#where she kept making it abundantly clear that she didn’t think she’d done anything wrong

[tacosaysroar]

This is maybe hilarious coming on the heels of my previous post, but I just spent half an hour in a meeting using what I think of as my primate smile.

That’s when other people think you’re smiling, but really what you’re doing is baring your teeth in a show of aggression.

[buckyownsmylife]

v e l o c i t y - chapter viii

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N: I think there’ll be just one more chapter to this story, but I don’t know if it’s coming next week!

John’s P.O.V.

“Omega.” The sound of her title made her stop in her tracks, but she still didn’t turn around to face me. It’d been like this for the last month or so. A game of hide and seek I had never agreed to play.

Although I was pretty sure if I asked her about it, she’d say I was the one who made up the rules in the first place.

“What do you want, John?” Hearing her address me directly after so many days of tense silence was inebriating, but her tone wasn’t what I wanted. I knew I deserved it though, and that is why I was subjecting myself to this.

“I want to talk.”

“That’s precious coming from you. Take such pride in being the silent, angry type. Or should I say the asshole type?” I scoffed, even though I deserved that. I deserved it all, I knew it. 

But what I’d come to realize in these last few weeks that I had to endure practically without her was that I was nothing but a selfish bastard when it came to the woman before me.

“Would you just hear me out?” I asked, pulling the basket of dirty laundry she was holding and letting it fall on the floor before forcing her to turn around and look me in the eyes. She immediately crossed her arms in front of her, showing in every way she could that she was not in the mood to have any sort of conversation with me.

“Why should I? We’re not friends, you’re not my mate, as you’ve made abundantly clear by the way you’ve been treating me ever since we met. I don’t owe you anything, John Winchester. Much less time or even more of my energy.” Her words were like a slap to my face, and in my surprise, I let her pick up the basket and continue her walk towards the laundry room once more.

But not before I heard her last words. “Believe me, if I had anywhere else to go, I would have left a long time ago,” she mumbled almost to herself. “You must think I have no self-esteem whatsoever.”

That one hurt. It hurt because it was clear by the pain in her own voice that it was the truth. She would have left the bunker, she would have left this life behind without ever looking back because of the way I’d been treating her.

I couldn’t deal with that. So instead of accepting that reality, irritation coursed through my veins at the thought of her ever leaving.

“What about James?” I inquired, following her down the hall and finding her loading her clothes in the machine. She only turned around to face me after she was done with the task, crossing her arms once more as she leaned against the metal.

“What about James?” Y/N questioned, raising an eyebrow at me. “You’re not seriously suggesting you’d like me to join a gang, are you?” I didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t. I didn’t want her going anywhere, much less with him.

Suddenly, I was all too tired. I think it was visible because I deflated. My shoulders slumped, I looked down at my own feet as I rested my hands on my hips. “No, I’m not.” A short silence followed, and when I looked up at her again, it was to find her mouth-slacked, staring back at me.

“What?” At my question, she immediately shut her mouth before reopening again and then frowning. It was like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to say something or not. Finally - unfortunately - the latter option seemed to be the one she chose.

“Nevermind.” She turned around to fiddle with the buttons of the machine, like it wasn’t already on, and I knew what this was. This was a way out, an invitation for me to leave and let this conversation die like it had never even existed in the first place.

But I was tired.

“It’s hard to relax around you.” That was how my admission started, and even though it wasn’t planned, I didn’t hate it. I didn’t immediately feel like retreating, retracing all of my steps until suddenly I was out of the room and away from my own feelings.

No, I couldn’t run from them anymore. Not if I had any chance of making her want to stay.

“Why?” The question wasn’t unexpected, but it still made me sigh. I really hated making myself vulnerable, and any instance of sharing my thoughts and feelings felt like it for me.

“Well, first because every single part of my being is asking me to bend you over whatever’s nearest and just take you.” Our eyes met for the first time since I started really talking, and the meeting of our gazes was heavy, but not unwelcome. I’d take any sort of connection with her, any show of her willingness to forgive me. “Shit, you just have no idea how attractive you are.”

The corner of her lips turned up at my words, betraying just how much she liked to know about her effect on me,  and I couldn’t help but mirror it as I kept going.

“And it’s not just because you’re my mate either,” I confessed, watching the surprise shine through her features. “It really is… you. And it’s so hard to control my reactions to you. I always get carried away, because I crave… I crave to be with you on a cellular level.”

I took a deep breath before finishing what I needed to say, the hardest of my admissions. “You’re the only one I want now, I know that. But I can’t accept that yet.” 

“Why?” So maybe I was wrong. This was the hardest thing to confess, the hardest truth I’d have to face. This is what I’d been trying to run from, ever since that morning when she told me off. 

Because I couldn’t forgive myself for it. And I feared the moment that she knew, she’d hate me forever. But it was time to say it.

“Because I know you, Y/N. I met you when you were still a kid, I played with you, I put you on my lap and made you giggle. You used to play with my beard and tell me I looked like a werewolf. I can’t just let that go.”

I braced myself for her reaction, anticipating the very worst. But she only looked at me with an amused smile, her arms crossed in front of her and her head tilted. “You feel bad about wanting me because you knew me as a kid.” Well.. yes. Was she really expecting a confirmation?

The chuckle she let out from under her breath warned me that she didn’t. Still, I couldn’t help but tightly hold onto my fears as I watched her slowly approach me, arms falling to the sides until she was within reach of mine.

“I think it’s clear I’m not a little girl anymore, John.” Well, she wasn’t wrong, and the effect she elicited on me just by holding our hands together showed just as much. “And the man I met, the man that held me on his lap when I was a kid, is not the same that’s staring at me right now. You are my mate. The same can’t be said for the man from back then.”

My entire body buzzed with electricity from the connection of our hands, and the realization that she didn’t hate me. Through her eyes, I could see there was a way for us to get through this, a way for me to somehow move past my own past.

I noticed the familiar twinkle of mischief in her eyes before she even opened her mouth to break the moment. “I think you should just admit that you want to kiss me.”

Chuckling, my hands instinctively let go of hers to find a hold on her waist, pulling her closer to me. “What good will that bring me?” But the little rascal just shrugged.

“I dunno. I might do it.” No other words were necessary. My body acted of its own accord, and I cradled her face with my palms before bending down to meet her lips, chuckling to myself once we parted and I realized she had to stand on her tip-toes to reach me.

“Well, that was a sweet first kiss,” I commented, rubbing my nose on hers and appreciating her little giggle. “The kind of sweet I’d hoped the first time I got to touch you would be. But you just wouldn’t let me have that, now would you?”

Silence took over my teasing, and I watched as she took a deep breath before saying what was on her mind. “You know… I wouldn’t mind being your secret if that’s the only way I could have you.”

I knew it wasn’t her intention, but it felt like a punch to my stomach. Had I really been this mean? That she’d think my worst problem with our situation was that I didn’t want to be associated with her?

“I don’t want to keep you a secret,” I made sure she knew. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Our lives were entwined now, I knew that. I needed her here. And I’d do whatever I needed to make her stay.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep teasing you until you break, huh?” I chuckled, squeezing her hips a bit before finally letting her go. It was relieving to see that she understood I needed time.

My chest filled with hope as I watched her leave the room, but not before throwing me a wink over her shoulder. God, she was making me soft. It wouldn’t take much for her to get me to break.

[plus-size-reader]

Hunters Wedding

Dean Winchester x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1550 words

Warnings:none

Summary: Dean had been wrestling with something for quite some time and finally confronts the reader about it. 

——————————————————————————————————

You never thought you'd get married.

Ever.

You had grown up in a hunters family, fully aware that what your dad called a "blue collar" life wasn't for you. In that respect, while your parents were married, you knew that wasn't going to be the path you would follow personally.

It was just too dangerous.

Having someone you loved in the sort of life where you tracked down and killed some of the most heinous monsters you'd ever seen was too great a risk. Those sorts of things were a liability, and could only end badly.

Maybe being raised understanding that had changed the way you saw the world around you, at least in a romantic sense, but you didn't care. You didn't even give getting married a second thought, all your life.

Even getting into a relationship was questionable when you got to the point in your life.

You and Dean were in a relationship for all intensive purposes but it was never supposed to be more than that. You didn't even like calling it a relationship really. It was more of a partnership. You cared about each other and you kept each other alive, and that was enough for you.

That was all you needed.

You kept him at an arms length, whether you wanted to admit it or not, just so you didn't get too close. You both sort of lived in fear of what could happen if you got too close and something happened to the other.

Losing him would break your heart, and you were painfully aware of that. Still, there had been a shift in him recently and you could tell that something was going on with him. You had no idea what it was, but you were sure you'd find out before too long.

It was no secret that Dean had always craved the family that he'd never had a chance to be a part of. Maybe it was buried deep down, and maybe he liked to pretend that it wasn't there but you were going to figure it out at some point.

He wanted to have a family, but more than anything, he wanted to have a family with you.

...That was the exact moment he decided he was going to ask you to marry him.

However, it wasn't as simple as just asking. You had made it abundantly clear that you had no intention of ever getting married, and while Dean knew you loved him, he wanted to respect that.

Hell, he understood your reasons better than anyone else ever could but he just couldn't shake the feeling he had that he needed to make you his wife. Deep down in his gut, he just knew that he had to.

So he did the only thing he knew to do, he asked.

It took everything he had to build up the courage but after listening to the pump up jams of classic rock and shotgunning a beer or two, he just decided that he was gonna do it. There was no more thinking that needed to be done, and he couldn't put it off anymore.

You knew there was something wrong with him immediately.

More than normal, Dean was being squirrely. He entered the bunker's concrete kitchen with a strange jaunt in his step, doing his best to seem inconspicuous as he scanned the files Sam had left on the table.

It may have worked, if you were blind or dim but every time you thought maybe he'd just eaten a bad burger, he glanced back up at you. That made it pretty clear to you that the blonde had something on his mind that he wanted to share.

"Can I help you?" you wondered finally, having finally had enough when he glanced over his shoulder again to make sure you were still standing there, though you clearly hadn't moved.

You were just minding your own business, trying to make those gluten free pancakes Sam had been raving about all week for when he got back from the morgue. However, seeing as you knew Dean wouldn't touch them with a ten foot pole, you knew it wasn't about the food.

"I made regular pancakes too, so don't get pouty on me" you warned, only half joking in an attempt to get him to spill his guts before you had to break out the interrogation chair. You could get it out of him, but frankly, you were too lazy for that.

It would be much simpler if Dean would just open up for once.

"I want to marry you"

Those five words fell from Dean's lips before he even meant for them to and as soon as they did, all thoughts of joking left your mind. Surely he was kidding, after all, you knew he shared your opinions of marriage in this life.

The two of you frequently made fun on those people who tried to balance both lifestyles, so you knew he wasn't actually suggesting that you try to do the same. That would be ridiculous...wouldn't it?

"Come again?" you asked finally, fully aware that you must have sounded insane. Still, you couldn't possibly wrap your brain around anything more than that. Could you have heard him wrong? Maybe you were having a stroke.

At this point, nothing was off the table.

Dean took a deep breathe, still not looking at you. He had no idea how to recover from that, though now that it was out in the open, he might as well just get it off his chest. After a second, much longer deep breathe, he spoke.

"I think that we should get married" he repeated, not really giving you the clarification you'd been searching for. There was very little you could read from the situation, now fully ignoring the sizzling, and likely burning, of that pancake batter in the pan.

Ok, so you hadn't heard him wrong, at least you knew that much. What you had to figure out now was if he was the one having a stroke. What he was suggesting didn't sound like the Dean you knew at all.

"You think that we should get married?" you clarified, you were pretty sure that was what he was suggesting but you were just having trouble wrapping your brain around it. You really just hadn't seen this coming and you were caught off guard.

Naturally, you needed a few moments to process this.

You were pretty sure that you and Dean were on the same page when it came to this but if he wanted to talk about changing it, you weren't going to shut him down immediately either. He had been really open to hearing you out and you owed him the same courtesy.

Dean nodded in response to your question but said nothing else while you turned off the burner on the stove, making your way over to him as quickly as you could. "Okay, let's talk about it. I assume this is why you've been so strange these last few days?"

Without missing a beat, you sat down at the table, waiting until he did the same across from you to say anything else. The two of you were adults, and you could handle this, even if it was a lot for you to take on at once.

See, for you and for Dean as well, you knew that a talk about marriage wasn't just talking about marriage. It was also a talk about taking your relationship to another, more intimate level, and in a lot of ways, it forced you to think about losing him too.

It was an emotional rollercoaster if nothing else, and you just had to give it time to settle before talking it through.

"It doesn't have to be a big thing, I'm just driving myself crazy here" he started, fully aware how strange he was reacting to all this. It wasn't the Dean you were used to at all, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Now that you stopped to think about it, a hunters wedding wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"You really want to do this don't you?" you hummed, reaching out to take his hand in your own, immediately feeling his other hand clasp down onto of yours. It created an airlock of sorts, from which you couldn't get your hand back, but you didn't care.

Right now, you were far too preoccupied with all the unanswered questions and feelings to even worry about that.

"I really do"

...That was that.

"Okay, If you really want to do this, we'll do it" you shrugged, it wasn't exactly how either of you thought today was going to go down of course, but maybe that wasn't the worst thing. A proposal was a hell of a lot better than an apocalypse.

Now you just had to figure out what that meant for the two of you, but first, you had to call Jody. You had no idea how she would react to something like this but she was the closest thing to family you had and you knew she'd want to know.

Speaking of, Sam was going to have a heyday when he got home. His pancakes were ruined, but something told you he wouldn't mind.

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover Chapter 7: “Afterglow”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6

Summary: A chance meeting at a football game from Jamie's perspective, and what happens under the bleachers.

Notes: Thanks so much for reading and all your kind comments on the last chapter! I promise we're almost "Out of the Woods" as far as angst goes (for now).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter 7: Afterglow

Jamie’s heart was still aching a month after Claire left him. However, his pride kept him from reaching out to her. The truth is, he’d forgiven everything she’d done and everything she could do long before that day. For him, that was no choice. That was falling in love. He threw himself into his work on the farm and his family. Helping Jenny with meals, driving the children to various practices and scout meetings, helping Ian with the unending harvest September brought.

On this particular Friday evening, Jamie found himself at his nephew Ian’s homecoming game. He tried to pay attention to the game, but he really couldn’t wrap his head around the complexities of American football. It was so stop-and-go--what exactly was a ‘down’? It reminded him of battle maps of the Rising he’d seen in a history textbook when he was in high school in Scotland. Naturally, his thoughts drifted to Claire. As the cold September air wrapped around him, he felt it was fitting. His heart had been cold, frozen without Claire’s light and love for the past month. He could have buttoned his jacket, but what was the point of feeling warm?

He didn’t even realize it was half time, until he heard the marching band start playing.  Everything around him was bright and alive, he felt like an island, detached from his surroundings, drifting in the waves. In truth he’d been living like an island all month. He decided to get some snacks to distract himself. He hadn’t sat like this without a distraction all month. At least with Kitty’s soccer games he could focus on the game. Here, where the game was an enigma to him, he needed a task to deter his restless mind.

           “I’m going to go get something to eat, anyone want anything?” he asked his family.  A barrage of orders came at him from his nieces and nephews, and he recited them back--intentionally messing up their orders (much to their amusement) before correcting himself and making his way up the bleachers.

           It was on his way back down that he spotted an unmistakable mop of curly brown hair and almost dropped the snacks he just shelled out twelve American dollars for. Sassenach. His heartbeat immediately picked up to match the beat of the marching band. God, she was beautiful, but she looked so fragile there, cold and alone, head down, wearing a muted blue grey jacket that seemed to match the air around her. He suddenly realized how stupid he’d been all month to ignore her. He’d punished her with silence. How many times had he typed a text to her only to erase it without pressing send? How many times had he pulled up her contact but couldn’t press the call button? Now seeing her like this, she looked so utterly broken. It was excruciating to see her so low. Had his own pride allowed him to do this to her? I blew things out of proportion now you’re blue. He wanted to wrap her up until he saw that beautiful spark light up her face again. He just wanted to lift her up and not let her go. Before he knew it he was beside her, “Claire?”

           “Hi Jamie, fancy seeing you here!” He had no idea how to reply, it was as if he had gone mute. He just stared into those whiskey eyes that looked so full of sorrow. He almost started to reach out to her, forgetting the concessions he was holding. Luckily, she offered to help him carry them and before he knew it they were headed down the bleachers together.

           When she agreed to sit with him his heart was soaring. If simply sitting next to her was all he could have for the rest of his life, it would be enough. I don’t wanna lose this with you. They were actually able to talk and even flirt a bit as she tried to watch the game, but his eyes couldn’t leave her. He felt so comfortable with her, they just seemed to fit together effortlessly. She was so close he could smell her shampoo, something herbal that he couldn’t quite pin down. It wasn’t fruity or overpoweringly floral like some women he had met in his life--it suited her. Having her there, inches from her made him feel bold. He formulated a plan in his head to get her alone, he needed to be closer to her, but not with his entire family right there.

           He had ended his bold, flirtatious exchange by winking to make it abundantly clear what he was asking her. She had seemed responsive. Her face lit up like it had so many times over the summer they shared. He was starting to sweat despite the chill in the air pacing underneath the away team’s bleachers as he waited for her. How long should he wait? What if she wasn’t coming? What if she saw this opportunity to leave again? It’s all me, Claire, just don’t go, please, come to me mo nighean donn.

           After what seemed like an eternity, she came to him. He heard her feet soft on the gravel, approaching him in the dark. He saw his opportunity, and met her, taking her in his arms as soon as he could, ready to take her mouth as he had imagined so many times in the past month.  How many times had he imagined kissing her again? How many times had he tried to recreate their last night together—conjuring the thought of pinning her hands behind her back and making love to her in the soft light of their hotel bed.  He wished he had committed every moment to memory, not knowing it could have been their last. None of that mattered now, his Sassenach had returned to his arms--but just like that, she was gone again running away--but he wouldn’t let her go this time. Don’t walk away. He pulled her back and set her straight. Poor, beautiful, broken, Claire collapsed before him. He sat with her, trying to calm and comfort her, when she could speak, she confessed she was afraid.  

           “Claire, there now, what are you scared of?”

           “I don’t wanna--I don’t wanna do this to you” she sobbed, choking out the words.

           “Claire, what are you talking about?” he could see the pain on her face and he needed to explain, needed to say his piece. “I’m to blame Claire, I see your pain, I should’ve come after you, I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

           “He, it’s all me, in my head. I’m the one who burned us down. I just tried to leave you again, but it’s not what I meant. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know if we can put this back together. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us.”

           “Is this it? Chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us? Is that what you want?” He placed his thumb under her chin, lifting her head so their eyes could meet. She didn’t look away. “Claire, please just tell me what you want.” Tell me that I’m all you want.

           “I--I don’t know what I want. I thought I did, but now--” she paused. Jamie could tell she was thinking, and let her mind work as he stared into her beautiful amber eyes. Claire could see her pain reflected in his own eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him a month ago in the car, she knew now if she had she would have seen it then too.  He was just as broken as she was. Why’d I have to break what I love so much? Her tears started flowing freely again. “Oh Jamie, I put you in jail for something you didn’t do. I’m sorry that I hurt you. How can you ever forgive me? After all I’ve done--how can we be just fine, how can we be together?”

           “I forgive you, I’ve forgiven you. I swear to it, I wanted to text you, to call you. I let my pride get in the way. I just need to know, Claire, I need to know where your heart’s at now. Tell me that you’re still mine. I need to hear you say it.”  

           Claire realized in that moment that she was fighting with true love. It was like boxing with no gloves--futile, hopeless and most of all painful. She couldn’t keep herself from him no matter how hard she tried.  I thought I had reason to attack, but no. What did she want? She wanted him. She wanted him to be the one by her side, the one she told when she finally got into a residency program. The one to celebrate life’s victories big and small. The one to be there as she put her life together. She knew she couldn’t put it back together without him. He had bared himself to her, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her get away with silence. It was her turn to share her feelings. “Jamie, I want to be with you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. It terrifies me, but I can’t help it. I’m drawn to you; I can’t explain it”

           Jamie’s hand was still on her face, thumb stroking her cheek, as she spoke, he took her hand in his other hand, entwining their fingers together. Something about this moment told him this love was worth the fight. “Aye, Sassenach, I feel it too. I don’t ken what it is, but I think we’re meant to honor it.” Claire nodded in agreement. They had been drawing in closer to one another as apologies and declarations were made in the dark. Each moment they shared under the bleachers, their faces inched closer together. “Claire, I would very much like to kiss you” he whispered, “May I?”

           “Yes” came her breathless reply.

           Instantly, their mouths were joined. Slowly, tentatively they reacquainted their lips before opening to each other fully. Tongues finding their way back between open lips, teeth finding their way to lower lips. All the pent-up passion of the last month culminated into one enduring kiss.

           Claire finally managed to pull away, realizing where they were. For a moment, they basked in the afterglow of their reunion, meeting again after a painful month of separation, each living a half life. “Jamie,” she panted, slightly out of breath, “take me home.”

           “As ye wish, Sassenach.” he replied, rising to help her to her feet and slipping his arm firmly around her and kissing the side of her head as he led her to the car.

End Notes: This chapter actually has two complete iterations. I orginally wrote it as "Me!" and it worked pretty well, I was actually pretty proud of myself for using such a catchy pop song for such an emotionally weighty chapter. However, as I started to write Chapter 8, I realized "Afterglow" didn't fit after they'd already hashed everything else out. The title really threw me, because we're "meeting in the Afterglow" in the future, but the lyrics hold the emotional weight. I think I'll post the "Me!" chapter as an outtake in case anyone wants to read it, since I am pretty proud of it. Stay tuned for that later.

Thanks again for reading!

[olicitysecretsanta]

I Saw Him Standing There

For @magda1102, I hope that you love this. This is pretty angsty (which in my opinion is awesome, fight me people who don’t like angst). I hope that this helps fill the whole in your heart that Olicity has left in its wake. By @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl

Felicity watched Oliver walk out of the door and collapsed while sobbing onto the floor, it was as if she were dying. She saw the life she and Oliver were supposed to have flash before her eyes and she couldn’t help but sob even harder. They were never going to be able to have more kids, grow old together, or even get to experience those little moments that you do when you share your whole life with someone.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there crying but it was long enough that her eyes ran dry and her eyes were burning. What brought her back to reality was the sounds of her daughter’s cries from her nursery. Felicity drew in a shaky breath as she stood up on legs that felt like Jell-o and slowly made her way into Mia’s room.

  She walked into the room to see a red-faced Mia standing in her crib with big fat tears running down her face and Felicity’s heart broke even more. She hated seeing her daughter in pain, no matter what kind of pain it was. She walked over to the crib and picked the five-month-old up cradling her to her chest. Mia squirmed in her arms and Felicity knew that meant that she wanted Oliver. Felicity let out another sob, though no more tears fell down her face. Mia was always a daddy’s girl from the moment she was born, she would always instantly calm down the moment she was in Oliver’s arms. Mia would never get to feel that again. She would never get to experience that feeling of being completely and utterly safe while being in her daddy’s arms.

  “We are gonna get through this bug, daddy’s coming back. He has to, I have to believe that.” Her brain was telling her that it wasn’t probable, that there was a high chance Felicity would never see Oliver again. However, Felicity had to believe that she would see him again. because if she didn’t believe that she was going to break down and she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t just her that she had to think about, there was someone else that was depending on her now.

  Felicity’s mind instantly went to William, about how less than an hour ago she and Oliver were talking about the option of maybe trying to get custody of him. She could at least try and fight for custody over William. She didn’t care that they weren’t biologically related, she couldn’t imagine being able to get through this without him. Oliver and William were always her guys and always would be, and that meant fighting for each other. Even if Wiliam didn’t want anything to do with her, she wasn’t for one moment going to let him think that she didn’t want him.

  Felicity rocked Mia back and forth. After half an hour of her sobbing, she finally cried herself to sleep but Felicity couldn’t seem to put her down. She stared down at her sleeping daughter wondering how she got so lucky. No matter what mood she was in she could always look down at Mia and somehow feel at peace. Looking down at her daughter’s peaceful and sleeping face she knew that she would do whatever it took in order to make this work. It wasn’t going to be easy but she could do it.

ONE MONTH LATER

  “Come on sweetheart, you aren’t hungry and you don’t need a diaper change. What’s wrong, baby?” She asked, rubbing her hand gently up and down Mia’s back in the hopes that she would calm down but it was no use. Mia wouldn’t stop screaming and Felicity couldn’t figure out why. The only thing that she knew for sure was that she was on her last string of patience. She was also beginning to wonder where this kid got her set of lungs from because she was going on an hour of straight screaming. 

  It was moments like these that the absence of her husband was abundantly clear. She could really use some help and Oliver always knew exactly what to do to help her out. Whether it came to doing the laundry or the dishes or simply just taking over for her so that she could shower he always knew what to do.

  It had only been a month but it had felt like an eternity without him by her side. Mia’s screams died down slightly but it didn’t do much for Felicity’s migraine that was pounding behind her eyes. She couldn’t tell if the tears cascading down her cheeks were because of the pain in her head or that she was missing Oliver. She collapsed onto the couch and started sobbing along with Mia. If this situation were different she might find this comical. The fact that both her and Mia were side by side sobbing their eyes out would have been a funny scene if she didn’t feel so numb. 

  She couldn’t think of anything she’d done in the last month that wasn’t out of necessity. She looks at her computer sitting on her desk in the corner and aches to move her fingers over the keyboard, finding some sort of purpose, but she couldn’t. Every time she sat down to even try and find out where William was she would get flashbacks of being down in the bunker, back when she actually had Oliver in her life. It was something that she wasn’t prepared to actually confront or think about yet, so she just stared at the desk and suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  Felicity set a still crying Mia down in her rocker as her heart rate skyrocketed and sharp shooting pains started to fill her chest. She gripped her shirt and squeezed her eyes shut as her breathing became shallow to the point of her hyperventilating. The only thing that she could focus on was the memories that kept shooting through her mind’s eye as she started to sweat. It felt like she was having a heart attack, like she was dying. But she knew better, she knew what this was. She was having a panic attack and the only difference between now and all of the other times that she has had one was that Oliver wasn’t here to talk her out of it.

  Normally, Oliver would see her starting to panic and would instantly be by her side, trying to comfort her and talk her down from the edge. This time she didn’t have that luxury, all she had was herself and, at the moment, she wasn’t the most reliable. The only thing that seemed to calm her down is thinking about Oliver’s arms wrapping around her and giving her that safe feeling. Like nothing could ever touch her or hurt her, just as long as they were together.

  Felicity focused on her breathing, taking deep breaths so that she could calm down after who knows how long of being in a pure state of panic. It was then that she started sobbing, no longer able to hold it in. She then noticed that Mia had finally calmed down. Felicity looked and saw she was fast asleep in her rocker and she breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that it would stay that way for a while. Then she might actually be able to get some shut-eye. 

  Felicity stood up and started cleaning up the trashed living room when there was a knock on the door. She immediately looked at Mia, hoping that she had not woken up from the noise, but it looked like she was down for the count. Then Felicity realized that she wasn’t expecting anyone and it was very rare that someone would come over to talk to her and suddenly her heart rate sped up again. After so many years of living on the edge, scared of the next threat, it was hard not to be on high alert.

  She walked towards the door, trying to regulate her heart rate and her breathing once again. She didn’t need another panic attack at the moment or she really wouldn’t be able to function for the rest of the day. 

  She threw open the door to find the absolute last person that she would have ever expected to be on the other side of the door simply standing in front of her. She stood there in shock, unable to believe that he found them.

  “What the fuck?” Felicity says, without giving it a second thought. She was too exhausted to have a filter. She stares across the threshold and right into William’s eyes, who has honestly looked a lot better.

  “Well that’s definitely one way to greet your son,” William says, standing outside with a backpack and a duffle bag in hand. It’s another couple of minutes before Felicity can even comprehend what was happening. William was here and standing in front of her. She had been wanting to find him for a month now, but just wasn’t ever able to get herself to do it and now here he was standing in front of her.

  “How did you find us?” She asks, stepping to the side so that he can come inside, completely forgetting about Mia and that William knew nothing about his baby sister.

  William was about to answer her question until he saw the state of the living room with all of the baby toys and then he noticed the sleeping baby in a rocker beside the couch. He stared at the infant, not knowing what to do or say.

  Felicity knew the moment that Willaim saw Mia sleeping in her rocker, he immediately stopped and froze in place. Felicity closed the front door and moved over to the 16-year-old. Felicity knew that this day was going to come eventually, she was just hoping that Oliver would have been here too. He would have been able to offer her support and help her through this moment. The moment where she had to tell their son that they have another child and never told him about it.

  Felicity walked up behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder as she moved around him to get a good look at his face. He looked exhausted, with bags under his eyes and his hair looking like he hadn’t brushed it in days and had merely been running his hands through it. A habit that he had developed from Oliver she had noticed. She could tell that he had been traveling for a decent amount of time just by the state of his clothes. 

  She suddenly realized that his grandparents were probably worried sick and looking for him, wondering where he had gone and run off to, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he left in the first place. What had happened that had made him pack a bag and track her down so that he could come and see her? It also occurred to her that she needed to tell him about Oliver and that he wasn’t here. That there was a chance that none of them will ever see him again.

  Felicity sighed and shook her head, focusing on the present and the fact that she needed to explain her’s and Oliver’s decision not to tell William about Mia. He deserved to know why he was only finding out about his little sister now.

  “Your dad and I wanted to tell you together and in person. We didn’t want to tell you in a voicemail that you more than likely wouldn’t listen to that I was pregnant and that you were going to be a big brother,” Felicity explained, hoping that he would understand that this wasn’t something that you just sprung on someone. That they didn’t do this to hurt him either.

  “I wouldn’t have ever gotten the voicemail even if you did,” William said finally, looking away from Mia and right into Felicity’s eyes. When their eyes met, she could plainly see the hurt and betrayal behind his eyes. She stared back, wondering once again what happened with his grandparents that sent him to her.

  “Will, what happened with your grandparents? It’s obvious that you have run away from home. I’m sure that they are worried sick about where you are,” Felicity asked. Moving around him so that she was standing in front of him, she put on her best mom no-nonsense face. 

  Will just smiled at her and chuckled, he really had missed her and his dad. He even missed her scolding him because it meant that she cared, he knew that his grandparents cared about him but they had both lied to him for 2 years. Making him believe that Oliver and Felicity didn’t want anything to do with him.

  “I was trying to change something on my phone one day, really I was bored and trying to jailbreak it and I found out that my grandparents had blocked both yours and dad’s number. I got angry and confronted them about it. For two years I thought that you and dad wanted nothing to do with me, that you were ashamed of me. Come to find out my grandparents were keeping both of you from me, they blocked your emails too. I’m surprised that I didn’t find out sooner than I did, we both know how smart I am and somehow it took me a year and a half to figure it out.” Will looked at Felicity and saw what he could only assume was a mix of anger and pride in her eyes.

  “They both had the audacity to tell me that it was for my own good, that they were protecting me because both of you aren’t good for me. So I dug into the dark web and satellites trying to find you and dad. It took me six months until I finally found this place. So, I packed my bags the moment I found you and bought a train and bus ticket and then walked five miles to get here.” Will explained everything that had happened over the past six months hoping and praying that Felicity would understand.

  Felicity quietly listened to his explanation and suddenly everything made sense. Her and Oliver had expected him to freeze them out for maybe a month, but not forever. They never gave up, constantly calling and sending him emails, but now it made sense why he never replied. She doesn’t agree with his grandparent’s method but she does understand why they did what they did. Ever since becoming a parent, she would do absolutely anything to make sure that William and Mia were safe and out of harm’s way, even if that means lying to them.

  “Where’s dad? I figured that he would be here when I got here. I was hoping at least. I have missed him and his terrible dad jokes.” William asks looking around as if trying to find him.

  Felicity wasn’t expecting that question, it was so out of left field and she wanted to have as much time as she could with him. She didn’t know how to break to him that his dad was gone, that now both of his biological parents were gone from his life, most likely forever. She knew that she needed to tell him, especially after what his grandparents did lying to him for so long, he deserves to know. But that didn’t mean she wanted to tell him.

  “Before I answer that, Will you need to call your grandparents,” Felicity started. When Will looked at her like she has gone crazy, Felicity put up her hand to stop the teenager from saying anything else.

  “Listen to me, if the situation was reversed and you had run off without telling me I would expect whoever you ran away to go and see to force you to at least call me to tell me that you were alive and safe. So, if you really want to stay here, then that’s what you have to do. Plus I don’t want them thinking I kidnapped you or had anything to do with you showing up here or they might actually try and fight for custody and that’s the last thing we want.” Felicity finished and stared at him, not willing to stand down on this subject.

  Will sighed, knowing that she wasn’t going to give this up. He needed to call his grandparents if he wanted to stay, which is what he wants more than anything. “Even if they fought you guys for custody they would lose. They always grant custody to a biological parent.”

  It took Felicity every ounce of energy not to start crying at the mention of Oliver, knowing that he wasn’t here to have custody awarded to him. She really needed to tell him about Oliver before she lost her nerve.

  “Speaking of your dad, Will there’s something that I have to tell you-” Felicity started to say before Mia woke up and started crying. Felicity sighed, just wanting more than a ten-minute break between crying fits. Felicity walked over to the rocker and picked Mia up, the baby immediately quieted down and laid her head on Felicity’s shoulder. She looked down at her daughter and kissed the top of her head, after a full hour of screaming her head off the snuggle was a welcome reprieve.

  Felicity turned and saw William standing there looking nervous and almost out of place, she smiled at him and couldn’t believe how grown up he was. He was 16 and his own person, it still seemed crazy to her that he was so old. She looked down at Mia and saw that she was staring at her older brother and saw that she had a nervous smile on her face, almost like she knew him.

  “Will I want you to meet someone. This is Mia, your baby sister,” Felicity said, looking from Mia to Will and saw that he was looking at his little sister with an enamored smile on his face. He walked towards them, finally setting down his bags as he did. Felicity looked down at Mia and saw that she was still smiling.

  “Hi Mia, I’m Will, I’m your big brother.” He said, finally coming close enough to touch her. Mia instantly reached out for him, which shocked both Will and Felicity. Will took Mia from Felicity like it was the most natural thing to do even though he looked terrified of the little baby. 

  Mia stared up at her big brother with an awestruck smile on her face and let out a loud laugh. She put both of her hands on either of his cheeks and Felicity nearly lost it. That was something that she would do to Oliver while he was still here. Felicity looked to Will and she suddenly saw the resemblance between him and Oliver. Felicity let a few tears fall down her face, not being able to control it anymore. She couldn’t hold in the anguish that was sitting in her heart, ready to explode like an emotional nuclear bomb. She needed to be strong for Will though, she needed to be the adult in this situation. She needed to be a mom instead of a grieving widow, hoping that one day her husband was going to come back.

  “Felicity? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Will asked, taking a step towards her. She nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from her face with a sad smile on her eyes.

  “Will, I think you should sit down for what I am about to tell you,” Felicity said and watched as the boy slowly lowered himself down onto the couch and Felicity followed suit. She sat there for a few moments trying to find the right words to use to tell him. She stared at Mia and watched as she snuggled into her brother’s chest as if she didn’t just meet him.

  “Your dad he…He made a deal with some cosmic being. I still don’t exactly understand it myself. A month ago this…being showed up and he collected on his end of the bargain and took your dad with him.” Felicity looked at Will and could tell that he was confused and she didn’t blame him because she was still confused herself with everything that has happened. 

  “Will, he isn’t coming back. When your dad left he said that this being, The Monitor is what he called him, he said that he saw your dad’s-” Felicity let out a sob, not being able to finish her thought. Saying it meant that it was real and that this wasn’t some extremely bad nightmare. 

  “He saw your dad’s destiny and that it was for him to die in this crisis. In order for everyone to survive he needed to…” She couldn’t finish without seeing it in her mind’s eye, her dreams for the last month were filled with Oliver dying in every way imaginable.

  William looked at her pale as a ghost, his eyes wide and tears pooling in the corners. Felicity thought it hurt when Oliver told her he was leaving but watching Will try and digest this information hurt her more. Seeing the devastation on his face. The grief and lost chances, seeing your children hurt was the worst kind of pain. Knowing that there wasn’t anything that you could do to help them.

  “I was so awful to him the last time that I saw him, I should have told him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me,” Will said letting the tears stream down his face not even bothering to wipe them away.

  Felicity moved closer to him and put her hands on his cheeks so that he would look her in the eyes, somehow her heart broke all over again looking into his grief stricken and regretful eyes. 

  “Will, listen to me, your dad knew how you felt. He knew that you loved him and he knew that you didn’t mean any of those things that you said to him. He loved you with his whole heart and nothing could have changed that, not any amount of words or actions would have changed his mind. No matter what happens, remember that. All that he ever wanted for you was to be happy, whatever that means for you.” Felicity felt a weight lift off of her chest by telling him this. Even though she could see that he was still in a lot of pain, she knew that they would have each other. The two of them would get through this together, because nothing would keep them apart this time.

THREE MONTHS LATER

  To say that the last three months had been a whirlwind would have been a major understatement. Felicity did make William call his grandparents but didn’t make him do it right away. She let him wait a few days before she stole his phone and dialed his grandparent’s number for him so that he couldn’t somehow back out because he was scared. 

  The next month was spent with Felicity convincing them that it was safe where they were and that William wasn’t going to get into any trouble or be in any sort of danger. The only danger he would be in was the danger of being completely and utterly bored because this small town had absolutely nothing to do for about 30 miles. After three and a half weeks, his grandparents finally broke down and decided that maybe it would be good for him to stay there with her and his baby sister.

  Felicity was more than relieved when they decided to have William stay with her. She hadn’t realized how lonely she was until William came along. Having someone around the house to help was a huge relief but it was also nice to have someone other than a baby to talk to. She had him enrolled in the local high school and was teaching him to drive; which alone was a truly terrifying thing. Their days at the moment were incredibly mundane, but compared to how they were before, neither of them were really complaining.

  Even though a day didn’t pass that she didn’t wish that Oliver was here to witness this, things finally felt normal again. She didn’t wake up every morning depressed and wishing that she could go back to sleep because she didn’t have the energy to exist without Oliver by her side. She had Will there to help out and, more importantly, she had him there to reminisce with. Every night, while she rocked Mia to sleep, they would tell the little girl stories about her daddy. It had become a sort of a ritual for them and was slowly but surely helping them heal.

  It was now January and after three months they are all in a routine and it was working out well for them, Felicity was finally beginning to really smile again. She could look at Mia and see Oliver in her eyes and not want to start sobbing. Instead, she could rejoice because she had the best parts of Oliver in both her kids and that was all that she could have asked for.

  It was the middle of January and northern Washington had just gotten a large amount of snow so William had the day off of school and they were all bundled up and playing outside. Mia learned how to walk just a month ago but she could barely navigate in the snow which was up to her waist. Still, she seemed to be having the time of her life with William. Felicity watched both of them with a smile on her face knowing that life didn’t get much better than this. The only thing missing was Oliver.

  “Mama! Mama!” Mia screeched happily. Hearing her giggle was one of the best sounds in the whole world. She smiled brightly at her daughter and joined both of them in the snow. She picked Mia up and gently threw her up in the air, catching her effortlessly.

  “Hi, baby, you having fun in the snow with Will?” Felicity asked the little girl.

  “Um!” Mia shouted and pointed to William, making everyone laugh including herself. Mia had just started talking and the only words that she knew were, ‘mama’, ‘hi’, and ‘um’ but she let everyone know that she could talk. She was like Felicity in that way, you could rarely get the little girl to be quiet for more than a few seconds.

  Felicity saw something out of the corner of her eye coming out of the woods and turned to see what it was. Felicity assumed that it was going to be one of William’s friends but it was, in fact, the last person she ever expected to see again. Oliver. He was standing there on the edge of the woods, a smile on his face, as he watched the three of them play in the snow.

  Their eyes met and tears instantly came to her eyes as her arms gave out. Luckily William caught Mia before she could freefall into the snow. Felicity just stared at him, not sure whether or not she was dreaming. Was he actually there? Was it even possible? Was she just imagining him because she wanted nothing more than for him to be there with them? She couldn’t trust her own mind at the moment because she wanted this to be true. She wanted him to actually be there standing before them.

  William looked in the direction of where Felicity was staring, wondering what caused her to freeze and drop Mia. He saw him in an instant, his dad. Felicity explained to him what had happened, who took him and why he left. She had said that he wasn’t going to come back, yet here he was standing in front of them.

  “Dad!!” 

  Without a second thought, William set Mia down and ran towards Oliver as fast as he could through the eight inches of snow. He crashed into his dad and the two men threw their arms around each other, clinging to each other like there won’t be another chance.

  Felicity watched the scene in front of her and she knew that she wasn’t crazy, he was actually here and standing in front of them. Seeing William and Oliver embrace caused Felicity’s tears to fall down her face, she was so happy that they were getting this moment to see each other again after everything that happened. William talked about the regret and the guilt that he felt surrounding the last time that he saw Oliver often and she was so happy that he was going to get the chance to reconcile with him.

  Felicity was brought back to the present when she heard Mia cooing as she played in the snow. She bent down and picked up the baby and smiled as she looked down at her. She wasn’t going to have to grow up only knowing Oliver from the stories that her and William had been telling her. She was going to get the chance to know her dad. That was all she wanted at this point for her daughter, for her to know how much her dad loved her.

  She wasn’t even sure how long Oliver and William spent hugging each other until they finally pulled apart and Oliver finally looked back at Felicity. He had tears in his eyes as his gaze moved to the baby in her arms. This time she couldn’t resist it, she ran to him, nearly tripping more than once because of the snow and her not caring about anything else other than getting to him.

  She crashes into him harder than William did and it nearly sent both of them tumbling to the ground with the force of it. They were both aware of Mia who was cuddled into Felicity’s shoulder, not knowing the intensity of the moment she was in the middle of. Felicity let out a sob as she clutched the back of his shirt, thinking that she might rip it. They were both crying in each other’s arms, not being able to believe that this moment was actually happening.

  “Please tell me that this is real and that I’m not dreaming. I wouldn’t be able to take it if this wasn’t real.” Felicity begged, she wouldn’t be able to handle this if she woke up and this was all a dream and she was still all alone.

  “This is real, honey, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” Oliver replied, letting one of his hands travel up the back of her jacket. The warmth of his hand proved to her that he was actually real. He knew that she needed to hear him say it and he would do absolutely anything to prove to her that he was telling the truth. Oliver had no intention of leaving his family anytime soon after everything that had happened and the universe nearly ending. He needed to just be in his wife’s arms. It was the one place that he felt truly safe from everything, he pulled back just enough to kiss her like his life depended on it and she melted into the kiss all the same. 

  Neither one of them was sure how long they stayed like that but they finally pulled apart and his eyes instantly found baby Mia. He let out a little sob seeing her so small after fighting side by side a grown-up version of her. He never thought that he was going to see her little face again and here she was. Getting to look into his daughter’s eyes again after nearly seeing the life drain from them less than a week ago, was the best feeling in the world. Even now he could see her fierceness and courage behind those gorgeous blue eyes that didn’t have any sort of pain in them like they did before.

  “Hi there, Mia, I have missed you so much,” Oliver said to her lightly touching her cheek. Mia stared back at him, everyone was watching to see what Mia’s reaction was going to be. After a few moments of just staring at him with a blank look on her face, it was like she recognized who he was. She smiled a three-tooth smile and giggled as she threw herself into Oliver’s arms.

  The three adults laughed as Oliver took her in his arms and hugged her to his chest, Mia snuggled into her daddy’s chest like everything was finally right in the world. Oliver would never stop thanking the world, or the monitor, or God, or whoever the hell gave him this chance back. When he left a few months ago he was certain that he was never going to see his family again and now here he was with everyone that he loved the most.

  The four of them stood there finally as a family and it felt like nothing could ever ruin this moment. Oliver and Felicity were finally getting a real chance at retiring from vigilante life and raising their family together, nothing was in their way this time. No Monitors or crisis’ to tell them that they had to make yet another sacrifice, finally, they could be together as a family and nothing would ever beat this feeling that all four of them were feeling; content.

  They all knew that no matter what life threw at them they would be able to get through it as long as they were all together.

[thecassadilla]

Change of Pace - Chapter 4

Pairing: Kristanna

Chapter 4 on AO3

Read from Chapter 1 on AO3

Word Count: 4,779

Summary: With her sister’s blessing, Anna takes a step back from her royal duties and finds herself working for a ski resort nestled in the mountains. A chance encounter with the resort’s maintenance technician leads them down an unexpected path, as they must work together to plan the resort’s annual ball - and maybe fall in love in the process.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been reading it so far!!! It really means so, so much to me. Hanukkah is this week, so Happy Hanukkah to those of you that celebrate!!!  And once again I apologize for all of the asterisks - tumblr removes posts with “bad language” from the tags. Uncensored version is on AO3! I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

There was a part of him that felt like a complete a*shole for taking the brunt of his anger out on Anna, watching as she curled into herself and attempted to placate him before he stomped away. The other part of him was too busy seeing red to care - the situation may not have been directly her fault, but it was one that could’ve been avoided altogether. He knew that helping her was a bad idea from the start, but he foolishly did it anyway. Even Andrew was shocked when he initially asked if he could leave for a bit.

“Hey man,” he said. “Do you mind if I step away for a few minutes?”

“What’s going on?” Andrew asked.

“I have to take someone somewhere.”

The other man furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m confused.”

Kristoff sighed. “I have to take the lady from the event office to the abandoned building right off the C Ski Lift. So she could scope it out for her party.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Is that relevant?”

“Go for it, man,” Andrew said, a knowing look plastered across his face.

Frankly, it was a bit humiliating; Andrew wasn’t the type to tease or make a fuss out of things like that. But in hindsight, Kristoff, himself, wasn’t the type to jump in and save the day for a stranger while he was on the clock.

And it had gone really well - at first. Sure, she’d said a few things that had indirectly insulted him and he’d been a little sharp with her, but it was abundantly clear that she meant no harm. Other than that, she was immensely grateful for his help - going as far as calling him a hero and rewarding him with a hug. Truth be told, he was looking forward to getting away from her as quickly as possible. Despite the fact that she was pretty and sweet, she was also the absolute last thing he needed in his life. His life was already pathetic and sad, and there was absolutely no reason to even attempt to get to know her when she’d inevitably leave just like everyone else did.

And then she enthusiastically told Bonnie that he had a hand in finding the new venue and his life changed in the blink of an eye. Not only would he have to step away from the job that he so desperately needed to be present for, but he’d also have to spend forty hours a week with her for months. And he was certain that it wasn’t the type of job where they could just sit around and mind their own business - he’d done a repair in the event office a few years prior and it was nothing but constant chatting the entire time he was there.

By the time he marched back into the ballroom that afternoon, a couple of his other coworkers had made it in and Andrew was giving them a rundown of what had happened and what the game plan was. Upon noticing that he returned, though, Andrew decided to stop what he was doing and inquire about his excursion.

“Hey, how did it go with your event planning girl?”

And at that point, despite the blazing inferno of anger inside of him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Horrible. Absolutely horrible.”

Andrew chuckled nervously. “What happened? She turned you down?”

“Nope, I wasn’t even planning on asking her out,” he answered. “But I don’t work here anymore. Starting Monday, I report to the event planning office as her assistant.”

Andrew’s face fell. “Wait, what?”

“She told Bonnie that I helped her find the place and Bonnie decided to reward me for my good deed by shipping me upstairs.”

“Dude, we need you here. Do you see the state of this room?”

Kristoff shrugged. “I tried to tell that to Bonnie, but she didn’t care.”

“I’m going to talk to her,” Andrew insisted. “There’s not a chance in hell that we’re losing you so you could go sit in an office and plan a party.”

“Please,” he practically begged. “I really don’t want to be pulled away from this.”

Andrew nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

But just as he expected, Andrew wasn’t able to get very far with Bonnie. She emphasized that he was needed in the event planning office, and that if the maintenance team needed extra hands, they could hire temporary employees - which was a*s backwards, if you asked him. It was totally illogical to hire several temps, when she only had to hire one assistant event planner, but he chalked it up to the fact that Andrew would be responsible for hiring the temps, not her.

So, he made a decision. He’d go in and begrudgingly do whatever they asked him to in the meantime - but he wasn’t going to make any promises. If another job popped up elsewhere and he was offered the position, he was going to take it without a second thought. Event planning office and Valley Ski Resort, be damned.

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On Monday morning, Anna woke up before her alarm and laid in bed for what felt like an eternity, staring at the ceiling and trying to calm her racing heart. When her alarm finally went off, she crawled out of bed and started her day, meticulously applying her makeup and choosing nice clothes in an effort to create a better second impression. For the first time in two months, she was absolutely dreading going to work - a feeling that she hoped would pass with time, since she actually liked her job.

“Good morning,” she called upon entering the office, relieved to see that only Holly was there and Kristoff had not yet arrived.

“Morning, Anna,” Holly responded.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. How about you?”

“Could be better.”

“I’m sorry,” Holly frowned. “Is it because of the new guy?”

“Yeah.” Anna closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. “I’m not looking forward to today. I actually feel a little sick to my stomach.”

“You do look a little green. I have an antacid if you want it.”

She shook her head. “No, it won’t do anything. I’m just anxious because I feel like I ruined someone’s life.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Anna. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Not only am I blaming myself, he’s blaming me too. He said as much.”

“He should be blaming Bonnie.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I feel really bad, though.”

“I know. But you have to remember that you were trying to do the right thing. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Holly assured her.

“Thanks, Holly.”

“And I may have some good news for you.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

“So, I know you said that you weren’t interested, but my husband and I went to dinner with a few of his work friends over the weekend and there’s this one guy who is, like, super single. I started talking about you, of course, and I showed him a picture of you, and he’s very interested in going on a date with you - if you want to, of course.”

“Really?”

Holly nodded. “Oh, yes. His name is Darren. He thinks you’re beautiful and I was telling him how you’re sweet and friendly, but kind of down on your luck right now for reasons I didn’t want to discuss, ahem.”

She smiled. “And?”

“He asked for your number. I didn’t give it to him because I wanted to check in and make sure that you were okay with it first - you know, because you specifically said that you didn’t want to be set up on a blind date - but I can send it to him right now if you want me to.”

“Sure,” Anna agreed with a nervous giggle. “You can give him my number.”

“Yes!” Holly cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “I was beyond convinced that you were going to say ‘no.’”

She shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything to lose.”

“That’s the spirit! You deserve to have a little fun! Don’t let a new job and a rude maintenance man get you down.”

As if on cue, the door to the office opened and both women turned toward it as Kristoff walked in.

“Hi,” Holly said before clearing her throat and standing up. “Kristoff, right?”

“Yup,” he answered shortly.

“I’m Holly Williams. I never had the chance to properly introduce myself last week.” She offered him her hand and he accepted, shaking for a moment. “And I’m sure you remember Anna.”

Anna gulped before squeaking out a simple greeting. “Hi.”

He didn’t bother to answer or even look in her direction.

“You can hang your coat up on the rack over there and then I’ll show you to your desk,” Holly said. They both watched as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it up before Holly led him to the desk at the back of the room that once belonged to Jenny. She pointed to a post-it note that was stuck to the border of the computer screen. “This is the login information for the computer, and I’m going to have an email account set up for you by the end of the day.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure you have some questions about what exactly your role is going to be.”

Anna glanced over, trying to gauge his mood and how he was reacting to all of this. Instead of answering Holly, he kept his eyes cast downward.

“So,” Holly started, once she’d come to the realization that he wasn’t going to answer. “You’ll be the assistant event planner. Um, basically you’ll be helping Anna host the rest of the events for the season, since the events have mostly been planned in advance. The primary event you’ll have to focus on is our annual ball -”

“I know about the party,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“Of course.” Holly clapped her hands together. “I heard that you were an integral part of finding our new venue.”

“Yup.”

“So, Anna is actually working on finalizing the guest list today, and the invitations have to be mailed out later this week. We’re expecting to have around five hundred invitations to send out, and you’ll be responsible for helping her with assembling the envelopes for mailing.”

“Okay.”

“Aside from that, you and Anna are going to have to work together on the rest of the planning. She’ll be able to explain what that entails. Oh, and I ordered new tables and chairs since all of the furniture in the ballroom was destroyed. The first few are going to be delivered this week, so you’ll have to make sure that they arrive at the new venue.”

“Okay.”

“Let me get you one of our event calendars,” Holly said, walking away from his desk and back to hers. “So you have an idea of what’s happening over the course of the next few months.”

Anna’s eyes trailed her silently as she made her way across the room and back. Holly handed him the paper and his eyes scanned the page.

“Do I have to be at all of these events?” Kristoff asked incredulously.

“Typically, yes,” Holly answered. “Unless you have some kind of prior obligation.”

He scoffed, tossing the paper onto the desk and shaking his head in disbelief. The two women exchanged a worried glance.

Holly cleared her throat. “I know this is probably going to be a bit of an adjustment for you, but it’ll only be for the next couple of months. So until April -”

“April?! I’ll be here until April?!”

“According to the email that Bonnie sent me, yes.”

“I thought I was supposed to stick around for the party and then go back to my regular job.”

“Well, Anna will be leaving in April so that’ll give Bonnie a considerable amount of time to fill both positions.”

“And hypothetically, if Bonnie isn’t able to fill those positions - what will happen to me? Will I just be stuck here?”

“I don’t know,” Holly answered with a sigh. “You’ll have to talk to Bonnie about that. But I understand that this has to be an incredibly difficult situation for you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You could say that again.”

“How about you tell us a little bit about yourself? And then Anna and I will talk about ourselves.”

“I live here, I work here - there isn’t really much to it.”

Holly smiled. “Oh, did you grow up here?”

“Yup.”

“I did too! Did you go to Valley High School?”

“That’s the only high school here,” he muttered.

“When did you graduate? I graduated in oh-eight.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ooh, my husband started working there the year before. But he teaches freshmen, so you wouldn’t have had him.”

He smiled dryly. “Nice.”

“Anna, when did you graduate?” Holly asked, clearly trying to bring her into the conversation.

“Seventeen.”

“You’re the only one who was lucky enough to escape the woes of Valley High School.”

“That’s true,” she nodded. “I was homeschooled.”

“Lucky you,” he scoffed. “Valley sucks.”

Holly clicked her tongue. “It isn’t that bad.”

He rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

“It’s a small town high school, everyone knows everyone and there’s a lot of gossip,” Holly explained to Anna. “The stuff you go through there kind of follows you through life.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she remarked.

“One of my friends got pregnant junior year - her family literally had to move away because the whole town knew within a week and they wouldn't stop talking about them.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “So why do people stay?”

“Small town charm, friendly neighbors, more relaxed than a big city.”

“Or because they don’t have a choice,” Kristoff chimed in.

“That too,” Holly agreed. “Before the resort expanded, tourists only visited during the skiing season. This town relies on the revenue that tourists bring in order to stay afloat. I think there was a collective sigh of relief when we became a year-round tourist trap.”

Anna nodded sympathetically. “That’s good, at least -”

Holly’s phone rang then, interrupting the conversation. “Excuse me,” she said, strolling over to her desk.

Kristoff sighed. “So what am I supposed to be doing right now?”

“If you want, you can start stuffing the invitations into the envelopes,” Anna offered. “And once I finish the guest list, we can start sticking the addresses on.”

“Fine,” he agreed.

She took the box of invitations out from her desk drawer, walked them over to him and set the box on his desk. “Don’t worry about sealing them. We’ll do that another day.”

By the time she made it back to her desk, he was already looking at the invitations. “You realize that the wrong location is printed on these, right?”

“What?”

“The location is wrong,” he said, holding one up. “It says that the party is in the ballroom, not the new venue.”

“Oh god, I forgot about that,” she blurted, jumping up and grabbing the invitation from his hands. “No, no, no...”

“Now what?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed, biting her lip and glancing over at Holly, who was still on the phone. “It took a few weeks for these to get shipped to us, and I don’t know if we have enough time to order new ones and ship them out with enough time for the guests to respond. I don’t know what to do.”

“Great,” he huffed. “You really run a well-oiled machine around here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you just said you don’t know what you’re doing, didn’t you?”

“You seem to forget that a pipe burst and destroyed the ballroom on your watch on Friday,” she pointed out defensively. “It’s Monday.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you blaming me for a burst pipe?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Only if you’re blaming me for invitations that were printed before the pipe burst.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that if you’d have caught this three days ago, maybe you could’ve ordered new invitations.”

“You do realize that a lot of businesses are closed on weekends? That it probably wouldn’t have made a significant difference? Besides, we may not have the time to order new invitations and we may have to send these as-is. That’s my point.”

“The point is that you still don’t know what you’re doing.”

“And what would’ve happened if the pipe burst the day before the party? Hmm?”

“Why are you acting like I should know the answer to this?” he argued. “This is not my department. I’m only here because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

She felt her jaw tense. “You know that’s not my fault.”

“Woah, what is happening?” Holly interjected loudly.

“The invitations have the wrong location on them and it’s my fault for not immediately catching it and ordering new ones after the pipe burst on Friday,” Anna explained, her blood practically boiling. “Oh, and I don’t know what I’m doing because I’m too busy running my mouth. Not because of the wrench in our plans, but because I talk too much.”

“I didn’t say that,” he hissed.

“Yes you did! When you blamed me, yet again, for something that Bonnie did. I didn’t ask for you to come work with us.”

“You’re the one that told her that I found the venue!”

“You did find it and I was trying to be nice,” she growled. “Something that you seem to be incapable of.”

“Don’t forget that you just blamed me for a burst pipe. What should I have done? Put some duct tape over it?”

“You know, this could’ve gone so differently if you had kept your mouth closed on Friday. You’re the one who told me about the new venue, remember?”

“Okay, enough,” Holly stated firmly. “Kristoff - it is not Anna’s fault that you got transferred here, and the situation with the invitations is not her fault, either. Anna - it’s not Kristoff’s fault that the pipe burst and we’re happy that he found a new venue for us. I already have one baby at home and I’m not interested in coming to work and taking care of two more. This is an office, not a boxing ring or a debate stage.”

The silence that came after Holly spoke was deafening; the only noise in the entire room was the sound of their collective breathing and the heaters running.

When things had cooled off slightly, Holly piped up again. “Now here’s what’s going to happen - we’re going to send out the invitations as-is, but we’re going to stuff the envelopes with information about the location change. On the day of, we’ll put signs out all over the lobby and we’ll have someone wait by the ballroom to direct people to the new venue - I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

“That’s a good idea,” Anna agreed, exhaling with relief.

“The deadline to RSVP is by mid-January, and the invitations take three weeks to order so we can’t order new ones. We wouldn’t be giving the guests enough time to get back to us.”

“Told you,” Anna gloated, smiling smugly in Kristoff’s direction.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, but didn’t argue back. After a moment of sulking, he sat up and started on the task in front of him.

The rest of the day passed without incident and with minimal noise. Anna and Holly repeatedly exchanged glances with each other and tried to avoid talking like they would’ve on a normal day, though there were a few slips - specifically when Darren texted her to introduce himself.

“Look who texted me,” Anna said, pushing her chair over to Holly’s desk with her feet and holding out her phone.

Holly squinted at the device before squealing. “That’s so exciting! You’d better say ‘yes’ when he asks you out.”

“I’m going to,” she giggled. “Obviously.”

“This is really so great,” Holly smiled. “I’m so happy for you.”

On her way back to her desk, she noticed that Kristoff was looking in her direction through the corners of his eyes but she did her best to pretend like she didn’t see it and went about the rest of her day.

“It’s five,” Kristoff spoke up finally, after literal hours of silence. “Can I go now?”

“Of course,” Holly nodded. “Let me walk you to the elevator.”

He looked less than thrilled at the idea, but nevertheless, grabbed his coat and held the door open for Holly to follow behind him without uttering a goodbye. Anna eagerly awaited Holly’s return, knowing that she’d finally be able to talk freely now that he was gone.

She barely waited for Holly to close the door behind her before asking, “Did you say something to him?”

“I told him that he needs to stop being a d*ck or he’ll be out of a job,” Holly answered matter-of-factly. “We don’t have time for arguments.”

She cringed. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“To be clear, I’m not blaming you for what happened earlier. I told him that we understand that he’s angry, but he’s stuck with us whether he likes it or not. Picking fights with you isn’t going to solve any of that.”

“I don’t want to fight with him,” she confessed. “I don’t want to fight with anyone.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can work with someone who hates me. It was so easy to get along with you and Jenny.”

“Oh, honey, I really don’t think he hates you.”

“Did you forget the part where he ignored me, then got into an argument with me, then didn’t speak for the rest of the day?”

“I think he’s angry and conflicted, but I don’t think he hates you. If he hated you, he wouldn’t have shown up today.”

“He doesn’t have a choice about not showing up - he needs a job.”

“My point is that I don’t think you’re the problem here. Just a few days ago he was willing to help you for no reason. If his first impression of you was that bad, he wouldn’t have done that.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “He didn’t know me then and I practically had to beg him to help me.”

“He still doesn’t know you, technically,” Holly pointed out. “You’ve only spent eight hours together and most of it was in silence.”

“Yeah, but he knows that I ruined his life and that’s a great reason to hate someone.”

“He’ll come around. You’re a very likeable person.”

“I doubt it,” Anna mumbled.

“Keep your chin up,” Holly said. “Everything is going to be fine. We have a new venue, the problem with the invitations was caught with time to spare, and you’re going on a date with Darren. By the end of this week, you may be the happiest girl on the planet.”

She exhaled. “You’re right. Everything is going to be fine.”

“See? You just have to stay positive. Now let’s wrap things up, it’s been a long day,” Holly directed, scribbling down some information on a post-it note. “Oh, and don’t forget that tomorrow’s Tuesday. It’s just going to be you and Kristoff all day.”

And just like that, the tiny bit of hope that had started to brew inside of her popped like a bubble pressed up against a thorn.

Of course, the following morning started off less than smoothly. Her alarm didn’t go off, so she woke up late and got a late start to the day, which meant she’d have to forego looking halfway decent in order to make it in on time - no makeup and a messy bun, it was. She ran around her cabin, gathering her belongings and trying to make sure that she’d have everything she would need for the day before jetting off, hoping that it wasn’t some sort of bad omen.

By the time she actually made it to work, Kristoff was leaning up against the wall outside of the office, his arms crossed over his chest and a pinched expression on his face.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said breathlessly, as she fumbled through her purse for the keys to the office. “I’m usually early.”

“It’s okay.”

He didn’t really seem to care, but she continued to explain herself nonetheless. “Holly doesn’t work on Tuesdays or Thursdays, and this is my first time here without her or Jenny. I’ve never had to use my keys before.”

“Oh.”

She finally managed to find the keys in her mess of a bag, promptly unlocked the door and pushed it open before stepping aside and holding out her arm. “After you.”

“Thanks,” he said skeptically, walking into the dark office.

Anna flipped the lights on before closing the door behind her. “Holly left a note on your desk with your email and temporary password. You can log on and change the password and we’ll cc you in our emails.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to run downstairs and grab a cup of coffee,” she said, deciding to be nice at the last possible second. “Do you want anything?”

Her offer actually invoked a reaction from him for the first time that day - he definitely seemed a bit startled by it. “Um...no thanks.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

She made a mad dash for the coffee shop on the first floor, grateful that there was no line. The last thing she needed was to look like she was intentionally trying to avoid him or slacking or doing some other negative thing that he could run to Bonnie with in an attempt to get her into trouble. As soon as the cup was in her hands, she returned to the office, where Kristoff seemed to be patiently waiting for further instruction.

She cleared her throat and set the cup down on her desk. “So, you finished stuffing all of the envelopes yesterday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Holly had the location cards printed out overnight,” she said, grabbing the large stack of papers from the printer. “You’ll just have to cut them into the appropriate size and then stuff them into the envelopes.”

“I have to cut all of these by hand?” he whined, his face falling.

“We have a g*illotine,” she assured him, trying to remain calm. “It’ll make the process a lot easier.”

“You have a what?”

His reaction made her giggle. “Oh, sorry. Holly and I call it a g*illotine. I don’t know what the actual name of it is, but it’s basically an industrial paper cutter. I’ll get it for you.”

The g*illotine was stored in the closet, so she walked over and retrieved the heavy tool, staying weary of the bl*de. She placed it on his desk with a thud.

“Now I see why you call it a g*illotine.”

“Right?! Okay, so you may have to stand up to do this - I know I do,” she said, picking up a few of the papers. When he stood up, she demonstrated. “So basically, you slide the paper under the little guard and then you line it up with the grid to make sure it’s straight. Then, you just pull the bl*de down and voila, you have a bunch of cut up papers with minimal effort.”

“Seems easy enough.”

“Just make sure that you hold the paper against the grid while you’re cutting or they’ll come out crooked. And be careful - we can always print out more of the location cards, but we can’t replace your fingers so easily.”

He let out an amused snort. “Okay.”

She smiled to herself as she sat down at her desk, grateful that it seemed to be going much better than the previous day; they were getting along for the time being and there was no hostility or tension. They both worked quietly, and though Anna missed the constant chatting like when Holly was around, she had no idea what she could possibly talk to Kristoff about. So, the sound of the bl*de scraping against the side of the g*illotine and her typing were the primary sounds that filled the otherwise silent space.

The day went by at a snail pace, but when five o’clock finally came and they’d managed to survive the day without an argument, she admittedly felt quite triumphant. She looked forward to updating Holly about how the day had gone, especially since Holly had insisted that she stay positive.

“Have a nice day,” she said, as he was pulling on his coat. “See you tomorrow.”

“You too,” he replied, offering her a half-smile.

I can do this, she thought to herself as she watched him leave. If it stays like this for the next five months, I can do this.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Barcelona is for Lovers - Chapter 5

Chapter 5!  Many thanks to @stupidsatsuma for beta’ing.  @doctorroseprompts​

Chapter 6 will be available on April 21st; chapters are posted every other Sunday

General warnings for: hanky panky.  Take the ‘lovers’ part of the title seriously.  

Masterlist

Summary

Three months after Rose and the Doctor are reunited and promptly ditched on a beach in Norway, they are still trying to find their feet.  Rose plans a trip to Barcelona for them to relax, reconnect, and hopefully consummate their relationship.

Rose woke the next morning to tea on the nightstand, blinking blearily at the mug.  “Wha’?”

“Good morning!”  She wasn’t sure how it was possible for him to be twice as Tigger-like as the day before, but he launched himself onto the bed next to her making the whole mattress shake.  “How are you, my love?”

“Still riding the endorphins, huh?” she teased, rolling over to kiss him.  They’d called it an early night, the day of sightseeing followed by a spectacular, much-needed orgasm each having drained their energy.

“It’s a beautiful day, let’s go to the beach,” the Doctor declared, boldly slipping his hand under the hem of her negligee to settle firmly on her bumcheek.  “Sand, sun.  Whatever.” He squeezed, making her yelp out a laugh.

“Bit cheeky there, aren’t you?”

“Dunno, seems to me like you’re all cheek.”  His other arm wriggled its way between her and the mattress to cup the other side of her bum and pull her towards him.

Rose moaned, kissing him deeply as his hands wandered over the curves.  “Maybe you should spank me.”

She froze when he did, pulling back slightly and opening his eyes.  “Is that… something you like?”

Eyes widening slightly, she studied his deer in the headlights expression.  “Not historically,” she considered, “but then again, they didn’t ask, just did it.  Maybe it’s something we could explore?  At some point?”

“Anything you want.”  He was still frowning, and she sighed, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“Stop thinking about the past,” she whispered.

The Doctor’s face smoothed out.  “I’m thinking about what sort of bathing suit you’re going to wear today.”

“Got a request?”

He hesitated, and Rose perked up in interest.  She could see something percolating in the back of his mind, and hoped he felt comfortable enough to share it.  “Actually…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe scarlet?  And/or orange?”

“Okay.”  Surprised, she tried not to show it.  “Can I ask why?”

The Doctor licked his lips.  “Does it matter?”

“No.”  Rose rested one hand on his chest, over his heart.  “You don’t have to tell me.  But if you ever want to…”

He nodded, darting forward to kiss her.  “Another time.  For now, though, tea, breakfast, then beach!”  Gently pulling his arm free he jumped from the bed, peering out the window.  “Not a cloud in the sky!  Shake a leg!”

Rose climbed out of bed, taking a sip of her tea and stretching before accusing, “You just want to see me in a bikini.”

“Less, ideally.”  He grinned, unrepentant.  “Allons-y!”

It took them an hour to get ready but once they were down on the shore, she had to admit it was the perfect day.

“Water?”  Having already removed his shoes and shirt the Doctor was bouncing on his toes, raring to go.

Rose smiled, rolling her eyes at the oversized five-year-old.  “Yeah, all right.”  Kicking off her own sandals, she pulled off her cover-up before hesitating.  A glance around showed no one in sight, and biting her lip, she deliberately untied her top and put it in her bag with her other things.  “Okay.”  He glanced at her, doing a double take, and she shrugged innocently.  “What? I don’t want tan lines.”

“Come on.”  He offered her his hand, and they ran into the water together shrieking.

They played together for more than an hour, swimming and splashing before the Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him.  “There’s snorkeling gear in the bag – d’you want to have a go?”

“I’ve never snorkeled before,” she pointed out.  “But if you’re willing to teach me, I’ll try.”

“See, that’s why we’re such a good team,” he beamed down at her.  “When one’s unfamiliar with something, the other takes the time to teach them so we can enjoy it together.”  His meaning was abundantly clear even before he tweaked her nipple.

“You saying you want me to teach you about sex?” Rose shot back, unsurprised when he nodded.  “Well, let’s see how snorkeling goes, yeah?”  He scrambled out of the water, grabbing the supplies before hightailing it back to her as she laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He scanned her figure, eyes lingering as expected on her chest.  For someone who claimed to be unpredictable, his tastes certainly weren’t.  “Something like that.”

She shook her head, holding a hand out.  “Let’s get started.”

It wasn’t easy, breathing underwater through a tube wasn’t quite instinctive, though she did feel better when the Doctor struggled as well.

“Sorry,” he said, as they headed up the beach to their things, “I didn’t know it was so hard.  In all honesty, I’ve never done it before.”

“Why would you, with a respiratory bypass?” she let him off the hook, smiling reassuringly.  “It’s all right.  I’m glad we tried it, but let’s stick to just the masks.”

The Doctor stopped walking, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him so he could kiss her.  “I love you,” he muttered against her mouth. “So much.”

“I love you too.”  She kissed him back, rising onto the balls of her feet to wrap her arms around him.  Soft sand between her toes, warm sun on her skin, and they were pressed tightly against each other with nary a stitch between them from the waist up.  “Want to go snog on the beach?”

“Um, yes!”

They made dinner together, steaks on the grill and a nice tossed salad.  Rose carried the wine out to the table, pouring two glassfuls as the Doctor served the food.

She took one bite of the steak and moaned.  “Bloody ‘ell, Doctor, this is absolutely brill- what’s wrong?”

He had stopped dead, staring off unseeingly behind her.  His fork halfway to his mouth, he barely appeared to be breathing.  A quick glance over her shoulder showed nothing out of the ordinary, and biting her lip, she gently reached for him.

“Doctor?”

He came alive all at once, shaking his head and taking his bite.  “Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”  Rose was careful to keep her voice light, open and inquisitive without being interrogating.  Since arriving in this universe he’d been pretty good about sharing things, but not everything.  He was like a puppy or toddler - if you gave chase he’d head for the hills, but give him a little space and he’d come to her sooner or later.  Usually sooner.

“I was just… the little garden back there… what was the name of the station?”

“What station?”

“The train- where we got the car.”

“Oh!  Perpignan.”

“Perpignan,” he repeated.  “Okay.”  And he stuck a large forkful of lettuce in his mouth, making a show of chewing.

Rose waited until he was done.  “D’you want to talk about it?”

The Doctor stared down at his salad as he stabbed at it.  She kept eating, trying to keep the pressure off.  If she pushed too hard he tended to shut down, but if she let it be, more often than not he’d share.

They were halfway through the meal when he spoke quietly.  “The garden reminded me… I used to travel with a girl named Peri.  She was a botany student from the States.”

“Ah.  Were you- was she with you long?”

He snorted.  “Too long, I’m sure she’d say.  She met me right before a regeneration, and while the first was fine the second… it didn’t start well.  That body was… a bit on the abrasive side.  She didn’t like that me very much.”

“What happened?  To her, I mean.”

The Doctor shrugged, leaning back with a sigh.  “She died, but she didn’t. I think there’s still multiple versions of her running around.  Just thinking about it gives me a headache.  Various versions of her traveled with me.  But they also didn’t. Some married this warrior king we met on our last proper adventure in various ways.  The Time Lords… politics is politics, and she was used as a pawn by a number of factions.  It’s complicated, suffice to say.”

“Oh.”  Rose searched for a suitable reply but came up empty.  “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”  He started eating again, as she wrinkled her nose.

“Wait, sorry, what does that have to do with the train station?”

The Doctor began laughing, leaning back as he guffawed, making her raise an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic action.

“Doctor?”

“Her name,” he snorted, shaking his head and taking a sip from his wine.

“Peri?”

“Short for Perpugilliam.”

“You’re kidding me.”  Rose’s draw dropped.  “Seriously? That was her name?”

“She was born in the 60s.”  He shrugged, grinning at her flabbergasted expression.  “She pretty much always went by Peri, but, yeah – Perpugilliam.”

“Poor girl,” Rose muttered, staring out at the horizon as she considered it.  She hadn’t always been fond of her own name – especially not when they were studying Romeo and Juliet in school – but now, she was thankful her parents had gone for something simple.  And easy to spell.

“If you think that’s bad…” the Doctor teased, drawing her attention.

“Yeah?  Come on, out with it!  It is your name?  Bet it’s even worse,” she shot back, straightening with anticipation.

He just smirked, shaking his head.  “My name’s the Doctor, Rose, I thought we’d long since covered this.  No, I was thinking of another Time Lord- well, Time Lady, in this case.”

“Yeah?”

The Doctor hesitated, watching as she bounced with anticipation.  “My friend Romana?”

“From Paris?” Rose remembered vaguely from their conversation on the train.

“Yep.  Romanadvoratrelundar.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Danke schön.”

“You’re killing me here,” Rose giggled.  “Can you say it again?”

“Which one? Perpugilliam?  Or Romanadvoratrelundar?”

“Wow.”  She just shook her head, draining her glass before popping the last bite of steak into her mouth.  “Just… wow.”

“See?  Nothing wrong with nicknames,” he smirked, pouring her more wine.  “Look at your own mum – who ever calls her ‘Jacqueline’?”

“Fair point.”  Rose settled back in her seat as he dove into his likely now-cold meal with relish, cradling her wine glass to her chest.  “So, have a number of your friends run off with alien men, then?”

He tilted his head in consideration, chewing thoughtfully.  “A handful.  Well, not all were alien men, but still.  Erm- one, Jo, she was my assistant when I was at UNIT, the one before Sarah.  She met a professor who wanted to go off and protest… something, and save the world, and she wanted to go with him.  Within a few days, they were engaged.”

“Now, that’s a fast relationship,” Rose commented with a grin.  “What happened to them?”

“Oh, a lifetime of environmental and political activism.  Seven children, twelve grandchildren at last count.  I popped by once in a while to check on her, but I never- she never saw me.”

She hummed in reply.  “Anyone else?”

“My granddaughter.”

She froze, barely breathing as she took in his statement.  He’d mentioned, casually, not long before they’d been separated that he’d been a father, not that she’d been able to get him to expand on that.  But a grandfather?  “Oh?”

The Doctor pushed back abruptly from the table, coming around to offer her his hand.  She took it automatically, and he led her over to the couch where they curled up together.  Rose allowed it, but didn’t miss that he’d positioned them so she couldn’t see his face.

“Yes.  We were on Earth, 22nd century, and… she met a boy.”

“And she left?”  His arms tightened around her, and she had a feeling of foreboding.  “Doctor?”

“I left her,” he whispered into her hair, and her heart stopped.  “I knew she’d never leave me, so I left her.  Locked her out and took off, as she pounded on the door.”

Now, I've just got to go and power up the Game Station. Hold on!  One of her last clear memories on the GameStation came to mind, how he’d tricked her.  Sure, she’d been stuck inside the ship, but she’d pounded on the door, begged him not to.  Because of Bad Wolf blocking most of those memories that was her last clear image of that Doctor before he regenerated, his quick smile and gung ho attitude, filling her with confidence and hope.  False hope.

She didn’t know if it made her feel better or worse to know he’d treated his own flesh and blood, his granddaughter, just the same.  It also explained quite a bit – like why he was always so certain she’d meet someone and run off, leaving him behind.  Or why he never fought harder for her to stay.  Why he pushed her away.

“Do you know-”

“They got married.”  He shrugged, the movement shifting her against his chest.  “I know they raised children, though I don’t know if they were biological – she probably wouldn’t have been capable of that.  Gallifreyans were long since sterile.”

Rose’s spine stiffened, her mother’s babbling about grandchildren echoing through her mind.  “What about us?”

“What about us?”

“Would we be able to-”

“Have children?” he finished, sounding surprised.  “No idea- hadn’t thought about it.  Is that… something you’ve thought about?”

“Thought about?  Of course.  I don’t know what I want, necessarily, but I’ve thought about it.”  She’d dreamed about it, been unable not to imagine herself in that situation as she watched her mum’s pregnancy then Tony growing up.  How he might dote on a tiny daughter, giving a pretend tea party his all.  How he would show a toddler son how rain and dirt made mud, and what fun it was to make Jackie and Rose yell.

“Oh.”

Rose bit her lip, shifting on his lap to be able to see him.  “Mum, however, has been buying me baby name books since you got here.”

He blanched, arms squeezing her.  “I’m open to the conversation – later.  Much later.  That’s as much as I can promise.”

“Oh, is that it?”  The moment felt too heavy, too real, and Rose sought to diffuse it, grinning cheekily.

“Yes?”

“Well, ‘s just- I thought you were interested in practicin’, is all.”

“Practicing?”

Rose shifted on his lap so she was straddling him, letting him see her smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing images of tiny newborns cradled in his long arms out of her mind.  “Practice makin’ the babies.”

After a moment his expression lightened, and he snickered.  “Well, you know me – be ready for anything.”

Combing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, Rose let her smile fade.  “I won’t ask, if you don’t want me to, but- I hope you know you can talk about it, with me.  Any of it.  Past companions, your family, Gallifrey… I love you, and I’m interested, but I know it’s a sensitive subject so I won’t push.  Just know that I’m here.”

He grew serious as well, nodding slowly.  “No promises, but- thanks.”

Rose held his gaze for a long moment, willing him to see her sincerity, before she changed the subject.  “Now- let’s go dive into that chocolate cake we bought, yeah?”  She climbed off his lap, offering him a grin with her hand, and he reciprocated both.

“Oh, I know better than to stand between a Tyler and her chocolate!”

[starsandsupernovae]

Terrible Ideas Chapter 2

Chapter One is here and you can read on AO3 here

summary:  Natasha and Maria are just friends. And unknown to the other, both want more but Natasha never knows how to say it. Enter in some shadowy figures who seem to be attempting to resurrect the red room and the two of them must go back to Natasha's past-and possibly build a future. 

Notes: So Chapter 2 is finally here and I’d love to hear what you think of it! I know it’s been a while but I hope to update sooner in the future and thank you so much to the wonderful @acastleintheair who’s been my beta/editor and is so amazing about it! 

           Natasha didn’t need to show Maria to the bathroom right across from the bedroom but she did anyway, the two of them walking down the immaculate hall, Liho padding after. Natasha always considered personalizing the place, but every time she thought of it the same thought came up- Why? Why should she attach permanence to a place where she lived when at any moment, it could all come crashing down and she’d have to run. Never get attached. She had been taught that the hard way many years ago and hadn’t deviated since. Never would after-

“No, you can’t come in with me,” Maria said to Liho, cutting through Natasha’s thoughts as Maria lifted the cat to stop her following, Liho protesting as Natasha took her batting at Natasha’s arms and vocalizing her displeasure, as Natasha brought her back to the kitchen.

“You know you can’t go in when other people are there.” Natasha murmured to Liho, sitting down where she could keep an eye on the soup on the fire.

“Honestly I don’t know why I keep you around, useless cat.” Natasha’s soft tone undercut the harshness of the words as she ran her fingers through Liho’s fur. She purred in response, as though she knew exactly why Natasha kept her, had taken her in after she kept hanging around after Natasha realized no one else would take care of her. And as though she knew that once Natasha decided to care for someone she would never let them go. It was a weakness, and she knew that, but absolute loyalty had been one of the only weaknesses that had been ingrained in her, so deeply she didn’t know if she could ever fully eradicate it.

She heard the shower shut off and Maria appeared in the doorway, one of Natasha’s long towels wrapped around herself. Natasha stared for a moment at Maria, her wet hair out of its normal confining bun, falling past her bare shoulders, to the top of where the towel wrapped around her.

“Sorry, but do you still have- I mean I know you do, you were wearing my shirt last Wednesday.”

Right. Natasha stood, getting up from the chair remembering that she did indeed have some of Maria’s clothing, a remnant of a mission the two of them had gone on together when they had had to get dressed quickly under two minutes to be out and gun ready. In moments like those, things like ownership of clothing didn’t seem to matter. Not much mattered, at times like that. They were urgent, rushed times, both of them grabbing for their clothing, for their guns, for their weapons, paying a lot more attention to the specificity of the latter rather than the former. And then, they’d end up with the wrong clothing, or perhaps since neither of them seemed to abstain from wearing them afterward, the right ones. Natasha was able to tell herself that Maria just had good taste, that she liked the feel of the clothing. And she was able to pretend that when she saw Maria wearing her clothing, the little thrill was only because it meant Maria didn’t mind Natasha wearing her clothes and was a sign of their friendship.

Although that didn’t explain why Maria noticed when she’d worn a shirt that was quite similar to many of her own.

“Yeah, come.” Natasha resolutely kept her eyes away from Maria, from the water droplets still resting on her shoulder, running down her bare arms. She placed Liho on the floor letting her wander off before she led Maria to her to her room, and gestured to the wooden drawers against the side. It was just like everything else in the apartment, generic, nondescript. Nothing that would make anyone look twice. She excelled at that. Anyone could pass by a first look, it was only once people looked again that you were in trouble. People looked first, saw later.

“Clothing in there. I’ll wait in the kitchen.” Natasha said, “Some of your stuff is in there, if not just take mine, it’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Maria answered with a smile, and Natasha’s heart stopped for a moment in true cliche fashion. Maria’s smiles were so few in the field and yet when it was just the two of them they showed up constantly, a light flickering on and it was only then Natasha realized how dark it had been before.

She left without answering, but she didn’t have to. She walked back to the kitchen where Liho awaited her. It seemed only moments before Maria reappeared, wearing her own shirt and a pair of Natasha’s leggings.

“Soup?” Maria asked coming to sit down in the seat opposite and Natasha poured it out. They ate in silence, the atmosphere somehow even more peaceful than when Natasha ate alone. Natasha reached for the empty bowls but Maria was faster, gathering them and beginning to wash them at the sink.

“You don’t have to-” Natasha protested, standing up.

“I know,” Maria answered, shooting her a quick smile.

Natasha glanced at the clock.

“You gotta be at SHIELD at 5 tomorrow right? That’s not a lot of time,” she said, moving to dry the dishes.

“It never is,” Maria answered, shrugging. “You coming in?”

“Yeah. I gotta finally fill out some reports.” She put the bowls away and the two of them started moving towards the bedroom.

“Come on then, let’s get some sleep.” Maria opened the door to let both Natasha and Liho into the bedroom. Natasha changed quickly, turning away as she pulled on an old t-shirt she might have taken from Steve and a pair of shorts. The shirt fell halfway down her thigh, definitely one of Steve’s. She sat on the bed, next to Maria, and she felt a sudden rush of relief that it hadn’t needed to be a discussion over who would sleep where. Natasha flicked off the light, bathing the room in darkness apart from the thin strip of light seeping in under the door and the cracks of moonlight that crept in around the edges of the curtains. The light was important, she knew. None of them needed it. But when you’re accustomed to waking in middle of the night in dangerous circumstances, with people prepared to shoot you, when you’ve woken to pain beyond anything you’d ever thought you could feel, in places you had hoped, prayed to whoever might be hearing you’d never end up, when you’ve woken to that, it was important to have light to show you hadn’t again. For that one moment between sleep and waking, when anything was possible where you could be anywhere, it was important.

Natasha’s sleep was blessedly quiet, empty of nightmares, and visions of the past, allowing her to wake fully rested, lingering for a moment in the silence of predawn, when grayness was just beginning to creep into the night sky. It lasted for a moment before she was suddenly hyper-aware of the other woman in the bed. Maria was pressed against her back now, an arm wrapped around her, pulling Natasha close to herself while she slept, as though she was something precious she’d need to keep close and protect.

Maria woke with a yawn, withdrawing her arm and looking around to situate herself.

“Morning.” She said, sleep heavy in her voice as she pushed herself up to face Natasha properly.

“Morning.” Natasha returned, glancing over at the clock. “Well, kind of anyway. You gotta be at the Triskellion at 5 right?”

Maria gave a half shrug

“5:30. But I should be there early.”

“Can I catch a ride with you? I’m coming today. Mostly for paperwork.” Natasha said, pulling a face that made it abundantly clear exactly how she felt about said paperwork. The downside of working for a more legitimate organization: always the paperwork. She had had that before of course in some forms, of basic reports of missions, given to either be discarded or filed away in extremely classified places. But that was nothing compared to the mounds she had every time she had to go on an op with SHIELD.

“Sure,” Maria answered smiling as she pulled on a t-shirt. “And finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Natasha asked, returning the grin as she pulled on a pair of dark tight pants.

“Nothing.” Maria smiled in answer leading the way to the kitchen where she grabbed two protein bars, tossing one to Natasha following behind her. “Just that you were supposed to have completed them, let’s see, two weeks ago?”

Natasha grabbed the bar out of the air.

“It’ll get done today, don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who should be worried. May’s taking care of the paperwork again this week remember?”

So maybe Natasha should be worried.

“It’ll definitely get done today.”

The two of them walked in their comfortable silence downstairs and outside, into the morning, so early it was still quiet, people not waking quite yet, a slight chill wandering through the air waving at a few strands of Natasha’s hair. Maria led the way to her car, opening the door for Natasha before getting in the other side.

They got to SHIELD in a lot shorter time then it should have taken to get there, but Maria tended to take speed limits as more of speed guidelines, especially with very few others on the road. They went in together, pausing in the lobby where they would separate.

“I’ll see you later?” Natasha asked, trying to keep the hopeful tone out of her voice.

“Yeah.” Maria smiled, one last quick one before her Deputy Director Of Shield face came on. Natasha watched as Maria stalked off, walking swiftly towards the elevator bank on the other side of the building before Natasha went in the other direction. She walked into the office she had been given. It was only a moment before she saw Clint, dangling upside down from some sort of support from the ceiling, scrawling some kind of language on a clipboard.

“Hey, Clint.” Natasha actually went to a chair at the desk, but rather than sitting on it she perched on the edge, tips of her feet just off the seat as she reached out to grab the paperwork she should have done ages ago.

“Tasha!” Clint sounded genuinely happy to see her, whether for her company or because he couldn’t give in his papers until she had completed hers. He stared at her a moment before dropping his pen to the floor.

“Something’s wrong. No, not wrong. Different.”

Natasha merely gave him a raised eyebrow in question pulling at the papers in front of her while the night she and Maria had spent together replayed in her mind.

“You’re smiling,” Clint said, making no move to retrieve his fallen pen. “Did someone you dislike die?”

Natasha threw a new pen at him which he grabbed without looking, waiting for a response.

“No one’s dead,” she answered.

“Well,” she amended, “no one you don’t already know about and should be writing at least somewhat legibly down there.”

She gestured to the papers he was scribbling on and he shrugged.

“They always figure it out. Why else employ the best code breakers in the world?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not employed to read your reports, Clint.”

He gave another shrug.

“So if no one’s dead and I know we’re not being sent anywhere nice because we just got back and they’re not sending us out so soon, then why the happiness?” “Is there a problem with me being happy?” Natasha asked by way of avoiding the answer.

“Of course not. You happy is great. So I want to know how it’s achieved.” He gave her a grin marred somewhat by all the blood rapidly rushing to his face.

“None of your business, Barton. Shouldn’t you not be holding your head upside down like that? It’s looking a bit red.” She pushed away the paper she had been filling and began logging into the computer to complete the digital portion. Why they hadn’t gone entirely digital yet was beyond her. While there were advantages to having hard copies of some things, for the routine op they had just been on there didn’t seem much point in having paper as well as digital record.

As though reading her mind, Clint groaned, dropping the clipboard.

“I swear to god, no one even reads these anyway. Bobbi says she skips half of hers and as long as the proper thing is filled in the digital database, no one’s said a thing to her.”

Natasha grabbed at the topic and distraction.

“Does she? How is Bobbi now? I haven’t seen her since she got back from New Mexico.”

That distracted Clint enough as he went on about her, and how she was trying to get him on decaf coffee, decaf coffee can you believe it? Natasha could, quite easily, considering how much Clint drank but kept that to herself, choosing instead to power through the report she had to fill in.

At last, she finished and shut it down, looking over at Clint who by now was half in the ceiling vent.

“Come with me to the gym?” she asked.

“Nah, I still gotta finish this. I’ll stop by later if you’re there and feeling like getting your ass kicked.”

“In your dreams, Clint.” She grinned before leaving, down to the gym, full of agents sparring and training. She only had to walk meaningfully over to the space she wanted to occupy for the trainee to vacate, knowing her on sight.

She walked into the simulation room, selecting the appropriate level and waiting for the LMDs to take their place and guises. Just for fun, she decided on a Captain America setting, knowing that at least, would pose a challenge. A small insidious voice spoke up from the back of her mind pointing out that besides, it was helpful to know to fight against your allies as well as with them if need be and she pushed it down, told herself that no, this was just what posed a challenge, she wasn’t doing it for that reason at all.

Still, after she finished, having taken advantage of Steve’s weakne- no not Steve, the LMD’s weakness with the shield, using her widows bites on his legs and placing a shot there before finally getting him to stay down she couldn’t help the bitter taste it left.

It was ridiculous she knew, and besides it wasn’t like it accurately reflected his power, taking down Cap would be a lot harder, (you have to train harder for that, the voice inserted) but she couldn’t help it.

She left, face red, breathing hard, sweat trickling down from her hairline, where her hair was fighting to escape the hair tie she was using to pull it back. She looked a mess and knew it as she made her way to the showers.

After she had cleaned up she retrieved her phone to find there was yet more paperwork to fill in, and a report to redo, probably because Clint had messed up his part she mused as she decided it could wait till tomorrow. She was ready to go when she realized her car was still at home. She could always take a SHIELD car, they never kept proper track of them all anyway but it also caused another thought to take hold- was Maria staying here tonight?

She deliberated. She hadn’t noticed the time passing but it was late enough for Maria to leave, still early enough that she wouldn’t have. She made her way across the building to where Maria’s office was. It would be weird to stop in and ask if she wanted to stay over again, Natasha decided. But if she happened to run into her and asked, that would be better, right?

It took her three times walking down the hall to accidentally meet Maria.

Maria looked exhausted as she made her way back to her office. Natasha knew it wasn’t apparent to anyone else, that they didn’t see the tightness around Maria’s eyes, the way she held her shoulders that much stiffer like if she didn’t, they’d slump down, her lips that much thinner holding her face firm in a determined expression

“Hey” Natasha tried for a casual tone like she definitely hadn’t walked past the same coffee stain on the floor before them twice already before meeting her. “You leaving soon?”

“Yeah,” Maria answered. “Well, from here to the carrier anyway.”

“You could always come back with me,” Natasha said. That was a normal thing for friends to do right? Friends invited other friends over to stay. Maria paused for a moment, just long enough for Natasha’s heart to miss a beat, waiting for her answer.

“Thanks. I’d like that.” Maria answered, eyes softening for just a moment.

“Just let me get a few things and we’ll go? If you’re ready to I mean”

“I am,” Natasha answered, giving the smallest of smiles.

And up in the vents, Clint gave a smile of his own as he connected the dots the two of them were too close to see.

[jayankles]

Death Brings Truth (AU)

Pairing: Teacher!Dean x Student!Reader

Word Count: 2254

Warnings: character death, lies, language.

Summary: Dean is a professor at the local school in Lebanon, Kansas. Everything is going smoothly until one of students displays a whole side of herself that he has never seen before. Is she willing to divulge the information to her teacher? Can she cope with the responsibility that has been dumped on her?

Written for @spnangstbingo and @evansrogerskitten ‘s Ash’s Hottest Dean Challenge

Square Filled: Free Space

A/N – I picked Scruffy!Dean and I couldn’t have been more happy about the prompts that were given to me. I have been planning this fic for a while but never got around to it and it’s not like the Student/Teacher pairing that you are used to. Prompt: “Well, that’s fantastic. Would you like a stuffed bear?” and the gif below the cut

A/N 2 – Also I am so sorry this is late I don’t know what went wrong, this was supposed to post yesterday but tumblr is an ass and didn’t post it, sorry Ash!

Professor Winchester was sat at his desk behind his laptop, pen in hand going through his schedule and what he was going to teach today. It was the usual for the two of you. You would walk in with twenty minutes to spare so you could get ahead in the class, write a few notes and if the professor was in the mood to talk then you would ask him whether he had a good weekend or not.

The class filed in a few minutes before the bell and they had all settled into their seats and the professor began to teach about the lore of mythical creatures. Sometimes he spoke with such passion about it that you actually believed that the creatures he spoke about could be real.

Notes were taken but your eyes hovered from Professor Winchester to the board he was pointing at behind him. His arms waved around frantically, they always did that when he spoke to the class in front of him and the animated smile on his face told everyone that he was happy to be here, that he worked his ass off to make sure that every single one of his students were involved in the session and were up to date with the course.

Professor Winchester had finished the class, earlier than usual, telling everyone that they had an assignment to do. It would be a project with all the details emailed to each individual, also given the opportunity to work in a group or by themselves. He made it abundantly clear that they were due in a month and that it was essential to complete this project to pass this year.

You nodded as you wrote everything he said, highlighting and drawing an asterisk next to the ideas that you were thinking of writing up for the project.

The rest of the class had left, a few of the girls giggling as they got into a group and admired your professor. You understood the fascination, Professor Winchester was attractive of course, his eyes were the most gorgeous shade of green, his short sandy brown hair was always perfectly spiked up, he had let his stubble grow into a coarse beard and his arms had bulked out his dress shirt. He was a fine looking man, you couldn’t deny that, but none of it mattered, you had to think about your work and nothing else.

Writing up the final due date, you put in your bookmark and shut your notepad. Shoving your equipment in your rucksack, you zipped it up and flung it over your shoulder. Professor Winchester neatening up his papers before he slotted them into his briefcase.

‘See you next week, Miss Y/L/N. 20 minutes before class?’ Winchester asked with a teasing smirk on his face.

‘Sure thing, Professor Winchester.’ You nodded in return, adjusting the straps on your bag.

He scoffed, loosening his tie and pulling on his suit jacket and coat. He was done for the day. ‘Please, Miss Y/L/N, call me Dean. The rest of the class do, makes me feel like my father too.’

‘I’ll only call you Dean, if you call me Y/N.’ You held out your hand for him to shake. He nodded his head and recited your name back to you whilst you did the same.

Three weeks later

Dean had noticed that something was wrong as soon as the class as started. You hadn’t walked in twenty minutes earlier like you usually did, there was no email to say that you were elsewhere or couldn’t make today’s session, he was starting to worry to say the least. The front row was empty – the place where you had frequently occupied to see a little better – not a single thing clued him in as to where you were.

Forty five minutes into the class, the door had bashed against the wall and interrupted Dean when he was talking.

This was someone he had never seen before but was all too familiar to him.

It was you!

Dean’s arms were crossed over his chest as he waited for an explanation but you wasn’t concentrating on him, your eyes were on your phone, you didn’t even have your rucksack and your usual attire was completely out of the question. Anything Dean had previously knew about you was no more, it was as if someone had created a clone of you but switched on the evil twin lever. It was a complete 180 from what he was used to.

The tapping of his foot became evident and he flicked his wrist so he could check the time. ‘Miss Y/L/N!’

You finished off your text and popped a bubble with the gun you chewed on. ‘Aw, Dean. What happened to “Y/N”?

‘You are late by forty five minutes, do you have anything you have to say for yourself.’

‘I do in fact, Dean. I say well, that’s fantastic. Would you like a stuffed bear? It’s, honestly, a wonder that you can tell the time.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Would you like me to say it slower so that you can comprehend what I’m saying?’

‘I understand perfectly! Take a seat and we will discuss this matter after class.’ Rolling your eyes you waltzed to the back and kept your eyes on the phone, seeking a seat far away from everyone else in the class that was stunned that you spoke out of line to one of the best teachers in the whole school.

‘Assignments are due next week people!’ Dean had said when he finished up the class. ‘Class dismissed.’

You were already up and out of your seat, no hanging around today.

‘Miss Y/L/N, where do you think you’re going? We have to discuss your behaviour.’

‘You dismissed the class so I'm leaving. Buh bye.’

Dean was getting even more frustrated by the minute, he has never been so disrespected in his entire career. ‘No Y/N, you will stop and you will listen to me.’ He was seeing too much red to see you flinch. ‘I don't know what is going on but you need to snap out of it.’

You furiously wiped at the tears that hadn't fallen yet. ‘You're right, Dean. You don't know what's going on. So back the fuck off, and stay out of my business because you don't know shit.’ Your phone pinged again and you glanced at it. ‘I'm sorry, Professor Winchester, I have to go.’

Dean had completed his day but his mood was dampened, he tried to not let it get to him but it had affected him. He had to figure out what was wrong and see if he could fix the problem. He slid into his car and the rumble of his car had started to settle in his churning stomach.

The tunes in the impala played lowly, but Dean was in a world of his own so the ride back to the apartment he shared with his brother. Thankfully, though, the apartment was empty and Sam hadn’t come home.

Dean placed his briefcase on the table before he shucked off his coat and suit jacket, rolling his sleeves up again. After he had huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose, Dean tugged open the fridge, pulled out a beer and twisted off the cap.

While he sipped at his beer, he took out his laptop and sat on his bed, his legs stretched out with his ankles crossed over each other.

Dean hadn't even noticed the door had opened until Sam had tossed his keys into the bowl next to the door.

‘How long have you been on that thing?’ Sam asked as he closed the door behind him, going straight to the kitchen to reheat his leftovers from the night before. When Sam didn't hear a response, he walked over an shut the lid of the laptop, only then gaining Dean’s full attention.

‘What is wrong with you, Dean?’

‘One of the kids today. She’s - something’s just not right. She’s talking back and she was late, she’s one of those kids that is never late, always early.’

‘Was is Y/N Y/L/N by any chance?’ Sam inquired, loosening his own tie and retreated back to the microwave to retrieve his dinner.

The older Winchester’s eyebrows had furrowed, how could Sam had possibly known. ‘What the hell?!’

‘What?’

‘How the heck did you know that it was Y/N?’

Sam had spooned some of the leftover Chinese from last night, quickly chewing on it and gulping it down before he responded to Dean. ‘Because she didn’t show up this morning and when I tried to talk to her after your class she just brushed me off as if she didn’t hear me but I could tell she’d been crying when she was on the phone.’

‘There is something going on with her and we’ve gotta fix it.’

Dean had emailed you for an appointment saying that your attendance and punctuation was imperative. You had rolled your eyes after reading it, of course he would make you come in the next day to have a discussion. You were tempted to email back and say you were sick but you knew he wouldn't buy into it.

You would have to finish your jobs as quickly as you could so you could make it to the appointment. It would have to be in and out. There was no time to waste.

Driving as quickly as you could, you found a parking space with difficulty but it was there in the end.

Checking your watch, you saw that you were early, thankfully. You couldn't lose any more time.

Venturing through the hallways, you scurried into the classroom through the open door, seeing the professor with his arms crossed over as he leaned against the desk. As soon as you saw the stern look on his face, you put on the other persona, your face immediately changed from strong to weak as the door slammed behind you. You whimpered, your whole body wincing and ducking.

It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder - one that wasn’t Dean’s (you knew for sure that it wasn’t - when you felt the hand you had choked out, ‘please don’t kill me. Please.’

Sam had instantly retracted his hand from your shoulder and took a few steps back stunned that you could accuse him of being a murderer.

Dean had dropped the tough guy act, much like you did, he came rushing over but at the same time he was cautious of his motions.

He had calmly spoke first, gaining your attention and your trust. ‘I’m sorry we scared you. It’s only Sam. He’s not here to kill you, okay? We’re here to help you, to see what’s goin’ on with you.’

‘Please don't make me relive it. I ca- I can't do it.’ You were beginning to become breathless, one of your hands had come to rest on your chest and the other hand hadn't decided between your own chest and Dean's arm. Dean had decided for you though, grabbing the hesitating hand and wrapping your shaking fingers around his wrist so you could feel the thrumming of his pulse against your fingertips.

After an hour of Sam and Dean trying their best to calm you. You had no more tears to weep. All the evidence of your pain had run down your cheeks to create the wet tracks that you could no longer hide. You could no longer hide your secret, not from the professors that you could trust, not from the people that had shown their true colours of caring. The Winchester Professors were there to help you, you had to tell them.

Sam had guided you to a seat, so that the three of you were no longer on the floor where you had collapsed.

They had be patient and given you your space but it was time to open up to them about what had been troubling you.

‘When I was a kid, my father was a police officer that was shot in a line of duty. It was just me, my mom and my baby brother. We thought it was over, we thought we were safe but my mom got a call a few days ago.’ You wiped away at another tear that had fallen, gulping before you proceeded. ‘She was told that the people who killed my dad had escaped prison and were after her. She didn’t tell us that my dad was a crooked cop and had killed three people that didn’t deserve to die. The guy that had broke into our home was family to the people that my dad had killed. Right before he shot my mom he told me and my brother that she was in on it, that my mom was the one that organised the shooting. He said that he would let me and my brother live because we didn’t do anything but sometimes I wish he did. I’m scared that he’ll come back and take my brother away from me and I can’t lose him. He’s all I’ve got.’

Sam and Dean sat with their mouths hung open and their hearts in their throats after it climbed its way up. They had to do something, and whatever it was, it felt as if they were raised into the live of helping others and that was exactly what they were going to do with you and your younger brother.

@thorne93 @becaamm @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @jotink78 @love-kittykat21 @jensen-jarpad @hymnofthevalkyrie @capsheadquaters @kurosaki224-new-blog @supernatural-jackles @cyrilconnelly @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @iwantthedean @goody2shoessmut @ruprecht0420 @mrswhozeewhatsis @feelmyroarrrr @redlipstickandplaid @mogaruke @anotherhuntersjournal @sometimes-iwrite-blog  @pureawesomeness001 @mizzezm @jpadjackles @jesspfly @urpeachess @skybinx-blog @aubzylynn @deansbaekaz2y5 @plaidstiel-wormstache @lilasiannerd @thewayward-winchesters-blog @valerieshubin @be-amaziing @winsmut @akshi8278 @purplediamon @graceforme86 @its-my-perky-nipples  @dalikah3 @nervousmemzie @angel-blazing  @mrsbatesmotel53 @lavieenlex @percussiongirl2017 @oneshoeshort @whit85-blog @muliermalefici @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @moonlover19 @emoryhemsworth @reallyverynodansi @milo-winchester-4ever @captainradicalpassion @captainemwinchester @ilsawasanacrobat @alicat-life @cojootromuelle @essie1876 @dancingalone21 @dslocum89 @atc74 @superwhomerlockinuum @spnbaby-67 @anitalasirenita @queencflair @weasleywinchester @ria132love @spn-fan-girl-173 @nightlyinsomnious @easelweasel @grace-for-sale @roxyspearing @cassieraider @winchesterdemon67 @jadalecki-jackles

[mldrgrl]

In Good Times and Bad

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Hank/Stella Summary: Hanella’s first difficult experience as a married couple.

Hank woke to the scent of the beach.  His head was fuzzy and his limbs heavy.  He could feel a slice of sun hitting his cheek, making it twitch involuntarily.  When he pulled his eyes open enough, he realized the sun was just the bedside lamp and the beach was just Stella’s new lotion, some sort of cocoa butter thing that reminded his nose of Venice.  When his ears finally caught up with the rest of his waking body, it was abundantly clear that it was still raining, as it had been for four days straight.

“Why’reyup?” he slurred, gathering his strength to roll and flop onto his back.

“It’s nearly nine,” Stella answered.  She was sitting up, knees bent, working lotion into her calves as she read the Sunday paper which was spread out in front of her feet.

He tried to sit up, but his bladder screamed in protest and he groaned.  “I have to piss like a fucking racehorse,” he said.

“As always, your descriptions are most vivid, my love.”

Hank managed to drag himself out of bed and to the bathroom.  He braced one arm against the wall to lay his head on and emptied his bladder, moaning in near ecstasy at the relief it brought.  When he finished, he tucked himself back into his boxer-briefs, scratched the itch out of his ribs and took a look in the mirror.  His eyes were bloodshot and his morning stubble was peppered with an alarming amount of grey around the jaw.

“I’m too old to drink anymore,” he rasped, bending to splash cool water on his face.

“What?” Stella called.

“Nothing.”  He ran his tongue over grimy teeth with his cottony tongue and made a face at himself.  The toothbrush was like a balm to his aching gums and he spent longer than necessary massaging last night’s overuse of whiskey off his teeth and out of his mouth.

When he finished, he hovered in the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom, elbows against the frame, watching his wife.  Her back was mostly to him, but he had a nice view of her thigh as her silk robe was pulled high to lotion her legs.  He never tired of watching someone so extraordinary to him do something so mundane. He also appreciated the unguarded and gentle movements of her hands, treating herself the way she deserved to be treated, though she might disagree with him.

“Are you going to stand there all day and watch? Stella asked, without even turning around.

“You have eyes in the back of your head?”

“Or very good peripheral vision.”

Hank shuffled back across the room and flopped down on the bed again, carelessly crinkling Stella’s newspaper with his elbow.  “Sorry,” he mumbled as she tugged it free.  “How are you not hungover?”

“Only one of us drank their weight in whiskey last night.”

“Mmph.  Sex is good for headaches isn’t it?”

“So is aspirin.”

Hank squinted one eye open as Stella moved her lotioned hand inside her robe to rub her chest. He grunted slightly and shifted closer to her so that his head bumped her hip.

“That’s my job,” he said.

“You appear to be a bit indisposed.”

Hank grunted again, his face smashed between the bed and her hip.  Stella pulled her hand out of her robe and rubbed her hands together before caressing his back with a light touch.

“Feels good,” he murmured.

Stella turned the page of her newspaper with one hand and walked her fingers down Hank’s spine with the other.  She massaged his tailbone with her thumb and then slipped her hand inside his underwear, giving his left ass cheek a generous squeeze.

Hank exaggerated a groan of appreciation and rolled onto his back as Stella pulled her hand free.

“You’re not gonna do the front?” he asked.

“Do your own front.”

“I don’t think I should tolerate such sauciness.”

“Mmhm.”  Stella turned another page of her newspaper.

Hank rolled back onto his stomach and up onto his elbows.  He tipped his head into Stella’s lap and nosed the closure of her robe.  She absentmindedly sifted her fingers through his hair as he worked at the knot of her sash with his teeth.

“I was thinking of having French toast for breakfast,” she said.

“I was thinking of having you.”

“Bacon, as well.  Orange juice.”

“You taste like coconut,” he mumbled against the skin of her belly, having managed to work his lips into the part of her robe, though the sash never budged for him.

Stella held his head as he moved up along her sternum and he heard her turn another page.  His tongue drifted along the curve under her breast.

“Oh,” Stella said, and gasped.  Her fingers tightened in Hank’s hair.

“Finally,” he mumbled, stretching his neck to get more of her breast in his mouth.

“Stop,” she said, pulling on his hair.

He pulled away, vision swimming in and out on her face as he tried to look up at her.  “What’s wrong?”

Stella’s eyes moved quickly over the newspaper, her brows drawing closer and closer together.  Hank backed off of her and got up on his hands and knees to peer over her shoulder.

“Oh, shit,” he said.  “Stella…”

“It’s fine,” she answered with a shake of her head.  She closed the newspaper and leaned back towards the pillows on her side, slipping her arm under Hank’s to draw him with her.  “I apologize for stopping you.”

Hank went willingly with her, propped on his side with one leg over her hips.  She curled her hand around his neck and brought him down to kiss her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, gently rubbing his bottom lip against hers, fighting the pull of her hand.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” she answered, squeezing his neck.

“We should, though.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”  She hooked her leg over his hip and arched her back just a little to rub her pelvis into his.

Usually, Hank would be closer to ready at that point but the hangover, combined with the news he’d just read, had acted as the cerebral equipment of a bucket of cold water on his hormones.  Even when Stella reached down to try to coax him into arousal, his brain felt disconnected from his body and it didn’t do much for him.

“Stella…”

“I thought you wanted to fuck,” she said, her tone laced with bitterness.

“Stop, please.”

Stella slipped her hand out of Hank’s underwear and then went completely still.  She turned her eyes up to the ceiling, jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful.  He put his hand on her cheek, but she didn’t turn towards him, so he moved a little higher into her line of sight.  At first, she refused to look at him, but then she finally shifted her gaze to his.

For just a moment, Stella’s nostrils flared, her lips pressed more forcefully together, but then her chin began to wobble slightly and her throat moved reflexively as she swallowed.  She squeezed her eyes shut as though she was in pain.

“It’s okay,” Hank said, lowering his head a little to kiss her closed eyes.  

“I’m not crying,” she whispered through the waver in her voice.

“You can if you want to.”

“She’s not worth the energy.”

“I know.”

“Let me up.”

Hank placed another kiss on Stella’s cheek and shifted his weight enough that she could slip away from him, even though he wished she wouldn’t.  She pushed herself off the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.  He waited, listening, but there was silence.  A minute passed and then the taps came on for the shower.  Careful not to make too much noise, Hank opened the newspaper and thumbed through the pages until he came to what he was looking for.  With one ear tuned to the sounds from the bathroom, he read the obituary for Stella’s mother with a new layer of hate in his heart for the woman who didn’t even have the decency to let her own daughter know that she’d died.

“Fucking cuntface,” Hank whispered to himself.

*****

While Stella showered, Hank found some painkillers and guzzled a few glasses of water.  He felt decent enough after making a trip downstairs to the kitchen for the water to throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  He even thought he might go pick up breakfast for them at the cafe around the corner.  He’d get Stella the French toast she wanted, but he was in the mood for huevos rancheros.  

He had pulled his shoes on and was looking for his wallet when Stella came downstairs, silk blouse and slacks on, attache over her shoulder and overcoat draped over her arm.  He eyed her as she placed her things on the barstool before the counter and then came around to start a pot of coffee.

“I was just about to go get breakfast,” Hank said.

“I’ll pick something up on my way,” she answered.

“On the way where?”

“To work.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“I have things I need to get done.”  She pulled her travel cup from off the shelf and opened the refrigerator for the creamer.

“The funeral’s on Wednesday.”

“Yes, I saw that.”

“Are we gonna go?”

“I have a meeting.”

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure work gives you time off for shit like this.”

“They do.”

“Well…”

“I’ve no desire to go.”

“But…”

Hank stopped and just watched Stella go about making her coffee like it was an ordinary day.  He’d dealt with her shoving emotional crap to the side before but he thought they were past that.  He folded his arms across her chest from behind where she stood at the coffeemaker.  She gave an exasperated sigh.

“You’re overreacting,” she said.

“I’m not the one going to work on a Sunday.”

“You didn’t even like her.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then why are you behaving this way?”

“Because it was a fucking cruel way to find out.  Because you didn’t get to say the things you might want to say.”

“I didn’t have anything to say.”

Hank sighed into Stella’s hair.  “When my father died-”

“I don’t need sympathy,” she interrupted, twisting her shoulders to break Hank’s hold on her.  “I don’t need your anecdotes or your indignance on my behalf either.”

Hank backed away from Stella a few paces.  She kept her back to him, pouring her coffee.

“Maybe I’m indignant on my own behalf,” he said.

“Go write.  Go be productive.  Go back to bed and nurse your hangover.”

“I blame that woman for turning you so cold, that’s why I’m indignant.  I think it’s her fault you have this huge fucking problem with accepting comfort from someone who loves you.  Fuck, it’s her fucking fault you have a problem accepting the fact that someone does actually love you.”

Stella didn’t respond.  She poured creamer into her coffee and added a spoonful of sugar.  Hank came back up against her and took her wrists, holding her hands down lightly on the counter.

“I’m your husband,” he said.  “Not some guy you just fucked in a bar and accidentally brought home with you for a night.”

“You were, though.”

“And I’m going to just pretend you’re not trying to erase our entire history with that remark.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Hank?”

“I don’t know, Stella, but I don’t want you to act like it’s all fine and peachy fucking keen that you had to read about your mother’s death in the newspaper.  I don’t want you to suddenly go to work on your day off to avoid the issue.  I don’t know what I want you to say, but I want you to talk to me.”

“But, I don’t have anything to talk about.”

“It would be so fucking great if I believed you, wouldn’t it?”  

Hank pressed his hands down onto hers to push himself away from her and the counter.  He could feel the flare of anger rise up in him, but he knew that lashing out wasn’t going to solve anything.  As it was, he was fighting all his natural impulses to just explode and walk away, but he had worked very hard in the past few years not to fall back into destructive patterns.  He didn’t want to fight with Stella the way he’d fought with Karen, following each other from room to room, picking at open wounds with each other.  All that had done was make the scars deeper and more painful as time went on.  He knew there was a fine line between supporting and needling, but that Stella always needed a push.  It was just hard to know when he’d gone too far and when he hadn’t gone far enough.

Stella bowed her head for a few moments, shoulders slumped just slightly.  The kitchen was silent.  She finally took a deep breath and screwed the cap onto her travel mug.  Hank didn’t step out of her way as she tried to pass, and she had to turn to slip by to pick up her jacket and bag from the barstool.  

“Have a good day at work, honey,” Hank said, as her heels tapped the refrain of her departure.

*****

There were a lot of things Hank could’ve done after Stella walked out the door.  He could’ve sat down to write.  He could’ve called Karen.  He could’ve taken a walk.  He could’ve gone back to bed.  He could’ve gone to the pub and drowned his anger in hurt in whiskey.  He didn’t do any of that though.  He went upstairs and read the obituary three more times, getting insulted all over again that not only did no one inform Stella that her mother had died, she wasn’t even acknowledged in the half-page biography.

“Survived by her loving husband Albert,” Hank read.  “Beloved stepmother of Clementine and grandmother of Imogen.  What a crock of shit.”

Twenty minutes couldn’t have passed when Hank heard the sound of the front door closing downstairs.  He frowned and closed the newspaper.  When he heard footsteps on the stairs, he shoved the paper under the bed.  Stella appeared in the doorway, attache dangling off her shoulder.

“What happened?” Hank asked.

“I didn’t go,” she answered.

“Come here.”

Stella let her attache drop to the floor and Hank slid to the edge of the bed.  She unbuttoned her coat on the way over and he took hold of her hips when she got close enough.

“Forgive me,” she said.

Hank reached down and put his hand on the back of her left ankle, coaxing her foot up so he could remove her boot.  He pulled it off for her and she put a light hand on his shoulder for balance so he could remove the other.  He stood then, a full head taller than her, looking down while she looked up.  He pushed the coat off her shoulders and then put his arm around her waist, guiding her down to the unmade bed.

Stella lay down on her side and Hank crawled over her to settle behind her.  He tangled their legs together and settled his arm across her chest.  For a few moments, he ran the top of his foot up and down the side of her calf.

“You were going to tell me something about your father earlier,” she said.  “I’d like to hear it now, if you don’t mind.”

“It...I was just going to tell you that I remember feeling irrational anger when my father died.  Angry, but knowing it was irrational, but still just angry that he left when certain things were unresolved between us.  We weren’t estranged, but we didn’t speak often either.  He left me a letter, addressing some of our issues, but then I was just angry all over again because...because I wasn’t able to respond.  It took a long time to accept it.”

Stella didn’t initially respond.  While he waited, Hank nuzzled the back of her neck and moved his hand down to rub her thigh.  

“I don’t believe I have a word in my vocabulary for how I feel right now,” Stella finally said, her voice low and soft.

“Try.”

“It’s difficult.”

“I know.”

Stella turned her head to look back at Hank, though her eyes drifted away almost immediately.  She stayed turned towards him, however.  “When I was away at school,” she said.  “I considered myself to be one of the lucky ones not to have a mother that meddled in her affairs.  She never called to inquire about my studies or anything else for that matter.”

“Had she ever?”

“No.  I didn’t expect anything from her.  Sending me away was as much for her as it was for me.  We didn’t really know how to be in the same room together.”

Hank’s thoughts drifted to Becca for a few moments.  He’d never went more than a few days without speaking to his daughter.  Though she was an adult now and he didn’t get to see her as frequently as he’d like, he couldn’t imagine consciously choosing to not be a part of her life.  

“I think the only thing we’ve ever had in common was that was we loved the same man,” Stella said.  “And it’s also what kept us apart.”

“I think I might have told you this before, but that’s always been her loss.  You know that, don’t you?”

“Yet I’m the one who suffered for it.”

Hank’s heart felt like it had been squeezed in a vice.  Stella had never admitted to the affect that her childhood had on her.  Mostly she played cool and indifferent to the things she’d faced, but the scars, both invisible and visible, told a different story.  He cupped her cheek and she shifted her hips to turn onto her back and look up at him.

“I’m not angry,” she said.  “I’m not sad.  I don’t feel that we had unfinished business.  I knew where she stood.  I was maybe six or seven when she told me that she’d only had a child because my father wanted one, but she’d just assumed he would’ve outgrow me like a forgotten toy and they could pass me off to nannies and go about their own lives.”

“What the fuck?” Hank murmured, his face scrunching involuntarily in disgust.  “I mean, seriously, what the fuck?”

“You weren’t wrong in what you told me this morning.  I did often wonder who could love me if my own mother didn’t.”

“I do.”

Stella reached up and put her hand on Hank’s face.  “Yes, you do.”

He kissed her.  Just a gentle press of his lips to hers followed by a slow caress of her cheek with the tip of his nose.  She sighed, her warm breath passing intimately over his face.

“Perhaps what I feel is guilt,” she whispered.

“You have nothing to be guilty of.”

“When one’s mother dies, isn’t one supposed to feel something?”

“She was never your mother.”

“It was the shock.  Of seeing her name and not feeling a Goddamn thing.”

“Let’s do our Sunday brunch.  Let me buy you those gloves you’ve been eying at the boutique by the Metro.  Let’s sit in the park if it’s not too cold or rainy and make up life stories about strangers.  Let’s come back home and fuck in the entryway because our bed is too far away.  Let’s do all of it, or none of it, but let’s not waste any more energy on someone who never deserved it.”

Stella traced Hank’s bottom lip with her thumb and then nodded.  He started to move away, but she wrapped her hand around his neck and kept him down.

“Let’s have Becca here soon,” she said.  “Or go to New York.”

“You’ll get no objection from me, but...why?”

“I miss her.”

Hank looked over at the clock on the nightstand.  “It’s too early in New York.  Let’s call her at brunch.”

“Let me change from work clothes.”

“Do I get to watch?”

“Of course.”

Hank grinned and Stella sat up from under him.  She was still for just a few moments, her back to him, legs folded over the side of the bed.  Before she got up, she turned and reached for his hand, folding their fingers together as she raised his fist to her lips.  She held his hand there at her mouth, eyes closed, and then she rested her cheek over his knuckles for a few moments.  He put his hand on her back and then she opened her eyes and slowly let go of his hand to get up and get dressed.

The End.

[jcstoryprompts]

Chapter B

Here’s the second chapter to choose from, for the sabotage competition.

And for those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, here’s the link to the rules: https://jccutthroatfiction.tumblr.com/post/166775271857/replacement-competition (I suspect I’ve linked this incorrectly, but there’s not much on my dash at the moment, I’m sure you’ll find the original post!

This chapter is a bit longer than the other one, I just realised..

Chapter B

Of all of the people Kathryn expected to see here, he was the last.

His eyes searched the room as though he expected to see her sitting there. But from the surprise on his expression when he finally saw her, he must have been searching for someone else. Regardless, he made his way over - his approach causing Kathryn's gut to churn uncomfortably. It had been a long time since she'd seen him. Too long - or maybe not long enough.

"Kathy!"

Kathryn forced a broad smile, feeling anything but pleased to see her former fiancée, Mark. She'd come here for solitude, to get away from the disappointments of her life and now here she was, talking to one.

Still she stood and extended a hand for him to take, which he squeezed fondly.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he questioned with a hint of nostalgia.

She couldn't exactly tell him the truth, running away from her problems was hardly Kathryn's 'MO'. "It's difficult to find a nice place to eat out of the media spotlight," she answered vaguely. That was true too, to some extent. Since Voyager's return they'd hounded her, pressed her for gossip on the crew, asked highly inappropriate questions and just become an all round pain in the neck.

"Ah, I can only imagine," he commented. His eyes flicked to the second seat at her table, obviously left empty. "If you're alone, Kathy, you should come have dinner with us!"

She had an idea who 'us' was. Still, her mouth seemed to have disconnected from her brain. "Us?" she questioned stupidly.

He gave a short laugh. "My wife, Carla, and I," he glanced around again, though he didn't seem to spot her.

"That sounds -” like the most uncomfortable thing I can imagine. "Like a great idea."

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "She should be here any moment," he threatened.

And she was. Kathryn had hoped vainly that the woman might be late, then Kathryn could have come up with an excuse - something to get her out of there before she was forced into the most awkward meal she was sure to have. Sadly though, Carla's timing turned out to be 'impeccable'. Kathryn barely stood from her seat when the door opened again admitting a tall, young, blonde woman who bore a striking resemblance to another tall young, blonde woman that Kathryn had been trying not to think about. This tall, young, blonde woman - was pregnant.

Kathryn hadn't heard the news, though her mother still kept in contact with the man. Perhaps she had been trying to spare Kathryn's feelings? Of course, this was a great way to find out. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and made a feeble attempt to summon the captain's mask. If she could face the Delta Quadrant, she could face Carla Johnson.

The other woman's face turned overly polite as she approached. There was little chance she didn't recognise Kathryn and seeing Mark with his former fiancé obviously wasn't what she'd had in mind for a nice evening out. Kathryn could almost see the woman's thoughts forming - what the hell is this woman doing here? How do I get rid of her as quickly as possible? What the hell is Mark thinking?

Still, Carla approached, smile broad and bright and thrust her hand out. "Kathryn Janeway, what a pleasant surprise."

Bless the woman, she sounded earnest, certainly more earnest than Kathryn might have managed, had the situation been reserved.

"An unplanned one, I assure you," Kathryn commented quickly. She didn't want to make this woman feel threatened - honestly, all she wanted was to eat her pasta and drink her - bottle - of wine in peace.

"I ran into her here," Mark practically exclaimed.

"Well - how fortunate," Carla responded with hint of tightness in her tone. "She obviously has good taste."

With the exception of the rare, occasional meal on Voyager, anything was good.

She pushed the thought out of her mind before it had time to properly form.

"Well, I should let you both get to your dinner, I'm sure you don't want me intruding," Kathryn attempted.

Carla made a move to agree, but was interrupted by her husband. "Nonsense, Kathy. You shouldn't eat alone - I invited you to join us, please!"

Kathryn drew a breath, trying to think of another way to refuse. He could see that she hadn't eaten yet. She could hardly fake an emergency or prior engagement.

She wracked her brain for rather longer than was socially decent, she was certain. Nothing came to mind so she eventually forced a rather uncomfortable: "Ok," in response.

Carla sucked a breath through her teeth, though her smile never wavered.

Mark had never been very good at taking social queues so the ones that both Kathryn and his wife dropped flew far above his head. Kathryn could easily just walk out, but burning more bridges probably wasn't going to help in her return to Earth, any more than running from her problems was. So she sat at the table, opposite Carla. She put as much distance between herself and Mark as was socially acceptable and attempted to maintain her smile.

They set off to a rocky start. Kathryn was unpractised at small talk and Carla seemed unsure what to bring up. Mark led the conversation, oblivious to the awkward air that had fallen over them.

"Carla is a warp specialist," he spoke proudly. "She's been trying to develop a new - ah - quantum drive?" he ended with a questioning glance at his wife. Who gave an amused sniff.

"A quantum slipstream drive," she corrected. Her eyes flicked to Kathryn and she couldn't help but wonder whether Carla was privy to the data Voyager had brought back.

"A noble pursuit," Kathryn commented in a jovial tone.

"Not my ideal career path, but it's fascinating," she responded. Kathryn wasn't exactly sure how to respond to the comment, so busied herself by pouring water for the table.

"It keeps her on Earth, so I can't complain," Mark interjected.

Kathryn paused for fraction of a second, making a poor effort to hide her reaction to his comment. Offhanded and harmless though it seemed, she couldn't help but feel the underlying tone: you didn't stay on Earth and look what happened to you.

She snatched up her glass, once they were all full and brought it swiftly to her lips, eyes focussing on anything but the couple across the table.

She didn't need to look at Carla to feel the brush of cold air wafting over. Obviously Carla had an adventurous spirit, it was so like Mark to find someone like that, but he also hated waiting at home. His insecurity had been present long before Kathryn had vanished in the Delta Quadrant.

"Sometimes it's nice to get away, though," Carla pressed on as though her husband hadn't spoken. "I always wanted to join Starfleet, but my parents weren't really in favour of the idea - they never let me apply to the academy."

Kathryn frowned supportively. She knew many people in similar situations, some of whom had defied their parent's requests and applied anyway. That wasn't always an option, though.

"I do enjoy what I'm doing and I'm still working with Starfleet. Sometimes I just wonder what my life might have been, had I taken a different path."

Kathryn could empathise. After all, she'd hardly intended to be in the Delta Quadrant for seven years - talk about derailing her plans. By this time in her life she'd always hoped to have children, maybe a promotion to Admiral and a nice house in southern Indiana. Now, chances of having any of those things were slim at best. She'd be lucky if she managed to avoid time in the stocks, let alone somehow obtaining a promotion.

Life could be worse, though. Her future self had made that abundantly clear. Over twenty more people dead, Tuvok succumbing to a neurological disease and she'd had to push on through all of this, alone. There was little wonder why she'd ended up bitter and cynical.

She must have made a face at the thought. Mark leaned across the table and touched her hand sympathetically.

"Sorry, I mean - I'm sure you've done enough exploring to last a lifetime," Carla attempted. She actually sounded apologetic, though her lips twisted at Mark's gesture.

"Oh no, it's not that," she withdrew her hand, took another sip of her water and glanced around. Where the hell was the waiter?

"Obviously what Carla said bothered you," Mark pushed. He missed the frown his wife gave him. "Why don't you talk to us about whatever is wrong? Surely talking about your problems will make you feel better."

Had he ever really known her?

She gave a polite smile and shook her head. "We'd be here for a week," she laughed, hoping the humour would defuse some of the tension. It didn't and she spent the next couple of minutes sitting under their piteous gazes as they waited for the waiter.

She could barely even bring herself to reveal what had her so upset to her counsellors, or her mother, for that matter. She certainly wasn't talking about her troubles with her former fiancée and his new wife.

What could she say? I broke the prime directive a lot and am now likely to face charges for that. I fell in love with a man, but couldn't be with him, due to the nature of my position aboard. I thought he'd wait for me but he started dating a younger woman on the crew - one I thought of as a daughter. Incidentally, the man I fell for became my closest friend in the Delta Quadrant and in spite of that fact ran off and eloped with the young woman, without even telling me.

Honestly, the situation with Starfleet was something she'd considered since the beginning of their journey through the Delta Quadrant. She was prepared for whatever they wanted to throw at her. The whole thing was a kind of distraction for herself from what really hurt - Chakotay had chosen someone else.

Apparently one small section of the universe felt for her. The waiter appeared and took a rather long time penning their orders. He was new and seemingly the restaurant favoured an ancient style of pen and paper requests. The boy seemed to have a great deal of difficulty spelling the fettuccini that Mark ordered and even greater trouble with Kathryn's cannelloni.

Thankfully, by the time he departed, Mark and Carla seemed to have forgotten their previous conversation, Mark deciding on a new topic to pick up. "Vegetarian, Kathy?"

Kathryn hadn't even thought about her order. She'd gone for feta, mushroom and spinach cannelloni out of habit. Many of her dinners had been with Chakotay and while he would make the exception for replicated meat, he usually preferred to avoid it altogether. She'd made that compromise, not that it really was one - after all, his meals had been the highlight of her week.

"It sounded good," she responded evasively. All she needed was for him to probe into her 'friendship' with Chakotay.

"I'm sure just about anything sounds good now," Carla commented. Despite how correct she was, Kathryn got the impression that the other woman was being snide rather than attempting to appear jovial.

She sniffed a laugh. "You're not wrong." She didn't really want to elaborate, but like basically everyone, since Voyager's return, they were curious about her time in the Delta Quadrant. She could hardly fault anyone for asking, but answering the same thing five times a day began to grate rather quickly.

"What kind of foods did you have available?" Mark questioned quickly.

Rehearsed as she was, she began her usual spiel, pre-empting his next two or three questions. "We had whatever foods we managed to scavenge and though we had replicators, they run from the same energy source as the engines. We were on rationing most of the journey and needed to maintain our own supply."

Carla actually appeared impressed. "I'm sure that wasn't always easy," she said lightly. For the first time in their conversation, Kathryn sensed that Carla was being genuine. Thanks to the war, many people seemed to be under the impression that their time in the Delta Quadrant was like a holiday - until they heard the details. Most of Voyager's time away from home was classified, but there weren't any regulations against her revealing what they faced on the day to day.

"It wasn't easy some days," she admitted. "But we made it through."

Mark gave a short laugh. "How did you manage without your coffee?"

The mood shift was welcome. She wasn't overly interested in bringing anyone down. She gave a wry smile. "I always had rations for coffee." That was a blatant lie, of course. In truth Chakotay had spent a lot of rations on her addiction, but she'd spent a good deal of rations on their dinners and wine for their meals.

"Then what did you eat?" he joked.

She gave an affronted frown. "I ate," she protested.

He gave her an appraising look and shook his head. "Now that I don't believe."

Kathryn made a move to protest further, but the waiter re-appeared with their meals.

The young man seemed to make up for his inability to spell, with an exceptional ability to balance the three plates and still carry a pepper grinder. He placed all three rather large plates without needing to question which meal belonged to whom and offered pepper. Not to mention his perfect timing.

The food looked incredible. Even if she had been on Earth these past few years, she'd have been eager to try this dish. She waited until both her eating companions had begun, before taking a first, wonderful bite. This wasn't the first meal she'd had since her return, of course. She'd been on Earth for nearly seven months now. But this may have been the finest meal. The pasta was perfectly cooked, the sauce perfectly sweet, offsetting the rich, salty flavour of the feta and the creamy texture of the mushrooms.

Her original plan had been to eat swiftly, thank Mark and Carla for a lovely evening and then make her exit, but she found herself wanting to savour the dish more and more.

The dish was remarkably similar to Chakotay's - if Chakotay had had fresh ingredients and a proper cooking space to work with. She couldn't help but wonder how similar the recipes were.

Despite her best efforts her mind strayed further - was he cooking his cannelloni for Seven?  She couldn't help but imagine a scene playing out of him cooking for her, cracking open a bottle of Antarian Cider and a table that suddenly appeared very similar to the one in Kathryn's quarters aboard Voyager.

A lump formed in her throat, making swallowing the next bite rather difficult.

She'd been trying so hard to fight off any thought of the pair, but they'd managed to worm their way into her thoughts like they did most days. Their callous disregard for the friendships she'd cultivated since she'd met both of them was easily as painful as the fact that Chakotay had moved on. At the very least she thought she meant more to him than that.

The remainder of the evening progressed much the same with one rather obvious addition. Carla clung to Mark as though attempting to show how wonderful their relationship was. To be fair she probably felt threatened - that of course didn't make Kathryn feel any better.

By the time she made it through the front door of her small, one bedroom apartment, she was exhausted. The drab, Starfleet issue furniture certainly didn't improve her mood.

She slumped on the hard, grey couch and stared blankly at the wall ahead. Had she still been in the Delta Quadrant, had things remained the way they had been going, tonight she'd have shared yet another dinner with Chakotay. Tonight would have been her turn to cook - and bless the man; he'd have eaten whatever she served, despite her protests.

Had their dinners stopped in the alternate future?

The thought of living that life broke her heart. Admiral Janeway had lost everything in her pursuit of home. Admiral Janeway must have been so lonely.

Was she destined to follow suit? 

[airanke]

Bet You Wish

OKAY!!! LISTEN!! BEFORE YOU READ THIS I GOTTA LET YOU KNOW A FEW THINGS:

This is not. Canon.

Not to Lascivious Ophidian or any other AU or any RPs OR ANYTHING, it’s kind of like the proverbial “bad end”, if you will. I borrowed @madmadameem‘s Nadia and KIND OF went with a “Something Borrowed, Something Blue” vibe because in this short Nadia and Vol’jin are a thing AND it offered a more interesting relationship dynamic than say, me using Vanira. Whom I didn’t just want to randomly throw into a relationship with Vol’jin for the sake of this one short. LET ME HAVE MY HORRIBLE FEELINGS AND THEN MAKE YOU ALL SUFFER WITH ME.

This entire thing spawned from two ideas I had, the first of which I’m not going to tell you so that I don’t spoil, but the second idea was I just kind of really wanted to write a short fight between Vol’jin and Vadim. Vadim is a relatively... new development in Amita’s story (ie. I was thinking about who could have helped her properly master her moonkin / balance druid form because honestly she had to have SOME help), and so Vadim happened.

And I wanted him and Vol’jin to just hate each other for one reason or another. So. Yeah. It’s also partially brought on because I listened to “Bet U Wish” by Raye a while back and was like “OMG WHAT IF THINGS BETWEEN AMITA AND VOL’JIN WENT REALLY REALLY SOUTH” (aside from the other idea, which I’m not gonna say here because, it’s literally introduced in the first few paragraphs HAHA). Specifically, though, it’s the chorus that got me the most, and it goes like this:

“Everything is gone For you I have nothing, absolutely nothing But I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish Yeah, it's all gone Oh you wish we had something, we got nothing But I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish But it's all gone”.

Anyway, I’ll stop rambling here because this is already really fucking long, the actual story is under the cut. Suffer mortals. Suffer with me, SUFFER WITH MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-- I’ll make it all up to you I SWEAR I’LL WRITE CUTE FLUFF FOR YOU I’LL WRITE SMUT I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOOOOOOOOU

Panic.

That had been the culprit that lead to this. Vol’jin hadn’t anticipated that Amita would be so hostile toward the worgen king after his hostility toward Sylvanas. She had gone so far as to shift into her hydra form, snarling.

The warchief’s hand shook. In his palm, sat a bloodied tusk - and of course it would be bloody. But it was an accident! He’d only meant to pull her back, and the only thing he could think to get her attention was to grab her tusk.

Because he panicked. Because he didn’t think, because he’d magically forgotten that grabbing another troll’s tusk was stupidest decision he could have ever made.

Vol’jin had startled her. When he wrapped his hand around her tusk, she’d jerked back her head.

He should’ve let go.

He should have never grabbed her tusk in the first place.

Vol’jin had never been so mortified in his life. It grew worse when she screamed in pain, reverting back to her troll form, cupping her cheek. Her green eyes left burns on his skin, wide with betrayal.

Then she was gone.

Whisked herself away on dark wings. He couldn’t shake the sight of the blood that had splattered on the ground.

At least when he turned his head to look at Genn, the worgen looked… stunned. Sylvanas seemed equally as stunned, though he was surprised to see her expression change to being appalled. She snapped at Genn for his idiocy, and the king - surprisingly - backed down without much of a fight.

Vol’jin quickly excused himself - and so here he was, staring at his bloodied palm. The entire tusk had come out. He could even see a bit of flesh on the root.

What have I done.

He closed shaking fingers around the tusk, putting on a smile when the door was pushed open.

“Vol’jin?” came the quiet voice. Nadia stood in the doorway, brows furrowed. She didn’t know what had happened. She didn’t need to know - not yet, anyway.

“Nadia,” he greeted, rising from his seat, keeping the smile on his lips, “I be needing ta go somewhere fah a lil’ bit.”

Her brows narrowed further as he walked around the desk, keeping his right hand as hidden as naturally possible so as to not to alert her.

Nadia turned toward him and he caressed her cheek, holding onto his smile.

“Where?” Nadia questioned, her suspicion clear. She glanced at his right hand, and he let her see his hand - to an extent. Vol’jin kept his grip as relaxed as possible without showing that there was something hidden within his fist.

“Ratchet,” he replied. Her suspicion only mounted. He knew that Amita and Nadia were friends. Vol’jin ducked his head to hide his face for a moment. Loa, this was difficult.

“Only fah a few houahs. I’ll be back befah sundown.”

“Why are you going to Ratchet?” Nadia pressed, following him into the hall of the hold.

“I need… ta do sometin’,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her, “don’ worry ‘bout it.”

Nadia obviously wanted to ask more, but he quickly escaped her sight. He was on his raptor the next second. Ratchet was in his sights soon after that.

She had arrived in a flurry of scaly feathers and tears. Her jaw hurt. She could feel the blood steadily dripping down her chin, even in her wind serpent form.

How dare he?

Sure, perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hostile toward the worgen king, but she had no reason to trust him - or any of the Alliance leaders, not after how high and mighty they behaved after the siege.

Amita couldn’t make it to Rath’s bar. She dropped on the ground, shifting into her troll form, and cupped her cheek in her hand.

Moments later she heard quick footsteps, then a cool hand was pressed over hers.

“Amita!” Vadim exclaimed, his voice tinged with worry, “wat happened? Why ya be bleeding--”

She was grateful that she had prepared herself for his flurry of curses when he realized that she was bleeding because her tusk was gone. The coolness emanating from his hand intensified, and Amita let her own hand slip away so he could place his hand directly on her skin. The cold soothed her aching jaw.

Amita hiccuped, choking on her tears. She couldn’t formulate any words. At least Vadim’s presence was calming her, for the most part, even if she was afraid to tell him why she was missing her tusk because she knew it would only fuel his dislike for Vol’jin more.

“Who in de hell did dis to you?” the mage demanded, the blue of his bleeding into his sclera.

“H-He did-- I--”

“He who?”

“The warchief,” Amita finally rasped, dropping into Zandali. Vadim fell into silence.

“Vol’jin,” she reiterated, closing her eyes tightly. Loa, it nearly made the tears worse.

Vadim retracted his hand from her cheek. Amita struggled to compose herself; others in Ratchet had been drawn to the scene. She quickly raised a hand to both hide the fact that one of her tusks was missing, and to rub away the blood that had dried on her chin.

“That son of a bitch,” the mage snarled, frost coating his tusks. Amita lurched to her feet, moving past him. She could feel the chill when he reached for her - but he must have changed his mind, because it was retracted from her shortly thereafter. She hurried into Rath’s bar, ignoring the orc when he greeted her.

She went right to her room, sitting down at the vanity.

Her face looked so… off-kilter. It looked wrong. She could taste the copper in her mouth, her tongue prodding at the bloody space her tusk had left. Her eyes were puffy and red.

Several minutes passed. Then an hour.

Finally, there was a soft knock at her door. She breathed deeply, tearing her eyes away from her reflection.

“Yes…?”

Vadim pushed open the door. The frost was gone from his tusks, and he had Hakto at his shoulder. Amita’s ears flicked down. She averted her gaze when the tauren shaman’s brows narrowed back in concern.

“Let’s have a look at that, Amita,” Hakto said, his voice absent of its usual gruffness. He gently prodded at her cheek and upper jaw, green magic swirling about his large fingertips.

“And… let’s see about removing the other one.”

Vol’jin paced.

He hadn’t been able to walk in the front door to Rath’s bar. At least three hours had passed since the incident - and wasn’t that damn mage here as well? He vaguely recalled Amita mentioning that the man had come to visit. Perhaps stay. She’d seemed happy.

So why did it bother him so damn much?

Vol’jin shook his head. He chalked it up to Amita being his childhood friend - he was only being protective because he didn’t like Vadim, and Vadim had made it abundantly clear he had no love for Vol’jin.

Still, the warchief sighed, and slumped down against the back of the bar. He could hear people talking inside, passing around stories and jokes. Someone was playing a harp. Drink glasses and bottles clinked at the bar.

Rath would most certainly know what had happened. Vol’jin had grabbed Amita’s tusk, she jerked her head back, and that was that. Out came her tusk.

Vol’jin wet his lips. He was about to get up when his ears caught onto the sound of leather against wood.

“... warchief?”

The troll flinched. It wasn’t Rath, no, but it was Inetiel. The blood elf had a bag of garbage in his hand, and was halfway out the back door.

“Inetiel…” Vol’jin muttered, pushing himself up to his feet, “I…”

“So, he shows his face.”

The blood elf made a sound close to a whine, and Rath nudged the Inetiel with his elbow. The old orc had crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze menacing, “go.”

“Yes’sir.”

Vol’jin watched as Inetiel rigidly walked over to a large steel bin. He forced himself to look at Rath as Inetiel hefted the bag into the bin.

“Where she be?”

“Every time you come here, you ask me that question,” Rath said, his voice deadpan, “and every time, without fail, I give you an answer. If you would be so inclined to tell me, Vol’jin, for what reason I should give you an answer now, I’d be most interested in hearing what that reason is.”

The troll’s ears flicked down. He quickly lowered his head to hide the pout. To be treated like a child when he held the position he had, was a blow to his pride.

Vol’jin supposed he deserved that.

Instead of arguing with the orc, and pulling the warchief card like Vol’jin was certain Garrosh would have - and he was better than Garrosh - Vol’jin extended his right hand. He had taken a moment after arriving to wash the tusk, and he held his breath upon seeing Rath’s posture relax.

“I be needing ta… return dis. And, as I be hoping might be obvious… I be needing ta talk ta her, Rath. I swear I didn’t do dis on purpose. I made a mistake. I be wanting to at least try to fix it.”

Rath breathed deeply. Inetiel scurried past the orc back into the bar, and heartily greeted someone who was clearly there for drinks, and not drama.

“Getting past me is the easy part,” the orc mused. He set a harsh gaze on Vol’jin, “I can’t guarantee that someone else will let you near her. That being said, she’s down that way,” Rath nodded in the direction, “there’s some new homes that were built down there; she’s in the bigger one. It belongs to me.”

Vol’jin dipped his head in respect, and held his tongue against saying any thanks. Like Inetiel before him, Vol’jin began to rigidly walk in the direction Rath had gestured. He was grateful that he’d decided to wear more than usual that day, having a pouch around his hips that he could slip the tusk into.

Absently he ran a finger over the blade of his glaive. This someone else could only be Vadim. The bastard had made it a point to get under Vol’jin’s skin when they were first introduced after the Siege.

Damn it.

The sun was already going down. He’d told Nadia he’d be back before then. What a lie that had been, and now that was two things he was going to have to make up for.

Ahead of him was a well constructed home, similar in all ways to the goblin structures, but made for someone bigger than they were. It sat on a raised plot of land, keeping it out of reach of the sea.

Vol’jin hardly made it up the short incline before he lurched back. Bitter cold struck his chest, crawling over his collarbone and down his abdomen.

Vadim had good aim, Vol’jin would give him that. An ice lance, right to the chest. Quickly, Vol’jin pulled his glaive away from his back, parrying a heavy blow from the mage. He would have to watch out for those daggers attached to Vadim’s staff.

The shadow hunter kicked back, baring his teeth, “let me see her.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Vol,” Vadim growled, magic swirling around his hand, “showing up here, expecting everyone to let you have your way, just because you’re the warchief.”

Vol’jin could feel anger blossom between his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t get any respect from this man. Before he could retort, a harsh winds ripped through the area. If that didn’t alert anyone that a fight was going on, well, Volj’in didn’t know what would.

The blizzard was something the shadow hunter ducked into his swift cobra form to avoid. He skirted closer to the main part of Ratchet, and once he left his snake form, he stayed in a low stance. Vadim had the advantage here.

Being a Darkspear, Vol’jin was susceptible to the cold; Vadim knew that. And even if Vol’jin had spent some time in the cold mountains of Pandaria, it was a different cold to that of a frost mage.

Vadim, it seemed, was too angry to care about keeping his distance. He blinked right to Vol’jin’s position, twirling his staff as a monk would. Vol’jin deflected his blows and returned them in kind, until their movements were nearly too fast to see.

The daggers on Vadim’s staff cut into Vol’jin’s side when the mage abruptly changed the direction of his attack mid-blow. Vol’jin staggered, and Vadim’s hand lit up with purple light. The arcane blast sent the warchief tumbling backward. Goblin bruisers were beginning to move in on the scene, but a bark from Hakto stopped them.

Good.

They should know better than to get in between two fighting trolls.

Vol’jin snarled at Vadim once he collected himself, claws digging into the dirt. Vadim sneered, then charged Vol’jin again. This time, Vol’jin ducked inside the mage’s reach, startling him, and caught the other man around the neck. He pivoted around Vadim, tightening his hold on the mage, and locking one of his arms into an awkward position. It forced the mage to drop his staff.

“I need to talk to her, and by the Loa, Vadim, you’re gonna’ be letting me.”

The mage spewed a flurry of chatterings - Thalassian, if Vol’jin recalled the sound of it correctly - then seemed to shift his head.

Ice blossomed over the back of the mage’s head, and Vol’jin stared wide-eyed right before he released a yelp of pain. Vadim had bashed his frost covered head into Vol’jin’s nose. The shadow hunter had felt it break, and he released Vadim in favor of bringing his hand to his face, blinking his eyes furiously to keep them open despite the burning ache.

The mage blinked forward, gasping for air, then blinked twice again to get behind Vol’jin. Vol’jin spun around, holding his glaive ahead of himself defensively. He had to give the mage credit. He’d accurately estimated that his head was just small enough to fit between Vol’jin’s tusks for him to deliver the deadly reverse headbutt.

Vol’jin did take some pride in seeing that there were cuts all over the other troll’s exposed skin, namely Vadim’s face. So the tip of his glaive had nicked the mage more than he thought it had.

“You vekk,” Vadim spat, once again bringing rage to boil in Vol’jin’s blood, “if you think that I’m gonna’ be letting you anywhere--”

Dark roots cut him off. They coiled around Vadim, pinning down his arms and his legs.

Vol’jin felt the ground under him rumble as well. He dropped his glaive, pulled his hand away from his face, and managed to fish the tusk out of his pouch before the roots entangled him too.

Amita’s face was red with fury - and Vol’jin had to avert his gaze. She looked so different without her tusks. He should have known that she would have the other one removed.

From the way she breathed in Vol’jin knew there was much she wanted to say. She spoke to the mage first, “please. Stop. I don’t be needin’ this right now.”

“Amita--”

“Vadim. I don’t. I appreciate it, but I don’t be needin’ it. Please.”

The mage went quiet. Voices reached Vol’jin’s ears, though their conversation was muddled. He didn’t want to look over his shoulder to see how many people had gathered, or how many of them recognized him.

Amita stalked over to him. Under the fury in her eyes he could see her pain. He glanced at his closed fist; her eyes followed.

“And what be you doin’ here?” she asked, the venom in her voice doing little to mask the bitter hurt. Vol’jin wet his lips.

“Can I talk to you?”

“You be talkin’.”

He ducked his head, unable to stop the smile that crossed his lips. He should have known she’d retort with that.

“I be meaning,” Vol’jin raised his gaze, brows narrowing back, “may I be having a moment of your time, to speak in private, Amita.”

A certain weariness crossed her features. She waved her hand to release him of the roots.

“Fine. Follow.”

He took only a moment to stoop and pick up his glaive before hurrying after her. She led him to the bar, where he had been slouched just moments before.

This was where she felt safest. It was also the only reason he knew he had to come to Ratchet, because she felt safest here, because this was where Rath and Hakto and Inetiel were - and by extension, that bastard of a mage.

The two trolls regarded each other in silence. She was wearing warmer clothes, unsuited for the weather of the Barrens, and Vol’jin could only assume it was because Amita was trying them on for one reason or another. He wasn’t used to seeing her wear such “modest” clothing, as it were.

He attempted to break the silence first, “Amita--”

“Hakto said it might not grow back.”

Under his war paint, Vol’jin paled. Amita’s gaze was level with his. She continued, as he remained mortified by the prospect, “of course, the chances are higher that it will. But it be a possibility all the same. My left tusk might not ever grow back right, if at all.”

Vol’jin recalled the flesh he’d seen in the root of the tusk, something that he had to use a dagger to get out. Depending on the amount of violence used to remove a tusk, the damage could be irreversible.

If her tusk didn’t grow back, Vol’jin wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

“Is… is he gonna’ keep tabs on it?” Vol’jin asked quietly, molten eyes fixed on his feet, “to make sure it… don’t be goin’ awry?”

“You best look at me, warchief, or I just might walk off on you.”

Vol’jin jerked up his head, and where anger had rooted itself after Vadim had been so disrespectful in the use of the title, a painful ache now grew. He knew what it meant. Amita had always intended it to be a way of distancing herself from him.

He held out his hand, opening it to reveal the tusk, “Amita, I’m sorry.”

She looked down at his hand, then back up at him, “is that why you be coming here?”

“To return it, yes,” Vol’jin said, clenching his teeth, “and to be apologizing. I didn’t think about how else to be calming you. It was a bad decision on my part. I’m sorry.”

Amita hesitantly moved toward him. She raised her hand, and drew no closer than was necessary for her to take her tusk back. The ache in his chest spread. Loa, he’d really done it. He knew her well enough to understand that for her to physically keep her distance spoke volumes of the amount of trust he’d lost.

The druid looked over the tusk in her hand. Vol’jin watched her nervously. He wanted to make this right. He wanted to fix this, and he didn’t know how.

“I’m going to Northrend.”

This news hit him about as hard as Vadim’s ice lance did. That explained the warmer clothing - and if she was going to Northrend, she was going to need a companion, someone who knew that land like the back of his hand.

Someone like Vadim.

Vol’jin couldn’t accept it. This change couldn’t be caused solely by the fact he had accidentally ripped out her tusk.

“Amita it was an accident,” he said it like that would fix everything. The way she looked at him made his heart plummet into his stomach. Once again she was on the verge of tears. Vol’jin valued his personal relationships too much to let her slip through his fingers because of his mistake. They’d been friends for years. Maybe more than friends, at one point, but neither of them had seen it, and now it was too late--

Amita lowered her gaze. Vol’jin clenched one of his hands into a fist.

“Ami, please.”

She said nothing. He took a step forward and praise the Loa, she didn’t step back.

But a snap reached his ears. He stared at her with wide eyes.

Amita extended a hand toward him. She looked at her fist, then at his hand, and finally, up at him. He hesitantly raised his, palm up.

She lowered her fist into his open hand. When she opened it, the caress of her nails sent a spark up his arm that they really had no business sending. She let her hand rest on his, palm to palm, with something jagged and sharp in between.

It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be.

“Consider this the end of us, son of Sen’jin.”

She lifted her hand away, revealing that she had broken her tusk in half, and had given the upper portion - the part that came to a point - back to him.

Vol’jin’s breaths started coming a little quicker.

“A-Amita,” he sought her gaze, molten eyes burning.

“I can’t be doin’ this anymore,” her green orbs lacked their usual life.

“Amita, I--”

“I dunno how long I’ll be gone.”

“Ami, please--”

“Go back home, warchief.”

Vol’jin stared at her in disbelief. It couldn’t be like this. One little mistake and he’d ruined everything. He could almost hear Vadim laughing. Mocking him. One of his most important relationships, aside from Nadia, Vanira, Rokhan, Baine, and Thrall, and he had ruined it.

The mage would have a field day.

And Amita was still waiting for him to leave.

He intended to make it easier for her. Walk around her, and leave. Walk around her, and leave. Walk around her, and leave.

Vol’jin embraced her tightly instead.

Amita’s whole body shook. He barely felt the touch of her hand at the small of his back. Her face was pressed against his neck, and he buried what he could of his in her hair without tangling her locks in his tusks, and despite the dull ache in his nose.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that, only that he couldn’t seem to hug her close enough.

Finally, she spoke. She sounded defeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Vol’jin, I need you to go, please.”

He stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender, his thumb keeping the piece of tusk she’d given him from falling to the grassy ground. Vol’jin could leave it at that, if only because she’d relented and called him by his name. He walked around her.

Her footsteps whisked through the grass as she ran away from him, once he was no longer looking at her.

Vol’jin tipped his head back, staring at the sky. It was getting dark. He had to get back to Orgrimmar before Nadia got suspicious and came looking for him herself - and he knew she would. She always found some way to get around whatever obstacles he put in her way to try and keep her in the Hold while he was away on business.

Before he could leave, a heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Hold still,” the low voice belonged to Hakto. He reached over and, in one swift move, straightened out Vol’jin’s nose. The warchief hardly flinched. Funny how he had forgotten about the ache in his face when the ache in his chest began. The shaman easily healed not only Vol’jin’s broken nose, but also the rest of the injuries he’d gotten in his short spat with Vadim.

“... when?” came the quiet question. Hakto exhaled through his nose, giving his grand head a shake.

“Two weeks,” he paused, then spoke again, “warchief.”

Vol’jin looked up at the shaman, surprised to find that Hakto was giving him a gentle, almost fatherly gaze, “give her space. This isn’t a decision she just… jumped to in the span of what? Three hours?”

The shadow hunter nodded his head, blinking. Wondering what the tauren was getting at.

“Vadim’s been wanting to get her out of the Barrens for days. Hell, even weeks. He last brought it up when the Siege was over. Even mentioned something about wanting to take her back to Pandaria,” Hakto reached behind himself, hand outstretched as if to silence someone that had come up behind him, “and sometimes, warchief, the best things in your life come to an end.”

Vol’jin glowered at the ground. He tightened his hand around the broken tusk he held. Hakto squeezed his shoulder.

“But that doesn’t mean that they can never be rebuilt.”

Vol’jin clapped a hand to the tauren’s shoulder. Hakto had no reason to bother telling him any of this. He held it together as he looked up at the tauren.

“Tank you.”

Hakto nodded, then gestured toward the warchief’s raptor, “you best go. Before sentries come looking for you.”

Vol’jin muttered his agreement, and it was only when he was a fair distance from Ratchet, between Crossroads and Orgrimmar, that he allowed a few tears to fall.

Nadia had been agitated for the past few days. Vol’jin was acting very strange. Apart from returning long after he said he would, he’d greeted her with the fakest smile she had ever seen cross his features, and then proceeded to distract her from questioning him by kissing her like his life depended on it.

Worse, and somewhat unsettling to the mage, was the fact that Amita had been nowhere to be seen. Nadia knew she could have easily gone to Ratchet to check on her friend herself, but whenever she intended to go, Vol’jin managed to find something he needed her help with.

Oddly, she became aware that he had started wearing a necklace she had never seen before. She would have brought it up already, but…

From what Nadia could tell, part of the necklace was another troll’s tusk. She had to admit, she was afraid to ask whose tusk it was.

Currently, she was wandering around Orgrimmar. The Lunar Festival was just around the corner, and she was humoring Vol’jin by looking for some fabric to use to make into an appropriate outfit for the event - and of course, Nadia was looking for a dress herself, or maybe even some fabric to have one made as well.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders. Looking at all the patterns was making her eyes dizzy, so she glanced to the left.

And immediately staggered forward to latch onto Amita’s wrist because Nadia would know that mass of blue hair anywhere.

“Amita!!” she exclaimed, a wide grin spreading over her lips--

Only to stare in horror when Amita turned her head, eyes wide with surprise.

Amita’s tusks.

They were gone.

Nadia could sense, with perfect clarity, that the druid’s thoughts had just been reduced to a distressed “oh no”.

The mage continued to stare, her grip on Amita’s wrist slackening. Her tusks didn’t even look like they were growing back at all, which meant that they must have been removed recently.

Nadia recalled the necklace in a vivid picture. She recalled the natural color of Amita’s tusks. The images in her mind were identical.

“Ah… Nadia. I, um,” the druid slouched, her ears pinning back.

“Amita, what happened to your tusks,” Nadia deadpanned, her grip on Amita’s wrist regaining its strength. Amita pressed her lips together. This prompted Nadia to drag the other woman into the nearest, quietest space, which happened to be The Broken Tusk - the name of which she vehemently ignored due to the ridiculous irony - and into a dimly lit back corner because thank all the gods above, below, and between that it was mostly empty.

“Amita, what happened to your tusks,” she repeated.

Nadia was not prepared for the tears that spilled down Amita’s cheeks.

“Amita please tell me what happened,” Nadia asked yet again, hoping to get the story out of the druid. Hoping that, despite all logic pointing in that direction, that the broken tusk Vol’jin now wore wasn’t hers.

“Ih-...” Amita pulled her hand out of Nadia’s grasp, rubbing at her face. The mage gave her a moment to compose herself, questions nagging in the back of her mind with the belief that once Amita started her story, they would be answered.

“It be happenin’, ‘bout two weeks ago…” Amita began, constantly brushing tears away from her cheeks, “some o’ de Alliance leadahs be here. Evah since de Siege, I nevah been likin’ dem much. De um, de worgen king, he uh, be gettin’ hostile toward de Banshee Queen.”

Nadia’s eyes tightened.

“I don’ be de biggest fan o’ her, bu’ she still be a de facto leadah of de Horde. I kinda’ snarled back at him. De king, dat is, in my hydra form.”

Nadia’s brows furrowed further in concern. She reached for Amita’s hands, “what--”

“Vol’jin panicked. And den I panicked, cuz I wasn’... I wasn’ expectin’ ‘im to be grabbin’ my tusk--” Amita inhaled sharply to stave off a sob, “he… still had his grip, and den, I be jerkin’ my head back.”

Nadia’s hand hovered centimeters away from Amita’s, until the druid moved it again to brush away the fresh tears.

“De combination, it be rippin’ out my left tusk.”

The mage balled her hand into a fist, and quickly lowered it back to her side.

“I-I’m not gonna’ be here fah much longah. I’m… leavin’.”

“Leaving?!” Nadia exclaimed, startled by the news, “I -- you-- I didn’t hear anything about this!”

“I know. I’m sorreh, Nadia, bu’ I…” she bit her lip, then switched to Zandali, giving the two women more privacy on the matter, “I can’t be here. It hurts too much. Vadim, he be the mage I’m goin’ with, he’ll be here soon.”

Nadia’s heart pounded in her ears, “where? Where are you going? Please tell me you’ll stay in touch, I don’t want to lose you just because Vol’jin --”

“I’m goin’ to Northrend. From there, I dunno. Vadim won’t tell me, wants me to be in the moment, so to speak,” Amita interrupted, “and I’m… not gonna’ make you any promises, Nadia. I can’t. I be thinkin’ about this for some time. I need to put more distance between myself and Vol’jin.”

“Why?” Nadia pleaded, searching Amita’s expression for any explanation, “going all the way to Northrend, and not staying in touch--”

Amita held a finger to Nadia’s lips.

“Because I love him, Nadia.”

The mage stared, shoulders lowered, brows back.

“And I can’t be takin’ it anymore. Seeing him get cozy with you, I-- I need to heal,” Amita paused, letting her hand drop back to her side, “it don’t be your fault. It’s my own fault. I be feelin’ this way for so long, but ever since… ever since I had Bujune, ever since I got back from the Zandalar islands I… I been tryin’ to put a wall between me and Vol’jin.”

Nadia balled her hands into fists. This wasn’t the answer she wanted. There had to be another reason - and what did Amita mean, she had to heal? She didn’t want to ask “why” again - so Nadia resorted to boring holes into the woman before her.

“I’m a nehjo, Nadia, don’t be lookin’ at me like that,” Amita said softly, “how could I ever be with someone like him?”

“You,” Nadia struggled to keep the anger out of her voice - not at Amita, no, but at this situation, “you wrote yourself off because of what happened on the Zandalar islands, because you had a child? Because you happen to enjoy the company of other men - which, you know, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I was used on the islands, Nadia!” Amita said, pain in her voice, “I defined my worth based on whether or not I be good enough to bear a man’s child, and I kept my distance from anyone who be wantin’ more than just one night, because I never wanted children! And that… that included Vol’jin. He talked about children offhandedly sometimes. It was so obvious he wanted kids when he be ready for them.”

Her tears started all over again, “listen, I-I only came here to be seein’ him one last time before I go. And just seeing him, Nadia, I don’t wanna’ talk to him. He already broke my heart. I don’t be needin’ him to shatter it too.”

“I’m not exactly happy to know that you wrote yourself off of your chance to be with someone you loved because you didn’t want kids!” Nadia said hurriedly, wracking her mind for anything to change Amita’s mind, “you-- you could have adopted! That was always an option!”

Amita shook her head, and Nadia grabbed the druid’s hands, “Amita I care about you, if you loved him so much why didn’t you just say something?!”

“Because I am nothing,” Amita choked, her expression enough to bring tears to Nadia’s eyes, “and he, he is everything.”

She pulled her hands out of Nadia’s once again, wiping furiously at her face, “how could I ever be with someone like him? I don’t even be close. I’m a whore, and a single-mother, and I be wanting nothing more than to just be happy for him and for you because I be liking you, but my jealousy be catching up to me. And it be my own fault. So I need to get away from here, and get him off my mind, and out of my heart.”

Nadia trailed desperately after Amita as the druid strode out of the inn, “please. Please write me. I don’t need it to be every day, but once every week, Amita, please--” she grabbed Amita’s hand, brown eyes begging, “please don’t leave like this.”

At the very least, Amita hesitated. Her green eyes seemed all the more brilliant. There was a lot of commotion at the Hold, and Nadia realized with a sinking heart, that Amita knew meeting schedules like the back of her hand. She had come to Orgrimmar specifically at this time because she knew that there would be a break.

To make matters worse, there was a drake circling Orgrimmar - obviously with someone on it’s back, because the wind riders weren’t making a fuss about it - and Nadia could only assume that this was the Vadim fellow that Amita had mentioned.

“Okay.”

The mage’s attention snapped back to Amita, eyes wide with hope.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Nadia practically had to jump to wrap her arms around Amita’s neck. Part of her wanted to apologize - but the other part reminded her, what difference would it have made, even if Amita told Vol’jin how she felt?

One last time.

She would let herself see him one last time.

Nadia had since let her go. Amita had watched her friend all but storm off after a tight embrace, wondering if that anger was directed at Vol’jin, or the fact that this situation was entirely out of her control. In the end, Amita decided that she shouldn’t worry herself over it.

She did, however, worry over perhaps causing an unnecessary rift between the couple so close to the Lunar Festival.

Vadim was circling the city in a wide arc, as she had requested him to. She didn’t want him to land. She didn’t want Nadia to run the risk of meeting him, because Amita knew he would be snide and flippant with her, chalking her up to being just as terrible as Vol’jin was in his eyes.

Perhaps Amita should have known better than to even think of the devil, because he emerged from the Hold, looking every part the warchief he was required to be. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest at the sight of him. She felt warm and giddy and distraught and envious all at once.

She stared for too long. He raised his head from looking down at someone. His eyes met hers, and his hand flew to the necklace he had around his neck. Amita felt her mouth and her eyes turn down in sadness.

He wore her broken tusk around his neck, so that it would be a constant reminder of his failure - or at least, what he considered to be his failure. Perhaps Amita should make sure that Nadia could make him get rid of the necklace eventually. She had intended for him to throw her broken tusk away, but for him to choose to hold onto it…

Amita hadn’t wanted him to carry it as a burden.

She offered him the best smile she could manage. His expression twisted into one of distress, and with her heart in her throat, Amita turned and ran.

The druid sprinted out of gates, startling a few orcs who were coming into the city, and once free of all the eyes, she shifted into a wind serpent. Her despairing screech brought Vadim and his dragon to her rather quickly.

Amita spent the first hour of her trip crying and crying and crying against Vadim’s back. He let her.

She was so grateful that he let her.

Vekk - according to this post, it means “crooked or dishonourable, but can also be used as an expletive when referring to an untrustworthy” Wanted to have Vadim call Vol’jin that to cement the idea that he really does not like Vo’jin you guys. He’s also be REALLY disrespectful when he drops the “jin” suffix from Vol’jin’s name. Like HELLA disrespectful.

CAN YOU BELIEVE I WANTED TO ADD AN ENTIRE SECTION WHERE NADIA AND VOL’JIN WERE ARGUING ABOUT THIS BECAUSE YOU BETTER BELIEVE THAT I WANTED TO BUT MY GAWD IT’S LONG AND I’M SORRY AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Amita has a lot of self-worth issues I’m cry. Omg I’m so glad this isn’t actually canon but I mean like... //GROSS SOBBING I’M APOLOGIZE??? Aaaaaa

[ryik-the-writer]

CHAPTER 12: The Girl With Blue Eyes pt. 2

Ao3 link

Previous Chapters:

·         Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy

·         Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)

·         Chapter 3: Day One

·         Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies

·         Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars

·         Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress

·         Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!

·         Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down

·         Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

·         Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake

·         Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1

·         Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2

·         Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground

·         Chapter 14. Recovery

·         Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more

·         Chapter 15: Trapped

-,-,-,-,-

 Peter Pan was startled awake by the sound of the office phone suddenly going off. At first he let it continue ringing. It was after-hours and if Glass needed him he would call his cell. He waited for the phone to stop ringing before he placed his head back on the desk to finish his post-work nap.

The phone rang again and Pan’s eyebrow twitched with irritation. He reached out blindly for the phone, knocking several objects off Sydney’s desk.

“Daily Mirror, why the Hell are you calling?”

“Pan? Oh for God’s sake!”

“Well it was nice to hear from you too.” Pan muttered as he raised the phone to hang it up.

“Wait, don’t go! I need your help! Can you get away?”

Pan froze at the sound of urgency in Wendy’s voice.

“What have you done this time?”

“Do not start! I need you to come to the alley behind Granny’s, and I need you to bring a jacket or something, she’s about to freeze to death.”

“Who’s about to freeze? What’s going on?”

“I don’t…I don’t know! This whole thing is out of control! I need to call Sheriff Graham but I keep getting the paper…”

Pan forced himself out of his groggy state and began to search for his. Something was really wrong and he needed to move fast.

“Pan? I’m going to hang up now just…just don’t say anything about this, please?”

“Hang on, where are you?”

“I…Pan, no. I’m not letting you get involved in this.”

Pan scoffed. “Darling, this is my town. I’m already involved. Just tell me where you are.”

“Pan…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because every time you come near me I get shot at! You’re too reckless and I’m sick of getting caught up in your smog of disaster!”

Pan twitched at the reminder of his foully during the de Vil case. He hadn’t been trying to get them both sent to the hospital. He had just been doing what he’d always done: going at it alone. If it had just been him, he would have gotten out of it fine. But Wendy had been in the cross-fire, and now he was never going to be able to live down what he’d almost done to her.

“Okay, let’s make a compromise. Tell me where you are and let me come to you. Then, we can call Graham together. Okay?”

The line was quiet and Pan feared she had denied his offer and hang up.

“I’m in the alley behind the diner.” She said quietly.

Pan sighed. “Okay. On the way. Do I…need to bring a gun or something?”

“That…is not a good idea.” Wendy laughed hoarsely.

Pan felt his lip twitch with a smile. He allowed himself to wonder if there would ever be a day that they would have a normal conversation before he pushed the idea out of his mind. Business only.

“Fine. Hold tight.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah.”

A brief pause followed before Wendy said her piece. “Thank you.”

She hung up, and Pan frowned at the dial tone.

It wasn’t until he was putting his key in his moped that he realized that she called him by his first name.

-,-,-,-,-,-

Wendy tried to hide her fidgeting as she waited for Pan, not wanting to unnerve the girl behind her more than she already was. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do about her, what she could do.

“What’s your name?” Wendy asked her gently, placing her own jacket around her shivering shoulders.

The girl looked at her, grasping the question but not seeming to know how to answer it. Wendy kept an assuring smile on her face to keep her calm.

“Were you a patient in the hospital?” Wendy asked, though the question was abundantly clear. She was wearing the standard hospital gown, though it was torn and dirty. She was painfully thin and pale. Wendy couldn’t even begin to guess how old she was. Wherever she had been, she had not been properly taken care of.

The streets of Storybrooke were blessedly empty, most of the population probably holed in their homes with their families. Still, every sound, no matter how minor, made the girl jump and whimper, causing Wendy to start to become agitated with nervousness.

Finally Pan’s moped rolled in, causing the girl at Wendy’s side to dash behind the trashcans and cover her ears.

“No No No! Not going back! Not back!”

“It’s okay.” Wendy tried to reassured, but each time she reached out the girl slapped her hands away. Finally, she pushed Wendy back so hard that she stumbled and nearly hit her head on the opposite brick wall.

“Hey!” Pan yelled out, running to the two women. He stopped at Wendy’s side, the bag slipping from his unclenched fingers when he laid eyes on the mystery girl.

“Pan?”

Wendy picked herself up, becoming uneasy at his sudden change in demeanor. She followed his gaze to the trashcans where the girl was peaking up, staring at them with wide-eyed awe.

“Don’t I know you?” the girl asked with a crooked smile.

Wendy looked to Pan. “Does she?”

Pan’s lips trembled, as if speech were struggling to exit. He began to slowly back away and Wendy feared he was going to run.

She grabbed his hand, keeping him grounded. “Pan, please. I don’t know what’s going on but I need your help.”

Pan’s eyes darted from her to the girl, his head barely shaking.

“I…I..I can’t…” He started backing out of the alley, ready to leave Wendy to deal with the mystery.

“Wait.”

Wendy looked back at the mystery girl. She had crept out slightly from the trash bins, eyes locked pleadingly on Pan’s tense back.

Wendy turned back to him. “Pan?”

Pan’s shoulders sagged with an irritated breath. “Where did you even find her?”

“The hospital.”

Pan shot around, staring at Wendy like she had just spoken a demonic incantation. “The hospital?”

“Yeah, she just ran into me but I think she was running from someone. I think she’s in trouble.”

“That much is apparent.” Pan barked, something equivalent shaking his voice. “Did you see anyone else? Were you followed?”

“No….I mean…there was someone else down there. I think they’re security or something.” Wendy touched her tender neck where she could feel bruises forming. She was thankful Pan couldn’t see them in the dim light of the alley.

“But we’ve been out here about thirty minutes now so I think we’re okay.”

“Nothing’s okay in this town.” Pan muttered, and the malice in his tone made shivers run up Wendy’s spine.

He shook his head and picked up the bag, pushing it in Wendy’s hands. “Get her in these and then we’ll figure out the rest.”

Wendy nodded and searched through the bag, pulling out a green leather jacket and black beanie.

“Are these Tink’s?”

“Well she wasn’t using them!” Pan hissed, watching the street. “Hurry it up!”

Wendy rolled her eyes and approached the mystery girl cautiously. “Here, these will keep you warm.”

The girl took the clothes, her hands rubbing over the cool leather slowly, lovingly. Wendy nodded and watched her put it on, struggling briefly with the tight sleeves. The hat came next but the progress was hindered by the girl’s unkept hair.

“Here.” Wendy reached out to adjust it but the girl shot back, staring at her in horror.

“Sorry.” Wendy held her hands up, glancing at Pan and mentally signaling for his help.

“How are we going to get her out of here? If she won’t let me touch her, I doubt she’ll get on that thing.” Wendy said, nodding to his moped.

“Leave that to me.” He brushed past her and going up to the mystery girl. Wendy was about to warn him not to get too close, that the girl, despite her malnourishes, could hit harder than a heavyweight champ. She watched Pan kneel to her level. The girl flinched back, but didn’t start attacking him like she had done her.

Wendy wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or relieved.

“Hi.” He greeted detachedly.

“Don’t I know you?” the girl inquired, confusion and just a speck of hope gleaming in her hazy blue eyes.

Pan gulped. Those eyes bore into his and he had the urge to run again. He looked down instead at her dirty, bare feet. They were a terrible sight: her left pinky toenail was gone and there were fresh cuts on the sides.

“I’m going to help you.” He said. “I’m going get you somewhere safe.”

Like a switch, the girl’s demeanor changed from remission to defensive.

“No not the safe place NOT THE SAFE PLACE!”

“Shhh!” Pan hissed, glancing at the door where any second someone could come out to take out garbage or take a smoke. “We’re not going to the same place. We’re going somewhere else.”

“I don’t want the needles.” She said, curling into a ball.

“No needles.” Pan promised in his most comforting tone (which was not an easy feat for him).

“Is everything okay?” Wendy called. Pan waved her off.

“That annoying little bird of a girl is going to help you.” He said to the girl. “She’s going to take you somewhere away from the needles.”

The girl’s head peaked up from her ball. “No safe place?”

“Not the one you were in.”

Wendy watched their exchange with worry and interest. She’d never seen him so comforting towards another human being. Any comfort he tried to give was usually labeled with sarcasm and blame, a way for him to fluff his superiority complex. But he was nothing but gentle towards the mystery girl, keeping his distance and keeping his voice soft.

Finally they stood, Pan’s arm hovering just over her shoulders.

“So?” Wendy inquired.

“We’re going to walk her to your apartment, then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“What happened to calling Graham?” Wendy sputtered in protest.

“We will…later.”

Wendy growled in frustration, stomping her foot into the gravel. “Before or after one of us gets shot? I knew you were going to do this, I knew it!”

Pan grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to him so that the frightened girl at his side couldn’t hear.

“I need you to do this for me Wendy. We will go to Graham, I swear on my life, but right now I need you to help me. Hide her and keep her safe, just for a few days. Please?”

Wendy stared into his desperate eyes, more confused now more than ever. She had never seen him this raw, this frightened.

“Okay, we can take her to my place. But you have But you have to tell me soon what the Hell is going on.”

Pan instructed her to wrap an arm around her back, as linking arms caused the girl to panic. Wendy let Pan do the leading since the girl seemed to trust him more.

Wendy’s heart was pounding as they led her through the town. She wanted to look at everything which slowed them down significantly. Pan kept easing her along, his eyes darting around like at any moment they’d be stopped or questioned.

By some miracle, they made it to Wendy’s apartment and directed the mystery girl up the three flights of stairs. Wendy hurriedly unlocked the door and allowed them entrance, locking every lock she possessed. She turned around to find Pan settling her new guest on the sofa, wrapping the throw she had thrown their around her pale shoulders.

His eyes lifted to hers and he started at her neck.

“What the Hell happened to your neck?”

Wendy frowned, grazing her fingertips over the sensitive bruises. “Someone tried to…I don’t really know. It happened in the hospital, after she escaped.”

Pan motioned for her to move into the small kitchen connected to the living room. Wendy watched in slight irritation as he began going through her cabinets, pulling out mugs and the glass jars of tea leaves she had brought from town.

“Do you have lemon?” he inquired.

“No.”

“Whatever.” Pan said as he turned on her electric kettle. “Now tell me everything that happened.”

Wendy crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “Are you asking me as someone involved or as a reporter?”

“Well I’m not asking you as a friend.”

Wendy felt a twinge of hurt twist in her chest. Of course, she knew that they weren’t friends, probably never would be, but she wished he wouldn’t be so callous about it.

“Fine. I was at the Children’s day and I was trying to leave. Somehow, I went down a…I don’t know…an abandoned wing of the hospital? I got trampled by her, nearly choked to death by someone else, and then I found her at Granny’s, accidentally called you, and now we’re all here having a spot of tea like old friends!”

Wendy saw the girl jump out of the corner of her eye and tried to calm down before anything else was said.

“And you didn’t see the person who choked you?” Pan inquired, ignoring her temper.

“No, but I think there was two people, and I think they were after her.”

The kettle began to whistle and Wendy grabbed it before Pan could. She prepared the tea and turned to asked Pan his preference but found his attention once again focused on the girl on her sofa. His gaze was almost mournful, but also angry and unsure.

“You do know her, don’t you?” Wendy accused.

Pan shot to her and glared. “Wendy-”

Wendy stepped into in his personal space. “Did you know she was locked up, that someone was doing this to her?”

“I’m warning you!”

“So help me if I find out you were allowing this-”

Pan grabbed her shoulders, shaking her as he screamed at her through clenched teeth.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You don’t know anything! I would never hurt her!”

The corner of her mouth lifted. Despite the bruising grip on her arms, she felt satisfied. Some of her questions were finally being answered.

The girl had shot from her seat, holding her hands out in defense.

“It’s okay.” Pan said, forcing a gently smile. “You want some tea?”

The girl nodded after a moment and Pan turned back to the mugs, his face flaming.

“Will you at least tell me her name?”

Pan slammed the kettle down and gripped the counter, his arms shaking.

“You trusted me enough to let you get involved, will trust me enough to help her?” Wendy begged.

He remained silent, his jaw twitching.

“Belle.” Pan muttered finally. “Her name is Belle.”

“Belle.” Wendy smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful person.”

Wendy gasped. “Is she your sister? An ex-girlfriend? Your mother.”

“Does she look old enough to be a mom to you!” Pan hissed, stalking out of the kitchen and heading to the door.

“Wait! Pan, what did I say?”

“Just drop it!” he yelled, pausing at the couch where the girl…Belle…was staring up at him.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” He told her. “Wendy’s going to take good care of you.”

Belle turned to Wendy, eyes unsure, before turning back to Pan as he stomped out the door.

Wendy watched with a heavy heart as Pan closed the door, leaving her with just as many questions as answers. She turned her attention back to her new guest.

“Are you ready for tea, Belle?”

Belle blinked, recognition reflecting in her gaze. She nodded and Belle brought her a mug, grabbing a writing pad and pen from the counter drawer. Belle’s small hands just wrapped around the mug but shook as she picked it up. She took a careful sip and set the mug down roughly, causing the liquid to slosh.

Wendy paid it no mind, more interested with the overall damage done to Belle. Her wrists were embedded with marks, as if she had been tied down for some time. The same with her bare, dirty ankles. The most peculiar marks on her of all were the ones on her temples. They were shaped like suction cups, and Wendy could only theorize that she had undergone shock therapy on multiple occasions.

Wendy swallowed her grief for her and let her journalistic instincts take over.

“So Belle, are you hungry?”

Belle looked up at her and shook her head. Wendy was glad that she could communicate non-verbally but hoped that she could get her to speak a little bit. She would eventually have to go to Graham and needed all the information she could about Belle’s previous whereabouts.

“Belle, do you know who did this to you?”

Belle’s stared wide-eyed at her, pain and sorrow seeping into her features. She brought her legs to her chest and held them tightly.

“Belle, I know you don’t know me, but you can trust me. I want to find out what happened to you, who hurt you like this.”

Belle’s incredibly blue eyes stared into hers, unsure but brave and willing.

“Safe place.” She muttered. “Is not safe.”

“The safe place? That’s where you were before, at the hospital?”

She nodded, gulping at what must have been a painful memory.

Wendy wrote down her response and continued. “Do you know how long you were down there?”

Belle shook her head and Wendy could see tears welling in her eyes.

“Okay, Belle, just one more question: do you know who did this?”

Belle shook her head harder, cupping her temples and burying her head between her legs. Wendy reached out to comfort her but quickly pulled back.

“Okay. How about we get some sleep?”

Wendy led the shaking girl to her room and then went to the drawers to pull out some pajamas.

“These are for you, and bathroom’s right here.” She showed Belle the connected bathroom. “I’ll be in the living room if you want anything.” She watched Belle rub her hands over her bedspread before stepping out of the room.

“Don’t!” Belle screamed.

“Don’t what!” Wendy gasped.

“Door…don’t…”

Wendy left the door open, earning her first true smile from Belle.

She collapsed on the couch once she got back in the living room, more exhausted now than she had been all week. She still had so many questions and both of her sources were too closed-off to supply her with answers. She was torn between keeping her promise to Pan and going straight to Graham in the morning.

Frustrated and mind swirling with thoughts, Wendy gathered just enough strength to throw her throw over her and curl up on her side, staring at the mug of cold tea Belle had been drinking.

She had no idea what she was going to do.

.,.,.,.,.,.

Pan stalked through the darkened streets of Storybrooke, thoughts clouding his mind and eating at his control.

“He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t Pan-the-man, he loves you very much.”

He gulped, shaking his head and willing away the memories of the kind, blue-eyed women who made him feel the safest that he ever had. He turned the street heading to Granny’s with the intention of grabbing his moped and heading back to Wendy’s. He couldn’t leave Belle there too long. It was too unfamiliar and she might go into a panic.

He could see the neon sign of the diner flashing but knew it would go off soon. He wanted to avoid any of the employees, especially Granny who would cuss him out for leaving his moped carelessly behind.

He reached the alley but paused when he saw someone else hovering over his bike. He stared at the person for a moment, trying to place him. It wasn’t until he turned to him and the street light reflected off his glasses that Pan did and his gut sunk.

“Peter? Peter Pan is that you?”

Pan growled under his breath and stepped into the shadows.

“Dr. Jekyll, last I checked a mob chased you out of this town.”

The doctor giggled, a sound that made chills run of Pan’s spine. “Is it illegal for a former member of the community to pay a visit?”

“I doubt anyone would want to see you after what you did, you insane prick.”

Jekyll frowned. “Name-calling isn’t your forte, Paney.”

“Shut up!” Pan gnashed his teeth. “Now what are you doing here!”

“Just handling some unfinished business, old friend.”

“I am not your friend.”

Jekyll hummed, tapping his chin in thought before turning the finger accusingly at Pan.

“If I recall, you were quite chummy with me when you were writing the story that ruined my life!”

Pan scoffed. “I did what I had to to get you exposed.”

“Yes you did, some very undesirable things if I recall.”

“Not nearly as undesirable as what you did to all those people.”

Jekyll’s chortle made Pan’s blood run cold. The man never had regrets for the things he did or the people he hurt. That was the one trait he shared with Pan, but Pan knew he wasn’t nearly that far gone. He knew the difference between ruining lives and demolishing them. In his short career as a journalist, he had ruined many lives: made it harder for them to go out into public or, in Jekyll’s case, made it nearly impossible to show their faces in the town of Storybrooke again. Those people were still living and breathing unlike the lives Jekyll had demolished.

Pan didn’t let his mind travel any further. He didn’t like thinking of the past, the good or the bad.

“Speaking of undesirables, where’s that lackey you used to carry around like arm-candy?”

Jekyll’s smirk became unnervingly calm.

“Why don’t you turn around and say hi to him, Paney.”

Shit!

Before he could turn, a force slammed into the back of his head, white spots blinding his vision and eventually swallowing him whole.

“You ruined my life all those years ago Paney, ruined it beyond recovery. Now that you’ve once again poked your nose where it doesn’t belong, I’m going to ruin yours, starting with that pretty blue-eyed creature…and ending with that nosy little blond.”

-,-,-,-,-

I was going to make this a lot longer but didn’t want to overwhelm my readers. Have part three out soon!

[presumenothing]

till called for, ii

continues directly from here – third and final chapter of the main arc, epilogue to be posted shortly now up here!

(AO3) (FFN)

The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for.”

“This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” Shiho said, voice making it abundantly clear that she was questioning her decision to go along with it.

“Give me a break, you’ve only known me for less than a week,” Shinichi retorted, attempting to sound significantly more confident than he felt.

Shiho only treated him to another unamused stare as she again tried to muss up his hair, which valiantly resisted the attempt, going right back to its usual cowlick once she took her hand away.

Finally she sighed, rolling her eyes in resigned annoyance before grabbing a baseball cap out of her bag (“I don’t even like baseball!” “Grin and bear it, Kudo-kun.”) and setting it on his head.

The plan (insofar as it could be called a plan, because Shiho was right, it was terrible and Shinichi couldn’t even begin to list the number of ways this could go wrong) started off fairly simple, relatively speaking – meet Akemi for lunch, and convince her not to go through with whatever it was the Organisation had planned for her.

That went off without too much of a hitch.

Miyano Akemi was nothing like the person Shinichi had been expecting. She reminded him somewhat of Ran, actually, which made him wonder how the two sisters could possibly be related, polar opposites as they were.

It turned out that Gin had made her a deal – a billion yen heist in exchange for allowing both of them to go free – that stank of a trap of some sort, and judging from Akemi’s expression she’d been well aware that of the possibility but had been determined to go through with it anyway.

(Shiho had paled when she’d heard Akemi talk about the deal, and Shinichi had tried to tune out the rest of their conversation, feeling oddly like he was intruding on a private matter.)

In the end, though, Akemi had accepted the alternative that they proposed. Which was fortunate, because Shinichi was already grasping at straws here - his forte was solving mysteries, not creating them, especially when he didn’t have access to his usual contacts.

Of course, no sooner had Akemi had left the cafe than a high pitched scream pierced the air.

Shinichi was on his feet before he even fully realised it, and only Shiho's quick but unyielding grip on his arm prevented him from moving any further.

“What do you think you're doing?” she snapped at him.

“Someone probably just found a dead body.”

“You don't know that.”

“I do.” It always is, Shinichi would’ve added, except then another person screamed about a dead body and made it a moot point.

“You can't be serious,” Shiho muttered under her breath, exasperated. “I don't suppose I could convince you to leave it to the police?”

“No such luck,” he confirmed, and she huffed in deep annoyance. “Look, we’re far enough from Beika that the police probably won’t recognise me on sight. And as long as I avoid giving the deductions like I usually do… unless you want to come along and help?”

He could see the exact moment when his words registered – Shiho shook her head empathically before letting his arm go. “Fine then, go play detective all you like, I’m not joining you.”

“Too late,” he informed her cheerfully, flipping his grip to pull her by the hand towards where the body lay, over the sound of her protests. “Time for your first case, tantei-san!”

.

The wind on the rooftop was bitingly cold, so Shinichi found the least exposed spot – the corner between the roof access and the ventilation unit – as he waited to put part two of the plan into motion.

Shiho had still been annoyed at him when they’d split up after leaving the cafe three hours ago, despite the fact that the case had been solved without anyone realising his identity. Though that had been mostly thanks to her concocting a plausible story on the spot when the investigating detective had asked them who they were, along with false names that Shinichi had kept tripping up on, until she’d pulled him aside and whispered dire threats if he didn’t get his – literal – act together.

She’d figured out the exact cause of death before he had, too: thallium poisoning, which Shinichi had read about before but never actually encountered on a case until now.

(“Maybe you should really become a detective,” he’d said only half-jokingly to her as they were leaving.

Shiho had looked at him for a long moment before answering. “The truth isn’t something I particularly care for, Kudo-kun.”

She’d refused to elaborate further, though, so he’d had to leave it at that.)

Shinichi was starting to regret not stopping to buy some hot coffee on the way here when the roof access door finally swung open quietly on well-oiled hinges, and a white-clad figure emerged onto the roof.

Kaitou Kid crossed half the length of the roof before stopping, though Shinichi didn’t doubt that the thief had already known he was there the whole time.

Kid spoke without turning around. “Quite the unexpected development, meitantei. To whom do I owe this pleasure?”

“Nakamori-keibu doesn’t know I’m here, if that’s what you’re asking. I’d prefer if it was kept that way.” Shinichi took a slip of paper out of his own pocket, holding it out to Kid. “I came to ask a favour, actually.”

Kid glanced over at his words, and Shinichi thought he saw a hint of surprise there, though it was difficult to know for sure, with the light of the full moon throwing the shadow of Kid’s hat brim across most of his features.

To Shinichi’s surprise, the note vanished from his fingers with a puff of smoke before reappearing in Kid’s own. “An address? And what should I expect to find there, I wonder?”

“Two people who could use your help,” Shinichi answered, his mind already racing. (The clocktower heist had been an impressive demonstration to start with, now that Shinchi knew who he’d been up against back then, but witnessing Kaitou Kid’s tricks firsthand was quite something else altogether – how had the thief managed that with two metres of intervening space between them?)

“I imagine that you aren’t referring to my less legal skillset, so… disguises, I assume?” Kid asked.

Shinichi shrugged noncommittally – it was true, but there was no need to give up the information when he still couldn’t be certain that Kid would actually help. (This was the riskiest part of the plan, really, but since Shiho remained adamant about staying away from the Organisation’s disguise expert, he’d decided to take a chance on Kid after recalling his disguise from the heist.)

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kid said with some amusement. “Friends of yours?”

Shinichi chuckled dryly, and couldn’t help but imagine Shiho’s response to that question. “Not at all. Will you come?”

“A mysterious invitation, hand-delivered… how could I resist?” Kid grinned, and the note vanished again, failing to reappear this time. “Though I do hope this isn’t an ambush of some sort, meitantei, that’d be horribly disappointing. Not to mention rude.”

“No handcuffs, promise.” Shinichi’s words were punctuated by the thunder of the Task Force’s footsteps echoing up the ventilation unit.

“And that’s the cue for both of us to take our leave, I think.” Kid sketched a quick bow to Shinichi, still grinning. “See you later, meitantei!”

.

True to his word, Kid arrived at the empty warehouse where Shiho and Akemi had been waiting half an hour after Shinichi himself did. Though if the oddly reflective glint of light off a leg of one of the birds roosting in the rafters was anything to go by, the thief had already scouted out the location before actually turning up.

Shinichi would have been surprised if Kid had done otherwise, actually – he certainly would’ve been suspicious as well if their situations had been reversed, though he had been counting on curiosity to draw Kid out, based on what conclusions he could draw from the Task Force’s casefiles.

(Shiho gave him the stink-eye when he whispered I told you so, but he was definitely not imagining the hint of relief in her expression.)

Akemi was the one who moved forward to speak with Kid, who now wore a nondescript outfit and a small backpack, apparently having found the time to stash most of his costume somewhere on the way here. Which presumably meant that he was either still wearing his earlier disguise from the heist, or he simply didn’t think any of them were going to be able to discover his identity from his face alone.

Shinichi thought the former was much more likely – you didn’t stay uncaught for as long as Kid had by being careless, after all – until the thief walked close enough for both him and Shiho to see his face.

“…why does Kaitou Kid look so much like you, Kudo-kun?” Shiho asked in an undertone, her confusion mirroring his own.

“I have no idea,” Shinichi answered, staring at Kid, because Shiho was correct – there were only slight differences in their complexion and eye colour, and he wasn’t sure how much of the facial structure could be chalked up to latex prosthetics, but the overall resemblance to himself was singularly striking. “Either he decided to disguise as me on the way here for some bizarre reason, or my parents had another child who just happens to be a magician thief and forgot to tell me. What?” he added defensively at the incredulous look Shiho was giving him. “You don’t know my parents, that’s actually a perfectly plausible thing that might’ve happened!”

“I don’t know if I’d prefer that to be true or not,” Shiho said finally. “But it certainly explains quite a bit about you, at least.”

(Shinichi couldn’t even bring himself to be offended at that.)

“Oi, meitantei!” Kid chose that moment to call out. “Stop deducing things and come help, some of us would actually like to get home at a reasonable time tonight.”

“I didn’t know you even needed sleep,” Shinichi quipped as he walked over to where Kid was setting up a disguise kit from his backpack, Shiho trailing wordlessly behind him.

“Now, who said anything about sleep?” Kid retorted with the same grin from earlier before turning back to Akemi. “Okay, since you have to apply these disguises yourself I’m afraid they won’t be anything particularly elaborate, but I’ll see what I can do.”

True to his word, Kid worked only with the barest bones of his kit, which still boggled Shinichi with its sheer complexity – even considering that he was related to Kudo Yukiko, who Shinichi was convinced occasionally dressed up for nothing but the fun of it – and after he was done the sisters looked like…

…older versions of Ran and Sonoko, actually, Shinichi couldn’t help but think, and it wasn’t just because of the hair colour. Kid had focused mostly on Shiho’s features, working with latex to hide the sharpness of her brow and cheekbones, and finally producing a pair of oversized glasses that she’d reluctantly put on with a grimace. He’d also worked some gel into their hair, giving Akemi’s hair a noticeably messier look while straightening out the recognisable curls of Shiho’s.

The thief’s skills were impressive, Shinichi had to admit – despite the relative simplicity of the disguises, the pair now looked convincingly like two unremarkable college students rather than half-Japanese (and half-British, Shinichi suspected) sisters. It wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny, even with the addition of coloured contacts and hair dye, but that was a risk they were going to have to take.

“So, how do I look?” Shiho had caught his assessing glance, apparently, her expression still acerbic from behind fake lenses.

…and completely at odds with her suddenly sugary tone, which was more than enough to give Shinichi goosebumps. “Please never, ever, do that again.”

“No need to be so serious,” Shiho replied with a moue of annoyance, still affecting the same tone, and Shinichi was having the sudden sinking realisation that she was actually enjoying this part.

Kid let out something dangerously close to a giggle, his disguise kit disappearing back into his bag with a snap of his fingers. “Right, I’ll be off then. And remember, you all owe me one!”

Shinichi was the only one who spluttered indignantly at that. “But – that – why do I owe you anything?”

“Clocktower heist, meitantei,” Kid answered cheerfully, already halfway to the exit. “Or did you forget the part where you fired a gun at me?”

“I fired it near you, idiot thief, there’s a difference!” he protested, but Kid merely waved jauntily before vanishing from sight, leaving Shinichi to mutter imprecations under his breath.

“Now that’s a story I’d like to hear,” Shiho remarked dryly, and Shinichi was too annoyed to be grateful that her tone had dropped back to its usual range.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, already deciding that he was going to turn up at Kid’s next heist armed with a dozen soccer balls and a tranq gun – because Shinichi didn’t aim at something without hitting it, and he was going to make Kid learn that the hard way.

.

The last part of the plan was in Akemi’s hands for now, since she apparently had some way of contacting the FBI, though Shiho’s expression when she mentioned it pointed at some unpleasant history behind that connection. (Shinichi had no delusions that she’d tell him the truth if he asked about it, though.)

They were back in the lab again, Shinichi drinking the last of the hot coffee he’d bought from a vending machine earlier. “I’d want to stay, you know,”

Shiho gave him another of her inscrutable looks before turning back to her laptop with a shake of her head. “You would do that, wouldn’t you.”

She had spliced in some old footage to the surveillance feed in order to cover her earlier absence – her weekly lunch with Akemi aside, it wasn’t a good idea to draw attention to the irregularity of both sisters being absent for an extended period of time. Shinichi watched her work in silence, and was almost surprised when she continued speaking.

“Well, it can’t be helped.” She didn’t look at him, only tapped a few more keys before closing the laptop and pulling out one of her notebooks instead. “I’m not some high school detective, just a scientist.”

The expression on her face as she’d said that was… not quite distant, Shinichi thought, but it was enough to prompt him into standing up and wishing her good night before going to the adjacent break room he’d been sleeping in.

It’d been a long day even by his standards, after all, and they still had more to do tomorrow.

.

Shinichi woke to a strong sense of deja vu.

Or, to be exact, he woke to the piercing glare of morning sun, and the feeling of having being propped up in an uncomfortable position for longer than was advisable.

Other sensations registered one after the other – the unyielding coolness of a wall behind his back, the rubbery numbness in his limbs, the cheerful cacophony of noise in the far background – and all Shinichi could think was really, this again?

Which said something about him, probably, but Shinichi didn’t bother thinking on that, searching his memory as he waited for feeling to return to his limbs.

His mind still felt a little sluggish, but he was fairly certain that the last thing he remembered was being in the lab with Shiho, which didn’t explain why he was apparently at an amusement p–

…hang on. Amusement park? Shinichi thought, wincing at the sun’s glare as he looked up. Don’t tell me –

But yes, that was the distinct shape of the Mystery Coaster, there was no mistaking it.

Shinichi groaned as he slowly manoeuvred himself into a more comfortable position. If he’d had any doubts about Shiho’s sense of humour, this certainly dispelled the last of them.

Couldn’t she have at least left him nearer to his house?

Because that was what had happened, clearly. Whatever her reasons (if it was anything about keeping him safe, she was being monumentally stupid given that he’d walked right into this mess himself), Shiho had ditched him along with the rest of his plan in Tropical Land, right back where he’d started.

Shinichi should’ve seen this coming, really. He’d expected it when she’d refused to tell him anything about her plans for after she and Akemi left the country, which made sense if she was trying to avoid making him a liability, but there’d been something off about her attitude even so.

His handphone chose that moment to buzz, and he took it out of his pocket with clumsy fingers, noting that it was fully charged despite the fact that he hadn’t even seen it for the past few days.

The screen suddenly went black, but before Shinichi could do more than blink in surprise, white text began to appear, scrolling smoothly past the screen.

Meitantei-san: I assume you’ve figured out what I’ve done by now. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m dead, and all traces of both my work and your presence here have been destroyed as thoroughly as is practically possible. Do try to keep your head down for a while – I would advise you to do so indefinitely if I thought you’d listen, but keep in mind what could’ve happened if you had run into anyone else. Some of my erstwhile colleagues may show a brief interest in you after this, though they will likely conclude that I was using you as a distraction to cover my escape attempt.

(And they wouldn’t even be wrong about that, Shinichi thought glumly as the text seemed to pause for a moment.)

This message will self-destruct after this, so I hope you’ve been paying attention. Do not look for me, meitantei-san – I’m sure that Watson of yours could provide you with some other mystery to unravel.

Shinichi’s eyes narrowed in puzzlement at that last line – his Watson? – but before he could re-read it the entire block of text disappeared along with the black screen, leaving him to stare at his phone’s lockscreen, which showed… several dozen missed calls and texts, at least half of them from Ran.

I’m okay, he texted quickly to both her and Megure-keibu, then brought up a browser window.

Shiho had said that she’d destroyed the evidence thoroughly, which most likely suggested – a fire? Shinichi hazarded a guess, typing several words into the search bar, and was rewarded with several articles about the major explosion of a building matching the approximate location he’d deduced the lab to be at.

He skimmed through the reports quickly, brief as they were. The incident had occurred well past midnight, and preliminary findings appeared to suggest foul play, with the rescue team confirming at least one casualty.

Shinichi leaned his head back against the wall and felt himself shiver slightly, though the aftereffects of the chloroform had long since faded. So Shiho intended to suggest to anyone looking that… she’d attempted to fake her own death, but had accidentally gotten caught up in the blast?

He didn’t doubt that the coroner would identify the body accordingly, since a blast of that magnitude would leave very little intact, and Shiho was more than capable of falsifying the necessary evidence – but that left the matter of where the corpse itself had come from, which –

You’d go for something cleaner, he suddenly remembered himself saying, back at the crime scene where this had all started.

(Do I not look capable of murder to you? Shiho had asked, and Shinichi didn’t have any idea how much of this she’d already planned back then – she could have gained access to some sort of morgue, and it was entirely plausible that the lab building itself had one, but on the other hand – )

His thoughts were derailed abruptly when his phone rang, and he pushed himself to his feet before answering. “Ran? I’m at Tropical Land, so – what? No, I’m not quite sure what happened but I’m not injured, there’s no need you to come over – ”

He didn’t know for sure what Shiho had done, but she’d been right about that much: Shinichi wasn’t going to look for her, not when it might endanger both her and Akemi’s lives, but now that he knew about the Organisation nothing was going to stop him from hunting down the rest of it.

It was what Holmes would’ve done, after all.

.

.

...this took a darker turn than expected at the last part? the original ending (EDIT: now up here) was completely different, but this suddenly happened and I had to rewrite the entire last third, go figure thanks but no thanks Shiho

as mentioned previously, the plot is not the point here, and there are definitely holes that I haven't patched up – hopefully it makes some semblance of sense at least, but I'm really here for the characters. so have some side notes on our three main players (or rather, two main players and a thief) here: 

Shinichi's suspicions in the last section are well-founded – remember, this is Sherry we're talking about here, whose opinion on the value of human life is... questionable at best. what exactly she did is left to your imagination, but her words here are very deliberate: the whole point is to scare Shinichi into realising what she (and by extension, the Org) is capable of, much as Ai does with the fake gun at the hospital. 

imo Ai's main change over time in canon isn't in personality (hence why Shiho's characterisation here remains fairly similar) but rather in her values/beliefs, which took a one-eighty or so after meeting Conan, and perhaps solving a case here is the first step towards a similar change for Shiho... or perhaps I just couldn't resist including that scene. my kingdom for detective!Shiho, come on. 

Kaito based the disguises at least in part on Aoko and Keiko, but only had on a minimal disguise himself because he was running low on supplies – he’s basically depending on the likelihood that none of them will report him based on this encounter, since they’d have to explain how it happened in the first place. (Jii objected to him turning up at all, obviously, but Kaito can be pretty reckless and soft-hearted when it comes to these things, as we all know.)

[hearshegoes-blog]

Do [No] Harm (part 5)

Their post I <3 U story continues...  

Read here or catch up on AO3

Molly, please!

He was dreaming. He knew this because somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice kept repeating “I love you I love you I love you…“ Molly’s voice. But the image behind his eyelids was of an explosion, running on a concurrent loop. He’d fought against sleep for hours, but finally lost the battle shortly after leaving St. Bart’s.

Sherlock hated dreaming.

The sweet oblivion he received from shooting up was one he could rely on. The visions were phantasmagoric in the extreme, making even the most harrowing of them easy to ride, enjoy - or at least get lost in. When he was high, his subconscious created an animated short or a Buñuel for him to watch. Nothing was real enough for him to feel. He was just an observer even when he was the star.

By contrast, dreams took the very same data from his subconscious and ran it through the filter of raw emotion, his heart. Every frame, every word refracted through the prism of his fear, shame, sorrow. Love. In dreams, Sherlock was forced to participate in the narrative to the point of feeling pain.

And it frightened him.

“Sherlock?”

Molly wore the spectrum of Sherlock's emotions in those dreams. He was ashamed of his disregard for her, treatment he convinced himself was ultimately, selflessly, for her benefit. He couldn’t outrun the sadness he felt every time he used her flat, as a bolthole, and discovered telltale signs of another man’s presence. He feared he’d made a grievous mistake, hours ago, when he uttered that second I love you. He couldn’t take it back and it might’ve destroyed whatever this was between them, the long-established distance that felt closer to intimacy than anything he’d ever had with a woman.

And he loved her.

“Sherlock.”

She whispered his name in that way, the last hard consonants floating breathlessly from her mouth. Sherlohhhhck. He liked that most of all, when she said his name. Even when she was angry with him. Softer than even his best dressing gown. And he was going to tell her just that. Even if it was only in a dream. Reach out to her, hold her, tell her —

“Sherlock! Sherlock what are you doing? Wake up would you!” Molly shoved at him, her hand slipping past his shoulder and connecting squarely with his nose.

“OUCH!” Sherlock’s eyes flew open as his head bounced against the taxi’s back window. Instinctively, he felt for his nose, forgetting his stiff hands, the stitches, the raw cuts. “What’d you do that for?" The pain in his hands throbbed. "Owww!”

“You ok, Miss?” The taxi driver took his eyes of the road for a second at the commotion coming from his back seat.

“Is she okay?” Sherlock whined, “I’m the one being assaulted.” He rested his head back again and shut his eyes. “I’m seeing stars for god’s sake.”

Molly ignored him, “I’m fine Aarti. Thank you.”

“OK. You just let me know. I can pull over and dump him out if he gets fresh again, Miss.”

“Thank you. He’s mostly all mouth and no trousers.”

Sherlock turned and fixed Molly with one glittering eye. “One day, Miss Hooper, I shall prove you wrong.”

“I'd like to see you try it.” she countered, her words clipped and her face hard.

He knew when to leave well enough alone.

But he couldn't.

"I...I think you dislodged something," he sulked. "I think I need a doctor."

Molly kneeled up on the seat, hovering above his face and scowled. If Aarti could take a sharp corner right about now, he thought, this whole business would effectively be taken out of both their hands and placed squarely with more agreeable body parts.

“Move your hand,” she swatted at him, “let me see —“

“— Owww! Clearly a bedside manner isn't required in the morgue.”

She set her fingers roughly along the bridge of his nose, avoiding eye contact. After an abnormally thorough examination of the damage, she asked, “What were you doing anyway?”

“I was trying for a little sympathetic companionship,” he muttered, “Thanks for queering my pitch.”

“In the back of a cab?” Molly replied. She gave him one more - unnecessary - pinch before withdrawing her hands from his face. “You're fine. And you’ve been watching too much porn if you think you've got any chance of a backseat quickie.”

He wanted to tell her, wanted to explain to her about his dream. But he couldn't. She'd made it abundantly clear she wasn't interested in hearing more from him tonight.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as the cab sped along at an annoyingly legal rate of speed. Sherlock focused his attention out the window and silently cursed Aarti’s cautions driving.

“This isn’t the way to Baker Street,” he harped. “Where are we going?”

The question was rhetorical. He knew full well. And he wasn't at all unhappy about it.

“Clapham,” she responded flatly.

Another several minutes passed before she spoke. “Why’d you let us get all the way to Baker Street without telling me about your flat?” Molly didn’t wait for his response, launching full throttle into her lecture, “Had to find out from the boys opening the shop that Mrs. Hudson’s camped out at Mrs. Turner’s until the reno’s finished! And John took Rosie home, for obvious reasons! What were you going to do, then? Huh? Just crawl back up to your flat and sleep amongst the debris? Honestly, Sherlock, you have no concept —”

“— Well gee whizz Miss Hooper,” he turned toward her and drawled, mocking her irritation in his American cowboy accent, “I had a might bit more on my mind but you rest assured, the next time I find out I have a sister, watch three - no four! - men die and nearly loose my best friend, my brother and the woman I love I’ll be right sure to inform you of flat upgrades first. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

He'd said too much.

Bloody hell, this night! He didn’t mean to sound petulant. He meant to right his wrong. The dull ache in his chest returned, as did the desire to reach out for her. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and turned back toward the window. Molly annoyed him during the regular course of their friendship. She saw too much. Of him. It was unnerving.

If this was love, he couldn’t understand why John and she rushed, head-long, into it so often. The data made no sense.

Sherlock concentrated on the brightening sky as they crossed the Chelsea Bridge. London was waking up to a light drizzle as he was going to sleep in a thunderstorm.

“I’m taking you home,” Molly spoke softly, after a time, as if she didn’t want to disturb him.”It’s too crowded for you to stay at the neighbor's with Mrs. Hudson.”

“Yes," he drawled and looked squarely at her. The corner of his mouth kicked up, "I have it on good authority that Mrs. Turner’s got several married…flat mates.”

“And Mrs. Hudson is a former exotic dancer with an Aston Martin and a boarder with a penchant for playing pirate.” She didn't fully commit to her smile. Instead, she leaned forward to address the cabbie. “Aarti, I’d like to introduce you to the great Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective and sometimes pirate,” she turned back and he was grateful for the light tone in her voice. “You were barely awake, Sherlock, when Aarti helped load you into the cab —“

“— Damsel in distress is sounding alarmingly more accurate,” he grunted, remembering her admonishment from earlier at Bart's, but couldn't keep his smirk from widened into a full grin.

“Left turn just here, Aarti, then up on the right. Thank you.”

“Yep. You got it. Miss.” The cab pulled in front of a neat, terraced Georgian. As they exited, Aarti leaned out the window and motioned back in Sherlock’s direction, “You gonna be ok with him, Miss?”

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh, slamming the cab door behind him harder than necessary. “Need I remind you that it was ME who was assaulted by HER?”

Aarti ignored his griping and raised a brow at Molly.

“You mean the damsel in pirate’s clothing?” She nodded toward Sherlock, “He doth protest too much. He’ll be back to his old self after a good kip.”

Entwining her arm though his, she lead the way up the walk. Sherlock felt an unfamiliar flutter in his stomach as they reached the door. Apprehension? Anticipation? Odd. He’d been in Molly’s flat countless times before, although rarely with her there. He made it a point to use it as a bolthole only when he knew her to be working or on holiday. When he could be alone amongst her things. Sherlock wasn’t quite sure why it was important that she not be around… only that he felt more comfortable about sleeping in her bed, using her bath linens, when he knew she wouldn’t be there.

She looked up at him with an almost smile again. As knackered as he was, he could think of nothing beyond coaxing a full grin from her. What would it be like if he stopped right here, at her door, and kissed her? Not on the cheek as he’d done numerous times before. Those chaste pecks were delivered quickly, efficiently, in an effort to pry himself loose, to save himself from drowning and pulling her down with him. He was an addict always in search of the next fix.

She deserves better.

But Christ if Sherlock didn’t want to hear her gasp in surprise as he pulled her to him, feel her relax against his body and tell her…tell her he was sorry. And not just for the last twelve hours.

Tell her he loved her.

As if she’d heard his thoughts, Molly stepped behind him and gave him a gentle push through the door. “Go. Up. A kip, a good kick in the arse and - for better or for worse - you’ll be yourself again.”

He wasn't sure that was the most advantageous of outcomes.

—

Sherlock knew Molly’s flat almost as well as he knew Baker Street. He’d been surprised by the tidy modernity of it - crisp white and warm charcoal gray softened by touches of violet and smoke blue. And charmed by her collection of rocks, lined atop the mantle, and shadowboxes of taxidermy insects lining the hallway.

Miss Hooper was practical, sentimental, and a woman with her own means.

And undressing on the other side of her bedroom door.

The window for taking subsequent actions based upon that data had closed. Probably for the better. For their friendship. He needed to erase the image of Molly kicking off her trousers, walking around in her plain cotton knickers.

She had eleven pairs of white, four pink and one incredibly suggestive black lace pair shoved in the back of her chest of drawers.

He knew every inch of her flat.

He rushed to occupy his mind. And his hands. He shouted louder than needed in her direction, “Shall I make us some tea?"

Molly mumbled from behind the door but didn’t come out.

“Right, then,” he sighed and went to put the kettle on.

In the kitchen.

The dull light of rainy London did nothing to soften the blow of being in her kitchen. By reflex, he looked up at the far corner, to where a camera offered him full view of her face just hours earlier. The entire set-up had since been disconnected back at Sherrinford. Greg arranged for the units themselves to be removed in the morning.

It was morning, Sherlock reminding himself.

“Mourning, more accurately,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”

Molly reappeared, barefoot and sporting a plain long-sleeved t-shirt atop a pair of floral pajama bottoms. Her face was scrubbed and her hair was loose.

And he was never so grateful for a counter between them.

“I was…a…,” he fumbled, the blood completely draining from his brain. “Em...Hmmm?”

“Sherlock. It’s 7:15 in the morning. We both need sleep.” Molly pointed back down the hallway from where she'd just emerged. “No tea," she ordered, “Bed. Now.”

"That's awfully presumptuous of you, Miss Hooper," he deadpanned, hoping to infuse a bit of levity into the situation and give himself a moment to... collect parts of his anatomy that were responding quite robustly to her unintended suggestion.  

He was in no position to walk the short distance without drawing her suspicion. Nor was he in any position to entertain such thoughts. At least not consciously.

At least not now. 

Not after what you did to her.

“Molly,” he started, paused, spread his hands on the counter. They’d been in this position before, earlier this evening. And she’d been a rational adult throughout. In the past, when they'd sparred, she’d yell ferociously or cut him with a much-deserved remark. Or slapped him.

This time, she took great pains not to hurt him. He watched her anger bloom, back at Bart’s and in the taxi, expected her to rail against him. Welcomed the punishment. Instead, she informed him that she wasn’t discussing the three words wedged between them. Not until they were both thinking and speaking rationally.

That’s when it struck him: Molly was well and truly upset with him.

Not upset.

Hurt.

Tonight had hurt her.

He'd hurt her. Again.

“You’re right. Tea would be a bad idea now,” he hesitated, wanting to stay in the kitchen with her, to somehow cleanse it of the damage done. “I’ll just go clean up. Thank you, Molly Hooper, for letting me stay here...tonight.”

“Today. Sherlock. It’s already today.”

[aperfectsong]

That Is I Think I Disagree (SL with @BluesAndSorrow)

Lindsay: ^I could feel the anger rolling off of me in waves. I wanted to double guess coming to the studio, but it was part of the deal to move to New York. I had to put out an album eventually. Now was just a little sooner than I think anyone realized. I hadn’t worked on getting any of the songs ready. I hadn’t made a list of songs I wanted to cover. I just knew I needed to get in here. I needed Mr. Francis to see that this was going to be different.

As soon as I walked through the doors of the studio, it was like there was a flurry of activity. The receptionist knew exactly who I was without me opening my mouth. “He wants you to take a seat, Miss Evans. He’s not ready for you yet.” Shaking her off, I made my way to one of the rehearsal spaces. I still wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I found myself sitting behind a small piano as I gathered the sheet music in front of me.

It started out very similarly to the original. It was a song full of pleading and want. But I needed to remind myself why I was here. I needed to grab onto the anger again. I needed him to see what was going on in my head. I needed him to understand why this had been such a mistake.

It felt like in no time, I had a band behind me. And they were doing exactly what I needed them to do. The electric guitar had an edge to it that brought out nothing but the anger. I couldn’t stop the scratch in my voice. It was an imperfection that Mr. Francis hated. But this wasn’t about giving him the performance he wanted. This song was about showing him the frustrations I was going through.

Even though I was just in a practice room with a band, we had amassed a small gathering that were watching us. We were tweaking the sound a bit, but it was coming out exactly the way I wanted it to come out. And it made me feel powerful. It was one of the first times I had ever felt powerful in the studio.

“We need to get you into a booth with a producer. We need to lay this track.” I wanted to argue with them. I wanted to tell them that I needed to wait for Mr. Francis. But the truth was that I was tired of waiting for him. I was tired of waiting on him for everything. So I nodded my head.^ I just want you guys to lay the music. There’s a long process to get me behind the glass, and I’m not entirely ready for it yet.

^It took maybe ten minutes to get everyone set up in a booth to record the music. I didn’t go near a microphone, but I did relax on the couch while the guys recorded. I knew better than to say a word, but there were times when a note would be off, or someone would drop a beat. Those were the only times I spoke up.

It was when everyone stopped playing that I finally turned my attention towards the production booth. I could see the anger written on his face. Mr. Francis wasn’t thrilled that I didn’t wait for him. In fact, I knew he was pissed that I was in a booth with someone else. But it was the icy words that slipped from his lips that made me even more irritated. “Miss Evans. If I could see you outside. Now.” The guys looked at me with concern before I waved them off. They thought this was a dispute between a producer and artist. Most of the people here weren’t aware of the fact that I had been with Mr. Francis for over a year. Slipping out of the booth, I folded my arms across my chest as I waited for him to come find me.^

Wesley: -I had no idea what was going on when I got word from the receptionist that Lindsay was on the way and then that she was here. I hadn’t been expecting her in for at least a few weeks yet. I was well aware that she hadn’t been working on arranging anything. She didn’t even have a list of potential songs that she wanted to try out. Mostly, Lindsay had been focused on the move to New York and getting everything prepared in the new penthouse now that we were here.

She’d been into the studio a few times to get acclimated and meet a few people, and then suddenly here she was. I’d been in a meeting when she called, and I hadn’t been able to get out of it until a while after she’d gotten here. I expected to find her in a rehearsal space, working out something on a piano on her own, somewhere she and I could have a chat before anything got rolling in the booth. I didn’t know where inspiration had come from, but I wasn’t going to question it.

At least, not until I walked into the recording areas and there was a band laying down a track for her to sing to with another producer behind the glass. And there she was sitting on the couch listening to the track being laid down as though nothing out of the normal were going on. I didn’t know what to think at that exact moment, but I knew I needed to have a word with her. She wasn’t thinking things through as far as I could see, or if she was then she was going out of some kind of emotion I wasn’t privy to.

I had no idea if I was being replaced here nor did I understand any of what seemed to be going on. I knew she saw me, and I knew exactly where I was going to expect my answers from. There was no way on Earth I was going to bring it up to the other producer sitting in the booth. Everyone here knew I was the one working with Lindsay, including herself, so the fact that I walked in and waited for them to finish up before I leaned into the microphone to request to speak to her without a single word to the other man in the booth was perhaps the least rude thing happening here.

Lindsay stalked out of the room into the hallway, and I found her just as I expected with her hands folded across her chest and a petulant expression. Whatever was going on here, I planned to keep my cool, at least as long as we were here in the office. When we were home, things might be very different. I moved into her line of sight since it seemed she wasn’t going to turn to face me once I walked out to her side- So, do you mind explaining to me exactly what’s going on here? Because, to me, it looks like you’re working with another producer in there, or am I mistaken.

Lindsay: ^I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want to do this. But it was a price I was paying. But I still had my beliefs. I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t a caged bird for him to bring out when he felt like playing with me. I was done waiting for him. I couldn’t do it anymore.

My voice was firm as I ditched the last semblance of propriety I had in me as I let my eyes meet his. I rarely looked him in the eyes. It was a symbol of my submission to him. But this time, I wasn’t backing down.^ I did nothing. I haven’t laid a vocal track. I didn’t work with a new producer. I was the good little girl you’ve been expecting me to be since we moved to New York. I’ve been your little caged songbird. Only pulled out when it’s convenient for her to sing and make people money before being put back in her cage.

^I wanted him to challenge me. Tell me that it wasn’t true. But it was. Even if he had his reasons for it. I hadn’t been invited out. I hadn’t been allowed to work on this album. I was stuck in a house. I had to get it prepared for a man who didn’t even want me in his bed at night. I was a live in servant of his. And it felt like I was back to square one with him. I wasn’t the girl he had trained. I was just a girl who had demanded he be her producer.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I let out a low growl before speaking in a low voice. I wasn’t going back to that girl. I hated her.^ I’m not the girl you blindfolded in Las Vegas, Wesley.

Wesley: -There was something more to all of this than Lindsay was letting on, and I wasn’t certain that I was going to get the whole story until she got this streak of rebellion out of her system. I could see it in her eyes. She was certain I was using my position to take advantage of things for some reason, though it was far from it. She seemed to have forgotten it was mutually beneficial, that working with me kept the panic attacks and perfection at bay, at least somewhat. That was why she’d insisted on working with me, and I’d insisted she come with me when I’d changed labels.

I wasn’t sure what had changed since I’d walked out of the penthouse this morning, but it was abundantly clear that something had. Here was neither the time nor the place to get to the bottom of it though. I was painfully aware of how many eyes were on us, even though we’d stepped out into the hall. If Lindsay wanted to play this game then I was going to let her play it out until it’s end.

I straightened up, tugging on the lapels of my coat as I pulled away from the wall and away from where she was standing.- Well, that’s clear, Rose. -I made sure to use the pet name I’d used for her even though it appeared she was having none of it, at least for now. Raking one hand through my hair as I let out a deep breath.- I can’t and won’t stop you from doing something you really want to do. -I fought to keep the emotion out of my voice. It was heartbreaking to watch her pull away from me like that, after all we’d been through in the last year, but I honestly couldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. And I wasn’t going to fight it out with her right here in the hallway at the studio, no matter what we’d said to each other before coming here.-

Sing if you want to. Work with whatever producer you want to here at the label. I hope it works out for you. Just know, little Songbird, that the cage door is open any time you want to use it.

-I didn’t know what else to tell her. She had been trapped back in the new place, getting everything ready. I’d thought it was voluntary, but perhaps I’d been wrong. All I could do was let her make the decision and learn whatever lesson came from it the hard way if that was what she chose to do. The life she’d decided to live with me was all about choice, all about her free will. I wasn’t going to take it from her. I didn’t even like the insinuation that I might be using her for nothing more than financial gain.

I loved her. I’d loved her for a long time, though she didn’t seem to know it. Being oblivious was something that it seemed the two of us were both good at.-

Lindsay: ^There was more to the fight. I knew there was more. And I knew what he was doing. This was a challenge. Get in the booth with a different producer. Make something without going into a panic attack. Prove him right. He didn’t think I could do it. He thought I was going to melt down. And that was something I couldn’t let happen.

I could only stare at his back as he started to walk away. It was the first time in years that I had the chance to work with someone else. I had relied on Wesley for far too long. And I was forgetting what it was like to work with another producer. And it wasn’t healthy. There was a lot about our relationship that I was sure wasn’t healthy. But this wasn’t the place to work on it.

I took another breath before I walked back into the booth with the band. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but I knew I needed to take this chance. I needed to push my limits again. I was getting too comfortable with the bastard that made me his song bird. He could tell me the cage door was open, but he was the one who opened and closed it.

And then I was behind a microphone. And with each passing verse, I could feel the pressure building up in my throat. The panic. It was something I hadn’t felt in over a year. I felt the memory start to wash over me as I went for another take. I felt the crack in my voice rather than heard  it. And then the shame was back. Each breath got a little bit harder to take. The room was spinning around me, and I couldn’t focus.

Each word that filled my headset was getting more and more frustrated. No one understood what was going on. And no one knew how to handle this. They couldn’t have predicted that I was going to meltdown. I couldn’t have predicted that I was going to meltdown. He was right. I couldn’t do this without him, and I felt almost relieved when I heard someone being instructed to get Wesley Francis in the booth with me. It had been a mistake to think I could do this without him.^

Wesley: -I was torn, pulled in two directions by what was going on here, and I didn't know what was behind it. I didn't know what I needed to make right, whether it was real or imagined or some combination of the two. Part of me wanted her to not be able to do this without me. That part of me was selfish. I wasn't certain what good that would do me, but I wasn't certain how her not needing me was going to feel either. There was always that little bit of doubt in the back of my mind that if Lindsay could figure out that she was capable of doing all of this without me, that I'd never see her again.

The other half of me wanted her to do what I knew she was capable of. She'd been capable of it since before I met her. She just needed a little convincing of it from time to time. Things had been busy since we moved to New York, at least for me if not for her, and it hit me that I hadn't given her nearly enough time or attention since we'd arrived here. I wasn't sure if that was part of this, but I couldn't deny that possibility.

I thought about slinking back to my office to wait this out, but it seemed that was too far away. There was a lounge at the end of the hallway we used when we were recording, and I found myself settling there, elbows resting on knees and my hands in my face to see what the outcome of this was going to be. I hadn't been certain what her response was going to be when I walked away, but I needed to give her the option to make the decision for herself. I could only assume she was giving it a shot when five minutes turned into twenty and then forty. I was on the verge of giving up and walking back to the next floor when an intern half ran through the door like she'd run all over the building for something. Her eyes shot wide when she saw me.

I made out a few words of what she was trying to tell me as she caught her breath before I realized they needed me in the studio for some reason. I had no idea what it was because I wasn't hanging around to listen. It was one of two things. Either she'd laid down a track and I was being called in to give it a listen or she was falling apart behind that microphone.

My heart was in my throat when I stepped in the booth and caught her eyes. My Rose looked like deer in the headlights of an oncoming bus. Judging from the chaos around here it seemed like absolutely no one knew what to do about it either. I looked around and caught the eye of the producer who had stepped in when I was busy elsewhere, chatting with one of the musicians in the corner. I didn't hesitate to interrupt the two of them with an annoyed look. They had no idea what they were doing in here- What was she trying to record?

-The response left me shaking my head.  Oh! Darling. Of course she picked that one. In the middle of whatever this fight we were having was, that would be the one she would be inspired to lay down.- Let me get in there with her and get a set of headphones on both of us. Then just roll the music track when I tell you to. And don't say a fucking word unless the place is burning down. Not until we're out of there.

-I had no way of knowing what was going to happen once I opened that door and went in there with her, but there was no way in hell I was going to leave her alone in the middle of a melt down. So I took my chances and pushed the thick glass door on its hinges to make my way over to her and try and distract her from this panic attack she seemed hell bent on having.- Hello, Rose.

Lindsay: ^Of course. That name. That voice. It was the only thing that could pull me out of this. But I knew I was already too far gone. I was wrapped in the panic. There was one thing that could absolutely pull me out of it, but I wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. And did I really want him in here?

It hit me almost immediately, though. It wasn’t about want anymore. I didn’t have the strength to want. I was into need territory. I needed him here with me. But I was still confused as to why he was on this side. He didn’t ever get behind a microphone. He could. We had sang together on more than one occasion. It just was not something that he did.

Pressing my back against the wall, I watched in amazement as the door was pushed opened and a set of headphones came through. It took less than a minute for him to have them set up and sitting on the edge of my music stand. Before he did anything else, he stood in front of me with a raised brow.

But I couldn’t move. I was frozen for half a second before my body started to tremble. I wasn’t afraid of him. I knew there was going to be a discussion and punishments later. But this was the panic. This was all because I couldn’t get it right. And I was getting to that point where I felt like I was a burden on everyone. I felt the tears fall down my cheeks as his words rolled through my head. Rose. It was one of two pet names he used for me.

It was between that and Songbird. Songbird was obvious. But he had never told me why he liked to call me Rose. It was rare he called me Lindsay. It was almost always Rose. And I was content to let him have his secrets. He had his reasons, and I had to accept them. But hearing him say Rose made me relax ever so slightly. Was he mad at me? Yes. There was no way that he wasn’t. But he wasn’t mad enough to say Lindsay. Or he realized that would just make everything worse.^ I.. Can’t. I just can’t. I need you. I need to have you with me. I can’t do this. I can’t record. I can’t sing. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.

Wesley: - And there it was. She can't. She just thought she couldn't. But the panic that had been evident in her eyes was now clear in her voice. It was like I could just watch her melting down in front of me if I didn’t do something.

I didn’t pay any attention to the people bustling behind the glass or even the one who popped in to drop off the pair of headphones I’d asked to have brought in for me. I wasn’t a hundred percent certain if what I had in mind was going to work, but I needed to do something. I needed to change her focus. I knew one way to do it for certain.  

I moved forward tentatively, not wanting to invade her space before she was ready for me to, and reached up to loosen my tie. I figured she would know what that meant, and I didn’t give a shit who was on the other side of that glass watching what was about to happen.

In here, it was just me and her- Alright, Rose. It’s alright. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to go. We can do this together if you want to try. We’ve done it before, you know this. And if you want to walk out of here, we can walk out of here together.

-I pulled the knot in my tie completely loose as I was speaking, pulling it out from under my collar in a slow smooth movement. To anyone who didn’t know what was going on, it would have just looked like I was trying to get some breathing room, but I’d blindfolded Lindsay with my ties often enough that I hoped she would know what I was suggesting. I was only waiting on her permission to take the next step.- Just tell me what you want to do next.

Lindsay: ^The moment his fingers came up to tug on the knot on his tie, I knew what was going on. I knew what he wanted, and he was waiting on me to give him permission to do it. It was the one thing that could get me to focus when nothing else could. It focused my attention on the only thing that mattered.

My head bowed ever so slightly as I let my gaze fall away from the man in front of me.^ Please, Sir? ^ I knew what I sounded like. I knew the words came out broken and soft. And he knew what that meant, too. I was lost. It hadn’t happened since the first time I had been blindfolded, but I was completely lost. Turning my back to him, I let another tear slip down my cheek as I thought about how much of a disgrace I was right now. I had let him down in the worst way possible, and I wasn’t sure how bad this was going to turn out.

I didn’t know what the repercussions were going to be for this kind of tantrum. I knew there was going to be serious ones, though. But it was also going to start a conversation between the two of us. We’d be able to talk about everything that had happened since the move. And that was something I was almost more scared of. Because what was going to come out was going to be something that couldn’t be taken back.

Before the silk was draped over my eyes, I felt even more shame wash over me. I should have never done this. All of this had been a mistake fueled by anger. I felt my shoulders slide forward as my eyes became trained on my feet. With my back to my producer, I could only whisper the words down to the ground.^ I’m so sorry, Sir.

Wesley: -I heard the whisper, though I wasn't certain anyone else heard it. It was always hard to tell what got picked up in the studio. There were microphones everywhere. We had a lot to talk about, but here was neither the time nor the place. And something told me there was going to be more to the conversation that was coming than either of us had bargained for.

I moved forward and draped the silk across her eyes, carefully placing it before I secured the knots in place and made sure it wasn't slipping until we were ready for it to. My words were a careful whisper as I lingered in place behind her for a little longer than necessary.- We can talk about that later, Rose. I promise we will, as a matter of fact. For now, just focus on the song.

-moving away my hands rested on her waist and brought her over to where the mic was waiting and placed the headphones over her ears. From here on out, there wasn't going to be much she could do except focus on the music, and I was going to make sure she did exactly that, even if it meant I did something I'd never done before-

Lindsay: ^I felt myself shake as he said we would talk about it later. I knew it was going to be a thing. I knew this wasn’t the time or the place to discuss what we needed to work out. What I needed to do was focus. I needed to get all of this out into the open. I had to give this song the proper feelings it needed.

With the silk covering my eyes, the only thing I could picture was the slip of silver paper. The invitation to a club. Someone had wanted him there. And it was terrifying that there was someone out in the world who knew to invite him somewhere. It was the anger and betrayal that came back full force as Wes asked for the track to start playing.

It was everything I needed to get through the first half of the song. But I was taken aback when his voice started to echo mine. I had a plan for the rest of the song. In my head, I could hear myself pleading with him. But I couldn’t get the words to come out. I could only listen as Wes continued without me. The needing in his voice for me to understand. I didn’t know where to go with it. I didn’t know how to react to it.^

Wesley: -If I was going to do this with her, I was going to give it everything I had. I knew it was the last thing she was expecting, but it was something I needed to do.  I needed her to understand what was going on in my head, and short of getting her home and saying it all out loud this was the best option I had in the moment.

I'd heard that anger come back to her when the music started. I knew it was what she needed to get the song done. I didn't know what had brought it on, but I was going to get to the bottom of that as soon as possible.

I waited until she was into the first line before I came in behind her, and I could see the change in her expression when she heard me, then the freeze where I carried on without her. The stunned silence until she joined me again  I wasn't certain it was going to work.   I was scared she was just going to leave me to do this on my own, but she came back in before I finished a full verse. It seemed to work. I kept my ear on the balance between us as the song played it's way out until the end and the producer behind the glass told us he thought that was a wrap with a kind of stunned expression on his face.

It was only then that I removed the tie from Lindsay's face and draped it loosely around my neck without another word. I didn't have any meetings scheduled for the rest of the day, and it was close to my usual time to head back home. I had more pressing business there anyhow. I pulled out my phone and called my secretary instructing her that I was heading home a little early, and to just forward any messages to me at home if I got any calls for the rest of the day as I turned to Lindsay- Let's go home, Rose. I think we have a few things to talk about. More than a few.

Lindsay: ^I didn’t bother looking up as Sir removed the tie from around my eyes. There was no reason to.  We were done in the studio for the day. I didn’t have the energy to keep going, and I knew Sir was going to make me write out the full list of songs I wanted to record. He was going to make me get back to the way we usually did things. I didn’t do well with being spontaneous.

But I wasn’t sure I was ready to go home, either. Because I knew what was waiting for me. I didn’t want to have the conversation we were going to have. It was going to change so much, and I wasn’t sure what those changes were going to be. And the thing I was the most terrified of was him saying that this was going to be the end.

Today had been one mistake after another for me, and I wasn’t going to fault him if he wanted to walk away. I just wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Because it wasn’t as easy as finding a new guy to be with. I’d have to reevaluate my entire career. Everything was in jeopardy just because I lost control of my emotions.

As we settled into the car, I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know what to say except that I was sorry, and I was pretty sure Sir was tired of hearing me say it. But the car ride back to the house was quick and silent as I tried to think about what to say. I could feel my hands start to shake as we pulled up to the house. I didn’t bother to wait for instructions before I slipped out of the car and walked to the front door.

I had the door unlocked and opened before Sir was anywhere close to me. But I needed a minute to gather myself before going down stairs. In the time it took for me to walk up to my room, I had calmed myself a little. But I knew I couldn’t stay in jeans. It wasn’t going to work with the punishment he had in store. Regardless of whatever else I was getting, there was going to be a few spanks in the punishment. Jeans and pants of any kind were going to be a no go.

As I slipped from the outfit I had been wearing all day, I stared into my closet before pulling out a white dress. It wasn’t anything fancy, and it flowed. The fabric wouldn’t cling to me which was important. I didn’t bother doing anything with my hair because I knew the truth. This wasn’t fun time down in the playroom. There was a lesson to be learned.

Without giving myself a chance to second guess what I was doing, I felt myself move out of my room. It was still going to be a small mystery what I was walking into, but I knew this was needed. I wanted to do something, anything but this. But I didn’t have much of a choice anymore. Pushing the door opened, I started to slowly make my way down into the playroom.^

Wesley: -I had a few ideas what was in store for Lindsay when she walked into this room, but before I did anything, I was going to find out what had set her off. Everything after depended on that, on what has caused her to overreact. She'd hurt herself as much as she'd hurt me. I didn't want her doing that again. She needed to be able to come to me when something was bothering her instead of trying to take it into her own hands.

I was sitting on the piano bench when she walked in the door, fingers drumming across the keys. I heard the door open and didn't look up- So, Rose… would you mind telling me what that was all about?

-I wasn't certain what was going to happen yet. I didn't know how to handle this the best way until I knew what she was upset about. We needed to talk before I ever laid a hand on her-

Lindsay: ^My eyes closed as I heard him playing random notes on the piano. It was the one thing I always wanted to do. Every time we were down here, my ultimate goal was to be able to play the piano. It was a reward I didn’t get very often, but that’s why it was such a precious reward.

He wanted to know what was going on in my head. I could lie. I could tell him that I didn’t know what was going on. But I knew the truth. I knew what was bothering me. The problem was that I didn’t know where to start.

I took a seat on the piano bench with my back to the keys. I couldn’t begin to get my words out if I was looking at the keys. I needed his attention to be on something other than me. Because this wasn’t going to be easy to tell him.^ The moment you decided to train me to be your submissive, I finally settled into Las Vegas. I packed everything from Louisiana and relocated. I had a new home base. And Vegas was different. Because you knew people. We went out. We did things as I was being trained.

^I let my hands curl into fists to keep them from shaking too hard. The only thing I could come to terms with was the fact that this needed to happen. He needed to know everything that was going on in my mind.^ I got out of my contract because you were leaving. I had an option to sign on for another four albums. But you were going to New York. I didn’t come here because I didn’t think I could do this without you. I came with you because I wanted to be with you. Somewhere between learning that sensory deprivation was the thing I enjoyed the most and finding an invitation to a BDSM night at a club in the Bronx, I fell in love with you.

^Taking a breath, I let my eyes fall closed because I knew I couldn’t keep looking while I talked. I needed to be in my own head.^ I’ve worked with you for years, Sir. I had demanded you be my producer before we developed a personal relationship. But I wasn’t stupid. We may have only seen each once every few years for a few weeks at a time, but I saw you. You may have brought your submissives into the studio with you, but you never had the same one. I don’t know what happened with them. I don’t know if they caught feelings for you. I don’t know if there was a mistake that was made. I don’t know anything. I just know that I followed you to New York because I’m in love with you.

Wesley: -I heard what she was saying. It was the first time she had said those words to me, and frankly it was a bit of a shock. Not in a bad way. I loved her too, even if I'd not mustered up the courage to tell her. That coming out of anyone else’s mouth would have scared me enough to have me running, at least metaphorically speaking.

She brought up the other girl’s I’d had in the studio during the times she’d been there. I knew she didn’t know anything about them. They’d all been temporary. Not a single one of them made it past 6 months before I’d sent them off to someone new. I didn’t know if it was because I got bored easily, or because they were just not the thing I was looking for. If I was honest with myself, it was Lindsay I’d been looking for all along. When she was younger, it was something else. We had a professional relationship, nothing more. I’d forced that on myself.

And then there was the possibility of more. Maybe it was more than I’d thought was even going to happen, because I certainly hadn’t planned for more than that. I hadn’t planned for a moment of this. In the end, those previous relationships had failed because they hadn’t been her. I was certain they were happier now, and had been good people, good subs, good something, but they weren’t the thing I needed in my life.

I was good at those relationships. I was good at keeping someone at arm’s length. I didn’t know how good I was going to be at letting someone in entirely, but it was something I was going to need to do with Lindsay. It was time to let go of the self-imposed boundaries I’d put up between the two of us in the time we’d been working together and just let things happen as they were meant to.

I could tell from the way she sat, back to the keys, that she was scared to look at me, but I needed to look her in the eyes when I spoke. I took my fingers off the keys and turned to face her, reaching up to cup her chin and bring her gaze to mine.- I fell in love a long time before you stalked into that studio angry about an invitation you found in my coat pocket.

-I’d at least figured out what had set her off. The invitation to the theme night at the club I’d gotten from the little girl down at the shop where I’d been ordering things for the playroom. I hadn’t given it another thought since she’d given it to me, but I filed it away for the moment as something that might come in useful later on in this conversation.-

By the way, the manager of the shop where I got all the things for the playroom gave that to me. She thought you might be interested in getting out of the house. I should have mentioned it to you, and I’ll take the entirety of the blame for that. I’ll take the blame for quite a few things as a matter of fact.

I should have told you… -I took a deep breath and let her chin go but kept my eyes locked on hers- I should have told you a long time ago, before we ever came to New York. And as for keeping you locked in the house, it was unintentional. That doesn’t make it right, and it’s far from an excuse. But you should have told me as well. We’ve both been keeping things to ourselves that would have been far better out in the open. If this is going to work, we can’t do this anymore. We can’t sit around and brew and keep silent about things. It’s just going to send it all falling apart at the seams.

Lindsay: ^He had made me look at him when he said that he loved me. But then he brought up the manager of the shop that he was getting everything from and I felt myself flinch away from him. I wasn’t entirely sure how to handle all of this, but there was still a lot that was on my mind.

My eyes went to the cross that was in the corner of the room. It had taken forever to get into place. And more time with movers than I wanted. But it was perfect. The best place for Sir to play with me as he took away each of my senses. And then there was the rush of getting them back. Sometimes all at once, other times slowly. ^

I was told that the house needed to be put together. My office, your office, your bedroom, my bedroom, the living room, kitchen, formal dining room. All of that needed to be painted and set up properly after the movers had everything brought in. All of that before the playroom. And then that was added to my list of things to do. I haven’t been able to leave the house, because my list of things to do inside the house keeps growing. And I have no help.

^Pressing my teeth against my bottom lip, I tried to keep the tears at bay. There was so much that had been wrong since we had moved here. But Sir was right. We couldn’t keep everything to ourselves anymore.^ You spend more time at the studio and the shop than you do here with me. We haven’t properly been down here since we moved. You spend more time with the manager of the shop than you do with me. I understand that at this point I’m a glorified housekeeper. I don’t even get to share your bed at night unless I’m in the recording studio. I can’t pretend that I’m okay with it, Sir. It hurts.

Wesley: -I had to admit that what she said stung, but who was I to tell her she was wrong. Lindsay was valid in feeling whatever she was feeling, and in thinking about the way things had been since we’d come to New York, I knew she wasn’t exactly wrong. I’d thrown myself into my work once we got here. I’d wanted to make a good impression, and I’d done that at the expense of my Rose.

We had blame to shoulder in this, but I had to admit my part in all of it first, before I could ever expect to get her to communicate with me. I worried that she was going to shut down on me, and that I was going to lose her entirely. That was what had almost happened back in the studio. She’d tried.

I’d also heard her line about the invitation she had found in my pocket. I’d forgotten about it. I’d forgotten about a lot of things, it seemed. I’d forgotten to check up and make sure she was ok and happy. I’d just assumed that because she didn’t say anything there wasn’t anything I needed to know.

Maybe I was bad at the whole relationship thing. I was new to it at the very least. I wasn’t sure if even Lindsay understood how new I was to it. When things got heavy or tough with anyone else, I’d ended it. I’d always been the one to end it. That said a lot more about me than any of them-

Rose… I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say there. I made a lot of mistakes. I just assumed you were alright, and I didn’t ask. I should have asked. Not that I’ve been around here enough to notice.

-I shrugged for a moment, my glance falling away from hers as I pulled my hands into my lap. This wasn’t a conversation I was planning to have, or one I thought I was going to be good at.-

I screwed up. I lost focus. I can’t promise it’s never going to happen again. I can try. This isn’t something I’m used to, despite you remembering all the girls I’ve had in the studio. None of those relationships lasted. I’d like to not be able to say that about this one. This is the first one I’ve cared about.

Lindsay: ^The tears were slowly sliding down my cheek as I listened to what he had to say. And he was right. This was different. What we had was different than anything either one of us had done before. And I wanted to give him the space to come to terms with that. But the problem was that I didn’t know how much space I could tolerate at this point.

Space meant two different things to us. He wanted to be able to work things out on his own. But I couldn’t do that. I needed him. I needed him to let me know that all of this was going to be okay. But that was where I had been wrong. Space was something I wasn’t entirely sure I needed or wanted. Space meant that he needed time away from me.

It was something that I was terrified about. I was terrified to lose him. And giving him space was the first step in losing him completely. There were a few ways to go about it, though. I needed to address everything. And I had to figure out a way to get him to see why I was so upset.^ I understand that ordering everything for the playroom has been necessary. But there is obviously something there that makes you want to go alone. You went on your own. You ordered everything on your own. You never mentioned it to me.

^If he wanted to believe it was jealousy, I could absolutely let him believe that. It was easier than the other issue. It was easier to think that I was jealous of a shop. I wasn’t. Well, not exactly. I was just terrified that he was going to turn around and walk away. He was going to figure out that I wasn’t worth half the trouble I was giving him. I didn’t know how to keep him from walking away.^

Wesley: -For the first time since all of this began, I started putting the pieces together. Lindsay had found the invitation to the theme night at the club, she brought up me spending all my time at work and now she was talking about the shop. I wasn't here enough. She was scared she was just one of those other girls that I'd been able to walk away from.

I'd never been able to just walk away from her, not even before we started the relationship. There was a reason I'd been her producer for so long. There was a reason I'd come out to her in that restaurant months ago. I loved her. I'd told her that a moment ago, but I wasn't certain she understood what that meant fully. I'd never said those words to anyone outside of my family, though she didn't know that either.

I reached out to take her hand, twining my fingers between hers.- So what you're telling me is that you're scared really? -maybe I was being too blunt but I didn't know how to do this any other way- Because if you're scared of me leaving you, I'm not going anywhere, and if you're scared of me wanting to spend time with anyone else more than you, just know that this is my favorite place to be, even if I haven't been here as much as I like lately. I should have told you how I felt sooner. When I said I love you, I meant it. It's not just my way of pacifying you. I've never said it to anyone in that context. Ever. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, and I'm sorry you didn't already know. I didn't want to scare you off.

Lindsay: ^I could only look away as he brought up me being scared. Because I was. And I didn’t like the idea that he was calling me on it. But it was what needed to happen. We needed to talk about everything. If we didn’t get everything out on the table, it was just going to come to bother us again at a later date. And I wasn’t sure we’d survive if we didn’t figure this out now.^

You scare me when you’re not here. You being in love with me doesn’t scare me. Your feelings don’t scare me. It scares me when you expect me to know. It scares me when I don’t know how you’re going to react to me telling you that I love you. It scares me when you spend more time somewhere that isn’t with me.

^Taking a breath, I looked down at the floor. I needed to be honest with hm. I had to tell him the truth. That I had been to the shop. Granted, I didn’t walk inside. But I wasn’t sure how he was going to react. And again that scared me.^ You know the entire reason I ended up in the studio was because I went to the shop where you’ve been getting everything. I didn’t go in. I got scared when a man with Thai food saw me standing in front of the store asked if I needed anything.

^I was at a loss for what to say, though. There was still so much running through my head. But for some reason, the shop threatened my relationship with Sir more than I wanted to admit. And it had shaken me enough that I wasn’t sure in my relationship with him at the moment.^ I just am scared about a lot of things, Daddy. To the point where I wasn’t even sure if I can call you Daddy or if you just wanted to be Sir.

Wesley: -I didn’t know any of the story she was telling me. Lindsay hadn’t told me a word of what had caused her to end up at the studio until now. I was half kicking myself that I hadn’t pushed her to tell me more back at the studio, but I wasn’t certain how much I’d have been able to get her to tell me when she was that upset with me.

We hadn’t sat down and actually talked about anything for quite some time, and it was well overdue. We’d needed to have this talk for a long time, but I was upset at myself that it needed to come to the point of her having a panic attack for it to finally happen-

So, Thai food? That would have been Cay’s Daddy… I don’t think she told me his name. -I couldn’t remember if we’d discussed it any of the times I’d been there. Not that it mattered.- She’s the one who gave me the invitation to the club when I mentioned you and I hadn’t been out anywhere since we got here. I should have given it to you then. It slipped my mind after. I’m sorry for that. It was something she thought you might enjoy.

-I shrugged it off to focus on what she was going to call me. She’d always called me Daddy in the studio and Sir when people were around. Never Wes or Wesley. Not until today back in the studio. I thought that had been part of her rebellion, and I hadn’t let her see how that stung in the moment- I like it when you call me Daddy, you know? I don’t know if I told you.

Lindsay: ^I was still scared, but I knew that Daddy was trying to do everything in his power to keep me from freaking out completely. This was about us figuring out what to do next. This was about reaffirming that we belonged with each other. And it was also about fixing what had been wrong since coming to New York.

I knew things weren’t going to be the same here. It was an entirely new place where we were going to have to rediscover ourselves. We were going to have to figure out what worked best for us. And we were going to have to create a whole new support system. And that was something I was scared of. Being with Daddy in Vegas had been easy. He wasn’t as absorbed in his work. He could take time to train me. I didn’t have to act out to get his attention. But New York was a different beast. And I had completely screwed up what we had. And the reality of that situation was starting to weigh on me.^

I made a mistake in going to the studio. I rushed into something that I hadn’t planned for. And I have no idea what to do with this record now. I have one track, and I don’t know where it’s going to fit. I disrespected you in more ways than one. And I threw a temper tantrum. And I know it’s all going to cost me something. The only thing I can say is I’m sorry. I don’t have an excuse for what I did. I should have come to you. But I didn’t.

Wesley: -Lindsay had been dancing around the fact that she’d marched into the studio and caused herself a panic attack . It was partly my fault. I hadn’t seen that she needed my attention until she walked in the door and demanded it, but in the end the decision to walk into the studio and attempt to record something without me had been hers.

I knew she was terrified about what the consequences of her actions were going to be, and I’d been thinking about it since we’d left the studio on the path to get back to the penthouse. She was scared I was going to change the nature of everything once she’d made a mistake, but I’d made my own mistakes. I’d taken her for granted. We both had some adjustments to make. We had to relearn each other, and we had to set up the parameters of what our relationship was about here in New York. Things were different, nothing was going to change that, but we could make that difference work to our advantage instead of against us.-

I’ve been thinking about all of that. You’ve got a song… Well, I suppose we’ve got a song, since it seems that we’re both on that track. You’ll have to come up with a list of the other songs you’d like to do for this album since it appears that we’re working on it now. Rather quickly, as a matter of fact. They’re going to expect a completed album sooner rather than later since you’ve started recording.

-reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear as I leaned in to plant a kiss on her forehead- I’m sorry it came to the point where you needed to throw a fit to get my attention. I wish it hadn’t, but we needed to talk. More than a few things needed to change. One of the things I think we needed to change before now, in fact. I want you to move into my room. Not now. Later, after all of this is done. In the meantime, you won’t be allowed in my bed until the album is wrapped. -I knew that was as much a punishment for me as it was for her, but she needed to concentrate. She had to get this album done without delaying it or pussyfooting around it. We were at a new studio, and they weren’t going to have as much patience with us as the last one would have in a similar situation. They didn’t know her process yet, and it was going to benefit the both of us. Moving into the same bedroom was a reward for making sure that happened.-

You’re also in for a spanking, though I’m pretty sure you figured that. Just… -letting my thumb trail down her jawline and my fingers curl around under her chin to bring her gaze up to mine- know I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, and I’m keeping you with me for as long as you want to be here. I adore you. I love you. And I want to make this work.

Lindsay: ^I felt the sob bubbling up in my throat when Daddy said I couldn’t stay in his bed for this album. That was something we had worked out very early on in our relationship. We had figured out that while he preferred to be Sir, when I was in the studio, I tended to become more of a little. I needed a Daddy for those few weeks. I couldn’t handle the pressure of being just a sub. I was more needy. Much more in need of touch. I had to feel him.

And that was gone for this album. I wanted to beg and plead. I wanted to be in his bed at night. It was a perk to recording. But I understood that I had screwed up. This wasn’t breaking a rule during our playtime. This was more than that. I had to learn a lesson, and he knew this was the only way to get through to me.

I knew I was going to have to figure out a list of songs tonight. I was going to be expected to be back in the studio tomorrow. And I was the new focus for Daddy. I could have single handedly destroyed his career tonight.

And it was with that thought that the world started to spin around me. My breath had shifted to shorter gasps, and I realized what had started. My body began to tremble as I backed into the corner. Settling on the floor, I brought my knees to myself as I tried to take a breath. I hadn’t had a panic attack outside of the studio since I was a girl, and this one was taking complete control.^ I didn’t mean it. It was an accident. I’m sorry! It was an accident!

Wesley: -I froze as she sunk to her knees. I could hear the panic attack taking over her voice before I saw her body go almost limp, and it had me at her side, fingers in her hair before my arms went around her and crushed her to my chest. I needed to help her through this one before it was too late.

I could hear the realization in her voice as she sobbed about being sorry, and I knew she meant it. There were lessons in this for both of us. I needed to remember who she was to me. That I needed her as much as she needed me. She was my world, even if I had forgotten it in the busy storm that had been work since I moved here. Now that she was in the studio, she was going to be a part of that.

Not sharing my room with her was a blow for now, but I intended to make it our room once all was said and done.- Shh… It’s alright, Rose. My Rose… -pressing a kiss to the edge of her forehead as she crumpled into my arms- I’ve got you. I know you’re sorry. And I’m sorry too. We’re going to make this all better as soon as we can. It won’t be long. We’re going to do this together, and as soon as it’s done you can have Daddy every night.

-She didn’t usually call me Daddy outside of the studio, but I thought it was called for right now. Right now, she needed me, and I was going to be there even though I knew I was going to have to punish her in the end of all of this. I just wasn’t going to do it until I knew she was ready, and at the moment, she wasn’t ready.-

Lindsay: ^I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as my panic started to subside. There was so much that I needed to be sorry for. There was still so much that I needed to apologize for.

But I needed to feel his arms around me. I needed to be held. Because the reality of the situation was sinking down on me. This wasn’t something I was going to be able to have. From this point on, I wasn’t going to be able to crawl into my Daddy’s bed. I wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep in the one place I felt safe when I was recording. And I didn’t blame him for taking it away. It had absolutely been all my fault.

Looking back, the tantrum was the last thing I needed to do. I didn’t need to throw myself into a panic attack because of this. I should have talked to him. And now I was forcing his focus to me. I had no ideas if he was working with any other artists, but now he wasn’t.

I felt disappointed in myself as the words fell from my lips. There was still so much to be said, but I had to get this out.^ I could have ruined your career today. I very well might have ruined your career still. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.

Wesley: -She wasn't wrong. What Lindsay pulled today did rearrange my focus, maybe sooner than I had planned. I didn't know what tomorrow was going to bring at the studio. And there was no telling if there was going to be any fallout from what went down today. But I'd deal with it when it happened. They knew they were lucky to have Lindsay, even if she didn't quite believe it. It had been a coup when she decided to leave our original studio back in Las Vegas. And I hoped they realized the only reason it had happened had been because of me. The two of us had been a package deal. I hoped we still were.

I shook my head and took another kiss off her forehead- It happened. It'll work out one way or the other. We need to focus on you and this album and us now. I'll make the rest work. You just make the song list and do the hard work. I'll make you sound good.

-I pulled her in closer, knowing I'd punished myself as much as I'd punished her with keeping her out of my bed. I hadn't admitted how much I'd wanted her there out loud, but I did. And I hadn't noticed how much I missed just being with her until now. I felt like an ass for not being here and not noticing that she needed me when she did. I wasn't planning to let that happen again-

Lindsay: ^I could only shake my head. The problem now was that I knew what was about to happen. There was only one place we could go. And that involved pain. It involved emotional pain as well as physical pain. This wasn’t what I was looking forward to doing.

I wasn’t entirely sure how to handle this kind of punishment. I had been punished in the playroom for making a mistake. That was easy to deal with. I would get spanked, and we would move on. But this was something else entirely. It was something that was terrifying me to no end. And I still wasn’t completely sure I knew what I was doing.

My voice was soft as I looked anywhere but at the man that had me wrapped up in his arms. I didn’t know if I could do this. But I had to. I had to survive it. I couldn’t let myself shut down completely. I had to be brave to handle all of this.^ So I get spanked and then sent to my room. I get everything together for tomorrow. We start work.

^I had to admit that I sounded braver than I felt. But I also knew that I hadn’t gotten to the hard part. I hadn’t tried to go to sleep. I hadn’t felt Daddy spank me. And I knew this was going to be a different spanking. This wasn’t a simplet swat. This was punishment. It wasn’t going to feel good. There was a chance I was going to bruise.^ Can we please get through this? I can’t sit here and wait anymore.

Wesley: -I didn't know if either of us were prepared for this spanking, but to be honest, I was never going to know until it came down to the action. This wasn't something I'd done with Lindsay before. It wasn't anything that had come up between the two of us. The previous spankings had been for fun or for some minor oversight or mistake in the playroom. This was something else entirely.

I knew it was going to have to happen sooner or later, though, and I supposed now was going to be the time. I nodded, unsure of whether or not she was even looking at me to see the gesture and reluctantly unwound myself from around her to move back to the piano bench, though I paused to pull it out further from the instrument. I could have done this anywhere. I could have put her over the equipment made for the playroom; I could have had her on the floor or over the edge of a bed, but for this one I needed her close. I needed the warmth of her body pressed across my lap, and I needed to feel the impact that each blow had in her entire frame. Every strike had to be perfectly weighted. I couldn't take this too far because I was out of touch with what was happening to her. So I chose this.

I offered her my hand to help her stand from the floor, and returned to my seat, gesturing for her to move into position. This was my least favorite part of what was about to happen. As much as she didn't want to have the spanking, I didn't want to give it. But it was a necessary evil. I wasn't even convinced I could talk, and I didn't even try as she made her way to lie across my legs.

The skirt part of the dress she was wearing was already riding up her thighs, and it only took one quick motion to pull it the rest of the way up before tugging her underwear down around her knees. Again, I could have chosen any implement to enact the punishment, but I was going to use my hand. I needed to feel every bit of this as much as she did. The pain from her bottom was going to melt into my hand at the same moment, and if she was aching afterwards, so would I. This was my downfall as much as it was hers. This punishment was both of ours.

I gauged the number of blows by the way her body reacted to each one, the color of her skin after my hand left it, the heat that burned into my palm after each stroke, and the involuntary shudder that moved through her at the sound of each strike.  My teeth were digging into my lip sharply enough that I tasted a hint of blood by the time I was done.-

Enough. -my voice was hoarse when I was done. I almost choked on the word as I moved my hand away- That's enough. -I half had the urge to apologize to her again, though I knew it wouldn't change anything now.-

Lindsay: ^I felt the tears start to pour down my cheeks before the first smack. It hadn’t been easy, and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. It was going to be rough. It was going to be a punishment. And I knew that it was a punishment for both of us. I knew that Daddy was punishing himself just as much as he was punishing me. And I didn’t know how to handle that.

By the time we were halfway through, I was sobbing loudly. I hadn’t had the willpower to keep myself from crying out. Half of it was shame, the other half was pain. I didn’t like that I had been the one to cause this. I didn’t like that I had forced this on both of us. But it was a true statement. I was the reason we were in this predicament.

As soon as he said enough, I was off of his lap. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay draped across him. I had to get away. Me scrambling away wasn’t because I was afraid, though. It was because I was ashamed. I didn’t want him to see how much everything was getting to me. I was back to not handling anything the way I was supposed to.

I let my underwear slide off of my legs. There was no way I was going to be able to tolerate the pain in my bottom. I couldn’t put more fabric on it. I couldn’t make there be anything to irritate it. Bending at the knees, I quickly picked up the small scrap of fabric before I turned to face the man who looked almost as destroyed as I was.^ I know I did a bad thing. And I know I had to get punished for it. But that doesn’t change how I feel. I still love you. Even if you had to spank me. I am always going to love you.

Wesley: -Whatever I had expected her reaction to be to all of this, it wasn't that. I'd more than half expected her to hate me, to run away crying and pack her things and leave. I wouldn't have blamed her for a moment, if she had. She wasn’t though, and her words caused the dam that I’d put up between myself and what was going on to crack in its entirety.

I’d choked on the word enough, but I didn’t choke on my reply- I love you, too, Rose, more than anything. -I couldn’t stop the tear that ran down my face at the moment. I wasn’t certain I even wanted to. I’d said something to her I’d never said to anyone, and I meant every word of it. I was more than a little broken after what had to happen between us. Expecting this to go well, had been beyond my abilities, and maybe this hadn’t gone as well as it could have. Ideally, we never would have gotten here, but we had. I could only hope that it was going to be the beginning of something that made everything between us even better. Only time was going to be able to tell.-

I love you, Rose. -I wasn’t going to be able to stop myself from saying it now that the cat was out of that bag.- Now, go get a bath and get ready for bed. We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?

Lindsay:  ^My head bobbed in a nod as I put my hands behind my back. We were both fried. There was no doubt in my mind. Today had been a lot. Even without the whole punishment bit. We had both been in the studio. Granted, me being in the studio wasn’t expected. But there was nothing to be done about it.

But we both knew that this was something more than just the punishments. This was about everything that had been said. We both had things we needed to work on. And all that we could do was continue to talk about it. But I wasn’t going to be stupid. I wasn’t going to fight him on my bath. But there was something I wanted.^ Will you be in my bathroom with me while I take a bath? Help me take care of everything? And maybe talk to me about everything?

Wesley:  -Again, I hadn’t expected what came out of her mouth. My Rose was full of surprises tonight, and I shouldn’t have underestimated her. I just had a habit of expecting the worst out of a situation, one of the many things I needed to work on in this relationship. Because even if the two of us hadn’t exactly admitted it out loud until now, that’s exactly what this was, and it was the one relationship I’d wanted to see work out longer than short term fling. So I needed to get on all of that as soon as possible.

I couldn’t stop the half smile that danced across my cheeks at her request. I was tired. Today had taken more out of the both of us than I’d even understood until this moment, and I needed nothing more than time to relax with her, just the two of us, talk a few things out and work out the kinks in the machine, so to speak. We had a long way to go before this album was over, and it was going to take a lot out of the two of us, but we had tonight left before it all took over. We needed to take advantage of that while we could. And we needed to wind down from the tension that everything leading up to this moment had caused- Of course, Rose. I’ll come with you, and we can just spend some time together. I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.

-I held out my hand to her, twining my fingers between hers to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom that adjoined the master bedroom, holding both of the doors open for her on the way into the tiled room. I wasn’t certain what was coming after this, but I knew it was going to be a tough road for both of us before all was said and done. We were both going to have to take care of each other, and this was the first step.-

#ThatIsIThinkIDisagree