#( i miss writing her :[ have some nightmare hors )

[alicornae]

“  Maybe I’ll trust you. But can you trust me?  ”

[banannabethchase]

Happy is going undercover on an arm's dealer at his Christmas party. Happy is not pleased about this detail.

~

Quintis is back, baby! Writing these two is like riding a bike. For my darling @scribeshan. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!!

~

"No," Happy says, arms folded across her chest. "No. Absolutely not."

"Well it can't be anyone else," Walter says. He points to Paige, who, to be fair, is doing her absolute best to stand up out of her chair, one hand braced on her belly and the other on the cushion. "You really think we can send her in to a club?"

"We could," Happy argues. "She could just be, like, really irresponsible."

Even Toby gives Happy a look of disbelief. "Hap, come on. I would do it, obviously, since, well, look at me, but we have it on good authority that this particular gentleman is not into dudes."

Happy wrinkles her nose. "We could send Florence."

Sly drops his head into his hands. "Oh, sure, that's a great idea. Last time she went undercover she burst into tears when she had to lie. Let's put her in an even higher pressure situation. That'll go great."

"I should never have taught you sarcasm,” Toby mutters.

“I can coach you,” Paige says, finally steady on her feet. “You’ve done this before! With that dictator dude, right?”

Happy sighs. “That didn’t count. It was grifting. I didn’t have to flirt with him.”

“You kind of did, though,” Toby says. “Like, that was the whole thing with how you got the watch? You do know that was flirting, right?”

Happy blinks. “It is?”

Toby gives her a fond, only slightly condescending smile, and nods. “Oh, my sweet oblivious wife. Yes, baby, that was flirting. So is everything we’ve been doing for the past five years, in case you missed that.”

“We’re married. I know when we’re flirting.”

“Do you?” Sylvester asks. “Because sometimes I think you think you’re being mean, and then Toby gets all moony eyed, and I don’t think either of you are on the same page.”

“I like it when she’s mean to me,” Toby says, “that’s kind of the point.”

“This is so much more than I want or need to know,” Paige interrupts. “Anyway, no option, it’s Happy or we don’t get ears on the arms deal.” She turns to Happy, eyes burning. Happy remembers a time, pre-pregnancy, when Paige wasn’t scary. How she misses those days. “Get over here. We’re going to femme you up.”

~

“If this is for nothing, I’m committing homicide and I’m not telling who.” Happy wiggles in the dress, the stupid sparkly red sequins poking into her skin where they flip the wrong way. The Christmas party is in full swing, and she slides in with a group of giggling women who are probably ten years younger than she is and way drunker. “I’ll be a case you have to solve. It’ll be my origin story.”

“You’re going to do great,” Paige says. “Look, we’ll keep Toby on the mic. That way you are less likely to commit murder.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Toby says, voice growing nearer as he reaches the mic, “but I’ll do my best. From now, no more talking to us unless it’s an emergency. You do your best to look dazed and a little drunk.”

“Wish I was drunk,” Happy grumbles, but she walks in, Jenkins’ face at the front of her mind. She scans everyone as she walks around, trying to remember what Paige said. Look confused, look like you belong, look like you’re drunk. All of those things feel like different ‘looks’ to Happy, and she just does her best.

She grabs a glass of champagne and some hors d’oeuvres, desperate for something to do with her hands. She dances around the party, bopping to the poppy Christmas songs she remembers from the garage. Paige’s nesting connected almost directly with the holidays, so they’re decked out in a way they’ve never been, and Happy has involuntarily committed about a dozen new Christmas songs’ lyrics to memory.

She ends up dancing, almost accidentally, with more people than she needs to. She decides to use this to test out flirting. It doesn’t go well, even worse with her actual husband in her ear the whole time. And she can’t even respond.

“Oh, no,” Toby says, “baby, please don’t ask them how many times they’ve broken into cars.”

“If you tell another person you’re dying to see their fancy car’s carburetor, we’re getting a divorce and I’m citing ‘sexual attraction to objects’ as the reason.”

“I have told you a hundred times: it’s not sexy when you tell mediocre straight men you can bench press them. It’s only sexy to me.”

“Please,” Toby whines, when she’s on her eighth song, third glass, and seventh person, “for the love of god, please never use a pickup line again ever in your life.”

Happy swings her way over to the wall, where she can face a window and be away from anyone else’s eyes. “You are cramping my style,” she mutters.

“Your attempts at flirting are giving me stomach cramps, so we’re even.” He sighs. “You’re lucky you did most of convincing me with the reeling me in with your intellect and wit, because hitting on me in a bar would have tanked.”

“Please,” Happy snorts, “like you’d be able to resist this.”

There’s a pause. “Okay, fine, but that’s because you’re my soulmate and I was drawn to you both spiritually and carnally.”

“I’m about to throw this microphone in the garbage if you two can’t be professional,” hisses Waler’s voice. Happy’s still not figured out why he insists on whispering. It’s not like others can hear him. “Find Jenkins, Happy, or leave. This is taking too long.”

For the first time in her life, she thinks, Happy follows Walter’s directions, and meanders toward a hoard of rich-looking dweebs. They weren’t here a minute ago; Happy thinks they might be part of the VIP group others had mentioned.

Bingo: Jenkins’ is laughing heartily at a joke Happy can practically guarantee isn’t funny, and she slides in next to him, grinning a little too wide and gently brushing him.

“Sorry,” she says, trying to make herself sound a little breathless. “Got distracted.”

He turns to her, looking down. His expression turns from disgust to interest the second he gets a look down her dress. Happy bookmarks that as a valid reason to kill him later, if need be. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice like oil, “no need to apologize for looking beautiful.” He pulls the strap of her dress up on her arm, pats it gently. “What’s your name?”

“Christa,” she lies.

“Ah, festive,” says Jenkins, “Christa, like Christmas, derived from Christ. Perfect for the holiday.”

Happy decides not to dive into that etymological nightmare, and instead goes for her most vacant smile. “Perfect,” she says, sighing.

Jenkins shakes his head a little bit. “So sorry, darling, I haven’t introduced myself.” He sticks out a hand. “David Ellory Jenkins.” He grips her hand like he’s trying to win a battle, and Happy does everything she can to avoid breaking his fingers. She’s a ditzy airhead, she reminds herself. Christa doesn’t have the grip strength of a god.

“So good to meet you,” she says, trying to sound as besotted as Christa would be. “Wow, you’re strong.”

“Doing great, Hap,” Toby’s voice mutters in her ear.

Jenkins laughs, head thrown back. He laughs like sirens, loud and attention grabbing. It hurts Happy’s ears. “You’re a delight, Miss Christa.”

"I, uh, I don't flirt a lot," Happy says, fidgeting with her finger where her wedding ring is supposed to be, "so if you could give me some feedback, I would appreciate it."

Jenkins’ face blooms into a smile that makes Happy want to puke. “Oh, this is flirting, then? I should have known.” He reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear, and it’s all she can do to not flinch.

“Remember,” Toby says, presence ever soothing, “you’re a starlet searching for fame and you’ll do anything to get it.”

Happy leans into his hand when his fingers brush against her cheek.

"I feel like you wouldn't be opposed to me kissing you," Jenkins says, "am I correct?"

"I'm opposed," Toby says into Happy’s ear, but she ignores him.

"Why don't you try and find out?" Happy plasters the best grin she can on her lips and closes her eyes.

Jenkins is a horrendous kisser, but Happy opens her eyes once his mouth is on her, reaching for his waist to slip the tracker in his pocket. With a little push, she sticks it to the inside of the jacket. Whenever this jacket goes, they will have a live record of everything that happens via audio.

He tries to slip his tongue in her mouth, and she jumps. “Whoa!”

“I’m sorry,” Jenkins says, “so forward of me, I apologize, Christa.”

“I was okay with a kiss,” she says, taking a step back, “I did not ask for an oral cancer screening.”

Toby snorts in her ear.

“Christa, I assure you, I am a very upstanding man.”

Happy pointedly looks down at his crotch. “Upstanding, huh?”

He blushes, furious red. “I’m – I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry I came to this party. It’s a shame a guy like you can’t keep himself under control. All that money can’t buy sense or chill, can it?”

Happy turns from him without another look, walking into a crowd of people with a purpose. She disappears, just like she learned as a kid, and slides out the door with a final look behind her to make sure Jenkins didn’t follow her.

Toby’s laughing uncontrollably in her ear as she makes her way down the street to the car. She pauses to take off the heels, more comfortable tearing the stockings than entertaining the idea of blisters.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles.

“No, you were glorious,” he chokes out, “Hap, seriously, you eviscerated that man harder than the US Government could ever hope to do.” He claps. “You deserve an Oscar for that one.”

“Yeah, yeah, where’s the van so I can get back?”

“Take a left on Breckenridge and walk about a tenth of a mile. They’re parked in a gas station lot.”

Toby’s directions are flawless, and she slides into the van, where Cabe is sitting there, looking perturbed.

“You two gotta do that when we’ve all got coms but can’t tell you to shut up?” Cabe asks.

Happy shrugs, pulling on the pair of sweatpants she’d stashed in the go bag in the back of the van. “You signed up for us, remember?”

Cabe grumbles the whole way back to the garage, where Walter is already getting the recording of Jenkins’ conversations transferred to the Cabe’s department. It turned out part of the deal was getting ironed out that night, and they were getting every possible detail they could have asked for.

"Great work, Happy,” Walter says.

“It was one of the easiest and worst jobs we’ve ever done, and I just want to go home,” she grumbles. “Toby, give me your hoodie.”

Without a word, he pulls it off over his head and throws it at her. She yanks it on and shimmies out of her dress, leaving it in a puddle on the ground. Sly and Cabe are pointedly staring anywhere but at her, but Toby’s eyes dart from the dress back to her.

“Uh,” he says, blinking. “Hap, put the coms away. I’m tired.”

She blinks. “You’re holding a venti peppermint mocha.”

He rolls his eyes. “Happy. Let’s go home.”

“Oh!” she says. “Right. Yes. Bye, nerds, see you later.”

“You’re nerds too!” Paige shouts back at them, but Happy’s too busy getting her ass grabbed by Toby in the driveway to respond.

The drive home involves some roaming hands and Happy making some bad decisions re: what you should do to someone driving a motor vehicle, but they make it back to their place in one piece.

“I forgot,” Toby says, pressing her wedding ring into her hand. “Put this on before we go inside. Don’t want you forgetting you’ve already locked this down and proposing again.”

“What is wrong with you and why do I like it?” she grumbles. She slides the wedding ring on her finger and slides out the car door. “Hurry up, jackass, I need to fuck you before you annoy me into a coma.”

“At your service.” She glances behind herself and Toby is practically skipping. He presses himself up against her back when she gets to the door, hands on her shoulders. “I mean it.”

They fall against each other in the hallway, clothes thrown across the house in a haphazard, reckless way like they did at the start of their relationship. They’re connecting and meeting like waves, and she doesn’t say it enough, she realizes. She doesn’t tell him how much he means, how much she values his support, his help, his love. She’s over him, hair curtaining her face, when she speaks for the first time.

“You’re important to me,” she says, barely able to speak a whisper, “and I want you to know that.” She moves against him, eyes fluttering closed. She’s still, to this day, a little baffled that it’s still so right, that they still fit together like puzzle pieces laser cut for each other.

He laughs a little. “I do know that,” he says, with a gentle roll of his hips, “but thank you for telling me.”

[artzychic27]

Artist Family Values?

Everything is calm. Marinette, Alix, and Rose are playing funeral in the backyard; Felix is helping Juleka write a love note to Rose, confessing her feelings; Nathaniel is arm wrestling That and losing

Marc: Nathaniel, wonderful news. My mother is going to have a baby and she wants us to have it... Right now.

*Several hours of excruciatingly painful labor later*

Little girl: And then mommy kissed daddy, and the angel told the stork. The stork flew down from heaven and left a diamond under a leaf in the cabbage patch, and the diamond turned into a baby.

Marinette: They had sex.

*Later*

Rose: Nathaniel!

Juleka: What news?

Marinette: Nathaniel, what is it?

Nathaniel: It’s an Artist!

The baby’s name is Kiran. He has black eyes and was born with fangs

Marinette and Alix immediately hate the baby and do everything they can to get rid of him. Guillotine, shooting him, dropping him from the roof

Marc: Mari. Alix. Why do you hate the baby?

Alix: We don’t hate him. We just wanna play with him.

Marinette: Especially his head.

To keep Kira out of trouble, Marc and Nathaniel hire a nanny. Lila.

Juleka immediately hates her because of how she’s taken a liking to Rose. Little does she know that she isn’t in love with the blonde. She’s a black widow out for their fortune.

Noticing that Marinette and Alix are onto her, Lila makes it seem like they wanna go to summer camp so they’re not in her way.

Nathaniel: *Disgusted* Fresh air. The scent of pine.

Chloé: Hi. I'm Chloé Bourgeois. Why are you dressed like that?

Marinette: Like what?

Chloé: Like you're going to a funeral. Why are you dressed like somebody died?

Marinette: Wait.

While at camp, Marinette and Alix make enemies of the popular bratty rich kids and allies out of the outcasts (The Akuma class)

Marinette finds herself glaring at a certain boy from America who glares right back at her... It’s Damian.

Back at the Artists’ home, Rose finds herself falling in love with Lila, much to Juleka’s anger but no one seems to notice

Marc and Nathaniel invite them to a gothic bistro

Lila: I just can't tell. Does she like me at all?

Marc: Of course she does. She pulled out her hair at the sight of you.

Marc and Nathaniel perform the badass tango from the movie

Meanwhile at the cemetery, Lila and Rose get engaged surprisingly quickly

Rose: Good news! I’m engaged!

Juleka: What?! *Felix pats her back for comfort*

Lila: *Shows the ring*

Marc: That ring.

Nathaniel: It was my grandmother’s. She was burried with it.

Lila: *Holds up a shovel*

Later that night at the camp, Alix and Marinette attempt to escape with some help from Damian, but are caught by the brat campers and are forced to sing Kumbaya

Damian and Marinette find themselves becoming closer

Damian: You know... I’m pretty good with a knife myself.

Marinette: ... *Holds Damian’s hand*

Escape attempt #2 is a success. When they hear about the wedding, Marinette and Alix have to go and see if it’ll be a train wreck. Of course, Marinette invites Damian as her plus one.

It’s surprisingly pleasant. Everyone’s dressed in black, the flower girl is tossing dead petals on the ground.

“I do.” “Ditto.” Marinette catches the bouquet.

Damian: Now you have to get married.

Marinette: It’s not binding.

On their honemoon, Lila attempts to kill Rose by dropping a toaster in her bath. Unfortunately for her, Rose is immune to death by electrocution

Needing a new plan and for the Artists to stay out of her way, Lila forbids Rose from seeing or speaking to em ever again.

Meanwhile at camp, Alix shoots an endangered bird!

Camp director 1: It’s a white tailed eagle!

Camp director 2: Aren’t they endangered?

Marinette: They are now

Juleka is sulking after receiving a letter from Rose, saying she can’t see them ever again.

Juleka: Have I done something, said something? Why does she despise me?

Nathaniel: Rose adores you.

Juleka: I'd do anything for her. At her request, I would rip out my eyes. At her command, I would crawl on my stomach through hot coals and broken glass.

Marc: ... You’re in love with Rose?

Back at camp, the directors announce that the campers will be performing the poorly written and quite racist play about the first Thanksgiving

Chloé will be playing Sarah Miller, the outcasts will play the Native Americans, and Marinette will be playing Pocahontas.

Marinette passes out at the announcement

Meanwhile, the Artists visit Rose and Lila at their pristine white mansion.

Juleka: So these are the gates of hell.

Lila forced them to leave, and Rose, out of fear, backs her up.

Marc: I see Lila that you have placed Rose under some strange sexual spell. I respect that. But please, may we see her?

Lila: No!

Marc: You have gone too far. You have married Rose. You have destroyed her spirit. You have taken her from us. All that I could forgive. But, Lila...

Lila: What?!

Marc: ... Pastels?

They leave, but not before Juleka curses Lila.

They try to go to the police, but they won’t take them seriously, and Nathaniel makes the following announcement

Nathaniel: I shall not submit! I shall conquer! I shall rise! My name is Nathaniel Artist, and I have seen evil! *Juleka holds up Kiran* I have seen horror! *Felix waves* I have seen the unholy maggots which feast in the dark recesses of the human soul.

Marc: They’re at camp.

Speaking of camp. The main 3 attempt to escape again, but are caught by the other campers and are soon forced into the Harmony Hut where they’re forced to watch Disney Movies.

Hours without food or drinks later, and they come out looking pale and traumatized

Marinette snaps out of it and traumatizes them back by smiling

With the Artists, something horrible has happened to Kiran. He blonde and has blue eyes!

Marc: My brother!

Nathaniel: *Faints*

Juleka: *Reading from spell book* “Infant possessions. These terrifying changes are most often the result of a troubled family life.”

Marc: Rose!

Juleka: If we don’t get Rose back, we’re talking dimples.

Nathaniel: Not in this house!

Juleka: He could stay this way for years. Forever. He could become... A lawyer.

Nathaniel: No!

Juleka: An orthodontist.

Marc: Juleka, please!

Juleka: ... Mayor.

Nathaniel: NOOO! TAKE ME INSTEAD!

It’s the day of the highly offensive show that portrays Native Americans as uncivilized people.

It goes off well until Marinette flips the script.

Marinette: You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now, my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides. You will play golf and enjoy hot hors d’oeurves. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will drive stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, “Do not trust the pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller. And for all these reasons, I have decided to scalp you, and burn your village. To. The. Ground.

The outcasts burn the camp to the ground and attack the brats while the main 3 escape in a canoe.

Meanwhile, Lila tries one last attempt at killing Rose, knowing this won’t fault. A bomb.

When it goes off while she’s out, she’s expecting a blonde corpse. Not Rose holding a tray of cupcakes and a warm smile

Enough is enough.

Lila: *Aims gun* I tried to make it look like an accident! I tried to give you some dignity, but, oh, no, not you!

That shows up to save the day by hitting Lila with his car and helping Rose escape back to the Artists’ Home,

*Now for the best scene*

Marinette: I may never see you again.

Damian: I know.

Marinette: There are forces tearing us apart-- Gary, Lila, tenth grade.

Damian: I'll never forget you.

Marinette: *Touched* You won't?

Damian: You're too weird.

Marinette: We'll always have today and camp

Damian: And this. *He holds up a retainer*

Marinette: What is it?

Damian: Chloé’s retainer. *Drops it to the ground* Meyn ziskeyt.

Marinette: Mi querido.

*The two kiss through the fence before pulling away and wiping their mouths*

Meanwhile, Nathaniel’s lost his mind.

Nathaniel: *Lying in bed* Swing low... Sweet chariot... Coming for to carry me home.

Marc: Oh, my sister is ill and my husband is dying. Juleka, what am I gonna do?

Juleka: Well, you already have a black dress.

Rose returns, apologizes for abandoning them, reconciles with her friends

And at that moment, Marinette and Alix return from camp. They all group hug, and Juleka is about to tell Rose about her feelings for her, until...

Lila: In-laws!

Down in the dungeon, the Artists, Felix, and That are strapped into electric chairs while Lila tells them the story of her life... Through slideshow!

She burned her house down with her parents still in it because they gave her Malibu Barbie instead of Ballerina Barbie

Marc: *Disgusted* Malibu Barbie. The nightmare.

Nathaniel: The nerve.

Her first husband the heart surgeon could never make it on dates, so she committed axe murder.

Juleka: Aw, an axe. That takes me back.

Husband #2 was a Senator who wouldn’t buy Lila that new, expensive car because they had to set an example. She ran him over.

Lila: So I destroyed one innocent life after another. Aren't I a human being? Don't I yearn and... ache and shop? Don't I deserve love... and jewelry?

Marc: *nods* Adios, mi querido.

Nathaniel: Zay gezunt, meyn tayer.

With some encouragement from Felix, Juleka uses her last few moments to confess to Rose

Juleka: Rose, night after night, I have desired you. I would worship every pale, lifeless limb on your body, die and kill for you, love you even after my dying breath. Rose... I love you.

Her confession leaves Rose in tears.

Rose: I love you, too.

Lila: Oh, barf! *Grabs the lever* Goodbye, everyone! Wish me luck!

Artists: Good luck.

Right as she’s about to pull the lever, Kiran, back go normal and by some miracle drops down from the ceiling and switches the wires, making Lila electrocute herself to death

*One year later*

Juleka and Rose got married! Also, it’s Kiran’s birthday! And Damian’s invited!

Rose: And to think I might have missed all this. What was I thinking?

Marinette: Physical pleasure.

While the others are celebrating, Marinette and Damian hang out in the cemetery and talk about marriage. Which Marinette doesn’t want

Damian: But what if you found a man so devoted to you, who worshipped you, that he’d be your eternal love slave?

Marinette: I’d pity him

Damian: *Looks at Lila’s gravestone. ‘Friend, Family, Killer* Damn. Lila was sick.

Marinette: She wasn't sick. She was sloppy.

Damian: What?

Marinette: If I wanted to kill my husband, I'd do it, and I wouldn't get caught.

Damian: How?

Marinette: I'd scare him to death.

Damian: *Scoffs* Sure. *As he goes to lay a flower on Lila’s grave, her hand pops out of the ground and grabs him, making him scream.*

[alexandralyman]

Could you write a one shot where Ethier killian or emma has to sing to one another because they have a nightmare? I have been trying to find a fic like this but I cant😞 Just a suggestion :)

Hey @liftinglovley - you sent me this a while ago and I finally sat down and wrote it out. I knew the song I wanted to use - a personal Disney fave that I think is underrated compared to the more famous ones but it perfect as a CS song - it just took some time to figure out the rest. What I came up with was this, 3,900 words, mostly of canon compliant, domestic CS.

Set at some point after 7x02 and before the finale, rated PG

Also posted on ff.net here as part of my Every Page series of one-shots

                                          candle on the water

Minnesota, 1991Children’s Group Home

“She’s faking it.”

Emma looked over Mrs. Cooper’s shoulder at Kayla, leaning against the doorway with her a sour look on her face. The thermometer jammed uncomfortably in Emma’s mouth kept her from sticking her tongue out at the other girl, Kayla had been nothing but a bitch since Emma had arrived at the group home and here she was again, sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong.

“Kayla, you’re going to miss the bus,” Mrs. Cooper said without turning around, one hand pressed to Emma’s forehead. She took the thermometer and squinted at it, while Kayla craned her neck and tried to get a look at the number on the little screen. Emma hunched forward, the scratchy, donated pajamas were making her back itch again and felt damp and gross after a night of tossing and turning and barely making it to the bathroom down the hall before she threw up that morning.

“You’ve got a bit of a fever honey, it’s probably best if you stay home from school today.”

“What?” Kayle screeched, dropping her faux-fur backpack on the floor with a thump. “No way! If she’s sick then so am I, she probably gave it to me and I should get to stay home from school too!”

“That’s enough!” Mrs. Cooper snapped, getting up off of Emma’s bed and turning around to shoo Kayle out of the room. “You already skipped twice last week and now I’ve got to set up another meeting with your principal and your social worker to discuss your attendance issues, you are not sick and you are going to school today, young lady!”

Emma felt too crappy to tell Mrs. Cooper that Kayla had actually skipped school three times last week, not two, and had gone to the mall with two older boys to shoplift cassettes from the music store and had hidden them under her mattress. Besides, Emma wasn’t a snitch, even if Kayla deserved to be hauled off to juvie, snitches got their ass beat and their stuff messed with. Still, she smiled as Kayla angrily snatched up her backpack and went stomping down the stairs, followed a minute later by the loud slam of the front door. Mrs. Cooper sighed at the sound, shaking her head. Emma almost felt sorry for her, but she knew by now that the woman would probably be gone in a few months anyway and a new housemother would come in and change all the rules again, no one ever stayed for long working at the group home and there was no point in feeling bad for any of them. Even the nice ones.

Especially the nice ones, cause it always hurt the most when they left.

Mrs. Cooper was one of the okay ones. She told Emma that she had a lot of work to do and would be in her office most of the day, but Emma could watch TV if she wanted instead of having to stay in bed, as long as she didn’t make too much noise. Emma dug out her baby blanket from her own hiding place and brought it down with her to the TV room, since she knew it would be safe with all of the other kids at school until three. The older kids usually hogged the remote and never let anyone else pick what show to watch, so Emma didn’t even care that the saltines Mrs. Cooper brought from the locked pantry to help settle her stomach were the lame store-brand kind that always broke when you tried to take them out of the package and tasted like cardboard. She clutched the remote tight on her lap all through The Price is Right and when it was over and some dumb soap opera started she started flicking through all the channels, careful to keep the volume down so that Mrs. Cooper wouldn’t get all mad and make her go back to bed. Boring news shows, and even more boring M*A*S*H rerun, that was playing on two different channels for some reason, an infomercial for a cooking thing that could make breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert, and she changed channels again because the grilled cheese sandwich the lady was making in it looked good and was making her hungry. She wished the VCR wasn’t broken again or that they got one of the cool channels like MTV, burrowing a bit more into her blanket.

“And now back to the KSTP afternoon movie, Pete’s Dragon.”

Emma watched as the TV screen was filled with a little, old-fashioned looking town next to the ocean. She sort of knew this movie, it was one of those old Disney ones that had real people and cartoons all mixed together, like Mary Poppins. The older kids would call it a baby movie, especially Kayla, who hid makeup she wasn’t supposed to be wearing in her backpack, but the older kids and Kayla were all at school and Emma could watch whatever she wanted to without anyone making fun of her.

She leaned her head against one of the cushions as the movie played on. Pete was a boy, an orphan about the same age as her, but he had a dragon named Elliott who helped him escape from the bad people who’d bought him and together they made their way to the small town by the ocean. They met a lady named Nora, whose boyfriend died in a shipwreck, and her dad the lighthouse-keeper, and all the other townspeople, living happily with them until the bad people showed up and tried to capture Elliott. He got away, and used his breath to relight the fire at the top of the lighthouse after it went out, saving the life of Nora’s boyfriend, who wasn’t dead, he just had amnesia and forgot her until he got better and had come back on another ship. They invited Pete to stay and join their family, and he said goodbye Elliott, who flew away to look for another kid like Pete to help.

There was also a *lot* of singing. Emma didn’t like to sing, not anymore.

It was kind of a baby movie. Orphans like Pete didn’t just find new families like that. They ended up in foster care and their chances of adoption went down the older they got. The social workers called it statistics, Emma knew it meant that there wasn’t a happy, ready-made family out there waiting for her, or Kayla, or any of the other older kids. In real life Nora and her boyfriend would just have their own baby. And dragons definitely weren’t real.

The songs were okay though, and her favourite was the one Nora sang while looking out over the ocean from the lighthouse balcony when she was missing her boyfriend, even though it was the slow one.

“I’ll be your candle on the water,My love for you will always burn.I know you’re lost, and drifting,But the clouds are lifting.

Don’t give up, you have somewhere to turn.”

                                                      …..

Some Years LaterStorybrooke, Maine.

“How’s the morning sickness today, sweetheart?”

Emma held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, reaching up for the box of saltines in the cupboard.

“More like Killian-tired-to-bring-fresh-mackerel-in-the-house-sickness today,” she said to her mother with a wince. “The smell was just….ugh.”

Snow laughed softly. “Oh, I remember that. I had to bolt from a ball once when I was pregnant with you and they were passing around caviar hor d'oeuvres, your poor father found me throwing up in a decorative urn out on the balcony.”

“Yeah, pregnancy and fish just don’t seem to mix. Which is a little awkward when you’re married to a man who views it as an essential food group.”

“Guess it runs in the family,” Snow said, and Emma could practically see her mother’s smile even over the phone. “You do kind of have my chin.”

She started to nibble on one of the saltines while Snow chatted on, hoping Killian would be back soon with the ginger ale he’d gone out to get after discovering they were all out while she was puking her guts up in the bathroom. He felt terrible about the whole mackerel incident, quickly apologizing to both her and the baby for upsetting them before slamming the lid back on the cooler and taking it out onto the porch. Emma loved that he was teaching her little brother how to fish, but maybe the rather pungent fruits of their labour could stay on the Jolly Roger and out of her kitchen for right now.

“Oh! Before I forget, I got a letter from Ruby, after the baby shower she and Dorothy are going to finally take that road trip out to Kansas that they keep talking about before they go back to Oz.”

It was a little odd that the guest list for Emma’s upcoming baby shower included both the actual Wicked Witch of the West and Dorothy, but such was life in the small town of Storybrooke Maine, where almost everyone was a fairytale character, including Emma’s own husband and the father of her unborn child, the fearsome Captain Hook himself.

A very sheepish Captain Hook, when he returned home from the grocery store toting a reusable shopping bag stuffed with ginger ale, another box of saltines, the good kind and not the lame store brand that always broke as soon you tried to take one out of the sleeve and tasted like cardboard, a bouquet of roses and a scented candle.

Two scented candles.

Three scented candles.

Candles kept appearing from the bag until over half a dozen jars were crowded together on the kitchen table, cinnamon stick, eucalyptus, bayberry, fresh linen. Emma rested a hand on the swell of her stomach and raised an eyebrow at Killian, noting how the tips of his ears had gone red.

“I thought a candle might help if there was any lingering odor from the mackerel, but I wasn’t sure if there were any other scents you and the bean were particularly sensitive to right now so I thought I should get a backup, just in case, but then what if you didn’t like that one either so I procured a backup for the backup, and then-”

“A backup for that one too?” Emma finished, trying not to laugh.

“Aye, well. It seemed like a good idea at the market.”

She’d used Febreeze and a bit of magic to get rid of the icky fish smell once she’d come out of the bathroom, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless and she shuffled forward to wrap her arms around his neck while he shifted his hips to make room for the baby between them. Pregnancy was hard, and exhausting, she wasn’t seventeen this time around and morning sickness had teamed up with midnight heartburn to seriously kick her ass, but she had Killian and her parents and half the town on speed dial, ready to drop everything and come to the Saviour’s aid.

It had taken her years to find the home Neal had once talked about, and almost as long to accept that Storybrooke was, in fact, that place, but now that she had it was like a cloud had lifted and while her life would never be simple, she wasn’t living it alone.

They had takeout from Granny’s for dinner instead of fresh-caught mackerel - grilled cheese, with a side of sauerkraut, because Emma had a craving for it and Killian knew better than to ask why the smell of fish made her throw up but fermented cabbage was OK - and finished the movie she’d fallen asleep halfway through the night before. After their wedding, once things had finally quieted down in Storybrooke (not that they were ever completely calm in a town where Moby Dick might surface in the harbour on a random Sunday and a pair of actual dragons lived in a house down the street and threw weekly barbecues that had a tendency to set neighbouring cars on fire) they’d finally had time for what Henry dubbed Operation Pop Culture, a.k.a getting Killian more familiar with The Land Without Magic. Specifically, the movies, TV shows, books and music that everyone with curse memories was already aware of and even though Henry was off on his own adventure now, they still made time at least once a week to keep the operation going in his honour.

Star Wars. Back to the Future. Indiana Jones. Harry Potter. They made their way through several TV shows on Netflix and watched the animated Disney classics. Which was…interesting, to actually sit down and rewatch them all now that she knew the real stories behind the catchy songs and all the happily ever afters. They’d taken a bit of a break after Peter Pan, for obvious reasons, and Emma was sure watching it had been a huge mistake, but Killian said he wanted to see her frame of reference for all the people that now made up their family and friends, to understand why she had such a hard time reconciling that Mary Margaret and David really were Snow White and Prince Charming at first, or that magic was actually real.

It had been more difficult for the both of them than she’d expected, but just like letting her son follow his own path, sometimes difficult was necessary.

Now they were in the midst of what Emma described to Henry during their enchanted mirror Skype sessions as, “Disney Movies Starring People We Don’t Know and Aren’t Related To (We Think)” that had started after a bout of magic gone wrong had resulted in Killian and David switching bodies, literally on a Friday too, so naturally they had to watch Freaky Friday once the spell was undone and everyone was thankfully back where they belonged, which wasn’t Killian-in-David’s-body sleeping on their couch and David-in-Killian’s accidentally scratching the shit out of everything in the farmhouse with the hook until Snow finally took it away in exasperation.

Mary Poppins. Honey I Shrunk the Kids. The Parent Trap and Herbie the Love Bug (like with Freaky Friday, the originals only, not the Lindsay Lohan remakes) Pete’s Dragon. Escape to Witch Mountain. Emma had seen some of them before, some were new to her, and the easy, family-friendly movies with simple plots and happy endings were just the thing to relax with in the evenings, especially with their own family expanding literally day by day.

By the time David Freeman made it back to 1978 and his parents and brother after travelling through time in Flight of the Navigator, Emma was stifling her yawns, her head pillowed on Killian’s chest and his fingers playing gently with her hair. She was already in her pajamas, or more accurately, his, since the waistband on the flannel pants was still stretchy enough for her stomach and his T-shirts fit much better than hers right now, plus they were all soft and comfy. The baby was already asleep and Emma wasn’t that far behind, Killian took care of locking up and turning off the lights while she made her way upstairs and drowsily brushed her teeth.

“Goodnight, my love,” he said once they were settled in bed, spooned up behind her with his strong thighs warm against the backs of hers, bracing her against any possible storm brewing on the horizon, even if it was just midnight heartburn again. His hand drifted down to her stomach, as it did every night. “Goodnight, little bean.”

Ever since the pregnancy tracking app on her phone had compared the size of their then eight week old embryo to a jelly bean, Killian had called the baby their own magic bean and even though he or she (they were keeping it a surprise) was now supposedly the size of a papaya according to that same app, the “little bean” nickname had stuck.

“Night, Killian. Love you too.”

She was up again around two, thankfully not because of heartburn, but she needed to pee and she was hungry. Emma went downstairs after she’d used the bathroom, leaving Killian to sleep while she rooted around for something to nosh on. The house was dark, shadowed, the half-finished nursery stacked with boxes and Henry’s old room still had comic books on the shelves and photos tacked around the mirror.

Her children, both were with her in some ways, and absent in others.

The overhead light was too bright to deal with in the middle of the night so she flicked her fingers absently at one of the candles and it flared to life in an echo of the magic flaring under her skin. It illuminated just enough so she didn’t trip over the rolled-up bottoms of Killian’s pj pants or stub her toe on any of the kitchen chairs. She wasn’t sure which one it was exactly, but the smell was nice.

Emma started humming under her breath while she debated between what was left of the sauerkraut or throwing some poptarts in the toaster when a noise from upstairs made her freeze. A faint thump, and then another, and then a loud cry that had magic bursting alongside the adrenaline that flooded her when she heard her husband scream. Without thinking about it she teleported herself upstairs and as the smoke cleared she saw he was sitting up in bed, pillows thrown to the floor and the hook clutched in his hand. He had a more modern brace to attach it to now instead of the old contraption of leather straps and buckles, but he didn’t sleep with it on and it was usually left on the nightstand next to the phone charger. His phone was providing the bit of light in the room, Emma could see the picture of herself that he had set as his lockscreen smiling at her and then it turned off and the room was plunged into darkness, but not before she caught a glimpse of Killian’s face, eyes wide and terrified.

“Swan?”

His voice wavered and cracked while she climbed onto the bed, a bit awkwardly thanks to the extra weight she was carrying, plucking the hook from his unresisting fingers and setting it aside. He curled into her helplessly and she felt that his skin was damp, clammy, as if he’d just had a fever, but of course that wasn’t what it was.

“Nightmare?”

A shaky nod that she felt rather than saw, and a wave of her hand and a wish for light brought up the candle from the kitchen, it appeared on her dresser still lit and filled the room with a soft glow. It wasn’t the first time that one of them had had a bad dream, leaving the past and all its scars was still a bit of an ongoing project that, like the nursery, they were working on together.

“What was it this time?” Emma asked, although she had a good idea when his hand instantly found her stomach. After a beat Killian confirmed her suspicion with a single word, “Pan.”

Sometimes it was the Underworld, sometimes it was being the Dark One, sometimes it was something older, like his brother, or his father, but ever since the pregnancy test had turned positive Killian’s nightmares tended to revolve around Peter Pan.

“He came for our little bean through the window…and I couldn’t…Emma, I couldn’t stop him.”

Emma saw that the window had been left open a crack and the curtains were fluttering in the breeze, a small, simple thing, unless you were Captain Hook and your wife was pregnant with your child.

Killian Jones sagged into her side, his arms around her waist and his head on her chest. Peter Pan was dead, the Lost Boys had all grown up and that story was over. Emma dreamed about him too, sometimes, just like she also dreamed about the Underworld and her time as the Dark One as Killian did, and like him she also had her own old traumas making a reappearance. Getting arrested for something and having to give birth in shackles again, or having to leave Killian behind as she and their little bean were forced to leave Storybrooke and forgetting him as soon as she crossed the town line.

Weekly sessions with Archie helped, but in the middle of the night when it was just the two of them they didn’t talk much about the dreams themselves, they just held each other and found other ways to take shelter from storms made of memories and regrets.

She held Killian and hummed to him under her breath, softly at first, the same tune she’d once hummed into a cassette recorder as a forgotten child living in a shitty group home in Minnesota. The song was still in her heart and she drew on it again, but it wasn’t for herself this time, it was for her sailor, lost at sea and seeking his way back home.

“I’ll be your candle on the waterMy love for you will always burnI know you’re lost and driftingBut the clouds are lifting

Don’t give up, you have somewhere to turn.”

The flame flickered and bounced, light spilling across the bed as Killian’s shoulders started to relax and the lingering tension from his nightmare drained away while Emma sang a song she hadn’t quite remembered and never really forgotten.

“A cold and friendless tide has found you,Don’t let the stormy darkness pull you down.I’ll paint a ray of hope around you,Circling in the air, lighted by a prayer.

“I’ll be your candle on the water,This flame inside of me will grow.Keep holding on, you’ll make it,Here’s my hand, so take it.

Look for me reaching out to show,As sure as rivers flow,

Killian joined in on the final verse, his forehead resting against hers as the magic that bound them let them share the song and their voices mixed together in a promise to each other and to their little bean, held between them and loved, so loved already.

I’ll never let you go,I’ll never let you go,ll never let you go.”

[swearronchanel]

8.07

Well, damn

the girls looking so good 😭😍💖 fashion queens

“Sometimes, we simply see each other through fresh eyes and there’s joy it in”

The Turner’s poppin bottles in the house

I still love Mother Mildred she’s wild

Poor sister Frances, literally the new sister Winnifred 🤦��‍♀️

Now she’ll have her “first birth experience” and will have the “I’m a midwife, I can do it” epiphany lmao

Sister Hilda has some good lines lol

Hard boiled eggs yum 😂😂 LMAO ew who wants that as an appetizer or hor d’oeuvre

aw there’s baby teddy, the writers remembered his existence this time

small dry sherry pls

Set aside the bottles we are popping birth control pills ladies, on the daily so they work

violet is me in some situations like great idea but who is paying? 😂😂

POSEIDON’S HIPPYCAMP LMAOOO WHAT?

I love sister Monica Joan

Does England have any gold Olympic medals? 😂 no shade I’m just curious

Silver is still good lol but sister MJ ain’t about it

I would like to join the Phyllis Crane fan club thanks

Ofc they were right there’s like single young moms every other episode

So she’s got an STD

Are we guessing her husband is cheating? Cause I am

THE PRIDE OF THE NATION IS AT STAKE LMAOOO SHE’S SCOUTING THE KIDS FOR FUTURE ATHLETES

I want some chips even tho I still can’t used to calling them chips

YAS Mother Mildred Lmaoo tell sister J about it

Sister J has been pushed the side this series and then they give her a time to make a point and nothing lmao, the same lines she said 3 series ago about the pill

I’m offended write sister J better pls

Val spilling family tea

Her poor grandmother tho 💔 so glad a lot has changed in 60 years (even tho more still needs to change )

Miss Higgins and Phyllis is the duo I didn’t realize I wanted to see? Give us more

I knew he was cheating !! Trash

Fountain of all wisdom😂

LMAO Mother Mildred knows Phyllis isn’t down for him

Gonorrhea,,, shit

(chlamydia is the clap tho? do british people call both the clap?)

Not a chartreuse fan but cute coat for shelagh

“Nice to see you kid” pure 😭

PHYLLIS’ CRINGE at the comment I love Lucille tho lmao

“WE’VE ALL HAD A DOSE” SJSJSJ BRO ACTUALLY WE HAVEN’T LMAO

He said he paid for it so casually, why are a lot of men trash?🤦🏼‍♀️

!Courage and humility! We know this, esp humility lmaooo

This other husband seems better

Shelagh’s plaid pants Yass i love

I hope they show the Turner’s talking to the kids, as sad as it is you gotta shed light all the harsher reality side to fostering kids

My best friends’ growing up parents’ fostered so many kids throughout our childhood is was always sad watching kids come and go

“Bribery and corruption?” I love Beatrix 😂 I love when her series 1 playful/jokester self shines through

Ok but not gonna lie I LOVE Bingo LMAO

“Miss Anderson” 😭😍 pure af and she looks so pretty

Where was sister MJ when I was having nervous breakdowns failing all my math courses? 😭

An enema sounds like a nightmare Lmaoo

Aw here comes the talk 😭

Not “the talk” but that would actually be SO funny omg imagine LMAO

Idk why I expected the little kids to say something lol but at least they showed it 😭poor Tim tho

Trixie looks so good serving some mod 60s realness!!

Val’s outfit is cute too

Damn it there was the chance to bring back “children are more resilient than you think” !! (Sister B said that right?)

The fear of God “I’ve already got that” LMAOO sister Frances

My fam loves bingo we play it at my grandma’s I miss it 😂 this caller isn’t that exciting tho

also am an active player of bingo when we go on cruises bc once again YES, I am actually a 60 year old woman

“WAS SHE WORTH IT?” LMAOO

Why didn’t he yell BINGO in confused? LMAO is this british? Who says house??

Why is it hilarious to me that the hookers know Dr Turner?😂

elbow first?? Whatttt the hell

There’s the little fish looking baby 😂

Aww she’s all crusty but reminds me how excited I am to meet my niece when I get back to the states 😭

There’s the new instilled confidence lol predictable af but still sweet

Nosy bitches, I’d be so catty and just start calling people out on their issues lmao

oh yikes that’s a nasty boil

They’re having a whole party 😂

and now the party’s over

Passing the magazine that’s so cute

“What an honor” uhhh

“Hope my Val is like you” pure 😭😭

Omg she wanted to be a nurse my heart stop I’ll tear up

Are we supposed to feel sorry for Mr Pugh? Bc I don’t (am I being insensitive idk tbh)

baby girls are winning tonight

aw she’s so tiny

“You are Artemis” YAS love that greek mythology😂😭 I will scream it everywhere I love sister MJ

Who thought making “Aunt Flo” a character was ok LMAO

IF GRAN IS DEAD IM SUING OMG SJKJKJK

OH SHIT PLOT TWIST

Was not expecting that. what the fuck

And sister Mildred’s leaving aw 😭I’ll miss her

she’s like sister Evangelina but on another level lmaoo 

Why is she leaving mysteriously after her “work” is done like a magical movie nanny?  lollll

I guess this isn’t the best time to say it but this shuts down the speculations that Val had an abortion?

Ok Agnes is an ugly name but do you

this is so so sad 😭😭 this is why safe abortions need to accessible bc this is how it happens when it’s illegal

burning the fucking money, this is so heavy

They both have points tho so you can’t even point fingers at who is right or wrong in this situation. There’s no good or bad, it just is

Honestly the real one in the wrong here is the damn government who fails the state when they don’t give a damn about women and don’t provide access to legal & safe abortions and just overall make women (esp poor women)’s lives so freaking difficult !!

is Val going to call the cops? I know this isn’t the end of it

There’s Britain’s gold tho 😂

“We can never foretell when our fortunes will turn or when the story will change. Sometimes we see each other through fresh eyes and there’s no joy at all. We see what was concealed and what is shameful. We see what is true, and nothing familiar remains...”

Damn this was heartbreaking but also the best episode this weekend.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Partied Out

Prompt: Too many holiday parties.

@densi-mber

I enjoyed writing this story IMMENSELY. I cannot stop laughing. These two are too much!

“How the hell did we get roped into going to three parties in one day?” Deeks asked as he attempted to open the car door while juggling three bottles of wine in carefully selected gift bags.

“Well, you said yes to your mom’s party without telling me,” Kensi said, shoving an armload of clothes into the backseat.

“Oh come on! You said yes to Tiffani P.’s party without telling me!”

“Not true. I told you about that party a month ago. You forgot.”

“Because you didn’t tell me to write it down! I thought it was like a hypothetical possibility. Not a set in stone plan.”

“Well it was. And then Nell and Eric scheduled their party and we can’t skip that one so here we are.” Kensi poked her earrings into place as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Did you get the gifts for the white elephant?”

“They’re in the trunk. Are you sure we have to wear these?” Deeks looked down at his sweater, which sported the word “Naughty” in capital letters and an assortment of ugly pompoms.

Kensi pulled at the neck of her own sweater, which had the matching “Nice” and pompoms. “Yeah. It said on the invitation.”

“My only consolation is that whatever Eric’s wearing it will be worse than this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Kensi said fervently as she pulled out of the driveway.

Nell and Eric’s Ugly Sweater Party began at 4:00pm. They would stay for an hour and a half before heading to Roberta’s Christmas dinner and escape just in time to hang out with the Cupcake Girls at Tiffani P.’s “White Christmas Extravaganza.”

They arrived at Nell’s loft at exactly 4:03pm. “We’re three minutes behind schedule,” Deeks said as they hustled to the front door.

“I know, I know!” Kensi said. “That’s the wrong wine!”

“Damn it!” Deeks hurled the red gift bag back into the car as Kensi hissed, “The green bag! Get the green one!”

The front door opened and they both blinked. Eric was wearing a red and green striped blazer with flashing lights that seemed to be playing music. He’d completed the look with a top hot sporting a large poinsettia and a pair of shorts that had reindeer all over them.

“Wow,” was all Kensi could manage.

“You’re here! Welcome!” Eric said brightly, looping strands of blinking Christmas lights over their heads.

“Are these so we can be seen from space?” Deeks asked weakly.

“Hi!” Nell bounded to the door and grabbed Kensi’s hand. “Get in here you two!”

She was in a dress that resembled an elf’s uniform and wore pointy elf shoes on her feet that jingled as she walked. “Your sweaters are great!” she said as she dragged Kensi to the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, thanks.”

“Are you sure this was the right choice?” Eric said, examining his jacket. “I really think the one with the Christmas trees is good too.”

“It is good, but this one is better,” Nell said. “Here, have some eggnog.”

She poured generous glasses for Deeks and Kensi who each took a timid sip. Kensi choked and Deeks’ eyes widened as the doorbell rang and the Wonder Twins took off to answer it. “Holy eggnog Batman,” Deeks said.

“How many bottles of rum did they put in here?” Kensi asked.

“Um, three.”

“What?”

Deeks slid the recycling bin out from underneath the counter. “Three.”

“We can’t drink this!”

“Okay um…how about this. You drink at this party and I’ll drive us to my mom’s. And then I can drink there and you can drive to Tiffani’s and then…we’ll figure it out from there.”

“I’m not going to your mom’s house completely plastered!”

But Deeks was already dumping his glass into Kensi’s and Nell and Eric were returning with more guests in tow. “How’s that eggnog?” Eric asked.

“So good,” Deeks said holding up his empty glass.

“Drink up Kensi,” Nell said as she began pouring glasses for their new guests.

Kensi just glared at her boyfriend and sipped slowly.

When most of the guests had arrived, the games began. First was the ugly sweater competition for which Deeks and Kensi won the “Best Couple” award. Then there was a contest in which you had to wrap your partner in wrapping paper and finally a relay race where they built snowmen out of marshmallows. Nell refilled their glasses steadily throughout and Kensi found herself a bit worse for the wear by the time they started to say their goodbyes.

It took her four tries to put on the shoe that had come off during the relay and then she nearly headed into the pantry instead of out the front door. “Whoa.” Deeks gripped her arm and steered her to the hallway. “This way princess.”

“You can’t go yet!” Eric said. “We still have the gingerbread house competition.”

“Sorry buddy, my mom is expecting us,” Deeks said as he grabbed Kensi’s arm to keep her from tipping into the Christmas tree.

“Well you have to take them to go then! You can make them at home.” Nell was insistent so they waited while she packed up a vast amount of frosting, sprinkles, and gumdrops for their decorating pleasure.

By the time Deeks got Kensi in the car they were running twenty minutes behind. “I’m going to change in the backseat,” Kensi announced, launching herself headfirst into the back of the car.

“Yikes! Geez Kensi!” Deeks swerved as her foot narrowly missed his skull.

He reached out a hand to steady her. “Hey!” She swatted it away from her rear end, which was sticking up in the air. “None of that while you’re driving!”

“I’m not getting frisky babe, just trying to avoid a ticket or near death experience,” he said in exasperation as her sweater came flying into the front seat.

“Where’s my black boots?” She was talking far too loud.

“In the bag with my belt and pants.”

Those were whipped at his head next. “Babe, I don’t need those yet!”

There was a crunching sound. “Damn it!”

“What?” Deeks checked the rearview mirror but couldn’t see anything.

“I think I just sat on the gingerbread houses.”

“Oh my god, you are super plastered aren’t you?”

She popped up and kissed him sloppily on the neck. “Yep. Your fault buddy.”

She managed to get herself dressed and back into the front seat by the time they pulled into his mom’s driveway. “Okay,” Deeks tried to give them both a pep talk as he pulled off his own sweater and buttoned the shirt they’d bought for the occasion. “We can do this. We’re late, but we can do it.”

“Oh I’ll do it.” Kensi grabbed the front of his shirt and mashed her lips to his.

He grunted in surprise. “Kensi!”

There was a knock on the car window and they turned to see both Roberta and Guy smiling down at them.

“Holy mother of Satan!” Deeks put a hand over his heart and slowly rolled down the window. “Hi Mama. We’ll be in in just a minute.”

“Well would you hurry up? You’re half an hour late. Everyone is starving.”

“Just start the hor d’ouevres Mama.”

“We were waiting for you.”

“Well now we’re here so just go ahead and we’ll be right in.”

She rolled her eyes at him and turned to go. Guy eyed them closely. “You two all right in there?”

“Yeah, super fine Guy.” Deeks ground the words out between his teeth.

“I know your mom is looking for grandkids but maybe not in our driveway, all right?”

“Thank you Guy!” Deeks rolled up the window and looked at his girlfriend who had remained blessedly silent during the exchange. “Still hammered?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Perfect.”

This party was mostly friends of Roberta and Guy, who were from exceptionally different crowds. Deeks grabbed a plate of appetizers from the counter along with a very big glass of wine and made his way to where he’d left Kensi on the couch.

“How much do you think that guy can bench press?” he said, looking across the room at a man who appeared to be a body builder and was wearing the world’s smallest tank top.

“Soooooooo much,” Kensi said with a giggle.

“Where did you get that?!” Deeks snatched a half empty glass from her hand.

“Somebody gave it to me.” She frowned at him. “I like wine.”

“Yeah but we agreed it was my turn to drink. No more for you!”

She pouted for only a second before taking four of the bruschetta off the plate he’d brought over. “These are so good.”

“I’m going to go find you some coffee.”

“With Bailey’s!”

He turned back and pointed a finger at her. “No.”

By the time he made his way back to her dinner was starting and Guy had escorted her to the table, handing her yet another glass of wine, which Deeks promptly took from her fingers.

“Hey!”

“No. More.”

“Martin, you’re sitting right here next to Guy.” Roberta bustled over, waving him into the empty chair.

He turned to his girlfriend. “See? I need the wine. Me.”

And boy did he. Sitting between his mother and her boyfriend was like every nightmare he’d ever had worsened by one thousand percent. If their lovesick looks at one another and their pet names weren’t the most sickening thing he’d ever experienced he didn’t know what was.

“This is a fabulous party my sweet,” Guy said as they were finishing dessert.

“Thank you monkey,” she said.

“That’s my knee!” Deeks cried, jerking away from Guy so violently that the whole table shook.

“Whoops.” Guy grinned. “Sorry Martin.”

Deeks downed the rest of his glass as the alarm on his phone went off. He looked at Kensi. “That’s our cue.”

“Super.” She got unsteadily to her feet. “Roberta. Guy. Thanks.”

With that she turned and went out the front door. “Uh, yeah, thanks Mama. We’ll see you soon. Guy…” Deeks tried to come up with something to say and when he failed he simply shrugged and followed his fiancé.

“Babe. Not our car,” he said when he reached the driveway.

She looked up and frowned, removing her hand from the grey minivan she’d just been attempting to enter. “Oh. Deeks, I have to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“I think I’m still drunk.”

“No kidding.”

He was feeling a little buzzed himself meaning driving themselves to Tiffani’s party was out of the question. “I’ll get us a Lyft. You go get the white elephant gifts and our clothes out of the car.”

The theme of the Tiffani’s party was “White Christmas” which meant everyone was supposed to come wearing white, bring a white elephant gift, and that presumably everything at the party was going to be white too.

Which would have been fine except, “Oh shit.”

“What?” Deeks asked in the back of the Lyft car.

She held up her formerly white dress, which now had smears of green and red frosting down the front of it. “You put the gingerbread houses in the same bag as my dress.”

“Well it’s not….” Deeks winced as she turned it around to reveal even more smudges. “Okay, yeah, it’s bad.”

“What are we going to do? Tiffani is going to freak out.”

“Okay, um…” Deeks thought for a moment before pulling off his button down.

“Oh, okay,” Kensi slid over so she was in his lap, her fingers finding their way under the white t-shirt he’d had on underneath his dress shirt.

“No, god you are so handsy when you’re drunk! You put my shirt on over your dress and I’ll just wear my undershirt and that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“We’re here,” the Lyft driver said loudly, clearly displeased at whatever the two crazy people in his backseat were doing.

“We are so not getting a five star review,” Deeks said as the car pulled away from the curb.

“Babe, where are the gifts?”

“Shit!” Deeks spun around and watched as the car turned the corner. “Yeah, we’re not going to see those again.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Kensi said.

“KAY KAY!!!!!!”

The shrieks of the Cupcake Girls were deafening and Deeks was nearly knocked to the floor as they rushed the final member of their party, pulling her in for hugs and air kisses.

Tiffani had spared no expense. The ballroom was decked out in twinkling lights and sheer white swags that hung from floor to ceiling. Christmas trees bespangled with white ornaments decorated every table. And everyone was dressed in white. Beautifully dressed.

Deeks strode over to the bar and ordered the strongest drink on their menu of specialty cocktails, all of which were also white. He nodded to the two men next to him. “Gentlemen.”

Their raised eyebrows reminded him that he was not even close to dressed appropriately for the event. “Rick,” he said to the bartender. “Keep ‘em coming.”

Half an hour later he stumbled his way over to Kensi for the white elephant exchange. “You smell like booze,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“So do you,” he told her.

“Okay!” Tiffani clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “You know the rules! Only one steal per person. And you may not trade once the game is over!”

People began to unwrap gifts one at a time. Several bottles of wine were opened along with boxes of chocolate, ornaments, and a lurid pair of neon green socks with snowmen on them. Deeks received a gift card for a local coffee shop and Kensi unwrapped a pair of cashmere mittens. “Okay, who’s next?” Tiffani called out.

 A friend of her husband’s picked up one of the two final gifts, both of which appeared to be wrapped in Kleenex. The wrappings fell away to reveal, “A…container of tic-tacs. Partially used,” Tiffani announced in confusion.

“I thought you said you had this?” Deeks hissed to his girlfriend.

“I said I had it. I didn’t say it would be good!” she hissed back.

“And the final gift is mine I guess.” Tiffani gingerly picked up the final package. “A Best Couple award. How…fun? Who wants to trade?”

The Lyft dropped them off at home around 1:30am and they both stumbled in the door half intoxicated, half asleep. “We are going to be so hung over in the morning,” Deeks said with a moan as he fell fully clothed onto their bed.

“Never again.” Kensi collapsed onto his chest. “Never, ever, ever again.”

“I’m sorry about your dress.”

“I’m sorry about Guy rubbing your knee.”

“How about as a Christmas present you never mention that again?”

“Done.”

[tropiqwonder-blog]

The Mermaid and Poseidon

The Mermaid and Poseidon

 Chapter 1

Turmoil, to describe my life at this stage the only word that comes to mind is turmoil. I don’t know why I try anymore, but I was determined to try every night to catch some sleep, exhaustion caught up with me. Instead of being a vivacious 21 year old woman, I was a drained old lady, aged 21.

It’s been 3 years since my little sister Kate, and I lived with Mrs Flax, and about 2 years since we last saw her. Mrs Flax is my mother, it felt strange to call her Mom so I always called her Mrs Flax.

It all changed one fateful day with a crash while leaving Grove, a small town in the south of Boston.

Since we lived there close to three years, I thought we finally found our forever home there, and as usual that wasn’t meant to be. Lou her on and off boyfriend at the time finalised his divorce to his wife Sofia and bought her the biggest diamond ring I’ve ever seen and officially proposed. She got cold feet as always, it got too real.

“I am not going to spend the rest of my life listening to that man, drab on and on about astro turf,” was her excuse.

So for the 19th time in our lives, we had to pack our bags and hit the road. I was furious, I had finally decided on what I wanted to do with my life and Kate, adored Lou for he was the closest thing to a father we ever had. Our screaming match in the car distracted Mrs Flax, she didn’t realise she steered us all into the path of a truck on the wrong side of the road. The collision knocked us out, Mrs Flax had a broken arm and a broken knee, Kate suffered a concussion and a broken leg while I fractured my skull and broke some ribs, we were lucky we survived.

In our state the Police notified Mrs Flax’s family in Minerva, Ohio, who took us in to nurse us back to health. It took us about 8 weeks to heal from our critical conditions and it didn’t take long for Mrs Flax to get restless.

My grandparents and Aunt were wonderful, and for the life of me I didn’t understand why Mrs Flax left in the first place. I guess that was always the difference between us, I preferred to stay put while she preferred living life like a gypsy. Kate and I insisted on staying, we loved the stability around us and fed up with uprooting in our lives.

“Fine, I’ll leave and the two of you can stay,” she said in a huff and left never looking back.  At first, I thought I could finally spread my wings, which I did, but at the same time we couldn’t believe she just left us like that. Reflecting back later, I understood that it was out of guilt.  That she as a fully grown woman almost killed us with her decisions and actions, although she never purposely meant to, it frightened her to the core. Something I understood perfectly well, however I didn’t run away from my guilt, nor was I an adult and I tried very hard to make up for it ever since. You see while in Grove I fell in love, I was a 14 year old girl in love with a 29 year old man. As alarming as it sounds it was the best experience of my life, it shaped me up in unexpected ways. However, I let my hormones get the better of me. I was supposed to look after my baby sister, instead she almost drowned in a lake, while Joe and I were busy losing our virginity. Joe, just thinking of his name gets me in a knot, Joe Poseidon Peretti.

I toss and turn in my bed trying to wind down for the night, trying to keep my mind from racing which seemed impossible. I couldn’t watch the news or read a newspaper without having nightmares and the world around me was drastically changing. I once was obsessed with Christianity and planning on becoming a nun, I now find it hard to believe with all the chaos that there would be such a being would let it all happen. Oh god, that almost sounded like Mrs Flax and it repels me that I could sound like her.

I fight hard not to let the burning, stinging hot tears from falling onto my pillow, trying not to worry to death, as a terrifying thought crept through.

I immediately sit up in my bed, switched on the light by my bedside and open the top drawer. I reached in for the shoe box filled with letters and postcards, I’ve collected from him over 5 years. Waiting for one became excruciatingly difficult, not knowing if I was going to receive one or not and lately I haven’t received any from him for over 18 months.

I start with the postcards, which I received after he left Grove, where he was born. They were short and sweet, then progressed onwards to letters, since a post card was too small to write more words.

 Dear Charlotte,

I read, starting with the first letter he wrote, after a couple of weeks Mrs Flax left.

I really hope you’re well, I’m glad you kept me posted about your move and I am very sorry to hear about your accident, I am so relieved to know that you are ok and had your grandparents to take you and Kate in.

As for me, I have some very big changes in my life and I would very much like to see you again.

My heart did somersaults in my chest reading those words, the same way it did when I first read it 4 years ago. Because that’s when I realised that he was the only man I truly loved, and his visits sealed it.

I let myself remember that day, it was a clear Friday afternoon in Minerva after school, working in my aunt’s bakery which I loved. I quickly made my way from the back to the cash register, as the store doorbell rang to warn us someone came in.

“Good afternoon sir, Can I hel…” God strike me down I stopped in my tracks, my mouth ajar when I realised who it was. I received the letter the week before and my reply couldn’t have reached him in time for him to be here, could it? Kate who followed me shrieked “Joe!!!”

Taking off his cap, he bowed his head.

“Hi” he said, looking straight at me flashing his shy smile that lit up the handsomest face.

‘God how I missed his perfect oboe toned voice and New England accent.’

“Hi,” I managed to say, still in shock I froze where I stood.

“You both look taller,” he remarked, “your hair is longer.”

I grew my hair longer then, nothing like the bob I had in Grove, instead it reached down past my shoulders, with a long fringe swept to the side. He noticed despite me having it in a ponytail that day.

“You look different too,” I mumbled, looking at him dressed in an army uniform, his flowing black hair was cut short in a crew cut and his moccasins were replaced with army boots. It was then I realised the big changes in his life wasn’t about finding a wife, as I feared, it was considerably worse, he was going to war.

“What is going on there??” my aunt questioned from the doorway that led to the back of the store.

“It’s Joe, aunt Maggie, from Grove,” Kate answered as our aunt walked in.

“Mam,” Joe nodded to greet her in his typical Joe way.

“Oh!!” my aunt replied looking surprised, “good afternoon.”

She and my grandparents had heard all about Grove, the people we met, the town, the convent and ‘Charlotte’s Boyfriend’ as Kate liked to tease, but what happened in the bell tower was never mentioned. If they knew the exact details, it would have been mortifying, besides Kate was much too young to know about such things.

“How did you get here??” asked Kate breaking the nervous silence in the air.

“I drove here from my base camp in Dahlonega, I thought I’d come to visit on my weekend off, after I’ve heard about the accident.”

“Oy vey, you must be tired and hungry to drive such a long way,” aunt Maggie looked at me with her green eyes, “you can take him out back to the house, matoq sheli (my sweet)” she chimed.  Aunt Maggie was bubbly, optimistic, a hopeless romantic and slightly traditional, a total opposite of Mrs Flax. Sure, Mrs Flax loved being romanced, but she was more of a man eater and a cynic to the core portraying a cheerful demeanour for everyone.

“Um, I don’t mean to take too much of your time,” Joe replied shyly, I smiled to myself and was glad that part of him hadn’t changed.

“Oy vey!!! Don’t be silly, we’re going to close for the day in an hour, and we’re going to have supper afterwards, there’s enough for everyone.”

Joe’s face started to turn pink, he nodded “Thank-you.”

Awkwardly I led him to the back of the bakery, where the tantalising smell of fresh bread and delicious pastry lingered in the air, while Kate ran ahead with excitement.

I patted his arm whilst we walked through the French doors at the back towards the side of the house. The Bakery was located on the corner of the main street, and my grandparents three storey cream Victorian style house with black window shutters was located behind, surrounded by a European style garden. We stood there for a minute as I closed the doors behind me on cobblestone paving which covered most of the area connected to the store. Junipers shrubs, conifers and potted roses were elegantly placed to add colour and greenery to the surroundings. There was a long concrete bench strategically placed in the garden, it was my favourite place to sit when I wanted to read or study.

“Did you want to sit out here or go inside?” I croaked shakily.

“No!!!” Kate butted in “Come inside.”

“As persistent as ever,” he casually remarked looking at me with a smirk.

I dizzily smiled back, ‘Oy vey!! This is a lot to take in’.

“My Grandmother and Grandfather are in there,” I informed him.

“I would love to meet your Grandparents.”

“Ok,” anxious, I didn’t know what was worse, Mrs Flax teasing or the reactions of my grandparents to him.

“Busia, Zay-dee guest who came to visit us,” Kate announced as she ran through the kitchen.

“Oy vey!!! Who??” Zay-dee (my grandfather) asked in his strong Polish/Hebrew accent, sitting at the kitchen table watching my Busia (grandmother) cook a stew.

I never knew how she did it, like clock work after baking all day in the Bakery she’d be in the kitchen at the house cooking us a meal for dinner. No hors d'oeuvres like Mrs Flax, Busia cooked a proper main course often served with kosher bread Zay-dee freshly baked for the day.

“Joe from Grove,” Kate answered matter of fact.

Zay-dee and Busia looked at each other puzzled for a moment, then a light of realisation dawned as he gazed at me.

“Oy vey,” he said softly as he stood up to greet Joe extending his hand, “Shalom, I’m Aaron Flax and this is my wife Anita.”

Joe graciously shook his hand and nodded to Busia, “nice to meet you both, Joe Peretti.”

“Shalom, shalom. Please come in and have a seat,” Busia wiped her hands and ushered us into the living room.

I was amazed and taken aback that they didn’t get out the shot gun to shoot Joe yet.

“Italian?” asked Zay-dee.

“My father was from Naples, my mother was part Nepalese and Indian.”

“Indian??” asked Busia puzzled, examining Joe closely.

“American Indian, mam.”

“Oy vey!!!” Busia chuckled, “no calling me mam, you can call me Busia.” She patted his face.

“We have many good Italian customers who like to buy our bread,” Zay-dee went on, gesturing us to sit in one the leather sofa adorned with sheep skin.

I was about to sit on the sofa made for two, to comfortably sit next to Joe on my left, but Busia squeezed in on my right shoving me closer to Joe. Kate sat opposite on one of the accent chairs, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“I like him,” Busia whispered in my ear.

“You’re a soldier, have you come back from Vietnam or are you going there?”

“As a matter of fact, sir, I’m in my second week in training, I have about 6 more weeks to go before I’m deployed to Vietnam,” Joe replied. My head spun from hearing this, and felt his hand squeeze my trembling hand by his side, he always had a way to calm me. Sweet Joe going to fight in a war didn’t seam right, there wasn’t much aggression in his body even though he was shaped like the statue of David.

“Please, call me Zay-dee, it’s grandpa in Hebrew, no need for this sir business.”

Joe blushed again, cleared his throat and sheepishly agreed, “ok si-r, um, Zay-dee.”

“I have 2 grandsons, the eldest is in Vietnam, thankfully he will be back soon and the other is in University, studying to be a doctor.”

“War, it is such a terrible, terrible thing, we escaped many many years ago from Poland,” Busia recounted looking at the tapestry map of Poland hanging over the fireplace. “Such destruction, we left everything behind, everything to come here.”

“When I read what was happening to the Jews in Germany in 1933, I packed my wife and my 10 year old Margaretta to the United States as far away from Europe as possible. I didn’t believe the talk that they wouldn’t spread and I was right.” Watching my grandparents telling their story in unison for the millionth time, it resonated with me more than it ever did. Watching the war on the news was at a safe distance until now. My trembling hand still in his, I quietly watched him listen solemnly and I knew he must have been just as terrified.

“Did you come a long way?” asked Busia.

“Yes, mah, aah, busia,” he cleared his throat,” I drove from Dahlonega.”

“Oy vey!! That is a very long way, you must be hungry, I’ll get you some food.”

I tried to get up also to help.

“No no no! you stay,” she ordered “Kate and Aaron will help.”

I couldn’t believe it they left me alone with him.

“Are you okay?” he gently said, while tenderly stroking my hair.

I nodded, “are you?”

He nodded back, with his fingers still lingering in my hair.

My loose side ponytail purposely hid my bold spot, where the doctor partially shaved my hair to monitor my fractured skull from the accident. Despite my best efforts, he found it.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not really, it was just a linear fracture with a small open wound which dried up quickly. I have to take some antibiotics for a while to prevent infections,” I blurted out, turning my head towards him and looked into his intense dark eyes. There was a sadness there I didn’t expect to see.

“Charlotte, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you,” he admitted. The atmosphere between us intensified, just as everyone walked in.

Busia was carrying a tray with tea, hot chocolate and cups. Kate had a tray of chocolate toffee squares, pieces of pear pie and poppy seed cheese cake, while Zay-dee had a jug of warm milk.

I hadn’t lived with my Grandparents for very long but what I did learn was that they loved feeding people.

“Do you have somewhere to stay? It’s an awfully long way to drive back to your base tonight,” Zay-dee said with concern.

“Uh, I thought I’d sleep in my car for the night and drive back in the morning,” Joe replied.

“Oy vey!!! That won’t do,” Busia gasped, while pouring the tea and hot chocolate,” please stay the night, there is plenty of room.”

“I really don’t want to trouble you.”

“The decision has already been made, young man,” Zay-dee wisely informed, “pear pie or cheese cake?”

 We chatted a little more, when aunt Maggie and her husband George walked in to announce that it was time to sit at the table. Again, I was placed to sit next to Joe and noticed how they warmed up to him. Could it be because they saw what I’ve always seen in him?

We ate and chatted, questions were asked of Joe which he politely answered. He told everyone about his small nursery business he opened with his brother in Law down in Florida where his sisters lived. His quiet life over there, all the things I knew about from his postcards over the years.

Then he mentioned the urge to serve his country, which was all knew to me and understood that despite all that I knew, there was a lot more to learn about Joe.

Later in the night it was my responsibility to show him the guest bedroom, located on the second floor, my grandparents private living quarters.

“It’s a big house,” he murmured, absorbing his surroundings.

“It’s huge,” I agreed.

“Where do you sleep?”

My heart beat faster at this stage, remembering our kisses, and that night. I wasn’t the hopeless girl, who on occasions made poor decisions, like I was in Grove at that stage. I was a girl who wanted to be a writer and a better life. That night and the accident made me grow faster than my peers. Yet right at this moment, I crazily wanted to be in his arms.

“On the third floor, the top floor,” I breathlessly mumbled, “Aunt Maggie’s quarters, Kate has one that used to belong to one of her sons and I have the spare one in the tower.”

“The tower?” his eyes darkened and there was an uneasy silence. He swallowed hard, then kissed me on the cheek, said Goodnight entered the room and closed the door. In a daze I went to bed in my bedroom tower longing for him all night, an ironic predicament.

In the morning I rushed out of bed not wanting to miss him before he went. Upon entering the kitchen, I saw him sitting there at the table waiting for me. Busia had packed a bag of bread with a flask of hot chocolate for him to take, he enjoyed it a lot the afternoon before.

Mornings was a busy time for the Flax family at the store, so seeing Joe off was left up to me.

We had breakfast and afterwards we walked up to his car, a mint coloured 1950 Ford Tudor.

“I didn’t want to tell you I was going to Vietnam in a letter,” he finally revealed, standing close to me on the side street, “it wouldn’t have been the right thing to do.”

I couldn’t find any words, crushed with emotions I nodded.

“Would you be ok if I came to see you again next weekend? Your grandfather said I could.”

“Yes,” I said as tears poured from my eyes, a small relief that this wasn’t going to be the last time I got to see him.

He squeezed me in his strong arms, pecked me longingly on the cheek and then he was gone.

I had six weeks of ups and downs then, waiting for the weekends for him and the crushing despair when we said goodbye.

My Busia gave me some wise word to help me at the time, how we need to hold on to what is dearest to us when we are faced with huge obstacles. She also told me of how she first met Zay-dee when she was 16 and he a 26 year old gentleman. They were matched by their parents back in Poland to marry, their mutual respect grew to love, and they’ve built a life together ever since.

“Your life is a bit different,” she went on, “you can choose who you let in your heart and who you want to marry, but make sure he is a very good man. Nothing good happens when they’re not.”

I guessed that’s the reason the shot gun wasn’t taken out, and it felt empowering to be trusted.

My heart shattered in little pieces when we said our final goodbye, he came once more at my grandparent’s house to spend time with me and my family. When I knew we were alone in the very early hours of the morning I snuck into his room.

He jumped when my touch woke him up.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, keeping an eye on the door.

I climbed upon his lap, ran my hand over his stomach under his white singlet, feeling his muscles stiffen under my touch.

“Make love to me,” I pleaded inches away from his lips.

I watched the struggle in his eyes. The passion between us was persistent as always and I knew it got only stronger.

He started to kiss me softly on the lips, his body relaxed for a moment as we cupped each other’s face. Our first real kiss in 3 years. I opened my mouth slightly to enjoy the taste of him, the familiar sweet tomato tastes and smell.

As our passion heated some more, he ripped his lips away and shook his head.

“I can’t,” he gently coaxed me off, stood up and looked down in my bewildered eyes.

“Don’t you want this?” I asked a little hurt by his rejection.

“I do,” he furiously whispered, “Charlotte please understand, I shouldn’t have given into my desires that night.”

“What do you mean?” I murmured back angrily, “You think that night was a mistake?”

He bowed his head, deflated, conflicted.

“I love you Charlotte, more than you’ll ever know,” I swore then I could hear his heart shatter too, “but I’m breaking the law and you deserve a lot better than that. When my parents died I was very broken, people I loved moved away. I was holding on to everything that wasn’t there anymore and out of the blue you came along, a young girl who awakened everything I thought was gone inside of me and I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”

He looked into my eyes and saw more of my confusion as he went on.

“I thought if I could wait a little longer just until you got a little older that it’d be ok, but you’re already so much more mature than women twice your age, I forgot everything and lost control. That’s why I had to move away, but I never stopped caring for you or wanting to be with you.”

He’s soothing voice calmed me, and I didn’t want to fight on our last day together. I moved closer to him and confessed. “We may never see each other again.”

Tears streamed out of his eyes, “I know, I just wanted to make sure you were ok and not leave you without saying a proper goodbye. I don’t want to taint what could be our last moment together by doing the wrong things. Look at what happened the last time we got reckless.”

I bowed my head, I knew he was right. He walked to the bedside table, took his car keys and handed them over to me.

“I won’t be needing this for a while, so I want you to have it. You can drop me off at the bus station, I’ll find my way back to the camp.”

“Thank-you,” I whispered, stunned beyond words.

I numbly went to my room, flowing through the motion not looking forward to the inevitable.

Later that morning, Zay-dee and Busia made an effort to come out to say their goodbyes and handed him a bag of bread and pastry.

“Shalom Joseph,” Zay-dee started. “May God bless you and keep you safe,” Busia continued.

“It was a pleasure for us to have known you, and we’ll pray you will come back to us safe.”

Joe drove all the way to the Bus station, as I lay my head on his lap the same way we used to.

As we walked towards the bus, the bus driver got out for a short break and I tried desperately to lighten the mood.

“Remember when you were the bus driver?”

He smiled a little, pulled me close into his arms and held me tight like a vice.

“I am very proud of you Charlotte. Taking care of your sister, standing up to your mother, continuing to senior year. Promise me you will never stop,” Joe said in my ear, bravely brushing away the fear that threatened to eat him away.

“I won’t stop, I promise,” I replied into his ear, not wanting to let go.

We could hear the driver’s footstep approaching and it was almost time for him to leave.

He lifted his head to kiss my lips, his tongue desperately tasted my mouth for what seemed a long time. The bus driver tooted, prompting Joe to leave me there with the taste of sweet tomatoes and the heaviest heart.

The Mermaid and Poseidon (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/QIeQJwp2nV