#thinking thoughts about the evasive vampire. i will find out your secrets.

[schmetective]

home;

pairing: Nathaniel Sewell x the Detective synopsis: (Somewhere in Book 3,) After a night of sleep for all of Unit Bravo (humor me), Nate insists on seeing the Detective off when they leave the Warehouse for the police station. The Detective muses about home.

“Mmm,” you hum against Nate’s lips, resolve forcing you to lift your hands from his waist to his chest so that you can pull away. Your words are framed with soft laughter as you force yourself to say them. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

The rays of the summer morning sun peek through the canopy of trees surrounding the clearing around the warehouse, making Nate’s skin look as if he’s glowing. You hear Morgan’s voice somewhere in your head, arguing with no malice that Maybe you’re just that in love with him. You can hear a smirk in her voice to boot. And maybe you are just that in love with him. Your heart, let alone your mind, can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth as you gaze at the tall vampire, suddenly thankful once again that real vampires aren’t like the vampires of myth. You get to enjoy how he looks in the glow of the morning; see the soft breeze play with his brown hair like you had done earlier in the morning. You refrain from following suit now, though, because then you really wouldn’t be able to leave.

At your words, he opens his eyes slowly. Something akin to sadness swims and swirls inside the warmth of them, but he smiles gently nonetheless. For a moment, you wonder protectively with a heavy heart about what, besides you leaving, makes him sad. “Do you?” He asks, no real force behind the question. “You’re welcome to stay home for one more day, you know.”

Home. Your heart flutters when he calls the warehouse that.

You let out a soft breath of laughter, and it draws Nate close once more, nestling the tip of his nose in your cheek as his smile grows. Your chest tightens with sadness at his words— how you wished you could stay. But your town needed you. You were meant to keep them safe, and all you did was be the cause of their loved ones going missing. You wished you could stay. You wished everything was fine in Wayhaven so that you couldstay.

The thoughts have your smile fading just a bit, your gaze dropping to the ground. But the way Nate pulls you even closer to him has you forgetting them until all you’re thinking of is him.

And how you don’t want to leave him.

“Nate,” you laugh again in protest. Despite the facade you were trying to keep up, your arms find their way around his neck in a loose embrace. “I’m going to be late now…”

This time when he pulls away, he laughs. Heaves a little, albeit still dramatic, sigh.

And surely it’s meant to tug at your heart (it does).

You smile.

He smiles too.

“Okay,” he says with another sigh, running a hand over his hair, then letting it rest at the back of his neck.

“Okay?” You confirm, eyebrows raised. Feeling the chill the breeze brings along with it now that he’s no longer holding you.

As if thinking, he purses his lips for a moment then nods and smiles reassuringly. “Yes,” he says with a laugh. “Now go.”

You reflect his smile. “All right…” You take a step back. “I’ll be home again before you even notice I’m gone.”

A couple weeks ago, home was your apartment. Home was Wayhaven. Nate calls the warehouse your home. But maybe…

Maybe home wasn’t really any of those places, or maybe it was. Maybe home was him. Nathaniel Sewell.

Nate’s eyes widen when you call the warehouse ‘home,’ but soon enough, the surprise is melting into a soft, gentle gaze. He highly doubts you could be home again before he notices you’re gone— he already misses you.

And he’s tempted to tell you just as much, but instead he just squints teasingly at you as he watches you walk back towards your car. The teasing look softens when you finally stop walking backwards and turn around. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his green pajama pants to keep from reaching out for you again.

His soft words float on the morning breeze, dancing as they make their way over to you and beckon you to turn around once more just as you reach your car.

Your eyes meet his, noticing their haziness; hazy again but not with sleep… “See you soon, ya rouhi.”

… with love.

He’s got this warmth washing over you even though he’s standing yards away— something only he can make possible. It washes over you and makes you feel as if you’re melting in the best way possible. Like sinking into a warm bath after a long day or burrowing yourself under a blanket for a nap. You bite down on your lower lip, trying to keep the smile on your lips from growing any wider. Searching and failing to find it in you to speak, you nod.

You reach for the car door handle halfheartedly, giving him a little wave with your other hand. He mimics it before his hand disappears into his pocket again.

Because if he hadn’t done so, then he really would be walking over to you. He really would reach out to you and take your hand, pulling you gently out of the car so he could hold you once more. You’ve got his heart in your hands, after all. Even as you buckle yourself into your little car and start the engine. How was he to stop himself from following after it?

He catches your eye through the windshield. Faintly hears your heart thud in your chest the moment your gazes connect. A smile spreads across his face at the sound, and he lets out a breath of laughter as it does.

I love you, Nate mouths to you over the sound of your car’s engine.

——————————

“That’s gotta be the longest goodbye,” Farah says with a grin, watching from the window of the common room as the Detective’s car rolls away. She watches Nate finally turn around and make his way back inside.

“You creep,” Morgan comments, plopping herself down on a chair and sighing. “Why are you watching them?”

It’s not really a question.

“That took like ten minutes! It’s like he’s sending them off to war or something.” Farah snickers at her own joke, surely waking the commanding agent if he’s not already up and about by now (he is).

Morgan lifts her foot and rests it on Nate’s coffee table, a smirk making its way to her face. “Watch it be fifteen tomorrow.”

“Is that a bet? I think it’s a—“

“You have a gambling addiction,” comes the voice of Adam as he steps into the room.

“Come on, Adam,” Farah laughs, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms with a bright smile. “What’ll it be? I’m betting twenty minutes. Morgan’s got fifteen.”

Morgan’s gaze shifts to Adam, an eyebrow raised. The blond crosses his arms as well as he looks at Farah.

A moment of silence.

The vampires hear Nate’s footsteps as he make his way to them.

Then, Adam smirks.

“Thirty.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“Is your foot on my table?”

“Yeah right…”

[otakugurl-11037]

Who Let Vampires Run Rock n' Roll?! Part 4!

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We got mentions of biting and blood. That's about it.

Part One! Part Two! Part Three!

Over 1,000 words.

Happy reading!

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I let his words marinate in my mind. This whole time, I’d been a fan of a vampire band, and I didn’t even know until now. Looking back at their name and some of the songs they put out, it made sense. Lucien then snapped his fingers, bringing me back to reality. He looked up like he was remembering something. “Ah, we’ve gotten distracted,” he said, looking back at me. “I have an offer for you. A proposition, if you will. Are you willing to hear me out, sweetheart?” “Um,” I said. “Sure, also, what’s up with that nickname?” “Oh, when I tasted you that night, you were as sweet as strawberries. Your little heart was racing as well. That’s where that moniker came from. I could stop calling you that, if you want to.” A surge of embarrassment attacked me as soon as he brought up that night. “No, no. It’s fine,” I said, shaking out any thoughts about the night at the concert. “You had an offer for me, right?” He smiled again, as if he was about to tell me something grand. “Yeah, I do. So, me and the guys were thinking that you should join us. Like, join our band.” …come again? “We heard your voice that night, albeit it was small. They agreed that you have some potential as a backup vocalist, with how your voice complimented mine. For you see, you have a delicate voice, like a fallen angel who’s been lamenting to her God each night, hoping to be brought back. It adds more…depth to us.” “I…I never thought my voice would be compared to a fallen angel’s,” I start. “Why that specifically?” “Hm,” Lucien looked at my wall in consideration. “It’s what came to mind when I heard you. You have gentleness, yet you also have melancholy. I believe it would fit a fallen angel’s voice.” “Oh, well, thank you.” “Of course. As I was saying, sweetheart, you would be the backup vocalist, but you wouldn’t have to be on stage if you wish to remain anonymous. But if you want to be on stage, you would get a unique mask just like the others’.” I nod, waiting for him to continue on. “You would also get access to Crimson Nocturne’s special secrets. Little snippets of stories we put in the music videos, the meaning of these masks, and many more. So much of our lore will be instilled into your mind and it is mind-blowing.” “Ah wait,” I said, remembering something crucial. “Am I going to have to feed you? And if so, will I be passed around your bandmates if they’re vampires too? “Yes and no. In that order,” Lucien replied. “The other girl that I fed on before I came here ditched me out of the blue and I haven’t been able to find another. As for the others, they already have their own respected meals. Alexzander has Ellie, Lysander has Amie, and Alistair has Charlotte. You will not have to worry about being passed around.” Oh my gosh… “Don’t worry, those feedings will be 100% private from now on. You won’t be bitten in front of a live audience unless you truly want me to.” “And another thing,” I said. “You better specify that you want blood. Not a drink. A drink could be anything.” “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, genuinely. “I won’t cross that line again.” “Anyway, what kind of benefits does your band offer?” “Benefits?” “Yeah, are you able to back my healthcare, dental, and other things like that?” Lucien looked away, in deep thought. He then turned back to me. “I could be your sugar daddy. Is that a benefit?” “No!” “Ah,” he said, shrugging. “That’s the only benefit we can offer, sorry. You don’t think that being treated to whatever you want whenever you want is a benefit?” “Shoot, unless you can help pay off these taxes.” “Vampires don’t pay taxes, sweetheart. None of that money goes toward anything that benefits us, so we just simply avoid them.” Vampires committing tax evasion was something that sounded outlandish yet it made sense at the same time. “Okay, so sugar daddying is your only benefit,” I said to confirm what he said. “What about the pay?”

“Oh, these venues pay a LOT,” Lucien said with a wide grin. “It’s much easier to divide the check up by 5 than it is 4, so everybody would get an even cut. That last concert we did paid us $250,000. So if you were in it, you would get $50,000.” I have to admit, that is some good money.

“So what do you think,” Lucien asked. “Will you join us, the Crimson Nocturne?”

I brought my hand to hold my chin to think. Am I really going to toss my old job and life to be in a band? I don’t even work in music, I’m an editor for a health newsletter. Not only that, they only heard one performance of mine--it’s not enough to determine if I can truly do it.

With that in mind, I give him my answer.

•••

I lay in bed, a puddle of drool on my pillow. It’s been days since I turned down Lucien’s offer. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem disappointed nor sad. He did try to convince me further, but I told him no and he left.

I’m not sure what those guys heard from me that night, but I am not going to embarrass myself in front of all those people. I haven’t sung since that night, what if my voice cracks and instead of a “aaaa,” I go, “aaaAAAaaa?” I would leave as soon as that happens.

I get up and head downstairs to cook breakfast. Some pancakes, eggs, and bacon should do me well today.

•••

I sat back on my couch, having finished my breakfast. I picked up my phone and checked my notifications--Mai had texted me.

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): AHHH OH MY GOD

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): GRIL YOU GOTTA COME OVER IMMEDIATELY!!

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): ◉▢◉

Me: wait what’s going on??

Mai(Bestie ❤ ️ ❤ ️): Youll see when you get here! 🤭I bet she’s found an old trinket from the summer camp we went to when we were kids again. Me: omw I get up and head to my room. I open my dresser and grab my fresh clothes before walking to the bathroom. After showering and dressing myself up, I grab my keys and head down to the car. Mai’s place is about a 3 minute drive from here, which is perfect. I lock the front door behind and enter the car, turning the key into the ignition. By the time I pull up to Mai’s place, a large black car is already in her driveway. “Huh,” I said aloud. “That’s definitely not concerning at all.” The car was bulky, it could hold a handful of people inside. Not only that, but the windows were tinted to near black. Anything could happen in that car, and people outside would be oblivious. That’s scary. I park nearby and walk on the sidewalk. Normally when she invites me to come over, her door is already unlocked. I told her not to do that before, but she insisted. If it’s one thing about her, she has a great tenacity. I open the door to hear her giggling and laughing in the living room. Her house is smaller than mine; she doesn’t have a second floor. Yet it’s one of the comfiest spaces I’ve been in. I walk to the living room, waving at Mai. “Hey Mai, you wanted to see me-” I stopped right at the door frame to see that she was laughing with Lucien. That SAME Lucien who bit me then offered a spot in his band. “Aah, oh my gosh, you’re so funny,” Mai said, tears in her eyes. “My sides are starting to hurt!” Lucien giggled, then glanced at me smugly. “Oh, hey!!” Mai ran up to me and embraced me, I returned the embrace, staring back at Lucien. “My gosh, you won’t believe it! He came over to see me!” Mai was practically hopping up and down from the excitement. She soon let me go, a huge smile on her face. It’s like seeing a child getting to play with Legos for the first time. Lucien giggled and stood beside her. “Your friend is a sweet girl, sweetheart,” Lucien said, Mai blushing profusely. “I can see why you two are buddies. She told me about how much you two were such big fans of my work. Even to the point where you’d dig into our lore. It’s admirable.” “Oh, you gotta tell us! We’ve been trying to figure you out for ages!!” “No can do, only those within our dark circle may know.” Mai let out a ‘wah’ before looking back at me. “How come you didn’t join the band, girlie??” How’d she know?? “I…have no idea what you mean by that,” I said, looking away. “Yeah you do, Lucien told me about it earlier!” Damn. He threw me under the bus. “Look, this is a super-cool opportunity that’ll never ever come again! You gotta step out of your comfort zone, girl! Try new things! And if it doesn’t work out, then that’s okay!” “Crimson Nocturne isn’t forever, sweetheart. We can let it go after you’ve tried it and you didn’t like it,” Lucien added. “See? Please, can you just perform one gig with them? If you hate it, you can always come back.” I was about to turn her down again, but she had to hit me with her most brutal weapon known to man. It could defeat an army of a million men. Those freakin puppy dog eyes. I have no clue how he managed to get a hold of Mai and convince her to convince me to join, but man. It’s working. “Fine,” I said, earning the celebration of Mai and the content countenance upon Lucien. He knew this would work, I could tell by his face. “But ONLY one performance,” I add. “If I like it, I’ll come back for more. And if I don’t, that’s it.” “Fair enough, sweetheart. So it’s a trial. As for this trial, I welcome you with open arms to our darkness.”

I dunno what happened to the spacing, but I'm too tired to fix it right now. Part 5 will come someday.

[sillysorcerer]

A small flame dances in front of the three guards, the light dancing across their faces.

"It, it's a phantom. it has to be!"

A young, frail knight shakes in his armor. It is ill-fitting, and the three are clearly poorly funded.

"Shut up! it's the witch's trick. It has to be. She's around here somewhere," the large guard corrects his companion. He has a flat, bold face.

"What if it's a fae? or- or a sprite," the first guard asks. The larger guard inches closer to the flame, studying it. The heat is all too real on his face, and it still dances on the wind, hovering in front of him, taunting him. He is about to grab it when the small guard causes him to jump.

"It's a fairy! We're all going to be cursed just looking at it!"

"It's not! Shut up," he snaps back.

"What is it then," the third guard asks. "He might have a point. Fire doesn't just fly."

"F-fine. You have a point." The bulky guard backs away. "Let's just go. She can't have gone far." The three guards cower away, down the road.

The mage known as Rose Lalonde fades slowly back into view, casting off her invisibility now that her pusuers were gone. Fire plays around her fingertips.

Rose leans against the tree on her back. She sits on a waist-high stone wall, built to protect travelers along the road. It stretches further than anyone can see. Long ago it was clean and white, but now it is dusty and grey with time, even as the bright sun shines on it.

Rose extinguishes the flame with a snap of her fingers and heaves a long sigh. Her pointy hat flops slightly, matching her bored sideways glance. She only looks up after noticing the fanged face staring at her, hanging upsidedown from the tree. Whoever it is decended unnaturally quietly, but Rose refuses to give up any emotion.

"You don't seem very worried about the guards," the stranger smirks, grinning ear to ear. Her long black hair floats down a foot or so, a stark contrast to Rose's pale blonde hair. The woman's fangs poke ominously from her mouth.

"Please, these guards couldn't catch their own shadow," Rose responds. She meets the creatures eyes, and stares into a deep green abyss, darker than night.

"You don't seem very scared, human."

"That's probably because I'm not very scared," she replies, leaning back.

"You don't know who I am?"

"You mean you aren't a very strange dryad?"

The stranger is stuck for a moment, without an answer. Her guest laughs, and disolves into thick, black smoke, making the shade as dark as a moonless night. The blackness congeals into a very tall woman, her head resting just below the taller branches. She wears old, distinguished clothing, fitting some sort of noble. A large corset hugs her frame, and the dress under it is tight and ornate.

"Is this more satisfactory for you, before I drink you dry," The vampire asks.

"Much," is the only word Rose Lalonde offers. She still hasn't budged, and at this point, the vampire's curiosity is piqued.

"You are a wanted criminal are you," she asks, "Hiding from the silly guards?"

"It depends on who you ask. Everybody seems interested in the Lady Grimme," she gestures to herself with a flourish of her wrist.

"You must be pursued as well. You didn't show yourself until they left." Rose leaves the vampire with another charming smirk.

"Astute, little wizard-" Rose cuts her off with a sharp

"I am *not* a wizard." The vampire takes a step back, surprised by the sudden expression shown by the mage.

"Struck a nerve, have I, wizard?" She leans in close to rub it in.

"What makes you so different?"

"Everything. They dress like gaudy tyrants from a planet of harlequins, throwing their filthy beards around like unshowered would-be gods. They think magic can be tamed, controlled, and auctioned off. They have no respect for the danger sorcery can create. They believe the world is there to serve nothing other than their inflated intellects. They are fools pretending to be powerful."

"A deep nerve it seems," the vampire laughs. "I'll certainly enjoy draining it," she toys.

"That still doesn't explain why you are wanted."

"The wizards got what they deserved," Rose responds, ignoring the tall brooding woman's teases.

"Don't be so reticent, dear Lady Grimme." The fanged creature sits on the air, seemingly oblivious of gravity.

"Please do tell. Give me a taste of your life." Rose is silent, still smirking at the vampire. The tiny mage thinks she is the one in control here. The vampire is only playing with her, for now. Would they fight, Rose would be hopelessly outmatched by the tall, thin, creature of the night.

"You expect a lot from me when you haven't even told me your name."

"Ah, but names have power, don't you know, Rose Lalonde?" Rose doesn't move.

"Where did you get that name?" Rose feigns concern. She sits perfectly still, watching her fanged guest.

"We both have our secrets."

"But only one of us are any good at hiding them," Rose retorts. Behind her smirk is the ever so subtle presence of superiority.

"Hahahaha!," The black haired vampire has never seen such a bold face presented to her. She can't decide if she hates it, or enjoys it.

"You're a bold one, mage. No one has had such nerve to play games with me." The vampire licks her fangs, staring at this tiny mortal before her feast.

"Unlike the wizards, I can back up my prowess."

"Watch your choice of words, mortal. You can't move from my charm," she teases.

"And you have no way of hurting me even if you wanted to." The black-veiled vampire stands up to loom over Rose, growing closer as they continue their discourse. Rose is quite aware.

"Are you willing to bet on that?" The vampire freezes. Why is this puny mage so confident? She's fallen for every trap laid before her. Why does she still seem so smug? Suddenly, the tall vampire isn't so sure. She smiles, settling on a test for the human.

"Those charmed by my presence are only able to lie." She grins, waiting to see Rose's response.

"Clever. Either I play along, or reveal I am unaffected. And I assume you'll kill me if I don't, so I may as well." The little witch catches on fast, the vampire thinks. At least her meal is a smart one.

"Your death will be more fun this way, you'll see. So, let's begin. What are you really wanted for?"

"Wanton destruction of the kingdom, study of the dark arts, kidnapping, brainwashing, attempted treason, murder, arson, and tax evasion," Rose lists mindlessly off the top of her head as her eyes roll. She doesn't even try to hide her sarcasm. She's issuing a bet, a verbal puzzle, and it hasn't gone unnoticed.

"What of that was the truth," her fanged company frowns. No human could do so much.

"All of it." Rose gives that infuriating smirk again. It is a lie, but not one she can learn anything from. The vampire growls. Moments ago this wizard seemed worried about pitiful humans in thin metal plates, playing guard. Why now does she act so defiant?

"Would you call yourself powerful?"

"Only sometimes," Rose responds. It's impossible to garner the truth from her claims. Rose knows this. It's clear from her piercing, amethyst eyes, and that damned smug smile.

"Are you having fun with this," the vampire asks.

"I've never had this much fun." She responds, leaving loopholes like a genie.

"Will you tell me anything?"

"I'll tell you anything you ask," Rose teases.

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere in particular." Rose seems to be enjoying this far too much.

"Why aren't you worried?!"

"My mother told me to be a brave girl." The vampire laughs for only a second. It fuels back into her growing anger.

"Why did you act like you could beat me?"

"I was stupid." The vampire scowls, how DARE she LIE about that. She IS a fool for challenging me, the creature thinks.

"Lie or not, I'm getting hungry. Do you have any last words?"

"I do not."

"So bold. What will save you when I bleed you dry?"

"Vodka will save me." Rose has to try not to laugh at her own joke.

"Do you fear me?!?"

"Actually, I enjoy this talk." The vampire raises a claw, only a foot from Rose's face. Then she stops.

This smile is different. There is sincerity in Rose's face. Then she stands and bows... The vampire shifts, standing straight. In an instant, the tension fades, bewilderment taking it's place.

"How did you escape my charm? How are you not enthralled, frozen?" The vampire stoops slightly, studying the human so below her.

"Imagine your surprise when you find out." The tallest female looks irritated again.

"Do you ever tire of speaking in riddles?" The vampire is getting tired of waiting. As if Rose can sense her impatience, she responds.

"Fine. ask me anything. I will give you an honest answer." The vampire studies her, thinking hard. This question will end her little game.

"Why are you still here?"

"I wanted to see you in person." The vampire is frozen. No one, not a single human in ten centuries has ever been this bold in front of such an ancient and powerful being. who *is* she? The creature's thoughts are interrupted by a sudden gust of wind. A massive, four-eyed black dragon lands beside the tree. Rose climbs atop it's back.

"Come Mutini, I think our guest has had enough for today." How dare she! The vampire lunges, but it is too late. The massive dragon has taken off.

The vampire stands, still reeling from the interaction she's just had with this so called Lady Grimme. She was confused at the conflicting information, but more infuriated that her meal was interrupted. Good food doesn't run away. She will find Rose again, and when she does-

the vampire's thoughts are interrupted. She kneels, and picks up a book the witch must have dropped. What a fool.

It takes the vampire a minute to process what she sees. It is the Grimoire of the Zoologically Dubious, written by Abdul Alhazred. The dark arts- was this witch serious when she said she studied the dark arts? There is a bookmark inside, and the vampire opens the book to the marked page. Inside is an illustration of her own face. Kanaya Maryam, the Rainbow Drinker. Listed is her age, powers, and very nature, indiscernable to all but the most foolish humans who dare translate it's ancient text. Below it all, is the mage's signature, "RL".

The vampire realises Rose left this behind on purpose. She had everything planned the second they met, she may even have planned their meeting. She was prepared for every charm, every game, and for her eventual escape. Every answer was planned, every statement calculated, and every move was thought ahead of time. And the vampire fell for it.

She looks up at the fleeting shadow in the air. Never in her entire unnatual life had she met someone quite like Rose Lalonde. But now, she was thirsty for more.

@rosemarymonth2021 Here is my story for the Fantasy prompt

[viktorrotkiv]

Trust Me

This fic was written for the @snowbaz-sweethearts-exchange as a gift for @seducing-a-vampire , and beta-read by @stevenuniversestolemyheart ​ (<3).

Read on AO3

*

Simon was being weird again. Avoiding him. Being evasive and distant.

Baz has been through this once before, and he really doesn’t want to do it again. This game of avoiding one another, almost-talking about feelings, trying to keep hold of a sinking ship. They survived the last time, but just barely. Baz thinks maybe he didn’t do enough then, because it feels like they survived on pure chance. Luck of the draw. Fate had tested their relationship, pushed it almost to the breaking point, then got bored and gave up, and they bounced back. Slightly broken, and a little less idealistic, but realer, and stronger. Different.

Baz couldn’t stand change. He had had enough ‘different’ for a lifetime. This time, the ship won’t even start to sink, because he’s going to stop it.

He’s going to prove to Simon Snow that he’s the best boyfriend around.

*

At first, Simon was worried about Baz’s birthday. He wanted to make sure it was perfect and special. After everything they’d been through, Baz deserved some happiness and peace. But the moment he thought of his brilliant idea, he relaxed completely. He sunk fully into planning and organizing, devoting hours and days to it, but he wasn’t worried anymore. He was confident.

The grand plan was this; on the morning of February 24th, Simon would show up at Baz’s parents’ house, where Baz was staying for a few weeks. They would have breakfast with Baz’s family, after which, everyone, including Simon, would give Baz his gifts. Simon’s gift will be a pair of jeans, reminiscent of Simon’s first visit to Baz’s house, and a hand-made gift card, entitling Baz to “give Simon Snow a makeover of your choice, including, but not limited to, hair, clothes, and manners.” Baz will laugh and immediately change into the jeans (this was, of course, a crucial part of the plan). They’ll spend the morning with Baz’s family (and maybe some of it in Baz’s room, decidedly away from his family), and then Simon will noncommittally suggest lunch with a few friends. Baz could either accept or decline; this was important in order to make it seem like the day wasn’t orchestrated. In the afternoon they had tickets to see an exhibition at a Normal museum that Baz was buzzed about; this part he was aware of. On the way back from the museum, Simon would suggest walking through a park, where, lo and behold, all of Baz’s friends and family would be waiting with balloons and home-cooked food and cake.

The only problem was that Simon was terrible at keeping secrets, and worse at lying. There was only one solution: he would have to try and avoid Baz for the next few weeks.

February 1st

Mordelia was going to be the death of him. Last night there had been one acceptable clean pair of trousers in his closet. He was sure of it, because he had checked specifically, because he knew that most of his clothes were in the laundry. And now, as he was getting dressed to meet Simon, it was gone. The only things he could find were old trousers that didn’t really fit anymore, and a few pairs of pyjamas.

“Mordelia!” Baz slammed the closet door shut and stormed out of his room. “What did you do with my clothes?! Good morning, Daphne. Mordelia, I’m going to hex you!”

“What?” His little sister peaked innocently out of her room, seemingly trying to shut the door on herself.

“You know what you did. Where are my trousers?”

“Oh, these?” Mordelia bent down and picked something up from the floor behind her.

“Yes, these!” Baz snatched them away angrily. “What on earth did you need them for?”

“Nothing.” She shied away from his inquisitive gaze. “I was, er – I was playing dress up.”

Baz huffed and sighed, but walked away. He didn’t have time for this. The ‘perfect boyfriend’ that he was trying to be was never late. But seriously, who on earth thought that moving back home while he looked for a flat near Simon and Penny was a good idea? Oh, right. All of his friends. His parents too. His siblings were happy to have him. And he wasn’t paying rent.

*

Simon’s secret phone beeped with a message. Yes, he had gotten burner phones for the Top Secret Baz’s Birthday Surprise operation. Growing up in a Normal orphanage had left its marks, and a love for trashy spy movies was one of them.

The message was from Mordelia, one of his many accomplices, and it contained Baz’s trouser size.

Also, he’s mad at me now. Can you tell him it wasn’t my fault that I had to take his trousers?

You’re brilliant, Simon wrote back. And no! You mustn't tell him either, remember?

Will you buy me sweets?

Only if it makes you shut up and promise not to tell Baz

Alright :)

Fine. Simon saw Baz through the window of the coffee shop and quickly put the phone away. As Baz entered the shop, holding a bouquet of flowers, Simon stood up to wave him over. When he reached the table, Baz gave Simon a quick kiss on the cheek, and held out the bouquet.

Simon accepted the flowers and brought them to his nose to cover his embarrassingly big grin. They didn’t usually kiss in public; Baz was as shy about kissing as he was about eating, and they never knew what seemingly-charming old lady would shoot them a disapproving glare. This was a nice change of pace.

The flowers smelled good, and like they had been kept fresh with magic. Simon wondered what they were called.

“They’re Gerbera daisies,” said Baz, seemingly reading his mind. “Now, what disgustingly sweet monstrosity do you want to drink today?”

Simon couldn’t help but grin again. Avoiding Baz was going to be very, very difficult.

February 5th

Simon picked up a pair of jeans, only to be horrified at the amount of tears and holes it had. There was virtually more empty space than cloth. He quickly put it back down, trying and failing to fold it into the right shape, and moved on to the next display. He was feeling kind of lost. Now that Mordelia had acquired Baz’s trouser size for him, he could actually buy Baz’s present, but this wasn’t his speed at all. Big shopping centres. The actual shopping. Lots of Normals around. Fashion. God, he felt completely lost.

“Need any help?”

Simon turned to find that a chipper employee had appeared behind him. They popped up like mushrooms after the rain. “No, thanks, I think I’ll be fine.” Simon did his best to smile as he spoke, but he guessed that the vibes he was giving off were actually ‘terrified’ and ‘lost’ and perhaps ‘sad puppy’.

The employee seemed doubtful but didn’t push it. She was short, with short hair, and her store-mandated vest was covered with optimistic pins. Her ears reminded him of a pixie.

She had started walking away when Simon changed his mind. “Actually! If you don’t mind, I think I do need help.” Her kind smile encouraged him to continue. “I’m looking for jeans for my… my, er, boyfriend. I’m looking for something without many tears, and not too tight.”

“Do you want me to bring you a few options?”

Simon sighed in relief. “That would be great, thanks.” He told her the size he needed, and she walked purposely towards a rack on the other side of the store. As he watched her pull out different pairs and pile them in her arms, fascinated by her decisiveness, Simon’s phone rang. The regular one, not the burner phone. The phone he had forced Baz to buy with him, so they could talk. Baz, who was the one calling him right now.

Shit, shit, shit. He took a deep breath, finger hesitating above the screen, and let the phone ring almost five full rings before picking up.

“Hey, babe.” Simon closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself. He had been going for ‘casual’, but there was nothing casual about pet names with them.

“Babe?” Baz’s incredulous tone was almost enough to make Simon hang up.

“Erm. Yeah. No. Ignore that. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Simon looked nervously around the store. The employee was halfway back to him, still stopping at displays and racks.

“Remember how I told you that Mordelia stole my clothes? Now she’s decided to teach the baby how to play the piano. The sound is deafening. I’ve started taking walks around the garden just to avoid her.”

“Oh, that sounds awful.”

“It is! It really is. Erm, so, I tried to find a reason to get out of the house, and I’m in the coffee shop we like, and they have a sale on chocolates, and I was just wondering if you like marzipan.”

“Erm, yeah, sure. It’s sweet, right? Then sure, I guess I like it.” The employee had almost completed a full round. He’d have to hang up soon.

“What about hazelnut? Or – or, get this, hazelnut coffee.”

“Er…” Simon smiled apologetically at the employee, who was back in front of him, carrying a pile of clothes almost as tall as her. “Yes to hazelnut chocolate, no to the coffee. I, er, I kind of have to go, can we talk later?”

“Sure, I – I guess.” Baz let Simon hang up.

Simon thanked the employee profusely and started going through the pile of jeans.

Baz pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the blank screen, disappointed. Mordelia really was trying to teach the baby to play the piano, that much was true, but it wasn’t the reason he was looking at chocolates. He was trying to do something nice for Simon, and his boyfriend was still acting weird and pulling away. That had to have been the shortest phone conversation they’d had since Simon had forced him to buy the damn thing. What could he have possibly done wrong?

Baz paid for the chocolate in a stupor and left the store deflated.

February 10th

Dearest Basilton,

No. Simon crossed out the words. Who was he, Baz’s grandmother? Wait. Did Baz have a grandmother? Obviously, genetically, he had to have grandmothers. But were they alive? How could Simon not know this? He’d have to ask him.

Simon shook his head and stared at the paper.

Baz, he started again. Simple and personal. You already know how much I love you.

Simon chewed on his pen. No: I hope you already know how much I love you.

But birthdays are a time to state the obvious again. So, I love you, I love you, I love you. You’re the best person I know. The bravest, the strongest, the most resolute person I know. The smartest. Wait, nevermind. Second smartest. Stop glaring at me and read the rest of the card.

I love how good you are with your siblings. How patient and gentle you are with me when I need it most. I love how dramatic you are, and how dramatic our story is. I love that you’re looking for a flat near me and Penny. Maybe eventually we’ll be looking for a flat near Penny. I hope so. I hope we get there.

I wish you the best birthday ever. The best fucking birthday anyone on this planet has ever had, Baz. And an incredible year. And an amazing life after that. You deserve it. I’ll be there to share that year and that life with you, for as long as I can.

Well. If all goes according to plan, you’ll be reading this in front of your family, and I don’t want you to sob like a baby in front of them, so I’ll stop now. But I just need you to know that you matter, so much.

Love,

Me.

There. Perfect. Simon started copying the words from the draft paper to the card.

*

Baz glanced at the recipe again to make sure. Three quarters cup of butter wasn’t going to be enough for his boyfriend. He turned back to the counter and filled the cup to the brim with melted butter.

As he poured the butter from the cup to the bowl, he heard Mordelia’s small, barefoot steps entering the kitchen, and then he was attacked from behind with a waist-height hug.

“Hey!” He turned around, pretending to be mad. “Never put your sticky little hands on my clothes again. As your punishment, you now have to help me bake.” He lifted her onto the counter and she giggled. “Here, take this and mix the batter.”

Mordelia turned to the bowl beside her and started mixing with great concentration as Baz added the rest of the ingredients. Mordelia helped him shape the batter into scones, and when they came out of the oven, round and fresh and smelling like the feeling of home and lazy mornings and butter, he let her have one.

The rest of the scones went with Baz to Simon and Penny’s flat. Baz hardly bothered to knock these days. He had a key to the flat, but since Simon was the world’s biggest airhead, the door was usually left unlocked. It was the first in a long list of things that both Baz and Penny chided him on.

He called out as he entered, but spotted Simon almost immediately, sitting at the kitchen table with a look of intense concentration. When he noticed his boyfriend, Simon quickly shoved the piece of paper he was working on under the napkin holder.

“What’s that?” Baz gestured to the table.

Simon waved his hand, trying to blow away the question, but he looked a bit worried. “It’s nothing.” He enveloped Baz in a hug and a kiss. “Are these scones for me?”

Baz nodded. “Home baked.”

Simon’s thrilled yell startled Penny out of her room. The three of them spent a cozy afternoon together, eating scones and watching movies, but Baz couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Simon was hiding something from him.

February 14th

Valentine’s day wasn’t nearly as big a deal for mages as it was for Normals, but Simon had told Baz all about what it was like for Normals a few months ago. Apparently, they went completely out of their way to show their partners that they loved them. To Baz, it seemed kind of obvious that people liked who they’re dating. But apparently Normals bought ridiculous gifts, like huge teddy bears that were completely impractical, or much too much chocolate for one person.

Actually, in Simon’s case, there was no such thing as too much chocolate. Baz supposed the whole ordeal was kind of sweet. At least, it was sweet how excited Simon got over the holiday. So he decided to surprise him with a date.

He was currently at a Normal shopping centre, making preparations. Baz looked at the bags he was holding, wondering if anything was missing. He had bought a teddy bear (medium sized, so it could fit on Simon’s bed); a box of chocolates (not heart shaped, God forbid); a bouquet of red and white roses (these, Baz could appreciate the value of); and a box of pastries (chock-full of butter, of course). It seemed like enough, until a colorful stall caught Baz’s eye. In a clear plastic case sat a pile of colorful heart shaped candies, engraved with cheesy-sweet sentiments. Kiss me. First love. Be mine. Baz thought that some grubby little child had probably put their dirty hands all over the candy. Simon, on the other hand, would love them. Baz added a bag of the candies to his shopping pile.

Next was picking up Simon’s favorite dishes at an Italian restaurant they liked, and finally, picking Simon up and taking him on a surprise picnic in the park.

*

Simon didn’t usually bake, but since he wanted everything to be special on his boyfriend’s perfect birthday, he had announced to Penny and Agatha that he was going to make the cake himself. They had promptly laughed in his face, and then offered to teach him how to bake.

At the time, Simon had protested that there was always a recipe, and you didn’t need to learn how to bake. Now he couldn’t be happier that the girls had convinced him to make a practice cake, especially after Baz’s scones had set the bar pretty high. Apparently, there was a certain cup size you had to use for measurements, and there were different types of flour for different types of doughs, and some people (Simon included) needed to break a few eggs wrong before they could break an egg right.

So the brisk knock at the door, followed by Baz’s voice floating in, couldn’t have come at a worse time. Simon was wearing Penny’s ridiculous apron, which had the names of classical composers printed haphazardly all over it in strange angles, and he was covered in flour and a milk stain.

“Shit. What do I do?”

Agatha pulled the apron off Simon’s neck and patted most of the flour off his shirt. “Make up some excuse, if you can.”

Simon walked around the corner to the front of the house tentatively. “Hey!”

Baz flourished yet another bouquet of flowers. What had gotten into him lately? “Hello. I’ve come to steal you for a few hours.”

“Oh, it’s… it’s not the best time. Er, Agatha is here, and, erm, she and Penny really want me to bake this cake with them…. Can we please reschedule for tomorrow?”

“Actually, we can’t. You can bake a cake any other time. Oh, it smells good…” Baz started to walk towards the kitchen, but Simon quickly got in his way. “Snow, what are you doing? I would like to say hello to Penny and Agatha.”

“Snow?” Simon seemed dumbfounded. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

Baz sighed. “I’m sorry. It just feels like you’ve been pulling away from me lately. Which makes me feel like we’re in school again. Which is one of the reasons you need to come with me right now, because I planned a lovely date for us, and the food is getting cold.”

Simon ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the curls. “Give me three minutes, and then we can leave, okay? This is really sweet. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll say hello to the girls and then wait in the car. I’m not sure that it isn’t going to get towed away.”

“Erm, no. I – I need three minutes first, and then you can say hello.” Simon hurried into the kitchen and shut the door firmly behind him, feeling very guilty. “Ladies. We need to wrap this up. I told him we were baking a cake, but he probably expects something much… smaller than this.”

Penny looked back and forth between the multi-layered cake and the door, behind which stood Baz. “We’re just about done. It needs to go into the refrigerator for a few hours.”

Agatha shook her head. “He might want to see it if it’s in the refrigerator.” She picked the cake up carefully and slid it gracefully into the oven.

Penny, ever the rule stickler, looked shocked. “You – you can’t. It’s a chilled cake.”

“Just trust me, okay?” She shut the oven door just as Baz opened the door.

“Simon, this is ridiculous. Hello, Wellbelove, Bunce. Please tell my idiot boyfriend that he can bake with you any other time, and that today is Valentine’s Day, which he was excited about, and he has to come with me before our food gets cold.”

“That sounds like kidnapping.”

Agatha, ever the peacemaker, shot Penny a glare. “I personally couldn’t agree more. We actually just put the cake in the oven, so it’s the perfect time for Simon to leave.”

“The oven… isn’t on.”

“We’re using magic. That’s why it doesn’t look turned on. Penelope wanted to practice her heating magic. Right, Penny?” Agatha sickly-sweet smile still held a remnant of the murderous glare.

“Erm… yes. Exactly. Simon, go and have fun. It is Valentine’s Day, after all. We’ve got this.”

February 24th

The last week and a half before Baz’s birthday passed uneventfully. He and Simon toured a few apartments and had some nights out, but neither one had any more steps to their plan. Simon was done with his. Baz was just exhausted and out of ideas.

*

In Simon’s opinion, Baz’s birthday passed without a hitch. He showed up at the Pitch manor at the appointed time. Breakfast, presents, and a lazy morning all went according to plan. Baz even teared up a little when reading his card.

“You’re such a sap, Sn– Simon. I– I love you too.” Baz embraced him, but Simon was practically buzzing with giddiness and pushed him off.

“Open the rest of it!”

“This gift card entitles you to–” Baz burst out laughing. “That’s incredible. I am definitely using it in the next week. And this is… jeans. These are jeans. You probably want me to change into them right now, don’t you?” Baz walked into the guest bathroom accompanied by excited cheers from both Simon and his siblings, and emerged wearing a snug pair of jeans to excited claps and whoops from his parents.

*

Later, in Baz’s room, Simon decided it was time for a little digging. “Do you… this is a bit random.” He picked at Baz’s duvet absentmindedly. “Do you still have grandmothers?”

“Daphne’s parents live an hour away. We see them once a month or so.”

“And your biological grandparents…?”

Baz shook his head minutely.

“Oh! It’s one already! I told Penny I would let her know– your dead relatives are fascinating and everything, but do you want to have lunch with the girls? Maybe Dev and Niall?”

“My dead relatives are fascinating, don’t disrespect them like that.” Baz broke out in a smile. Maybe Simon’s cold patch was over. “Sure. Let’s have lunch.”

*

Later, much later, they were walking on a lamp lit street, arms hooked together and frosty breaths mingling in the air, and Simon leaned his head on Baz’s shoulder. “I have to admit, that exhibition was actually interesting.”

“I know. Robert was a genius. But I’m still having a bit of a hard time believing that you enjoyed an art exhibition so much.” Baz could feel Simon shaking with laughter beside him, his warm body pressed to his shoulder to hip. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He really didn’t. But… “Simon. We should talk.”

Simon picked his head up and Baz immediately missed the comforting weight on his shoulder. “Huh?”

“You’ve been distant lately. As if you don’t really want to spend time with me.”

“Don’t be silly. I love you. Here, let’s walk through this park.” Simon was barely listening, pulling on Baz’s sleeve to steer him towards a lit patch of grass.

Baz took a deep breath. “You’re avoiding my questions again. It feels… It feels like you’re hiding something from me.”

Simon stopped walking and looked back at him with sudden realization. “Something like… your birthday surprise?”

Baz squinted at the park ahead of them. Were those...?

“Don’t be silly. I would never hide anything from you. Not again.” Simon reached up and kissed Baz sweetly. “Now come on. Everybody is waiting for us. I’m in charge of bringing the birthday boy, and it’s too simple a job to mess up.”

Baz let Simon lead the way. He didn’t want him to see the ridiculous grin that he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Gift Fic!!

A very happy birthday to my dear @vkelleyart !! A little something to brighten your day and hopefully make you laugh!

I’ve Been Everywhere

Shepard

I don’t think I would have given them a second look if it wasn’t for the wings.

You see a lot of unusual cosplay at Ren Faires. You see a lot of cleavage too, but I’m not going to complain about that.

Some of the cosplay is amateur, homemade, but still in the mood of the whole thing, you know? And some of it is expert level, seriously slick.

Those wings were something else. Those wings were magic.

It’s hard to spot Speakers. They blend in, glamour the obvious, layer on the mundanity, making it nearly impossible to catch even a glimmer of the magic they hold. They go out of their way to do it, to mask the magic.

Not these three. At least not in the usual way.

Granted they looked pretty run-of-the-mill at first sight—a chubby, Middle-eastern looking girl in something like anime cosplay, what with that school uniform look. The tall, dark-haired guy with the Anne Rice, modern vamp vibe. My eyes almost slid over the stocky dude with them–he was just so ordinary looking .

Until those wings popped.

Maybe that should have been my clue. The ordinary. But it didn’t feel like the way Speakers usually mask it.

Because once I took a good look at them, they were practically leaking magic everywhere. Like they failed a Subtlety of Magic class or something. Do they have classes for Speakers? Like schools where they learn to control the magic and filter it, to hide it in plain sight?

I wonder. I’ve never heard about anything like that on the message boards.

These guys would obviously be dropouts, if they actually do have schools like that. They could use a semester of Remedial Magical Skills 101 or whatever they’d call it.

Those wings got my attention. They looked so real, even from a distance. Fluid. Not like the mechanical stuff I’ve seen before. And there was that weird thrum in the air when they popped out.

I mean, I’m not saying I can sense Speakers or anything, but there’s definitely been a change since the whole demon incident. Like I crossed a threshold or something, with magical beings? Like a veil was lifted, maybe.

I can spot them a lot better. Most of the time.

These three though. They didn’t look like much at first glance but they may as well have had SPEAKERS tattooed on their foreheads, the way they were acting. As if I could stay away from that.

I don’t know what was up with all that nonsense they were doing at the Faire. Wands out in the open. Magical words flying. Poorly, at that.

They really must be dropouts or complete dumb-asses or have gone rogue or something. No magicians would ever risk being so blatantly obvious with their magic.

I mean, I’ve followed other Speakers before and I’ve never seen a hint of a wand or heard a whisper of a spell cast out loud. I’ve read up on it—on the web, on the message boards, heard from other people who were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the magic workers doing their thing.

I’ve managed a few words with one or two myself.

But they’re evasive, secretive. They don’t talk about magic, they don’t even admit they’re magic. And they most certainly don’t go around sprouting functional dragon wings, decapitating fellow vampires with funky spells and using wands in public.

I’d be surprised if these three aren’t on some delinquent wanted list.

I trailed them when they left the Faire. For a whole mess of reasons.

They’re intriguing, for one. I’ve always wanted to know more about Speakers. These guys, they’re so out of control, so careless with it. I thought maybe this was finally my chance. My chance to get in with Speakers, find out what I can about them. Research, you know?

They’re nothing like the ones I’ve read about, the ones I’ve sweet-talked into spending a bit of time with me.

A witch-girl who decapitates first, asks questions later.

Berserker fly-boy.

And then that magical vampire. That’s a new one. A vampire with a wand. Who kills other vampires. I’d have said they were some sort of elite, covert, vampire infiltration squad, what with the decapitation and dusting they unleashed a few hours ago on the local Dracula crowd.

If they weren’t so completely inept at the covert part of that equation.

Maybe they’ve got something to do with the Next Blood.

Not that I got a chance to ask. They bugged out of there before I could get close enough to start chatting, introduce myself, get a conversation going.

They probably wouldn’t have given me the time of day, being magicians. Even though I helped that homely Edward Cullen wannabe with his spell. He’d have been dusted if I hadn’t.

I get why he chose to stick with the vampire cosplay. I mean, I can see it. Camouflage yourself in plain sight. It makes sense. Puts people off your trail.

He’s pale. And he’s got a widow’s peak.

But still. The circles under his eyes kind of detract from the look. And that crooked nose. It’s kind of the first thing you notice—it really takes over his face, like he’s all nose. Overly groomed eyebrows, far too heavy with the foundation, and then that honker. Yeah. He’s no Edward Cullen, that’s for sure.

I can’t believe they’re driving right into a Quiet Zone. You’d think they’d know what a bad idea that is. But then again, these three seem mighty clueless for magicians. Or vampires. Or harpy hybrids. Whatever they are.

It was quick thinking by Edward (I’m just going to call him Edward, it’s easier) to act like it was all a show. That might work for run-of-the-mill Normals. But anyone like me—or a demon in disguise, any Maybe really–wouldn’t be fooled.

Not with them spilling magic like that. I’ve never seen anything like it. Spells, magic fire, the dude bro guy literally flying. (I’m going to call him Kevin, it’s easier.)

It was unreal.

I flash the brights. I don’t know how to get these idiots to pull over. If they’re driving right at it, they’ve got no clue what trouble they’re getting themselves into.

I flash the brights again. The Mustang just speeds up.

Mustangs aren’t made for late night drag races on gravel. I try to stay close behind. They come back onto the main road just before the Henge.

Well, that’s it. Just crossed into the Quiet Zone.

I speed up.

The Mustang practically does a donut as it turns into the parking lot. No idea how to drive either. They need more than some friendly advice–they need a handler. Like a chaperone or something.

I pull up in front of them. Cut the engine and the lights. Get out.

“Hi.”

They don’t trust me but at least they let me get them out of that mess with Jeff Arnold. Never a good idea to cross Jeff or any of his posse.

And I was right about this crew. They are careless. The girl–Penny–she just magicked her way in here, into this hotel room, without a care in the world. Then she cast half a dozen spells on the other two. Simon and Baz. (I’ll have to stop calling them Kevin and Edward in my head.)

Spell after spell, to try to get the skunk funk off. It’s not as bad as it was, I’ll say that. Not as good as it would have been if we’d had tomato soup, but I doubt there’s a spell for bringing bathtubs of soup into existence.

She just cast them all in front of me, like I didn’t even exist. I expect they’re going to try something on me. I wouldn’t put it past them. They’re not masking their distrust, I can tell you that. Not the first time I’ve dealt with that and I’m sure not the last. I’m used to it by now.

These three don’t seem to be following any set playbook, just reacting to situations as they come up. I suppose you could call it resourceful and bold, but that doesn’t fly with the local Maybes or the resident Speakers.

Not the way it’s supposed to be done. There’ll be a reckoning if they don’t watch out.

That’s where I come in, if I can smooth talk them well enough to get past their defenses. Penny’s fierce, I’ll give her that. Put a proverbial knife to my throat while I was driving the getaway car. I don’t know if that’s sheer bravado or stupid desperation. Probably both.

I should be able to bring her around. If she ever lets me get to talking, that is.

They all look like hell. Grubby, exhausted, the faint aroma of skunk still clinging to them.

I’m right about Baz though. He’s a vampire, no question. Took a chestful of shotgun pellets and lived to tell. I don’t know if lived is necessarily the right word.

Survived might be more accurate. I know people call them the undead but I didn’t really believe it until I got up close and personal with this guy. Scrawnier than the Twilight vamps and a lot less sparkly, for one. Almost as fast though, when he was running alongside the truck.

But there’s a weird innocence to him. I don’t know if that’s the right word.

I mean, he’s fierce too. Cold as ice, grimly menacing. Certainly not afraid to play with fire, which seems a bit risky to me, considering.

No qualms about incinerating his own kind, that’s for sure.

I’ve seen vampires before, from a distance. Like the ones at the Faire. They’re pale and arrogant, powerful and vicious.

None of them ever looked quite this lost.

He and Penny collapsed on the bed by the window almost as soon as we got in the room. I hadn’t pegged them as a pair, but it works, I guess, if you squint.

Opposites attract, so they say.

And they are opposites, at least in looks. He’s tall and lanky, pale as the moon, all sharp edges. She’s short and round, warm brown skin, warm brown eyes. At least they’re warm when she’s looking at the two of them. They’re blazing and accusatory when they’re on me, that’s for sure.

Still, they’re nice eyes.

Edward’s—I mean Baz’s—nose is even more noticeable up close. It’s like they fitted him with the wrong size? Like it was made for a much larger person. Someone with a broader face. And it’s too high, like it needs to be shoved down a half inch. That’d probably make the proportions even worse, what with that wide mouth of his.

Was his mouth always that way, I wonder? Or did it get bigger because of the fangs?

I have so many questions.

Doesn’t look like I’m getting any answers tonight. Penny and Baz fall asleep in minutes, not even bothering to get under the covers.

So it’s just me and Winged Victory over here. He’s got his back to the door, like some threatening sphinx guarding the exit.

The sphinx I ran into last March was far more attractive.

I can’t tell if Simon’s got freckles in his acne scars or scars on his freckles. In any event he’s got literal craters on his face. And so many freckles. Big ones, small ones, clusters of them.

It’s like some pint-sized Jackson Pollock shook a paint-laden brush at him. Repeatedly.

I don’t know what to make of him. He was like some Biblical avenging angel, wielding cosplay swords like they were the real thing this afternoon. Staking vampires like it’s his literal job.

I don’t know. Maybe it is.

Simon’s got a scar that runs down across his left eyebrow. Splits it in two, with a little bare patch in the middle. His arms are crossed over his chest at the moment. He’s got scars all over them too--wide, silvery scars. Thin pale ones. Puckered gouges that look like they were left by claws.

He’s glaring at me, but I’m used to that from Maybes. At least until they get to know me.

I just smile back.

read it at ao3

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Damon Salvatore x Luke Parker (The Vampire Diaries)

Stretching, Damon blinks his eyes open against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He pauses for a moment once he can see properly, taking in the briefly unfamiliar room. Then he spots the Whitmore hoodie flung over the back of a chair and he smiles to himself.

He glances at the empty space on his right. Assuming that classes have probably started already, he just settles back down, not having any reason to leave quite just yet. As he goes to close his eyes again, the door to the little dorm room swings open.

Damon's eyebrows shoot up as Luke walks in, barely noticing that he's awake. He's got an alert, almost panicked look all across his face. It's more the suit that's got Damon's attention.

"Okay," he says, and Luke's head snaps around to look at him. Damon sits up properly and waves a hand lazily at him. "I'll bite. Why?"

Luke's already turned to the mirror to finish buttoning up his shirt. "Why what? And--" he throws a confused glance at Damon's reflection, "--I thought you said you had to leave early today."

"Change of plans." Damon shrugs. "And why to the suit? You're a college student in Virginia majoring in English Lit and History, not some law student in Harvard."

"You know, I did consider law," Luke says. "But Liv said I wasn't allowed to abandon her and she refused even the idea of taking the LSAT's, so." He gives him a wry smile. "English Lit and History. A fair compromise."

Damon's not oblivious. Luke's told him this stuff before, they both know he has. And his voice is just evasive enough, his expression the perfect amount of please buy it and leave it alone.

He considers doing just that. It's not as if Luke has any obligation to tell him anything, and he really shouldn't care if he's keeping something to himself. But for some reason that he can't quite place, he does.

"Nope," he says after a beat. "Strike one. Two more tries."

Luke rolls his eyes and scoffs. Probably because he knows that Damon can't do anything if he just clams up and doesn't tell him. Compulsion doesn't work and Damon wouldn't even think about hurting him. He'd just be left to stew in not knowing.

But then Luke glances at him, their eyes catching. He sighs and drops his hands from his shirt. Finally, he turns to him.

"I... have to meet someone," he says, still vague, still evasive.

Damon's eyes track him around the room, narrowing. "What does that mean?" he asks, watching him pick up a tie from the chair.

Luke raises an eyebrow, cracking an elusively entertained grin at him. "It means I'm meeting someone? For breakfast?"

He pauses for the first time, actually slowing down rather than looking like he's roadrunner on fast forward.

"Hold on. Are you jealous?" he asks, his eyes wide with delight.

"Oh" --Damon's the one scoffing now-- "please. Like I have anything to be jealous of. You're not my boyfriend. You can go off and have secret breakfasts in a fancy suit with whichever stereotypical jocks you like. I could even set you up with two. You've met Matt and Tyler, right?"

That glint of delight only grows brighter, and Luke laughs in disbelief now.

"Oh my god." His tie is momentarily forgotten. "You are totally jealous. Wow. And I thought I was the one who couldn't keep things casual."

Damon rolls his eyes, his jaw tightening as he looks away from him for a moment. That knowing, prodding stare must have some compelling ability of its own because he finds it hard to lie while holding it.

It's irritating enough that Luke's right. A little pit of jealousy has opened up in his chest like it's a black hole trying to suck him in. But he doesn't do jealousy. It's an off-limits emotion and it is certainly not allowed in casual situations involving blond haired, blue eyed, Gemini witches who wanted to be a lawyer.

"But I really don't think you need to be jealous of me having breakfast with my father and sister."

Damon's eyes snap back to him sharply. "Your father? The one who tried to kill me?"

"Don't have another father, so, yeah, that'd be the one," Luke says dryly.

He moves back to the mirror to fix his tie, clearly getting nowhere trying to do it blindly.

"Why exactly is your dear old dad in town?" Damon asks. His eyes narrow again. "And why do you need to be so dressed up to have a very early breakfast with him and Liv?"

Luke visibly hesitates, eyes fixed on his own face reflected back at him. Damon watches his lips part, taking in a breath.

"Because it's our birthday," he says, almost sighing as he does, his shoulders deflating.

There's a twist in Damon's chest, stopping him dead. He stares at him, partly hoping he heard him wrong. That part fades quickly when he sees the dismayed, daunted look in Luke's eyes and knows he didn't.

"If today's your birthday, that would mean..." Damon doesn't need to finish. They both know what it means.

But Luke sighs properly and draws himself back up, replacing his dismay with firm determination. "It means Liv and I are twenty-two and officially of merging age."

Damon's eyebrows furrow. "So, what, you're going to dinner with your dad so you can give him exactly what he wants? To merge you?"

"No." Luke turns back to him and his eyes are blazing far more confidentally than Damon's seen in that crystal blue before. "We're going to convince him to let Jo and Kai merge instead."

It's a terrible plan, Damon decides right away. Many things could go wrong, and not many good outcomes spring to mind. Just the words Jo, Kai, and merge send a chill through him. As does the idea of Luke meeting with his dad now that he and Liv can merge.

"And your reason for thinking that you can talk Papa Parker into that is...?" Damon prompts sarcastically, but he's genuinely hoping Luke has some trick up his sleeve.

"Liv and I have to try," he says.

The hope deflates. So much for that.

Damon finally pushes the covers back from Luke's bed, swinging his legs over the side to stand up.

"Okay, not to sound like I'm doubting you or this idea," he says, and Luke's expression tells him he's not a great liar. "But what if he says no? And if he does miraculously say yes for some insane reason, have you thought of a way to stop Kai the murderous siphon witch who would absorb Jo in a heartbeat?"

"Jo can beat him," Luke insists with just as much confidence that it's starting to unnerve Damon. "She's stronger now."

A whole load of arguments for why this is not going to work jump straight into Damon's mind. As he opens his mouth to voice them, though, Luke takes a step forward and places his hands on both of his arms.

"It's gonne be fine," he says, so easily like he really believes that, even with the touch of anxiety in his voice. "But I really need to go before my dad shows up here looking for me."

Damon grimaces. "Can't imagine that scenario going well."

Luke laughs and shakes his head. "No, me neither. So, feel free to let yourself out whenever you wanna leave. Assuming I don't die during this breakfast, I might see you later."

Damon's still thinking of reasons why this isn't going to go well. But Luke's convinced, and this plan might not necessarily fail. Hopefully.

He sighs, his lips pressing together. His eyes dart down and Luke arches an eyebrow.

"You're not gonna convince anyone to do anything with your tie like that," he says.

Reaching down, he undoes the practically perfect knot and redoes it himself. Luke just smiles, his gaze strangely soft as it remains fixed on him the entire time.

"You gonna kiss me for good luck next?" Luke jokes.

Damon's mouth twitches. He finishes and pats Luke's chest, acting like he's going to step back. His fingers curl around the tie again, but he pulls this time and presses his lips to his.

Luke's still smiling as he returns the kiss, his amusement passing over to Damon. Then his hands are between them, on Damon's chest, and he pushes himself back.

"For luck," Damon says, winking, letting go of him completely. He shrugs. "And in case your crazy father decides to kill you. It would be cruel to not get one last kiss to remember you."

Luke scoffs, shaking his head at him, but his smile is still in place as he turns away from him and heads for the door.

Damon's positive he's going to have to think of something fast to deal with whatever the fallout of this is going to be but he has some hope that it'll work. If he ignores the clamping sense of dread that's weighing down on him for some reason. He's sure it's nothing. Nothing at all.

[feyxzhixin]

PLOTS

AKA: different flavors of crying

I’m ceo of being late to the game.

::WANTED HUNTER :: [ Pressing Play ] ** Plot needs further discussion

What day is it? What has time done to unravel your delicately spun world of silken lies? When you wake there’s an empty room and wilted flowers. The get well cards collect the months you were smothered out of existence, a struck match and when you remember, because there’s no way you wouldn’t: Zhixin was the casualty, the canvas of misshapen art that swept up in flames with your memory. You can’t help, as you stumble into reality, what destruction was wrought from the secrets you both held behind your teeth, what blood was spilled in your name.  You wonder if his smile would be there to greet you, or if that too would be tarnished. ::WANTED WITCH:: [ Kill Switch ] ** Plot needs further discussion You know what you’ve done will echo through history; the fall of a young soul who brought torment to those like you. You think you’ve done a service, really, but how unfortunate there were loose ends when it happened. The plan was not constructed for two headed beasts, for the hydra that was a hunter’s vendetta. Although, it’s been a cheap thrill ever since he laid his eyes on you, to know that no death would ever hold as much satisfaction as your own. In some ways, it serves as a reminder of your own mortality, in others, it feeds the gluttony of your self worth. 

One day, you think he’ll get what he deserves: although you’re not sure yet if that plays in your favor. 

::WANTED HUNTER:: [ Fire & Brimstone ] In every possible way Zhixin as a hunter contradicts you. Your viewpoints and your morals collide multiple times when you are expected to work together, and you’re practically hellbent on getting rid of this thorn in your side who you’ve heard isn’t even wanting to be a hunter in the first place. You find it infuriating. He finds you insufferable. It’s a shame that fate always seems to have you tethered to him. ::WANTED VAMPIRE:: [ A Love Like Winter ] He reminds you of home, of a feeling you never thought you would be able revere again. Each mannerism is a tinge of nostalgia and you only wonder what it would be like were he to look at you with the same admiration. But you know he weaves his life with silver and vervain and your taste for blood puts a target on your head, still you hold on to a hope that one day he will see that maybe fate is bigger than the roles you both play, maybe if you play your cards right he’ll drop his defenses and open his arms.  ::WANTED VAMPIRE:: [ Eyes Closed ] You knew something was off about the boy in your economics class who paid too close attention to detail. You knew that when all of the signs started to show that you were detaching from humanity he would be there to witness it in the quiet and evasive way he seemed to intake everything else, but what you didn’t know was that he would be the one to catch your fall from grace, that he would stumble around his own instincts as you stumbled around your newfound power and together you would be thrown into a tangle of ignited morals. ::WANTED WEREWOLF:: [ Mistakes & Missteps ] There’s always a risk and you think you’ve calculated it well enough that the new friendship you’ve formed with the kind boy from a local tea shop would remain untouched, but unfortunately a full moon catches you off guard and he meets your chaos with different eyes, calculative and cold. How do you let him know you’re more than the beast he thinks you are, that beyond this unfortunate night you’ve shared so much more than this.  ::WANTED FAMILIAR:: [ Afterthought ] For a few months now you’ve been scoring leftovers from Zhixin when he gets off of work, alongside a lot of attention and bits and pieces of his life through one sided conversations. You don’t quite realize it until he’s actively searching you out one day and you’re not there to meet him — at least not in the way he’s familiar with — that you’ve grown quite attached to the soft spoken stranger.  ::WANTED HUMAN:: [ Fooled Me Once ] You were never supposed to know him like this, lying again like it was so easy to do, like he didn’t learn anything in the first place. At least this time he moves before he thinks. The only problem is that you witnessed every terrifying second, knowing all too well that it was not your reality to see. So what now that the veil has been lifted, that his mask has fractured? :: FUEL FOR THOUGHTS :: Just a collection of a few tidbits that I would really be interested in turning into something bigger. + [  !3 missed calls ] [sms] You know I didn’t mean it, please pick up...

+ “I had a dream you killed me.” + “I guess I just feel safe with you.” “Well you shouldn’t.” + “This is the last time I’m going to tell you, don’t carry that weapon into a grocery store.” + “What makes you think I would believe you after what you did before.”  + Accidental Kiss Accidental Kiss Accidental Kiss Accidental Ki — + “You’re an idiot” “Yes and?”

[thatfanficstuff]

Sacrificed - 8

Pairing: Klaus x ofc

Warnings: nothing beyond canon

PERSISTENT KNOCKING WOKE ME the next morning. I shuffled out of bed and cracked open the door to glare at a grinning Damon. “Morning, witchy. Come on. We have stuff to do.”

My brow furrowed. “Like what?”

“It’s the historical society volunteer day, Grimes. Contribute to your community.”

I groaned. “First, it’s not my community. It’s yours. Second, tired. Bed. Comfy. Third, I need to talk to Elena today.” I frowned. “And four, daytime, vampires, bad.”

He tapped the large ring on his finger. “Daylight ring. Me, Stefan and Caroline all have them. Katherine’s got something too, unfortunately.” He pulled a face at that then smiled. “And just where do you think Miss Elena is going to be today?”

Of course she was. I looked down at the faded gray t-shirt I’d slept in. “Any objection to me wearing this today? I don’t think my shirt is really appropriate for manual labor.”

“Nope. Just be careful with it. It’s vintage.”

“So are you, Salvatore.” I shut the door on his laugh and debated crawling back into bed. Another nightmare kept me up a good chunk of the night. With a sigh, I decided to be an adult and got ready to volunteer. 

The Salvatores and I all rode together to the park. As I exited the car, I scanned the crowd that had gathered to work on a park that didn’t look like it really needed much done. Of course, if they had these days often enough, that was probably why.

I spotted Mason and headed in his direction. “Feeling better?”

His head jerked up when he heard me. “What?”

“Damon said you weren’t feeling well.”

He wiped his hands on his jeans and smiled. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I would have called but I didn’t have your number.”

I shrugged. “No worries.”

“Maybe I can buy you a drink to make up for it,” he suggested.

Stefan joined us before I could answer and I couldn’t help thinking it was intentional. “Hey, Cassidy. Can I have a moment with Mason?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m going to find Elena.” And stay the hell away from flirtatious werewolves.

I briefly considered listening in on their conversation as I walked away, but doubtless they only intended to threaten each other. Surely there was something more interesting going on somewhere.

I finally found Elena carrying supplies over to paint a shelter. Maybe I could help and get paint on Damon’s shirt. “Hello, cousin,” I said as I walked up to her.

She sat her supplies down and wrapped me a hug. “How long have you known?”

“A while,” I answered evasively. “It wasn’t my secret to tell but I wanted to meet you. That’s why I blackmailed John into introducing me.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Why does it not surprise me that you had to threaten him? He’s an ass. I am kind of angry you didn’t tell me, though.”

“Would it have mattered when your folks were alive?”

“No. Not really.”

“And it’s not like there’s been a good time to tell you since the accident.”

“True.” She picked up a brush and began painting. Caroline smiled a greeting.

“So I have a question for the two of you.” I leaned against a pole that hadn’t been painted yet. “When exactly did Caroline become a vampire?”

Both of the girls’ heads snapped to me in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” Caroline said.

At the same time, Elena said, “How did you know?”

“I know lots of things. Like the Salvatores are vampires, Mason Lockwood is a werewolf and you, cousin, are a doppelganger.”

Both girls gaped.

I laughed. “I might have kept a secret or two of my own. The witches on my dad’s side go back for generations.”

Elena blinked a couple of times. “Yeah, well, I know things, too. Like that is Damon’s shirt.”

“It is. Though I find it interesting you noticed.”

“Speaking of Salvatores,” Caroline interrupted. “How are things going with you and Stefan?”

Elena shrugged. “I haven’t talked to him since the fight.”

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Stefan’s my boyfriend. He’s pushing me away because his ex, Katherine, is threatening me,” Elena explained.

I pursed my lips as I thought. “Yeah. I heard about that. Can’t say I’m a fan of Katherine’s.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “You met her?”

“Briefly.”

“Well, then don’t you agree that Elena might be better off staying away from Stefan if that’s what Katherine wants?”

I studied the blonde vampire. Something wasn’t right. Caroline always wanted people in a relationship, even when it was the absolute worst thing for them. It was one of her more endearing qualities. “I think Elena can do whatever she wants without any input from me. Or you for that matter.”

Elena flashed me a grateful smile. “Stefan’s over there. I’m going to go talk to him.”

“I’m not sure—”

I held up a hand stopping Caroline. “Leave her be.”

Caroline looked at me in surprise but didn’t say anything else. I followed Elena with my eyes.

“Why don’t you quit being such a bitch to your mom?” Damon’s now familiar voice drew my attention. He was talking to Caroline. Caroline opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut with a glare at me.

“And what’s that about?” Damon asked me with a chuckle.

“I told Caroline to stay out of people’s business. She didn’t like it much.” Damon smirked but I could tell he wasn’t really listening. I arched a brow. They were both using their enhanced hearing to listen to Elena and Stefan’s conversation. “Perhaps I should tell you the same thing, since you are both obviously listening to a conversation that has nothing to do with you.”

They looked slightly guilty at having been caught. Elena walked past us and Caroline waited only a beat before following. “Something’s wrong with that girl,” I murmured.

Damon looked amused. “You want the whole list? Come on, Grimes, let’s get something to drink.”

“Yes, because we’ve both been working incredibly hard.” I followed him over to the other shelter house anyway. It’s not like I actually intended to do any work when I tagged along.

Mason Lockwood was at the drink table when we got there. “Damon. Cassidy.” He handed me a glass of lemonade. “Here. I owe you a drink.”

I took a sip. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you around, Damon,” Mason said and walked off.

Stefan walked over to join us. “What was that about?”

I looked at him with wide eyes feigning ignorance. “He was just offering me a drink, is all.”

Damon snorted and took the glass from my hand.

I glanced at him. “I have a feeling if I hadn’t been here there would have been a lot more posturing.”

Damon suddenly coughed and sprayed out a mouthful of lemonade startling me and Stefan. “What is it?” Stefan asked.

“Vervain,” Damon hissed through his abused throat.

I made a beeline for the water and threw the bottle to Stefan who caught it and opened it before handing it to Damon. An older woman with short blonde hair pulled out a phone and took off the moment Damon choked. I gave a nod to Stefan and followed the woman at a discrete distance, casting my eavesdropping spell as I went.

The woman told whoever was on the phone to bring something and meet her. I dropped back when Caroline walked up to her. From their conversation I took this to be Caroline’s mom. That would make her Liz Forbes, the sheriff. I had a bad feeling about this.

When the sheriff walked away, Elena joined Caroline and I walked up behind them. “There’s something going on.”

“Yeah, there is,” Caroline said. “Come on.”

We followed the blonde vampire to the top of a ridge.

“I need to hear,” Caroline said.

“Hear what?” Elena asked and I put a hand on her shoulder. When Elena looked at me, I shook my head to tell her to be quiet.

I tried to listen as well, but I wasn’t practiced at filtering through the noise. Hopefully the vampire was better at it than I was.

“Stefan and Damon,” Caroline said suddenly and headed into the woods. We followed.

The woods in this area weren’t thick and we made decent time. Caroline stopped when we got to a clearing and sniffed the air. “They were here.” She knelt and ran her fingers along a plant. When she pulled them back, they were coated in blood.

“What are you guys doing out here?” a voice asked.

All of us looked toward the sound and found Mason Lockwood standing there.

“Have you seen Stefan?” Elena asked. Sometimes she wasn’t very bright.

“Of course he has, haven’t you Mason?” Annoyance colored my words.

He ignored me and looked at Caroline. “Does your mom know what you are? I could tell her and you can end up like Damon and his brother.”

Caroline started forward and I put out an arm to stop her. “Go get the Salvatores. I’ll take care of this.”

Mason moved forward, prepared to grab Elena from the looks of it, but I wrapped him in my magic and stopped him. “Go,” I said again, more forcefully this time. The girls ran off and I turned my attention back to the werewolf.

Mason glared at me. “What are you?”

I walked slowly to him until I was a foot away. “I would think that was obvious.”

“Elena I get. Caroline I get. But what the hell do you care about the Salvatores? You just met them, right? And last I knew there was no love lost between witches and vampires. So, why do you care?”

“I’m not your normal witch. As for why I care, Elena loves Stefan. That makes him family. And Damon is…growing on me. If you were smart, you’d leave town.”

“Nah. I think I’ll stay around for a while. I have some family business to see to.” While I held him fast, his eyes were defiant, angry.

“Well then, I’ll just have to make sure you leave the people I care about alone in the future.” With a wave of my hand, Mason flew through the air to crash against a tree. He grunted in pain and grimaced. Another wave of my hand and he bounced off another trunk and then another. Finally, I lifted him in the air and dropped him a good fifteen feet.

I pulled my magic back and walked over to where he groaned in the grass and leaves. “Don’t piss me off again, Lockwood. Next time you won’t get up.” I left him and hurried in the direction the girls went, using my still enhanced hearing to help find the way.

I finally arrived at a set of stone steps leading into the ground. Several gunshots sounded making me jump and I hurried underground only to find Caroline staring down her mother who had a horrified look on her face. The old gate that blocked off the room creaked and groaned as I swung it open, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Didn’t know she was a vampire, huh?” I asked Liz. “That’s gotta be awkward.”

“Cassidy,” Caroline hissed behind me.

I disarmed the sheriff. “Go sit over there,” I instructed.

“Who are you?” Liz asked.

“Right now, I’m the one in charge. Go. Sit.”

I waited for her to do so then disarmed the two dead deputies. I put the guns in a pile at the side of the room then checked on Damon as Elena was already beside Stefan. “Wooden bullets?” I asked.

Damon nodded weakly. He frowned at me like he was trying to figure me out.

I unstrapped my knife from my ankle. I opened Damon’s shirt and grimaced as I examined his wounds. “Sorry. This won’t be pleasant.”

I recited a spell over the blade before using it so it would absorb some of the pain. The magic would need to be discharged later but Damon was too weak to take much more right then. Fortunately, his body had already started pushing the bullets out and I didn’t have to cut very deep.

After I dug the last one out of his chest he said, “You want me to take off my pants?” I looked up to find him smirking though he looked pale and haggard. “She shot my legs.”

I shook my head. “Keep your pants on, Salvatore. I’ll just cut the fabric.”

“Man I really liked these jeans,” Damon said when I sliced into the first leg and dug out the bullet.

“Quit bitching. It’s not like you were going to wear them with bullet holes in them. All done.” I leaned back. The gratitude was plain on his face though he didn’t say anything. “You better eat.” I gestured to the deputies. He nodded and pulled himself over to the closest one.

Stefan was awake when I moved over to him. Elena pushed up his shirt and I worked quickly to get the bullets out of his chest. “A couple of these were pretty close to your heart.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet.

“All right.” I wiped the blade on my jeans and strapped it back to my ankle. I still needed to discharge the magic but this wasn’t the time or place. As I didn’t have any salt handy, the only way to discharge it now would be for me to absorb it. It would leave me vulnerable and neither of the brothers was up for taking care of me right now. Neither was Caroline for that matter. The girl appeared to be in shock.

I glanced at the Sheriff. She still sat where I had told her, tears pooled in her eyes and her lips trembled. I moved over to squat down in front of Caroline.

“Hey,” I said, drawing the vampire’s attention. “You should clean up.”

Caroline looked at me in confusion before realizing she still wore the deputy’s blood on her face. She swiped at it with her hands. It wasn’t doing much good but at least she was doing something.

“You need to drink, Stefan,” Damon said behind me. I turned to find Stefan shaking his head.

“No. I’ll heal. It’ll just take longer.”

“You’re seriously trying to talk a vampire into drinking blood. This should be a non-issue you know that, right? Especially right now.”

“He doesn’t want to drink it, okay?” Elena snapped. “You don’t understand, Cassidy.”

I understood the vampire was being an idiot and denying his true nature but I merely pursed my lips. No one asked my opinion so I’d keep it to myself. For now. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest.

“What a mess,” Damon said and ran a hand through his hair. He turned to face the sheriff. “What are we going to do with you? I thought you were my friend.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you mom?” Caroline said, her voice pleading. “Please Mom?”

Liz didn’t say anything. I clenched my teeth together. These people were ridiculous. Liz just shot someone she considered a friend. Of course, she’ll tell people. As for the Sheriff, her daughter was here and alive but apparently that wasn’t sufficient.

When no one said anything, Caroline piped up again. “Mom, he’ll kill you.”

“Then kill me. I can’t take this.” Her voice broke.

I couldn’t contain myself any longer. “Are you serious?”

“Cassidy, please just stay out of it,” Elena said, but Damon looked over his shoulder and gave me a little smirk.

“No, Elena I don’t think I will. You people need to face reality here. This isn’t happy fun time land. It’s the real world and it’s scary as shit. You’ve got a vampire that won’t feed when he’s half dead. And a mother whose daughter is right there.” I stepped away from the wall and Damon jerked Liz up from where she sat, making everyone gasp. I looked into the sheriff’s eyes. “She’s alive. Kind of. But she’s still your daughter. Vampires kill people? Yeah, well you almost just executed your friend. Get over it. That girl is brave and loyal and if I were her, I’d be ashamed of you.”

I stepped away. “I’ll be outside.” I leaned on the stones outside and waited.

“Don’t kill her,” someone cried.

“I’m not gonna kill her,” Damon protested in return.

I hoped he at least planned to compel the woman before he let her go.

They came up the steps. Damon had a grip on Liz’s upper arm. “Why don’t you let me take her back to your place? You can clean up that mess down there.”

Damon raised a brow and looked me over.

“Seriously?” I said. I wrapped Liz in my magic and pulled her away from Damon. After that, I pushed her forward across the grass.

“What…What’s happening to me?” Panic laced her voice.

I tilted my head and stretched my magic to keep the woman’s vocal cords from vibrating. “Ah,” I said with a sigh of relief. “No more noise.”

Damon glanced at Stefan. “Okay. Sounds good.”

I pulled out my keys and tossed them at the elder brother. “Go by and get my car would you. Black SUV. Dealer tags. Kind of hard to miss.” I glanced down at my bloody clothes. “Elena, we’ll have to take your car.”

With a wave at the Salvatores she led the way across the grass, Liz jerking along in front of us. “Caroline,” I said stopping the girl when she was about head to her car. “You better run home and get some things for your mom. She’ll be there a while.”

Elena pulled up along the side of the road and I maneuvered Liz into the back before sliding in beside her. I followed Elena into the basement when we got to the boarding house and put Liz in one of the cells along the hall. I held out my hand and drew my magic back. “Phone, please?”

Liz pulled it out of her pocket and placed it in my palm. The woman’s eyes were still wide with fear. I motioned for her to turn around and patted her down, removing her keys from her front pocket. “No backup weapon, Sheriff? That’s not very smart.”

“Mystic Falls is a peaceful town.”

I chuckled and moved out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind me. “Yeah, except for the vampires, werewolves, witches, vampire killers, etc. It’s super quiet.” 

NEXT PART

[gaysparklepires]

10. Theory

Read on AO3

“Can I ask just one more?” he entreated instead of answering my demand.

I was on edge, anxious for the worst. And yet, how tempting it was to prolong this moment. To have Beau with me, willingly, for just a few seconds longer. I sighed at the dilemma, and then said, “One.”

“Well…,” he hesitated for a moment, as if deciding which question to voice. “You said you knew I hadn’t gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that.”

I glared out the windshield. Here was another question that revealed nothing on his part, and too much on mine.

“Really? I thought we were past all the evasiveness,” he said, his tone critical and disappointed.

How ironic. He was relentlessly evasive, without even trying.

Well, he wanted me to be direct. And this conversation wasn’t going anywhere good, regardless.

“Fine, then,” I said. “I followed your scent.”

I wanted to watch his face, but I was afraid of what I would see. Instead, I listened to his breath accelerate and then stabilize. He spoke again after a moment, and his voice was steadier than I would have expected.

“And then you didn’t answer one of my first questions…” he said.

I looked down at him, frowning. He was stalling, too.

“Which one?”

“How does it work—the mind-reading thing?” he asked, reiterating his question from the restaurant. “Can you read anybody’s mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family do the same thing?” His seemed more confident with his questions now.

“That’s more than one question,” I said.

He just looked at me, waiting for his answers.

And why not tell him? He’d already guessed most of this, and it was an easier subject that the one that loomed.

“No, it’s just me. And I can’t hear anyone, anywhere. They have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone’s… ‘voice’ is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles.” I tried to think of a way to describe it so that he would understand. An analogy that he could relate to. “It’s a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It’s just a hum—a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they’re thinking is clear. Most of the time, I tune it all out—it can be very distracting. And then it’s easier to seem normal”—I grimaced—”when I’m not accidentally answering someone’s thought rather than their words.”

“Why do you think you can’t hear me?” he wondered.

Ah. The question of the century. I examined his face, searching for the answer in his beautiful eyes and coming up short yet again. I decided to give him another truth and another analogy.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn’t work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I’m only getting FM.”

I realized that he would not like this analogy. The anticipation of his reaction had me smiling. He didn’t disappoint.

“Did you just suggest my mind doesn’t work right?” he asked, his voice rising with chagrin. “Like I’m a freak?”

Ah, the irony again.

“I hear voices in my mind and you’re worried that you’re the freak,” I laughed. He understood all the small things, and yet the big ones he got backwards. Always the wrong instincts…

Beau was gnawing on his lip, and the crease between his eyes was etched deep.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “It’s just a theory…” And there was a more important theory to be discussed. I was anxious to get it over with. Each passing second was beginning to feel more and more like borrowed time.

“Which brings us back to you.”

He sighed, still chewing his lip—I worried that he would hurt himself. He stared into my eyes, his face troubled.

“Aren’t we past all evasions now?” I asked quietly.

He looked down, struggling with some internal dilemma. Suddenly, he stiffened and his eyes flew wide open. Fear flashed across his face for the first time.

“Holy crow!” he gasped.

I panicked. What had he seen? How had I frightened him?

Then he shouted, “Slow down!”

“What’s wrong?” I didn’t understand where his terror was coming from.

“You’re pushing a hundred and ten miles an hour!” he yelled at me. He flashed a look out the window, and recoiled from the dark trees racing past us.

This little thing, just a bit of speed, had him shouting in fear?

I rolled my eyes. “Relax, Beau.”

“Are you trying to kill us?” he demanded, his voice high and tight.

“We’re not going to crash,” I promised him.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and then spoke in a slightly more level tone. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I always drive like this.”

I met his gaze, amused by his shocked expression.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Edward!” He shouted.

“I’ve never had an accident, Beau—I’ve never even gotten a ticket.” I grinned at him and touched my forehead. It made it even more comical—the absurdity of being able to joke with him about something so secret and strange. “Built-in radar detector.”

“Very funny,” he said sarcastically, his voice more frightened than angry. “Charlie’s a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away.”

“Probably,” I repeated, and then laughed without humor. Yes, we would fare quite differently in a car accident. He was right to be afraid, despite my driving abilities… “But you can’t.”

With a sigh, I let the car drift to a crawl. “Happy?”

He eyed the speedometer, and smirked. “Good boy.”

I felt a thrill of excitement rush through my body at his words. I couldn’t understand what I was feeling. I narrowed my eyes and stared at him, but I couldn’t fight the smile that wanted to break across my face

Despite the thrill of his words, the torture of crawling along the highway was nearly unbearable. “I hate driving slow.” I muttered, but let the needle slide another notch down.

“This is slow?” he asked.

“Enough commentary on my driving,” I said impatiently. He stifled a laugh at my tone, but I was frustrated now. How many times had he dodged my question? Three times? Four? Were his speculations that horrific? I had to know—immediately. “I’m still waiting for your latest theory.”

He bit his lip again, and his expression became upset, almost pained.

I reined in my impatience and softened my voice. I didn’t want him to be distressed.

“I won’t laugh,” I promised, wishing that it was only embarrassment that made him unwilling to talk.

“I’m not worried about that.” His voice was soft.

“Then what?” I pressed.

“I’m worried that you’ll be… upset,” he whispered.

I considered his words. I didn’t want him to be worried about that. I never wanted him to be afraid of me being upset with him. It made me feel more like a monster than I already was. I watched him from the corners of my eyes. He was fretting. Rubbing his hands, nervously. I decided to take a chance. I held my hand out towards him—just a few centimeters.

His eyes darted up to mine, confusion apparent in their silvery depths.

“Don’t worry about me,” I assured him. “I can handle it.”

He tentatively took my hand, and I curled my fingers around his as gently as I could for just a brief moment. Absorbing the sensation of his warm hand—like silk over glass. Glass I could shatter with the slightest wrong move. I unwillingly untangled my hand from his and placed it on the gearshift.

He slowly placed his hand over the top of mine again. Did he really want his hand on mine? Was he truly not repulsed by my hand? He ran his thumb along the outside of my hand, tracing from my wrist to the tip of my little finger. The sensation was exhilarating, and yet I could not revel in it as deeply as I wished. He had to be repulsed by the cold hardness of my skin…

“The suspense is killing me, Beau,” the words came out a shaky breath as I watched his hand. His touch was stirring me in ways I couldn’t understand.

His voice was small. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning…” I remembered his words before dinner. “You said you didn’t come up with this on your own?”

“No,” he agreed, and then he was silent again.

I thought about what might have inspired him. “What got you started—a book? A film?”

I should have looked through his collections when he was out of the house. I had no idea if Bram Stoker or Anne Rice was there in his stack of worn paperbacks…

“No,” he said again. “It was Saturday, at the beach.”

I hadn’t expected that. The local gossip about us had never strayed into anything too bizarre—or too precise. Was there a new rumor I’d missed? Beau peeked up at me and saw the surprise on my face.

“I ran into an old family friend—Jacob Black,” he went on. “His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby.”

Jacob Black—the name was no familiar, and yet it reminded me of something… some time, long ago… I stared out of the windshield, flipping through memories to find the connection.

“His dad is one of the Quileute elders,” he said.

Jacob Black. Ephraim Black. A descendant, no doubt.

It was as bad as it could get.

He knew the truth.

My mind was flying through the ramifications as the car flew around the dark curves in the road, my body rigid with anguish—motionless except for the small, automatic actions it took to steer the car.

He knew the truth.

But… if he’d learned the truth Saturday… then he’d known it all evening long… and yet…

“We went for a walk on the beach together,” he went on.

Despite my growing panic, I still felt a twinge of jealousy over the way he described the walk. Laughable. Like that mattered anymore now that he knew the truth.

He continued, “And he was telling me about some old legends—trying to scare me, I guess. He told me one…”

He stopped short, but there was no need for his qualms now; I knew what he was going to say. The only mystery left was why he was here with me now.

“Go on,” I said.

“About vampires,” he breathed, the words less than a whisper.

Somehow, it was even worse than knowing that he knew, hearing him speak the word aloud. I flinched at the sound of it. Yet, his thumb continued to trace the lines of my hand. Somehow, the gesture comforted me and I controlled myself again.

“And… you immediately thought of me?” I asked.

“No. He mentioned your family.”

How ironic that it would be Ephraim’s own progeny that would violate the treaty he’d vowed to uphold. A grandson, or great-grandson perhaps. How many years had it been? Seventy?

I should have realized that it was not the old men who believed in the legends that would be the danger. Of course, the younger generation—those who would have been warned, but would have thought the ancient superstitions laughable—of course that was where the danger of exposure would lie.

I suppose this meant I was now free to slaughter the small, defenseless tribe on the coastline, were I so inclined. Ephraim and his pack of protectors were long dead…

“He just thought it was a silly folk-tale,” Beau said suddenly, his voice edged with a new anxiety. “He didn’t expect me to think anything of it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his free hand tense uneasily.

“It was my fault,” he said after a brief pause, and then he hung his head as if he were ashamed. “I convinced him to tell me.”

“Why?” It wasn’t so hard to keep my voice level now. The worst was already done. As long as we spoke of the details of the revelation, we didn’t have to move on to the consequences of it.

“Logan said something about you—he was trying to provoke me.” He made a little face at the memory. I was slightly distracted, wondering how Beau would be provoked by someone talking about me… “And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn’t come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So, when Jacob and I went off alone I asked him.”

His head dropped slightly lower as he admitted this.

Surely, there was more to the story. The Black boy must have had some idea that the tribe legends were secrets. Surely he wouldn’t have just given away the information.

“You must have said something to convince him to tell you.”

Beau looked confused by this, “No… I just… asked him?”

Suddenly, I could just imagine—considering the attraction he seemed to have for everyone, totally unconscious on his part—how overwhelming his charm could be, when he wasn’t even trying. Alone, walking on the beach with this boy and his stunning silver eyes, I was suddenly full of pity for the unsuspecting boy he’d questioned and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“You obviously don’t understand your own charm,” I said, and then I laughed again with black humor. I wished I could have heard the Black boy’s reaction, witnessed the devastation for myself. “And you accused me of dazzling people—poor Jacob Black.”

I wasn’t as angry with the source of my exposure as I would have expected to feel. He didn’t know any better. And how could I except anyone to deny Beau what he wanted? No, I only felt sympathy for the damage Beau would have done to the Black boy’s peace of mind.

I felt his blush heat the air between us. I glanced at him, and he was glaring at me, scarlet faced. “Are you jealous?” he said quickly.

I probably was, if I was honest. How much I would prefer it were me walking along the beach with Beau while he unleashed the full power of his charm on me. Ah, perchance to dream.

“What did you do then?” I prompted. Time to get back to the horror story.

“I did some research on the internet.”

Ever practical. “And did that convince you?”

“No,” he said. “Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…” He trailed off. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I decided… It didn’t matter,” he whispered the words.

Shock froze my thoughts for a half-second, and then it all fit together. Why he’d sent his friends away tonight rather than escape with them. Why he had gotten into my car with me again instead of running, screaming for the police…

His reactions were always wrong—always completely wrong. He pulled danger toward himself. He invited it.

“It didn’t matter?” I said through my teeth, anger filling me. I pulled my hand out from under his. How was I supposed to protect someone so… so… so determined to be unprotected?

“No,” he said in a low voice that was inexplicably tender. “It doesn’t matter to me what you are.”

He was impossible.

“You don’t care if I’m a monster? If I’m not human?”

“No.”

I started to wonder if he was entirely stable.

I supposed that I could arrange for him to receive the best care available… Carlisle would have the connections to find him the most skilled doctors, the most talented therapists. Perhaps something could be done to fix whatever it was that was wrong with him, what ever it was that made him content to sit beside a vampire with his heart beating calmly and steadily. I would watch over the facility, naturally, and visit as often as I was allowed…

“You’re upset,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

As if him hiding these disturbing tendencies would help either of us.

“No. I’d rather know what you’re thinking—even if what you’re thinking is insane.”

I had rested my hand back on the gearshift, and his hand returned to stroking the back of mine with his thumb. Despite everything, it was soothing.

“What are you thinking about now?” I needed to know, I needed some explanation to the workings of his mind.

“I’m just curious about a few things.” His voice was composed.

It was like it didn’t matter what I was. He didn’t care. He knew I was inhuman, a monster, and this didn’t really matter to him.

Aside from my worries about his sanity, I began to feel a swelling of hope. I tried to quash it.

“What are you curious about?” I asked him. There were no secrets left, only minor details.

“How old are you?” he asked.

My answer was automatic and ingrained. “Seventeen.”

“And how long have you been seventeen?”

I tried not to smile at the patronizing tone. “A while,” I admitted.

“Okay,” he said, abruptly enthusiastic. He smiled up at me. When I stared back, anxious again about his mental health, he smiled wider. I grimaced.

“Don’t laugh,” he warned. “But how can you come out during the daytime?”

I laughed despite his request. His research had not netted him anything unusual, it seemed. “Myth,” I told him.

“Burned by the sun?”

“Myth.”

“Sleeping in coffins?”

“Myth.”

Sleep had not been a part of my life for so long—not until these last few nights, as I’d watched Beau dreaming…

“I can’t sleep,” I murmured, answering his question more fully.

He was silent for a moment.

“At all?”

“Never,” I breathed.

I stared into his eyes, wide under the thick fringe of lashes, and yearned for sleep. Not for oblivion, as I had before, not to escape boredom, but because I wanted to dream. Maybe I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live for a few hours in a world where he and I could be together. He dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of him.

He stared back at me, his expression full of wonder. I had to look away.

I could not dream of him. He should not dream of me.

“You haven’t asked the most important question yet,” I said, my silent chest colder and harder than before. He had to be forced to understand. At some point, he would have to realize what he was doing now. He must be made to see that this all did matter—more than any other consideration. Considerations like the fact that I loved him.

“Which one is that?” he asked, surprised and unaware.

This only made my voice harder. “You aren’t concerned about my diet?”

“Oh. That.” He spoke in a quiet tone that I couldn’t interpret.

“Yes, that. Don’t you want to know if I drink blood?”

He cringed away from my question. Finally. He was understanding.

“Well, Jacob said something about that,” he said.

“What did Jacob say?”

“He said you didn’t… hunt people. He said your family wasn’t supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals.”

“He said we weren’t dangerous?” I repeated cynically.

“Not exactly,” he clarified. “He said you weren’t supposed to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn’t want you on their land, just in case.”

I stared at the road, my thoughts in a hopeless snarl, my throat aching with the familiar fiery thirst.

“So, was he right?” he asked, as calmly as if he were confirming aweather report. “About not hunting people?”

“The Quileutes have a long memory.”

He nodded to himself, thinking hard.

“Don’t let that make you complacent, though,” I said quickly. “They’re right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous.”

“I don’t understand.”

No he didn’t. How to make him see?

“We try,” I told him. “We’re usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example. Allowing myself to be alone with you.”

His scent was still a force in the car. I was growing used to it, I could almost ignore it, but there was no denying that my body still yearned toward him for the wrong reason. My mouth was swimming with venom.

“This is a mistake?” he asked, and there was heartbreak in his voice. The sound of it disarmed me. He wanted to be with me—despite everything, he wanted to be with me.

Hope swelled again, and I beat it back.

“A very dangerous one,” I told him truthfully, wishing the truth could really somehow cease to matter.

He didn’t respond for a moment. I heard his breathing change—it hitched in strange ways that did not sound like fear.

“Tell me more,” he said suddenly, his voice distorted by anguish.

I examined him carefully.

He was in pain. How had I allowed this?

“What more do you want to know?” I asked, trying to think of a way to keep him from hurting. He should not hurt. I couldn’t let him be hurt.

“Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people,” he said, still anguished.

Wasn’t it obvious? Or maybe this didn’t matter to him either.

“I don’t want to be a monster,” I muttered.

“But animals aren’t enough?”

I searched for another comparison, a way that he could understand. “I can’t be sure, of course, but I’d compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn’t completely satiate the hunger—or rather the thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time.” My voice got lower; I was ashamed of the danger I had allowed him to be in. Danger I continued to allow... “Sometimes it’s more difficult than others.”

“Is it very difficult for you now?”

I sighed. Of course he would ask the question I didn’t want to answer. “Yes,” I admitted.

I expected his physical response correctly this time; his breathing held steady, his heart kept an even pattern. I expected it, but I did not understand it. How could he not be afraid?

“But you’re not hungry now,” he declared, perfectly sure of himself.

“Why do you think that?”

“Your eyes,” he said, his tone offhand. “I told you I had a theory. I’ve noticed that people are crabbier when they’re hungry.”

I chuckled at his description: crabby. That was an understatement. But he was dead right, as usual. “You’re observant, aren’t you?”

He smirked, but a crease ran between his eyes as if he were concentrating on something.

“Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?” he asked after my laugh had faded. The casual way he spoke was as fascinating as it was frustrating. Could he really accept so much in stride? I was closer to shock than he seemed to be.

“Yes,” I told him, and then, as I was about to leave it at that, I felt the same urge I’d had in the restaurant: I wanted him to know me. “I didn’t want to leave,” I went on slowly, “but it was necessary. It’s a bit easier to be around you when I’m not thirsty.”

“Why didn’t you want to leave?”

I took a deep breath, and then I turned to meet his gaze. This kind of honesty was difficult in a very different way.

“It makes me… anxious,” I supposed that word would suffice, thought it wasn’t strong enough, “to be away from you. I wasn’t joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I’m surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed.” Then I remembered the scrapes on his palms. “Well, not totally unscathed,” I amended.

“What?”

“Your hands,” I reminded him.

He sighed and grimaced. “I fell. Once.”

I’d guessed right. “That’s what I thought,” I said, unable to contain my smile. “I suppose it could have been much worse—and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett’s nerves.” Honestly, that didn’t belong in the past tense. I was probably still irritating Emmett, and all the rest of my family, too. Except Alice…

“Three days?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp. “Didn’t you just get back today?”

I didn’t understand the edge in his voice. “No, we got back Sunday.”

“Then why weren’t any of you in school?” He asked, frustration in his voice. His irritation confused me. He didn’t seem to realize that this question was one that related to mythology again.

“Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn’t,” I said. “But I can’t go out in the sunlight—at least, not where anyone can see.”

That distracted him from his mysterious frustration. “Why?” he asked, leaning his head to one side.

I doubted I could come up with the appropriate analogy to explain this one. So I just told him, “I’ll show you sometime.” And then I wondered if this was a promise I would end up breaking. Would I see him again, after tonight? Did I love him enough yet to be able to bear leaving him?

“You could have called me,” he said.

What an odd conclusion. “But I knew you were safe.”

“But I didn’t know where you were. I—“ He came to an abrupt stop, and looked at his hands.

“What?”

“I just… I thought you might not come back. That somehow you knew that I knew and…” he paused, his voice shy, the skin over his cheekbones warming. “I was afraid you would disappear.”

Are you happy now? I demanded of myself. Well, here was my reward for hoping.

I was bewildered, elated, horrified—mostly horrified—to realize that all my wildest imaginings were not so far off the mark. This was why it didn’t matter to him that I was a monster. It was exactly the same reason that the rules no longer mattered to me. Why right and wrong were no longer compelling influences. Why all my priorities had shifted one rung down to make room for this boy at the very top.

Beau cared for me, too.

I knew it could be nothing in comparison to how I loved him. But it was enough for him to risk his life to sit here with me. To do so gladly.

Enough to cause him pain if I did the right thing and left him.

Was there anything I could do now that would not hurt him? Anything at all?

I should have stayed away. I should never have come back to Forks. I would cause him nothing but pain.

Would that stop me from staying now? From making it worse?

The way I felt right now, feeling his warmth against my skin…

No. Nothing would stop me.

“Ah,” I groaned to myself. “This is wrong.”

“What did I say?” he asked, quick to take the blame on himself.

“Don’t you see, Beau? It’s one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved. I don’t want to hear that you feel that way.” It was the truth, it was a lie. The most selfish part of me was flying with the knowledge that he wanted me as I wanted him. “It’s wrong. It’s not safe. I’m dangerous, Beau—please grasp that.”

“No.” His lips pouted out.

“I’m serious.” I was battling with myself so strongly—half desperate for him to accept, half desperate to keep the warnings from escaping—that the words came through my teeth as a growl.

“So am I,” he insisted. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to me what you are. It’s too late.”

Too late? The world was bleakly black and white for one endless second as I watched the shadows crawl across the sunny lawn toward Beau’s sleeping form in my memory. Inevitable, unstoppable. They stole the color from his skin, and plunged him into darkness.

Too late? Alice’s vision swirled in my head, Beau’s blood red eyes staring back at me impassively. Expressionless—but there was no way that he could not hate me for that future. Hate me for stealing everything from him. Stealing his life and his soul.

It could not be too late.

“Never say that,” I hissed.

He stared out his window, and his teeth bit into his lip again. His hands were balled into tight fists in his lap. His breathing hitched and broke.

“What are you thinking?” I had to know.

He shook his head without looking at me. I saw something glisten, like a crystal, on his cheek.

Agony. “Are you crying?” I’d made him cry. I’d hurt him that much.

He scrubbed the tears away with the back of his hand.

“No,” he lied, his voice breaking.

Some long buried instinct had me reaching out toward him—in that one second I felt more human than I ever had. And then I remembered that I was… not. And I lowered my hand.

And yet, why couldn’t I be human? Why couldn’t I deny the monster I was and at least try? So I reached out and placed my hand on top of his. His eyes shot open to look at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my jaw locked. How could I ever tell him how sorry I was? Sorry for all the stupid mistakes I’d made. Sorry for my never-ending selfishness. Sorry that he was so unfortunate as to have inspired this first, tragic love of mine. Sorry also for the things beyond my control—that I’d been the monster chosen by fate to end his life in the first place.

I took a deep breath—ignoring the wretched reaction to the flavor in the car—and tried to collect myself, concentrating on gently stroking the back of his hand with my thumb.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He asked, his voice full of emotion.

I grappled with the question. I wanted nothing more than to see him, but I had hurt him—I had made him cry. Would he want to see me?

“Do you want to see me?” I asked, my voice tinged with the sadness and worry that he would say no.

“I do.” Was his simple reply.

Elation beyond words.

As long as I was on my way to hell—I might as well enjoy the journey.

“Then I’ll be there,” I smiled at him, and it felt good to do this. “I’ll save you a seat at lunch.”

His heart fluttered; my dead heart suddenly felt warmer.

I stopped the car in front of his father’s house. He made no move to leave.

“You’ll really be there tomorrow?” He asked.

“I promise.” I gave his hand a gentle squeeze of assurance—exercising as much control as I could—before removing my hand from his.

How could doing the wrong thing give me so much happiness? Surely there was something amiss in that.

He nodded, satisfied, and started to remove my jacket.

“You can keep it,” I assured him quickly. I rather wanted to leave him with something of myself. A token, like the bottle cap that was in my pocket now… “You don’t have a jacket for tomorrow.”

He handed it back to me, smiling ruefully. “I don’t want to have to explain to Charlie,” he told me.

I would imagine not. I smiled at him. “Oh, right.”

He put his hand on the door handle, and then stopped. Unwilling to leave, just as I was unwilling to let him go.

To have him unprotected, even for a few moments…

Peter and Charlotte were well on their way by now, long past Seattle, no doubt. But there were always others. This world was not a safe place for any human, and for him it seemed to be more dangerous than it was for the rest.

“Beau?” I asked, surprised at the pleasure there was in simply speaking his name.

“Yes?”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Sure,” he said hesitantly, his eyes tightened curiously.

“Don’t go into the woods alone,” I warned him, wondering if this request would trigger the objection in his eyes.

He blinked, startled. “Why?”

I glowered into the untrustworthy darkness. The lack of light was no problem for my eyes, but neither would it trouble another hunter. It only blinded humans.

“I’m not always the most dangerous thing out there,” I told him. “Let’s leave it at that.”

He shivered, but recovered quickly and was even smiling when he told me, “Sure, Edward.”

His breath touched my face, so sweet and fragrant.

I could stay here all night like this, but he needed his sleep. The two desires seemed equally strong as they continually warned inside me; wanting him versus wanting him to be safe.

I sighed at the impossibilities. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, knowing that I would see him much sooner than that. He wouldn’t see me until tomorrow, though.

“Tomorrow, then,” he agreed as he slowly opened his door.

Agony again, watching him leave.

I leaned after him, wanting to hold him there. “Beau?”

My hand caught his, he turned, and then froze, surprised to find our faces so close together.

I, too, was overwhelmed by the proximity. The heat rolled off him in waves, caressing my face. I could all but feel the silk of his skin.

“Beau, I…” but I couldn’t finish. So much I wanted to say, but I didn’t know how. My hand held his, as gently as I could. I searched his silver eyes, wishing I could know how he had decided that he cared for a monster such as myself. More than that, I was searching for the will to be strong enough to be as human as possible for him. I felt myself lean even closer to him, and my lips parted ever so slightly. Why? To speak? Or was some deep, long unspoken human instinct fighting to break free?

His heartbeat stuttered, and his lips fell open.

I could not go any further than this, after all, I was only so strong.

“Sleep well,” I whispered, and leaned away, releasing his hand, before the urgency in my body—either the familiar thirst or the very new and strange hunger I suddenly felt—could make me do something that might hurt him.

He sat there motionless for a moment, his eyes wide and stunned. Dazzled, I guessed.

As was I.

He recovered—though his face was still a bit bemused—and half fell out of the car, tripping over his feet and having to catch the frame of the car to right himself.

I chuckled—hopefully it was too quiet for him to hear.

I watched him stumble his pay up to the pool of light that surrounded the front door. Safe for the moment. And I would be back soon to make sure.

I could feel his eyes follow me as I drove down the dark street. Such a different sensation than I was accustomed to. Usually, I could simply watch myself through someone’s following eyes, were I of a mind to. This was strangely exciting—this intangible sensation of watching eyes. I knew it was just because they were his eyes.

A million thoughts chased each other through my head as I drove aimlessly into the night.

For a long time, I circled through the streets, going nowhere, thinking of Beau and the incredible release of having the truth known. No longer did I have to dread that he would find out what I was. He knew. It didn’t matter to him. Even though this was obviously a bad thing for him, it was amazingly liberating for me.

More than that, I thought of Beau and requited love. He couldn’t love me the way I loved him—such an overpowering, all-consuming, crushing love would probably break his fragile body. But he felt strongly enough. Enough to subdue the instinctive fear. Enough to want to be with me. And being with him was the greatest happiness I had ever known.

For a while—as I was all alone and hurting no one else for a change—I allowed myself to feel that happiness without dwelling on the tragedy. Just to be happy that he cared for me. Just to exult in the triumph of winning his affection. Just to imagine day after day of sitting close to him, hearing his voice and earning and earning his smiles.

I replayed that smile in my head, seeing his full lips pull up at the corners, the hint of a dimple that touched his chin, the way his eyes warmed and melted… His fingers had felt so warm and soft on my hand tonight. I imagined how it would feel to touch the delicate skin that stretched over his cheekbones—silky, warm… so fragile. Silk over glass… frighteningly breakable.

I didn’t see where my thoughts were leading until it was too late. As I dwelt on that devastating vulnerability, new images of his face intruded on my fantasies.

Lost in the shadows, pale with fear—yet his jaw tight and determined, his eyes fierce, full of concentration, his lean body braced to strike at the hulking forms that gathered around him, nightmares in the gloom…

“Ah,” I groaned as the simmering hate that I’d all but forgotten in the joy of loving him burst again into an inferno of rage.

I was alone. Beau was, I trusted, safe inside his home; for a moment I was fiercely glad that Charlie Swan—head of the local law enforcement, trained and armed—was his father. That ought to mean something, provide some shelter for him.

He was safe. It would not take me so very long to avenge the insult…

No. Beau deserved better. I could not allow him to care for a murderer.

But… what about the others?

Beau was safe, yes. Angela and Jessica were also, surely, safe in their beds.

Yet a monster was loose in the streets of Port Angeles. A human monster—did that make him the humans’ problem? To commit the murder I ached to commit was wrong. I knew that. But leaving him free to attack again could not be the right thing either.

The blond hostess from the restaurant. The server I’d never really looked at. Both had irritated me in a trivial way, but that did not mean they deserved to be in danger. This human monster did not discriminate.

Either one of them could be somebody’s Beau.

That realization decided me.

I turned the car north, accelerating now that I had a purpose. Whenever I had a problem that was beyong me—something tangible like this—I knew where I could go for help.

Alice was sitting on the porch, waiting for me. I pulled to a stop in front of the house rather than going around to the garage.

“Carlisle’s in his study,” Alice told me before I could ask.

“Thank you,” I said, tousling her hair as I passed.

Thank you for returning my call, she thought sarcastically.

“Oh.” I paused by the door, pulling out my phone and checking my missed calls. “Sorry. I didn’t even check to see who it was. I was… busy.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, too. By the time I saw what was going to happen, you were on your way.”

“It was close,” I murmured.

Sorry, she repeated, ashamed of herself.

It was easy to be generous, knowing that Beau was fine. “Don’t be. I know you can’t catch everything. No one expects you to be omniscient, Alice.”

“Thanks.”

“I almost asked you out to dinner tonight—did you catch that before I changed my mind?”

She grinned. “No, I missed that one, too. Wish I’d known. I would have come.”

“What were you concentrating on, that you missed so much?”

Jasper’s thinking about our anniversary. She laughed. He’s trying not to make a decision on my gift, but I think I have a pretty good idea…

“You’re shameless.”

“Yep.”

She pursed her lips, and stared up at me, a hint of accusation in her expression. I paid better attention later. Are you going to tell them that he knows?

I sighed. “Yes. Later.”

I won’t say anything. Do me a favor and tell Royal when I’m not around, okay?

I flinched. “Sure.”

Beau took it pretty well.

“Too well.”

Alice grinned at me. Don’t underestimate Beau.

I tried to block the image I didn’t want to see—Beau and Alice, best of friends.

Impatient now, I sighed heavily. I wanted to be through with the next part of the evening; I wanted it over with. But I was a little worried to leave Forks…

“Alice…” I began. She saw what I was planning to ask.

He’ll be fine tonight. I’m keeping a better watch now. He sort of needs twenty-four hour supervision, doesn’t he?

“At least.”

“Anyway, you’ll be with him soon enough.”

I took a deep breath. The words were beautiful to me.

“Go on—get this done so you can be where you want to be,” she told me.

I nodded, and hurried up to Carlisle’s office.

He was waiting for me, his eyes on the door rather than the thick book on his desk.

“I heard Alice tell you where to find me,” he said, and smiled.

It was a relief to be with him, to see the empathy and deep intelligence in his eyes. Carlisle would know what to do.

“I need help.”

“Anything, Edward,” he promised.

“Did Alice tell you what happened to Beau tonight?”

Almost happened, he amended.

“Yes, almost. I’ve got a dilemma, Carlisle. You see, I want… very much… to kill him.” The words started to flow fast and passionate. “So much. But I know that would be wrong, because it would be vengeance, not justice. All anger, no impartiality. Still it can’t be right to leave a serial rapist and killer wandering Port Angeles! I don’t know the humans there, but I can’t let someone else take Beau’s place as this monster’s victim. Those other young men and women—someone might feel about them the same way I feel about Beau. Might suffer what I would have suffered if he’d been harmed. It’s not right—“

His wide, unexpected smile stopped the rush of my words cold.

He’s very good for you, isn’t he? So much compassion, so much control. I’m impressed.

“I’m not looking for compliments, Carlisle.”

“Of course not. But I can’t help my thoughts, can I?” He smiled again. “I’ll take care of it. You can rest easy. No one else will be harmed in Beau’s place.”

I saw the plan in his head. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, it did not satisfy my craving for brutality, but I could see that it was the right thing.

“I’ll show you where to find him,” I said.

“Let’s go.”

He grabbed his black bag on the way. I would have preferred a more aggressive form of sedation—like a cracked skull—but I would let Carlisle do this his way.

We took my car. Alice was still on the steps. She grinned and waved as we drove way. I saw that she had looked ahead for me; we would have no difficulties.

The trip was very short on the dark, empty road. I left my headlights off to keep from attraction attention. It made me smile to think how Beau would have reacted to this pace. I’d already been driving slower than usual—to prolong my time with him—when he’d objected.

Carlisle was thinking of Beau, too.

I didn’t foresee that he would be so good for Edward. That’s unexpected. Perhaps this was somehow meant to be. Perhaps it serves a higher purpose. Only…

He pictures Beau with snow cold skin and blood red eyes, and then flinched away from the image.

Yes. Only. Indeed. Because how could there be any good in destroying something so pure and lovely.

I glowered into the night, all the joy of the evening destroyed by his thoughts.

Edward deserves happiness. He’s owed it. The fierceness of Carlisle’s thoughts surprised me. There must be a way.

I wished I could believe that—either one. But there was no higher purpose to what was happening to Beau. Just a vicious harpy, an ugly, butter face who could not bear for Beau to have the life he deserved.

I did not linger in Port Angeles. I took Carlisle to the dive bar where the creature named Lonnie was drowning his disappointment with his friends—two of whom had already passed out. Carlisle could see how hard this was for me to be so close—for me to hear t he monsters thoughts and see his memories, memories of Beau mixed in with his less fortunate victims who no one could save now.

My breaching sped. I clenched the steering wheel.

Go, Edward, he told me gently. I’ll make the rest of them safe. You go back to Beau.

It was exactly the right thing to say. His name was the only distraction that could mean anything to me now.

I left him in the car, and ran back to Forks in a straight line though the sleeping forest. It took less time than the first journey in the speeding car. It was just minutes later that I scaled the side of his house and slid his window out of my way.

I sighed silently with relief. Everything was just as it should be. Beau was safe in his bed, dreaming, his wet hair tangled around itself on the pillow.

But, unlike most nights, he was curled into a small ball with the covers stretched taut around his shoulders. Cold, I guessed. Before I could settled into my usual seat, he shivered in his sleep, and his lips trembled.

I thought for a brief moment, and then I eased out into the hallway, exploring another part of his house for the first time.

Charlie’s snores were loud and even. I could almost catch the edge of his dream. Something with the rush of water and patient expectation… fishing, maybe?

There, at the top of the stairs, was a promising looking cupboard. I opened it hopefully, and found what I was looking for. I selected the thickest blanket from the tiny linen closet, and took it back into Beau’s room. I would return it before he awoke, and no one would be the wiser.

Holding my breath, I cautiously spread the blanket over him; he didn’t react to the added weight. I returned to the rocking chair.

While I waited anxiously for him to warm up, I thought of Carlisle, wondering where he was now. I knew his plan would go smoothly—Alice had seen that.

Thinking of my father made me sigh—Carlisle gave me too much credit. I wished I was the person he thought me to be. That person, the one who deserved happiness, might hope to be worthy of this sleeping boy. How different things would be if I could be that Edward.

For a moment, the hag-faced fate I’d imagined, the one who sought Beau’s destruction, was replaced by the most foolish and reckless of angels. A guardian angel—something Carlisle’s version of me might have had. With a heedless smile on her lips, her sky-colored eyes full of mischief, the angel formed Beau in such a fashion that there was no way I could possibly overlook him. A ridiculously potent scent to demand my attention, a silent mind to enflame my curiosity, a quiet beauty to hold my eyes, a selfless soul to earn my awe. Leave out the natural sense of self-preservation—so that Beau could bear to be near me—and, finally, add a wide streak of appallingly bad luck.

With a careless laugh, the irresponsible angel propelled her fragile creation directly into my path, trusting blithely in my flawed morality to keep Beau alive.

In this vision, I was not Beau’s sentence; he was my reward.

I shook my head at the fantasy of the unthinking angel. She was not much better than the harpy. I could not think well of a higher power that would behave in such a dangerous and stupid manner. At least the ugly fate I could fight against.

And I had no angel. They were reserved for the good—for people like Beau. So where was his angel through all this? Who was watching over him?

I laughed silently, startled, as I realized that, just now, I was filling that role.

A vampire angel—there was a stretch.

After about a half hour, Beau relaxed out of the tight ball. His breathing got deeper and he started to murmur. I smiled, satisfied. It was a small thing, but at least he was sleeping more comfortably tonight because I was here.

“Edward,” he sighed, and he smiled, too.

I shoved tragedy aside for the moment, and let myself be happy again.

[mshellbrat]

Hey guys! Here is the third installment of my “Here or There” verse. This is also my offering for @thebookjumper Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon for the Prompt: Choose! I hope you enjoy and I would love to hear what you think. :-)

Summary:  What starts out as a marathon night with Thea, quickly turns into a truth session when the younger Queen refuses to play along with more of Ollie's lies. After brother and sister clear the air, Thea jumps on Team Oliver and helps big bro binge as much Buffy as he can stand. Oliver attempts to bridge the growing gap between himself and his favorite blonde genius.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!

Here goes...

“So....” Thea looked toward her brother with lifted brows, “why are we doing this again?”

Oliver stared back at her. “I wanted to spend some time with you. Is that not okay?”

His entirely too perceptive little sister snorted. “You wanted to spend some time with me watching,” she picked up the DVD set sitting between them on the couch in the casual family room of the mansion, “cult classic supernatural television?” Thea canted her head to the side. “That's what you're going with?”

Oliver kept his bland mask in place. It never worked with Thea, but other than the truth it was all he had. “I've heard it's a good show.”

“Did you hear that after or BEFORE the island?” Thea drawled. “Because this show both started and ended airing before you ever took that faithful trip.”

Oliver frowned. “Last week?”

Thea groaned and banged her head down on the back of the couch. “You are so HOPELESS! How are we even related?”

“Have you seen it?” Oliver asked.

“Yes,” Thea told him, “I have seen every episode of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer', Oliver. It's a cult classic. It's like...a girl power right of passage!”

That didn't exactly sound appealing, but Oliver was determined to find some way to bridge this divide between himself and Felicity. If that meant sitting through some chick show, he could do it. He WOULD do it...because he wasn't about to sit back and let this Landon geek sweep his girl off her feet with 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' references. He needed to level the playing field.

Oliver painted on a big smile, shrugged, and stared down his stubborn sister. “Then you can explain what's going on to me.”

Thea turned her body on the couch to face him, crossed her arms over her chest, and lifted her brows. “Okay, Oliver, I will totally agree to play your guide to all things Buffy,” he started to relax and she shook her head, “IF, and only if, you cut the bullshit and tell me what's really going on and why you suddenly decided to catch up on an old television show when I know for a fact you haven't even seen 'The Avengers' yet.”

“Isn't that a comic book?” Oliver frowned.

“POINT MADE!” Thea jumped and pointed her finger at him.

Oliver straightened his mouth and tried to think of something to tell her. He didn't even fully understand himself what he was doing. He knew he wasn't ready to be...to admit how he felt about Felicity. He knew he couldn't give her what she deserved and that she would probably be better off without him. But he couldn't let her go. He had to fix this. He had to...to try. Maybe if he could show Felicity that he was trying then she wouldn't write him off completely. But how could he even start explaining that to Thea when she had no idea who Felicity really was to him? Hell, his sister had no idea who he even was anymore. She still thought he was that irresponsible asshole from before the island.

Thea glared at him. “Try the truth, Ollie. It's a new concept.” After waiting a long minute more, the brunette decided he was a lost cause. She climbed to her feet and looked down at him, but now her eyes were bitter and sad. “The choice is yours, Ollie, but I'm done playing games. I'm not about to let you pretend you want to spend time with me, when this is obviously just one more lie to add to the stack you've been feeding me for over a year now. This is just a waste of my time.” She turned to leave.

“THEA, wait!” Oliver stood up and started after her. He snagged her arm and turned her back toward him. “I'm not lying, okay? I do want to spend time with you.” He met her watery eyes and cursed himself once again for being a shit big brother. He tried to show her his sincerity. “I could watch this show by myself, but I didn't want to. I thought it was something you might enjoy...something we could do together.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “I did enjoy it...years ago.” She looked away. “Let's just say Buffy goes through a lot of crap and I could relate.”

His chest hurt just thinking about everything his baby sister had been forced to endure this early in her young life...and even worse knowing that there was still another shoe out there waiting to drop. Every time he thought about Merlyn and his MOTHER, about Thea and the secret that they were all keeping from her for her own good, it made him sick. No wonder Thea was so disgusted with all of them. No wonder she didn't trust them anymore. They didn't deserve her trust.

Well, Oliver decided, he could at least try to be honest about this. He took in a deep breath and blew it out. He closed his eyes. “There's this girl...”

Thea snorted. Her shoulders shook with laughter and she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Oh my god, Ollie! When ISN'T there a girl?” She smirked at him. “Is this about Sara?”

“NO!” Oliver forced. He shook his head, once again frustrated at himself for his own dumbass mistakes. “This isn't about Sara. There is no me and Sara. That's over. It never should've happened in the first place.”

Thea huffed. “This under the category marked 'duh'.” She tilted her head to the side. “How you ever thought that was going to work out well is beyond me. That relationship is guilt and pain and...yea more guilt and pain.”

“Thanks, Thea,” Oliver drawled. “I really needed to hear that right now. That's really helpful.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “So who is the girl this time?”

Oliver sighed and looked away from her stare. “I'd...rather not say.”

Thea studied his evasive expression. Oliver could practically see her running through options in that lightning-quick brain of hers. Then she blinked. “Oh my god, you are such a freaking cliché. It's the secretary, isn't it? You are chasing after your blonde bimbo secretary that mom hates!”

Oliver winced and bit back the wave of rage her description inspired. It wasn't Thea's fault. She didn't know Felicity. All she had was second-hand information and the opinion of their mother. He couldn't take out his frustration on his sister. He could, however, set her straight. “Felicity is a genius, Thea. An actual, graduated from M.I.T. at nineteen-years-old, smartest woman I have ever met, genius. She is NOT a bimbo. And she is only my executive assistant because I begged her to be. She's doing it as a favor to me.”

He turned away from his sister and carded his hands through his short hair. “Hearing you talk about her that way? I'm disappointed in you. You don't even know her.” He pinned her with his stare. “And I know for a fact that she's never been anything but nice to you. Because that's who Felicity is, Thea. Felicity is nice.” He took a step back toward her. “Felicity is beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, and kind. She doesn't deserve your judgment or your scorn.”

Thea's eyes widened and she threw her hands up in the air. “Okay, okay...I get it. You like her and she's perfect and really really nice. I shouldn't have said anything against her. I'm sorry.” She paused and tilted her chin down and looked up at him through her lashes. “But you do have to admit that the circumstances are a little suspicious.”

“And that's my fault, Thea,” Oliver insisted, “not hers.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All of the rumors going around about Felicity, the way she's being treated and looked down on, that's all because of me. Because I'm a selfish bastard and I wanted her close to me. I didn't even think about how that would affect her.”

Thea blinked and frowned. “So...this has been going on for a while?”

Oliver blew out a long breath. “It's...” he ground his teeth, “I don't even really know when it started. She just...crept up on me.” He started pacing. “And now she's pulling away and I CAN'T lose her. She's...important.”

“So definitely before the whole Sara thing then,” Thea realized.

Oliver froze. He squeezed his eyes closed and looked down. “It's not like that, Thea. I didn't cheat on her. We weren't together.” But that wasn't the whole story and he knew it.

“Well thank god for small favors, because if she's as intelligent as you say she is, she's not putting up with that shit,” Thea said.

A laugh escaped Oliver's throat. “No, no, Felicity definitely will not put up with my shit, Thea. And that, among many other reasons, is why I can't even begin to deserve her.”

“Wow,” Thea stepped forward and slapped her hand against his back, “that's some hardcore brooding you've got going on there, brother dear. You must be really serious about this one.”

Oliver sighed. He turned and looked at her. “I want my friend back. I want my...my girl back. Even if I don't deserve her.”

Thea nodded. “And somehow this all comes back around to watching 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'?”

Oliver huffed a laugh. “She likes this stuff.” He reached down and picked up the DVD set. “All kinds of this stuff. She likes movies and television and games.”

Thea pursed her lips. “She's a geek?”

Oliver grinned. “Maybe, but she's a lot more than that.”

“But this is your way in, right?” Thea said. “You want to impress her with your vast geek knowledge?”

“She's talking to this guy,” Oliver admitted.

Thea laughed. “OH, oh, here we go!” She waved her hand eagerly at her brother. “Lay it on me.”

Oliver took in a deep breath and blew it out. “She met him on some internet dating site. He knows about this stuff and they're bonding over it.” He frowned and balled his hands into fists. “They have these debates about favorite superheroes and best vampire...or something.”

Thea kept laughing. “Well, that's actually Damon Salvatore, but if we're sticking to Buffy? Safe bet says Spike.” She grabbed the DVDs from Oliver and headed for the entertainment center. She flipped open the first case and popped out the disk.

“See!” Oliver pointed to Thea. “That's what I need! I need to know who that Spike person is. She likes him!”

“Of course she likes him,” Thea rolled her eyes, “he's Spike.” She plopped down on the couch and patted the seat across from her. “Now cop a squat, Ollie. I'm gonna teach you about the Buffyverse. I'll be your Yoda.”

Oliver sighed in relief and sat down beside his sister. He turned to look at her as she lifted the remote and booted the first disk. She held her free hand up in warning and cut her eyes his way. “And if the words 'who is Yoda' leave your mouth? I don't know you.”

Oliver threw his head back and laughed...a genuine laugh, a real laugh. A huge smile curled Thea's lips and as Oliver watched tears filled his sister's eyes. She dove forward across the distance between them and hugged him as hard as she could. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. Then he pulled her closer into the middle of the couch and maneuvered them until Thea leaning against him and they were both facing the television screen as the first episode started.

The next week...

“I just don't know, Sara,” Oliver heard Felicity talking as he made his way down the steps and into the foundry. “We have a lot of the same interests, but...”

“Don't you think you might be being a little too picky?” Sara asked. The blonde assassin was leaning up against Felicity's station. She threw Oliver a grin when she spotted him. “It was your first date, Felicity. You need to give the guy a real chance. He might have been nervous.”

Oliver glared at his ex. Sara had been overly supportive of this whole 'internet dating' thing. She was enjoying this a little too much.

“He told our waitress to scamper, Sara,” Felicity said, “like...scamper. Like she was a mouse!” The genius' blonde ponytail swayed to the side as she looked up at her friend. “It was rude. She was only doing her job. Also? I was afraid to eat anything after that because I don't like spit! And I do like food! This girl,” she waved down her appealingly curvy body encased in a tight bright blue dress, “likes to eat and I left hungry. I'm starving now and the boys will tell you that I DO get hangry.”

“I brought Big Belly,” Oliver spoke up as he walked over to join them. He held out a bag and drink to Felicity. “I got your usual.”

“Oh,” a wide smile curled Felicity's lips and her blue eyes sparkled up at him, “that was so sweet! Thank you, Oliver. You are my hero.” She turned and dug into the bag.

Oliver smiled smugly at Sara. The assassin stuck her tongue out at him. Then she looked back to Felicity. “But you did say he was hot, right?”

Felicity snorted. “Super hot...I mean like REALLY hot...like smoking hot (no pun intended).” She shook her head. “That man could start a heatwave in the middle of winter.”

Oliver frowned.

Sara snickered. “So, don't you think he's worth a second chance?”

Felicity chomped down on a fry and frowned as she considered it. “I'm not that shallow. I don't fall for men based strictly on their physical appearance.” She waved another fry at Sara. “There are a lot of ugly hot men in this world, Sara Lance. I appreciate a man's inner beauty. I mean the last guy I liked was Barry!” Seeming to realize what she'd just said, Felicity winced and hurried to explain. “Not that Barry's not hot! Barry's very very hot! I just meant that I can't go from witty and thoughtful and brilliant to...to scamper!”

Sara chuckled and Oliver swallowed his own laugh. Sara threw her hands in the air. “Okay, I said my piece. I just think you may be giving up too easily.” She threw Oliver a pointed look as she walked away.

“So,” Oliver cleared his throat and stepped closer to Felicity, “no more Landon?”

Felicity sucked on the straw of her milkshake unhappily, her shoulders slumped. “I guess not. It's kinda depressing, actually. I'm gonna have to start all over now.” She dug out another fry and popped it into her mouth. “And I was really looking forward to that Buffy marathon, too! We were going to write our favorite episodes on pieces of paper and draw them randomly out of a hat.” She looked up at Oliver and stuck out her lower lip. “It was my idea!”

Oliver took in a deep breath and blew it out. He leaned back against the desk beside her and shrugged. “Well, I could probably help you out with that.”

Felicity smiled up at him. “As sweet as that it, Oliver, I really don't think you can arrow someone just for being a jerk and ruining my fun.”

Oliver huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. Didn't he wish he could go around arrowing every man that came near his girl. “No, I uh...I meant I could fill in as your marathon da...uh...marathon partner.”

Now Felicity's mouth dropped open. She stared up at him stunned. If her expression wasn't so damn cute, and if he wasn't so determined not to let this opportunity pass him by, Oliver would have made an excuse and hurried away to train with Sara and Digg. As it was, he waited anxiously for her reaction.

The blonde finally shook herself and spoke. “You...I mean, you don't have to do that, Oliver. I'm sure you have plans...or...something better to do?”

“I'll never have something better to do than spend time with you,” Oliver told her. He rushed on before she could react. “But I've only seen the first three seasons, so you can choose the episodes if that works for you.”

“You've only seen the first three seasons?” Felicity repeated. “You've...seen the first three seasons?”

“Yes,” Oliver nodded. “But I don't want you to miss out on any episodes you really want to watch.”

Felicity frowned at him again. Her forehead scrunched together in that way that he found so adorable. Then she narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger at him. “You cannot skip ahead and watch Buffy episodes out of order! There is a process, Oliver! Watching episodes all willy nilly will blunt the emotional impact and ruin your viewing experience!”

Now he frowned. “But you said...”

“I've seen them all before,” she poked him in the side with her finger, “multiple times! And I can't listen to 'Full of Grace' by Sarah McLachlan to this day without bursting into tears!”

“Okay,” he said. Was that a no on the marathon? He looked away and his stomach churned. He really wanted this. He wanted this time with her. He wanted a chance to...to try. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now.

Felicity heaved a loud sigh and shook her head. She turned back to face her station. “We'll just have to start at the beginning of the fourth season and go from there. It's a good one anyway. There's plenty of Spike, and yes we will have to endure Riley and the uber-boring that is Adam, but really 'Pangs', 'Something Blue', 'Hush'...these gems make everything else worthwhile.” She nodded and her ponytail flipped. “You have to take the bad with the good, Oliver. You can't just skip to dessert.”

What? Oliver paused and ran her words back through his mind. A smile curved his lips and he watched Felicity out of the corner of his eye. “So...this Friday then?”

Felicity nodded again and Oliver knew she was keeping herself carefully turned away from him. Her cheeks flushed pink. “It's a da...uh...it's a marathon! We'll work out the details later.” She motioned to where she could see Digg and Sara squaring off on the mats across the way. “You should go...do your thing. I need some personal time with my babies.”

Oliver smirked. “Okay, I'll go do my thing while you wrest information from your dread machines.”

He started to walk off to join his other partners. He heard Felicity groan loudly and bang her head down against her desk behind him. “He can not start quoting Buffy to me! That isn't fair!” Grinning ear to ear he kept walking.

Thanks for reading!

@thebookjumper @olicityhiatusficathon