#so fork it over Enver

[cringecannon]

Younger Gortash and Durge with Gortash being all emo because Durge won’t tell him where they are so much of the time (doing murder and vibing the temple of Bhaal, probably). I just think it’d be funny for Gortash to literally have a jealous hissy fit over Durge not being at his beck and call 24/7 and Durge (rather sexily) putting him in his place

No matter how close you are, your fondness for him has limits.

You've been busy lately, you're the first to admit it. Bhaal expects great things, you refuse to disappoint. When Enver has busy weeks, you like to think you don't sit and glare at him from across the table. He clearly doesn't have the same reservations. You pick at your food, irritation simmering in your gut. You'd been excited to spend the night with him, and he seemed determined to ruin your good mood.

You stab at your food, avoiding his eyes. You ask him how his day went. He shrugs, elbow on the table to hold his head up. He can pout all he wants, you're not going to humor him. You drop your fork, looking up to match his glare. You tell him that if he's going to act like a child, you have no interest in staying any longer. He rolls his eyes, waving you off. He says he's not surprised, staying away is all you've been good for lately.

Your eyes narrow dangerously.

You advise him to choose his next words wisely. He leans back in his chair, lip pulled back in a sneer. Or what? You'll run back to Bhaal with your tail tucked between your legs?

He doesn't even have time to flinch before you've crawled onto the table, his plate smashing to the floor as your dinner knife is suddenly held to his throat. Blood bubbles from the small nick you made, dripping down and staining the collar of his shirt. He's struggling to maintain your fiery eye contact, glancing between the knife and your glare.

You slowly readjust your body until you're sitting on the edge of the table, resting your boots on each armrest and caging his body between your legs. You grab him by the hair, pulling his head to the apex of your thighs. Anyone else, and you would've taken their tongue for such blatant disrespect. He's lucky you like him. If he puts it to good use, maybe you'll let him keep his.

[gamerkitten]

WIP Whenever: Durgetash Edition

If, a month ago, someone had told Enver Gortash that he would be wooing a Bhaalspawn he might have had them thrown out of the nearest window for their stupidity. Yet here he was, sitting in a room in the Elfsong, watching the very blood and bone of the Murder Lord eat dinner. He's quite impressed with her grasp on table etiquette; Bhaalists aren't known for being polite company and one could be forgiven for expecting the child of Bhaal to be especially feral. Of course she was different, he had known that from their first meeting when she had blended in so seamlessly with The Gate's upper class, a serpent in the garden. Aside from her sadistic need to torture him with her constant refusals, she was actually quite reasonable. "Gods," she sighs, putting her fork down, " how have I never eaten here?" "I'm pleased you liked it." he replies, leaning back in his chair. "It was wonderful," she warms him with a rare, genuine smile that lights up her features, "thank you, Enver." A stocking clad foot slides up his leg and into his lap,rubbing against his cock and making his breath catch, all while she sits there smirking from across the table. His hand slides up her calf, running his thumb over the inside of her knee, noting how her smile widens under his touch and recalls the look on her face when she confessed that she was a Bhaalspawn; wary, like a mistreated dog waiting for a kick in the ribs. The flash of confused excitement when it didn't come, when she received praise instead... Well, that had certainly been illuminating. "You're quite welcome."

[mightymizora]

WIP Wednesday

It’s that time again! I’ve not exactly written anything entirely new, but the modern AU has had a bit of attention…

“Oh Manva, you didn’t! Number one rule. So important it goes without saying. You don’t fuck them, my sweet.”

Manva looks down at her rapidly cooling pancakes, the syrup and butter running together in a way that makes her stomach flip. Orin has her bleached hair in a neat fishtail braid, and looks enviably put together given she too is wearing last night’s dress. She was late, of course, and Manva had ordered to make sure she could keep the table, nerves biting her at the idea that she might not turn up at all.

She lifts her fork to gently carve at the edge of her meal. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, him, apparently.”

“Orin.”

“Sorry. Well. Is he fit at least? Do you have a picture?”

“I don’t-”

“Oh yes, I forgot. You’re in the bloody stone ages with that brick of a phone of yours. Give me a name, I’ll look.” She pulls out a great slab with six separate cameras on the back. “Or do you not know it?”

“Enver Gortash,” Manva says quietly, feeling like she’s some kind of traitor for even saying it. “Though I don’t think he does any social media or-”

“Found him! Enver Gortash at Tatler Little Black Book. God he’s far too old to be there, must have been window shopping.”

She flips her phone over and the garish bright screen shows Enver, hand on the small of the back of an impossibly waifish blonde. He is dressed in black as usual, but his hair is pushed back, his stubble short.

“The girl looks a bit like you,” Manva tells Orin as the image is pulled away again, taking a sip of her tea to try and settle her stomach. Orin’s face lights up.

“Oh wow, do you think so? That’s Amarita StJohn, she’s ever so thin, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.”

Orin really is every inch that sort of beauty, just as her own mother had been. Helena was a model when their father had met her, barely months after the divorce papers were signed by her own mother. Whereas her own mother had been talked into having children, to taking the career break that ended her career entirely, there was no question what Helena had wanted. Orin was born when she was barely three years old, and marriage came as soon as she was able to fit into the dress she had wanted for the spread in Hello. She was the spitting image of her mother in almost every way; just as beautiful, just as blonde and slender, tall and yet delicate looking.

Still, there is something of their father in her. The same pale eyes. The same sharp edge to her toothy smile.

Orin reaches a beautifully manicured hand across the table and sighs. “Oh darling. I’m sorry. Shall we kill him?”

That makes Manva laugh at least, the broad smile on her sister’s face impossible not to mirror. “No, no I don’t think we need to kill him. I’m fine.”

“Well if you change your mind. You’re my blood. My kin. And if we have to, well, we have to. Fuck him.”

“He’s not that bad, honestly.”

“Oh no. None of that. You had an agreement, and he violated that agreement. That’s not okay.”

“No. You’re right.”

“And you’re sad, and that’s worse. So I'll tell you what.” She reaches into her purse and rifles through a set of cards, pulling one out triumphantly. “Today we are going to have a lovely day courtesy of one Peter Marks. We’re going to get you fresh clothes, a topped up oyster card, a massage…”

“Won’t he mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be delighted. Pigs, all of them Manva. They know it. You just have to remind them of it, every time.”

[amorficzna]

to love, to live

Rating: Teen (Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Implied Sexual Content, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, POV Karlach, Karlach Lives)

Relationship: Karlach/Wyll

Length: ~2.4k words (completed)

Red suited her, but gods did she fucking love red right back.

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Read on ao3 or below the cut

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Red suited her. She suited red. His blood cracked and spittled on her skin, dried with her weaponized body. It sank into the cracks of her pores till red was her and she was it. Couldn't even see the gore against the red of her skin. 

Something clattered distantly. Her axe, oh. Then her body followed, knees feeling like they’d break against the cold stone of Wyrm’s Rock. 

Enver’s dead, vacant face stared back at her. 

…

Forked tongue. Forked tongue. Forked tongue. FORKED TONGUE.

Well, she had a forked tongue too. But Wyll’s forked tongue?

Fire crackled and spit against her skin. Wyll turned his head, heavily, his neck creaking and his hand coming up to rub at the sore spot. Still not used to the horns.

“Sorry! Sorry, I -”

Karlach huffed. Wyll’s eyes didn't stray from her. 

“Nothing to apologize for.”

“It's just - you said that on purpose, right?”

“You might have to be more specific than that.”

The man’s voice was like honey. And he could kill her. Had tried to kill her. But didn't. But he could, and had chased her across the burning rivers of the Hells just to try. 

She was burning up hot and fast. 

“At the party. When I came over to ya. And you - well we talked about a lot of things. But the forked tongue thing. You said it on purpose… right?”

He smirked. Gods she was in trouble. 

“Even though my tongue may be forked I am still measured with it.”

“You must know how that sounds.”

He raised a brow, smirk still there.

“Of course I do.”

She was blushing, and it must've shown if only because she felt the hot sickly burn of it all across her face. She covered her face with her hands. 

“You're fucking killing me, Wyll.”

His eyes were sad when she peeked through her fingers, and she felt herself deflate. 

“Sorry, fuck, sorry -”

“Never apologize, Karlach. You make me feel - so alive.”

…

“Karlach -”

His hand was on her shoulder but she couldn't feel it, not really, not with the blood and the armor and the flames always the flames licking meekly at her skin.

“I'm so tired,” tears crawled down her face until they popped into little clouds of steam.

“I know, love, I know.” 

Enver fucking Gortash was dead and she was alive. So why did it hurt so much? 

…

There were callouses all across his fingers, especially along his thumb, dancing with the swirls of his fingerprints. She wanted to memorize each notch and crevice of his hands, those divine things, as he guided her through a soft dance made for a fucking princess. 

“Gods. I never thought hands would be better than sex, but here we fucking are.” 

A soft, surprised laugh escaped his lips. Eyes looked away. Blush crept along his neck. 

Delicious, surprising tingles ran up her spine that she, of all people, could pull a blush out of the Blade of Frontiers. Handsome and woosome and soft and - and loving. 

She wanted to devour him. 

At that he coughed. Oh, she said it out loud. His hand was gone long before she was able to etch its feel on her skin and mind. 

She pulled away from him, wincing, eyes closed from the disgust there, no doubt. Her body was nothing but fire and brimstone, a walking weapon and no more or less. Stupid mouth. Stupid hot ache low in her gut that flared any time he looked at her. Stupid Karlach. 

“Ah -”

His hands - even with her eyes closed she knew they were his - wrapped around the nape of her neck, thumbs brushing at her jaw. He was on his tiptoes, and she lowered down on her knees to meet him. 

“You are a force to be reckoned with. You drive me mad with my desire for you.”

Before she could reply with her numb tongue along the lines of ‘damn’ or ‘oh’ or ‘right back at chya’ his mouth was on hers; soft at first, like he always was, but he was quick to nip at her lips, quick to take her eager gasp and turn it deeper until he was towering over her, devouring her, her chin tipped up towards the sky. Imaginary stars appeared in the dark of her eyelids. 

She was small, safe, in the warmth of his hands and his mouth. Damned tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, steam prickling her cheeks. He pulled back, mouth trailing over hers, just enough to check on her, to wipe the dew from her face, to kiss it away. 

Damn. This was what it must have felt like to be loved.

…

Enver fucking Gortash was dead, but he wasn't sorry. Would never be sorry, now. Because he was dead and she was alive, alive with the weapon for a heart that would kill her.

She cracked her knuckles against the ground in a hard fist, felt the bones crack like dust, distant screams spilling upwards from deep in her gut, spewing magma against the cold dead body and the cold stone ground. 

…

He splayed his hand out against hers, locking them together, inviting her other hand across the rippling of his stomach, then flirting it lower still. 

“Are ya sure, Wyll?” 

She didn’t want to push him. She wanted to go at his pace. Knew he wanted to do things right, do things slowly, even if she knew she might not make it to ‘right’ or ‘slow’. He moved her hand lower in response, letting him take the lead, then feeling the bulge straining against his pants. 

He was warm, a velvet heat that no fire in all the Hells could match. It burned her, and she ached for him. 

“Of course I’m sure. Because it’s you, Karlach. Let me please you. Let me love you.” 

“You - you’re pleasing me more than enough already. Just being with you. Gods, I’m just so fucking happy to be near you.” 

She rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease some of the pleasurable ache building in her. His hand was at her hip, then at her waistband, working the ties of it open. 

“I love you.”

Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids, the ones she used to love to watch in Baldur’s Gate only a fraction compared to this. The delicate balance they were playing with snapped, her hands pulling at his horns, his moans swallowed by her mouth. 

“Gods, do I love you, Wyll.” 

“Then come here, and be mine.” 

And she did. 

…

The words scratched out of her throat, like they didn’t want to be said, which was probably true, “Think of all the good you could do, Wyll. You should do it.” 

She could still feel Enver’s blood on her hands, under her nails. Wyll’s brow furrowed. She picked at the blood that still felt stuck there, under her nails, even though they were already brushed raw. Anything to not look at him. 

“...Then I am the Blade of Frontiers no longer. I shall be Wyll Ravengard, son of Ulder, soon to be Duke of Baldur’s Gate.” 

Even as Ulder set his gauntlets on his son’s shoulders, pride oozing out of the smile on his lips, Wyll’s eye strayed to her. 

“Hail Duke Wyll Ravengard!” 

The leaden weight of her engine was infinitely heavy in her chest. Enver fucking Gortash was dead but she still lived, and the least she could do was fight till the very end, use that little bit of courage left to leave behind a better world for little street urchins like her. 

She knew Duke Wyll Ravengard would make that happen. 

…

The acorn was miniscule in her hand and she laughed, joy and bubbling melancholy lining her throat. 

“Eternity doesn’t feel like something real for me. I’m gonna die, Wyll.” 

His hand brushed hers, closing her fingers around the acorn all the same. 

“Then let us be together, now, and for tomorrow, and every day we have left. That will be my eternity.” 

She cupped the acorn carefully in both her hands, holding it close to her heart, some of her heat licking across it without leaving a single scorch mark behind. It was pristine. It was perfect. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

So many fucking things. All jumbled in her head. But it all came back to her, didn’t it? So she pointed at herself. 

He hummed, “Yes, you’re right, that is the person I want to marry. The person with whom I want to spend the rest of our time together. Is that so hard to believe?” 

She nodded.

“Then say yes, and I’ll show you all the ways I love her,” he teased, “Well, what do you say?” 

Pesky tears made themselves known in her eyes. She didn’t wipe them away, though, too scared to drop the acorn still cradled gently in her hands. 

“Of course yes, Wyll, of course. Because it’s you. And - and I can’t imagine it with anyone else.” 

His smile was brilliant. It could probably light up the whole night sky if he wanted it to. 

“Then get down here, you.” 

She didn’t need to be told twice.

…

She could make it through the night. One last day to live. To see the sun and the moon and the red of his eye. To meld her body against his, her thumb skimming his stomach, arm draped over the curve of his waist. To take in his smell, fresh and earthy, dispelling the last of the sulfurs of the Hells that clung to her, as she brushed her nose against the nape of his neck. To curl in on him and be his, for one more night. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

He turned in her arms, his eye shining in the dim light of the moon. 

Red suited her, but gods did she fucking love red right back. 

…

Pity draped over Dammon’s face like a veil and she fucking hated it. 

“I’m sorry, Karlach…” 

She knew what was coming next. 

“I know it isn’t your first choice and I won’t pressure you, but if you go back to Avernus… Well, it’s still an option that’s on the table. One that could buy me enough time to figure out your heart.” 

The acorn was a delicate, small little thing. She hoped it would survive once she went up in a hurricane of ash and embers. Her heart left behind, draped in her guts and innards. 

In that acorn she would live on. Her heart and her city and her Wyll would live on. It didn’t fucking help, not really, but it did push her forward, courage flitting through each of her steps towards the Absolute.

…

Her engine ached. Her heart did too. 

“I think I’m getting close. You should probably stay back.” 

But he didn’t. She watched the bob of his neck as he swallowed, watched the twitch of his eye, watched the way his hands smoothed over her stomach. Begged her mind to remember these little details of him, even when she was a million pieces of ash. 

“ Please, Wyll. You’re free now. Mizora’s got her hold on you no longer. You’ve - you’ve given me more than I could have ever dreamed of while I was in Avernus. So live for me, please? Just - just remember your dear old Karlach every once in a while, alright?” 

He shook his head. His back was straight and strong now, holding the horns on his head steady. He was beautiful, always was and always would be. 

“No Karlach, I won’t leave you. While the Blade of Frontiers is no longer, neither will the Duke Wyll Ravengard be born. I shall be the Blade of Avernus. And I shall hunt down Mizora and all devils that threaten the Sword Coast. But I can only do it if you are at my side. Come to Avernus, with me , and we shall free you from Zariel’s clutches.”

Hot lead slithered out of her engine and into her feet, her knees, her chest, her arms and head. 

“I'm so tired, Wyll.”

“Then rest on my shoulder and let me carry you, love.”

She snorted, “Don’t think you can handle that.”

“‘Course I can. Because it's you. ”

She sighed, deep rotting sadness taking hold. She pushed away from him, the flames licking higher and hotter still. Arms hugged ‘round herself in some sort of mock protection against the pit in her stomach. 

“I can't fight anymore. Don't want to, at least. Definitely not in Avernus.”

“Then let me fight for you. With me you’ll be safe. I shall carry your burden on my shoulders if it means you’ll cast one more smile my way.”

“You have a city to run. The city I -” died “- fought for. My city. Our city!”

The words were true but they rang hollow in her ears all the same. 

“It will mean nothing to me without you in it to laugh and to love and to live .”

“So what? You want me to fucking suffer under Zariel’s thumb just so you can prance around the Hells playing hero? While I live every day in fucking fear of her using me again? At least this way I can choose how I go,” she whimpered at the end, because she didn’t want to die. 

She wanted her life . But not if it meant bartering with Wyll for his. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t live with herself if she did. 

Fingers wrapped around the nape of her neck. She was running hot now, and could hear his skin sizzling from it, but still he didn’t pull away. His thumbs brushed her jaw and she acquiesced, getting on her knees in front of him as his lips grazed over hers. The sun above her was eclipsed by the outline of his head and his horns. 

“If you are tired, lie on my shoulder. If you are scared, let me protect you. If you don’t want to fight, let me be your sword and your shield. I fucking love you, Karlach. I love your strength and your tenacity and your courage. I love how fucking stubborn you are, even if it means you might die. Gods are you amazing. A one-woman wonder. But you don’t have to be. Let me take care of you. Do this one thing for me. Live with me.” 

The hard shell of her heart splintered and cracked. 

“You really mean it? Really really?” 

“Of fucking course I do. Because it’s you.” 

And she believed him. And they lived. And they loved.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

The Legacy of Vegetables

I just wanted to write tooth-rotting fluff.

Feat. Aelune, my Drow Durge, and Lament, my Tiefling Tav.

Along with over assorted characters, like Aelune's durgetash son, Enver Junior (I never said either one of those two was good at naming. Or world domination, for that matter.), and our favorite know-it-all, Gale.

Enjoy!

-

“Eat your vegetables.” Aelune leaned across the dining table towards the tiny Tiefling. Really, what had his parents been feeding him?

Lament made a face. “I hate cooked carrots. So mushy.” He poked at the offending vegetable, shoving it to the end of his plate.

Across the room, Einara covered her laugh with a cough. The child she'd raised was now having to struggle with their own.

Aelune sighed. “If you eat the carrots, you'll grow stronger and be able to crush your enemies, breaking their spirit and obliterating them.”

“What does ‘obliterate’ mean?” Lam scooted the carrots even further to the edge.

“Make permanently disappear. I see what you're doing, stop.” They reached out, putting their fork against the edge of his plate before the vegetables tumbled to the floor.

Lament pouted. “What if I don't want to obliterate them? What if I wanna make friends with my enemies? Will they eat my vegetables for me? Maybe they like carrots!”

Turning, Einara fled the room. Aelune's eye twitched at the sound of her muffled cackling.

They took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “If you eat your vegetables,” Aelune said calmly, “You may play outside for another hour afterward.”

Lament perked up, visibly brightening. “Really?”

They nodded.

Like a flash, the vegetables were gone, as was the little Tiefling. Lament’s personal maid, Sylphie, bobbed a half-curtsy. “I'll keep an eye on him, my lord.” Unlike Einara, she had the cheek to grin at them.

Aelune snorted. “Someday, Sylphie, Lament will have children of his own. I hope you're there to personally witness his suffering.”

She laughed and nodded. “Me too, my lord.”

-Many years later-

“Eleanor! My petunias!” Lament scrambled after his younger daughter, glancing back frantically at the second floor balcony. “Gale!”

A gentle cloud descended on the garden, rain falling on the burning flowers.

Relieved, he swept an arm around the giggling child, wincing as she squealed directly into his ear.

“Ellie-girl,” he said, bouncing her on his hip. “I wish you'd learned any other element besides fire.”

“But Daddy can do it!” She protested. “And auntie Sylphie! I like the pretty sparks!”

He groaned, leaning down and blowing a loud raspberry onto her cheek. She shrieked in laughter.

“And when you can control it like Daddy and Sylphie can, then you can use it. For now, why don't you play with the butterflies Uncle Enver made you?”

Eleanor made a face, and Lament wondered if this is what he'd been like when he was her age. “I wanna show them to Grandma!” She said firmly. “I won't play with them until then.”

“Well then, you're in luck, little duck.” Gale stepped out from the backdoor barefoot, two figures behind him. “Your uncle and your grandma are here.”

Eleanor wiggled frantically until Lament set her down, shooting past her father and uncle to slam into her grandma’s legs. “Grandma Aelune!”

They picked her up, inspecting her. “You've grown. Good. Are you eating your vegetables?”

“No!” She said cheerfully. “They're gross!”

[silksworn]

[ cut in ] you look lovely in that dress, by the way.

Consider the dessert fork. A small, unassuming bit of silverware left unattended on several tables that the servants have not gotten to cleaning yet. Iraestra spots one temptingly close out of the corner of her eye. How much damage could she do to the soft of a throat with one? A tongue? An eye?

Longing consumes her utterly; if she could only steer her partner and herself a little closer, she might be able to reach behind her back and seize hold of one...

"...why, the value of electrum decreases by the day! Wars are disastrous for commerce, don't you know? Terrible, terrible business." The lord continues braying like a mule, quite unaware of Iraestra's disinterest, or how murderously her thoughts stray. This is their third turn around the room and she fears that with another she will quite thoroughly prove just how bloodthirsty her people can be. "Not that a lady as lovely as you need worry her head about such things."

Iraestra stiffens with the suddenness of her rage. She stops dancing entirely, making the inept little man stumble over his own feet. Lord or no, his flayed hide will be hers. Let her make a proper drow celebration of this ball.

"Vith'rell," she seethes, stepping dangerously close to her former dance partner. Her hand itches for a dessert fork. "Do you even comprehend with whom you speak? I am not one of your surface women to order around like a dog -"

"Lord Morely. You wouldn't mind overmuch if I were to steal your partner away, would you?" A familiar voice drawls. Though worded as a question, it is more a statement. Enver. He places himself quite thoroughly between the two of them, the only object shielding the cowering lord from her wrath.

The lord remains much too stunned to reply. Enver does not wait for such anyhow, placing a hand on Iraestra's lower back to guide her away. He murmurs the next words for her ears only. "That imbecile only spoke the truth once this entire evening. You do look lovely in that dress."

Iraestra scowls grandly. "I would have it so he never wagged his tongue again, compliments or not. Where have you been?" Watching, no doubt, for the perfect moment to make himself known.

dance magic dance ! / @fatewoven

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 17 August 1838

6 35

10 5

had Josephine at 7 40 – she said A- had had her bath and seemed better – very fine morning F71 ¼° at 8 10 from then to 9 wrote out yesterday to the bottom of p. 321 breakfast at 9 5 to 11 ¼ having sat reading the paper and talking to Charles and ordering with Josephine about my old Vignemale gaiters and latterly eating a few strawberries perhaps the last we shall have – A- very poorly .:. the horses ordered at 3 ½ to go a little way – afterwards on talking to Charles determined to go to Gèdre, and ordered the horses at 2 – A- if not well enough to go to Gèdre, can go out later – and take Pierre and go in any direction she likes – Cazos likely to be at home today as it rained yesterday and the sooner the matter with him is settled the better – A- had been at breakfast a minute or two before me and looked the picture of sulky ill-temper I hoped she was better   yes pretty well    I said no more but turned to the newspaper in silence tho’ looking as if I never thought of anything but her being ill    I saw she would hurry off   Charles was coming at ten   very sorry she was sso poorly that I thought she could not bear to ride    yes she could   I was very glad of it so ordered as see above  and A- walked off to my great relief    what a temper!  it is malady enough without any other   I shall do the best I can and think of and care for it the least possible I think my present tack is the best  that is   to treat it all as illness never seeming to dream of the possibility of anything else   what can she do or say   when I only condole with her on her illness     she told me only on Wednesday just before going to Luz  she said how much better she was    how much good the baths and doctor Double had done her   I laughed and said well it is my doing   no she never thought without thankfulness of it when she remembered how much it was by accident that she had Double she was always pleased with his giving her no medicine  an English physician would have thought nothing was the matter with her   but to be sure I had come with her here   yes and here she will keep me well or ill tied to her every moment I never dreamt it would be quite so bad   tied forever to such a companion?  nous verrons   now at 12 35 I have just written so far, and am better – Hail! all hail my journal! thou kind beguiler of many an irksome thought and many a solitary hour – thou friend of old! thou faithful mentor that hast calmed alike the burst of joy and grief, and taught my soul to hoard its best resources far from the reach of human gasp!   the following is a verbatim literatim copy of the certificate written by M. Latapis – ‘Je soussigné Henri Cazaux, demeurant à Gèdre, déclare, pour rendre hommage à la vérité, que le sept du mois d’Août courtant j’ai servi de guide à Madame Anne Lister de Shibden-hall, pour l’ascention qu’ elle a fait au pic culminant de Vignemale ledit jour. Elle avait avec elle deux autres guides qu’elle avais pris à Luz (Jean Pierre Charles, et Jean Pierre Sanjou). Je certifie que tous ensemble nous sommes parvenus au point le plus élevé de Vignemale, et que, à ma connaissance, personne plus n’avait jamais monté si haut. En preuve de cette

SH:7/ML/E/21/0169

ascention, il a été dressé une espèce de collone [colonne?] en pierres, dans le milieu de laquelle nous avons placé une bouteille, renfermant un papier oû Madame Lister a écrit le date du Août, son nom et les noms de ses guides ; cette preuve matérielle durera long-temps, si quelqu’autre voyageur aussi intrépide que Madame Lister ne va détruire ca petit monument.

En foi de quoi à Gèdre le 17 d’Août

Signé en présence  de     Cazaus [Hij]

Alaubon

Jean-Pierre Charles et Jean Pierre Sanjou, Soussignés, attestent la vérité des faits rapportés dans la déclaration ci-dessus.

fait à Luz le 17 d’Août 1838.

Charles

 how droll that the prince de la Moscowa should have unwittingly put me upon narrowing his own purpose! – I thought not of certificate – nor cared more for mounting the Vignemale than Mt. Perdu the ascent of which last mountain nobody believes – what mattered it to me – I made each ascent for my own pleasure, not for éclat – what is éclat to me? what is éclat to anyone? too often a dangerous bauble – the lightnings’ forked flash that kills the object it has fixed on – But come what may I’ll make an effort to tear the Cazos-laurier from this silly prince – ‘Hommage à la vérité’! ‘tis all I want – and I am not inclined me laisser tromper pour rien – tis now 1 ¾ pm and F73° in my cool cupboard – A- too poorly to go out at 2 – Pierre to come again at 4 – I left her lying down and was off with Charles at 2 20 to Gèdre – overtook a drunken berger about ½ way between St. Sauveur and the Pont de Sia and could not get rid of him till he turned up ½ way between the Ponts de Sia and [Douroucate] to go after his masters’ bétail on the Mt. de Mâle beyond the Bué – he and his master had drank 4 litres of wine at Luz. he walked unsteadily but safely, and his motions reminded me of those of drunken men in general but of the queer roll of his hips and shoulders and head that I have some often seen in poor Eliza Raine – I mused on this as I rode close behind him and Charles who said his conversation tho’ incessant was reasonable he observed on the new carriage road began since we went to Spain to go to Gavarnie that if cows or oxen were drawing a load along the precipitous part they would probably throw themselves and their load into the gave – he regretted there were no cabarets on his road as if there were he could drink a great deal more wine – we watched him along the precipitous part of the road he had to go just after leaving us – he got on quite well the cool air of the mountains and the perspiration he was in from walking would probably sober him before very long – as we went to Luz on Tuesday observed several men at work (1st time of our seeing them) beginning the new road (that is to avoid Luz) to St. Sauveur – at Gèdre at 4 20 Cazos at home sent for him to the Inn as also for the aubergiste himself who was at the Douane, and for his brother-in-law who was with him – I ordered wine and bread and cheese for them all, and, leaving my tartan cloak upstairs, went down into the kitchen, and staid with them all the whole time – It was sometime before Cazos came and we had talked over the leading particulars of my ascent – Cazos came perhaps in 10 minutes or ¼ hour and then joined heartily in talking the story over in everything agreeing with and confirming the statement of Charles and myself – I told him my femme de chambre had told me the people at Luz would not believe that I had got to the top but gave the laurier to the prince de la Moscowa – that was not right – I must have some proof to shew and Cazos and Charles and Pierre must sign me the certificate which I then read aloud – and Cazos, and then the aubergiste read it – Cazos made not the least objection to sign it – declared fully and openly that all I and Charles had said was true, and that I had got up to the very top and got up very well too – Cazos then signed and Charles, and the aubergiste saying was maire and could not sign these things his brother-in-law signed as witness and I paid Cazos the twenty francs as agreed, and said I, now you asked me 30/. on the Piméné – here there are five fr. more which with the 5/. I gave you on the top = 30/. and here is a 2fr. piece to go for what I was to give you on the top to drink my health – Cazos seemed much pleased – I desired him to consider the 5/. piece I had just given him to be for taking care, of my column and bottle at the top of the mountain – to see that nobody either destroyed the bottle or raised a column higher than mine – I then told him to drink his wine, and turning to the aubergiste said, Monsieur le maire, je ne demande pas ce que je vous dois pour le vin (I had just called for a 2nd bottle good vin ordinaire) mais voilà...... on which I put into his hand 2 five fr. pieces – this was too much for him

vid. line 4.   21 next page

to resist – his heart opened – he said I paid en prince (and in a whisper adding et meme plus) and said significantly mais je connais beaucoup de choses – vous avez bien payé – vous devez être traité avec bravoure – on this I begged him to tell me some of the things he knew – and in the midst of his fighting off Charles had taken poor Cazos to task about his letter to the prince and here a scene commenced of pro and con – Cazos denied having written that I had not gone to the top – I said if Cazos had been calumniated I would stand by him – all joining in begging Cazos to face the prince and have all cleared up – at last M. le maire explained that if Cazos had written as Charles declared his letter would prove, he had done it for money for his family – le mond was hard pressed here, and he hoped I should excuse the man who had made me all the reparation in his power...... poor Cazos owned his fault, and all present agreed to forgive and M. le maire our aubergiste promised to intercede with the prince and hoped I should do nothing against poor Cazos – no! said and held out my hand to the poor man, saying je ne [sens] que de regrets pour conduit envers moi – c’est une affaire d’honneur et je lui arracherai ce laurier à tout prix – rien ne me manqué pour bien le faire – j’air de l’arme, et de force, et de l’argent, et je n’en épargnerai rien – je lui arracherai ce laurier – the aubergiste agreed with me as to the petitesse of the prince’s declaration that he would not make the ascension if I had done it – and that it was not well to engage Cazos for Wednesday whether the weather was fine or not

SH:7/ML/E/21/0170

when it was known that I had engaged him for the 1st fine day – the prince thus compelling me to hurry my ascension – besides tho’ he had engaged Cazos for the Wednesday he the price still waited the arrival and did not go up till the Saturday – I hope, as I said to Cazos, that the prince had paid him much better than I had done – I saw the aubergists’ significant look – probably his princeship did not pay the man better –

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we had now being above 1 ¼ hour – there had been a stranger (a guide? who said he had heard the prince say he would not go up if I had gone up) present a little while at 1st and 3 or 4 women – judging from A-‘s manner on my return from Mr. Latapis yesterday that being too late for dinner today would be terrible I bade Charles make hast and leaving behind me, as it seemed, the cordial approbation of all present Charles and I were off on our way back at 5 40 – the aubergiste (Mr. Palasset, maire) had said he recognised me on 1st seeing me again and said he was sure I should ascend the Vignemale – yes! said Charles he knew of our ascending Mt. Perdu – Charles! said I, il faut se depêcher – Mademoiselle ne voudra pas diner sans moi – poor Charles set off at trot, and kept my little mare at such a high jolt pace, that we were obliged to pull up for 2 or 3 minutes to read just my combs qui avaient grande envie de s’échapper – yet [not] withstanding this stoppage we came up with A- at the Pont de Douroucate at 5 8, and, passing by the Pont de [Soutant], alighted at home (having trotted almost all the way) at 7 5 – on meeting A- I had at the moment literally forgotten all about her poorliness, and was beginning to tell her all that happened when her manner at once refreshed my memory and I refrained from fatiguing her by saying more – Had Josephine – shewed her the certificate that she might be able to say she had seen it if she chose and that she knew for certain that I had made the ascent – dinner at 7 35 at 8 ½ - on telling A- I had ordered the horses at two tomorrow (Charles wanting to get some hay home from his grange on the Bergonz had asked me to give him till twelve but this I did not name to A-

she made no answer   too soon? said I   she replied crossly it was useless to ask when I had ordered them and that I ordered everything without consulting her   no said I gently I am of a very different opinion   but when I ask you you always tell me to do as I like  she denied this    very well said I   then you had better order in future it is indifferent to me unless when I myself have something particular to do   when I shall order for myself and you can order for yourself    and here the conversation ended   she soon after went to her room and I saw no more of her   she will die of bad temper?

came to our rooms at 8 ½ - fine day – threatening rain this evening after meeting A- but held off – F71 ¼° now at 8 38 – on the shred of paper (common English thin foolscap about 1/8 of the shut) was written as follows

Mercredi 7 Aout [Août] à 1houre pm

Madame Lister de Shibden-hall

Avec ses trois guides

Henri Cazos de Gèdre

Jean Pierre Charles de Luz

Jean Pierre Sanjou de Luz

sat musing sometime before getting into bed – thought first time of Glasgow as a place of cheap ins[t]ructive residence till I can properly settle my affairs    nil desperandum -

[still-with-hearts-beating]

give a little bit (jane/kurt + rich dotcom fanfic + #bsABCchallenge)

project: @blindspothiatusproject ABC challenge

g: gord enver/rich dotcom (version two)

 A/N: borrowed a tiny moment/two lines from one of my all-time favorite pairings – Jason & Sam from General Hospital. Fans of that pairing will know it when they see it.

 give a little bit

 He was being punished, Kurt thought. This was God or some higher power screwing with him, paying him back for some horrible thing he had done.

 Because that was the only explanation he had for them being trapped at the cabin with Rich Dotcom. On the night he planned to propose to Jane.

They had taken off early on Friday afternoon, knowing that some heavy snow was coming and wanting to get up there before the worst of it hit. The snow started falling just as they had pulled up to the cabin and within a few hours, everything was covered and it was still coming down pretty hard.

 They had just finished making dinner when they heard a knock at the door. They stared at each other for a moment before Kurt reached into his bag for his gun. He passed it to Jane before he stepped in front of her to open the door. They were greeted by Rich, pulling his hood back as he threw his arms around Kurt.

 “Oh, Stubbles, thank god you’re here,” he cried, holding on tight to Kurt as he tried to shove him off. “It is a nightmare out there!”

 “Rich, what the hell...” Kurt pushed Rich off, closing the door behind him to stop the snow from coming in. Jane stood stunned in place, staring at Rich as he kicked off his boots and threw off his coat, sending snow flying everywhere.

 “How did you...what are you...” Jane shook her head before she looked over at Kurt. “Am I hallucinating?” she asked.

 Kurt shook his head incredulously as he walked over to her and took his gun back, sticking it in the back of his waistband.

 “Rich, what the hell are you doing here? How did you know we were here?”

 Rich let out a loud sigh as he walked over to the table, sitting down at the place that had been meant for Kurt.

 “Oh, thank god, I’m starving,” he said, picking up the fork and digging in. “Risotto, my favorite,” he mumbled with a full mouth.

 “Rich,” Kurt said, stomping over to him and taking the fork out of his hand before slamming it down on the table. “Explain. Now.”

 Rich looked back and forth between Kurt and Jane, both of their arms folded across their chests as they stared at him expectantly. He then glanced down at the table in front of him, set for two, complete with candles and wine.

 “Oh...I’m sorry, was this...”

 “RICH!” both Jane and Kurt yelled together.

 “OK, OK...well, it all started this afternoon when I got an alert from my ornithology group that there had been a sighting of the Northern Goshawk,” he said, pausing to take a sip of wine. “Oh, this is nice,” he said, taking another sip. “Very full-bodied.”

 “Was that English?” Kurt muttered to Jane as they watched Rich take another bite of Kurt’s risotto.

 “Bird-watching,” Jane said with a sigh as she sat down on the couch. “I’m hungry,” she mumbled, folding her arms over the back of the couch before resting her chin on them. Kurt reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 “I’ll get rid of him,” he murmured, starting to move towards the door to collect Rich’s boots and coat, ready to usher him out the door.

 “So!” Rich exclaimed from the table, calling his attention back and Kurt sunk down on the couch next to Jane, putting his head in his hands. “I knew I had to try to see it so I made the drive to where it was last sighted but just as I arrived, I got an alert that it had been sighted three miles north of there. I mean, what are the chances!” he said, looking to Jane and Kurt for their reaction.

 They stared at him silently before Kurt stood up, clapping his hands together.

 “OK, well that’s great,” he said as he walked over towards the table, grabbing on to Rich’s collar and pulling him towards the door. “We’re very happy for you. And will be very happy for you to leave now,” he said, picking up his wet coat and handing it to him.

 “But that’s what I’m trying to tell you guys,” Rich said, handing his coat back to Kurt as he walked back towards the table. He refilled his glass of wine before sitting down on the couch next to Jane. “My car broke down on my way to see it. And then I remembered you had this cabin around here, and I was able to triangulate your cell signal and lucky for me, I was only a mile away!”

 “Very lucky,” Jane said dryly as she took Rich’s wine glass from him and took a sip. “And so lucky for us.”

 Rich stood up from the couch and walked over to the table, picking up the other wine glass. But as he was on his way back to the couch, Kurt stepped in front of him, snatching the wine glass out of his hand as he stared at him.

 “You cannot stay here,” Kurt said, putting the wine glass down before reaching into Rich’s pocket and pulling out his phone.

 “Oooh, that was fun,” Rich said with a smirk as Kurt held his phone up in front of him.

 “Call someone to pick you up, now,” Kurt said, taking Rich’s hand and placing his phone in it. Rich looked down at his phone and then back up at Kurt before shaking his head and putting his phone back in his pocket.

 “Stubbles, I don’t think you’ve looked outside in a while. It is a blizzard out there,” he said as he took the wine glass back from Kurt and made his way over to the couch. “Only an idiot would go out in that. So, looks like I’m stuck here with you guys until tomorrow!”

 Rich put his feet up on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch as he sipped his wine.

 “Nice fire,” he commented, closing his eyes. “Hey, do you guys have any music?”

 Jane put her wine glass down on the coffee table and stood up, grabbing Kurt’s hand and pulling him into the bedroom.

 “He is not staying here,” Kurt said as she closed the door behind them. She flopped back on the bed, throwing her arm across her eyes.

 “What else are we going to do?” she mumbled as he sat down beside her. “We can’t send him back out into that,” she said, pointing blindly at the window behind them and Kurt glanced outside, knowing she was right.

 “He can sleep in the car,” he said, standing up but Jane reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling him back.

 “He’ll freeze,” she said, uncovering her eyes. “One night. Hopefully the snow will let up and we can get him out of here tomorrow,” she said with a sigh, pulling him down beside her.

 “Oh, he’s leaving tomorrow,” Kurt said, gently nuzzling his nose against her cheek as he brushed his fingers against her stomach. “I don’t care if he has to walk back to the city, he is leaving tomorrow.”

 Jane giggled and turned to face him, brushing her lips against his as he rolled on top of her. Kurt had just pushed her sweater up her torso when they heard Rich’s voice through the door.

 “Hey, guys? I found this deck of cards, anyone up for a game of Gin Rumy?”

 Kurt groaned and pressed his face into Jane’s shoulder.

 “Are you sure he can’t sleep in the car?” he mumbled and she laughed, patting his back as he rolled off of her.

 “Come on, I’ll make up the other bedroom for him,” she said, standing up. Kurt reached for her hand as he sat up, pulling her back towards him. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his before he let go of her hand and she walked towards the door.

 “Let’s go, Rich, I’ll show you your room,” she said as she opened it, leading him down the hall.

 Kurt sat on the end of the bed for a moment, letting out a sigh as he rubbed his hands over his face. He stood up and walked over to his side of the bed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the ring he had tucked away there earlier. He opened the drawer to his nightstand and took out the small velvet box that the jeweler had given him when he picked it up.

 “Thirty more minutes,” he mumbled to himself as he placed the ring back inside the box. If Rich had only been thirty minutes later, that ring would be on Jane’s finger instead of in his drawer.

  “Hey, Stubbles, Jane’s looking for the –“

  Kurt shoved the box in his drawer, slamming it shut but it was too late. Rich had seen it.

  “Oh my god!” he gasped, scurrying into the room. “Is that...oh my god, it is!”

  “Ssssssshhhh!” Kurt said, his eyes darting over Rich’s shoulder to the doorway. “You saw nothing,” he said sternly, holding his finger up to Rich’s face. “You got it?”

  “Oh, but I definitely saw something,” Rich said, reaching around Kurt towards the drawer but before he knew it, Kurt had his hands behind his back and his face against the wall.

  “Let me remind you, that Jane and I are very generously providing you shelter from a blizzard in our home,” Kurt said calmly.

  “Yes, and I am very grateful,” Rich said, nodding his head. “How about I make you a deal? You give me a peek at that ring and I’ll make myself scarce, stay in my room for the rest of the night?”

  Kurt narrowed his eyes and loosened his grip on Rich’s wrists but still held him against the wall.

  “What’s the catch?” he asked, sure Rich had something else up his sleeve.

  “No catch!” Rich insisted. “I’ll just make sure that whatever bauble you’ve picked out is worthy of our Janie and then leave you to your romantic evening. I would never be one to stand in the way of true love, especially not yours and Jane’s.”

  Kurt was quiet for a few moments before he released Rich from his grasp, each of them taking a few steps back.

  “See? That wasn’t so hard. Now, let’s see that rock,” Rich said, holding his hand out. Kurt walked past him to the door, poking his head out to check for Jane before he closed the door half way. When he turned back towards Rich, he was already inspecting the ring.

  “Stubbles,” Rich exclaimed under his breath, letting out a low whistle. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Government work pays better than I thought. What is this, two? Two-point-one carats?”

  “Two-point-two,” Kurt said, chuckling and shaking his head as he walked back towards him. “Too much?” he asked, hesitantly.

  Rich shook his head, pulling the ring out of the box and slipping it onto the end of his pinky finger.

  “No such thing,” he said as he held his hand out in front of him. “Very nice, emerald cut, set in platinum. The sideways setting is a nice touch, too,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Kurt.

  Kurt couldn’t help but smile and let out a small sigh of relief. Rich was just about the last person who’s opinion he would have thought to get on Jane’s ring but he was at least glad that it was a good one.

  “All right, take it off, she’s going to come looking for us,” Kurt said, reaching out to take the box from Rich. He slid the ring off his pinky and handed it back to Kurt.

  “I’d like it duly noted that you told me to take it off,” Rich said as he sauntered past Kurt towards the door. Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head as he placed the box back in the drawer, sliding it shut.

  Rich stayed true to his word, wishing Jane and Kurt goodnight after Jane had made up a bed for him and handed him two fresh towels.

  Jane raised her eyebrows at Kurt as Rich shut the door between them, glancing back at the closed door.

  “What’d you do? I thought we were going to have to hide from him in our room tonight,” she said, confused. Kurt laughed and slung his arm around Jane’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as he lead her back towards the main room of the cabin.

  “We came to an understanding, that’s all,” Kurt said, pulling out Jane’s seat for her at the table. “You still hungry?” he asked. She nodded, tilting her head back to look up at him.

  “Starving,” she whispered with a grin. He returned her smile, leaning down to kiss her before standing up straight.

  “Give me ten minutes,” he said, picking up the two plates of cold risotto. Jane poured them two fresh glasses of wine while she watched from the table as Kurt re-heated their dinner, returning to the table with two steaming plates.

  They ate and drank and laughed about their unexpected houseguest as the fire crackled behind them and the snow piled up outside. Eventually, Jane pushed her empty plate away, before sliding onto Kurt’s lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Hi,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Hi,” she murmured back, tilting her head down to rest against his forehead. “I’m happy,” she whispered, running her fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck. “Really happy.”

  Kurt’s hand came up to brush her hair off her face, cupping her cheek as he brushed his lips against hers, softly at first and then more passionately as she pulled him closer. Within a few minutes, she had his shirt unbuttoned and his hands had slid up the back of her sweater, brushing against her skin as he bit at her lip.

  “Take me to bed,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He hooked his arms around her waist, holding her against him as he stood up and carried her the short distance down the hall to their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped her on the end of the bed and she let out a squeak before collapsing into a fit of giggles.

  “Shhhhhhhh,” he whispered, stifling his own laughter as he leaned over her to kiss her. “Rich is next door,” he mumbled, allowing her to pull him down on top of her. She hooked one of her legs around his waist  as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her lips dipping to press a kiss to his collarbone.

  “I’ll be quiet,” she whispered as she kissed a trail across his chest, her hands moving to his belt.

  “You’re never quiet,” he mumbled with a grin, pushing her sweater up her torso as she lifted her chin and kissed him with a laugh.

  “You like it,” she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively as she flipped them over so she was on top of him.

  He nodded with a smile, lying back as she pulled her sweater over her head, tossing it behind her before she leaned down to kiss him again.

  “I like everything about you,” he murmured against her lips.

  Bit by bit, they peeled off their remaining articles of clothing, spending the night tangled up with each other before finally finding sleep in each other’s arms.

  The sun was just coming up the next morning when Kurt stirred awake, feeling Jane pressed up against his back and her arm wrapped around his waist, resting on his stomach. He smiled as he gently rolled over, feeling her shift in her sleep as she rolled on to her back, her arm staying draped around his torso.

  He loved how even in her sleep, she would always reach for him, always try to stay connected to him.

  He glanced down at her left hand, resting on his stomach and then up at her face as the sun peeked in through the blinds, dancing across her cheeks. Careful not to wake her, he reached over to his bedside table and pulled the small box out of the drawer, taking out the ring.

  He gently picked her hand up and slid the ring onto her finger, unable to bite back his smile when he saw it fit her perfectly. He rested her hand back down on his stomach before he shifted himself closer to her, brushing her hair off her face as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

  He felt her stir and he continued his kisses, brushing his lips against her cheek, her jaw, her collarbone and then finally her lips, grinning as he felt her kiss him back and bring her hand up to his face, holding him close to her.

  Eventually, he pulled away from her, smiling as he gazed down at her. Her hand was still against his cheek and her eyes fluttered open with a smile as she brushed he fingers against his beard. It was then that he saw her notice it.

  Her eyes went wide as she stared at the ring on her finger, her hand still against his cheek.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, her hand sliding down his neck to rest on his chest. He grinned as he propped himself up on one elbow, biting his lips as he tried to gauge her reaction.

  “Really?” she finally squeaked out, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. He felt his own eyes well up as he nodded and leaned down, kissing her softly.

  “Really,” he whispered as he pulled away, brushing her hair off her face before cupping her cheek with his hand. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice quiet and hopeful. She bit her lip as she nodded emphatically, her tears spilling over onto her cheeks.

  “Yes,” she whispered and his face broke out into a smile as he leaned down and kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of her as she fell back against her pillow.

  “Say it again,” he mumbled against her lips, pulling her closer as he rolled onto his side. She pulled back and reached up, cupping his face in her hands as she grinned at him.

  “Yes,” she said, a little louder this time and he laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her on top of him.

  “One more time,” he said, his thumbs brushing back and forth against her hips as she rested her hands on his chest and admired her ring. She leaned down, her lips hovering above his as she slid her hands to his hips.

  “Yes,” she whispered before lowering her lips to his.

  After they had celebrated their engagement, they remembered their houseguest and dragged themselves out of bed.

  “I can’t believe you proposed with Rich Dotcom in the next room,” Jane said, shaking her head as she slipped on a pair of sweatpants.

  Kurt laughed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. He dipped his head down, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

  “I couldn’t wait anymore,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her again.

  Jane smiled as they pulled apart, reaching for a flannel shirt to pull on over her tank top.

  “I’m glad,” she said as she took Kurt’s hand and followed him into the hall. They were surprised to see the door to Rich’s room open and the bed made, but no sign of Rich. They exchanged glances before making their way to the main room.

  “Rich?” Kurt called out as they rounded the corner but they found the cabin empty.

  “That’s weird...” Jane said, glancing around. Then, they spotted a bottle of brandy on the table, along with a piece of paper. Kurt picked up the paper, reading the note aloud.

  “Dear Stubbles and Janie...he really needs to stop with that,” Kurt said, glancing over at Jane. She simply shook her head with a smile and nodded back towards the note.

  “Congratulations on your engagement. At least, I hope that you are now engaged because otherwise I have really jumped the gun and Kurt is letting that gorgeous ring waste away in his drawer--”

  “Wait, you told him? And he saw the ring?” Jane asked incredulously, tilting her head back to look up at Kurt. He smiled and shrugged as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

  “That was the deal I made for him to stay in his room,” he said with a grin before looking back down at Rich’s letter.

  “Thank you for your hospitality and saving me from certain death. Please accept these as a token of my gratitude and best wishes – I thought they were appropriate for the occasion. I look forward to celebrating your everlasting love at your nuptials - don’t worry, I went ahead and got myself ordained online last night so I will be ready to go whenever you call. Yours, Gord.”

  Jane picked up the bottle, realizing that it was cognac, the same drink Rich had offered them when they first met. She then noticed another note that had been tucked underneath it on the table. She unfolded it and gasped when she saw the contents.

  “What? What is it?” Kurt asked, taking the paper from her. He stared down at it for several moments before looking up at Jane, both of them speechless.

  “He means...like, for a weekend , right? Or, as a honeymoon?” Kurt said, handing the paper back to Jane. She stared at it, shaking her head before setting it down on the table.

  “I think...I think it’s ours?” she said, looking up at him again before they both looked down at the table. After a moment, Kurt started laughing. Jane stared at him wide eyed before she chuckled too and within a few seconds, they were both laughing hysterically at the paper in front of them.

  It was the deed to Rich’s house in the Hamptons.