#-starts drumming against the blob folds-

[minitaurkid]

Ferris sketches

[queenofbaws]

Happy mid week when I come up with a weekend prompt again (sorry)

But I got reminded of a prompt I used last year, and now for a similar one!

A New Years kiss between Nick and Abi ❤️

Nick knew he was in trouble the moment he heard the door click shut…he just didn’t realize how much trouble until he looked up and saw them all staring at him.

“Uh,” he managed to get out, and then they were on him.

“You’re gonna volunteer to walk her home, right?” Kaitlyn asked, trying to act casual despite the way she’d nearly climbed across the entire table to put herself right up in his space, her weight on her elbows and her chin propped up in her hands. “Wait, hang on, let me rephrase that: Oh my gosh, Nick, how sweet of you to offer to walk her home!”

His head whipped to the side, checking that the bathroom door was still shut and Abi wasn’t somehow right there, hearing all of this happen. It was, thank God, but his relief didn’t do a whole lot to help the whole confusion thing going on. “I…didn’t…?”

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, and in a wave, the guys reacted in kind – all except for Ryan, of course, who seemed more than happy to pick through what was left of the snacks while the others’ attention was elsewhere. “Thank God you’re cute,” she sighed, drumming her fingers against her cheeks, “I don’t know how you’d make it in this dog-eat-dog world otherwise.”

“Abi – ” he started, then lowered his voice to a whisper just in case, “ – doesn’t need help walking home.”

“Sure she does,” Dylan piped in.

“No, she doesn’t.” He was about to point out the obvious, remind them all that off-campus housing was pretty much smushed together in one tight blob of ugly buildings not that different from how the dorms had been, only none of them seemed especially interested in things like logic.

Dylan repeated himself with more emphasis that time around: “Sure she does. It’s New Year’s Eve, man. The world at large is one drunken, slobbering mess. You’d let Abi – all four feet, eleven inches of her – wander those cold, unfeeling streets alone? What happens if she’s overtaken by a mob of wasted sorority girls? She can’t handle that kind of peer pressure, man. Next thing you know, she’s choking down a Smirnoff Ice and wearing a pair of those dumb sunglasses with the year on them.”

Somberly shaking her head, Kaitlyn muttered, “Fate worse than death.”

“I know, right?”

“There aren’t roving packs of – ”

“And,” Jacob said, joining Kaitlyn at, or maybe on, the table, his arms folded and his eyebrows going up and down to punctuate almost every word, “I mean. Think about it, dude. It’s icy out there. What happens if, y’know…” He used one of his hands to mime a slipping gesture. “Super easy to fall. That black ice’ll get ya. Then what, huh? Then what? She reaches out to catch herself, sprains her drawing hand…then you got that on your conscience for the next couple weeks…”

Nick sputtered, trying to find the words he’d need to tell them how insane they all sounded, but yet again, found himself cut off.

“Ryan, help us out here.”

“Yeah Ryan, be the voice of reason.”

“Uh…” Turning from the snack table with an impressive stack of cookies in hand, Ryan simply shrugged his shoulders. “I mean…it’s dark outside.”

“Helpful!”

“I’m just saying. She doesn’t like the dark, does she? Abi? I always got the feeling she – ”

“Huh?” Just like they had before, the whole group of them turned at the sound of her voice. Abi stood in the hall, already tugging her gloves on, and if it hadn’t been for the way she was distractedly looking towards the coat rack for her jacket, Nick might’ve worried she’d heard them. “I thought I heard someone say my name just then.”

He didn’t need to look at them. He knew what he’d see if he did. He could feel their stupid eyes on him.

Nick cleared his throat, then shrugged, hoping it came across as casual. “Uh, you did,” he said slowly, getting up and reaching over, grabbing her jacket and holding it out to her. “I was just telling these guys that…” Now he could feel them smirking too. “…that I’m about to head out too.”

Abi blinked for a second there, but took her jacket as he offered it. “Before the ball drops?” she asked, her eyes flitting to the others in the background.

“Well, I, yeah.” So much for seeming casual, huh? “Don’t want to be trying to get home when everyone else is getting out of their parties. Not sure I could hold my own against, uh, say…a roving band of sorority girls.”

“They are vicious this time of year,” Dylan added, and when Nick glanced his way, he’d hidden most of his smirk behind a cookie – one he’d no doubt taken from Ryan.

As she slid her jacket on one sleeve at a time, Abi laughed, her eyes turning down the same way they always did when she got giggly. “Roving band of sorority girls, huh? I mean…that does sound pretty scary.”

“Yeah, and besides…” He swallowed hard and reached for his own jacket, wondering just when it was that he’d become the sort of guy who crumbled into a stammering mess when he was talking to a cute girl. “I figured I could walk you home.”

He fully expected Abi to argue him on it, to point out that her and Emma’s place was just a couple minutes’ walk away, or she’d be fine on her own, or whatever, but…she didn’t. Instead, she focused especially hard on making sure she wasn’t missing any of her buttons as she worked her way down her jacket, her mouth scrunching this way and that like she was trying not to smile too much.

“Oh,” she said softly, undoing and redoing a button. “Thanks! I, um, was actually a little nervous about going alone. I mean…it’s pretty dark out there. And icy.”

It took every ounce of his self-restraint to keep from turning towards Jacob or Ryan. He didn’t even want to imagine the looks on their faces. So, pointedly ignoring them, Nick pulled his own coat on, adjusting the collar before making for the door.

“You kids be safe now,” Kaitlyn said, and he could hear the grin in her voice.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do, Jacob?”

“Uh…give me a sec, I’ll come up with something.”

“Later, guys,” Nick called, raising his own voice to be heard over their snickering. “Enjoy the rest of your little shindig.”

“Happy New Year!” added Abi, but she too seemed only too happy to hurry her way out of the apartment when he held the door open for her.

Despite the oh-so-convincing warnings the gang had outlined inside, the fact of the matter was…well, for one, it wasn’t really all that dark as they reached the street, not with most of the windows on either side of the road still full of twinkling Christmas bulbs or bright lights from New Year’s Eve parties. It wasn’t especially icy either, come to think of it, though there was a fine layer of snow crunching under their boots with each step they took and their breaths misted the air in front of them. As for the roving bands of sorority girls wielding Smirnoffs and novelty sunglasses…

“Kinda empty out here, huh?” Abi stuffed her hands into her pockets after glancing around the neighborhood, tucking her shoulders in tightly against the chill. “So much quieter than in there, too.”

“Yeah, well, we’re a noisy bunch.”

“I guess so!”

He smiled even as he swallowed around the growing lump in his throat. This was so stupid! There was no reason for him to be such a jittery mess, and yet…

When he realized he hadn’t said anything for a while, Nick tried changing tack. “Bummer about Emma getting sick. That’s no way to start the new year.”

“Right? I just feel so bad for her, like…it’s totally just the sniffles, and I know she’ll be fine after getting a little extra sleep or whatever, but you know how much she haaates missing parties.”

“Even ones where she has to deal with Jacob?” he joked.

Abi laughed, her eyes meeting his for a moment. “Even ones where she has to deal with Jacob,” she nodded. “It’s probably dumb, me leaving so early, but…I dunno, I didn’t want her to be alone when midnight comes along.” She paused as if thinking, her head tilting to the side a bit. “And now that I’m thinking about it, uh…she’s probably going to be…totally asleep by then, huh?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” His smile turned into a laugh of his own when Abi groaned. “That’s super thoughtful of you, though. Not wanting to leave her alone, I mean.”

“Pfft, thoughtful – it’s more like, ridiculous. You’re the one who left the party to walk me back,” she pointed out, and for the millionth time that night, or at least so it felt, Nick was on the verge of reminding her of his extremely convincing excuse for leaving (that he wanted to get himself home before the chaos of a million college NYE parties ending at once hit the streets and hers and Emma’s place was simply on the way) when she interrupted him. “That’s way more thoughtful than me. I mean, I didn’t even really want to go to the party at all, if I’m being honest.”

“You didn’t?” Nick wasn’t sure why, but that got him to stop. He slid his own hands into his pockets, wishing he’d had foresight enough to bring gloves like she had.

Abi turned to him with a wince that suggested she hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. “Uh…no,” she admitted with a sigh. “They’re just not really my thing, you know? Honestly, I was sort of hoping for a quiet night in, but…”

“But…?”

Her mouth scrunched up again, only that time he thought she was trying to decide what to say instead of trying to hide a smile. “Emma convinced me to go. You know how she is. To be fair, she made a really, really super convincing argument, so. Whatever. I’m just not totally heartbroken to be leaving early, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh.” He nodded as they began walking again, the snow still softly crunching with each step they took. Every so often they’d pass a building where music thumped loudly from inside, or pass an open window where laughter floated through, but other than that, it was just the soft sound of that snow beneath their feet and the quiet in and out of their breathing. Well, that and the mad thumping of his heart in his ears. There was that too.

The girls’ building was already coming into view when he scrounged up the nerve to ask. “So. How did she convince you, exactly? Is it, like, she needed to live vicariously through you, or begged you to count how many times Jacob brought up how much he missed her, or…?”

Abi didn’t answer for a second there, and that time, it was her who stopped. Considering how close they were to the stairs leading up to her complex, it felt like a pretty significant choice. “Um,” she said, pressing her lips together as she thought. “Not really. She just sort of reminded me of something.”

“Must’ve been something pretty important to get you to give up your chill night at home,” Nick joked, but even as he said it, sensed the nervous flip-flopping of his stomach growing stronger. Why wasn’t she hurrying up the stairs and ducking into the lobby where it was warmer? Black ice or no, it was awfully cold out there.

“Actually.” Her eyes turned down again, like she was inspecting the toes of her boots for snow. “She just kind of reminded me that you’d be there. So.” She lifted her shoulders in a tight, anxious shrug. “I went.”

It took a second for him to process that one – and when he did, he reeled back like he’d touched a livewire. “Wait, you…you came to the party for me? To see me?”

The fabric of her peacoat rustled as she shrugged again, her shoulders somehow drawn in tighter than they had been before.

Nick jawed at the air for a second, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief – of course that would be the one time that night where no one tried to talk over him. “Wow, I…um, you’re probably not going to believe me, but I came tonight to…see…you, Abi.” He let it hang in the air between them, a frosty cloud that shimmered in the streetlights, then added, “I sort of do a lot of things just to see you.”

“Like leaving early to walk me home?” It was hard to tell whether the color in her cheeks and on the tip of her nose was from the cold or something else. When she looked up at him, though, a hopeful glimmer in her eye, he had to believe it was the latter.

“Could be,” he said, trying (and failing) to keep his smile under control.

They stood like that for a moment, one that felt as though it stretched on forever and ever. Then, sounding sheepish, Abi adjusted her hat and made for the stoop, wishing him a quick, “Happy New Year, Nick,” over her shoulder.

She’d made it to the second step when he caught her hand, so when she turned to face him, they were very nearly of a height. He didn’t have to wonder if he’d misunderstood her as her fingers tightened immediately around his, the pinkish flush across the bridge of her nose and cheeks darkening until it was almost red. Her gaze flicked down from his eyes to his mouth and back again, and when he set his other hand on her cheek, tentative and soft and probably much too cold against her skin, he watched her eyes flutter closed, a few stray snowflakes caught in her dark eyelashes.

It was still too early for any celebration, too early for countdowns or confetti, but the same sense of excitement washed over him as he brought his lips to hers and she kissed him back, her hands sliding to his shoulders to pull him closer. Midnight hadn’t struck yet, he hadn’t come up with a single resolution – hadn’t even decided whether he was going to thank the others for teasing him to leave – and even still, as Abi pulled back with a giggle and the brightest smile he’d ever seen, Nick thought he had a pretty good idea this was going to be his year.

“Happy New Year, Abi.”

[giuliafc]

Betrayal Chapter 10: Panic!

<< 1 -- 2 -- 3 -- 4 -- 5 -- 6 -- 7 -- 8 -- 9 -- 10: Ao3 || FFN -- 11 >>

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Coffeebanana, Agrestebug, and Myimaginationflows

Summary: Chat Noir has a panic attack waiting for his detransformation and reveal, and Marinette tries to calm him down. Queen Bee has a mishap! (987 words)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks AND for LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly Day 21 — Prejudice/roommates. Let me know what you think!

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Damn you, Lila!" groaned Chat Noir.

Volpina smirked. "I'm Volpina. Don't waste effort trying to break free; save your energy for what Jacques has in store for you!"

The black-clad superhero growled at Volpina's cackle, but soon lowered his head, not a word coming out of his mouth.

"Finally, you're quiet." Volpina mocked triumphantly as her flute started beeping. She was surprised to see Queen Bee's face on a holographic screen when she opened her communicator. "What's going on?", she asked hastily.

"The slimy fox has escaped!" exclaimed Queen Bee with a little pout on her face.

Volpina stomped her foot. "One job! I gave you ONE JOB! To watch over that stupid reporter. And what do you do? Not even half an hour later, you lose her! What kind of idiot are you?"

Unseen by Volpina, Marinette smirked and exchanged looks with Chat Noir, who nodded to her with a panicky gleam into his eyes. Suddenly, Papillon's mask appeared on Lila's face.

"No! I want to be the one to take the ring off Chat Noir's finger," argued the fox villain. The mask shined brighter and after a moment that felt endless, Volpina lowered her head. "Okay. I'll take care of it. But it doesn't end here, Queen Bee. Mess it up again and our deal is over!" She hung up the communicator and jumped onto the window sill. "Jacques is still watching you, Chat Noir. No funny business. I'll be back ASAP." That said, she disappeared out of sight.

The sentimonster folded its arms over its chest and stared, a lingering smirk popping up at the edges of its mouth.

Marinette grabbed a firm hold of the bars of her cage and gritted her teeth under the sentimonster's cold stare. "I can't believe my prejudices about Chloé were correct," she groaned. "I was so doubtful when the events of Miracle Queen happened, I wanted to believe she could change, but something inside kept telling me that it was impossible. I was right."

Chat Noir eyed the sentimonster and nodded. When his gaze met hers, Marinette noticed that the panic in his eyes hadn't faltered. She had to calm him down or he might do something rash.

"Alya will help, Chaton. We'll be okay!" Her voice trembled, as if she too doubted her words. "I need to believe that we will," she added. Her voice cracked a little, her cheeks shining with tears.

"Don't cry, Purr-incess. We're going to win, as usual. And this time we'll defeat Papillombre for good." But even he didn't believe what he'd said. The room was wrapped in an awkward silence, only broken by the rhythmical tik-tok of a large clock perched on the wall behind them. Chat Noir's Miraculous beeped. He cursed under his breath—he'd been so busy worrying about their situation that he'd forgotten about his timer. His breath caught at the sound as his face drained of blood.

"What are you going to do when Papillombre is defeated, Chaton? Will you stay home or…"

"I don't know," he muttered. "I may need to leave the country. You know, I'll only have two relatives left, and they…" He eyed the sentimonster. "...don't live here."

"Maybe we can convince your relatives to keep you here?" Marinette's hands flattened on the bars of the cage, as if trying to push on a non-existent wall. "Maybe we can live together. Share a place, you know?" She blushed to the roots of her hair. Stealing a quick look, she noticed how red his own face was at the suggestion.

"Y-you mean like roommates?" he whispered, sounding out of breath.

"Y-yeah. Of course. Roommates. Yep. we can share… a r—an apartment. Yes. Waking up in the morning, making breakfast for the two of us, watching TV until it's late at night and playing video games when we're bored of the TV." She sighed and shot him a languid look that caused him to gulp dryly. "We're going to have fun, Chaton. I'll teach you everything you don't know."

"Cooking?" asked Chat Noir, his nose glued to the bars as his pleading gaze met her hopeful one.

"Baking," she told him with a smile. He beamed at her and her smile widened. "I'm not the daughter of the best baker in Paris for nothing.You'll learn from the best, so you'll be great in no time!"

"We can get a piano for the apartment, right?" asked Chat Noir after having stayed quiet for a long instant, eyes still closed, his forehead resting against one of the bars.

"Of course, Minou. What do you want the piano for?"

"I can teach you to play." He looked at her, a radiant smile on his lips that made Marinette's heart drum furiously in her throat. "And Chinese. I can teach you that too, as I promised in Shanghai. Sorry I never managed to do that before."

"Don't worry." She smiled softly. "So that's the deal right? I teach you baking and life skills, and you teach me Chinese and how to play piano? Sounds like an excellent agreement, Chaton. We're going to be purr-fect roommates!"

He smirked. "Was that a pun, purr-incess?"

She smirked back. "Your humour must be starting to rub off me. Oh no! How am I going to survive sharing a place with a dork like you?" They laughed, but as they did, Chat Noir's Miraculous beeped a bit louder. Only one paw left; he knew his time was coming. He eyed the sentimonster as a shiver ran down his spine. Just another minute and his father would know that he’d worked against him. His stomach twisted as the Miraculous beeped one last time and a blob of green energy ran through his body.

The sentimonster's eyes widened. "Adrien?" it whispered. "I can't believe it."

Adrien's face was as white as a sheet, as if someone butchered his heart out of his chest. "Hello, Father."

To be continued… Day 22

-----------------------------------------

Author's Note

Ehrm… yes I know. Cliffhanger!

Let me know what you thought of the chapter! It was hard to fit the prompt with where the story was at this point, but I think I managed to do it. A comment would be appreciated! You know that comments are my bread and butter!

Until (hopefully) tomorrow, bug out!

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan part 59! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

There Michelangelo stood before Krang, the giant blob of a being rearing up with help of the wires that supported his gelatinous flesh as it spilled over in thick folds. Michelangelo stepped as far away from the alien as he could, ruby eyes locked on the yokai and trying his best not to let fear shine in them. But Krang knew better; he knew Michelangelo was afraid. He could taste it. Immediately he started to poke and prod into Michelangelo’s mind, just as he had with Donatello during their lovely stay in the forest.

Michelangelo whined and clutched at his head when a sensation not unlike a needle pierced through it. His legs lost sensation, and his thoughts were scattered like leaves on the wind. His heartbeat was like the drums of war pounding inside of him but that wasn’t the only thing that drowned his senses because there was something else, something evil, something poking around in his head that shouldn’t have been! The feeling was anything but pleasant, but no matter how much Michelangelo squeezed his head to try and force it out, it wouldn’t go away.

The voice was inside the cavern of his skull, vibrating along his brain and making his entire body shake and his vision go dark.

“You’re more resistant than the purple one…” The voice inside Michelangelo’s head said, and there came a cold tingle up Michelangelo’s arm that settled around his throat like a noose. “I wonder if you’ll last as long as he did…”

“You… hurt… my… brother…” The words were hard to force out, as heavy on his tongue as a ten pound weight, but he refused to let them stay.

“And it was fun.” The voice was in his left ear, and then his right. “And it was easy. Because he was soft…”

“You take that BACK!” With Michelangelo’s defiant roar and a swipe of his flaming kusari, the cold force prodding him was knocked back.

Krang was slammed back into his body with a furious snarl, a scowl creeping over his features as he rubbed his head with a fore-tentacle. Michelangelo’s aura was strong, a truthful passion powerful enough to form a force field around the box turtle. Krang laughed.

“Donnie is just as strong as I am!” Michelangelo growled, his eyes glowing gems.

The darkness closed in again, and this time Krang was braced for the power that the orange turtle radiated, and he was able to penetrate it. His grip on Michelangelo’s psyche tightened, and bit by bit he pulled out everything he needed and weaved it to fit his own desire.

Michelangelo and Leonardo were back in that supermarket, running from the Gumbus as it chased them down the aisles. They were seperated from April and they were alone, well alone together at least, and they needed to hide. They spotted a place, and they both dived for it, but… Michelangelo didn't make it.

No, that wasn’t right. Leonardo had grabbed him and pulled him into shelter! Michelangelo was sure he had! Why was he thinking of this anyway? It wasn’t unlike him to blank out, drawn into the spiraling colors of his own mind, but this time it seemed far more misplaced than usual, and the memory was wrong! Why was it wrong? No no no, Leonardo had helped him, not left him to the beast—

Michelangelo fell to his knees as another nightmare forced its way to the front of his mind. Him and Donatello, together behind the bushes watching Todd’s RV before they knew the friendly capybara. Whispering to each other. Todd sneaking up behind them and scaring them near out of their shells, and what Michelangelo should have remembered was both him and Donatello scattering, but what came forth through like a crudely patched pair of jeans was Donatello shoving his little brother to the ground and leaving him there for the apparent ‘Spine Breaking Bandit’ to seize.

“Your mind is strong…” Krang’s voice came with a rush of nausea, “I wonder: Is your body the same?”

Michelangelo throwing a boat, using all the power he could summon. His brothers should have praised him, but instead came their vicious scolds and hurtful words and the insults made Michelangelo drop the boat and—

“Is your love for your brothers…?”

Michelangelo wanted to go on his first solo mission. Instead of supporting him, all three of his brothers surrounded him like cruel silhouettes, laughing and pointing and mocking the bravery that tried to shine. Their words and faces twisted with hatred spiraled in Michelangelo’s mind and let nothing else through.

“...too little…”

“...too weak…”

“...too dumb…”

“...all heart…”

“...no brain…”

“You need to grow up.” The voices of all three brothers melted into one. Michelangelo was crying. His brothers wouldn’t say that, his brothers wouldn’t be mean, his brothers loved him

“Or your father?” Krang taunted further. “Would you still love him…?”

Now this was a memory Michelangelo couldn’t recall. It was a place he knew, Draxum’s lab, but it wasn’t the way it was when he had briefly saw it years ago. It was different, older yet newer at the same time. Shiny and alive and now dancing with fire that swallowed everything in his path. He was helpless, the smoke choking and burning his senses. And he saw someone there, his father Lou Jitsu, grabbing items from Draxum’s shelves and tossing them into the flames to ensure their destruction. Michelangelo started to cry; he was a baby, what else could he have done? He reached out for the man and for a moment Lou Jitsu had looked his way, the eyes soft and kind as Michelangelo knew them to be. Then came the veil of hatred pulled over as the flames swallowed Lou Jitsu and he disappeared, leaving Draxum’s experiments to burn up. All of Draxum’s experiments.

“No…” Michelangelo said; he was on his knees now and dreadfully cold. “No… that… that didn't happen!”

“Didn't it…?”

Did it…? All of Michelangelo’s memories were so twisted, so mixed up, that he couldn’t tell what was true and what was a lie and what had happened and what hadn’t happened. He knew his brothers wouldn’t do that but they did do that, he saw them, they were in his head! In his head… it was all in his head, it was all a game, all a lie, everything. Did his brothers really hate him? Did his father despise him? Did Draxum and April and CJ and everyone else think so lowly of him?! Did they...

Michelangelo was cold. He recognized it now. The stinging bite pierced through his skin, and that was something he knew was a lie. Though the sensations pricked and burned at his mind and body, he wasn’t shivering. He hadn’t been cold in Japan and he certainly wouldn’t be cold here. That was a lie. He remembered Knight’s words, that Krang could only tell lies. Maybe the truth could hurt him?

“You’re lying…” Michelangelo said lowly, and the truth cut worse than a knife through Krang.

“What…?” Krang’s face distorted in recoil.

“Your name isn’t Krang, it’s… Knave. And my brothers don’t hate me either…” Michelangelo stood a little straighter, bringing his burning eyes to meet Knave’s. “Or my friends. They’re taking down your ship right now…”

Michelangelo’s voice carried a storm, an auditory thunder like a lion’s roar! But both quickly realized that it wasn’t just Micelangelo’s voice that had done it as an aftershock hit the mech hard and caught both alien and mutant off guard.

~~~

It was harder to reach Raphael than Leonardo had been anticipating. He entered the mind meld state just as easily as he had in the forest to find Donatello, but finding someone was so much different than actually reaching them. Leonardo could send out as many thoughts as he wanted, but which ones could reach Raphael wasn’t something he could control, especially at such a distance. It was only getting farther and farther away as Raphael raced off to find his friend. The way Cassandra had been tossed, the sound made when Krang’s claws met her flesh. The blood, the scream. He didn't even think a mutant could survive that, let along a human, but he still had to find just in case she was—

Raph!

Raphael stopped, his feet skidding across the asphalt as he looked around. The city was evacuated hours ago, and even if it hadn’t been, he couldn’t think of anyone who would be this far away from the fight that would know him. Was his mind tricking him, or was that strange, turtle-shaped flicker of blue light staring at him?

Raph! The voice said again.

Leonardo! That was Leonardo’s voice! Raphael raced to the blue light he saw and stopped short, the projection transparent and glistening but most assuredly a visage of his brother.

“Wha— Leo? How are you doing that?!”

“There’s no time to explain, I don’t know how long I can hold this!” Leonardo’s image was flickering like a camera glitch, blipping in and out of existence at random, “You need to get to the back of the mech! We think we found a way to shut it down but we need you to—“

Leonardo’s voice and transparent body disappeared. Astral projection. So that was Leonardo’s new power!

“What? Need me to what?” Raphael searched the empty road for anything to complete Leonardo’s urgent request, but there was nothing. If he was going to Raphael for help, then that meant it could only be one thing. “Smash? You need me to smash you out!”

Raphael didn't have his smash jitsu anymore, but he could still try! Maybe being so close to Leonardo would help his little brother to be able to reach him again! Not a thought against his plan came to Raphael’s mind, and he was already on the way back to his brothers’ aid when he remembered why he had been all the way out here to begin with. Cassandra! She was still out there somewhere and he had to find her! He started to go back to his search, then winced and hesitated when he again remembered the desperation in Leonardo’s voice.

He had to choose between his brothers and his best friend and he had minutes, if that, to make the choice. Cassandra or his family, Cassandra or his brothers, his friends his families his—

Was that a truck?! It was! A semi-truck was barreling down toward him blaring a horn louder than any alarm Raphael had ever heard in the lair. Fear and shock froze him to the spot like a deer in headlights as the truck kept coming, and in the driver's seat was a young girl who couldn’t be more older her early twenties, hair pulled back by a bandana and an expression that told of pure, mischievous glee.

“Cass?!” Raphael gawked, and then screamed and raised his hands to cover his face when he realized the impact was imminent. Cassandra had the brakes on just in time, the back of the semi-truck practically lifting up off the road as the tip of its hood just barely brushed against Raphael’s plastron.

Cassandra leaned out of the window, “Get in, big guy! Haven’t got all day!”

“CJ!” Raphael scrambled to climb into the passenger seat, immediately grabbing Cassandra from the drivers seat and turning her around looking for the injuries that he knew he had seen! Cassandra’s clothes were in ruin, the cloth stained crimson, but no matter how Raphael searched he couldn’t find a single injury! “How…?”

“Don’t question a good thing Raphie!” Cassandra said, pushing against Raphael’s plastron to get him to let her go. “Buckle up. We’re going for a ride.”

Raphael strapped himself in. “I didn't know you had a truck driving license!”

“I DON’T!”

With that, Cassabdra sped away down the road.

[aro-of-artemis]

i've had no love like your love (from nobody)

number three! ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855644 Three times Julie borrows the phantoms' clothes + one time they borrow hers.

(1)

Okay. So Julie loves the studio. She does! Being in there makes her feel close to her mom. And it's where the boys hang out the most (although they'd been spending an increasing amount of time in the house now that Ray and Carlos are in the know).

But it gets so. Fucking. Cold. Especially on long winter nights. Sometimes she forgets that the studio is a glorified garage. Insulation? Never heard of her.

So it is on one such night that she finds herself there, shivering, but too stubborn and too distracted to make the journey inside to find a jumper. She's so close to finishing the lyrics to this song - she just needs to make some adjustments and then it'll be perfect. She wants to get it done before Luke and the others get home so she can show him. Them. But it's just not quite right yet.

Her concentration is rocked when a violent shiver rattles through body. With a deep, heartfelt sigh, she pushes away from her lyric book where it sits on top of the piano. Glancing around the room for any options - perhaps a blanket she can wrap around her shoulders, a stray sock, a particularly large leaf, she'll take anything - her eyes land on a puddle of pink fabric that had fallen off the side of the couch. With a quick smile, she strides over to it, pulling it on.

Alex, of course, is much taller and broader than her so it hangs down low, brushing her thighs, sleeves well and truly past her hands. She doesn't mind being so completely swallowed by the fabric though, because it's warm and it's been softened by age and wear. And it smells like Alex. Like laundry detergent and the beach and just a little bit of sweat. So she pulls the hood up around her face, containing her fraying braids.

She breathes in and out, revelling in the comfort it brings. The muscles of her shoulders, which had been tensed in concentration, relax. After a couple more breaths she sticks the tips of her fingers out of the sleeves - just enough to be functional.

She returns to the piano to continue her work. As she looks over at what she'd written, suddenly words fall into place. She begins scribbling furiously, new fire in her bones.

--

When the boys return, they are greeted by what appears to be a shapeless pink blob sitting on the piano bench and slumped against the lid. The only discernible feature is a mass of frizzy hair peeking out of the hood. Luke and Reggie snicker a little at the sight but Alex feels his heart swell to press at his ribs.

Moving towards her, he looks over his shoulder and jerks his head towards the couch. But the boys already know. They're folding it out into a bed. None of them want to disturb Julie if she's sleeping peacefully so it had become an unspoken agreement that she could just stay the night in the studio with them if that was where she happened to fall asleep.

Alex approaches Julie. Gently, he gathers her into his arms, manoeuvring her into a bridal carry, settling her head against his chest. She snuffles a bit but doesn't wake.

Slowly, he lowers her down onto the pull-out where Luke and Reggie have already laid themselves out. Julie stirs and rolls over to wrap her arms over Reggie's torso and rest her head on his stomach. Luke watches with a fond smile as Alex wiggles himself in place between Julie's other side and Luke. Alex places an easy hand on Julie's head (because he knows she finds it comforting) while Luke snakes his arm over Alex's waist to best use a space that was intended to only accommodate two but now is asked to fit four.

None of them mind being squished together. Julie sleeps peacefully until morning.

(2)

Julie is sad. A deep, aching sadness that made a home in her a long time ago. There are days that are better, where it doesn't hurt so much, the ache dulled, just barely pushing it's cold past the edges of her bones into the sinew and muscle. But some days it feels all-consuming. World-shattering. Some days she is struck anew with this paralysing grief. The feeling that nothing will ever be okay again.

Some days happen less often in recent times. Her phantoms, her boys, her family - they help. They can't rid her of the hurt and she wouldn't want them to. She never wants to not keenly feel the empty space where her mom used to be. She doesn't want to forget her. But the boys. They help that constant awareness to be filled by sweet remembering rather than bitter longing. But the bitter longing will always be there.

So sad doesn't quite encompass what she's feeling but it's a linguistic shortcut to express all of these things that she can't verbalise.

On this particular some day, Julie is sitting on the couch (Luke's couch) in her mama's studio, knees under chin. Her face feels numb. It's wet with absentminded tears - grief made manifest.

The cool stillness is broken by a ray of sunshine who calls out, "Julie?"

Reggie. Reggie is here, making the studio a bit brighter, a bit warmer. He turns around a little until he spots Julie, huddled as she is. "Julie! Are you all right?"

He rushes over to her, stopping short of actually touching her. Julie follows him with her eyes, unable to move any other part of her body.

"You're shivering." His voice is gentle.

"Am I?" Julie whispers.

"Yes," Reggie's eyebrows furrow together. "Are you cold?"

Julie shrugs. She's truly not sure.

"I - hang on." Quickly, he pulls his arms out of the sleeves of his leather jacket before draping it over her shoulders, bringing it around to her chin.

As the warmth of the jacket - Reggie's body heat - settles around her, she realises how chilled she had felt.  She draws in a long, deep breath, feeling the comfort of his smell and his big-brotherly presence settle around her, anchoring the jacket to her shoulders.

"Thank you, Reggie." Her voice is earnest and she finally turns her head to look at him.

He smiles just a little, creasing his ruddy cheeks. "Of course, Julie."

Julie moves closer to him, leaning her head against his collarbone. His arms come up automatically now that he'd been given permission. He pulls her in tight to his chest, rocking her slightly, humming a low, soothing tune.

Julie isn't okay. But she will be. In the meantime, her bones feel a bit warmer. And if she wears Reggie's jacket for the rest of the day, no one mentions it.

(3)

Just her fucking luck. Here she is, stuck in the school bathroom scrubbing lasagne out of her white shirt cause some kid wasn't watching where they were going. And Flynn isn't even here to help her 'cause she went and caught a cold.

She lets out a long, noisy sigh that is abruptly cut off when Luke poofs in beside her.

"Luke!" Her voice comes out as an undignified squeak and she quickly reigns it in as she darts her eyes around to check that all the stalls are unoccupied. Satisfied that they're alone, she returns her attention to the intruding ghost.

"You can't be here! This is the girls' bathroom."

"I - sorry I didn't mean t-- Julie, what happened to your shirt?" His eyebrows tugged together, giving him a puppy-like expression that Julie finds far too charming.

She looked down at her shirt, still covered in oil and tomato stains that are setting by the minute. Another long sigh leaves her mouth, leeching out some of her anxious frustration, leaving her feeling deflated. "This kid tripped over their own feet and spilt their lunch all over me."

"Are you okay?" His voice is gentle, concerned.

She shrugs back. "Yeah. Nothing's bruised except my ego. And maybe that kid's face where they hit the deck."

Luke's face relaxes a bit, eyes now dancing with mirth.

"Don't laugh! I don't have anything else to wear!"

"I'm not laughing!" he defends. "But, c'mon. You have to admit it's kinda funny."

Julie softens a bit. "Fine," she relents, "It's kinda funny. But that doesn't solve my problem!"

Luke nods very seriously, a thoughtful expression coming over his face. And then his expression clears, a small excited smile curling the corners of his lips. The kind of smile he gets when he solves a problem and he's proud of himself: toothy and bright. It's endearing.

"Here," he says, tugging his flannel off, leaving him in just his sleeveless tee. "You can wear this."

Julie looks at the proffered shirt for a moment. She feels some small but insistent something poking against the walls of her chest. "Th-thanks, Luke. You don't have to-"

"I want to," he interrupts. "I can't let you walk around covered in lunch. Besides, if you change into my shirt I can take yours home with me to soak the stain."

"I-," she's not quite sure what to say. So she settles on, "Thanks." A tender smile graces her lips. "Turn around then," she adds. "I'm not gonna get changed with you watching."

As soon as the words leave her mouth her cheeks begin to blaze with the unintended implications of her statement. Luke coughs awkwardly, cheeks a bit more rosy than usual, and quickly spins around.

As she quickly swaps shirts, buttoning up Luke's baggy flannel, she watches as his head tilts back and forth, studying the bathroom tiles on the wall with rapt attention and drumming his fingers against his legs.

"Okay. You can turn around now."

Luke turns to face her and smiles giddily at the way the sleeves fall past her fingertips and the hem settles just above her knees.

"It's a little big on you."

Julie scowls back at him good-naturedly. "I know. Just give me a sec."

He watches in fascination as Julie gathers up and knots the front corners of the shirt so it sits neatly at the top of her jeans. Then she starts trying to roll up the sleeves. Trying being the operative word. But it's a challenge because they're just so damn long.

"Here, let me," he interrupts, stepping into her space. She sucks in a breath.

"Oh. Um, sure." She holds out her arms to him and he begins rolling them up to a decent length, taking the time to make sure they're matching. She feels overwhelmed at the gentle brush of his fingers as they travel up her forearms. The contact sends shivering jolts of electricity along her skin as if a circuit had been completed, allowing energy to move freely between the undefinable start and the infinite end. She feels like she's about to vibrate out of her own skin.

"Good?" he checks once he's finished. His voice is low and soft.

Julie nods mutely.

He takes a step back to size her up and nods appreciatively. "Not too shabby, Jules."

"Um. Thanks!" she squeaks (again) - God, get it together, Molina - and looks at herself in the mirror.

Something about wearing Luke's flannel - skin-warmed and worn in, smelling like him - makes her feel safe and protected and cared for. Like he himself is draped across her shoulders and wrapping around her torso. Also, she looks good in it. Like it was made for her.

"It suits you." Luke interrupts her thoughts as he comes up behind her. They lock eyes through the mirror and Luke's curling smile returns, his eyes auroral.

"Yeah," she says. "It does."

The end-of-lunch bell trills harshly in her ear. Luke steps back, clearing his throat. "Cool. I'll - um -," he picks up the stained shirt, "I'll get this one home to soak."

"Thank you, Luke. I really appreciate it." Her chest feels pumped with helium.

He nods a little, smiling and looking up at her through his lashes. And poofs away.

(+1)

Julie hums contentedly as she toes off her shoes and drops her school bag on her bed. It had been a long, sweaty day at school to top off a long, sweaty week, the California heat having shown up with a vengeance.

She makes her way down to the studio, feeling lighter with the knowledge that she has the whole weekend ahead of her.

The heavy doors to the studio open at her urging. She breathes in deeply the green smell of plants and the metallic tang of guitar strings. And then stops. Blinks slowly and squints her eyes, trying to make sense of what's in front of her.

"Oh, hey, Julie!" Reggie greets her from his spot on the couch. He's leaning forward over a cross-legged Alex, who is seated on the ground, carefully twisting the long hair at the top of his head into braids. And Luke is sitting next to them, guitar across his lap, strumming it quietly. But none of this is what stops her in her tracks.

Alex is wearing what appears to be a mesh tie-dye top, Reggie's top proclaims that It was all a dream, and Luke's blue t-shirt is covered in familiar swirls of white. Those are her shirts. Her crop tops. Her eyes quickly skate across Alex and Reggie's stomachs but are quickly pulled away when Luke stands up, placing his guitar to the side.

"Julie! You're home!" Luke exclaims, a puppy dog smile across his face.

"You-You're." She can't quite get words out. The sight of his bared stomach has set her heart to stuttering in 6/8 time, a drumbeat that echoes through her skull.

She realises that her mouth has been hanging open. She snaps it shut.

"You're wearing my clothes." She's addressing all three of them but she's looking at Luke. Her eyes keep flicking down and then back up to his face. She can't help it. She would stop if she could. Luke definitely notices because his smile turns mischievous.

Alex speaks up, a concerned look on his face. "Yeah. I hope that's alright. It's just that it was really warm and we didn't really have anything to wear and-"

"Alex," Julie interrupts, finally coming to her senses and looking away from Luke, "It's fine. I was just surprised. Besides it's not like I haven't borrowed your clothes before."

"Exactly what I said!" Reggie exclaimed. His voice turns a bit milder now though, "And we all really missed you 'cause you've been so busy with school this week so…"

Julie feels tears spring to her eyes and she quickly scrubs them away. "I've missed you guys, too, Reg."

She looks across each of them, making sure not to dwell too long on Luke who's still standing, fiddling with the hem of his (her) shirt. An idea hits her and her eyebrows wiggle teasingly at them.

"Well, in the name of sharing and caring…" She walks across the room to where the boys keep their clothes. She picks up one of Luke's sleeveless t-shirts. Turning her back to them, she quickly exchanges her shirt for his, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool fabric settles around her.

When she turns back around she finds that Luke's mouth is hanging open slightly as if he simply forgot to close it. Alex and Reggie are grinning at him. If not for the way they are positioned it's clear that they would be exchanging knowing looks.

"What?" she shrugs, playing innocent but feeling vindicated.

Luke shakes his head jerkily. "N-nothing. I- nothing." He averts his eyes to the ground but his whole face is red and Julie is delighted to notice that it extends down his neck, under his shirt to his stomach. She presses her lips together to keep a hysterical laugh from bubbling out of her throat unbidden. Her eyes are stuck on Luke again.

Luke looks up at her and his eyes catch on hers. And oh, his eyes. If you asked her, she wouldn't quite be able to tell you the colour of them, despite the amount of time she'd spent looking into them over a microphone or a lyric book. Sometimes green, sometimes blue. Right now, wearing her shirt, they're a dazzling, drowning blue.

Reggie breaks the silence. "All done!" He ties off the end of Alex's second braid and pats the top of his head gently.

"Thanks, Reg," Alex says lightly, drawing Julie's attention. She's impressed with how well Reggie's done.

"Wow, Reg. Where did you learn to braid like that?"

He shrugs a little half-heartedly but his mouth is pulled into a bittersweet curve. "I used to braid my little sister's hair."

Julie nods, giving him a sympathetic look. A beat. "Can you do mine next?"

Reggie's smile broadens into something entirely sweet, the bitterness done away with. "Of course!"

And so Alex shuffles over so that she can take his spot cross-legged and leaning against Reggie's knees. Alex settles himself so that his back is against the cool concrete floor and his head is in Julie's lap. She starts scratching her nails through the short pieces of hair that didn’t make it into the braid.

Luke is still standing where he'd greeted Julie (although this is perhaps a generous term because anyone who knows Luke knows that staying still is not a skill of his and what he does when upright should not be classified as merely standing. Perhaps a better term would be wobbling. Or jittering.)

"C'm'ere," she says, patting the ground to the other side of her. Luke practically trips over himself to do as he's told. He sits next to her, stretching his legs out long, pressing his thigh against Julie's.

She places the hand that isn't occupied with Alex's hair atop her thigh, palm up, wiggling her fingers a little. She doesn't look at him but she's trying not to make life harder for Reggie whose tugging on her hair is ginger and slow.

But Luke seems to get the message. He links their hands together pulling them into his lap. Julie feels him trace a fingertip over each of her nails, brushing across the back of her hand, tugging on the ends of her bracelets. He holds her hand as if it contains the entire universe.

Here, connected to each of her boys, she feels safe. Each point of contact feels like a lifeline she hadn't known she needed.

"I love you guys."

And she does. She really, really does.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Amaryllis | Chapter 11

< Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12>

+++

Sakura was already down by the docks seeing to final preparations for their journey by the time Sasuke and Itachi were having breakfast together.

It had been awkward at first. But the brothers tried to have at least their morning meal together each day. Sakura had been the one to inspire it, of course. After seeing her suffer through obviously painful and irritating meals with Naruto, Itachi, overwhelmed with curiosity, had once asked her about it after a dinner of roasted seafood and the usual bounty of fruits and vegetables. Sasuke was off with Kankuro and Sasori at the beach to watch the night fisherman diving into the water to catch fish with their bare hands.

They were sitting in one of the pavilions with a knitted spread on the floor beneath them. Her white uniform jacket was draped over her shoulders and the golden tassels glittered in the low light. Feet bare, she crossed her legs and then reached over to pluck a fruit from one of the bowls arranged around them. The two bangles on her left wrist clinked against each other.

Itachi watched as she split a fig open with her thumbs. The dark purple outside gave way to an orange-red inside filled with seeds and edged by white. The strange appearance had initially been somewhat intimidating to him. But he quickly grew to love the fruit almost as much as Sakura did. It was sweet and mildly tart.

"I have a feeling you're going to ask me a question," she suddenly remarked without looking up at him.

"What makes you say that?" he inquired. Hearing the note of humor in his voice, she popped half of the fig into her mouth and lifted her head as she chewed.

"Your eyes. You're not a very good liar," she responded. Lips pressing together, Itachi didn't say anything for a while. Sakura finished off the rest of the fig before she reached for another one. Tucking her hand under her chin, she paused to look Itachi over for a moment.

"You don't seem to tan very well. Well, then again, neither do I. It's more tragic for me than for you," Sakura sighed.

"What do you mean?" asked Itachi. He held out his arm closer to the nearest candle. His skin glowed orange in the flickering light. She reached over to observe her own skin. Sakura's hand seemed to take on the same warmed tone. In this light, she seemed neither tanned nor white.

"I'm too dark to be a mainlander. But too pale to blend in with my own people," she pointed out.

It was true that Sakura was certainly lighter-skinned than her cousins. Even Sasori was a mellow shade of caramel, which Itachi had always assumed was from all his time out on the open sea. Although, with all their varyingly bright shades of hair, the people of the Haruno family hardly blended in with the citizens.

"Do they treat you differently?" Itachi queried.

"Who? The mainlanders or the islanders?" Sakura answered with a question of her own. Itachi's eyebrows rose. The bitterness drifted to the surface.

"You're beloved," he slowly said. He had seen it in the eyes of the people. He heard it in their voices and in their meager gifts of whatever wares they sold that was offered up to her instead.

"I am. But I am very much foreign. I was born on this island. My very blood and my roots are steeped into the sands here. But for them, I am as much a mainlander as you are," she explained.

Sakura had grown up celebrating the same holidays as them, painting her arms with red clay and sprinkling flower petals on the beach. She had watched them offer food and flowers to the mother goddess of the island that she didn't believe in but respected all the same. The traditional sounds of their songs with their flutes and pounding drums were as much her anthem as it was theirs. She had grown up listening to the servant girls laughing in a mixture of their native language and the common tongue as they bathed and dressed her.

"Does it ever bother you that you're not considered one of them?"

Itachi's words drew Sakura from her thoughts. He had a nice voice- masculine and clear. It was slightly lower than his brother's and his tone was always somewhat softer, lacking the subtle arrogance of aristocracy that Sasuke wore so proudly on his sleeve. When she heard Sasuke's voice, she thought of wind brushing through tree branches and the sound of footsteps crunching over leaves and moss. Itachi's voice was all the muted colors of the coral reefs at night. The whisper of palm fronds against each other on a quiet day.

"Does it bother me? Itachi, would we be talking about this if it didn't?" she asked before taking a bite into the sweet fig.

"Ah, but this was not what you wished to ask me," she then added.

"Oh. Just… about Prince Naruto," Itachi began with a glance in her direction. He gauged her expression. Sakura was generally open to most subjects but the stony face of silence sometimes descended on her when it came to sensitive matters of family. This time, however, Itachi didn't see anything to warn him away from the subject.

"Why do you bother dining with him if he drives you mad?" questioned Itachi.

Sakura placed the other half of the fig in her mouth. Then she gave an easy shrug.

"Why do we teach grammar? Why do we light candles at night? Because we must," Sakura sighed. She tossed a fig at Itachi and he just barely managed to catch it. They each split one of the fruits open and ate. As she chewed, Sakura frowned.

"I'm sure you've gathered by now that I have a rather… complicated situation with Prince Naruto and his parents. Part of having meals with him is to force myself to remember that he is, in fact, my blood. If not, I'd be so filled with seething rage that I would be inclined to strike him with my fists every time he opened his mouth," she then added. The violence of her words and the serenity of her tone clashed so much that Itachi didn't process it for a solid minute.

And then, folding his hands in his lap, he shot her a sideways glance.

"…He's not a prince…technically," he quietly corrected her.

"Indeed. He would be the noble Young Lord Namikaze if not for his father and his sniveling sycophants," Sakura added with obvious approval in her tone. Mouth twisting into a scowl, Sakura glared down at the fig in her palm before she flung it. It landed in the waves with a plop. They both sat watching the abandoned fruit bobbing on the current. It was just a dark blob on the surface, drifting aimlessly in the night.

"That was uncharacteristically wasteful of you," Itachi observed. It would have been a reproach if not for his subdued smile.

"The very idea of aristocracy is founded on wastefulness. Why stop now?" she answered. As she leaned back on her hands, she let out a deep sigh.

“What is the point of all this power and money?” she then wondered out loud. Her smile told Itachi that she didn’t expect an answer.

"Did you ever have a wish growing up? A secret one that you wouldn't tell anyone else?" she suddenly questioned. Itachi blinked a few times as he thought about it.

"Well…as a young boy, I sometimes wished for a younger brother. And when I was a little older, when my illness started to grow worse, I often wished to grow wings. So that I could fly off the mountain like one of the messenger birds," Itachi slowly admitted.

"To fly?" Sakura repeated.

"I thought you said that you'd had lifetimes of travel through your books," she then added. There was no teasing in her tone.

"To only allow the soul to wander while depriving the body of adventure is a frustrating combination. It took me several years to settle with what my body could endure," Itachi agreed. Sakura's expression softened as she saw his shoulders slump. There was often an odd sort of resignation in Itachi's voice whenever he talked about his health. Though the salt air and the herbal treatments seemed to help his condition immensely, there was still a unique sort of fragility to the prince. The compassionate servants always made sure to fill up his plate a little more than the others, with a pointed smile in Sakura's direction as they worked.

Just looking at him with his dark hair tangling in the breeze and his delicate fingers moving up to brush his bangs from his eyes stirred something in Sakura's chest. His fine purple tunic with the subtle gold threading on the sleeves and bottom hem had been a gift from some of the island's master weavers. There was a light rosy glow on his cheeks from the ocean wind. His forearm felt warm when she bumped it as she scooted in closer to him until their arms were pressed together.

They leaned in toward one another. Her eyes sparkled like they always did- half-laughing and half-sad. When their lips met, she tilted her head and a few locks of her soft, damp hair fell across his forehead. She smelled like the clean ocean breeze and the fragrant sprays of flowers that seemed to grow everywhere.

When they drew apart, he could feel the lingering warmth of her skin on his lips and his cheeks. Wordlessly, she leaned in to touch her forehead to his. He slowly reached out to place his hand over hers. She smiled in a way that made his heart beat uncomfortably hard against his ribs.

"What about you?" Itachi whispered.

"Hm?" she hummed.

It was such an intimate sound. It was the comforting noise of a mother responding to her child's tearful request to chase away monsters. It was the sound of happiness after a particularly restful nap, the sort accompanied by stretching and a cat-like yawn. It was the sound of raindrops gathering in the rounded hollows of leaves resting on the forest floor. It was all of those things and yet it was none of them.

On some wild impulse, he reached out, hands cupping her cheeks, and he kissed her deeply. Counting the thudding of his heartbeats and drawing in a long breath, Itachi felt Sakura's shoulders tighten before they slowly relaxed. Her hands moved to rest on his waist, pulling him in a little closer. He listened to her quickening breaths, to her murmuring chuckle against his mouth as they pulled away to catch their breath.

Itachi blinked. Swallowing thickly, he slowly released her face. A smile began to curl up at Sakura's mouth as she struggled not to laugh at the look of absolute chagrin widening his eyes. His hands clenched into fists in his lap as he cleared his throat loudly and needlessly. But then Sakura reached out to casually put her hand in his.

Blushing, he stole a glance at her out of the corners of his eyes. And he did a double take. Because, even though it was dim and even though it was hard to tell with the flickering candlelight, Itachi swore that there was pink dusting her cheeks. 

So rather than fumble his way to another topic, he tightened his hold on her hand, squeezing her fingers between his. Laughing, Sakura leaned her head against his shoulder. She pressed another kiss to his jaw just to watch his cheeks flare up even brighter.

"A boy," she suddenly said after a long while of comfortable silence.

"Pardon?"

"I wanted to be a boy. My father's son that he would proudly train to wield a sword and carry on his legacy. You asked what my dream once was," Sakura elaborated.

There was pain in her expression as she stared out at the water. She thought back to the days of learning to fight with wooden swords and listening to her father recount stories of his military conquests. He had once been the General of the Mountain Kingdom's armies. There was no shortage of glorious tales to tell. Sakura only listened, seated on his wide, generous lap and giggling when he leaned in to speak in booming voices as he imitated his foes.

She had never had the heart to tell him of the stories her mother poured into her head. They were tales of conquests won not with a sword but with words. She was educated about the generations of marriage alliances and spies that brought the Haruno family to where it was now. There were exciting stories of carrier birds holding secrets and acts of intelligence from women that brought entire nations to their knees without a single knight lifting his blade.

She sat, both a legacy of wit and action, suspended in a painful balance between the guidance of both subtlety and military prowess.

Her mother would have understood. Queen Tsunade had always been the image of beauty and intelligence to Sakura. It was only as she grew up listening to her aunt, Lady Kurenai's stories that Sakura understood that her mother sometimes drank too much and liked to make jokes that embarrassed her husband in their inner circle. Still, as she remembered her mother seated proudly on the throne with her serious face in place. With her fuzzy, fleeting memories, Sakura hoped that her mother wouldn't have taken offense that her daughter had climbed the ranks not as a princess but as a military officer.

"Your mother would be unimaginably, overwhelmingly proud of you, love," Kurenai always assured her. When she smiled, the lines around her eyes and mouth crinkled into existence. Her lipstick was the color of fresh berry juice and her curling hair the color of the night sky. Kurenai was as dark-haired as her older sister had been fair-haired. But Sakura heard the echo of her mother in her aunt's voice.

+++

The night before she sailed for Leaves, Sakura sat in Kurenai's apartment. Kurenai was at her desk, a quill in her hand as she thought carefully before she wrote. Every so often she would pause to read over her words in the candlelight. Sakura folded her legs underneath her. She was seated on the thick rug set out on the floor. Shizune had left a platter piled high with her favorite fruits but Sakura didn't have much of an appetite at the moment.

"Aunt Kurenai," Sakura suddenly called out.

"Yes, my dear?" said Kurenai in response.

"You always tell me that mother would be proud of me, right?"

"Absolutely," Kurenai responded as she looked up from her writing. She twisted around in her seat to regard Sakura with curiosity.

"But I've been thinking lately. And there are things that I've done- unspeakable, deplorable things that makes my own skin crawl at the very thought," mused Sakura. She then lifted her head to meet Kurenai's gaze.

"Do you think she would still love me if she knew what I'd become?"

The question hung in the air-uncomfortable and stifling. But Kurenai, the diplomat, the mother who always seemed to have a thousand different smiles and wise words to make situations seem better, then tilted her head to one side.

"My dearest niece, I do not love you for what you've done. I love you very much for who you are. Incorruptible and proud- that is the sort of woman your mother was as well," Kurenai responded.

Sakura smiled to hide the sudden tightness in her chest at those words.

+++

Kankuro saw his father board the ship that night. Temari had refused to accompany him. And he hadn’t asked Gaara.

Rasa stared past him. Up at the palace.

“That spiteful wench,” he growled.

Kankuro sighed. “Father, someone will hear,” he warned.

“Sending me back to the Arids. She has no idea what kind of trouble she’s starting for herself,” Rasa went on. And then, eyes narrowing, her actually looked at Kankuro.

“You really won’t come with me?” he asked.

Kankuro grimaced. He shook his head. “No, Father. I need to look out for Temari and Gaara.”

When Rasa scowled, Kankuro added, “I will take on your role, Father. I’m sure that in time, Her Grace will see the error of her ways.”

Rasa examined Kankuro’s expression.

“Do not embarrass me, boy,” was all he said. He clapped a hand on Kankuro’s shoulder. And then he strode onto the ship,

Kankuro ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. He felt a little sick as he put on a smile for his father when he glanced over his shoulder at him. Firm, but just a little sad. Rasa gave a nod of approval. 

He could imagine would Temari would say when he talked to her later. About how he almost missed their father. Her face would contort with disgust as she scoffed: “Easy for you to say. You’ve always been his favorite.”

In the morning,  Kankuro closed the ledger.

“Her Grace assures you that you are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like.”

They sat in the chamberlain’s office- a quiet room located in the eastern end of the palace. Kankuro pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He had spent a better part of the night working through his father's unfinished paperwork. Squinting at the words on the papers and stamping the seal under flickering candlelight was always hard on the eyes. Still, blinking against the discomfort, he then turned to his guests with a smile.

Not long after breakfast, the two Uchiha princes had visited and Kankuro had been expecting them. With Sakura out dealing with last-minute details with Gaara, only he and his sister remained. Temari lingered, under orders to watch over Kankuro and the guests. As he waited for the response, Kankuro moved on to the next piece of work and began signing the necessary forms.

"Of course I'll go with her. How could I leave her to wander through treacherous country without a friend?" retorted Sasuke with a hint of disbelief.

At this, Temari, who had been quietly standing in one of the archways and staring out at the water, blinked very rapidly. Kankuro's tapping pen stopped. And then, they turned their heads to look at one another. A short huff of laughter escaped Kankuro’s mouth. Temari smiled before she mashed her lips together.

“Prince… you… seem to be under the impression that Her Grace is…” Kankuro fumbled for the right word, giggling a little now. He turned to his sister, who was doing a better job of fighting off the laughter.

“She is a force to be reckoned with. I would not want stand at the opposite end of a battlefield from her,” Temari supplied instead.

“But you hardly leave her side,” protested Sasuke.

“She doesn’t really need me. I choose to be there,” Temari answered.

Itachi frowned. He leaned forward in his seat a little. Sasuke turned his gaze to him. So did everyone else.

"I must say, your lack of concern for her is a little unexpected," Itachi finally confessed. Temari leaned against her tall spear as she let out another chuckle.

"Well, know this, Prince. Her Grace’s diadem is heavy. She has been wearing it and carrying a sword since she was eight. You will do absolutely nothing to impress her until you acknowledge that as part of her," Temari informed him.

This exchange lingered with Sasuke later as he watched the workers load the last of the supplies onto the ship waiting in the harbor. His own bag had been packed the night before and was already inside one of the private cabins aboard the vessel. Sakura stood on the docks, hands crossed behind her back and her expression intense as she watched the comings and goings.

"No need to have such a scary expression, love. I'm in charge of the ship, remember? All you need to worry about is what happens once we leave this ship in about…” Sasori trailed off, checking his logbook, “…two week’s time.” He sat atop one of the thick wooden posts on the edge of the dock. The admiral was already dressed in his crisp white uniform complete with the light blue sash of the navy. His boots were polished and not a hair on his head stood out of place.

Sakura was in her uniform as well. Her hair, which Sasuke had grown so used to seeing loose and tousled with seawater and wind, was bound in a tight ponytail. Nothing about her appearance hinted at the person who wore silk dresses and danced barefoot in the sand at night with her cousins.

Feeling Sasuke's gaze on the side of her face, Sakura looked his way with a half-smile.

"Is something the matter?" she questioned.

"Not really. I was just thinking," he answered vaguely. But that response seemed to satisfy her enough. She turned her attention back to the men carrying large boxes and barrels onto the ship.

A few minutes later, Sasuke squinted as he noticed one odd silhouette running past the others up the dock.

Panting and struggling to hold his carpetbag in both his arms, Haku begged to join. Sasori raised an eyebrow. Sasuke's forehead wrinkled as he sized the thin boy up. Shaking his head, Sasuke looked over at Sakura to see how she would turn him down. But instead the duchess looked over the boy with a critical eye.

“What will be your role on this trip, Haku?” she demanded.

“Your personal valet and steward,” he answered without hesitation.

Her gaze them skimmed over the bag he held. “Is that all? You packed light,” she commented.

“Miss Shizune recommended what to bring,” Haku informed her.

Sakura sighed, shaking her head. “Of course Shizu did.” And then she smiled. “Stay light on your feet. This won’t be an easy journey.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Haku bowed several times to her and to Sasori and Sasuke before he ran onto the ship.

"Are you certain? This will be dangerous enough without the boy," Sasori asked in a tone that managed to convey absolutely no challenge.

"I don't see the harm in bringing him. And if he proves to be a burden on the way, I will leave him with Countess Inuzuka until we return home," answered Sakura with a blasé wave of her hand.

Sasuke and Sasori exchanged looks behind her back. Sasori simply shrugged. He was used to losing to Sakura's whims. It was the easiest way to win against her in the long run.

Once all of the supplies had been loaded, Sakura returned back to the palace to tie up the final loose ends. She stopped by the apartment where Itachi was staying. It surprised her that he wasn't down at the docks already. Itachi had always struck her as a punctual person.

“His Highness?” Sakura asked the guards on duty. They parted to make way for her.

“Within, Your Grace,” they reported.

She knocked. No one answered.

After a long moment, she twisted the doorknob and entered the building anyway.

Her footsteps tapped on the wood floors, echoing off the high ceiling. The walls were draped in thick tapestries imported from the Mountain Kingdom. The cool shades of blue mingled with gold thread, telling glittering stories of brave knights and their adventures. Gaara had had them ordered specially when he had learned that Sakura would be bringing guests. Sakura admired the quality for a moment before making a mental note to thank her younger cousin. His attention to detail was often a blessing to her.

"Hello?" she called out as she stepped away from the tapestry, further into the building. The door to the main bedroom was ajar.

"Ah, I'm very sorry. I didn't hear you before. Please, come in," Itachi's voice floated out to greet her. Hands linked behind her back, Sakura slowly stepped toward the room. She pushed the door open with her shoulder, coming to a stop just in the doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, she folded her arms over her chest.

Itachi's bag sat on his bed. He stood folding one of the many shirts he had received as gifts. The soft lilac silk seemed out of place now that he was garbed in his clothes from home. Heavy button-down shirts and black trousers made him seem paler, somehow. After he placed the shirt in his suitcase, Itachi lifted his head to regard her with a soft smile.

"Are you alright? We depart rather soon," Sakura said.

"Yes, my apologies. I didn't realize I'd acquired so much during our short time here," replied Itachi.

Sakura measured her next words carefully. Because looking at this man with his delicate figure and his sweet smile that she doubted he ever showed to anyone but her, she began to worry.

"I don't want to sound unwelcoming… but you don't need to accompany me," she finally managed to say out loud.

Itachi didn't look offended. He regarded her thoughtfully. And then he resumed folding his clothes and placing them in his suitcase.

"Yes, but I would like to accompany you. And I would hope that that would matter to you," he answered.

"Will your body be alright?" she went on.

He smiled this time.

"I promise to continue the regimen your physician prescribed."

She nodded with just a little reluctance. They chatted as he finished packing before Sakura went around the Sami doing last-minute checks with the staff. They then made their way down to the docks together.

Itachi caught a glimpse of Sakura's profile as she glanced back at the retreating form of the palace. The longing in her gaze broke his heart just the tiniest bit.

The ship left port to the sounds of people calling out loudly. They wished her a safe journey. Others were praying to the mother goddess for her protection as they sprinkled flower petals into the water. Fishermen in their little boats followed the large vessel on its way out of the protection of the bay as far as they could go without being caught in rougher currents. Sakura stood at the back of the ship, staring at the distant shapes of people waving farewell. As the fishing boats stopped to watch her departure, Sakura raised her right hand to wave back.

The journey back to the mainland seemed much shorter than it actually was. Perhaps the excitement of returning home after months abroad had colored Sakura's outlook on the way to Plumeria. She had been the same- full of dry wit and sarcasm, trading stories with the crew of the ship. Laughter followed her as she moved and she had almost seemed to shine. But now Sakura's expression was grim as she stood on the port-side of the ship. At the sound of footsteps, she barely spared a glance back.

"You should come inside. It's rather cold at night," Sasori said even as he joined her.

"The others?" she asked.

"In their cabins. Sleeping, I'd imagine. An example to follow," stated Sasori with a pointed look. Sakura let out a sigh. She crossed her arms behind her back.

"Why do I even bother, Sasori? Why am I even doing this?" questioned Sakura as she turned to face him.

Sasori's eyebrows rose.

"Because the idiot on your throne thinks that things are fine. And because his supporters are many. We bide our time, darling. We gather information, we strategize. And when the time is right…" Sasori suddenly trailed off. In that pause he reached out to push a stray lock of hair out of Sakura's face. Resting his palm on her cheek, Sasori smiled.

"When the time is right," he continued in a soft voice, "We dig our claws into those that would destroy us and we devour them from the inside out."

Sakura regarded her cousin for a long moment.

“I wonder if insanity runs in the family," she remarked.

“It must,” answered Sasori with a chuckle.

And this resigned sort of contentment seemed to last throughout the rest of the journey. The only times when Sakura truly seemed unhappy were during the meals that everyone was forced to eat together. To Naruto, who still found sailing a novel and exciting experience, every aspect of the journey was amazing. He went on and on about everything which in itself didn't seem to bother Sakura.

But then Sasuke made the mistake of politely asking Naruto about Whiteriver Keep.

And just a sidelong glance at Sakura told him that that was the wrong question to have asked.

Sakura's expression darkened each time her cousin recalled the glory of the castle. He found the damp stone and gloomy interiors exciting. He gushed about the hidden passages and the empty dungeons, ignorant to the fact that Sakura had once had to cower in those narrow corridors.

Upon her parents’ death, Sakura had been spirited out of the capitol, hidden away in a small village half a day's journey away until the King Consort's brother had been called to hold the throne. It was the day that word arrived that the monarchs had died in an accident on their travels. Suddenly all of the smiling faces that sat in court were dangerous. And so Sakura was hidden. The King Consort's brother was not a Haruno and therefore had no real claim to the crown. Instead he was a paperweight, keeping everything from blowing into chaos at the slightest breeze. And with stability restored in the capitol, Sakura was allowed to return once more.

She still remembered the rats that skittered over her as she fled through the dungeons. She could smell the damp as they sloshed through the sewers, into the secret hiding places where someone would come to take her to the next leg of the journey.

"I don't know if you'll remember us, my dear. I am your aunt, Kushina, and this is your uncle, Minato. We'll take care of you from now on. You don't have anything to worry about."

The warmth of that first embrace had intoxicated her after weeks of fear and cold.

But now, as Naruto obtusely babbled on and on about the wonders of home, Sakura's hands clenched into fists. Disgusted, she shoved her plate away from her and got to her feet. She straightened the collar of her spotless white jacket before she walked away from her meal. The conversation at the table cut off as everyone stopped to watch her sudden departure. Sasori fixed Naruto with a sullen glower for the rest of dinner. And even Sasuke's expression was cooler each time he glanced the blond's way.

Sakura made her way to the bow of the ship. One of the passing soldiers did a double-take. When he returned a moment later, he draped a cloak over her shoulders. Sakura smiled a little at the gesture. He bowed deeply before returning to his duties.

It didn't take long for Itachi to find her. And somehow he managed to bring her a cup of tea that was still warm, despite the cool, salty winds.

"What was your father like?" Itachi asked, as if picking up from the middle of a conversation. At her startled look, he added, “I’m struggling to understand how your fathers could be related but have such different children.”

Sakura couldn't help but smile into her tea. Setting her teacup down on the deck, she crossed her arms over her chest. She stared out at the black waves sloshing around ahead of them.

"My father was a giant," she simply told him.

"Was he a tall man?" queried Itachi.

"From what everyone tells me, not particularly. But my father, to me, was a million miles tall. His head touched the skies and his arms reached around the world," replied Sakura with a soft shake of her head.

They were hidden there, behind stacks of barrels and crates secured to the deck of the ship. With that knowledge, Sakura leaned in toward Itachi, letting her side brush against his. She felt Itachi's eyes on the side of her face.

"The servants tell me that he began to teach me to handle a sword from the moment I could carry one. Mother would scold us both when I came back to her covered in scrapes and bruises. He taught me to ride a horse. And then he taught me the names of all the places where he fought great battles."

After some thought, Sakura then added, "My father was a good man."

Itachi seemed to weigh her words.

"And your mother?" he prompted.

Sakura turned her head to look at him. Her mouth curled up in a smile.

"My mother was a million miles tall as well. And she could name the stars in the sky and the plants in the soil."

"And she wanted the crown to pass along to you, correct?" Itachi inquired. Sakura had to think for a moment before she could nod.

"Though," Sakura said before she paused. She stooped to pick up her tea again. It had cooled, but she sipped at it anyway as she considered. All the while, Itachi’s eyes were trained on her face.

"Somehow, I think that because she didn't expect to die so early, she planned to pass the diadem of the Tea Isle to me first before that. In the end, I was only able to seize that one for myself.”

The gold, jeweled headpiece that represented the Lady of the Southern Tea Isle was a beautiful piece of work. It had been passed down through generations of Haruno women. On the occasions when a Duke, rather than a Duchess, had been in power, the diadem had still been worn with pride. It was delicate gold chains with glimmering pearls harvested from the bay. The glittering crimson and white jewels represented the generations of history that stretched back to the time long ago when the Haruno clan had crossed the saltwater. Even now, it sat in a ceremonial box in the treasury of Sami.

Itachi took this in silently. And when Sakura tilted her head again to look at him, he leaned in toward her. Her lips had been half-parted as she thought to say something else. But his lips found hers instead and stole her words. Holding her cooled tea in her hands, Sakura closed her eyes and listened to the pounding of the ocean waves match her own heart.

And after a week, they reached port and the horses, who had been stuck below deck for that time, jovially rode west, toward Whiteriver Keep. For the sake of the less experienced members of the group, they stayed on the main road and slept at inns rather than in the forest. The soldiers who accompanied them broke into two groups- one that scouted ahead, and one that stayed behind to watch their tail.

They reported in several times a day. About the state of the road or the towns they didn’t always have time to pass through.

Sasuke and Sasori did their best to fill the journey with light-hearted banter. And sometimes even Naruto's comments succeeded in raising a few chuckles from everyone.

Still, Sakura's expression was flat as she stared ahead. Even as they ate, her gaze was elsewhere, reaching in front of them.

"What is Leaves like?" Itachi asked one night as he settled in beside her by the fire.

Sakura's upper lip curled.

"A nest of vipers. Watch your ankles," she retorted. Then she shook her head.

“No. I’ll watch your ankles,” Sakura amended. Her eyes widened when Itachi put his hand over hers.

“Then I’ll watch yours,” he answered.

+++

The party's arrival in Whiteriver Keep three weeks later was greeted by the Queen herself. Long crimson hair flowing out behind her, she walked up to first embrace her son as he dismounted from his horse. He was vaguely dirty and smelled of horse but Kushina kissed his face and hugged him close. Sasori glanced over in time to see Sakura feeding Kaze a bit of sugar, pretending not to see any of this happening.

And it was only then that Kushina looked up to see Sakura.

"Welcome back, Sakura," Kushina uttered in such a kind voice that Sasori had to turn around to hide the way his eyes rolled.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," responded Sakura, fist over her heart. She didn’t bow her head, however. Her eyes didn’t meet Kushina’s.

"Please, Sakura," said Kushina with a hint of exasperation in her voice. Kaze nudged Sakura’s back with an impatient snort. After weeks of travel, he was obviously eager for a good bath and a good nap. Reaching out to pat his muzzle, Sakura gestured for one of the stablehands to come forward.

"The usual care for him, Konohamaru. Scrub him down well. He's had a long journey," she ordered as she flipped a gold coin into the boy's hand. With a grin, he eagerly took the horse's reins and led him off toward the stables. With deliberate ease, Sakura then looked back to her aunt. Kushina smiled at her, obviously trying to figure out what to say next.

"May I present my dear friends, Prince Itachi and Prince Sasuke of the Mountain Kingdom. And of course you already know my cousin, Admiral Haruno," Sakura introduced her companions. She saw Kushina's face flush slightly. She should have been first to greet her guests but obviously this had slipped her mind in her excitement to see her son. Even Naruto seemed embarrassed for her.

Sakura’s eyes fell on what glittered when Kushina moved. Her stomach clenched.

"We've been traveling for many weeks and I'm sure we could all use a rest. If His Grace, the Regent is free, I would speak with him before retiring," Sakura then went on, already taking steps toward the castle. The message was clear to her companions. They murmured polite words and bowed to the Queen Regent before following her. Even Naruto, after lingering in his mother's embrace, quickly excused himself.

As they entered the castle, a stone fortress of flickering torches and stained glass windows, Sakura's arms were stiff at her sides as she walked. Sasori caught up to her first. He saw the back of her neck was red as he grabbed her wrist. And though her feet stopped, her eyes glared off elsewhere. She drew in shaky breaths through her nose, teeth gritting together.

Sasori pulled her into an alcove, in the shadows. Where he could murmur, “Talk to me” as he clasped her hands between his.

There was a long pause, during which Sasuke and Itachi caught up with them. Haku was Sakura's usual shadow, nearby and distant all at once with his back up against the nearest wall.

Naruto lingered a little further away, casting awkward glances in their direction. Like he couldn’t decide where to stand. He was, however, close enough to hear what Sakura whispered.

"She was wearing my mother's jewels.”

"What?" Sasori spat.

"My mother's… her earrings… and her pearl necklace… those aren't for her to wear…" sighed Sakura as she closed her eyes. She suddenly felt so tired.

"Are you positive? Perhaps they just look similar?" ventured Sasuke.

A low hiss rose from Sasori as he exhaled slowly between his teeth. His hands tightened over hers.

“I’m…going to raze this dung heap to the ground. I will break their bones between my fingers and grind them to dust between my molars. Every single one of these rats, I will destroy them so that the cries of their widows shatter the glass in their precious mansions," he whispered in a voice so sharp that it almost hurt to hear. Lifting his head, Sasori opened eyes that burned the color of raw copper.

He regarded Sakura for a long time in the dim light. Then he reached out to grasp her chin. Sasori tilted her face up.

“Good. No tears. Keep your head high.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “I need to have a talk with whoever’s in charge of the royal treasury. Go get some rest.” Seeing the look in Sakura’s eyes, Sasori kissed her again in the same spot. And then he cast a glance around at the group. He nodded before he strode off into the darkened hallway.

Sakura didn't realize that she was trembling with anger until Haku crept under her arms to hug her around the middle. Naruto slunk deeper into the shadows. Guilty, somehow, for something that he hadn’t done.

But by the time they made it to the throne room, Sakura greeted her uncle in the most polite yet cold way. She spouted some backhanded compliments, they thanked the King Regent for his hospitality, and then Sakura showed them to their chambers. Compared to their luxurious private apartments back in Plumeria, the simple bedchambers with one attached bathroom seemed incredibly shabby. But of course, no one was impolite enough to say anything of the sort out loud.

They retired to their separate rooms. There was a large feast held to welcome them, courtesy of the generous King Regent. Sakura was noticeably absent, as was Prince Itachi and Admiral Sasori. Sasuke was in attendance, bored out of his mind and wondering why his brother, of all people, had chosen to skip. And while Sasori's whereabouts were a mystery to everyone, including her, Sakura was up on the castle wall, staring down at the moat.

Itachi was with her, a thick blanket wrapped around them to protect them from the night's chill. It was from Plumeria, woven with brilliant colors and still filled with the fragrance of salt and flowers. Sakura inhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in days.

"I'm very sorry… about your mother's jewels," Itachi suddenly said. His arms were around her and her back pressed to his chest. He felt rather than heard her sigh.

"I suppose I should stop being shocked and hurt whenever things like this happen to me," replied Sakura. There was a contemplative pause. And then Itachi spoke again.

"Will you confront her? What are you going to do?"

Sakura's head fell back to rest on his collarbones. Her eyes were wildly bright, glittering like the viridian waters in the bay of Plumeria.

"I will do what I've always done, my prince. I will save my tears for the day that I can tear from their hands all the things that they've stolen from me. My pride, my titles, my legacy. And then, when all that is done, I think that is when I shall cry," she murmured.

The next morning, after a quiet meal between friends, Sakura sent for someone to meet with her in the gardens behind the castle. The court musician arrived several minutes later to find a table set up near the fountains.

Chestnut hair tied up in buns on either side of her head, the musician set her lute case down with a huff. The high collar of her pink dress was held in place by a series of silver buckles. And the hem of the garment was short, only offset by the fact that she wore black leggings underneath. There was long pink fringe hanging from the bottom, swishing around with her movements.

“General. Admiral,” Tenten greeted them with two perfect curtsies. “Would you prefer a ballad today?”

“Yes. Something a bit sad, if you would. I’m feeling rather melancholic as of late,” Sakura requested.

Tenten snapped her lute case open. And she began a beautiful song about a man whose greed was his downfall. Sakura leaned back in her seat as she listened. Sasori closed his eyes. Sasuke and Itachi sat enjoying the music as well. She had a beautiful voice, although the lyrics were truly sad.

“That’s a new one,” commented Sasori as the musician finished her song.

“Yes. That was wonderful. Thank you,” Sakura said. And then she gestured for Tenten to approach. Sakura touched the hem of her clothing, admiring the quality of the soft cloth.

“Such fine work. It truly is marvelous when someone is skilled at their craft. What would we do without such masters?” Sakura then remarked. She slipped a small pouch into the pocket of Tenten’s dress. Tenten’s eyes didn’t even flicker downwards at the click of coins. Instead, she took a step back, curtseying again.

“Of course. It’s an honor to perform for you as always, General,” she replied. And with that, Tenten stepped back, melding into the shadows of a trellis covered in ivy.

Musicians, at least for the Haruno family, had always been welcomed with open arms. Their appreciation of art and music was one factor. But the other was that sometimes, the most skilled musicians were often skilled in other areas that made them ideal for slipping into hostile courts.

Sakura had run into Tenten during her years at the military academy. A little coin had turned the wandering singer into her second set of eyes and ears. To everyone’s knowledge, the girl had been selected on a whim by the King Regent. No one had reason to suspect ties to any family in particular.

“She’s quite talented,” commented Sasuke. He had caught something strange about the conversation between the women. When he looked over at his brother, Itachi nodded, as if to confirm that there had indeed been something off.

“Yes. But I only wish I could have heard her better. These fountains are quite noisy,” he commented, looking over at Sakura now. She smiled at him.

“They are, aren’t they?” she agreed. And then she turned her attention back to Sasori, who tilted his head a little as he thought.

“The two-faced serpent is prowling,” Sasori sang, repeating the lyrics from the song.

“The Shimura family’s sigil is a two-headed dragon,” Sakura mused.

“He’s also a two-faced snake,” Sasori added.

Sakura laughed. “Very true. And if he’s on the prowl, I would prefer not to stay at Whiteriver Keep longer than necessary.”

As Sasori nodded, he turned his gaze to the hedges. Thinking. “She sang something about broken scales and broken trust,” he added.

Sakura touched her hand to her chin as she considered this. “Well… broken…He’s been covered in bandages for as long as I can remember. Scales on a snake?” murmured Sakura.

“Broken scales, like for weighing gold? And broken trust like a credit system?” Itachi wondered.

Everyone turned toward him.

Sakura’s mouth hung open as she thought. Sasori’s face suddenly lit up as he snapped his fingers.

“Taxes,” was all he whispered, excitement lighting up his eyes.

It took a second for that to sink in. And then Sakura’s face lit up too. She clasped her hands together. “Oh! Broken scales,” she laughed. “Oh, Prince, you’re so clever.” And then she turned to Sasori, hand grasping his forearm. “Isn’t he so clever?”

Sasori smiled. “Yes. We’re so fortunate to have His Highness and his superior insight,” he agreed.

Two days after their arrival in Whiteriver Keep, Sakura already seemed anxious to leave. While Naruto took Sasuke and Itachi around the city to see the marketplace and the other sights the place had to offer, Sakura and Sasori spent most of their time at the military academy located at the heart of the city. Sakura's arrival was a surprise to all and she was greeted with salutes and looks of wonder.

Colonel Hyuuga found her quickly and matched her brisk strides as he filled her in on all the things she had missed during her months away.

"Where are my three?" she questioned as he paused to check his notes. Neji rolled his eyes.

"Running drills, terrifying new recruits, and napping," Neji said as he pushed the door open to reveal Shikamaru lolling back in his chair with his feet up on his desk and a book over his face.

"Welcome back, General," Shikamaru drawled without moving.

"Look alive, Nara. We've got things to discuss," Sakura said as Sasori and Neji closed and locked the doors behind them.

A few hours later, everyone regrouped for supper. Shikamaru joined them after a yawning introduction to the two foreign princes. As they headed into the castle, Sakura suddenly stopped walking.

"SAKURA!"

Eyes widening, swords flew from their scabbards and shoulders tensed. Even Sasori flinched at the sudden noise. Only Sakura remained completely relaxed as a blur of flowing blonde hair and purple skirts barreled into her. Clinging tightly to Sakura with her arms wrapped around her neck, Ino squealed with delight until Sakura softly cleared her throat.

"Ino… I have guests," Sakura quietly said.

Ino released her and took a step back. That didn't stop the bright smile lighting up her face. Cheeks flushed with excitement, Ino reached out to take both of Sakura's hands.

"It is just wonderful to see you! You look well! How have you been? Why haven't you written?" she gushed, shaking Sakura's hands in all her enthusiasm. Sasori politely muffled his chuckle as a cough into his fist. But the noise still drew Ino's attention.

"Oh, Admiral. How do you do? I trust you have had a safe voyage," Ino flatly recited before the sparkle returned to her gaze again when she turned her attention back to Sakura.

"Anyway, you barely responded to my letters! I assume you've been too busy gallivanting around and having fun," she sniffed. Sakura raised an eyebrow.

"When have you ever known me to gallivant?" demanded Sakura with a faint smile.

"Well you're obviously gallivanting now! With all these handsome- wait," Ino trailed off as she realized that there were other people staring at her. After a long moment, Ino turned back to Sakura, her eyes shining almost menacingly in all their enthusiasm. With a drawn-out sigh, Sakura patted Ino's hand.

"Join us. I'll fill you in on what you've missed," she said.

"Marvelous!" Ino sang. She pecked Sakura's cheek before she danced off ahead of them.

"Um…" Sasuke began in a low voice as he turned to Sasori.

"Sakura's best friend in the capital city, Lady Ino of the Yamanaka family. Her father is Count Yamanaka, in charge of trade in and out of Spring Port. Fabulously wealthy and firm supporters of the Regent," Sasori promptly summarized. Sasuke's eyes narrowed.

"But their daughter supports Sakura?" he repeated.

"Yes, it seems that that hyperactive ball of sunshine is the only one with sense in that family," muttered Sasori before he headed into the castle.

+++

Three days after arriving in the capitol, Sakura announced that it was time to move on. There wasn't much to pack. No one had expected to stay and Sakura's obvious distaste for the castle and the people in it was a clear signal for no one to unpack too thoroughly.

Late in the morning, the Konohamaru brought out their steeds. Some of the stablehands followed, their expressions significantly less eager.

“Where to next, General?” asked Konohamaru.

“South. To the border,” she replied as she crossed the courtyard, Haku on her heels. Sakura just finished fixing the cuffs of her shirt as she stopped in front of Kaze. Haku held out her jacket. Sakura slipped her arms inside and shrugged it into place with ease.

As Naruto ran out to join them, his bag thrown over his shoulder, he searched for the horse he had ridden all the way from Whitewave. Sakura watched as the excitement faded to confusion when he didn't see it.

"…Sakura? Where's my horse?" he questioned, finally turning to her. The Queen Regent joined them, her hands resting protectively on her son's arm.

"In the stable. There is no horse for you," Sakura informed him, with an exasperated look in Kushina’s direction. Of course she hadn’t told her son. Leaving the bad news for someone else to handle.

Itachi was already in Kaze's saddle. When the prince tentatively reached forward to pat Kaze, the horse gave a puzzled snuffle before he happily leaned into the touch. Sakura's lips twitched upwards at the exchange. Kaze didn't easily trust strangers. Sakura grasped the pommel of the saddle, foot fitting into one of the stirrups.

"Then what will I ride?" Naruto went on to ask.

"You'll stay here," Sakura simply said as she swung her leg over Kaze's back and settled into the saddle. Itachi scooted backwards in the saddle to make room for her. Haku waited, holding up a canteen filled with water. And then a rucksack. Sakura took her time attaching these things so that they wouldn't slide off the saddle before she turned back to Naruto still gaping up at her.

"I'm certain Her Majesty the Queen Regent will agree. This is no place for a prince to be without a protector. Since Sir Sai is currently on leave, by the time you find a suitable replacement, it will be too late. Stay home," Sakura commanded. The edges of steel in her voice made Naruto's complaints freeze on the back of his tongue.

Naruto twisted around to look at his mother imploringly. But Kushina shook her head.

"Sakura is right. His Majesty wanted you to go only because Marquess Shimura mentioned that he believes it is good for a young prince to travel and to see the country. But even with Sakura with you, I fear for your safety," she insisted.

Sakura's eyes narrowed. She glanced over her shoulder at Sasori on his golden horse. Her gaze then moved over to Haku sitting in the saddle of a dark brown horse. Despite his tiny stature, his posture was good and his grip on the reins secure. After a moment, Sakura jerked her head slightly at Sasori, who then trotted off down the path without so much as a farewell to anyone. Sasuke held Sakura's gaze unsurely for a moment before he dipped his head silently at the Queen Regent and followed.

"A word of advice to you. Marquess Shimura is a marquess. Not the king,” Sakura then said to Kushina before she clicked her tongue and Kaze broke off in a brisk trot down the dusty road after the others. Haku followed not too far behind them.

Itachi's arms tightened around her waist as they moved forward. The tight lines of her shoulders and the sharpness in her gaze as she glanced back at him made him hesitate to speak. Just when he began to wonder if they would travel this way in black anger for the rest of the journey, Kaze slowed his pace. Itachi lifted his gaze to find his brother and Sasori waiting just off the side of the road under the shade of the trees.

“You should have brought him,” Sasori chastised.

“For what reason?” Sakura spat. Enunciating each syllable.

“To drop in a ravine on the way,” Itachi muttered. So quietly that he thought she wouldn’t hear over the clop of hooves on the road. But she did. And she burst into startled laughter.

“Did you hear that?” she chuckled to Sasori. Then she looked over her shoulder at him.

“I believe that’s the most unkind thing I’ve heard you say, Your Highness,” she teased.

“You’re a poor influence,” Sasuke sighed with a shake of his head.

As they continued south, no one mentioned the terse final conversation with the Queen Regent. Everyone seemed to agree that, as Sakura often did, it was best to pretend that such people didn’t exist for the moment.

+++

< Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12>

[emospritelet]

Crystal Tears 42. “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is no!”

Also prompted by Anonymous

Send me a prompt from this list and I’ll write DC!Rumbelle!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16]

AO3 link

Belle followed Rumplestiltskin through the corridors of the castle, mounting the stairs that led to his tower and letting the stone spiral take her ever higher.  His workroom was the same as ever; the only thing that seemed to change was the colour of the potions brewing and the size of the pile of spun gold next to the spinning wheel.  Rumplestiltskin crossed to the workbench, bending to sniff at a bright blue potion before nodding in approval.

“Just about ready,” he said in satisfaction, and clicked his fingers at her.  “The necklace.”

Sending him a wry look that he didn’t see, Belle reached around the back of her neck and unfastened the clasp of the necklace, drawing the purple crystal out from between her breasts and letting it dangle on the fine gold chain as she handed it to him.  Rumplestiltskin took it, eyeing her briefly.

“If you’re staying, go and sit down and don’t bother me,” he said dismissively.

She shot him another look before stomping over to a chaise upholstered in red velvet and sitting down with her legs crossed.  Secretly, she was delighted.  He had never let her stay long in his workroom before, and she was going to see him use magic!  Magic that came from the potions he brewed, not simply the wave of his hand and the powers of the Dark One.  She wondered how easy it was to learn to use magic.  It must be possible to learn to use it, after all; he was the only Dark One, but there were plenty of witches and sorcerers of varying levels of skill in the Enchanted Forest.  Perhaps some had innate ability, but surely some had gotten all their knowledge from books, and had once been as clueless as she.  She wondered which spells would be the easiest, and whether there was a set pattern in which one learned to develop one’s proficiency.

“Stop thinking so hard!” snapped Rumplestiltskin, making her jump.  “It’s very distracting!”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him how he knew she was thinking hard, but he was holding the necklace above a bronze bowl into which the blue potion had been poured, and she switched her attention to the crystal hanging above it. The purple teardrop had begun swinging in a circular motion, moving in a rhythmic, counter-clockwise arc.  Its pace increased, until it was a blur of colour and light, and she sat forward, lips parted.

“Well, that’s interesting,” he said to himself.

“What is?” she asked eagerly, and he looked up with a frown, making her bite her lip.

“A very strong protection spell,” he mused.  “But protection against what, that’s the question.”

She was itching to ask him something else, and he seemed to be thinking hard, fingers drumming against the bench as his other hand held the spinning necklace.  All at once he appeared to come to a decision, shrugged, and dropped it into the bronze bowl.  There was a loud bang, and Belle squeaked, covering her head with her arms as potion exploded outwards, splattering thick blue fluid all over the room.  When she lowered her arms, Rumplestiltskin was leaning on the bench with both hands, potion dripping from his hair, and the bronze bowl in pieces in front of him.  The necklace lay still, a faint glow coming from it, and he was frowning at it.

“Well, that didn’t bloody work,” he said sourly, and she got to her feet, scratching at her wrist where a blob of potion had landed on her.

“Are you going to try something else?” she asked, and he looked up.

“A different potion,” he agreed.  “It’ll take time to brew.  Here, take this back before it destroys any more of my things.”

He held up the necklace, and she hurried over, holding out a hand to take it.  Rumplestiltskin frowned at her.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at her arm with a long finger.

Belle looked down, eyes widening as she saw a large, red mark on the back of her wrist.  It looked like a burn, blisters already forming, and her mouth opened in shock as the pain started, a stinging agony.

“What did you touch?” he snapped, his eyes flashing, and she shook her head.

“I didn’t, I swear it!” she insisted.  “Some of the potion landed on me, that’s all!”

He blinked at her, eyes wide and curious, and his face seemed to sag a little.  Swallowing, he set the necklace down on the bench and took a step back from her.

“Put that on,” he said.

Belle obeyed, fastening the clasp around her neck and slipping the necklace down between her breasts.  His eyes flicked from hers and back to her wrist, and Belle held it up.

“Would you - would you heal this?” she asked.  “It’s actually very painful, and if you want me to work it would be easier if I wasn’t blistered.  If - if there’s a price to pay…”

“There’s always a price!” he snapped.  “Always.”

He was still glancing at her wrist, his fingers twitching in the air, and she wondered what had made him so angry.  It was almost as though he was afraid.  His mouth thinned, and he waved a hand, a plume of smoke enveloping her wrist.  The pain disappeared immediately, but heat flooded through her, heat that made her catch her breath, her cheeks flushing and a strange throbbing low down in her belly.  She licked her lips, her blush rising, and when the smoke cleared she looked down to see pale, unbroken skin.  She flexed her fingers, smiling in relief, and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes were sober when she glanced up at him.

“Thank you,” she said.  “What’s the price?”

He was silent for a moment, but then flicked a hand at her.

“Go away and stop getting under my feet!” he said shortly.  “I can’t work if I have to worry about you getting yourself killed because you couldn’t leave things alone when I asked!”

He turned his back, busying himself with some of the potion apparatus, and Belle rolled her eyes, not bothering to tell him she had just been sitting there minding her own business.  He already knew that.

“Rumple…” she began, and his shoulders stiffened.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is no!” he snapped, and Belle folded her arms.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, and he stilled, keeping his back to her.

“Yes,” he muttered, after a pause, and she smirked to herself.

“Then I’ll bring it up when it’s done,” she said.

He didn’t answer, and she sighed, heading for the stairs, one hand clutching the necklace that hung in her cleavage.  She wondered what it was that he had discovered about it, and why that knowledge might scare him.  She wondered if he would ever tell her.

[mysmesomefluff]

9. When baking chocolate chip cookies. Pretty please ;v;

“The Ways You Said ‘I Love You’” Meme

A/N: I feel like this is the only thing I can do for you at this juncture, to maybe cheer you up even a little? I’m really happy you chose to continue fighting, and you’ll be in my prayers! Stay strong dear.

“You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” -Winnie the Pooh

💕💕 Don’t give up! 💕💕

You never realised how impatient or perfectionistic Saeran could be until today.

“Are you done mixing? You’re so slow.”

“It’s off by 0.1grams. Seriously? I warned you about parallex errors just 10.2 seconds ago!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, the cookies are going to look horrible at the rate you’re dropping them on the pan.”

“…Okay this is a lot harder than it looks. The batter is sticky as— Fuck! It’s in my hair!”

It’s really no surprise why baking isn’t the most relaxing of pastimes for him.

Your core muscles are starting to hurt and you find yourself having a punishing time trying to breathe in between your laughter. You can’t stop though, not with Saeran glaring at the mixing bowl and the ugly semi-circular blobs of batter on the tray as if they just slapped him in the face and called him ‘stupid’. And especially not when he has a couple splotches of sticky brown substance staining his bright, angry red hair, no thanks to his carelessness and impatience.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Saeran has now turned his glare on you, having grabbed a couple sheets of tissue to rid his hair of the offending stains. He attempts to swipe them off, but given that he doesn’t have eyes on the back of his head, all he can do is aimlessly comb through his hair, inevitably slathering the batter on his hair like butter on toast in the process.

“Saeran, stop,” you say, still giggling at how irritated he looks, his nose scrunched, his eyes narrowed and lips turned down into a deep scowl. At himself, you or the batter, you’re not entirely sure. Perhaps it’s just everything and the disaster this baking session has turned out to be so far. “Let me help you.”

Almost begrudgingly, he hands the remaining clean sheets of tissue to you, before sliding into a seat so you can see better. His lips are pursed into a thin line, his arms are folded across his chest and his foot drums against the floor as he waits not-so-patiently for you to carry out your duty as promised. With some amusement, you can’t help but think he resembles a child throwing a tantrum after losing a game of tag.

It’s a little hard to get everything out of his hair since it’s all gooey and sticky. You even manage to grab two tiny chocolate chips out from in his hair, which you quietly hold it in your palm. Knowing Saeran, he’ll just pop them into his mouth without a moment’s hesitation. He’s rather averse to dirt and grime and the like, but when it comes to sweet snacks and candies, even the ‘Three-second rule’ can stretch to 3 hours. “I think you should take a shower to clean yourself up,” you suggest with a small grimace at the clumps of sticky and sweet-smelling red locks on his head. He groans at that, but shrugs it off. “Later. We should get these in the oven first.”

“All this just for chocolate chip cookies,” you mutter with a shake of your head, which he ignores. His sweet tooth will be the death of him someday, you conclude to yourself.

It’s takes approximately another fifteen minutes before you’re finally able to put the cookies to bake in the oven.

After which, Saeran discards his flour-speckled apron and announces his leave to take a shower. You opt to stay behind and clean up.

You chuckle a little to yourself when you see the mess that the both of you created over the span of an hour and a half. There’s a heap of flour at one corner of the table, because you accidentally knocked into Saeran while he was sieving flour. And there’s an empty bag of chocolate chips thrown in the middle. Saeran just wouldn’t stop snacking on those while baking no matter how many times you chided him for it, and because of that there was a shortage of chips for the cookie batter. Blotches of brown batter mar the white table top, and you set about putting the used bowls into the sink before wiping it clean.

You’re almost done washing when Saeran comes back, smelling clean and fresh from his shower.

“It smells good,” he remarks as he looks curiously through the oven window. You finish with the last of the bowls before going over to join him.

A mere sideways glance at him is enough to make your heart clench and your lips curl upwards.

His eyes are bright and wide, focused intently on the cookies that are cooking inside the warm oven. The yellow light of the oven is reflected in his eyes, though the golden pigment in his eyes is far more brilliant and beautiful. You watch as he deliberately takes his time to inhale the sweet scent of chocolate in the air, a growing smile playing on his lips as he breathes in. And then he exhales a little too quickly, eager to have the cookie fragrance permeate his senses again.

“Do you think it’s done yet?” he asks, eyes not leaving the oven window.

You glance up at the timer.

“There’s just one minute left,” you reply.

“It’s so slow,” he mutters beneath his breath, his impatience showing once more. It pulls a short breath of laughter from you, and he turns to face you, an eyebrow cocked upwards questioningly.

“You’re always laughing at me,” he says rather humourlessly. “Am I that funny?”

“Yes,” you say, much to his “annoyance”, as indicated by his eyeroll, though the barely suppressed smile on his lips suggests otherwise…

“Did you manage to get all the batter out?” you inquire, gesturing to his hair. It’s damp, and you spot a few crystal-like droplets of water balancing perilously on the tips of his red locks. His bangs hang over his forehead in messy, curly clumps. In response to your question, he runs the towel hanging around his neck through his hair once more. In doing so, he flicks a couple droplets of water your way, and it’s rather clear he’s doing it on purpose.

“Yeah, all clean,” he says, almost proud. “You should go shower too. You smell.”

“Of chocolate chip cookies,” you correct him swiftly.

He doesn’t make any protest to your statement. All he does is lean in, the tip of his nose brushing against your neck as he takes a sniff.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees quite unexpectedly, breath tickling your skin and making a shiver run down your spine.

He pulls away after lingering a moment longer, flashing you a smirk before turning his attention back to the cookies.

Saeran gets quite restless during the last 30-second countdown, and the moment he hears the glorious ‘ding’ of the oven, Saeran practically throws the oven door open, and is greeted with the rich smell of chocolate from the baked cookies.

You have to caution him to be careful because he’s too eager to get the tray out of the oven and onto the cooling rack, and you knock him twice on the head to keep him from taking the cookies from the rack before they even get to cool down.

At times like these, he’s more like his goofy brother more than he thinks. Not that you’ll tell him. He’d skewer you alive, girlfriend or not.

You scan through the rows of cookies on the tray, and you’re relieved to find that only a handful seem a little more burnt than the others. Not bad for you and Saeran’s first time.

“I’m not going to wait anymore,” he declares, after about three minutes of watching his precious cookie children on the rack. And then he carefully takes one, blowing on it lightly, before taking a tentative bite.

“How is it?” you ask, searching his face for some kind of indicative expression. You don’t have to search too hard.

Within seconds his lips curve into the shape of a crescent moon and he stuffs the entire cookie in his mouth, forgetting that it has yet to cool fully.

“It’s good,” he manages in between breaths with watery eyes from the scalding heat on his tongue, while you laugh at him for being so ridiculously impatient and silly.

You decide to take a quick shower while waiting for the cookies to cool down, but then you realise quite belatedly that you shouldn’t have done that. By the time you return to the kitchen, almost a third of the cookies are already gone.

“What?” Saeran demands rather indignantly, though he doesn’t look quite so dignified with his cheeks full and chewing on two cookies that he just swiftly stuffed into his mouth when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Saeran, we’re supposed to save some for MC and Saeyoung,” you say, glowering at him.

“Screw that. I made these,” he retorts childishly.

“Both of us made these,” you counter. “And you have already eaten more than enough. Stop eating!”

“You can’t make me,” he shoots back, snatching the half-filled container of cookies from your hands and making a mad dash out of the kitchen.

“Saeran! Get back here!”

Unfortunately, you’re one step too slow, and you’re barred entry from his room, where he has the container of cookies all to himself. The jerk.

You continue to argue with him for about two minutes more before you decide giving up is about the only choice you have. A sigh escapes your lips as you head back to the kitchen to put the surviving cookies into a container and hide them before Saeran the Cookie Monster finds them and eats them all.

You were expecting to see just a handful of cookies left on the rack. And unfortunately, your hunch was right.

However, what you didn’t expect to see, was the cookies arranged neatly to form three big letters:

I L Y

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of that, and for a moment you wonder if there was someone else who entered the kitchen and did this. Because the Saeran you know isn’t one to pull a stunt as cheesy as this.

But then again, you suppose it might be because he felt the need to do something to appease you for plotting to steal the cookies all for himself.

It’s silly, really. Something he would have brushed off as stupid and cringe-worthy if you did it for him, perhaps. And yet, you can’t help the blush that finds its way onto your cheeks. Saeran can be sneakily cute with surprises when he really wants to be.

Still.

He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can get away with stealing those cookies.

A/N: Saeran is Cookie Monster. 

(It’s 2.30am and I’m a little crazy in the head atm but I hope this is okay. Couldn’t stop writing lmao.) 

[loveinthebones]

can’t you see i’m falling apart, love (want to fall together?)

Word count: ~9, 878

Chapter Summary: Dan is learning more about Phil as time goes on.

Read it on AO3

Check out the art and the artist for this!

Also our lovely beta.

Part Three: Anger, second act (Dan) 

Dan found himself drawn to the golden van more often than not.

It had started out as a bit of playful revenge for Phil’s knowing arched brow when he passed through after the meetings that seemed to come all at once but it turned into something else when the little tradition of Dan getting a single flower from Phil had started...

“I’m going to save my free bouquet,” Dan told Phil, lounging in the space of the open door of Phil’s van with his chin pressed into his chest as he looked at his phone. Phil had on a faded apron that nearly matched his vehicle perfectly. It was dusted with soil and...an array of different stains. Dan was pretty sure that the majority of them were coffee but one blob resembled the stain on a shirt he had lost to a mishap at his first YouTube get together involving too much red wine.

(He had left shortly after to lay across a fountain with still warm stone as he tried to keep the crisps and pizza from earlier in the night from making a reappearance. It had been one of the moments he had felt most isolated.)

“Hm?” Phil grunted from where he sat on the floor, legs wrapped carefully around the pot he had cracked as he filled a replacement with fresh dirt to transfer the poor succulent. “What was that?”

“I’m going to save my free bouquet,” Dan repeated, tapping on his screen to like the post on his dashboard. “For when I might really need it.”

“That’s fine.” Phil clicked his tongue before murmuring, “I’m really sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean to drop you. I’m going to leave you in the nicest ray of sun I can. I’ll even move Thor.”

Dan blinked before he lowered his phone to his chest to take in the smooth, sturdy movements as Phil worked. He couldn’t help himself.

“You name your plants?”

“Yeah?” Phil craned his neck to squint at Dan, swiping his gloved hand across his cheek where a bead of sweat was making his skin tickle. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Some people do, I guess, but Susan? Really?”

“It’s a good name! A strong name!”

“There are better names.” Dan rolled his eyes and yelped when something crashed against his cheek. He glanced down to the motionless glove in his lap and then to Phil who had gone back to moving Susan to her new home without mentioning his hand nudity.

“You rat,” Dan growled without a hint of heat, picking up the offending article to flop it back and forth in the other’s direction. “I should keep this.”

“Please, don’t.” Phil told him, relaxed and not worried about the potential hostage situation at hand. “I do like these gloves, you know. How about we trade? A flower for a glove?”

Dan took a moment to seem like he was giving Phil’s solution great thought- bringing his temporary prisoner under his chin as he cupped his jaw, tossing it from hand to hand- until Phil lobbed a handful of dirt in his direction with slight force.

It fell short, of course, but that was enough for Dan to grin and lean back. “Alright.”

So Dan returned from his visits from Phil with a different flower clutched in his hand each time. He would give them to Ruthie who was both delighted and amused by the sudden influx of surprise flora. She had taken to putting them in small glasses of water, dotting them around the apartment, and soaking in his misery when he inevitably was mopping up water from their carpet with incoherent noises of displeasure.

@RuthineHayes tweeted: @danisnotonfire is having a hard time with the peony. (Cry laughing emoji)(Water droplets emoji)(Heart emoji)

September 1 3:17pm

@danisnotonfire replied: @RuthineHayes if SOMEBODY would stop leaving them where i move the tripod. that would be great. (Eyes emoji)(Heart emoji)

September 1 7:48pm

The little incidents gave Dan another reason to go visit Phil and tell him what havoc his flowers were wreaking on his existence (with Phil reminding him that he could refuse the flowers which usually ended with Dan scoffing and leaving with another) and somehow, the conversations drifted into ever evolving topics. They could be arguing about which was better: hot chocolate or coffee? and end on what type of Pokemon they would specialize in if they were gym leaders.

Dan was convinced that Phil would fill the role of a grass/poison trainer but Phil was adamant that he leant towards fire with his soft spot for Growlithe and Houndour. Phil surprised him by placing him as a psychic leaning trainer, and Dan couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

Sadly, it seemed like there was always a constant flow of people to Phil’s van so they didn’t get to talk as much as Dan would like. He should be astonished at the traffic for Phil’s little business but he wasn’t-not really. Phil made it a point to talk with every customer and help them leave just a smidge happier than before. It was hard to resist the embodiment of sunshine, Dan mused, and he couldn’t blame those that returned to get a bit of Phil’s personal brand of comfortable heat.

Dan was guilty as well. Who was he to judge?

-

It was one of those days in London where the wind nipped at places where your skin was exposed and brought a rosy glow to the surface. The leaves in the trees rustled, and Dan had his hands curled into the sleeves of his black jumper, shivering slightly as Phil sat in a chair with his leg crossed on his knee to prop up the thick book he was reading.

Phil had his left hand in the pouch of the green hoodie he was wearing while his right flipped the pages contentedly.

There hadn’t been anyone by in a while, and Dan was starting to twitch with restless energy and the urge to move about to shake off the slight chill. He let his gaze wander around the sparse set up of Phil’s greenery before letting himself tip back to peek behind the passenger seat where he had been sitting. There were towels thrown over some of the pots and Dan had to smile at the fuzzy maroon blanket wrapped around Loki’s small pot lovingly.

It seemed Phil had been worried about his “babies” and had decided to keep them protected in their home.

“Phil?” Dan called and pouted when Phil held up a single finger, mouthing silent words as he read. “Phiiiil.”

“Yes, Danny-” Phil began, eyes still roving across the printed text before he blinked. Dan caught a flash of pink as Phil licked his lips. “-Dan. Yes, Dan?”

“Did you just call me Danny?” He couldn’t keep the affectionate incredulousness from seeping into the words falling into the air between them even as he squeezed his brows closer together and stretched back over the center console because he knew it irritated Phil. “Don’t call me that, Philly.” He threw back saucily, reaching down for the small black drawstring bag he had taken to carrying.

Phil raised an eyebrow but still didn’t turn his head, determined to finish the page he was having to re-read as he wondered why Dan was such a distraction. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

“I’m bored!” Dan groused as his fingers closed around the sleek black camera, glancing at Phil. He pressed the button and drummed his thumbs on screen in an uneven rhythm.

How long has it been since I’ve done a vlog?

Dan’s eyes became slits as he shifted through his memory- rifling through abandoned script ideas, videos that he had chosen to keep private after he uploaded them, and the running list of titles-before he remembered. The last vlog had been when Peej was leaving for his shoot and they had spent the day together wandering around the city, rummaging through thrift shops and antique stores for props.

Has it really been that long? Jeeze.

He pressed the record button without thinking, rolling his shoulders, before pointing it at his face and stating, “Edit this out.” before moving the focus to Phil who was unaware of the camera before clearing his throat.

Phil canted his head toward him, folding the corner of the page deftly as he did, and Dan watched as he placed both feet on the ground. His face morphed into an almost instantaneous grin as he realized he was being recorded.

Has he been on camera before? That is...remarkable.

It was also slightly worrying and Dan lowered the camera so the lens rested on his knee lightly, darkening the footage to black.

“That was...really creepy,” Dan acknowledged with a wince. “Sorry- I was thinking of filming a vlog and-” He was probably digging himself a bigger hole, and his words sped up with the guilt of filming Phil without his prior consent and...the way his whole demeanor had shifted with ease. “Would you like to be in it? You can say no.”

Phil’s expression went lax with a less pronounced but relieved upward turn of his lips and the muscles around his eyes smoothed out as he let himself slant back against the chair. He didn’t seem irked by Dan’s misstep with his arms having moved behind his head, making his chest more prominent, and the fact that he was sticking out his tongue at him.

“You worry too much, Danny,” Phil surmised before continuing in a supportive intonation: “I know it was playful. I can hear! I have ears!” He reached to pull them out and wiggle them for emphasis.

Dan shielded his face with his free sweater paw and groaned, a single chuckle escaping from him.

“I don’t know you.”

“Well, then…” Phil lamented with a deep put-upon sigh, letting his hands fall to his lap. “I guess that me agreeing to be in your vlog doesn’t matter then?”

Dan was glad his face was covered as he felt his pulse quicken at Phil wanting to be in his vlog. There was a happy writhing feeling that seemed to leap from his chest to nestle itself at the base of his throat and he could feel his cheeks straining from how wide he was smiling.

He slid his hand down so it was only obscuring the lower half of his face. Phil was regarding him with half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

Dan’s heart skipped a beat (literally). His hand fell away so he could jerk the camera back into focus and once again, Phil slipped into that shining, peppy persona flawlessly.

Dan scooted to the edge of the seat before settling his feet on the ground and standing slowly, swivelling the camera’s lens to his face and giving his two finger salute.

He had to step into his own...slightly different headspace but for a moment, his lips turned down as his eyes flicked to Phil and he bit his lip in concern before taking a breath to repeat the gesture he had been starting his videos off with since he had set up his YouTube channel.

“Hello Internet!”  Dan greeted before stepping away from the van and rotating slowly so that his fans would be able to analyze the background if they wished- making sure to catch the hand painted ‘Succulents’ sign, the purple cluster of verbenas on the top shelf before slowly making his way towards Phil. “If you have been following me on Twitter...you would know that my life has been overrun by flowers!” Dan wrinkled his nose slightly before he gave a quiet laugh.

Phil pressed his mouth into a thin line and raised his eyes toward the sky for a moment before pressing his lips outward in a face that resembled a squirrel about to eat a nut.

“I thought I would--” Dan’s sentence halted immediately as he caught sight of Phil. He coughed into his elbow and questioned in a strained voice, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Phil claimed with a soft clap before he waved his hands in a blur, palms out and fingers splayed. “Hi guys! How’s it been?”

Dan couldn’t help but feel like he sunk a bit deeper into the ever growing affection he had for the unpredictable florist but he gave an imperceptible swing of his head, reaching out to swat at Phil’s shoulder lightly. “Hey! Don’t steal my spotlight, you spoon.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you were on your game, Danny!”

Oh. Is it going to be like that? You’re on, Philly.

“Right, you are,” Dan agreed easily, pressing the camera closer to Phil so he could capture the brief moment of the other’s surprise: raised eyebrows, slightly bugged eyes. There was a rush of gleeful triumph before he waved a hand dismissively. “I thought everyone would like to meet the culprit. This is Phil, my amazing personal florist, who has also ruined my life.”

Dan extended his arm so he could get them both in frame and Phil stepped to the side to block him from view.

“Plant world domination should be happening any day now but shhh!” Phil pressed a single finger to his lips, looking furtively over his shoulder at Dan.

Holy shit. That smile. Is going to kill me.

Phil was facing the imaginary third audience with a conspiratorial: “But don’t tell Dan!” and Dan was fighting at the acute pang echoing through his chest. It reminded him of Ruth standing before him without any shred of clothing and adoration clear in the way she held herself under his own besotted gaze but this was...sharper. It was nearly painful with its intensity and Dan fought to keep his eyes from stinging with the threat of tears.

“You need to be careful, Dan.”

“What?” Dan paused with the spatula raised to flip over the ham and cheese sandwich that was being grilled in the skillet.

“I…” Sophie tried uncertainly before she took a deep breath. “You talk about this Phil guy like you talk about Ruth.”

“He’s becoming a really good friend.” The words sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Dan…” That single syllable held a note of despondency and a large amount of concern. He could hear Sophie pulling out a chair. “Peej will let you do your thing. He’s a big believer in making your own mistakes and figuring out who you are through those. But..” Sophie paused before she hit him with a calm question to shatter the shaky contentedness his mind had settled into. “I have to ask...are you gay?”

The pungent aroma of the charring bread didn’t reach him as he dropped the spatula. His knees buckled and he caught himself on the counter.

Was he gay?

He had figured out that he had a crush on Phil but he had definitely felt the same...symptoms...for Ruthie. The jumps in heartbeat, craving being in her presence, and the fascination with lips…

Pale smooth lips with a tongue poking out. Pinker, heart shaped lips that always had the form of a smile.

“No...I’m not gay.” Dan choked out, and he heard Sophie let out a hefty sigh. His mouth was dry and as he hastily flicked the burner off, he came to a realization:

He wasn’t gay but that didn’t mean he was straight.

So why didn’t he say that out loud then?

“Ah!” Dan squawked as his cheek was smacked faintly, flinching away from the impact before leaning into the weight still present without thinking about it. Phil had sucked in his bottom lip between his front teeth and that’s when Dan realized he was using the man’s palm as a pillow of a sorts. His cheeks seared with a familiar heat. “I’m sorry--what?”

“Are you okay?”

Phil...Phil was absolutely mind-blankingly, disarmingly…

Standing so close, Dan felt Phil’s breath fanning across his cheeks and he also felt the sheer craving to shuffle closer clawing at his rib cage.

Dan recoiled, taking a step back and gave a false, jagged titter.

“Of course.” The lie tasted sour on his tongue but he let it slither past his lips before aiming the camera that he had dropped to his side on Phil. “Come on, Phil! The people want a promo!”

Don’t focus on me. Please.

Let me be danisnotonfire for now. Not Dan Howell who isn’t gay or straight and falling for a boy with a heart of a lion.

“Er…” Phil was quick to regain his composure, glancing at his hand for a millisecond before dropping it and his line of sight to the floor timidly. “I’m not really good at those but,” Phil showed some teeth but his tongue was safely hidden as he winked. “I am Phil Lester and this is my flower truck- An Array of Sunshine!”

“That...just…” Dan couldn’t even form a coherent sentence as he gave Phil an offended look. “No.”

“I didn’t come up with it!” Phil defended indignantly, holding Dan captive as he turned his head towards him. “Martyn did!”

“Martyn?”

“My brother. He actually runs the website that we take deliveries from…” Phil reached up to knead the back of his neck. “I should probably mention that…”

“Link will be in the descrizzle,” Dan chimed in and pointed downwards where the perimeter of the video would be before he addressed Phil in his calmer speaking voice. “Is it a traditional website?”

“I have one, yes. There’s also a Twitter.” Phil’s eyes skittered away from his, tightening his grip on the nape of his neck before releasing his hold. Dan saw his eyes darken before Phil was dazzling the camera once more. “You guys can check out the Twitter if you want but it’s pretty inactive…” Phil’s frame was quaking- lips jumping with the effort to not peel back and expose his teeth- before he finished his thought: “The handle is @pocketPHIL-” At this point, he swept his hand down his torso. “-ofsunshine.”

“You DID NOT…” Dan angled his chin up slightly so he could jut it out in disbelief.

“I didn’t.” Phil confirmed in a voice so muted and small that it reminded Dan of stardust drifting in the abyss of space. “My partner did.”

Phil laughed but, somehow, it sounded wrong in Dan’s ears. It sounded like giggling even though his lungs were begging for air as he sprawled on the carpet with the light off. It sounded like the slam of the door as he stood in his dorm for the first time with the silence ringing in his ears and homesickness already sitting heavy in his stomach.

Phil has a partner? I thought the business was just his?

It sounded like a human puzzle barely holding the pieces of themselves together.

Dan’s lips separated.

“Hi?” A hushed, apprehensive voice cut in hesitantly, and Dan watched the girl sway from side to side from where she was standing at the table set up next to the van, on the right most side from where they were standing. “I don’t mean to interrupt…” She reached up to swipe a lock of light brown hair behind her ear.

“You’re fine,” Phil rushed to alleviate the girl’s nervousness. “How may I help you?” He moved fluidly around Dan, brushing his fingertips across his upper arm as he passed, so he could help the newcomer.

“You aren’t interrupting anything,” Dan added, ignoring the goosebumps prickling under his jumper at the simple touch. He lifted his camera and jostled it up and down. “I’m just making a video.”

“I know.” The girl spoke, and Dan watched as her cheeks started to flush as she took a sharp breath. “I watch your videos.”

“Oh,” Dan exclaimed in a pleasantly surprised gasp before briefly catching a glimpse of the girl’s face in the shot. “I’m meeting one of you guys! Hold on.” Dan’s thumb flicked the button to stop recording before he made his way over to Phil and the girl, laying his equipment carelessly on the low shelf he passed.

The girl was wringing her hands, eyes darting from Dan to the ground, as the freckles dotted across her cheeks stood out from her tomato red face.

“It’s okay.” Phil giggled lowly, drawing closer to the girl.“What’s your name?”

“Sofie.”

“Sofie,” Phil was properly bubbling over with merriment now as he placed a hand on Sofie’s shoulder with a nearly weightless pressure. “Do you like Pokémon?”

Sofie’s head was level with Phil’s jaw, and he curled his shoulders to bring himself a bit lower and Dan rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. Sofie was looking at Phil with round blue eyes, swallowing, before she answered:

“Er...yes?”

“Great!” Phil cheered, removing his hand from her shoulder to point at Dan. “What type of Pokémon trainer do you think Dan would be?”

This is going to become a thing, isn’t it?

Dan loosely folded his arms across his chest to let out a puff of air, swivelling his head, as he dipped his chin slightly with an indulgent half-smile.

I see what you’re doing. You can’t just woo the people coming to see us.

Sofie hummed thoughtfully, popping out a hip as she drummed her fingers on her chin. “I mean... it depends?” She paused and Dan shot her what he hoped was a smile that would nudge her to say what was on her mind. It seemed to work, and Sofie continued, “Well… I would think dark because of your...uh…” Sofie waved at him inarticulately, even more color flooding her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Dan encouraged, amused. “You can say it’s because I dress like death. I’m sure Ruthie would agree with you.”

Sofie sniggered, finally seeming to relax as she nodded, “I wouldn’t say it like that...how is Ruth?”

Phil flattened his lips before his tongue darted out to swipe across his top lip as Dan rocked back on his heels, a gentle “Mmm…” tumbling from his throat as the corners of his lips lifted.

“She’s good,” Dan answered, grinning at Sofie teasingly. “She has some news for you guys, but I can’t tell.”

Sofie’s cheeks were straining from how wide she was smiling, and she bounced on her toes before blurting out: “What is it?”

“All I can say is check Twitter.” Dan lowered one eyelid in a cheeky wink. His easy-going image slipped as Phil withdrew from Sofie’s side to adjust a pot of yellow clusters of star-shaped flowers.

“I will!” Sofie bubbled before she curled her fist loosely to hit her palm. “Fire.”

“What?” That outburst had caught Phil’s attention, and he let his arms fall from where he had been reaching to grab a wide, stout cactus to echo Dan’s single word of surprise in unison with the other.

“I was thinking that Dan might be a fire type trainer. Perhaps, with a specialized dark moveset?” Sofie fingers uncurled before circling her chin as her other arm came across her stomach. “You seem protective so you could have a team with a high defense and a beast like Chandelure.”

“I can see that,” Phil prattled as he retraced the small distance he had travelled away from Sofie and Dan. “He could have an Arcanine. It’s a bulky supporter. Though,” Phil frowned slightly. “I had pictured him as a psychic trainer.”

“That’s not something I had considered,” Sofie acknowledged Phil’s typing with a contemplative squint, nibbling on her lip. “It’s possible.”

A series of chirps interrupted their conversation, and Sofie coughed as her cheeks grew hotter once more. She reached into her pocket and glanced at the mobile briefly before sighing and muttering,

“What horrible timing.” before raising her voice to an audible level with a disappointed sigh: “I got to go…”

“That’s okay,” Phil comforted before offering kindly, “You can stop by anytime, Sofie.” Phil pointed to Dan, eyes seeming to glow as he stage whispered: “I’m sure Dan needs a hug.”

Dan rolled his eyes at Phil good-naturedly before nodding at Sofie who froze at the suggestion, letting her slowly tread into his open arms with a springy step. He chuckled as he hugged her a bit tighter. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for stopping by.”

Phil reached for Dan’s abandoned camera, and if you asked Dan later, he would almost swear that there was a tentative gossamer of tenderness swimming in those eyes as the equipment was carried with diligent care to the passenger seat.

(Or maybe he was projecting. Just a tiny bit.)

-

@danisnotonfire tweeted: i know i know i promised a video on friday. i’m working on it! here’s something: check out @pocketPHILofsunshine for your flowery needs.

October 7 3:27pm

@crabstickz retweeted: @danisnotonfire @pocketPHILofsunshine Eyyy. Getting that promo huh? Does this mean you will be online more? Can we collab?!

October 7 9:13pm

@LouisePentland retweeted: @pocketPHILofsunshine @danisnotonfire Definitely jumping on this train. Perhaps you recognize this face everyone?

October 8 8:04am

@RuthineHayes retweeted: Thank you @pocketPHILofsunshine… our carpet has never been more wet since the flowers have arrived.

October 8 11:11am

-

“I hate you.” is the greeting Dan gets the next day when he strolls up to where Phil is laying on his back, panting. His arms are streaked with dirt, and his chest is rising and falling with exertion as he smears away the sweat that has made its way past his headband.

“Because I’m late?” Dan dropped next to Phil to sit beside him, stretching his legs out.

“That and…” Phil wheezed, tapping his pocket where Dan could make out the edges of his phone. “Do you know what kind of uproar your tweet caused? I’ve gotten phone calls from at least seven people about it.”

“I thought promos were a good thing?” Dan murmured, kicking his heels slowly, watching the dirt shift under the sole of his shoe and travel up the sides. “I can delete it if you want?”

He doesn’t confess: I wanted to show people what they are missing. You should be noticed.

“Nah.” Phil’s fingers prodded his thigh lightly since he hadn’t moved from his position. “It’s fine. The last tweet on that account was a while back though.”

“Was it?” Dan hadn’t gotten a chance to browse the account but he made a mental note to do so when he returned home.

“Yeah,” Phil mumbled, eyelashes dark against his pale skin as he closed his eyes.

They sat in a comfortable silence as Phil’s breath evolved from harsh, whistling gasps to an even, steady flow. Dan pulled his left knee up to wrap his arms around it, taking in how the leaves of the plants adjusted to the changes in the wind and the crunching of fallen leaves as a jogger passed them by.

“I feel like an idiot.” Dan began with a hint of wry humor, and Phil’s eyelids raised unhurriedly.

“Why?”

“I didn’t realize that when you talked about Louise and Chris that you meant Sprinkle of Glitter and Crabstickz.”

“Oh. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all but…”

There was another moment of silence but this one wobbled heavily on their shoulders. Dan brought his other knee up to support his chin. He could still feel the slight pressure of Phil’s fingertips through his jeans, heating up his skin.

Why do you look so tired, Phil?

Are you tired?

Dan couldn’t speak through the nervous lump in his throat.

“Phil...why haven’t you tweeted in awhile?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

Dan can’t explain the emptiness echoing in the chambers of his heart as Phil’s fingers leave their spot on his thigh...all he knows is that it hurts.

-

He checks @pocketPHILofsunshine later that night.

@pocketPHILofsunshine tweeted: The flower truck is up and moving again but back in London indefinitely!

2 years ago

@flowersfyeah replied: Aw! Sorry to see you go. Will you ever come back to Luxembourg?

2 years ago

@pocketPHILofsunshine replied: I will make trips up there periodically but not sure if I’ll be taking orders when I am up there.

2 years ago

@flowersfyeah: I understand. Give yourself time and space. Take care of yourself.

2 years ago

Dan brings a hand to clutch at the front of his dark shirt as he lets out a strangled whimper.

What happened to Phil two years ago?

-

They don’t talk about it.

Dan doesn’t ask even as the words throw themselves against his teeth because he knows that Phil doesn’t want to and he’s scared, if he’s being honest.

Phil doesn’t bat an eye.

He still smiles at Dan when he trudges up the path at seven in the morning but there’s a light shadow of purple under his muddy watercolour eyes. It takes Dan going straight to the mixed Zinnias and toppling over their huge pot, spilling a good amount of soil, for Phil to let out the softest of laughs as he hands Dan his gloves.

“We need to put this soil back and make them more comfortable.”

-

His hand had just gotten to the uncomfortable side of warm as he handed Phil the Starbucks cup. Phil immediately encircled it with both hands and a deep contented noise. Dan raised his own cup to his lips before gagging on the coffee as Phil wedged his nose between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Dan? Are you okay?” Phil set his untouched pumpkin spiced latte on the table before slapping Dan on the back in short bursts. “Does your coffee not taste good?”

“What the actual fuck, Phil?” Dan choked, the honeyed scent of caramel clinging to his nose. His eyes were watering but he had managed to not drop his caramel macchiato.  

Thank you for small miracles.

“What?” Phil inquired, clueless to his part in Dan’s near death experience.

“Why would you…” Dan spulttered. He mimicked Phil’s earlier actions, pressing his own nose between his fingers.

“My nose was cold!” Phil defended immediately, his hand leaving Dan’s back to push against his side playfully. “And,” He scooped his cup up to take a deep breath from the small slit for sipping. “It smells like fall.”

“It’s November,” Dan scoffed, nudging Phil’s ankle half-heartedly with the front of his shoe. “I think it’s safe to say that it’s fall.” He swirled his drink absentmindedly.

“What did you get?” Phil pushed his head against Dan’s arm to sniff at his coffee like a curious puppy before his tongue made its appearance with his gleeful, “Nevermind! I know!” He swiped the paper fiber and polyethylene receptacle from Dan’s grip to replace it with his own. “C’mon, Dan. It’s the festive season- try something new!”

Dan regarded the latte with an exaggerated lift to his upper lip and wrinkles screwing up his nose as he sniffed at it with mock unease.

The apples of Phil’s cheeks hoisted higher even as he attempted to shoot Dan an unimpressed look.

He failed but Dan squeaked as Phil’s lips touched his caramel macchiato, tipping his head back to take a mouthful.

“Hey!”

Phil smacked his lips together before remarking, “You can’t go wrong with a Caramel Macchiato.”

Dan observed the way Phil’s eyebrows arched in a silent challenge, and he didn’t break eye contact as he took a swig of the Pumpkin Spice latte. It skated across his tastebuds pleasantly and Dan let out a moan of appreciation.

A tinge that resembled the carnations Phil had been talking to before their coffee break dusted the tips of his ears and across the arch of his cheeks.

“Da--”

“Lester? Is that you?”

Phil straightened immediately, a tiny, strained smile marring his lips, as he turned to face the owner of the raucous, husky voice. He tightened his grip on Dan’s drink before his feet started to move to the man with flaxen hair and sharp grey eyes.

“Alex?” Phil breathed, and Dan’s nails dug into his palm at the unguarded, bewildered confusion in those eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I agreed to help with one of the animal hospitals in London. Apparently, their nurse bailed because of some personal issues,” Alex informed Phil, and Dan felt his blood start to rush through his veins faster as Phil was clapped on the shoulder none too gently. Dan fought to keep his expression in a semblance of friendliness as those eyes scanned him up and down. “I saw that the Twitter was more active. I didn’t think you would take that up- you being more interested in videos and all.”

“I am friends with YouTubers.” Phil’s voice was unbending with unrepentance even as he regarded Alex with mild exasperation. “I have been in several of their videos. You know that.”

“I do.” There was something to the saccharine tone that had Dan’s jaw clenching, and he made his way closer, stopping at the table where the metal box that served as Phil’s cash holder rested. Alex crossed an arm across his chest to rub at his left shoulder. “I never understood why Aiden encouraged you to be in those.”

Phil’s head jerked back as if he had been slapped, teeth clicking harshly as they came together.

Dan let Phil’s drink tumble from his hand, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. He ignored the liquid travelling across the wood as he took a step forward.

I won’t let you hurt him. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.

“Aiden always said, ‘You’re an entertainer.’-” Phil lowered his face, neck exposed to Alex’s gaze, and Dan could see the way the words were wrenched from a place that was hidden from his own eyes (and oh, how that made the stone walls of his heart crumble and disintegrate to dust). “He wanted me to take opportunities that I wouldn’t otherwise. Remember how he gave me a lap dance for my twenty-first? Even though he was already feeling the effects?”

“He fell on you and laughed it off…” Alex squeezed his shoulder tighter and he let out a ghost of a laugh- brittle and acidic. “You were buzzing but you were still fussing over him and oh, you guys were gross-”

The water streaming down Alex’s face took Dan by surprise and stilled the slow advancement that he had been making, but what threw him off-kilter was Phil’s consoling smile and outstretched arms.

He hurt you. Don’t let him close to you.

I will protect you.

Alex rushed to take solace in Phil’s tight hug and there was smoke climbing up his esophagus and he was being smothered and-

Dan came to himself as he knocked Alex away and wedged himself between the two men with a dangerously sonorous and scathing, “You don’t get to come here and hurt Phil and then have the audacity to hug him. Fuck off.”

Alex smeared the wetness on his cheeks with his palms as Dan’s eyes shot daggers at him. Cautious and curious calculating grey eyes darted to Phil who was wrapping his fingers around the fuming brunette’s bicep firmly.

“Daniel!” Phil snapped, tightening his grip as Dan spread his feet under Alex’s scrutiny. “Alexander is a friend of--”

“A friend, Phil? Really?” He spat, feeling his nails skim his palm as he flexed his fingers restlessly. “He comes here and--” Dan pushed forward as Alex slapped his palms against his trousers and pressed a tiny bit closer to Phil.

“Dan, I’m fine--”

“I have to say I’m impressed by your new boyfriend.” Alex’s eyes were somehow softer as he tilted his head where Phil was visible behind Dan’s shoulder. “Getting in a fight for you when he’s a public figure.”

Dan didn’t register the taunt for the light banter that it was, but his arm was suddenly not burdened by extra weight. He reared back at the assumption, a comfortable toastiness mingling with the whirlwind of rage scorching his blood.

I should tell him that we’re not together.

Ruth and I are…

Dan narrowed his eyes at Alex but his mouth remained stubbornly shut as his own mind rasped:

But you like that he assumed, don’t you?

“He’s not my boyfriend, Alex!” Phil exploded, manhandling Dan out of the way so he could properly glare at his friend. His shoulders squared as he smacked Alex roughly on his chest with an open palm. “You asshole!” The outrage in Phil’s voice was overshadowed by the way his voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead against the back of his hand, breathing heavily.

“He’s not?” Alex’s palms hovered over Phil’s shaking shoulders before they landed and crushed Phil to him. “Shit. I…”

“...were meddling like you always do,” Phil sniffled, and Dan ached to reach out to pull him away into his own arms but he could do nothing as Alex let out a long, audible whoosh, making the hair pushed behind Phil’s ear ruffle. “I get it.”

“You don’t.”

Dan couldn’t stand by anymore and he marched over to Phil. The knitting of his jumper compressed as Dan’s palm came to rest just under his shoulder blades. He tapped his fingers in an idle pattern, starting to drag the flat of his hand across Phil’s spine, as Alex mumbled,

“You and Aiden were supposed to be the first ones married, you know? He’s supposed to be here with you, and Phil, it’s been three years but you still look like the week after-” Phil’s single, broken wail had Dan jumping and Alex tightening his hold. Dan pleaded with Alex silently to stop, please, please but the blonde gave a small shake of his head before continuing determinedly, “He would kill me if I didn’t check on you while I was in town but then- I saw you...you were laughing and sharing--”

“Stop.” Phil sobbed, struggling against Alex’s embrace and jostling Dan’s hand as he did so. “Please. I can’t--”

“Phil,” Alex shushed him softly, and he tugged Phil forward as he drug his feet back until Dan was no longer touching him. “I think we need to talk...seriously.” He pivoted and Dan was met with the back of Alex’s dark blue scrubs, gritting his teeth to keep the venomous insults from leaping from his tongue at the isolating gesture. “In private.”

“Alex, I really don’t want to close up shop,” Phil argued, clearing his throat to dislodge the mucus clogging his voice. “It can wait.”

“Like therapy?” Alex retorted and Phil retreated from his loosened grasp, using the sleeve of his jumper to wipe away the wetness under his nose. Phil’s cheeks were blotchy and his lashes glittered in the sunlight as he raked his fingers through his fringe.

“Alex, you are my friend,” Phil began, shrugging his shoulder to get rid of the trails of salt water on his cheeks, before he crossed his tense arms over his chest. “-but we are not discussing this now. I have to work.”

Alex mimicked Phil’s defensive posture as he sneered, “You’re as stubborn as always. It’s going to be your downfall.”

“Maybe so,” Phil conceded before his lips turned up in one corner in a mockery of his playful cheekiness. “It is good to see you. Really.”

Alex’s head bobbed once before he stomped away from their little standoff, thumping Phil once in the shoulder with a mild hand. Phil watched him go and Dan couldn’t keep his eyes off of Phil who waited until it was quiet enough to hear the birds chirping from a tree a bit further in the park and the distant laughter of the children on the playground before he sucked in air slowly through his nose.

Dan watched the way his chest rose with the action, how his eyes dimmed and flickered like a lightbulb about to go out, while Phil pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a long exhale. He seemed to deflate along with his lungs- shoulders jumping up to his ears, spine curving outwards so he didn’t take up as much space before he opened his mouth.

“Sorry about him,” Phil apologized sheepishly, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to make his fringe flop into its normal position. “Alex can be...intense.”

“It’s okay,” Dan reassured absentmindedly, tugging the cuffs of his jumper over his hands while he chewed his bottom lip. “I probably didn’t make the best first impression myself.”

“He means well,” Phil explained, twiddling his feet with jittery movements. “I’m sure he knows you did, too.”

Phil’s stuttering breaths mixed with the rustling of the wind and Dan shoved his covered hands deep in his jean pockets.

“Phil?”

“Dan?” Phil wasn’t looking at him, focusing on the way his feet drug through the dirt, how a tiny cloud of particles would pop up before raining on his shoes.

“Who’s Aiden?”

It took Phil a long moment to answer, burrowing his own hands in his trousers in that strange but endearing way Dan had noticed. His tongue swept across his lower lip before his warm breath ghosted over it in a sharp exhale.

“He was my boyfriend.”

“What happened to him?”

Dan’s heart thumped violently against the bones that encased it while the sound of his blood rushed through his ears. Phil didn’t say anything for many thundering, earth shattering heartbeats.

Phil lost the fight to keep himself together, bringing his palms to press against his cheeks as the curtain of salt water overlaying his irises overflowed once more. This wasn’t the body wracking sobs that Alex had caused with his visit but a soundless cry with droplets pooling in the crevices of his fingers.

“He died.” Phil couldn’t even muster the strength to fully engage his vocal cords but Dan heard.

Dan went to his florist, hands hovering over him uncertainly.

What can I possibly say to that?

What could anyone possibly say?

“Can I hug you?” Dan whispered and Phil nodded, head still buried in his hands.

It’s something at least.

Dan enveloped Phil. He circled his arms around Phil’s waist, pulling him as close to him as he possibly could. Phil let his hands drop to wind around Dan’s neck as if he was the only thing grounding him in this moment where he couldn’t force that glittering broken glass smile.

Dan could only hold on tighter as Phil hid his face in the juncture of his neck and cried those horrible silent tears, murmuring, “I’m here.” over and over again.

-

@pocketPHILofsunshine: Making an impromptu trip to Luxembourg. I will be taking a limited amount of deliveries. Should be back in London the first week of December

November 9 4:48am

@pocketPHILofsunshine: Check the website for more details and specific areas!  :)  (Link)

November 9 4:49am

-

From: Phil

Lou has been asking me for your number. Would you mind if I gave it to her?

November 11 2:21pm

From: Dan

what for?

November 11 2:25pm

From: Phil

She said something about a collab? I don’t know. She seems determined.

November 11 2:39pm

From: Dan

ooo i’m scared. go ahead.

November 11 2:43pm

From: Phil

I’ll tell her to be nice! Thanks Danny!

November 11 2:50pm

-

From: Louise

Daniel Howell.

November 12 8am

From: Dan

Hello to u too. some of us like to sleep until a decent hour.

November 12 1:17pm

From: Louise

Seriously? It’s the afternoon!

November 12 1:37pm

From: Dan

not for everyone. phil said u wanted to collab?

November 12 1:40pm

From: Louise

Actually, I would like to speak to you in person.

November 12 1:43pm

From: Dan

about what exactly?

November 12 2pm

From: Louise

Phil. It’s important.

November 12 2:01pm

From: Dan

when are u free?

November 12 2:02pm

-

“Dan, you’ll be fine.” Ruth assured him as they stood outside the glass doors of the London YouTube space. She had her pinkie hooked through his own loosely and Dan released it to take a shuddering breath, combing a few hairs of his fringe into place. “It’s not like she’s some shady serial killer, babe, seriously.”

“I know,” Dan groaned, turning to Ruthie. Her shoulder length hair had been swept into a brown clip primly, and her lips were painted a ruby red. Dan took a moment to take a breath before bumping the back of her hand with his. “It’s just nerve wracking. I stayed up to watch her videos to get a sense of how she is, but you can only see so much through a camera lens and a couple of minutes…”

“You said she wanted to collab with you- I don’t think there is anything to worry about.” Ruth wrapped a hand around the upper portion of his arm to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Besides, I’m sure Phil is fine. She probably wants to see if you three can do a video together!”

“He died.”

Moisture coated his skin as Phil shivered in his embrace, and the pain of having an extensive vocabulary but with no words at his disposal to make the pain go away…

All Dan could do was sway as he held him and hope that it was helping. Even if it was an insignificant amount.

“I’m fine.” Phil lifted his head after a while with swollen eyes and snot slicked lips, and Dan had to sit there and watch as those eyes closed before, after a trembling breath, Phil gave him a tiny tremulous smile. “Sorry about your jumper.”

“...yeah,” Dan agreed, trying to hide his doubtfulness at Ruth’s reassurance. “I’m sure that’s it.”

Ruth’s fingers gave a gentle squeeze before she stepped back, straightening the cuffs of the grey pinstripe suit jacket she was wearing. She raised up finger guns and clicked her tongue as her heels clacked on the pavement noisily as she backed away from him.

“You’ll be fine!”

Dan smiled but his dimple was shallow and Ruth wiggled her fluttering fingers in a wave before she wheeled around to continue to the filming location she needed to be at.

Dan took a deep breath and rested his hand on the handle.

I can do this.

He opened the door and entered the lobby, relaxing slightly at the familiar atmosphere, as he made his way to the office spaces. Since it would only be him and Louise, it wouldn’t make sense to use one of the large conference rooms. The offices were smaller- they would give the two of them privacy.

That didn’t ease his nerves one bit because that meant that there was less room for escape and his fight or flight response was already activated. His heart was thrumming chaotically and his palms were shaking slightly, but he could do this. He had stood on a stage at VidCon with an innumerable amount of eyes on him, clutching a faulty microphone, as he answered questions, and he had survived.

Besides…

It’s about Phil.

Louise was sitting on a plush blue couch, legs crossed delicately at her ankles. The top portion of her hair was pinned to the back of her head with large ringlets resting on her shoulders. She had a large pink porcelain mug nestled in her lap as she laughed at something Chris was saying.

What’s he doing here?!

“Dan!” Louise greeted, standing at his approach, smoothing down her dark dress after she set the mug down on the glass top of the modern-style coffee table. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s no problem,” Dan slipped into his professional voice, following Louise’s lead. “It’s nice to finally meet you, officially.”

“Likewise,” Louise affirmed before dipping her head at where Chris was seated beside her. “It’s time for you to go, Chris, darling.” Her eyes didn’t have any crinkles to suggest that she was upset but the slight tautness in the inflection of her words left no room for argument.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” Chris laughed as he pushed himself off the couch with his arm. “Go easy on him, Lou.”

“You’re one to talk,” Louise snorted, slapping Chris with moderate force against his shoulder. “You were being a prat at the meeting,” She chastised, and Chris made a show of rubbing the ‘injured’ area, pouting childishly. “Come on now, off you go.”

Dan couldn’t help but smile at the display of Chris and Louise’s playfully antagonistic friendship. It grew as Chris made a spluttering noise by pressing his tongue and lips together at her.

Chris’ face dropped into a solemn expression a second later, and Dan’s delighted smile dissolved immediately at the change. Chris rested his fingertips on Louise’s forearm delicately.

“Just enough, Lou.” The words held an unspoken warning as well as a note of finality. “Phil would not be happy if you…”

If she what? Dan’s mind wondered.

“Of course,” Louise acknowledged, patting Chris’ fingers before he pulled away and waved enthusiastically at Dan before rushing away from them with quick, hasty footsteps.

It was just the two of them now, and Dan slid his hands into the recesses of his pockets to conceal their now noticeable trembling. Louise didn’t seem much better as she flipped the ends of her hair with her thumb before sighing, motioning to the blue armchair beside the couch.

“I’m not going to bite you, Dan. I just want to talk.”

“You know,” Dan stammered as his legs carried him stiffly to the chair. His hands remerged to grip the edge of both armrests as he fell into it. “I told Phil I was scared of you. I was joking at first but now, I’m properly terrified.” He managed a strained chuckle.

“I know...he made me promise that I wouldn’t give you the third degree,” Louise commented, lips pulling up in the corners a small fraction. “He’s very fond of you, you know.” The miniscule smile that had appeared fell away and she clasped her hands in her lap. “Which is why we need to have this talk.”

Dan rocked onto his left hip then his right, recalling how he used to do the exact same thing when he was a child and his mother was scolding him. He nibbled his lip- catching a dry piece with his tooth, pulling until it stung and a coppery scent invaded his nose.

What would Phil not be happy about you telling me?

The question sat heavy on the flat of his tongue like a fat cat lazing in the sun and he could feel the curve of the letters skimming his teeth like gentle scrapes of sheathed claws. He swallowed before reclining against the back of his chair.

“If Phil hasn’t complained about me, what is the problem?” Dan challenged weakly, bringing his fingers to his mouth to camouflage the tiny bead of blood that he knew was there.

“You made a vlog, recently,” Louise interjected, unclasping her hands to drum her fingers against her knee. “A Day in the Life?”

“Yes?” Dan confirmed with a questioning lilt, unsure why his sporadic vlogging was relevant to the conversation.

“With Phil.” Louise prompted, leaning forward slightly.

Oh.

Dan resisted the urge to press deeper into the cushion supporting his spine.

“Yes?” He repeated, uncertainly.

“When you edited the footage,” Louise continued casually, plucking her drink from the table to take a sip. “Did anything stand out to you?” Dan blinked slowly at her, not trusting himself to speak, and Louise continued as she dropped the mug from her lips. “Because some of those jump cuts are not as neat as they can be.”

“It happens,” Dan countered petulantly, frowning at the unintentional subtle jab to his editing skills.

“There has to be a reason,” Louise retorted with a single arched brow. “Your recent videos are clean cut. You’ve definitely improved since you started so why the sudden choppiness?”

Dan rolled his lips together, hissing inaudibly at the rawness of the throbbing split from his earlier biting, as he resisted the urge to confirm Louise’s suspicions right away.

It was true. He had chopped the footage a bit messily because there were split second frames of Phil’s slightly drooped shoulders and the turmoil that Dan could only imagine the depth of evident in the worn down sheen covering his gaze. When he had been sitting at his computer with his headphones covering his ears… he had known that he couldn’t leave those snippets in, those moments that exposed the cracks in Phil’s armor, to be witnessed and commented on by semi-anonymous users on a video sharing site because it was Dan’s career choice.

Phil hadn’t agreed to be studied by his (sometimes) overly observant fans, and he certainly didn’t agree to the negative commentary that inevitably popped up on every video.

So, he had cut out Phil’s soft, “My partner did.” but that skip was glaringly obvious in the final product.

Maybe it drew more attention to the other snips I did.

It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to know your reasoning.

Dan wiggled so he was sitting closer to the edge of the seat, unwilling to admit anything to Louise.

I know I did the right thing.

Even if she was Phil’s friend (and hadn’t been unreasonable so far), he didn’t have any reason to trust her with his thoughts.

Louise surprised him. She didn’t try to cajole him into responding or snark at his stubborn tenacity to not answer her question. Instead, she gave him a lenient, patient smile before she took a deep breath, her nails making a low tink-tink-tink against the porcelain still resting in her hands.

“Phil mentioned that you know about Aiden, so...” Dan’s jolted upright swiftly and ignored the way his vertebrae popped in several places, interested in the name he had heard a handful of times. His eyes followed Louise’s gaze as it dropped to her lap. A faint unhappy note buzzed through the air before she sighed, “Let me tell you a story.”

Dan lips quirked upwards as the tentative light-hearted tease jumped from the tip of his tongue, “Story time?”

“Hush, you.” Louise giggled once before she let herself sink into the cushions, the tapping of her nails ceasing. “I met Phil purely by chance. He and Aiden were in London to look at the Uni here around the time we moved down. They had decided to bring the van to try and sell a couple of bouquets.”

“Phil’s been doing the flower thing for that long?” Dan chortled, bringing a hand to his temple. “I can’t say I’m not surprised.”

“It wasn’t a proper business then. It was a side project,” Louise supplied with a tone that belied her soft spot for An Array of Sunshine and its owners. “Or so, Phil insisted.”

“Right.” Dan’s skepticism of Phil’s past self permeated the way his lips moved with the syllables of the single word. “A side project. Go on.”

“So, I met them both. Aiden was not what you would expect-” Louise brought a hand to cover her mouth as she pulsated with remembered merriment. “He was always dipping his toes in new experiences. It would drive Phil up the wall but,” She angled her head as she pinned Dan with light eyes devoid of any deceit and glimmering with quiet sympathy. “Aiden was so sweet with Phil. He adored him. And Phil…”

I don’t know if I want to hear this.

Dan let backbone curve as his body slid lower in his seat.

“Phil loved that boy, Dan,” Louise told him compassionately, setting her mug on the table, before she rested her hand lightly on his forearm. “When Aiden was diagnosed, he went straight to his advisor to change his face to face lectures to online courses.”

“What…” Dan began, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “...was Aiden’s condition?”

Louise hesitated a moment, fingers compressing his skin before relaxing. Her front teeth sunk into her lower lip as she seemed to come to a decision. “Have you heard of Lou Gehrig’s disease?”

“Um-” Dan hedged, moving his arm to dislodge Louise’s grasp, before he admitted. “No.”

“That’s alright. It’s a motor neuron disease that causes the muscles to weaken and atrophy,” Louise explained easily, running a finger around the shell of her ear to make sure her hair was held away from her face. “Eventually, people can lose use of their arms and legs.” Louise’s voice dropped as she continued, “That’s part of the reason Aiden went to the doctor. He was struggling with using the tools at work.”

Dan’s head swam with this information as he tried to imagine operating without being able to manipulate things with his hands or not being able to stroll about his flat like he did at times. It was a difficult concept to grasp, and he wondered how he would have taken it if he had been the one to receive the news.

Or, been the one who had to see his significant other being told the news.

Aiden had to tell Phil. How could he possibly have done that?

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan managed through his constricted airways. “Chris said, ‘Just enough.’ before he left...is this…” He jerked his hand outwards to Louise before bringing it stiffly to himself. “Is this what he meant? Is this enough or too much?” A realization streaked across his mind in a blaze after he said Chris’ name. “Is Phil not going to be happy you told me?”

“No, no,” Louise pacified him calmly as she stood to pace in the space at the other end of the coffee table. “Aiden’s diagnosis isn’t a secret, Dan. Chris was referring to something else entirely.”

Like what? Dan wanted to demand but there was a painful knot twisting in his throat and a heavy weight on his chest as Louise took a couple of steps forward to turn and repeat in the opposite direction.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan repeated because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, rubbing at the base of his throat over the divot where his collarbones met his sternum.

“Because you vlogged with Phil,” Louise blurted out, stopping her nervous movement to hold out her upward facing palms. “Phil is still struggling with Aiden’s death, Dan. It’s been three years but they grew up together and it can take years -” Louise stressed, hands waving wildly as her words gained speed. “It is taking years for him to grieve, and he’s still pretending he’s okay and you go and shove a camera-”

“I didn’t know.” The burning, pricking sensation in the corner both of his eyes had him grinding a balled fist into his right one, inhaling through his nose gruffly. He leaned on it. “I didn’t know.”

Louise’s anger melted instantly with his whispered words and she sighed, dragging her feet on the carpet until she was standing in front of him.

“I know,” She mumbled before leaning down to clutch his shoulders. “I just don’t think Phil should be exposed to the craziness that is your comment section. Have you read some of them?”

“I haven’t been on much,” Dan confessed with a sniffle. “Ruthie and I have been spending time together since she’s been filming and I’ve been working on some new skits…”

And missing Phil. He adds to himself as Louise’s eyes flickered to the cheek Ruth had kissed before they had parted ways with a troubled downward twist of her lips.

“You should. Your fanbase has some...interesting things to say.”

-

Previous Part: Anger, first act/ Next Part: Bargaining, first act

[queenofthedramedies]

In Veritas: Ch. 3

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Hello, my lovely readers. It's time for Haylijah to meet. Yay! #HaylijahShippersDon'tGiveUp On with the show…

Chapter 3: Mind Games

December 1, 2012

Her eyes were burning. Lids trembling. Lips moving, silent words stuck in her throat. Hayley felt waves of a newborn headache, kicking its tiny feet against her temples, screaming for her undivided attention. Her phone rang and she looked at it. It looked like a small, black blob of plastic. The sound it elicited sent her trembling fingers to her temples.

"Hello?" Hayley said quietly.

"Hayley, I have an Elijah Mikaelson here," Aurora called into the phone cheerfully.

And now the headache had grown into a group of teenagers, starting a grunge band, with an electric guitar and drums. "Oh, dear God," Hayley moaned.

"No, Elijah Mikaelson," Aurora repeated herself.

Hayley let out a sigh. "Yes, Aurora, I know that. Send him in." Forcing herself to stand up, Hayley walked around, to the front of her desk and waited.

Elijah came into her office in his ever-present, crisp, tailored suit. "Ms. Marshall," he greeted her with a smile that most women probably found disarming. Not Hayley, she knew that he meant to set her at ease before tearing through her like a shark with his chum.

"Mr. Mikaelson," Hayley replied, crossing the room and holding out her hand to him. He took her hand and shook it with another one of those smiles. "What can I do for you?" Hayley asked him, all business as she walked back around her desk and took a seat.

Elijah pulled out a chair in front of her desk. He took his dear sweet time. Yup. He meant to make her uneasy by changing the dynamic. Her space needed to suit his comfort. They would talk once he was ready to. This meeting started because he willed it into being—instead of making an appointment—like anyone else would have.

After he sat down, Elijah took the time to sit his briefcase down and to unbutton his jacket, his eyes on Hayley. She could tell he was accessing her: gauging her age, her posture, how she decorated the office. Every little thing could become a tool to ruin her case.

Another smile appeared on Elijah's face as he looked around the room. "This used to be my office. I suppose that no one told you that I used to work here. Did they?"

"Rebekah did," Hayley retorted so quickly that Elijah's eyes snapped from the wall to the left of her to look her directly in the eye.

"My sister?" Elijah's smile changed just so slightly that most people would not notice. A tiny flash of warmth appearing under that seasoned professional exterior. "How is Rebekah? We do not see nearly as much of each other as we should."

Hayley folded her hands on her desk top. "Rebekah's fine. If Marcel would stop chasing her around the office—she might get some real work done—other than that, she's great." Letting out a laugh, Hayley titled her head to the side, allowing her eyelashes to lower. "So, tell me, Elijah, what is it that you're really doing here since I know you're not here to talk about your family?"

Chuckling, Elijah nodded. "You are right. As much as I love my family—business must come first." He opened his briefcase and withdrew a folder. "It looks as if my client, Niklaus Mikelson, is suing your client, Caroline Forbes, for custody of a minor child, Fiona Forbes. Yes?" Closing the folder, Elijah laid it on his knee, his fingers tapping the top of the folder.

A smile appeared on Hayley's face. "And this case has nothing to do with family?" she quipped.

"Klaus is my brother, as you know," Elijah replied calmly. His fingers continued their rhythmic tapping. Hayley knew that Elijah had a million little ways of causing opposing counsel to become distracted. She would not allow him to throw her off her game.

Elijah continued to speak while Hayley sat, the headache making her want to slink under the desk and hold her head in her hands. "And Caroline is your friend. I suppose that means that this case is personal, for both of us." He paused, still watching Hayley. "Have you met with your client yet?"

Hayley looked at the clock. "Caroline is due to come in, an hour from now."

"Good." Elijah nodded. "Did she tell you that she had not informed Klaus of her pregnancy?"

Hayley nodded. "Yes."

Elijah stopped tapping his folder. "And how long did you know about the child, Hayley?"

"How is that relevant?" Hayley replied slowly, watching Elijah watching her. She could tell he wanted some piece of information and believed she was a weak link who would offer it to him.

"I'm not sure that it is. I'm curious. After all, the child shares my blood, and, still, you, a friend of the mother, seemed to have knowledge of the child's existence before any member of her paternal family did. Does that not strike you as odd?" Elijah's eyes bore into hers and Hayley felt frozen to her seat. Damn, he was good. He meant to make her question Caroline's decisions and judgment when it came to Fee. If he could do this to Hayley, what could he do in the middle of a custody hearing?

"Elijah, why don't you ask me a point blank question?" Hayley retorted with a smile.

Elijah nodded. "Alright. Why, do you believe, Caroline choose to tell you about her pregnancy and not the father of her child?"

"At the time that Caroline found out she was pregnant, your brother was not in the country, and she had no way of contacting him." Hayley picked up her phone. "If you'll give me one minute." She held up a finger. "Aurora, can you bring me a cup of coffee?" Placing her hand over the speaker; she looked at Elijah. "Would you like anything?"

Elijah shook his head. "No, thank you." Crossing his legs, he set his folder on her desk. Hayley's eyes moved to the folder. She could tell that he did this on purpose. Of course she wanted to grab the thing and search it for anything that might help her win the case which is exactly why Elijah placed it there, as bait.

"Thank you, Aurora," Hayley said, hanging up. "Where were we?" she inquired like she didn't remember exactly what Elijah had been up to.

"We were discussing why Caroline told you about Fiona and not Niklaus. You said that it was because Caroline had no way of contacting Niklaus? And this is correct to the best of your knowledge?" Again, his eyes bore into Hayley's and she felt the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

"Yes," Hayley replied, sitting back and waiting for Aurora.

"Right." Elijah picked up his folder and began to move pages around that Hayley could not see. "And would you say that she would be able to contact any other members of Klaus' family to find possible contact information, is that correct?" Again, the folder closed. Again, it moved to his knee. Again, his fingers began to tap the manila colored paper.

The question left Hayley's mind reeling. Damn it. Had Caroline tried to contact anyone in Klaus' family? Damn it. She would have to add that to her list of questions to ask Caroline. "I have no idea if Caroline attempted to contact anyone in your family."

Nodding, Elijah's fingers paused before drumming along again. Hayley could feel a spike of pain shoot through her left temple. A groan escaped her lips. Her eyes closed. "Are you alright?" Elijah asked her. She opened her eyes to find him, leaned over her desk, his hand moving to lay on top of her folded hands. "Hayley?"

"I…" Hayley began when the door to her office opened and Aurora came inside.

Taking a step backward, away from her desk, Elijah slid his right hand into his pocket, his body pivoting to the side so Aurora could move around him. "Your coffee," she announced with a wide, perky smile. "Did you need anything, Mr. Mikaelson?" she inquired, turning to smile up at Elijah.

"I am fine. Thank you." Elijah watched Hayley pick up the coffee cup with both hands. She blew on the steam and took a slow sip. "I should be going. I will call and make an appointment for a deposition," he added.

"Okay," Hayley said before taking another sip of her coffee.

For some reason, Elijah did not move to leave the room. Aurora looked from him to Hayley. "If anyone needs me, I'll be at my desk," she said perkily.

Once the door shut; Elijah spoke up. "Are you sure that you are alright?" he questioned her.

Hayley nodded. "I'm fine. Thank you for the concern."

His eyes dropped to the floor. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me," he said softly. He walked over to the door and opened it.

Hayley's gaze moved to the desk top. "Wait! You forgot your folder!" she cried, picking it up from its place on the edge of her desk.

"Keep it," Elijah replied, offering another smile before he walked out and closed the door behind him.

Sitting back down; Hayley frowned. She felt confused. Why did Elijah want her to have a copy of his work? Was he trying to help her? That did not make any sense. Opening the folder, Hayley fell back in her seat. "You jerk," she groaned, pulling out blank page after blank page. She would laugh but it would make her headache worse.

Hayley got up and walked out of her office. "Aurora," she called.

Aurora's head popped up from the fashion magazine she'd been reading. "Yes, Hayley."

"Can you go to the shop downstairs and grab me a bottle of Advil. I have a killer headache," Hayley said, placing her hand to the side of her head.

"Yes. Is there anything else you need?" Aurora asked.

"Nope," Hayley shook her head and walked back into her office. She had all of fifteen minutes to get ready before Caroline was due.

As if giving her time to breathe would be too much for the universe; a knock sounded at the door. "Seriously!" Hayley sighed. "Come in," she called warily.

"Hales? It's me," Caroline said, walking in. "I'm sorry, Fi caught a cold, and I had no time to find a babysitter." Her words came tumbling out as she came in with a large bag over one shoulder and a small child with a red nose and droopy eyelids. "I hope this is okay."

"Its fine," Hayley assured her.

Caroline let out sigh of relief. "Okay. So… I have no idea what we're doing here."

"I'm going to ask you some questions," Hayley began before she looked at Fiona who looked miserable. "But before I do that, I think we should wait for my assistant to get back."

Nodding, Caroline rubbed her daughter's back who let out a loud cough. "Mommy, I don't feel good," Fiona moaned, squirming around in Caroline's lap and then she sneezed. "I want to go home!"

Aurora came in with the bottle of Advil. "Here is your medication. Oh, what a pretty little girl," she said before getting a good look at Fiona and taking a huge step back. "Is there anything else that you need?" she asked Hayley, her body edging toward the door.

"Yes. Can you take Caroline's daughter? Just for, like, half an hour. We really need to get these questions answered and you know little people have big ears." Hayley gave Aurora a pleading look.

"Must I?" Aurora blurted. Caroline pinned her with a glare, her eyes narrowing and her arms tightening around her child. "I really should be going on lunch break…" Aurora looked like she might run through the door to get out of the room.

Gritting her teeth, Hayley got to her feet. "You know what, Aurora, go ahead. Take the rest of the day off."

Aurora's eyes widened. "Really? Thank you."

"And don't come back," Hayley snapped, stalking over to the door and opening it.

Aurora's shoulders slumped. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that. Hayley, please. I love sick children. You know that I was awfully sickly growing up. My brother used to care for me all the time," Aurora pressed her hands together. "Please!"

Hayley shook her head, looking across the hall as the door opened. Marcel was just finishing up with a client. "Hey, do you have a minute?" she asked him.

Marcel's eyebrows rose. "Yeah. What's up?" he asked, walking over to Hayley's office. He looked around at Aurora, Caroline and Fiona. "Hey there," he greeted Caroline and Fiona.

"Hi," Caroline replied, rubbing Fiona's back. Fiona looked up at Marcel through wide, red-rimmed eyes. She placed her thumb in her mouth and began to suck at it

"Caroline Forbes, Marcel Gerard. Marcel, Caroline. Marcel is a good friend of mine and he is absolutely the best with kids." Hayley said, patting Marcel on the shoulder.

"I am?" Marcel looked at Hayley. "You're right. I am great with kids." He went over and kneeled in front of Caroline and Fiona. "How about you, Rory and I find some paper dolls to play with. Kids still like that stuff?" he looked at Caroline who nodded. "Cool."

"The shop doesn't sell paper dolls," Aurora pointed out before closing her mouth when three adults glared at her.

"We can always make our own. We'll just cut out some of those models from your mags and some dresses and mix and match," Marcel informed Aurora who pursed her lips. She looked like she wanted to object but she caught Hayley giving her a hard look.

"Right. Of course. Sounds delightful. Come along, little lamb." Aurora offered Fiona her hand.

Fiona let out a whimper and buried her mass of honey blonde curls into her mother's chest. "No!" she cried out.

"Baby, it's just for a little while and then we'll go straight home. Tomorrow, we'll go out for ice cream with lots of sprinkles." Caroline took her daughter's chin and kissed her forehead, stroking her curls away from her rosy cheeks.

Marcel held out his arms and Caroline handed her child over to him. "I've got you, kid," he said and Fiona buried her face into his suit jacket, letting out a loud cough.

"Thank you," Hayley mouthed as Marcel walked out of her office with Fiona and Aurora.

Hayley strode back over to her desk and sat back down. Uncapping the bottle of Advil, she poured two pills into her hand and downed the rest of her coffee. She really needed to go on a vacation already. Looking up at Caroline, she noted the dark circles under her friends' eyes and the way that her head inclined toward the door. "You okay?"

Caroline forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm probably going to come down with Fee's cold but other than that everything is just fine." She stretched out in the chair that Elijah had vacated not so long ago.

"Elijah Mikaelson was just here," Hayley said, turning on her computer and pulling up the questions she'd written for today.

Caroline's eyebrows rose. "Huh? What did he want?"

"He came to rattle my cage and see if he could gain any info that Klaus couldn't have known." Hayley peered into her empty coffee cup.

"And?" Caroline said, sitting forward. "Did you say anything?"

Hayley scoffed. "Caroline, I'm new at this job, I'm not stupid."

Blowing out a breath, Caroline fell back into her seat. "Okay. Sorry. I'm just scared. What if the court finds against me?" Tears began to run down Caroline's cheeks. "I still can't believe that Klaus would do this to me."

"He's Klaus. He's always been a bit of an ass." Hayley rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "So, Elijah brought up a good question that I didn't think to ask."

"And…" Caroline waited, biting at her lower lip.

"He wanted to know if you tried to contact his family—to find out where Klaus was while you were pregnant—so you could tell him." Hayley hadn't even finished speaking before Caroline began to shake her head. More tears ran down her friend's cheeks and she placed her hands over her face.

Hayley got up and walked around the desk. She sat down across from Caroline and placed a hand on her knee. "Care, hey, it's going to be okay."

"What if we lose?" Caroline sobbed. "I can't. I just can't see my life without my little girl in it."

"We're not going to let that happen. Now, I wrote down a set of questions. Do you think we can go over them?" Hayley asked quietly.

Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, Caroline nodded and Hayley walked back to her chair. Turning to her computer; she began. "Caroline, what is Fiona's favorite color?" Hayley knew that Elijah would begin with easy questions. Questions that might elicit a smile from the opposing side. What is Fiona's favorite toy? What does she like to eat for breakfast? Does she hate her dentist; I know I do. Questions like that would begin the case but it would finish with questions that would have Caroline on the defensive.

"Fee's favorite color is pink. Yesterday it was blue. The day before it was red." And there was the smile. The smile that accompanied a good memory. A memory that Caroline could wrap herself up in like a favorite blanket. "Is he really going to ask me something that easy?" Caroline's brows knit together while she spoke and she looked at the blank pages that Hayley left on her desk. "What are these?"

"Elijah's fake notes on the case," Hayley said, looking at them and dismissing them. "You want a harder one?" Caroline nodded. "How long have you been dating Tyler Lockwood?"

"I've been dating Tyler for the past year and a half," Caroline replied.

"And you knew Mr. Lockwood before?" Hayley added, her eyes moving from the computer to Caroline who shifted in her seat.

"Yes." Caroline's answer was accompanied by a pause.

"How did you know Tyler?" Hayley asked, she placed her elbow on her desk top and her chin on her curled fist, watching Caroline look at her hands.

Caroline looked up at Hayley. "Do you really have to do this?"

"Yes. Elijah's going to do this," Hayley retorted, picking up her empty coffee cup and setting it back down in disgust.

Tugging at her bottom lip, Caroline looked down at her hands before looking at Hayley. "I knew Tyler through Klaus. They worked at the same news magazine. Tyler makes those political cartoons. We see each other on the weekends." Trailing off, Caroline shook her head. "Do you really think that Elijah's going to bring up Ty?"

"Yes. I do. Tyler's a part of Fee's life which means it's not just your relationship with Fee that's in question; it's also Ty's." Hayley watched Caroline begin to massage her temples.

"Hold on a minute," Hayley said, she picked up her phone. "It looks like we're going to be at this for a while." She dialed out to Aurora's phone. When no one picked up, she rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "I'll be just a minute." Walking to the door, she opened it to find Marcel, Aurora and Fiona sitting on the floor. Marcel looked at her and Hayley let out a laugh. "Oh. Wow."

"He's pretty," Fiona said, holding up a bright red lipstick that she's used to decorate Marcel's lips, cheeks and eyelids.

Caroline came out of the office and let out a laugh. "Oh, baby, look at that."

Aurora huffed. "You owe me a lipstick," she told Hayley.

"Yeah. And this is going to Rebekah's e-mail account," Hayley said, taking a pic of Marcel who tried to get up but slid on a glossy magazine cover. "Watch your step!" Hayley cried. "Aurora, Caroline and I are going to get some coffee. We'll be back soon. Marcel, don't be shocked if this shows up in the company newsletter."

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QotD/LL