#unexpected_chapter

[little-boats-on-a-lake]

Part Seventeen

“So, what do you think?” She noticed he was just picking at his plate, barely eating anything. Maybe she had put in a little too much garlic.

“It’s really good,” He lied, trying to hide another cough.

“Is it too spicy? You’re... um, you’re coughing a lot.” She noted nervously.

“It’s fine, my throat just feels a little itchy.” His voice was a little raspy…

“Do you need some water?”

“Yeah, I’ll go grab some.” He pulled himself to his feet.

He barely made it three steps before he collapsed.

“Gods above! What happened?”

“Can’t… breathe…” He choked out.

“Are you allergic?”

“How would I know?” He hissed. A shade of red was already creeping up his ashen face. Felicity scrambled over herself, tossing aside things until she spotted the familiar red book. She flipped through pages frantically. Aha! Allergies!

In case of severe emergency, inject paste below directly into bloodstream every eight hours. Oh, thank the gods above. A recipe. More ways she could potentially poison him. Wonderful.

“Lavender extract? Do we even have that?”

She ransacked the drawers, rifling through the herbs, pouring them all into a bowl and grinding them together until it turned into a sticky and murky brown substance with a sickly sweet stench.

“I’m sorry about this.” She sliced out a small cut over a vein and quickly spread the paste before ripping the edge of her sleeve off and wrapping it around the wound. He winced and hissed in pain.

“Hey, stay with me.” She ordered, frantically slapping his face. The medicine wasn’t working. At least not fast enough. Her hands felt oddly clammy as she placed them against his neck.

What was it he said? Like pushing the pain out with the energy. Okay. Should be simple enough. She took in a deep breath and focused on matching her breaths with his. In… and out. In… and out.

Her hands faintly glowed a faint orange in time with their breaths. She pressed her hands against his skin and let the warm energy surge out of her. She could still feel it as it coursed through his body. It found the part of his body that was reacting to whatever he must have been allergic to and pushed it out. Physically. She grabbed a metal bucket from the kitchen and tossed it next to him. He was going to need that.

His breathing shakily evened out, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

Goddess Above, they had survived so much from each other. Please don’t let this be what killed him.

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[little-boats-on-a-lake]

Part Sixteen

Practicing magic was easier than she thought. Once she figured out how to harness it, using it as energy was a cinch. It was different from when she used magic to fight with the sword. As Not-Maurus explained, “defensive magic” was a different type of magic than “offensive magic” was. It seemed teaching magic was more tiring than learning was. Then again, he had learned magic by breathing, so maybe he was just tired because she was breaking so many things. Not intentionally. Sometimes she just lost focus and there would be a new hole in their furniture. 

Apparently he was a self-taught carpenter as well.

He was always yawning by the time they finished. Felicity felt bad for him. He wouldn’t have had to work so hard if she hadn’t insisted on learning magic. She watched his entire face droop as he struggled not to doze off. His hand propping up his jaw kept slipping and he had to force himself to stay awake. 

Felicity quietly sat by his side, waiting for him to notice that she had moved. 

“Gah!” He leaped back, scrabbling to regain what little sense of pride he had left. 

“Okay, that does it. You’re exhausted and you need a break.”

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well last night.” “You’ve been having more episodes than usual this week. I’m getting worried about you.” His protest died in his throat. She was worried about him?

But… but why?

“How about I make dinner tonight?” She leaned forward, propping her head up on her fingertips. He hated that it was so hard to say no to that face.

“You can cook?”

“Of course! My garlic mushroom recipe is to die for.” In all honesty, Felicity had never really been allowed to cook. Whether it was because her foster families wanted to make sure she focused on training or they thought she might poison her, they never allowed her near kitchens. 

They still somehow expected her to be able to cook like a good wife. 

“Your what recipe?” He looked so confused, as if she just proposed eating vegetables straight out of the ground without even washing them. Practically heresy. 

“Garlic mushrooms. Wait. Have you never- ” She gaped in disbelief. “You’ve never tried garlic mushrooms!” 

“I just never considered trying them.” 

In all honesty, he hadn’t even thought mushrooms could be eaten. Garlic, sure. He loved the flavor and scent of it. It made everything taste so much better. He used it in everything. But those weird root things that grew on literally any and everything? 

“Oh, then it’s settled! I’m making dinner tonight!” 

“What else do you need to find?” 

“Just the mushrooms. I can get the rest from your garden.”

“Bold of you to assume I would let you use my garden.”

“Bold of you to assume I was asking permission.” She countered. He pursed his lips in a weird admiring smirk, as if he was proud of her or he couldn’t believe she was real. She was getting a little too used to seeing it. 

“All right,” He groaned as he stretched his hands out above his head. “Let’s go.” Her eyes trailed up his body and came to rest on the barest hint of skin at his hip. (Oh, gross. That’s a perv move. Don’t be a perv.)

“You aren’t coming with me.” 

“What?” He sulked. Damn the Goddess for giving him such a convincing pout. “Why can’t I go with you?”

“Because I said so.” 

“That’s a lousy explanation.”

“Just...stay here? Please? I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’ve never been mushroom picking before and you don’t know how to identify the good or the toxic ones.”

“...Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck and fought down a visible blush. “I… guess I can stay here then.” 

“I’ll be back soon, you baby.” She patted his head, trying not to let her hand linger in his soft hair as he subconsciously leaned into her touch. He did that a lot. It was so adorably endearing. Felicity had to drag herself away to grab her cloak and head into the woods. 

He pouted as he settled into his favorite reading chair. He looked at a book, but couldn’t even open it. He already missed Sunny. Grabbing a blanket from his room, he angled his chair toward the door. 

He could wait for her.

She came home to find the once-villain curled upside down in his favorite chair, a book hiding his sleeping face. His wildly disheveled black hair stuck out in every direction and his blanket was draped haphazardly around his legs.

“Hey,” she ruffled his hair. “I made dinner.” He blinked up at her, still weary with sleep. 

“That fast?” He asked in a sleep-ridden voice as he swung his legs back to the ground and smoothed his hair back. He didn’t even know how he tugged at her heart’s strings when he did that.

“You were up reading all night, babe.” She smirked. His eyes widened as he heard the nickname. She could practically feel his ears burning. The two just stared at each other for a moment.

‘Did she just call me a baby, or did she just flirt with me?’ He barely dared to breathe. 

“... Dinner?” 

“Yep!”

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[little-boats-on-a-lake]

Part Twelve

They had an unspoken agreement to sleep together. 

Wait, no, not like that. 

It was strange to say the least, but she tended to have less nightmares around him and he calmed down faster around her after his “episodes”. Neither of them knew how to explain it. Neither of them really wanted to. All they knew was that sleeping in the same bed resulted in better sleep, so cuddling was just a necessary evil for both of their comforts.

Even if they wouldn’t admit how much they enjoyed it.

They settled into an unexpected routine. He would wake up early to bake bread while Felicity tried to help, but would fall asleep trying. She would wake up by the time he had made breakfast and they would eat, maybe work on a little new invention or bind a new book afterwards.

Once it was warm enough, they would head out to the garden and harvest what had grown enough to be picked. Some of it would be kept for making dinner, but most of it went to be preserved. He had stocked enough for weeks to come, but he insisted on doing something, lest they fall into (gasp) laziness.

He would start dinner and once she had finally mastered the look, he begrudgingly allowed Felicity to chop and slice and dice to her heart’s desire. She loved using a knife. It was fun. She could tell he hated not being completely in control over the cooking, but it was fun making their meals together. At least, she hoped he found it fun. Because she totally didn’t. At all. 

After dinner (who knew just plants could make such delicious dishes?), they would curl up on the couch and just talk until she insisted it was time for him to sleep. No, it was not time to tinker with something new. No, it was not time to write a new story. Maybe just one diary entry. It was time to sleep, she commanded as she dragged him to their room.

His room.

Not theirs.

Slip of the tongue. 

...Even if she did like the idea of the room being theirs. 

It was oddly domestic.

And she didn’t mind.

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[little-boats-on-a-lake]

Any art tips anyone?

Also yes Felicity wears crop tops and Will wears turtlenecks, what about it?