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incorrectprodigalsonquotes · 4 years

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Carved in the Cradle Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dani bit back an amused smile at the sight of Malcolm Bright fidgeting like a shy preschooler talking in front of the class for the first time. She had a feeling that if Jessica ever showed Bright’s childhood photos, she would find that he had that exact same look since he was a kid. All fidgeting with the sleeves of his uniform and luminous eyes too big for his face.

“Something you wanted to say, Bright?”

Normally Dani would cringe at the thought of using the almost singsong lilt her voice had taken on, but he was ridiculously easy to tease.

“U-um...” Malcolm cleared his throat. His face like it was on fire and he knew it wasn’t because of the tea he’d just had. “So my mother sort of--well, demanded that I show up at her gala in a couple of days.”

Dani raised an eyebrow, unsurprised. Jessica Whitly was a societal force to be reckoned with and it was little wonder that even her son, who dealt with killers on a daily basis, was unable to say no to her.

“So I gathered.”

Bright being jittery was normal. The constant fidgeting, the mundane rambling, the sheer awkwardness was wired into him from a young age if Gil’s stories of a young Bright were all true, but he seemed almost… nervous?

It didn’t make sense to her. Sure, he normally said some weird things and he had an unfortunate habit of sticking his foot in his mouth, but it was benign for the most part. It should’ve alarmed her about how comfortable she was around him, but the warmth of the tea she had still lingered, making everything about the already odd night pleasantly hazy.

“She also wanted me to bring a date.” Malcolm let out a wry chuckle, his hand rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “I mean I’m already bringing Isabella as a sort of fun-sized baby date given that Mother's so taken with her, but it’d be nice to have a friend there a-and--”

“Bright.”

Dani’s voice slowed into a low drawl as she took a step closer, her face inscrutable save for the glimmer of laughter in her eyes. She had to admit, it was pretty cute to see him so flustered.

“Are you asking me to be your date?”

“W-well, I--”

The instant he cleared his throat, she could see a change in his demeanour. The determined set of his jaw, the squared shoulders as he drew himself to his full height, the clarity in his eyes. It briefly reminded her of something that Edrisa had said about the change that came with Clark Kent taking off his glasses.

“I just thought it would be nice to take you to a fancy party where you wouldn’t have to arrest somebody and just enjoy yourself.”

“So it has nothing to do with you wanting to see me in a dress again?”

A teasing grin spread across Dani’s face as she tipped her head to the side. The sight of it made Malcolm’s confidence practically fly out the window, leaving him rambling so fast that he almost bit his tongue a few times.

“Of course, there’s no obligation for you to say yes.” He nervously ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “It’s just that you’re the only person I could think of when Mother said to bring a date. I know it’s probably not your thing, but--”

“Okay.”

“W-wait, what?” If his eyes got any wider, he could pass for a Disney Princess, all round and uncertain and saccharine sweet.

“Okay,” Dani’s eyes sparkled, the corners of them crinkling as she beamed at him. “I’ll go with you.”

“Really?” Malcolm’s anxiety practically melted away as he let out a relieved chuckle. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Dani nodded, “But a girl needs a night off for dancing every now and then--”

She nearly took a step back as he beamed at her, nearly as bright as the sun itself, the livewire tension in his body just melting away and it wasn’t until she caught the scent of bergamot and old leather that she realized what was happening.

Was Bright… hugging her?

“Okay,” His voice was muffled, his face buried into her shoulder, “that’s amazing!”

Dani couldn’t help but burst out laughing as she absently patted his back, feeling more like she had an armful of excitable puppy rather than gangly profiler.

"Well, what are friends for, right?"

“Seriously,” Malcolm pulled away just enough so he could look at her, his arms still around her, “I owe you big time!”

“Bright--”

“No, I mean it,” he insisted with a shake of his head, still grinning ear to ear as if she had just given him the secret to all of life’s mysteries. “Anything you want, I’m yours for the week.”

Dani knew he would probably say something like that. Malcolm Bright was the kind of man who would go to the moon and back for the people he cared about, but she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had become one of those people.

She briefly considered having him buy her fancy tea blends every day for a year or getting tickets to a sold out performance at the New York Ballet, but he seemed so genuinely happy that she accepted that she could only think of one thing that seemed right.

“You can start with those waffles you promised in the morning.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The bed was comfortable. Too comfortable.

Everything in the room was too tidy, too organized. The high end furniture gave Dani flashbacks of playing Tetris at the local arcade with her cousins, all neat blocks fitting together. The only things in the room that looked out of place were Dani’s clothes on a nearby loveseat and her duffle bag of extra clothes on the vanity. There was no real character to the room she was in, no personal touch.

Bright was right. These rooms were just like hotel rooms. At least there were silk pillowcases so she didn’t have to worry about her hair. Dani tossed and turned before she took her phone off the nightstand next to her and checked the time.

4:42 AM.

She stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought with a slight frown. When she was a kid, she would jump out of bed in the middle of the night to see what was on TV so early in the morning, curled up on the couch with her blanket wrapped around her like a cape. But it wasn’t like she could do that now.

This not being her home aside, Bright’s TV was way too big to subtly turn on and just watch with the captions. The high definition alone would be enough to wake both him and Isabella.

Then again…

Bright could be awake right now. Maybe he could use some company. She could just sneak downstairs and check in on--

Before she could make her decision, she faintly heard a high pitched squeal coming from downstairs. She absently let her hair down from her pineapple updo and made use of the fluffy white robe that was hanging in the closet before heading down. No one needed to see her in short shorts and a thin nightshirt.

What she saw made her stop at the foot of the stairs.

She found Bright on the ground with his legs tucked under him, a wide awake Isabella lying on a fuzzy blanket with numerous toys strewn about around them.

Wait.

Was he wearing glasses?

Dark thick frames that were so close to slipping down Malcolm’s nose as he sat with Isabella with a bunch of toys and blankets around her. It was unexpectedly cute. Something about those glasses stirred up a bit of fascination for stripped down, barebones Bright in the early hours of the morning--

She mentally shook her head. It was probably just her groggy mind that was thinking that though. Bright wasn’t even her type anyways, no matter how mesmerizing his eyes were.

Malcolm tried lulling Isabella to sleep again, but the little girl just kept smacking plushies in his face and blowing raspberries, her face crinkled into a happy grin. Dani bit back a laugh when she saw how Malcolm couldn’t help but smile at the baby girl as he gently grasped a chubby fist. Bright made a front about being strict with Isabella about bedtime, but he really was just a big old marshmallow when it came to babies.

“Come on, Izzy.” Dani heard Malcolm cajole the baby as the little one batted at his face. “You need to get some sleep or you’ll be cranky. And I don’t think either of us wants to see that.”

Izzy.

The nickname was enough to make Dani smile. She was too half asleep to consider that maybe forming a bond with the baby may not be the best idea. Isabella continued to gurgle as her tiny starlike hands patted Malcolm’s face, letting out a high pitch giggle when she managed to grab his nose.

“Izzy,” he whined, inciting even more giggling from the little girl, “Could you let go of my nose please? I kind of need to breathe and contrary to what lolo Gil thinks, I’d like to keep breathing.”

His nasally voice did nothing to stop the laughter coming from the baby.

Malcolm was removing Isabella’s hand when he heard a tiny laugh from behind him. He turned to see Dani on the stairs, wrapped in a fluffy robe with her arms crossed, watching in amusement.

“Sorry,” she murmured, giving him a sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no,” Malcolm shook his head as he picked up Isabella, “Did we wake you?”

“Hardly. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Dani’s footsteps were steady as she padded her way towards them, making Isabella turn her wide eyes to her with a coo. It still amazed her how much the little girl’s eyes were just like Bright’s, all guileless and moonlike in that shade that wasn’t quite blue or green.

A smirk took over Malcolm’s face, a playful spark in his eyes as he made room for her to sit.

“I thought we agreed you should avoid picking up my bad habits.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, Bright,” she shot back as she took Isabella from him, the little girl wrapped her tiny arms around the detective’s neck, letting out a tiny kitten-like yawn as she rested her head on Dani’s shoulder.

“For real, have you slept at all?”

Malcolm shrugged.

“Bright...”

Dani narrowed her eyes at him as he simply shrugged, shaking her head as she felt Isabella tangle her hands in her curls. Her face fell into a familiar expression, what JT had affectionately named her ‘why you always lying’ face during the first case they worked together.

“Got about four hours before I woke up,” he said, giving her a wry grin in return before nodding towards Isabella. “Then little miss night owl got up a few minutes later and I haven’t been able to get her back to sleep.”

Dani couldn’t blame him. She’d heard horror stories of sleepless nights from her oldest sister, but she could already sense Isabella starting to relax in her arms, absently rubbing the little girl’s back. Isabella was already much easier to handle than Dani’s niece and nephew.

“Well, we’ve already exhausted all your options. Let me try something.”

She didn’t think his eyes could get any bigger, but leave it to Bright to prove people wrong.

“You don’t have to--”

“You need to rest.” Her tone brokered no room for discussion. “We need to be up at six. Try to sleep for another hour. Make it an even five hours,” she added with a smirk.

“Five isn’t an even number.” Malcolm chuckled as Dani shot him a playful glare, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, but if you need help--”

“I’ll wake you, now go to sleep.” She gazed at him with stern eyes, practically daring him to ignore her. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Dani shooed him to bed with a roll of her eyes, her smile tender as she looked back down at Isabella.

Malcolm felt sore and exhausted, barely remembering to take off his glasses as his head hit his pillow. He could hear Dani softly speaking to Izzy as his eyes fell shut.

Wait.

That wasn’t it. She was singing.

“Moon river… Wider than a mile...”

Dani crooned as she rocked the baby, who seemed to settle down the more she was sung to. Her voice was--

Malcolm already found her voice steadying for his nerves, honeyed contralto with the slightest hint of gravel to it, but her singing?

“I’m crossing you in style someday... Oh dream maker, you heart breaker...”

He let out a content sigh, having no words for once. He didn’t realize he was smiling as he let Dani’s singing lull him to a gentle sleep.

“Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way...”

And for once, he felt nothing but peace.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

“Our prime suspect is Evan Huntington.”

Malcolm went straight into never-miss-a-detail profiler mode as he fed Isabella her bottle. The baby was kicking one leg with glee as she drank her milk.

“He had a previous relationship with our victim, who’s vastly different personality-wise from his usual flings and even his own wife. The fact that Arianna doesn’t look like any of them is another inconsistency in his behaviour.”

“So let me get this straight.” JT interrupted with a grimace that Edrisa liked to refer to as his ‘turtle face’. “This guy sleeps with the women at his office…” his nose scrunched up as he tried to process what he heard, “and then to get revenge, his wife sleeps with them too?”

“Yup.” Dani had an identical look on her face and for a second, Malcolm mistook them for siblings. “Gwendolyn even tried to get me and Bright to sleep with her when we interviewed her.”

Gil let out a laugh of disbelief as JT looked like he swallowed a crateful of lemons.

“Tell me you’re kidding, Powell.”

“I really wish I was,” she snorted before shooting a sly look at Bright. “You should’ve seen Bright's face. You could pinpoint the exact moment his brain started imploding.”

Malcolm just narrowed his eyes at Dani playfully as she teasingly narrowed her eyes back at him.

“Does Evan even know about Isabella?” Gil questioned, frowning at the idea of such a bright little girl being raised by someone as flippant and dismissive as a Huntington.

Malcolm pursed his mouth as he looked down at the baby, who had abandoned her bottle in favour of playing with the grey silk pocket square tucked into his blazer.

“He knows she exists, but he refuses to acknowledge that he’s her birth father. Arianna was already pretty adamant about keeping him out of Izzy’s life.”

If he was being honest, he was hoping this little girl couldn’t be taken away by that man. He couldn’t imagine what would happen to Isabella if she were to grow up with that so-called family. Would she be loved? Would she even be taken care of or would she end up neglected like the characters in one of Ainsley’s historical romance novels?

“Who are the Huntingtons anyways?” JT cut in, his arms crossed. “‘Cause all I’m getting from this is bleach blonde one percenters who moonlight as cartoon villains and make deals with the devil.”

Malcolm and Gil paused at this, giving JT identical sidelong looks in near perfect synchrony. JT rolled his eyes. Gil isn't my dad, my ass.

“Miri and Noa have been really into Gravity Falls lately. The Huntingtons sound just like the Northwests.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Malcolm adjusted Isabella in his arms, letting her sit on his hip as he set aside her bottle. “Let’s just say the Huntingtons are richer than most of New York combined--”

“Which means they get away with murder all the time. That’s why we need to find something concrete that could connect them to Arianna’s murder,” Dani added, “And I don't think Evan Huntington’s willing to take a paternity test.”

Isabella interrupted with a small shriek before playing with Malcolm’s pocket square again. The team let out a laugh at her outburst, Malcolm especially.

“Exactly. See guys, she gets what we’re saying.”

As he continued with his profile, Malcolm didn’t notice that Isabella started trying to copy the swift way he gesticulated whenever he talked, nearly in time with him. The sight of her waving her chubby little arms with the same wide, unblinking expression mirrored on Malcolm’s face was adorable.

Gil couldn’t help but chuckle as he was paying more attention to the baby than the man she was imitating. Just as Malcolm was going to explain more about Evan Huntington, his face suddenly twisted. The older man raised an eyebrow in concern.

“You okay, Bright? And don’t just brush it off with an ‘I’m fine’.”

“I’m fine. Really,” Malcolm insisted after getting a look from Gil before letting out a chuckle, “It’s more to do with Isabella here and the fact that she needs a change.” Isabella giggled as Malcolm shouldered her diaper bag with practiced ease, “I’ll be right back.”

“Just be glad you’re not dealing with two of them at once!”

JT called out as Malcolm left the room, much to Dani and Gil’s amusement.

“You think you’re done, but then the other one needs changing,” he grumbled. “And it doesn’t help when they look the same so you don't remember which one you just changed.”

“At least yours are both girls,” Dani quipped, the corner of her mouth tilting up as she remembered. “Mona kept confusing her kids for months and she had one of each.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

When Malcolm returned, he was surprised to find that Edrisa had joined them.

“Bright!” She lit the second she saw him. “Right on time!”

He chuckled as he placed Isabella in her stroller and gave her a few toys to distract her. He glanced at Dani for a second before doing a double take, his eyes comically wide.

“Wait,” he managed to choke out, his mouth suddenly dry. “What’s happening here?”

Jessica might have drilled the idea of being a gentleman into him, but even that didn’t stop him from staring at the corset that was hugging Dani’s slim frame. It was a more subtle design than most, but the champagne silk and delicate gold embroidery against her deep blue shirt highlighted her dark hair and made her olive skin practically glow.

The only thing jarring this image was the gaping hole in the corset just below Dani’s sternum.

“We found Arianna’s corset in the dumpster outside her building,” JT cut in, looking almost amused at the way Bright was looking at Dani. “Seems our killer didn’t account for the garbage not being collected until the weekend.”

“And according to the shop owners where Arianna would buy her corsets, this is one of their designs, but this isn’t their corset,” Dani explained before she let out a hum of appreciation, looking down at the corset in consideration.

Malcolm furrowed his brows, still not taking his eyes off her.

“How could they tell?”

“That’s the best part,” Edrisa grinned in excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “If you take a close look at the stitching, you’ll see that this corset was machine stitched when they exclusively sell hand-sewn corsets only.”

The coroner nodded in approval as she added, "Plus they pride themselves on being cruelty-free and using eco-friendly materials.” She paused at the incredulous looks everyone was giving her. “What? My stepdad talks about them all the time. He did a collaboration with them for his last fashion line."

Malcolm’s eyes were sharp with focus as his hand hovered over at the stitching of the corset, ignoring the hole left from a knife having gone through it.

“Amazing.”

His fingers barely brushed over the curved seam above the hip when he faintly heard someone clear their throat. Gil, most likely.

“Bright?”

Malcolm was startled out of his thoughts, looking up to see Dani staring down at him with her eyebrows raised and her nose scrunched in confusion and he was suddenly very aware of just how close he was to her.

“Right, sorry.” He cleared his throat, a high flush stark against his pale skin. “So why’s Dani wearing it?”

“So glad you asked,” Edrisa piped up, clapping her hands in excitement. “Since we need to figure out what about it killed Arianna, Dani volunteered to try it out...”

Her smile turned into a pout, “So far no luck. We’ve laced it up as tight as possible, but it’s not like Dani’s squashed like a tin of sardines. It doesn’t seem like it’s difficult to breathe in it.”

Dani was reminded of a confused puppy at the bewildered expression that overtook Malcolm’s face.

“You’re fine?”

She nodded, her brow wrinkled in thought.

“Yeah,” she muttered, her hands smoothing down the front panel of the corset. “It doesn’t even feel like I’m wearing it, honestly.”

Just then Isabella let out a very loud cry, startling everyone. Everyone turned to see her plush owl on the floor, the little girl’s face scrunched up when her stubby little arms couldn’t reach it. Malcolm was quick to grab it and hand it back to her, earning him a toothless grin that matched his answering one.

He wasn’t expecting to hear someone suddenly collapse behind him.

They all turned and their eyes widened in horror at the sight before them. Dani was sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and lips turning pale as she gasped for air.

“Dani!”

Malcolm charged towards her in a panic, ignoring the near scrapes as he fell to his knees next to her. He couldn’t help but curse as his fingers fumbled, desperately trying to undo the corset which seemed to be getting tighter and tighter by the second. Gritting his teeth in frustration when he couldn’t get the knot out, he whipped out a pocket knife from his suit jacket and slashed through the laces before ripping it off her.

He was so going to hear it from Gil later, a scolding about unauthorized weapons already ringing in his ears, but at the moment Malcolm could focus on nothing but Dani.

He nearly slumped over her in relief as Dani started gasping as air began to flow through her lungs once again. She weakly grabbed Malcolm’s arms as he cradled her to him, keeping her upright against his chest. He barely registered flinging the damn corset away from her, now a pitiful crumpled mess on the floor.

“I-I couldn’t breathe…” Dani finally managed to choke out, her knuckles white from her grip on him. “I couldn’t breathe!”

Malcolm’s heart thundered almost violently as he stroked her hair, not letting her go as cool air started to fill her lungs again. Dani could practically feel it from where she had her head resting on his chest, the rhythm soothing her as she closed her eyes in exhaustion.

Malcolm briefly looked up at Gil, his expression grim, a spark of fury making his eyes electric.

“I think we know how this thing is our murder weapon.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"JT just texted, they’re on their way back." Gil reported as he pocketed his phone.

His expression was grim as he saw the man he considered a son freeze in the middle of his frantic pacing back and forth with a clingy Isabella on his hip. Malcolm hadn't been able to go to the hospital with Dani because the little girl saw him trying to leave the room and he wasn't able to do it in face of her tears.

“Is…” he hesitated, swallowing thickly. “Is Dani going to be okay?”

If Gil noticed that his eyes were a little red, he had the sense not to say anything.

“He said that both Edrisa and the hospital doctor confirmed that Dani only has some mild bruising. You managed to get the corset off her before any permanent damage was done.”

Malcolm didn’t seem to take any comfort in that. The almost pout on his face was enough to make Gil smirk.

“Kid, she’s gonna be okay. She’s from the Bronx, tougher than both of us combined, remember?” He unconsciously relaxed as he saw Malcolm let out a tiny smile. “Quick thinking with the knife, by the way,” he added, his tone almost smug.

He barely managed to keep his expression stern as the pout on Malcolm’s face dissolved into a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. It was the same face he had made the time the then officer had caught a twelve year old Bright attempting to smuggle a cageful of budgies--which Gil had later learned he ‘liberated’ from a neglectful owner--into his room, he couldn’t help but note.

“I justified it at the time,” he admitted sheepishly as Izzy patted his stubble, “but in hindsight, probably not the best idea to have a knife on me if I’m taking care of a baby.”

“Common sense kicks in at last,” Gil chuckled as Malcolm’s face flushed with rare embarrassment, “At least I don't have to make that my next point.”

At least, he hoped he didn’t have to. Had the kid even kept his wall of weapons out of the baby’s line of sight? He kept a straight face, but he was practically screaming internally at the thought.

“By the way,” Malcolm added as he placed Izzy back in her stroller, “my mother’s going to be stopping by to pick up Isabella while I go take care of something.”

“Where you off to, kid?”

“I, uh, I’m gonna see Ainsley.” He glanced away, still fidgeting with the stroller’s handles, “I haven’t talked to her for a few days, though I’d check up on her.”

“And Isabella?”

“Don’t worry,” Malcolm let out a tense chuckle, “That’s why I already called Mother, she’s more than happy to watch her for a few hours.”

Gil gave an understanding smile.

“I can keep an eye on Isabella until Jess gets here. Can’t be much different than babysitting Tala. Go see Ainsley.”

Malcolm’s smile was solemn as he knelt down to face Isabella. The baby just grinned at him and reached out to pat his face.

“I’m only going to be gone for a little while, okay? Mother’s going to take you on another adventure, that’ll be fun, right?”

Isabella gurgled as she hugged her owl, the plush toy squished against a chubby cheek.

“I’ll be back soon, Izzy.” As he stood up to leave, he turned to Gil once more. “Thanks for doing this, Gil.”

“Anytime, kid.”

As Malcolm walked away, Gil knelt down and gave Isabella a smile. The baby let out a light squeal as she reached out to him, the tips of her tiny fingers barely grazing his beard. She reminded him of Tala, his only grandchild when she was that age, wide eyed and curious and grabbing anything that caught her eye.

Once he took her back to his office, Isabella started to get fussy. He picked her up, immediately realizing what she wanted as he took the bottle of formula she hadn't finished yet. Gil couldn’t help the fond smile that overtook his face as her big blue eyes stared up at him, gurgling as a chubby fist stroked his chin. She started kicking a leg as if to say she was enjoying her snack.

“You just wanna do everything at once, don’t you?” He would firmly deny that he cooed at Isabella if one of his officers saw him like this. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you took after Bright.”

He didn’t get a response nor did he expect one, but the gummy smile that lit up her face as she reached for her bottle gave him a sense of understanding.

Then a wave of regret hit him. If Evan Huntington knew about Isabella now, why hadn’t he taken her away?

The lieutenant decided then and there that that sorry excuse for a man wouldn’t have a chance at ruining this little girl’s life.

Not if he had anything to say about.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

After the rollercoaster that had been the blackout and Endicott’s stabbing, Malcolm and Jessica somehow managed to keep Ainsley from being sent to prison by the skin of their teeth. Malcolm was the first to admit that it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of Gil, Dani, and Edrisa. Even JT, much to the surprise of both mother and son.

But it didn’t stop Jessica from finding it fit to send Ainsley to a rehabilitation facility of sorts. Phoenix Rehab, which the Milton matriarch had said had glowing reviews was a facility usually housed teenage heirs to fortunes with so-called attitude problems and wealthy housewives who found that something about their life just wasn’t enough and needed supposed space to breathe.

Very rarely were there people like Ainsley, who genuinely needed help and needed to understand themselves and their actions.

Malcolm had been against the idea at first. It was already public knowledge that Ainsley was The Surgeon’s daughter, but if the staff were to find out what had really happened that night...

He shuddered at the thought of Ainsley being raked over hot coals by the fallout.

Jessica, still reeling from what happened, had suggested Ainsley stay there for at least six months. She was reluctant to cut Ainsley off from society, but she felt that her daughter definitely needed to be somewhere where she didn’t have to deal with media vultures. Especially when Ainsley couldn’t call herself the well-adjusted Whitly anymore.

But from the start, their mother had made it clear that if Ainsley ever wanted to come back home, whether it be for the weekend or forever, she would welcome her with what Gil dubbed as the Whitly equivalent of arms wide open.

His sister had ended up making a deal with Jessica. If she could find even one thing she liked about the place--whether it was the food, the meditation classes, even just the comfy mattresses and the freedom to decorate her room as she saw fit--within a week...

Then she would concede to stay the six months Jessica had recommended.

Soon six months had come and gone, Jessica and Malcolm making various efforts to visit her at least once a week and Ainsley making quite a few visits back to the Whitly family home. Though she always stubbornly insisted that she didn’t need them to check up on her so much, especially considering the long drive.

But for reasons no one seemed to understand, the youngest Whitly always seemed eager to go back.

Ainsley clearly seemed to be improving. She half-begrudgingly admitted to Malcolm that she may have been ignoring her own mental health and she managed to come to terms with what she had done, making peace with it more or less.

But it still didn’t stop the guilt that she felt every time she saw a crime news report. Nicholas Endicott was nothing short of a monster for all the trauma he had put them through and she wasn’t sorry he was dead. But what worried her the most was that something in her--something twisted, something she could have inherited from the dark underbelly of Martin Whitly’s psyche--had snapped and she just couldn’t stand by and watch scum like him get what he wanted.

Whether it was him lusting after their mother or having Malcolm and Gil at his mercy, she couldn’t let him get away with murder.

Not again.

Not anymore.

She was only sorry for how it had made her notorious, serial killer father downright giddy.

Even more sorry that her mother and brother had been left to deal with the consequences.

And before long, six months turned to seven, to eight, then nine, but as time ticked on, Ainsley Whitly seemed to have no intention of coming home for good.

Malcolm was brought over to where Ainsley was lounging on an open patio. She looked comfortable in a flowy white tunic top and matching leggings, her hair fabulous and effortlessly styled as always.

She seemed at an easel painting... something?

He couldn’t tell if she was trying for peacock feathers or she accidentally started channeling Klimt with all the greens and golds.

“Before you say anything, I’m just playing around with this,” Ainsley said without looking up. “I will smear green paint in your hair.”

And that was Ainsley all over. She always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her big brother trying to tease her. He simply grinned as he walked over to her, meeting her halfway for a bear hug before he sat next to her.

“Hey bro,” she grinned, “it’s been eighty four years. Please tell me you brought truffle cupcakes instead of just your sorry mug.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but snort as he shook his head.

“Hi Ains. Good to see you’re still you.”

She blew a raspberry, wagging her paintbrush at him in a way that reminded him of the way great-aunt Martha Antoinette would wag her finger, seafoam green manicure almost blinding whenever she scolded him or their mother.

“Your last visit was over a week ago. You finally coming to terms that you don’t need to be checking up on me so much?”

“It’s not that. I’ve just been…” His mouth twisted as he tried to figure out how to even begin to explain everything, “busy the last few days. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. I’ve taken up painting obviously,” she smirked, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “You think if I grew facial hair, I could be Bob Ross?”

“Ains,” Malcolm barely got out, his shoulders shaking with laughter, “I think it takes more than mere facial hair to even pass for Bob Ross.”

“Rude,” she scoffed playfully before trailing off. “I dunno,” she added with a shrug, “I’ve been painting a lot of happy trees lately and I could do with another hobby.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” A relieved smile spread across his face. “How’ve you been doing?”

“Okay for the most part. I’ve been binge-watching The Good Place the past couple of days. I don’t get all the hype, but it was actually pretty good. Though the philosophy bits just confuse the hell out of me.”

“Well, it’s an acquired taste for some.”

Malcolm chuckled, remembering how JT’s face had scrunched up when he and Tally were debating about ethics in the latest episode during their last group outing. JT preferred everything straightforward while Tally liked diving into symbolism and the intricacies of foreshadowing.

And yet the two opposites had just celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary.

The siblings shared a moment of comfortable silence before Ainsley spoke up.

“You came here to ask me something.” She crossed her arms over the table and leaned forward, her knowing eyes befitting of her passion for journalism. “And don’t deny it, you know you can’t hide anything from Whitly women, bro. What is it?”

For once, he carefully thought over his words.

“You gave Mom the six months she wanted. Your doctors say you’re more than equipped to return to your job and your regular life.” He frowned in confusion as Ainsley looked down at the table, almost curled into herself. “You don’t have an insatiable bloodlust, you don’t take pleasure in hurting people. I can’t imagine what must have been going through your head at the time--”

His eyes softened when he saw her look so small, so unlike her confident self. As much as he initially thought otherwise, he hadn’t been the only one affected by their father.

“But I do understand being afraid of what you could be capable of. And I know that it was a result of trauma and stress, but what happened obviously came from a very logical and rational urge to protect our family.”

“I know,” Ainsley mumbled before looking back up at her big brother, “I’m usually good at getting that through my head--I’m still scared that something will happen again. I’ll suddenly get this pang in my chest at the realization that yes, maybe I did kill to protect my family. Maybe his death helped to save the lives of innocent people who would have died because of him...”

Her voice wobbled, her eyes suspiciously bright and it was like she was five years old again, confused and hanging onto the hem of her big brother’s sweater.

“But none of that changes the fact that I did kill him. I killed him and I don’t even remember doing it.”

Malcolm placed a hand on her shoulder as he noticed her eyes glaze over, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m not saying that I’m worse off than you or you can’t understand what it’s like--but you’ve had this stigma of being Martin Whitly’s son for twenty years. It sucks, but at least it’s a constant for you. Imagine feeling like you’re doing fine and then all of a sudden, you’re hit with the guilt of something you actually did and can’t take back. Something you can never change.”

Malcolm held out his other hand and Ainsley was quick to take it, much like when they had been kids and she had held her brother’s hand because she was afraid of the high dive at the pool at Grandma Liz’s house.

“I feel that less here, but I’m still reminded.”

“You’re not a bad person, Ains. Single minded maybe, but that’s hardly the worst trait for a journalist to have.”

She let out a wry laugh.

“But I still killed a man and that changes things.” She pursed her lips as she let out a sharp exhale. “I don’t know if I can ever feel normal again.”

Malcolm nodded. Didn’t he have so many sleepless nights over that during the past twenty years? Maybe it was something only family could understand.

“Welcome to my world,” he jested, the beginnings of a teasing smile unfurling.

“I guess it was only a matter of time.” Ainsley let go of his hand, her laughter given way to a resigned sigh. “And I know Mom misses me, but now she’s asking me to either come back for this gala or give great-grandma Catherine ‘the Great’ something to roll over in her grave about.”

“Well, she was the life of the party back in her day,” he shrugged.

He vaguely remembered a larger than life old woman in an Audrey Hepburn style black dress and opera gloves, laugh lines around Milton blue eyes and streaks of silver in her chestnut hair. Malcolm had been four when she passed away, but he could still recall his young self balancing on her ruby red shoes as she led him in wide sweeping circles across the dance floor.

“And let’s face it, you definitely take after her ‘cause you’re much better at the whole gala thing than I am. I wouldn’t even know how to talk to anyone, really.”

“Wait,” Ainsley turned to him in disbelief. “You, Professor Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome, are actually going? Willingly?”

“Yeah, and here’s the kicker. Mother wanted me to bring a date.”

Ainsley let out a snort, her expression sly.

“Because you’re so clearly fighting them off with a stick?”

“Oh, ha, ha. Very funny,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“What are you going to do when you show up without a date?”

Malcolm went quiet, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and looking at anything but her. Ainsley’s eyes went wide with shock and delight, her reporter mind quickly connecting the dots.

“No. Way. Malcolm Alexander Bright! You actually have a date?”

Malcolm squirmed in embarrassment, his ears turning red.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a date exactly--”

“It’s Dani, huh?”

“Wha--” Malcolm just blinked at her in bemusement, “I just--how’d you even--”

“Figure it out? Oh please,” Ainsley rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You couldn’t be more obvious. I mean, you literally talk about her every time you come visit.”

He froze at that, eyes so wide that she thought they’d pop out at any given second. Malcolm briefly wondered how his sister could read him so easily now. It had to have been the result of her almost year long stay here.

“I do?”

He winced at the way his voice almost cracked.

“Yup,” she nodded, practically preening with unholy glee. “It’s always the same thing. You tell me about a case, update me on Gil, guess the JT name of the week, and you end on some hilarious joke Dani made, usually at your expense. Which confirms you being a masochist because you find those the funniest,” she added in afterthought.

Ainsley settled back in her seat, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“So tell me, big brother. How’d you manage to trick her into saying yes?”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Dani wasn’t normally one to simply stay at her desk, but she couldn’t help the soft smile on her face as she watched Gil and Isabella through the window of his office, the baby laughing as Gil made funny faces. It had been a while since she saw him like this, but lolo Gil was definitely a good look on him.

“Oh, Detective Powell!”

She snapped out of her thoughts a posh voice called out to her, accompanied by the crisp sound of heels clicking with each step across the floor.

“Hello, Mrs Whitly.”

Dani looked up at the older woman with a polite smile. Jessica Whitly reminded her of the high society ladies from the reruns of Dynasty that her Granmè used to watch when she was little. Affably dramatic with those close to her, but scrappy enough to get down and dirty when she needed to if breaking an antique vase over Watkins’ head was any indication.

Dani nearly had to cover her eyes when she spotted the bright, friendly smile on the other woman’s face, a sharp contrast with the navy suede trench coat and muted silver heels she wore. Well, at least she knew where Bright got it from now.

“Oh no, dear, Mrs Whitly was my former mother-in-law,” Jessica chuckled airily, waving off the formality. “Given how attached my son is to you, you simply must call me Jessica. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too.”

It should’ve been awkward, talking to Bright’s mother like this as if her relationship with her son was something more profound than friendship, but honestly?

Jessica wasn’t as bad as some of the other high society mothers she had come across since meeting Bright. She was a lot of things; nosy, opinionated, a little judgemental at times when it came to Gil or her children’s choices. But she didn’t let her shortcomings stop her from trying to do right by the people she cared about.

The subtle smile on Dani’s face was genuine, even as the detective cleared her throat upon recalling last night’s invitation.

“Oh, by the way, I thought you should know that Bright invited me along.”

“Invited you along...?” The older woman feigned ignorance with a quizzical tilt of her head, a rare moment of mischief for her.

“Uh,” Dani hesitated for a second, absently biting her lower lip before she just came out with it. “Just that he extended the invitation for your gala... thing. He wasn’t really specific about what it was.”

“Oh,” Jessica lit up, clasping her hands together in delight, “So Malcolm did ask you after all! Finally. I knew that boy had a bit of the Milton persistence in him if I gave him a little nudge in the right direction, so to speak.”

Dani swallowed a chuckle, remembering the little family history lesson Bright had given them during the impromptu tour of the Whitly family home.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, this is wonderful, dear! So tell me, what do you plan on wearing?”

Oh.

Dani hadn’t really thought about what she would wear to an upscale event like that. Her family was comfortably middle class and the Powells’ idea of fancy was a night at the New York ballet and a late dinner at the Havana Café.

“Um, I don’t really have a lot of options. Just that dress Bright bought me for a case a while back.”

“That fabulous oxblood gown you wore to the Taylor wedding?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dani let out a laugh, simply shrugging a shoulder. “I thought about having my mom upcycle it and add some sheer lace sleeves, maybe a peekaboo collar.”

“As inventive as that may be and I will be asking for your mother’s number later,” Jessica looked momentarily intrigued by the idea before she shook her head, “I cannot let you be seen in that.”

Dani was nearly taken back, her brows raised in disbelief.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jessica started, “That dress is gorgeous and you looked stunning as always. I've lost count of how many times people have come up to me and asked who you were after you flawlessly took down the Countess of Monte Cristo, not even a hair out of place.”

Jessica’s expression turned sly as she recalled how her son would start to frown in annoyance whenever he overheard a wealthy scion ask if the lovely detective was single. It may have led to a few ice cold glares whenever Dani wasn’t looking and the occasional possessive hand cupping the small of her back as he guided her through yet another dance, but the Milton matriarch would let Malcolm have his dignity.

For now, at least.

“But it’s practically an unwritten rule in the upper echelon, you simply cannot be seen in something you’ve already worn, especially when it comes to these sort of events.”

"I guess you have a point…" Dani conceded.

She might have had a brief glimpse of high society at the Taylor wedding, but she could tell from a glance that there was a lot of cutthroat viciousness hidden behind polite veneers. She was not about to go to the gala like a country bumpkin put on display at the--

Dani mentally shook her head. She must have listened to Mona talk about historical Cinderella style novels one too many times. How did Bright even grow up in that kind of environment?

“Oh, I know!” Jessica's face lit up once again, “Why don’t I take you shopping? I still need to get my dress as well and I’m sure we could find something that suits your taste. We can make a lady’s day out of it.”

“I don’t know, Mrs Whitly--Jessica,” Dani corrected after a pointed look from the older woman. “I can’t exactly take off work--”

“Actually, you don’t need to continue your shift. Given that it ended a little while ago.” Gil interrupted, his face smug as he walked out of his office, bouncing a very happy Isabella in his arms. “Powell’s just a dedicated worker.”

Isabella kicked her legs in excitement, squealing when she saw Jessica hold her arms out.

“Oh, my little bluebell!” Jessica gushed as she took the baby from Gil, looking every inch a doting grandmother as she turned back to Dani. “Now then, if your work day is over, I would love to take you dress shopping.”

Dani opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to answer. Jessica was nice enough in small doses, but even she didn’t know if she could handle the entire day with Bright’s mom.

“Powell,” Gil interjected, fatherly assurance bleeding into his usual no-nonsense lieutenant persona. “After all the hullabaloo, you’ve definitely earned a break today. Don’t let me catch you back here until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess…” Dani paused, looking at Jessica with a tiny smile. “Why not? I could use a day off right about now.”

“Wonderful!”

Isabella started to clap and giggle as Dani stood up, the little girl’s enthusiasm making the grin on Jessica’s face grow even wider.

“See, even Bluebell’s excited for you to join us.”

Gil chuckled with a fond expression, offering to get Isabella’s stroller when his phone suddenly rang. He hurried back to his office when he saw just who was calling.

“Gil, I think I figured out how to get Evan Huntington to talk.”

“Bright,” Gil pinched the bridge of his nose. “We still don’t have enough evidence to bring him in. There’s still a possibility that he’s not our killer.”

“Killer or not, he knows something. He’s just not telling us.”

“Don’t I know it,” he groaned, a feeling of dread already starting to bubble up, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Do I even want to know what you have in mind?”

“Probably not,” he joked before his voice turned serious. “We may have to talk to Evan Huntington’s father, Edgar. But in order for it to work--”

He could practically hear Malcolm’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“--I may need to pay my father a visit.”

Hey guys!

I’m sorry this took so long... again, writer’s block plus online summer courses have not been a good combination. I’m hoping that chapter 8 doesn’t take this long to write but no worries, I’m not gonna abandon the story... if anyone’s still interested in the story lol

I hope you guys are doing well and staying safe, I’ll see you next time XP

P.S. extra special thank you to @s4karuna because I could not have posted these past few chapters without her edits

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #dani powell #gil arroyo #jt tarmel #edrisa tanaka #ainsley whitly #jessica whitly #brightwell #carved in the cradle #prodigal son fanfiction

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n3rdlif343va · 6 years

Text

Phichit Zine Ficlet #1

This little ficlet is serving as a promo and prologue for my @phichitzine fic which is a collaboration with the fabulously talented @heilariart!! (Seriously, the art is unbelievable and I really, really cannot wait for everyone to see the story we have created!)

It is also a story near and dear to my heart, since this concept was developed with the help of my magical, beautiful fluff partner @magical-mistral!! Throughout our time as friends and partners, Mistral has always encouraged me to continue to fight for the multifaceted portrayal of Phichit in this fandom. She has encouraged me to write so many fics based on our joint love of our favorite character. I know that without Mistral, my inspiration would have dried up a long time ago, so the first ficlet that I am posting today is not only a zine prequel but most importantly a tribute to my Phichit, the absolutely incredible @magical-mistral. Thank you, for everything!

A sharp clap from the barrier wall had all of the skaters in the Detroit ice rink coming to an abrupt halt in the midst of their cool downs. Standing with his hands braced on the wall was their coach, his facial expression serious as he commanded their immediate attention. Raising an eyebrow at Yuuri, Phichit skated to the side of his best friend and reached up to pull Yuuri’s earbud from his ear. Nodding his head in Celestino’s direction, Phichit laughed at Yuuri’s panicked face. “He wants all of us, not just you, come on.” Playfully hooking an arm with Yuuri’s elbow, Phichit dragged him toward the group that gathered dutifully around their coach.

“This Saturday is Christmas,” Celestino was flailing his hands as he talked, and Phichit winked at Yuuri as he moved his own arms in subtle mocking. They loved their coach, but they also loved to tease the man at any chance they got. The sound of a clearing throat had Phichit dropping his hands, cheeks flushing as he stared at his feet. “As I was saying,” the statement was aimed in Phichit’s direction and he kept his eyes on the ground, even as his smile continued to quirk at the ends of his lips. “Saturday is Christmas, but members of our junior team are performing in a benefit and I cannot fulfill my duties as Santa Claus at the Children’s Hospital.”

The snicker escaped from Phichit before he could stop it. Elbowing Yuuri, he missed Celestino’s gaze falling on him. “Oh Santa, but what a pointy nose you have,” Phichit whispered, causing Yuuri to snort and slap a hand over his mouth. His second joke was interrupted when his name was firmly called.

“Phichit Chulanont,” Celestino’s pronunciation was flawless as he leveled a devious smile in the direction of his skater. “I was going to ask for a volunteer to take my place, but I will take your comments as enthusiasm. And Yuuri, I think you’ll make a good elf. Thank you for taking time out on a busy Saturday, gentleman, I’ll make sure the volunteer coordinator gets lots of pictures.” Raising his own eyebrow, Celestino smirked at his skaters as he waved his hands to dismiss his team.

“How is it that every time you get in trouble I get dragged into it?” Yuuri hissed, shoving Phichit’s shoulder as they made their way to the locker room.

“It’s what best friends are for,” Phichit threw an arm over Yuuri’s shoulders, tugging him into a head lock. “Besides you look great in tights. You’ll be a perfect elf!” Releasing Yuuri to dodge the punch being thrown at his side, Phichit cackled as he plopped on the bench to remove his skates. Playing Santa wasn’t his ideal way to spend a Saturday but it was definitely better than any of Celestino’s previous ideas of punishments.

“Sleep with one eye open, Chulanont,” Yuuri teased, pushing open the door to the locker room and looking back over his shoulder with a sarcastic glare.

“I always do, Mr. Nikiforov!” Falling backwards off the bench when Yuuri threw a dirty towel at him, Phichit continued to laugh as he watched his blushing best friend disappear through the swinging doors.

When Phichit moved to Detroit to train, he was convinced that finding friends would be easy. He had lots of friends growing up and his social circle at home still kept in constant contact through the wonders of social media. It had been a rude awakening to discover himself among the youngest of the skaters training with Celestino and the only skater looking to make lifelong friendships with his rink mates.

For the first week that he had roomed with Yuuri, Phichit was convinced Celestino was pranking him. Yuuri was quiet and serious, and in so many ways the exact opposite of Phichit. At least that’s what Phichit had thought, until the morning that he had discovered Yuuri standing in the kitchen at dawn drinking coffee out of a cereal bowl. Delirious with sleep deprivation, Phichit had stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed a matching bowl and filled it to the brim with steaming coffee. Yuuri had clinked his bowl against Phichit’s and whispered “cheers to bad decisions” making Phichit snicker into his caffeinated salvation.

The walls had toppled from there. Yuuri was funny and sarcastic, his humor flowing perfectly against Phichit’s quick quips of situational humor. They had found a trusted rhythm with each other and Phichit had found the best friend he had desperately wanted in Detroit.

Faith in that friendship had Phichit grinning up from their small kitchen table as Yuuri unlocked and threw open the door to their shared living space. He watched as Yuuri toed off his shoes, counting down the seconds in his head before Yuuri lifted his eyes and got a glimpse of Phichit’s newest stroke of genius. Phichit was not disappointed as Yuuri finally looked up, eyes going wide at the sight on the table.

“Please tell me you are not trying to build a plushie hamster army…” Yuuri blandly regarded the lines of stuffed hamsters standing at attention in front of Phichit. Leaning on the counter, Yuuri took a slow sip from his water bottle while waiting for an explanation.

“That’s sort of… exactly what I’m doing,” Phichit laughed, lifting a triangle shape of red fabric. “Celestino said that he gives the kids coloring books every year and that’s fine, but hamsters are so much better! Especially if they are superheroes!” Proud of his own handiwork, Phichit turned the closest hamster to face Yuuri. There was a blue mask velcroed over the hamster’s beady plastic eyes and a matching blue cape tied around his neck. “See, each kid will get a hamster to help them fight their cancer.” Fiddling with the cape in his hand, Phichit hesitantly glanced at Yuuri for an opinion. His idea had seemed brilliant right up until he said it out loud.

Pushing from the counter, Yuuri took two steps to yank his chair from the table. Settling next to Phichit, Yuuri shook his head. “You are the best kind of crazy.” His voice was hushed as Yuuri reached between fluffy hamsters to lift the stack of fabric in front of Phichit. “How can I help?”

The grin broke over Phichit’s face as he slid a second pattern over to Yuuri. Both of them knew how to sew, a product of starting in their figure skating careers with hand-me-down costumes and small budgets. Repositioning his sewing kit between them, Phichit began to excitedly explain his plan, grateful that Yuuri was always ready to jump into whatever craziness Phichit had up his sleeve.

“I hate the smell of hospitals,” Yuuri commented, leaning back against the elevator with his legs crossed at the ankles. His outfit was a bright green, trimmed in red with points on his hat, shoes and ears. The stockings were stripes of red and green exposed under the remarkably short shorts that made up the bottom of ensemble.

“Same,” Phichit commented, his mind filtering through the months of visiting his grandfather the year before he left for Detroit. He had hated Christmas that year, and the pit in his stomach had instantly returned when they had stepped through automatic doors. Shifting the heavy red bag on his shoulder, Phichit cracked his neck trying to suppress the sickness creeping up his throat. If Christmas in the hospital had been horrible for Phichit’s ninety-two-year-old grandfather, he couldn’t imagine how awful it would be for the children living on the oncology unit. Swallowing his nerves, he prepared to force his smile as the elevator doors slowly slid open.

It was the noise that hit them first. Christmas carols were filling the hallways as nurses in Santa hats sang along with the tunes, pushing and guiding patients toward the family room. Phichit knew there would be nine children in the shared room, with six other children remaining in their rooms for medical reasons. He had badgered Celestino with questions about each child, and then took the time to contact the hospital about the ones Celestino didn’t know. Even though Celestino told him that the hospital worked hard to make the holidays joyful, Phichit hadn’t believed him. He had been ready for the worst, and was pleasantly surprised to be wrong.

“Santa!!!”

A small body collided with Phichit’s waist, tiny arms squeezing around the large mass of Phichit’s pillowed stomach. The suit was made of a soft red fabric, and the tiny child buried his face into the front of Phichit’s fake belly. “I told everyone that you would come, but they didn’t believe me. Then you sent the mountain of presents and now you are here!” Peering up, the child continued to smile as Phichit processed the bald head and hollowed cheeks.

“Of course Santa came!” Yuuri knelt down, smiling at the little boy who continued to cling to Phichit. “And he dragged me along because we brought some extra special presents and he can’t handle life without me.” Smirking, Yuuri winked at Phichit who pretended to be offended by his words. “I’m Elf Yuuri, what’s your name?”

“Jeffrey,” Phichit and the small boy said at the same time. A thrilled gasp escaped the child as his wide eyes turned back to Phichit’s bearded face. “You know who I am?”

There was a sweet quiver to the question which caused the first threat of tears to sting Phichit’s eyes. “Of course I know who you are! You are a very brave little boy who definitely deserves a brand new Nintendo DS.” Phichit used a lower voice, attempting to imitate the Santa that was popular in American culture. He nudged Yuuri with a foot when Yuuri attempted to stifle a laugh. “And Elf Yuuri is right! We had presents delivered early, but I also have some extra special surprises in my sack!” He resisted the urge to kick Yuuri harder when Yuuri’s laughter became louder. Pushing Yuuri’s shoulder, Phichit laughed with Jeffrey as Yuuri sprawled onto the floor. “How about we head for the party, Mr. Jeffrey? We’ll let giggles here catch up when he can control himself.” Bending, Phichit hoisted Jeffrey onto his hip trying to ignore how light the boy was and the feeling of the boy’s delicate ribs under his fingertips.

Jeffrey pecked a kiss to Phichit’s cheek and yelled, “on to the fun!” Laughter peeling out of him as Phichit began to gallop in the direction of party. Looking back over his shoulder, Phichit grinned as Yuuri retrieved their bag of surprises with a bright smile of his own.

They had spent exactly ten minutes on the oncology floor of the Children’s Hospital of Michigan and Phichit already knew that his heart was stolen. His smile was no longer forced as he made his way into the party room, vowing to give these children the best Christmas party they had ever had.

#phichit chulanont #phichit zine #yoi #phichit x yuuri #yuuri katsuki #yuri on ice #detroit shennanigans #phichit as santa #zine preview

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