoved a hand in his pocket so he wouldn’t feel the joint pain settling into his bruised knuckles. 

 “You are.” 

 “About what?” 

 Beth half-spun on her heel, facing Rick in the thick of the school crowd. “My heart is in this. I need to know who my secret admirer is.” 

 The immediate nausea Rick got from that sentence nearly stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t stop though, it would be suspicious and then Beth would know and then Rick very might well be sick. So he jerkily forced one foot in front of the other and swallowed the lump down his throat. “You...do?” 

 “We always find my letter after our fourth-period class right before lunch. So they have to be sending it out before then, right? If we both subsequently skip our third-period classes respectfully--” 

 “How does one skip class ‘respectfully?’” Rick used air quotes around the last word. 

 Beth elbowed his side lightly. “When a straight-A student like myself has love on the line!” 

 “ I’m not a straight-A.” 

 “Yeah, but you’ll be with me so I’ve got you covered.” She linked her arm in his. “It’s a buddy system. I posted a sticky note on my locker for my secret admirer to visit this morning!” 

 Oh no. Which meant Courtney was going to find it soon and pressure him to tell Beth too. God, no. 

 “And you need me there...why?” 

 Beth furrowed her brows, fidgeting with her rainbow necklace. “I haven’t completely ignored what you said to me this whole time. I don’t know who it really is. What if I put myself out there and they show up only to hurt me?” 

 “Beth, they won’t.” 

 “But what if you were right and it was the ISA, and they were waiting for me to lure them into a trap to kidnap me because they discovered I’m Dr. Mid-Nite without Chuck?”

 “Where was this support when I suggested this as an actual possibility four weeks ago and you all ignored it and called me an asshole?” He was teasing her, honestly, but it was wild to Rick he was finally hearing her address some of his previous legitimate concerns. What good was she doing bringing this up now if she already made up her mind?

 “We didn’t!” 

 “Yolanda did!” 

 “Yolanda doesn’t use that word.” 

 “She doesn’t need to say it! You’ve seen her glare, right? Yolanda could glare at you and brand you “ asshole ” just with her eyeballs.”

 “You are ridiculous.” Beth huffed out an indignant breath. “And I wasn’t ignoring it completely.” She tugged on his sleeve. “So you should come.” 

 “I swear you’re going to be fine by yourself. It’s just some person here that likes you. It’s not a criminal. No need to suit up.”

 “I want you there.” 

 He wavered at her pleading face, her big eyes hopeful sucking him into dangerous territory. “Fine,” he relented, dooming himself. “I’ll come.” 

~.~

 Courtney did not know how the printer at the library worked because she never used the computers at the library because she never came to the school library. Like. Since she moved here. She banged her hand against the table when she got prompted for her Blue Valley High School student account password to access her printing credits. Was she supposed to pay for that? She didn’t know. She promised Rick to get his letter delivered and he was counting on her so there wasn’t any time for messing this up. 

 “It’s just your initials and the last 3 numbers of your student ID card number.”  

A thousand butterflies let loose in her stomach at the tell-tale sound of her crush’s deep voice.

 “Cameron!” she greeted with a nervous laugh. “Hi! What are you doing here?” 

 “It’s the library.” 

 “Right!” She smacked her head. “Dumb me, of course. You must be studying.” 

 “Actually, I have an oral presentation after lunch and need to reprint my speaking notes. I spilled paint on my cue cards this morning. What are you working on?” 

 “Oh!” Courtney laughed it off. “It��s not important. Thanks for the login info!” 

 “No problem. Maybe we can see each other later after my grief counseling?” 

 Courtney nearly knocked the magic mouse off the surface of the table. “I’d love that!” 

 “Awesome, I’ll text you?”

“Great!” She waved as he turned around and sat down at the next computer. Courtney pulled up the tab she had with the word document of Rick’s letter to Beth and fawned over it, imagining herself in Beth’s shoes with Cameron. She printed it out and ambled over to the printing center while it was still warm. According to the school clock, which was probably ten minutes fast if it were anything like the other clocks in her classrooms, she had twenty minutes to find Beth’s locker and get it in securely without being seen. Courtney packed her bag and folded the sheet in three like Beth had been getting since the beginning of March, sticking it between her teeth as she got that bag over her shoulders. 

 “Court.” 

 She twirled around at the tap on her shoulder, not expecting to find Cameron waiting for her with a grim look on his face. “Huh?” She removed the paper and crinkled her eyes at him. “Hey!” 

 “Hi,” Cameron said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think my essay got mixed up with your uh….letter…” 

 “What?” Courtney checked Rick’s letter in her hand. “No! This is um, uh it’s ‘ The Republic of Marino is a small country in the region of--’ oooooooh crap.” 

 Courtney snatched it from him, giving herself a papercut in the process as she swapped sheets, mind racing when she put two and two together. Oh no. Oh no oh no. The blood drained from her face. 

 “That’s not mine!” she yelped.

 The librarian barked at them both from across the room as Cameron blinked at her with a complicated expression. 

 “I mean!” Courtney added in more quietly but equally harried, hissing at the stinging from her thumb. She sucked at the blood that trickled down her palm. “I printed it obviously! Because we were here and I was at the printer and you were at the printer and I wrote it!” She was going to get blood on Beth’s love letter and make her think that she’s being stalked by an ax murderer or The Gambler’s personal hitman. “These words aren’t from me ,” she stressed. “I didn’t say these things!” 

 Dang it, this was bad. He wasn’t going to draw her flowers anymore or cute stars passed in notes during their shared homeroom. She continued to ramble when Cameron didn’t say anything. “Actually!” She wiped her palm on her jeans and returned it. “It’s for you!” 

 Cameron maintained cool and collected when he pointed at the opening address, becoming amused. “It says ‘ Dear Beth ’” 

“Does it!? Typo!” 

“Look, I don’t blame you for developing a crush on a close friend. It happens, you don’t have to explain it to me.” 

“But!” 

Cameron backed away. “I’m gonna go.” 

 ~.~ 

 Rick let Beth drag him out of class so they could meet up with her secret admirer in the empty hallway at her locker knowing this wasn’t going to end well. 

 Beth tapped at the yellow sticky note on her locker that had the details of her rendezvous. 

 “What happens if he doesn’t show up?” Rick crossed his arms awkwardly when Beth turned around to look at him. “If they don’t show up.” 

He should’ve noticed the second that he saw Beth that this had been her plan since she got out of bed. She was wearing a dress and tights that perfectly so matched her colour, it took a second glance to confirm it adhered to the no dress on skin school dress code. 

 Her hair had clips in them too, a moon clip that parted the left side of her afro in a way that let it drop slightly over her face like her mom’s weave. It was beautiful and she looked beautiful and Rick got stuck in those thoughts all over again when she slid down the lockers to wait, drawing up her knees. 

 “They will.” She patted on the dusty ground for him to sit. 

 “You’re not going to check your locker first?” 

 “You want me to?” 

“Do you want to?” Rick countered. 

 Beth scrunched up her face at him. “I asked first.” 

 His face warmed and he finally sat down across from her. “Usually you rush to it, that's all.” 

She stretched out her legs, pulling at the hem of her dress. “It’s not going to matter what was written in whatever they put in my locker when I get to see who they are. Meeting them in person will be more exciting.” 

 Bold words to say to her secret admirer, sitting right in front of her. Rick sighed and stretched out too. He drew up one leg, the other bent at the knee. “What if they’re really ugly?” 

Beth rolled her eyes. 

 “Just asking. You can like someone’s sentiments but not their face.” 

 “I’m going to like their face,” she reassured him. “Even if I’ll have to learn to.” 

 “Okay,” Rick drawled. He was hoping if he extended the talk long enough, Beth would grow bored and give up. Just because the secret admirer won’t show up today doesn’t mean that they did so with ill-intent. Rick tried to remind Beth of this as they sat around alone. The secret admirer could’ve got swept up in a test in class or had an early dismissal. Beth wouldn’t know the difference. Rick wasn’t hurting her by playing along. 

 When an hour passed and Rick saw how determined she was to stick this through, the internal panic ramped up.

 Of course, the thought came to him that he should come clean. It’s just that. That meant Rick would have to come clean . He hated that Courtney was right to laugh at him over this. It freaked him out to just blurt out the truth. It would take Beth by surprise. Rick hadn’t planned yet how he was going to wind the secret admirer thing down to prepare her about it all. He thought she’d get to read his letter today to gauge how she’d feel. 

 He stared up at the ceiling thinking through five hundred strategy plans to get out of this mess while untangling the secret as Beth played a game on her phone. 

 “Soooo,” Beth said some while later. “Are we going to be waiting another hour or…” 

 Rick jerked up, saucer-eyed and mouth agape. His brain short-circuited.

 “Because we can take all the time you need, Rick.” 

 “You knew?” He banged his head against the metal behind him. She didn’t need a supercomputer to figure out Rick liked her before Rick figured out he liked her, did she? “Of course you knew,” he muttered to himself. The shock wore off as the embarrassment settled in, his face flushing as bright confirmation. A massive shot of adrenaline flooded through him, similar to the rush of his hourglass. 

“I pieced it together a few days ago,” she admitted. “I don’t think you realize how much lighter you are now.” Beth picked herself up and crossed the hall to sit by his side. Her hand went to his right knee and she leaned forward. “Rick, it’s okay. It’s okay to like me.” 

 The words clogged up in Rick’s throat as she spoke softly, overwhelmed. He wanted to explain everything but it was complicated and delicate and if she’d only read his freakin letter trapped in that locker maybe he’d have a chance to get her to understand- 

“Oh my god, you’re really nervous.” She lifted her hand up to give him room. “Rick, it’s just me. I like you too, I’m just a bit confused about how this all makes sense.” 

 “I didn’t know,” he managed out, stilted. “I really didn’t know.” 

 “Didn’t know what?” 

 “I’m not your real secret admirer.” Rick corrected himself. “I wasn’t your first.” 

 “Okay…” 

“There were those weird letters at first. The random ones. And I didn’t understand why they got under my skin so much. But they did. So I found the guy who was making them and I-" 

 "Really," Beth deadpanned.

 "I know, I know." Rick scowled. "I found out it was that they were being forced to.” 

 Sourness etched over her mouth as it pulled her lips thin together. “Oh.” 

 “And I wanted it to quit but by then it was involving the bullying of that other guy, not just you.” Rick sighed. “So I took over to help.” 

 “Rick.” 

 “I just didn’t want you to get crushed!” he told her, going into more detail about Joseph and the football team. “I was going to explain when it was all over what happened, and you were going to laugh it off and thank me and then I would’ve shrugged that off because it was whatever. It was the right thing to do.”  

 “But?” 

 Rick rolled his eyes at himself. “But I liked what I was doing too much for it to be normal.” He raised his head to give her a crooked smile. “I like you. ” 

 “You are so ridiculous,” she giggled out. She stood up and leisurely made her way to the locker. “So you have this important letter in here for me that you want me to read?” She toyed with her combination lock. “What’s in it?” 

 “Uh. A mess?” 

 “I’ll keep it for later then,” she decided and grabbed his hand. He stood up and followed her, hyper-aware of the way she led him away with her hand in his. “Come on, we have something we need to do.” 

 She brought him to the school library, which Rick did not understand. She sat him down at a macbook and darted in to kiss his cheek. Rick stuttered, lightheaded as she booted up his computer. 

 “Uh- What exactly are we doing?” 

 “Writing.” She tapped on his keyboard and moved his still hands over them with an exciting squeeze. “There are four more days left in the month and I don’t know about you but I’d really rather spend our free periods and after school with you on a date.”

 "That is...a really good idea." 

 She glanced up from their screen to find Cameron watching them oddly. 

 Beth awkwardly waved. 

 “Why is he looking at us like that?” 

 “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Rick put his arm around her, ignoring everyone else. He leaned forward to steal her move, gently kissing away her curiosity. 

 Beth grinned and leaned her head against his shoulder as he typed lines and lines of compliments. “Then I don’t care either.”

[phantasticworks]

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)

hi guys! so it occurred to me that i completely forgot to post the newest part of my new fic on tumblr when i posted it to ao3 the other day so here it is! I hope you guys enjoy this one! I've had a lot of fun working on it!

read on ao3

Words: 18.9k

Summary: Dan and Phil continue their arrangement, but are things changing?

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, light angst

“We should go Christmas shopping,” Phil announces one afternoon. They were laying in his bed after giving each other blowjobs, and Dan was half-asleep.

“Mmf,” Dan huffs. It’s not exactly an answer. It’s not even really a response.

“Dan,” Phil whines, prodding his chest. “C’mon, it would be fun. We could go into town, get a festive drink, let the spirit of Christmas enter us.”

Dan cracks one eye open at that, giving Phil a smirk. “I don’t think I want the spirit of Christmas to be the one entering me tonight,” he says, his voice smooth.

Phil breaks out into a very predictable blush, but it’s still one of the cutest things Dan’s ever seen. “Dan!” he nearly screeches, swatting at him.

“What?” Dan cackles.

“That’s awful!” Phil shakes his head like he’s disappointed, but his eyes have gone a little wide, and Dan knows he’s thinking about what Dan has just suggested.

It’s the one thing they hadn’t yet done together. They’ve fooled around in every other possible way, but penetration has just been off the table. Until now.

“Do you want to?” Dan asks after he’s done laughing. His voice is unintentionally small. It’s not like he’s particularly nervous about this particular sex act; he’s fucked and been fucked before, but never by someone he cares this deeply for. And the part that hurts the most is that they aren’t even like that, not really.

He watches as Phil swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the pale skin of his neck. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath. He glances at Dan quickly, like he hadn’t mean to say it at all. “I mean- God, yeah, of course I want to,” he says.

Dan smiles, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over Phil’s, as if they didn’t just have sex half an hour ago. “I’d let you, if you want,” he murmurs, trying for seductive. He’s not sure he’s really hit the target in his tone, but Phil swallows again, and he reckons he’s close enough.

“We should go out for dinner,” Phil blurts suddenly.

Dan pulls away a little, blinking at him. “Er… okay?”

“Yeah, we should go eat dinner, and then do some shopping, yeah?” Phil sounds nervous, and Dan can’t for the life of him figure out why. They have dinner together all the time nowadays. In fact, almost every time they see each other they wind up sharing a meal somewhere. It’s not usually at a restaurant, he concedes, the both of them horrible introverts who would much rather be inside the comfort of one of their flats, but still, it has happened.

“Sure,” Dan agrees easily. If he’s honest, dinner is the last thing on his mind.

If he can’t have Phil in the real way, in the way he so desperately wants, then he’ll take this: casual sex and friendship, until Phil no longer has a use for him. The fact that all of this has an expiration date tears at the tattered threads of Dan’s heart more and more each day, but it’s a pain he’s learning to cope with nonetheless.

He’s so deep in his own thoughts that he barely notices when Phil climbs out of the bed and makes his way to his closet. “Um, what are you doing?” Dan asks stupidly when he sees Phil pulling out what looks to be a nicer outfit.

Phil turns and gives him a look like he is stupid. “We have to get dressed if we’re going out!” he says, like it’s obvious.

“We’re going out tonight?” Dan squawks, still mostly naked and covered in slowly-drying bodily fluids.

“Yes,” Phil says, voice full of exasperation. “Go on, go take a shower, I’ll pick something out for you.” He sounds excited, but Dan can’t help but be weary.

“Phil…” He starts.

“No, no!” Phil protests. “Just go, I promise it’ll be good, I won’t pick anything you wouldn’t wear yourself!” It’s probably an empty promise, but his bright eyes and the way he dances on the balls of his feet have Dan convinced.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in. He stands to go jump in the shower, and he doesn’t miss the way Phil takes a long look at his body. “But I swear to god if you try to put me in color, I’m gonna actually kill you.”

“Fine, whatever,” Phil says, waving him off. “Go, go shower, smelly boy. Your fairy godmother needs some space to think about your outfit.”

Dan feels a tug in his chest when Phil smiles at him. He can’t help but step close and kiss him, just once, to dull the pain a little. “You’re on thin ice,” he whispers, his lips still a breath away from Phil’s.

“You have semen in your hair,” Phil murmurs back, pecking his lips.

Dan flips him off as he stomps off to the shower.

~~~

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dan says nearly half an hour later, staring at the clothes Phil has so charitably laid out for him. The jeans are fine, black skinnies with rips new enough that he knows Phil hardly wears them. His problem lies entirely with the sweater.

The red, sparkly sweater.

“What?” Phil asks, voice pitched high in false confusion. “It’s nice!”

“I’m not wearing that,” Dan says vehemently.

“But Dan, it’s Christmas! Red is a very Christmassy color!”

“Red is Christmassy,” Dan spits. “This is- that’s fucking-“

“I call it ‘ladybird chic’,” Phil says, unhelpfully.

Dan turns, very slowly, to glare at him. “Absolutely not.”

Phil pouts. “It’ll look really good if I take any photos this evening.”

Dan swears under his breath. Stupid Phil with his stupid soft, kissable lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow. “I’m wearing a coat over it,” he says haughtily.

Phil grins proudly. “Of course,” he nods. “It’s not exactly my warmest sweater, and I don’t want you to get cold.”

Something about that makes Dan’s stomach twist sharply, a feeling he can’t name taking up all the space in his chest as he watches Phil search for a coat. He makes it so hard, sometimes, to not confess that he’s in love with him. Dan isn’t too stupid to think he’ll let himself go that far- he does have some dignity- but god Phil makes it hard.

“Will this work?” Phil asks, returning with a simple but warm-looking black coat.

Dan nods, taking it from him and setting it on the bed next to the outfit. “Thanks,” he says, his voice soft.

Phil smiles at him when he glances up. “No problem,” he says warmly, leaning in and planting a kiss on Dan’s temple. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving Dan with the lingering feeling of lips and warmth.

~~~

Phil looks amazing.

That’s probably the understatement of the year, Dan thinks, but he’s at a loss for words when Phil steps into the lounge, fully dressed.

He’s got black skinny jeans on as usual, but he’s gone for a really nice grey sweater and his glasses, something Dan is always, always enamored with. He figures he’s probably fully staring at him, but Phil doesn’t seem to mind, so Dan sees no reason why he should look away. In fact, Phil seems to like it, if his smirk is anything to go by.

“Ready to go?” He asks, completely ignoring the way Dan is practically undressing him with his eyes.

“Sure,” Dan says, his voice coming out a little garbled. He clears his throat, flushing. “Let’s go.”

~~~

They end up at an Italian place, one that Dan’s never been to. It’s nice, nicer than he expected when Phil suggested they go out to dinner. It almost feels like a date, if Dan lets himself think too much about it. But he knows better than that, so of course he doesn’t let himself think about it at all.

Instead, he convinces Phil to order wine.

“Come on, I’m almost done with classes, and it’s a Friday. Shouldn’t we celebrate the end of the week?” Dan says, batting his eyelashes to really sell it. The truth is he doesn’t think he can keep his mind from drifting off into romance land if he’s not at least slightly inebriated.

Phil sighs, but nods. “Fine.” He gestures for the waitress to come back over, then points to something on the wine menu. “We’ll each do a glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” he says, tapping the name.

The waitress nods before disappearing, and Dan watches Phil as he fiddles with the menu, biting his lip in thought. “You sounded like some proper wine connoisseur, just then,” Dan says mildly, glancing over his own menu. He already knows he’s likely to get the same thing he always does at Italian restaurants, but he feels weird staring at Phil when he isn’t looking back.

Phil snorts. “Not hardly,” Phil says dryly. “Cabernet‘s just the happy medium.”

Dan tilts his head at that. “How so?” He asks.

Phil glances up at him, and his lips twitch into a smile. “Well, you like wine that’s bitter, and I like sweeter wine. You always order something with mushrooms when we do Italian, and I usually do some type of tomato-sauce pasta, so...” The waitress returns then with the bottle of wine, and Phil smiles at her. “So Cabernet is the happy medium for us.”

Dan blinks at him. Phil asks the waitress a question about something on the menu, looking completely casual, as if he didn’t just send Dan’s heart spinning. As if they just know each other that well- just fit together that well, without ever even acknowledging it.

He’s still lost in thought when the waitress turns to him with a smile. “And for you, sir?” She asks.

Dan shakes his head in an effort to clear it. “Uhh...” His mind is cloudy at the moment, and he can’t really see the menu.

“They have the mushroom risotto you like,” Phil says softly. “Is that okay?”

Dan nods dumbly. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “That’s fine, thanks.”

The waitress nods, taking their menus before leaving the table. It’s quiet then, and Dan jumps a little when he feels Phil’s foot brush against his. “Sorry,” Phil says, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Dan nods. It’s not a lie, exactly. He thinks maybe he is okay, but everything feels stilted and weird now, and the traitorous, lonely part of his brain is trying to convince him that this- this thing between him and Phil- means more than it does. “I’m fine,” he says quickly, nodding again. “Just tired, I guess.”

A brief flash of something like disbelief flashes across Phil’s face, but it’s gone in a blink. “We can just go back home after dinner, if you don’t feel like shopping.”

The word “home” plays on loop in Dan’s brain until he processes the rest of the words. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll feel better after we eat,” he says, shrugging it off.

Phil nods, and they fall into silence again. They’ve known each other long enough now that it’s not uncomfortable, but Dan’s skin still itches with the quiet. He’s trying to think of something to say when he feels something brush his ankle. He glances up to find Phil smirking at him.

Dan quirks a brow. “Can I help you?” he asks, barely hiding a smile.

The smirk on Phil’s face just deepens, and he rubs his ankle against Dan’s. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but Dan’s long past the point of being surprised that everything feels better with Phil. “Nope,” Phil says, biting back a laugh.

Dan rolls his eyes. He takes a sneaky glance around them, and finds that no one is paying any attention to them. He takes that confirmation of almost-privacy and decides to be cheeky. Taking a sip of his water, he shifts his legs, trailing his foot up the length of Phil’s leg teasingly slow. He watches as Phil’s face flushes, the smirk dropping away to a look of surprise.

“Dan,” he hisses.

“What?” Dan says innocently. “You started this.”

Phil shakes his head, his hand disappearing below the table and catching Dan’s ankle in his hand before Dan can reach his destination. “Not now,” Phil murmurs.

That sends a little thrill through Dan. There’s an unspoken “later” in the air between them, and Dan recalls suddenly what he had offered earlier, when they were getting ready to leave. His blood rushes through his veins hot and fast, making him light headed.

“Are we still going to...” he trails off when the waitress approaches with their food, giving her a fake smile.

She makes sure they’re comfortable and have everything they need before leaving the table again, and by then Dan’s too distracted by his food to return to what he wanted to say.

“Fuck,” he moans around the first bite. “This is delicious.” He’s trying to mind his table manners, but the food is hot and sort of amazing, and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He really can’t help the sounds that fall from his mouth at that point.

He takes a sip of his wine to wash it down and finally glances over at Phil. His entire face is red, and he’s staring down at his plate with pursed lips. Dan blushes, realizing exactly what he sounded like. Then, he remembers their current situation, and the fact that it really shouldn’t bother Phil, hearing Dan make sexual noises. After all, they’ve been getting each other off for the past month or so, so he’s surely used to it by now.

“Sorry,” he says, despite himself. “Got a little too excited about dinner,” he explains, flickering his eyes between Phil and his plate.

Phil nods, avoiding eye contact. “Right, yeah,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse.

Dan smirks down at his plate, but decides to give Phil a break. “How’s the photo series going? Are we almost done taking photos?”

Phil looks relieved at the change of subject, and his eyes are bright when he looks up at Dan. He’s so enthusiastic about this project, just like he is with everything that he really cares about. Dan can’t help but find it ridiculously endearing.

“Almost, yeah. We’ve gotten some really great shots for experiential, but I don’t think I’ve gotten like the perfect shot for each of the other categories,” Phil says. His eyebrows furrow as he looks down, looking more than a little bothered by that.

“What’re the other categories again?”

“Intellectual, emotional, and er- sexual,” Phil says with a deep blush.

Dan smirks. “Sounds like we can knock that last one out pretty easily,” he says, only sort of teasing.

Phil’s nose goes a little pink, but he’s got a guarded look in his eye as he chases a bite of pasta around his plate. “I don’t know if I want that one to be like...” he trails off, glancing up at Dan with something soft in his eyes.

“Like...?” Dan prompts, confused.

“Like... genuine,” Phil says.

Dan blinks. “Why?”

Phil clears his throat, looking down again. “I don’t- I just- I just want you to be comfortable, yeah? And if it would make you uncomfortable to-“

“It wouldn’t,” Dan interrupts. His face immediately warms when he realizes how that must sound. “I mean... it’s what we’ve been doing this whole time, right? I’ll be no more vulnerable naked than I have been for every other candid shot you’ve done.”

Phil looks almost- disappointed, in a way. Dan can’t think of a reason why he would be, so he convinces himself that he’s probably just imagining it, that Phil is probably just thinking about the best way to shoot the more explicit photographs.

“Sure,” he says eventually, downing a few gulps of his wine. “We’ll work on that stuff- later, yeah?”

“Sure,” Dan echoes, sipping his own wine.

‘Later’ is starting to have a lot of weight.

~~~

After they’ve finished their meal and Phil has ignored Dan trying to pay for the check, they head out to see what the shops have to offer. Everything is so bright with all the twinkling lights and decorations, and Dan’s feeling just a little bit warm and fuzzy with it all. Maybe that’s why he reaches for Phil’s hand, he thinks to himself absently. It’s probably just the overwhelming excitement of it all forcing him to reach out for something to ground himself. Definitely not his deep attraction and infatuation with his best friend.

Right?

Either way, for whatever reason on both their parts, Phil doesn’t pull away at the touch. Instead he laces their fingers together, swinging their hands between them as they meander down the busy streets. It feels safe, with so many strangers surrounding them, to share a touch like this in public. No one here knows them, any looks cast their way are forgotten the moment the gawker looks away.

“Ooh, mulled wine!” Phil announces after a while of aimless wandering. He tugs Dan in the direction of the stall he’s laid his eye on, and Dan allows himself to be dragged. “Do you like mulled wine?” Phil asks as they stand in line to order.

Dan shrugs. “Yeah, it’s alright.” He wants to say something about how it would taste better coming from Phil’s lips, but he thankfully restrains himself from going that far.

Phil rambles on about something that happened to him a few years ago, something about spilling cider all over a guy he worked with that he also had a crush on. Dan’s trying to listen but he keeps getting distracted by the rosy patches on Phil’s face, his frostbitten cheeks looking more kissable than ever.

“We’ll have two mulled wines, please,” Phil says to the sweet older lady tending the booth.

She smiles and nods as she goes about preparing them, and Dan doesn’t even have the chance to reach for his wallet before Phil is sliding a few notes across to her. “Have a good evening! Happy Christmas!” the shop lady says with a happy wave after she hands them their drinks.

“Thanks, you too,” Phil replies with a smile, taking Dan’s hand again and leading them over to a set of benches situated around a massive tree. “Mm, this is really good for the spot,” Phil hums happily, slurping on his mulled wine.

Dan gives him an odd look as they sit together. “Good for the spot?” he repeats.

Phil nods. “Yeah, you know. That thing people say when something tastes good.” He looks so sure of himself, and Dan sort of hates to burst his bubble, but it’s basically his duty as a citizen to do so.

“You mean “hits the spot,” right?”

Phil blinks. “Er...” He seems to consider it for a lot longer than Dan thinks is necessary, and finally he shrugs. “Okay, maybe. Maybe that’s what I meant.”

Dan cackles out a laugh at this, dropping his head back with unabashed glee. “Oh god,” he giggles. “You’re such an idiot.”

Luckily they’ve grown comfortable enough with each other that Phil’s not really offended. He pretends, though, knocking their shoulders together with a pout. “You have to be nice to be. I bought you dinner and mulled wine.”

That makes Dan’s skin prickle just a bit. “Right...” he says, looking down. He knows Phil didn’t say that with the intentions of making him feel guilty, but he can’t help what he feels. “About that, actually,” Dan starts.

“Hm?”

“I wish you’d let me pay for something. Like dinner, or the wine, or something, you know?” He looks down at his hands wrapped around his cup, flicking the plastic lid with his thumbnail. “I’m not entirely useless.”

Phil makes a startled, hurt noise in his throat. “Dan, I never said you were. I don’t- listen, I paid because... well, I dragged you here, didn’t I?” He shifts awkwardly, and won’t meet Dan’s eye. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d say Phil seemed sort of nervous.

“You hardly did any dragging,” Dan says with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to come. Believe it or not, I genuinely enjoy spending time with you.”

Phil looks surprised, and Dan snorts. He feels like it’s really hardly a shock that he enjoys spending time with him; if Phil was only slightly less oblivious, he’d have already realized that Dan’s got feelings for him.

“Oh,” Phil says, stupidly.

Dan knocks their shoulders together. “Yeah, oh,” he mocks, his voice gentler than he meant it to be. “I’m just saying, you should let me pay for stuff now and again. It’s not going to break me.”

Phil nods, but looks down, mumbling something under his breath. It sounded like “I like taking care of you,” and that sends Dan’s heart beating so fast that he can’t even ask Phil to repeat himself. If that wasn’t what he said, well, Dan wants to be ignorant for now, and live in that bliss.

“Shall we do some shopping?” Dan asks, changing the subject. He’s drained nearly half his mulled wine already, and the warmth of the alcohol is making its way to his veins, making him giddy with energy.

“Yeah, but first...” He hands Dan his cup, which is almost completely empty already, and grabs his camera.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Is this really a photo-worthy moment?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Phil smirks at him over the camera. “Of course it is. Now smile!”

Dan looks directly over the camera, straight into Phil’s eyes. He’s not really smiling, but he’s not frowning either. He’s just... looking at him. The camera flashes once, then twice, and then Phil lowers it, looking back at Dan with something almost wild in his eyes. Dan hands him his cup back silently, and purposefully brushes their fingers together. Something settles in Phil’s expression then, and he gives Dan a soft look before downing the rest of his drink.

“Shall we?” he says as he stands, holding a hand out for Dan to take. The smile he gives him when Dan does is gorgeous and makes every photo worth it.

~~~

Dan allows himself to be led in and out of shops for the next two hours, and Phil takes plenty of photos along the way. He takes photos of Dan window shopping, walking, admiring decorations; basically any move Dan makes, Phil captures. And Dan knows he agreed to this, he knows that it’s all for Phil’s project, but after a while, he grows tired of it.

Eventually, Dan turns to him and gives him a withering look. “Can we put the camera away and just be us for a little while?” He doesn’t intend for his voice to be so soft, but he can barely hear it as it floats in the air between them.

Phil lowers the camera with a strange look on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, like he’s surprised.

Dan nods, and before he can think twice about it, he reaches out and laces their fingers together. “C’mon, I saw a nerd shop over there that I want to check out.”

Before he gets the chance to turn away, Phil darts into his space, kissing the corner of his mouth softly. It’s over so quickly that Dan almost thinks he may have imagined it, simply because Phil looks so calm and confident afterwards. He simply squeezes Dan’s hand and leads him in the direction of the shop, and Dan feels like he’s been left to play catch-up, not for the first time today.

“Hey, look at this,” Phil says suddenly, when they’re almost to the shop. He slows to a stop, his eyes scanning over a bulletin board posted on the bit of brick wall between the windows of the game shop and the bakery next door. “Dan, look!” He taps Dan’s arm excitedly as he speaks, as if Dan’s not already looking at the poster.

“Open Auditions” it announces at the top. Dan’s heart quickens, just slightly. A quick scan of information confirms what he’d already gathered: a local theatre company is holding open auditions for their upcoming performance of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.

Dan’s heart races and his vision has gone slightly fuzzy as he tries to take in the information. He can barely focus on anything, his ears ringing with the possibilities. This could be it, a little voice in his head mocks. An escape from the life you don’t want, a chance to be more.

It takes him a minute to come back to his senses, and when he does Phil is rambling excitedly beside him. “-great this is, Dan, you’ve got to audition, this would be perfect for you!”

Dan shakes his head slowly, trying to clear the cloud of fantasy that’s infiltrated his mind. “No,” he says eventually. He forces himself to look away, reminds himself that life isn’t a fairytale. He chose this shitty career and this shitty life, he can’t just back out now. His parents may have raised a socially awkward, queer procrastinator but they didn’t raise a quitter.

“No?” Phil says the word like it’s foreign. “What do you mean, I thought you wanted to act again if you got the chance?” He sounds confused.

Dan shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Phil as he shuffles his feet, moving further from the bright poster. “Yeah, but... come on, this? It’s not very responsible, is it?”

Phil blinks at him, glancing at the poster like it has the answers he needs. “Er- how do you mean?” he asks carefully.

Dan hates that. He hates that he’s ruining their nice day with his bullshit. “Well, I’ve got class, don’t I? And like, work, and shit. I can’t - I don’t have time for this.”

There’s a brief moment of pause where Phil looks at him, then studies the poster again, clearly thinking hard about something. “The auditions are next week, so I bet the rehearsals start after you’re done with classes.”

Dan tells that little stirring of hope in his chest to pipe down. Instead, he shrugs, like he couldn’t care less about the whole thing. “Whatever. Are we going in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Phil nods and gestures to the store, so Dan turns to lead the way. He notices Phil doesn’t move to hold his hand again, and he pretends that doesn’t hurt his feelings. When he opens the door he glances behind him, and Phil is still a few steps away, like he’d stood there for a minute before following after Dan. Dan can’t imagine why, and decides it’s better not to think about that at all.

He waves Phil in ahead of him, and spares one last look at the poster before following after Phil and into the shop.

~~~

Dan would love to pretend that he stops thinking about the audition flyer by the time they make it back to Phil’s place, but it would be a lie. It’s still there, in the back of his mind, mocking him with the possibilities.

So he does what any reasonable adult would do.

He immediately jumps at the opportunity to get in Phil’s pants.

It’s not like it’s difficult at this point in their... situation, but he still finds part of him is reluctant to be the one to make the first move, if only because he’s scared of rejection. But this time, like so many times before, Phil indulges him.

“Oh,” Phil laughs as Dan pushes at his coat, his voice deep and sexy like it always is at the end of a long day, when he’s truly worn out. Dan can’t believe he has the privilege of knowing exactly what this sounds like. “Eager, are we?”

Dan latches his mouth onto Phil’s jaw, sucking gently as he shoves the stupid coat off of Phil’s shoulders. “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbles against Phil’s chin, loving the prickly feeling of almost-beard under his mouth.

Phil makes a good noise then, a horny one that Dan doesn’t get to hear nearly often enough. “Can we- bed?” he mumbles out around Dan’s mouth, which has finally found its way to Phil’s.

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, guiding Phil backwards blindly.

This proves to be a bad idea when he leads him into a wall approximately five seconds later, but luckily, Phil is able to laugh it off. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, pulling Dan back against him once more and kissing across his cheeks. “Let me lead,” he whispers.

Dan allows that, following Phil as he shuffles them backwards down the hall towards his bedroom, their lips barely parting the whole way there. It’s sloppy and messy, but it’s hot, too, unbearably so. Dan is so turned on by the time they step foot in Phil’s room, he’s half afraid he won’t even make it to the good part.

Luckily, Phil trips right before they reach the bed, and the resulting stumble-almost-fall is enough to calm Dan down a little. He’s giggling against Phil’s mouth as they right themselves, and Phil is struggling to mumble an apology around the kisses he’s receiving.

“Dan,” he manages, thumping on Dan’s chest a little, just enough to get Dan’s attention and make him pull away for a second. Phil catches his breath and then smiles at Dan, a wide, gorgeous thing. “Slow down, baby. We’ve got all night.”

It’s said so softly, so lovingly, that Dan thinks he’s going to cry. So, instead of listening, he throws that caution to the wind and leans in for another kiss, his hands dropping to undo Phil’s belt. Phil makes a little noise in his throat, and Dan feels gentle hands pull at his wrists, pulling his hands away from where they’re struggling to undo the fasteners on Phil’s jeans. Dan whines and tugs at the grip, trying to free his hands, but he hears a soft shushing noise as Phil breaks the kiss.

Dan doesn’t realize it at first, but when they’re no longer kissing, he feels a dampness on his cheeks. Frustrated, he wipes at the traitorous tears, but at the same time, Phil’s hands come into view, gently wiping the tears away as he murmurs soft words. Dan struggles to make them out at first, his breathing gone hard and ragged. He tries to settle himself, and Phil tugs at his hand, settling it on his own chest like he wants Dan to copy his breathing. He does, and when he finally calms down, Dan can make out what Phil’s saying.

“Shh, there we go. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

It’s said in such a soft, soothing voice that Dan almost starts crying again. This can’t be meaningless. Even though he knows Phil doesn’t feel anything for him like that, some part of him is just begging for this moment to have some kind of meaning, something that means Phil wants him. But wishing can’t change the truth, and he knows that.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, his voice raw.

Phil makes a startled noise. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but like... crying is so not sexy.” Dan feels embarrassed just to say it.

“I don’t know,” Phil muses. “I think showing your emotions is kinda hot.” He gives Dan a smirk then, and Dan barely refrains from pushing him off the bed. The only reason he doesn’t is because of how much he craves the closeness.

“Did I ruin the mood?” Dan asks timidly, sitting up in Phil’s lap to give him some space.

Phil smiles, but shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Do you still want to...” His face flushes then, like he can’t even bring himself to say the words.

Dan grins. “I definitely still want to fuck you. If you still want that.”

“I do,” Phil says quickly. Dan smirks and Phil blushes. “I just... it’s been a while since I’ve done that, so...”

Dan nods easily. “Do you need some space to get ready?”

Phil looks relieved. “Please?”

Nodding again, Dan leans down and kisses him sweetly. “Of course. I’ll go sit in the lounge while you do what you need to do.”

“Thank you,” Phil says softly, leaning up to peck Dan’s lips once more. “I won’t be long.”

With that reassurance, and a dismissive pat on the bum, Dan sees himself out of the room, going to wait in the lounge like he’d promised while Phil showers and does whatever else he needs to do to feel comfortable with how the evening is proceeding.

~~~

“Dan?”

Phil’s voice is more than welcome in the quiet of the lounge, but it still makes Dan jump a bit. He’d been lost in thought again, pondering over the amount of time they’ve spent together lately and trying to count in his head how many nights he’d spent at Phil’s over the last month. He’d just made it to thirteen when he hears Phil’s voice.

“Yeah?” Dan calls back, already rising from the sofa.

“Can you come here?” Phil replies, his voice a bit quieter. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d almost say he sounded nervous.

When Dan steps into Phil’s bedroom, he nearly coos. Phil’s turned the overhead light off and lit a couple of candles, and he’s even got music playing from somewhere. It’s all very relaxing, and something about it feels sort of romantic. Dan bats that thought away immediately before it does something stupid, like settle in his already lovesick mind.

“Is this okay?” Phil asks, and Dan’s gaze snaps over to where Phil’s sat at the edge of the bed. Dan hadn’t even registered him sitting there at first, his mind trying to wrap around the way the room is set up. Phil definitely looks nervous, tugging at the hem of his sushi-printed boxers and avoiding eye contact. “I just thought... I don’t know, actually.”

“It’s nice,” Dan murmurs, going to join Phil on the bed. He’s trying to be considerate of the conversation they’re having, but honestly it’s a little hard considering Phil is practically naked, and god Dan loves to look at him. He nudges Phil’s knee with his own, prompting him to make eye contact. “It’s really lovely.”

Phil smiles, pleased. Something darkens in his gaze then, and before Dan has a chance to decipher that look, Phil is climbing onto his lap and gently pushing him to lay flat against the mattress. “This okay?” He murmurs as he kisses his way across Dan’s jaw.

Dan swallows hard, the kissing and weight of Phil on his lap sending heat to his groin. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “This is... fuck, this is perfect.”

Phil makes a humming sort of noise before finally pressing his lips to Dan’s, swiping his tongue against Dan’s bottom lip. Of course Dan opens up for him, feeling that tongue slip in easily. This is possibly Dan’s favorite kind of kissing, the kind that’s wet and maybe a little bit messy. It just feels good, in a way most things don’t.

Eventually, Dan’s hands trail over Phil’s pale back, tracing shapes down his spine with a featherlight touch before reaching his destination. Dan isn’t like, a hundred percent sure, but he’s actually pretty positive that Phil’s got the nicest bum in the world. It’s thick and soft and gives easily under the pressure of his kneading fingers.

“You’ve got the nicest ass,” Dan murmurs to Phil, pulling away just enough to get the words out properly.

Phil laughs against Dan’s neck, and Dan can’t help the full body tremor that happens when he feels pressure on the sensitive skin. “Do you want to fuck it?” Phil asks, in a voice that’s almost innocent.

Dan groans, kneading his cheeks with more purpose. “God. Yeah, I do. Can I?” He knows they’ve sort of already discussed this, but Phil’s allowed to change his mind.

“Of course,” Phil says with a little smile. He leans back, trailing his hands down Dan’s clothed chest before tucking his hands under his borrowed sweater and stroking the skin there. “Take your clothes off, babe.”

Dan feels a tingle down to his toes at the pet name, and has to remind himself very quickly to get a fucking grip. They’re just friends, this is just a friendly fuck. A mutual benefits kind of deal.

Maybe if he says it enough in his head, he’ll start to believe it.

He’s quick to discard of Phil’s stupid ladybird sweater, throwing it across the room blindly, which unsurprisingly earns him a pinch to the hip. “Don’t be rude to my favorite jumper, Daniel,” Phil chastises, a smile in his voice.

Dan’s got a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it in favor of arching up into the way Phil’s stroking his chest, his thumbs catching on Dan’s nipples repeatedly. “Fuck. C’mere,” Dan mumbles, tugging Phil down by his neck. They’ve had enough sex together for Phil to know what he wants, so he goes easily, latching that wonderful mouth around a pink nub and sucking gently.

The sounds that fall out of Dan’s mouth are too loud in the quiet of the room, but if Phil wants him to be quiet, he’s got a funny way of showing it. Instead he reaches for Dan’s jeans, thumbing at the zipper without looking. He’s got them unlatched in seconds, pushing at the material like it offends him.

“Let me-“ Dan mumbles, pushing at Phil’s shoulders. Phil bites down on his nipple then, and Dan keens. It’s never felt so good before, but when they’re like this, it’s never better. “Fuck, fuck,” Dan chants, holding onto his willpower by a thread.

“You will,” Phil mumbles against his skin, kissing his way across to Dan’s other nipple, which has been quite ignored so far. In a feat of coordination Dan wouldn’t have thought him capable of, Phil manages to shuffle his lower half enough to yank Dan’s jeans down past his thighs without stopping the movements of his mouth.

If Dan wasn’t so stupidly turned on, he’d probably say something about how impressed he is.

Phil massages Dan’s thighs with gentle pressure for a while, kissing and sucking and biting at Dan’s nipple all the while. Dan is leaking through his pants at this point, and he makes a very pathetic sort of noise when Phil brushes a hand over his cock.

When Phil pulls away, it gives Dan just a brief moment to recover, but he still squirms under the heat of Phil’s gaze. “What?” Dan finally asks, when Phil won’t stop staring at him.

Phil shakes his head slowly, blinking like he’s coming out of a dream. Dan is positive that it shouldn't be as hot as it actually is. “You’re so gorgeous,” Phil murmurs, rubbing gently over Dan’s thigh.

Dan covers his blushing face with a squeak. He’ll never get used to this naked appreciation that Phil has for his body. A traitorous corner of his mind reminds him that he better not get used to something he’s not even allowed to keep. Dan clears his throat, twitching his head like he can shake the thought away.

“You know...” he starts slowly, a certain conversation coming back to him. “You said that part of the photo series was about sex, right?”

Phil freezes a little then. He’s quick to recover, but not quick enough for Dan not to notice it. “Sexual intimacy,” he corrects, his voice soft. “What about it?”

Dan shifts his hips pointedly. “I think this might be prime photo taking time, bub,” he jokes.

Something shifts in Phil’s face, and he stares down at Dan like he’s grown a second head. “You want me to take them now?” He asks.

Dan shrugs. “Might as well. We’re horny, and all. Kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Phil draws his hands away from Dan’s thighs, and Dan immediately craves his touch again. “I thought you... I thought we were going to...”

“Fuck? Well, that’s the plan, yeah. Doesn’t mean you can’t get your photo thing done too. Two birds, one stone.” Dan doesn’t intend to sound so tetchy, but Phil’s hesitation is getting under his skin. Has he changed his mind? Is Dan’s body not good enough to be photographed in the light of intimacy? His head swirls with self doubt as he sits up. “Look, we don’t have to, but-“

Phil stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, we... that’s okay. I’ll, um... let me grab my camera.” His voice sounds wobbly all of a sudden, and Dan frowns.

“Phil, I-“

“It’s fine,” Phil interrupts, climbing off the bed. His face is horribly neutral, and Dan feels a churning, the bad kind, in his stomach.

He watches, wordlessly, as Phil leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with the fancy camera he totes around with them nearly everywhere they go. Dan tries not to glare at the stupid thing. Phil climbs back onto the bed and goes to straddle Dan’s lap again, clicking different things on the camera before holding it up. “Tilt your head,” he says softly.

Dan does, but Phil makes a tutting noise like it’s not what he wanted. Before Dan can ask for better instructions, Phil shifts forward, the movement effectively causing their hips to grind together. Dan can’t help his very human response, tossing his head back with a quiet moan. He hears the camera shutter, and for some reason his skin crawls. He tries to ignore it in favor of grinding up for more of that delicious pressure, reaching out blindly to grip Phil’s hips and pull him closer.

The camera goes off a few more times, but eventually Phil leans away and Dan hears the sound of it being set gently onto Phil’s bedside table. Dan opens his eyes, glancing around until he catches Phil’s gaze. Something has changed. Phil’s got a guarded look in his eye, and Dan feels his stomach clenching with nerves.

“Phil,” he whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s cheek gently. He watches as Phil’s eyes slip shut and he leans into the touch. Dan breathes out a sigh of relief at that. It’s a gamble, sometimes, showing even the slightest amount of affection. Because no matter how Phil reacts, Dan has to remember to keep his guard up, protect himself first and worry about the consequences of it all later.

“I want you,” Phil breathes against Dan’s palm.

“You have me,” is Dan’s immediate response. Even if it’s a lie, it’s a lie he feels comfortable telling, as long as it settles whatever is making Phil look so despondent.

Phil blinks at him, raising an eyebrow like a question. Dan nods. It’s worth it for the smile it puts on Phil’s face, for the way he looks down at Dan like he’s given him the world. It’s worth it even though it tears a hole in Dan’s chest. Phil presses a gentle kiss to Dan’s palm then, and Dan knows he’s absolutely fucked.

“How do you normally like it?” Phil asks, pulling away and doing an odd little wiggle to free himself from his pants. Even as ridiculous as he looks, Dan is naturally very distracted at the sight of his cock, and it takes him a second to process what Phil said.

“Oh, uh,” Dan says stupidly. Phil is looking at him with a smug little smirk, and Dan begs his brain to stop being so fucking gay, for like two seconds. “I’m not picky,” he eventually comes up with.

Phil’s lips twitch. “Really?”

Dan nods, watching the way Phil sits up on his knees and begins tugging at Dan’s jeans, which until this moment, Dan had honestly forgotten he was still wearing. “I’m easy,” he says, trying for a flirty tone but not quite getting there.

Phil snorts. He finally pushes the jeans down to Dan’s ankles, leaving Dan to finish kicking them off, paying no mind to how they crumple to the floor in a sad little heap. “Do you think you can handle it if I ride you?” Phil asks, tilting his head.

Dan’s not sure if he wants to laugh or moan. “Uh, yeah,” he stutters out stupidly.

“You sure?” Phil gives him a doubtful look. Dan almost bristles, but then Phil’s hand is diving under the band of his pants and wrapping around his hardness, and Dan can’t find it in himself to even be mildly offended.

“Fuck,” Dan whines. “Yes, just let me-” Dan wiggles helplessly, trying to push his pants off with the use of only one hand. His other is clutching Phil’s thigh, trying to keep himself under control while Phil wanks him.

Phil laughs quietly as he watches Dan struggle but he finally pushes at Dan’s pants, freeing him from them at last. “Are you comfy there?”

Dan nods, but flails an arm above his head in search of a pillow. Phil rolls his eyes and reaches out, tugging on the pillow Dan normally uses when he sleeps over. He pats at Dan’s shoulder to get him to sit up, and when he does, Phil gently places the pillow under his head before pushing his shoulders back down. “Better?” Phil asks.

“Yeah,” Dan says with a smile. “C’mere.” He tugs at Phil’s body, trying to manhandle him onto himself. Phil giggles, like actually giggles, as he complies, straddling Dan’s hips like before. Their nakedness is hard to ignore now, especially when Phil settles, their cocks rubbing together without a barrier between them. Dan groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.

“You okay?” Phil asks, rocking his hips gently.

Dan swats at him lightly, with absolutely no force behind it. “Don’t be a tease, you know I hate that,” he complains.

Phil grins. “I know you pretend to hate it,” he says, leaning down and kissing Dan’s mouth wetly.

Dan loses himself in it for a bit, forgetting to defend himself entirely. Instead he arches into the kiss and strokes his hands down Phil’s back, trailing his fingers down until he reaches the small of Phil’s back. He pauses there, stroking his fingertips up and down, but Phil arches, making a needy little noise in his throat, and Dan grins, pulling away from the kiss to speak. “Yeah?”

Phil nods, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Yeah. Touch me.”

Dan certainly doesn’t have to be told twice. He pushes his hands down further, kneading Phil’s ass cheeks with a firm hand. Phil groans, pressing back into the touch, and Dan feels a hot surge of arousal in his gut. It’s so beyond sexy for Phil to be on top of him like this, and then for him to be making those noises... Dan can hardly stand it.

“Condom?” He breathes against Phil’s jaw, trailing wet kisses along the smooth expanse of skin. Part of Dan wishes it was a bit stubbled, and then he’s wishing that he’d had the foresight to ask for something a little different. He’s never personally experienced it, but he’s heard good things about being rimmed by someone with facial hair, and he thinks if Phil put off shaving for a couple days, he’d be well on his way to a decent beard.

Dan shakes himself out of his horny fantasy when Phil moves off his lap. The whine that comes out of Dan’s mouth is embarrassing at best, and Phil rolls his eyes when Dan makes grabby hands for him. “Calm down, you actual goblin,” Phil chastises as he looks through the top drawer of his nightstand.

When he finds what he’s looking for he makes a little trumpet noise. Dan’s so endeared with him that it’s actually kind of ridiculous. Phil smiles at him with the same little happy grin he gets sometimes when he makes Dan smile, and Dan reaches out for him. His hand finds Phil’s thigh, and Dan scratches at the hair there while he watches Phil fight with the corner of the condom package.

“Need some help?” Dan asks, his voice softer than he’d intended.

Phil huffs, but shoves the packet into Dan’s hand with an adorably frustrated noise. “Stupid plastic,” he mumbles.

Dan nods as he rips the corner off easily. “Bad for the turtles,” he says mindlessly.

When he glances up, Phil is smiling at him stupidly. “Yeah,” he says, his tone affectionate. “Bad for the turtles.”

Dan grins and gets to work rolling the condom on, squinting when he realizes that it’s a bright blue color. “Uh, is this gonna like dye my dick blue or something, mate?”

Phil scrunches his face up in adorable disgust at that. “Okay, first of all- ew. Don’t call me “mate” when we’re...” he gestures between them pointedly, making eyes at Dan’s penis. “Secondly, no, you weirdo. Your dick will be fine, I just thought they were neat.”

He’s got a little flush on his cheeks when he’s finished with his rant, and Dan has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cooing at him. “Okay, babe, whatever you say,” Dan says, mostly teasing.

Phil bites his lip, but Dan can tell that the pet name does something to him. It may just come from a point of arousal instead of affection, but Dan will take what he can get. “Here,” Phil says, grabbing Dan’s hand and putting something in it.

When Dan looks down, he’s met with a bottle of lube, and he smirks. “You don’t want to put it on me?”

It was meant as a joke, but Phil’s nose crinkles like the idea disgusts him. Dan tries not to take offense. “I don’t like the texture,” he admits. “That’s why I prefer to, like, prepare in the shower. It’s cleaner and I can just wash the lube off my hands right there.”

Dan nods in understanding. Phil was a bit peculiar about textures of things that he touched. “Maybe next time I can help you out with that?” He means for it to come out as a sexy suggestion, but halfway through the sentence he loses his nerve and it comes out as more of a nervous question.

Phil leans down and kisses his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says simply. Then he nudges Dan’s hand. “Alright, get to work, I’m not getting any younger.” He waggles his eyebrows as he says this, making Dan snort.

“Bossy,” he mumbles as he pours a dollop of lube onto his hand. He tries not to feel watched as he covers himself with it, but he can feel Phil’s eyes on him like a touch. Instead of psyching himself out, he leans into the feeling, giving himself a couple good wanks before drawing his hand back. “Reckon that’s enough?” He asks as Phil settles in his lap again.

Phil shrugs. “You can add more if it isn’t,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Dan rolls his eyes, but Phil’s already sitting up and looking at him expectantly, so Dan reaches down, carefully guiding himself to Phil’s waiting hole. He grips Phil’s hip with his free hand, smiling when Phil reaches down to grip his wrist in a loose hold. They’re both quiet when Dan presses into Phil for the first time, almost holding their breath. It takes Dan a second to realize that Phil actually is holding his breath and he moves his hand to hold Phil’s, squeezing gently.

“Breathe, baby.”

Phil takes in a noisy breath, and his body relaxes enough for Dan to push inside past the first tight ring of muscle. He’s already sweating, the pressure he feels around the head of his cock absolutely maddening already. “Thrust up a bit,” Phil whispers, balancing himself with one hand on Dan’s chest, his other still kept in Dan’s grip.

Dan immediately obliges, pausing only to decipher the noise Phil makes when he bottoms out. “You okay?” He whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s chest in a soothing sort of way.

“Yeah,” Phil breathes, nodding. “It’s just, like... been a while.”

It’s stupid how happy those words make Dan. “Same,” he murmurs, trailing his hand up and petting at Phil’s collarbones.

Phil smiles down at him, shifting his hips a little to get used to the stretch. He leans down slowly, taking care not to disrupt the position, and peppers Dan’s face with kisses, only some of them landing on his lips. It feels like so much, all of this affection while he’s buried balls deep inside his best friend, and as much as Dan craves it, he can feel himself beginning to suffocate underneath it all.

Gently, so as not to hurt or surprise Phil, Dan reaches down to grip his hips, pulling out a little ways and thrusting back in. Phil moans against his cheek, and Dan smiles. “Good?” He asks, just to make sure.

“Yes,” Phil whispers. “Right- right there!” He nearly squeals the last part as Dan thrusts a few more times, keeping his angle. He must’ve managed to find Phil’s prostate like this, so he reaches one hand up to grip the back of Phil’s neck, holding him in place.

“You feel so good,” Dan whispers. It’s the truth, Phil always feels good whether they’re sharing a kiss, giving each other blowjobs, or just brushing shoulders as they sit on the couch watching a film. He realizes with a start that as incredible as this is, this isn’t even his favorite way to feel Phil, not by far.

“Mm,” Phil moans, barely coherent. Dan looks at him and smirks when he sees how out of it Phil is, watery, hooded eyes and his teeth digging into his bottom lip in a very Dan-esque fashion. “Meant to be riding you, though,” Phil finds enough brain cells to mutter.

Dan pulls him in for a wet kiss. He can’t not, not with Phil looking like this sat on his cock. When he releases him, he does so completely, tossing his arms over his head to rest on the pillow. He settles Phil with a challenging look. “Okay, so what am I doing all of the work for?”

Phil narrows his eyes at him as he sits up. “You lazy git,” he says, with no bite in his voice.

Dan smirks. “I could say the same about you.”

“Pft.” Phil seems to take this as a personal challenge, steadying himself on Dan’s chest with both hands before he begins moving his hips, doing little bounces at first before eventually abandoning that to grind in tight little circles.

Dan moans. Loudly.

“Fuck.”

“Shh, my neighbors will hear us,” Phil chastises.

Dan groans. “Fuck the fucking neighbors.” He grips Phil’s hips, digging his thumbs in a bit harder than he normally would, and he would probably feel bad if he had the brain capacity to think about it.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Phil says smugly.

Dan wants to roll his eyes in annoyance, but Phil just feels too good. He can’t focus on anything but tight, wet heat and searing blue eyes. “God. Make me come,” he grunts, grinding up into Phil. They’d been having sex together long enough that Dan knows Phil doesn’t mind him being a little bossy.

Phil shakes his head though, grinning. “Me first,” he says, grabbing Dan’s hand and pulling it over to his neglected cock. Dan’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s only flagged a little, still mostly hard. It only takes him a couple of strokes to get him back to full hardness, but then Phil whines like he’s in pain.

“What?” Dan asks, immediately releasing him and stilling his hips. “Are you okay?”

Phil pouts. “It’s getting all tacky and drying out,” he complains.

It takes Dan’s horn-driven brain a second to understand what he’s talking about. “Oh, hang on, let me-“ he reaches blindly until his hand discovers the discarded bottle of lube, and he pats Phil’s hip with his dry hand so he’ll climb off for a second. As Dan’s lathering himself back up, he notices Phil rubbing at his thighs. “You alright?

“Yeah. Little tired though. My thighs hurt.” Phil gives him an apologetic smile.

Dan returns the smile easily. “That’s fine. Do you wanna try this a different way?”

Phil gives him a sheepish look. “Do you mind?”

He’s so considerate. Dan cares for him more than he wants to admit. “Not at all. How about...” he shuffles around on the bed, moving the pillow further up so that it’s out of the way. “Do you want to lay down or would you be okay on all fours?”

It’s funny, the horny expression that crosses Phil’s face as he considers the options. “I think... for now I think I'll lay down. I’m so out of shape, and my legs already feel a bit like jelly.”

Dan giggles. “Alright. Well, get comfy, then.”

As Phil settles himself on his back, he seems to be mulling something over. “I do want to try the- the other one. Like, some other time, obviously, but I do want to try it like that as well.” He sounds nervous, even shy, and Dan feels it settle somewhere in his chest.

“Sure,” he says quietly. He settles himself between Phil’s legs, running his hands up Phil’s calves and stopping at his knees. “You think you can be flexible for me?”

Phil nods. Dan helps him settle back, then brings both of his legs over Dan’s shoulders. Phil looks a little ridiculous, but he grins up at Dan, so Dan smiles back, tilting his head to kiss his knee. He curses himself afterwards, at the soft look Phil gives him. He’s probably already thinking of ways to distance himself from Dan, to tell Dan that they really should just finish the stupid photo series then never speak to each other again.

At least, that’s what’s running through Dan’s head at first. After a moment, however, Phil distracts him again by speaking in a soft voice.

“Are you okay?”

Dan can’t help but smile down at him. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Phil tilts his head. He looks like a curious puppy. Dan keeps that thought to himself.

“About what?”

Dan nearly freezes at the innocent question, but reminds himself to stay calm to avoid suspicion. Instead of telling the whole truth, he smirks, reaching down to press his fingers to Phil’s perineum. “You,” he half-lies.

Phil smiles, his eyelids fluttering shut as Dan applies gentle pressure. “Mm. Might wanna start doing me instead of thinking about me, Howell. Running out of time, here.”

Dan knows that Phil’s just joking about it being late, but that cuts deep. He really is running out of time, already. This may be the last time he ever gets to have Phil like this, even if it’s technically the first.

“Hey,” Phil murmurs. Dan’s eyes refocus on him, and Phil smiles, a little twitch of his lips. “Come back,” he says.

Dan smiles at him. “I’m here,” he replies.

Phil reaches up, stroking Dan’s arms in gentle sweeps. “No. You were stuck in your head. Get out of there, come be with me for a little while.”

It’s stupid, but for a moment Dan thinks he might cry.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to Phil’s mouth. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, reaching down to line himself back up.

Phil gasps against his mouth when Dan presses back inside, but it’s a good noise, Dan thinks. “Mm,” Phil hums. “This is better.”

“Yeah?” Dan asks, grinning.

Phil nods, twirling his fingers around a curling piece of Dan’s hair. “I can feel you even deeper like this,” he murmurs, sounding inexplicably fond.

Dan makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a whimper, and Phil tugs at his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Dan slows his thrusting to a grind so they don’t knock their teeth together too much, and Phil opens his mouth up for him with a soft noise.

It’s softer like this, Dan realizes. They’re slow and careful as they drag fingers over damp skin and press kisses to any place they can reach. Dan’s never been a fan of the term, but this feels more like making love than anything he’s ever heard described in any movie or book.

He’s quick to bat that thought away though. If there’s one thing he understands about their arrangement, it’s that this is temporary.

He doesn’t want to think about that right now, though. Not when Phil is squeezing around him so tightly and he’s making these sounds, like he feels just as good as Dan does. So instead he does what any sensible person would do, sitting up and reaching down to take Phil’s dripping cock in his hand.

Phil keens, and Dan hides his pleased smile against Phil’s knee. “Good?” He asks softly.

Phil nods jerkily. “Really good,” he breathes. “Just, ah-“ he flaps his hand vaguely. “Bit dry.”

“Oh, hang on.” Dan pulls his hand away in search of the lube, but keeps idly thrusting his hips while he searches the sheets for it. Phil whines, and Dan glances down at him with a smirk. “There it is,” he says, brandishing the little bottle triumphantly when he spots it near Phil’s shoulder.

“Pour some more on you, too,” Phil says, reaching up to hold his thighs close to his chest so Dan can pull out.

Dan nods, resting a hand against the back of one of Phil’s thighs as he dribbles a bit over the length of his cock, pushing back in gently and glancing up at Phil to gauge his reaction. “Is that good enough?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Phil nods, gripping at his own hair. “I just don’t like the drag when it starts drying out.”

Dan smiles. He loves learning all these little intricacies about his favorite person. “You like it wet, no shame in that,” he teases, pouring a dollop on his hand and tossing the bottle to the side before wrapping Phil up in a tight grip. He’s learned a few things about how Phil likes to have his dick touched over the weeks that they’ve been doing this, and nothing is better than getting to practice them all.

Phil blushes at what Dan said, but doesn’t argue. “God,” he murmurs instead. “I’m getting really close, baby.”

Dan’s whole body tingles at the pet name. “Okay,” he murmurs, using his free hand to drag Phil’s legs back over his shoulders. He kisses Phil’s knee, trailing across to nip gently at a bit of thigh. Phil jerks, and Dan smiles down at him innocently.

“Cannibal,” Phil says affectionately.

“You like it,” Dan argues.

Phil doesn’t deny it. Instead, he shifts his hips to grind up against Dan, his eyes fluttering closed as Dan tightens his grip, wanking Phil’s cock with purpose. Phil sighs, a little punched out noise that has Dan feeling desperate, his hips driving in faster and harder to reach that place that Phil’s at.

It doesn’t take long. Listening to Phil’s noises and feeling his tight, wet heat around Dan’s cock are recipes for an early finish, but Dan is still a little impressed at how long he’s managed to hold out. Still, he feels a little bad for how quickly he’s approaching that finish line, with Phil still whining and twitching beneath him, like he can’t quite reach it himself.

“C’mon, bub,” Dan breathes, nipping at Phil’s thigh again and twisting his wrist on an upstroke. “I want you to come first.”

“I’m trying,” Phil whines. “It’s- it’s too much, too-“

Dan gets a weird idea. Weird, because, well, it feels incredible to be buried inside Phil’s body like this, as close as two people can be, and honestly someone would have to fight to pull him away from that any other time.

So it’s weird that instead, he pulls out gently, shushing Phil’s noise of protest as he crawls down Phil’s body so that he’s level with Phil’s cock. “Oh,” Phil breathes when Dan ghosts his lips over the tip, dragging his mouth down lower to kiss and suck at his balls. His hands go exploring, searching lower until he finds exactly what he’s looking for.

Phil groans when Dan pushes two fingers inside, and Dan hears the complaint before Phil has a chance to make it. “Your hand’s too dry, Danny.”

“Shh, I know,” Dan placates him, pulling his hand out after a gentle prod around. He glances up at Phil for a second, and when he sees that Phil’s got his eyes closed, head thrown back, Dan grins. Phil’s a little on the shy side about certain parts of sex, and so he’s not sure how Phil would feel about this particular idea if Dan were to ask him.

So instead of asking with words, Dan gives a last gentle kiss to Phil’s balls, then kisses further down, slow enough that Phil could stop him if he wanted.

He doesn’t.

Dan reaches his destination and places a light kiss to the pink puffy rim before him, and he hears Phil’s sharp intake of breath.

“Dan,” he breathes, his voice tight.

“Can I?” Dan asks, excited. He loves doing this for people, even though it wasn’t something he was often allowed.

Phil seems to be struggling to decide. “I...”

Dan kisses him there again, gently. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he says softly, looking up at Phil with what he hopes are perfect puppy eyes.

Phil reaches down, brushing Dan’s damp, curling hair out of his eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Just...” He looks embarrassed.

Dan thinks he gets that. He’s not usually shy about sex like Phil is, but he understands how nerve wracking this particular sex act is, especially with a new partner. “I’ll make it good for you,” he promises, grabbing Phil’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to his palm.

Phil rubs his thumb over Dan’s lips. “I know,” he says softly. He shifts to give Dan more room, and Dan takes that as an invitation.

He dives back in, gentle, just like he promised. He starts with kisses at first, just gentle brushes of his lips while one hand reaches up to wank Phil’s cock, which is still rock hard and hot. Dan slowly introduces a bit of tongue, just an occasional brush against Phil’s rim until he hears him whimper. Dan can tell without looking that it’s a good noise, Phil’s legs shaking with pleasure.

After that, Dan’s a little less cautious. He’s basically making out with Phil’s hole, so he fully commits to it, pressing his tongue in as far as it’ll go, using one hand to hold Phil in place. He struggles to get the position right at first, but then Phil’s hands appear, reaching down to hold himself open, giving Dan plenty of space to work. Dan glances up at him with a grin and a wink. “Thanks,” he mumbles against Phil’s puffy hole as he dives back in.

He laps and sucks and fucks him with his tongue, and eventually Phil is grabbing his hair, moaning loudly above him. Dan will pat himself on the back for this later, but right now he just really, really wants to make Phil come.

“Close,” Phil breathes. “Really fucking close.”

Dan doubles his efforts, wanking him fast and sucking hard and it takes just two, three strokes, and then Phil’s body is seizing up, tight like a wire before he finally releases with a long sigh.

Dan kisses his hole once more, nuzzling his thigh gently before kissing his way back up, lapping at the come cooling on Phil’s stomach just a bit, just enough that Phil groans and squeezes his eyes shut when he looks down and sees him.

Then, Dan decides it’s his turn. He’s hard and aching and ready to burst, but he’s polite enough to give Phil some space to recover. For a moment, at least, and then he’s tugging the condom off and swinging his legs over Phil, rutting his cock against the come smeared all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil groans. “You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Dan shrugs. “That’s fine. We can go again. Maybe you can fuck me this time,” he says with a cheeky grin. He’s mostly kidding. He’s already feeling exhausted, and at this point he just wants to come his brains out and then immediately pass the fuck out for the night.

Phil seems to be on the same page. “Maybe another night,” he says vaguely, reaching forward and gripping Dan’s hips. “Come here, I’ll blow you the rest of the way.”

Dan smiles and crawls up Phil’s body to straddle his chest, holding his cock to Phil’s lips. “Here comes the airplane,” Dan says in a stupid voice.

“Shut up,” Phil laughs. He tugs Dan forward by his ass, holding his mouth open like a baby bird.

Dan really needs to stop with the childish references before he gives himself a complex.

Instead, he focuses on the feeling of Phil’s mouth. Dan thinks that he’s got this down to a science by now, knows all the right places Dan likes to have touched when he’s getting a blowjob, knows the exact pressure he can use when sucking to really make Dan’s eyes roll back in his head. It’s kind of perfect, if he’s being completely honest.

It doesn’t take him long, not with how long he’s been aching to come, and when he does it’s with a long whine and a full-body shiver. Phil swallows and gives his cock a sweet little kiss, looking up at him with this adoring smile.

“I love it when you do that,” he says.

Dan quirks an eyebrow. “Do what? Come in your mouth?” He smirks.

Phil rolls his eyes, pinching his naked hip in reprimand. “No. That cute little shiver thing you do when you come. It makes me feel like I did a good job.”

And that’s... really adorable, that Phil would even be worried about that.

Dan scoots himself down Phil’s chest so that he’s laying flat on top of him, then smashes their lips together messily. He can taste himself on Phil’s tongue, sharp and salty and a little bit gross. He still likes it though, probably more than he should. So he lets himself indulge for a while, relaxing his weight onto Phil’s body and plying him with kisses.

Eventually, Phil pushes him away a bit. “I’m covered in semen,” he says matter-of-factly.

Dan sits up, looking down at the mess now smeared across both of their chests. “I suppose we both are,” he observes. “Wonder what we ought to do about that.”

Phil smiles tiredly. “Can we just do a quick wash up? I’m really tired.”

“Sure,” Dan nods. He goes to climb off of Phil’s lap, when a thought hits him. “Should we do some more photos?”

Phil flinches. “Now?”

Dan shrugs. “Yeah. I mean... I’m all debauched, I reckon that’s what you’re going for, right?”

Phil stares at him for a long time. Dan feels his gaze like a brand, and it makes him twitch. Finally, Phil shakes his head. “No. I got enough photos for that part.”

“Oh,” Dan says slowly. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, and then Phil leans back, closing his eyes. “Can you go get something to clean us up with?” His voice is flat.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Sure,” he whispers. He feels chastised, even if Phil really hadn’t said anything out of order. He climbs off of Phil gingerly, being careful not to touch him more than necessary. It feels wrong, now, to be this naked together, and Dan makes sure to grab his pants from the floor on his way out, as well a random shirt. It’s probably not his, but they’ve fallen into a habit of sharing clothes a lot lately so there’s a good chance that it might be.

He goes to the bathroom and wets a cloth, carefully cleaning himself up and dressing in silence. His heart is racing all of a sudden, like he’s two seconds away from a panic attack, and he really, really doesn’t want to deal with that on top of everything else right now.

Quietly, he returns to Phil’s bedroom with the damp cloth, hovering by the bed awkwardly, looking down at Phil, whose eyes are still closed. His breathing is too uneven for him to be asleep, but Dan feels strange, like he’s not supposed to speak to him when he’s like this. He tries not to think about which part of his childhood instilled this particular behavior.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Phil says suddenly, interrupting the weird, tense silence.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles.

Phil blinks up at him, and Dan’s never seen him look so tired. Like the weight of the universe is clinging to his shoulders. “Clean me up?” He asks, voice soft.

Dan’s shoulders relax and he lets out a breath. “Yeah, course,” he murmurs. He drags the cloth over Phil’s chest and stomach, wiping away all the evidence of their activities, then carefully cleans up around his dick before going lower. Phil hisses, and Dan stops immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just sensitive. Be gentle.” Phil looks at him with kind eyes, like he already knows that Dan will do his best.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He carefully cleans up the tacky, drying lube, and when he’s finished, he holds the cloth in his hand, slightly disgusted.

“Just toss it wherever,” Phil says, flapping a hand, uncaring. “It’ll get into the wash eventually.”

Dan at least has the decency to drop it far enough from the bed that there’s very little chance that either of them will step on it, but with empty hands, he’s suddenly unsure of his purpose. He shifts awkwardly near the door, hesitating. He wants to stay, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed. They don’t always sleep together after, well, sleeping together, but tonight... Dan really fucking wants to.

“Are you coming to bed or are you just going to stand there creeping?” Phil asks eventually, looking over at Dan like he’s gone crazy.

Dan could crumple with relief at that. “Yeah,” he says, making his way back across the room and sliding into bed next to Phil. “I wasn’t sure if, like, you wanted me to stay.”

Phil snorts. Dan tries not to be offended, since he doesn’t really know the reason for the rather unattractive sound. “I always want you to stay,” Phil mumbles, wrapping around Dan like an octopus once he’s settled.

“Me too,” Dan whispers, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist. He’s clinging, but Phil is too, a bit, so Dan doesn’t feel too guilty. He does realize, however, that Phil is still naked. This feels like it needs to be said. “You’re naked,” he says softly, stroking Phil’s shoulder with gentle sweeps.

“Mm,” Phil hums. “Yeah. That okay?”

Dan snorts. “Of course. As long as you’re comfy.”

Phil nuzzles him then, like a proper nuzzle, and Dan knows he’s not going to be able to escape his very real feelings for much longer.

“Dan?” Phil says eventually, breaking the lull of almost-sleep Dan has fallen into.

“Hm?” Dan mumbles, his eyes already closed.

Phil’s quiet for long enough that Dan is mostly asleep when he speaks again. “You like me, don’t you?”

Dan hums, a sleep-drunk noise that’s barely coherent.

“Dan,” Phil says again, nudging him. “You do, right?”

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, sighing noisily and snuggling in close to Phil. “Like you best,” he says nonsensically.

Phil makes a noise then, that Dan’s mostly-asleep brain deciphers as a pleased noise. He whispers something against Dan’s hair, but Dan loses it to the clutches of sleep.

~~~

When Dan wakes up, he knows something is wrong. It’s still dark out, but the bed is empty and the sheets are cold, and even as he tries to claw his way out of the haze of sleep, he knows that something about that should raise some alarm.

“Phil?” He calls, patting around on the bed for his phone. The screen is too bright when it powers on, showing a hideous three a.m. that makes Dan want to gag. But part of him, the part that’s spent maybe fourteen nights with Phil so far, is very concerned about this turn of events.

Quietly, as if there’s someone to wake, he crawls out of the bed, shivering in the chilled air. He quickly grabs a random blanket that’s thrown over the back of Phil’s desk chair, wrapping it around his shoulders as he goes in search of Phil.

A peek into the bathroom and kitchen has him coming up empty, so he journeys into the lounge, unnerved by how quiet and dark everything is. He shivers as he turns slowly in the space, and his breath catches when he sees movement out on the balcony.

He relaxes when he realizes that it’s Phil, and paces over to see what the fuck has him out of bed and in the cold, half-dressed at three in the morning. Dan taps on the glass door before he slides it open, making sure Phil isn’t startled by his presence.

It appears he needn’t have bothered, as Phil barely glances at him when Dan steps out on the balcony. Instead, he stares out at the sky before him, not sparing Dan a single look.

Dan can’t take the silence for long. “Having a nice freeze?” He jokes quietly.

Phil doesn’t laugh. His lips barely twitch. “Yeah,” he says flatly.

Dan shuffles, looking down at his feet. He’s already freezing, and he’s got far more layers on than Phil. Phil, who is only wearing a t-shirt and Sonic-printed pants that peek out from under his shirt just a bit. “Are you cold?” He asks softly.

“Why’re you out of bed?” Phil asks, ignoring his question.

Dan startles a bit at his tone. “I was looking for you,” he says, almost petulant. “I woke up alone, and I wanted to know where you were.”

“Well, you found me,” he says. He still doesn’t look at Dan.

“Yeah,” Dan says slowly. “Wishing I didn’t, to be honest.”

Phil finally glances at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Hm,” is all he says.

“Why’re you being a dick?” Dan asks bluntly. He’s always been one to get straight to the point, as he’s been told by many people in his life.

Phil sighs, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low. “I don’t mean to be. I’m just tired.”

Dan takes a risk, stepping forward to stand between Phil’s knees. “So come back to bed,” he mumbles, nudging Phil’s knee playfully with his own.

Phil’s lips twitch in an almost-real smile, and Dan savors that victory while he can. This turns out to be a good thing, because when Phil opens his mouth, it’s not what Dan wants to hear. “You can go back to bed. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

Dan frowns. “I don’t want to go back to bed unless you come too.” He sounds like a child, but he can’t help it.

Apparently Phil picks up on the whiny tone, as well. “Dan, I’m really not in the mood,” he sighs.

“In the mood for what?” Dan demands, his temper flaring.

Phil rolls his eyes. That pisses Dan off even more, if it’s possible. “To argue. Just, go to sleep, or watch tv, or something.”

Dan hates himself for it, but he feels rejected. “I’m not trying to argue with you,” he starts, wrapping his arms around himself as a gust of wind blows over the balcony. Phil shivers, and Dan’s heart clenches. “You’re cold,” he says gently.

“I’m fine.”

“Right.”

“Dan, just...” Phil sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Dan doesn’t want to hear what he’s about to say. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks suddenly, his stomach twisting with the thought. London at three in the morning was a terrifying place.

“Of course not,” Phil replies vehemently. “I want you to stay, I just...” he sighs, running his hands through his hair and making it stand up at funny angles. “My head’s being loud,” he murmurs eventually.

“Oh,” Dan replies. This is really the first time Phil has shared this side of himself, this side that feels pain and annoyance and discomfort.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “So I came out here to try and clear it.”

Dan feels guilty, suddenly. “And then I came out here and made it worse,” he fills in.

Phil shakes his head immediately, reaching out for Dan and gripping his hip. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay,” Dan mumbles. He hates his body’s natural reaction to this kind of stress, as he can feel hot tears pinpricking his eyes. He blinks rapidly, hoping Phil won’t notice.

Of course, Phil notices. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling Dan in to sit on his lap.

Dan goes willingly, settling into Phil’s arms that wrap around him, one hand coming up to rub his back in gentle sweeps. “Sorry,” Dan mumbles, wiping at his eyes with the edge of the blanket.

“It’s okay,” Phil says softly. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Dan immediately says. It’s a lie, but his natural instinct is apparently protect Phil first and then feel guilty about it later.

Phil kisses his cheek. “I know that I did,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”

Dan stays quiet, nuzzling against Phil’s neck, curling up as if he can make himself smaller by sheer will alone.

They sit in silence for a long while and then eventually, Phil sighs. “We should go back to bed.”

“Is your head still loud?” Dan asks.

Phil pats his back, prompting him to climb off his lap. “It is, but it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep eventually.”

Dan doesn’t move from his spot, chewing on his lip as he considers something. He turns so that he’s facing Phil, offering a timid grin. “I think I have a better idea.”

~~~

“This is not exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Phil says, his voice sounding very skeptical.

Dan huffs. “Quit being a hater,” he says, snuggling back against Phil. They’re sat on the sofa, Phil leaning back against the arm with Dan tucked between his legs, his back pressed to Phil’s chest.

Phil kisses his neck. “Sorry. What’re we doing again?” He wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, squeezing him like a teddy bear. Dan doesn’t mind being that teddy bear at all.

“You’re gonna help me decorate my island and my house on the new Animal Crossing game,” Dan informs him, leaving no room for debate.

“And why are we doing this instead of sleeping?”

“Because you said you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.

Phil kisses his neck again, and nuzzles at his shoulder, biting gently and playfully. “Okay, so instead of not-sleeping,” he says, a certain lilt to his voice. “Why are we doing this?”

Dan tilts his head to give him a look. “Because this is just a mindless little video game, and I think it would make you feel better to focus on something unimportant for right now. Something that’ll keep your brain busy but not in a bad way, you know?”

Phil looks at him for what feels like a long time before finally nodding. He kisses Dan’s cheek softly, lingering just a little. “Okay, fine. Let’s check out this island, then.”

~~~

“That is so tacky,” Dan complains.

“It’s not!”

“Phil, it doesn’t match.”

“So?”

Dan groans, crossing his arms petulantly. He’d handed the switch over to Phil when he realized that Phil was already familiar with the concept of Animal Crossing. He hadn’t played New Horizons yet, though, so Dan thought this was a perfect opportunity to get a taste of the game before he committed to buying it for himself.

“I’m gonna have so much to fix when you get done playing,” Dan complains.

Phil pinches his thigh. “Shut up, rat. Now where can I go with all these fossils? Should we sell them?”

Dan screeches, a fair impression of a pterodactyl. “No! Take them to the museum, you tit.”

Phil giggles behind him, and Dan feels it vibrate against his back. “Fine, fine. Where’s the museum?”

Sighing loudly in a very put-upon way, Dan guides him through the game to where his museum is located, screeching and complaining when Phil gets his lefts and rights confused and can’t figure it out. By the time Phil gets there, they’re both giggling uncontrollably, poking at each other repeatedly just to start laughing again. It’s so nice, Dan thinks. This is just what they needed. Even if it is nearly five in the morning and they’ve gotten absolutely no sleep, this is what they needed.

“Hey,” Phil says softly after a few minutes, once they’ve mostly settled down.

“Hm?” Dan replies, watching the screen as Phil makes Dan’s character run around in circles.

“Thank you, for this.” Phil’s voice is quiet, and it almost feels like too much, there in the darkness when they’re wrapped around each other like this.

“Of course,” Dan murmurs to him, tilting his head back and puckering his lips for a kiss. Phil grants him with a gentle peck, and Dan turns back to the game, pretending that the pointless kiss didn’t send an army of butterflies raging through his chest.

“You really knew exactly what I needed to calm down,” Phil says, sounding almost in awe of the fact.

Dan snorts. “Of course. You’re my best friend, Phil.” He hesitates, then, nervous that he may have crossed a line that he’s not ready to cross. “I mean- I may not be yours, and like, that’s fine, I just-“

“You’re mine, too,” Phil says quickly. Dan glances up in time to see Phil blushing. “You’re my best friend.”

They stare at each other for a minute that feels like forever, and then Dan clears his throat. “Right. Glad we got that cleared up,” he says, trying to joke.

Phil tightens his grip on Dan’s waist, and Dan tries to pretend that it doesn’t make his heart pound. “Should we go back to bed?” Phil says softly.

Dan smirks at that. “Round two?”

He feels a laugh vibrate against his back and a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “Don’t know about that, babe. I’m actually kind of exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. “It’s getting late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”

Phil sighs, nodding. “And I’ve got to meet Martyn in the morning.” For all the time Dan has known him, Phil has never sounded so upset about meeting up with his brother.

“Well we definitely need to hit the sack, then,” Dan says. He pats Phil’s arm that’s wrapped around his waist and sits up. “C’mon, bub. To bed, to bed.”

Phil allows himself to be pulled off the sofa and down the hall into his room. Dan tugs Phil’s shirt off with no other intention than making Phil more comfortable, and Phil’s got a soft look on his face when his head emerges. Dan brings a hand up to rest at Phil’s neck, rubbing his thumb over his pulse gently. It’s a moment that feels like it’s suspended in time, their breaths evening out to match. Dan thinks that maybe, maybe this is what it would feel like if they were actually together. Maybe this hot air balloon feeling would be comfortable someday, if he was allowed to grow more used to it. As it is now, it’s so unfamiliar that Dan feels like he might choke with how overwhelming his feelings are.

“Dan,” Phil breathes in the limited space between their lips.

The moment is shattered, and Dan forces himself to pull away. “I’m tired,” he says. His voice is flat.

He doesn’t miss the hurt on Phil’s face, for the flash of a second that it’s there. It’s gone before he gets the chance to feel properly guilty over it, and Phil’s turning away, crawling under the sheets without a word.

Dan settles on the side he’s come to think of as his own, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air between them now. He pretends there’s not, reaching out and turning off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he whispers once he resettles.

He’s greeted with silence.

~~~

The next morning, Dan wakes up alone.

The light is streaming in through Phil’s shitty blinds, and Dan groans out his discomfort, flailing about like he can will the sunshine away by sheer force alone. It doesn’t work, obviously, but his flailing about does bring his attention to the emptiness of the bed.

He sits up, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes with sleep-numb fingers. “Phil?” he calls out. His voice echoes in the quiet of the room.

When he doesn’t immediately hear a reply, Dan starts worrying, because of course he does. He’s never woken up totally alone in Phil’s flat. On the rare occasions when Phil isn’t still in bed with him, Dan always finds him in the kitchen or bathroom, or somewhere. But a quick search of the flat has him coming up empty and he’s trying not to panic, really he is, but he actually can’t help it.

He calms down a little when he notices a note pinned to the fridge. It’s a little ridiculous how relieved he is when he pulls it down to read it.

Dan- I would’ve texted but I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m just out to breakfast with Martyn. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. Phil

He’s signed the note with a heart beside his name, and Dan refuses to think about how that makes him feel. Instead he focuses on the last part. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. The idea that Phil would still want to see him again, after the awkwardness of the night before, makes his heart pound. He feels almost sick with guilt over how he’d acted. But he had been so overwhelmed, with the sex and the emotions that came with it. It was no surprise that he was pushing Phil away by the end of the night.

Dan sighs, folding the note carefully and making his way back to Phil’s bedroom. He tucks the note into his backpack, and then he just sort of stops. He’s not sure what to do, alone in Phil’s flat. It’s not something that’s ever happened before, he realizes with a start. Of course he’s spent the night with Phil before, several times by now, but this is the first time he’s found himself waking up alone on a Saturday in the other man’s flat, with no real idea of when he’s coming back. It’s probably stupid, how much he’s already missing Phil, when he’s got no idea how long he’s even been gone.

It takes Dan a few minutes of searching, but eventually he finds his phone amidst the sheets, and he sighs when he doesn’t see any notifications. He debates with himself for a minute or two, but ultimately decides that yes, he is that pathetic, and opens his chat with Phil. All he does is type out a quick “good morning” before going to find a phone plug, a mocking thirteen percent glaring at him from the top of his screen.

He’s barely gotten the phone plugged in when it vibrates with a notification. It buzzes two more times before Dan manages to swipe over to the messages, and he grins when he sees what’s there.

Phil: hi! Phil: why did we stay up so late 😭 Phil: I swear I have some sort of weird sober hangover

Dan grins as he types out a response, leaning awkwardly on Phil’s desk as he does.

Dan: Idk bub I guess maybe you should’ve stayed in bed Dan: you know, instead of abandoning me

Phil: I had to meet my brother!

Dan: I’m naked though

It’s sort of a lie, since Dan is wearing a pair of Phil’s pants, but he could easily be naked, if he was so inclined.

Phil: ..... okay maybe I should’ve stayed at home

Dan smirks to himself. This part of their arrangement, at least, is easy.

Dan: where r u guys at

Phil: That cafe close to the park Phil: The one you said had hipster vibes

Dan: ew of course martyn would like that place

Dan’s never actually met him but from what he hears from Phil, Martyn’s definitely the hipster-y type.

Phil: You wanna come meet us? Martyn keeps asking about you

Dan: you want me to meet your brother?

He’s trying to be normal about this. Because really, that’s a normal thing. Friends do that. Friends meet their friends’ siblings and families all the time.

It’s the “friends” part that Dan is having trouble with, actually.

Phil: Yes.

Dan hesitates. That does sound kind of nice, actually, but something in him doesn’t really know what his answer should be. He knows what he wants it to be, of course. He definitely knows that.

He must take too long to answer, because suddenly his phone is vibrating in his hand, the constant vibrate of an incoming call. Of course it’s Phil, and of course Dan answers almost immediately.

“I still can’t believe you’re the kind of person who just calls when they don’t get a text back,” Dan says in lieu of a hello.

Phil sounds like he’s smiling when he replies. “Come to the cafe. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Dan makes a considering noise, as if he’s not already digging around Phil’s dresser for something to wear. “Alright, fine. But I’m not putting out.”

Phil laughs. “Yes you will,” he says quietly. Dan wonders if Martyn can hear both sides of this conversation. “Now hurry up. I want another croissant, but I don’t wanna order twice.”

“Okay but I’m borrowing your clothes,” Dan says, tugging on a pair of dark grey sweats. He goes to the closet, looking through the selection with pursed lips.

“Fine,” Phil says, unbothered. “Wear something warm, it’s cold out.”

Dan smiles. “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Bye, Dan.” The call disconnects with a click, leaving Dan to select a shirt in silence. He debates with himself for all of a minute before tugging at Phil’s hoodie from his university days, tugging it over his head easily. It’s hideous, but it makes him feel warm when he wears it, both literally and figuratively. It’s well worn with all the years of use it’s seen, but it also makes Dan feel a little possessive. As if anyone who sees him will somehow assume that he belongs to someone just because of a stupid sweater, with a university insignia on it that’s not his own.

He tells his brain to shut the hell up as he makes his way out of Phil’s flat, locking the door behind him with the spare key Phil keeps above the door. He considers slipping it into his pocket but figures that if he comes back it’ll be with Phil anyway, so it would be pointless to pocket the key.

It’s a short walk to the cafe he’s headed for, but he still tucks his AirPods in and scrolls through one of his many pretentiously named playlists until he finds one of his favorite Frank Ocean songs, one that’s really good to listen to while he walks. He hums along as he walks, stuffing his hands in his borrowed hoodie pocket. Phil wasn’t joking about the weather, and Dan’s already regretting his lack of undershirt as the wind nips at every bit of exposed skin.

When the cafe comes into sight, it’s a very welcome thing, and Dan stuffs his AirPods back in their case as he pushes the door open. There’s no happy little bell ringing out the sound of his arrival, not like the little cafe that he and Phil always go to on their own. Still, it’s a warm building, and somewhere in it is the promise of food and Phil, so Dan is pleased to be there anyway.

It doesn’t take him long to spot Phil and his brother sitting at a table towards the back of the cafe. And from the goofy look on Phil’s face, it didn’t take them long to spot him either.

“Hi,” he says when he reaches the table. He didn’t realize it until now, as he’s face to face with the infamous older Lester brother, but he’s nervous. He’s so nervous to meet someone that he knows is so important to a person who’s so important to him.

“Hi,” Phil parrots, sliding over and patting the space of booth next to him. “Cute top,” he smirks as he looks over Dan’s outfit, making Dan’s cheeks flame in mild embarrassment.

When Dan slides in, he offers a smile to the stranger across from them, unsure what to say. He turns to Phil with the intentions of making some sort of joke, but he’s thrown off track by Phil leaning in, planting a short kiss right on his mouth. Dan startles away, his heart racing as he shoots a panicked glance over to Phil’s brother.

Martyn looks completely unbothered, and more unsurprised than Dan thinks he’s really got a right to. “So you must be Dan,” he says, his tone neutral. He’s got a smirk on his face, or what Dan thinks might be one if his eyes weren’t also a bit smiley. “Unless my brother is just in the habit of kissing strange boys.” He sends Phil a funny look, his mouth doing a mimicry of Phil’s precious tongue bite thing.

“Er-“ Dan says with an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I’m Dan.”

Martyn reaches his hand across the table, and Dan accepts the handshake, still a little shaken by the weirdness of the whole encounter. He’s trying not to think about the other reason he feels a little shaken, or the way his lips feel decidedly tingly from Phil’s kiss.

“I’m Martyn, his brother. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Martyn is saying. Dan forces himself to pay attention. “Phil never shuts up about you.”

“Martyn,” Phil hisses. There’s a thudding noise and Martyn winces. Dan knows without asking that Phil just kicked him. Phil smiles sweetly at Dan, and Dan can’t help but lean into the warmth of his gaze. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“Hm,” Dan hums thoughtfully. “There was mention of croissants?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’ll go get you your usual carb selection. Scooch.”

Dan dimples up at him as he slides out of the booth so that Phil can get up to go order. As Phil passes him, Dan makes a split-second decision and kisses his cheek, his body desperate to release some of the affectionate energy he’s got stored up from a morning without him. “Get me something sweet too?” Dan requests as he slides back into the booth.

Phil grins at him. “You’ve already got me, though!”

Martyn makes a retching noise and Dan feels himself blush as Phil trots over to the counter to order their food. Dan forgets to be nervous about being left alone with Phil’s brother for a second, so wrapped up in watching the awkward hand gestures Phil makes as he selects an array of croissants and muffins for them.

His brief reverie is ruined when he hears Martyn clear his throat from across the table. Dan jerks at the noise, startled. Martyn sends him an apologetic smile, and Dan finds himself relaxing. Martyn really isn’t that scary in person.

“If he wasn’t so tall, I’d swear he’s a hobbit,” Martyn says, nodding towards his brother.

It takes Dan a minute to think about it, but he grins when it clicks. “Are we on second breakfast or elevensies?” he jokes.

Martyn laughs, seemingly pleased that Dan understood the reference. “Definitely elevensies,” he says.

Dan smiles, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he sneaks another glance at Phil. “He eats like he’s been starved for twelve years. I don’t know where he puts it all,” Dan jokes, rolling his eyes.

Martyn grins. “One of the world’s greatest mysteries,” he agrees. He glances over at Phil for a second, like he’s checking that he’s still preoccupied, and then he’s turning back to Dan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Phil seems really happy these days.”

“Yeah?” Dan says lightly, trying his hardest not to let that go to his head. He can’t hide the smile it causes though, but he tries, biting down on his lip hard.

“Yeah,” Martyn confirms. He taps the table a little, peeking over his shoulder at Phil again. Phil’s chatting with the barista as they prepare the drinks, and Dan just knows that Phil is trying to tell some weird coffee joke that he tells every time he’s in a coffee shop. Dan’s attention is brought back to Martyn when he speaks again, his voice quieter than before. “We never thought he’d get over his ex-boyfriend, to be honest with you. He was so hung up over him, even after the breakup.” Martyn shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee with a pained look in his eyes.

Dan feels like he’s been doused in cold water all of a sudden, the thought of there being some other man, some other partner before him... But then again, he reminds himself bitterly, they aren’t partners. They’re just friends who... friends who sleep together sometimes. And that’s enough for Dan. But if that’s all they are, he can’t bear this- hearing about some ex-boyfriend that left Phil broken and obsessed. Some person out there that’s been lucky enough to have the parts of Phil that Dan himself isn’t allowed to have, and then wasted it. He can’t handle it.

Martyn doesn’t seem to notice the breakdown Dan is having, steamrolling right over the topic like it’s nothing. “So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Phil told me that he met someone.”

Dan startles at that. The way he phrased it makes it sound like Martyn has a very different perspective on their situation. Almost like Phil told him they were...

“Freshly made breakfast, per your request,” Phil announces as he appears beside the table, his arms laden with various treats and pastries.

“You say that like we don’t know they’re thawed out of a freezer every morning and then chucked in a microwave,” Martyn says, grinning.

“Well... they smell delicious, so surely that counts for something,” Phil says, flapping a hand, completely unbothered by Martyn’s comment. He starts sorting out the food, and Dan doesn’t realize he’s staring until Phil turns to speak to him, freezing when he catches the undoubtedly intense look on Dan’s face. “Are you okay?” Phil asks, his voice dropping to something soft.

Dan nods, trying to shake himself out of it. It’s fine. Everything is fine, so he needs to get a grip and get over himself. “Did you forget our coffee?” He asks, looking pointedly at the table.

Phil makes an offended noise, immediately followed by an “oh- yeah.”

Dan rolls his eyes, looking over at Martyn and shaking his head with a mocking thumb pointed in Phil’s direction. Dan can’t help but grin when Martyn laughs at that. “Scoot over, I’ll go get the coffee,” Dan says, patting Phil’s thigh.

Before he gets the chance to get up, a barista is appearing at their table with two cups of coffee, a small smile on their face. “You forgot your coffee,” they say pleasantly.

Phil looks embarrassed, but nods. “Thank you so much.” He pushes Dan’s cup to him as he gestures at his own head vaguely, saying, “one brain cell, and all that.”

The barista laughs and nods. “Same. Have a lovely day, guys.”

Dan waits until they walk back to the counter and out of earshot before he looks over at Martyn, nodding his head in Phil’s direction. “I can’t believe he told them he had one whole brain cell.” His voice is dripping with false disappointment, and he ignores the noise of protest from Phil.

Martyn grins though, clearly finding this banter delightful. “Right? He’s obviously only got half of one.”

“Hey!” Phil whines. “You can’t team up against me. It’s not fair.”

Dan reaches over and squeezes his knee, letting his hand linger for much longer than is actually necessary. “Don’t worry, bub. I have the other half.”

Phil looks surprised for a second, and Dan revels in the way that look melts into one of delighted affection. Turning to his brother, Phil sticks his tongue out childishly.

Martyn rolls his eyes, reaching over and snatching a croissant, dipping it in his coffee in a decidedly Lester fashion. “You’re a child,” he tells Phil mockingly.

Of course, Phil, ever the younger brother, retorts with a truly impressive: “I know you are but what am I?”

~~~

It’s nearly an hour later when Martyn makes his exit. He apologizes but says he’s got to get back home to his girlfriend, who has some kind of stomach flu. Phil mocks him for leaving her alone all morning, but Martyn has this oddly unbothered look, waving it off and saying, “she’s fine. Corny is a tough bird. She doesn’t need or want me to coddle her.” Phil says he can’t really argue with him there, and they laugh about it, making it clear that there’s something to this Cornelia person that Dan doesn’t quite get, having never met her.

They all clear off their trash and dishes from the table before Phil and Dan follow Martyn to the door. They pause as they stand outside, Martyn and Phil making plans to hang out again sometime the next week. Dan feels sort of awkward stood there, as they haven’t included him in this bit of the conversation, so he pulls his phone out, messing about on Twitter until he hears his name. He tunes back in, glancing up to find Martyn looking at him with a smile.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. God, way to look stupid in front of a stranger.

“I just asked if you’d be coming with Phil, when we go out next weekend,” Martyn says, with the air of someone who is not used to accepting no for an answer.

“Oh, er...” Dan looks to Phil helplessly, but Phil just shrugs. He’s smiling encouragingly, like he wants Dan to say yes, so Dan gives Martyn an awkward, uncertain nod. “Uh, sure. Where are you guys going?”

“We’re going with Martyn and Cornelia to have dinner and maybe clubbing a little bit,” Phil replies, giving Dan an apologetic look. He knows how Dan feels about clubbing, and something about that fills Dan with such an ooey-gooey warmth that he finds himself agreeing to it easily, despite how much he despises the club scene.

“Sure, I’m in. Sounds fun,” Dan says with a smile.

Martyn looks pleased, and Dan is surprised when he holds his arms out for a hug. “Cool. Listen, it was nice meeting you, mate. Be good to my little brother, okay?”

“O-kay,” Dan says, stuttering through the word just a bit. He can’t hide his surprise, though, and it only melts into confusion when Martyn pulls away with a wink.

“Bye, Phil,” Martyn says, hugging Phil next. He mumbles something in his ear that Dan doesn’t catch, but Phil’s ears go pink, and Dan decides that he’ll be pestering Phil about it immediately after Martyn leaves.

“Goodbye, Martyn,” Phil says, a little bit strained. He waves his brother off, reaching out and catching Dan’s wrist with the one not waving. Dan thinks he probably means to hold his hand but just doesn’t have the coordination to do both at once.

Dan watches Martyn walk away, then turns to look at Phil. “Your flat is also that way,” he points out, unnecessarily, probably, considering Phil looks like he’d rather choke than have to walk with his brother. Dan’s dying to ask what Martyn could’ve possibly said that would make Phil react like this, but he’s going to give it a moment.

“I know,” Phil says, petulant. He’s a lip twitch away from a full-on pout.

“So... shouldn’t we also be going that way?” Dan teases.

Phil suddenly shakes his head, turning and tugging Dan in the opposite direction. “Nope. We’re going to the park.”

“Are we?” Dan laughs, letting himself be towed along.

“Yep,” Phil says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. “Gonna buy some bread and feed some ducks.”

Dan shakes his head, adjusting the grip their hands are locked in so that their fingers are properly laced together. He tugs a little on Phil’s arm, slowing Phil down from where he’s walking a pace and a half quicker than Dan. “Bread is bad for ducks,” Dan remarks mindlessly.

“Hm,” Phil hums. He sounds distracted. “Fine, we’ll just look at the ducks.”

Dan shrugs. “Okay.” He waits for a beat. When it’s clear that Phil isn’t going to look at him or speak, Dan cracks. “So what did Martyn say?”

Phil’s face immediately flushes, an incredibly big tell for him. Dan bites back a laugh, squeezing Phil’s fingers reassuringly. “Nothing,” he says quickly. Another tell, and clearly he doesn’t know Dan very well if he thinks that Dan is just going to let it go.

“Come on,” Dan whines, tugging on Phil’s hand. “Tell me! I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”

Phil rolls his eyes, tugging his hand out of Dan’s grip. Dan feels mildly offended for a moment, but he recovers quickly when he feels Phil’s arm wrap around his shoulders instead. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” Phil asks as he tugs at a hoodie string, ignoring Dan’s pestering entirely.

“No, I’m not,” Dan says quickly, batting Phil’s hand away. “Quit trying to change the subject, I wanna know what he said.”

“It’s really cold out, Dan, you should’ve worn a t-shirt or something underneath this,” Phil continues, a little frown tugging at his lips.

Dan huffs. “I think you’re stalling,” he says.

Phil shrugs, looking away. His ears are still pink, and not the kind you only get from the cold. “I’m not,” he mumbles half-heartedly.

“Was it about me?” Dan asks, excited. He already knows it was, but the way Phil blushes confirms it for him. “It was! What was it?”

Phil sighs deeply. “If I tell you will you drop it?”

Dan nods, holding out his pinky for a sacred pinky-promise. Phil rolls his eyes, but locks their pinkies together anyway. “So?” Dan asks, giddy.

Phil’s quiet for a moment, pulling his arm away from Dan to shove his hands in his coat pockets. Dan feels the loss of his warmth immediately, and leans into his space to get a little of it back. “He told me that he was happy to see me happy,” Phil says quietly.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil says with a nod. “And...” he glanced over at Dan, looking away quickly with another flush to his cheeks. “He told me not to screw it up this time.”

At first, Dan is surprised that Martyn would tell him not to screw this up, considering he clearly doesn’t understand the arrangement they have, but then his brain processes the implications of that. Martyn had told Dan that Phil had gone through a terrible breakup, that they thought he’d never get over it... but what he said to Phil makes it sound like he was the one at fault. And despite the fact that they aren’t actually dating, that Dan doesn’t actually really know how Phil is in a romantic relationship, Dan just knows that this cannot be true.

“You couldn’t,” Dan says, leaving very little room for argument.

Phil gives him a strange look. “What?”

Dan clears his throat. “You couldn’t screw this up. You know that, right?”

Phil looks at him like he doesn’t quite agree, but shrugs. “I thought that last time, too,” he mumbles.

Dan’s heart jumps. Phil’s never told him about his previous relationships, and this feels like that might be where this conversation is headed. Dan doesn’t know if he can stand that. It was bad enough to hear Martyn tell it, Dan thinks he might actually be sick if he has to hear Phil tell it as well.

“Phil,” Dan murmurs, reaching out and touching his arm.

“It’s fine,” Phil says with a shrug. “This time will be different.” He turns to look at Dan, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Because you’re different.”

Dan has to pretend that doesn’t make his insides set alight, but oh god, it does. “Right,” Dan murmurs. He doesn’t even know what Phil meant by it, really. Is this different because they aren’t actually dating? Is it different because Dan isn’t like Phil’s mysterious ex? Dan is desperate to know, but he’s afraid to ask.

He didn’t realize how far they’d walked, but his spiral of ruinous thoughts is cut off by Phil tugging at his arm and pointing. “Look! Ducks!”

Dan still has questions, he still wants to know if there’s something else going on between them, but for now he decides to ignore it. There will inevitably come a day where he can’t ignore it, but he decides that today is not that day, and instead allows Phil to drag him over to where the family of ducks is quacking about near the pond.

~

[btsandvmin]

Ask: Reply - 2021.03.18

I don’t know what might be the best way to go about asks, but for now I’ll try to answer asks as they come and when I can/want to I’ll collect them together in a post instead of answering indivudually. I’ve seen other Vminie blogs with similar formats and have done a few collection posts like this before, and it really seems to be the easiest way to digest your questions.

Let’s go through what you’ve sent me today as I finally opened up this blog for asks again. :)

Topics:

Ask 1 - Vmin’s emotional connection vs ship moments Ask 2 - KTH1 and creative control Ask 3 - What makes a ship big? Ask 4 - Thoughts on Tae/kook’s relationship (+ edit on other post) Ask 5 - When did they first mention the dumpling fight? Ask 6 - A little about me and my big analysis Ask 7-9 - Thank yous and nice things

Thank you all for waiting. <3 Read more under the cut.

Ask 1 -  Vmin’s emotional connection vs ship moments

I agree with you. I might not look at other ships as focused as I do with Vmin, but I would guess no other ship comes close to how much Vmin have shown their emotional intimacy in many ways over the years. Not to mention how many times even BTS themselves point out Vmin’s bond as special. Not to mention to begin with we shouldn’t be insecure about their bond based on their interactions with others. We should judge Vmin based on how they interact with each other.

All members have skinship (though some more than others), but both Jimin and Tae are super comfortable with touching, sometimes even with strangers. Looking at moments you can ship all ships, and there are even those that believe their ship to be real for almost all ships in BTS at this point. Why? Well because if you focus on your ship and put emphasis on the moments between them as bigger or more important, you can find “proof” for anything. Because that’s just how close and shipworthy all of the dynamics in BTS are. They all love each other, and shippers can find their own preferred love amongst them. 

I think we also need to remember all the things Vmin has CONFIRMED that other shippers try to prove with their own ships. How is tae/kook hugging or ji/kook cuddling supposed to make me feel insecure about Vmin when they have that too AND call each other soulmates in a song that made one of their procucers cry and other things like Namjoon getting goosebumps thinking about their bond? Taehyung cried reading his letter to Jimin and Jimin said no other member would likely truly understand why he cried. Taehyung has called Jimin the warmest person he knows and his one and only best friend. AND AGAIN, SOULMATE. The years of material we have show us again and again how important they are to each other and how they grow and work hard together to make their bond even stronger.

Vminies, please appriciate what we have because we are spoiled.

Ask 2 - KTH1 and creative control

Honestly this is a difficult one. The thing is that we know that likely to some degree Big Hit will always be involved with what the boys do and release. But I also think their freedom to express themselves is better than most idol companies, and BTS whole brand is to be as genuine as possible. As for what Tae would be asked to tone down is hard to say exactly, but we do know that Yoongi and Namjoon (and other members) have been pretty dark and honest in their lyrics. I know from a Vmin perspective it could be something either LGBT+ or even directly Vmin related, but there isn’t enough to go on for me to make a good guess. We literally just know that he was told to tone it down. It doesn’t even have to be about the subjects or lyrics, even though that does seem the most likely. But we do know that Taehyung wants to release something that reflect him and that he can be proud of, so I am sure no matter what we get they will be his honest feelings. I am very excited and a bit scared thinking about Tae’s mixtape if I am being honest.

That being said, I think there could be lines that they should be careful not to cross. I think it’s possible with Taehyung’s personality who “doesn’t beat around the bush” that he might want to express more than what might be appropriate. Not just from Big Hit’s perspective but for his own sake. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying Tae is an idiot who doesn’t know what’s good for him. I just think at times he might be rebellious against his own better judement because it is something so important to him. For me talking about the Christmas song is partly such a moment, but I still think he was careful and ambiguous enough about it, even though he allowed himself to complain. Still, I am sure if it is about sexuality or even a relationship he knows the risks of being too open about it and would likely understand the need to be careful, or tone things down, if that was the case. A mixtape/album is not something done rashly or in the moment, so no matter what we get I am sure it will have been checked and considered by Tae and by Big Hit.

So basically I suppose the delay could be about creative control but mostly I really think it’s about Taehyung wanting to do well and writing when he feels like it without pressure. Which I feel is a very healthy approach by him honestly. We know mixtapes takes time and we know how Hobi felt about his first one, so I really think we should just give him time and I am sure we will get something amazing.

Ask 3 - What makes a ship big?

Aaaaaaw~! Thank you so much for your love and compliments. I feel like am very lacking in many areas still, but regardless I am glad my posts are appriciated. If I can bring a smile to anyones’ face that is an acomplishment to be proud of. Thank you. <3

As for what makes a ship big or not is of course quite subjective. For me at this point I would say ALL BTS ships are big ships. Not comparing them to each other but just by the huge amount of fans they all have. (I hope you don’t have to learn the pain or liking a rare-pair from a small fandom T-T). Almost all the ships in BTS even have analysis and people who believe in them, and I think that is partly an effect of size as well. That being said I think the bigger a ship is the easier it is for it to grow more. Which is why it is no surprise a lot of BTS ships that were popular right at the start are still the biggest ones now. But with more material and more fans there comes communities focused on their own ship, and they all grow as they get more moments. Vmin too have had a few times when they blow up for a while and gather new curious shippers. Friends is clearly a great example of this. Even Sweet Night seem to be something of a turning point for some to start shipping Vmin. All ships will grown in size with each passing year as we are always given new material. Even if a ship doesn’t get a lot, it will likely get enough to keep fans engaged.

For me I would say the loudest and the most agressive are often the biggest  (more bad apples the bigger the basket you know) and I think we can see some size indications by what ships trend more often etc. Ships can also be big in different ways and in different forums... Like how ji/kookers have taken tumblr as their platform while tae/kookers seem to be on youtube comments a lot.

All in all I don’t think size matters much though. Especially not with BTS where all ships get a lot of material and has their own fans who create for, share and dicuss about their pair. Popularity to me is not really something I think too much about, and honestly I think the way only the most popular pairs seem to get attention in the form of “worry” etc. is very telling. If JK and Hobi share a bed and cuddle and celebrate JK’s BD together, or Hobi post them having a picknick outside their house at night no one bats an eye... But if it was JK with one of Vmin? Confirmed to be dating and all other shippers get worried. 

Going into detail why ships gets big is a different conversation though. :P I hope I understood your ask correctly. Basically I consider all BTS ships as more or less big (perhaps with the exception of 2seok).

Ask 4 - Thoughts on Tae/kook’s relationship

So I got two Tae/kook asks today, seemingly because Tae/kook has had a lot of moments recently. I deleted the first one, but this one I feel is safe enough to share. I’ve talked about tae/kook before... (HERE for example) and I stand by that now too. I don’t have to dismiss other ships to feel confident about Vmin’s love for each other.

Tae/kook has always had a very physical and playful dynamic. Even when Tae changed and toned down this side of him we got moments where he played with JK or they hugged or cuddled close. I do see a little change now after ITS but mostly in that Tae seems to initiate more, not that it looks different in nature. I think when Tae changed his dynamic with JK lost a lot of it’s “main focus” as Tae wasn’t as playful. Look at JK with Jin as a comparison and I think JK in general is drawn to hang with people who are happy and fun to tease. 

Anyways, about their bond I do think tae/kook are close but as grown men they don’t have the same relationship that they used to when they were younger. They simply grew up and their dynamics changed. They haven’t had a lot of more serious conversations, but I think now that distance have become a little shorter after ITS. I think Tae/kook has a great bond that is underrated by many in the fandom but overrated greatly by their shippers. They clearly love each other and have fun with each other and can be very comfortable physically. 

But are they as close as Vmin? Personally I really doubt it. And even if Tae/kook would be real why should that have any impact on Vmin? Surely you wouldn’t think they are together but cheating or something drastic like that. I am also not sure why you would be particularly worried about tae/kook based on physical interactions alone though... I mean, both Hope/kook, Tae/jin, Ji/kook and Vmin also have a loooot of very intimate looking moments if you ask me.

You don’t have to worry about Vmin. If Tae has gushed about Jimin being special to him from 2013 to 2020 I don’t see why 2021 would be any different.

I also got a reply to this post where I mentioned the tae/kook ask I deleted. I must first say that it was my mistake to write JK’s lips and not his lip mole. I have edited the post to make clear he talked about the mole and not the lips.

Either way, thank you anon for giving perspective and adding your thoughts to the moments. Not to mention moments like this happen for all members and I don’t think we can draw any strong conclusions from them saying another members is sexy or something similar. But yeah, people pick and choose what they will remember, and often focusing on the negative will leave a bigger impact than the positive.

Ask 5 - When did they first mention the dumpling fight?

Hi and don’t worry. I honestly think a lot of Vminies don’t know about this because the first time was such a small moment not many would pay attention and remember it. We knew about it since 2016 where Tae offhandedly mentioned him and Jimin fighting about dumplings once.

I don’t even have the actual source for the first time Tae mentioned it, but it was all the way back in July 2016 in an interview with @star1 magazine, so we know it happened before that.

Then Tae got asked about it on a post it during a BST era fansign as well. Also, did you know the reason they fought was 💜?

Yeah.... Let’s just say I am not surprised at all to hear their dumpling fight having more meaning than first let on. As with most things brought up in the lyrics of Friends it’s something we already knew about since before. I also talked about this in my post Vmin analysis - “Friends”. (Though at that point we hadn’t heard them speak much about it and didn’t know how big of a deal it seemed to be.) It makes me wonder if the other things they talk about in the lyrics might also have more meaning than we know. 

Personally I think the reason we even got them talking about the dumpling incident so much is thanks to JK in the carpool karaoke. When asked what Vmin would fight about he was the one who mentioned dumplings and likely brought more attention to it than if it would simply have remained as one of the many lyrical anecdotes in the song. I am glad we got to know more, because honestly the dumpling incident seems to have been a pivotal moment in Vmin’s relationship.

Ask 6 - A little about me and my big analysis

Hi and thank you so much for the lovely compliments. Trying to consider all kinds of possibilities I feel should be obvious if you truly want to analyse something, but sadly I think when it comes to observing real people and being invested emotionally that becomes really difficult. Me too have to hold myself back a lot, because in the end there is always going to be room for error. And if I am wrong, who will be hurt? Likely all of you who listen to me and take my words into consideration. So I rather be upfront about the risk of being wrong than to speak too confidently and accidentally ending up misleading someone. I am really so happy and proud over Vminies who can stand back and not become delusional despite everything we actually have (this includes myself, because it’s not always easy to not get caught up in theories).

As for who I am it’s of course ok to ask. I am from Sweden and is 30 years old. (English isn’t my native language so I hope you forgive my mistakes, I know I have a lot of them in my posts). I’ve been a BTS fan since 2016 and Vmin fan almost since the start. I have been a fan of other groups long before BTS too and was pretty deep into the Japanese idol culture before fell for K-pop. For some additional info I also work with marketing and project managing and have a degree in conflict resolution. Thanks for being curious about me. :)

About my big analysis I am working on it still, and of course I hope to post it as soon as I can. I am a bit hesistant in bringing attention to some things though, as I have seen some of my previous theories and speculations be regarded as fact. I don’t want Vminies to run with my interpretations in a way that make them confident in Vmin being real. So yeah, I do want to post it, but I am also a bit worried what reactions it might get. I try very hard to remind you all that my theories are only speculations and we won’t know anything for sure (unless it would be confirmed). It still isn’t finished yet though, but I’ll keep working hard.

Ask 7 -  Thank you for the fic rec

Thank you! I am glad you enjoyed it. I haven’t had too much time to catch up on reading and just added a lot from my bookmarks, but good thing it was so appriciated by you all. Vmin writers truly are amazing aren’t they? :) 

(And don’t worry about me getting bad asks. I think I would have quit a long time ago if I let them bother me too much.)

Ask 8 - Just a very sweet anon

Thank you! I’m ok. Not great, but ok. Life goes on, you know? But I feel like I finally have the energy to blog again, and honestly that feels pretty great. It feels like I’ve been gone forever, but I hope you will still enjoy my musings and thoughts as you send me questions and I write new posts. :3

Ask 9 - The whole world is different from yesterday~ Just with your joy~

Omg what a sweet thing to say, thank you so much, you are putting a big smile on my face right now. I am glad you enjoy and understand my thoughts so much. I know many of you have missed my thoughts and even asked me when I would open my asks again, and so much always happen with Vmin too... (There is literally enough material to write books about them.) Thank you for waiting and being so understanding. I am happy to be back too. <3

Thank you everyone for you asks and I hope you liked this new format. :) I’ll try to keep it up and if you have any thoughts and opinions feel free to share them.

[impossiblelibrary]

Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

[kerwritesthings]

Subway Surfing

Summary: When a literal run in changes the course of a day, let alone of a life…

Word Count: little bit over 2.2k

Warning: adorable, fluff and funny

Author Notes: A bit of a birthday surprise for @fallinallincurls​ - Happy, happy birthday Bre! Big birthday deserves nothing more than the start of a new verse for the hockey boy I forced at you last year. Umm sorry not sorry.

Things have been a lot of not ok around here for a good clip, I’ve been really not ok. It’s been hard. Writing hasn’t come, life has just kept throwing me down and down. Trying to fight the way back up, not easy but I’m trying. This was a nice way to try to get back some of that light. I had been poking at this for a beat, the idea gnawing at me with some pieces written, notes scribbled around, but birthday sparkle helped get it over the finish line. Part two already has some bones, as does part three - but please to bear with me if you will.

You hate that it’s a Saturday and you’re trekking your way into the office. It’s finally truly fall in the city and it’s a gorgeous day. The last thing you want is to be stuck at your desk behind a computer screen. You want a hot spiked apple cider, a book, a good playlist and your plaid blanket on the grass in Central Park.

It looks like the rest of the city is awake early on this day for the same reason. The subway, which normally is slightly more bearable at this time on a weekend, is the furthest thing from that. It’s packed with people including the grimy, sweat-ladened guy in the chopped-up joggers and crocs who keeps trying to “accidentally” bump and grab you every chance he gets.

The next stop, you try to move but too many people are coming on and off as the doors only quickly open and shut. You just end up jostling as the car jolts in its start. You can’t fall forward. It would land you right into the situation you’re trying to flee. Instead, you try to lean back but you slip. Fully prepared to wipe out, a hand comes gently to steady your elbow while another holds you at your shoulder.

You hear a mish mosh of “careful there” and “are you ok” crossing together as you get back steady on your feet.

“Thanks for saving me for either face planting or landing in that sweaty creep’s grasp,” you say, sliding your bag back securely on your shoulder before turning.

You know those faces. You’ve seen them on billboards and most definitely on TV. Shit, shit and shit. Of course, the two star, absolutely adorable bestie forwards from the New York Islanders have come to your rescue. This would be your luck. At least you pulled yourself somewhat together for this Saturday jaunt to the office. You keep a straight face, smiling normally and not letting anything on.

“Couldn’t let you risk that. He’s been a bit of an ass since he got into the car. We said if he were still acting a fool at next stop, we would jump in. Plotted a rescue mission and everything,” the one explains, hand running through his hair.

“His mission was to cross his arms and give him the eye,” the other mocks, shoving at his friend’s shoulder. “I mean I guess he can look threatening, like a puppy maybe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. These two are exactly as they’ve seemed in interviews. Mathew and Anthony really are as thick as thieves.

“That sarcastic asshole is Anthony and I’m Mat. We’ll stay close until he leaves, or you need to,” he remarks.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s the subway. That happening unfortunately is just another day that ends in y, you know?” you explain. “I also don’t want to take up more of your time or ruin any of your plans.”

“You deal with that? Often?” Anthony asks, eyes a little wide.

“Welcome to New York,” you shrug. “Not every day thankfully. But it’s often enough.”

“I hope you know, that wasn’t, and we weren’t...” Mat tries to stumble through.

“No, no, no. Totally. I didn’t get that whatsoever,” you respond. “Not that from either of you guys. Promise. It’s sweet to know there are still gentlemen out in this world.”

They both get a little bashful smile across their pretty faces.

“Glad to help,” they practically say in unison which causes you to bark out a laugh.

Time to shoot your shot, you think to yourself. Worse case, it’s a moment you get to have for a fun bar story.

“I think we need to become friends, boys,” you start. “Or at the very least, I owe you a drink for saving me.”

“Yes,” Anthony jumps in, nodding his head with a wide grin. “You should come to brunch with us.”

“If I didn’t have to get to the office I would,” you reply. “Unfortunately, it’s stuff I need done before a Monday morning meeting.”

“Office work on a Saturday? That’s no fun. Play hooky! We can promise a bottomless brunch,” he teases.

“Maybe after though?” Mat chimes in with a soft smile. “Get what you need to done, give you something to look forward to after?”

“I don’t want to ruin whatever plans you’ve had for the day,” you begin before the boys both shake their heads.

“It’s just brunch and shopping to try to get this one to up his style game,” Mat chides while Anthony rolls his eyes.

You bite your lip fighting back yet another giggle. These two, at the very least, would truly make some good friends. You dig around in your tote, finally snatching your card holder.

“Not sure how long I’ll be stuck. I’m hoping only a couple hours. But. If you’re serious. Text or call me,” you say, handing one off to each of them.

They both nod, each pocketing your card as the subway comes to a halt.

“Oh shit, this stop is mine. Thanks again for the soft hands and clutch assist guys,” you wink, dashing away quickly before the doors close.

“What is my life,” you mutter, the boys waiving as the train pulls away. “I need to get to the office.”

“Ok, I think that’s the first time we’ve ever had someone realize who we are in public, without a whole big scene or making a blatant ass grab type pass. We’re keeping her. Plus, you like her,” Anthony teases, shoving at Mat’s shoulder as they hit the sidewalk coming up from the subway.

“I could say the same thing to you Tito,” he snarks back, shoving in return. “You were batting the eyes. I’m not blind.”

“She seems cool and yeah she’s pretty, but I’m not jaw drop like you were when you saw her,” he chirps back. “I was trying to get a rise out of you dude. And it worked, you actually stepped up the game. And now you have her info. Don’t make me text her too. Cause I will.”

You’re just about to settle into your email with a cup of what your office likes to consider coffee when your phone starts buzzing about in quick succession.

“Looks like this is a thing,” you mumble to yourself, lips quirking up into a half smile as you formulate a reply.

“You knew?” Anthony grins over his beer. “From the start?”

You nod, sipping at your cider. You pushed through your work to be able to meet the two downtown at this tiny spot in NoLiTa that was tucked away from the crazy of the neighborhoods it was snug between. It wasn’t as sleek as you thought they’d choose; it was something much more comfortable and lower key.

“Really?” Mat questions.

“Yep. One of you not with the other? I would have had to do double take. I would have noticed, but probably would have questioned. However, the two peas in a pod together? That was a no brainer,” you explain, fighting back a bit of a giggle.

“You didn’t say anything,” Mat replies.

“How many times does that happen and it turn into a thing or a bit of a scene?” you circle the bottom of the cider bottle around on the tabletop. “There was also no point to, either. You were just trying to enjoy the day and you were being super kind keeping me from wiping out. I get it’s New York, so it’s a less likely thing but it still happens.  So, if I could keep it from another one of those moments...”

“Told you Barzy, we’re keeping her,” Anthony taps his beer against yours. “Welcome to the crazy, Evangeline.”

You can’t help but tinge a little pink.

“Well then. If that’s the case, my friends call me Evie,” you smile.

“Evie,” Mat lets the name roll around his tongue.

A couple rounds later, of both beers and darts, you realize how tight the two are and more so, how easily you could become entangled in friendship with them. And you do. Texts and memes and random photos fly back and forth, you all hang when all your schedules align. You’re also fostering relationships with each of them separately too; sharing recipes of things you want to try to bake and longing about the places you miss in Quebec with Anthony while Mat was trying to teach you more about basketball (with little luck) and in turn you trying to expand what he calls music and what actually is music. You also share some of your favorite places in the city that the two really didn’t know about. It was easy with them, together and individually but you were getting a bit more of a tug, a bit of a warmer burn with Mat.

A Saturday morning a few weeks after the afternoon drinking funtivities, you wake up to a few texts, photos really, from the group chat with the boys. First is a pair of tickets and passes to their game that night. Second is two jerseys: a blue Barzal and a white Beauvillier. The third, a text from Mat.

Choose carefully…

We’re also not taking no for an answer. You’re coming. Game and drinks after.

“Oh shit,” you exhale, quickly jumping to your closet.

“Beth?” you call out from your room, tossing through your clothes looking for two specific items. “Please tell me you don’t have plans tonight.”

“Hot date with a bottle of pinot noir and trash tv, why?” she pokes her head into your room.

“Good. You do now. You’re coming with me to the Islanders game tonight,” you mutter, flipping through more hangars.

“Wait excuse me?” she flops down, cross-legged on the end of your bed.

“So, I may have left a tiny detail out from when I told you about the two cute guys who saved me on the subway,” you explain.

“Ok and?” Beth prompts you to continue.

“They’re Islanders…” you trail off.

“What?” she screams tossing one of your throw pillows at you.

“I’m trying to not make a big deal, cause you know. But, at the same time, well you know,” you reply, finally finding the long sleeve you wanted to wear as well as one of your hockey jerseys.

“You need to give me more than this, Evie,” Beth pries.

You lean back against your closet door.

“It was Anthony Beauvillier and Mat Barzal,” you say.

Beth screams and throws another pillow at you.

“You just casually didn’t tell me that you met the damn Calder winner and his like bromance bestie,” she laments. “Evie, what the fuck?”

“This is exactly why,” you sigh. “Like it started out as ok I could have a moment, a cool story to tell. But honestly, they’re two really great guys.”

“You’re not telling me something, I can see it in that wistful look,” she pokes. “Oh god you’re sweet on one of them, aren’t you?”

You shake your head at Beth, not acknowledging the question. Shoving her over a little, you fold the jersey on the bed next to her, so the logo was perfectly visible, but no giveaway of the name on the back or numbers on the sleeves.  

Fine if you two summon I guess I must go. I’m bringing Beth, my roommate, so you need to behave. She’s already a pretty big hockey fan so I apologize now in advance for any of her crazy. She’s great but gets excited. Also, easy answer: where’s the Ebs jersey? ;) Or I can always wear this one.

You snap a quick shot of your Dallas Stars jersey.

Mat of course chimes in first.

That’s cold Evie, really cold. And that thing? That’s even worse. Who is on there? Do I wanna know?

Then Anthony.

Non. Non. Non. Why do you even have that jersey!?

“You’ve got that look,” Beth pokes at your thigh. “I’ll leave you be for now. Need to be at the arena what 6? We should leave here at 4:30. Worse case we get there early, we can snag a drink nearby. I don’t trust the train or the subway on a Saturday to be on time. Thanks for bringing me, Roomie. I’m excited and I get to meet these boys of yours.”

I have favorites across the league, you both know I liked the sport well before you two came along. I have the appropriate jerseys for my boys. Well, almost. You guys making me choose is mean af. Rock paper scissors it between you both, whoever wins that’s what I’ll wear.

“Just leave her yours, you know you want to no matter who would win at that little challenge of Evie’s,” Anthony smiles as the text comes through, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “And I know you’d pull shit to do it no matter what. She’s really your girl anyway.”

“What…” Mat starts before Anthony jumps in.

“You know it’s never been like that with her for me, dude. She’s awesome and I’m so glad to have her as a friend,” he replies. “You though? Since moment one, she’s been something else for you. You need to make a move. You’ve got game, I’ve seen it.”

“Evie’s. She’s Evie. There’s more there...” he leans back into his locker.

“More reason to then Barzy,” he volleys back. “Come on, get your shit together. We can drop everything to leave for her on the way out.”

[filamero]

A Mother’s Love

[ Fluff in the beginning, angst at the end!! ]

Word count: 2540

Summary:

— It is often said that a mother’s love is the purest love of them all, and that to lose a mother's love means to become unlovable all the same.

( In which Puffy thinks about her son, from both the past and present. )

[ ao3 link!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902006 ]

(fic under the cut!)

It is often said that a mother’s love is the purest love of them all. Whether by blood or by choice, it is said to be strong. Stronger than that of friends who have been there for each other through thick and thin, stronger than that of the heart when it finally finds its other half—It is said to be the only real bond in the world, the only true love that a person could find in their lifetime. Unwavering, unshaken, unconditional for as long as it lasts.

To lose a mother’s love means to become unlovable all the same.

Puffy remembers the first time she encountered Dream.

Just a few months after she had retired from her ships and her crew to settle down in a little village, helping the ever-so-charming Niki start up her bakery. Not too far from the coast, so she could visit what she embraced for many years in her life. She had been out in the market with a satchel full of emeralds, trading for wheat, sugar, flour—all the likes of which Niki would need to bake her delicious goods. In the midst of a particularly good trade, she heard a faint ‘hey!’ and frantic footsteps, followed by her getting shoved into the wooden cart of the vendor. Whipping around to lash back, she was just in time to see a child stumble onto his rear, holding a loaf of bread to his chest as if his life depended on it. Before her confusion could even fully settle in, another vendor came running, eyes zoned in on the child.

And he did not look happy.

Puffy wasn’t quite sure what washed over her, quickly getting onto her knees to be at level with the poor boy before the vendor reached them. “There you are!” she cried out in fake relief, resting one hand on his shoulder and putting on a worried face. “I thought I lost you!” Her act seemed to confuse the vendor (just as much as it confused the boy). She turned to look up at the (thankfully) less angry adult, forcing a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, sir. I had asked this...this little troublemaker here to grab me some other supplies on the other end of the market. Growing boys need to start doing things on their own, don’t you think?” she explained, shifting to be in between both of them for extra measure. “I must’ve forgotten to give him some emeralds to pay with, silly me,” she continued, rising to her feet and rummaging through her bag. “How much is the bread?”

There was an almost painful silence as she stared the vendor down, her cheeks starting to hurt from how long she was holding the smile. Much to her relief, he seemed to believe her lie, holding his hand out and mumbling, “Two emeralds.” She handed the payment over with no qualms (even though she knew that the bread around these parts was normally one emerald), helping the boy up onto his feet and gripping his hand before he could sprint off. She needed to keep the act up, or else she might get roped into bigger trouble.

“I’m sorry again for the trouble,” Puffy chuckled, quickly tossing six emeralds to the vendor she was talking to before and snagging two bags full of apples from his stand. “I’ll make sure that this doesn’t happen again, I assure you.” She went off without another word, dragging the child with her until they were a safe enough distance away from the market.

He attempted to wriggle his wrist out of her hand, just about to sprint off again—but she kept a firm hold as she turned to face him. “Give me a minute, will ya?” she sighed, setting both bags of apples down and peeking into them. He stood still, and Puffy managed to get a better look at him now that she didn’t have to worry about his safety from an angry villager. Clad in a sweater that seemed much too large and pants that nearly covered his bare feet, she couldn’t help but frown. Carefully letting go of his wrist, she tied up one of the bags and held it out to him. He stared at her, big green eyes swimming with confusion. She nudged his arm, and he eventually took the bag from her. “Take these with the bread too,” she said gently. “They’re apples, so they might spoil quickly, but they should last you long enough to get more food.” Slowly, he nodded his head before giving her a small smile and scampering off.

Puffy never failed to see him every time that she visited the market. It was almost like clockwork; she would arrive with her satchel of things to trade, and within five minutes of walking around, the gentle patter of smaller footsteps trailing after her own could be heard. A glance over her shoulder and sure enough, the little boy would be following her around. He would always stand close to her, even clutching onto her red overcoat whenever the street got crowded and a small child like him would be easily trampled over. With each passing encounter, Puffy found herself more and more endeared with him, dubbing him her ‘Little Duckling’ in her head.

One day, she asked for his name.

“Dream,” he told her, and she didn’t realize that it was the first time that she was hearing his voice. “My name is Dream.”

Puffy wondered if the boy’s parents named him that way because they had high hopes for him, and if they ever predicted that they would be gone—it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was orphaned and homeless, comical as it sounded—before he even had the chance to do anything.

On that very same day, a storm had settled over the village. It wasn’t anywhere near what Puffy’s witnessed out on the ocean, but it was clear that it was more than what Dream has ever seen. A particularly loud bit of thunder seemed to scare the poor boy half to death, clinging to her side and looking fearfully up at the sky. There was no hesitation in Puffy’s head, leaning down, hoisting Dream into her arms, and balancing him and their newly traded supplies on either of her hips. “Let’s get home,” she hummed softly, starting up a soft jog back to her and Niki’s shared cottage that was connected to the bakery, “before this storm picks up even more, yeah?”

Dream nodded his head, wrapping his arms around her neck and resting his head on her shoulder as she rushed back.

Niki welcomed Dream in with open arms, a motherly smile, and a nice bowl of soup to warm him up after getting slightly soaked in the rain.

And when Dream curled up into her side as he drifted off to sleep, Puffy felt her heart swell in a way that only a mother could feel.

That night, Puffy accepted that she was a mother, and Dream was her son.

Some days, he would accompany Puffy back to the market as he did before, following behind her and staying out of trouble. He paid extra attention whenever she would do negotiations, and he tugged on the end of her coat sleeve whenever she finally came to an agreement. It would always make her chuckle and hand him the right amount of payment, hooking her hands underneath his arms to lift him up. He would hand it over himself, grinning brightly as he handed the newly gained supplies back to Puffy. She even let him try and strike a few deals on his own, and she was a little surprised to see that many of the villagers would consider some of his offers that they wouldn’t bat an eye at if she had been the one to recommend it. (Though, frankly, she figured it was his age.)

Other days, he would stay home with Niki, helping her bake goods for their flourishing business. Those days often consisted of Puffy coming home from her local travels or trading to the two of them in the kitchen, her little duckling giggling and covered in flour or batter. Niki would pretend to be upset and scold him gently, but all Dream did in return was giggle and respond with an honestly half-assed, “Sorry, Niki!” The mostly ingenuine apology was never too important, for Niki would easily forgive him and play into his antics, teaching him how to be cleaner on his own in a nicer manner. It would take both of them a minute or two to notice that she came in, and when they did, Dream would hop off of his little stool and come crashing into her arms for a hug.

It was almost scary how quickly Dream fell into the groove of things, turning their family of two into a family of three. They bought and sewed him new clothes, he brought them a new kind of adventure every day—unpredictable and welcome all the same.

A loud crack of thunder echoes through Puffy’s ears, and she’s snapped back into reality. The familiar coast and quaint cottage in her memory fade away into the sight in front of her; a large crater, where a beautiful country used to stand. Her ears are still ringing slightly from the onslaught of explosives that rained down from the sky just moments before. An eerily perfectly set up grid of obsidian hovered above where she stood, casting shadows over what used to be so bright and beloved. She notices a hand reaching up beneath her, quickly scrambling down and hoisting who she realized was Tubbo from a thin ledge on the side of the crater. The teen scrambles over to Tommy the moment he’s on stable ground, flinching hard at the second boom of thunder that Puffy registers.

The wind blows against her figure, and her soaked overcoat does nothing to shield her from the cold. The armor she wears isn’t much help either, weighing her down just as much as her damp clothing is. A shiver wracks her body as she holds her arms close, looking out at the wreckage. Hardly anything remained of New L’manburg—even the debris of what used to be got blown to bits by the endless TNT and withers. Her eyes wander the pitiful scenery, snagging on a figure across from her on the other end of the crater.

Clad in a green sweater—one that was no longer oversized on his figure the way it had been years ago—standing tall and proud—having outgrown both Puffy and Niki in his teenage years—was Dream.

Her Dream.

Her little duckling.

The lightning seems to strike the ground right behind him, and he didn’t even bat an eye at it. Puffy feels a lump rise in her throat, tears starting to trickle down her face and mixing with the rain pounding down from the darkened skies. She refused to believe the Dream she was seeing now was the same one that she met at the market, even if the two shared messy, dirty blond hair and striking jade eyes. But even in her heart’s denial, her head knows better, and she is left to wonder where her sweet boy had taken a turn for the worse. She stares at the stark white porcelain covering his face, the somewhat-poorly scribbled on smile setting her nerves off—and all she can think of is his toothy smile from way back when.

Puffy isn’t sure who is crying harder: herself or the skies. Both mourning the loss of something so precious, so beloved, that even if it were to be replaced, it wouldn’t be the same.

For weeks on end had she witnessed just how much he had changed since she last saw him. Seeing him act so cold when her memories of him were so warm. He still acted playful around her, but there was something so taut about his posture, so malicious about his smile, so ingenuine with his words that she couldn’t bring herself to fully believe that it wasn’t an act. She had seen how he had everyone’s strings wrapped on his fingers, pulling and pushing them as he pleased, as if they were the toys that she used to buy him from the marketplace. She had looked him in the eyes one day when he didn’t have his mask on, and she couldn’t recognize him. No longer was there a fiercely bright twinkle in his eye, ready to take on what the world would throw at him. No longer were his features defined yet welcoming, the kind that brought you in and made you feel safe. No longer did his smile turn up the whole way, making her heart swell with a certain pride and love that only a mother could feel.

This night, Puffy admits to herself, is the night that she accepts that she is no longer a mother, and Dream is no longer her son.

It hurts; her heart weeps for the loss of someone who was still alive yet painfully unrecognizable. She wants to say that it’s not true, that somewhere, her duckling is still there, the one that waited to trail after her as she traded in the market. The one that stood atop the little wooden stool in the kitchen, begging Niki to let him crack the eggs for the batter open. The one that never really blew on his spoonful of soup before taking a bite, making her and Niki dissolve into a fit of giggles as he whined about how hot the food was. She wants to turn the other way, act like she didn’t witness the things that she did, bring Dream close and hug him tight.

But she knows she can’t.

She knows that as unwavering as her love is—no, was—for her son, the man in the green sweater and netherite armor isn’t him. It’s painful to admit, but she knows her little duckling, her sweet boy, her Dream was long gone. And as much as she wants to reach out, travel to the highest mountains, reunite her crew and get out on the sea, walk the length of the entire world to get him back, she knows he’s nowhere to be found. Lost where no one, not even herself or his closest friends could reach him.

Puffy straightens her posture, not bothering to rid her face of the tears because of the thunderous rain. Her eyes land on Dream—the cruel, unforgivable, unrecognizable Dream—one last time before she turns around. Her instincts scream at her to throw a glance over her shoulder, her ears expect to hear the gentle patter of smaller footsteps following her, her eyes long to see the little boy she had taken in all those years ago. But she faces forward, swallowing thickly and heading to everyone to provide aid where needed.

The rain seems to pour down even harder, mourning the loss of a poor boy and his mother’s love for him.

For to lose a mother’s love means to become unlovable all the same.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Sweet Talking

Summary: Rumpelstiltskin does not often leave the Dark Castle, but there are some things that magic simply can’t make correctly – things that he needs to purchase in person.

In which Rumpelstiltskin, Dreaded Dark One, has the world’s biggest sweet-tooth, and a standing arrangement with a blue-eyed confectioner…

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling February moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: G

Sweet Talking

Miss Belle, purveyor of sweets, toffees, and other sugar-filled comestibles to the denizens of the Enchanted Forest at large, knew that she was due a visit from her best customer, and she knew, from the person hanging around attempting and failing to look inconspicuous, that her best customer had indeed arrived, right on schedule.

She kept glancing over at the hooded figure feigning extreme interest in the candy apples whilst she served the other customers in her little shop. He really wasn’t doing much to be unobtrusive. If her mother was here serving with her, there was little doubt that she’d be shooing him out of the shop with a broom, believing him to be a thief hiding all their peppermint candy canes in his cloak and intending to leave without purchase.

As it was, Belle knew that he was just waiting for everyone else to leave so that he could perform his transactions in peace.

Who would have thought that Rumpelstiltskin, of all people, would have had such a fierce and almost unquenchable craving for sweets?

Belle took her time in serving the other customers. She would admit that there was a little bit of a thrill in making the dreaded Dark One wait. She wondered if he realised that in spite of everything about his reputation that she had heard, she wasn’t the slightest bit scared of him. No one could be scared of anyone who was so incredibly enthusiastic about candy.

At length, though, her other customers finished buying their sweets and left the shop, leaving her alone with her mysterious client. He had garnered a few odd looks from the others as they left, and Belle had to smile.

“It’s all right, they’ve all gone.” She laughed as he came over to the counter, still moving furtively and wrapped up in his cloak. “You know, for all you’re trying to hide away in there, you’re drawing even more attention to yourself than you realise.”

Rumpelstiltskin pushed the hood back a little way so that she could see his face. 

“Who’s to say that wasn’t my intention?” he quipped. “The darker and more mysterious, the scarier I am, and the less likely people are to want to try and interfere with my extremely important business.”

“Extremely important,” Belle agreed. “Will you be wanting your usual order, then?”

“Yes please.”

He had come into her shop so many times over the last year since she had opened up that she knew exactly what he wanted down by heart. She’d asked several times if it wouldn’t be easier for her to just get everything measured out and bagged up in advance for him, and then he would only need to come into the shop for a moment in order to receive it, but he had refused. He had not given any reason for his refusal, but as Belle began to shake the sweets out of their heavy glass jars and into paper bags, she thought she knew why. There was a dreamy kind of hunger in his eyes as he watched and listened to them rattling in the scale basin, and it was the same kind of dreaminess that Belle herself had always felt when watching the cascade of dainty eatables. This experience was all part of the sweet-buying process; it just wasn’t the same if the sweets were already bagged and waiting. It lacked some of the magic. 

Truth be told, Belle was actually rather happy that Rumpelstiltskin had decided against a pre-order system. Although she would never admit it to anyone, and least of all to him, she always looked forward to the time that he spent in her shop, however brief it might be, and she really didn’t want it to be any briefer. There was something about him that intrigued her, perhaps in place of the fear that she did not feel of him. They didn’t exactly share much conversation, but it was always fun when they did. 

She finished measuring out his sweets and began to fasten the bags with ribbon. There wasn’t much point to it except idle fancy; just twisting the tops would have done well enough to seal them and she knew that he would probably dive straight in as soon as he was out of the shop, but it gave them more time together, and Rumpelstiltskin didn’t seem to mind the delay. 

“You know, I’ve been wondering.” Belle didn’t know what had possessed her to give voice to the thought that had been rattling around at the back of her mind for as long as Rumpelstiltskin had been buying confectionary from her. She’d always been wondering it, and there was nothing particularly special about today that should lend itself to such conversation starters. 

“You’ve been wondering?” Rumpelstiltskin prompted, picking a strawberry bonbon out of one of the unsealed bags and making to pop it in his mouth. On instinct, Belle reached out and batted his hand. 

“You haven’t paid for those yet!”

For a moment, Belle remembered that he was indeed the Dark One and she had just batted at him. He didn’t seem particularly angry by the action, more affronted at the suggestion that he wasn’t going to pay. To make matters worse, Belle realised that her fingers were still resting on the back of his hand, and she snatched back as if she’d been stung. 

“Sorry. I, erm…”

Rumpelstiltskin gave an explosive giggle. It had made Belle jump out of her skin the first time that she had heard it and it was no different now. 

“It’s all right, dearie, no harm done.” He produced a couple of silver coins out of nowhere and presented them to Belle with a flourish before snaffling the bonbon. “There you are. Payment tendered.”

Belle gave an inward sigh of relief and put the money in the cashbox before returning to her ribbons. 

“You were saying something,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “You were wondering.”

“Oh. Yes.” The little incident had interrupted her train of thought. “Yes. I was wondering why you come here to buy your sweets. I mean, surely someone like you has magic enough to make your own, a never ending supply.”

“I spin straw into gold, not candy canes, dearie.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do.” Rumpelstiltskin didn’t answer her for a long time, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. 

“I think it’s because there are some things that magic just can’t get quite as right as the real thing. I’m sure that any facsimiles of your delectable confections would taste just as sweet, but there would be something missing. Something about them wouldn’t be quite… real.”

Belle finished tying off the last bow and smiled. “Well, I’m glad to hear that my sweets are incomparable to magic. Maybe I ought to use that as a selling point.” She paused as she handed over the bags and Rumpelstiltskin began to stow them in the many pockets of his cloak. “And I’m glad that you keep coming back for more. It’s always nice to see you in here.”

Rumpelstiltskin looked up then, startled, and he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a fish. 

“I… It’s nice to see you too,” he mumbled, before vanishing from in front of the counter in a puff of smoke. That was unusual. Normally he waited until he was outside before disappearing, just as he never materialised in the shop itself. 

Belle smiled to herself again. Maybe there was nothing there, but perhaps something could come of this strange little friendship.

[glassworkspiderlilies]

voilà le portrait sans retouches

Genshin Impact | Albedo/Lumine | AO3 Summary:  “Sir Albedo,” she continues, and the quality of her voice changes to something more velvet, more compelling, “I’d like you to draw me like one of your Fontaine girls.” (Albedo receives a surprising commission. There's a little more than meets the eye.)  Notes: significantly less sexy than it sounds aha. my friend said the line on another fic of mine and it held me hostage until i wrote it!!!! i’m baseball pitching this 18k monstrosity of a hot mess out of my sight after this took 800 years!!!

There are not many things that can surprise Albedo so wholly, but nearly every aspect of the meeting with the Lord Viatoris does.

First, the letter—hand delivered by Jean herself. It is not that Albedo is unknown as a Knight of Favonius, but even as Chief Alchemist and head of the Investigation Team, he is not a figure that often appears in public. His work tends to be very internal and he is left to his own devices most of the time, so to receive a request from the outside is…highly unusual.

And that it comes from the Lord Viatoris, who was considered a hero for his contributions in the most recent war a few years back, is not something that can be ignored.

Additionally—the Knights owe him a debt, for his service in defending the city, and to arrange a private meeting with their Chief Alchemist is hardly an equal trade. Albedo had looked to Jean for some indication of what this request could entail, but the Acting Grand Master had merely shrugged her shoulders and offered to take back his reply.

The letter was politely written and had addressed him simply—Sir Albedo of the Favonian Knights—and had not used any of his loftier titles, which previous letters in the past had when many a noble had tried (and failed) to curry his favor. But, Albedo thinks, while he neatly pens back his acceptance, that it had arrived in the hands of Jean…there was still influence and favor being pulled, no matter how friendly the request.  

Second: the child that arrives at the Angel’s Share tavern where the meeting has been arranged at, a few moments before the lord himself. Albedo watches from the second floor when the door bursts open; she is a fairy-looking creature, with snow-white hair and dark eyes, and bounds right up to the bar and asks for three glasses of apple juice upfront, then rattles off an enormous list of dishes. Lord Ragnvindr—though he prefers Master Diluc when attending to the bar—seems to be familiar enough with her that he sighs and puts through her order without otherwise batting an eye, and fills up the empty glasses of juice as she drains them one-by-one.

Where’s your keeper? Diluc asks, his voice just barely audible from Albedo’s position.

Right behind me! The girl says, though with a pout at the word ‘keeper’. We have more of those dumb vials for you, too.

It is unusual enough that there is a child barging into such a place alone, but when said keeper arrives soon after her, Albedo has to wonder just who the girl is in relation to him. Surely not a sibling, with no resemblance at all between them, and likely not a noble child he is watching, with her manners and style of speech. Yet the girl is too richly dressed in her pink-and-white dress, matching boots, and dark navy cloak to be a mere servant. Why, then, cart around and cohort with a common child, of all people?

Third, Lord Viatoris himself is…a surprising man. Albedo had not made any particular assumptions about the young lord prior to this meeting, but due to the rumors, he had nonetheless developed some vague preconceived notions nonetheless. When Viatoris walks in, Albedo finds himself a little startled by his youth, and his manner of dress.

The young man is probably around the same age as Albedo himself, but the rumors had skewed his age to much older and Albedo had never sought to confirm them. The man’s suit is also not particularly striking—an average suit, for a not-at-all average noble, no matter how new to nobility he may be. His hair is also kept long, which is not strange in of itself, but it is braided neatly with a rather old-looking accessory tying the end, and a similarly battered-looking feather earring dangling from his left ear. It is those…antique (if one is being polite) to cheap-looking (if one is not) accessories that are so intriguingly out of place, so at odds with the status he bears. He wears them proudly, but it is clear that neither are worth anything, merely simple trinkets weathered by time.

What is particularly surprising, however, is the young man’s personality. Once the aforementioned vials are given to Diluc (who lets out a bark of laughter at the rather hefty pouch) and his guest’s arrival is pointed out, Lord Viatoris looks up to meet Albedo’s eyes and smiles a brilliant smile, as if Albedo were an old friend he had not seen in quite some time. It was the kind of smile that set one immediately at ease, and assured them that there was no one else he would rather be speaking with.

Oh, Albedo thinks, his elbow propped up and cheek in hand as he smiles slightly back, so, a dangerous man, in this way.

It’s the little girl that greets Albedo first when she bounds up, introducing herself as Paimon and Lord Viatoris as Aether, with the former being the latter’s assistant. There is a story here, what with the little girl addressing the lord not by his title and also extremely casually, and a certain amount of wry deference from the man to the girl, but Albedo cannot yet ask.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Aether says, holding out his hand to shake, while also gesturing with the other that Albedo should remain seated when he half-rises. “I appreciate it, truly.”

Albedo takes the man’s hand, curious at the apparently genuine feeling of gratitude the man exudes, and watches as the man and girl sit down.

“Please, Lord Viatoris. For the services that you have rendered Mondstadt and the Knights of Favonius, this can hardly repay you for what you’ve done.”

Aether smiles, and Albedo notices that he does not immediately deny it out of politeness.

A man who knows what his aid is worth.

“Ah, but you have not yet heard what it is I will ask of you,” he says, lacing his fingers together. “And please, call me Aether.”

Albedo inclines his head.

“Well, then, please let me know. Just what is it that I can do for you?”

Aether smiles again at his forthright attitude.

And so, the fourth surprise, and the most surprising of all: his request.

“A portrait,” Aether says, as a waitress sets down various plates of food on the table and his little assistant digs in without reserve. “I’d like you to paint a portrait.”

Albedo blinks, eyes wide. Of all the things he might have expected to hear, he confesses he did not think it would be this.

“A portrait?” he repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, or perhaps several. I do not know,” Aether shrugs. “It is not I who this is for.”

Albedo leans back, blinking some more.

“My artistry is merely a hobby, Lord Viatoris,” he says carefully, and Aether gives him a sharp look at the use of the title, “It is not…a knightly service that I quite…offer.”

“Yes, well, hence the reason for this meeting and this request, Sir Kreideprinz,” Aether says wryly, taking a sip from his glass. “It took quite a while to find you. I sent my letter through the Knights’ channels because it was the only option available to me. But the request is for you, and not as a Knight of Favonius.”

Albedo stares. The man had looked for him? How odd.

“Color me intrigued,” Albedo says, and Aether grins at the unintentional pun. “But I would have you tell me more. Of all the things I can do…my paintings are not the first thing one would bring up.”

Aether smiles, setting down his drink though he does not remove his hand from the top.

“How much do you know about me, Sir Albedo?”

Albedo raises a brow.

“Of you personally, not much. I know your aid in the last war turned the tides, and that you helped defend Mondstadt. Sometime just after the war you came into sudden fortune, and bought a title as well as a manse somewhere in Mondstadt—but out of the city—with some of that money, propelling yourself into newly minted nobility. While some may clamor at your origins, more accept this state of things, and are honored to make your acquaintance. But as for the type of man you are, not as much makes it into hearsay.”

Aether listens with amusement, drawing rings on the table with the condensation of his glass.

“You have a lovely voice,” he says, and Albedo blinks, but Aether merely continues, “You may judge the kind of man I am for yourself, but what did not seem to make it into half of the stories is this: I have a twin sister, and she fought alongside me, until we were separated during the war. There was…an explosion of some kind, during that decisive battle everyone sings about, and by the time I awoke, she was nowhere to be found, and no one could tell me if she was even still alive. I was bedridden for months; there were speculations of her being a spy, but quite frankly such talk infuriated me so much that after my first outburst that harshly set back my recovery, it was not brought up again. Perhaps that was why she did not make it into the tales.”

He pauses here to sip at his drink.

“I would not be deterred, however, despite no information being available. You must understand, my sister is all I have left, as is the same for her. Our separation left me devastated, especially in such circumstances. It was Paimon who brought me out of…near ruin.”

Paimon looks up at the sound of her name, her cheeks stuffed with meat, blinking once, clearly having not listened to any of the conversation before this. Aether ruffles her hair, and she grumbles but returns to her food.

“An orphan, who’d been assisting the nurses in the camps,” he supplies absently, watching her wolf down the plates in front of her with ease, “She’s a precocious thing, but I owe her my life, in some ways. But I digress—I searched high and low for my sister and did everything I could to obtain news that could be even tangentially related. In the end, it paid off, and we were reunited in Fontaine.”

It is an abrupt conclusion to a tragic tale, and Albedo waits for a continuation that does not come.

“I…I am glad you were able to find her,” he ventures hesitantly, and Aether smiles faintly.

“Oh, please do not misunderstand, I was overjoyed—am overjoyed, to have found her. But the separation was not kind to her, and I….worry for her. Which brings us to my request.”

Albedo raises an eyebrow, unsure of where this is going.

“I will confess that I do not entirely understand. But my sister had been reading a book—Legend of the Sword, I believe?—and said, ‘ah, the same artist.’ Upon questioning, she had mentioned that she had seen your drawings in Fontaine, and offhandedly mused that she should like to see herself reflected by your hand. She did not ask me to find you—I daresay she may not remember she uttered such a thing—but this was the first thing my sister has shown active interest in since our reunion. As such, I want to do everything in my power to give it to her.”

Aether leans forward, elbows on the table as he laces his fingers together and puts his chin atop them.

“I’m prepared to give you nearly everything I am able to,” he says, his tone still entirely amicable despite the sheer force of power behind that statement, “But I also know that you are not the type to be swayed by money or power. I have done what research I can, but you are a hard man to find information about, Sir Albedo. Which brings us here, with my request for a portrait or several on my sister’s whim, and the question of what I may offer you in return.”

There is a silence between them for a while, as Albedo gathers his thoughts, wholly taken aback by the story and the reasoning behind this meeting. At the moment, he has one of the most influential nobles in Teyvat at his mercy—though he does not miss the way Aether had stipulated nearly.

“Well,” he says, “Given that, the money may simply just be easier to take.”

Aether blinks, then throws his head back and laughs, drawing the attention from other patrons and causing them to smile before they turn back to their own business. He holds a hand to his stomach, slapping the table once before he gathers himself.

“Oh, I do like you,” he says, mirth brightening his eyes. “Well, in any case, if you accept, I’d like you to meet my sister, Lumine. We have a holding in Starfell; you’ll be welcome to stay for however long the portrait or portraits take, of course. Transportation will be made available to you if you prefer to commute. If you need any supplies, I’ll order it. Whatever you need taken care of, I will do.”

“Thank you,” Albedo says politely. “It would be far more efficient to take up temporary residence. But pardon—I also have someone I consider a sister; she is still quite young. She’s looked after by the Knights as well, of course, but it would be remiss of me to leave her for so long if this venture will take an indefinite amount of time. The work for the Knights I may leave to my own assistant, Sucrose, but…”

“Then bring her along,” Aether says easily, without hesitation, “It is a big enough place.”

Albedo coughs.

“I will confess she can be…ah…rambunctious,” he says cautiously.

Aether grins, patting Paimon’s head again. The girl still does not look up from her meal.

“Bring her along,” Aether repeats, emphatically. “So are we agreed, then? I’ll draw up a contract if you’d like, open to payment of your choosing.”

Albedo hums, considering his options.

“No need, for now,” he says, “Perhaps after I better understand what your sister would like from me. But I shall formally accept your request, Aether.”

The man smiles.

“Thank you, Albedo,” he says, and means it.

.

Regardless of the permission he is given, Albedo does not yet bring Klee with him. It is not that he mistrusts Aether, but…he knows nothing about the household, and will not take any risks with Klee.

The Viatoris mansion is…interesting, suffice to say. It is a more rustic house, and whoever had it built clearly had a taste for the style of the old world, given the large statues that adorn the expansive garden—Ruin Guards, they used to be called. But they are oddly charming, in a way, with vines and sprouts climbing over and through their stonework, the old giving life to the new.

It is perched in the palm of one such statue that Albedo meets the Lady Viatoris, who surprises him too—not due to her presence, like her brother, but rather the lack thereof. She is something almost transient; whereas her brother draws the eye due to the charm of his attitude, she draws the eye because one is not entirely sure of what they are seeing. She is a delicate thing, at least outwardly—pale and prim in her white and blue dress, but Albedo goes not forget that she fought a war with her brother.

Aether leads him towards her, tossing an apple procured from the kitchens up and down before throwing it towards his sister with a split-second warning.

“Lumi! Guess what!” he calls, and she looks just in time to catch the apple with one hand.

She peers down at him, frowning, blinking at Albedo.

“Brought you a present,” Aether grins, and Lumine squints.

“…The apple or this man?” she asks, as she slips a small knife out of the folds of her dress and cuts the apple in half.

Albedo blinks at the appearance of the blade. Lumine holds one half of the apple over the edge of her perch and drops it, forcing Aether to lunge forward to grab it, which he does, catching it with admirable deftness.

“Both,” Aether says smugly, biting into the fruit the same time his sister does, and Lumine narrows her eyes at him. Albedo coughs, but Aether holds up his hands placatingly, still grinning. “This is Albedo,” he introduces with no follow-up, clearly drawing out the situation.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Viatoris,” Albedo greets, with a polite bow.

Lumine dips her head in return, glancing back at her brother, knowing that there’s something more to this but unable to discern exactly what.

“Likewise. Welcome to the manor,” she says slowly, tilting her head a little as she scrutinizes Albedo. “…You have a lovely voice.”

Albedo blinks at the familiar line; Aether laughs.

“Doesn’t he? I said the same. But anyway—I thought he might be of service to you, and he agreed to come after hearing me out.”

Lumine narrows her eyes at him again, scooting closer to the edge of the statue’s palm so that her legs dangle over the side. She finishes up her half of the apple as Aether does his, and they both toss the partial cores into the dirt, which Aether scuffs over.

“Did he, now?” she says, frowning, and Aether puts his hands in his pockets casually, a picture of ease.

“I thought you might like your portrait done,” he says, and she furrows her eyebrows.

“My portrait?” she asks, still confused, “When did I ever give that indication?”

She looks to Albedo suspiciously, who coughs, giving her a sheepish look.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself more fully,” he says, and Aether lets out an awwww at the game being let up so soon, “My name is Albedo, of the Knights of Favonius. But perhaps you may better know me as the illustrator for Legend of the Sword.”

The change is immediate; Lumine solidifies, somehow, and it takes a moment for Albedo to realize that it is her eyes that are the crux of the change. She lights up, her posture straightening as she leans dangerously over the edge, and a delighted laugh escapes out of her.

“No,” she breathes, disbelievingly, as she looks to Aether, “You didn’t.”

“How rude, he’s right here, isn’t he?” he says, mocking affront.

Lumine laughs again, then slides off the statue’s palm, startling Albedo. But she lands gracefully, her skirts ballooning around her before she throws her arms around Aether’s neck, squeezing him tightly.

“Oof,” he wheezes at her strength, but she steps back and shakes him.

“You madman,” she grins back, “I can’t believe you. How did you find him? How did he find you?”

She turns to Albedo, taking his hands excitedly, and as she meets his eyes, Albedo can see how this girl too could take the world by storm if she could bear to stay in it.

“Started by tracing the book’s author, followed some trails, greased some palms at the Yae Publishing house—the usual,” Aether supplies, pleased by her reaction, “Just took a little time. You won’t turn him away, will you? I’ve got another business trip in a few days, I would hate for him to be uncomfortable here. I’ve rather grown to like him.”

Lumine laughs, tugging Albedo’s hand and waving at her brother as she heads back into the house.

“How dare you,” she says, eyes sparkling, “He’s more in danger of us not letting him leave, isn’t he?”

Aether sweeps a bow to Albedo as Lumine leads him away, and does not follow.

Albedo lets himself be led, bemused, into a solarium, with Lumine calling for food and drink along the way. She sinks down onto the couch, watching as he seats himself on the sofa across from her, thanking the servants as they lay down plates of little finger sandwiches, as well as a pot of tea and a bottle of whiskey with accompanying cups and glasses.

She pours herself of finger of liquor before offering the bottle to him, but he declines and opts for the tea instead. She drains her glass then pulls out a slim cigarette case, once more offering, and he once more declining. He watches as she affixes it to a beautiful enamel holder, balancing it between her teeth as she lights it up with a match.

She then blows the match out, placing it on the table, and takes a drag of her cigarette before turning her attention to him again.

“Hmmm,” she says, as she blows out the smoke, “I confess, now that I have you here, I’m not entirely sure how to proceed. I never expected my brother to go looking for you, let alone find you, so I just find it a marvel that you’re here at all.”

Albedo smiles a little and leans back, drinking from his teacup as he observes her. The cigarette and the whiskey—her movements are easy and practiced, but almost too much so, and he wonders at this sense of discrepancy, when he barely knows her.

“Well,” he says, placing his cup back on the saucer, “I myself am curious how you came to know of me completely outside of my work for the Knights of Favonius. According to your brother, it was in Fontaine first that you became aware of me.”

There is a silence as she puffs, and she seems to dim as she is caught up in her thoughts.

“Yes,” she murmurs absently, “Fontaine.”

But the separation was not kind to her, and I….worry for her, now, Aether had said, and Albedo can see why. She is a flickering lantern, with the approaching danger of flickering out.

“I was there briefly, when I was coming home from the war,” he supplies, setting his cup down on the table, “But I’m not sure how or where I made such an impression that would have stuck with you in that duration.”

Lumine blinks, focusing on him again. She doesn’t answer straight away, tapping the ashes into a crystal tray.

“How much do you know about me?” she asks, and Albedo’s lips twitch up again.

“…You really are similar sometimes, you and Aether,” he cannot help but say, and Lumine looks startled, and then deeply amused, but says nothing in response to that in particular. “Not much, I suppose. Aether said that you were separated during an explosion, and then he searched high and low for you. And…then he found you.”

She hums, leaning back as well, and turns her head to look out into the gardens.

“I shan’t bore you with the details,” she says, though he can tell it is more that she does not wish to speak of it. Aether too had avoided detailing the last part of his story. “I was prisoner for a time…and then I was released. But I was lost and penniless and so I…drifted. I was in Snezhnaya awhile. Then Natlan. And finally Fontaine. You did drawings for the common people around a certain café, do you remember? From the elderly to the youths to the children. From the administrators to the merchants to the working girls. The proprietor of the café was quite taken with some of them; had them framed and hung on the walls.”

“Oh,” Albedo says, truly surprised. “I had no idea.”

Lumine smiles, leaning forward, crossing her legs.

“Including the nude portraits,” she continues, perfectly at ease, “Fontaine had their artistic rebirth much quicker than Mondstadt did, no doubt due to you. They were beautiful, you know—all of them. Very honest.”

Albedo is quiet for a moment, thinking back. He does recall, now that she has brought it up; there had been a span of a few days where all the battle had finally winded down, and he was desperate for…something else. Businesses were opening again and celebrations were abound for the end of the war, and so he had simply chosen a café, sat, and drawn. He’d gained some attention, afterwards, when the sketches were left with the owner or given to the customers—especially from the women. He’d consented easily to the nude portraiture of the working girls, somewhat fascinated by the opportunity, whom in hindsight were also flirting with him. But he was much more intrigued by the way they held themselves, or the shape of her hands, or the curve of her nose to pay much attention to it at the time.

He had done many a portrait before he disappeared—in their eyes, at least, for he had been something of a stir before he decided to be on his way. No one had any detail of who he was.

“The war…” he begins, slowly, staring down at his hands, “Afterwards, I wanted to find normalcy in the ways that I could.”

He clenches his fist then relaxes it, flexing his fingers, and says nothing more. Silence stretches, before he remembers why he is here, and he lifts his head again.

The lady’s eyes are distant once more, her gaze turned elsewhere, her cigarette burning low.

“So, a portrait, or several,” Albedo says, reaching for his tea, and she turns to him, “Was what Aether said. Was he speaking your wishes true?”

Lumine blinks, then smiles slowly.

“Yes,” she says, and they stare at each other for a moment. “Sir Albedo,” she continues, and the quality of her voice changes to something more velvet, more compelling, “I’d like you to draw me like one of your Fontaine girls.”

A pause, his teacup halfway to his lips, and then he raises an eyebrow.

“Clothed, or unclothed?” he asks lightly, setting the cup back onto the saucer, and Lumine lets out an airy laugh.

“Whichever you think will capture me best,” she says, stubbing out her cigarette. “Or both, if you feel the need. I’m interested in what you see of me, Sir Albedo, because I’m finding it difficult to see anything at all.”

He stares, another silence enveloping them.

“I see,” he says.

She smiles faintly and pours another finger of whiskey.

“Good,” she says, and drinks.

The conversation ends thus.

He glances back once when he leaves, but Lumine is no longer there, already gone through one of the many glass doors.

.

They start with the standard—clothed—portraits, and he passes some days with Lumine in the solarium or out in the gardens, sketching her simply doing whatever she feels like. Aether joins them here and there to pass the time, but true to his word, he is gone again in a few days to Liyue for a business trip.

“Mr. Zhongli doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Aether says, on the day he is to leave, snapping his pocketwatch closed. “So I’d best be there early. Don’t let my sister get you into trouble. Look out for her, will you?”

Lumine snorts from the sofa, holding up a lazy hand in a goodbye wave.

“Give my regards to Mr. Zhongli,” she says, “And my thanks to Lady Ningguang, for the brocade and new cigarette holders.”

He promises he will, while Paimon promises to bring back local snacks.

The manor is quieter without them, and Lumine is even more prone to getting lost in her thoughts. She smokes more too, and he begins to see more reason behind Aether’s parting words.

His assignment is much more difficult than it seems; despite the days spent in her company, none of the sketches he’s done so far feel right. It is a very particular kind of portrait she is seeking, and even if he knows what she wants, it is another story to capture it properly. It is far, far more than simply drawing what he sees, even if his insight is, perhaps, a little keener than others.

He’d expected this to be a trial, however—welcomed it, even—and continues unperturbed, no matter how many pages he goes through. Lumine watches as he flips through page after page in his sketchbook and says nothing.

It takes him a little longer than he would have liked to realize at least part of the discrepancy between what he draws and what he sees.

Lumine is not…comfortable.

It’s not that she is uncomfortable around him; she likes him well enough and behaves more and more casually around him by the day. No, it’s a certain quality that she’s had since he met her, something that she’s had even around Aether. It creates a sense of distance, like a thin glass wall.

(One could break it, indeed. But the resulting shatter might cut both of their hands to ribbons.)

There’s something inhibiting her, somehow, and once again he thinks back to Aether saying the separation was not kind to her. Lumine had glossed over her history, and Albedo was in no place to push, but he thinks now, perhaps, that hearing it, or some of it, may be necessary in order to achieve what she wants from him.

But she does not want to speak of it, and he cannot nor wants to tear it out of her.

Still; she needs something else to shake her out of these doldrums, or they will remain at a permanent standstill. Now that he’s pinpointed an issue, he can start attempting solutions.

For something like this, however, he simply goes to the strongest thing in his arsenal.

He notifies Lumine of his plans, takes a short leave, and comes back with Klee bouncing excitedly up and down behind him. She spins around slowly as she walks, running a little to close the gap between her and her and Albedo when she realizes she’s gotten distracted trying to take in all the sights and unusual structures of the Viatoris mansion.

Lumine greets them with a bemused smile. Albedo notices that her dress for the day is…a little different than her standard. It is far simpler—almost rustic—with the red and white layers matching Klee’s own outfit. She has a fur stole draped over her shoulders as well, and though it is still a refined ensemble, she looks less…intimidating, somehow, more fairylike instead of ghostly. Klee sticks closer to Albedo’s back once she notices the lady waiting for them, peeking out with wide eyes as she grips her brother’s coat. But Albedo can tell that her fingers are just itching to touch the fur of Lumine’s stole.

As they near, Lumine’s eyes crinkle as she looks at Albedo and sinks down to meet Klee’s eyes, not minding her skirts touching the ground.

“Hello,” she greets with a smile, “You must be Klee. Welcome.”

Klee beams at her, instantly overcoming her brief shyness, stepping out from behind Albedo and coming a little closer.

“Hello, Lady Viatoris!” she says cheerfully, curtsying clumsily. “Thank you for having me.” She hesitates for a second, expression turning a little bashful. “May I please touch your fluffy scarf?”

Lumine laughs, removing it from her shoulders and wrapping it around Klee’s, enveloping her in its soft texture. The little girl gasps delightedly, stroking it once, then continues to do so, unable to stop.

“A present, then,” Lumine says, “For helping keep me company.”

Albedo startles a little, on both accounts, and Lumine gives him a wry smile. First, the fur must be worth a fortune, and second…he hadn’t thought she would catch on so immediately.

“Waaa…thank you!” Klee says, grinning widely, “And I’m excited to be here! I get to spend time with Albedo…and also make a new friend! So Klee is really happy!”

Her attitude is infectious, and both Albedo and Lumine smile at her.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lumine chuckles softly, “Shall we get a snack first, before I show you around?��

“Yaaay! Yes, please!”

Klee runs ahead, with the aid of a maid to point the way to the kitchens, while Albedo and Lumine linger behind.

“You did not have to do that, but thank you,” he says, referring to the fur.

“I wanted to,” she replies, watching Klee go, “She’s an adorable thing.”

“As I warned Aether, she can be rambunctious. She often gets herself into some sort of trouble.”

“Ah, but did Aether not warn you the same about me? You may have simply created more work for yourself.”

He blinks, and she throws a cheeky grin over her shoulder before she makes her way to the kitchens too.

A spot of tea and a plate of Fontaine-style cookies called macarons later, they are roaming the mansion grounds, with Klee wide-eyed at everything she sees.

Not unexpectedly, she is fondest of the gardens, enamored with the statues that Lumine so loves to sit on.

“They used to ‘splode?” Klee squeals, when she spots the replicated mechanisms on the Ruin Guard’s back with wide eyes as she jumps up and down.

Lumine glances at Albedo, somewhat unsure if she should be telling a little girl this, but he merely gives her a wry smile. She does not yet know Klee’s history.

“Well…not quite. It’s said they would release missiles from their backs. They were meant to protect ruins, but…”

She trails off. The Ruin Guards have a more complicated history, with scholars debating hotly over the common discrepancy of the age of ruins they protect and the age of the Guards themselves. But thankfully Klee doesn’t notice, as she is far more taken with the idea of these big missile-shooting automata being things that actually existed once upon a time.

“Klee wants to make something like that, too!” she exclaims, “Like…a big Dodoco! Then she could help Klee blow up even more bad guys!”

Lumine blinks, confused on two accounts, glancing at Albedo.

“Dodoco is her stuffed friend hanging off of her bag—a handmade gift, from her mother, who took me in. And…despite her age, Klee is an expert on bombs,” Albedo explains lightly, “Her…education with her mother was…unconventional, due to unconventional times.”

Lumine blinks at him, then looks to Klee.

“Ah,” she says, sadly. “So she is a Knight, too.”

“Yes,” Albedo replies somberly. “Yes, she is.”

Lumine says nothing, and simply watches Klee circle the statue for a while before walking towards her and suggesting a game of tag. Albedo watches with some alarm as Lumine shucks off her delicate shoes and ties the up the excess fabric of her dress to the side, revealing a peek of her garters.

She looks surprised at his wide eyes, smiling as she straightens.

“Surely Sir Albedo is not embarrassed by a little flesh, when he has seen far more?” she asks, bemused, and he coughs lightly.

“The situation was more established then,” he returns, dragging his eyes from her leg to her face, “One does not expect a noble lady to hike up her skirts so brazenly.”

Lumine lets out a laugh—a bark, really, partly harsh and partly genuine, and Albedo wonders if he’s said something wrong. But she doesn’t respond, and simply goes to Klee to set the rules of the game before running off, the little girl chasing after her with enthusiasm.

In a few moments he will play a few rounds with them when Klee begs his participation, but right now, he simply watches Lumine flit about the hedges and trees, looking back occasionally to make sure Klee has not lost her entirely.

She meets his eyes, startling him, somehow, with the quality of her gaze. It is measuring, and distant, and also…doubtful, even as she mouths—

Come get me.

.

In the time that Klee stays within the mansion, they spend it simply entertaining her and ensuring her well-being. They play games, running around in the gardens or hosting hide-and-seek within the house, the halls filled with Klee’s laughter, softly echoed by Lumine’s own and accompanied by Albedo’s chuckles. Other times Klee sprawls on the ground of the solarium and draws with crayons as Lumine watches over her and Albedo continues with his portraiture.

Though the mansion staff largely takes care of their meals, Albedo sometimes takes over the kitchen. Klee has her favorites from him, and it’s not the same to have someone else cook them.  

So at present, in the kitchen, Klee stands on a box to reach the counter as she uses small cookie cutters to cut vegetables into fun shapes, while Albedo prepares everything else. The roles are familiar between them, and though he occasionally looks over at Klee to make sure she is still doing well, he trusts her to do so as he focuses on other aspects.

It takes a while before he realizes Lumine is leaning against the doorframe. She does not tend to eat meals with them—snacks and teatime, yes, but not usually meals—and so it is unusual that she is here at this time. But here she is, watching quietly, her expression unguarded.

There is an unfocused quality to her gaze as she takes in the whole scene and not just a single part of it, as though she is trying to seep herself into a daydream. But her eyes are also tender, and longing, and the emotion she bares is so palpable that it nearly takes his breath away.

Lumine shifts after a moment, as though she is going to slip away without a word, but Albedo does not let her.

“Good afternoon,” he says, making her jump a little, “Will you join us for lunch?”

Klee turns and spots her, a wide grin stretching across her face as she jumps up and down on her box.

“Lady Lumi! Please, will you? Albedo’s making Woodland Dream, it’s my very favorite! Klee wants it to be your favorite, too!”

Lumine hesitates by the door, her hand tightening into a fist by her side, and she tilts forward a little as if she’ll take a step before she stops herself. She presses her lips together, as though there is an insurmountable wall that she cannot pass even within her own home.

Albedo steps over the threshold, taking her hand without a word and leading her next to Klee.

“Come on, then,” he smiles, “I’ll make another portion. We could use an extra hand.”

“Yay! Look, Klee will show you how the carrots become flowers!”

Lumine doesn’t look at him, all of her attention turned onto Klee as she demonstrates how she uses the little cutters to punch the slices of carrot into shapes. Albedo turns away and lets them be, the kitchen full of Klee’s chatter and the occasional returning murmur from Lumine.

Later, as Albedo prepares to sear the fish, Klee brings over a bowl of vegetables to him, and he smiles down at her.

“Albedo, look! Lady Lumi cut some into Dodoco shapes!”

He peers at the carved carrot that his sister is holding up, impressed. He glances back, where Lumine has taken a seat by the counter, her chin in her hands as she continues to watch the two of them.

“That’s some workmanship,” he says curiously.

“I know my way around a knife,” she replies simply, and he’s not entirely sure what to make of that.

He remembers their first meeting, where she had a hidden knife for the apple that Aether had brought her. He remembers her telling him but I was lost and penniless and so I…drifted, across three countries entirely alone.

Nevertheless, there is lunch to finish up. He steams the vegetables with butter and sears the fish with herbs, quickly making a sauce of reduced balsamic vinaigrette and honey in the meantime. Klee watches with excitement with Lumine, as she sings the dish’s praises.

It’s the plating, really, that is the most impressive; he has timed everything perfectly, and all parts of the dish leave their respective pans within seconds of each other. He arranges the vegetables efficiently, adding a flourish with the sauce, and delivers two plates to the table piping hot.

Lumine’s eyes widen a little, and the corner of Albedo’s lips turn up. She notices, and her eyes crinkle.

“A man of many talents,” she says, and he chuckles a little.

“Only some,” he says, and turns to plate his own.

The three of them eat in the kitchen, not bothering with the more complicated place settings of the formal dining room even though Lumine is here. She doesn’t seem to mind—on the contrary, she seems more relaxed, even though she’s reverted back to not speaking much.

Klee tries to sneak her pearl onions onto Lumine’s plate, but Albedo notices and gives her a pointed look. She grins and lets out a sheepish hehehe before taking back her fork and putting it into her mouth, chewing the vegetable dutifully.

Lumine looks amused, and offers one of her Dodoco-shaped carrots. Albedo raises a brow, and Lumine smiles.

“A reward,” she protests, and Klee looks between her and Albedo before offering one of her cherry tomatoes, which Lumine seemed to particularly enjoy.

“Me too!” Klee says cheerfully, “Klee’s good at sharing!”

“She is,” Albedo smiles, his eyes just a touch mischievous, “Which is why she’ll share her fish too, won’t she?”

Klee wilts, her eyes growing big. She hesitates, looking back and forth.

“Noo…that’s Klee’s favorite part…”

Albedo smothers a laugh.

“Honesty is also a valuable trait,” he says somberly, and gives her a portion of his fish, instead. “It is important not to let others take what you don’t want to give.”

She perks up instantly, giving him some of her broccoli, digging into the rest of her meal happily.

“This is the best!” she says, swinging her legs, beaming at Lumine, but her eyes widen a little when she catches sight of the lady’s face. “Miss Lumi, what’s wrong?”

Lumine blinks, then smiles a little tremulously.

“I….think I just miss my brother,” she says, faltering a little.

It doesn’t sound like a lie, but there also seems to be more than that. But Klee doesn’t notice, nodding sagely.

“Klee understands! I’m also sad when I don’t get to see Albedo for a long time,” she says, “So…maybe it’s not the same, but…Klee will share Albedo with you!”

Albedo raises an amused brow, while Lumine looks startled.

“Oh!” she says, laughing a little. “Thank you, Klee.”

“If you’re in trouble, Albedo will help you!” the little girl continues, eager to share the merits of her brother, “He gets Klee out of all kinds of trouble! And he’ll never ever lie to you, so you can always trust his promises! Albedo is the best!”

Lumine blinks, her eyes growing thoughtful.

“I see,” she says, her voice a little absent again. “I’ll remember that.”

Klee beams again, turning back to her food with satisfaction.

Albedo glances at the lady before turning to his own plate, and pretends not to notice when her gaze eventually slides over to him and sears with her scrutiny.

.

It is Lumine who suggests a walk after lunch, guiding them to the famous old watchtower in the area. They do not climb the structure, but admire the view from the Stormbearer Point.

“No storms today!” Klee reports, shading her eyes with both hands and sweeping the horizon. “All clear!”

Lumine gazes into the distance for a little while longer.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Indeed.” She then turns to Klee with a slight smile. “Have you ever had valberries before? They only grow in these parts. They’re very sweet and refreshing.”

“Ooooh, Klee wants some!”

Despite the fact that they just ate not long ago, Lumine leads them to the berry bushes, plucking them from their vines and eating them directly. They are indeed delicious, and they make makeshift baskets with their clothes and bring as many back as they can.

Over the next few days, they continue to pick berries and spend time making them into jam, and use the jam in cookies and other desserts.

Klee stays for a little over a fortnight; though she’s enjoyed her time terribly, it is a lonely area without other children or otherwise much to do, and she misses the bustle of the city. On the day she returns, the carriage is loaded with various gifts—a huge basket of food (including fresh berries and their handmade jam), the fur stole, and other trinkets and games that she’d found an interest in during her stay. Albedo will escort her back to the city so he can check in on his affairs as well, and Lumine sees them off in the afternoon.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, and she gives him an amused look.

“You’re taking my brother too seriously,” she says, as she kneels down to speak to Klee. “Come back and play sometime, okay?”

“I will!” Klee says, hugging Lumine tightly, and the lady looks surprised before she hugs back.

When she rises, she tilts her head at Albedo.

“Safe travels, the both of you,” she says, and he nods back in acknowledgement.

Klee waves all the way until Lumine is out and sight, and Albedo watches until he cannot see her anymore.

In the distance, Lumine is still until the carriage disappears entirely.

.

It takes about four days for him to return; though the Knights of Favonius are not incapable, Albedo is simply too good at his job. Things are less efficient without him, and though it is not imperative that things move so quickly, it is not how Albedo runs the department when he is present. He is not displeased with how things have been during his absence, but now that he’s here, work is brought up to speed, tasks reassigned, assignments evaluated and new ones given.

No one asks much about how his own assignment is going or what the details are; the commonfolk know that he is on Lord Viatoris’ business, and do not pry. But the others—Jean, Kaeya, and Diluc especially—have a more knowing manner when he speaks to them, and on the day he is to return, load him up with various items. From Jean, a tin of tea, the nondescript container showing it is not bought from a shop. From Kaeya, a sealed envelope and a secretive smile. From Diluc, a bottle of what seems like particularly fine wine, but turns out to be grape juice. None of them say anything in particular when they hand over the items, and because they don’t, he’s aware that these are not for Aether, whom they must know is not currently in Mondstadt.  

So Albedo too takes them without a word.

There is some trouble on the road—a broken wheel, and then a group of bandits—so he arrives well into the night. The manse is nearly completely dark, and he frowns as he walks in; the few servants still on duty greet him with somewhat veiled relief.  

“Is everything alright?” he asks, concerned.

“Yes,” one of the maids says simply, “But it is better, now that you’ve returned. Lady Lumine called for whiskey and tea about an hour ago, on the balcony. If you are not too worn out…may we suggest you join her?”

Albedo blinks, but does not hesitate and nods.

“We’ll unload the carriage,” a butler smiles, “Perhaps you can take a fresh pot with you.”

And so Albedo is accompanied by another maid holding a tray as they go up the stairs, who leaves him by the door with the beverages.

It’s a chilly night, and the other door to the balcony has been left wide open so that the room too has turned cold, though the fireplace fights a losing battle for dominance of the temperature. Lumine has her chin propped up on her hand, but turns when she hears noise.

Her face brightens when she sees him; she smiles, leaning back in her seat.

“Albedo,” she says, his name warm and thick on her tongue. She is, perhaps, just the slightest bit tipsy. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” he says, setting the tray down. “May I join you?”

“Of course.”

She watches with interest as he prepares them both drinks—a mix of honey, whiskey, and lemon first, topped with hot tea, then stirred.  

“Are you drinking to humor me?” she asks, and he smiles, “You needn’t to.”

“I find myself wanting to,” he says, handing her one of the mugs as he sips, and she smiles back.

They are quiet for a while, enjoying the warmth of the liquid, before Albedo remembers that there are items he is meant to convey.

“I’ve some gifts for you, from Mondstadt,” he says, “From various well-wishers.”

“Oh?”

Her tone is deceptively mild.

“Yes. I was surprised; I was under the impression you were something of a secret.”

“Are you disappointed?” she asks teasingly, “But you are not wrong. Those who feel the need to know, do.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on her, measuring. She blinks back at him, the corners of her lips curling up a little. There is more to it; the gifts meant for her all have a personal touch. Especially from Diluc and Kaeya—neither give easily, no matter what it is.

“You have far more of a hand in your brother’s dealings than you seem, don’t you?”

She blinks at him in mild surprise, then chuckles.

“Are you asking because you believed me nothing more than a housepet?”

It startles a laugh out of him, how wrong that impression is, even though the time he has spent with her does often involve her lounging.

“No, I am merely seeking confirmation. Though I will admit…had I known nothing at all about you, I may have thought so.”

Her eyes are amused as she swirls the drink around in her mug, but as she continues to stare into her cup, the expression fades.

“Aether is…good at socializing and negotiating. He makes a good businessman; he would not have been able to buy our titles if he were not. But now that his ventures are bigger…he lets details slip through the cracks; he’s no good at bookkeeping. And he cannot be everywhere at once, although he tries. And even now, he’s still…”

She trails off, the pause long before she finishes her sentence.

“…Too kind.”  

Too soft, Albedo supplants, understanding what she does not say. It is not a failing. But it must be balanced, and that’s what she does—balances him, as he does her.

And yet…

“You’ve been uncomfortable,” Albedo says. “Haven’t you?”

It is too blunt, perhaps, but…with the chill of the clear night and the warmth provided by the alcohol, he thinks he can feel something…giving. A slight shift in the wind, a subtle turn of the currents.

Lumine’s eyes flick to his. There is a silence, and she reaches for the whiskey to pour a little more in her cup. She offers him the bottle—this time, he takes it, and she watches as he pours himself a rather generous amount with some surprise.

She frowns at herself, drinks, then leans back in her seat, tilting her head back to look up at the stars.

“Maybe,” she half-sighs, half-groans. “But he is around me, too.”

She props her head up with her arm just enough to see him, smiling a little when she sees that he looks mildly surprised.

“He doesn’t seem like it, does he? He’s good at smiling. But we’re twins. I can tell, and so can he.” She averts her gaze, staring out into the gardens. “I don’t fault him, though. As he doesn’t fault me. Too much happened in the years after we were separated. We were too dependent on each other…and then we learned to subsist…exist without. And now things are…too different. Too strange. So we just…are.”

Albedo stares, then drinks. She stares at his throat when she swallows, unfurling her other arm as though she were going to reach out for him, but she rests it on the table instead.

“Do you want what you had before?”

She blinks at him.

“You are asking a lot of questions tonight, Albedo.”

A warning? He’s not sure, but he can feel the glass wall’s spiderweb fracturing at his fingertips, and his desire to press forward itches. He’ll blame the alcohol for making him bold, even as he is ready to accept the consequences of what the results might be.

“Yes. You asked something of me. I cannot see if you do not let me.”

She blinks again. Her lip curls, at once sardonic and challenging.

Lumine leans forward, putting both arms on the table and leaning forward, as if she were going to tell him a secret—or spit in his face.

“We traveled together for some time, after he found me and I was stable enough to do so. Like we used to. It was all wrong. And it was everything I feared.”

Albedo stares at her, hard. There is a world unspoken in those words, and as he presses them into his brain to figure out what, past the alcohol and past what he already knows, a new thought filters into his mind. His eyes widen slightly; Lumine notices, and her lips thin as if anticipating a blow of some kind. But before she can pull back, his own hand clamps down on her wrist as he too leans forward.

“You didn’t look for him,” he realizes, and she breathes in sharply. “It never occurred to me until now. He spoke about searching for you, all that time. But it wasn’t the same for you. You didn’t look for him.”

There is a serrated silence; Albedo remembers when Aether recounted his story at the Angel’s Share. His deceptively easy folded hands, the restrained pain in his eyes, the curbed tightness of his voice—excellent bravado had covered it all, but that too was telling. The setback he had experienced when he was still recovering from the explosion, so angry was he at slander against his missing sister. The way he had needed saving from a small orphan in the nursing camps when no one could or would tell him of Lumine’s whereabouts.

How he had leaned forward at the tavern and offered just about anything as payment for Albedo to grant his sister’s wishes and whims.  

Albedo understands better now, that the stipulation of nearly everything in his power was because he would give up nothing that provided his sister comfort, no matter how small. What loyalty! But also, the fear of losing her once more—and the latter would be something Aether would truly give everything not to happen again.

All that, and the sister he searched for so desperately…

Did not feel the same.

Lumine’s eyes grow wet and despairing the more she watches understanding flit across his face, and he can feel her hand under his clench into a fist, but she doesn’t pull away from him.

“I did, in the beginning,” she whispers, trembling, “But not for long. You must have heard the songs and tales of Aether by now. Mondstadt’s Hero is just one title among many. His name was everywhere. At first it kept me going. And then—when I couldn’t find him, when I had nowhere to turn, when I was lost and destitute…it was only his name that I heard. It was not that I wanted to share the spotlight—far from it. But the more I heard about him, without me, the further away he seemed to get. Like I was no longer able to reach him. Like I was no longer enough.”

The words spill out of her, quick but heavy, every syllable a blow, her breath coming short as though she is panicking. She doesn’t look at him, staring down at their hands, her nails surely digging crescents into her palm.

“I stopped looking. I couldn’t—it was so much just trying to survive. We were named for the light and sky, do you know? But I wasn’t…bright enough to share the same…the same sky. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see anything at all.”

Her body is whipcord tense, so rigid that her muscles must scream for release. But she doesn’t notice, trapped in the despair of her own faults, biting her lip so hard blood pools to the surface.  

“Breathe,” Albedo says sharply, “Lumine, breathe.”

She tries to, for several minutes, shuddering as she inhales. She then puts a hand to her forehead and shades her eyes. Her voice cracks with nearly every other word when she speaks again, every sound a trial, but the tears have not yet fallen.

“He found me. He never stopped looking. But I—I had nothing to offer him when he did. Not memories, not even a shell. All he found was a great yawning abyss that he once called sister. He would have given everything for me, and I could give him nothing. What kind of monster does that make me?”

Albedo stands and gently cups her jaw, tilting her head up. She is haunted hollow, looking at him the way a woman stranded at sea for months might after finally seeing a beacon of rescue in the far distance.

But he is not at a distance.

“Breathe,” he says again, more firmly, and her gaze bores into his as she obeys. “One. Two. Three. Yes, that’s right. Again. And again.”

He sees the wildness begin to ebb as she listens to his voice, counting inhales and exhales at length, and he lets go of her face when she starts to settle. He removes his other hand from her wrist as well and she shivers at the sudden lack of warmth and contact.

Lumine flips her hand over, palm-up, studying the bloody red indents she’s made on her own skin. She frowns, pressing a napkin to the cuts. When she licks her lips she tastes the blood from earlier and dabs that away too, finally seeming to ground herself with its iron tang.

There is a weighted silence.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” she murmurs—though it’s not strictly true—when the pause has drawn out too long, “It’s late. I should retire for the night.”

Albedo simply inclines his head, hesitantly acquiescing to her wishes. There is more to be said—things he could say. But her confession is too raw, the air between them too delicate, and Lumine herself still so fragile at the moment the wind could scatter the particles of her.

Lumine rises from her seat first, languid and perhaps a little dazed; Albedo follows, closing the doors to the balcony behind him. He leans against the bedpost as Lumine sinks down onto the mattress, burying her face in her hands. After a moment, he takes a chance and walks back over to her, kneeling down and putting a hand on her knee.

She looks at him.

He says nothing. She gazes back, seeming as though she wants to say something, her lips parted. But she struggles with the words and decides against it; Albedo encourages her through his own gaze, but she gives a small shake of her head in the end.

Albedo makes to get up, but she puts her hand on top of his briefly before he fully rises, and he lowers himself back down.

“Thank you,” she says instead in a tiny, feeble voice, and he smiles a little.

“I haven’t anything to show for my presence here yet,” he says, a little jokingly, and she smiles back hesitantly.

“You’ve done much, already,” she says softly.

They are still for a moment, staring at each other. Albedo flips his own hand over so that their palms meet, and after a moment, he laces their fingers together. Lumine sighs, squeezing his hand weakly.

“Should I…stay until you fall asleep?” Albedo asks slowly.

It is an innocent offer. He says it simply, uncharged, and yet it comes out very differently than the times he’s asked this to Klee.

Lumine is silent, then reaches out with her other hand to trace the curve of his cheek, feather-light, gaze unreadable. Everything seems so still, and so quiet. The awareness that it is only the two of them in this room is keener, though that has never been so significant before.  

“…You should go,” she murmurs, so quietly. “I’ve have too much to drink, indeed.”

There’s—a warning in her words this time, but Albedo is not entirely sure he can discern the specifics of what it is for.

Nevertheless, he will follow her wishes. He stands, and Lumine does not watch as he makes his way to the door.

“Tomorrow,” she says, when his hand is on the knob, “Tomorrow…I will undress for you.”

Albedo turns back, but she is still not looking at him.

“Physically, or metaphorically?” he asks lightheartedly, echoing one of their first conversations.

She half-turns so that he can see the upward curve of her lips, but what he can see of her eyes is old, old and tired.

“Both,” she sighs, a little tremulously, “…Both.”

“…Alright.” He replies gently, as he turns the doorknob. “…Good night. I will see you tomorrow.”

On a whim, he turns back again as he steps of the room, and catches her eye as he does.

For a moment, he stands still, struck by the look in her eyes, almost longing.

You should go.

But he obeys her wishes, and returns to his own room for the night.

Still—he wonders, as he lays down on the cold bed.

And wonders and wonders and wonders.

.

The morning starts normally.

Albedo takes breakfast alone, and works on refining some sketches in the solarium. Lumine sleeps in, and meets him there by mid-morning. There is a certain amount of anticipation in the air, but things are so far as they always have been, and so Albedo carries on. He begins another sketch of her.

The only difference worth mentioning, perhaps, is that she is dressed a little more formally today. Lumine looks every inch the noblewoman in a blue gown with gold accents; she is wearing gloves, too, and floral hairpins with matching earrings. It is not so unusual, though she is often dressed more casually than this, and he wonders what this is meant to signify. She looks—doll-like, pristine, and like the day he first met her: a little intimidating, for she does not seem entirely present.

He draws. She reads a book.

They do not speak. It is only until the sun is just short of slipping that she closes her novel and straightens out before standing.

“Take a walk with me?” she asks, and he stands and offers his arm.  

She dismisses the staff for the rest of the day, and the two of them walk through the gardens in silence. She leads, and on the returning path back to the mansion, she sighs and begins to speak.

“Do you know,” she begins, “I’ve been saved by children four times?”

He glances at her, and she him, but they do not stop walking, and she faces forward again as she continues to talk.

“Klee said that you get her out of all sorts of trouble, and that you never lie. Can I trust you?”

“You can,” he says easily, “But you have to decide that for yourself.”

She smiles, and says nothing else on the subject.

“How much do you know about me, Albedo?” she asks conversationally, and he chuckles a little at the familiar question.

“Not much, even now,” he says, “I know that you and your brother Aether were caught in an explosion during the war, and you were taken prisoner afterwards. When you recovered, you wandered across Snezhnaya, and Natlan, and finally Fontaine. I know that is where your brother found you, and where you first heard of me. But…”

He tilts his head up for a moment, thinking.

“Hmmm…but, I know you prefer cold drinks instead of hot. You like desserts with fruit and prefer them more tart instead of saccharine. You like napping in the sun; you like the open air.”

Lumine’s pace slows, and he slows with her. She turns to him, blinks, but he still faces forward as he continues with his findings uninterrupted.

“I think…you drink because you are used to it and it provides a distraction, and not quite because you like it. The same with the smoking—it is a habit borne from necessity. Fontaine is big on both, is it not? And I think you were telling the truth that day in the kitchens when you said you missed your brother, but that you also miss who you used to be with him, before you fought a war. I think you are afraid that your brother thinks less of you now even though he does not seem to—which, in essence, perhaps makes it worse if he does not at least think differently of you, for you are not the same person you once were, and that would mean that the person you consider your other half does not…see you, either. But I think because you lost sight of yourself, you’ve become most afraid of seeing yourself because you no longer know what to expect, and you are used to knowing what to expect—or at the least, having your brother know if you do not. And yet, if he does manage to see…you also fear that the great yawning abyss you say you became will swallow him entirely, and you will drag him down with you, which may be worse even as it hurts to not share something with him. A vicious cycle.”

He feels her trembling a little before her fingers tighten around his arm to prevent it.

“How did I do?” he asks innocently, glancing at her, and she barks out a bitter half-laugh.

“Formidably,” she says primly.

They are silent for a brief moment again, slowing their pace to almost a standstill. Lumine takes a deep breath before she speaks.  

“In Snezhnaya, I met a little boy,” she starts, voice soft and distant, “His name was Teucer, and he was waiting for his brother, too, to come back from the war—but he didn’t know it was the war he was waiting for him to return from. He thought his brother was a traveling toy salesman; the elder ones lied to keep his sleep peaceful and his dreams alive. He was…so young, so innocent, and idolized his brother so dearly. And at the same time, I had never felt so far away from my own brother. But Teucer…did not let me forget that I cared about my brother still. That I still wanted to see him again…and that I wanted him to see me.”

A pause, as they halt to admire the flowers. Lumine reaches out to rub one of the petals between her fingers, catching the scent on her skin.

They continue to walk.

“It was Paimon who first spotted me in Fontaine. She ran up to me and stuck herself close and demanded that I not go anywhere, and then there was Aether following, chasing after her. The force of her words struck me even before I knew what she was doing. I was…tired of wandering, but hadn’t thought much about what it meant if I stopped.”

She looks up at the sky, shading her eyes from the bright sunlight.

“In Liyue, on our way back from Fontaine, I met a girl named Qiqi. She was a terribly forgetful thing—the result of an unfortunate accident. But for the things she found important…she tried hard to remember, even if others thought it futile.  And there were still things she wanted strongly to protect. Even if it was because she wasn’t able to look back…she still looked towards the future as much as she could. In the end, I promised that I would remember for her.”

Lumine looks back down.

“And then there was Klee. Who reminded me it was important to share.” She laughs a little at that, and finally turns to Albedo as they stop in front of the mansion’s front door. She puts a hand on the knob. “So I will admit to my fears. And I will subject myself to the ordeal of being vulnerable if it means that I can come to terms with what there is to know.”

Albedo smiles slightly and puts his hand over hers.

“Shall we go, then?” he asks, and pushes the door open with her.

They step inside. It is quiet and empty; the daylight is starting to soften, the curtains stir in the wind. The idyll is like a dream, the two of the suspended between consciousness and its opposite in their stillness, but the air smells of spring—of beginning, of rebirth. Even if they step back out through the door, there is no changing what is to come.    

Lumine takes a deep breath, then exhales, bringing lucidity.

She reaches up and removes her hairpins, laying them on the side table with a soft clink. She tugs on the fingers of her gloves as she walks towards the stairs, draping one over the bannister as she ascends, then the other.

“You know,” she says, as she reaches to unzip the back of her dress, “I’ve taken up quite a bit of your time. Even if this is a job…the investment is…considerable.”

Albedo slowly trails after her, not once taking his eyes off of her. There is almost something alchemical about the way she’s chosen to go about this, and anticipation begins to creep into him as though he is being led to the precipice of a cliff.

“I have my own rather vested interest in seeing it through,” he manages to say, and he feels rather than sees Lumine smile.

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“And what,” she says, as the silk of her dress cascades down her body and she steps out of the pool of fabric, continuing up the stairs in only a thin undershift, “Will you do when this is through?”

“That…remains to be seen.”

She pushes down one strap of the shift, then the other.

“Oh? I am glad that you did not say you would depart immediately and forget this ever happened.”

The second layer of fabric drops to the floor at the top of the staircase with a soft rustle, and there are only her undergarments left. But regardless, from here he can see the scars that litter her body—some thin, some large, some like red stars strewn across her back.

He did not forget she fought a war with her brother.

Nevertheless, seeing the proof is an entire experience altogether.

“I would never,” he says, a little belatedly, and she continues to lead the way back to her chambers. “How could I?”

Just before she reaches her door, she undoes her brassiere, drops it to the floor. She pushes the door open as she slides her last remaining garment off of her leg, and drops it as well.

She steps into her bedroom. The setting sun has bathed the room in gold and orange and just the barest hint of mauve; she stands in the light and stares out of the glass balcony doors. The glow clings to her, as though it wants to sink into her skin and return to where it belongs.

Albedo stands in the doorway.

“May I?” he asks, after a pause.

“If I say yes,” Lumine says, without moving, “How close will you come?”

“How close will you let me?”

She tilts her head, turning it just slightly.

“As close as you need, I suppose,” she murmurs.

Albedo takes one step forward.

“May I?” he asks again.

Lumine turns to face him, lacing her fingers behind her back as she arches, just a little.  

Silhouetted against the dying light, the shadows harshen her face. There is no dream in the truth of her body, no untouchable hero looking out from inside of her, no abyssal monster assuming her place. She looks at him, and she is simply herself, so terribly, unapologetically present for once, and he aches with the answer of her, so clear, so corporeal.  

“Come in,” she says.

Albedo takes another step forward and closes the door behind him.

.

Their sessions are quiet for the next few days, as he refines his sketches and transfers them onto canvas. Lumine is still bare under his scrutiny, remarkably composed and unaffected.

Some days later, as they are taking a brief break, he comments on her naturalness.  

“You’re used to this,” he states, as she reaches for the bowl of valberries resting on the side table.  

She glances at him before popping one into her mouth.

“I was penniless for most of my travels,” she answers, her eyes still on the bowl as she considers her next berry, “I found work however I could. And as I mentioned…Fontaine was experiencing their new art movement. It was…easy enough work.”

He looks at her.

“Was it?” he asks.

Her lip curls.

“…After a fashion. They were not…seeing me, anyway. So sometimes it was easy to forget that there was attention on you.”

He leans back.

“Sometimes?”

She looks at him, a berry halfway to her lips.

“Yes. Sometimes.” she repeats, then looks at the fruit in her hand. “…I will confess I did not enjoy it. The…paintings were fine. Many were well done, even if I felt nothing about them at all. But I would not want to return to a parlor of eyes again.”

“And now?” he asks, his tone mild. She returns her gaze to him. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

He does think not he does, at least not anymore, and he is only one set of eyes. But he also recognizes the gravity of her decision to allow him to see her like this.

It is significant, this trust, and within it there is another thing unfurling like the petals of isotoma.  

And there is also…something different in her manner—not quite shy, and yet somehow unsure. With the barrier broken between them, there is new ground to be navigated.

“Well,” Lumine says, as she walks nearer, “I do wonder.”

She has not yet put on her robe. He has seen her up close already—numerous times, to study her scars, to consider the colors he wants to use for her skin, to examine the lines of her joints and palms.

And yet it is only now that the air feels—a little warm, despite the slight breeze that comes through the open balcony doors.

“And what do you wonder?” he says after a pause.

“I wonder what your opinion of me is, after all this time,” she murmurs. “You have told me what you know, and what you think. I suppose I am curious about what you feel.”

She steps back, finally eating the berry in her hand and returning to the bowl to select another, and the air seems to cool again.

“I’ve fought a war. I’ve been accused of being a spy. I’ve been a vagabond. I’ve crawled through dirt and mud and I’ve stood in a room naked full of men for a handful of coins. I am a woman of scandal.”

Albedo watches, leaning forward a little to rest his arms on his knees, folding his hands.

“I feel,” he begins, “That you are very brave.”

She turns, and he catches the brief surprise on her face before she smooths out her expression.

“Do you?” she murmurs, walking back to him.

She offers him the berry. He reaches for it, only to realize that his hands are stained with paint, and he looks for something to wipe them with.

Before he can, however, Lumine moves first and gently presses the berry to his lips.

“I am not uncomfortable around you,” she says, answering his earlier question. “But are you uncomfortable around me?”

They stare at each other, gold and blue, the ocean meeting the shore.

In answer, Albedo parts his lips to accept the fruit.

“Tell me,” she says quietly, her fingers now resting against his lips, “How comfortable are you?”

She strokes her thumb across his lips, pressing lightly into the corner of his mouth, leaning closer.

“About the same as you,” he murmurs, their noses touching now.  

Lumine smiles. She traces the curve of his jaw and down his neck, over to his shoulder.

She leans her body forward, putting a knee between his legs as he leans back to accommodate her.

“Ah—mind the paint,” Albedo warns absently, tilting his head up to keep his eyes on her.

His hands hover over her waist, hesitating to mar her, but she leans into his touch, streaking color under her ribs.  

“No,” she says, amused. “I don’t think I will.”

She presses him into the cushions and he can think of nothing else but her.

.

Not much changes, afterwards, which is false, but Albedo has not gotten the proper chance to study the specifics of what has with the attention that such a thing needs.

The current painting is coming along wonderfully, but when his attention on this one flags he starts on another. And another. He does not need Lumine to sit for him for hours on end for reference anymore, though sometimes she lounges in his presence anyway to make the job easier (to some extent)—or simply because they both enjoy the other’s company. Some days he works on the details alone while Lumine goes into the study and pens her way through paperwork, or disappears into the garden for the day.

Time seems to move quicker—the…stimulation was…informative, in various ways, and there is a particular ease between them now, a perhaps surprising lack of awkwardness. They eat dinner together, and in bits and pieces Lumine will tell him more about her wandering days. The searing cold of Snezhnaya, the bitter heat of Natlan, the deceiving coolness of Fontaine…and the sometimes unbearable loneliness in between. Towards the end for her solitary journey, she made the acquaintance of a traveling musician. Sometimes she loaned him her not-expert-but-passable voice to accompany his lyre, and sometimes he spun the bits of her history she was willing to part with into tales that made her feel like she had a place in the world after all. It was he who recommended her the more respectable establishments to look for work in, and who recommended her Mondstadt if she could bear to settle down.

And so it was Mondstadt she chose, after Aether had found her, and put all the choices and all the power he had into her hands.

“Is it to your liking?” Albedo asks, as they finish with dessert. “Mondstadt?”

Lumine picks at her mille-feuille, the already flaky dessert falling further into pieces.  

“It is,” she says at length, “It is…peaceful, here. Idyllic.”

“And yet you do not set foot into the city.”

She smiles, a little dry, a little genuinely amused.

“Mondstadt is…gentle. It lives and breathes togetherness, regardless of any assumed disparate parts. I find it difficult to…incorporate myself into that. Sometimes, too much freedom is just as suffocating.”

Albedo finishes his own pastry and sets down his fork, folding her hands together.

“And yet a few of the leading personnel of Mondstadt send you gifts. The Acting Grandmaster sends you a personally blended tea. The Uncrowned King sends his favorite beverage. And I know not what the Cavalry Captain send you, but I will guess that it is information, which is what he deals best in.” he tilts his head a little. “So nor are you completely absent.”

Lumine’s smile is certainly more amused now as she puts her elbows on the table, laces her fingers, and rests her chin on top.

“What are you trying to say?” she asks, eyes bright.

Albedo smiles back.

“That you could do anything,” he replies, “And have anything, I presume.”

There is a pause, the both of them staring at each other from across the table. Lumine drops one hand and rests her chin on the other.

“Well,” she says, eyes crinkling, “There are only a few things I want.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“I see.”

“Hmm…you won’t ask what they are?”

“No, I prefer to find things out for myself.”

Lumine laughs, and Albedo smiles at the rare sound.

“It’s a nice night for stargazing,” she says, as they wrap up their dinner. “Will you come with me?”

“I will,” he replies, and they rise from the table together.

They walk out side by side, their shoulders bumping, still smiling at each other as they go out into the night.

.

The next time they have drinks on her balcony during the night, it is only a tea service of chamomile and lavender. It is an impromptu meeting, suggested on a whim after Lumine has had her bath. Albedo comes soon after his own, his hair flatter and straighter due to the damp.

Lumine stares at Albedo over the rim of her cup, eyes lingering at where the ends of his hair is beginning to curl at his neck, so pointedly that Albedo eventually lets her bait him.  

“Have I still got paint on my face?” he queries, holding up a hand to his cheek.

“No, I’m just…” she tilts her head. “Considering how much I know about you.”

He smiles.

“And how much do you know about me?”

“Disappointingly little,” she says, almost with mild annoyance, “I’ve heard ‘calm, collected, and incredibly talented. He’s the type everybody likes, some more than others.’ Most are to that effect. You’re seen as a genius, and spend most of your time in your workshop…though you have your admirers nonetheless.” Her eyes crinkle. “Ah, and of course, you’re a very good big brother.”

Albedo pauses to look up at the sky, his teacup hovering at his lips before he takes a sip.

“I don’t think I’m any genius,” he says, finally, “And I’m not aware of any admirers. Of my work, certainly, however.”

Lumine blinks, then smiles.

“You don’t pay much attention to other people, do you?”

He gives her a rather rueful smile.

“I…confess I cannot say I do. Relationships are…quite troublesome. Once you establish a relation, you must maintain it…if you lose contact, you must reestablish it. It is a rather taxing cycle, and one that requires quite a bit of time that I find best focused on other things.” He pauses. “But I will admit that sometimes…well. It feels a little like being in the eye of a storm, perhaps. I watch various things change around me, while I remain the same.”

A pause.

“You have changed, you know.”

Her gaze is direct.  

“Have I?”

“Indeed. For instance, if you say that you did not pay attention to others…well, now, you are looking at me.”

He laughs, though her words are true.  

“Should I be looking harder, to change to a greater degree?”

“Well…it would depend on what you’re hoping to find, wouldn’t it?”

Another pause.

“The change in me would be because of none other than you, so…how should I go about finding the cause?”

Lumine pretends to think.

“Between the mind and the heart, which will you deign to probe for your study?”

He sips his tea with deceptive casualness.  

“Well, since I’ve already probed your mind…will you give me permission for the heart?”

She lets out a soft laugh.

“Sir Albedo…do you know what it is you’re doing?”

His expression is amused even as he smiles innocently.

“I can’t say I do.”

She gets up and rounds the table, reaching out to lay a hand on his chest, over his heart. They both feel his pulse quicken, just a little.

“Well, if you’re going to make a study of it…are you acquainted with your own?” she murmurs, perhaps a little fascinated with what she feels.

He takes her hand in his own.

“And if I say no…are you going to enlighten me?” he asks, meeting her eyes.

The stars are bright. The air is cool, but there is a warmth and languidness between them as a result of the tea and the herbs within it.

“You partook of the fruit the first time,” she says, tilting her head, “So do you think I can provide you with what you seek?”

“Some enlightenment was obtained,” he replies, “Though I haven’t the time to properly consider it.”

“And how will you consider it?”

He meets her eyes, the corners crinkling.

“Shall I count your heartbeats, to start with? They say the pulse is telling.”

Lumine laughs, turning her palms up and grasping his hand.

“Alright,” she says, conceding, “Pass the night with me, then, and tell me the results in the morning.”

He smiles.

“Ah, so the permission is obtained. Well then…don’t mind if I do.”

(In the morning, he wakes first. He watches her breathe, face unburdened and peaceful in sleep.  It is not long before she stirs and her eyelids flutter open; she is still groggy, but once she focuses on him, her lips curve into a dazed smile.  

“G’morning,” she mumbles, half a sigh.

There is a truth here within his grasp, in the striking roughness of her voice, the unhurried softness of her waking. He is still able to be surprised, and in that there too is a delight.

You have changed, you know. You are looking at me.

What are you hoping to find?

Do you know what it is you’re doing?

His heart beats steady, steady, a tenderness welling up inside him, so fond it hurts.

Albedo reaches out and takes her hand.)

.

The showcase of all of his work is done on a rainy day, the solarium illuminated by daylight dimmed by clouds and an array of candles. It is a vaguely haunting atmosphere, but it is, perhaps, a bit fitting for the occasion.

There’s no real ceremony or gravitas. It is not necessary.

Albedo sits on the sofa, relaxed with a pot of tea. Lumine stands, the covered canvases positioned in a semicircle, piles of sketches and smaller works on the table.

She starts where she pleases.

With a backwards glance as her hand hovers over one of the paintings, she unveils it with a simple tug. She stands in front of it for a moment, silent, then moves onto the next one.

Then the next.

And the next.

She goes through the sketches after. When she finally sets down the last one back onto the neat stack, she folds her hands and stares at them.

It is not that she was afraid, necessarily, when Albedo had already scoured her raw with his words alone. But she supposes there was still a bit of inherent fear mixed in with her anticipation anyway, in not knowing what to expect, in knowing Albedo could still squeeze out the dregs from some deep recess she didn’t know she had.  

Capturing what she was looking for in a single portrait was impossible. Albedo had known from the beginning, which was why he was so often sketching instead of painting full works as he considered which he wanted to put to canvas. And in the handful that he did, Lumine sees the fractures and fragments and facets of herself, supplemented by all the sketches.

Here, the fey, distant look in her eyes, the lifeless throw of her body, the dismissive lift of her head. There, the sharp, forbidding curl of her lips, the tense defensiveness of her posture, the deceptive delicacy in which she holds her whisky glass that she might drink from—or shatter to pieces.

She is a wreckage, in the early days, but she doesn’t remain so. In later paintings, the colors are warmer; in later sketches, the lines are more fluid. Here, her face serene and fond mid-sigh; there, her eyes bright as she grins, mischievous.

In one she is on full display, caught between light and shadow, both terrible and beautiful at once. She is almost ethereal there, if she did not recognize her own mannerisms reflected in such a grounding manner. In another she is half-curled amidst soft fabrics, the quirk of her lips both teasing and musing.  

It’s change, that he’s documented, a narrative with such startling clarity. It is almost difficult to believe that they are all of the same person, and yet they can be nothing but.

She hovers a hand over a sketch of herself laughing, so carefree. It is hard to see herself like this—or what is meant to be her, rather. She remembers being adrift in Snezhnaya, lost and cold in more ways than one, her mind swirling so black and bleak, so terrifyingly alone. Even in Natlan and Fontaine, even after she made certain acquaintances and perhaps-friends along the way, she could not imagine herself like the girl in the sketch. Even now it is difficult to come to terms with. Surely it must be an exaggeration.

Surely it is merely a pleasant lie.

But Albedo has been unsparing thus far, and…and—

And he’ll never, ever lie to you! Lumine remembers Klee saying. And she…she believes in the little girl; she cannot help but believe in Albedo.  

Perhaps—perhaps…perhaps, then, she can bear to admit that she is happy now, or happier; that she wants to root herself here in Mondstadt, that she is loved and can love, even after everything.

And…Albedo is not quite a sentimental man, but the latter paintings, the ones that make her feel like—dare she think so—something precious…

“Are you telling the truth?” Lumine asks quietly, without looking up.

“Would you like to see?”

Silence again. And then she finally lifts her eyes to his.

He is smiling gently, his eyes kind.

“Are you going to make a liar out of me?” he asks teasingly, and she lets out a wet laugh as the tears prick at her eyes.

She walks over to him, holding her hands out, and he opens his arms for her; she sinks into his lap, buries her face into the crook of his neck.

“No,” she says, voice muffled, “Of course not.”

He wraps his arms around her, and she cries quietly onto his shoulder for a long time.

.

They are under no delusions, and the reality is that with the showcase, their time together is coming to an end.

Albedo was commissioned for a job, and now that job is done, all that’s left is to receive his payment and leave.

The timing works out—they’d received a letter that Aether and Paimon were on their way back by ship, and should arrive as early as a few days, at latest another week. It is Aether who is his actual employer and therefore Aether who will render payment for his services, and it is this excuse that has Albedo stay at the mansion with Lumine to await his return.

(Neither of them bring up the point that Albedo could always collect payment later—it was not as though either of them were unreachable by any means.)

The few additional days are harmless, but both know that he cannot extend beyond that without proper reason—already he’s been away too long, and he has a whole city awaiting his return, nor is this where he truly thrives. Lumine can rule from the mansion but Albedo cannot, and it was always evident this day would come in due time.  

Still—Albedo finds his heart curiously heavy as he begins to pack up his things, cleaning out the solarium of his belongings, and Lumine watches him with unreadable eyes.

The final portraits have been moved to Lumine’s room for now, as she decides which ones will go up for display and which ones are for her gaze only. The sketches will be bound up in an album, though she might choose to collage some of them.

Lumine curls up on the sofa and leans her head against the arm as Albedo carefully packs away his brushes. Normally at this time he’d be sketching, and while he still could, there’s simply no need for it, now.

Strange, he thinks, to have this routine disrupted, even though coming here had initially been a disruption of routines established for far longer.  

“I could keep you here,” Lumine says idly, “I did say in the beginning that you’d be in more danger of us not letting you leave.”

Albedo quirks a smile, closing the case of his brushes.

“But you won’t,” he points out mildly.

“But I won’t,” she sighs in agreement.

It shouldn’t feel like such a final parting, but it has an air of it anyway. There is nothing strictly of forbidding obstacle preventing them from seeing each other again.

But there is still the sacrifice of time.  

Though they are not unwilling to invest it, it is a fickle thing. Albedo has his work, as does Lumine. Travel between the city and the Viatoris manor requires planning. Lumine does not enter the city, and Albedo is not hers to call upon her whims. All the while, time can slip and slip until the memories it used to wrap so tightly and prettily unravels and means nothing at all, even if they do not forget.  

And so Albedo and Lumine watch each other, weighing and considering.

For Albedo, he is not used to considering such things. Maintaining relationships has always been taxing, and most of those he does maintain at present began due to consistent exposure to proximity, and remain so. Rarely, if ever, has he sought out new relationships of his own accord, and if they wane, rarely if ever has he chased them.

And yet…

Lumine pats the space beside her as he finishes up gathering his things. He sits, and she raises her head and switches to her other side to lean against him. He reaches for her hand, and she flips her palm up so that they can interlock their fingers.

“You did not…and do not need an answer from me regarding this,” he begins, and she blinks up at him curiously. “But it felt remiss to not answer at all, that day. On the balcony.”

Lumine smiles faintly.

“Because you are a man of answers,” she says, a little teasingly. “Nothing is uncovered under your scrutiny, no hypothesis unconfirmed.”

He smiles faintly back.

“Just so.” He leans his cheek atop her head. “You are not a monster simply because you could not offer what you wanted to give.”

Lumine goes tense, though it bleeds out of her slowly, and she sighs. Albedo continues.

“It is not monstrous to give up what you had before to survive, to want to survive. Nor is it monstrous to change. It is…alchemy.”

She lets out a soft laugh at that, squeezing his hand.

“Transformation,” she acknowledges, her eyes distant.

Albedo inclines his head.

There is a brief pause before Lumine sighs again, more deeply.

“So?” she prompts, “The question. Even as Aether scoured the world for me, I stopped looking for him because I couldn’t bear even the imagined weight of his presence. And when he did find me, I was not the same sister he’d known since birth. What does that make me?”

“Human,” Albedo says simply.

Lumine blinks at him.

“Just like him,” Albedo adds.

Another pause.

“And you,” she murmurs, unclasping her hand from his to trace the lines on his palm. “And all the rest.”

“Indeed.”

A long silence.

“When Aether returns,” Lumine sighs, “I’ll talk to him.”

Albedo smiles a little, as does Lumine.

They continue to sit together in companionable silence as the sun slips from the sky.

.

Albedo senses a presence and peels open his eyes to see Aether’s face smiling down at him.

It is the early, early hours of the morning, the sky barely light. Aether has his arms resting on the back of the sofa, chin propped up by his hand, looking down at Albedo and his sister curled up on the cushions together.

Lumine is still sleeping, her legs tangled with Albedo’s, breathing peacefully against his chest. Albedo has her loosely wrapped in his arms, hand against the dip of her back. Both of them are still in their day clothes, having fallen asleep entirely by accident.

When Albedo registers what it is he’s seeing, he starts.

“No, don’t get up on my account,” Aether says, cheerfully but quietly. “We got in not too long ago. Paimon was dead on her feet so she went to bed immediately, but the light was still on here so I came to check it out.” He grins, holding up his fingers to make a frame as he peers through the center. “I regret that I never took up the visual arts myself. This would have made a pretty picture.”

Albedo blinks, and though he doesn’t know it, his cheeks dust with pink.

“Lord Viatoris,” he begins, and Aether waves his hand.

“Oh let’s not go back to that,” he says, looking vaguely annoyed. “Besides, you can’t call me that now.”

He looks pointedly to Lumine.

Albedo is unsure of what to say or do, and simply looks discomfited. Aether smothers a laugh, but sobers as he looks down at Lumine.

There is a long silence, but Albedo watches Aether watch Lumine. There is something bright in his eyes, and not just from amusement.

“Thank you,” Aether says after a while. “I’ll confess I didn’t entirely expect this in particular, but…I’ve nothing to protest, there. She looks…a lot better.”

Albedo raises a brow, but the two are twins, and so he supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that Aether can tell there is a difference in his sister in such a short amount of time, and with her not even awake. He goes to protest, but Aether shakes his head with a smile before he can say anything, and so Albedo closes his mouth.

“I…do not know what to do with…this, exactly,” Albedo confesses. “I have…not been afraid of the outcome of something, before.”

The corner of Aether’s mouth quirks up.

“Do whatever you want,” he says airily, but his next grin is sharp. “But remember she will do whatever she wants, too.”

Albedo smiles, and looks down at Lumine in his arms, cradled against his chest.

“I would expect no less,” he murmurs.

Aether smiles at him, and for a moment, all is quiet. And then—

“LUMI!” Aether shouts, violently startling Albedo too, “LUMI, WAKE UP! I’M BACK!”

Lumine groans, burying her face deeper into Albedo’s chest, mumbling something angrily.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Are you kidding me?” she says, turning her face just enough to snap clearly at him.

“Lumi, just because we think he has a nice voice doesn’t mean you were supposed to make him sing for you,” Aether purrs.

Albedo blinks, confused.

Lumine slowly realizes what position she’s in, then snaps her head up, looking into Albedo’s startled eyes first, then turning at her brother with rapidly reddening cheeks.

“Aether!” she yells, lunging off of the sofa to swat at him as he laughs loudly.

As he does, she freezes, staring at him in something like surprise. Aether stares back at her as he calms, giving her a wry smile.

“Welcome home,” he says.

Lumine hesitates.

“I should be saying that to you,” she says quietly. “Welcome home.”

Aether smiles, bright as sunlight.

“I’m home!” he says, holding open his arms.

She reaches over to hug him, tightening her grip as he hugs her back. A sob cracks the air.

The sun begins to rise.

.

Everyone sees Albedo off, including Paimon and the servants of the house. He’s loaded up with gifts—some for Klee and some for their mutual friends and acquaintances. He also has part of his payment—various ingredients and materials from Liyue or beyond, imported to Liyue’s famous ports. The mora will be wired to his bank; he had tried to decline, as he was given much during his stay at the manor and the work was pleasurable, but neither twin would hear of it.

“Do what you will with it,” Aether had shrugged, “Finance the city with it, or give it to Klee. At the very least, you could use it to procure more ingredients. But a service is a service; a contract is a contract.”

Albedo acquiesces.  

“Don’t be a stranger, you hear?” Aether grins, slapping him on the back, and Lumine takes Albedo’s hands with a smile.

“As he said,” she says, eyes crinkling.

There are still things to be said. But he cannot find the words, does not know what he wants to say at all. Lumine seems to understand, but she does not assist him by broaching it first.

They’re out of time, for now; he is already set to leave, all his things packed and his departure imminent.

“I will not,” is all he can say, and the twins smile at him.

He gets into the carriage, his head buzzing.

When he looks out the window, just once, he sees Lumine and Aether walking back into the mansion, the former shoving the latter after he says something.

Albedo leans back in his seat and tries not to feel like he’s leaving a dream behind.

.

Time does its thing.

Days pass, then weeks, and Albedo throws himself into his work both because he needs to and because he wants to. He had certainly lost track of time, both at the Viatoris mansion and also in catching up upon his return to the Knights of Favonius. Already the Windblume Festival is nearly upon them, and preparations must be made to secure the city for safety and festivities.

It is wrong to say that he didn’t spare a thought about Lumine during the frenzy, but it is true that by the time he has enough time to allow him to truly think about her, it is already Windblume. He should have sent a letter, an invitation. It is not technically too late, but…as he knows, Lumine does not step into the city, and he cannot leave the city now while he is so involved in the festival’s processes with all of the other knights.

(He should have sent letters beyond this, too, he realizes. People did that—more casual exchanges, speaking about their daily lives or thoughts. But most letters Albedo penned were of the business sort, any missives otherwise short and to the point; he had no practice in such things, and so it had not occurred to him so naturally to begin a regular correspondence. But then again—nothing had arrived for him either, had it? Though he supposes even if it had…he would have neglected to respond in a timely manner amidst all his work.)

Albedo sighs, rubbing his forehead. He cannot say why this bothers him so; previous Windblume Festivals have never meant so much. At most he and Klee would walk around for a bit and offer flowers as was custom, but while she went off with other friends, Albedo would simply return to his workshop to continue his projects.

As he grips the sides of his crafting table and stares down at its intricate patterns, it takes a while to realize someone is knocking at his door.

“Please, come in,” he calls hastily, and Jean promptly walks in.

She stops short when she sees his hunched posture and the slight frustration creasing his brow. How rare, for their Chief Alchemist to express his feelings so openly.

“Have you hit a particularly tough equation?” she questions politely, and Albedo looks faintly surprised.

“Does it seem that way?” he murmurs, then sighs. “Perhaps. But I digress…what may I do for you, Acting Grandmaster?”

Jean smiles a little.

“Lord Viatoris will be arriving for the opening ceremony soon,” she says, “I came to ask if you’d like to greet him. I was under the impression you two had become friends.”

A pause, just for a heartbeat too long.

“Of course,” Albedo says, straightening out, “I’ll come with you.”

“Let us go, then.”

He follows Jean, the two of them making polite conversation about the festival, inevitably straying towards work and going over details of the festival to make sure everything is in its proper place. Both are too diligent for their own good; any true break they took was always at the intervention of another.

There’s a slight commotion at the gates as they near. Many citizens have already gathered, news of the famous hero coming to Mondstadt having not exactly been kept a secret.  

But he does not come alone.

Albedo slows at the top of the stairs when he catches sight of the figures at the entrance.

Lord Aether Viatoris is impeccably dressed for the occasion is a well-tailored dark brown suit.

At his side is his sister, a bouquet of cecilias propped in the crook of her arm, resplendent in a dark blue gown.

Lumine looks up and meets Albedo’s eyes, the corners of her own crinkling.

“Welcome,” Jean greets, descending smoothly without hesitation, Albedo following with slightly jerky movements behind her, “Lord Viatoris, Lady Viatoris. Mondstadt is pleased to receive you.”

“Hello, Acting Grandmaster Jean,” Aether says with a polite bow. “We are pleased to come.”

“Will your sister be participating in the opening ceremony as well?” Jean asks, looking to Lumine and inclining her head in greeting, but Aether shakes his head.

“No, it is her first Windblume Festival and that would certainly overwhelm her; you must unfortunately make do with just me,” he grins, “But I’m sure she is looking forward to enjoying the festival itself.”

“Is that so? Well, then—the ceremony is not for a bit, perhaps Sir Albedo could offer her a tour?”

Oh, a conspiracy.

“I would be honored,” he says, just a touch belatedly, and Lumine smiles.

It turns out the flowers in her arms are two bouquets, and she hands one of them off to Aether—presumably for the ceremony—before taking Albedo’s offered arm. They walk away from the crowd into one of the lesser occupied streets, and finally Albedo gathers his wits and speaks.

“You’re in the city,” he marvels, and Lumine laughs.

“Such observational prowess.”  

“I thought you found the city suffocating.”

She smiles.

“There are spaces to breathe,” she says, leaning a little closer before she pulls back again, satisfied with his momentarily widened eyes. “And I thought it was about time I came to you.”

He smiles.

As promised, he wanders the streets with her a little, pointing out this and that. They do stick to the backroads mostly, as despite her bravado, he can tell that she is indeed a little overwhelmed at the noise and bustle.  

When she tires, he escorts her to his workshop, apologizing for the mess. She looks around with interest, fascinated at being in his space for once. It has a crisp floral scent, mixed with the more metallic air from synthesis, the culprit a batch of windwheel asters resting in an inelegant pail of water. Klee’s choice of Windblume, leftover from this morning’s gathering.

“I’m sorry,” Albedo says, clattering around to make tea, squinting and looking closer at mixtures in tins to see if they will make something palatable, “I should have sent word or…something, sooner.”

Lumine’s smile is genuinely amused.

“We knew this might happen,” she says amiably, “I was just faster at…not letting it. I’m impatient.”

Albedo turns to her, eyes crinkling.

“You are braver than I,” he says humbly, and Lumine laughs.

“You were the one who said I could do anything and have anything I wanted,” she says, “If I dared.”

“And I recall you saying there were only a few things you wanted.”

“Yes. And you didn’t ask what they were.”

She is still smiling, and his workshop feels too small to contain that expression.

“No,” he agrees, “I didn’t. But I think I’m about to find out one of them, aren’t I?”

Her smiles deepens, bright sunlight into molten gold.

“We’ll miss the opening ceremony,” Albedo says quietly, without any fight.

“I don’t think the God of Freedom would mind,” she whispers, “And anyway, it’s Windblume. Besides for Barbatos, it’s a festival for lovers, isn’t it?”

Albedo hums, his pulse jumping at the word, jumping even more when she finally hands him the bouquet of cecilias. How fresh they are is even more apparent in the smaller space; already their scent is heady. Albedo glances about for something to put them in, which is simply the same pail as the windwheel asters are in. He extracts an aster, trimming off its damp stalk before tucking it into Lumine’s hair.

She leans into his hand before it leaves her face.

“On the off chance he is a little miffed…well, I think I’d fight a god to have this moment,” Lumine whispers, and Albedo half-laughs at the declaration.  

“How terrifying,” he says, and she smiles.

“Are you afraid?”

“Should I be?”

She hums.

“Maybe. What do you do when you stare into the abyss?”

“I figure out its secrets.”

She laughs, unfettered and unburdened. He smiles, pleased.

“Is that what we are, by the way?” he asks, and she tilts her head in question. “Lovers?”

She puts a hand to his chest, over his heart.

“What do your deductions tell you?” she asks innocently.

“That I’d like it very much if we were,” he replies, without hesitation.

She laughs again.

Outside, fireworks light up the sky, and flower petals of all kinds whirl in the winds.

Lumine presses Albedo back against the window, lacing their fingers together as they kiss, and for the moment, there is nothing that can touch them—not pain or ceremony or even the gods, so bright are they, so present, so hopelessly, delightfully human.

[danny-chase]

Breaking a Promise - Read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), The New Titans (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Dick Grayson/Joseph Wilson Characters: Dick Grayson, Koriand'r (DCU), Joseph Wilson Additional Tags: tw for self harm, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Canon Divergence, emotional breakdown, Broken Bones, description of injury, star crossed lovers, Flowers, Canonical Character Death, it's Joey guys, I'm Sorry, Swearing, lot of f bombs, POV Dick Grayson, Dick grayson centric, Dick Grayson is bi, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Discowing, Dick Grayson Needs Therapy, Dick Grayson Whump, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, a little bit of fluff near the top, Gardening, when your gf is poly and ships you with someone else, Heartbreak, Heartache, no beta we die like -sobs- Joey, Hurt/Comfort, and then hurt/no comfort to follow it up Series: Part 5 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Dick Grayson has his heartbroken twice.

Full story under cut

Two years ago:

“Dick, what about this one?” Kor’i smiled sweetly, positively glowing in the sun. She gestured to a little potted plant sitting in the shade of the bottom rack. Her hair fluttered in the wind, seeming to sweep up his heart as well. Crouching, he gently bumped her shoulder, and she nudged him back. Perfect.

 “Why don’t we look over there?” Dick asked, pointing over to another shelf.

 “But I like this one.” She pouted, puffing out her bottom lip slightly. He glanced at the little sprout she picked out, his mind happily buzzing as he identified it without looking at the tag – botany lessons with Alfred had paid off.

 “Lamprocapnos spectabilis.” He began. Kor’i nuzzled her head on his shoulder, reaching out a hand to stroke the leaves. He grabbed the little tag sticking out of the pot. “This one is of the Valentine variety.”

 “Mmm.” She rested her hand back on Dick’s thigh, warmth spreading from the spot. “Tell me more.” He swallowed and complied.

 “They’re a perennial – they come back annually. They like full or partial shade, and are native to Siberia, Japan, northern China, and Korea.”

 “How big will it get?” She asked, rising to her feet, carrying the plant with her.

 “About yay high.” He spread his hands two feet. “But Kor’i, uh, I can’t just give that to Joey it’s-”

 “Commonly known as the bleeding heart?” She smiled mischievously. “I don’t see why not, your heart bleeds all the time.” She innocently widened her eyes, batting her eyelashes. “Or is it because it symbolizes love? Do you not love him?” Doubt was as clear in her voice as it was in her face.

 “I-” He stammered; he would never cheat. “I love you.” Heat rose to his face. “Only you.”

 Kor’i was perfect, she was so loving, always building him up, never tearing him down. Always healing, nurturing, growing seeds of her own – not just in him, she seemed to bring out the best in everyone she met. People basked in her beauty, and he simply basked in the knowledge of her presence. In being loved so fully, so openly and honest. Dick didn’t know if he could ever love anyone more.

 “Oh.” Kor’i looked thoughtfully at the clear cerulean sky. “I wouldn’t mind if you… loved someone else too.” He frowned.

 “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I did, but Kor’i, you’re the only one for me.” He stood, lightly pecking her on the cheek. She grinned, grabbing his hand, dragging him towards the checkout line.

 “I like this one, forget silly earth symbolisms, Joey would love it.”

 Dick sighed, following along anyways – she was right, of course, she always was – Joey would love the flowers, they were pals after all, he wouldn’t read too much into it.

   One year ago:

A cool breeze snaked its way over the hillside, finding its way around the rock at his back and through his hair – leaving him disheveled in its wake. A chill rain up his spine, goosebumps swiftly decorating his arms. He could feel his hair slowly rise up, standing in a desperate bid to retain heat.

 Dick wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, knees tucked to his chest, head resting on his crossed arms. Too long likely. He should be back to the tower soon – he didn’t want anyone to worry, but after the mess on Tamaran, it was best for him to be alone right now.

 He was just… so tired. He’d already destroyed half his punching bags trying to fight the emotion out – which had worked to some extent, leaving his hands throbbing and arms burning. He sprinted as far as he could go before his legs gave out. It had dulled the anger and pain, leaving him worn out and exhausted. The dull ache in his chest returned just as soon as it had left.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at the night sky – he’d come out here for comfort – to watch the waves lap against the rocks from far above and gaze up at the stars. But the stars could never shine brighter than Kor’i, only serving to remind him of what he’d lost when he’d ventured too close to the sun.

 It wasn’t fair – Kor’i hadn’t loved Karras though they were together – legally bound, and he was here, light years spanning the distance between those bound by their souls.

 He never believed in love in first sight. Not until he’d met her.

 He’d always believed in love, though, from the time he was a child – his parents were living proof. It was foolish – his parents had died hadn’t they? Believing in their love until the bitter end, loving their lives, each other, him. It was love that kept them on the trapeze all those years, and that love had killed them.

 He sighed, maybe Bruce was right – love wasn’t something compatible with their lifestyle. He never shared himself so fully with others or lost himself so fully either. Always playing cat and mouse with his lovers, never committing, communing with another soul the way he had with Kor’i.

 He licked his chapped lips, tasting salt in the air. Light footsteps padded towards him. He curled further in on himself, not in the mood to talk. A rough woolen blanket dropped over his shoulders.

 It smelled like crisp green apples, mixed with a hint of cinnamon.

 Adeline Wilson had great tastes in laundry detergent – something she’d handed down to her son.

 Joey crouched next to him, wrapping an arm around him, offering warmth and comfort. Dick hesitated, mind screaming to recoil, run away – be alone and repress, but heart yearning for the warmth and comfort he always seemed to find in Joey. That same warmth reminded him of Kor’i.

 The desire for comfort won out, loosening up, he leaned against Joey’s shoulder. Joey’s chin nestled into the base of his neck; soft puffs of warm, wet air sent tingles down his spine. He raised his head a little dislodging Joey, feeling weirdly uncomfortable – but not displeased – just – he’d think about that later, now wasn’t the time.

 Joey quickly backed off, removing his arm. Dick gave him a side glance and for a moment, lost himself in kind emerald eyes. <em>He isn’t Kor’i</em>. Why was that so hard to remember?

 It took him a minute to process Joey signs. ‘Your hands.’ He followed his gaze down to his numb fingers. Upon seeing them he was hit by the realization they hurt like hell. He probably should have remembered to wear gloves, or at least wrap them, before taking his frustration out on punching bags.

 His right hand had swollen, both had bruises blossoming, his skin rubbed raw, blood freely dripping from busted knuckles.

 “Fuck.” He’d be out of the game for at least a month, if he was right about his right pinky – that was a boxer’s fracture. Tendrils of pain crawled out from the spot, his hands throbbing in time to his pulse. Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes like that – the Titan’s needed him!

 Joey squeezed his upper arm, ‘let’s go’, he suggested, rising to his feet. Dick bit his lip, internally cursing himself for being such a dumbass. He shakily rose to his feet, immediately hit by a wave of exhaustion. Which in hindsight – he probably shouldn’t have sprinted until he dropped either.

 Joey wrapped an arm around his waist, bending slightly to stand under his shoulder and steadying him as the blanket slipped over his shoulders. They left it were it lay – more pressing matters to attend to, but Dick shivered in the cool night without it. He took a few wobbling steps forward – and dumb – his knees gave out.

 He never came close to the ground, instead, finding himself lifted into a princess carry. Joey smiled apologetically, with a little shrug. Dick sighed; this was embarrassing. He was eighteen – he should know better – Bruce had taught him better!

 “It’s fine, thanks.” He ignored how rough his voice sounded, instead concentrating on the throbbing from his hands, using the pain to block out the ache in his chest. He focused his gaze forward, not thinking about how close he was to Joey, how Kor’i used to carry him this way, how Joey smelled like honeysuckle and lilac, how this was everything he missed – and he just prayed he wasn’t falling in love again – he couldn’t be, no – he just... he was projecting. He just missed Kor’i.

 He ignored Donna’s concerned eyebrow raise as they passed her on the way back to the tower. Gar’s whistle as they crossed the living room. The way Joey was so delicate when placing him in the passenger seat of the helicopter, so careful to avoid eye contact, so mindful of his pride.

 In the brighter lighting he noticed stark red against Joey’s golden curls. A flower from a bleeding heart had made its way into Joey’s hair. There were gardening gloves in his back pocket

 His heart sped up as they took off, he felt weirdly lighter than before – though perhaps he was just dizzy from pain. Joey stared at him, his eyes darker than before, brow set determinedly, but looking pained and a bit melancholic.

 “What’s wrong?” Dick asked, feeling guilty for ruining whatever gardening project Joey had evidently come from. A lot was wrong, he was wrong, was asking a stupid question.

 The tips of Joey’s lips curled into a frown. ‘Do not do that again’ he pointed at Dick’s broken hands.

 Dick shrugged, it was a dumb move, he couldn’t guarantee he’d never break his hand again. He shifted his gaze back through the window. Joey tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Promise.’ Well, if it would keep Joey happy, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

 “I promise.” He wouldn’t break his hand as long as he never broke his heart.

   Now.

He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid, and he didn’t lack self-awareness. He knew how to bottle his feelings into a jar, create a vacuum seal, and tuck them away on a shelf. The thing was, he also knew eventually he had to deal with the things he compartmentalized.

 It had been a month since Joey died. He’d been putting it off. But today…

 The bleeding heart had wilted.

 The jar fell to the floor and shattered, his heart disintegrating into a million shards with it.

 A watering can joined the broken glass on the floor, before he knew what was happening, he was running from Joey’s garden, not knowing where he was going, not sure of his surroundings. His vision narrowed, relying on muscle memory and reflex to avoid crashing.

 Crashing was a good way to describe this.

 He was right there. Looked Joey in the eyes. Watched him become twisted and never even noticed that his beloved friend was going through things no one should ever go through, slowly destroyed from within, suffocating from a painfully sluggish death before Slade made the final move.

 “FUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCK!” Birds flapped away as he screamed at the sky, at the world for letting this happen. Joey never knew – he never told him – was too scared that this would – that he would –

 WHY DID THINGS HURT SO MUCH HE SWORE NOT TO LOVE ANYONE LIKE HER AGAIN-

 *CRACK*

 He broke a tree, feeling bone snap against splintered bark.

 He froze, staring at his right pinky, and laughed.

 So much for promises.

 Laughs turned to sobs, knees buckling as he fell to the forest floor – sitting on his heels before flopping to his back. Staring up at the baby blue sky, cumulus clouds drifted by without a care in the world, laughing at him, mocking him from the high heavens.

 Tears flowed freely, nature as the only witness.

 His heart wasn’t supposed to break like this, he’d locked it away long ago, he wasn’t supposed to care about people like this anymore, that wasn’t in the fucking plan. He’d restrained himself, time and time again, turned down offers, avoided hanging out – he did everything he was supposed to do to not fall in love again.

 And absolutely none of it mattered.

 Love had mattered – fuck love for being like this – fuck Bruce for making him believe he could live like him – fuck the world – fuck Joey – fuck Kor’i – fuck everything. Fuck whoever he was supposed to be, his training, his painstaking control of his emotions.

 He pounded the ground with his good hand, promises could be broken, but he wouldn’t break – not today – he didn’t have time. He could be dead today, next week, fuck – half the Titans were dead, Jason was dead, he couldn’t waste time like this - his life was going to be short.

 His life was going to fucking short and he needed to pull himself together – he had family to get back to. He had people he loved – if his heart was going to break anyways – he was so FUCKING stupid.

 Drowning in regret, he slammed the ground again, hard enough for the shockwaves to jar his broken hand. Feeling pain was better than feeling this – because fuck – fuck – he loved Joey. He loved Joey and Kor’i and they were both gone and nothing was okay anymore. Joey never even knew. Never even knew – and it was all his fault – and he never knew how much he mattered – never knew how when he smiled it everything around him dulled in comparison or how when they talked it was like he had known him his all life.

 He never knew.

 And would never know.

 He focused on taking painful breaths sobbing himself silly, laughing till he couldn’t breathe, and crying until he couldn’t feel. Time passed in a vacuum, hysteria waxing and waning until he ran out of tears to cry.

 He rolled over, pressing himself up, wiping his face on his shirt, ignoring the familiar pain creeping up his arm.

 He made a new promise because well, fuck the last one didn’t work out so he might as well start over. Giant pines towered over him standing tall as silent witnesses. He swore on the living along with the dead, any that would listen really – he didn’t care - he couldn’t keep living like this.

 “Whoever I love will know.” He whispered the words as a sacred oath, finding an odd sense of solace. He paused, letting the words hang in the air as if imbuing them with some sort of power.

 Stumbling forward, he made his way back home.

[merakiaes]

How The Tables Turn - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Sorry if this is plain and boring. Hope it was what you wanted and that you like it <3

Wordcount: 3061

Summary: Growing up, Tommy never saw you as anything other than a sister and a friend. Until one night, when everything changes. 

Buddy, chum, comrade, mate, brother, kid. Only a few of the many, painfully deriding and mocking nicknames you got to hear from Tommy every single day, as you had been for the past fifteen years.

You had met when you were twelve and he was fourteen. You were new to Small Heath and didn’t have a very easy time making friends as you were… well, let’s just say that you were the one getting into trouble and dragging him along, also earning yourself the nickname ‘Missy Mischief’.

The last one, you didn’t mind much. It was all fun and games. But the other ones weren’t as fun, especially not when you were hopelessly in love with him.

You followed him and his brothers around every day after meeting them for the first time. Eventually, you were all so close they considered you as their sister. Tommy, too, much to your dismay.

Hell, even John and Arthur would switch it up with a “little bird”, “darling”, “princess”, “love” or “sweetheart” every once in a while. That’s more than you could say about Tommy, and still, it was only his lips you wanted to hear those names coming from.

You were fifteen and seventeen when you first shared your first romantic moment, getting a bit too drunk at the Garrison and ending up making out in the alley behind the pub. 

But the next morning, it was all forgotten in his case, and the next day he ran off and lost his virginity to someone else.

After that, you pretty much gave up the idea of ever ending up in a romantic relationship with Thomas Shelby. You stopped saving yourself for him and started seeing other men.

He didn’t even bat an eye, so you guessed it was just never meant to be and moved on.

You were now twenty-nine, and he was thirty-one. You didn’t have a job. Not a real one, anyways.

For the most part, you just helped out in the betting shop. And when you weren’t doing that, you were watching John’s kids or teaching Finn to read and count as his brothers had pulled him out of school with the increase of danger coming with the business. 

Tonight, a formal party was being held following a major race, and since you were with the Shelbys, you were expected to attend.

Every other time an event like this one had taken place, you hadn’t gotten much time to think much about your appearance with the way you were running around with the brothers. 

Hanging around them all of the time had resulted in you taking on a rather masculine sense of fashion, or a masculine outlook on it, at least.

In other words, you didn’t care much for expensive jewelry and fancy dresses, usually just ending up dressed in some cheap, old dress to save time.

But today Ada and Polly managed to steal you away and take you to the dressmaker with them, saying it was about time you started dressing in a way that flattered your already gorgeous body. Ada’s words, not yours.

In all honesty, you had never really given much thought to how you looked. You knew you were attractive, that’s all it was to it, basically. 

Why should you waste time worrying about your hair or your clothes when you weren’t interested in romance? Seeing as that was the major reason for women caring about their looks in the first place.

You grumbled under your breath as the dressmaker tightened the fabric around your waist, finding the tight feeling uncomfortable in comparison to the loose, basic dresses you usually wore.

But Ada’s mood wasn’t nearly as pessimistic as yours, the younger girl basically bouncing on the spot and clapping her hands as she gave you a once-over.

“Oh, how exciting!” She squealed, her eyes sparking with happiness at finally getting to give you the makeover she had dreamed about giving you for so many years. “Tommy won’t be able to take his eyes off of you!”

Your eyes narrowed when hearing those words leave her lips. You turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I care about what he thinks, exactly?”

Polly chuckled, and through the mirror you could see her shaking her head where she stood behind you, already dressed in an elegant black dress. “Oh, darling.” She smiled, looking at you with a secretive look.

But Ada wasn’t about holding back, declaring loudly with a bright smile on her lips. ”You’re in love with him, of course!”

Your body froze slightly at the mention of Tommy and love in the same sentence, feelings you hadn’t dwelled upon for years pricking the surface.

You quickly pushed them back down with a scoff and a nervous laugh. “What? No.” You cleared your throat. “I mean, it’s no secret I used to be. But that was a long time ago.”

Polly raised an eyebrow at you through the mirror, crossing her arms over her chest in an almost challenging way.

“Mhm.” She hummed, sharing a glance with Ada that made you narrow your eyes in suspicion again. But they said nothing else, Ada changing the subject while the dressmaker finished your dress.

An hour and a half later you were being helped out of the car by Finn, your hair wavy and pinned back to perfection and your blue, velvet, strapless dress covered by a long white fur coat to protect your bare arms from the chilly evening air.

You offered the youngest of the Shelby siblings a gentle smile as he helped you down the final step. “Thank you, Finn.”

He smiled back, and you squeezed his hand slightly before letting go, pulling your coat tighter around your form to shield yourself from the gust of air pulling through.

Together with Finn, Ada and Polly, you walked up the thin gravel path leading to the big, fancy mansion the party was being held in.

Tommy, John and Arthur had gone ahead together, having to arrive in time to greet other important people, while you got to take your time.

Upon entering the house, the sound of soft jazz music, chatting voices and laughter instantly reached your ears, and two varlets were ready by the front door to relieve Ada, Polly and yourselves of your coats.

The man taking your coat was younger than you by several years by the looks of it, but older than Finn, probably somewhere between twenty and twenty-three.

You noticed the way his eyes seemed to linger on your chest slightly when taking your coat. You raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of your lips tugging upwards slightly, and he instantly cleared his throat, adverted his gaze and hurried off to the coatroom.

“Well, you already seem to be attracting attention to yourself.” Polly mused, coming up beside you, pulling her white silk gloves up to her elbows.

You could only chuckle ad shake your head. “I feel like I’m wearing lingerie.”

Ada came up beside you, linking her arm with yours. “It’s called fashion, (Y/N). I would teach you all about it if you just stopped running around shooting people with my brothers for once.”

“There, there, Ada.” Polly chuckled, the apples of her cheeks round and full as she smiled with amusement.

The conversation was abandoned as Polly linked her arm with yours on the other side, the three of you starting to walk towards the ballroom where everyone else was already gathered and mingling.

Heads turned to look at you left and right as you walked, both men and women ogling at the beauty of the Shelby women. You may not have been one through blood or marriage, but you sure were one through association and that was just as honorable in your eyes.

Tommy was standing around in the ballroom with Arthur and John, talking to some high-sitting politician that he, to be frank, didn’t give a flying fuck about, when you entered.

Arthur was the first one to notice you, and he instantly slapped John on the chest, causing him to look in the same direction, as well. It wasn’t an unusual sigh to see Polly and Ada getting dressed up for events, but they had never seen you in a dress like that.

Noticing their sudden change of behavior, Tommy gave them a bored look, taking in the way their eyes were wide open and their lips pulled into proud smirks, and couldn’t help but wonder what they were looking at.

He turned his head around, followed their line of sight, and when he caught sight of you, he felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

Never in his life had he seen you as more than his forever-loyal little sister. He had never looked at you and felt any kind of romantic and sexual attraction for you. Never.

But with only one look at you now, reality came crashing down on him and he realized, he had been lying to himself his entire life, living in denial.

He could barely recognize you without your hair out of your usual messy-bun, dirty cargo pants and equally as dirty combat boots.

Your hair now was styled in perfectly symmetric waves, pinned back by sparkling diamond clasps, with long, dangling diamond earrings hanging from your ears to match. He realized then, that he hadn’t even known you had your ears pierced.

Your bright eyes were framed by your long lashes, even longer now with the makeup Ada had forced onto you, and the dress. God, the dress. It revealed dips and curves he hadn’t even known you had.

The blue satin hugged your body perfectly and had a slit up to the middle of your right thigh, revealing the edge of your black stay-ups.

For the first time in probably ever, he saw you for the woman you were and not the boyish girl you had never been. And he was absolutely stunned, breathless, at loss for words.

“Bloody hell.” Arthur was the first to break the silence, and John followed closely with a low whistle, twirling the toothpick around between his lips and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Who could’ve thought little bird could clean up that nice, eh, Tommy?”

John shoved his elbow out to nudge his older brother but was met only with air as Tommy was already excusing himself from the man they had been talking to and pushing his way through the crowd in your direction.

You had managed to snatch yourself a flute of champagne from a waiter passing by and was standing around sipping on the golden liquid, chatting quietly with Ada and Polly in waiting for the boys to seek you out when they got the time.

You were looking around, chuckling at a joke Ada had told about one of the men standing by nearby, when the girl in question suddenly nudged your side.

“Incoming.” She said, nodding forward.

Turning to follow her line of sight, you spotted Tommy coming your way, looking as handsome as ever with freshly groomed hair and a suit that looked to be more expensive than your entire attire all together.

Polly and Ada each placed a hand on your shoulders in goodbye before slipping off, leaving you to it.

You expected him to hug you, slap your back and greet you with a “Nice of you to join us, kid” like he usually did, but instead, he gingerly picked up your free hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles without ever breaking eye contact.

“My lady.” He greeted in a low voice, coming back up to his full height, but not letting go of your hand.

Your heart was left hammering in your chest at the unexpected act of affection, your ears burning hot. But you kept your composure, simply lifting an eyebrow.

“My lady?” You questioned, lifting the flute of champagne to your lips to take a small sip before continuing. “That’s new.”

He matched your expression, his eyebrows shooting up in a teasing manner. “Would you rather I call you mate?”

You rolled your eyes at his mocking retort, pulling your hand out of his and looking past him to scan the crowd. “No.” You declined. “No, I would not.”

You took another sip of your drink, eyes roaming the room and taking in the different faces. Tommy was quiet for a moment, but you could feel his gaze burning into his face.

The intensity of his stare was starting to make your skin crawl. Not because you were uncomfortable, but rather because the feelings you had been trying to push back for the man standing before you for so many years were flooding back so quickly.

He barely had to do anything, and it made you ashamed that you were still so whipped for him, after all this time of being neglected and seen merely as one of his siblings.  

“Do you dance?”

Having gotten so lost in your thoughts, you jumped at the sound of his voice when he suddenly spoke again.

It was funny. You were an honorary member of one of the fastest growing organized crime gangs in all of England, had been under gun-point countless of times without as much of batting an eye at the barrel shoved into your face, and still you managed to get scared just by being spoken to.

The ridiculousness of the entirety of it almost made you laugh out loud, but you kept it in, only letting out a quiet snort and letting your eyes turn back to Tommy’s.

“You would think after fifteen years of friendship that you would know how bad of a dancer I am.” You mused, looking into his baby blues through your lashes.

His confident smile almost seemed to falter for the shortest of moments, but he quickly recovered, taking a step closer to you and lowering his voice. “I’m just going to have to take you out tomorrow night and teach you, then, aren’t I?”

The question fell from his lips more as a statement than anything, and had your eyes growing wide with disbelief. “Thomas, are you asking me out on a date?” You asked, not even bothering to hide the shock in your voice.

He looked at you, eyes just as collected as always. “I believe I am.” He answered, his voice calm and even. “But then again, it depends…”

“Oh? On what?” You inquired, the shock now wearing off and being replaced with a mixture of complete joy and a little bit of… power? Yeah, power. You felt powerful having caught his interest and having him so captivated.

He hummed, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly. “Whether or not you’re accepting.”

You squinted your eyes slightly, a constant smile playing at your lips.

You thought you had forgotten all about the romantic feelings you once harbored for him. But as is appeared, they had never gone away, only been denied because of the constant rejection. 

“I believe I am.” You hummed back finally, never breaking eye contact.

You watched the small tug of his lips turned into a full smile and a moment of silence fell over the two of you, the only sounds being heard being the music and distant chatter.

But then he took yet another step closer to you, grabbing a hold of your upper arms, his warm hands starting to rub ginger circles on your bare skin. “You look beautiful, (Y/N).” He said suddenly.

The mere feeling of his touch was enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps, but at the sound of the tone in his voice, you swore you could feel yourself getting weak at the knees.

“Thank you, Thomas.” You answered and let out a shaky breath when he suddenly bent down closer to your face.

He gave you an unreadable stare, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips. You had to try your hardest to control your breathing as he slowly leaned in even closer, going to close the distance between the two of you.

His lips brushed against yours, sending a spark through your entire body. His eyes started closing, and yours too, getting lost in the moment; the moment you had been waiting for for so long.

But you quickly caught yourself at that, bringing your glass up between the two of you just as he was about to press his lips to yours, staring innocently at him over the rim while then proceeding to throw the rest of the champagne back into your throat.

His face was warped up into one of shock, the calm twinkle in his eyes now something else entirely, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the feeling of power in your bones as you felt him wrapping around your finger.

All while holding his gaze, you pushed the glass into his hand and raised your own to his cheek, stroking it for a moment before giving it a pat.

“If I could wait for you for fifteen years...” You started, eyes crinkled at the corners with mischief as you leaned in closer to him, stopping yourself right before your lips made contact and scanning his face before continuing in a mocking whisper. “You can wait one day.”

You stayed right where you were for a moment, taking in the mixed emotions flashing through his eyes with a weird sense of pride, before taking a step back, giving him a curt smile and another short pat on the cheek. “Enjoy your evening, buddy.”

And with that, you left him staring after you and to be tormented by his brothers, approaching an equally as smug-looking Polly and Ada standing at the other side of the room witnessing the entire scene.

You knew he wasn’t that kind of man, but a part of you still wanted to make sure he wanted you for you and not just your dress, and therefor knew you couldn’t give in so easily.

But much to your luck, he never stopped chasing after you for the rest of his days, just like you had done up until that point. 

Oh, how the tables had turned.  

[theonewiththefanfics]

Not So Bad After All (one-shot)

Synopsys: When the Reader’s car won’t start and the only person around is Billy Hargrove, she’d rather let the Demogorgon take her out on a date. But when her crazy ex decides to roll around, having another person in her corner might not be that bad. 

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, lil bit of angst, but only like if you squint

Warnings: swearing, mentions of stalkerish behaviour, suggestive talk, but nothing much. If there’s anything else, please let me know :)

Word count: 3008

        Summer nights in Hawkins were like a game of Russian roulette. They could be hot and sweltering, and to the point that you wanted to camp on the lake for some kind of relief from the heat, or they could be ruled by piercing winds, and temperatures that dropped below 50 degrees, despite the weather during the day being literal Hell.         Fortunately for Y/N, it was the first one, as she had no harrowing want to go back to the community pool in barely there jean shorts, a bikini top and a loose Jaws t-shirt over her body.         Working at the pool was a tradition at this point for her, and forgetting her bag with her driver’s license, wallet and house keys much the same.         Letting out a frustrating huff, she opened the gate to the pool and strutted towards the women’s changing rooms, not acknowledging Billy Hargrove who had applied for the lifeguard job and had gotten it, becoming her partner. Sort of.         They shared shifts, as there needed to be two lifeguards on spot at all times, but if Y/N was being honest, she’d rather share her time with a Demogorgon, than Billy.         He was stuck up, thought he was better than everyone else, flirted mercilessly with anyone that would come up to him, had two boobs and a vagina between their legs. Not that she really cared, but when in the timespan he was offering Nancy Wheeler’s mom ‘private swimming lessons’, a kid had slipped and broken his nose and another one had twisted her ankle, Y/N was very much so over his bullshit.

        Y/N groaned seeing as someone had left the women’s sauna door open, which meant all the heat had escaped into the showers, and she could only hope it hadn’t been left open cause Billy had wanted to have some fun with a girl.         Sighing, Y/N peeked inside and crossed her fingers that she wouldn’t have to clean all that mess up, and it turned out luck was on her side, as everything seemed clean. Heather would still have to mop down the floors in the morning when her shift started, but that was not Y/N’s concern.         As quick as possible, she closed the sauna door, placed a towel by the entrance to soak up the moisture on the tiles and rushed to get her stuff. She was starving by that point, and her dad had promised they’d be having a barbecue night. Just at the thought of food, her stomach released the loudest grumble ever.         With her bag slung over her shoulder, Y/N pulled out her car keys from the back pocket of her shorts and gave Billy a small tight-lipped smile as he held the gate open for her before closing for the night.         “You sure you got everything?” he asked, and she nodded.         “If not, I’ll just get it tomorrow.”         And that was it for their conversation. They weren’t enemies, but they certainly weren’t friends. Y/N hung out with Steve Harrington most of the time, and let’s just say Billy and him were not buddies. Besides, it’s not like Billy had expressed any interest in getting to know her, so why should she?         She pulled back the hair that had stuck to her forehead from the humidity, and dropped her bag into the passenger seat, putting her foot onto the clutch and twisting the key.         Her eyebrows furrowed, and she repeated the motion.         Like before, the engine sputtered, rattled and did nothing.         “Fucking, hell, are you kidding me?” Y/N muttered and slapped her hands against the wheel, stepping out of her car and sighing. “I just fixed you.” It was an old car, but it wasn’t ancient so it made no sense why it would be acting up.         From the corner of her eye, she saw Billy approach, and Y/N rolled her eyes at the cigarette he dumped onto the ground and extinguished with his foot. “Need some help, sweetheart?”         “I’d rather shove a spoon through my eye.”         Billy let out a small snort and shook his head, the dirty blond curls that had stretched out a bit from the heat swishing along his forehead in soft waves. “Come on. I just want to help. I promise that’s all.”         Y/N eyed him sceptically but relented in the end. Maybe she’d need his help and have him spark her car up. “But if your hands go somewhere, I can’t see, you’re dead.”         “Noted, princess.”         She rolled her eyes at the nickname, which seemed to be Billy’s favorite pastime, but nevertheless, Y/N opened her door and leaned to open the glove compartment where a flashlight resided. You never knew, when it could come in hand, and the lighting outside the pool’s parking lot wasn’t the best.         “Pop the hood,” Billy said, and Y/N pressed the button on the inside, the hood obscuring her vision of her ex-classmate.         “Your ignition cable’s gone,” he immediately announced.         “What?” she rushed to his side, shining the light to where Billy was pointing at, and true to his words – the cable was gone.         “Are you kidding me?” Y/N leaned closer but nope, the view didn’t change. The cable was really gone. Right then, the sound of a car engine rolling up next to them made the two look up. Even without glimpsing the shitty green paint job on the Mustang, Y/N would’ve recognized the car and the owner in a matter of seconds.         “You’ve gotta be joking,” she mumbled glaring at the car that was approaching them as if she could see through the metal hood.         Billy’s eyes flitted down to where Y/N was glaring a hole in her car.        "Know who it is?"         “That’s my insane ex-boyfriend. Ever since I broke up with him, which, mind you, was months ago, he’s been stalking me.” She slammed down the hood, and it would’ve made Billy flinch, had it not been for the overwhelming feeling of anger that started to course through his veins. “And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my car’s dead.”         “The pool’s closed, amigo,” Billy called out to the boy who stepped out from his car. The Californian would never admit, but he’d grown really attached to Y/N. He didn’t show it, nor did it seem like she noticed one bit, but he always kept out an eye for her.         Whenever she was the one on closing duty, he lingered around under the guise of trying to hook up with a girl in his car, but in truth, it was to see if she got to her own vehicle safely.         He always made sure Y/N took her lunch breaks and wasn’t in the direct heat of the sun for too long. There had been one time she’d passed out in the girl’s locker room, according to Heather, after having basically worked a double shift, and Billy’s protectiveness just grew. He'd even given half of his sandwich when the only thing Y/N had had time to pack before rushing for her shift had been an apple.         “Y/N,” the dark-haired boy’s tone had the fake-shocked note to it. “I didn’t expect to see you here… is everything alright?”         She crossed her arms and popped her hip out. “It was. Until you showed up and completely ruined my evening.”         “That’s a bit mean, isn’t’ it?” the guy chuckled, and pretty much simultaneously both Y/N’s and Billy’s jaws clenched. Hers because Derek was the last person on her list of people she wanted to see, Billy’s cause he could instantly tell what a disgusting slime ball he was.         “We’re alright here,” the blond answered and puffed up his chest a bit if only to make it clear Y/N didn’t need his help and neither wanted him there. “And again – the pool is closed. So, piss off.”         Derek scoffed. “Yeah, I wasn’t talking to you, Hargrove. I was talking to the lady here.”         “Well I don’t think she wants to talk to you,” Billy sneered in response and looked over at Y/N who was just looking at Derek. For the first time ever, he was glad her eyes were not on him. Whenever he caught her glancing his way, his heart sped up in excitement, but now... if looks could kill, Billy was sure Derek would be twenty feet under.         “I think she can talk for herself, right, lovie?”         And Derek got what he wanted – a reaction out of her. Y/N hated that nickname, had always despised it, but it took two to play a game.         “Car trouble,” she said and slowly walked closer to Derek and coincidentally, but not really so coincidentally, her trunk. “Couldn’t start it, and Billy here offered his help.”         “You know that you can always ask me for help, right?” Derek’s tone was softer now but held an edge to it as he eyed Billy. “We might not be together, but I still care about you. Unlike the slut of the town who probably just wants to get in your pants.”         “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Y/N smiled at the ground, and it made Billy’s heart clench. He knew he had a reputation, but that didn’t mean he didn’t genuinely care for her. Though when she pulled out a baseball bat, her grip tight around the handle, his mood shifted. “But there’s caring about someone,” she said, “and then there’s your absolute psycho behavior.”         “Y-Y/N?” Derek stuttered, and Billy crossed his arms with a smug look on his face.         “See here’s the thing, Billy boy here said that my ignition cable’s gone, which is funny, cause I was at the pool for barely five minutes,” she tossed the bat from one hand to the other before flipping it in her palm. “And less than two minutes after I’m in a little bit of trouble, you,” she pointed at Derek with the bat, “show up. And if you think I believe in coincidences such as this, you’re dead wrong.”         Derek bristled, and Y/N smiled seeing a muscle in his jaw tick, especially when Billy went to tower behind the other guy’s back. “You can’t be serious and think that I'd do something to your car? This is ridiculous.”        “Then you wouldn’t mind me searching your Mustang?” She pointed with the bat at the window. From the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Billy’s lips pull up in a smirk. She’d be lying if the thought of having him on her side wasn’t a soothing one.        Derek’s eyes widened at the sight, and he gulped when she gently slid the piece of wood across his back window.        “You wouldn’t mind me taking a look, would you?” Y/N repeated in a way too sweet of a tone.        “You’re crazy,” he said, making her eyes darken.        “Fine. Then I guess I just have to make myself fit that label,” she sneered and swung the bat back. Just as it was about to reach the window, Derek screamed, ‘alright, fine!’        His chest was heaving up and down, but Y/N could see how his fists clenched and unclenched. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”        In mock gratitude, Y/N put a hand against her chest. “Thank you.”        Her eyes flitted to Billy. “Would you mind keeping an eye on him?”        The Californian’s grin widened, and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “Not at all, princess. Take as much time as you need.”        But Y/N only had to look for three minutes, before she remembered that under the backseats, there was a compartment Derek had made to stash his weed, fearing his parents might find it if he hid it in his room, so with a little bit of prying and almost breaking off a nail, Y/N opened the little compartment and was greeted by a greasy tube sticking out from it.        “Oh, Billy, would you look at that!” Y/N exclaimed not surprised at all as she threw the boy the cable. “I think we found the hidden treasure.”         “Well, I think you need to change professions from a lifeguard and become an archaeologist, miss Indiana Jones.”         “Exactly my thoughts,” but her sarcastic reply was not filled with any humor at all.        “Listen here, you absolute psycho,” Y/N growled as she moved closer, grip tightening around her bat. “If I even smell you anywhere near me, your ass is dead. Got it? I broke up with you cause you were a piece of shit, but I wanted to remain civil. Though, now, it seems like it��s not possible.”        But as much as Derek was scared, ‘cause he knew Y/N never made threats only promises, he still wouldn’t see the error of his ways. “Come on, darling. I just miss you. Why don’t we go grab a bite and talk everything out? Let’s not let this dent our relationship…”         “Dent,” Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “The only dent that I’ll ever acknowledge, cause there’s no relationship between us, is the dent in your car.”         Simultaneously as Derek yelled ‘what?!’ Y/N swung back the bat and let it connect with the passenger door.         “You bitch! What are you doing you psychopath?!” her ex screamed as his hands went to tangle in his hair. “I’ll make you pay for that, just you wait!”        “Go on,” she smirked heaving in a breath after she left another dent on the side, “tell your daddy and mommy your crazy ex busted up your car. And I’ll tell Hopper how you’ve been parked outside of my house for the past three months trying to spy on me. Or how about the times you've followed me with your car? Who do you think he’ll believe – me, someone with evidence – or you – a bitter boy who just can’t get over a girl that doesn’t want him?”        Derek’s eyes widened in fear. “What evidence?”        Y/N scoffed and crossed her arms. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you lurking outside my house and not do anything about it? I know how people treat women, that whenever they say something it’s because they’re crazed bitches. So,” she smiled smugly, “I had my parents install a security system with cameras. And your license plate shines brightly under those streetlights. Oh, and how could I forget our star witness tonight. Billy, sweetheart, if I went to Hop and told him about everything, would you mind corroborating the story? You know, how I came here to get my stuff, how I couldn’t start my car and we found out my ignition cable was gone. Not to even mention, how it turned up in the back of Derek's car here?”        “Of course not, princess,” he smiled mimicking Y/N’s position. “It would be an absolute honor.”        “You’ll never get into her pants,” Derek sneered at the other guy, trying to strike a chord, “in three years she didn’t put out once.”        “Trust me,” came Y/N’s immediate reply. “Billy has more chance of getting with me than you ever had or will. Now stay away from me, or it’ll end uglier than it started.”        Derek swung open his door and hopped in his car, sneering out a ‘you’ll regret this, you bitch’, before driving away into the night.        “Gotta say, Y/L/N,” Billy smirked and helped reinstall the cables to her car, “I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared and aroused at the same time.”        “Busting up a car makes you hard?” she let out a genuine laugh sitting down into the driver’s seat and turning the key, fist-bumping the air as her car roared back to life.         “No, but a girl not taking anyone’s bullshit might,” the look on his face was the pure embodiment of what she thought of Billy, of his womanizing ways, and Y/N rolled her eyes.         “If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been taking your bullshit either.”         He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth before answering completely honestly. “Then why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to make you like me?”         Her jaw practically slammed through the car floor, because when Y/N’s eyes met his, there was not a single trace of him lying or scheming something up. This was Billy without his bravado, asking out a girl he had actual feelings for, and hoping that she wouldn’t break his heart too much.        “What are you doing this Friday?” Y/N asked both hands on the wheel to have something to hold on instead of fidget with her fingers.        For a second, he was stunned but quickly regained his composure. “Dunno,” Billy smirked, “have any ideas?”        Y/N shrugged but didn’t hide the smile that blossomed on her lips. “They’re still showing Day of the Dead. Wanna go and watch?”        He seemed to contemplate her proposal but then shook his head. “Can’t,” he chuckled. “I’m taking this smokin'-hot chick on a date tomorrow morning, so hopefully on Friday it’ll be our third one.” But his face had this huge grin on that made her frown in confusion.         “Then why did you say you don’t know?”         “Cause first I have to take you out for breakfast.”        “What?” her eyebrows scrunched up and she let out a small laugh. Billy pointed at her before hopping into his Camaro, rolling down the passenger side window and stating, “10 AM. Benny’s. Be ready or I’ll leave without you.”         With that, he revved up his beloved blue baby and reversed out from the parking lot.         What she didn’t see was how he smiled all the way back to his house even doing a little dance as he walked up the steps.         What he didn’t see was how she squealed in excitement and hugged both her parents when she got home so hard they thought they’d pass out.         “What’s up with you?” Y/N’s father laughed seeing his daughter so over the moon that he had to look at her mom with a raised eyebrow.         “Nothing,” she shook her. “I’m just… happy.”         Luckily they didn't question her any further, and just let her smile as widely as her cheeks would allow.        Maybe the bad boy of Hawkins wasn’t that bad after all.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28

Billy Hargrove’s tag list: @la-reina-tigresa @youcanstandundermyumbrella

A/N: thought I’d get something else up as well for Billy :)

[ssfghfrrggf]

Down is Faster than Up Chapter 4/ the final chapter

“Hey! Look who’s back!” Herrmann cries, as his gaze meets Stella’s

She’s greeted with whoops and cheers from everyone else as she walks into the common room for the first time in what feels like forever. She’s picked up her fair share of shifts at Molly’s the last week or so, but it still feels like it’s been forever since she’s seen everyone; it’s different seeing everyone at Molly’s than it is seeing them here at the house.

“How are you feeling Momma?” Mouch asks, standing up to give her hug.

“Good as new and ready to be driving 81 again,” she says cheerfully and hugs Mouch back.

“Aw! Right off the bat she’s reestablishing her dominance!” Casey jokes from where he’s standing next to the counter sipping his morning cup of coffee.

“You’re sure I can’t drive one last shift?” Mouch asks, his tone playful and teasing.

“You’ve had a month and a half to drive that thing, I’m taking my seat back,” Stella laughs. She’s missed the swing of things, driving the truck, the banter with the crew… all of it.

“Are you sure you still know how to drive?” Gallo asks, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Excuse me, what’d you say candidate?” Stella says and puts her hands on her hips.

“Nah-ah-ah. Not candidate anymore, old lady,” Gallo replies, grinning from ear to ear.

“You wanna repeat what you just said?” Stella demands, pinning him down with a playful glare, and making a side mental note to congratulate him on completing his candidacy.

“Why? Did you forget your hearing aides?” Gallo asks, with a victorious smirk.

“Nah, it all sounded like gibberish baby talk to me. Little baby Andy can form better words than you,” Stella retorts, and Gallo opens and closes his mouth a few times trying to find some witty clap back. Ritter gives him a comforting pat on the back.

“It’s okay man, no one wins against Stella with these things,” Ritter says quietly, and hands his friend a cup of coffee. “Drink this.”

“That’s right,” Stella gloats. “Drink the bitter taste of defeat.”

“Alright,” Casey says, chuckling to himself. “How are you?”

“100%, Captain,” Stella replies. “The doctor gave me the all clear and I’m ready for full duty. I got the paperwork in my bag.”

“How’s Severide?” Cruz asks hopefully. She can’t help but wonder if he’s been the acting lieutenant this whole time; she knows everyone here, except probably Matt and Sylvie, are expecting Kelly to make a push to come back, but she’s pretty sure he won’t. He seems pretty committed to the idea of being a stay at home dad, which after everything that happened she’s more than okay with. She’s just sure if he’ll really be happy; he’s not a sit around and doing nothing all day kind of guy.

“He’s walking on his own two feet again,” she reports. “The physical therapist is impressed with how quickly he’s turning it around.”

“Any idea when he’s coming back?” Capp asks. “We miss having him around.”

“Not really sure, guys. He’s still got a lot of recovering to do, and not just physically,” Stella replies. There’s times she worries about him; what happened to him produced a real shock to his system.

“You have paperwork to give to Boden, right?” Casey asks, interrupting the conversation about Kelly.

“Yes, I do,” Stella replies, grateful for the shift in discussion. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay on that conversation path without accidentally saying something about Kelly thinking about retirement.

“Let’s go get it filed and make sure he knows you’re here.”

“Thanks for the save, Casey,” Stella says once their a little ways down the hallway.

“He’s still thinking he’s not going to come back?” Casey asks, sounding disappointed.

“Yeah, he really hasn’t even talked about doing any of this physical therapy so he can come back here, it’s all just for Andy and being able to do things with him,” Stella replies with a smile. She’s always known Kelly would be a good dad, but she never really imagined he’d give up squad for it. Thinking about him retiring is a bitter sweet thought, she’ll miss him being at work with her, but knowing he’s safe at home is more than she’d ever even let herself hope for.

“You don’t think he’ll get bored?” Casey asks as they reach Boden’s door.

“I’m really not sure. He seems content right now,” She says before opening the door to the chief’s office.

A look of pure joy floods across the battalion chief’s face as she opens the door, and he stands up grinning ear to ear. “Kidd! I thought I smelled something stinking up my house!”

“Happy to see you, too chief,” Stella replies with a laugh and offers him a hand shake. He skips her hand and goes straight for a hug instead. After a couple seconds he pulls away and straightens himself up.

“I’m glad you’re back. The house isn’t the same without you around,” he says clearing his throat. “The place wasn’t the same without you around.”

“Glad to be back, sir,” Stella replies and hands him her papers. “And I’m cleared for full duty, here’s all the paperwork.”

“You’re feeling ready to be back?” Boden asks, thumbing through the papers. “There’s no rush. You’re spot on 81 is safe, if you want to take a few more weeks.”

“Top of my game chief,” Stella reports confidently.

Boden looks from her to Casey and nods. “What’s the word on Kelly?”

Stella glances sideways at Casey who nods and closes the door.

“He’s not sure if he’s coming back,” Stella says, clearing her throat. Kelly had given her permission to tell Boden if he asked. “And he’d like for that to stay between the three of us until he decides for sure.”

The chief nods understandingly. “I never thought Kelly Severide would retire before me. How serious is he?”

“He seems to mean it, at least right now. There’s no saying he won’t get bored down the line and want back in; but this was a real reality check for him, chief,” Stella replies. It was a reality check for both of them. “He wants to make sure he’s around for Andy.”

“Tell him to take all the time he needs, and that no matter what he decides he’s always welcome here, and that 51 is his family.”

“I will, chief. Thank you,” Stella replies, and Boden looks like he’s about to say more, but the bell rings and interrupts him. Stella can’t help but smile a little, everything works exactly the way it used to.

***

Severide can’t remember the last time he saw the station empty; it’s strange and unnatural walking into the station and finding the bay empty and the squad table desolate. 

“Well, Andy, we were going to say hi to mom at work,” Kelly says adjusting his son’s position in his arms, as he turns taking in the empty apparatus floor. It makes him nervous and antsy, like he shouldn’t be here like he should be out on the call with the rest of 51. It also makes him nervous for Stella, whatever call they’re out on, it’s a big one if everyone is out of the house. “Guess we’ll have to do a tour instead.”

He casts one last glance over his shoulder at the empty bay before letting himself inside the main building. The only sounds inside are the noise of air coming in through the ceiling vents and the sound of the TV still playing in the common room. Kelly sighs and makes his way to the couch; he’s half tempted to turn back around and go to the squad table, but the thought of doing that feels wrong somehow. If he’s quitting, then it’s not really his squad table anymore… just like this won’t really be his house anymore- his home away from home. Out of respect, he doesn’t sit in Mouch’s spot on the couch even though the old firefighter isn’t there.

He’d always imagined becoming an old firefighter in this house, hoped for it really. It had always seemed so right, but now he’s not sure. Everything has changed so much for him so fast; being a firefighter was all he’d ever wanted, but now he’s a dad and it seems to be the only thing he wants now.

It’s not long before the sound of the trucks pulling back into the station startles Kelly out of his thoughts and brings him back to reality.

“Now that’s not a sight I ever thought I’d see,” Mouch says coming into the common room shaking his head happily. “Kelly Severide with a kid.”

“What are you talking about?” Herrmann declares with a mischievous tone his voice. “I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner with the amount of-”

Mouch cuts him off with a scolding glare and Herrmann just shrugs innocently.

“You wanna hold him?” Kelly offers, ignoring Herrmann’s comment.

“Of course I do!” Herrmann says reaching out his hands to take Andy. “Come’er big guy!”

“Hey! Lieutenant!” Cruz dealers gleefully, obviously thrilled to see him, as he comes through the door followed by Casey, Gallo, Ritter, and finally, Stella.

“See, I knew you couldn’t survive more than a couple hours without me,” Stella teases lovingly and scoots past Cruz to get to him.

“No, I just knew you couldn’t survive a couple hours without me and Andy, so i decided to come down to the house,” Kelly replies softly as Stella wraps her arms around him and rests her chin on his shoulder. He didn’t realize until now how much he really needed the hug from her.

“So when are you planning on making your triumphant return?” Cruz asks, walking over to the counter to retrieve an apple.

“Yeah, the house really isn’t the same without you around,” Herrmann adds, bouncing Andy gently on his hip.

Kelly pulls himself out of Stella’s hug and rests his arm over her shoulder as he looks around the room. For the longest time, this place was home, the single balanced constant in his life, and in many ways it always will be. And all these people are his family. It feels wrong to walk away from it, but in many ways it also seems so right. He glances to Stella, who sadly doesn’t hold the answers he’s looking for only the key to his heart, she and Andy are the only things he needs.

“I don’t think I am, Cruz,” Severide finally says. Telling them he’s not sure would’ve been easier, but they’re his family and they all deserve to know the truth. There’s a shocked silence. “I haven’t decided anything for sure yet, but I almost died before getting to meet my kid so it gave me a lot to think about. I don’t want to miss a second of watching him grow up.”

Herrmann is the first one to break the leftover silence after Severide finishes his explanation, and he has a big smile on his face as he does so. “I never thought you’d retire before me and Mouch. And I feel inclined to talk you out of this because you’re the best damn firefighter I’ve ever seen, but I’m not gonna. If it’s what you feel the need to do for your kid, then you go right on ahead and do it. We’ll all have your back no matter what you decide. Besides, looking at this cute little face, I can’t say I blame you.”

“I’ll drink a toast to that after shift!” Mouch agrees and gives Kelly a pat on the shoulder. “Retirement with a nice family is the best thing you can hope for in this job. We’re happy for you.”

Cruz still looks stunned and confused, but he nods his head in agreement. “You do what you have to do lieutenant.”

“Thanks man,” Kelly says and gives him a firm handshake. If he decides to go through with this, after all, he’ll have to recommend Cruz for a promotion to lieutenant. He can’t think of any better hands to leave squad three in.

Then he looks across the room to Casey, who gives him a simple affirming head nod. It's a simple gesture, but it says everything that needs to be said as they reach a silent understanding. A long time ago he, Casey, and Darden had joked about running the house together someday; one of them as chief and the others as captains, and then eventually retiring together. They were young, dreams were dreams, and ambition was everything. Then things had changed. Darden had died. Sev had still hung onto the idea of running the place with Casey someday, and he’s pretty sure Casey did too. But there are some things worth letting go of ambition for. Family is definitely one of those things, and Casey understands that.

[thecassadilla]

Of All the Apples

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 3,752/AO3

Summary: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Though Kristoff is uncertain about his relationship with Anna, he agrees to go apple picking with her, where he is forced to confront his feelings.

Author’s Note: Okay, so there may be a teeny bit of projection here - I really wanted to go apple or pumpkin picking at some point during this month. I doubt it’ll happen, so I may as well just write about other people doing the things that I want to do, right? Anyways, for some strange reason this was *incredibly* difficult to write - I think I revised it 30 times. I still don’t know if I’m completely satisfied, to be honest. I don't even know if it makes any sense?? But I'm just going to post it anyway. Enjoy!!!

Hearing the doorbell ring had become a familiar and expected sound. Every single day, around the same time, Anna rang the bell and patiently stood on Kristoff’s doorstep. She waited to be invited inside, even though he had told her multiple times to just come inside when she felt like it. He left the door unlocked for a reason, after all.

“Come in!” he called. He heard the door open and close from where he was, and dainty footsteps made their way towards the living room. In no time at all, she had made it to the couch, quietly collapsing into the empty spot next to him. For some reason, it made him think back to the first time they had met.

He remembered it like it had happened yesterday instead of a year ago. He’d just moved into his new rental - the tiniest house on the street - which happened to be right next door to the grandiose mansion Anna and her sister had inherited from their deceased parents. Anna, still very much a stranger at this point, had shown up on his doorstep with a store bought box of chocolate cupcakes. After apologizing profusely for not baking them herself, oversharing about her lack of skills in the kitchen, and apologizing again for assuming he’d like chocolate, she handed him the box and welcomed him to the neighborhood. That very day, he fell in love with the girl who lived next door.

She walked into his life on her own volition and for some reason that he couldn’t understand, she kept coming back. Since their initial meeting, much had changed. Before he knew it, she was spending more time at his house than she was at her own, and they were sharing intimate conversations and passionate kisses. Their relationship evolved before his own eyes - from neighbors, to friends, to starting an incredibly fulfilling sexual relationship.

Despite the fact that he was completely and utterly in love with her, he spent nearly every waking hour convincing himself that she’d never want to be more than what they currently were; that every shared moment between them was some form of pageantry as opposed to something very, very real.

Instead of believing in the possibility that she could be as in love with him as he was with her, he attempted and failed to keep her at an arm's length; she was intoxicating and it was too difficult to stay away from her, no matter how much he knew that it would hurt when it ended and she moved on with someone else. So, he kept his feelings to himself and never defined their relationship.

But today, something was off. She wasn’t acting like her normal, perky self; she was quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.

“Nothing is wrong per se,” she answered with a sigh. “But I have a question for you and I think that I already know what the answer is going to be.”

“Go for it,” he encouraged her.

“I know you hate going places, but I really want to go apple picking tomorrow, and I was hoping that you’d want to come along with me.” She gave him a hopeful smile, batting her eyelashes at him.

Though she always attempted to make plans with him outside of the house, they rarely went out in public together and when they did, it was only to the grocery store. He was too afraid to be seen with her because in his eyes, a guy like him didn’t deserve a girl like her. “Oh. I don’t really think I’ll be useful -”

“You’d be useful!” she insisted enthusiastically. “Because you’re so tall! And I would really love to go with you. Can you please come apple picking with me?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Somehow it was the best answer that he could come up with. He didn’t have a real reason to say no, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to say yes, either. He cleared his throat. “Elsa’s busy?”

She forced out a laugh. “Bold of you to assume that Elsa wants to spend her day off with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned. 

Any hope she had quickly melted away and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s okay, I get it. I can go by myself, I guess.”

She moved to stand up, and acting on an impulse, he grabbed her hand, knowing that he may come to regret it. “Wait!”

She turned to face him. “What?”

“If it’s really that important to you, then I’ll go with you.”

She hardly gave him a chance to finish before she was throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Kristoff!”

He awkwardly patted her back. “You’re welcome.”

She pulled away suddenly. “Oh crap, I forgot my phone charger at home! I’m just going to go grab it and I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded, and she smiled before rushing out of the house. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn’t sure what time she had snuck out of his bed that morning, but she was gone when he woke up just after ten. She hardly ever woke up before him, and it was even more unusual for her to have left at all. He rubbed at his eyes a few times before reaching for his phone, and sure enough, she had sent him a text explaining her whereabouts. She was right next door, in her own house, getting ready for their excursion. He sighed, knowing that she must have been extremely excited to have gotten up so early when they weren’t even leaving for several more hours. 

So, he climbed out of bed, aware of the fact that for the first Saturday in a long time, Anna wasn’t with him. He had grown used to their sleepy weekend mornings together, half-dressed and sitting at his kitchen table with plates of pancakes in front of them. Without her there, he followed his weekday routine; he ate, showered and got dressed, keeping it casual with jeans and a black t-shirt layered under a red flannel. And then, he waited. 

When the time had finally come, he went out and stood by her car, hoping that she’d be out soon. His jaw nearly dropped when she finally did. Clad in a grey v-neck sweater and light wash skinny jeans, she paired the outfit with ankle boots. Her hair was half-up, half-down and softly curled. 

“Hey,” she smiled when she saw him waiting. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready. You look great, by the way.”

“So do you, I really like that flannel. You should wear red more often.”

“Thanks,” he blushed, looking down at his shirt. “Aren’t you worried about getting dirty though? We’re going to be walking around in the dirt.”

She laughed. “I don’t plan on rolling around in the dirt.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to ruin your shoes or something.”

“It’ll be fine,” she assured him, before unlocking the car doors and tossing her purse in the backseat. “Climb in.”

He did as he was told, sliding into the passenger seat. 

“This is kind of a rare occurrence, huh? Me driving you somewhere,” she observed aloud as she started the engine. She crossed the seatbelt over her lap and glanced over at him. 

He shrugged. “I like driving.”

“Yeah, but you’re not my chauffeur. I should drive you around more,” she remarked. “Which would mean that we’d have to go out more.”

He shook his head. “I don’t...we shouldn’t -“

“Oh god, do you think I’m a bad driver?”

“What? No!”

“I swear, I’ve only gotten one speeding ticket in my entire life and I wasn’t even going that fast.”

“Anna, your driving is fine. I was just going to say that you don’t have to worry about driving me around because we shouldn’t really be going places together.”

“Okay then,” she responded, noticeably taken aback. “May I ask why you think that?”

“It just seems like a bad idea.”

“So going to dinner after this is out of the question?”

“We could order takeout,” he suggested. “Or I can cook for you.”

She muttered something inaudible and for a few miles they sat quietly, listening to the radio. He stared out the window and admired the fall foliage, hoping that the day would go by smoothly. 

Anna finally spoke up when they were about a mile from the orchard. “So, I want to get enough apples to bake a pie -”

He snorted. “You? Bake a pie?”

“Yeah,” she answered confidently. “I know I’m not great in the kitchen but I’ve never made an apple pie before and I want to try. I could really use your help.”

He glared at her. “Do I look like I’ve made an apple pie before?”

“No, but you’re more competent in the kitchen than I am.”

“Cooking is straightforward. Baking is precise. You mis-measure one ingredient and the entire thing is ruined,” he explained. “That’s why whenever you mention wanting dessert, I always go to the store and buy it.”

“I know the grocery store sells pre-made pie crusts. We can stop there after the orchard, and then that’s one less thing to worry about.”

“I did a little research about the orchard that we’re going to and they sell pies in their store,” he pointed out. “You can save yourself the stress and just buy one.”

“But what’s the fun in that?”

“I guess that’s why we’re going to a farm to buy apples and not to the grocery store,” he remarked, rolling his eyes.

“This is what people do in October. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, corn mazes. It’s fun!��

“They do that stuff to get likes on the Internet, too.”

She didn’t answer, but simply pursed her lips.

He sighed. “Let me guess, you want me to take pictures of you for Instagram?”

“Maybe.”

“Why don’t you stop at a Starbucks and get a pumpkin spice latte to pose with while you’re at it?”

“Rude.”

“It’s what people do in October,” he said, mimicking her sentiment from moments ago.

“Stop criticizing fall, it’s my favorite season. And I’ve never had a pumpkin spice latte, so ha,” she said, before sticking her tongue out at him. 

“I’m not criticizing fall. I’m criticizing what people do in fall.”

“As we’re pulling into the parking lot of an apple orchard, to pick apples.”

“Your idea, not mine,” he reminded her. 

“You agreed to come, mister.”

“Because you need someone to grab the hard to reach apples for you. Remember?”

She shook her head, though a knowing smile spread across her face. “Can you at least try to have fun?”

“No promises,” he answered, a small smile of his own appearing.

The lot was packed with cars, but she was able to find an empty spot with ease. They climbed out of the car, and walked toward the picking area. The attendant at the entrance handed Anna a basket, provided some instructions for them to follow, and told them that the apples would be weighed for purchase when they finished their walk-through. 

When they finally entered the picking area, Anna spoke up. “What should we do first? Apples or pictures?”

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

“Apples first, then.”

There were kids and families everywhere, running from tree to tree, snapping pictures, and chattering away. They walked side-by-side along the center path, trying to avoid bumping into the other people. After walking a few feet, her fingertips brushed against his and he bit down on his lip, trying as hard as he could to ignore it. She moved to take his hand in her own, but he gently pulled away and took a step to the side to create a bit of distance between them.

“Do you not want to hold my hand?” she laughed.

“Oh, um,” he started, looking down at his palm before offering it to her. “I do.”

She accepted with a smile, and laced her soft fingers through his. “This is really nice, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“Apple picking is a seasonal thing,” he remarked, trying to deflect. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she giggled. “I meant we should go out more in general.”

“Hey, this tree has a lot of apples.” He pulled her toward it, hoping that it would distract her. He dropped her hand and motioned to the tree. “Pick away.”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

She handed him the basket, and reached for an apple that was hanging near her head. “Yeah, you are. Is something bothering you?”

“No,” he lied. She gently placed the apple in the basket before trying to take it back from him. “Only one apple?”

“This place is huge, we don’t have to get all of our apples from this one tree.”

“I’ll carry the basket for you,” he insisted, hoping that it would prevent her from noticing that they weren’t holding hands anymore. It didn’t work.

“Can you hold it in your other hand? Or should I just walk on the other side?”

“I’ll hold it in my other hand.” He transferred the basket and she immediately took his hand again.

They walked for a while, occasionally stopping at trees and picking a few apples before repeating the same routine. When they were approaching the last section of trees before the weighing station, Anna paused. 

“Since we’re almost done and there aren’t that many people over here, we should stop for a few pictures now,” she said, dropping his hand and digging through her bag. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

She dug out her phone and handed it to him, dropping her purse by his feet and taking a few steps towards the trees. He placed the basket down next to it before opening up the camera app on her phone.

There was no simple way to describe how beautiful she looked as she posed for the camera; between the sunlight that was bouncing off of her hair and the radiant smile that was spread across her face, she was absolutely ethereal. He was so entranced, that he hardly noticed that she was moving toward him and continued snapping pictures until she was much closer than before.

“Can I see how they came out?” she asked, holding her hand out. He placed the phone in her hand and she swiped through them. “They came out great! You’re a pretty good photographer.”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

She slid her phone into her back pocket and then held out her hand again. “Give me your phone, I’ll take a few pictures of you.”

“I don’t need any pictures of myself.”

“You can post it to your Instagram!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve only posted to Instagram, like, three times. I hardly use it.”

“It’s never too late. Don’t you want your friends to see what you were up to this weekend?”

“Not really. I don’t have a million friends to impress.”

“I don’t have a million friends and I’m not trying to impress anyone,” she scoffed. “I just think that it would be nice.”

“Which is why I took pictures of you for your Instagram. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She opened her mouth to argue back, but was interrupted when a woman approached them. “Hey, would you mind taking a few pictures of my boyfriend and I?”

“Of course!” Anna answered, accepting the phone from her.

The couple posed and Anna snapped a few photos before handing the phone back.

The woman looked through the pictures. “Thank you so much, they look really good. Do you want me to take a couple for you guys?”

Before he could say no, Anna was handing her phone to the woman. She grabbed his arm and dragged him back a few steps. Before he knew it, she was pressed into his side, her arm wrapped tightly around his lower back. He was unsure what to do with his own arms, and at the last minute, he draped his arm around her shoulders. He was positive that the pictures would perfectly encapsulate the tension he was feeling in his face, but he did his best to smile. After what felt like an eternity, the woman handed the phone back to Anna. 

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” she said to the woman, who smiled in return.

“Please don’t put those on the Internet,” he begged once the couple had wandered away.

“Why? You look great,” she said, holding the phone out to him. He took a quick look, and just as he expected, they looked way too couple-y for her to casually post it online.

“Just...don’t.”

“But we look so adorable! I want all of my friends to see it.”

“You’re probably better off just posting the pictures of you alone,” he insisted. “Your friends may get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

“You know, they may make assumptions.”

She looked up from her phone, and stared directly into his eyes. “What assumptions do you think they’ll make?”

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to look away from her.

“I need a legitimate reason for not posting this picture,” she insisted. “Tell me, what assumptions do you think my friends will make?”

He hesitated, thinking of how to properly phrase the thoughts running through his mind. “I don’t want people to think we’re a couple when we’re not. It’s weird and embarrassing.”

“We’re not a couple?” she asked incredulously, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. 

He was suddenly questioning everything he was certain of a mere moment ago. “Are we?”

“I assumed we were! We’re always together, and you know all of my secrets, and not to be too candid in a public place but we have a physical relationship - oh god, have I been reading this wrong? Are we just friends with benefits? Is that why you didn’t want to hold my hand? Are you, like, embarrassed of me?” She blinked a few times, not taking her eyes off of his.

“No!” he exclaimed loudly, causing a few people to turn around and stare in their direction. Grotesquely aware of the fact that people were paying attention, he continued in a hushed voice, “I didn’t think you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

“Why on earth would you think that?” she squawked, raising a shaky hand to her chest.

He could feel his world crumbling around him. “I’m me and you’re...you. You’re amazing and gorgeous and funny and I’m a boring, grumpy homebody.”

“You’re so much more than that; you’re kind and caring and respectful.”

He took a breath, trying to hold it together. “I don’t think I’m as great as you think I am.”

“I’m in love with you, Kristoff,” she confessed suddenly, the words tumbling out of her mouth with little regard as to how they’d be received. “I wasn’t planning on telling you like this, but you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I need you to know that.”

Though the revelation had hit him like a ton of bricks, for the first time ever, he felt at ease with his own feelings. “I love you, too.”

“You do? You aren’t just saying that because I said it?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean it. I’ve felt this way for a long time but I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything, too busy convincing myself that you’d be better off with someone else.”

She was in his arms, then, squeezing as tightly as she could, her cheek smashed up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. “You silly, silly boy, we have got to work on this self-deprecating attitude of yours. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” he grimaced, biting down on his lip.

“And for the record, I don’t think that I’d be better off with anyone else.”

He nodded against her instead of answering.

“I would kiss you but people are staring at us,” she said, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him but still keeping her arms firmly around his waist. “We should get out of here.”

“Good idea.”

“Can I please take you out to dinner tonight? I know you don’t -”

The smile on his face was enough for her to stop speaking mid-sentence. “That would be great.”

She heaved a sigh of relief, finally letting go of him so she could grab her purse and the basket. They walked hand-in-hand to the weighing station, where she bagged and paid for the apples they’d picked before walking back to the parking lot.

“Thank you for convincing me to come today, Anna,” he said as they walked to the car. “I’m really glad that I came.”

“I’m really glad that you came, too. And I’m glad that we were able to clear up that misunderstanding.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that. I spent a long time convincing myself that there was no possible way that you’d want to be with me, and it became believable.”

“I wouldn’t spend every single day with you if I didn’t want to be with you,” she assured him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“I’ve lived on our street for my entire life, and tons of people have come and gone, obviously. I can faithfully say that I have only ever welcomed one person to the neighborhood, and that was you.”

“Really? Why?”

She smirked. “I needed an excuse to talk to the cute boy who was moving in next door.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm up. 

“I haven’t stopped bothering you since,” she said, matter-of-factly. 

They climbed back into her car, and buckled their seatbelts before she started the ignition.

“And by the way, you should check Instagram,” she remarked, as she started to back out of the spot.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and launched the app. He had a few notifications, but the most recent one led him to a post that he’d been tagged in. Anna had posted the picture of the two of them with the caption: “All the apples in the orchard, and I’d pick him every time.”

He smiled to himself before liking the picture. “Would you mind sending me the pictures we took? I want my friends to see them.”

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 2

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FORANGAL CASTLE, WEDENSCIRE

MORNING

Hurrying down the steps of the castle as her dress frolicked around her legs, Lady Edlynne rushed to catch up with her brothers before they could scurry off into town without her, and leave her at the mercy of Bishop Hundwerth once again.

Apparently, the head chef of the castle was in need of some trout for the meal she had planned for this evening, but instead of relying on one of her servants like she normally did, the ealdorman’s sons had offered to fetch it for her, and were preparing to leave from the main gate.

Unfortunately for Edlynne however, her name had been left out of their festivities as per usual, and thus left the girl at a disadvantage considering how she only learned of their plans mere moments ago.

But this time, she was not willing to stay back as she normally did. The dreary walls of the castle had caged her in for far too long already, and with Hundwerth constantly hammering his piety in her ears, the young noblewoman was in desperate need of some fresh air.

Jogging up to the main gate, Edlynne found her brothers conversing at the stable as they readied their horses for the journey ahead, giving them a light snack to start off the new day.

Her twin brother, Joseph, was currently sat on top of a rather wobbly looking fence with an apple in his hand, but seemed to fare alright thanks to his lean frame. He was only a boy of sixteen years and hardly stood any taller than his sister, but even then, some still considered him to be particularly scrawny for a nobleman.

As for their elder brother, Edric, his appearance was more akin to that of a soldier than a lord. Despite not even being thirty years of age yet, the young man already had his fair share of battle scars and sported a rough beard, giving him a much more weathered temperament than his father probably would’ve liked.

He constantly carried a sword around with him and armored himself with a black gambeson, but still made sure that the cross hanging from his neck was visible underneath the collar of his cape.

Both of them were a welcome sight to see after Edlynne’s many days of being trapped in the castle, but with the absence of their eldest brother Gareth looming over them like a stormy cloud, she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sadness suddenly gripping at her heart.

“Joseph, Edric!” She exclaimed, running up to them. “Wait!”

The two boys turned their heads towards her, clearly surprised to see her face this morning.

“Sister,” Joseph greeted, “I didn’t expect to see you here today. It’s been ages since I last saw you out in the sun. Will you be joining us in town?”

Edlynne sighed out of annoyance. “God, I hope so. Bishop Hundwerth hasn’t dared take his eyes off me ever since I spoke of my interest in the Danes’ religion. He fears that their influence will corrupt me.”

Edric chuckled at that. “You thinking of converting to paganism, Edlynne?”

“Hardly,” she denied. “I will always be a Christian at heart, but I do not think it is wrong to have an interest in other religions either. How can we expect to resolve the conflict in our shire if we will not even attempt to understand our enemies?”

Joseph took a bite out of his apple. “Well, some people would consider that to be heresy.”

Edlynne crossed her arms. “Some people would see us at war for another century.”

The eldest threw a grin at his brother. “You hear that, Joseph? Wise beyond her years, this one. We should give her a seat next to father.”

Edlynne smiled in response. “You jest, but I’ll have you know that father has sought my counsel in the past. He spoke to me last night, in fact. Though... it’s not very often he actually listens to me, I’ll admit.”

Joseph hopped off the fence. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure he doesn’t hear of your fascination with the Danes. You know of his feelings for them.”

The girl’s expression drooped with sorrow. “Yes, I do. He’s changed so much ever since... well, you know.”

Falling into a state of heartache, the young woman quickly snapped out of her grief when she realized how she had dampened the mood and forced herself to push her thoughts aside, not wanting them to overtake her again. 

“But... let us not dwell on that. You two have a busy day ahead of you, and my chances of getting any fresh air dwindle with every minute Hundwerth isn’t near me. So let’s get going.”

Edric climbed on top of his horse, taking hold of the reins. “Alright. Edlynne, you go with Joseph. I’ll take my own mount. We’ll ride the path west of here, and cut through the woods into Agenbury. It’ll take longer, but the main roads are laden with soldiers nowadays. I’d rather not weave my way through them.”

Taking a seat behind her brother as he plopped himself onto the saddle, Edlynne wrapped her arms around Joseph’s waist and held him tightly as the three of them began trotting through the main gate, bidding the castle farewell.

It was a bright morning today, blotted with only a few clouds. The sun shone freely throughout the sky despite the residue from the recent storm, and thanks to the rain that poured on Wedenscire the previous night, a fresh layer of mist hung over the land, catching the light in a fashion that was worthy of paintings.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Edlynne remarked. “And also much colder than I remember. Though, that’s probably due to the storm. Still, it’s nice to be outside of the castle walls again. I can’t recall the last time father allowed me to leave. Thank you both for letting me come with you.”

“Of course,” Joseph replied. “I fear that Edric and I were also in need of some time away from Forangal. That’s why we volunteered to help Nelda. The poor old woman’s practically locked herself in the larder this morning, trying to prepare this meal for us.”

“How is Nelda?” Edlynne asked. “I’ve not spoken to her in ages.”

“Oh, you know her,” Joseph said sarcastically. “Cranky, old bat as usual. Still the same woman that used to chase us around the castle after we’d steal the treats when we were children.”

Edric butted in. “And then blame me for it.”

Joseph laughed at that. “Do you remember that one time Edlynne and I brought in that stray cat from the streets? And we accidentally left it alone in the kitchens? The wretched animal had buried its face in a meal she was making for father, and sent it spilling all over to the floor. I thought Nelda was going to butcher us all that day -- cat included.”

“Oh, don’t remind me. She dragged the two of you fools over to me later that day and shouted with a fury so hot that I could’ve sworn I saw flames on her breath. Gareth had to calm her down whilst we ended up cleaning the kitchen.”

Edlynne smiled at the memory. “Gareth always had a way with Nelda. He knew how to ease her temper.”

��Indeed,” Joseph said. “Though, I think he had that effect on everyone. Something about him always brought peace to other peoples’ hearts. He knew how to unify them in times of division, and comfort them in times of war.” 

A morose sigh escaped the sullen boy. “Things will... not be the same without him around. I know it’s been over a month since he died, but... I fear the wounds are still fresh.”

“Aye.” Edric agreed quietly. “He was a good brother to us all. And an even better friend. It was a tragic loss, the day he died. I think father’s taken the brunt of it.”

A sudden thought crossed the man’s mind. “Edlynne, you said you spoke with him last night?”

The girl nodded. “I did.”

“And... how did he seem? Did he seem better to you?”

Edlynne stuttered, unsure of how to describe their encounter. “I... I don’t know, to be honest. He appeared to be doing alright, but it felt like he was wearing a mask. As if... he was simply putting on a strong face for everyone else’s sake. Deep down though, I think he’s still hurting.”

“Of course he is,” Edric noted. “He lost one of his children. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare.”

Joseph raised a question. “What exactly happened to Gareth, anyway? I know he was killed near Grantebridge, but father has yet to give us any further details.”

“That’s because you would not wish to hear them,” his brother explained. “Believe me. All you need to know is that a clan of Danes killed him. The Raven Clan, specifically.”

The name was unfamiliar to Edlynne. “The Raven Clan? Who are they?”

“You haven’t heard of them? They’ve been causing quite a stir in Mercia -- killing kings and crowning new ones. From what I understand, they’re the ones who helped the Ragnarssons remove Burgred from his throne.”

“But why kill Gareth?” Joseph asked. “What could they possibly gain from killing the son of an ealdorman? Aside from a lifetime of conflict, that is.”

Edric sighed solemnly. “I do not know their reasons, nor their justifications. But you would do well not to get caught up on it. All that matters now is that Gareth is at peace. He was a devote Christian, and he now joins our mother in Heaven, forever to be at God’s side. He would not want us to sulk. So keep your chins up -- both of you -- and let us carry on with our day.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

AGENBURY

Finally arriving at Agenbury, the three siblings slowed down to a halt as the peaceful settlement came into view, decorating the flat horizon with a quaint series of houses and shops.

The quiet town seemed to be the same as usual -- lunatics and all -- and despite the hefty toll the war had taken on its people, everything appeared to be in working order.

The fisherman’s wife, Ardith, remained attached to her husband’s stall as always, and with the unpleasant stench of freshly-captured fish to start off her morning, the permanent scowl on her face only seemed to deepen.

“There’s Ardith,” Edric pointed out. “She’ll have the trout we need.” He climbed off of his horse, leaving it near the main entrance. “Come along then, you two. Let’s finish this quickly.”

Mirroring their brother’s actions, Joseph and Edlynne unmounted their horse before following the young man into town, hanging behind him as he navigated his way through the scattered groups of civilians.

Many of the town’s residents seemed to eye the noble family with a wary gaze -- which was uncommon for their people -- and the further they stepped into the watchful settlement, the more everyone’s voices seemed to lower into hushed tones.

“Is it just me,” Joseph whispered among them, “or does it feel... odd here today?”

Edlynne narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “No, it’s definitely not just you. The people here seem frightened. It’s almost like the whole town is... waiting for something. Do you reckon something happened before we arrived?”

“It’s most likely because of the war,” Edric assumed. “I know the conflicts in Wedenscire have had a rough impact on these people. Who knows what kind of horrors they’ve had to endure at the hands of the Danes? Though... there don’t seem to be any signs of a raid.”

Joseph disagreed. “If there had been a raid, we would’ve heard about it. This is something different.”

“I suppose we’ll find out, given enough time. Just keep your wits about you, and try not to alarm anyone.”

Carrying on with their plans, the three of them casually walked up to Ardith’s stall as the woman focused on organizing her collection of fish, stopping only to greet the peculiar customers that had suddenly shown up at her shop.

“Hello, Ardith.” Edric said, deterring the woman’s attention.

“Oh, good morning, milord!” She said in surprise. “I was not expecting to see you here today. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m just here to pick up some trout for Nelda back at the castle.”

The stout woman rested a hand on her hip. “Ah, I see. Normally, it’s her servants that come by, but I won’t turn away a friendly face.”

Her expression grew dim. “I’m... so sorry about what happened to Gareth, Edric. We received the news not too long ago. He was loved by many people in Agenbury. It’s such a shame that he had to depart from this world in so brutal a manner. He will be missed.”

Edric nodded in agreement. “Indeed. His death has affected us all, I fear.”

“And Aegenwulf? How does your father fare?”

The young man shrugged in uncertainty. “Hard to say. He keeps his head high and does what he must to protect this shire, but he bears the burdens of twenty men combined. I do not envy his position.”

Ardith gave him a look of sympathy. “Aye. But have no fear, Edric. Your father’s always been a fighter. Trust me. I’ve known him since before he had any grey in his hair. He will come through. I know he will.”

“Thank you, friend. Your words bring me comfort.”

Joseph jumped into the conversation, inquiring about the rest of the town. “Ardith, do you have any idea why Agenbury’s so on edge today? The town carries a strange mood.”

The woman nearly offered a response, but bit her tongue in hesitance. “Y-Yes, but I do not wish to burden you with our troubles, young lord. I imagine you’ve enough of your own already.”

Edlynne took a step towards the stall. “Please, Ardith. If something has happened in this town, we’d like to help. You’re our people, after all.”

Ardith let out a deep sigh and crossed her arms, glancing back at her house.

“I-It’s my husband, Wilfred,” she said quietly. “He went fishing at the harbor this morning as he always does, but... instead of returning with a sack of fish, he came back with a bloody Dane...!”

Edric paused in alarm upon hearing that. “What? A Dane? In Agenbury?”

“Believe me, I was just as shocked as you. Apparently, Wilfred found him washed up on the shore, beaten and wounded. By whom or what, I don’t know, but he already looked dead by the time my husband dragged him back.”

Joseph decided to ask for more information. “Do you have any idea who he is? Or where he came from?”

Ardith shook her head. “No. We’ve yet to speak to him. He’s been unconscious ever since Wilfred brought him back from the harbor.”

The boy let out an uneasy breath. “Father’s not going to like this. He’s been tense enough already ever since Gareth died. If he finds out that a Dane has infiltrated the town...”

Edlynne cut him off. “He won’t. Not yet.”

Her twin quirked a brow. “What do you mean, not yet? He’s the ealdorman, for God’s sake. He has to know.”

“We can’t tell him about this. Not for the moment, at least. If father learns about this Dane’s presence, he’ll have him killed for sure.”

Edric scowled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

The noblewoman remained staunch in her belief. “Listen, both of you -- I know everyone’s still hurting from Gareth’s death, and believe me, I am too. But we could learn something from this Dane. He might be useful to us.”

Edric wasn’t entirely convinced yet. “We don’t even know if this man speaks our tongue, Edlynne. And if he does, there’s no guarantee he’ll help us anyways. You know the Danes. They’d rather pick death over dishonor.”

“Even then, I’d like to be certain of what this man’s intentions are before we start lopping off anyone’s heads. Let me speak to him, at least.”

Edric sighed in defeat, crossing his arms. “...Very well. If that is what you wish. But be careful, sister. We have no idea who this man is. And I’d rather we return to the castle in one piece.”

The young man turned back to Ardith, trying to calm the woman’s nerves. “Have no fear, old friend. We’ll speak to this Dane for you. He need not worry you any longer.”

She seemed pleased with that. “Thank you, Edric. I think everyone would feel better if we knew who he was, or why he was here. He should still be at home.”

“Then I will go there,” Edlynne said. “Joseph can come with me whilst you conclude your business here, brother. That way, we can get things done faster.”

“Alright,” Edric agreed. “I’ll meet you there once I’m finished here. Don’t do anything drastic before I arrive.”

The girl gave him a reassuring nod. “Of course.” She turned to her twin, beckoning him to follow. “Come on, Joseph. Let’s go see this Dane for ourselves.”

Allowing their paths to diverge for the moment, Edlynne and Joseph made their way to Wilfred’s house while Edric stayed behind to collect the fish for Nelda, clearly still unsettled by the strange turn of events.

He understood it was unfair to judge one Dane based on the actions of many others, but in a time of war, compassion and empathy were always a dangerous thing to gamble with.

Edric knew details about Gareth’s death that the twins didn’t. He knew how the Danes had butchered him and left his body for the ravens, and he knew that their people were not so easily negotiated with.

But still... he supposed he could let Edlynne investigate this Dane’s sudden appearance, at the very least. He may have been skeptical of this man’s motivations, but he could not deny that he was curious to learn the truth for himself.

And so, without another word said, Edric simply let the twins go about their business as he continued his conversation with Ardith, eager to get this errand over with.

Meanwhile, Edlynne and Joseph walked side-by-side as they approached the fisherman’s house, speculating amongst themselves about what this Dane could’ve possibly wanted. It wasn’t uncommon for a Northman to be in Wedenscire exactly, but Agenbury was a different story.

“A single Dane showing up on our shores...” Edlynne murmured, “what could it mean?”

Joseph shrugged nervously. “Nothing good, that’s for certain. I’m aware that not all of them are barbarians as Hundwerth would have us believe, but tensions have been rising ever since Gareth was killed. If we don’t sort this situation out properly, it could reach a breaking point.”

“Then let us make haste, lest it comes to that.”

Strolling up to the fisherman’s front door, Joseph firmly knocked on the wooden surface as the two of them waited for a response, silently observing the quiet house.

There didn’t seem to be much activity happening inside -- probably due to the Dane’s unconscious state -- and the only sounds they could hear were the rapid footsteps of a man coming to greet them at the door.

“Pardon my untidiness, whoever you are,” a gruff voice said from the inside as they moved around some objects to clear the way, “but I fear things have been rather... disorderly this morning.”

The fisherman swung open the door, revealing an old but lively man standing in the entryway.

“Now, then, how can I--” He came to a halt, his eyes widening in surprise upon seeing the twins. 

“Lord Joseph...! And sweet Lady Edlynne. Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you two here today. I suppose this morning’s just chock-full of unlikely guests, isn’t it? What brings you to my doorstep?”

Joseph beamed at the elderly man. “Hello, Wilfred. Your wife sent us. She said you had a... Dane problem?

Wilfred scratched the bald patch on his head, sighing in discontent. “Aye. The poor bastard. I found him this morning, lying unconscious and alone. He was laden with battle wounds, and covered in blood. I don’t have a clue why the river shat him out in Agenbury of all places, but I wasn’t about to leave a man to die. Saxon or not.”

Edlynne admired his compassion. “Then you’ve already done more than most. Has he woken up yet?”

“Nay. He’s been out cold ever since I brought him back. He spoke briefly when we first met, but it was mostly out of delirium. Couldn’t understand a word he said. You know the Danes. Bloody weird language, they have.”

“May we see him?” Joseph asked. “We’d like to speak with this man ourselves, if possible.”

Wilfred stepped off to the side, granting them entrance. “Of course. Do what you wish. Though, I’m not sure if he’ll wake up during your stay here. He was in a severely bad state when I found him.”

Strolling through the front door, Joseph and Edlynne welcomed themselves into the cozy atmosphere of Wilfred’s home as they gazed around in curiosity, anxious to see what this Dane looked like.

Joseph had already met a few of their people during his time with Edric and Gareth, but Edlynne on the other hand, had yet to meet a Dane for herself. Aegenwulf often kept them at a distance when it came to interactions with his daughter, and now that he had lost one of his own children to their axes, the girl imagined he would only grow more protective.

“Look,” she said with a soft gasp, “there he is.”

Following his sister’s line of sight, Joseph spotted the fallen Dane sleeping on the opposite side of the room, seemingly undisturbed.

He was currently resting on a makeshift bed that Wilfred had created, and was wrapped head-to-toe in an abundance of bandages. He looked like he was still breathing -- for the time being -- but just based on the amount of blood that was already seeping from his skin, Joseph started to wonder if they’d even get a chance to see him wake.

He appeared rather normal though, the boy thought. For a Dane. His skin was etched with many traditional Nordic markings, and the red hair on his head had been shaved in a fashion common with his people. Meanwhile, his beard remained bushy and untamed, and the calloused texture of his hands told Joseph he was no stranger to battle.

“Friendly looking fellow, isn’t he.” The boy remarked.

Edlynne walked closer to the man, driven by her fascination.

“I’ve... never seen a Dane before. Father has always done his best to keep me away from them, but... he looks surprisingly human. Bishop Hundwerth always makes it sound as if they’re the Devil himself roaming the earth.”

Joseph took a seat on a nearby chair. “Bishop Hundwerth would call it heresy if one of his priests farted too loudly in the chapel. Pay him no mind.”

The noblewoman turned back to the fisherman, asking him more questions.

“Wilfred, what was he like when you found him? I know you said he was hurt, but... how hurt, exactly?”

The old man exhaled deeply, crossing his arms. “Let’s just say I’m surprised he was alive to begin with. He had two bloody arrows sticking out of his chest, and his skin was torn up from getting sliced so many times. I don’t know much about their pagan gods, but they must be a protective bunch to pull him out of that.”

Joseph thought back to their talk with Ardith. “Your wife said you found him on the shore?”

“Indeed. I assume the river carried him here from upstream. Possibly from the north. He crawled out of it like a corpse rising from the dead.”

“Do you think he’ll live?”

Wilfred furrowed his brow in a grim manner. “I... I don’t know, Joseph. I’ve done everything I can to patch him up, but I’m just a simple fisherman at the end of the day. I’m no healer.”

Interrupting their conversation, a knock suddenly emitted from the door, leading all of them to bring their attention to the entrance.

“That must be Edric.” Joseph announced. 

Allowing their new guest to come in, Wilfred stepped over the many items scattered around the house before opening the door, revealing Edric on the other side.

“Ah, hello, milord. Your siblings are here already.”

The young man poked his head in, greeting the twins with a new sack of fish on his shoulder.

“Well?” He said, walking into the house. “Have you two learned anything?”

Joseph shook his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. We’re fairly certain the river carried the Dane here from upstream, but other than that... all we have is speculation.”

Edric strode towards them, kneeling beside his sister. “Speculation won’t do us any good. We need to know for sure who he is, and what he wants. I assume he hasn’t woken up yet?”

“No. He’s been unconscious this whole time. We don’t even know if he’ll survive.”

Wilfred joined their side, offering his advice to Edric. “As I was explaining to your brother earlier, milord, the only way this Dane is going to survive is if you get him in the hands of a healer. I’ve done what I can to buy him some time, but... without proper medical treatment, I fear he may pass soon.”

Edlynne’s expression lit up with an idea. “Linette! Back at the castle! She could look after him. She knows what she’s doing.”

The look on Edric’s face alone was enough to make his disapproval clear. “What? You want to bring a Dane back to the castle? After what just happened with Gareth?”

“I know it’s risky,” the young woman conceded, “but he’s dying, Edric. He needs our help.”

“So do many of our own people.” He countered. “We need to save our resources for those we can trust; those who will fight for us. Not stray Danes that wash up on our shores.”

Edlynne almost appeared offended at that. “Brother, do you hear yourself? This man’s life is in our hands, and you’re willing to just throw it away? All because he’s a Dane?”

The older man fell silent for a moment, admittedly feeling somewhat ashamed of his words, but still obstinate in his opinion. 

“I know it’s harsh, Edlynne, but you’ve not seen the horrors that have occurred between our people and the Danes. We’d be foolish to trust one, especially when we have no idea who he is. There’s also the fact that we’d have to keep his presence a secret. Until he wakes up, at least.”

“I think it’s worth it if it means we can save a life,” she replied. “I understand your fear, brother, but what sort of Christians would we be if simply stood by and watched this man die? His being a pagan doesn’t make him any less deserving of our help.”

Edric grew frustrated with his sister’s naivety. “It’s not just about the religion, Edlynne. It’s also about the war. There’s no love lost between Saxons and Danes, and for good reason. How do you think our friend here is going to react when he wakes up in a foreign castle, surrounded by hostile forces?”

The young woman frowned. “And what if he has a clan? What if they come looking for him? How do you think they’ll react when they find out we simply left him to die?”

Joseph shrugged in agreement. “She raises a fair point, Edric. If we help this man and he turns out to hate the Saxons, so what? We’ll have a castle full of guardsmen fighting against a single Dane. But if we don’t help him and his clan comes looking for him, we’ll have an entire army to deal with, plus anyone who’s allied with them. I say we bring him back. How much harm could he do in this condition, anyways?”

Edric sighed in defeat, finding himself at a loss for words. He really wasn’t fond of the idea of bringing a stranger back into the midst of their home -- especially when that stranger was a viking -- but deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do.

After all, what good was he as a Christian if he was not even willing to help those in need? He may have distrusted the Danes for their crimes in the past, but on the other hand, he had no way of indicating that this particular man had any similar motives.

For all he knew, this could’ve just been some poor soul who had gotten caught in the crossfire, and left for dead. There was nothing that could prove he had any intentions of doing wrong by their people, and... perhaps it would’ve been cruel to assume otherwise without even giving him a chance to wake up.

“...Alright, you two.” Edric finally said. “We’ll bring the Dane back to the castle.”

Edlynne beamed with appreciation. “You mean it?”

“Yes, but this will not bode well with father.”

Joseph dismissed the warning. “Father is blinded by his grief. He’ll understand eventually.”

Edric stood up from the floor and handed the sack of trout to his brother, giving him a new set of instructions.

“Here, take this. Ride back to Forangal. I’ll bring the Dane with me, and meet you two at Linette’s clinic later.”

Joseph groaned in effort as he lugged the sack over his shoulder, surprised at how heavy it was.

“Sounds good. Stay safe on the way back, brother. We promise not to tell father about this.”

“Good.”

Bringing his attention to Wilfred, Edric took out a few pieces of silver and placed them in the man’s hands, giving him an appreciative nod.

“Here, Wilfred. For your troubles.”

The fisherman smiled warmly. “Thank you, Edric. You’re far too kind.”

The nobleman chuckled. “My sister would disagree.”

Making their way out of Wilfred’s house, the siblings finally took their leave from Agenbury and swiftly returned to the stables, eager to ride back to the castle. They had no idea how well they’d be able to keep this a secret, considering all the prying eyes at Forangal, but the three of them were determined to ensure this man’s survival.

He could’ve been the key to all the conflicts that had arisen in Wedenscire. So many fights had broken out in the past few years between their people and the Danes, that a part of Edlynne hoped their new friend’s presence would help to ease the tensions. 

Though, she couldn’t help but wonder if her elder brother was right. What if Edric turned out to be correct, and this Dane only ended up causing more trouble? Was it wise to trust a man so blindly?

Probably not, but that didn’t hinder her desire to help the wounded man. He was completely at their mercy in his current condition, and Edlynne did not have the heart to cast him aside, regardless of the risks.

So, with a nervous heart, the young woman simply followed her brothers out of town and prepared herself for the journey ahead, praying that it would not end in more bloodshed. She knew how adamant their father was in his hatred for Danes, and she hoped that he would be able to see past the grief that still held onto him so tightly.

Gareth would’ve vouched for peace, after all. He always favored the diplomatic route over unnecessary violence, and in light of recent events, Edlynne imagined he would’ve wanted them to save this man too.

It was the only right thing to do, Edlynne thought. And she did not intend diminish her brother’s legacy.

[fez-whyiwaited]

Chapter II - Why I Waited

Masterlist    Wattpad  

Our new house is not that small, but also not that big. It certainly is not that awful, it’s clean and it has some rustic and old details to it, but over all it’s a simple one story house, with tree bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small kitchen, and a sad small couch with a tv on the floor in the living room. 

‘’Jona, the house smells amazing’’ is the first thing Sarah says when we drop some moving boxes into the house. 

Jonathan is who gave us the opportunity to move into this town, he’s the manager of ‘The Handler - Strip club’, or as he likes to call it ‘’exclusive men restaurant’’, same one Sarah will be starting working tomorrow. 

‘’It really does’’ I laugh. 

‘’My Yankee Candle dropped, it’s a bitch to take the wax off the carpet’’. 

‘’Well, that apple-cinnamon smell is to die for’’. Sarah adds. 

‘’Here Joy, let me show you your new room, it has a window to the garden, Sarah told me you needed to have that view, please do whatever you like with the space… by the way, it does need a little time and patience’’. 

‘’Thanks Jona’’ I say. 

This bedroom is probably the biggest thing I have ever had for myself, Sarah and I always shared a bedroom since kids. 

I look out the window and see a big wood doll house, getting eaten by termite. 

I don’t know much about Jona’s private life, just that he’s a protective friend to Sarah, and that her daughter was taken away by her ex girlfriend. 

I can really make this garden look better, the first thing that needs to go is that nasty doll house. 

Gardening has always been easy for me, while my parents were not present in most part of my childhood, my grandma was. She used to teach me all about it, something about taking care of a living being made me feel important, that’s why I never want kids, because plants and animals can give me that happiness, one that has no expectations, you just need to be there, give them love and a little time, and they will not complain or ask for more. 

‘’Hey, do you like it?’’ Sarah enters the room

‘’Yup, pretty cool, can’t wait to remove that doll house and plant some lilacs’’ I say pointing out of the window. ‘’Also I’m pretty excited to not hear you snore, I don’t even know how it is to sleep without a bear sound’’

‘’Ha, ha, smart ass. Hey? We should totally wreck it or something, ask Jona if he has a baseball bat, or something’’ 

‘’Will do’’

- - - - - - - - 

It only has been a few hours since we arrived, unpacking boxes was not that hard since we only had a few ones. My new room used to be of Jona’s daughter, so the walls are painted in baby pink. Completely empty, there’s two doors that lead to the wardroom. 

My belongings are not that hard to place, most of it is clothing, two bags of makeup, and a photo of Sarah, grandma and me. 

Jona placed a sleeping bag and a quilt on the floor for me to sleep. It’s not that bad, the room is quiet, and I know that if I open the window, I will hear the crickets, which sometimes the sound of nature gives me serenity.  

I lay down in my new ‘bed’, and while battling my thoughts, that I know if it wasn’t for my actions we could still be in our apartment in New York City, back to a comfort zone that took us years to built after our parents went finally away. As my grandma used to say, I should ‘’only focus on the next day’’, so tomorrow I will: A. Find a new job B. Try to get back to school and C. Buy pink hair dye. 

- - - - - - - - 

‘’Good morning’’ I say entering the kitchen

‘’Hey! Can you grab the orange juice and ketchup? They’re in the fridge’’ Jona answers

‘’Sure, want some help? What are you cooking?’’ Taking the juice, I take advantage to also place tree cups on the table. 

‘’Eggs with ham, I suppose you are hungry, Sarah told me you really didn’t ate yesterday’’ 

Avoiding to answer, I start to wonder the kitchen, learning the place of every single one of the dishes and at the same time helping with the table. I’ll definitely find some time today to accommodate in here. 

‘’Oh, oh, I already see your eyes, girl, chill a little, if something bothers you… you’re free to change it, just remember to calm’’ 

‘’Thanks Jona’’ 

‘’So, what’s the plan for today, I already know you’re all scheduled’’ Sarah says entering the kitchen ‘’I start work at 10 p.m. and we will probably be back at 6’’ she adds. 

‘’Try to find a new job, search for the nearest public school and buy hair dye’’ 

‘’First thing we need to go grocery shopping’’ 

‘’And that too…’’ 

‘’Hey have you tried this? Jona put ketchup on the eggs, this shit revolutionary’’ 

‘’Ew, there’s no way that’s entering my body’’ she says disgusted 

‘’Oh common, when have I failed you? Close your eyes’’ he goes near Sarah and puts the fork near her mouth. Sarah closes her eyes and gives a bite, while processing she opens her eyes fast. 

‘’Okey I need more’’ she states

‘’Told ya’’ 

- - - - - - - -

In the grocery shop, while Sarah’s taking the essential food and toilettree products, I use my phone to search the local public school. 

‘’Do you really think I can go back to school?’’

‘’I mean, of course, it’s January, you are good with grades, your advisor said she was going to send what was needed for you not to loose what you did for the year’’

I know it’s Sarah’s dream for me to go to college, but that’s just not going to happen. I know that because we don’t have extra money. A week ago, I had it all figured out, even the money, now… nada for college. 

‘’I really want to work, I can do school and a part time job, I know Jona even offered you for me to work in the kitchen of the club - ’’

‘’Which you’re not’’ she cuts me off 

‘’I’ll search for the hair dye, you want something?’’ 

‘’Water, chips, milk and Lucky Charms’’ 

I write everything on my phone, and start to venture the store searching for it. 

When I gather the food, I take it all with my two hands, as I walk to the beauty aisle I’m intercepted by someone, provoking me to fall and drop the stuff. 

‘’Oh shit, sorry, here let me help you’’ the male voice says 

I collect the cereal and chips, and he quickly pass me the water and milk. 

‘’Thanks’’ 

He looks me to the face and his expression is just the same as the ginger guy from the store. 

Uncertainty… Doubt… Incertitude… Dubiety… but not judgmental. 

‘’Hey? It’s everything okey?’’ He dares to ask

The question completely surprises me, I know people see it, I didn’t even made an effort to hide it , putting and removing makeup in the bruises will just hurt me more and just seem like a lot of work. 

‘’Yeah, thanks for asking’’ 

‘’Okey, I mean if you’re in trouble or something, I can get you some help, it does look painful’’ 

How the fuck does this guy reads people so well? 

‘’Thanks I just, you know… was cooking and the knife accidentally got to my face, I then fall’’ 

I smile a little just to make the comment more bearable, not for him, but for me. 

‘’Yeah, sure… Hey look this is my phone if you ever need something’’ he shows me his contact number on his phone waiting for me to take mine and save it. 

Struggling with the groceries I put the stuff on the floor and grab my phone from my jeans pocket. This guy has a friendly and welcoming aura that I like. 

‘’Are you in private school? I have never seen you before’’ 

‘’Is this town really that small? Am I suppose to expect just to see the same faces?’’ 

He laughs, damn he really is a town cliché. 

‘’Something like that, my name’s Ethan by the way, I go to public, are you a rich kid that likes buying at this cheap store?’’ 

‘’I mean I just save you as the guy who didn’t saw where he was walking and hit me’’. 

He gives a small nod and smiles back. 

‘’No, actually I just came to live here, my life isn’t that wild’’ I add

‘’Hey did you found everything?’’ Sarah yells from the distance 

‘’That’s my cue to go, thanks for asking Ethan’’ I say grabbing the stuff from the floor, and going without waiting for a reply. 

Author’s note

Hey! I hope you like this new chapter, please remember this is a Fez story. Not an Ethan, but I need to do some character development. Please be patient for next chapter <3 I promise so much fez!