#( let us just clink our little wine glasses together as we both poison each other a little each day )

[korinthiakos]

apricot 😎🍷

why you follow me meme

I think it's mutual at this point, don't you agree? 😎🍷

[raybansandcoffee]

A New Life in New York: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (Michael Buble)

Okay so this was supposed to be finished two days ago but I’ve been on the struggle bus. 

Here it is, a little bit of Christmas, only a day late. 

Harry: December 24, 2020

“Did you finally get them to sleep?” I asked as Janie walked into our bedroom shutting the doors. She walked directly to the bed and fell backwards onto it.

“Yes. Five stories and three songs later. Which by the way, I hate you.”

“Why?” 

“Because our children critique my singing. ‘You’re not as good as Daddy.’ Fuck. You.” I had to laugh. Normally if the kids wanted songs at bedtime Janie put me in charge. Stories, it was her. She’d either read something to them or turned some ridiculous story of her childhood or years on the road into some magical story. She was brilliant, however the children all preferred my bedtime songs.

“Are you going to get up off the bed?” 

“Do I have to?” Janie whined.

“You do. We have about four million toys downstairs to put together before the three tiny humans arise in the morning.”

“Ugh. Why? Every year I say I’m not buying shit that needs to be assembled and every year I buy shit that needs a ton of assembly and usually comes with directions in Japanese.” I laughed at her a bit. She liked to be dramatic.

“It’s always been like it is downstairs?” I pulled her up off of the bed and wrapped my arms around her. She’d been keeping the door to her office on the first floor locked for weeks as she hid toys and packages. You’d think Amazon had set up a distribution center in there.

“I guess. Christmas was Greyson’s favorite holiday. He went crazy every year.” She smiled this special smile that I loved. One she reserved for when she was thinking about Greyson. It was one of my top five favorite smiles of hers. 

Smile #1 was the smile she reserved for me when we were alone. Smile #2 was the smile she used when she looked at me in public, usually referencing something I’d done for her or our family. Then there was #3, the smile she got when one of our kids did something cute, crazy, funny, or really anything. #4 was the smile associated with her writing; finishing a new piece, getting great feedback from her editor or a reader, or seeing a link to her new article tweeted by someone she respected. #5 was the Greyson smile. 

“Let’s go downstairs and start putting toys together and you can tell me all about it.” She stood on her tiptoes, kissed me, and started out the door. It was almost as if she was skipping down the stairs to the first floor. She unlocked the doors to her office and flung them open. It was the first I’d seen behind the doors in nearly a week. “Alexa, play Janie’s Christmas Favorites.”

“Playing Janie’s Christmas Favorites on Apple Music,” replied the little white device that sat on her desk.

“Did you rob a department store or Amazon maybe?”

“I may have bought everything that looked exciting to me. I couldn’t resist. This is our first Christmas all together.” There was smile number two. Every major milestone or holiday we’d experienced since January was something she went overboard on. She was having so much fun enjoying all of our firsts. The first day of school for all of the kids where we walked them together. Her first Mother’s Day as part of Harper’s life; which had been an emotional moment for me as it was the first time Harper got to experience a Mother’s Day with someone other than my own. My first Father’s Day, the kids went overboard with breakfast in bed and all of the very Dad-like things. We hadn’t gotten to the point that the kids were all calling us Mom and Dad at that point, they are now, which had both of us excited for our first Christmas as our not-so-little little family. I should’ve expected that Christmas would be even more than everything else. “Okay, so part of my tradition is that I drink while I put together Christmas presents.”

“What would you like tonight?” I asked. “Wine? We’ve got a few bottles of your favorite.”

“Jameson on the rocks,” she said. “It’s tradition.” Smile #5 told me that this was an old tradition and I’d probably be getting a story or two tonight. 

“I’ll be right back then.” I went into the kitchen, filled an ice bucket and grabbed the bottle of Jameson she kept in there. Most of our alcohol was upstairs in the bar area but there was a wine fridge in the kitchen and always a bottle of Jameson. After grabbing two glasses I headed back to the office where she was dancing to an NSYNC Christmas song and organizing gifts. I filled two glasses with ice and Jameson before handing her one.

“Are you drinking Jameson with me tonight?” I nodded.

“You said it was tradition. I’m not one for breaking traditions.”

“It is a tradition. One that from my understanding is roughly 21 years old at this point.” I settled in with a pile of gifts and got ready to put the presents together and wrap them. “Lilibet’s first Christmas, Greyson was so excited to have a baby that he went to FAO Schwartz and pretty much bought everything. He got home and had a wife who was less than enthused about having to wrap presents and put together toys because of course being as busy as he was, he did all of this shopping on Christmas Eve. He never really got any better about shopping last minute, though the invention of Amazon and having someone like me who started building the lists of what we would need for Christmas in July made him a little bit better. But still without fail we would wait until the kids got to bed on Christmas Eve and start the building and wrapping.”

“Kids?” I asked knowing that when Greyson was still alive they only had one child.

“Oh, his kids would all spend Christmas Eve Day with Amelia and her family and show up in time for cookies and cocoa at bedtime so they’d wake up with Greyson on Christmas morning. Amelia’s family tradition was always Christmas Eve so when they got divorced she requested Christmas Eve, partially knowing that for Greyson, Christmas was his favorite day of the year.”

“That’s an understatement,” Rebecca said. I looked up to see Janie’s three stepchildren walking across our apartment towards us. Janie jumped up off the floor to hug the three of them. 

“I didn’t realize you three were coming over tonight.” Janie hadn’t really filled me in on the plan. Just that she’d be up to make breakfast in the morning and her family would all appear in time for lunch and it would go late into the evening.

“Of course we are,” Elizabeth said. “A) I live here.” I laughed at how much of a smartass she was, she clearly picked that habit up from Janie because every time I’d met Amelia she seemed very warm and inviting but also like she was very proper. “B) Mom’s house will be boring tomorrow and she won’t even be there. She leaves for the Caribbean tomorrow morning with Martin for vacation.” The way that Elizabeth said his name told exactly how not only she, but all of the kids felt about their stepfather. I felt lucky that they decided they liked me because despite Amelia and Martin having been together for several years they’d never taken to him. I’d only met Martin a few times but based on what the kids said I could understand. “C) There are tiny kids here. Tiny kids are the reason that Christmas is the best day ever.”

“She’s very much her father’s child. So I have everything ready for your cookies and cocoa or if you all promise not to breathe a word to Amelia of this, you can have wine or Jameson with us.” I watched as Janie eyed the youngest of her step-children, the only one not of age to drink. 

“Are you kidding? Mom let me start drinking at holidays when I was a freshman in college because I was legal to do it where I lived most of the year.”

“Because England is amazing,” I said. Becks bent down to high five me. We had bonded really quickly because I was able to help her get some contacts in London and when she’d had an issue this fall with her flat I’d told her to move into my house. It sat empty most of the time so it was actually nice to know that someone was keeping watch of it. I told her she could live rent free as long as she kept watch of the house, didn’t throw any super wild parties, didn’t sell my belongings ob eBay, or let her college friends into my room or office, or crash any of my cars. Mainly it was to be hard on her. I was close with Elizabeth because she lived with us but Becks was most like me. I’d had a few occasions where I had to go home for work without Janie, even a few times without Harper because of school, and Becks and I had gotten a chance to bond during those visits. 

“I’m a sophomore in college. If you don’t think I drink, you’re crazy,” Jameson said. 

“Alright kids, pick your poison. But know, your father would tell you on Christmas Eve there are no options, there is only Jameson.”

“He would say that,” Elizabeth said smiling. She quickly headed out of the room, grabbed three glasses from the kitchen and came back pouring a glass of Jameson on the rocks for each of her siblings. Janie stood up, refilled her glass and topped mine off. 

“So as a kid, my parents always said this toast as they had a drink on Christmas Eve. May you be blessed with the spirit of the season, which is peace. The gladness of the season, which is hope. And the heart of the season, which is love. Slainte.” We each clinked glasses and took a drink. “As I grew older and I became part of the press pool this is one I learned and someone told me that they swore it was the toast Joe Biden used, I don’t believe them but I love it nonetheless. To all the days here and after - may they be filled with fond memories, happiness and laughter.” Another clink of the glasses and sip before I watched Janie take a deep breath. “And finally, the toast your father always gave. May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.” I watched as the kids all started laughing. 

“Cheers!” They all said before taking one more drink.

“Dad was always such a smartass,” Elizabeth said. 

“He lived to make my life uncomfortable,” Janie added. “The first Christmas he spent with my family. Oh god.”

“I remember that!” Jameson exclaimed as he started to laugh. “Didn’t he show up late?”

“Yes. I’d told him I was going out to my parents early to help Mom with dinner on Christmas Eve. We were hosting everyone the next day and since we didn’t have you kids I wanted to help my Mom and spend the day with my sisters like I always did growing up. He was a half hour late. I was so embarrassed. We had only been dating a short period of time and at Christmas he was meeting a lot of my family for the first time. He was twice my age. My father wasn’t quite sure how he felt about him yet and showing up late to Christmas Eve dinner had my Dad convinced that your father wasn’t going to last. He also then out of nerves proceeded to drink too much and I spent all mass trying to keep him from passing out on me.” The kids laughed imagining their Dad in this state. “When we went to leave that night to get home for your Mom to drop you off my parents both lectured me. It was a nightmare. They both expected that they were going to come over for Christmas morning with their daughter and her new boyfriend and his kids and find your father still drunk. Your Dad was perfect in the morning and on his best behavior all day. By the end of Christmas Day my parents both changed their opinion of him. Thank god they did.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“He proposed to her on Christmas night as we were all unwrapping presents,” Becks answered.

“It’s why he’d been late the day before. He got stuck in traffic leaving the Tiffany store with my ring. He’d been planning on doing it Christmas Eve, which was the drinking to calm the nerves. But I’m glad he waited.”

“Me too,” Elizabeth said. “We all got to be with you then. If he’d done it Christmas Eve it wouldn’t have been quite the celebration.”

“I know. Plus it landed on Christmas Day which was your Dad’s favorite.” She looked like she might cry remembering it. I knew that it was a memory she cherished. We’d talked about it a little, she’d told me the basics of how he proposed but not the details. She’d always said she never wanted me to feel like I had to compete with Greyson. He was a grand gesture kind of guy as she explained it. Everything was over-the-top. There was never anything small in his book. She’d told me that he grew up in a small apartment with his parents in Brooklyn. His Dad worked two jobs to make ends meet and his Mom worked in the cafeteria at the school he went to. He’d studied hard to be able to get a scholarship to college and was self-made, which was incredibly impressive considering how successful he was before his death and the fact that his five children would never experience college debt and truthfully wouldn’t have to work a day in their lives if they didn’t want to.

I had learned that I was different from Greyson in a lot of ways. I liked to do little things for her and she told me how much she loved that. That somedays she’d come home from running the kids to school and I’d have breakfast made. I’d bring flowers home for her every time it was my turn to run to the grocery store. That sometimes I’d take the kids to the park on a Saturday morning so that she could get a massage and pedicure that I’d scheduled without telling her. When she was gone in summer for the Democratic and Republican National Conventions working I’d called to get her hotel rooms upgraded, had flowers waiting in each of the rooms and when she’d get home on Friday I’d have a massage scheduled and dinner reservations so that we could have a quiet night together. I’d done this anytime she’d traveled for work which had been a lot lately with the election having been last month. 

Listening to Janie and the kids tell stories about Greyson was really enjoyable. They laughed at the memories they had of him. Little by little over the almost year we’d been together Janie would open up about Greyson. When she finally got comfortable telling me about his death she planned a night where Elizabeth was gone, my Mom had all three of the kids and she had a lot of Kleenex and even more liquid courage. It was hard for her to relive. It broke my heart to watch her go through the emotions of retelling what his death and the time shortly after it was like. She went from having a dream life with a baby on the way to her whole world crashing around her. Knowing how far she’d come had me so proud of who she was now. Despite not knowing her them, I knew her now and knew how strong she was. 

“Okay kiddos, time for bed. Your younger siblings will be waking us all up in a few hours to see what Santa delivered,” Janie said. We’d moved all of the presents around the giant Christmas tree in the living room. Getting the Christmas tree up here had been a task. Janie picked the tallest tree I’d ever seen outside of a department store and we lugged it through the building and in the elevator but she claimed it was perfect. After hugs from all three of the kids and we watched the girls take off for Elizabeth’s room, which was now in Nellie’s old room, and Jameson taking off upstairs to Elizabeth’s old room which we’d converted to a guest bedroom that he stayed in when he was with us. Janie stood staring at the tree, I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. 

“What are you looking at, love?” I asked.

“My three favorite ornaments on the tree.”

“Which three?” 

She pointed first at one that was a little frame that said ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ on the bottom of it. The photo inside was of she, Greyson, and the grown kids. In Janie’s arms was a tiny baby Finnegan. They were all standing in front of a giant Christmas tree that looked a lot like the one we were looking at right now but standing in the living room of what I knew to be the brownstone in Brooklyn that Janie and Greyson had lived in when they were married. Despite it being a small photo I could see the giant smiles on everyone’s faces as they all surrounded Finn. 

The second ornament was another “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament. This one wasn’t quite as happy as the first. It was Janie, Finn, the grown kids and a tiny little Grey. She was a happy baby and everyone was all smiles but there was a darkness over the rest of the family. It was their second Christmas without Greyson and first with his namesake. While everyone was happy to have little Grey but they missed their leader. 

The third and final was a similar frame to the first two but rather than saying “Baby’s First Christmas” it just said “Christmas 2020” on it. Inside the frame was us. Our family, all of eight of us, standing in front of the Christmas tree we were admiring right now. The weekend after Thanksgiving, after Janie had lugged this tree through the city with Jameson and I in tow, we all gathered at the house. Thanksgiving was Amelia’s holiday, the only one that Janie still requested and that Amelia easily obliged to was Christmas Day. Janie had made a huge deal out of the weekend. The kids showed up Friday night in time for family pizza night, something that since Elizabeth moving in with Janie often included Jameson and always included Becks if she was home. We started watching Christmas movies and decorating the house. Saturday Elizabeth and Becks took the littles shopping to pick out their new ornaments for the year and find a few other things for the house. Saturday night was filled with Christmas music, way too much food and decorating the massive tree that Janie insisted on having. Just us and the six kids. At the end of the night, when the tree was decorated and we were all dressed in the matching pajamas that Janie had found, Becks used her exceedingly impressive selfie skills to take a photo of all of us with the tree behind us. It was perfect and a bit crazy, just like us.

“Those are your three favorites?”

“Yup. They are the first ornaments for each stage of my family in it’s evolution. There are a few pre-Finn that I love but having him made Christmas magical for me. My first Christmas with Grey was so hard but Finny worked to make it fun. And honestly, without those three that just went to bed, I would’ve given up on Christmas the moment Greyson died. It’s a hard day for me. It just serves to remind me how much I miss him.” I lightly kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking like this. It’s our first Christmas together, not all that great to listen to your girlfriend cry about missing her husband.”

“I miss him for you. I love you and I am so grateful that I have you in my life but I wish I’d known Greyson. He seems like he was an incredible person.”

“He was. He would’ve liked you a lot. You’re so good to his kids.”

“I love them as if they were my own.”

“I know. We are lucky to have you,” she said as she turned around, stood on her tiptoes and kissed me. “Let’s go to bed. We’ll have six kids up before you know it.” I squeeze her tightly before we headed upstairs to bed. It didn’t take long before we both passed out cold.

“Mommy….Daddy, I think Santa came,” came the whisper of Finn. I opened one eye and saw him. His face was a few inches from mine. 

“How do you know that, buddy?” I asked, my voice clearly not prepared to talk to an excited 5 year old yet. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was 6:05. We’d only been asleep for about three hours.

“There are glitter footprints in my room!” That was all Elizabeth and Becks.

“There are?!” Janie was doing her best to sound excited while also trying not to show that she was pissed off she’d been woken up. She loved sleep. 

“Yeah!”

“Okay, let Mommy and I get up and then we can get your sisters and go downstairs.”

“Okay.” Finn crawled into our bed as I turned the TV on to cartoons for him. We went into the master bathroom and shut the door. 

“Fuck. I just want to sleep. I should’ve told him no waking up until 7:00,” Janie groaned.

“It’s okay. He’s excited.” After a few minutes we both emerged, feeling a little bit more human. “Okay, I’m gonna go get the girls. Why don’t you two go wake up Jamo?” Finn jumped onto his Mom’s back and she carried him piggyback down the hall to Jameson’s room as I went and got the girls up. After bathroom time and brushed teeth we found Janie and Finn at the end of the hall.

“Jameson isn’t in his room,” Finn announced as we found them sitting on the stairs at the end of the hall.

“Well maybe he’s up already,” I said. “Okay kids on the count of three you can head downstairs.”

“One,” Janie whispered.

“Two,” I answered in an equally hushed tone.

“Three,” we said together and watched as our three kids took off down the stairs. We followed quickly. As we made it to the first floor we found all three of grown kids asleep on the giant sectional in the living room. The yells and giggles of the kids woke them up. Judging by how easy it was to wake them up I knew that they were all pretending to sleep while they waited for the kids. 

“Merry Christmas,” Elizabeth exclaimed as she quickly caught all three of them in her arms.

“Merry Christmas,” three tiny voices replied. 

“Santa was here!” Finn declared.

“He totally was,” Jameson replied. “I set up the cameras to try and catch him last night. Let’s see if we got him.” It was a stall technique. All of us needed coffee. I watched as Elizabeth and Becks headed into the kitchen with Janie to start coffee and get drinks for the kids. I sat down with the girls in my lap as Jameson had Finn in his. Jameson pulled up the app for the security cameras in the house and started to rewind it. “Whoa! There he is.”

“It’s Santa!” Finn yelled.

“Ho ho ho!” came the voice through the camera. It was Jameson’s voice and judging by the way Santa moved it was also him dressed up in a Santa costume. 

“Daddy, it’s Santa!” Harper said excitedly. 

“It is. I wonder what he brought you?” The kids all jumped down from our laps and started looking through the presents that surrounded the tree. Janie handed me a cup of coffee and as she sat down next to me with her legs going across my lap and rested her head on my shoulder. Becks handed her brother a coffee before crashing back into the couch. The kids all started digging through the presents as Elizabeth decided to play gift giver and sat on the floor with them. 

One by one each of the littles started opening presents. Eventually Janie stood up and started handing out presents to her stepkids. She’d had a lot of fun getting gifts for everyone and had drug me out shopping on a few occasions. She had gone a little overboard but it was nice to see that she was enjoying herself rather than dreading today. As all of the gifts came to a close we moved towards the kitchen for breakfast before we all began getting ready for family to arrive for the remainder of the day’s celebrations.    

“You did good, love,” I said as I wrapped my arms around her.

“Thanks and thank you for all of your help.”

“Of course. You did miss one present though,” I said as I pulled a small blue box with a white ribbon out of it’s hiding place in the kitchen. 

“You weren’t supposed to get me anything big, Styles. And you already gave me so much.” She gestured at the pile of gifts in the living room that were from me and the kids, knowing that I’d paid for the gifts from all three of the littles to her. She opened the box I’d handed her and found inside a heart shaped rose gold locket. “Harry.” I watched as her eye started to water.

“Open it,” I replied. She used her fingernail to pop open the heart where inside she found a photo from this summer of all six of the kids that she’d taken when we were in the Hamptons for Finn’s birthday. The opposite side was a photo of the two of us together, locked in a kiss.

“Harry, this is too much.”

“No, it’s not. It’s actually not enough.” She looked at me confused. “You have been the architect of this beautiful family and I wanted you to be able to carry us with you everywhere.”

“I love you,” she said as she went to kiss me. I unclasped the necklace and hung it around her neck.

“I love you too.” I kissed her again and held her close. “Merry Christmas, J.”

“Merry Christmas, Styles.”     

Again, I sincerely apologize about this being late but I hope you enjoyed it. I can’t wait to hear from you. :) 

Now to get to work on the next chapter of Los Angeles, When Will You Save Me?

xx AM.

[silverfootstepswrites]

title All Night summary Unhappiness is comfortable in its own way. pairing Itasaku, Tobisaku rating turn the statue of baby jesus to face the wall before you read

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv (here) | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

By the end of August, she was back in her penthouse halfway up Victoria Peak. She listened to the rain pelt the windows and roof. The water rolling off the skylights cast exaggerated shadows on the floor below. Sakura curled up on the end of the sofa, her head wilting toward her chest. 

Through the staccato of the rain, she heard the front door open and close. She opened her eyes. Waiting. Her fingers curled around the trigger of the gun hidden under the sofa cushions. She couldn’t hear footsteps. Straining to listen, she pulled the gun out.

She heard a sharp clink. Her arm flew up, barrel of the gun pointing straight at his chest.

“Is that any way to treat your dear uncle?” Hashirama huffed. In his left hand he held up a bottle of wine. In his right he held two crystal glasses. She regarded him over her firearm, expression unchanged. Slowly, she lowered her arm. Her gun rested on the sofa beside her, still within reach.

“What do you need from me, Uncle?” she asked, the steel gone from her voice. She was tired. It had been so long since she had gotten a decent night’s sleep. 

“Is this how you give thanks to the person who’s come to celebrate your birthday?” demanded Hashirama, setting his things down on the coffee table. He looked around the huge penthouse, fists on his hips. Poked at the blue sofa. Nudged the shag rug with his big toe. And then marveled up at the high ceilings. 

“Did I buy this for you?” he asked. 

“No, Uncle. Also, my birthday is in March, you know,” she sighed. Still, she got to her feet. The blanket fell from her shoulders, pooling in her absent space. Hashirama glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes. She made her way to the kitchen to grab a corkscrew from one of the drawers. She tossed it to him as she walked back.

“Your other birthday. Today’s the day you were initiated into the 24K. A day worth celebrating, no?” 

Sakura settled back into her warm nook on the sofa. She tucked her hand under her chin. She stared at him as he pierced the cork and twisted the screw down and down. When he pulled up, the cork flew out with a hollow pop. 

“We’ve never celebrated this day before. You didn’t have to come all the way here for that,” she mumbled, not stopping him. He set the wine down to let it breathe for a moment. As he twisted the cork off the screw, he glanced around the apartment again.

“Is my brother around? Why not have him join us for a toast?” he suggested.

“Why would Tobirama be here?” Sakura sighed. 

Hashirama suddenly went very still. He considered the corkscrew in his hand. Closed his fingers around the pointed metal spiral.

“Don’t lie to me, Jing-Mei,” he warned. His tone was deceptively light.

Sakura turned her head to the side, resting it on the back of the sofa. She smiled.

“I mean, why would Tobirama be here? Since you know everything, Uncle. I only meet with him at North Point,” she said. She tucked her hand under her cheek, staring up at him through her eyelashes. Hashirama eyed her for a long time. Sighing, he poured out two glasses of wine. When he pushed it toward her, she made half-hearted swipes toward it with her fingers. He sighed again.

“You’re going to get me killed someday. Look at you- leading us all around by the nose,” Hashirama said, placing the wine glass in her waiting fingers. She beamed at him.

He settled beside her on the L-shaped sofa. 

“Nonsense, Uncle. You’re the best out of all of us. After all, you’re the Dragon head,” she replied. He hesitated, wine glass halfway up to his mouth. His eyes darted to the dark wine that suddenly looked sinister.

“Are you planning on killing me now, Jing-Mei? You’re making your uncle sad,” he asked, completely serious. Sakura pointed at his glass.

“You brought those, remember?”

“…You’re right.” Hashirama raised his glass toward her.

“What are we toasting to?” she questioned. 

“Our continued existence,” he replied. They clinked glasses to that. Sakura took a sip. Glancing over the label, she could tell that this was expensive- probably very old. But it was dry, almost bitter. She wrinkled her nose as she lowered the glass. Hashirama chuckled.

“Still just a kid. Don’t know how to drink the real vintage, huh?” 

“Don’t be mean to me. I still remember you coming to the club to cry over how your daughter wouldn’t kiss you anymore,” she replied, unsmiling. 

Hashirama scratched the back of his head.

“Huh. I almost forgot that’s where you started. Do you still sing?” 

“Not even for you, daai lou. That girl’s dead now,” she answered. Voice soft, eyes softer as she stared down into her glass. When she lifted her chin, she met his gaze, unwavering.

“What is this really about, Uncle?”

Hashirama turned his head to look out the window. Hong Kong seemed to glisten under all the rain. The entire city shimmering through all the droplets. 

“Don’t know. Thought you could use some company.” The honesty in his voice was odd. It was rare to see the Dragon Head so vulnerable. He suddenly seemed much younger. He reached out, patted the top of her head once. She shook him off.

Sakura tilted her head back and drained the glass. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“If you’ve got this much free time, you should call your daughter,” Sakura sighed. She tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“She doesn’t pick up anymore. I missed her high school graduation so she’s probably mad at me,” he replied with a chuckle. “Even though I sent so many flowers.”

For a while, it was just the rain drumming between them. Words fading into the air. Sakura held her glass up to the light. Squinted at it through one eye. It warped the shapes of the light fixtures. Bent the lightbulbs and twisted them into weird monsters. 

“Flowers from a ghost mean nothing,” she commented. Hashirama grunted as he took a sip of his drink. Then, looking over at him, Sakura smiled.

“Write her a letter. No bad man bothers handwriting a letter,” she suggested. Hashirama considered this, draping his arm over the back of the sofa. He tilted his head from one side to the other. And then he let out a short chuckle.

“You know, maybe I will. You’re surprisingly wise,”

Sakura lifted her empty glass to him. “That’s because I’m a Mama.”

When Hashirama got to his feet, Sakura didn’t stir. Instead, she looked him up and down. He did the same.

“What’re you planning? I can usually read your face so well. Now…” his words drifted. Sakura smiled.

“I’m not going to try to kill you. You’re my uncle,” she insisted. Hashirama’s expression sharpened.

“Then…”

“I’m not going after Tobirama either. Relax,” she waved aside his worries. 

He stood there, hands in the pockets of trench coat. Looming over her with the shadows in his face. Sometimes she forgot how tall he was.

“The reason I sent you to Japan was so that you wouldn’t always be at Kabuto’s throat. It doesn’t look good for us to be fighting with each other. We’re stronger together,” Hashirama reminded her. And then he caught something in her expression. Sighing, he crouched down so that they were at eye level. He leaned in close, black eyes unblinking.

“Are you seeing something that I’m not, Sakura? Am I missing something?” he asked in a whisper.  He sounded so tired. Like a scarecrow speaking through a distant speaker. His voice drowned by the sounds of wheat blowing in the wind.

Smiling so tenderly, she looked down at her hands. Refusing to meet his gaze.

“Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll protect this family if it kills me.”

As Hashirama left her apartment, Sakura settled back on the sofa. In the same spot. Legs tucked up against her chest. She let out a deep breath, head falling against her shoulder. Mulling over the list of names she always kept in her head.

After a long moment, she pulled her phone out from under the cushions. She tapped the screen, scrolling through to find the right number.

“I need you to find me a man who goes by ‘Ghost’. I’ll text you details,” she said as soon as he picked up. 

“Got it.” The call ended.

Sakura tossed her phone aside. And then picked it up again. She dialed another number.

“Tenten, have Zabuza bring the car around. I have business in North Point.”

Tobirama’s stare drilled into the side of her face as she stared out at Victoria Harbor. He wasn’t used to this- both of them fully clothed and staring out at the city from this balcony. Then again, neither was she. She passed her cigarette off to him. Since his left hand was holding the umbrella over them, he accepted it with his right hand. He took a deep drag, exhaling through his nostrils. Like some ancient, silver-haired dragon. He held the cigarette out in front of him, scrutinizing her ring of lipstick.

“You didn’t poison this, did you?” he asked.

Sakura bristled. She snatched the cigarette back. 

“Why does everyone keep accusing me of trying to poison them today?” she muttered. 

“Well, everyone knows that you’re dangerous,” he responded. She didn’t laugh it off like she normally did. She wilted.

His eyes softened. He leaned in closer.

“Then tell me. What’s happening? Do you need to borrow my men? My guns?” he asked. 

“No. Just…” Sakura broke off, searching for the right words.

“Your shoulder?” said, a little unsure herself. 

She laid her head on his shoulder. The sounds of rain pattering down against the thin umbrella. The grey sounds of the city seeping into her pores. She waited for the loneliness to ebb. Not even fade completely. Just to recede like the tides rushing out for a little while. But it pooled in her gut, stagnant and dirty like an old puddle.

“Your shoulder sucks,” she complained.

“Well then what do you want me to do?” 

“Forget it,” she said, lifting her head. Before he could say anything, she shoved him back into his seat. She climbed into his lap, a knee on either side of him. 

“Sakura, the umbrella. Can’t we go inside?” he complained half-heartedly as he watched her undo his belt. She pulled her skirt up just enough for him to see that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. If he wasn’t interested before, he certainly was now. He sprang to attention in more than one way. 

“Seriously, the umbrella,” he tried one last time. He stretched his arm, trying to keep the both of them covered against the rain. His arm buckled when she grabbed him, her thumb tracing some foreign characters. Water drizzled onto her back, hitting his knee as the umbrella faltered. His arm jerked to the side again when she sank down onto him. 

Her arms around his shoulders, she filled his vision. Nothing but the grey sky existed behind her. The plastic chair digging into his back. Her hair turning almost red where it was wet.

“Do you want to fuck the umbrella or fuck me?” she asked. Her voice a silken web falling all around him. 

It wasn’t a difficult question. He tossed the umbrella aside. Let it fill the wrong way as the rain fell on the balcony. Laughing, she took her cigarette, placed it in his mouth. Despite the muggy heat of the monsoon season, it felt cold everywhere. Except for the place where they moved together. She hugged him close, burying her face in his neck. Hoping that he wouldn’t notice the tears dripping down her face with the rain. 

Once the downpour let up a bit, Tobirama pulled on his jacket. He paused in the mirror to fix his hair. And then, noticing the mark on the side of his neck, turned his collar up. He caught her watching him in the mirror. If he noticed how red her eyes were, he didn’t say anything. 

Things were normally fine like this. Normally.

He studied her expression. Opened his mouth to say something. Said nothing instead. He tightened his tie. As he was about to leave the room, he paused by the bed. 

“Will you be okay for the meeting tomorrow?” he asked. 

“Yeah.” She turned onto her side, freshly-washed hair soaking the pillow. He patted her head, clumsy and lost for words. Eyes dry and aching, she burrowed her face into the covers. 

“Alright then.”

And then he was gone. The musk that clung to his jacket followed him out.

Just as she had promised, she was okay at that meeting in Uncle Hashirama’s office. Since it wasn’t just the three of them, she didn’t show up late. And she didn’t bring a takeout box, although she did bring him an egg waffle- still steaming. The white paper bag crinkled as he took a bite. She slipped out of her coat and Tenten took it, falling into the shadows along with the other underlings the other Red Poles had brought along.

Tobirama nodded in greeting to her from the usual armchair. Kabuto sat across the room from him, his black eyes darting around. Her gaze skimmed over his shiny watch. A counterfeit, of course.

“It looks like you’re the last, Jing-Mei,” he sneered.

“Pok gaai,” she muttered under her breath. Kabuto’s eyes narrowed.

“What was that?” he asked.

She smiled, sitting in the chair in the middle left for her. She crossed her legs, one red heel dangling from her toes. 

“I said, ‘smart guy’. What did you think I said?” she asked, eyes wide with confusion. And then she faced forward to look at the Dragon Head. Who glared at her.

“Stop fooling around, you two. We need to talk,” he declared, setting the egg waffle aside. The heavy ring on his thumb glinted as he folded his hands in front of him. 

As they left the office an hour later, Sakura paused at the back door. 

“Tobirama,” she called. He paused halfway down the stone steps. He pivoted, hands in his pockets. His eyes were a little wary. And for some reason, Kabuto stopped on the way to his car too.

“A friend of mine in the HKPD is hearing something about a raid. If you’ve got anything hidden in those shipping containers near Tin Wan, I’d move it within the next week or so,”  she stated. And then she looked over her shoulder at Kabuto. “You too.” Because no matter how he made her skin crawl, Kabuto was still 24K. 

“Tin Wan is in Huang Group territory. Why would you two be treading on their turf?” he demanded, smug. He leered at Sakura.

“Did you suck their boss’ cock too?” Kabuto asked.

Tenten, who had been standing at the door to the car, drew her gun. As did Zabuza- the muzzle of his weapon poking through the passenger window. Kabuto’s underlings drew their arms too, pointing them directly at Sakura. She didn’t move.

“No, Kabuto. Though that might have been easier,” she responded, smiling. Words drawn-out and dripping with patience. She crossed her arms across her chest. 

“I might have put in a good word for them with one of the bosses in Shinjuku. The Huang’s have been trying to get someone to move their product for months now. In exchange, they look the other way when we borrow their port for a little bit. I mean, it’s not like we can use Belcher Bay anymore after your last…. incident,” she spelled out for him. She jerked her head in Tobirama’s direction.

“Of course, as my 24K brother, I let Tobirama in on the deal. If you’d asked, I would have gladly included you too, brother,” she added, smile cloyingly sweet. 

“By the way, try shooting me on the steps of Uncle Hashirama’s office. See what he does,” Sakura challenged. Kabuto followed her gaze to the window on the top floor. Hashirama stared down at them, his expression stony. Kabuto muttered for his men to put away their weapons while Sakura blew the Dragon Head a kiss. His expression didn’t change.

“How scary,” she sighed. Turning back, she noticed that Tenten and Zabuza still had their guns leveled at Kabuto. Only when she glared did they put their guns away. Tenten opened the car door for her. 

“Bye-bye, boys. One of you I hope to see soon. And the other can go fall down a well,” she said, tone cheery and bright as she descended the stairs. She climbed into the car. Tenten closed the door and moved around the car to get in the other side. Before Zabuza could drive off, Tenten tapped Sakura on the shoulder. Sakura leaned back so that Tenten could look out the window.

“The next time you insult Aunt Cheng, I don’t care who’s watching. I’ll fucking blow your brains out,” she said, her eyes filled with fire. Sakura laughed as she searched for a cigarette in her pockets. Tenten handed one to her, still glowering at Kabuto. She held his gaze even as Zabuza pulled them out of the parking lot, onto the road. 

As Sakura lit her cigarette, she noticed Tenten watching her. Like she wanted to say something. Sakura raised her eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t actually do that. You could get in a lot of trouble, if I did, I mean,” Tenten clarified, suddenly all meek and quiet.  

Sakura leaned back in her seat, cigarette between her back teeth.

“Ah. Don’t worry about that. I did actually date one of the Huang boys. It was way, way back. Before I knew either of you, though,” she responded. The car jerked slightly to the left but Zabuza quickly corrected it. Tenten’s eyes bugged out.

“The Huang boys? Auntie, they’re crazy. I know we’re no saints, but I hear they cut the organs right out of people while they’re still breathing,” she said, grimacing. Sakura shrugged.

“He had a real Rolex and he didn’t let his buddies put their hands on me. Wasn’t a bad kid,” Sakura recalled. 

The car was quiet as Zabuza merged onto the highway. It was just the wipers brushing away the droplets that flecked the windshield. And then Zabuza spoke up.

“What happened?” 

Sakura opened up the back window just enough to let out smoke. She tapped the ash outside the car. 

“Oh, he found out I was affiliated with the 24K and thought I was spying on him. Tried to sell me off into Russia as a hooker. Or maybe Korea? Whatever. Either way, I stabbed him; Uncle Hashirama helped me make it look like the Suns were behind it,” she recalled, a little murky on the details herself. It had been so many years ago. And so many shots of vodka ago. 

Neither of her subordinates said anything. Sakura tapped her cigarette outside the window again.

“By the way, never tell anyone that story. Uncle Hashirama will kill you if he finds out that you know,” she added.

“Damnit, Aunt Cheng,” Zabuza sighed.

When she flew back to Tokyo, the leaves on the maple trees were just starting to turn orange. It was just four hours away- but the difference in temperature always startled her. The ginkgo trees had turned gold in her absence. She marveled at the fan-shaped leaves as they drove past. 

Tenten excused herself at the airport to head to the club. Sai took her place. He bowed low before he entered the car.

“He came by several times,” he simply reported as the car took them north. Sakura cast him a glance before she looked back at the window.

“Who? Charlie?” she sighed.

“No. Uchiha. He just keeps wandering in. No guards. I don’t think he’s even wearing kevlar,” Sai clarified. Sakura narrowed her eyes. 

“Maybe he’s finally figured it out,” she said, mostly to herself. And then she pursed her lips.

“I change my mind. Take us to the club,” she said to the driver. 

“Yes, Aunt Cheng,” he replied. 

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv (here) | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 53. In which terrible thoughts trick tongues into wagging

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Cole shimmered at the edge of the courtyard as he watched Solas walk through the gates. He'd felt the elf returning for some time now, carrying with him that well of hurt, deep and cold and lifeless. Cole had tried to draw hurt from that well, but no matter how much spilled out, more oozed up from the hole of darkness, sharp memory twisting, knifing, gutting fledging joy like a sacrificial ram.

For a brief moment, Solas' pain flared brilliantly as Evana pulled her hand away from him. In turn, Evana's confusion blazed brightly above the glare of the anchor, solidifying Cole's fluttering thoughts into strict attention.

Thread-like wisps made of thoughts and memories radiated from Evana and glimmered in and out of sight, some turning over and back on themselves. Most tied loosely to her close companions, Varric and Dorian and Josie and Bull and a couple of ever-strengthening wisps materializing for Leliana and Cassandra. He'd even wafted along on the currents of thought with a few that wound up and away to the northeast - to a mother, another one like a mother, a surrogate father, a real father - but other than the mighty cords binding her to the Commander, the strongest of these wisps stretched delicately between the two elves.

Solas departed for the main hall, and Evana stood unmoving in the courtyard for a few moments. She burned with the swirling brightness of the anchor, but today, her intense distress etched a picture into the sharp air, fresh and bright, shining faintly over the mark.

Shining for him to see. To help.

Not now. Please, Creators, why now? He's wrong, hiding himself. Why does that draw me? I don't want that. I already have what I want...

Faint sparks of doubt, confusion and pain flashed all around her. Cole could whisper that doubt to Solas, place that nugget of comfort in the elf's mind. Solas wanted her compassion to mean more than friendly talks about magic and genial arguments about elven lore. Cole could show Solas where to look, how to uncover that tiny spark ignited by long talks in the Fade and stoked by fleeting, heart-pounding touches, how to tend, coax, stroke, make it grow into a flame of want to match his own.

Cole uttered a small mewling sound of distress. Helping Solas meant hurting. Solas wanted to claim her, touch her, taste her in ways Cole didn't understand. But she was already helping the Commander with his hurt.

Every day the Commander loved, every day binding cords twisted tighter, fractions of hurt that had fractured his soul drifted away. He pushed lurking pain out of darkened corners to make room for more love for her. She stays. Why does she stay? Maker, I love her so much. Feels like she might break me open. Perhaps that's not a bad thing. If only I could tell her. Andraste preserve me, why can't I just tell her? As black self-loathing melted into to acceptance, hopeful thoughts of worthiness stitched up old wounds.

The thin wisp that tied Evana to her elven companion was nothing in comparison to those cords, massive vines twisting around one another, strengthening, pulsing with each passing day and drawing the Inquisitor and Commander closer to one flesh. They made each other better, stronger, ripping out the weeds of hurt and pain and tending to twisting trunks that wound tightly in a dance of living, breathing love.

That truth shone brighter than anything. Cole understood. On his perch between the upper and lower courtyards, the spirit boy writhed slightly at the solid thought, the realization, that he could not draw this poison from the well.

When Evana returned to the courtyard from wherever she'd gone, Cole followed her to the tavern. If he couldn't help Solas, perhaps he could help her. She had picked up Dorian, Varric and Hawke on the way. Grabbing a couple of ales at the bar for herself and Varric - one she apparently "owed" him - she walked to the corner and plunked down beside the Iron Bull.

Need to forget. Forget him. Forget these strange and unwelcome thoughts. "Ready to celebrate some dragon slaying, Bull?"

"Absolutely, boss. I thought you'd ditched us."

She gave him a look of disbelief. "And miss out on raising a glass with the finest mercenary group in Thedas? Never!"

The Chargers raised their own mugs with a cheer. Krem came to sit on her other side, his chest puffed up broad and proud.

"It's about time!" Krem shouted as he slapped her on the back. He raised his glass again. "Let's drink to the Chief and the Inquisitor on a job well done of hacking that dragon to tiny bits!"

Another cheer went up and then a moment of silence descended as the Chargers all took a large swig of whatever they were currently drinking. Cole drifted in and out of Maryden's songs, taking up a space near those ethereal notes of calmness while Evana spent her first two mugs of ale talking with the Chargers and learning more about each of them in turn.

The Chargers were more than happy to while away the afternoon hours telling her stories of their time together. Cole loved to hear the stories if they had a nice ending, but too many of them did not. He felt himself becoming agitated and listened to Maryden's song for a bit instead. When he felt calmed, he returned his attention to the Inquisitor.

Bull had pulled out a bottle and placed a small glass on the table in front of the Inquisitor. Something is wrong... I'll get her rip-roaring drunk. She'll spill, and then we'll fix it. Cole appreciated the Qunari's sentiment, though he wasn't sure about the method.

The Inquisitor groaned and let her forehead fall to the table with a dull thud. The stories had distracted her, hurt dimmed to the point Cole could no longer see it over her mark's brightness. He could still sense it, though, like mist condensing from nothingness into a dewy blanket, ephemeral but tangible.

"Bull!" she grumbled toward the floor, "I already have a drink."

"It's almost gone." Something is definitely wrong. "And I thought you weren't going to wimp out on me, boss."

She raised her head and looked at Dorian, who was working his way through a bottle of wine. Cole's eyes were immediately drawn to Dorian's bright hurts - Am I lovable? Is that lummox even capable of love? Should I even try? - but Cole refused to let the other, older hurts plucking at the edges of his mind distract him. He needed to help Evana. Perhaps he could make her forget her feelings for Solas? She'd wished for forgetting. He could do that. Make her forget the wisp until it withered and faded into nothingness.

"Don't look at me like that, darling," Dorian admonished Evana. "I'm here at your request to help you get drunk, though you still haven't told me why." Something wrong in paradise? But no, they are too involved. He spent the night in her quarters last night if rumors are to be believed. Something else, then? Her clan...? "Bull's foul concoctions never fail to get the job done, so if I were you, I'd just sit back and meekly take my medicine. You'll be too drunk to care in a few minutes."

Looking down at the empty glass, she admitted her defeat. Might as well get this going. "Alright, Bull. Fill 'er up. But let's drink a little bit more slowly this time, eh? And maybe I'll get some water... and food."

She went to the bar and came back with both. After raising her glass "to dragons" and choking down a shot with Bull, she took a long gulp of the water and stuffed a hunk of cheese in her mouth. So many friends, but who could I tell? Who would understand? They'll think I'm awful. I think I'm awful. Cullen is the one I tell...

Bull filled her glass again and laughed as she quickly took the glass and downed the contents. She took another swig of water and started in on a giant hunk of bread.

Dorian put down his wineglass and turned to Bull. "Oh, we forgot to mention. Solas is back. We saw him on our way through the rotunda. Tried to get him to come along, but he's all about reading up on the books Josephine acquired for him in his absence."

Bull growled. Fucking deserter. "Good. Now I can tell him exactly what I think of him."

Dorian waggled a finger. "Now now, the man was merely distraught, you can't expect a grieving person to think logically or clearly. That would be like expecting Orlesians to actually say what they mean."

"Of course I can. Nothing comes before duty. Nothing is more important than the mission. Solas let his personal feelings endanger the life of the Inquisitor - the one person who can fix this shit."

Dorian shook his head. "You only think that way because you're Qunari. The rest of us have a bit of a different view on life and what's actually important."

Evana's pain turned even brighter. It's not his fault. He was hurting. Why is everyone blaming? Why does everyone think I can't take care of myself? Perhaps because I've been bad at it up to now.

"Bull, that's enough," she finally said, a warble of warning in her voice.

Bull turned to her, about to say something, but she raised a hand, a glint of steeliness in her gaze. That's a damn scary look. She's getting really good at this Inquisitor business. We need a distraction.

Suddenly, the Qunari looked over to where Cole sat on the stairs. "Hey! Weird spirit kid! You were there, too. Come have a drink to celebrate the killing of dragons!"

"I like watching you celebrate, but Dorian and the Inquisitor don't want me to join. They don't want me to say the wrong words."

Both Dorian and the Inquisitor blushed, then looked at each other and clinked their glasses together. Cole heard them think in unison, at least I'm not alone in having secrets.

Varric and Hawke, who had spent the last couple of hours in a game of wicked grace with some of the officers, finally joined the party. Varric looked around the table and shook his head. Sad lot. They need a story. Varric turned to Cole.

"Come on over, kid. Who better to share your troubles with than your friends?"

Cole came over like Varric had taught him. It took longer, but people didn't look at him funny when he walked instead of whispered. He sat down at the table in a free chair beside the dwarf. Varric weaved pain tightly around his heart, words warring with reason and reality, but he also knew how to unravel it. He treated Cole like a real person and not like some writhing monster to be feared and watched. The Chargers, however, looked at him askance.

"I won't say anything about that... or that... or that."

Cole looked at each of them in turned as he spoke. They all turned away with grumbled thanks, and Cole wondered why everyone had suddenly gone quiet. Hawke stared at him, mesmerized. Her thoughts tumbled over each other in quick succession, almost too quickly for Cole to absorb, like drops of rain from the sky sliding down into the dark crevices of the earth. He could see the same woven bonds imprisoning those same feelings inside her heart. Perhaps someday he could unravel their woven armor and weave them together.

"You can really read minds, Cole?" she asked in awe.

Cole shook his head. "Not read minds. But I hear the hurt - like a song you sing to yourself - and things that might help heal the hurt. If it doesn't hurt, it doesn't matter... Will he forgive me for leaving him behind? I guess if I die, it won't matter."

Varric raised his eyebrows, his eyes glued on Hawke. Hawke choked a little on her ale and held up her hand as a sign of surrender.

"Ah, I see now... ok... uh, can I get in on the 'won't talk about that' deal you've got going with the others?"

Cole nodded. "Yes. But sometimes I forget. You'll have to remind me." Then he turned to Varric. "Someone should tell a nice story with a nice ending. Varric, you have nice stories with nice endings, don't you?"

Varric gave him a sardonic grin. "It's like you read my mind. I sure do, kid. Let me tell you one... you'll like it. It has little kids and puppy dogs."

Cole listened intently to Varric's story. He didn't understand some of it - the parts about people meeting in the dark to "get to know each other better" were strange. Why wouldn't they simply meet in the daytime? But the parts at the end about little children playing with puppies were very nice.

It hadn't worked, though. Evana wasn't paying attention. Awful. A terrible thought. Why am I still thinking about this? So, so awful... awful... Creators, I feel awful.

Her fingers played with something hidden inside her tunic. Yes. That might help.

"It means everything to him that you took it."

Evana's eyes snapped up to Cole's. "Uh... what?"

"Maker, please, always bring her back. Let her always come back to me. The luck means he can pretend he won't lose you."

Evana stared at him for a moment then said in a quiet tone, "Cole, remember what we talked about? Not in public."

"I take it this is about Curly's gift?" Varric cut in with a little chuckle.

Evana's face turned red as Cole nodded. The Iron Bull looked at her, confused. What the hell are they talking about?

"What the hell are you guys talking about?"

She slowly pulled the amulet out of her shirt and held it up for everyone to see. Hawke reached over the table to examine it more closely. Damn. First an adorable letter. Then this. He's more of a catch than I realized.

"The quiet ones always surprise you, don't they? That's really beautiful."

Evana smiled. An avalanche of tender feelings buried the hurt that had spiked during Varric's story.

"I know," she agreed softly. "It's... more than I..."

What am I doing? Strong, generous, understanding. He cares for me. I love him. Her eyes blew out wide at this string of thought, sudden thunder raging under her skin and through her ribs. Creators. I LOVE him.

"He can be quite thoughtful sometimes," she murmured distantly, a cyclone of hope and doubt ravaging her tenuous hold on calm.

But... what if we never agree? So different. Mages can't go back to a Circle... after all this? I would never let it happen. But what if...?

Cole interrupted her thought. "Safe and solid. Protecting and proud. He feels like quiet. Stronger when you hold him. You should talk to him about that. And about Solas. He'll understand."

Evana looked up at Cole, eyes wide. "He will? How can he when I don't even understand! That is... I... um..."

She turned to look at her companions, panic written all over her face. They shot confused looks between her and Cole.

"Y-yes, you're right. Of course, you're right. I need to... to talk to him. About that. About those things." She looked back at Cole. "You're sure he'll... understand? Won't it... won't it hurt him?"

"Thoughts of magic muddy and muddled. Fear folds him inside himself. But he can see through your eyes. Fiona can help. She's got ideas. And the other... it will hurt... but holding in hurts more."

Suddenly, Evana stood, walked around the table and, lifting his floppy hat from his head for a moment, kissed Cole firmly on the forehead. Oh, Creators... Maker... sweet Andraste... Somebody... How am I going to do this? But, Cole is right. It must be done. I must speak.

"Ma serannas, Cole."

Cole beamed. He'd helped! Her hurt dimmed until only the mark remained. And if it came back, he could always offer to make her forget. Cole beamed at everyone else at the table.

The Iron Bull watched Evana stumble a little bit on her way out. Well, that was anticlimactic.

"You better come back here when you're done, boss!" he yelled after her. "We've got more drinking to do."

She waved at him from the door and disappeared out of sight. Cole sat next to Varric, still smiling, but his expression faded as he realized everyone was looking at him. Dorian spoke first.

"Care to share what that was all about, Cole my boy? What's this about Solas? And what is she going to say that will 'hurt' our Commander? Surely not..."

Varric shook his head. "No, definitely not. Can't be. I'm sure of it. I'd take bets."

"Depraved as I am, even I don't have the stomach to bet against our poor Commander like that," Dorian murmured into his wine.

Bull remained quiet. Damn elf. If he steals her away after all this...

Agitated by new hurt blooming around the table, Cole shook his head vehemently. "No! He won't do that. It's mostly him, not her. But she knows now... because of how he looked at her. She's confused, but the Commander will make it right."

Everyone at the table stared, confused and uncomfortable and uncomprehending, so Cole did what he thought best. He faded away from the table, and after a few moments, no one even remembered that he'd been there. They also didn't remember anything about how their Inquisitor had left the table - only that she'd gone to find her Commander. They all smiled knowingly and toasted to a long life of happiness for their besotted Herald and her equally besotted military advisor.