#so i need a carryon with a little bit of space in it for my normal important carryon things.

[supercantaloupe]

researching for like forty minutes online for a new carryon/underseat bag for air travel trying to find one that isn't too pricey but also isn't a piece of junk and will carry what i need but also fit on a plane. text my mom for recommendations. she says "oh i have a bag at home i don't use anymore you can have it." win

[hotchnerxo]

The chances you take: Chapter 4

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x single mom!reader

Summary: Aaron's shy about his new glasses and needs some encouragement.

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: CM case talk, mention of related violence.

A/N: Thank you so so much for everyone who’s already commented! This chapter is posted on my tablet, so if there is some errors on this post, my apologies, they will be fixed tomorrow!

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Chapter 4: Glasses

As awful as it may sound, it’s refreshing to work on a white collar crime for a change. Instead of bloody crime scene pictures on the white board, there were written down theories and aliases for your unsub. The team has been trying to track down a series of frauds that have involved insane amounts of money. Amounts that you can’t quite even comprehend to be real. Unfortunately the unsub has caused two people to even take their own lives due to the loss.

But during this case you have remembered how much you enjoy field work and sitting in an office, reading file after file. It gets dry and boring rather quickly. It has still been a welcome change of space for a couple of days.

It feels great to finally pack away the paperwork and copies of transactions. The case gets to be put behind you, another one solved and families and investors get closure. Definitely a big win. And it has even left you a little bit of time to day dream of what you’d do, if magically even a fraction of that stolen money ended up in your account. A vacation with your daughter would be more than welcome.

Reid is enthusiastically sorting binders to matching boxes, it’s like a big puzzle as all the evidence has been scattered around the table. Hotch is sorting one of the boxes at the opposite side of you as well. By the look on his face, he’s deep in thought. You like the way his brows furrow as he’s considering something.

Your hand goes to reach for one of the binders on the table, and a black eyeglass case gets your attention. You don’t remember seeing that before. It’s closest to Hotchner, but you don’t remember ever seeing glasses on him before. Could they be Reid’s? You know he usually wears contacts, so it’s likely not his.

But why have you never seen Hotch wear the glasses if he owns them? And the case is on the table, so has he had them on before the team was there? Something about him possibly being too shy to use them around his team warms your heart. Or is he just trying to deny that he actually needs them?

“Agent Hotchner? Can I talk with you for a moment?” Tobias, the head of the precinct, called for your boss.

Hotchner nods towards him and turns towards you and Reid “Can you finish these? Rest of the team should be ready soon and we'll be able to go home”.

“No problem” you and Spencer say almost in unison. His voice is like an echo to yours and it makes you turn towards the young genius and grin. Not amused by it, Hotchner excuses himself out of the room.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take the two of you more than a couple of minutes to sort everything out into the right boxes and in neat order by the door. You gather the rest of your belongings and your eyes are drawn to the dark case still on the desk. You reach for them as Spencer doesn’t seem to pay any attention to them.

“Are these yours?” you ask even if you’re pretty confident they belong to your boss. Spencer shakes his head and picks up his brown, worn out leather bag to his shoulder. You bite the inside of your cheek as you wonder if you should take it with you or if Hotch is going to drop by the office before leaving. But you don’t see his carryon bag in the room anymore, so, you decide to pick them up and put them in your bag, just in case.

Within the next hour, you’re glad to be back in the jet. You’re seated in the middle, you usually find yourself sitting by the table. This evening wasn’t an exception. Derek’s sitting next to you by the window, distracted by his phone. Rossi’s in front of him, scrolling something on his iPad as well. JJ and Reid are sitting behind you, playing cards and enjoying some quiet time.

A part of you wants to reach for your book in your bag, but after reading so many files these last couple of days, reading more doesn’t seem that tempting. Instead, you just lean back to your chair and let your mind wander off. As usual, the first thing your mind jumps to is your little girl and what she’s possibly up to at the moment. It’s a little past 3pm, which usually means your mom has just picked her up from daycare and they’re possibly playing outside for a moment.

You let your head turn slightly to the side in an attempt to get more comfortable. A nap wouldn’t be a terrible idea. But before you let your eyes close, you notice Hotchner sitting at the back of the jet by himself. As usual, he has the case’s file in front of him and he’s scribbling something onto his notepad beside him. ‘After all that paperwork you’ve done this week, does he ever take a break?’ you wonder. When during the interview you had described him to be a workaholic, you had barely scratched the surface. He’s the worst case of it you’ve ever seen.

But you also understand it. He tries to be as productive as possible during his time at work. Take care of all the things he needs to, as fast as he can. That way he can actually get home to his son and not worry about it anymore. It makes sense, but you’re pretty sure there’s more than that underneath his inability to let himself rest.

He’s reading something from the file. His eyes narrow as he tries to read and the frown on his features intensifies. At that moment you find yourself reaching for your bag, trying to find the dark case you’d slipped in there earlier. Once you reach it, you get up from your seat and walk towards him, breaking away his concentration.

“Hey” he greets you, looking up to you briefly before his eyes fall back down to the blurry text in front of him. The lighting’s poor and even if it isn’t late yet, the clouds around the jet refuse to let any sunlight in.

“Hey there” you take a seat opposite of him and shake your head slightly at the sight in front of you. “You know” you fidget with the leather case in your hands as you speak “these are quite expensive, especially to use just as decorations”.

He lets the pen fall from his hand to the desk as you offer him back what’s his. There’s a shade of embarrassment on his cheeks as he smiles. He takes the case in his hands, but puts it on the desk beside him. He senses your disapproval and looks up to you.

“I’m still trying to get used to them” he tries to explain. “They’re rather new and I’m just not sure how I feel about them”.

“Put them on. You’re not going to get used to them if you don’t use them” you encourage him. You do want what’s best for him, and using his glasses would – surprise surprise – be good for his eyes. But a part of you is also dying to see what he’d look like with them.

A little hesitant, he opens the case and picks up a pair of dark framed glasses. They look brand new, barely worn. He raises them to his face. They seem to rest comfortably on the bridge of his nose and the rectangular shape frames his face beautifully. The dark color suits him nicely as it matches his skin tone and hair, as well as the suits he wears.

“Happy?” he asks, studying your reaction.

“Much happier, now that you don’t have to squint anymore” you grin, proud of yourself.

He looks uncertain, not sure what to think of the situation. He hates to admit that it feels so much better to read with the glasses on, especially after such a long day. But they feel strange on his skin, he’s not sure if he’ll get used to them.

“And if my opinion helps any” you reach for his hand that rests on the table “I think you look really good with them, Hotch”. It’s clear you’d caught him off guard. He mutters a quiet thank you and you can swear you see a hint of red rising to his cheeks.

You get up from your seat, a wide grin on your lips. You decide to leave him to finish his work in peace. Having a nap really feels like a good idea, so you reach to the cabinets on top and find a fleece blanket you swore you saw there earlier. You make your way back to your previous seat by the table, pull on the blanket and let your eyes fall shut.

But before you do, it makes you happy to see a small smile on Hotch as he picks up his pen again and starts writing. This time, he looks much more relaxed. The earlier frown was far gone, despite him returning to paperwork.

Taglist: @shyhotch @ahouseforhermitcrab @sinamew @lukeclvez @thebaileybugle @louderfortheback @skyler666 @lejlapvlc @14buddy22 @kleff03 @anlin2058 @pandorasdreamings @newlydevouthotchgirl @whoreslovehotch @mrslizzyolsen @wheelsupkels @ssamorganhotchner @lilozg-123 @uraverage-virgowh0re @suhke3 @sarahfortin6201 @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @scargarcia-magshotchner

[kaunis-sielu]

October Challenge: 25

Falling Asleep Together

It’s a long day of travel to get from Upstate New York to the French Polynesian islands. Steve doesn’t rest, you sleep on every plane that you’re on, curled into him in the massive first class seats.

“Alpha you need to sleep.” You tell him on your third and second to last flight.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s been almost 24 hours.”

“Omega,” he rumbles lowly. “I’m fine.” You can see the exhaustion in his eyes and level him with a look.

“We have a six hour layover.”

“I’ll be fine.” You know that this is one of the places that has the little tube hotels and while it doesn’t sound the most comfortable you want him to get some sleep. You order one of the hotels and even though it says you can only fit one person per pod you’re fairly confident you and Steve will fit in one. Even if it’s uncomfortable you doubt he’d sleep in one alone.

When you get off the plane holding Steve’s hand you pull him behind you to the pod.

“Ta da.” You tell him with a grin and he looks confused.

“What’s this?”

“Hotel pod. They’ve got a bed, charging station and snacks.”

“I don’t know.”

“Alpha.” You put your hands on your hips, “what is your plan? To not sleep the entire trip? You can’t protect me if you’re exhausted.” Steve sighs heavily then gestures for you to go ahead. You put both your suitcases and carryon bags into the storage and lock it then climb the little ladder to get into the pod. When Steve doesn’t follow you glare at him.

“Close it so I can make sure no one can get in.” You sigh at him but Steve just folds his arms over his chest and stares back at you.

“Fine.” You grumble before closing and locking the sliding door you hear him rattle it, the whole unit shakes and you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this must look to an outsider. He knocks twice and you open the door with both eyebrows raised.

“Satisfied?”

“I suppose.” He says before climbing into the unit with you. He closes the door and locks it, “get some sleep Honey.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing. You need the sleep.”

“I stay up this long for work all the time.”

“This is not for work. Please Alpha.” You coo, you cup a hand around his face, “Please get some rest.” You soothe him and you watch as he relaxes a little bit. “I have an alarm set, we have plenty of time. Please sleep my Love.”

“You don’t leave.” He rumbles, you don’t think he realizes that he’s given you an Alpha command he’s so tired. You’ll let it slide this time, you just want him to sleep.

“I won’t.” You agree softly and you’re pleased when his eyes drift shut. You wait until his even breaths are filling the space before you surrender to sleep yourself.

The alarm wakes you, Steve slowly stirring next to you, he presses a kiss to the top of your head then he starts,

“Fuck! Honey I’m so sorry!”

“What? Why are you sorry?”

“I Alpha commanded you.”

“Oh Alpha, it wasn’t on purpose I’m not upset.” You tell him not looking up at him.

“It’s not okay. I promised not to.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you Omega.” He hums, he kisses you then and you sigh softly.

“We should go. We have about forty-five minutes until we can start boarding and I’m kind of hungry and need to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he stretches then before he unlocks the door and climbs out. When you go to climb out of the pod Steve’s hands wrap around your waist and he helps you out of the pod. “You’re real pretty Omega.”

“I feel like I look a mess.” You admit with a laugh and he frowns.

“No, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, I still think you’re biased though.” He laughs and you take your luggage out of the pod storage. You go find some food and while Steve waits for the food to be done you use the bathroom, fix your hair and wipe under your eyes with a cool paper towel. You look okay for having travelled so long but you’re excited to be on the last leg of the journey.

When you join Steve again you’re feeling better and you’re happy to see that the food is done.

“Hey Honey, do you wanna go eat at the gate?”

“Yea, I think that’s a good idea.” You agree once you’re at the gate you eat quickly then Steve goes to the bathroom.

“Y’all are real sweet.” An older woman says, she’s a Beta and gives you a soft smile. “How long have you been Mated?”

“A couple of months but we got married two days ago.”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you have a wonderful trip.”

“Thank you so much.” You tell her as Steve makes his way back toward you with powerful strides.

“He’s a good Alpha?”

“Perfect.”

“Good. He’s a handsome one.” She says giving you a wink and you laugh.

“He really is.”

“I really am what Omega?” Steve asks sitting down next to you.

“A pain in the ass Alpha.” You tell him cheekily and the woman laughs at Steve’s surprised face.

“Good for you! Keep him on his toes!”

“Oh believe me, since the day I met her she’s kept me on my toes.” Steve grumbles but you can feel his affection.

“You love it.”

“I do.” He agrees before kissing you quickly. The woman you’d been chatting with practically has heart eyes as she watches the exchange.

“Treasure your time together. I lost my Mate three years ago and I miss him dearly. Have a wonderful honeymoon.”

“Thank you, we will.” You tell her and she goes back to her book then and Steve curls an arm around your shoulders.

“I love you Omega.” He says pressing another kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.”

[apparitionism]

Cover 2

Here’s the next part of my @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange present (for @lady-adventuress), a season-two-ish story in which Myka and the recently reinstated Helena have been sent on a retrieval, during which they’ll be required to clown. Literally. Neither is notably happy about that latter thing. (About the former... well, Myka certainly has some feelings.) For details on their less-than-thrilled responses to the idea of clownery, see part 1. For details on how they manage to work within and around the idea, see this part and the subsequent parts that will be on their way as quickly as I can type them out. P.S. I feel compelled to mention that Pete would chuckle at way this second part seems to be titled, because the Cover 2 defense is one of the major zone defenses in American football.

Cover 2

Sitting next to Helena on an airplane: that’s new. Having flown with Pete so often, Myka in this novel circumstance has to consciously swallow her reflexive pre-apology to the flight attendant for whatever violations of FAA regulations, or common decency, her seatmate will commit... Helena’s unpredictable, yes, but Myka lets herself relax into the idea that she’ll be easier than Pete. Also, she’s significantly (even exquisitely) smaller than Pete, and that’s easier too, allowing Myka to unfold just a bit, to occupy more of her real body space.

Although Helena is obviously comfortable on the plane, at ease with the technology that powers it, Myka is near-to-bursting curious as to how she really feels about flying, how this experience measures up to any versions of such travel she might have imagined. It would be something to talk about... but asking direct questions about that past-present difference, Myka has observed, tends to generate a less than enthusiastic response. Letting Helena herself bring up what she finds startling or conceptually intriguing—that’s a far more productive course of action.

Fortunately, Myka does have another ready topic of conversation: the Grimaldi biography. It could also, she thinks—hopes?—provide a way of probing Helena’s aversion, or whatever it is, to clowns. If “fear” is a baggy word, what does that bag contain?

“So Artie gave me this last night.” Myka pulls the book from her carryon, taking care to give it a little shake, like it’s insignificant. “Probably just because I read really fast.”

“Do you,” Helena says, looking first at the book, then directly into Myka’s eyes. An assessment. “That’s useful.”

Myka shouldn’t find the idea that Helena thinks she’s useful to be thrilling, but she has to admit, if only to herself, that she does. She can’t help the attendant fillip of concern, though: does Helena want her to be thrilled? For some purpose? And if there’s a purpose, under what category does it fall? Is it that she still feels a need for a professional champion? Or is it—and Myka is trying not to put too fine a point on this—personal?

Stop it. The mission is what matters, not... anything else. “Anyway I thought some of it was salient?” And immediately, again, the mission recedes, for she hears up-talk in her voice and hates it, hates how it reveals uncertainty about her own judgment. About how Helena will judge her judgment. Clearing her throat of question, she quotes, “Grimaldi is the most assiduous of all imaginable buffoons.” Then she says, because it might be a way in, and she should put a wedge under the door, “Honestly, that sounded to me like something somebody might say about Pete. The idea of him going to clown college makes an awful lot of sense.” She pushes a little further. “Then again, the book also says ‘comedy demands sacrifice.’ So maybe not.”

“That depends,” Helena says. “Can one choose the genre of sacrifice?”

Getting into a discussion of sacrifice genres is likely to be unproductive. A bit chastened, Myka flips mentally to a different part of the book. “So this is closer to what we need. Probably. About the slapstick—like Artie said, they used it for clowning tricks, to turn one thing into another: ‘sedan chairs into prison cells, postboxes into lions’ mouths, piles of vegetables into belligerent monsters.’ Belligerent monsters made of vegetables. In the early 1800s? That sounds pretty impressive, I have to say.”

Helena scoffs out a tiny “hmf.” It makes her nostrils flare, but any actual sound is lost in the engine-drone. “The illusions I saw, even in my somewhat later day, were no doubt less persuasive than you might wish.” She puts a little push on “you.”

“What do you think I might wish?” Myka asks, trying to be gentle, trying to give Helena space to speak then into now. “I’m not nearly as devoted to CGI as Pete and Claudia are.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Helena says.

So much for space. “Things in movies that... you know what? Never mind. Why didn’t you find the illusions persuasive?” she asks, with a little you-push of her own.

“I was always suspicious of tricks. Even as a child.”

Of course she was. Myka can’t help but imagine child-Helena, that small skeptic. She charms herself with the thinking. But is that what Helena meant her to do?

She really needs to stop this second-guessing.

“Funny that you ended up at the Warehouse then,” she ventures.

An uncharming eyebrow. “Funny?”

Myka flinches, more in response to the eyebrow than to the question. “Sorry. Not like comedy. Given your suspicions, I mean.”

“No, I know what you meant,” Helena says. She exhales heavily. “I will confess it was a strange relief to discover that certain seemingly impossible things weren’t tricks after all.”

That feels like a real opening. “Here’s another quote that struck me: ‘the stage was the only place in which he was spared his anxieties.’ I sometimes feel like I can say that about the Warehouse?” That uptalk again... but here, uncertainty might be her friend?

“I once could,” Helena says, but it’s arid, empty, and she turns her head away. The gap between then and now, which had narrowed for a nanosecond, has cratered open once more.

Myka gives up. For the remainder of the plane ride, at least.

****

They’ve flown to Indianapolis, the current location of the circus—or more accurately, the location of its train, which extends into a veritable city of its own, comprising what seems to be an infinite number of cars. Myka and Helena wend through it, eventually locating the office-car, or car-office, of Thomas Lawrence, the clown manager, whom Artie has identified as their contact.

Settled solid behind what looks like an Army-salvage desk from no later than World War II, he might be made of circus sawdust: old and crumbly-edged, he has the air of someone who’s been doing his job so long he’s immune to surprise. And yet he says, “Imagine my surprise, hearing from Artie Weisfelt—wayward cousin of the clown Weisfelts.”

Myka files that away immediately for future reference and/or research. Or at the very least, for shocking Pete and Claudia.

“He doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of same,” Helena says.

Lawrence’s voice, too, is sawdust, dry and withering. And accurate, as he responds to Helena: “You don’t either.”

Helena shrugs.

He shrugs back. “Not surprised. You’re not one of us.”

Us. “So you were a clown?” Myka asks, but then she amends, “are a clown?” Because clown status, once attained, surely persists.

“Started off as one. Couldn’t come up with the...” He raises his hands and twiddles surprisingly long, elegant fingers in the air. “Call it the underneath. Stuff that makes the clowning work.”

Myka thinks she understands what he means. She glances at Helena. Helena is aggressively not understanding what he means.

“Any advice?” Myka asks. “For our investigation.”

“Made a couple new hires, not too long ago, first time in a long time. They’ll think you’re more of the same, so blend in,” Lawrence instructs. “You won’t, but try. With everybody but the new kids, you could drop the Weisfelt name.”

“I would rather not,” Helena says, prim, but backed by something very like malice.

Artie wasn’t helping, before; clearly, Helena isn’t willing to let him help. In any way.

Lawrence sits back and crosses his arms. “You’re a tough one.”

“I try to be.”

“Good luck,” he says. “You want to show you’re tough out there, with them, call me Boss Tommy. I let ’em think I can’t stand it.”

“Risk-takers,” Helena says.

He nods. “Moment of thrill in their sad lives. Outside the ring, even.”

“But consequences?”

“Getting on my bad side.” He turns to Myka. “You, on the other hand.”

“Me?” Myka’s not sure what conversation she’s in. Or if she’s in it at all.

Saying “Let’s take a little walk,” Lawrence leads them out, and it’s a dramatic understatement: they walk—walk and walk, past cars with doors that open onto stoops, practically verandas, on which people are working, playing, lounging—to a small, dingy car. He pulls a capacious key ring from his trouser pocket and unlocks the narrow metal door. It squeals as it opens. There’s no veranda.

“What we’ve got right now,” he says, not exactly apologetically, as they step in. “Accommodations.” Two bunks flank the space, and upon seeing them Myka cannot keep her mind from leaping to, then dwelling on, sleep in proximity. No doors, halls, or other separation machines. It had escaped her consciousness until this moment that some situation like this would obtain.

Lawrence seems to take her stutter-stop as criticism: “Not fancy enough? Usually for a sibling team—we just lost one of those. Lucky part is, obviously it’s more private than the eight-bunkers. Anyway, take a minute, then let me see your stuff.”

“Our ‘stuff’?” Helena inquires, as if it’s a personal insult that he expects her to know what he means.

“I better see how you think you’ll fake your way through whatever it is you’re investigating. How you’ll look. I’m the boss, right? And I’m vouching. Show me something good.” He steps back toward the train car’s door and takes his leave.

Helena says to Myka, “Lucky part is?”

“I guess,” Myka says back.

The truly lucky part, Myka discovers, is that Helena has decided she can apply her own makeup.

That is the lucky part. It is.

****

When they show Lawrence their costumes and makeup, he regards them with about as much enthusiasm as Claudia had. “If you’re doing standard slapstick, Ms. Elegant Harlequin here won’t sell.” He opens a drawer, pulls out a red foam nose, reaches across his desk, and plops it onto Helena’s actual nose. He shrugs. “Helps a little.”

“Does it,” Helena says, and Myka wishes there were a way to reward her for sounding only mostly, rather than completely, murderous.

Lawrence then tells Myka, “You need a wig. That hair of yours isn’t near crazy enough.”

“That’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me,” Myka says, and she considers yet again (or is it a constant background consideration?) how deficient her hair seems, compared to Helena’s.

“And one of you needs the sad face,” Lawrence goes on.

Myka says, skeptically, “Sad clowns... isn’t that a little on the nose?”

Helena gestures to her beclowned nose and grimaces.

With a wince, Myka says, “Sorry.”

“Gotta tell you,” Lawrence says, “standard slapstick we got lots of.” He sits back and taps those incongruous fingers on his desktop. After a thoughtful time, he says, “Know what we don’t have?”

“I have no idea,” Helena says.

Myka registers that she’s heard Helena say that before. Registers that Helena has a way of saying that. Registers that she knows this. Registers that she finds this knowledge special and hers... then stops, stops all the registering, because that will lead her nowhere professionally productive—or rather, it will lead only to the production of a falling-down clown.

“Love,” Lawrence then says.

“Love?” Myka echoes, then says, because she genuinely does not understand, “You don’t have love?”

“We don’t. How about an unrequited love bit?” He gestures at Myka, says, “You chase Ms. Elegant. Heart in your hand. Literally.”

Myka doesn’t dare look at Helena. “Sure,” she says, because what choice does she have? “How about it.”

She is sincerely regretting her “on the nose” comment.

“Got an old pranky heart hiding here somewhere.” He rummages through a trunk that echoes Artie’s suitcase... and just as she had with the suitcase, she wonders about the provenance of its contents. “Here you go,” he says, handing her a red plastic heart, wider and thicker than a dinner plate. Inflated? She squeezes it, experimentally. It honks at her. Lawrence looks pleased. “Glad it still works. So: your heart. You want to give it to Ms. Elegant.”

“Do I?” Myka says.

“You don’t?” Helena asks—incredulous. Comically?

Myka clears her throat. “I,” she manages, “do.” She will laugh about this someday, she’s sure: sitting here with her honking heart in her hands. Today, however, is not someday.

“Tripping and falling,” Lawrence says, “but for a reason.”

Myka sees quite clearly that before this moment, she had not grasped the full horror of the phrase “on the nose.”

TBC

[matthewtkachuk]

aviophobia - rafe cameron

a rough flight provokes your fear of flying, luckily your cute seat mate is willing to hold your hand and help you through it

warnings: mentions of anxiety, fluuuuff

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 1.6k

a/n: wrote this on the plane this afternoon, lowkey inspired by own anxiety today (sans the rafe cameron comfort) - planes aren’t supposed to be quiet!! i didn’t proofread so sorry in advance hehe

Flying wasn’t your favorite thing in the world. In all honesty, you might have a little airplane phobia. You could keep it together when everything went according to plan: when checking into your flight went smoothly, TSA was a breeze and you had an hour extra to spare as you sat at your gate.

Of course, this was not one of those times. There had been a mixup with your uber, causing you to lose half of your relax buffer time. then, there had been an issue checking in and you briefly thought you wouldn’t be allowed on the plane, but the nice customer service rep behind the desk was kind enough to explain they had accidentally let you choose a seat already occupied and simply moved your seat assignment. The real bummer was losing out on the window seat - one of the ways you were able to get over (well not quite over but through for sure) your fear was to face it, quite literally forcing yourself to look out the window as the plane took off and landed. For some reason watching the position of the airplane relative to the ground was grounding for you.

Even going through TSA had gone wrong, you’d forgotten to take your novelty bottle opener off your key ring and ended up getting pulled to the side and patted down. (It was a joke gift from your dad in the shape of a spent shotgun shell - something about a warning to any boys who might want to approach you? Who knows, you just liked it because you always had a bottle opener on you, getting you to a beer quickly when the occasion called for it).

You didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse when you arrived at your newly assigned seat to find a tall and handsome twenty-something man in the window seat. You gulped, briefly wondering if you could pretend like you had a different assigned seat but you knew the plane was full and didn’t want that embarrassment. He must have took this as you needing help, as he stood up, mumbled a respectful ‘ma’am’ and lifted your very heavy carryon like it wasn’t full of your makeup and toiletries, a weeks worth of clothes and three pairs of shoes.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, cheeks warming with embarrassment. He just smiled in response before sitting back down.

“Sorry if I encroach in your space a little,” he preemptively apologized, knowing his six foot three frame would likely brush against yours at the very least if not press against you directly.

“Don’t worry about it!” you smiled before putting in your headphones and putting on your relaxing playlist. You were able to close your eyes and grip the outside armrest to get through the takeoff, and the beginning of the flight passed by as you focused on the smooth rhythm of what was playing through your headphones.

Based on the way the today was going you shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were when the plane hit a patch of rough turbulence. You softly gasped and gripped both your armrest and the arm of the poor, hot stranger beside you. Your hands stayed locked in place for approximately two minutes, as the plane rocked and waved, before he gently pried your fingers from his arm. You were about to apologize when another shake of the aircraft had you gasping, he grabbed your hand, letting your fingers connect. you rode out the turbulence, comforted by the strangers warm hand as you tried to steady your breathing.

Cheeks warm with embarrassment again, you let go of his hand and carefully clasped your hands together in your lap. You avoided looking at him for the rest of the flight, embarrassed and honestly a little turned on which embarrassed you more. Clearly you needed to get laid if a little hand holding was getting you all hot and bothered. Though if you thought about it, it was more about the gentle and sweet way he held your hand without hesitation more than the actual physical contact.

When you neared your destination, you had another moment of pure panic as the plane quieted around you. You’d never experienced that level of quiet while traveling in a metal death trap before and so you frantically turned to your handsome seat mate for reassurance. Relaxing the slightest bit at his soft smile before he placed his hand on your knee, palm facing up. You gladly clutched his hand with both of yours, fingers laced together. It helped calm your racing thoughts and heartbeat. You noticed he was exaggerating the way he breathed - in and out, in and out - and realized he wanted you to mimic him. Focusing on the way his chest rose and fell, you found yourself calming down as your breathing evened.

“We’re just taxi-ing, waiting for the okay to start our descent and land,” he told you softly, trying to reassure you further. Your mouth felt dry and you didn’t trust yourself to find the words so you simply nodded.

“If you hate flying so much why torture yourself?” he asked a minute later, unable to stop himself from asking, curious about the beautiful girl so full of anxiety beside him.

“Well, driving across the country to head home doesn’t really appeal to me. I’m not usually this bad,” you admitted shyly, moving to unlace your fingers, embarrassed at yourself for clinging to a stranger like a life line but your stomach dropped as you felt the plane begin its descent and gripped him more tightly.

“How do you usually get through a flight?” he asked curiously.

“Well it helps to look out the window... I don’t know why but it does. I had booked a window seat but there was a mix up and they double booked it so I ended up here.” you shrugged as you spoke, chewing nervously on your bottom lip.

Upon your words he leant back as far as he could and gestured for you to look out the window. Still holding his hand, you leant over his lap and watched the descent feeling a lot calmer than you had before. Your shoulder and arm were pressed against his chest and you felt relaxed with the heat of his body. Rocking with the movement of the plane, your teeth clenched as the plane hit the runway. His other hand lifted up to steady you against the momentum.

Finally landing, you relaxed and sat back in your seat, dramatically dropping your head against the headrest. You looked down at your linked hands and then back up into your saviors eyes, smiling a little awkwardly at him. “You know, i don’t even know your name,” you giggled, “or do you prefer ‘my hero’?”

He laughed, somehow deep and whiny at the same time, as he threw his head back. “I don’t know the name of the damsel in distress either,” his eyes twinkled as he spoke.

“Y/n,” you smiled.

“Rafe,” he answered and you decided it fit him.

“Well Rafe, I sincerely thank you, I think I would have had a heart attack if you hadn’t been there,” you told him truthfully.

“Anytime,” he answered with a small grin, the corner of his mouth upturned. The way he said the word it was more like a promise than a platitude and it sent shockwaves through your system.

“Y’know I think you should give me your number. Just in case I need help flying from California to North Carolina again,” you boldly stated, preening a little as he laughed and pulled out his phone.

“Well I can’t argue with that logic,” he laughed and you swapped phones, inputting your name with several princess emojis after it. A laugh escaped your lips when he handed your phone back with a contact titled ‘rafe aka airplane hero’. You briefly chatted a little longer as you waited for your turn to get off the plane that had given you such trouble, learning that he worked for his dad's company in the outer banks, only an hour from your parents’ house on the mainland. The two of you walked together to baggage claim, and you giggled while he waited with you for your bright pink suitcase to come around the carousel, lifting it by the handle with the only indication it weighed anything - the slight flex of his bicep.

Finally reaching the passenger pick up zone, it was time to separate. It felt strange to feel such a connection with someone you hadn’t known this morning, but leaving didn’t feel right. “Well this is it I guess,” you sighed, knowing your sister was likely waiting right outside.

He pulled you into his arms, “for now.”

“Goodbye, Rafe,” you smiled, pulling away from him and walking towards your sister’s familiar white suv.

“Wait!” he called out your name and you spun around confused to see him making his way to you before his hands were on your face and his lips were on your own. The kiss was sweet and brief and when you pulled apart there was a smile on your face. “Goodbye, y/n”

Crawling into your sisters vehicle, face hot and mouth spread wide in a smile she looked at you in shock, “what was that about?”

“Just a little airplane anxiety,” you giggled, hand on your lips, as your phone lit up with a text from your ‘airplane hero’.

taglist bbs: @velyssaraptor​ @danicarosaline​@copper-boom​ @x-lulu​ @prejudic3​ @rekrappeter​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @sunwardsss @rudyypankow​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @hoodpankow​ @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @socialwriter @euphoricheyward​@anxietyandtacos​ @diverrdown​ @stargazingstarkey​ @rae131415​ @rafej-cambanks​ @stfukie​ @obxmermaid​

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Simon & Baz struggle with trying to take the next step in their relationship.

Inspired by Easy by Troye Sivan

Carry On Countdown, Day 24 - Song @carryon-countdown

Tags: Intimacy Issues, Mild Implied Sexual Content, Angst, Fluff & Angst, Love, Soft Tyrannus Basilton “Baz” Grimm Pitch, Sad, Hopeful, Supportive, Understanding, Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 24

Words: 1,461

Baz

You ran away to find something to say. I went astray to make it okay, and he made it easy, darlin’. I’m still in love, and I say that because I know how it seems between you and me, it hasn’t been easy, darlin’.

I haven’t seen Snow for two weeks, now. Last time we were together, we tried … He wanted to, but then he didn’t. He told me he needs space. So, that’s what I’ve given him.

We’re still together, I think (I hope). He didn’t say we were over (Although, he didn’t say much at all).

I asked him if he could try and explain it to me - The panic. The wanting and then not wanting.

I don’t have a problem with it - Not really. I won’t lie and say that it never gets … frustrating (Because the shameful rate at which I’ve had to change my bedding recently, would suggest otherwise). But, I understand. It’s difficult for him. And I don’t want to push him, if he isn’t ready.  

He didn’t have the words to explain it, so he said that he'd text me. But, I haven’t received anything yet.

Patience is a virtue. And when it comes to Snow, I have it mastered - After 7 solid years of waiting, longing for him hopelessly, that reluctant self-deprivation comes naturally. I’m happy to wait as long as he needs. I’ll give him whatever if it is that he wants - I just need him to tell me, once he figures it out for himself.

If he wants me gone, then so be it - I’ll cherish our time together, and set him free. If he wants me to stay, I’d be glad to never leave his side.

It’s been challenging for us, as of late. But, despite it all, I want him no less. Even though he may think otherwise, my love from him hasn’t faded (Remaining as reliably persistent as ever).

I do my best to make sure he knows - To show him in what ways I can. But, I’m not sure that it’s working.

He was mine, for a while. I had him, wholly. And now … I’m losing him. He’s slipping through my fingers, right in front of my own eyes, and yet I’m powerless to stop it.

Are you mine Simon Snow? Do you want me still?

I can only hope. Maybe we’ll make it through.

Simon

I can’t even look at you. Would you look at the space just next to your feet? The wood is warping, the lines distorting. This house is on fire, woo! Burning the tears right off of my face. What the hell did we do? Tell me we’ll make it through.

He looks … Unbearably good beneath me. I’m touching him, and he’s touching me. One arm looped around the back of my neck, and the other tracing soothing lines into the dip of my hip. I’m grabbing onto his waist, perhaps a little too tightly. And pouring everything I have - Everything I cannot put into those three daunting words - into him. Pressing our lips together, firmly, over and over and over again.

I’m okay. This is alright. I can handle this, I’m sure.

He’s sighing against me. His reverent touch moving lower and lower. Cool fingers stretching under the waistband of my trackies and waiting - Questioning. Do I want this? I don’t know. I thought I did. Maybe I don’t. I’m not sure. Physically I do. So … that’s a start. Last time I couldn’t even do that.

He’s so fucking fit. Eyes bright and pupils blown wide. Smiling up at me, softly, his hair fanned out against the pillow. He looks straight out of a Hollywood movie - All posh and perfect. He’s a vision, and I’m … I don’t know what I’m doing.  

I’m rubbing a palm over his chest, and he’s groaning, encouragingly, beneath me. Panting lightly into my neck. (I don’t know if the chest is where you’re supposed to, like, target on guys. I should’ve looked it up. He seems to know what he’s doing. I should too. I’m going to disappoint him. I’ve made him wait so long, and now I’m going to screw it up. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why didn’t I think this through).  

“Simon, love-” He sounds wrecked. I did that to him - And knowing that, fills me with an absurd sense of pride. If I managed that, maybe I can do more. I want to. Surely I can. He wants me to, I know. He won’t say so, but he does. The want - I can feel it, pressed against me where I’m sat on my lap. He keeps trying to shift his hips away - Since that’s what set me off last time. But, I don’t want him to. He shouldn’t have to do that. I should just be able to touch him, like a normal boyfriend can. Like he deserves.  

“You can,” He whispers, tugging my hand down to the front of his pyjama trousers. “If you want. I - You can. Or … I can. To you. I would like to.”

I can. He wants me to. He’s asking. I can. It would be just like doing it to yourself, surely? But, I’m not sure. I’ve never done this. Why does he think I know how? Why does he keep letting me do stuff like this? I’m going to let him down. I am letting him down. He’s staring up at me, waiting for an answer. He wants. I wanted.

He lets go of my hand, pressing a kiss to the centre of my palm. He knows I’m not gonna’. I - I want to. I can’t. I just -

“It’s alright, Simon,” He says, leaning up and kissing the cluster of moles on my shoulder. “What do you want to do? We can stop for a bit. Everything is okay.”

And there it is. He’s giving me an out. We’ve barely even started, and he knows I can’t do it anymore. Even he has realised how fucking terrible I am at this. How broken I am.

I scrunch my eyes closed, desperately. Sometimes it’s easier when I don’t look. I can’t know for sure that he’s watching me, then - Seeing me. I can convince myself that everything is fine. But … it’s not. I know it’s not. I just … wish that it was.

I'm panicking fully now - Just like I knew I would. Body shaking, and breathes gasping. Hot, frustrated tears burning in my eyes, threatening to spill. He’s still running his hands down my sides. He’s still trying. Not to - Just to comfort me. I don’t know why.

“How can you even expect me to do this?” I snap (I don’t mean to - I mean, none of this is his fault - but it just … happens). He shouldn’t be made to feel bad about this. I’m making him think this is his fault. But it’s not. It’s mine. It’s always mine.

He leans himself backwards, worry tugging his eyebrows downwards. “I - I don’t expect anything. I thought it was what you wanted. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have - I should’ve let you decide when to try more. I’m sorry, darling. Just … try breath, okay? You’re alright. We’re alright.”

Now he’s apologising. Brilliant. Just superb. I groan into my hands, shuffling myself away from him, and hanging my legs over the foot of the bed. My back to him. Hiding the disaster away. Putting a few valuable inches of mattress between us.

“I did want to”  

“But you don’t anymore?”

“No.”

“Why? Did I … do something wrong? Or-?”

“No. You know you didn’t. It’s just me, okay? I can’t … do what you want. Just stop. Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighs. I can feel him getting closer, the bed wobbling beneath him. I don’t want him closer. He’s going to see that I’m crying. It’s so fucking embarrassing. “Snow, it’s alright-”

“No it’s not! Can you just - Can you just leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Simon, I’m not sure - If you could try to explain what it is that’s going on, maybe I could help?”

“No!” I snap. “Just - stop pushing me okay! I can’t do it. Just go. Please. I don’t - I can’t. I want to be alone.”

Eventually, he leaves me (Once I’ve calmed down a little). And the moment the door closes, I miss him. But, I still don’t have the strength to pull him back - To tell him all of the things that I’m thinking. That I’m feeling.

I want him. I love him. But, I can’t be what he deserves. And, I don’t know if I ever can.

Still, I can only hope. Maybe we’ll make it through.

He made it easy. Please, don’t leave me. He made it easy. Please, don’t leave me. 

[vampire-named-gampire]

Carry On Countdown - Day 12

Another ficlet for @carryon-countdown! I wrote it in an hour so rip me and my time management skills and forgive me for any grammar mistakes. 

Prompt: Wings Word count: 1289 Rating: General Summary: 

The wings come with their disadvantages aka the trials and tribulations of trying to give your boyfriend a massage. 

BAZ

Simon is huffing and turning on the sofa. It’s a whole scene. He fluffs the pillow, lays back down on it for a few seconds before frowning and going back to tossing and turning. His tail is slashing around like it always does when he’s upset or frustrated.

“Are you alright there?” I ask as he fluffs his pillow for the third time. He just huffs and crosses his arms. “Simon, what’s wrong?” I ask again.

“It’s just… these damned wings! My back hurts!” he complains. “I can’t get myself comfortable.” With that, he throws himself down on the pillow face first and growls in frustration. “Penny said lying down would help.”

“Have you seen Dr Wellbelove about it?” I ask.

“He’s just going to talk about removing them,” Simon mumbles into his pillow. I still don’t know why Simon gets so upset at the idea of getting his wings removed – frankly, I don’t think he knows either – but he absolutely refuses to hear it, even though he often complains about his wings. Personally, I don’t mind them. And I sort of love his tail, even though I constantly poke fun at it. (It has a mind if its own, which is rather endearing.)

“Okay, how about this; I call Dr Wellbelove and tell him I have back pain and then we try whatever he tells me to do. How does that sound?” I ask.

“Okay,” he grumbles into the pillow. I pull out my phone.

“Is the pain in your upper back or lower back?” I ask while searching for Welby’s phone number in my contacts.

“Upper.”

“Dull or sharp?”

“Dull. Why are you asking me this?” he huffs.

“So that I can describe it to Dr Wellbelove, you numpty,” I say, rolling my eyes. I finally find his contact and press call.

“Dr Wellbelove, how can I help you?” a familiar voice picks up the phone. I’ve never been to Dr Wellbelove’s (it’s not like I can get sick), but I’ve seen him at the Club.

“Hello, this is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch speaking,” I say coolly. (I’m not letting my phone-call anxiety get in the way of this.) “I have some back pain and I was wondering what I could do to make it better.”

“Well, a Get well soon always seems to help with these things. Or if that doesn’t work, you could try Early to bed, early to rise,” he says. Fuck. Simon doesn’t like people casting spells on him. My brain scrambles to find a solution to this problem.

“I have already tried that, but this is a fairly frequent issue and it seems like a waste of magic to be casting those spells every day. I was more solution oriented,” I say. Simon shoots me a weird look from the sofa.

“Aha, I see. And where does it hurt?”

I explain the pain the way Simon described it, hearing Dr Wellbelove’s aha-s on the other side of the line.  “Well, Basilton, I suggest you come see me sometime. From what you’ve described, it seems like you have scoliosis, but I can’t be sure until I see it for myself. For now, though, if it’s really a bother, I suggest some light exercise and stretching and get someone to give you a massage if you can. And avoid carrying heavy burdens. Now about that appointment—”

“Okay, I’ll try that, thank you!” I quickly say and hang up.

“And?” Simon asks.

“Scoliosis! He thinks I have scoliosis!” I erupt. “My posture is perfect!”

“Baz, about the back pain,” Simon says, laughing.

“Oh. He says you should try some light exercise and stretching, a massage and to avoid carrying heavy burdens.”

“Well, I can’t exactly follow up with that last one,” he says, flaring up his wings. “And I don’t have the money for a massage…”

I just stare at him. “Snow, I’m your boyfriend.”

“I’m not letting you pay for my massage!” he says. I sigh. How thick can he be?

“I can give you a massage.”

“Oh. You’d do that for me?” Simon asks, sounding a bit bewildered. It’s a work not to roll my eyes. Yes, Simon Snow, of course I’ll give you a fucking massage, you idiot, I’ll take any excuse to be close to you.

“Of course. How hard can it be?”

 As it turns out, it can be very fucking hard. We end up moving to his bed and he’s laying underneath me, shirtless, which is already a distraction enough in itself. It’s a work not to trace my hands along his moles.

It’s a work for him to keep his wings in check. I can’t even get my massage properly started, because he keeps knocking me with them.

“Crowley, Snow, keep your wings out of the way,” I sigh as he clips me again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into the pillow. His wings do come down a bit, but I have to be mindful not to hit a spot directly in between his wing joints, because if I do that, they’ll just come up again. I think it’s some sort of a reflex spot for him.

His tail keeps poking me in the back and nudging at me. It’s probably offended, because I’m straddling Simon’s hips and sitting right on his tail joint, but there’s really no better way to go around this.

I bring my hands to Simon’s back again and he yelps.

“Your hands are still cold,” he complains.

“Yes, I haven’t stopped being a vampire in the past five minutes, thank you for noticing,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“This is a disaster,” he says, and I can’t tell if he wants to cry or laugh.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask. He reaches behind his back, wrapping his finger around my wrist.

“Put your hands underneath my stomach,” he mumbles. “They’ll warm up.”

I swallow my nerves and do as he says. He’s right; the space between the blanket and his chest is (unsurprisingly) warm and I feel my hands warming up to more humanly temperatures immediately. His heart beats strong and steady underneath my fingertips.  

I lean forward until I’m lying with my stomach pressed to his back and my head on his shoulder and I feel his heartbeat quicken a little. His tail comes up around my waist – maybe it wanted me to do this this whole time.

“Baz?” Simon asks, his voice softer.

“We’re waiting for my hands to warm up.”

“Okay.”

I like this. I like feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath, his heartbeat underneath my hands and his tail tight around my waist. He’s so warm and he’s so alive and he’s mine against all odds. I press a kiss on his shoulder and let my body relax against his.

A loud pop sounds from underneath me and Simon groans. I quickly sit back up.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

Simon groans again and I realize it’s a groan of relief, not pain or discomfort.

“This is just what I needed,” he says.

“You needed your spine to make a very concerning sound?” I ask with my eyebrows raised. He groans again.

“This might be the best thing I ever experienced.”

I’m only slightly offended at that.

“So your back’s all better now?” I ask. I also come to the conclusion that human bodies are weird and slightly concerning. How can this possibly make him feel better? It sounded like I broke his spine, for Crowley’s sake!

“I think so,” he says.

“Do you still want me to give you a massage?”

He turns his head to me, a small smile playing on his lips. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

[smol-and-grumpy]

When The Lights Go Out - 4

Re-post

Summary: She’d met Dean before all of this started. Before they had to fight for their lives or end up dead. Before Sam said yes to Lucifer.

Pairing: Endverse!Dean x Reader

WC: 1k

A/N: This chapters kink: Mutual Masturbation

SERIES MASTERLIST

She’s still in his lap when Dean cups her face in his hand, holding her gaze and slowly pressing his forehead on hers. Their breathing mingles, making the moment feel intimate, familiar.

Somehow, it feels like home. Home, in a place neither of them wants to be.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” He kisses her, now, licking up a little bit of blood left on her cracked bottom lip.

Y/N had almost already forgotten the pain. Almost forgot how hard she must have bitten down on her lip for them to crack, to draw blood.

“So good for me.” Dean whispers into the kiss, as his tongue explores her mouth, brushing against the inner walls of her cheek, sending tingly feelings down to where her slick is pooled.

“Mine.” Dean whispers.

They’re still forehead to forehead, and Y/N has her hands around both his wrists as his hands hold her face.

“My good girl,” he says, and she nods, because she is. His.

Y/N loves it when he praises her. The praises feel like medicine for her soul. It’s always been like that. Only now, she needs it more than ever.

She wishes it to never change. Wishes that they didn’t have to go to Chicago. Wishes that she and Dean could stay like this forever. But she knows that all good - or less good - things will eventually come to an end.

It’s good that Y/N has Dean and that he has her. They’re better together, that’s a given. But she knows that the end is near, and deep down, she knows that they won’t stand a chance against Sam - or Lucifer.

She doesn’t like to address Sam as Lucifer because Sam is still in there. They just need a way to lure him out, to help him get out of the dark place where Lucifer has him hidden.

And, maybe, Dean knows it too. That’s why he’s been so sweet to her lately, why he doesn’t want to part from her at all - only when he really needs to. Dean knows, as much as she does, but neither of them want to face the truth just yet. Neither of them want to admit that in a couple of weeks, they’ll be dead, and the world as they know it will be lost forever.

Y/N and Dean both know as long as there’s fight left in them, they’ll go down swinging. There has never been another option, really.

“Hey, you with me?” Dean asks when he sees she’s lost in thought.

“What? Yeah… yeah, sorry,” she murmurs as he places a kiss to her forehead.

“I know,” he says, as if he knows exactly what she was thinking. Y/N thinks he probably does know what was going on in her head.

“Feel good?” he asks, a frown on his face as he slowly spreads his legs while she balances there, giving her enough space to hook her legs around his. The pressure of his thighs against her sore ass is less painful now, so she scoots closer. They’re thigh to thigh with little space in between.

Y/N nods and feels him trailing his hands along her thighs, his thumb brushing her inner thighs, kneading them firmly. It feels good. Real good.

And when his fingers inch closer to her pussy, brushing over it, she can hear Dean hitching his breath, a moan comes from his throat as he feels how wet she is for him.

“Jesus, you’re almost dripping.” He has to look down, and when he takes his fingers away, he can see the string of her wetness still attached to his finger. “Baby, did I do this to you, huh?”

“Yes, Sir.” Y/N smirks and is rewarded with a kiss, his fingers on her core again, threading through the wet folds and dipping into the slick heat, making her moan.

“Take out my cock,” he commands as he lets go of her lips. Her hands trembles a little as they try to unbuckle his belt because he’s still fingering her so good, but then he stops her in time before she can open up the belt buckle. “Not the belt, only zipper.”

Y/N nods and begins to work on the zip of his pants. Slowly, she eases the zipper down and puts her hands into the slit of his jeans. To her surprise, Dean’s going commando, and she can’t help but cock an eyebrow at him.

“Couldn’t find any underwear this morning.” He just shrugs as he moves his finger in and out of her pussy.

She takes his hard cock out and sees the bead of precum on his slit, glistening under the light of the ceiling lamp.

Meanwhile Dean’s working her nub, flicking his fingers against it, making her jolt in pleasure. Y/N squeezes the base of his cock in her fist, milking more precum.

She accumulates spit in her mouth and lets it drool down onto the tip of his cock. Dean watches her. He watches her work his dick with both her hand, massaging in her spit. When she looks at him, she sees him holding his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Your hands feel so good on my cock, baby. Work it,” he mutters under his breath as he circles her nub with his finger in a figure eight.

Dean bucks into her hands, and Y/N grinds down on the two fingers he’s worked into the depths of her pussy, both of them moving in sync. She can’t deny how good it feels.

“Fuck, so good,” he throws his head back a little, and she dips her head forward, capturing his throat, letting her tongue trace a line up to his jaw. His stubble is rough on her lips and tongue, but the taste of Dean is delicious. God, if he only knew that she would eat him alive.

Wet noises of fingers gliding through slick, and silent whimpers travel through the room, while the scent of sex and musk hangs heavy and thick in the air.

CHAPTER 5

@dean-winchesters-bacon​ @waywardbaby​ @flamencodiva​ @maddiepants​ @danceswithapathy​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @satans-0-spawn​ @foxyjwls007​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @the-chocolate-moose​ @destielhoneybee​ @musicalmuffindog1410​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @wingedcatninja​ @melannie77​ @mariekoukie6661​  @carryon-doctor-lock​

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Chapter 12

A/N Ready? Here comes a curveball!

Kate made her way down to baggage claim at the Orlando airport and looked around nervously.  The last month and a half of her life had been a whirlwind.  She’d quit her job, moved to an apartment in New York City with her friend April, and started working for Chris’ photographer friend Danielle.  Since then, her days had been filled with learning the ropes of the photography business and assisting Danielle.  Her nights had been filled with learning how to live in a big city, phone calls to her family, and video chats with her boyfriend.  

The trip to Disneyworld with Chris and his family was the first time she was getting to see Chris in person since he’d left Richmond in November. She’d never gotten a weekend free to go down to Georgia for a visit.  She had seen Scott, though.  He spent a lot of time in NYC and had helped her move in.  He’d also shown her around the city and helped her learn how to avoid the paparazzi.  It wasn’t long after Chris had left Richmond that her name and life story had been plastered all over the internet and entertainment news.  Her relationship with Chris Evans had been outed and everyone wanted to know more about her.

Speaking of Chris….

Her face broke out into a huge grin when she spotted him waiting for her instead of a driver.  He was scanning the crowd of people, but hadn’t seen her yet.  She realized she was wearing the Disneyworld baseball cap April had given her for the trip.  Kate pulled it off and slipped her wrist through the hole in the back.  Chris finally spotted her as she was getting off the escalator.  He rushed forward, almost knocking over someone’s luggage and another person, and pulled her to him in a bear hug.

“I’ve missed you!” He cried, pulling her off her feet.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him, knocking his hat off his head in the process. “I’ve missed you!”

They laughed as he set her down and she returned his hat to his head. He kept his arm around her waist as he gave her a quick kiss and took her carryon bag from her.  They rolled it towards the baggage carousel that was already starting to send luggage around from her flight.  “How was the flight?”

“I have no idea.” She put her hat back on and pulled her ponytail through the back. “I slept through it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!  I’ve been non-stop with Danielle the last week getting ready for the next couple of weeks off and I’ve been so tired lately.  I’m like the cat-nap queen now.”

“She’s still treating you good, right?”

“Of course!  She’s so sweet and I’m insanely grateful she gave me these two weeks off even though I’ve only worked with her for a month.”

“That was awesome of her.”

“Oh, that’s mine!” She moved to get the baggage, but Chris handed her the carryon handle and went after the larger piece of luggage. “And that.” She pointed sheepishly at the second, medium sized luggage.

“Three bags?” Chris asked, his eyebrow cocking up in amusement.

“I have no idea what the plans are.  You haven’t told me.  So I packed a lot of shit to be prepared for anything.”

“Oh!” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pink MagicBand. “This is yours.”

Her eyes lit up and she did a little jump, making him laugh. “This is real!” She said as she put on the MagicBand. “I’m really going to Disneyworld!”

“You really are.” He grabbed the handles on both pieces of luggage and started to walk them towards the exit.

Kate looked up at Chris. “You’re not allowed to make fun of me if I start bawling at any point for weird reasons, ok?”

Chris laughed. “I’m not promising anything.”

“Gee, thanks.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Where did you get the hat?”

“April.  She bought it when she was here last and gave it to me to wear.” A blast of warm air hit them when the doors opened and they both grinned.  They piled her luggage in the private car’s trunk and climbed into the backseat. “So, where are we staying?”

“We’re at the Contemporary Resort.  You and I have our own room.”

“Fancy.  Where is everyone?”

“We got here a couple of hours ago.  I sent them on ahead, but they’re really excited to see you.”

“I’m excited to see them, too.  Carly, Shanna, and I have been texting almost non-stop.  Have you just been hanging at the airport waiting for me?”

“I was too excited to just sit at the hotel waiting.”

Kate laughed and leaned across the seat to kiss him.  She glanced over to make sure the partition was up before climbing on top of him and deepening the kiss.  He laughed against her mouth as he pulled her closer.  His hands roamed up her shirt, feeling as much skin as he could.

“I really missed you.” She said, lips still pressed against his.

“I missed you, too.” His hips bucked up and she could feel him straining against his jeans. “As much as I want you right now, I don’t want our first time together again to be in the back of a car.”

Kate pulled back with a dramatic gasp and gingerly placed her hand over her heart in shock. “Why, Christopher Robert Evans!  You want to defile me in the sacred House of Mouse?”

Chris laughed. “Gotta make your first time here as memorable as possible.”

She pretended to think about the answer, playfully grinding herself down on him. “If I have to wait for the really good stuff with you, then can we at least make out like teenagers on the way there?”

He pulled her lips back to his as his answer.  The drive was a good thirty minutes, but when Chris started seeing signs for Disneyworld when they came up for air, he gently pushed Kate back. “We’re almost there.”

“I almost don’t care.” She kissed him again, but moved back to her side of the backseat.  Her eyes widened and her face lit up as she saw the big golf ball at Epcot. “Oh my god! Chris!” She turned her wide blue eyes on his and he beamed at her. “That’s Epcot!”

“We’ll be heading there the day after tomorrow.” As they kept driving, he pointed out the Seven Seas Lagoon and the spires of Space Mountain. “And when we get up to the room, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually here.” She had tears shining in her eyes and he couldn’t help but lean over and kiss her.  She took his face in her hands and stroked her thumbs over his cheeks. “Thank you, Chris.  This means so much to me.”

“You are more than welcome, Kat.” He kissed her again. “We’re all checked in according to mom, so we can just head up to our room. We’ll meet them in a little bit for dinner at the California Grill.  It has a panoramic view of everything.”

“Ok.”

A concierge came and took her bags up to their room for them. They did a quick tour of the grounds before heading upstairs. Chris moved in front of her and opened the door with his MagicBand. “Ok, no peaking.” He covered her eyes and guided her into the room.  She moved tentatively as he walked them out onto the balcony.  The sun was beginning to set and it was a perfect view of the Magic Kingdom. “Ready?” She nodded and he dropped his hands.

Kate let out a gasp at the view of Cinderella’s Castle and she gripped his hand tightly as she started to cry. “Oh my god, Chris!  This is amazing.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her back against him, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I thought the view would make you happy.”

“This whole trip makes me happy!  I’ve seen it in pictures, but it’s actually here in front of me.  I’m actually here!” She turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his neck. “I’m here because of you and you’re incredible family.  Thank you so much, Chris!”

He leaned down and kissed her, lifting her off her feet. “Now I’m going to defile you in the sacred House of Mouse.” She laughed as he carried her back inside and dropped them both to the bed.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris knocked on the door of the bathroom and was greeted by another retch.  Kate had disappeared in the bathroom not long after they’d woken up. “Babe?” He called. She groaned in response and he opened the door.

“Oh, Chris…. I’m so sorry.” Her head was laying on the toilet seat.

He walked over and squatted down in front of her, smoothing her hair back. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I think I ate something that really didn’t agree with me.”

“That’s nothing to apologize for.”

“It’s our first day at Disney and so far I’m spending it throwing up. You should go on without me.”

Chris sat down next to her. “I’m not going anywhere, Kat.”

“I think I’ll feel better once I get the food out of my system.”

“What did you eat?”

“Um…. For lunch I had some airport food.”

“We got the same thing last night, so I don’t think it was dinner.”

“It was probably the airport food.” Another bout of nausea overcame her and she turned her face back to the bowl.  Chris acted quickly and grabbed her hair, holding it back from her face.

An hour later, they were laying on the bed together.  Chris stroked her hair and the arm that was slung over his torso.  She was snoring softly as she napped on his chest.  He’d called his family and told them to go on without him and Kat. Kissing the top of her head, he laid his own back and closed his eyes.

Kat stirred and he looked down at her. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Kat said, checking to make sure she hadn’t drooled on him.

“How are you feeling?” He helped her sit up and brushed her hair back from her face, searching for any sign of illness. “Uh, I’m ok.” She stretched and wiggled a bit. “I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up my insides anymore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I want to brush my teeth again, though, and then we can go to the park.”

“Are you sure you feel up to it?”

“I think so.”  

“We can take it easy.  There’s lots of walking and plenty of places to sit down if you need to.” He followed her to the bathroom. “I don’t want you to get sick again.”

“I really think I’m ok.” She looked in the mirror and cringed at her hair. “Yikes.  That’s not ok, though.”

Chris chuckled and picked up her hairbrush. “You brush your teeth. I’ve got your hair.”

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate wiped at her eyes for the thousandth time that day.  She and Chris were walking out of Princess Fairytale Hall where she had just met Princess Aurora and Cinderella.  When Aurora had hugged her, Kate had actually started to sob and then immediately started apologizing for it.  The pictures she took were absolutely priceless.

Chris kissed her again as they made it out into the sunshine and grinned at her. “And I thought I was a weepy one.”

“I swear, I’m not usually like this.  I don’t know why I’m so overly emotional!” Kate laughed. “I’m almost terrified to meet Belle at Epcot tomorrow.”

He laughed as he tucked her under his arm. “Come on, let’s go meet mom by the teacups.”

They spotted Lisa watching her daughters and grandkids spin themselves silly on the teacups.  Scott stood with her taking pictures.  She saw Chris and Kate walk up and smiled. “Did you two have fun?”

“She cried again!” Chris laughed.

“Don’t pick on her.” Lisa wrapped Kate in a protective hug. “It’s her first trip here.  She’s just excited.”

“I think it’s insanely adorable.” He kissed the side of her head.

“How are you feeling?” Scott asked.

“I’m ok.” Kate said. “Got a little dizzy on the Little Mermaid ride, weirdly, but my stomach isn’t flipping around anymore.”

Lisa reached up and placed her hand on Kate’s forehead, checking her temperature. “You’re a little warm.”

“I think it was just a bad reaction to the airport food.  I’ve been living off hot tea, salads, and sushi for the last few weeks.”

“No wonder you’ve lost weight.” Carly said, walking up. “We’ll make sure to feed you really good on this trip.”

Kate laughed. “Thank you!  I’m looking forward to eating some big meals.”

“Ok, our FastPass for the Mine Train is in five minutes.” Scott announced. “Let’s go!”

Chris took Kate’s hand and they followed the group over to the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train.  They got in line and Carly started French braiding Shanna’s hair.  When she was done, she held her hands out towards Kate. “Want me to get your hair out of your face?”

“Oh!  Uh, sure.” Kate smiled slightly as Carly turned her around and started braiding her hair.  They walked and braided as the line moved.  By the time Carly finished maneuvering Kate’s long hair into two matching braids on either side of her head, they were at the front and being directed into which lane to go to. “Thank you, Carly.”

“Don’t mention it.” Carly said, quickly braiding her hair back as she moved into line with Miles.

Chris wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. “My family is more in love with you than they are with me.”

Kate laughed as they moved past the gate and boarded the train. “I doubt that.”

“Trust me.  They adore you.” They pulled their lap bars down. “I don’t think Carly has ever offered to braid the hair of any of the other girlfriends I’ve brought home. All two of them.”

“Oh.  Well, I kind of adore them, too.”

He reached over and laced his fingers with hers. “Good.”

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Their fifth day at Disneyworld, Kate was once again throwing up in the morning.  She’d been nauseous on and off throughout the week, but she just chalked it up to rich foods, thrill rides, and the over-emotional state she was constantly in being at Disneyworld with the Evans.  Chris held her hair back and grabbed a washcloth.  He helped her back to bed and sat down beside her. “Kat, I think there might be something wrong with you.”

“It’s just all the food and the excitement.  My system isn’t used to it.” Kate groaned and hid her face to keep the world from spinning.

“Babe, I really think we should get you to a doctor.”

There was a knock on the door and Lisa’s voice floated into the room. “Is everything all right in there?”

Chris opened the door. “Hey ma.”

“Oh no!  Sick again?” Lisa said, walking over to the bed.  She felt Kate’s forehead and moved her hair away from her face. “Ok, we’re going to the doctor.” “No.” Kate moaned. “I don’t want to ruin our last full day here.”

“I wouldn’t have any fun knowing you’re lying here and miserable.” Lisa gestured at Chris to help and Chris leaned down and swept Kate into his arms.

An hour later, Kate was sitting on the table and Chris stood next to her, holding her hand. “I feel fine now.” Kate insisted.

“The nurse said the doctor wouldn’t be long.” Chris said. “Let’s just talk to them.  Tell them your symptoms and find out what’s wrong.”

“We should be at Animal Kingdom again.  I want another Dole Whip with rum.”

“We will get you another Dole Whip with rum today.  After we leave here.”

“I’m telling you, it’s a combination of the weather and the Disney excitement and all the rich foods.  My diet hasn’t been great or consistent since I moved to New York.  I’m still trying to figure out my schedule.  Plus, I’m so busy so I’m super tired.”

“Kat, let’s just see what the doctor says, ok?” His tone left no room for argument.

She sighed. “Fine.” After a long, silent minute, Kate looked up at Chris. “Who knew uprooting my life was the key to losing fifteen pounds in a month?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not healthy.”

“I’m pretty sure I had it to lose.  I was a size fourteen before.  I’m a size ten now.  Or twelve depending on the store.”

“I’ve said it a million times: you are perfect, Kat.” He lifted their entwined fingers to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

The doctor came in a minute later.  She got right down to business, asking questions about what Kate’s symptoms were and making notes about them before asking more questions about possible other symptoms Kate may not have noticed.  She looked over the chart that the nurse had filled out with Kate’s blood pressure, height, weight, and temperature. “Kate, have you considered that you may be pregnant?”

Kate let out a loud bark of a laugh. “Oh god no!  I have an IUD.”

The doctor shook her head, not finding the humor. “We need to do a pregnancy test.  I’ll get one ordered.  If it’s positive, we need to do some blood work and talk about what happens with a pregnancy when an IUD is involved.  I’ll be back.” She stood up and walked out of the room.

Kate looked up at Chris and laughed. “I think she might be crazy. We should get out of here.” Chris wasn’t laughing.  He looked like he might faint. “Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.” He turned his head slowly. “This isn’t happening, ok?  I’m not pregnant.  We’ve only known each other for barely two months.  I haven’t seen you for most of that time.  I have an IUD.  I’m pretty sure they’re like being temporarily sterilized.  That’s one of the reasons I chose this form of birth control.  I’m not pregnant, ok?” She laughed hysterically and shook her head. “There’s no way.”

Chris sat down heavily in one of the chairs.  Neither of them spoke even after the nurse came in with a cup and directed Kate to a bathroom.  They sat in silence until the doctor came back and announced that the test was positive. She started talking about statistics of a pregnancy with an IUD and what would need to be done to insure the baby’s safety as well as Kate’s safety.  The two of them just stared wide eyed at the doctor, nodding occasionally.

Lisa was sitting patiently in the waiting room texting her family when the very stunned couple walked out.  Kate had a bandage on her arm where they had drawn blood for blood work and she was gripping her discharge paperwork and some pamphlets tightly in one hand.  Lisa immediately went into worried mother mode.  She ushered them to the car and tried to get them to tell her exactly what was wrong.  It wasn’t until they were pulling into the resort that Chris finally blurted out the news.

“Oh.” Lisa said, looking at her son’s shocked face and Kate’s completely blank face.

“This isn’t possible.  I have an IUD.” Kate said. She was clinging to that fact like it would make the situation disappear.

Lisa led them to the elevators “I think you two have some talking to do.” She ushered them onto the elevator and pushed their floor’s button. “For the record, I think you two will be ok.  Clearly this baby was meant to be if it had to go through such an obstacle to get here.” She backed out of the elevator before the doors closed and left Kate and Chris to go up to their room on their own.

They made their way back in a haze.  Chris seemed to forget that he didn’t have a key to the door for a long moment.  He searched his pockets and wallet, coming up keyless.  Finally, he held his Magic Band to the lock and it opened for them.  He held the door for her and she shuffled inside. Her knees gave out and she plopped down onto the bed.  He followed suit and the two of them sat there, staring at the floor for a long few minutes.

“Chris….” Kate said at the same time Chris said, “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Kate asked. “I should’ve been more careful.”

“I have an IUD.”

“Kat, you’ve gotta give that one up.  Clearly it fucking failed!”

Kate blinked and looked away, bursting into tears. “I’m so sorry, Chris!  I’m sorry!” He reached out and wrapped her in his arms, instantly regretting his harsh tone as she shook with wracking sobs. “What are we going to do?  We’ve only known each other for two months.  You have your career.  I just started my new job in New York.  I just moved! I don’t want to ruin either of our lives!  Oh god!”

“Babe, calm down.  Breathe.”

“How are you not overwhelmed!?” Chris’ eyes widened when her voice turned into a yell. “I don’t know what to do.” She began sobbing again.

“We will figure this out.”

“I’m not even close to ready to become a mom.” She wailed from behind her hands.

Chris swallowed the sudden lump that was in his throat.  This was her body.  He couldn’t ask her to pop out a child she didn’t want.  If she wanted to…. End…. The pregnancy, that was entirely her choice. “Kat, if you don’t want to keep the baby, I won’t….” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I won’t stop you.”

Her head shot up and she looked over at him like he’d lost his mind. “Do you mean have an abortion?”

He looked away, desperately trying to hold back the tears. “If that’s what you want to do.”

Kate blinked for a moment. She reached over and turned his face to her.  When she spoke, her voice was clear and strong despite the tears falling down her cheeks. “No.  Absolutely no.  That’s not what I want to do.” She took his hands. “I don’t believe in abortion unless it’s an extreme circumstance.  Which…. This is not one of those.  We were both willing participants and this is the outcome of our actions. I just…. I don’t know how to process the fact that my life just changed in a massive way for the third time in two months.”

Chris took a deep breath. “Both our lives are going to change. Drastically.”

“What are we going to do, Chris?”

He stood up and grabbed his tablet.  Flipping to his calendar, he pointed out his schedule. “I can talk to Meagan and have her move some things around and drop me out of some of them. I’ve got to start the press tour for the next Cap movie in a few months….”

“What does that mean?”

“It means….” He took another deep breath and looked over at her. “We’ve got some time.  You and I can maybe find a place together in New York and start figuring out our life as Chris and Kate plus one.  We figure out how to be parents…. Together.”

“Ok.”  

“I won’t lie to you.  It’s not going to be easy, Kat.  I’m going to be away filming and promoting at times and your career is just starting.” He took her hands firmly in his. “I can promise that I will do everything in my power to make this work if you can make me the same promise.”

Kate studied his eyes for a long moment before nodding. “I can promise that, too.”

He gave her a small smile and leaned in to kiss her.  Before his lips met hers, she yanked her hands away from him and ran for the bathroom.  He was right behind her and caught her hair behind her head just as she retched into the toilet.  When it was over, they sat together on the bathroom floor with their backs against the bathtub.  He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and her head was resting against his chest.

“Do you think your mom has told everyone else?” Kate asked.

“I doubt it.” Chris said. “She’s good at keeping secrets.  We could tell everyone next week at Christmastown.”

“I’ve got to make an appointment with my doctor.” She sighed. “Fuck, I’ve got to find a doctor.  I haven’t even thought about doing that yet.”

“Why don’t you just use your doctor in Virginia for now?  The doctor here did say that you need an ultrasound done as soon as possible to make sure everything is ok.”

“That’s what I’ll have to do.” Kate sighed again. “Chris?”

“Yeah?”

She looked up at him. “I’m scared.”

He turned his head and looked at her. “I’m scared, too.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.  Kate closed her eyes for a moment and Chris kissed her forehead.  After another minute, she started to stand up.  Chris jumped up first and helped her to her feet.  They were flying to Virginia in two days, so Kate called her doctor and made an appointment for the morning after they got there.  They decided to go to Animal Kingdom for the rest of the day and try to enjoy their last days at Disneyworld before they blew their lives up completely.

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[bazzledazzled]

Special Cases

This is for the @carryon-countdown Day 4: Fluff!! Now I’m not going to lie, there might be a SMALL bit of angst but that’s because I can’t help myself, but I promise there’s tons of hand holding and cuddles and honestly I just love these dorks. This is an idea I’ve been playing with for a while after I read a couple fanfictions based on it for another fandom and I’ve desperately wanted a Snowbaz one so here it is!

Word Count: 6k Ships: Snowbaz

Summary: When the Humdrum sends a bunch of brightly colored pink and purple bugs after Simon, Baz isn’t sure what to make of it. They seem harmless enough, but when Simon is bitten Baz finds out that they’re the infamous Lovebugs, who cause their bite victims to fall in love with the person they saw last for a week. And that happens to be Baz. 

“SIMON!” This was Baz’s first mistake in the long list of mistakes that would lead to his inevitable doom. And no matter how much he tried to undo it, the list just seemed to get longer and longer.

Baz bolted for the boy with messy golden curls and sky blue eyes that appeared way too often in his dreams. Sky blue eyes that he was practically sick of he spent so much time day dreaming about them. But still, as soon as Snow looked into his eyes, he felt his heart melt and his stomach flutter with butterflies that couldn’t seem to understand subtlety. 

Snow swayed on his feet, his blue, blue eyes fluttering. He seemed like a large tree, about to fall over and crush hundreds of houses under his weight. His magic was overflowing, filling the air with the smell of smoke, and it only got worse the closer Baz got. But nothing stopped him from throwing himself between Simon and the Humdrum’s next monster. It seemed almost harmless. After all, what more could a couple of pink bugs do than scare a couple first years? Baz pulled out his wand, aiming at the bugs. They started to swarm around him and Simon both. Baz turned around to look at Simon. He could barely think, his magic was so thick in the air. Baz knew the look in his eyes. He knew the way his eyes glinted with electricity and the way his edges seemed to blur. He knew what it meant. Simon was about to go off. “Snow!” He growled. And that’s what did it. For a second, there seemed to be a second of silence. A second where the bugs stopped buzzing and the wind stopped blowing as all of the students of Watford held their breath. And then Simon exploded. For a moment, Baz felt himself being suffocated as the sheer force of Simon’s power slammed into him like a wreaking ball, knocking him off his feet. Distantly, he heard Simon call his name and felt the crushing pain fade away, as if something or someone was protecting him. He blacked out. 

Simon’s brain felt fuzzy. It always did after he went off. It felt like someone took his brain out, stomped on it, and put it back in, his thoughts never finishing and words getting jumbled up. There was a hollow ache in his chest. A kind of ache that pounded steadily with the pulse of his heartbeat and made his throat seem to choke up. Blearily, he opened his eyes, seeing a shadow of a figure in front of him. “Ba-Baz?” He says, feeling a swell of hope inside of him. That’s not right.... “Oh thank god,” He hears Penny says, sighing in relief. “You’re okay.” Simon’s eyes adjust to the lighting and he focuses on Penny. She looked both worried and relieved at the same time and her curly hair was up in a messy bun, a thing she only did when she was stressed or anxious. Which was more than one would think, considering Penny was always stressed about school work. Her glasses were smudged, hunting that she must’ve been here since whenever they brought Simon in or else she would’ve cleaned them in her room. Penny hates getting smudges on her glasses. “What happened?” Simon says, rubbing his head. The hollow feeling in his chest seems to grow bigger. Like a void. Simon almost would describe it like the Humdrum’s dead spots, but this was more. It was more painful. It felt like someone was pulling him in a certain direction, and he had no idea where that was. Also where was Baz? “The Humdrum attacked and you went off,” Penny says with a shrug. “It’s kind of weird that he sent bugs, don’t you think?” Simon was nodding, but he was no longer listening. Because now the pounding of his heart was beating to a steady rhythm, a rhythm that said the same thing over and over. Baz, Baz, Baz, Baz, Baz, Baz. “Where’s Baz?” Penny frowns, getting her typical “concerned” face. She always does this when Simon talks about Baz. She says it’s because he has an obsession. Simon says he’s rightfully obsessed, considering Baz was a vampire that was trying to kill him. Probably. “He left just a little bit ago,” Penny says, blowing out a puff of air. “He left for the dorm.” Simon felt his heart start to scream Baz’s name. He was so confused and his head was starting to pound too. Where was Baz he needed Baz why wasn’t Baz here— Simon starts to stand up, and Penny immediately starts to push him down. “Woah woah woah where do you think you’re going?” Simon tries to get up again, this time getting shakily to his feet. “I’m going to my room.” “You can hardly walk. Rest.” Simon does not do that. He tries to push past her, his mind screaming at him about Baz. He couldn’t understand why, but he felt it push him to tears. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He feels like his brain is being pulled apart. “Simon?” Simon stumbles away from Penny, not daring to look back as he bolts out of the door to the infirmary, running as fast as his legs would carry him to the Mummers House. He made it halfway up the stairs to the large tower before his legs finally gave out. He cursed and swore, stumbling up and trying again, making up a few more before swaying on his feet. His head was spinning and the room was spinning and everything— Then everything suddenly stopped. He felt a rush of warmth as suddenly a hand grabbed his, steadying him. The fog in his brain lifted and the hole shrank. He looked up at the person, who’s scowling down at him. “Can’t have you falling down the stairs all on your own, Snow. That’s my job.” Simon just gaped for a long moment, a flood of thoughts filling his mind. He’s so pretty, I bet his hair is soft, I bet he’d let me hold his hand and— No. What was he thinking. That was ridiculous. “Snow?” Baz says, raising a perfect eyebrow. Simon felt himself gasp at the way he said his name, the way it rolled off his tongue and filled the space between them. “Your eyes are pretty,” Simon says sheepishly, not even realizing it slipped out. Baz dropped his hand from his shoulder, his scowl deepening. Immediately the fog returned and Simon whimpered as his stomached seemed to contract on itself. The choking feeling was back. “Woah woah Snow you don’t look so good—“ Baz jumps a little when Simon grabs his hand, twining their fingers together and practically sighing in relief. He leaned the slightest bit towards Baz, who stiffened. “Okay uh... lets get you upstairs...” 

Something was wrong with Simon. Not wrong as in just went off wrong, but a kind of wrong that Baz wasn’t even sure to explain it. He had this sort of far off, dopey expression on his face that didn’t seem to go away unless Baz let go of his hand. And when Baz did Simon’s face twisted in agony, his eyes glossing over, becoming glassy with tears. Baz could almost imagine fissures in that glossy surface, just a hint of the cracks tearing Simon from the inside out. They get to the room and Baz sets Simon on his bed, not really sure how to do this. Him and Simon never walked up the stairs together, let alone took care for the other when they were sick. Baz sighs, running his fingers through his hair. Simon whimpers a protest as Baz pulls away from him. “What happened, Snow?” Baz says, standing over him, a deep frown on his face. He looks Simon over for any damage. Then he sees it. A small bite, on his neck right before his shirt collar begins. He frowns, sitting down next to Simon and examines it. Simon automatically relaxes. The bite looks red and swollen. Baz is almost certain that Simon was not ready to leave the infirmary, but here he was anyways. Simon was always like that, putting himself in danger for stupid things even if he had a broken leg and couldn’t walk. Sometimes he was so stupidly brave Baz just wanted to put him in a safe little cottage in the countryside with goats or something since he seemed to love them so much. “Baz you’re so pretty,” Simon slurs. His brows furrow, seeming confused for a moment, but when he looks over at Baz it smooths out. “Like really pretty.” Baz stands up suddenly, causing Simon to loose balance for a second. He cannot deal with this... whatever this was. And if it was some sort of trick he definitely wasn’t going to deal with it. “Baz!” Simon says, stumbling up and wrapping his arms around Baz. Baz intakes sharply, his entire body freezing up. Simon was hugging him, actually voluntarily hugging him. Aliester Crowley, what was going on? Simon looks up at him, a smile on his face. Baz pats his head awkwardly. This was weird, even if this was one of Simon’s plans to throw him off his game. There has to be more to this story, and sadly the only person who would know anything would be the other person who Simon would hang out with. Baz groans. “C’mon Snow. Let’s find Bunce.” Baz pulls him off of him. Simon gets a sort of bewildered expression on his face and it almost looks like his emotions are at war with each other. But then Baz slides his hands into Simon’s and all of that melts away.

“Bunce,” Baz whispered scream, peaking out from a hallway. He wasn’t sure what this situation was, but he was pretty sure the other students would flip when they saw him and Simon holding hands. 

Merlin and Morgana... “Baz?” Baz tries his hardest to suppress a groan. Why couldn’t anyone understand this was a dire situation? Baz grabs Bunce, pulling her into the hallway with him and Simon. Penny flashes him an annoyed look, then looks over at Simon, then back at Baz, then down to their hands.... “You’re... holding hands with Simon.” “Yes I’m aware of that.” Baz says, flashing a glare. There’s a moment of silence, where nobody says anything, except Simon. He’s humming to himself in a way that is frustratingly adorable it was really becoming a distraction. “Will you shut it?” Baz hisses. Simon looks taken aback. Baz almost hopes, hopes he’ll come back with one of his snappy comebacks that are awful, but they’re normal. “Okay.” Baz groans, leaning against the wall. “Okay is there an explanation for this or am I just supposed to go with it?” She’s looking at Simon when she says it, but Baz is the one who answers. “I was hoping you would have one,” he says miserably. Bunce frowns at him. “What did your burning hatred turn into burning passion?” Baz almost, almost wanted to light her hair on fire. But he was a nice person, and didn’t want to have that put on his record. “Bunce this is serious.” She pushes her glasses up, a hand on her hip. “I still don’t understand what you’re on about.” “Something happened to Simon and now he won’t let go of me.” Bunce raises an eyebrow. “I’m serious!” It was remarkable how Bunce could manage to make him feel like a child sometimes. Honestly, he was almost a little afraid of her. “Okay but that doesn’t explain why you’re holding his hand.” Baz groans. “Because whenever I let go, this happens.” Baz lets go to demonstrate and Simon gets that look in his eyes. He doubles over, falling to his knees in pain. Immediately, both him and Bunce react, dropping to their knees. Bunce is the first to reach for Simon, putting a hand on his cheek and calling his name over and over. When he doesn’t respond, Baz puts his hand on Simon’s back. Simon responds immediately, his muscles relaxing as he leans into Simon’s touch. Baz and Penelope share a look. “Let’s get him to the infirmary.” 

Simon’s dreams were worse than usual. He saw flashes of wars and destruction and had a sinking feeling that all of them were his fault. He saw his friends sacrifice themselves for him, saw Baz sacrifice himself for him. It was too much. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to go off. But he was frozen in place as he watched the events play out, doubled over in agony as pain filled his gut. A bug like the one from earlier landed on him. It had pink wings and purple spots and it crawled up his arm. Another landed. Then another. Soon he was covered in them and he couldn’t stop screaming and screaming and his heart pounded, calling for the same person over and over and over. And then everything faded away and a dreamy haze settled over Simon. The pain was gone, and so was the war and the bugs. He was holding someone’s hand, dancing in a field of flowers. He smiles up at the person to find that it’s Baz. For a moment he feels confused. Wasn’t he supposed to hate Baz? But then Baz twirled him around and he wanted nothing more than for a Baz to do it again. He giggles, his heart pounding with the same name, but this time not with desperation, but with love. He sighs happily, wanting it to always be like this. He remembered hating Baz, hating everything about him, but well... that wasn’t right was it? Do I really hate Baz?

“I think I got something,” Bunce says, running into a room with a book in hand. After leaving Simon alone for a few minutes for Baz to give Penny the full explanation of what was going on, Simon began screaming and thrashing. Baz’s heart twisted painfully and he didn’t even try to hide it as him and Penny rushed to Simon’s side, Baz placing a gentle hand on Simon’s arm. Immediately, he calmed down. Penny frowned at him, announcing that she was going to do research while he stayed here and watched over Simon. Baz sighs, beyond tired. Having Snow cling to him like he was a lifeline really was starting to exhaust him. He was finding it hard to hide his feelings when Simon was snuggling up to his arm or saying things like he said earlier. Seriously why? “What is it, Bunce?” She takes a deep breath, pushing her glasses up. She flips to a marked page, looking for a specific line. She clears her throat and reads it out loud. “The lovebug is a pink and purple bug similar to a ladybug. These bugs most often travel in hoards and can take out many persons at once. It’s power is, for the most part, quite harmless as long as victims perform the proper recovery procedures.’” “What are the procedures?” “I’m getting there!” Penny says irritably. She turns back to the book. “‘When a victim is bitten, common side effects include blacking out, powerful emotions, as well as swelling around the bite. Victims may have a hard time distinguishing thoughts or forming words. This leads them into the second phase of the lovebug bite. “‘The bug gets its name from the powerful effects it can have on emotions, specifically the emotion of love. Typically, once bitten, the first person the victim looks at becomes the person they attach themselves too, though there are special cases. The bite’s venom messes with the brain and stirs up emotions for this specific person, making the victim want to be near them at all times. While this seems harmless, if the victim is rejected or ignored, it can have disastrous effects. Typically victims experience extreme agony when parted with their chosen partner that can, in some cases, be fatal.’” The blood drains from Baz’s face. “So... Snow thinks he’s in love with me?” Penny purses her lips and nods. “I mean, that’s only from one source, but it seems accurate enough. It would explain why Simon gets so worked up when you leave him.” Baz runs his hands through his hair. “How long does it last?” “The book said that it can last for about a week, sometimes less depending on how much time you two spend together,” she says with a small smirk. Baz glares. “So I’m stuck with this? For a week?” Pennelope nods, looking a little sympathetic. “If it makes you feel any better, the nurse says you’re both excused from your clases until Simon gets better.” Baz scoffs. “And break my perfect attendance? Nice try Bunce.”

Managing Simon Snow proved to be fairly easy. Baz tried not to read too much into how easily he fell into the habit of taking Snow’s hand as they climbed the stairs to Mummers House or not even flinching when Simon leaned into him, head on his shoulder. Getting his feelings under control was another story. Bunce kept flashing him glances and Baz couldn’t decern their intentions. She probably thought Baz was going to try and use this against Simon, find some way to embarrass him or flat out reject him, making the damage worse. She hardly would leave Baz alone, asking for reassurance over and over that Baz would help Simon recover. Penny didn’t have to worry. Baz hated to admit it, but he would save Simon in a heartbeat, even if it meant sacrificing himself. Neither of them ever could know how much Baz loved Simon, how much he dreamed of the moment Simon would twine his bony fingers through Baz’s and smile a goofy smile up at him. Baz desperately wished it was real. Penelope finally left them alone around dinner time, but only after Baz insisted she go down and bring back food for Simon. She didn’t seem happy about it, but didn’t argue. Baz relaxed as soon as she left the room. Simon was sitting next to him and it took everything in Baz not to stare. Because Simon was sitting next to him, playing with Baz’s fingers and humming thoughtfully to himself. His eyes were closed and his hair glinted in the setting sunlight. A smile pulls at his lips as he opens his eyes slightly, looking at Baz. Baz tries to push down a blush. “Like what you see?” Simon says, sounding so stupidly drunk it was hard to believe he wasn’t. Baz couldn’t stop the snort that escaped his lips. If Snow remembered any of this.... Would he? Remember it, that is. He seemed so out of everything that it was hard to believe he would. “Sod off, Snow.” Simon giggled a pure little laugh that made something in Baz’s chest tighter. Simon rubs Baz’s hands. “Git.” There’s a beat of silence between them. “Your hands are rough,” Simon says finally. Baz sighs. “Fire burners hands. Also a side effect from the violin.” Simon’s eyes are wide and curious. “It’s so cool that you play.” Baz feels like he’s going to melt. Like, literally melt, Wicked Witch of the West style. “I guess,” Baz says, his voice cool. “Can you play for me?” Baz sucks on his fangs. “Maybe later. I don’t want to hurt you.” Simon seems a little confused by this statement, and for a moment Baz thinks he sees a bit of the old Simon shine through, but then this Simon, the stupidly in love kind of Simon that Baz has never seen comes back. Baz sighs as Simon smiles up at him. He really wishes this was real.

Simon couldn’t ignore it any longer. His thoughts had cleared just enough where he could finish a thought to the end of a sentence. He knew that he was acting dopey and stupidly in love with Baz, his arch-nemesis, his enemy. And he knew it wasn’t an act. He knew that the first two or three days were fed off of the burning desire that  suddenly spread through his heart, completely foreign and unwanted, but the days that followed were different somehow. Baz was kind to him. When Simon started coming to his senses, he realized how horrible this could’ve ended. Baz could’ve taken advantage or left him alone to suffer. Sure, he could still hold this over Simon’s head, but Simon didn’t think he would do that. He held his hand when Simon asked. He spoke to Simon in a soft voice. He didn’t hesitate to pull Simon back into a hug when Simon started to whimper in pain. He even slept on the floor by Simon’s bed when they realized on the first night that the pain would come back if Baz wasn’t close, even while he was sleeping. None of it lined up. Baz was doing everything for Simon, even though it completely messed up his schedule without complaint. He didn’t make fun of Simon, just rolled his eyes and laughed softly as he pulled Simon into a hug, threading his fingers through his hair. And Simon loved it. More than he should. He loved it so much, he loved the feeling of being in Baz’s arms and feeling safe and secure. He loved staying up late as they whispered to each other, Simon rambling sentences that maybe didn’t make sense, but Baz listened anyways. And there was one thing that Simon couldn’t deny. Something that he knew, knew lurked in the back of his mind since fifth year, something that was always there, but never got the right attention. Simon loved Baz, that bastard. 

It was Monday, which meant that Baz was going to have to do the inevitable. The past three days were fine. It was the weekend and Baz and Simon were perfectly comfortable staying in their room and letting Penny bring up meals for them, not yet ready to face the world. But now it was Monday, and they had school. Baz sighs, looking at Simon. He was sleeping soundly, no different from any of the other times he slept. His hair caught the sunlight and glimmered like some majestic unicorn. Baz stands from his spot on the floor. He takes a deep breath before hesitantly letting go of Simon’s hand, hoping he could get a moment to shower without all hell breaking loose. Simon’s brows furrowed, but other than that he didn’t stir. Baz breaths a sigh of relief before grabbing his clothes and quickly heading to the bathroom. He showers as quick as possible and gets dressed before heading back in the room. When he gets back, Simon is awake and there’s a pained expression on his face. Baz swiftly walks over to him, sitting down and placing a hand on his shoulder. Simon looks over at him, a small smile on his face. “You closed the window.” Baz rolls his eyes. “Yes Snow I don’t know if you know this but our room gets exceedingly cold.” “‘Cause your a vampire,” Simon says with a condescending smirk. Baz scowls, easily falling into their old habits and forgetting their situation entirely. “If I was a vampire, Snow, I would’ve bitten you by now.” “Arse.” It was only after they made it to breakfast that Baz realized that Simon didn’t act like a hopeless romantic. He acted exactly like the Simon Baz has known for eight years. 

Something hit Baz’s cheek. He opted to ignore it in favor of listening to the teacher ramble about their lesson plan.

Then it hit him again. Baz got mildly irritated, but again, he did not care. He tried to continue to take his notes like he always did.

The piece of paper hits his cheek again and Baz finally gives in. He turns around, a sneer on his face.

“Quit it, Snow.” Simon sticks his tongue out, putting his hands on the side of his head and wiggling his fingers. Baz huffs, turning back to his work. Simon bumps their knees, then flicks the paper at him again. Baz clenches his teeth.

“Snow.” Simon pretends not to notice, looking ahead with a pencil in his hands as if he’s taking notes. Baz knows he isn’t. He’s pretty sure Simon has never taken notes in his life. He crumples up the paper, throwing it back at Simon. It hits his shoulder and lands on the desk in front of him. Simon flashes him an offended look, but Baz is back to doing his notes.

Simon tosses the ball of paper back to Baz one last time. Baz’s nostrils flare as he rounds on Simon, ready to punch.

“Read it,” Simon mouths. Baz huffs, rolling his eyes. Why was Simon always so persistent? He picks up the piece of paper, unfolding it slowly to watch Simon’s face twist in agony. On it there was one single word. Baz turns to Simon, who is chuckling  wildly because he passed a secret note to Baz that just said “Prick.” Baz sighs.

“Honestly Snow, you talk about yourself too much.” The expression on Simon’s face was absolutely priceless.

The rest of their day went very similar to how it began. They fell into easy, teasing banter as they held hands or bumped shoulders. Baz found himself smiling, being put at ease by the familiarity of it all. It just seemed… right. They didn’t fight to the extreme like they did before, but Simon also wasn’t draping himself across Baz like someone who���s been struck by cupid’s arrow. It was nice, and a small part of Baz wondered if this, the small banter over something stupid followed by lots of hand holding, is what it would be like to date Simon Snow. For a moment, he let himself pretend that it was true.

But he knew it wasn’t, because soon Simon would snap out of it and, more likely than not, run him through with his sword.

Baz however, did not think much of Simon’s behavior until they sat down with Penny for dinner. They continued to hold hands under the table as they ate, flashes of pain still crossing Simon’s face whenever Baz let go, but their chatter remained the same.

“So it wore off?” Penny asks, flashing them a questioning glance. Both Simon and Baz stared at her blankly.

“What?”

“The lovebug venom. Simon’s acting normal again and not… freakily obsessed with you.” Simon scoffs.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not always obsessed with him.”

“See what I mean!” Baz frowns at her, an eyebrow raised.

“What are you suggesting? That it’s wearing off?” Penny’s brow furrows in thought.

“I don’t think that’s it. It’s too soon…” She stares down her chicken, before standing up quickly and grabbing her bag.

“I’m going to the library.”

“Don’t need a play by play, Bunce,” Baz says with a sneer, but Penny is already darting out of the dining hall.

It’s almost the end of the week, which makes Baz nervous. He doesn’t know how Simon will react once he finally snaps out of it. Baz doesn’t even know if Simon will remember, but even if he didn’t it would still be a disaster.

Because Baz doesn’t want this to stop. It’s selfish and he hates himself for even thinking about it, but he wants things to stay like this. He wants Simon to distract him with stupid notes during class. He wants to hold his hand as they walk down to breakfast, completely ignoring any whispers around them (they’ve been constant all week. Nobody is really sure what happened, but it sets them on edge seeing Simon and Baz, who are always fighting, holding hands and acting as if everything were totally normal. It’s been kind of funny, seeing the shock on everyone’s faces).

Baz wanted to make Simon happy. That was the real reason why he was still doing this, even though Simon seemed well enough. Being apart didn’t seem to bring Simon too much pain, but every time Baz pulled away Simon looked almost heartbroken. He knew, knew it was just the venom, but he still didn’t abandon Simon, letting him hug him and hold his hand as much as he wanted.

It’s Saturday again. It’s been a little over a week since Simon has been bitten, and him and Baz were minding their own business as they ate breakfast when Penny came rushing into the dining hall, a book clutched in her hands tightly. Her hair was wound up in a bun but stray hairs were poking out everywhere and her glasses were even crooked. She sat next to Baz, breathing heavily. Baz frowns at her.

“You look terrible.”

“Not looking so good yourself, Basilton.”

“Touche.” Penny’s eyes are alight with life and she’s clutching the book in a tight grip.

“What is it Bunce you look like you’re going to explode,” Baz says tiredly. Penny pushes everything out of the way and sets the book on the table, flipping to a page. On the top of the page there’s the word “Lovebugs” written in elegant script, followed by a sketch of a small insect. Baz raises an eyebrow.

“I thought we already knew what bit Simon?”

“Not that! Look!” She points to a section titled “Special Cases.” Baz flashes her a look.

“This must’ve been what they glossed over in the other book.”

“Okay…?” Baz turns away from her, focusing back on the book.

“While usually the feelings stirred up by the lovebug tend to be fake or nonexistent, there are some special cases. These typically occur in someone who is attempting to suppress feelings towards any individual they may feel complete and genuine love towards. The lovebug acts on those feelings and, rather than having their fixation be on someone they see when they first wake up or someone they saw before they were bitten, their attention will turn towards the person they have repressed feelings for.” Baz scowls at Penny.

“Simon saw me before he was bitten this doesn’t apply to him,” Baz says, crushing any hope that had blossomed in him. Penny glares at him.

“Keep reading.” Baz sighs, but does. He doesn’t know what this has to do with anything.

“At first, a victim in this particular situation will behave much like any other lovebug victim, becoming obsessive of their person and craving attention and acting genuinely romantic. This will generally wear off within three days and the victim will be able to form logical thoughts as well as converse with those other than their chosen person. They will still need physical touch to keep their pain at bay, however they will be more aware of it and may be more hesitant about physical contact.

“Once the victim begins to form logical thoughts once more, they will start to behave more and more like themselves, but less constricted. They will do things they want to do, say things they want to say, with minimal influence from the lovebug. To put it simply, the lovebug simply gives them a boost of confidence to pursue their desires if they happen to be one of these ‘special cases.” Baz stares at the page blankly, looking it over again and again. He feels like he’s going to puke. All of his emotions seem to be overwhelming him. It couldn’t be true. Simon couldn’t have meant all the complements he gave Baz, but at the same time everything matched up. It was the only logical explanation for all of this, but there was no way Simon had repressed feelings for him. It just wasn’t possible.

Suddenly, from beside him, Simon grunts in pain and Baz’s eyes widen in panic. Penny looks at Baz, also looking concerned. Baz starts to reach for Simon’s hands, only to realize he was already holding them. Why is he still in pain?

“Simon--” Baz says softly, too scared to do anything. He doesn’t know what’s going on.

Then Simon drops his hands. He blinks his eyes, once, twice, and focuses on Baz. He looks like he just woke up from a dream and his mouth is open wide, his brows pulled together in confusion.

“Baz?” Baz doesn’t even hesitate. Swiftly he stands up, darting out of the hall before Simon can even do anything. He can hear Simon’s loud, clobbering footsteps behind him, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t turn back. Not until he’s safely in the Catacombs, hoping Simon can’t follow him. 

“Simon--” Penny hisses, pulling at his arm. Simon doesn’t want to let Baz leave, but he doesn’t seem to have a choice. He turns to Penny, exasperated.

“Baz--”

“Simon,” Penny says, this time more forcefully. Simon bows his head. “Simon you just finished recovering we need to bring you to the nurse--”

“But Baz--”

“Baz can wait, Simon. Please I don’t want you to get hurt.” And Penny looks genuinely concerned, but Simon can’t bring himself to feel touched.

“He won’t hurt me,” Simon mumbles, looking away from Penny. He feels a little bad about leaving her like this, but he can’t just let this sit, whatever this was.

Simon loved Baz. He loved him so much and he didn’t want the past week to disappear. He didn’t know if Baz felt the same, but he wasn’t just going to leave it unspoken. He needed to know.

Simon knew exactly where to find him. It really wasn’t that hard. He goes down to the catacombs, trying his luck with a finding spell. Of course, the spell backfires slightly and Simon feels himself actually being pulled towards Baz. He stumbles, rounding a corner. He knocks both himself and Baz to the ground. Baz looks dazed as Simon scrambles off of him, but there’s tears in his eyes. Simon puts his hands on Baz’s cheeks, wiping them away.

“What are you doing here, Snow?” Baz says, giving him a half-hearted scowl.

Simon answers with a kiss. Because he wants to. Because he’s wanted to kiss Baz for as long as he could remember, yet he still hasn’t. Because he’s terrible with words and has no idea how to tell Baz about the emotions swirling in his chest.

Baz pushes him away and fear claws at Simon’s gut. He messed up he messed up a lot. Baz looks at him, his cheeks tinged pink, looking at Simon with an unreadable expression. Simon hated how good Baz was at hiding his emotions.

“Are you still under the lovebug’s spell?” Baz whispers softly, his voice sounding uncharacteristically sad. Simon shakes his head and keeps shaking it as the words, “no” tumble from his lips. Baz looks at him with wide eyes and Simon doesn’t even know what to think anymore. Baz moves closer and Simon isn’t sure if he’s going to kiss him or bite him.

And then Baz’s lips are on his and Simon feels his heart stutter in his chest. He can’t believe it. Baz is kissing him. He’s kissing Baz, and the world is upside down.

Baz is kissing Simon and the only thing he can think about is how Simon said the lovebug venom wore off. This wasn’t bitten, love spell Simon. This was the real Simon.

And he wanted to kiss Baz.

Baz burst into a fit of giggles, his hands knotted in Simon’s hair. Simon didn’t know what was going on, but he felt himself giggle too, his arms draped around Baz’s neck. He felt so inexplicably happy that he could barely contain himself. Because he kissed Baz and Baz kissed him back. Because this has been the best week of his life, and he wanted every single day to be like this. He wanted to hold Baz’s hand and hug him and kiss him until his lips were sore.

He sighs, leaning into Baz and Baz doesn’t even hesitate to wrap his arms around him, burying his face in Simon’s curls. Simon smiles, taking a deep breath.

“Can everyday be like this,” Simon whispers into the silence. Baz chuckles a little. It’s so soft and loving it makes everything in Simon melt.

“Maybe not exactly but… yes.” The last word comes out in a breathless whisper, as if Baz couldn’t believe what he was saying. Simon pulls back, looking at him with a wide grin.

“Good.” And then, Simon kisses him again, the kiss holding the promise of many more like it to come.

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen & Up

Chapter: 1/? (More chapters to come a little later in Dec + Early Jan!) 

Summary: A loose crossover between Carry On and parts of I'll Give You The Sun. "He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured."

Carry On Countdown, Day 10 - Crossover @carryon-countdown​

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, Social Anxiety, Crossover, Pining Baz, Artist Baz, Space Enthusiast Simon, Star Gazing, Anxious Thoughts,  Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 10

Words: 2,145

Baz

I need to stop thinking about grey, slippery roads and black shrouds. About the purple under my Father’s dull eyes, and the red of my Aunt’s anger. I need to stop thinking about me - About my life. My head is too loud. Too noxious. I need someone else to take my mind for a while. I need to see. To paint. And so, I search for a subject. 

Dragging my binoculars across the bleak, colourless houses, I search, desperately, for even a glimpse of a hue. But the colours are slipping from the world again. They always do when I’m trapped in my head.

And then I see them - The movers - so far from colourless that I’m dizzied. They’re great work horses, both of them - One chestnut, and one palomino - Hulking a grandfather clock up the house-next-door’s stairs. I’m zooming in, before I have time to reconsider - Into the stretch of navy against the flex of their arms, the rose flush of their foreheads, the tan swath of smooth stomach revealed each time they lift their arms. And then ... Shit. 

I drop the binoculars onto the floor, my body following swiftly behind them. Because, on the roof of the house, there’s a boy pointing a telescope directly at me. Fucking Hell. How long has he even been there?

I risk a glance over the top of my windowsill. He’s wearing a tatty purple jumper, and there’s a mess of bronze curls tangled atop his head. Even without the binoculars, I can see that he’s grinning at me. Is he laughing at me, already? Does he know what I was doing? That I was watching the movers? Does he think that I’m ...? He must. Why else would I be ogling them. God. I feel the dread pinching at my throat, and try to tether my mind, so that it doesn’t get away from me again. Maybe he’s just a smiley person. Maybe he thinks I was looking at his clock. That’s equally as plausible, surely? And, I mean, he has a telescope. Dickheads don’t tend to have telescopes, do they?

Tugging at the ends of my hair, I stand. When he sees me he waves, but before I have a chance to reciprocate, he’s reaching into his pocket, drawing his arms backwards, and lobbing something straight at me. (Maybe he is a dickhead, after all). 

On reflex, I stick out my hand. The unknown object slapping hard against my skin, as I close my fingers around it. 

“Nice catch!” He yells. His voice deep and bright, with a definite Northern tinge. I decide that I like it. It suits him. 

But, I don’t know what to say back. So, I don’t. Instead, I examine his potentially dangerous ‘gift’ - Spinning the rock around in the palm of my hand. It’s small (About the size of a pound coin) and covered in irregular lightening-like cracks. What am I supposed to do with it? Do I throw it back? Why did he even throw it at me, in the first place? I don’t know, but I slip it into my back pocket for safe-keeping, anyway. 

When I look back at him, hoping for some kind of explanation, he’s turned himself back towards the sky. Too focused on looking through his telescope to notice me. Which, to be honest, is odd. I mean, it’s daytime. What could he possibly be looking at? 

Even though I’m curious, I don’t stick around to find out. I’m worryingly off-kilter, and I need to rebalance. I hadn’t prepared myself for meeting a new person. I wasn’t ready. And so, I run to the place that I know best, to recuperate - The Art Institute. Where I can carry out further recon on the studio. 

-------------------

It was a good, productive sketch session. Nobody caught me peeping through the window, and I was able to get a few decent body references down. But … I don’t feel my usual post-art calm. My mind is still racing (Although, with a different genre of thought than earlier). 

Every over time I have visited, the models have been women. Posing demurely, with a bowl of fruit or silks. Arms placed, to partially protect their modesty. I’m used to that. I’m prepared for that. But today … it was a bloke. 

I don’t have a problem with that (Not really). There’s nothing wrong with blokes. And there’s nothing wrong with naked blokes, either. I’m mature enough to handle that. A body is a body. A sketch is a sketch. And I’m an artist first, queer person second. I just … hadn’t expected it. And I don’t like to be caught off guard. So, I’m feeling slightly rattled. I just need to get home, and get back to normality. To safe things - Like a beach scene, or a self-portrait. Familiar things. No more surprises.

And yet, a few steps into my walk back home, I see the guy from the roof leaning against a nearby tree, the same lopsided-grin aimed over at me. I blink, confirming his existence, and then he’s talking. Stood, barely 3 metres in front of me, in the dirt. 

“How was class?” 

He says it like it isn’t the strangest thing in the world that he’s here, with me, where he really has no reason to be. Like it isn’t only just slightly beaten in its absurdity by me, sketching propped-up on a wall outside, rather than inside, the studio. Like we aren’t complete strangers (Because, no matter how much he may be smiling at me, we don’t even know each other's names yet).

‘Yeah, sorry, I kinda’ followed you. I wanted to check out the woods, but I wasn’t sure of the way. So … I just tagged along. Figured you wouldn’t mind. Don’t worry though, I wasn’t watching you the whole time. I was busy with my own stuff.” 

He points to an open suitcase filled to the brim with ... rocks? As if that’s normal. 

“My meteorite bag’s all packed.”

I nod like that explains something, but it really doesn’t. Meteorites? I thought those were in the sky, not on the ground. And what does that even mean? He just carries around pieces of infinity. For what?

I look at him more closely, studying his face for any sign of disingenuity. For any sign that he’s just having me on. But I find nothing. Nothing … bad, anyway. Just a deep dimple accompanying his crooked smile, and miles of tawny skin, speckled with moles. He exists in shades of orange and gold. He’s the sun. And I can’t look away.

“Stare much?” 

I drop my gaze, embarrassed - Staring down at his scuffed Nikes, as my neck prickles with heat. I don’t talk. What am I even supposed to say to that? Yes? 

“Well ... you’re probably just used to it from staring at that bloke for so long. You know … for your drawing.” I look up - Grey meeting blue. He’s eyeing my pad curiously. “He was naked?” He breathes in as he says it, like the words stole his oxygen. It makes my stomach plummet, but I try to keep my face calm. I think about him watching me, watching the movers. How he watched me, watching the model. He must know. And ... I don’t know how I feel about that, just yet. 

He looks down at my pad again. I don’t understand why. Does he want me to show him the drawings of the model bloke? It seems like he does. And some disturbed part of me wants to. But I doubt it. ‘Hey stranger, wanna’ see how I draw dicks?’ said no sane person ever. My stomach twists tight, and I’m out of control - My brain hazy amongst the moment’s tension.

“Look, man,” he sighs, half-smiling as he scrubs at the back of his neck. “I legit’ have no idea how to get home. I tried, but I just ended up back here. I’ve been waiting for you to lead the way. You don’t mind do you?”

I don’t think I mind. Do I? I don’t know. I shake my head, anyway, and point him in the right direction. 

-------------------

It’s a long way home, and we walk the majority of it in silence (Well, near-silence. The bumping of his suitcase creating a constant accompaniment to our steps). I try and resist the urge to look back at him. The urge to ask him all of my ‘Why?’s - Why did you follow me? Why are you still following me? Why are you collecting meteorites? Why were you looking at the stars in daylight? Why were you looking at me in the daylight? It would only make me more muddled. So, rather than relent, I take out my invisible brushes and start to paint behind my eyes. 

And, after a while, I feel myself settling back into my skin. The dancing trees and setting sun relaxing me, in spite of the moment’s unsteadiness. Or ... maybe it was him. He’s an alarmingly relaxed person (I mean, I don’t know anybody else who would just follow a stranger around, with zero self-consciousness), so it wouldn’t surprise me if he had some sort of ‘Realm of Calm’ thing going on around him. 

When we emerge from the woods, returning to our familiar concrete-laden pavements, he spins around and jumps in front of me. Ecstatic. 

“Holy shit! That is like ... the longest I’ve ever gone without talking in my life! I was holding my breath just trying to keep the words in. How do you even do that? Are you always like this?”

He’s a mile a minute, and I’m lagging behind.

“Like what?”

And then he’s laughing at me. I can tell that he’s a person who laughs a lot, from the way he lets it take him over so easily - His whole being lightening up, as the sides of his eyes crinkle, joyfully. But it’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s not a mean laugh. It just makes me feel a little bit fizzy inside (In a good way. I think). 

“Dude! Are you kidding? You do know those are the first words you’ve said all day, right?”

I didn’t, actually. But I don’t tell him that. He’d probably just think that I’m more strange than he, no doubt, already does. 

He’s properly cracking up now (Although, I don’t know what, exactly, I did that was quite so funny). “And then you’re all just like ‘What?’”. </p>

He makes an absolutely atrocious attempt at imitating my accent (Which leaves him sounding like some kind of drunken Prince Charles impersonator), and before I can stop it, I’m laughing outright, alongside him. Both of us hunched-over cackling, wholeheartedly, probably looking more than a little mad. 

Once we’ve calmed down, he starts staring at my pad again. Jesus Christ. I really wish he wouldn’t. I’m not going to show him my sketches. Not even if he begs. I’d never survive the embarrassment.

“So ... lemme’ guess. You do most of your talking in there?” He points down at my pad, and I feel the tips of my ears flood scarlet. 

“Yeah. Something like that.” My voice comes out mumbled and gruff. I didn’t mean for it to. He probably thinks I did it on purpose, though. 

He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured.

“I paint in my head sometimes,” I blurt. Dumb. So unbelievably dumb. “That’s why I was so quiet, I was painting.”

“Oh that’s cool. Saves paper, I suppose. Better for the trees, and that.” Stalling. He’s stalling. I’ve made it weird. I always make it weird. “So ... were you painting anything specific?”

“You.” Oh, fucking hell! I’ve ruined it - I’ve smeared on that last glob of un-erasable acrylic and ruined the painting. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t even mean to say it, it just ... popped out. And now he’s stood, gawping, eyes wide and face flushed. I’ve embarrassed him. I’ve gone and dumped all my greedy keenness on him, completely uninvited, and now he’s drowning in it.

Everything feels tight. The air, suddenly too humid to swallow. I’m gasping - Waves of breath crashing, loudly, in my ears. Panic. I’m panicking. I need to - I have to go.

So, for the second time today, I run. Spinning on my heels and darting back towards my house, without as much as a ‘Goodbye”. Away from him. Away from humiliation. Back to my room, where I pull the blinds shut and open up my pad - Briskly skipping over today’s work. A blank page. A fresh start. I really am no good at talking the normal way.

[gingerlexi2897]

You would think after Tabor and our time in Hungary we would be ready for a bit of a  break. We were. However, instead, after a nice evening in Budapest with the Scottish team, we boarded a bus bound for Vienna.  For as much apprehension I had and as much smoke had been chucked by certain individuals about the bus, the 3-hour ride from Budapest to Vienna was great. In fact, that bus ride was nicer than some flights I’ve taken, and oh so much cheaper.

Now this being my first time in Vienna, I had very little idea of what to expect and pretty much all of it was based on the WWII reading I’ve done in my life. I expected the city to have modernized over the years, but I was genuinely surprised to see how it has almost split into two cities; Old Town with its historic buildings, narrow streets, and a wide variety of architecture, and the skyscraper-filled, steel city built further down the river.

We got off the bus and immediately set out to conquer the metro system and make it to our Airbnb. Everything was going smoothly, we bought our tickets, we caught the correct train going in the correct direction, and we had only wanted to fight one rude person. Now see here’s the thing, in almost any other European city I’m able to use the wonderful, magical app that is CityMapper. It’s clear, it’s easy, it tells you the exact time your bus/train/boat/space ship will arrive, it tells you exactly what colour the line is and it even tells you how many croissants you’ve walked off. Seriously, it’s great. Vienna however, for whatever reason, is not included in the list of cities which means we had to rely on the somewhat spotty service of Google Maps. This is where we ran into a small hiccup in our quest to find the flat. We rode the 3 or 4 stops to Schwedenplatz where we needed to switch lines to ride another 3 stops. It’s important to remember that wonderful, magical CityMapper tells you the COLOUR of the line to get on. Well, Google Maps does not. No, instead it tells you some random colour for the line with the name (ie U1) in very tiny letters that easily gets overlooked in the madness of trying to navigate public transport in a city you’ve only just stepped foot in. Oh, and it tells you that that specific train line doesn’t come into that station and you’re going to have to change stations. Lies. So we drag our bags, which thankfully were fewer and lighter because the AMAZING Scottish team took our two big bags back with them and we crammed just enough clothes and toiletries for 5 people for a week in backpacks and carryons, out of the station, over the tram tracks, and across the street to the river just to realize that we were actually supposed to be in that station. So I’m sure much to the amusement of those around us, we drug our stuff back across the street and the tram tracks and once more found ourselves standing in Schwedenplatz Station. So here is my shameless plug for CityMapper: get it. From there we had no major issues getting to the flat (well except for the fact that I apparently kept booking places on the top floor in a building with no lift…) and were soon showered and ready to go again.

As much as we love touring and seeing the sights, our main reason for coming to Vienna was to see friends. Becca, Phil, and their adorable kids have been living and working in Vienna for almost two years.  I’ve known the two of them since I was in late middle/early high school but it had been almost 6 years since I had last seen them. It was special to be able to spend time with their family in the city they now call home as well as hopefully be an encouragement to them as living overseas can oftentimes feel lonely and unrewarding. We were able to do dinner with them our first night in Vienna and met them the next day at Schonbrunn Palace.

Just like in Budapest, we grabbed a bus tour that Monday morning and used it to take us out to the palace and to get a feel for the city. Unlike our bus tour in Budapest however, this one I would not recommend. While you did get to see a decent amount of the city on the two routes it ran, the audio tour went into very little detail of the actual history of the city and instead went on and on about the same two composers. That’s all well and good, but there is a lot more to a city than two or three famous people. The best part of the whole tour was getting to see the architecture and street art on the way out to Schonbrunn. The palace itself sits at the base of a hill with the city sprawling out into the distance behind it. Even though it was an incredibly hot day (by European standards), we wandered around the grounds and climbed to the top of the hill to see the views.

After our time looking at the various sculptures and manicured gardens at the palace, we caught the hop-on-hop-off bus back to Old Town where we could change routes. Here’s where the already meh tour got worse: It was only supposed to be 6 or 7 stops back to where we needed to switch routes but because our lovely bus driver decided to get off and smoke a cigarette or twiddle his thumbs for 15 mins at every stop, it took us nearly an hour and a half. By this point, we were all tired, hungry, hot, and ready to be back at the flat. We eventually made it to the stop where we needed to switch buses and then had to wait another half an hour before it arrived. Slaphappy is the only way to describe how we were feeling. Backstreet Boys may or may not have been sung in the street and a tear may have been shed. We did finally make it back to the flat and were able to cool off and relax a wee bit before Mum and Dad headed off to watch the boys for Phil and Becca while Erin, Itty, and I made our way back to city centre.

We spent the next day just hanging out and finally made our way to a body of water to relax at, which is something Erin, Itty, and I had been trying to get to since we left Budapest. That evening we said farewell to Vienna and caught a flight to Paris and the next part of our adventure.

Things we learned during our time in Vienna:

Itty is not a fan of the fact that Erin and I not only enjoy walking cities but that we have a tendency to power walk everywhere we go. Erin and I are more than happy to walk for hours if need be in order to find the perfect place to sit down, which is exactly what we did. Itty, on the other hand, would have preferred that we take the 15 min metro ride and skipped the whole walking-through-the-city thing. 

Public beaches are a God-send when you’re in desperate need of a body of water and a place to relax. At €2 a person, a nice nap on the riverbank in the sun is the perfect way to enjoy Vienna without running around like a crazy person.

If you have time, try to see something arts-related such as the Lippizaners at the Spanish Riding School, the Vienna Boy’s Choir, or one of the many art museums throughout the city.  Schonbrunn is worth it but the bus tour isn’t. 

See you in Paris,

Lexi

    Strauss, Schubert, and Beethoven You would think after Tabor and our time in Hungary we would be ready for a bit of a  break.

[its-me-theicequeen]

Dumb luck

Summary:  On a plane home from Hawaii, the reader ends up sitting next to a couple that are not good flyers, to say the least. She ends up caring for them the whole long flight.

Characters: Reader, Dean, Cas

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Word Count: 3 327

Written For: @spngenrebingo Square Filled: Hawaii And for @deanandcasbingo  Square Filled: Free Space

Warnings: Angst, Crying, Vomiting and passing out, otherwise just cute Dean and Cas

Read it on AO3 or below

You were tired, but not exhausted. Done with people, but not angry. Pretty much the mood everyone would be in, on the way home from a work-retreat. Why did they insist on calling them retreats? There was no escaping anything. Maybe that’s why someone had decided that it should be on an island this time.

The line to board was moving slow. The plane was going to be completely stuffed. You’ve never understood the people who line up first and hurry to go onboard first. All seats are numbered, and it’s not like the plane is taking off before everyone’s got their belt on.

In the back of the queue you could mind your own business and just listen to your music. The two men in front of you must have had the same idea. There was quite the gap between them and the line moving in front of them. Your headphones blocked their words, but one was talking a lot and the other didn’t seem to be speaking at all. You couldn’t help but notice how much the talkative guy’s hand were shaking when scanned both their boarding passes. The quiet one took his hand laced their fingers, and they walked on while you scanned your pass. Good thing that guy had his boyfriend with him. He was clearly and uneasy flyer.

Walking back to your seat after finding a space for your carryon in the packed plane, you noticed the couple from before sitting in your row. The taller of them, the one who couldn’t stop talking before was in the aisle seat and had clearly used up every word.

You took off your headphones and smiled at both of them.

“Excuse me? I have the window seat.”

The man looked at you like he was surprised that anyone had words to spare. How could such smoky green eyes appear so dark? Then, even though his ash white face didn’t seem to get the memo, he came to live and loosened the grip he still had on the other’s hand.

“Of cause.” He stood up and slapped the other guy’s shoulder with the back of his hand, making him move too.

When seated you decided to not put your headphones on. There was something about these guys that made you stay aware of what was happening. The guy next to you sat straight up, rigid, with both hands on the armrests, and it didn’t seem like he pain much attention to the other man, sweating and shaking right next to him.

During the safety announcements they didn’t move, the guy on the aisle seat seemed like he tried to pay attention but only getting more nervous from it. When the flight started to taxi to the airstrip a small whimper left the man’s throat, only just loud enough that you could hear it over the engine. The sound tore into your stomach and you threw away all the thoughts about meddling in other’s business and laid a light hand on the shoulder of the man next to you. He turned his head slowly, letting you see the frozen look of panic in his eyes.

“Hey.” You spoke quietly but loud enough that the other guy hear you too. He looked at you, trying to control his breathing. “Are you two okay?”

It was the most ridiculous question you could have chosen. Of cause they weren’t okay, but what else were you to say.

The quiet one tried to conjure up a smile, not quite succeeding. “Yes. We’re okay.”

You looked from one guy to the other and tried speaking to the other one. “How are you holding up over there?”

The man looked at his hands, wringing them in his lap. “J-just fi-ine.”

You were not backing out now. That one was going to have a heart-attack if no one did something, and it didn’t seem like his boyfriend was capable of helping.

“My name is Y/N, what’s yours?”

He seemed to be happy to have someone to talk to, even though it clearly took a lot of effort to do so. “I’m Dean. This is Cas.”

The quiet one between you came to live just for a moment. “Hello.”

“Not used to flying I see?”

Both of them shook their heads and Cas seemed a little embarrassed when he looked down.

“Well, I fly all the time, so if you have any questions feel free to ask.” You smiled at them and Dean nodded and when the plane stopped he leaned back and tightening his belt to a point that couldn’t possibly be comfortable or even healthy.

You watched Dean grab Cas’s frozen hand with both of his as the plane started down the strip. When the wheels were in the air they both had their eyes closed.

It was a pretty easy takeoff but the small bumps going through the clouds made Dean grab the armrest with one hand and squeeze Cas’s hand till it turned a shade between red and purple. You leaned in and put your hand over their grip in each other.

“Hey guys. It’s normal. Everything is as it’s supposed to be.”

Cas opened his eyes and looked at you.

“You sure?” He looked at Dean, studying the shaking man who still had his eyes closed trying in vain to get his breathing under control, then he looked back at you. “I haven’t been on a plane before.”

A lot made sense now. If Dean had been the only influence on Cas, of cause he’d be scared of flying. But had he really lived his whole life in Hawaii and not ever been on a plane?

“You live in Hawaii?”

He looked confused. “No… we are going home now.” It took him a second to catch up with you. “We… ehm… our transport here was not available to bring us back.”

“You missed the cruise home huh?”

The plane shook a little, not enough to call it turbulence and Dean folded over tugging his head between his arms and lap.

“Hey, Dean.” You reached over and took a firm hold on his shoulder. “Listen. It’s all good. Breathe okay?”

The man drew in a shaky breath and let it out even more unsteady. You looked at Cas and realized that he too had been scared from it, sitting straight up with that blank look again. The six hour flight was going to kill the both of them.

You sat back up and with a light hand on his chin, you turned Cas’s face towards you.

“Listen. You’re getting more nervous sitting next to him and he clearly need someone who’s calm…” The man nodded, but didn’t seem to have drawn the same conclusion as you, just yet. “… how would you feel about changing seat with me when we are allowed to take the belt off?”

Cas looked at you for what seemed like forever and then at Dean’s hand squeezing the blood out of his. You smiled and looked at Dean who had heard it all and now seemed sad on top of scared out of his mind.

“It’s okay for you to hold hands still. I just want to help.”

The men looked at each other and then nodded at you.

“Thank you.” Cas unfolded the red and white fingers from the armrest and placed his hand on yours, while squeezing Dean’s back for the first time.

The lights in the sign turned off and the sound made both men tense even further. You called the flight attendant and asked if it was alright to change seat. You knew it would be, but it made you feel better that someone else on the plane was aware of the situation. She actually looked sorry for you to have ended up sitting next to these two.

You managed to get up and let Cas move behind you and avoiding that Dean had to stand. You weren’t sure it was possible for him to do so. Dean was radiating heat as you sat down next to him and you wondered if it was a result of shaking or desperately trying to control his breathing. You took the hand closest to you.

“Hey sweetheart. What do you need?”

He shook his head, still looking at his knees. You’d figured that he would be strong but the power of the grip on your hand still surprised you. You couldn’t help your instincts taking over, the need to protect this man, if only from his own mind, was too strong to stop trying. With your other hand you lightly turned his face against you and when he finally raised his gaze you looked him in the eyes. You felt your heart break for this man. He was clearly not one to freak normally, he seemed embarrassed. He came a little closer and you nodded, and his head followed your hand as you pulled him down to rest on your shoulder.

“Dean. I know that no matter what I say it probably won’t help, but I can answer all the questions you might have, and I’ll do my best to help you stay calm.”

He just squeezed your hand quickly as an answer. You looked at the man now in the window seat. He’d observed everything without a word. Still rigid and slightly pale he looked at you.

“Is he okay?”

The concern in his voice was strong enough to touch. You smiled and rested your free hand on his shoulder.

“He’s just scared. He’ll be fine. How are you holding up?”

Cas studied Dean’s shaking hand on the armrest between you and him.

“You know he’s overreacting right?”

Cas bit the inside of his lower lip, deep in thought. Then he shook his head slowly. “Dean is never scared. Not to this extent.”

A small shake moved through the plane and Dean’s hand moved from the armrest to a firm grip on your knee. Cas was stiff looking straight forward again.

This didn’t work. What were you thinking anyway? You didn’t know these guys. You had no experience dealing with something like this. What were you thinking that you could do anything to help?

“Y/N?!”

The plane was back to steady after less than two seconds, but Dean still had a firm grip on your hand and knee.

“It’s all good Dean. Just like gravel on a road.”

Dean was gasping for air and Cas seemed to have noticed. He leaned in trying to reach hand on your knee. Letting go of Dean’s strong hand in yours wasn’t easy.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

You were able to fold up the armrest between your seats and as you wrapped your arm around Dean’s back he grabbed on to the back of your shoulder with the arm closest to you. He moved closer and his head rested on your collarbone. You weren’t sure he even knew what he was doing or if he’d forgotten that you were a complete stranger to him. You moved Dean’s hand from one knee to the one closer to Cas. Cas loosened up as he saw Dean closer to him and took his hand in both of his. You didn’t even think about it when you placed you calm palm on top of the shaking bundle of red and white fingers.

For the next few hours, you stayed like that in silence, except when you had to tell Dean that everything was normal. Cas was doing better. You’d asked him to look at everyone else on the packed plane and it seemed as if he’d realized that no one but Dean was scared to that degree.

The sound from the belt-light startled all three of you. Dean sat up, ready to flee but with nowhere to go. You pulled him back in and Cas held on tighter to his hand in your lap. The pilot said something about turbulence, but you only heard half of it through Dean’s fast breathing.

“Dean. It’s just turbulence. It’s normal. The belts are just so we don’t stumble in the aisle.”

You felt Dean nod, but as soon as the plane started to move, you wondered if the grip on your shoulder was going to leave you with bruises.

“Dean.” Cas was leaning in, lifting Dean’s hand. You removed yours and held on to the shaking and now whimpering man’s shoulder.

“Dean?! Can you hear me?”

“Y-yes.” It was only a whisper maybe because he couldn’t get more sound passed his lips or because he was trying to hide that he was crying.

Cas kissed Dean’s hand. You felt horrible sitting between them. Separating them. But the hold the larger man had on you was enough to make you think that you were doing something right.

The turbulence was rough but thankfully didn’t last long. The sign turned off and without warning Dean let go of you and Cas and bend down, putting his head between his knees. You quickly grabbed the bag from the seat pocket and offered it to him. He threw up for a with your hand on his back and Cas’s on his shoulder. When he’d seemed to stop you asked him to sit up again. He wasn’t going with it.

“Give me the bag.”

This flight had turned out quite different from what you’d planned it to be. Dean didn’t look up as he closed and handed you the bag and you gave him a new one, just in case.

You stood up determined and made Dean move to the middle seat, so you could get out. Cas folded the armrest away and hugged his shaking boyfriend as he came to sit next to him.

The flight attendant stopped you on the way back from the bathroom and handed you some whet wipes. “How are you three holding up?”

You sighed, but couldn’t help but smile at the whole situation. “One of them is not doing so hot, but for now he’s holding it together.”

The attendant looked at the extra bags you’ve brought back with you.

“Well, I’m trying to help him hold it together.”

“He’s lucky to have you.” She smiled and stepped aside. “They both are.”

You would hope that anyone would help like you did, but thinking it over, it was probably lucky that they were on your row.

You sat down and placed the bags in the pocket in front of Dean, who had cuddled up against Cas’s chest and had swung his leg over one of Cas’s too. Cas looked at you, both arms wrapped around his boyfriend.

“Thank you.”

You smiled. “Sure.”

Dean was quiet, you started rubbing his back with a firm palm. It didn’t even occur to you that it might have been perceived as crossing a line. Actually, you were certain that it was expected.

“How’re you holding up, Sweetheart?”

“Okay.” There was sound in his voice again. “Thanks… and sorry.”

“Hey, no worries okay?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem at all. You just try to relax it’s not that long now.”

That was a lie, but you couldn’t bear to tell his that you were only half way there. It seemed like things had calmed down a bit though. With Cas not being nervous, Dean was able to relax a little in his arms. Your hand on Dean’s back were still, only rubbing him slowly with your thumb. You put on your headphones on one ear and leaned back, wondering how you ended up in the aisle seat.

The rest of the flight was calm; just small shakes, which Dean reacted on by crawling closer to Cas, but quickly calming down again. The landing was another story. Dean’s breathing sped up, he was clinging to you and Cas with every strength he had left. Moving down the armrests and tightening the belt proved to be the hardest task. Not able to find some kind of calm in Cas’s arms or even yours he had to settle with only your hands in his.

Cas kept talking to him all the was down, it seemed to help him a little still that Cas wasn’t nervous but the grayish white tint on Dean’s face made you get one of the bags ready for when you were down. The wheels hit the ground and Dean quickly turned his head to you. You barely had time to smile to reassure him, before the breaks hit and you were pushed forward. The plane was still. Only taxiing now. Dean and Cas both looked at you and you put a hand on both men’s shoulders.

“That was it. Just driving now. We’ll be able to get out of here soon.”

Dean collapsed in his seat. Cas steadied his head and you removed his belt and the armrests, letting Cas guide him to lie on his lap. You pulled his legs up to lie over yours.

“Ma’am?”

The tone in the flight attendant’s voice sounded like she was going to say something about not taking the belt off yet, but then she saw Dean, limp across the two of them.

“Is he okay? Do you need a doctor?”

You looked at Cas, he didn’t seemed that worried. He was slowly caressing the side of Dean’s face with the tip of his thumb.

“Thank you, but he’ll come to. Can we get a little time for now?”

The woman nodded and stayed next to them. She guided everyone in front of their row to the front and the same in the back. No one had to pass their seats, so Dean’s legs could get room to lie limp over you.

“Dean?” Cas took Dean’s hand as the larger man slowly opened his eyes. “Are you back with me?”

The small hum revealed that he wasn’t quit there yet and that he was confused.

You rubbed his lower leg. “Hey Dean. Good of you to come back. Are you ready to get off this thing?” You sent him a smile that you would give child who needed more than words to know that everything was okay.

He sat up slowly with Cas’s and your help. When everyone else were of the plane the three of you walked over the boarding bridge with two of the flight crew who had offered to bring you carry-ons for you.

You thanked the crew while Cas and a Dean, who was slowly getting to a normal skin tone, got seated on a bench in luggage claim.

“You did good back there.” The flight attendant who you had been talking to during the flight put a hand on your shoulder. “Not many people would have gone to that extent for strangers.”

“She’s not a stranger. Not anymore.” Dean’s voice was deep and powerful for the first time since you laid eyes on him. You turned and looked as he stood up on slightly wobbly legs. “She’s my sister.”

Cas took Dean’s hand an laced their fingers. “Mine too.”

The woman squeezed your shoulder a little before letting go and then she was gone. You looked form one man to the other.

“I was… I’m just happy that I could help a little.”

“You helped a lot.” Dean came over and gave you his phone. “Can I have your number? Just if I decide to fly again.”

You let out a small chuckle and took the phone. “I would probably stick to driving if I were you.” You handed him the phone back, now containing your number, and Dean sent a quick text, so you had his too. “And next time, don’t be late for the ship.”

Dean looked confused from you to Cas, but shook it off when Cas put his hand on your shoulder. “Thank you for everything.”

Dean took your other shoulder and on the same time both men kissed you on your cheeks. Judging from the heat burning on your neck and cheekbones you were definitely blushing as they walked away.

[wafflesetc]

Please write an AU where Jamie and Claire meet on a flight where either or both are flight attendants.

YES! I chose to do the latter because @gotham-ruaidh‘s Modern Glasgow AU they met on a plane and TBH I just can’t top that, but I can get behind flight attendant AU. Also, Jamie’s a pilot because I couldn’t see our Jamie being a flight attendant. He could totally be a pilot though. Also, if I saw him in a captain’s uniform– I would want to fling him to the floor and commit ravishment. 

J is going to be clean shaven as pilots can’t have beards because of the oxygen masks if something goes wrong the facial hair can get in the way. This is partially a total crack fic idea, but to fun to say no to! Still, I hope you enjoy.

And lastly, people feel safer when their pilots are Scots. See here’s proof. Science says so.

I was so, so, so very late. Glancing quickly down to my phone it read 3:47AM. My sign in time was 4:30, I had a twenty minute drive to the airport. I would just be making it. I said a silent prayer as I put my jacket on that the Starbucks line behind security wasn’t going to be too long, either. I’d be much more tolerant with a cup of coffee in me.

I ordered my Uber and made my way to the airport. I hated 4 day trips- but Frank and I were supposed to be heading to France next week on a mini-vacation. The only way I got the days off to align with Frank’s week off from the university was to swap my high time 3 day trip with Geillis Duncan’s 4 day trip. I had looked at the rotation and cringed, 4 days of flying with 3 legs each day, and all short layovers. Geillis was junior to me so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but at least I got the days off. 

I breathlessly rolled into the flight attendant lounge with a coffee in hand at 4:28. Two freaking minutes to spare. 

I signed in for my trip on my tablet, printed the rotation, and sat in the chairs waiting to meet with the rest of the crew. 

“Lady Jane, what are you doing here?” I heard from behind me, a warm familiar voice spreading a smile across my face for the first time this morning. 

“Joe!” I yelped, rising to my feet and giving my friend a hug. “A four day trip. I swapped with Geillis so that I had time off to take Frank to France for a few days.” 

“4 days trip, with a short MSY, MDT and PIT layovers?” Joe asked as I watched a grin spread from ear to ear on his face.

I nodded at him, shaking my still wet curls and tossing it into a bun. 

“You’re with me then! I’m the lead on this trip and we’re flying with Mary Hawkins too, should be a great crew for a horrible trip!” 

I laughed at Joe’s statement. Joe was now a commuter, so 4 day trips were great for him, he could fly 2 a month and get all his hours in. I lived closer to base, so I preferred turns and two days because I loved my bed a little too much. We went through training together and became fast friends and since he moved away from base we rarely saw each other any more. My spirits warmed a bit as to be flying with two friends, maybe this trip was not going to be as bad as it looked on paper. 

“Well, we’re leaving out of gate A6. Pilots overnighted here, they’re Detroit based and will meet us at the plane. Mary’s getting coffee, why don’t we walk to the gate and meet her there?” Joe asked as he straightened his tie and grabbed his suitcase. 

“Sounds good to me.” I said, rolling my suitcase behind me as we walked to the gate. 

“Claire, I thought Geillis was on this trip!” Mary said as we rounded the ticketing counter. 

“She was, we swapped last minute so I can take Frank to France next week!” I said taking my badge and scanning on to the computer.

 “You are still with him! How is it going?” Mary asked as she scanned on right after me. “I thought you guys took a break or maybe that’s in my head?” 

“She needs to get rid of him that’s what she needs to do!” Joe chimed in from behind us. 

“Joe.” I said sternly. “We got in a bit of a fight over me doing this job and going to nursing school. I think he’s coming around though, we are taking it slow and seeing where it goes.” 

“Oh! I see.” Mary said, taking a small sip of her coffee. “Are the pilots here?” 

“I don’t thi-” I started but was stopped as I felt the presence of people coming up behind me. 

“Aye, we are.” A soft voice said, in an accent I hadn’t heard very often. 

“I’m James Fraser, the captain for this trip. That’s Murtagh, the first officer.” The captain said as he came into my eye sight. 

He was so beautiful, I almost spit my coffee out. For a captain too, was remarkably young. He had auburn red hair, high viking-like cheekbones, deep blue eyes, and the nicest jaw bone I had ever seen. He was obviously very charismatic because I was blushing like a love stricken fifth grader with her middle school. And I’d be damned, he looked good in that captain’s suit… A four striped pilot had never looked so good to me, in my entire flying career. 

“I… Uh…..” I said trying to find my words.

“That’s Claire Beauchamp, I’m Mary Hawkins, and that’s Joe Abernathy.” Mary laughed as she did my introduction for me. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this, but this early morning sign in has me a bit out of sorts today.” I said sheepishly as I felt the flush in my cheeks brighten even more red. 

“Dinna fash, Claire.” The captain said as he stuck his hand out to shake mine. I reached my hand out and took it, shaking it in return. Our hands stayed linked for what must have been more than socially acceptable as the gate agent told us the plane was at the gate and Jamie pulled his hand out of mine so fast and looking away. His cheeks flushing a small shade of red as he walked down the jet bridge. 

I felt the temperature in my face return to normal, as Mary bumped my side with her elbow. 

“The captain is dashing…” She said, as she started to walk down the jet bridge me trailing a few steps behind. “And he totally thinks you’re pretty. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” 

“Yeah, Lady Jane, he didn’t even take time to introduce himself to me. He only had eyes for you.” Joe laughed from the bottom of the top of the jet bridge.

“You two, are so full of it. Plus, you both very well know I have a thing against pilots.” I huffed as I walked onto the airplane. 

We put our bags up, checked our equipment, and then boarded the airplane. For a flight from NY to ATL there were five too many kids and 12C was already complaining about her connection, I was not having it. 

Walking up to the front galley, I took a deep breath, escaping to behind the wall where no passengers could see me. 

I was standing by the open boarding door, trying to take in as much fresh air as I could before we closed the door. I felt a hand on my shoulder that sent chills down my spine as a the soft voice spoke right behind my ear. 

“Sassenach, we are ready to go.I have the final paperwork and the gate agent is comin’ down to shut the door.”  Captain Fraser said as I turned around to look at him. 

We were almost eye-level, as the plane gave me a few extra inches of height. His blue eyes looked right at me, like he was searching for something- what that something was, I didn’t know. 

“Oh, right!” I said, turning to the side, giving him space to walk onto the airplane. 

As he stepped in front of me, I became just aware at how large Captain Fraser was and let out a small chuckle. 

“What’s so amusing?” the captain asked as he stood in the doorway to the flight deck.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but -” I was stopped as the gate agent appeared. 

“Are we good to go?” Susan the gate agent asked. I nodded, saying “Cabin is secure!” and felt the rush of air as she closed the forward boarding door. Jamie still stood, smiling, waiting for me to finish my statement. 

“And?” He asked, leaning against the door, crossing his arms giving me a dubious look. 

“Well, it’s just that you are rather quite large and that particular flight deck is small. I was just wondering how you actually fit up there, that’s all.” 

“Och. I ken it’s small, ye should see the bruises on my knees sometimes!” Captain Fraser laughed as he disappeared into the flight deck. 

I picked up the intercom and using my best PA voice, spoke over the phone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the forward boarding door is now closed, feel free to use your mobile devices as long as they are set to airplane mode. But before this aircraft can move everyone must be seated with their seat belts fastened, carryon items and tray tables stowed and aisle arm rests lowered. Flight attendants, doors for departure.” 

I hung up, armed my doors and called to the back.  “Mary, 1L and 1R are armed and cross checked.” 

“2L and 2R are armed and cross checked! Joe’s finishing closing the bins and will be up there in just a minute!” Mary answered. She disappeared off the line. I walked to the entry to the flight deck and knocked, getting their attention.

“Ok guys, last call before we close the door, do you want anything?” I asked, sticking my head in. 

“Nay, we’re good.” Murtagh said as the captain finished a conversation with the tower. 

“No, Sassenach, we’re good. Thank ye kindly for asking us, though.” 

“Absolutely… Well, that’s it, cabin’s ready for push back then. If you guys need a break in a bit, you know how to reach us!” I said as I stepped out, and started to shut the door. 

“Aye, will do.” I heard Captain Fraser say as I watched the huge smile he was giving disappear as the flight deck door was shut. 

I turned around, to find Joe standing with his back to the aisle and arms crossed. 

“Claire you’ve enchanted a pilot.” He said, as he laughed, turning the safety demo on. 

I just shook my head, turning the cabin lights off and sitting in my jumpseat. 

Maybe, just maybe, I’d be interested in a pilot one day, if that pilot was Captain Fraser. 

[hazelodestar]

Saw an old friend at work today and was so zoned out I couldn't remember their name. It's been a long week and I just blanked. We use to hang out a lot in my early 20s.

It's just always a little awkward when you run into people you use to be good friends with and then don't remember what happened to that relationship or why you stopped hanging out together.

Finally remembered their name and msged them on fb with a simple hello and apology for my spacing out today.

Laundry and dishes are done. Time to make some dinner and relax for a bit. Hope to be asleep by 10pm tonight. Will set the alarm for 7am. Gives me plenty of time to do a quick clean up tomorrow and reduce the travel anxiety. Shelved the shower for the morning. Still need to put the laundry away and reopen the carryon to see what else I can stuff in there instead of my backpack.

[fanesavin]

Long Way Back, Part I: Down in New Orleans

Date: Thursday 3rd of August - Thursday 10th of August Word Count: 41117 Featuring: @faye-andrews​ Fane, Eowyn, Beulah, Fireflies & the Nightwisp. Synopsis: After a hectic three weeks of interrupted attempts at meetings and dates cut short Faye, Fane and Eowyn ultimate end up taking a trip down South to escape their schedules and the Springs for a while. The first day involves first time meetings and experiences with flying, truth potions, an unlikely and rather unwanted gift from a Nightwisp. Tag Warnings: Disturbing Imagery, Murder Mention, Sex Mention, Implied Miscarriage

Fane was currently sprawled out on Faye’s bed, arms stretched out idly tapping away at his phone playing a game of snake whilst she moved about the various closets and drawers packing things up into a suitcase. His own was already neatly packed up and in the boot of his compact SUV that currently sat parked up on the drive outside, he’d booked their tickets the night before after receiving Faye’s texts about wanting to get out of town for a little bit of a break. He couldn’t blame her with how insane things had been lately. Plus, she needed to see her Gram as well and Fane wasn’t going to complain to an impromptu trip. Ryan was left in charge of the estate and dogs (he never minded considering walks gave him a chance to take his camera along), paperwork in order and anything major from work set to reroute to his phone and laptop (packed in a small handheld luggage bag with other necessary paperwork and items for the five hour flight that lay ahead).

Over two or three weeks of not having seen one another properly without being dragged in separate directions by this thing or that had left them in need of a chance to reconnect and get their bearings. Explaining why he currently lounged on her bed whilst Faye bustled around. As the snake accidentally ran into a wall ending his game Fane dropped his phone onto his chest and tilted his head aside to look at her. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

The last three weeks had been… long. And that was putting it kindly. Between what had happened with her mother and the Fae, the magical bullshit that had once again taken over the town (sticking her in a rather vexing situation with Freddie Watts, resident hater of all things her), her meeting with Ephram, and the general lack of any sort of real time together with Fane that wasn’t made up of a quick FaceTime at midnight, or a twenty minute coffee date between everything they both had going on in their personal schedules, Faye was wrung out. Truly and utterly done.

She’d called Fane last night after getting a grumpy Eowyn down to sleep - finally - and nearly broke down into tears.

Which is why they were here now.

“No, it’s fine really,” Faye sighed, pulling one or two more things from her closet and folding them to go in the small suitcase she was sharing with Wyn. They each had a small carryon bag as well, Wyn’s consisting of a pink backpack covered in purple unicorns, and Faye’s of her satchel that she used for teaching, which would hold her own laptop and a few personal items to take on the plane. She’d never flown before, so she was feeling slightly nervous about the trip. The Rift wasn’t charged enough to take them so far, so flying was the only other option.

She was excited to be going back to New Orleans, though the news she was carrying with her wasn’t the best. But more than likely, her Gram would already know. That’s what she did: she knew things.

After the suitcase was done except for a few small things like toiletries and what nots, Faye finally sat down beside Fane on the bed, flopping onto her back next to him. She lay with  her eyes closed for a long moment, breathing quietly, before she turned her head to look at him.

“Thank you. For this. And for comin’ with us.”

With his phone resting on his chest Fane’s arms automatically shifted to rest above his head on the mattress, body stretching out a little with the act whilst he tracked her movements from the closet to the suitcase and back again. He’d had his own encounter with a certain Mr. Watts, accidentally run into his and Ephram’s wife, been mauled by imps and recorded dancing in the square (no thanks to Heilyn for that one). He wasn’t perhaps as exhausted as he could be, but getting away from the chaos for a little bit would be nice.

Being assured once more there was nothing he could do Fane merely blinked once and tilted his head back up to study the ceiling, not the most interesting of things to do. Perhaps playing another game would keep him occupied?

“Your Gram knows we’re coming right? I don’t need to book us anywhere or anything to stay right?” better to ask now rather than later he figured.

Hearing the zip of the suitcase and feeling the mattress dip under her weight nearby Fane’s eyes slid from the ceiling (boring) to Faye (by far super-mega-way-more-interesting). He didn’t speak whilst she lay there beside him, simply looked at her until their eyes met as her head turned and he waved a hand idly.

“S’no problem,” he assured casually letting his words meld as they tended to when he was relaxed “can hardly deny an invite can I? Plus, someone needs to talk you onto that plane. You haven’t got anything sharp or any liquids in your carry-on right? Put anything squeezy like make-up and bottles need to go in a plastic bag just incase they leak under the altitude and pressure… Sometimes it gets a bit messy if they go splat. Not worth the clean up” he assured his expression growing ponderous as he considered his mental checklist. “Passports and stuff? Underwear, socks, clothes, shades, shoes, chargers and did you get some hard-boil sweets or lollies for the flight it’ll help with the altitude change?” If not they could get those at the terminal but better to ask anyway.

“She does,” Faye said with small nod. “I talked to her early this morning. She can’t wait. She’s never gotten to meet Wyn in person, and it’s been five years or more since I’ve been back.” She grew quiet for a moment, turning her gaze back to the ceiling. “My Gram… she’s…” A fond smile grew on Faye’s face. “She’s… eccentric. And nosy. If she wants to know somethin’ she’s gonna ask, so… just take her in stride okay?” Faye didn’t doubt that Fane could handle the old woman’s questions, even though she could tend to be deeply personal without meaning any harm by it. Still, the last time Faye had ‘taken someone home,’ it had been her ex-husband. And her Gram hadn’t cared for him much at all. She called him a few colorful cajun names if Faye remembered correctly.

She turned her head back to Fane as he spoke again. “No, but I’ll double check. That’s all I need is to get strip-searched by security.” She gave a small huff. Flying wasn’t something she’d ever cared to do. The very thought of it made her nervous. So as Fane rattled off his list, Faye just nodded without necessarily hearing everything he said. She did hear ‘altitude, pressure, and splat’ all run together into one terrifying jumble of words, however.

She rolled over and sat up, giving his leg a pat. “You want some wine? I think I’m gonna have a glass... or four…” Pushing up from the bed, Faye scrubbed a hand through her hair as she exited the bedroom, figuring he would follow as she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She found a glass and a bottle, decided better against the Merlot before putting it back and pouring herself a healthy measure of whiskey. She took a long sip, looking up as Fane entered the room.

“Sorry,” she said, looking down a bit sheepishly. “I’m nervous. If you can’t tell. They have liquor on the plane, right?” she asked around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure it’ll be a treat,” Fane agreed his eyes closing momentarily as he cricked his neck before his eyes opened again when she spoke once more of her Gram giving her a slightly lopsided smile. “So, basically you?” he asked with a cheeky grin but the look softened “consider m’self fairly warned but I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t figure out.” Fane wasn’t really entirely sure how he felt about meeting Faye’s only remaining family beyond that of Springs, cautious for sure but also curious to learn about where she was from and her history. If dealing with her Gram was a part of that then, he’d do as she said and take it in stride.

Still, the mention of strip-searching made him waggle his eyebrows at her childishly “nah, only one who gets to do any strip-searching is me so long as you don’t have anything sharp you’ll be fine.” Perhaps he should have been a little more cautionary in his bits of advice and judging from her spaced expression he’d spooked her.

The pat to his thigh and question made him sit up shortly after her, “drinking won’t help” he cautioned warily not particularly fancying having to deal with a potentially inebriated Faye through security, gate, flight and customs. Following her from the bedroom at a more languid pace he continued speaking knowing she could hear him, “it’ll just make you feel bad and then you’ll just drink more to try and make yourself feel better and-- yeah, it’s not the best way to deal with this. Trust me,” he leaned the front of his hips against the counter whilst she poured out a whiskey for herself “nothing’s gonna happen.”

Any offer of alcohol was declined, he was driving after all and even now preferred not to dabble when in charge of the safety of other people. Maybe it was trivial but he’d always felt inclined to not test his drink-driving limit. “There’s really nothing to be afraid of. I swear… But if you’re feeling that bad, just think about where we’ll be at the end of it hm? That tends to help, just keep reminding yourself of why we’re doing this.”

“Hush,” she said gently to his teasing. Faye wasn’t sure how to feel about basically introducing Fane to her family either. He hadn’t had the actual pleasure of meeting Victoria, thank goodness, and Faye’s Gram was all the blood family, besides Eowyn, that Faye had left. She was nervous, wondering how he felt about it all. She wondered if it was too soon. If it was too much of a step. She wondered if she should just tell him they didn’t need to go to New Orleans. That they could just go to… Seattle, or something that didn’t involve her family. God, she wished she could still feel the hint of his emotions when they touched. That might give her some idea. But also, she trusted that if he thought it was too much, or wasn’t comfortable with it, he would have spoken up. Or she hoped he would have.

Nothing would make her feel worse than him feeling obligated and then things going south. Or feeling obligated at all.

Another reason she got up in search of liquid temperance.

“I’m not gonna make a fool outta myself, good lord. ” She turned as he leaned up against the counter, leaning back herself, one arm crossed over her stomach. “I do trust you. Which is the only reason I’m gettin’ on that plane and were not just Ubering there.”

She sighed, looking down into her nearly empty glass. She chewed her lip. “No. No, you’re right. It’s… it’s fine. I’m just… it’s been a really long time and so many things happened down there and I-” Faye pressed the cool surface of the glass to her lips, holding it there while her thoughts drifted just a bit. Finally, after a long moment, she said softly, “I killed someone the day I left. I meant to do it. He tried to kill me, so I made him pay for it.”

Her eyes slid to his. “I was a different person in New Orleans, Fane.” They dropped away again. “And people remember things like that.”

Despite all of Faye’s anxiety around the matter of going back home, Fane could only be considered to be lingering at the other end of the spectrum in a semi-state of tranquility. He saw no point in wallowing in his concerns or the potential what ifs. Did he hope Faye’s gram liked him? Of course he did, but there was no point in his mind in getting himself worked up into a frenzy over it either. It would be whatever it would be. Meeting family was never something he’d ever particularly gotten to the stage of with any of his past partners but some research suggested that three or four months tended to be around the time when most people in normal relationships did this sort of stuff so… If Faye wanted to tell her Gram what had happened with her mother, wanted to give her a chance to meet Eowyn then Fane would happily accommodate. Plus, she’d asked him to come with her specifically so of course he was going to go. There were no two ways about it.

Fane wouldn’t deny the fact that he was curious; learning more about where she was from would help him in turn learn more about her. So, he took it in stride as with most other occurrences recently. There was also the fact that three weeks of not having seen one another kind of sucked as well.

“I know,” he acknowledged managing a small smile at her remark about ubering. “It’s going to be fine, promise” to emphasise this point he dragged his index finger in a cross over his chest.

He watched her as she took another drink, but when she began to speak his eyes lifted attentively. “You’re nervous about going back?” Fane asked as she lapsed into silence. However, the admission that came next caused his fingers to curl ever so slightly on the countertop and he took a moment to let his weight sink over the island until his chin rested in his hands with his elbows on the island. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to say to that, and Fane debated internally on how best to approach the matter. Faye had never admitted something like that before yet the impression he had of her Fane had always had a feeling she’d crossed that line. Instead of offering words of assurance he tilted his head smoothing a hand over his chin “do you want to tell me about it?”

With her declaration of being a different person then he merely pursed his lips, but ultimately he sighed “you can’t keep running from your past forever. One day it’s going to catch up with you-- history sucks but often it’s better to confront it on on your own terms than wait for it to come around and bite you when you least expect it don’t you think?” His eyes didn’t leave her when he finished speaking, “I think that going home will be a good experience for you… But some of your burdens to bed and get a chance to see your gram, hm?”

Faye missed home. Or the place she had once considered her home. Soapberry was her home now. The people there were her home. And Fane… he was home too. There was no way around it. No way to rethink it. Wherever he was, that place was home. It had become a person, and not a place. So despite her fears and her misgivings, Faye tried to be optimistic about all of it. She had no doubt that her Gram would love Fane. She had disliked Faye’s ex so much, that the man wouldn’t even go to her house anymore after she hexed him several times for being ‘a bumbling asshole.’

The time apart had been awful. But Faye knew there were things that needed doing, and they couldn’t do them if they were spending all their time with each other, no matter how they might want to. So they had pushed through, and finally, when the town had once again righted itself, they were together again and about to go away for a few days. Faye should feel relieved.

But that was the last thing she felt. For so many different reasons.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Little bit.” And then she told him why, her hand so tight around her glass she thought it might shatter beneath her grip. Faye watched his body language, watched the shock register across his face, and watched as he processed it. That she’d murdered someone. She turned a bit, so that he would be looking at her in profile as she looked out the kitchen window. Did she want to tell him about it? “Not really. But… I think I need to.”

Again, she grew quiet, her entire body tense as a rail, wondering what he would think of her after her story was finished. “My coven tried to have me killed. Me and my husband. There was a religious group - Church of the Rising Sun - that knew what we were. Their leader, a man called Johnathan, had made it his life’s mission to weedle out the witches in the city. He didn’t even worry about any other supers - Hell, I don’t know if he even knew about them - he just made us his focus. Preachin’ his religious garbage in public, callin’ on the people to fight back against the oppression of the Pagan Witches and their Devil Worship. I’m a goddamn Baptist,” she said with a huff, shaking her head. “Or I was… But anyway… he openly threatened us. He even threatened our coven, which we ran as a small private school for girls. There were crosses set on fire in our yard. Our apothecary that we ran to make money was trashed. They even kidnapped some of our girls once.”

Faye shook her head, the anger apparent on her face. “He was an evil, cruel man. And we wanted to fight back. To get rid of him before he got rid of us.” She took another drink from her glass. “The council voted no. To stay neutral. To wait it out. To not give them any reason to target us. Though we already were. Just by existing. So me an’ him, we decided to do something about it. We’d already decided to leave town, because we wouldn’t sit back and watch everyone we cared about die if there was nothing we could do to help them. Other than getting rid of Johnathan. I guess our coven didn’t trust us. Figured we were gonna do somethin’ rash before we left.”

“They sent a Hunter after us.” Her eyes drifted back over to Fane. “He tried to kill me. Us. Tried to cut my throat.” She rubbed a finger over a tiny, thin scar on her collarbone. “So I repayed the favor.” She finished the last of her whiskey. “‘Cept I finished the job. Eventually.”

“A week later I got word that my coven was dead. House burned to the ground, with everyone inside.”

She sat the glass down a bit more forcefully than she should have. “It already did,” she said sharply. She wasn’t angry with him, not at all, just the situation itself. For not taking the initiative sooner and ridding the world of her horrible mother when she had the chance. “And more of my past is waiting back there. In that city.”

Her eyes met his, softening a little. “Yeah… yeah I s’pose it will be.” She turned to rinse the glass, effectively ending that line of conversation for now. “What time is our flight?”

Was he shocked by the revelation that had come so abruptly? Yes, but he wanted to try and understand the story that came with that. Faye wasn’t a woman to act without reason, whether it ultimately ended well or badly there was always some sort of truth or reasoning that went with it. She wasn’t a woman to simply kill needlessly, or, at least he hoped that was the case. So he settled on the counter not making a sound as she turned to look out the window.

Fane’s hips rested on the edge of the counter making no move to drift closer nor shift further away, simply maintaining his ponderous and neutral stance where he leaned upon the island-counter. As the story unfolded his lips drew into a thin line, and then into a deeper frown at the thought of what she must have had to go through. So many deeply rooted religious atrocities that she’d faced and survived, no wonder she held such loathing for the topic. He’d admittedly wondered a few times why she never seemed to mention a coven of her own, or why she didn’t seem to belong to any on affiliation but never felt inclined to ask less it stirred up unwanted memories. Though apparently he was learning about it today without even needing to prompt.

The story of this Johnathan man made Fane’s frown turn into a slight glower, looking away from Faye down to the countertop on which his arms rested. Why did people think they had any right or entitlement to treat other people this way? What had supernaturals ever done to deserve this sort of persecution? The thought of innocent children, young girls being kidnapped simply rubbed him the wrong way and Fane’s jaw tensed slightly. Looking back to Faye he saw the anger etched into her features.

The betrayal she must have felt by being turned on by her coven made Fane rub his jaw, heart aching at the thought of her suffering through that loss of trust from those she probably considered closest to her. How many times had Faye been hurt by the people she was supposed to have faith in and trust? Her mother, her coven, Chris? Even Fane was guilty in a way of that regardless of his own personal reasons for it. His eyes were drawn to the rub of the scar, the silvery line evident against her skin. And what she had to say next caused him to let out a low breath and a quiet utterance of “jesus” raising a hand to rub his eyes he pressed his palms flat to the cool surface and pushed back to a standing position. “What happened to Johnathan?” it was the first thing he’d really said through listening to her.

The sharp clink of glass on counter didn’t deter him from circling around the counter, moving over to stand beside her reaching a hand out to touch her hips and turn her to face him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know” he murmured softly, hands slipping further around her until he drew her into a gentle hug. “You know we don’t have to go if you don’t want to right? Though maybe reconciling with what happened there will help you find some sort of closure on that.” Fane wasn’t sure whether it would, but he could only hope that there was some small possibility of her managing to do that.

Releasing her as she turned his hands fell back to his sides and Fane stepped away letting her have a bit of space, “flight’s at one, considering we’ve still got the drive, check-in and security shouldn’t be too bad considering we’ve got first-class seats which means it’s all expedited and less hanging around before we get travelling.” If there was one thing Fane hated it was hanging around with nothing to do, his restlessness led to him getting bored rather easily. Better to pay a bit extra and get a decent experience than suffer economy and long queues. “Speaking of, we should probably start thinking about sorting any final stuff you need to pack before we leave.”

Faye had been harmed enough in her life, and been the brunt of too much hatred to kill needlessly. So Fane was right. There had always been a reason. Even after leaving New Orleans, and the life she was dragged into then, there had always been a reason. A damn good one. And Faye’s powers had been useful for finding out the truth. Sometimes she was wrong, and the person didn’t deserve death. Other times they deserved it ten times over.

But that was another conversation for another night. One Faye knew needed to happen, but couldn’t stomach just yet.

It was hard enough to tell this story. Of how Faye’s trust in covens had died a long time ago. Blackwater Coven in Soapberry had asked her to join them once. Faye had turned them down. Not willing to put her life in the hands of a contingent of people that weren’t her blood. That weren’t her family. Though even that meant little these days.

So the story continued on, and Faye’s eyes closed a little as she heard his muttered exclamation. She hated for him to hear this. To see her for what she truly was: a murderer. Killing never made her happy. Did she feel like a wrong had been righted? Sometimes. Did she feel that she was saving others from harm and persecution? Sometimes. Most times she just felt numb. Her life had been marred by blood and betrayal, and Faye was tired. Which is why she was trying so hard to build something better. Something full of light and laughter and love. Because that’s who she was now. And she never wanted to look back.

“I don’t know what happened to him. For all I know he’s still there. Spreadin’ his hate and his bigotry.” She silently hoped someone had killed him, or at the very least run him out of town. But cutting off one head only meant two more would spring back in it’s place. And Faye was too tired to fight the hydra at this point.

She looked up as Fane came over, and let him turn her towards him. Three weeks without his touch had left her hypersensitive, and Faye willing moved closer, leaning her head onto his chest and closing her eyes. “How could you know?” she said, voice muffled against his shirt. “And no. No, we need to go. I need to go. You’re right: I can’t keep running. And it wasn’t all bad. Just those few things…. Big things… but there’s so much good too.”

She gave him a small smile and a nod as he pulled away, always seeming to know when she needed just a little space to deal with things. She wanted his touch, god she wanted it so badly, but they had a plane to catch. “Alright. I’ll um… I”ll wake Wynnie up from her nap in a few. Will you go through things with me one more time first? Make sure I have everything?”

There were a few odds and ends and ‘better safe than sorry’ items that Faye packed up in the end, but within the hour they were ready and on their way, Faye feeling both excited and scared of so many things, but more than anything, she felt… strangely enough… happy. And she was determined that ‘happy’ was the feeling she would hold onto for as long as she could.

The airport was crowded, and Faye held Wyn on her hip as they stood waiting to board. “Is it always like this?” she asked Fane as she adjusted the curious toddler.

They would cross the bridge of the other dark deeds littering Faye’s history when they reached them, just as Fane would gradually tell some of his own. By comparison they were rather mild, but he’d always done his best to stay in the light (ironic considering the light could also ultimately be his end). It wasn’t hard per say to hear these truths but it was hard to contrast the person capable of that to the woman he saw here in the kitchen now. Time had clearly taken its toll to dampen her hot-temper; not that it had been tamed entirely considering some of the outbursts he had been witness to thus far. Plus, she’d killed her mother didn’t she? Fane was never going to underestimate her power or drive to what ends she might be capable but it was difficult to wrap his head around. Still, this was another piece of the puzzle that made up Faye and whilst he might not agree with the sentiment of killing he could understand it to a degree.

His exclamation wasn’t at the admission to her killing people, more the story about what had happened to her coven after all he’d stayed the night she killed her mother and he’d stay now. After all, he could recognise and appreciate her efforts in trying to move on from the dark days. To lay them to bed and try to find something better, and if she was willing to let him Fane wanted to try and help her build that life for herself and Wyn, felt that she deserved that after the betrayal and hardships through which she had endured.

Fane made a mental note to look into that at some point, to see whether or not he could pull some strings to find out what happened to this Johnathan character. Whilst he didn’t typically wish harm upon others it didn’t mean he sometimes felt that way inclined. But right now? Right now he was needed here, and it was why he left his spot to circle nearer to her and give her a moment of respite in his loose hug. He didn’t answer her question because really, how could he know? “Alright, then we’ll go but if you ever feel uncomfortable about anything you tell me alright?” Shifting back to give her a serious look before he pressed a kiss to her forehead and drawing away.

When it came to giving Faye space to collect herself Fane was somewhat intuitive, his movements ebbing and flowing like the tides drawing him nearer and receding when the time was right. “Yep, I’ll meet you in the bedroom and we’ll go over the stuff.”

It wasn’t long before everything was sorted and packed away in the car, with the cottage locked up securely they set out on their way. The drive from Soapberry to the airport wasn’t too bad, considering it was the middle of the day and once they arrived there it was simply a matter of handing the keys over to the valet, unloading the bags and making their way to the terminal.

Thankfully, there were no major incidents and checking in, security and getting to the gate went issue-free. So as Faye spoke he tilted his head in her direction, “yep. I mean, it’s summer holidays as well so you kind of have to expect all this” he gave a general wave of his hand towards the people passport and boarding passes in hand.

Looking back, Faye had been angry for a long time. Until recently, when things started to change and she realized that anger didn’t solve anything. Her grief still manifested as anger sometimes, but she liked to think she had a slightly better hold now than she had even a few months prior. Nearly losing everything you ever loved was enough to make someone reevaluate their priorities. And how they were living their life. And then Faye had gotten those things back: Fane. Her magic. Her relationship with Ephram that wasn’t totally estranged anymore. Her daughter. So many things that made Faye realize she couldn’t keep living like she had been.

And while there were dark things still hiding in the archives of her personal history, things that it would be hard to talk about, and even harder to witness Fane’s reaction to, Faye would reveal them when the time was right. She just hoped that when she did it didn’t make him see her differently. Or change things between them. It was hard for her to open up as it was. And opening up to someone she cared so greatly for - someone she loved - and having them look at her with anger, or even worse, with disgust… there was nothing more heart-wrenching. At least not in Faye’s mind. She really didn’t know if she could survive having Fane hate her too.

No… she knew she couldn’t.

But that was for another time.

She wanted nothing more than to build a new life for her and Wyn. A better life. A good life. And she wanted Fane to be a part of that life. An integral part. Even now, Faye found it hard to imagine a future without him in it, though she kept those feelings tightly reined. Things were going well, and she saw no reason why they wouldn’t continue to go as such, but she kept her hopes on a low burn, lest they overwhelm her.

“I will,” she said, smiling at his kiss to her head. Anything that bothered her, she would tell him. And they would deal with it as it came.

Just as they were dealing with the crowd at the airport now. But when he assured her that this was normal, Faye relaxed slightly. It was only a few hours by plane to Louisiana, and Eowyn seemed to have no qualms about any of this, looking around and occasionally tapping Fane or her mother on the shoulder to point questioningly to something she didn’t know the name of.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, they were boarding. Faye helped Eowyn into her seat, the little girl immediately moving to look out the window, Bun still securely in hand, while she secured their bags overhead. She moved into the middle seat to let Fane put his things away, and finally sat down, scrubbing a hand nervously through her hair. “At least one of us is gonna enjoy this,” Faye said to Fane as he took his own seat. Eowyn was grinning at something outside, paying neither of the adults one bit of attention.

There was no part of his mind that doubted that he’d leave Faye and Wyn, at least not at this moment in time. Had she done terrible things? Yes, but as he always ended up circling back to the ultimate crux of the matter. It was her past and she was trying to find a new route forwards and in Fane’s books if you truly worked and dedicated yourself to seeking a better life then why shouldn’t you be given forgiveness and a second chance? The outlook was perhaps a dangerous one, one that had gotten himself hurt many a time in the past and likely would continue to do so in the future.

Yet that very belief was also the burning heart that had kept him going all this time, through the harm and suffering he’d experienced at the hands of others. It was how he’d come to terms with himself in a way, believing that if he could accept the worst in others and try to give them a second chance that maybe they’d prove him wrong. Prove that darkness wasn’t always the route a person would take. There had to be something worthwhile in the world, otherwise what really was the point in the end? So he would deal with Faye’s history when it came up, try to listen, to understand her troubles and the darkness haunting and weighing down her soul.

But for now that moment wasn’t now.

Instead, Fane assured Faye to ease some of her nerves along with happily indulging Wyn’s curiosity about the new things around them telling her the words and doing his best to help her understand where they were. She was a smart child and seemed more excited about the prospect of a holiday than her mother was, or at least the travelling process that is.

Considering their seats were first-class they were the first called to board and the space in the front of the plane compared to economy was a luxury in itself especially with his tall frame and long legs which otherwise would have been cramped up by the time they touched down again. Putting his own luggage away Fane sat down in his seat, stretching out in the leather recliner with his feet kicked out in front of him though Faye’s nervousness was palpable. Reaching out across the gap between their seats to seek out her hand he gave it a reassuring squeeze along with a look to say ‘trust me, this won’t be as bad as you think’ before his gaze travelled to Wyn who seemed taken with watching the flight crew packing the last of the luggage on board. “You should take a leaf from her book,” he joked lightly “there’s nothing to be scared of, trust me.”

Faye knew that most people wouldn’t be able to see past the terrible things she’d done. But Fane wasn’t most people. It was odd, in a way, how someone with such a dark and brutal past as Faye would come to care for the kind of man that Fane was: not without his own darkness and pain, but gentle and caring, forgiving, the kind of man who saw people for who they were, not who they used to be. The kind of man who could see Faye for who she was, not who she had been. And while the past couldn’t be changed, it didn’t define a person’s heart. It didn’t define who they were now. And for someone like Faye, that was a balm like no other. To know that he could see the darkest parts of her soul and still say, ‘I’m not leaving.’

It was one of the reasons she loved him.

And it only grew day by day.

Faye wanted to tell him, it made her heart swell even as she thought about it, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Things like that, declarations like ‘I love you’ were something Faye didn’t take lightly. They were worth waiting for.

But back to now. This would be Wyn’s first true holiday. She’d never been out of Soapberry in her three years of life. They’d been to the beach, and the zoo, and pretty much every family-centered place the town had to offer, but never had Faye taken her daughter this far from the relative safety of Soapberry’s barrier.

Never having been on a plane before, Faye didn’t know the difference in first class versus any other class, although she would readily admit that the accommodations that Fane had gotten them were extremely nice. She’d tried to buy the tickets for her and Wyn, but Fane wouldn’t hear a word of it, so finally Faye had conceded. She wouldn’t have know where to start anyway.

Faye gladly returned his squeeze, threading her fingers lightly with his as she smiled over at Wyn. “Probably,” she agreed. “And I believe you, I just… she’s a lot braver than me. Aren’t you, baby?” Eowyn turned as her mother called her, plopping down in the seat and grinning over at Faye and Fane as she swung her feet against the leather. She made a hand signal that meant she was hungry now that her explorations were done, sitting back in the seat and looking expectantly at the adults.

“We have to take off first, and then you can eat, okay?” Faye told her.

Eowyn seemed to be satisfied by this, and promptly stuffed Bun’s ear in her mouth and went back to looking out the window.

Though he might need time to consider the things he learned, to work through them and try to come to terms with them within himself it didn’t mean he would let that be the defining judgement for a person. Fane would always give them the chance to explain themselves, did it make it right? No. But everyone deserved a chance, and when you had forever at your feet it seemed pointless not to be willing and open-minded regarding such things. Did Fane care deeply for Faye? Yes. Was it something he was willing to label just yet? Not really. If time had made Fane anything about such declarations it was immensely cautious and wary of the potential consequences of saying it too fast. For now he was content, simply knowing that Faye trusted him enough to invite him back to New Orleans; where so much of her history both light and dark existed was a testament in itself.

Soapberry was all well and good, but there was more to the world than the confinements of a barrier. History to be seen and learned about and Eowyn deserved to see that world for all its beauty as did Faye. To be shown that despite the misery she’d seen there was goodness and beauty still to be found if you knew where to look, and Fane wanted to share that with her. To perhaps give her some amount of hope that there was still some measure of good in the world.

“She’s very brave,” he agreed smiling over at Eowyn as she turned and grinned little legs swinging back and forth on the seats. Her request didn’t go unnoticed but Faye had it in hand.

Soon enough the engines of the plane stirred into life and the air-crew came out to do the safety announcement before leaving to take their own respective seats as the plane headed out onto the runway. As the plane situated itself Fane took a couple of the hard-boiled sweets and offered them out to Faye “suck on this, it’ll help your ears to pop-- no idea why but it works.”

A short time later they were off the ground, cruising up and away from the land to altitude; breaking through the layers of cloud until they emerged the other side of the seemingly endless blanket of white with the sun shining outside. The seatbelt light flashed off and Fane looked aside at Faye once more. “Hey-- so, any more tips on how to meet your gram? What do I call her? Anything else I should know?” Fane figured it would be best to distract Faye and getting her to talk to him seemed like the best course of action plus it didn’t hurt to learn some stuff. Kill two birds with one stone so to speak.

Faye had always wanted to travel, but had never really had the means or the opportunity. Her ex surely never wanted to take the time to go anywhere or save up money to experience anything other than the mundanity of every day life. It took attempted murder to get him to leave New Orleans. So this was a brand new experience for Faye. Being taken somewhere. Even if it was back to Louisiana and nowhere exotic. But Fane had already taken her to Egypt and Paris in the last eight months. Faye was still getting used to letting him do things for her. And telling herself that it was because he wanted to, and wanted to see her happy, and not because he felt like he had to or felt sorry for her in any way.

So she would take it as it came, and hopefully things would continue to just flow easily and without pretense between them. Faye took the offered candy with a smile of thanks, popping it into her mouth as she got Eowyn’s belt fastened. She gripped Fane's hand as the room off, and once they leveled out it really wasn't that bad. She unbuckled when all was safe, and smiled at Eowyn as she pressed her face back against the window, watching the clouds roll by. Faye chances a small glance out as well. “It's beautiful,” she said, ruffling Wyn’s hair and telling her to be careful before sitting back in her own seat.

“Um, well… her name is Beulah. Delacroix. So maybe start out with the usual Mrs.? She'll tell you what she wants you to call her.” Faye smiled fondly at the thought of the fiery old woman. “She hates liars and cheats and people that think they know everything. She despised my ex.” Which basically gave Fane a good synopsis of the kind of person her ex-husband had been. Before he became distant and closed off and … odd. He hadn't always been that way; he'd been a decent man when they first met, but an entirely different creature than the man sitting next to her.

“She's a witch like me, which you know. She does a lot of old magic. Root magic, they call it. And she just… she knows things. So don't get freaked out if she says something about you that's not common knowledge. She's blunt, um… honest. If she wants to know somethin’ she'll just ask.”

Faye snorted a laugh. “And she's got a dirty mind.”

If there was one thing their history already proved it was Fane’s love of travel and exploring everything the world had to offer. Whether that was architecture, history or cuisine or simply anything between or beyond those scopes. So far Faye had been adamant in limiting what he could do or buy for her and considering Fane’s penchant for big gestures it sometimes made it hard and thus he had to put more thought and effort into the plans he did pull out from his sleeves.

Hearing Faye’s remark about the sight Fane cast a look out the window, that was the thing with immortality; sometimes it took someone else pointing out the beauty of the world to trigger him to recognise it also. Sometimes the tears rolled by and it was difficult to remember to take the time to truly appreciate the simple things in life that occurred naturally. “See?” he joked giving her a light nudge “not so bad is it?” The air stewards wandered about the cabin offering complimentary drinks and fresh food; far better than anything normally served elsewhere for which Fane was thankful. Most of the stuff served on a plane was rather foul in all honesty (another perk of paying for upgraded seats).

Taking a coffee he’d ordered he sipped whilst she spoke of her grandmother taking mental notes as she recounted bits of information. “Alright, I tend to go with that on introductions anyway but it’s always good to know” still hearing what she didn’t like caused Fane to arch a brow ever so slightly. “So if that's what she doesn’t like what does she like?” Though his attention was drawn to one particular thing she said “root magic? How’s that differ -- i’m assuming it differs somehow to normal magic?”

Her snorted laugh only served to boost his grin however a mischievous light appearing in his eyes. “Oh yeah? Well, a dirty sense of humour’s the best sort of humour to have otherwise what’s the point of life? So we both share that in common.” Fane was glad for that fact at least.

Faye new Fane liked big gestures. But she didn’t want him to think that’s the reason she enjoyed being with him. It was the furthest thing from the truth, in fact. She would be utterly content if Fane was a pauper living in a one room apartment. Money didn’t matter. Nor did standing, or birthright, or prestige. Faye only needed him. Stefan Savin. And nothing else. But with time would come the realization that it was alright to let him do such things for her, just like anything else. And Faye was proud too. She would never be able to get him the grand things - for one, what else did he need? - that he had shown to her. She wasn’t destitute, but she was still paying two mortgages - one on the huge, empty house she’d shared with her husband, and one on the beach house she lived in now - had medical bills piled up from the hospital after her accident, and she wasn’t getting paid for her summer leave from the Academy. She had income coming in from Morgana’s still, but it wasn’t that much.

The thought of the bar she had once run back home made Faye smile. She would definitely have to take Fane there. It had been years since she’d seen her old friend Renee, the woman who ran the place for Faye now.

She turned to Fane as he spoke, giving him a soft look. “No. Not so bad.” Faye got a bottle of water for herself, along with an espresso, and an apple juice and a cheese and fruit assortment for Eowyn. The toddler settled eagerly into her food, concentrating on squishing the cheese bits flat before she ate them.

Her daughter occupied for the present, Faye turned back to Fane. She grinned. “Handsome men,” she teased. “Seriously though she… she respects upfrontness. Honesty. Character. Trustworthiness. Kindness. But not bein’ a pushover either. She likes people who can get things done and don’t whine about it the whole time.” She gave him another small grin. “She’s a sucker for a good accent too. Though she sounds even more cajun than me. My accent’s watered down a bit since I’ve been gone.”

Faye made a humming noise as she sipped her water. “Root magic. Conjure. Hoodoo. It’s called all sorts of name. It’s inherently an African-American folk magic though. It mixes in Native American botanical knowledge, and even some European folklore. She learned it as a girl. Would never tell me from who. It’s not Voodoo. So don’t call it that. That’s different. But it’s… powerful.”

She gave her own small laugh. “My Gram’s nearly 80. You think it’s cute until she gets a handful of your ass and blames it on not being able to find her glasses.” This was said quietly, so Eowyn wouldn’t overhear.

“Awh shucks, you’re going to make me blush” he joked winking at her cheekily. Their conversation was relatively quiet, not particularly wanting to disturb Eowyn though there were plenty of channels and games on the TV to keep her entertained throughout the flight. Still, he was interested in what she had to say and tell him about her Gram not only for his own benefit when he met the woman but because he genuinely was curious. Faye’s description put at ease any concerns he may have otherwise had considering if he ticked them off he had pretty much all of those under his belt relatively well. “Ooh, which accent though? More eastern European or this one?” Not that Fane tended to actively choose which accent he spoke with but he did enjoy watching people’s confusion when he did alternate between the two. “Is this you saying you’re going to come back sounding like a backwater wildling when we head home?”

Home. Whilst Fane meant Soapberry he’d started to feel a semblance of the word whenever he was around Faye, after all home is where you felt most comfortable, where you could take off your burdens and simply be and Faye let him do that and all the more.

“Huh, do you know what sort of folklore it incorporates?” Fane was always a sucker to learn about the practical applications of lore and history, how the facts in stories got so twisted and misshapen yet some measure of truthfulness remained despite time’s efforts to warp it. “I’m kind of curious to see it at work now” he admitted honestly.

Her next point made him chuckle drily, though he lowered his voice a little more just for the sake of propriety “I have no idea what you mean, why wouldn’t anyone want a handful of this ass? Sounds like good taste runs in your family” he teased sitting back with a small smirk curling his lips.

She grinned, a touch of pink on the apples of her cheeks. “I like them both. She probably will too.” Faye always found it amazing how Fane could switch between accents so fluidly. She loved the one he used from day to day, though it was different when he was relaxed. Not as crisp and enunciated. Though she knew part of it was the persona he put on from day to day.  She’d also learned that sometimes he muttered to himself in Romanian, and she found that accent appealing when he drifted into it as well. All in all she found most everything about him appealing.

Faye snorted, sliding a discrete hand along the top of his thigh. “I’ve always been a backwater wildling, baby... “ she said in her thickest cajun French. “You gon’ lemme show you a good time, hm?” His usage of the word ‘home’ didn’t slip past her, and it softened her playful look just a bit. Home wasn’t a place, she would agree. Home was people. Family. Where you could lay down the weight of your life and let someone else help you carry it for awhile. Where you were always wanted. Always loved.

And home was starting to mean more and more to Faye every single day.

“Well, I’d have to let Gram explain it better. She’s not a practitioner, as you’d call it, but she knows how to make the spells, the talismans. It’s just… messin’ with things you weren’t born into can be a dangerous and disrespectful game. And Gram has always had great respect for every kind of magic that exists in the world.”

“It doesn’t work like my magic. It’s not something you see really. It’s more about creating things like luck, good or bad. Cleansing the spirit or finding things wrong with it. Jinxing, crossing… things like that. It’s not somethin’ you can see. It’s somethin’ you have to believe. And honestly, most of her spells she just makes up. She has her influences from certain things, like conjure and castin’ bones, but she prefers to stay away from anything culturally sensitive. She’s always been good like that.”

“Most Delacroix women have excellent taste.” Her hand gave his thigh a small squeeze, and stayed there, gently curved over him as the chatted on for a good long while.

“Guess we’ll have to see which one wins out, if she’s as blunt as you say she is i’m sure she’ll come right out with her preferences.” His attention was drawn by the slide of her hand over the denim of his jeans huffing a laugh under his breath as his free hand came to settle over her own. “Cherie, you always show me a good time I’d question the day you didn’t” and that was the truth if ever he’d spoken it. However, his teasing softened to something more sincere “but, you know that you make me happy right? That this is more than anything I could ask for…” Fane felt the need to ask just to make sure she knew how he felt.

Fane figured that perhaps talk of magic and such things would best be left for when he actually met the infamous woman. After all, if these were her domains then it would also give him something to talk to her about. “She sounds like a smart woman, I’m looking forward to meeting her.” Patting Faye’s hand lightly he gave her a smile looking over to Wyn who had found the remote and was fiddling around with the entertainment system.

The conversation drifted over various topics, from magic to stories of New Orleans to things that had went on during their weeks apart. That is until the crew came around to announce that they would be landing shortly and Fane looked at his watch a little surprised at how fast it seemed time had flown and soon enough they were touching down in the airport near New Orleans.

A trip through customs and baggage claim later Fane walked carrying their suitcases without any real fuss. “Do you have the address to get us near? I’m assuming you can direct us once we’re closer to familiar grounds.”

“I’m sure she will.” Faye had never known her Gram to pull punches. Even when it came to things that people might not want to hear. It seemed that Faye was surrounded by those sorts of people: Iann, Fane, Teddy, Ephram, Cassie. All friends and loved ones who told the truth almost always. Faye being someone who like to hide from her own truths, it was perhaps fortunate that the people she loved were so openly honest.

“Well, I'm glad I'm not boring. We all know how you don't like that, hm?” Her face was turned up towards his, tilted slightly, and she watched as his gaze softened like hers had. The words made her throat tighten, and she turned her hand over to thread their fingers. ‘I know’ didn’t seem right for her to say. Words often failed Faye when it came to Fane, and actions spoke louder than most anything between them. So she rose up just a little, enough to brush her lips across his. Her eyes closed, and her free hand rose to stroke over the line of his jaw. The kiss was gentle and light, not the deeply passionate one she longed to give him once they were alone, but it said just as much. It said ‘I know, but I love hearing you say it anyway.’ It said ‘you make me happy too.’ It said everything he had said to her, solidifying all of it between them. Faye couldn’t ask for anything more than this either. This… happiness. It was a simple word to describe what they had between them, but an apt one.

She lay her head on his shoulder for a bit when she pulled back, before turning to help Wyn put on a movie.

The flight was over before Faye realized it, so absorbed were they in talking and entertaining Eowyn.

Faye pulled out her phone as Fane asked about the address. “It’s a bit out in the country. I lived in the city, over my bar, but Gram lives out in the sticks. Still technically in the parish, but…” Faye shrugged.

Once they had settled the rental, Eowyn safely tucked in the back in the rented carseat, Faye insisted on driving. They got settled on the I-10 headed south, the GPS taking them towards familiar territory. Faye felt herself growing nervous, but also excited. It felt good being back here, if she were honest. It was hot as hell, the humidity had her sweating before they made it into the car, and it even smelled different. “I was here for Katrina,” she commented as they turned off the interstate onto a four lane state highway that would eventually turn into a two lane county road. “City was never the same after that. Still recovering.” She pointed out a few shops that were still boarded up and abandoned as they passed by, graffiti covering the plywood covering the windows.

It was not quite an hour before the two lane, which had become increasingly surrounded by thick forest and the occasional patch of wetland, narrowed. Faye slowed down, and they finally came to what looked like a driveway tucked among the old oaks and the kudzu vines. A mailbox without a name or a number sat empty beside a wooden sign painted with the words ‘Private Residence No Admittance.’

Faye turned down the drive, and they were immediately swallowed up by the trees and the thick greenery. “Guess it’s a good thing you don’t mind the woods, hm?”

“You make it sound like I have such a problem with being left with nothing to do,” he complained though by no means serious in his complaint mostly because it was an ultimately true statement. The tighter grip her her fingers around his own made him look down at them with a smile. He could tell what she was going to do before she even moved to do it and the soft passing brush of their lips and stroke of her hand made him let out a quiet sigh of contentment. Fane knew that words often tended to fail between them but he felt like it needed to be said, felt like he needed to remind her of the fact that this was more than enough for him to feel content in life. His mind still lingered a little on her confession earlier and sometimes a part of him wondered how she must feel carrying such burdensome history on her shoulders.

Eventually they were leaving the airport and in possession of their rental, and whilst the humidity was affected Faye he simply walked along relatively unaffected by the heat of the day only squinting a little from the bright glare of the sun overhead. “Fair enough,” although Fane had been planning on driving and with a bit of trying to convince her that he was okay to drive (which Faye was having none of) he eventually relented to riding shotgun and being in charge of navigation.

His interest was shared equally between the buildings they passed and checking the map just to ensure they were headed in the correct direction. “Storm shelter?” he asked as he looked aside at her a little curious, he’d never been anywhere during any major catastrophe thankfully but he’d been alive long enough to have seen his fair share of damage. It was quite a force of nature,” he agreed thoughtfully as he eyed the shops in their sad run-down state. It was a shame, but that was the cost of living in a world dominated by mother nature wasn’t it? Terrible disasters were prone to happen and for those who lived in the danger-zone it was just a risk they had to ultimately deal with. After all, what could really be done against earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis and tornadoes amongst other destructive tools in mother-nature’s arsenal?

As they turned towards less built up areas, buildings growing more and more sparse Fane eyed the land curiously. Where a person chose to live tended to say a lot about the person living there, so this spot relatively far from what some might consider civilisation was an interesting one to him. Faye’s remark about woods caused him to lean a little closer to the window and hum in agreement “I guess so.”

Soon enough the vines and trees receded on their approach to an old plantation styled building covered in heavy hanging ivy which covered most of the white panelling of the house itself. Upon closer inspection Fane could pick out several spots of the residence perhaps in need of a little paint and renovation (he couldn’t help himself from wanting to preserve old residences likely rich with history just as he was inclined with the smaller artefacts he dealt in day-to-day). But his thoughts were drawn by a slightly odd feeling upon approaching the residence and Fane glanced aside at Faye, “wards? Or just powerful magic?”

She merely smirked at his comment. He knew damn good and well that he grew bored easily. He fidgeted. Messed with things. Anything to occupy his attention when he was looking for something to do.

“No. No storm shelter,” she answered. “We um… we stayed in my apartment.” ‘We’ being her and Chris. “It was awful. There was… I managed to save my bar and a few of the places around us - the folks that knew what I was - from too much damage. But wards only do so much. And they were done fast. We ended up with a few feet of water downstairs in the bar. Structural damage… it nearly took the roof off. I…” Faye shook her head, not sure what else to say. “We helped as many people as we could after.” For what good was magic if it couldn’t be used to help people?

“These trees are two hundred years old or better,” she said of the oaks growing along the path. The forest had encroached on either side, but the oaks still stood unmarked except for the gray curtains of spanish moss hanging from their thick branches. When the house came into view, Faye felt a little jolt in her chest. She’d grown up here. Her parent’s house had never felt like home. Not really. She still owned it, back closer to the city, but she hadn’t been there in years. The tree her mother had tied her to and burned her still stood in their backyard, covered in char and ash and the outline of a sixteen year old girl who had done nothing wrong except for being born different.

Faye had never been able to face it again. Maybe she should now that they were here.

But right now they were here. And she felt the tingle of familiar magic as they drew closer. “Both,” she said in response to Fane’s question. The word was a bit breathless, as Faye’s heart beat rapidly in her chest. It was her family’s magic that she felt. Her blood. Her birthright. It was like stepping into warm water after being outside on a frigid winter night. Even Eowyn had gone quiet in the backseat, where she had been making popping sounds with her mouth and laughing to herself. Faye glanced in the rearview mirror to see her daughter staring intently at the house as they pulled up and Faye put the car in park.

Without much hesitation, Faye turned the engine off and got out, standing beside the open door to look up at the house in all it dilapidated beauty. A gust of wind kicked up a small dust devil, and it spun around the front of the car before fading out in a rustle of fallen leaves.

As it died, there came a sound that Faye would always remember: the creak of a screen door. She looked up towards the sound, and there stood her grandmother, looking just as she had the last time Faye had seen her, over five years earlier. The old woman didn’t say a word, just met Faye’s eyes across the small expanse of yard between them. Her own eyes were a faded violet, almost periwinkle in color. Faye let out a breath and stepped away from the car, moving forwards and up the steps of the grand old house. She stood there, not really knowing what to say as her throat tightened and her eyes welled up with tears. Part of her felt ashamed for being gone so long. Her grandmother was strong, and powerful, but she was getting older, nearing 80. She wouldn’t live forever.

“Gram, I-”

“Hush,” the old woman said nearly at the same time as Faye spoke.

Faye looked up at her, mouth set in a tight line. But her grandmother only smiled. “Hug an old woman before you go runnin’ that mouth, oui?” Her accent was as thick as Faye remembered, and it made her feel warm and safe.

A wet laugh poured it’s way from Faye’s mouth, and she stepped forwards and embraced her Gram. “I missed you so much.” She hugged her tight, and inhaled the familiar scent of cloves and vanilla as a few tears slipped down her face. “I’m so sorry I’ve been gone…”

For her part, Faye’s grandmother only made a noise that meant Faye didn’t need to apologize. “Don’t think nothin’ of it. You’re here now, aren’t you? And you brought extra.” She pulled back, giving Faye’s cheek a firm pat. “Now introduce me to my great-grandbaby and your handsome man.”

“Be nice,” Faye said sotto voice, though she was smiling.

“I’m always nice, child. Now scoot.”

Faye went back down the stairs and back to the car where Fane had taken Eowyn from her carseat. The little girl looked slightly confused. She’d only ever seen her great-grandmother over the phone. “Come on,” she told them both, taking Eowyn’s hand and leading her towards the house. Her other little hand stayed firmly gripping Fane’s.

“Wynnie,” Faye said to her daughter, squatting down next to her. “This is Grammie. Remember you see her on mama’s phone?” The little girl stared hard at the old woman waiting at the top of the stairs. “You can hug her for real now, hm?” Faye continued. After another few moments of staring, Wyn let go of Fane’s hand and walked resolutely up the stairs towards the old woman, stopping and staring up at her.

“You scared of me, pichouette?”

Eowyn shook her head.

“Good. Now give us a squeeze.” Eowyn giggled and held out her arms to be picked up. The old woman lifted her up with ease, though she muttered to the little girl about how heavy she was. “You look just like your mama did when she was a runt, hm? Not a trace of nothin’ else in there.” It was a back-handed dig at Faye’s ex, who the old woman had despised beyond belief. The comment wasn’t meant to be cruel. Just honest.

“Gram,” Faye said once she and Eowyn had settled. “This is Fane. Fane Savin.”

“I know who he is, Marie. You been talkin’ ‘bout him for weeks.” There was a glint of mischief in the old woman’s eyes, and Faye’s face turned slightly pink. Her Gram just chuckled, looking fully at Fane for the first time. Her faded eyes stared hard at him for a short moment, though her smile never faded. There was something there, something that was a warning but not quite. Something that would be settled between them before things got too comfortable. Finally, she turned back to the house, Eowyn’s happily in her arms.

“Come inside, Fane Savin. And bring my granddaughter with you.”

Fane was curious to hear the story, like all those she likely had from her time living here in the city. “I’d say structural damage is better than the alternative” considering how many lives were often lost with this sort of thing flooding and other natural damage was tame by comparison. He could tell she was starting to retreat a little and reached over to lightly touch her arm, not enough to distract from her driving but to reassure her he understood. “You did what you could, which is what counts there’s no way to save everyone in things like this…” with that said he drew his hand back.

“Nice to know I’m older than some trees around these parts then. Way to make me feel old Faye, comparing me to bark but wait-- is that you saying I’m wise? Since people claim trees to be wise” but it was all said in jest, Fane would never subscribe to such descriptions of himself especially when it was he presenting such suggestions. For all his interest in the house however, his gaze was drawn to observing Faye’s reaction. This was her home after all, even after all these years. See seemed excited by a little apprehensive, understandable considering everything.

The answer earned another curious look back towards the house, and before he knew it the driver’s side door was shutting. Fane stayed put for the time being, giving Faye a moment to gather herself and reorient with the surroundings of her home. Wyn was still quiet in the backseat, it was only when he saw an elderly woman appear he took in her appearance. Despite her age she looked well, and he could see the family traits distinctly. As Faye moved off to greet her Fane eventually got out circling around to unstrap Eowyn and get her out of the car leaving the bags for the time being. They could get them later on.

He could distinctly hear the conversation going on, but opted to attune himself to the sound of the wildlife in the nearby land rather than eavesdropping. This was Faye’s time with her Gram and he… well, he was simply here to support her however she needed him to through this trip.

Lifting Eowyn up and settling her on his hip he gave her a small bounce, “travelling was fun wasn’t it?” His words earned a blink from the toddler who finally tore her eyes away from the women and house to look back and give him an enthusiastic nod. “Maybe we’ll do it some more,” though that was said more to himself than the little one he held in his arms.

As Faye returned he set Eowyn back down on the ground, letting her grab a hold of his hand and basically drag him in tow towards the steps and woman waiting for them. The height difference between himself and the toddler meant he had to tilt a little anyways, but he didn’t mind letting her pull him along until they stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Fane didn’t mind not being the centre of someone’s attention, for all his ability to be loud and cheerful he could just as easily fade into the background which is exactly what he did as they stopped. Instead, Fane stood and observed Eowyn’s interaction with her great-grandma his mind dwelling on what it would have been like to know his own back when they were alive. They’d passed long before his own time but it didn’t stop him wondering about them. Despite his own thoughts he was attuned to the conversation going on recognising the dig at Chris if ever he heard one but not opting to do anything to draw any untoward attention to himself not fidgeting for once simply standing a little behind Faye his hands clasped behind his back out of the way.

That is until Faye introduced him and he offered the old woman a smile, small but charming and nothing too over the top as she said she knew who he saw. “Nothing too bad been said about me I hope Mrs. Delacroix” he offered in good-humour having opted for his day-to-day accent that was mostly soft English with a very slight Eastern influence curling a few of his words rather than going to the extreme at one end or the other. Fane stood straight under her cursory inspection, neither presumptuous overconfidence nor shy just a delicate balance somewhere between the two. He could recognise the warning look he was offered, and a part of him was both curious and a little unsure quite how to interpret it. Understanding would likely come with time.

“Yes ma’am,” he answered politely when the invitation lifted the perimeter it felt like a heavy curtain being suddenly drawn back after being stood too close beforehand; allowing you to breath easy once more. It was always an odd feeling of being bound by some ancient aspect that meant he was unable to cross a private threshold without the necessary invitation but he’d gotten used to it now. Looking over at Faye he offered her his arm with a small smile before he started up the steps leading into the house following wherever Faye’s gram seemed intent on taking them whilst looking around the decoration. “You have a lovely house, antebellum architecture if I’m not mistaken?” 

“I’ll leave the tellin’ of that to Marie,” she said back. “And pah… it’s Beulah. Mrs. Delacroix makes me feel like an old woman.” She cackled a little at her own joke before eyeing him and then inviting them all in. Beulah had her own intentions when it came to Fane Savin, ones she would let come to light soon enough. But for now she headed inside and to the kitchen that was down and to the right. Immediately to the front of the double doors there was a large staircase that took up much of the foyer, leading up to the second floor where it split right and left into a balcony  that ran the circumference of the entranceway. There was a large hallway on the second level that went back into the depths of the house, and doors leading off at regular intervals could be seen. There was a library to the left, and a formal dining room to the right, both of which looked slightly underused and a bit dusty.

Faye had taken Fane’s offered arm, not missing the look that had passed between her Gram and Fane. But she didn’t say anything, as it seemed to settle between the two. What would happen would happen, and Faye honestly didn’t know what her Gram had in mind. She knew she wouldn’t harm Fane, never that, but she would probably test him, mess with him… to ascertain what sort of man he might be. Because Faye’s track record wasn’t the best. So she just gave him a smile as they traversed through the house behind her Gram and Eowyn.

The kitchen was just like Faye remembered, warm and full of light and hanging herbs and dried flowers. Something was already making the place smell like heaven, and Faye found that she couldn’t wait to sit down to dinner.

Beaulah set Eowyn down and the little girl moved off to explore for a moment, before coming to her mother and signaling that she had to go to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” she said, touching Fane’s arm as she passed by with Wyn.

“He’ll be fine, I won’t bite,” Beulah said over her shoulder as she checked whatever was in the stove, determined it needed another few minutes, and stood back up. “You two wash up. Give us two a chance to get… acquainted.” She waved Faye and Wyn off in the direction of the bathroom, and when they were gone, she turned back to Fane, tilting her head as she gave him another long, searching look. “Sit,” she said, indicating Fane should take a seat at the small table situated near the window of the kitchen. It wasn’t said in a commanding way, but merely in the way of grandmothers who expected their word to be obeyed without question. Without waiting to see if he would, Beulah moved off to another small room attached to the kitchen. The sound of rustling and clinking glass could be heard, and came back with a clear jar of something red. She snagged two glasses off the shelf and went to sit down at the table herself.

Pouring two fingers worth of the red liquid into each glass, she pushed one towards Fane. She raised her glass towards him and slowly tipped the red liquid back, swallowing all of it in one go. “Moonshine,” she explained at his quizzical look. “For good luck and a journey safely traveled.”

It was moonshine. Smelled like moonshine. Tasted like moonshine. But there was a slight hum of magic about it. Nothing malicious or harmful, merely a spell meant to uncover truth, be it of body, mind, heart, or soul. Glamours would fade, pretences would fall away, harmful intentions could be revealed if they existed. An effect much like alcohol could have on it’s own, but at a much faster and much more efficient rate. Though without the inebriation. And while it was a truth serum, at it’s core, there was no compulsion to blurt things out without prompting. Though if a question was asked, and the drinker chose to answer, it would be the truth, plain and simple. It didn’t seem to affect Beulah herself since she held no glamours, no false pretences or facades, and would always answer truthfully. She was who she was. Anyone who didn’t like it could go to Hell. Though over the years, she’d found loopholes in how to circumvent the magic, tell the truth without telling the whole truth. Omission instead of lying.

Beulah had used the drink on Chris when he’d first come to visit her. He’d been more than happy to sample ‘free booze.’ Needless to say, she had not been pleased at the outcome.

Though something told her that this one… he was different. Like day to night. She would suss him out eventually, but for now she simply poured herself another round and waited on him to join her, if he would. 

Hearing Beulah repeat a sentence he’d said more times himself than he cared to count was almost ironic, “I dread to think what that makes me then but I can understand the sentiment.” Recently Fane had enough Mr. Savin’s to last him a lifetime and then some. As they wandered through the house Fane found himself looking around at the layout taking note of the different doors curiously and making a note to explore later if he was allowed not wanting to intrude in Beulah’s home or hospitality.

Fane’s eyes drifted naturally to the hob as they arrived but Eowyn soon drew Faye’s attention and her touch to his arm was met with a smile. “Ah don’t worry about it, take your time” he wasn’t sure how long Beulah’s interest would last but if the look was anything to go by. Well, he knew something was coming though good or bad was yet to be decided. He watched as Faye and Wyn departed but soon his attention was taken by Beulah’s directions. Typically he wasn’t one to take directions from other people but he saw no point in being stubborn or obstinate today. Moving slowly to take up the seat she directed him to and leaning his forearms on the table hands clasped together whilst he watched the woman bustle off to what he could only assume was a pantry; a theory confirmed by the clinking and rustling that came shortly after she vanished.

When she returned his eyes went to the jar and his expression grew quizzical, unsure what exactly it was considering red liquid tended to immediately making him think blood, but closer inspection of the way it sloshed in the jar proved it wasn’t viscous enough to be blood. So her explanation was met with a small nod of understanding, however as she pushed one towards him he smiled gratefully looking down at it taking a subtle breath filtering out the other smells of the house and kitchen to try and determine whether there was anything untoward about it. Nothing did, but frankly Fane never took a drink from someone he didn’t know or trust well enough. As much as he respected Faye’s grandma his caution ultimately won out even as she downed her own. Fane’s hands remained clasped in front of him, politely and in view but making no move to take it. “I appreciate the offer ma’am, but I’m more of a whiskey person myself plus, I prefer to stay in control of my faculties-- no offence meant” he offered her an apologetic smile hoping he hadn’t offended with his decline to her offer of a free drink but still dipped his head politely to her toast.

Fane wouldn’t have minded the spell if he had drunk the offered glass but he made a point of being honest anyway. If Beulah had questions then he would answer them to the best of his abilities. As Beulah poured herself another Fane eventually tilted his head a little “I’m sure you have questions for me” making a small gesture to indicate he was happy to answer whatever she had to ask he waited observing her patiently.

Fane would have the opportunity to explore as he saw fit later on, the places in the house that were off limits being very few. And only then because they contained things that might be dangerous. Faye took her leave, and she sat down with her drink, looking over at him thoughtfully as he politely refused.

“Got whiskey too, if you’d care for a glass?” She would get him one if he wanted it, though it wouldn’t contain the spell. “None taken. I like a man who holds himself to certain standards. Far too little of that these days, if I do say so. Plus, more for me,” she grinned, but screwed the top back on the jar nonetheless.

“‘Course I do. Though what those questions might be I’m not so sure yet.” She gazed at him, tilting her head this way and that as if trying to figure out what the best angle to look at him from was. Finally settling on a tilt slightly to the right, Beulah reached out a hand to lay gently over his own. She closed her eyes and sucked in a small breath. Her magic skimmed his thoughts like one might books at a library, getting general ideas without delving into private detail. “Royal… traveler… lover… soldier… prisoner… father… ” Her voice was gentle as she opened her eyes, but didn’t let go of his hand. “Who are you now, Andrei Alois? And why should I trust you with my granddaughters-” Her voice slowly hardened, but stayed even. “- instead of turning you to ash where you sit?” Beulah gripped his hand hard then, squeezing much harder than an 80 year old woman should be able to, and when she held up her other hand and opened her palm, in it sat Fane’s daylight ring, gone from his finger where it always rested.

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the kitchen, still bright and hot in the late afternoon. It illuminated one side of Fane’s face, as well as Beulah’s. “Speak the truth, or I let go.” She calmly indicated their clasped hands. “And we all know what happens then.”

“I’m alright, but thank you anyway-- perhaps later” that is if he lasted that long. Her remark about certain standards certainly rung true enough for him, or so he hoped. Fane held a certain moral code that he did his best to try and live up to. It certainly wasn’t easy and there were days he was tempted to break it, after all how easy would it be to simply give in to those dark urges and impulses? Too easy. Fane chose the hard route, held himself accountable when he could and tried to do as much good as he could with what he had earned in the world.

Fane sat under her inspection, observing her in kind but making no move closer or further away. Though the pressure of her hand as light as it was over his own caused him to glance down momentarily that is til she started speaking and he could sense the mild skim over the surface of his thoughts. His eyes lifted to her face levelly but still no effort to break the contact was made. He’d known enough witches to know what she was doing but where most might make an effort to resist, hide or fight the mental intrusion he simply sat and let her browse, like his thoughts were an open record collection set out in a vintage store just waiting to be picked and played. Surface thoughts were all well and good but the things deeper would take more effort to pry into if she really wanted to go looking. “I ask myself the same question most days, and honestly? I’m not entirely sure myself who I am or what really exists anymore of Andrei. All I do know is that I’m a person trying to do their best in a world where the odds are stacked against you more often than not. I’m an amalgamation of my experiences that have shaped me to the individual I am today. Good? Bad? Who knows, I prefer to let others make their minds up on who I am but I’m all those things.” His own tone when he spoke remained patient and  even unrushed in his answer.

The sudden vice locking down on his hand was surprising but Fane had learned long ago to school his expression, any shock or trepidation that he might have felt simply locked down behind a mask of complacency. The sight of his ring in her hand caused his brow to arch skeptically his eyes to travel to the sun, down to the grip of her hand upon his own and then to her face trying to figure out whether or not it was a truth or a bluff. “You shouldn’t,” he stated simply not needing to be threatened to answer honestly “why should you trust a person you don’t know? I’d call anyone a fool for trusting someone outright that they just met. I could also point out that I’m sat here with you having travelled away from my hometown, my friends and both my children in order to support your grand-daughter in confronting her fears about returning here when I could have simply not bothered and stayed at home because it was an interference to my routine. I’m here because I want to be here and because I’m serious about Faye and Eowyn. There are plenty of things I didn’t have to do that I did and it’s exactly why I’m sat here now hoping to convince you I’m genuine in my intentions.”

There was no ire in his voice, death hardly scared him, he’d contemplated it a lot and his own death hardly was something that concerned him but his thoughts did go to Dani, to Sam, to Faye and Eowyn along with every other person he cared about. Ironic how not caring about his own demise was the very thing that would hurt the people he cared for the most. “You don’t need to threaten me to get me to speak truthfully, your grand-daughter’s suffered enough heartbreak for a lifetime and then some, are you really going to be the one to hurt her like that again?” his coal eyes hardened staring her and leaning forward just a little his poise confident despite the potential threat to his life being in the balance as it was his turn for his voice to grow cool, not threatening but pointed like a cleanly honed blade cutting straight to the point. If she wasn’t going to bullshit then neither was he.

After a moment he smiled disarmingly his head tilting almost daring her to do it “but yes we do know what happens then. You get an unnecessary mess to clean up, I mean ashes are an absolute nightmare to clean up and this suit? Dry clean only darling-- hardly worth the expenditure I promise.” Was it a cocky move and statement to make? Perhaps, but he was here to prove that he wasn’t about to be cowed by her threats but nor was it going to get a rise out of him either. Fane had been a diplomat long enough to know the benefits of patience and composure. Wait your opposition out, but was she really his opposition? Not really though the point was still applicable. His smile remained in place, eyes glinting in the sunlight reflecting the slight flecks of russet hidden within a statement there ‘I respect you, but I’m not afraid of you’.

“That’s all any of us can really ever do, ain’t it? Let others form their own opinions and judgements of us based on what life’s made us? The hard part comes when their opinions ain’t the same as our own.” Being what she was, Beulah had faced her own share of hatred and ignorance. People thinking she was one thing when she was most certainly not. But she’d grown used to it, and only kept people around her that needed to be there; that deserved to be.

Beulah gave a grunt of agreement as Fane spoke, his calm scepticism mixed with caution telling her a multitude of things. First off, that he wasn’t easy to frighten. Secondly, that he had been bluffed before, possibly with his life in the balance. Thirdly, he wasn’t rash and quick to act. There were other things as well, but those were the three that came to the forefront. Though should she really expect anything less from someone who’d lived as long as he had? Well… she’d seen a lot in her 80 years. Immortals who had no sense about themselves whatsoever was one of them.

“This is true,” she told him as he spoke of what he’d left behind, of not having to come with Faye, but of wanting to because he was serious about her and Eowyn. “Though intent be important too; specifically the difference between obligation and desire.” She let that comment remain, though she was able to feel the truth of what he said through their connection. Much like Faye had been able to feel him before the loss of her memory magic.

“Ain’t a threat, ‘s merely a question. Threats’re… classless.” She waved the hand holding Fane’s ring in a dismissive gesture. “But no, I don’t seek to hurt Marie more than she already been hurt. What kinda grandmother would I be then, hm? Though sometimes a little hurt now to protect from a bigger hurt… well…” She drew the word out. “Options have to be weighed.” As he leaned forwards, his voice and his gaze growing darker and more serious, a small smile tilted the edge of the old woman’s mouth.

And with his next comment, which started out as razor-sharp as the last one, and floated into something wholly unexpected, Beulah raised one eyebrow, a gesture eerily similar to the one Faye use quite often, before bursting out into a mad cackle. She released his hand, slapping her own down on the table as she laughed. Fane’s daylight ring was back where it belonged, and he was still intact. Whether it had been an illusion or if she’d really taken his ring she didn’t say. “You got balls like a mule, son,” she cackled. “On va passer un bon temps.”

“I see you two are gettin’ on just fine,” Faye’s voice came from the doorway as she and Eowyn reentered the room. The little girl moved off again to explore the kitchen as her mother came to stand next to Fane, stroking a hand down the back of his neck. “Playin’ nice?” she asked, looking pointedly at her Gram from behind Fane.

“‘Course we are,” Beulah grinned, reaching and giving Fane’s hand a firm pat. “Your boyfriend was just tellin’ me ‘bout the drive over from the airport.”

The oven beeped just then, and she made a face and pushed up from the table, her attention turned to the stove. Eowyn toddled over, watching curiously, and the two struck up a conversation, one verbal and one full of gestures and baby facial expressions.

“You okay?” Faye asked Fane sotto voice, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I can show you our room if you want? Help bring the bags up?”

“Not much you can do then, let bygones be bygones just because other people want to stay ignorant doesn’t mean I have to.” No doubt they both had their fair share of experience with people who didn’t care to take the time to understand, Fane didn’t like it but he did his best to brush it off even if deep down it did still hurt a little. Fane felt things so much more deeply after he’d been turned, his emotions seemed to resonate to the very centre of him and whilst often it allowed him capable of great feats of forgiveness he was also capable of darker depths not that he often let himself take that route.

“Of course it is, though I would also say a decent measure of both is healthy though admittedly my desire to be here outweighs my tendency towards obligation.”

As Beulah made her statement about threats being classless his head tilted back just a little “well,” he drew the word out slowly clicking his tongue “it sounded like a threat considering you took my only means of not burning to a crisp and proceeded to present the ultimatum of me answering truthfully or be burned up.” Fane knew his logic was sound, whether she wanted to debate the point he would happily do so but that was his stance on the matter and it likely wasn’t going to budge. “Not the one I’ve heard her talking at length so affectionately about, but I guess we all do what we think is best at the end of the day for family don’t we?”

The mimicry of a motion he so often utilised himself was perhaps the clue that his risk had paid off. Sometimes you just had to go all in and hope for the best. So her laugh and slap to the table caused him to sit back ever so slightly taking a moment to check for sure his ring was there. Assured that it was he looked up with a smirk curling his lips as her laughter echoed in the kitchen. “Oh, thank you very much,” his lips pulled back revealing his teeth “but they’re really quite average.” The French was just like that which Fane had heard Faye speak when they did switch to that language and he laced his fingers together on the table “oui, je sens qu’on va passer du bon temps ensemble.”

His torso turned in the direction of the door, his slanted smirk still plastered on his lips. “What else did you expect?” his head tilted as he felt her brush a hand down the back of his neck pressing a light kiss to her arm before his smirk turned into a grin at the firm pat to his hands. “Hm, yes--” not even missing a beat he tacked on “not the most interesting of tales I’ve shared I’ll admit but I got a bit of a history lesson which is something I always enjoy being given amongst other lessons, Faye’s a very good professor.” His head tipped back to peer up at her slightly upside down then “aren’t you?”

As Beulah got up and Faye asked him if he was alright he merely righted himself and twisted to sit sideways on his chair to look at her. “Always, you heard her just getting to know one another.” Still the thought of going to find their room did sound rather a decent idea, “sure. I’ll get them from the car and then we can head up?” The suggestion was made as he rose from his chair pausing to look over at Beulah “sorry to interrupt, how long until dinner would you say? Just so we know how long we have to unpack things.”

“That’s good to hear,” she told him sincerely. “Marie would probably take it the wrong way if she thought you felt obligated. Though I guess the two o’ you probably go pretty straight with each other, hm? ‘S good. Ain’t no point in secrets. Or lies. Omission maybe, for a time, but dishonesty? Never a good idea.”

Beulah simply grinned. “But did I? Or’d you just think I did?” She tapped her temple. “I wouldn’t burn a man up that I invited in as my guest. ‘S just smoke and mirrors. Puttin’ on a face. Mostly. You should know about that, hm?” She waved off his comment about how Faye spoke about her. “Marie sees me through rose-colored glasses most o’ the time. But yes. That we do.”

She laughed, pushing a bit of hair back from her face where it had fallen out of the loose bun at the back of her head. “I’ll take your word for it, son. And yes… yes I think we will.” It wasn’t often that she got to converse in French, and she gave him a pleased grin as he spoke back to her. The dialect and accent was different, but the meaning could be reasoned out well enough.

She moved off as Faye entered, acting as if nothing untowards had just passed between them.

Faye looked skeptically between the two, before turning her attention to Fane as he looked up at her. “‘Spose so,” she smiled, petting his hair again. “Alright then. I’m glad you like each other.” Faye nodded at his agreement. “It’s just up the stairs and down the hall to the left. All the way at the end.” She gave his arm a gentle touch and went over to Eowyn. “You wanna stay here and help Grammie with dinner?” she asked, leaning to kiss the little girl on her head. Eowyn nodded an enthusiastic yes.

“Well be fine, child,” Beulah said, turning to Faye with a smile. “You go on an’ get settled. And maybe a half hour? Little less?” she said, turning to answer Fane’s question.

“Alright. Be right back baby.” Faye moved towards the stairs, telling Fane she was going up to make sure things were settled in the room, though she was certain her grandmother had already fixed everything. She headed up, her hand smoothing over the banister as it had since she could walk. The wood was slick from years and years of hands doing just that, and Faye felt herself smile. Just as she thought, the bed was already fitted with fresh sheets that smelled like lavender, and a homemade quilt done in diamond patterns of blue and yellow. Fresh towels and homemade soap were in the bathroom, and the clawfoot tub was invitingly large and deep. Even the curtains were freshly laundered, sheer and gauzy and covering the two sets of tall French doors that led out onto a personal balcony overlooking the wildly overgrown back garden, with it’s wysteria and azalea, and the lilies and irises and elephant ears that all flourished in the wet Louisiana heat. There was even a fireplace and a few pieces of firewood, though it wouldn’t be needed this time of year.

She was standing at the window looking out into the garden when she heard Fane come in and set the bags down. “One of my earliest memories is standin’ right here, watchin’ the fireflies.” She turned to look at him, the sheer fabric of the curtains playing between her fingers. “Thank you. For bringin’ me here. I missed it. I just didn’t realize how much until now.”

Beulah had the right of it as she spoke of the dynamic between Faye and Fane. “Lying just causes more problems than it solves I’ve found, plus once you start lying to one person you have to lie to other people. Gets to the point you’re juggling so many things you’re bound to mess up eventually. Truth’s truth, nothing more to it than that at least for me.”

The grin was sly and Fane merely gave a good-natured shrug “can’t blame me for being stuck fifty-fifty on the matter, I figured as much but you can never really be a hundred percent on these things.” Even so, her remark about smoke and mirrors earned a low sound of agreement “maybe so.” But Fane had his reasons for that. As his point was waved off Fane considered it for a moment before pointing out honestly “I think she needs it.” Fane didn’t say it aloud but he figured she did need that view and belief that not everyone in her family was like her own mother. He wasn’t sure how Beulah viewed the matter which is why he left that unsaid not wanting to stir the pot considering what Faye had to tell her.

“Probably best,” Fane always was bolstered by good-natured laughter and plus, with what he’d heard about her from Faye he figured that ultimately she wouldn’t mind what some might consider inappropriate or crass humour. What was the point in life if you took it seriously? Languages were something Fane happily prided himself on at least speaking them, and French was one he considered his stronger aspects. His time living in Paris accounted for something.

Getting up and tucking the chair back in Fane nodded to Beulah’s time-frame “alright then, we’ll be back in about half-an hour.”

With that, Fane and Faye went in their various directions and after fetching the bags from the car and bringing them upstairs he followed the instructions; up the stairs, down the hall to the left and to the last door. As expected Faye was already in there and he set the bags down by the foot of the bed when she spoke. The room was elegant and inviting, homely in its own way and Fane found himself taking in the small details and allowing his eyes to linger on the shelves. Eventually, Fane walked up behind her slipping his arms around the curve of her waist and locking them low on the front of her belly pulling her back against his chest whilst he dipped to press a kiss to her neck affectionately. “Think we’ll see any tonight?” he asked quietly but at her thanks he made a low sound “you’re the one who wanted to come, this is the least I could do… But I’m glad you’re happy” after all with how apprehensive she’d been it was hard for him not to worry about her. After a few beats of silence he smiled against her neck “your gram seems to like me. Good start I’d say.”

“Truth is truth. Amen to that,” she agreed readily.

She gave a thoughtful little ‘hmm’ as Fane pointed out that perhaps Faye needed to see Beulah as she did. As the kind, caring, strong woman that had basically raised her, that had taught her magic and how to be a witch. “Maybe so.” With one last thoughtful glance and snort of laughter she moved off, and dinner was coming up shortly.

Faye smiled at him as he came over, eagerly leaning back into his embrace as he wrapped her up. She hummed in pleasure as his mouth found her neck, and her eyes closed as his voice floated over the silence. “Mmm, yeah. Prob’ly. We can take Wynnie out to catch some after dinner, ‘fore it gets too dark.” Her hands crossed over his over her belly. “I know it was me, but… havin’ you here… it makes it easier. I’m not sure I could do it without you. And I’m glad you’re happy too.” The beats of quiet passed, and Faye laughed low in her throat. “Were you really just talkin? ‘Cause I know that old woman and she thinks she’s sneaky but she’s not.” The words were affectionate even as they were curious.

They stood for another long moment before Faye sighed. “‘Spose we should get unpacked for she calls us down.” Turning in his arms, she looped her hands around his neck, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “But kiss me first, hm? I haven’t been kissed properly in weeks.”

As she would likely no doubt have already realised her neck was perhaps his favourite resting place, and whenever he got the opportunity Fane enjoyed nuzzling and hiding his face away in the small crook. Breathing in the smell of lavender and incense that was so calming and familiar. He couldn't explain why, just that it felt comforting and reassuring to be pressed up against her like that. “Is there a method to it or is it literally just finding a group of them and just trying to catch them in jars?” Though most of his focus was taken up by her words and he presses his smile into the column of her neck giving her a small squeeze. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else and I’m happier than I could ever put into words.”

Fane huffed a quiet laugh against her skin at the inquisitive question into what had happened in her absence. “Yeah, we were talking and I made a great joke that seemed to be the crux to winning her approval-- see my humour does count for something.” He did grow a little more serious then “but yeah, we just talked and she asked me a few things and seemed satisfied with what I had to say. Then you turned up and interrupted” he gave her a slight nudge in the ribs “how long were you stood there anyways?”

His grip eased some as she turned though his hands remained interlocked and pressed into the small of her back. He hummed as she spoke of unpacking though his thoughts for the most part were elsewhere namely on having her here in his arms after what felt like an age without her. “Oh really? That’s a travesty, sounds like your boyfriend deserves a kick up the backside for not making the effort to kiss you properly.” His smile was mischievous as he gazed at her “luckily for you, I’m here to help change that.” Closing the little distance that existed between them Fane brushed his lips over her own before pressing forwards in a more deliberate kiss relaxing into the warmth and familiarity of her lips against his own. Tilting his head and gripping her back a little more firmly he drew her close and kissed her more deeply biting down on the irresistible curve of her lower lip.

Faye loved it when he nuzzled into her neck. Not only did it feel good to her, but she knew it comforted him as well. “No,” she said, eyes still closed. “They just float around in the tall grass and the trees. Just catch ‘em in your hand and put ‘em in a jar. Gotta be careful not to squish ‘em though. We’ll let ‘em go afterwards.” The pronouncement that he was happy set a warmth into Faye’s chest, only adding to the feeling of rightness that being here with him brought.

“She does like jokes. The cruder the better. So I won’t ask what you said,” she laughed, giving him a bump with her elbow. “And I never said you’re humor was worthless. I happen to like it, silly as you are sometimes.” She rubbed a hand over the smoothness of his arm as he grew a bit more serious. Part of her wanted to ask what her Gram had questioned him about, but a bigger part knew that some things were best left between the people that had discussed them. So Faye didn’t press him for more. “Only long enough to have to cover Wyn’s ears,” she huffed. But there was a smile in her voice.

Her head tilted back as she turned in his arms, nose brushing lightly along his jaw. “He is sort of an ass… I mean… hardly pays me any attention. I barely see him… I mean a girl’s got needs…” Her quiet laughter was swallowed up as he pressed his mouth against hers. His lips were already warm from where they’d been pressed against her neck, and the low flicker of flame that had burned in her belly for the last three weeks rose higher. She’d missed him. The few calls and texts and the one or two hastily snatched coffees hadn’t been enough. Maybe it was selfish or even greedy, and as much as she knew they both understood how busy their separate lives were, it still didn’t make the absence any easier.

He pressed more insistently into her, and Faye hummed in approval. Sliding her hands up his chest to his neck, she let out a quick breath as his teeth nipped her bottom lip. “Tease…” she said past the ache and the sting, nails scraping through his hair. She kissed him again, one hand crawling down and under the edge of his shirt to find the warm skin of his hip. They probably didn’t have time for what she wanted, what they both wanted, but they had a few minutes, and Faye didn’t plan to waste them.

“Sounds simple enough, though I guess there’s a talent to it - why don’t they fly away?” Fane had never been anywhere that had an abundance of fireflies so it was one thing he’d never tried his hand at. There was nothing that felt more right than being here with Faye, being where he was needed and more importantly where he was wanted. The thought brought a cheerful smile to his lips, this trip was definitely worth it.

“Probably best,” he muttered pressing another kiss to her neck and lightly nuzzling the skin again humming in absolute content. “Guess you’re just going to have to get used to that then, ‘cause my crassness isn’t about to go anywhere in fact I’d argue it might get worse if I’m unduly encouraged.”

Fane laughed quietly as Faye complained, “well, I have seen his ass and it’s pretty nice but I think he’s an idiot if he isn’t paying this beautiful woman any sort of attention. You’re right, a girl has got needs that deserve to be tended to by someone that clearly cares” which is exactly why Fane kissed her the way he did, because he did care and he missed her more than he would ever be able to filter through verbal displays.

There was barely any space between them, and Fane let his nails drag along the curve of her spine through the material of her shirt whilst his other hand snaked more securely around her waist removing any further space between them; allowing her warmth to filter straight through the layers of their clothes to sink into his body. “You know it,” he muttered against her lips a mischievous glint in his eyes as he gazed back at her shivering a little as her nails raked through his hair. Chancing a look at his wrist-watch Fane was distracted by the press of her lips unable to help the need such a simple act stirred in him moaning quietly. God would it be so bad if they were a little late to dinner? Probably not the best first impression to make but he couldn’t help but wonder. They could probably manage something couldn’t they? Pulling away from her kiss he ducked to pepper her jaw and neck with kisses his tongue dragging a stripe over her skin tasting the salt of her skin before he let his lips linger and suck on her pulse-point hungrily. It was almost amusing what the simple deprivation of her presence and attention could result in an almost all-consuming need for her.

She felt the tremor that ran through him as her nails scraped across his skin, so she did it again. Across his hip and the scars that arched along the muscle there, over his stomach, her hand seeking warmth and soft skin while her mouth sought out the press of his lips and the bite of his teeth. Thoughts of dinner fell to the wayside as he moved back to lave at her neck. Her hands tightened against him, a silent act of encouragement, and a small sound, almost pained, worked it’s way up out of her throat.

It felt like forever since he’d touched her, especially like this. Weeks without him in her bed had strung her tight as a bow, as he was slowly loosening her with each stroke of his fingers and his tongue. The urge to lock the door, which still stood wide open, the aroma of dinner creeping slowly up the stairs and down the hall, was strong. Because honestly, at this point they wouldn’t last long once they were able to be alone for more than a few minutes at a time when they weren’t exhausted.

As it was, Faye gave him a small push, walking him backwards towards the bed as her hands became more insistent. “I missed you…” she breathed as he bumped the edge of the double bed with his legs. “These last three weeks have been… God, they’ve been awful…”

The drag of her fingertips over whatever skin she could find had him ignited; skin boiling over in a flood of molten wildfire coursing through his veins in wake of wherever she happened to touch. She didn’t need to give him encouragement the flicker of her pulse under his lips and sounds he drew from her throat alone served to do exactly that.

Fane tended to pride himself on his patience and with most things that was the case, but when it came to wanting Faye most standards of his patience fell by the wayside or sometimes got tossed rather forcefully out the window. Of course they’d seen each other, but after the Fairy incident it left them at almost a month since they’d re-established this particular emotional and physical connection, something always getting in the way leaving them both frustrated and wound up.

He wasn’t expecting the push, and staggered a little not wanting to be parted from her but knowing exactly what she wanted by the look in her eyes. Normally he was the predator stalking his prey but right now with her bearing down on him Fane recalled the appeal of handing over control. “I missed you too,” he rasped quietly letting her back him up until the back of his knees hit the bed and he automatically sat on the edge reaching out to grip her hips not particularly caring for the state of the door or otherwise. “I bet,” he murmured his head tilting back to look up at her poised over him enjoying the sight immensely. “I’m here now, we’re here now though.”

When he sat back on the bed, Faye stepped between his knees, pressing close and carding her fingers through his hair as he looked up at her. Though he was tall enough that even sat on the bed it wouldn’t take much effort to kiss her if he wanted. “I wanted to call you up so many times,” she whispered, her thumb brushing his bottom lip. “Let you whisper dirty things to me while I brought myself off…” She pressed a little closer, her restraint waning with every touch of his hands across her waist. A month was too long. Too damn long to go without this part of their relationship. Faye was a physical person, and had always had a healthy appetite for sex, but until recently she’d been practically starved for it.

Her ex had ignored her mostly, his lapse into his own internal world leaving Faye frustrated and entirely unsatisfied in more ways than one. It left her feeling hurt, and unappealing, and lonely. Which is how her path and Fane’s had crossed ironically enough. It hadn’t been their first meeting, her and the man gazing up at her so adoringly, but it had been the catalyst. And here they were now. God, Faye could hardly believe it. It frightened her sometimes, like she’d told Iann, because it was almost too good. They worked almost too well. But Faye had committed to not questioning it. She was happy, and so was Fane. That’s what mattered.

“We are, aren’t we?” A small push was all it took and she was crawling over him on the bed, straddling his hips as her mouth ghosted along his neck. Her hair fell all around them, a wavy blonde mess, as Faye’s brain and body started to shut out anything besides the warmth of him beneath her. Hands rode up his shirt, pushing it high on his chest as she kissed a line down his sternum, warm open-mouthed kisses that left little marks of wetness across his skin. Her tongue found a soft nipple and sucked it into a hard peak as her hips pressed insistently down against him.

Dinner could burn for all Faye cared.

Whilst he was well aware of what he could do, Fane preferred to sit back and admire her which is why he did exactly that. Her whispered words sparked an almost sinful gleam in his eyes the press of her thumb to his lips a temptation in itself, still he pouted a little up at her “why didn’t you cherie? You know I would have, I would have told you exactly what to do, what I would do.” Her edging closer caused him to inhale his hands slipping from her hips around and gripping her ass possessively.

If there was one thing Fane wanted it was to make her feel desired, to remind her that she could be wanted; that she was wanted by someone. He’d made that decision a long time ago now, to passively pursue; only ever heeding her wishes and respecting whatever decision she made. Sure, it felt like sometimes it had been two steps forwards three steps back but what really could he have ever expected? At the end of the day, things had happened to work out and they were here, together, now.

The push sent him down, back hitting the bed that dipped as she crawled ontop of him his head pressing back as she sought to shove his chest up leaving his torso exposed. He hardly minded her attention, even with the multitude of marks cast into the light by the act, it was hardly anything she hadn’t seen before. His mind was entirely blank save for the warm press of her lips that is until the locked and sucked on his nipple the act causing his nails to dig into the material of her clothes as his back arched up off the bed and a needy mewl to escape him his hips rocking earnestly back against her own.

“God--- I need you, I need to feel you right now” he was desperate and no amount of her teasing would unfortunately be tolerated today it seemed.

Two steps forwards and three back would have been an apt description, especially when Fane had needed to leave after the month of memory spells raged through the town. Faye had thought him gone forever, and even though they had written once or twice - an outdated way of communicating, she knew, but so much more personal than a text or email - it had seemed very dire indeed.

And then he’d come back. And though neither of them had truly known what to expect when he’d come to her house that night, it had ended with them both tangled together in her bed, the last several months finally rising to a peak that could no longer be put off or denied.

And here they were now. If she believed in a benevolent God, Faye might have thanked Him. And she’d never come closer to praying in her life, not since she was a little girl, than when she’d seen him standing on the beach that night, an illusion of her heartbreak. Or so she’d thought.

But he had been no illusion. Just as he wasn’t right now, arching beneath her as her mouth tugged him into a state of near desperation. His hands tightened on her hips, and he pressed against her, the words ‘I need you’ falling from his mouth in a desperate rush of air even as her hand slipped down to the waistband of his jeans. “I want you so much…” she breathed, ghosting her lips across his other nipple, sucking it into hardness as she had it’s twin. She’d just dipped her fingers towards the rapidly hardening flesh beneath her when suddenly:

“Dinner’s done you two!” her Grams voice called up the stairs. “Come on down.” And that was it.

Faye looked at Fane, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing him, and her fingers just millimeters from where she wanted them, and let out a frustrated groan, before falling bodily on top of him. “It’s not fair…. It’s not fair at all…” she mumbled grumpily into his neck, making a small pained noise as her hips tilted into his once more time. “I’m gonna die…”

His words weren’t simply ones of desperation, his claim was a moment of raw and pure honesty. He didn’t just want her, he needed her, like a junkie needed their fix except his addiction was the witch currently pinning him to the bed and he never wanted to come down from this euphoria. Yet, he’d begin to notice how every moment without her left an ache in his chest and his thoughts more often than not turning towards her.  

Fane still felt guilty about what had happened during that time but it had, ultimately, come to a head that had led them to the very situation they were in now. He’d hoped that perhaps they’d be able to finally steal a moment, but instead, found them both interrupted by a dinner call.

Of bloody course they were.

The pressure of Faye sinking down above him and pressing to his chest caused his own hands to leave her and petulantly throw themselves over his head, eyes screwed up and a groan of protest to leave him. “What deity did I piss off to deserve this?” he muttered, hearing Faye’s own protests muttered in kind to his skin.

The press of her hips earned another groan of protest “you’re gonna die? No, I’m gonna die I can only take this so many times-- bloody hell” his head fell aside on the mattress his body aching from her previous attentions. “I swear, at some point I’m going to have my way with you and lock you up in the bedroom for a week at least” he declared even if it was unlikely that such a thing was ever going to happen. But she wasn’t the only one capable of being dramatic when denied something they wanted.

Faye needed him too. So much that she was starting to forget what it was like to not have him in her life. Had she not been so tightly wound, so openly desperate for his touch, and for him as well. For him, warm and real and making her heart swell with each passing day. For Faye, wanting him, while not the same as need - even though she needed him… God, she needed him like she needed air, or sunlight, or the blood in her veins to keep her alive - was one way she could show him how she felt. Especially as words escaped her so often.

And being apart had been hard. Some might say she was needy, and maybe she was, but let them try living without color, or taste, or sensation… and see how much they needed it then. That was how Faye felt, in part, when Fane was gone. Colors weren’t as bright. Food tasted bland. Sensations were muted. Eowyn brought out the life in all these things, and Faye would never deny that her daughter made her very, very happy… but the love she felt for Eowyn was different than the love she felt for Fane. And Faye would never be able to put it into words, so she didn’t try.

“I think they all have it out for us,” she grumbled. “Just pick one.”

“Only a week?” she said, sounding disappointed, but smiling into his neck anyway. “I was thinking more like two or three… a month even. Even you might get tired of the things I’m gonna do to you by then.” His dramatics didn’t bother Faye at all. She was prone to her own, and as the both of them were Leos, respectfully, they fully embraced the occasional histrionics of the other. Within reason. Sometimes they needed to be taken down a notch, told to calm down or take a breath, or just to hold their damn horses, but mostly the mutual dramatics went off without a hitch.

Faye lay there for a moment longer, just breathing him in. “‘Spose we should go down, hm? ‘Fore she comes lookin’ for us like a couple o’ teenagers.”

He snorted a laugh at her grumble, deciding that as much as he wanted someone to blame he wasn’t going to chance pissing anyone else off even a hypothetical deity from ancient texts and stories. Better safe than sorry. You never knew what existed in this world after all.

“A month? What about a hundred days?” he asked tilting his head to look at her a little “like the Romans just… less treacherous and more hm, lecherous?” Fane suggested with a chuckle rather proud of his turn of phrase no matter how dumb it might be. “Plus, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of anything you want to do to me, and anyways who says you get all the fun of doing things to me? Maybe I want to return the favour?” They both had their tendencies and that was simply a fact of the matter, it caused its issues but they dealt with them as they came up. After all, most of the time they took each other’s dramatics more in the vein of humour rather than genuine severity.

“I feel like a teenager who just got caught in the middle of a romp right now,” he grumbled in kind before heaving a sigh “but I guess you’re right.”

“A hundred days of debauchery? What sane person would say no to that?” Faye gave his ear a nip for his efforts at humor, though she laughed anyway. “Return away. I’m yours to do with as you please.” The thought only served to make Faye feel more frustrated than ever, so with a monumental effort, she pushed herself up and off the bed, turning to the mirror on the wall to make sure she didn’t look too ruffled. “Remind me to tell you about the time I actually did get caught,” she grinned over her shoulder. Holding out a hand, she helped him up and helped him sort himself as well, before they both headed downstairs.

Dinner was good. Roasted chicken, baked potatoes, fresh greens and an assortment of steamed home-grown vegetables, along with fresh bread, wine for the adults, and milk for Wyn, left them all full and sated. They chatted about Soapberry, and Faye’s job, Fane’s too, and talked about Wyn and what she was doing in school. Faye didn’t bring up her mother yet. She wouldn’t. Not around Wyn. Besides, she had a feeling her Gram knew. She always knew.

After Faye insisted on doing the washing up, she found the others as they had milled around waiting on her. “You ready to catch some lightin’ bugs?” she asked Wyn, holding up a glass mason jar with holes poked in the top for air. Wyn nodded readily, and took her jar. “One for you too,” Faye grinned as she handed one to Fane. “Since you’ve never in your entire life caught lightnin’ bugs. Or you can call ‘em fireflies. Whichever.”

They headed out onto the back porch, where it was wide enough to hold an outdoor patio set and a porch swing. It ran the length of the house, and was covered by the balcony of the second floor. The back garden was overgrown. Vines and flowering brambles were everywhere, running over the iron fences that still encircled it on the outer edges. Here and there a statue stood out from beneath the flowers and the bushes: fairies and fauns, the occasional angel and woodland creature. Though despite the wildness, it seemed tended to, in a roundabout sort of way. The plants flourished, their leaves green and thick; the flowers were vibrant and smelled like heaven, and the trees surrounding the entire space, with their overhanging branches and curtains of moss, seemed almost to breath quietly in the warm night air.

There were paths in varying combinations of grass and stone leading all around the garden. In the very middle stood a gazebo, alongside a small pond filled with colorful fish that would change hues if you watched long enough.

Faye took Wyn’s hand as they walked out into the grass. “Look there. See that?” She pointed to where spots of bright yellow seemed to float about on the breeze, flashing slowly on and off. “You gotta catch him easy,” Faye mimicked closing her hand gently around something, “and then put ‘im in the jar, okay? It’s their butts that glow.” Eowyn giggled at this, but then set her sights on a low flying spot of yellow before heading towards it. Faye smiled, watching the little girl for a long moment before turning to Fane. “Come on… your turn.”

“That’s the point, no sane person would say no to that” though the nip to his ear made him huff again tilting his head back in an attempt to get away from her knowing that any more of such attention would make it very hard to go back down to dinner. As she shifted back he stretched out before sitting up pulling his shirt back down despite its rumpled state. Smoothing a hand through his hair he laughed as he got up to sort himself out “oh I will.” With a glance in the mirror and a cheeky slap to her ass he followed her out the bedroom.

Fane knew that Faye would tell her Gram in her own time about the occurrence with her mother and saw no point in bringing it up, so he indulged in idle conversation enjoying the chance to get to know the little part of Faye’s blood family that remained. Feeling obliged to help clean up with Faye considering the effort that must’ve gone into preparing their meal he insisted rather obstinately about assisting her and between the two of them got the job done rather speedily. And soon enough they were on to the next activity of the evening. Taking the jar he held it up curiously trying to figure the logistics of putting fireflies in there without them flying out the next time you opened the lid to deposit the next one. He’d figure it out but it seemed a tricky task.

Following with the jar tucked under his arm Fane admired the gardens, knowing that throughout their stay here he was bound to end up walking and exploring them in the bit of time he might happen to find to himself here. The garden was charming in its own rustic way, like the house he found and as they stepped down into the grass he observed whilst Faye explained what you had to do. Eowyn was off almost immediately when she spotted one and Fane hung back watching the toddler wander about scooping and depositing the insects into the jar with a fond smile. At Faye’s mention of it being his turn he looked dubious but unscrewed the lid peering about for a particular spot before he waded out into the grass mimicking Faye’s movements earlier to scoop the insect out of the air and put it in the jar before putting the lid on. The process repeated, though occasionally between him scooping one out of the air and trying to put it in the little blighter flew off again earning a slightly irked look every now and then. “Why don’t you give it a go?” he called after a little while turning to look over at her whilst cradling his jar of luminous insects in the crook of his elbow.

Faye had been content with watching Eowyn catch her little jar of bugs, her Gram following along and helping her from time to time, and watching Fane’s pretty good first attempt. “Alright,” she said with a smile, moving off towards the center of the garden where the little flickers of light were thickest. She took the lid off her jar and tucked it beneath her arm, turning in a slow circle as her eyes tracked an insect that was flying close by. With a practiced hand, she reached out and cupped it gently in her palm, opening her hand over the jar and dropping her prize deftly inside with a little bump against the rim. It promptly fell to the bottom of the jar, unharmed. The aerated lid was placed over it and Faye moved on to her next catch.

A half dozen lightning bugs later, Faye was near the back of the garden, trying to get one more that had eluded her thus far. She almost had her hand around it, hovering in the air near the large, overgrown greenhouse that nestled in this particular corner of the area, when something caught her eye. A flicker of blue, distorted by the haze of old glass. “Ohh,” Faye said, stepping carefully down from the stone block she’d been standing on. Her eyes never left the place where she’d seen the shimmer of color.

It came again, quite suddenly, from inside the glass walls, and Faye let out a breath of excitement. She chanced a look for her Gram and Eowyn, wanting to show them as well, but they were back up near the house, too far to signal unless she yelled. And that would scare it. But Fane was closeby. “Hey… come ‘ere,” she said, the excitement evident in her voice as she was already carefully opening the door to the greenhouse.

“Have you ever seen a nightwisp?”

It took Fane a while to get a hang of the methodology behind catching the insects but the more he tried the easier it became. Still, when Faye joined the effort and rather expertly started catching fireflies he merely rolled his eyes and tsked “look at the pro, in her element. Did they have firefly catching competitions when you were a kid?” Fane joked lightly as he watched her wander around. “Please tell me there was and they had a firefly trophy to go with it.”

He’d ended up wandering a little towards the pond, curious to take a look at the fish in the water when he heard Faye’s excited breath. Her conspiratorial tone didn’t help matters either in terms of his curiosity and he offered her a quizzical look as she brought his attention to her… discovery?

It was only when he followed her gaze he noticed the odd luminescence coming from within the greenhouse its pale silvery blue light refracting off the glass. Soon enough the fish were abandoned for an exploration of the greenhouse though Faye’s question didn’t ring any particular bells. Magical creatures or aspects with the exception of dragons (which to his very very great misfortune had yet to prove existed, not that he was discrediting this because just because there was no evidence didn’t mean they couldn’t still exist somewhere) really weren't in his memory bank. His mind wasn’t a steel trap and Fane relied on the logs and journals he kept to remember the important details of his life; all safely stored back at his estate. So, unless it was some entity of mythology - take the Manticore for example or even the Minotaur Fane really couldn’t help very much without prior research.

“Nightwisp?” he echoed curiously following her into the greenhouse “no-- never heard of it.”

Broken glass - from a few missing ceiling panels Faye realized as she looked up - littered the dirt and gravel floor of the greenhouse, along with the remains of several long-dead palms, withered ivy, and various other dead and rotting plants and flowers. It obviously hasn't been used properly in years, though Faye remembered it flourishing with life at one point in her youth. Just more evidence that her Gram was getting older, and less able to keep up with things like she once had.

Their feet crunched over the detritus as they moved slowly inside, and Faye made a mental note to be careful around the shards of glass that were still hanging on to a few cracked side panels. The blue light flickered from deeper inside, and Faye followed slowly, turning to look at Fane over her shoulder. “I saw one once when I was a girl. But it was in the woods. I liked it so much I learned to make bluebell flames to mimic it.”

She ducked beneath a fallen beam from the ceiling. “Watch yourself,” she warned, motioning to the sharp edges still attached to the wood. Not that Fane wouldn't be able to heal, but it would still hurt. And she didn't want him suffering because she was careless. “Nightwisps are of the ether. The places between places. If you should happen to capture one, or better yet befriend it, they can lead you safely through any danger. A burning house. An enchanted forest. The deepest, darkest part of anywhere that exists in any world. They'll lead you safely through.” Faye paused as the little creature shimmered through the corridor in front of them, smiling sadly. “The only catch is they give up their life force to do it.”

Faye looked back at Fane, her expression telling him that she'd never dream of capturing something so rare and beautiful. “But they can also see the future. Or a version of it.” She walked on, following the glimmer of blue, until a few feet later they came to a round room with a dried up fountain in the center. Faye stopped.

“Do you see it?” she asked Fane.

The shards caught the moonlight filtering through from outside like remnants of a shattered star, glittering and reflecting the light amongst the dirt underfoot. A rather beautiful duality if thought about in terms of the contrast between the shimmering light amongst the dark turf beneath. “I’m sure this place was a sight when it was complete” Fane remarked lightly dragging his fingers along a worn wooden countertop on which some flowers still bloomed. Fane both loved and hated places like this because it always stirred in him the urge to want to help, to conserve and take things back to a state where they could truly be appreciated. Yet, there was also a beauty in the display of time shown here; every weather worn panel and chipped window with its own unique story to tell if a person was willing to listen or look closely enough. Even so, things shouldn’t be forgotten to time. During their stay Fane would ultimately end up occupying any free time he did have with cleaning up the greenhouse if only a little; removing the broken glass and replacing some of the window panes nothing major but enough to make a little difference-- a thank you to Beulah for letting them stay but also an act of kindness he hoped she might appreciate.

“You should show me sometime, that is if you don’t mind” Fane was aware of Faye’s fear of fire and would never ask her to do something she might feel uncomfortable doing but he couldn’t help his fascination with her displays of magic.

His hand came up in a protective fashion as he ducked similarly under the beam minding some of the loose stones underfoot “mind your stop” he didn’t particularly want her turning an ankle in here either. He listened curiously to her explanation of what Nightwisps were and his own expression grew to mimic her sadness. He knew the toll it took to ask someone or something to give up its life-force for some greater purpose (if using it for your own benefit could even be considered a greater purpose), that guilt would be something he would always carry with him. Now, Fane tried not to make such sacrifices anymore but do his best to find some alternate solution to them.

The reached an open room the glass ceiling curving up in panels to form a single domed roof through which the moon could be seen clearly. Yet the illumination of this room came not from the pearly luminescence overhead but the orb-like celestial spirit floating a peaceful path around the edge of the fountain shimmering wisps of silver and dusty celeste trailing in its graceful journey. Fane was about to open his mouth to answer her question but as though the Nightwisp sensed their presence the orb seemed to still its journey before it shot like a comet arcing across the domed ceiling, its traverse reflected in the glass above as it descended towards them both circling once, twice, three times before it stilled a few feet or so away swaying smoothly from side to side.

“Who is it that disturbs my voyage here this very night?” the soft melodic voice vibrated through the air an empyrean quality to its tone that resonated through the nearby glass. It was a tone of no comparison; one that was ancient yet new all at once, all-knowing yet ever-learning, friendly yet distant and left Fane both curious and speechless all at once.

“It was. I learned a lot in here. What flowers could heal. What plants could poison. I grew up inside these walls.” Faye looked around sadly, mirroring Fane unknowingly as she drug her fingers over the dusty tabletops. “I think Gram has some pictures somewhere of when it was complete. Though don’t be surprised if she subjects you to photos of me as a child too before we leave.” Faye’s voice was fond, though the overtone of sadness was there too. The greenhouse was slowly fading away, as everything did with time. If Fane helped restore it… Faye and her Gram both would be overwhelmed. Because it wasn’t only preserving the beauty of something old and antique, but preserving the good parts of Faye’s childhood. But Faye didn't know his thoughts, and they continued on.

Faye watched the loose stone underneath as Fane pointed it out, ducking and moving around pieces of fallen wood, and the occasional branch from the trees above that had fallen through the glass. They entered the circular room, alive with soft, blue light, and Faye’s breath left her as she finally saw the Wisp as it arched in a silent streak over their heads, leaving trails of shimmering light that faded in and out as it moved and swayed. It was reflected in Faye’s plum-colored eyes and mirrored in Fane’s darker ones.

And then… and then it spoke.

Faye let out a short sound that was part amazement, part surprise, and part wonderous laughter, but she quickly put her hands over her mouth, not wanting to frighten the little creature. But it didn't seem afraid. If anything it was cautiously curious, and the glass vibrated gently with the ethereal resonance of the Wisp’s voice. As it questioned her, Faye dropped her hands.

“Faye,” she said quietly, pointing to herself. “And Fane Savin.” She touched Fane’s arm, though she still looked at the form of the Wisp. It was still swaying gently, trailing liquid stardust that left a shimmer in the air before fading out.

“Hello Faye Savin. Hello Fane Savin,” it said, addressing them both in turn, pulsing gently in time with its words.

“Oh… no… no, I’m not Faye Savin,” Faye said quickly, feeling her cheeks flame as the Wisp misunderstood her. “I’m-”

“Are you not Faye? And is he not Stefan?” it asked over her protestations, sounding confused.

“Well… yes,” Faye said, frowning, “but-”

“And are you not here together?” the Wisp continued in it’s calm, gentle voice.

Faye let out a breath through her nose. “Yes, but-”

“Then you are Faye and Stefan Savin.” The Wisp said with one final pulse, satisfied with it’s logic for reasons unknown. “Why are you here tonight, Faye and Stefan Savin?”

Faye looked at Fane, a slightly helpless and apologetic expression on her face. Though something bright and hot and unnameable flickered through her as the wisp called her by a name that was not her own. It frightened her in its intensity, so she pushed it back, focusing on the question that had been asked of her.

“I… I saw you,” Faye said, turning back to the Wisp even as her eyes lingered on Fane for a moment before following. “From the garden. I remember seeing one of your sisters as a child…”

“Yes. I know. But why are you here?” the Wisp asked again, swaying back towards Fane.

The thought of a younger Faye wandering about, picking leaves and roots to crush them together into spells made him smile though it was tinged with sadness. “Well,” he breathed drawing the word out “I want to know every part of your life-- the good, the bad, the ugly so I hope she gives me that opportunity to get a glimpse of what your life was like here I’m looking forward to it.” As they wandered through the derelict corridors Fane made his mind up, any spare time he had whilst they were here he’d dedicate to helping do whatever he could to make this place rendered safe and secure for Faye’s gram.

Fane wasn’t often left awestruck, but right now it seemed like his brain had short-circuited and any speech capabilities had utterly failed on his behalf. A part of him was tempted to take a photo but eventually figured that might be rude and so his phone stayed where it was. He glanced at Faye as she let out a breathy laugh admiring the sight of her features illuminated by the soft celeste glow, the colour of the light turning her eyes a dark shade of lavender, if the NIghtwisp had stolen his words the sight of Faye in that moment left him breathless.

As it spoke, Fane turned back smiling as the little orb swivelled in mid-air to momentarily face him when Faye introduced them both and he almost laughed as it greeted them both individually his eyes sliding over to Faye noticing the heat colouring her cheeks; a sight that did make him chuckle softly.

The Wisp’s logic was sound, and Faye’s protestations only made him shake a little in silent laughter raising a hand to press to his lips to stop any sound from coming out. There was also a slightly warm feeling at the implication the name seemed to hold and the Wisp’s certainty in giving it. Like it knew something that neither of them would know at this moment in time. The prospect was both a terrifying and fascinating one, though it was the weight of Faye’s gaze on him sobered Fan. Enough to stop his laughter and after rubbing a hand over his stubble he let his hand drop back to his side.

As the Wisp swayed back towards him Fane admired it for another second. “We were curious” he answered honestly, “I’ve never seen a Nightwisp before.”

“And now you have, though curiosity is often a dangerous thing Stefan Savin” it answered once again buffed by unseen and unfelt forces, “do you have need of me?” The question sounded like it presumed to know their intentions, that it expected them to be no different than the others of their kind who met a Wisp and took advantage of its gifts.

“Yes, I have and yes, that’s true” he acknowledged patiently “but how do we learn without taking that risk?” Though, the Wisp’s next question made Fane’s eyes widen, shaking his head  “oh no-- no, I don’t have need of you we just-- wanted to see you.”

“There are plenty of ways to learn; books, media, but you speak of life Stefan Savin and those things cannot teach you the value of life. Remember though, to hold dear what you care for.” The Wisp pulsed slowly, “if you have no need of me Stefan Savin why are you here?”

Fane blinked again, “um-- I-- really did just want to see you, I didn’t mean to disturb you and if I did I apologise for that.”

The Wisp stayed silent pulsing gently as though taking stock of the integrity and truth to his words before it drifted closer circling left around his head before coming to a stop after a single full rotation to stop in front of him. “You may stay Stefan Savin,” the Wisp finally spoke turning towards Faye once more “and you Faye Savin, why are you here?”

Faye smiled even though he couldn't see her. “Well, I guess the good thing is that the part of me that’s here is mostly good. Not a lot of bad memories, other than comin’ here when I was runnin’ from somethin’.” Running from her mother’s hatred. Literally. Out her window and through the streets into the woods, barefoot and in her nightgown. She'd show up muddy and tearful and crawl into her Gram’s bed and her Gram would pet her hair and rock her to sleep even when she got older.

This place was one of only a few where she felt completely safe. And to preserve it would be… it would mean more than words could express.

The Wisp dance slowly in the air, and Faye was so entranced that she didn't see Fane’s expression as he gazed at her. It was a rare thing indeed to feel a moment of pure, unfiltered joy. And that was what Faye felt, and what her face showed. At least until the Wisp misunderstood and Faye blushed fiercely. Fane’s expression was full of humor however, as she turned to him a bit helplessly, and that eased her embarrassment just a bit.

The Wisp dipped towards Fane then, and Faye watched as they spoke to one another: the immortal and the timeless. It was her turn to be left breathless then, as she watched the ethereal light play over his features, casting them into soft relief. He looked… beautiful, and Faye was well and truly enraptured. She also knew she would likely never see something so rare again in her lifetime. So she watched and listened, motionless, as the Wisp gave its own council, and asked its questions in a voice that slide like silk and honey and wind chimes over the blue-black surface of the greenhouse.

Fane's answers pleased the little creature, and Faye watched with a mixture of fear and excitement as it curled towards her and asked the same. She didn't correct the name, since her earlier efforts were futile. Who was she to question a being that had existed for eons anyway?

“I was curious as well, and wanted to see you,” Faye answered honestly.

“You have seen us before. That is the truth. Why again?” The blue light tilted slightly, as if it was looking at Faye curiously.

Fsye swallowed. “I… because you're beautiful. And gentle. And I remember… how I felt such… joy, when I saw your sister. I wanted to feel that again.”

“We remember you, Faye with the violet eyes. As we remember all. Know all. You have changed since that day, but yet you haven't. Do you have need of me?”

“No,” Faye shook her head quickly, her voice catching even as she smiled. “I just wanted to remember that feeling.”

The Wisp made a small noise that sounded like a contented sigh. “You have joy. You need not seek me to find it. But this is also the truth,” it said of Faye's words. There was a moment where the Wisp grew still, and its light seems to almost turn inwards, as if it was having a silent conversation with something Faye and Fane couldn't see. Faye looked at Fane, a question on her face, but the light flared bright once more.

“We shall give you a gift, we have decided. Since you are kind and truthful and need nothing from us. If you wish.”

There was no sort of fear or trepidation in him when he spoke to this entity, viewing it simply as an equal; another that knew some of what it was like to carry the burden of eternity. Though he wasn’t sure whether they experienced things in exactly the same way considering this creature held no corporeal form but more one made up entirely of energy. Yet, unlike him with a memory that was prone to forgetting lest he write things down this creature claimed to be able to recall all that it and its kin had seen. Fane was left to wonder what sort of burden that was, to always remember and never forget.

He grew quiet once more as Faye spoke to the creature, a melancholy smile present on his lip as he stood there, hands moving to clasp idly behind his back. Much like his own answers seemed to please the little creature it seemed to pulse more brightly as it spoke to Faye seeming to understand their intentions were not to ask it to give up its life-force for anything. Fane merely gave a shrug in response to Faye’s look whilst pulling a face that essentially said ‘hell if I know what it’s on about’.

Faye hadn’t mentioned anything in the way of gifts, and if he knew more Fane would have realised that this was an extremely rare and barely documented occurrence among encounters with Nightwisps. The sudden flare of the light caused him to wince a little raising a hand to shield his eyes but answered its offer. “You need not gift us anything um-- do you have a name?”

There was a vibration which chimed through the air like the tinkle of distant bells but so much more pure than that as the Wisp laughed. “You may call me Karina, and that is precisely why we have decided to bestow this gift to you both.”

With that there was a sudden explosion of blue-white light from where the Wisp was previously, the air in front of them fragmenting into blazing shards of crystal that spun, interwove and expanded to form a window like surface in mid-air like a miniature television screen. The Wisp danced and darted around his shoulders bouncing, rolling along its own whimsical path a bright celest trail drifting in its wake with ancient runes seemingly interspersed in the stream of energy being roped around them. He looked a bit confused as it proceeded to loop around Faye and complete the circle with the window.

Energy pulsed through the looped connection which pulsed with growing intensity before the world seemed to erupt and he was drawn mind and soul to focus entirely on the window. The surprise of the strength of the suddenly established connection drew a quiet gasp from him before images flashed across the screen one after the other in a snapshot progression.

Fane saw them both wandering familiar streets of Paris, Italy and countless other cities, them back at her cottage, his estate laughing and shooting up a storm with nerf guns and water-fights, hide and go seek in the long winding corridors, a blonde Eowyn giggling joyously whilst riding on a pony, the stream of tears down both their faces as he was forced to choose one family over another, himself with a golden aura that engulfed his body and exploded from his eyes and mouth hieroglyphs ever-changing and shimmering with a life and power of their own in the aura which clung to his skin...

The rush of emotion with every reel played out was overwhelming and Fane was forced to reach out, grabbing Faye’s hand and squeezing it like a lifeline whilst the dark depths of his eyes reflecting every flash of potential futures unwinding and twining themselves together in a snapshot collage of what life might or might not hold in store for the both of them.

Faye had never heard of Nightwisps bestowing gifts. She had always heard that they were Seers, but she wasn’t sure what that meant. Her Gram could See, but it wasn’t a gift that one could call on at will. It just… happened. Like it had the few times Faye had Seen. It was frightening, and she didn’t care to repeat the experience.

But there was nothing about the Wisp - Karina - that frightened Faye. As she’d said, the only thing she felt was joy, and as Fane declined the offer of a gift, Faye nodded in agreement, taking a step closer to him. But before she could speak, the Wisp pulsed brightly, and the world around them exploded in a glittering sea of glass and light. Faye felt more than saw the Wisp dance around her own body, for her eyes were locked on the growing crystal display in front of her.

For someone who had spent their entire life wielding the power of memory and thought, the magic forming before them drew her like a beacon in a storm. White hot and yet cold as ice, the trails of magic looped around her and Fane, and when finally the connection was sealed, she felt the tug that, had it been physical, would have sent them to their knees. As it was, Faye found herself feeling like she might collapse as the images formed in front of them. She saw everything Fane did, felt everything he felt.

And Faye knew that it was future being played out before them, possibility after possibility, both good and bad, happy and agonizingly sad, each flux of the timeline showing what might be and what may never come to pass. It held Faye enraptured, even as tears streamed down her face.

She saw an apartment in the city (it was Paris, she knew), rain on the windows and her and Fane on the couch. Faye was sleeping, her head in his lap as he typed lazily on his laptop. There was a house in the country, surrounded by fields of lavender and bright blue skies. There was Eowyn running after a pack of dogs in the wildflowers, laughing and calling to her mother in a crisp, perfect French, her fairybell voice high and clear. Faye raised a hand to her mouth.

The images fluttered again, and they once again showed Faye and Fane. They were in a doctor’s office. Heilyn was there, looking at them with an expression Faye couldn’t read. Fane looked shaken, and Faye looked pale. The image changed again as she got up and left the office. It showed the two of them again except this time they were in his bedroom at his estate in Soapberry. Faye was walking back and forth across the floor while Fane perched nervously on the edge of the bed, watching her intently. The image of her turned, and the real Faye sucked in a breath as she saw the curve of her stomach, heavy with child just as they moved forwards again.

Faye felt like she couldn’t breathe as the images kept coming. Her holding a screaming newborn to her chest as Fane leaned down over them, pressing a reverent kiss to the child’s dark, still wet hair. And again, though this second child had light hair like Faye. And once more, a third miracle blessing their family. The joy was nearly too much, and Faye felt her knees grow weak. But the magic had ahold of them, and neither could go far. It was fortunate, for what came next snatched all the joy from Faye’s arms, from the weight and living warmth of a child had carried and given birth to. She was knelt in a pool of red, crying out in agony and despair as the life’s blood of her child bled out of her. The image of Fane and the golden light that bled from his own body superimposed itself over the image of Faye raging at him in a gray mist of rain and stone markers, blaming him for pushing too far, for messing with things best left alone, for caring more about immortality than his own family. The real her cried out at the pain that ripped through her womb and her heart.

But then it was gone, and even more images shimmered into existence. Faye growing older, Eowyn growing up, graduating from school, her brothers and sisters alive and flourishing. Falling in love with Noel, Shivonne’s son. Having a family of her own. Faye and Fane at her wedding, and then… the faded gray of a memorial stone inscribed with Faye’s name, Fane’s arm around Wyn’s shoulders as she held the hand of a dark haired little girl that looked just like Noel.

Faye couldn’t take it… it needed to end. Magic had it’s price, and the price of the Wisp’s gift was in the knowing. And in the not knowing. And in the feeling. She begged for it to stop even as she wanted it to keep going, face streaked with tears of joy and tears of sorrow.

A bonding in blood, a life bound with another, a marriage that wasn’t a marriage, but was so much more than that: a bonding of souls. Of the essence of life. Wyn growing up, Faye staying the same… grand-children, great-grandchildren…

A younger her, fresh-faced and new. No scars, no violent past. Only a violent present, as the bruises on her face and arms showed.

She couldn’t remember when Fane had taken her hand, only that he was holding on for dear life. Faye held on too, threading her fingers tightly with his as all the years of their lives, of every life that could ever be or would never be, flashed before them.

There was no way to cease or block the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions that came crashing down anew with every shimmer of the images as one sequence faded into another, one potential thread stringing itself to the present; forging a new potential reality with its own joys, trials and tribulations. Often Fane was able to keep his emotions in check, but the violent wrenching slide of his emotions from a bone-deep sorrow, pain and guilt all the way to the euphoric high of meeting their first child was more than enough to smash through any of his typical guises.

He wanted to look away but couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away, tears streaking down his face and dripping off his chin as the futures played out in front of them. The sheer force of the darkness and sorrow over the loss of a child hit him unexpectedly forcing him to literally suck in a breath and back away. The price his fear for the unknown date his own sanity would slip away costing them; paid by the blood of their own child, a choked sob caught in his throat as he shook his head more tears dripping down his face. No, that couldn’t be right.

As fast as it appeared it was gone and he was presented of images of Faye and himself (ever the same) whilst she grew older and older. The sand running out as she aged in front of his eyes, moments showing other’s judgemental gazes on her for dating a younger man and his efforts to try and stop the looks, even going to the lengths of dying parts of his own hair grey to look older than he was. The sight of her tombstone cementing his desire to never want to waste a single moment of their lives that they had together. He watched as people said their respects: Eowyn, Leo, Alexandra, Adrian for their mother, Noel, Iann, Tuah, Teddy, Sam, Dani all ultimately leaving until only Fane remained. Only when he was alone did his melancholy expression shatter, falling to his knees in a fit of sorrow and pain that felt like his heart was being ripped to pieces in his chest whilst colour bled once more from the world turning it grey and lifeless without her there to find the colours to paint them in.

Then there was a younger her, coincidentally bumping into one another at the Louvre (he’d recognise the gallery anywhere) and the grey bleakness shifting to a melancholy soar like a bird finding its wings after being grounded for so long. Trying to help her escape her violence, doing everything in his power to protect her, to keep her and her memory safe… The confusion and new love that blossomed there.

Eventually, the images slowed fading to the gardens at his estate at a family barbecue; an older Dani and Sam happily married, two children of their own whilst Faye and Fane sat sharing a bottle of wine watching Eowyn manipulating fire for Noel who looked justly unsettled, Leo demonstrating flares of his light magic which Fane observed on cautiously a peregrine falcon swooping down to settle on the teen’s shoulder, Alexandra who looked like a younger version of himself but with her mother’s eyes messing with an orb of water that she accidentally lost control over ultimately soaking a Capuchin Monkey which hung close nearby and looked incredibly peeved after getting soaked. Finally, there was a blond haired boy tossing about a ball of shadows cheerfully where he lounged on the grass nearby.

The images finally splintered and shrunk, the silver light fading until only the soft blue glow of the Wisp remained along with a heavy silence. Fane’s eyes screwed up and he sniffled a little turning to wipe his nose on his sleeve feeling a bit pitiful for being such a mess but unable to help the way his emotions felt well and truly wrung out. His mind whilst still reeling from the things they’d both just witnessed wasn’t concerned for considering his own feelings instead adjusting the jar he’d cradled in his arm before pulling Faye into a crushing hug pressing his head into her hair and breathing her in deeply needing to reassure himself of her solidarity right here, right now.

Hugging her though only proved to make him shake as another wave of unbidden emotion rushed over him, making him sob silently as he clung to her. Not even paying attention to the Wisp as it gradually circled up and up, spiralling out of a broken window pane into the night leaving them alone in the green-house.

The feeling of being overwhelmed but still unsure of which emotion to latch onto washed over Faye as the blue light faded away. As did the images both good and bad, joyous and heartbreaking. Faye was breathing hard, like she’d been running from something intent on sinking it’s teeth into her flesh. She blinked as the silence settled in, loud as ever, and wiped at her face with a trembling hand, her other still clasped firmly in Fane’s. She would probably be bruised tomorrow, as hard as he’d been holding on to her, but Faye didn’t care. The thought hadn’t even entered her mind. It was too full of wave after wave of raw emotion… and she was left floundering in their wake.

As if they’d both shaken off the paralysis of the Wisp’s magic at the same time, Faye turned to Fane as he pulled her towards him. Her arms wrapped around him, curling around his back and up over his shoulders to dig into his flesh, finding the bend of his neck to bury her face in. afraid of what would happen if she let go. She sobbed too, great heaves of her chest as she pulled him in, held him to her, tried to take away the pain and the sorrow that she knew he felt, just as she did. There was no denying it. But God… the joy. The joy was probably even more painful than the sorrow. Especially holding her son, their son… there was nothing like it in this world or the next. And it was the joy of that and all the good the Wisp had shown them that Faye clung to as she held Fane close, the happiness that she wanted to remember, wanted him to remember. For it was only a glimpse of what might be or might not be, and as wrung out and spent and utterly shaken as she was, the Nightwisp’s gift was something Faye knew she would never take for granted.

Fane shook in her arms as he sobbed silently into her shoulder. She’d never seen him cry in the year she’d known him, and what he must be feeling to cause him to drop the facade, to let his emotions and his pain carry him away… Christ, she loved him. And it took everything she had not to say it yet. Because it wouldn’t be fair. Their emotions were too raw, bleeding too heavily for her to add the weight of the word ‘love’ to the wounds.

So she just held him as they both cried, whispering words of comfort and assurance that she had him, that she wasn’t going anywhere, and that she felt it too.

That wicked sting that was the price for joy, and the price for pain.

And that no matter what happened, no matter what path their lives took in the echoes of time, she would be right there beside him. Always. As long as he would have her.

Whilst Faye breathed heavily it seemed like Fane’s had ceased entirely; seizing up in his chest and unable to escape by any means. If he had happened to hurt her he would heal any damage he’d done later, though neither of them realised it quite this moment.

Her arms curled around him and Fane’s body instinctively pressed closer, burying himself away in the dip of her shoulder whilst she hid her face away in the curve of his neck. The wet, hot heaves blew against his skin as she cried and that only made his own tears flow faster torn up over how much he felt. The potential outcomes, the possibilities were in flux and ever changing; they might not get any of that or they might get all of it… Who knew? As much as Fane wanted to think on the happiness he felt, the joy of their children his mind was stuck on one particular track; one which had ripped off the bandage wound tightly over a hurt that had yet to go away or heal. The sight of her anguish, her pain as she raged and yelled at him because of the loss of their child. That guilt destroyed him, ate him up from the inside out like a corrosive poison eating its way through his flesh and made him burn with self-loathing.

Because it reminded him of Silas. His son that never was, and that acid; burning its way through the dams and walls he’d tried to build up around these emotions were breaking down right now and no matter how hard he struggled to try and patch those holes there was no getting to them all. The pain exploded, fresh and raw leaving him feeling stupid and pitiful and weak. He always was the strong one, the one people relied on to keep his cool but he was struggling day by day.

It took a while, to let his emotions run their course for his shoulders to stop shaking and his eyes to screw up as the tears finally began to slow her murmurs and reassurances filtering through gradually. He sucked in a deep breath then, filling his lungs with incense, salt and lavender before a final shudder wracked his body. Eventually, Fane mumbled a quiet “sorry” against her shoulder. “God I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” the fear of himself doing something so monumental that it would lead to the suffering they’d seen… It petrified him to the core.

It was hard on him, she knew, to be the one that carried everything for everyone. Or tried to. To be so strong for so long. To want nothing more than to shoulder the burdens for the ones he loved, and ease their suffering even just a little. And as much as Faye admired and respected and loved that part of him, she knew that eventually, no matter how strong and resolute something was, there was a point where the weight would become too much. Where even the strongest rock would break.

Fane’s weight had finally become too much. And he broke. Faye's arms moved to encircle his neck as he found comfort in her own, the hot splash of tears wetting her skin as she held him tight and stroked his hair and pressed gentle yet firm kisses to his face. “Hey… hey, no. Don't be sorry. Please, baby, don't be sorry.” She didn't pull away yet, even though she wanted to look at him. Instead she nuzzled against him, her hands tightening in his hair even as tears and small sobs still shuddered through her as well.

“There's nothin’ to be sorry for. None of it was set… not the good, or the bad. I had… If anythin’ I'm the one who's sorry. I had no idea this would happen… I swear.” There was a pause, and Faye knew he was likely dwelling on the darkest part of what they'd seen: the loss of a child. Because in truth she was too. This time she did pull back. And took his face in her hands. Her thumbs traced his cheeks, brushing away the tears before kissing him gently, reverently. He tastes like salt water. “I know you,”’she told him. “I see you. Not some vision of what may never ever come to pass. You would never hurt me, or our-” Her voice broke, and her eyes closed as she took a shaky breath, but when she opened them there was a tiny smile on her face. “Our children.” The word made her heart flutter in her chest, and she could still feel the weight of their son, Leo, as she held him to her chest. “If by some… some miracle they ever do exist… You would never hurt us. I know this. I know you. I-”

Faye’s throat closed up, the words ‘I love you’ once more about to slip from her mouth. “I know you, love…” she said instead, unable to stop herself. “Don't let this hurt you. It's one of a million possible outcomes. And I would never blame you, okay? I swear it. And look at the good… I saw… we saw our family, Stefan.” She pressed her forehead to his, and there was a smile behind her tears. “There's joy in that glimpse, even if it never comes to pass.”  

He sank into the comfort of her touch, every passing kiss her lips grazed to his face or rake of her fingers soothingly through his hair. The assurances did little to ease the clenching fear that gripped him right in that moment, because he was sorry and felt every ounce of guilt his counterpart felt. He wanted to swear, that whatever led to that future… He’d stop it but that was the thing about knowing the future; in trying to prevent it there was no guarantee that you were walking straight into that possible outcome.

Faye’s apology made him shake his head ever so slightly against her shoulder, “no-- it’s alright, you didn’t know.” His voice when he finally found it was thick with emotion, struggling to keep it even from the weight of the emotion carried through the words. He didn’t want to pull back, but eased his hold enough to let her do so and as she took his face in her hands his shoulders hunched staring blearily down at her; a far cry from how he normally poised himself. Their kiss was fleeting, barely a passing brush before she was speaking again and he tried to calm his racing mind as she spoke.

There was no helping his fear over the potential of what might come to pass, “but what if it does-- What if it does?” he had to ask the fear making his voice shake in trepidation of the potential what ifs hovering over him. “I could feel your pain your grief and the guilt… oh my god it’s unbearable” he shook his head “I never want you to feel that, to experience that but what if it does?” The fear was plain to read in his expression, the question left unsaid what if you end up hating me?

But then she spoke of their children, their possible future… And he quietened some and as the name she opted to call him registered his throat worked, adam’s apple bobbing from the emotion and sheer warmth that came from hearing her say that. She’d said it before, but in a state of fatigue that he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of them but now? He hugged her again then, pressing his forehead to her own and brushing his nose against her own “they were so beautiful” he eventually breathed some measure of happiness finally beginning to replace the sorrow as he thought back to the glimpse of their potential family.

Faye could see the fear and the agony and the guilt written all over his face. And she wanted more than anything to take it all away, to see him smile. To see him laugh. To see his eyes light up with joy again. And she would have known right then, if she hadn't already, that she wanted to spend what time she had left in this world making him happy. But still, she couldn't deny his fear, or what he was asking, knowing that it had as much of a chance of happening as anything else they'd seen in the Wisp’s crystal-blue mirage.

“If it does…”she said firmly, the muscles of her jaw tightening at the still fresh memory of the agony they'd both experienced, “then we’ll get through it. You and me. Okay? I promise. I felt it too… everything you felt. I felt your pain… I still feel it.” She shook her head, a few fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. “I know you would never want that. I know you'd never hurt me. Us.” Meaning their family, be it fantasy or one day reality. “And I could never, ever hate you. Or blame you. Anger? Yes. Maybe. But… not hate, never that.”

He seemed to settle some at the mention of the possible family they'd seen. The three children that were of his blood, her blood. That they'd made together, and that she'd carried in her womb and given birth to, with Fane by her side the entire time. Though it wasn't like that month of memory, thank whatever deity was watching. It wasn't a remembering of something that had already been. Faye didn't know if she could have handled that, and something told her that Fane most certainly wouldn't have been able to. Another small mercy. No… it was a glimpse. And like all things, there could not be light without darkness.

She closed her eyes as he pulled her in, huffing a wet laugh against his cheek. “They were...” she agreed, her voice thick with the sheer overwhelming emotion of it. No thoughts of it being too soon, or too much, or too serious entered her mind. All she could think of was Fane's face as he'd gazed down at his newborn children, of the sheer joy in his eyes, and of the warm weight of their little bodies at her breast. Her hand pressed to his neck, trembling. “God… you were all so beautiful…”

Time would bring his more positive emotions back to light, but for the moment he simply had to let his emotions run down whatever channel they wanted. Yet, she seemed to grow stern on the topic holding his face and with a small shake to make sure her words were understood and fully registered into his head. Fane stood and he listened, wide-eyed before some of the grief started to finally recede. “You and me,” he echoed that with a small smile lifting his hand to brush away her fresh tears. He wasn’t sure whether he could agree with the blame, her gaze was rather accusatory in the memory but he decided it was better not to point that out whilst she tried to ease his negativity.

Family would always be the turning point for Fane, his own especially existing as both his strongest and weakest points. Because caring so deeply for people made you vulnerable, but only through that vulnerability could the true depths of love and understanding be accessed. He’d made his peace long ago with that, but also with the notion that he never would have children that would share his eyes or hair so to suddenly be presented with that opportunity… It was shocking, heartwarming and heartbreaking all at the same time.

“We, we were all beautiful” he amended softly as he dwelled on what they had just seen. This didn’t mean he wanted those things immediately but… a future where there was that possibility? He didn’t even understand how. Eventually, after another lapse of silence he drew away “we should head back-- your gram and Wyn will probably be wondering where we got to.”

Faye had almost always worn how she felt on her sleeve. Be it anger, envy, jealousy, hurt, love… All her emotions were put out there for the world to see, if it knew what to look for. Fear was turned to anger, as was grief. Love turned to fear, jealousy to envy… up and down and over and under. Each emotion washing into the next like silt in a river bed. So it was now. All the emotions dredged up by the Wisp’s gift played over and over again through Faye’s mind and her heart. And she saw some of the same emotions mirrored in Fane as she looked into his dark eyes.

Faye nodded as he repeated her words back to her. The image of her screaming at him stayed heavy in her mind as well. That didn’t mean she believed it would ever come to pass. She didn’t believe it would. And perhaps seeing so many outcomes, perhaps that knowing would send them on a path to a happy one. Filled with family and laughter and happiness. Something they had both always wanted.

Faye’s family, the people she loved, would always and forever be her weakness. And her greatest source of strength. She would do anything for them. She would give up her life if she had to. But she would rather live, if it was all the same. Live and see them grow and prosper. Before her husband had disappeared, Faye had decided she wanted another child. A sibling for Eowyn to grow up with. Faye had been an only child, and it was lonely at times. She had no cousins to play with either, her parents growing up as solitary children as well. So Faye had always wanted a big family. But her efforts had failed, and she remained barren. And in falling in love as she had, with a man who could never father children, or so it had always been said of his species, Faye had contented herself with the fact that she would most likely never again feel life growing inside her. And that was alright.

And like Fane, she wasn’t near ready for that sort of step forwards in their relationship, but to see it, to feel it, even for a fleeting moment, was worth more than she could ever say. She just didn’t know how it could ever be. Though the Wisp’s magic wouldn’t lie. Faye knew this in every part of her that was magical, ever piece of her that was a witch. That future may never be, but it was real. In another time and place, it was as real as the two of them stood here now.

Faye nodded as he amended her words, and gazed at him for a long moment. Their son had had his eyes, dark and filled with a ruby sheen when the light hit them just right. The silence had settled finally, the last resonance of the Wisp and it’s magic gone, when Fane finally spoke of the here and now. “Yeah… yeah, we should. Come on.”

She took his hand, and together they navigated the way back through the greenhouse and into the late evening air. Fireflies bobbed through the garden, and Wyn rushed towards them when they both reappeared, eager to show them her catch.

Fane wished he had more than a glimpse of what that future could possibly be, more insight into what those potential lives would look like. Their youngest seemed to have Faye’s golden locks but his defined jawline, their daughter his raven locks but her mother’s violet gaze and their eldest still shocked as an almost miniature version of himself. Fane wasn’t sure how he felt about the possibility of a smaller version of himself out and about in the world but that was the burden of knowing such things.

There was no point in dwelling however, it was what it was and they would both carry the joy and sorrow of it between them but Fane felt inclined to getting out of the enclosure the greenhouse gave them. Which is why he was soon pulling her away from the domed room their fingers laced once more together.

As Wyn came rushing through the gardens with a jar full of fireflies clutched to her chest Fane managed to pull a smile onto his lips at her happiness using the young child’s infectious glee to distract him for the time being from what had happened in the greenhouse. No doubt they’d need to discuss it at some point but right now the toddler captivated all attention and for that he was quietly thankful. Adjusting his own jar that had remained tucked in the crook of his own arm he paused stooping down to take a look at the numerous bugs flashing on and off in the jar held up by the toddler. “Wow! Look how many you caught, that’s amazing! I think we’ve got a new champion” his enthusiastic tone earned a giggle from Wyn he spun to show Faye her prize.

In the meantime Fane unscrewed the cap of his own jar, releasing the fireflies he caught earlier in a small flurry of gold lights drifting off back towards the grass on lazy golden paths. With the night drawing on it was soon time to head inside, with the fireflies released, a chance to meet gram’s dogs and give them a small scratch, Fane eventually went to get a shower to wash off the journey and heat of the day whilst Faye put Wyn to bed.

By the time he heard the door click open he was already sat in bed in nothing more than his usual nightly attire of boxers reading through a couple of emails that had been sent to him. Tilting his head to peer at Faye over the brim of his glasses he offered her a tired smile feeling a bit more refreshed now than he did after the events of the greenhouse. “Did she go to sleep alright?” Fane figured the travelling would have likely tuckered the toddler out for the count but you could never know with those bundles of energy.

By the time Faye tucked Eowyn into her little cot that had been made up in Beulah’s room, at Wyn’s clear insistence on sleeping in the same room as her Grammie, it was growing late. The half hour or so apart from each other had given Faye time to settle her swirling emotions and recenter herself. Her Gram had given them both a quizzical look when they’d shown back up from the back of the garden, but hadn’t pressed either of them for anything.

It wasn’t something that would be left by the wayside though. And while nothing she’d seen had made Faye feel awkward or uncomfortable (a few of the only emotions she hadn’t felt that night), talking about it in the light of day instead of in the heat of the moment gave her only the slightest bit of trepidation. But again, it was too big to go undiscussed.

She smiled as she shut the door behind herself. “Yeah. She was out almost before I finished her story. It’s been a long day.” Faye needed to check her own computer for anything from the University, or anything else that might be important, but she couldn’t bring herself to get it out. The bed was entirely too enticing, as was Fane, looking entirely too appealing even in just glasses and boxers. Faye had on a t-shirt and cotton sleep pants, as was her go to, though she slipped out of the pants - it was entirely too hot - and tossed them over the foot of the bed as she moved to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.

A couple of minutes later, the water shut off and Faye came back out, pulling back the covers and climbing in beside him. She snuggled close, laying her head in his lap behind his laptop so she wouldn’t disturb him, and looped an arm over his bare legs. They were cool, but soon started to warm beneath her hands as she traced idly along his calves with her fingers.

She stayed quiet, not feeling the need to talk just yet, and simply absorbed the silence and the comfort of his presence.

“Don’t blame her, travelling is tiring as hell” the laptop was balanced lazily on his stomach his finger dragging idly over the screen to scroll the text as he read a couple that he had received. Fane needed the distraction; the connection to back home to relocate his emotional balancing point in case what they had seen did happen to come up as a conversation point tonight. It would come up no doubt but the question was simply a matter of when rather than anything else. As with most things between them time would provide them the opportunity and moment to discuss it when the moment felt and suited them both. At least that was his hope and intentions.

So he sat waiting for Faye to exit the bathroom the white glare of his screen reflecting in the glass of his spectacles currently perched upon the bridge of his nose.

Fane felt rather than saw Faye’s climb into bed, feeling the pressure of her head settle in his lap the weight causing his free hand to drop and take up petting her hair idly whilst he read a smile pulling at his lips as his toes curled and he shifted ever so slightly under the exploration of her fingers. For a few minutes that was how it existed, the two of them entirely at peace here, together away from the normal daily occurrences of home.

His fingers twirled an idle strand of her hair until eventually he shut off his laptop lowering the lid to gaze at her affectionately. “How are you doing?”  They had agreed a while ago now to honesty and he knew Faye wouldn't do that. “Shouldn't stay up too much longer, it’s been a long day for you as well.” Setting the laptop aside on her bedside table he stretched himself out ever so slightly leaving himself open for her to move up and cuddle if she wanted to take the offer aware his coolness would be a temporary respite from the humid air hanging in the room.”

“It is,” Faye agreed. “And she runs ‘til she falls over.” Fane knew this about Eowyn by now. Her energy and curiosity overtaking her need for rest and down time. And that made her cranky. Which made bedtime or naptime a battle now and again. But tonight she’d gone down without any trouble, and Faye had kissed her Gram goodnight and went down the hall to her own room.

Faye too, knew they would talk about things when the moment was right. It might be now, or it might be a few days from now. They both tended to simply speak when the urge or situation presented itself, so she wasn’t worried about it getting brushed under the rug. Her fingers explored the smooth skin of his legs, and she smiled as she watched his long feet arch and shift. There was something inherently intimate about bare feet, Faye had always thought. Her hand drifted down to rub over the curve of his ankle, feeling the fine line of seemingly delicate bone beneath her fingertips.

His hand in her hair slowed her own explorations, and she hummed in approval. “I’m alright,” she said honestly. “Tired. A little… shaken. Maybe a bit confused…” She shifted to look at him, her head still in his lap. “About earlier.” In the greenhouse. She had questions, and wanted to hear his own theories and opinions, but honestly had no idea where to start. He stretched himself out after putting his computer away, and Faye sat up and moved to lay against him. She didn’t bother with covers, as the room was a bit warmer than she liked, and his coolness did wonders, even as he warmed beneath her. “It’s been a long day for all of us,” she said, not allowing him to leave himself out of the rotation.

“Are you okay?”

Fane laughed looking upwards, feeling at ease once more as their conversation stuck to easier things. “Well, that’s kids for you. Keep going ‘til they crash and then get right on up before setting off again.”

He couldn’t help the very minute wiggle earned from the brush of her fingers along his calves, Fane didn’t mind people touch him especially Faye but sometimes it still tickled a bit. He watched her over the screen of his laptop as she reached out and touched the firm line of his ankle, the bones shifting a little under her touch as he flexed his foot up. “See something you like?” he teased her lightly not at all minding her deft physical exploration of his body.

Fane’s own fingers brushed and stroked through her golden tresses, winding them loosely around his fingers before releasing and repeating the process again. He felt rather than saw her shift and looked down to her his fingers moving to stroke her temple reverently especially as she mentioned earlier. There were plenty of thoughts and feelings still floating around in his head about that and he merely hummed softly to show his agreement. “It has.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it, or how to verbalise it “I’m not sure, I don’t know what to think--- whether I should be happy or sad or hopeful or not?” his expression contorted a little frustrated on the matter. “What do you think about… all of it?” Fane asked when she was settled against his chest shifting to slip an arm beneath her and press it into her heated flesh to help cool her down some.

“You have nice feet,” she said lazily as she continued to stroke over his skin.

She adored him playing with her hair, and was often left with little bits of it braided and twisted into intricate designs if they sat still long enough. Faye didn’t mind. Like the bruises and strawberry marks he left on her skin from time to time, anything that showed his affection for her was welcomed.

Smiling tiredly at him as he stroked her face, Faye reached up and covered his hand with her own, threading her fingers briefly with his as she pressed a kiss to his wrist. Once settled against him and wrapped securely in the circle of his arm, Faye took a moment just to listen to what he had to say. She felt the same way mostly. Happy, sad, hopeful… all rolled into one. And she told him so.

“And even after all that… none of it felt… wrong,” she chanced to say. “If that makes sense?” Faye grew quiet for a moment, pondering all the things she’d seen, though one thing stuck out in her mind, simply because it unsettled her: the golden light.

“What was that?” she asked him. “I know magic when I see it, and that was… that was something else.” Her eyes stayed focused on a point across the room, even as her hand tightened slightly over his chest. If not magic, then what? Faye wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but it seemed vital. More than anything else they’d seen in the Wisp’s vision.

“Just my feet?” he harrumphed “I’d argue all of me is nice.”

Fane had picked up a few things a while ago about learning how to braid and plait, though it was rare he got a chance to demonstrate such talent beyond those times Faye did let him play and mess with her hair. Though that evening he was content to simply brush, touch and twirl the odd strand around his fingers. His fingers grazed her temple reverently, brushing over her smooth skin and admiring her eyes as he did so. His own smile grew as she took his wrist and pressed a kiss to it letting her settle in his embrace.

“Yeah, I know what you mean… It should probably be terrifying, and admittedly some of it was but.. Yeah none of it felt wrong.” Fane had been so overcome with his thoughts of the harm he’d done that he’d not had much chance to consider the other aspect of it. His aspect of it. So her question had him mulling quietly, “I--- I honestly don’t know. It looked old though-- beyond old more... ancient. But it looked like magic to me? Or power… or… energy? Of some sort at least.” He couldn’t say for sure what but it was certainly odd to say the least. “I’ve never heard of vampires being able to channel things like that though, only witches?”

Fane’s arm circled her tighter not quite sure if he felt comfortable with the implication it suggested, something happened to him that gave him that power and that potential prospect was… Terrifying in itself. “Have you seen anything like that before? That energy?”

Faye nodded as he agreed with her. It should have been terrifying, the bad parts at least, or hell, even the thought of having children. But perhaps it was because they were both parents already and it was nothing new to them other than the circumstances of their - their children, good lord… the thought made her heart flutter for a thousand different reasons - potential children’s births.

“I wanted more kids,” Faye said quietly, but with a bit of a bitter huff. “Tried. But nothin’ came of it. Guess I’m too old. Or-” She stopped just shy of saying that she had always thought that her husband might have been taking something that prevented it. He had loved Eowyn, but had never shown anything but a passive interest. At least not after the excitement of her birth was over and the reality set in.

“No… not magic,” she continued. “At least not any magic I’ve ever seen. Not to say I’ve seen everything, but… it was…” Faye shuddered slightly. “Old. It felt… old,” she agreed. “And we can channel energy from ley lines. Mana pools. Even each other if the connection is strong enough. Vampires can’t channel that energy. But... I wouldn’t say that other species couldn’t channel an energy of some sort.” His arm tightened around her, and she knew he must be as disturbed by the thought as she was. “The last time I saw anything of the sort was when Ephram and I absorbed the magic of that ley line near my old house. It… it poured out of us like that. Until our magic got a hold of it and contained it. But it was split between us. And still people died that night. And when Ephram’s magic left, and it all went into me… it started leakin’ out. Takin’ my magic with it.”

“Whatever it is…” Faye wanted to tell him to leave it alone. But what if it wasn’t a bad thing? What if that was how their children came to be? Through whatever force embodied itself inside Fane? “Be careful,” she settled for.

Her admission caused him to shift, raising a hand to pull his glasses off and set them aside before he wrapped her up properly in his arms holding her to his chest hoping to give her some measure of comfort. “You did?” he wasn’t particularly surprised by this admission but Faye had never spoken of such things with him before. “I’ve never really considered having any more beyond Dani considering I had Sam as well essentially… Don’t get me wrong, I love being a dad but god it was trying at times. Drove me up the wall.” His fingers brushed up the curve of her arm and over the slope of her shoulder. “But you’re not too old are you? I mean-- You haven’t…” he trailed off his expression finishing that particular thought. “What else though?” he prompted gently knowing she had been about to start another thought before she stopped herself.

Fane frowned a little as she spoke of it not being magic, “it looked like magic though.” But what did he know? Faye was the one with experience with this sort of thing after all not him. Her mention of the ley line caused his discomfort to rise but he kept her held close. Especially considering he’d heard about the outcome of that particular event. “But what about someone without magic to contain it? Surely it would burn through them but… that didn’t look like it was burning through me?” Fane wasn’t really sure if the two events could be compared considering that seemed to take as much as it gave.

He chewed his lip letting out a quiet breath and settling to simply hug her close, “I will. I promise… If anything comes up I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah,” Faye said through a sigh. “I was an only child of only children… no siblings, no cousins. I always wanted a big family.” There was a slight sadness in her voice, though she smiled slightly at the remembrance of what she’d seen in the vision. “Figured Wyn might like a brother or a sister.” Her smile grew as he talked about his own experiences with being a parent. Fane had raised children to adulthood, and Wyn was still a baby, so he had more experience than her. Had lived through the teen years and now the early adult years. She couldn’t even imagine her own daughter at that age. Faye shrugged at his question. “I don’t know. I’ll be 40 next month. And I mean, yeah, I haven’t stopped-” She still had her cycles every month like clockwork, so that wasn’t an issue. He asked what else she’d been thinking, and Faye sighed.

“Sometimes I think he was using something that prevented it. I don’t think he wanted more. So he took my choice away without even asking me.” The bitterness was evident in her tone. “By the time I’d worked up the nerve to confront him about it, we hadn’t had sex in weeks. Months. So I just… I gave up.”

Faye looked up at him. “And it may have been magic, just not any I’ve ever seen. If it was old enough, it could be a type of magic that doesn’t exist anymore. At least in theory. You know as well as I do that pockets of things - creatures, enchanted objects, magic itself - still exist all over the world. Things that’ve faded from the world at large. Who knows what’s left to be found out there, in the places where most people would never go.”

The question was a good one. Fane was immortal, and his body could stand up to things that hers would never come close to handling, magic or no. “Maybe it wasn’t magic then. But more… an energy? A force? Something that would be contained by your body’s abilities?” It was really hard to compare witch magic and the magic of a ley line to something that would influence someone like Fane. It was like apples to oranges almost. Though they didn’t know if it was apples and oranges to begin with. All in all it was both madding for their respective curiosities, and frightening as well.

“Okay.” She turned her face deeper into his chest, breathing him in as she closed her eyes. He smelled so good, and they had time if they wanted anything more intimate than holding each other, but Faye didn’t want to move from his arms. Not that she didn’t desire him, she did - it always sat at a low simmer in her belly - but they were both exhausted. They had time in the coming days and nights. Even the mornings perhaps.

There were so many things she wanted to ask questions about. Did he think Dani would ever make him chose? Would he really dye his hair to spare her feelings as she grew older? How had they bound themselves so that she didn’t? A thousand questions rolled around in her head, but she didn’t ask them. Because she couldn’t pick just one. But a few things made her grin outright.

“You know I could totally take you in a Nerf fight, right?”

“Being an only child can’t be all bad, I mean at least you don’t have the issue of having to share stuff with other people and them whining about who’s the preferred child.” Fane pointed out giving her a gentle poke in the ribs to hopefully lighten her spirits. Fane had raised Dani and sam and he couldn’t be prouder of the pair of them, but it didn’t mean Dani’s decision to pick Sam over him didn’t smart like hell. It still ached even if he did his best to encourage them to move on with their lives, because… once again he’d not been enough for someone to choose him. Perhaps it was a selfish thought, but four hundred years of not feeling like you were enough for someone  to pick you or stay never lessened that particular blow. He continued rubbing his hand up and down her arm as she spoke and his brows furrowed, “so I mean technically it isn’t too late for you to have more.” He pulled a face at the thought of her decision being taken away without her knowing and he couldn’t help but scowl a little, “you know the more you talk about him the more convinced what a dick he was, you know that right?”

She had a point, and he gave a slight nod neither agreeing nor disagreeing to it. There were plenty of things lost to time and there was absolutely no guarantee that that might be exactly the case. Time would tell ultimately. The debate could go on forever, “contained?” he echoed looking a bit dubious of that particular word “I’m not sure I like how that sounds but… I suppose.”

They did both have time for more things if they wanted, but he was content to lay here and simply hold her. The simple act physicality enough to sate him for the time being, plus they had the rest of the trip to themselves. There were questions he had but for now he wanted to think of them before he asked them.

His body shook under her in mirthful laughter, “uhuh sure,” he failed to sound convinced “whatever you say cherie… Whatever you say.”

“I guess it had it’s perks,” Faye agreed. She snorted at the poke to her ribs, jerking a little away from it. Faye knew an inkling of what had happened with Dani and Sam, but not a lot of details. They had chosen to be with Sam though, Faye knew. Which made what she had seen in the mirage all the more confusing, when Fane had come to her saying that he had to chose Dani or Faye and Wyn. The Dani Faye knew would never give her father that ultimatum. If they did… Faye could already feel the heat of anger at the memory. So she pushed it away. There was nothing in Faye that would ever chose anyone over Fane. Other than Eowyn. And even then Faye could think of no situation where it had to be either or. She’d just seen their future, after all. Every one that might ever exist.

“No. I guess technically it’s not. I mean, accordin’ to the Wisp, it’s not too late for either of us.” It was a statement of fact, not any kind of suggestion really. Like she’d thought before, she was in no way ready to take that step with him. Not that she wouldn’t be one day perhaps. The thought made her feel warm and hopeful. But even if it wasn’t a biological child as in the mirage, it was much too soon. Though there had been no adopted children in the glimpse they’d seen, other than Dani. Curioser and curioser.

“Yeah. Contained. I don’t really like it either.” And that was really all she could say. It was simply another possible future that may or may not come to pass.

Now it was her turn to poke him in the ribs. “I’m a damn good shot I’ll have you know. Keep laughin’ though. I’ll show you.”

He was incredibly tempted to turn his poke into a tickle but ultimately decided against such things, and held her fast so even though she jerked she couldn’t go far. But since they were on the topic of children Fane worried at his lip a little whilst he held her, “plus… another reason I don’t think I ever did was that-- Well, Dani’s very um-- not really possessive but… I don’t know whether another kid around would make them feel… Put out? I don’t really know how to explain it” Fane admitted with a slight frown trying to put into words his own concerns over the matter. “I don’t want Dani thinking that… If I ever did have or adopt another kid it would lessen them being my child? Does that make any sort of sense?” Fane wouldn’t think that Dani would ever make him choose, plus they had seemed happy about him finding someone he liked here in Springs but he couldn’t help but wonder just how they really might feel about things.

There were plenty of potential options but it was still early days for them both and Fane was content as they were because at the moment he wasn’t entirely sure what the future entailed. If children somehow could be added to the equation… Well, they’d cross that bridge when it arrived but not yet. Even with their potential glimpses there was nothing concrete about them.

Instead of dwelling on the prospect of him becoming some energy or power wielding individual his mind turned to more interesting things. “What about that binding? Have you ever seen or heard of anything like that? Like, extending a life-force somehow?” Fane asked curiously as his fingers danced down her arm once more feather-light and soft with every brush of them.

He made a slight ‘ooft’ sound as she poked him in the ribs but stuck his tongue out “whatever, you know what? Whilst I have nerf guns I also have a laser kit set that works… So I, Stefan Josiah Savin hereby challenge you to a match utilising no abilities sometime between the business that is our lives to decide who,” he paused for dramatic effect “is the best marksman or markswoman out of us.”

Faye frowned slightly as he talked about his reasons behind never seeking to have more children. While it was early yet, and all the potential futures they’d seen were all up in the air, pieces of sand that could be shifted and moved and blown away altogether depending on the choices they made, of which neither knew the ones that would lead to any particular eventuality, the fact remained that there was a child in the mix besides Dani. A living, breathing one who adored Fane already. And while Faye knew that the relationship between Eowyn and Fane was still in it’s infancy, and she didn’t dare label it with anything, there was no doubt that he meant a great deal to the little girl. But Faye kept her thoughts to herself. For now.

Because if it came to it and Dani, a grown woman, felt ‘put out’ by a three year old little girl with not an ounce of meanness or spite in her body, Faye would have something to say about that. They could bet on it.

But thankfully, the topic moved on, though the subject was only slightly less troubling. But at least about this Faye could speak. “I’ve heard of people binding their life forces together, yes. It’s blood magic, and borders on the dark side of things. Though usually there isn’t mutual consent. At least not in the few cases I’ve read about. The binding in the mirrors though… it was different. It was... “ Faye huffed, unsure how to even explain how it had felt to her. “It felt like… like coming home.” It was all she could think of, but it was true. Home, the place you were meant to be. The place that called to you, that comforted you, the place where you never had to be afraid or alone.

Faye let out a peal of laughter, giving him an only slightly patronizing pat on the stomach. “Alright then. But be prepared to get that fine ass spanked by a girl.”

Fane loved Dani, there was no doubt about that but there were times that when he thought about how things were between them he felt a heaviness weighing him down. Their stubbornness and vindictive streak was something he’d come to terms with a long time ago, plus they had been a handful by themselves so why would Fane want any more children beyond them? There were several other reasons beyond the one he’d given but Faye’s lack of response had him a little unsure whether talking about this was the right thing to do, it was still early days after all but he had promised to be honest with her and that was the truth or at least one truth. 

Eowyn was vastly different to Dani in how she behaved, much more mild-mannered that felt like a breath of fresh air whenever she toddled into the room her curiosity much like Dani’s was boundless albeit charming but she never demanded any absolute attention through the intense mood-swings from how passionate Dani was even at a similar age. There was no in-between, it was either all consuming love or burning hate if you did something to upset them. Not that there was anything wrong with these things, not at all, they all made up who Dani was but it didn’t change that it sometimes made it difficult to know exactly where he stood with them. There was the secrecy about them too, something that had been troubling their relationship in particular lately (it had gotten better admittedly) but the mere thought of it was enough to make him close his eyes and sigh dejectedly. “Tell me something honestly--” he shifted a bit to look at Faye then “do you think I’m a good dad?” It was something he’d asked himself a lot over the last seven years and something he could never really be sure about.

Ultimately, what Dani did or felt wasn’t dictated by Fane; it never had nor ever would be but Fane knew his child well enough to be a little wary about how they would react to other children around him. There was nothing he could really do about how they felt, because as they had pointed out the night of his return they were their own person and not the child he’d spent years raising and pouring his love into.

His head lolled to the side lazily as she spoke of the binding magic, “well clearly if we were ever to do that there would be mutual consent… I mean, I’ve heard of binding generally but life-forces? What sort of things would be entailed in that?” Not to say that he was entertaining the notion… yet, but it couldn’t hurt to ask could it? “Have you--” but thinking better of his question he trailed off not sure whether now was the right time to ask whether she’d considered such things like extending her life. Instead, he smiled at her words “well, I can certainly say for a fact that every time I’m with you it feels like I’m home so… Maybe we’re on our way there?” His face stained a little red and he gave a quiet chuckle unsure quite how she’d take that “sorry- that’s sappy…”

The laughter was a welcome diversion, and he merely gave her that look one that he knew she’d understand without him even needing to say anything but he did anyways because how could he not? “You know-- that doesn’t sound half as bad as you think it does” he pointed out with a slightly more sly smile. “Though it does beg the question, do I get to spank you in turn if I win?”

Faye didn’t mind talking about it, she was just unsure as well where Eowyn fit into that mindset. It was obvious that Fane cared for her, and he had never held back affection or tried to keep her at a distance, just like with Faye. And she knew he wouldn’t just blatantly dismiss her. No, he would never do that. So perhaps it was just Faye’s own insecurities showing themselves briefly. After all, her own father hadn’t cared enough to stay around so why would-

Nope. No way was she headed down that road tonight. Fane cared. She knew he did. I mean just looked at what they’d just gone through together? What they’d been through already? And besides, the easiest answer was that he simply saw Faye and Eowyn as a complete package, and the thought that it would ever be a problem, seeing as how Dani had expressed their happiness for them already, never crossed his mind. At least that was Faye’s perception.

She looked up at him as he asked his question, and for a moment she was confused as to why he’d even ask that. “Of course. You’re an amazing dad. You always put your family first, and you’d do anything for Dani. You raised them to be smart, independent, strong… and I mean… I know things haven’t always been wonderful between you two, but… you did a good job, baby.” The last bit was said softly, as Faye smiled gently at him.

“I’ve only ever read about it. It’s not like a handfasting, or a marriage. More like a… binding magical contract that says our lives exist as one essence. For example… me an’ you.” A slight blush tinted her cheeks. “If… one day… we were to bind ourselves to one another like that, I would live as long as you. I would never age, since I’m bound to you and you’re never changing, physically. But also on the flip side, if I die, so do you. I’m not immortal. I can still be hurt, I can still get sick. I would have to look into specifics, but like I said… even with good intent and mutual consent, it’s blood magic.”

She looked at him curiously. “Have I what?”

But her look of curiosity turned to something softer as he took up her earlier sentiment. “No… no it’s not sappy. Come ‘ere,” she smiled. She tilted up and kissed him, one hand on his cheek to keep his face turned towards her. “It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” And it was. To know that he felt the same as she did was, as always, a lightening of her heart, even as it grew more and more full of love with each passing day. With each moment they spent together.

She snickered, nipping lazily at his jawline. The hand that had rested there earlier drifted down to rub soft circles over the soft skin below his belly button, though she had no real intentions to go much further. “I might just wave a white flag if that’s what the loser gets.”

Her perception would be right and he would have confirmed that if she asked, but right now his mind was dwelling on Dani and some of his own insecurities were coming to light. Faye gave him her assurances but even that only helped ease a little of the weighing concern he felt and Fane couldn’t help but grimace a bit as she mentioned it not always being wonderful. He blinked, staring up at the ceiling like he might somehow find some answer waiting for him there “they ran away from home, from me for seven years without a word Faye…” there was a new touch of pain to his voice but also a bitter edge one that he very rarely let edge into his daily tone but proof that his barriers were slowly, ever so slowly starting to come down enough that he could talk to her about these things that were bothering him because he trusted her and sharing this was proof of that.

“Then when they finally come home and things finally start getting better… It eventually turns out that for months they’ve kept the fact that they found their biological family-- something not even I could manage and they never even… They didn’t even think to tell me. What does that say about my parenting skills? That they don’t even feel like… like they can come and tell me these things?” Perhaps it was the dam that had been broken earlier which provoked him to speak of these things but Fane found himself blinking back a few fresh tears. The things were stacking up when it came to Dani and him and it hurt to think he’d failed so badly that they couldn’t even tell him the truth about this monumental event in all their lives.

When he calmed down again he curled against her fingers winding around her arm as he held her close. “But are there any other side-effects or, consequences to it? Barring the mortality consideration?” Fane shrugged gently “I was just… wondering if you’d… well, thought about it?”

He felt her move and let her pull his head ever so slightly to near her own, his eyes fell closed as their lips met her mouth warm and inviting despite the brevity of the kiss and his expression grew even more bashful as she proclaimed it the sweetest thing she’d ever heard. “Well it’s true,” and it was, being with her felt like home and maybe he should have been surprised or a little worried about that but he couldn’t help how she made him feel and every moment he could feel him falling further and further towards something he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny forever no matter how cautious he was with these matters.

Her nip and the press of her hand only made a low sound rumble in his throat a cross between a deep laugh and something else. “Surrender so soon? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Faye pushed up on an elbow to look at him as he spoke about Dani, watching as he become slightly more agitated in the process. He seemed a bit different since they’d left the greenhouse. The poised calm that always settled across his face on most days and in front of most people was gone, replaced by a genuine look of open hurt and something else. A touch of anger maybe? Betrayal? Bitterness? Maybe all three? Faye couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But she didn’t stop him to ask, not when he was opening up about the things that bothered him, the things that hurt. That weighed on him every single day.

She stroked his arm soothingly, letting him know she was listening and that she would continue to do so for as long as he needed. It wasn’t until he questioned his worth as a father that Faye spoke up. “Dani leaving had nothing to do with your worth as a father. It was wrong of them, to leave like that. Just like it was of them not to tell you something so important. That doesn’t mean you raised them badly. Not one bit. We can only do so much as parents. Eventually the decisions are theirs. The consequences too. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I know it does.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “But you can’t blame yourself. You gave them everything they could ever want or need, and more. What they chose to do with that as an adult isn’t your fault.” He knew about her helping Dani with the grimoire, and that they had told Faye they thought it belonged to their biological family. Faye didn’t recall Dani ever mentioning that they had actually found that family though. Faye only remembered the book, and how it seemed to react the them, how she had come to the conclusion that there might just be latent magic in Dani. Maybe. And had cautioned them against doing anything more than reading the book. Even that she didn’t recommend doing alone. Fane knew all this, as Faye had seen no reason to keep it from him.

“Maybe they didn’t wanna hurt you? And it wasn’t done maliciously? It doesn’t make it right, but… maybe?” Faye thought that Fane should have been the first one to know if his daughter that he raised for nearly her entire life had found her blood family. It only seemed the right thing to do. But in the end it had been Dain’s decision, and while Faye didn’t agree with it and felt angry on Fane’s behalf, all she could do was to be there for him and support him and hopefully help him get through it. Whatever that might mean.

She couldn’t stand to see him upset, and so she petted him until he rolled over against her, and then she continued, her hands in his hair as they spoke of something else. “I’m not sure right off hand. I think if one person is deliberately trying to leech off the other, if the intentions aren’t pure, then the weaker person can suffer. But I’d have to read up on it.” She shook her head. “No. I never have. Never had a reason. Til now at least.”

She kissed him reverently, her nose brushing his and her lips forming a smile against his own. Her thoughts mirrored his, that perhaps she should have been a tiny bit hesitant or worried about how easy this felt, about how she’d already come to associate him with the place she felt safest and most like herself, where she felt like she could let her guard down and be who she really was, knowing that he would see that and not anything else. Knowing that he would see her. Just as she saw him. Faye had already taken that leap and accepted how she felt. But it had taken heartbreak, and the honest words of a trusted friend, to make her see it. That she loved him. And while she hadn’t said it yet, it had been on the tip of her tongue several times, the greenhouse with the Wisp bringing the word ‘love’ to her lips, but not the entire sentiment.

She was cautious too, but honestly she would be surprised if she lasted another month. And even if he didn’t say it back, Faye would be alright with that. She would just want him to know.

His laugh and the added hum made her nip at him again, slowly and without too much insistence. “Or I could still cream you and you could give me that as my reward.”

He needed to say it, needed to get the weight of that burden off his chest because if he was being honest it was tiring to carry that weight. “Then why does it feel like it was my fault?” he questioned knowing full well how that weight always hung around his neck that personal shame in this failure he felt. “It just feels like they’re slipping away, and sometimes I look at them and… I always see my kid but other times… other times I can barely recognise who they are anymore. What does that say about me?”

Fane didn’t mind so much anymore about Dani investigating their family but it would have been nice to have some idea. “I mean it would have been nice to have at least been told that Shivonne was her cousin but even with your work with that grimoire, they didn’t even let me know-- I found out through you. It just, feels like sometimes I’m banging my head against a wall with them… They say they trust me then they blatantly go off and do something without at least giving me some forewarning… What if something happens to them? What if something terrible happens and I don’t know? I’m not the sort to stop them experiencing life but… the danger they put themselves in… The things they do… they could die and I… I wouldn’t know because to them I’m just a side-note not worth enough to tell.” Fane wasn’t sure if his fears were logical or utterly irrational “it’s stupid but, sometimes it just feels like they don’t care enough to bother telling me anything honestly anymore.”

He drew in a breath as Faye suggested her thoughts on the matter raising a hand to wipe at his eyes “maybe, but don’t they realise that it hurts me more being left in the dark only to keep finding out later what they’ve done?” Fane wasn’t sure how long this would go on. Instead, he tucked himself up against her and let the pet of her hands draw him away from his concerns if only temporarily glad for the distraction. “Might be worth doing some research into?” it was asked casually enough but the implication of what he was thinking about was still there.

There would be no eternity with his caution, it was simply his own trepidation around that particular word and its carried sentiment that made it difficult to utter. Because if he was being honest and truly examined his feelings more closely he would come to the understanding that what he felt was exactly that. Love. He was just afraid to cross that line.

“Isn’t it meant to be a punishment? Not a reward?” Fane countered with another soft laugh.

“Because she's your daughter,” Faye said simply. She knew it bothered him. Deeply and on a level that Faye might not totally be able to understand quite yet, since Wyn was just a baby. But she did know one thing: that he was an excellent father. “The fact that it affects you so much, that you care so much, should speak for itself. Dani is… headstrong. I know that and I've only known them about as long as I've known you. Just because the path they choose is unfamiliar, or might change them, they're always gonna be your daughter.” Faye didn't know if she was helping or not. She felt like she wasn't really. What did she know about teenagers and grown children?

“Shivonne? The Deputy? Huh.” Faye's eyebrows raised in surprise. Dani had never mentioned that they thought their biological family might be so close. She'd never mentioned anything to Faye other than what she'd been told about the grimoire. But then again, Faye hadn't asked, and it really wasn't her business. But it was certainly Fane's. And Dani should have told him from the start. Not months later.

His frustration and his pain hurt Faye to witness, but she was glad for it. Glad he wasn't holding it inside and letting it fester. Letting it build and build until it exploded. Faye had never seen Fane angry. Upset yes. But angry? Or not in control of his temper? Never. But she had a feeling that once unleashed he would rage like a wildfire. Burn hot and fast and then sink into a deep, simmering, quiet anger. Which to Faye was worse than any outward display of such an emotion. At least with screaming and throwing things you knew where you sat. With anger turned inwards… anything could happen. “You are not a side note,” Faye told him firmly. “And it's not stupid. Not at all. But if it’s gotten to the point where you feel that way, then darlin’... you need to talk to them. I know you may not want to stir up that can o’ worms, but they can't keep treatin’ you that way. It's not fair. You can't keep worryin’ about pissin’ them off and them pitchin’ a goddamn fit and stormin’ out. If they're grown enough to go and do all these things, go on all these trips, do all this research, have a life of their own… then they can damn well put on some big kid panties and face the consequences.” Faye was flushed by the time she was done having a go. But not at him. Just… what kind of child treats their father - a man who had given them literally everything- that way.

“Sorry,” Faye sighed, and settled back down. “And maybe they don't. Maybe they're so wrapped up in themselves they don't realize how it's affecting anyone else.” She pet him gently, though her touch was a bit more firm than it had been before she'd gone off on his behalf. And then… he wanted her to look into… into the binding? The blood bond? Her hands slowed ever so subtly, a small pause as his words sank in. Did he mean… for them? For himself? For someone else? Deep down Faye knew what he meant. She'd seen it just as he had in the Wisp’s blue crystals. Several feelings fluttered through her chest: cautious excitement; blind panic; fear; acceptance; joy… so many things that rushed through her and made her heart beat just a little faster, which she knew - damn him - that he would hear. But in the end, a soft smile won out, and she kissed his crown gently. “Alright. I will,” she said quietly against his hair.

Faye didn't know when it would happen. Didn't know the exact minute or hour or even day that she would tell him how she felt. But soon. Her caution and her fear kept her quiet for now, and she was content to wait. Content as they were.

She grinned. “Punishment can be a reward, if you know what you're doin’.”

She had a point, Fane knew she had a point but it didn’t mean he wasn’t frustrated by his own inability to relate as completely as he used to when they were younger. “Headstrong? That’s putting it mildly” Fane chuffed slightly, “always has been that way though-- tell them no and they’ll go do the thing out of sheer curiosity about why you said no in the first place. Parenting them involves structuring what you say in such a way you don’t give them a reason not to go and jump from the frying pan into the fire just because they want to know why you said no in the first place.”

He sighed again more resigned now, “yeah that’s her-- don’t know the woman personally, I’m sure she’s nice enough but… It’s also kind of terrifying. Apparently her kid looks like a spitting image of Dani.” Fane wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about Shivonne or her presence in town, part of the reason he hadn’t sought her out or made any attempt to contact her yet. Until Fane knew where he stood well, he’d cross that bridge when he felt ready and able which he really didn’t right now.

Fane had been keeping this in for months, and to talk to someone about it was good- a small relief on the building pressure but it didn’t diminish the feelings very much. He could feel Faye bristling and he hadn’t meant to get her worked up and felt a little guilty for bringing it up to make her react this way in the first place. She was right, his anger when it did show burned bright and fierce before boiling doing to a constant simmer. He knew the difference between hot and cold anger; one would consume you whole the other? That could be manipulated and shaped to shore up resolve and steel will to accomplish seemingly impossible feats. Again, Faye was right but it didn’t make it any easier to broach. “I know,” he finally admitted with a small huff “I’m just--- I’m afraid of the consequences. I’ve lost Dani once and it almost killed me, I lost Silas now, and if I lose Dani again?” Fane wasn’t sure what would happen to him after that if things took a turn for the worse.

“S’fine, I know you mean well by it.” Fane wasn’t very used to people jumping to his own defence, always playing lawyer for himself so for Faye to rant if only momentarily about something… it caught him off guard but also flooded him with considerable warmth. So, Fane settled down into her arms though his next suggestion sparked an entirely different reaction and he wasn’t sure how to take the speed in her heart increasing - excitement or panic? But she kissed his temple and agreed, a part of him wanted to tell her she didn’t need to if she didn’t feel comfortable but… she wouldn’t have agreed if she didn’t want to consider it would she? Thus, Fane let it be.

“Well… when you put it that way,” he laughed “we’ll just have to see who wins and go from there.”

“I hope Wyn ends up more sensible and not quite so stubborn,” Faye half- laughed. “You can't fault curiosity, but curiosity without caution…” She trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.

“Noel,” Faye said, giving the little boy’s name. “He's cute. Smart too. I'm sure if you ever wanted to talk with her she'd be willing.” And Faye left it at that.

She remembered full well what losing Fane had felt like, even if it had been temporary. And then almost losing her daughter… that terror and the panic that came with it. If Fane had felt anything like she had when he’d permanently lost a son that he remembered having like he was as real as Dani, then Faye didn't know how he'd stood it. And she understood even more why he’d left. “You won't lose them,” Faye said resolutely. “You won't.” Did she know that for certain? Of course not? But she would do everything in her power to make sure it didn't happen.

He was right; Faye wouldn't have agreed if she had been uncomfortable. Well… too uncomfortable. The idea, even though she knew it was just research, gave her so many conflicting emotions - not bad, other than the tiny bit of panic that sat tight in her chest - that she couldn't say anything past her soft agreement. What could it hurt after all?

“I guess we will,” she smiled, still with her mouth against his crown. They were quiet for a bit before Faye asked, “Do you wanna go out tomorrow night? To the city? We could drink too much and make out in the Quarter?”

“Guess time will tell,” that was all he could truly say on the topic and as she offered up Noel’s name he nodded storing it away in the back of his mind. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

There was no denying it was hard, and there were days that sometimes it felt like there truly was no point in going on but he always ended up reminding himself of the people in his life that did make it worthwhile. He couldn’t stay living in the past no matter how much some part of him wanted to. So he pushed through his feelings, buried or set them aside to try his best for the others in his life; Dani, Faye, Eowyn and everyone else he cared about. “I hope you’re right,” he really did because Fane wasn’t sure how he’d deal with any other outcome than Dani still being around.

His mind was mostly on the potential what ifs, plus he couldn’t deny he was curious about this binding magic. There always tended to be prices and repercussions so wasn’t it better to make sure that they were fully informed if they ever considered such a spell or ritual? No harm in research in the slightest.

As the pair of them finally settled his head tilted a little against the press of her mouth her breath warming him with every exhale. “How could I say no to that? Mm, yes I’m all for drinking too much and making out with my gorgeous girlfriend considering it involves my three favourite things-- you, booze and making out… All three of which I have been severely deprived of lately.”

Faye hummed as she did when she was agreeing with him but really didn’t have any other words to add. Her hands continued to stroke through his hair, down along his neck and shoulders, trying to soothe him into getting some rest. She didn’t know the true depth of the weight he carried, didn’t know the darkness of his thoughts when things got to be too much. If she had… If she had she would have done her best to help carry the weight that he’d shouldered for so long. He hadn’t been alone over the last four hundred years. She knew he hadn’t. But how much of the things he carried had he carried alone? Unable or unwilling to let anyone help him? How many times had he pushed aside what he wanted, what he felt, over concern for someone else?

Too many.

“Me too,” she said, a soft, short sound. “Me too.”

Faye had never wanted immortality. The prospect of it had frightened her for most of her adult life. Or more the prospect of being alone for centuries. Because who would choose her in this lifetime, let alone for eternity? But now… now the prospect didn’t seem to dark. There would be a price, as all magic had, and the price of immortality was just that: not being mortal. Watching friends and family grow old and pass on. While you stayed forever the same. But what if you found someone to share forever with? What then?

Like Fane had said, only time would tell.

She laughed low in her throat as he agreed that going out, and her suggested activities, was a very good idea indeed. “Well then, consider it done. It’s been a long time since I tied one on in my hometown with a good lookin’ man next to me.” She shifted a little, pulling the covers up as the room had cooled off, the air conditioning finally kicking in. “Now try and sleep. ‘Cause you’re gonna need your strength to keep up with me later.”

Fane drifted off before Faye, who lay awake for a long time before falling asleep herself. Her dreams were of Nightwisps, glass houses full of laughing children, and the slow fall of golden sand through an hourglass made of bones. It fell, and fell…. and fell… forever.

FIN.