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jenonctcity · 5 years ago

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Perils Brewing

Charia Kingdom – Mark.

Smut, Fluff, Angst.

Fantasy!Au, Supernatural!Au

Warnings: Blood/injuries, sexual content.

Word Count: 16.9k

(All of this series links up. The timeline of the story runs in the order of the master list from top to bottom, Mark - Jisung. Each members part can be read as a stand-alone, but I would recommended reading all the parts in order so the story adds up.)

Charia Kingdom - A place that has equal amounts of sunshine and rain, hot and cold, rich and poor, and, humans and creatures that couldn’t be identified as that of human status. Ruled by the Lee family with a king whose cutthroat and unforgiving nature is feared by many. The poor not cared for by people who have everything, where disease takes the lives of those unfortunate enough to not have the funds to purchase medicine. A place where humans live among creatures many would find terrifying. It’s no secret that Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, etc live amongst them like normal people. Unless you murder someone, you’re considered normal. Everyone lives their own lives, whether it be a happy life, or a sorrowful life…

Born into a family of renowned witches and wizards, there came a time for Mark to fly the nest. The nest being their comfortable home in the middle of the bustling kingdom. After the death of the castle’s witch, 17 year old Mark was brought in to take her place. He lives up to his family’s name and has impressed the royal family with his natural talents. Now 20 years old with the trust of the royal family and kingdom, shy, quiet Mark is given a new obstacle when a new maid is brought to work alongside him in the castle. Granted she’s mostly there to clean up his mess, but he finds she plays a much bigger role in his life than just that. With the new light in his life, Mark faces a new task at hand. Keeping her safe from the horrors of the castle.

---

A curt gust of crisp wind swept leaves up into the air. The kingdom having a bout of ghastly weather that left a kiss of chill pressed to all exposed skin. Sudden rain the past week had forced many people retreating to the cover of their homes. Those who weren’t lucky enough to be blessed by four walls and a roof left to suffer under the harsh pelts of water plummeting from the moody sky.

You shuddered, although you weren’t sure whether it was because of the cold wind hitting the back of your neck, or whether it was a side effect of the anxiety blooming like a poisonous flower inside of your stomach. The castle gate in front of you was all you could see. It was high enough that if you stood too close to it, the thick wood and the stone that framed it completely blocked out all sights of the great castle behind it. It was clearly built to keep people out. Most likely to stop the lower class from disrupting the perfect equilibrium of the royal family. The gate was connected to a wall that stretched all the way around the castle grounds. Guards on patrol all day, every day to protect it from any possible threats. You had no idea what laid beyond the gate, apart from the obvious castle you could see from miles away. Rumour spread throughout the kingdom that a dragon terrifying enough to make even the bravest of knights piss their pants was what any intruder would be unlucky enough to be met by, had they been successful in breaching the high walls. Which is why you found yourself hesitating as you stared up at the guard post situated above the gate. You couldn’t see anyone over the high wall where you assumed the guards should be.

“Erm,” You cleared you throat, gripping at your tattered bag full of belongings tighter. “Excuse me?” You called out, unsure whether anyone was going to reply or if they’d even heard you at all. Butterflies started to dance in your stomach when a scuffle of shoes against stone came from above the gate. Shortly after that, a boy poked his head between part of the wall, his eyes immediately finding you and raising an eyebrow. The first thing you thought was ‘thank the gods it’s not a dragon’. The second thing that crossed your mind was how the hell someone who looks so young and cute could be guarding the gate, seemingly on his own as you couldn’t see anyone else with him. You furrowed your eyebrows, staring up at the boy and taking in his features. He had pitch black eyes with black hair to match, it rested against his forehead, making him appear soft and cute. It took everything in you not to coo at him.

“What business do you have here?” He leaned his arms on the wall, looking very casual despite being a royal guard. This also gave you the opportunity to see that he clearly wasn’t holding any weapons. What if you were here to attack the castle? He surely couldn’t defend the place with his bare hands. Your thoughts caused a delay in your response, making your cheeks heat up as he looked at you with a judgemental look on his face.

“I’m here to work as a maid. I was told by Seulgi to just come to the castle gate.” You tucked some hair that the wind had caught back behind your ear, shuffling from one foot to another as you shivered in the cold. It had just started to drizzle with rain, causing an uncomfortable layer of water to spread across your face. He rolled his eyes and let out a soft laugh. Seulgi was one of the head maids at the castle. She’d gone to the town to scout for a new maid and due to your enthusiasm and willingness to learn, she’d chose you for the job. All she left you with was a list of things to bring, and a time and date for you to show up at the castle.

“Oh! Okay I was told you’d be coming soon but I forgot what time. Hang on I’ll open the gate.” He laughed, his childlike innocence shining through in his words. You heard a thump resound from behind the gate, then all of a sudden, the sound of metal cranks turning was all you could hear. The gate rose up faster than you expected, and you took a deep breath before hastily stepping inside the castle grounds. You looked to your left to see the surprisingly tall and slender boy working the cranks as he lowered the gate. To your utter shock, he was doing it alone and making it look easy, despite having just raised and lowered a very large and heavy door on his own. Also, with how fast he opened the gate, he must have jumped from the guard post, which had your mouth dropping open in sheer shock that he’d jumped from such a grand height without being injured at all. “I’m not even surprised that Seulgi didn’t come down to greet you herself. Typical.” He laughed with a roll of his eyes. He motioned for you to follow him as he started to walk up the path to the entrance. “What’s your name?” His voice snapped you out of your trance as you stared at the beauty of the building. He was now walking beside you and had his eyes trained on your face.

“I’m (Y/N).” You smiled as you glanced at him, having to pick up your pace to keep up with his big strides.

“I’m Jisung, I’m the head guard of the gate.” He smiled, giving you an awkward wave with his large hand. You were about to open your mouth to reply but as you got to the castle entrance one side of the large door opened to reveal Seugli, her bright smile calming you quickly.

“Thank you for bringing her Jisung.” She bowed her head to him, and he quickly copied, giving you a shy smile as he retreated back the way he’d just walked with you. “Hello (Y/N), come in I’ll show you to your room and then give you a tour.” Her voice was mellow, and you found yourself enjoying her tone as she talked. As you stepped into the grand entrance you felt overwhelmed from the elegance and finery of the décor. A red and gold rug ran along the floor and up the large stone stairs. The royal family’s crest printed on fabric hanging from the walls next to large portraits of what you could only assume was members of the prestigious family. Silver armour was placed along the wall of the hallway Seulgi took you along, the rug still underneath your feet being nothing like you’d ever seen before. Nobody you knew in the town had interiors like this. You felt that everything you touched was expensive and easily breakable which shot a fear through you.

Seulgi showed you to your room, it was located down a narrow staircase and along a long hallway. No natural light could be seen as you were now underground, but candles lit inside of lanterns hanging from the walls gave you enough light to see. It was nothing like the fine décor located above ground, but it was still better than you’d ever lived in before. The room was small, but cosy. With multiple lanterns lit around the room showing you that you had a single bed pushed against the wall beside an empty bedside table. You sat on the bed and noted the fabric of your bedding was soft to the touch and pristine white. Your black and white uniform laid neatly on the bed for you to put on. Across from your bed was a desk, chair, and a wardrobe. It had everything you’d need, and it was very clean. You changed into the uniform that consisted of a black knee length dress that had a white collar, and a white pinafore to go over it, and on your head, you wore a white mop cap. You’d placed the knee length white socks on and slipped into the polished black shoes provided for you. After this she’d taken you on a brief tour of the parts of the castle that you’d need to go to. She neglected to show you where the royal family’s chambers were, but you knew it was highly unlikely you’d actually need to go there so it didn’t matter to you that she hadn’t shown you.

“This is where you’ll spend most of your time.” She motioned to the closed door in front of her on the ground floor of the castle. The room was situated near the gardens at the back of the castle and from the outside you could already tell it was going to be a large room. “You’ll be working alongside Mark, he’s the castles healer, or wizard some may say.” Her eyes crinkled up as she smiled widely. “Your job is to clean up his mess, because honestly he’s useless at doing it himself.” She giggled as she pushed open the door. “You’ll also assist him in his work, he’ll be in charge of you, so he’ll tell you what he needs you to do.” She entered the room and you followed after her, she took you down a rounded staircase, the temperature getting hotter as you got to the bottom step. The room was lit by many lanterns and a large fireplace located on the opposite side of the room to where you stood. A male stood in the centre of the room by a big table that was covered in bottles, books, and other miscellaneous things you didn’t even know what to label. You could hear him mumbling as he flicked through a book that laid on the table, not having noticed he was no longer alone. His thick black hair covered his forehead and his rounded glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, he had pink lips that were pouting out in his concentration and he wore a white button up shirt that had the top two buttons undone, revealing the top of his pale chest, with black trousers. Seulgi cleared her throat, his head snapping up immediately and his wide eyes boring into your own. His beauty nearly knocked you back onto the steps, but you managed to conceal how stunned you felt by smiling softly at him.

“Mark, this is your new assistant (Y/N).” He continued to stare at you with wide eyes, his lips twitching up into a small smile.

“Hello.” He greeted, bowing his head to you and pushing his glasses further up his nose. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice was soft but deep, it having a calming tone to it that made you automatically relax.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You bowed to him and raked your eyes around the room once more. You noticed a display cabinet full of bottles labelled with what contents they had inside of them, it stretched from floor to ceiling and was full to the brim. So far it was the only neat thing you’d noticed in the entire room, the bottles all lined up in alphabetical order. Seugli gently touched your shoulder, gaining your attention back from your eyes scanning the room.

“I’m going to leave you with Mark,” She turned to Mark and he watched her with curiosity in his eyes, obviously not knowing what she was planning. “Mark, she’s your responsibility now so you can show her the ropes.” He nodded quickly, a gulp of nervousness making his adams apple bob. Seugli dismissed herself and you found yourself alone with the awkward boy. You decided it was probably best to make conversation with him as he just slowly went back to the work he was doing before you’d entered the room. It looked like he was making a potion, but you’d never seen it been done before so you couldn’t be 100% sure.

“So…what do you want me to clean first?” You approached him slowly, standing beside him as he stirred a bubbling liquid inside of a small cauldron. He glanced at you as he sluggishly stirred the liquid.

“There isn’t much point in you cleaning until I’ve finished making this.” He watched as you let out a sigh, deciding he didn’t like your let down look already and quickly coming up with another solution. “You can help me with this potion if you like?” You smiled widely, your face lighting up ant getting to see a potion being made for the first time in your life.

“Okay!” You chirped, placing your hands on the table in front of you and leaning to look at the potion closer.

After an hour of helping Mark, you had noticed he was very quiet and didn’t really talk unless you initiated the conversation. You had ruled most of the conversation, asking him every question that popped into your mind about the potion making. You’d found out the potion he was brewing was for Prince Jeno, but when you had queried why he was making a potion for the prince, he’d dodged the question by letting you put some leaves into the potion. Obviously, you were excited to actually put something into the potion and had forgotten to ask him about it again. He studied you with keen eyes, a smile creeping onto his face as you stirred the potion for him. He didn’t know you, but he did know that he liked to see you smile.

“How long have you been at the castle?” You spoke up suddenly, now running a wet cloth over the table where the potion had previously been brewing. The dark blue liquid was now concealed in tiny bottles, put to the side for Mark to deliver to the prince later on. His tongue was poking out of his mouth, giving him an innocent look in his concentration as he wrote with a quill and ink on a piece of parchment, sitting on a stool at a table across the room from you.

“3 years.” He didn’t take his eyes off of the paper as he answered your question. You hummed in acknowledgement, pursing your lips and wiping aimlessly at the table.

“You’re a pretty big deal in the town, your parents are very proud of you.” His head snapped up; his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity at what you’d said. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. “Word spreads fast, especially when the best family in magic has their son chosen to work for the royal family.” Mark’s family was very well known within the town. They were the most reliable source for medicines and potions, leading them to have a popular status in the town.

“Oh…I didn’t know that.” He put the quill back into the pot of ink, all of his attention now on you. “I don’t often go to the town, if I need anything one of the maids will go and get it.”

“Don’t you miss your family?” You didn’t know if you should be asking him personal questions like this, not sure how he will react. You hoped he didn’t get angry, not wanting to make your new colleague mad at you. He bit his bottom lip and nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I do, I see them every now and then, but I’m needed here.” He stood up, lining the four bottles up in a perfect line on top of some brown paper. He grabbed his wand from where it laid on the table in front of him, waving it over the bottles wordlessly. You watched with wide eyes as the parcel paper wrapped itself around the bottles neatly, tightly packaging the bottles together with a piece of string sealing it up. “Why did you want a job here?”

“I’ve always wanted to see the castle and it was time for me to get a job.” You shrugged, putting the rag you used to clean the table in a cold bucket of water Mark had gotten for you to clean with. “My parents run the local bakery and they wanted me to work for them, which I really didn’t want to do.” You paused momentarily before continuing with a soft laugh. “Also, my little brother was starting to get on my nerves too much, so it was time to go.” He laughed, picking up the parcel and tucking his wand into the waistband of his trousers.

“I’m going to deliver this to Prince Jeno, you can stay here but don’t touch anything if it’s in a glass bottle.” He kept his eyes on you for a few moments before disappearing up the rounded staircase, the sound of a door creaking open and shutting echoing throughout the room. You thought a lot about Mark whilst he was gone, his chiselled face burned into your retinas as you walked around the room, reading the labels on the glass bottles dotted around the room. You looked at the ones Mark had just placed back into the large cabinet. One really stood out to you, and you wondered why Mark had just used wolfsbane in a potion he was delivering to the prince. This was something you knew you’d have to ask him when the time was right.

---

Your first week at the castle had been probably one of the best weeks of your life. Mark had taken you under his wing and he was actually enjoying your company more than what he thought he would. His potion room had never looked as clean as what it did after you’d blitzed the place, and he found it much easier to find the things he needed now he didn’t have to rummage through piles of rubbish and empty bottles he didn’t need anymore. You also helped him make potions more than what you had originally thought you would have. He hadn’t admitted it to you yet, but he loved the way your face would light up when he handed you an ingredient to put into the boiling liquid. Where you would help him with his potion brewing, he would also help you with cleaning up his mess, the two of you working perfectly in sync and your partnership becoming the best in the castle despite it only being a week in the making.

You stood beside Mark once again, the small cauldron bubbling in front of you with a large book open beside it on the table. He hesitated his hand over the deep emerald liquid, his fingers pinched together holding the fine hair of a horses tail between them. He took a deep breath and dropped the hair into the cauldron, the bubbles in the liquid coming to a stop. The substance was eerily still for a few seconds, and as if Mark knew what was coming, he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly, quickly turning his back on the cauldron and muttering something in a language you’d never heard before. Just then, the entire cauldron blew up, the boiling liquid that should have burnt you both completely missing you as if an invisible shield was around you. You flinched as the ear-splitting bang shocked you, huddling into Mark’s chest in fright of the unknown. You gulped, wondering why you never felt anything hitting you, but you put two and two together and figured it was a spell that Mark muttered to protect you both.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, staring down into your scared looking eyes momentarily, before plucking you from his grip and turning to look at the devastation on the table. There wasn’t much left of the cauldron, and his book was covered in the liquid that was no longer emerald and instead now resembled water.

“How did that happen?” You felt your heartbeat slow back to its normal pace; your eyes wide in curiosity. You moved to touch the open book on the table, but Mark reached out fast and grabbed your wrist, his fingers feeling warm against your skin and causing a butterfly to flap its wings in your stomach.

“Don’t touch it yet, it’s not like normal water it doesn’t cool down fast, it will still be hot you have to let it cool.” He let go of you and ran his hand through his hair, making his black locks messy. “I must have put the wrong ingredient in.” He sighed, looking annoyed at himself, his tongue poking into his cheek as he thought about it over and over again in his mind. You thought back to how he hesitated before dropping the hair into the potion.

“Did you know putting the hair in it would do that?” You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest as if accusing him. He looked at you with innocent eyes, biting his bottom lip before smiling coyly.

“Yes, I did, but I was following the instructions in the book.” He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes before placing them back onto the bridge of his nose. “I did wonder why it wanted me to use horsehair with rose roots when they don’t react well together…” You leaned over the book and read the instructions that Mark had been following.

“It doesn’t say horsehair in here Mark…” You giggled, looking at the wizard stood beside you who now had a frown on his face, brought out of his thoughts by your words. “It says hares’ hair, but the writing it kind of smudged so I can see why you got it muddled.” You’d never seen someone’s face go as violently red as what Mark’s as fast as what it did. He rushed to look at the words and his mouth popped open when he saw you were correct. You laughed at his expression, holding your hands over your mouth to supress your laughter.

“I am so stupid…” He grumbled, slamming the tattered book shut and shoving it back on the bookshelf, his face still glowing red and his mouth trying to fight the wide smile it was so desperately trying to form.

“Who even wrote that book?” You started to tidy up the room, grabbing a clean cloth and wiping down the surfaces that the liquid had hit.

“It was already here when I came.” He started to help you clean as he spoke, his cheeks now pinker than red as his embarrassment dwindled. “It belonged to the witch who worked here before me.”

“What happened to her?” You’d heard the rumours amongst the civilians in the town, some saying she was murdered, others saying she died from one of her own concoctions, and after seeing what just happened to the potion Mark was making you were starting to believe the latter.

“Erm…” Mark gulped, his actions halting momentarily at your question. “She d-died.” He stuttered out, moving across the room and suddenly finding his cabinet of bottles interesting.

“I know that, but how did she die? And didn’t she have a son?” You followed him, knowing he was trying to escape you to avoid the question, but you weren’t letting him go without some answers.

“She was killed by someone and the son ran away, okay?” You heard the desperation in his voice for you to drop the subject. You suspected he was lying to you, but you didn’t want to push him too hard to tell you the truth. You simply shrugged and dropped the subject, going back to working quietly. Mark watched as you worked, feeling guilty for lying to you but not wanting to put you in danger by telling you the truth.

---

The heat from the castle’s greenhouse was causing your skin to perspire. Your maid uniform with its thick fabric wasn’t exactly fit for heat like this, but you assumed whoever made the clothes didn’t expect a maid to be inside of the greenhouse anyway. It didn’t help that the weather had done a complete turnaround from the bought of coldness the kingdom had been subject to. The sun now boring down every day and making everyone uncomfortable under its heat. The enrichments of colours dotted around the glass house brought a feeling of warmth to you, it reminded you of the flowers your mother had planted outside of the bakery in hopes it would look more welcoming for the people of the town. She was right, it gave the place a new lease of life that the morbid colours of wood didn’t do, and your parents found a higher demand in their baked goods.

You missed your parents, and dare you say it, your little brother too. It had been two months since you packed up your bags and set off for a new life in the castle, but you had enjoyed nearly every moment so far. You missed the smell freshly baked pies, the sound of your mothers singing, and the way your father would scold your brother when he was being irritating. You hadn’t seen them since you’d left, but you’d received letters from them in which they told you they were doing well and that they love and miss you. You’d also sent them letters saying the same things and telling them stories of your life working with the castles wizard that you knew they’d have a chuckle at.

You knew you had it easier than some of the maids you worked alongside, but they didn’t have Mark making their job easy and fun like you did. You didn’t envy the maids who worked in close proximity to the royal family. You would hear stories passed from person to person about how the King and the Prince were absolute nightmares to tend to. The Queen on the other hand, you’d heard was a kind individual, very easy to get along with and hated putting people out of their way to do a task for her. The only member of the family that you had met and spoken to was the King’s niece, she was a bubbly person who would take time out of her day to speak to the staff of the castle and ask them many questions she had. She was very beautiful and fit the princess role perfectly. There were more royals that lived underneath the roof of the castle, but you didn’t know how they were related to the King or Queen. You’d personally never met the King, Queen, or Prince, and had only seen them from afar once or twice when they’d walk around the castle grounds. If any of them needed Mark, they’d send a maid to fetch him and he’d leave you in his potion room on your own to continue with your chores, or he’d dismiss you and let you do whatever you wanted to do with you free time.

You found yourself spending most of your free time with the dark-haired, doe eyed boy, he made you laugh and was the person you could trust the most inside of the castle walls. You could trust Seulgi and the other maids, but you knew a lot of gossip and rumours would be spread amongst them, also Seulgi was busy working in close quarters with the royal family, so she never had time to spend with you. You and Mark had spent many hours just talking about your lives prior to working for the royal family, and you’d found out a lot about Mark’s family that you never knew from the words spread throughout the town. Hearing his stories of spells and potions that have gone wrong never failed to bring a smile to your face and a laugh to leave your mouth. He enjoyed making you laugh, seeing the way your face lit up and the way your eyes bore into his own when you were immersed in his stories spurred him on to tell you more and more about his life. You probably knew more about him than anyone else in the castle at this point, but he didn’t care, as long as it kept you smiling and happy then Mark would tell you everything.

“What did Mark say he needed?” You mumbled to yourself as you walked through the rows of vegetables imbedded in the ground. Mark had left you alone with a verbal list of plants and vegetables he needed to craft a healing potion for a sickness one of the staff members had caught during their trip to the town. He was only going to quickly grab a basket from the kitchen as he’d destroyed the last one, he had in his potion room, but he was taking a lot longer than you thought he would have. The glass door swung open and hit the glass wall of the greenhouse with a loud smash, causing you to spin towards it with a loud gasp. Your heart raced and eyes wide in surprise at the sight of Prince Jeno stood in the shards of glass littered across the floor. You noticed the door was completely destroyed in its metal frame, and the wall hard a large crack imprinted into the glass. You were speechless, unsure what to say to the royal upon your first meeting. You’d only ever seen him in the paintings that littered the castle walls, only recognising him because of that. He was panting as if he was out of breath from running, his pale skin glistening under the sun from how much he was sweating with his jet-black hair stuck to his forehead. You’d never seen him this close before, but you could have sworn he had deep brown eyes, not the glowing amber ones he currently was staring at you with.

“Where is he?” He barked at you, stumbling towards you as he struggled to keep his body upright. He was gripping at his abdomen like he was in pain, his eyes scrunching shut and a whine leaving his parted lips. “Where’s Mark?” His voice was demanding, and he sounded angry despite his pained look.

“I-I don’t know your highness.” You snapped out of your trance and gulped, the nervousness at being in his presence shining through in your stutter words. “Let me help you.” You went to approach him, but he held a hand out in front of him to stop you in your tracks.

“Don’t come any closer!” He growled, his face screwing up once more. “Get Mark…NOW!” His command had you confused; he’d told you not to get close to him, yet he was blocking the only exit as he stood in the doorway. Before you could say anything though, your expression turned from confusion into utter shock and disbelief, you were frozen on the spot as the beautiful prince in front of you transformed into a wolf so big that he could no longer fit in the doorframe of the greenhouse. Luckily he’d lurched forward and was no longer in the doorway, instead a wolf with fur as dark as the princes’ hair was stood in front of you, panting and staring at you with the amber eyes the prince had been previously staring at you with. You felt the blood draining from your face in your fright and tentatively you stood a shaky step backwards, not sure whether any movement would cause the wolf to attack you. The wolf took a step forward in sync with your step backwards, the fear rushing through you so fast your eyes rolled into the back of your head and the world in front of you went black.

---

You woke in sheets softer than you remember your own sheets being. Your eyes were met with a canopy above the bed which you certainly did not have on your own bed, which lead you to believe you were in someone else’s room. Your mind felt hazy, and your head pounded with the unwelcome feeling of a headache. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of pain shot through your head. When you closed your eyes, you saw familiar looking amber orbs in your memory. You shot your eyes open again, and you saw Seulgi leaning over you.

“Hey (Y/N)…” She smiled softly, her hand gently stroking your head, bringing comfort to you despite how your heart thumped in your chest at the gruelling memory. You moved to sit up and she rearranged the pillows for you to sit against. You relaxed against the pillows, looking at her with questioning eyes. She sighed, taking your hand in her own, she was clearly thinking hard about what she was going to say. In the end she shook her head and stood up. “I’m going to get Mark; he can explain it to you okay?” You simply nodded in reply and she left the room, shutting the door gently behind her. You glanced around the room, it was an upgrade from your own room, but not classy enough to be the room of a royal. You noticed a lack of windows, so you knew the room was underground like your own was. The bed was a double bed, the duvet was a navy blue, with white pillows and a white sheet adorning the mattress. There was a wardrobe in the corner beside a large bookshelf, a desk and chair situated next to that. It was the black cloak hanging from the wardrobe door that told you this was Mark’s bedroom. As you scanned the room looking for more clues to back your theory of it being Mark’s chambers, the door slowly creaked open. Mark slowly entered the room, giving you a weak smile as he gently shut the door behind him. He looked stressed; his hair messy from where he’d been running his hands through it waiting for you to wake up. He was missing his glasses and his eyes looked tired, his cheeks tinted red and his white button up shirt had the top two buttons popped open.

“Hey.” He approached the bed, sitting down facing you on the edge of it. You felt a sense of security now that Mark was in your presence, knowing he was powerful enough with his magic alone to stop anyone or anything from hurting you.

“Mark what the hell is going on?” Your stared at him with desperation for answers in your eyes. He took a deep breath, his hand finding your own and lacing his fingers together with yours tenderly. This took you by surprise. Mark had never held your hand before, but you liked the way his warm hand enveloped your own. He let out a sigh, looking you in the eye before directing his attention down to your linked hands.

“Prince Jeno was cursed, he turns into a werewolf and sometimes he can’t help it.” His thumb gently rubbed against the back of your hand and he glanced up at your face. “He isn’t as bad as what he used to be, he only phases now when he gets really angry or upset about something. He used to change every full moon and when the slightest thing affected him.” He noticed that your face hadn’t changed at all, so he kept on talking. “I brew a specific potion for him, that’s why he can control his changes easier.”

“So why did he change in front of me?” You query, wondering if you’d done something to push the prince over the edge enough for him to change.

“He’d had an argument with the King and he accidentally smashed the bottles containing the potion, so he had no way of controlling himself, that’s why he was looking for me.” He lifted your hand up in his own, hesitating for a moment before placing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. Your heart fluttered at the gesture, and you hoped Mark didn’t notice that your palm was starting to get sweaty. “It wasn’t your fault, and he would never hurt you. Actually, after you fainted, he had controlled himself and he was the one who came to find me to tell me that you’d passed out.” He paused momentarily, biting his bottom lip before taking another deep breath. “I was so worried when I saw you, I didn’t even know what to do at first. (Y/N) you mean a lot to me.” He stopped again, clearly trying to find a way to word what he was about to tell you. “I really like you, more than a friend or colleague kind of way.” He gulped, clearly finished with his words and waiting for you to say something.

You felt a fire start inside of you, you’d always admired Mark and you really enjoyed spending time with him. But you’d never taken a step back to analyse think if you liked him in that way. Staring up into his nervous eyes you could see yourself falling in love with the slightly awkward man. The way his touch was making you feel and how his presence in general made you feel coming together like a puzzle in your mind. You smiled at him, your cheeks heating up and head tilting to look at your joined hands in your sudden shyness.

“I like you too.”

“Ha that’s cool.” He smiled widely, his awkwardness coming out in his words as he didn’t really know how to process what was going on. “I mean, yeah er…can I kiss you?” You looked into his eyes, nodding eagerly and hoping he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heartbeat as it raced with excitement. He untangled your fingers, shuffling forward on the bed so he was closer to you. He gingerly placed his hand on your warm to the touch cheek, gulping before leaning in close to you. You let your eyes slide shut, waiting patiently for him to finally connect your lips in a kiss you didn’t realise you’d been waiting for, for while now. He brushed his lips against your own before placing them timidly onto your own. His lips were softer than you imagined, the kiss being mellow, and it left you feeling like if he pulled away too soon, you’d have a mental break down. He moved his lips against yours for what seemed like hours but in reality, it was only a few minutes before his tongue grazed along your lower lip. You granted him access, opening up your lips and letting his tongue slide into your mouth, it pushing against your own tongue and exploring your mouth. You whined into the kiss Mark was providing, his other hand coming to rest against your waist with a tight grip. He slowed the kiss down, withdrawing his tongue and leaving one last kiss to your lips before he pulled away. You subconsciously chased after his lips but stopped yourself when you realised, gulping down your desire for him.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” You found yourself asking with a soft giggle. He blushed and looked down, his tongue poking into his cheek in bashfulness. You winced when the headache decided to remind you of its presence like an unwanted fly buzzing around your head.

“Are you okay?” Mark worried immediately, taking your face in his hands and tilting your head to scan over your features.

“Headache.” You mumbled, closing your eyes as the light from the torches in the room were causing it to flare up worse.

“Stay here, I’ve got something to stop it.” He laid a soft kiss to your forehead before standing up. He tucked the covers over your body and rushed to leave the room. When the door closed you tried to ignore the pain you felt, giddy over your first kiss with Mark.

---

It had been two days since the incident with Prince Jeno. After resting for the days in between, Mark had finally given you permission to continue on with your life as normal. You’d started the day off by cleaning up the mess Mark had managed to make in his work room during your absence. Mark wasn’t in the castle today; he hadn’t told you why he was away but had let you know he’d be back before sundown. This left you to do whatever you wanted to do in whatever order you wanted to do it in. Not that Mark ever bossed you around, but it was nice to clean without having him hovering over your shoulder watching you and offering to help. Mark had worked while you were recovering, but he hadn’t done as much work as he normally would, because every two hours he’d go to check up on you in your room. He’d also surprised you with a small bunch of daffodils to brighten up your dark candlelit room. He’d enhanced the petals so that they had a sparkly purple dusting over the soft yellow colour. It warmed your heart that he went to such an effort just to make you feel better.

After cleaning the entirety of Mark’s work room in record time, you decided to get some fresh air. The crispness of the cool breeze feeling like it gave you a new life under the hot sun beating down on your face the moment you stepped outside. You wondered around the castle grounds, strolling through the beautiful gardens until you found yourself at the large pond. You sat down on the dry grass, sitting on your knees and hoping that your uniform didn’t get any dry mud dusted onto the black material. The water rippled from the life underneath it, water lilies and lily pad’s decorating the surface of the pond as dragonflies danced around each other above them. You closed your eyes, letting out a content sigh at the serenity and beauty of the castle garden when someone cleared their throat behind you. You jumped in surprise, turning around quickly to see who was behind you. You saw Prince Jeno stood behind you wearing a loose, white silk shirt that had the top two buttons unbuttoned, it having slightly puffy long sleeves that closed around his wrists, tucked into a pair of tight black trousers with a pair of shiny polished shoes. You jumped up immediately, nearly losing your balance in your haste but managing to stay upright as you turned to face him. You bowed deeply to him, a pang of anxiety running through you at the sight of him for the first time since you’d found out his secret and he’d caused you to faint.

“Prince Jeno,” You greeted, looking him in the eyes before your eyes fell to the large bouquet of white roses he was holding in his hands, the roses held together by white silk wrapped around them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you’d be out here today; I’ll leave.” You bowed again to him, about to walk past him when he hurriedly spoke.

“No! please stay,” He bowed his head to you, clearing his throat again. He showed signs of nervousness, his hand running through his jet-black hair to push the long locks off of his forehead, his eyes kept darting around the scenery before meeting you own, only to repeat again as he tried to avoid eye contact. In the end he bit the bullet, his piercing brown eyes finding your own and holding your stare. “I came here to see you.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” You raised an eyebrow, not really thinking before asking the prince that question. You winced when you realised you probably shouldn’t be asking him questions. A smile graced his beautiful face, a soft laugh leaving his lips before he spoke.

“I followed your scent. Wolf senses.” He tapped the side of his nose and huffed a laugh again as your eyes widened.

“My scent?” You tilted your head, partially worried that you smelt bad.

“Yes, you won’t be able to smell it because you’re a human. But everyone has their own scent, so I just followed that and here we are.” He noticed your concerned face and chuckled. “You smell good don’t worry.”

“Oh…” You smiled softly, rocking on your heels with your hands behind your back as you tried to not feel awkward around him, the elephant in the room not having been addressed yet.

“Anyway, I wanted to personally apologise to you about what happened. I don’t really remember it much; the memories are foggy before I phased because I was kind of in a haze. But I do remember shouting at you and how you tried to help me. So, thank you for that. I’m sorry I scared you, I didn’t mean to make you faint like that. I hope you’re okay now though?” He sounded sincere, it being a complete contrast to the Prince you’d met in the greenhouse days prior. Granted this time he wasn’t on the cusp of turning into a giant wolf. You nodded quickly and smiled.

“I’m fine, thank you for your concern your highness.”

“Good…oh these are for you.” He held out the flowers to you, a shy smile on his face with his cheeks heating up a slight pink. When you didn’t step forward to receive the flowers his smile fell a little. “You’re scared of me…” You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it. “I would never hurt you, I’m still me even when I’m in my wolf form. You don’t have to be frightened of me; I have complete control of myself 90% of the time.” You immediately stepped forward, accepting the flowers from him with both hands.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just never experienced that before. These are beautiful, thank you.” You bowed again, not sure if you were over doing it with the bowing but the last thing you wanted to do was upset or disrespect the Prince.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?” He asked, coming to stand beside you and facing the pond, not waiting for your reply as he threw himself into a seated position on the floor, his legs crossed and his arm supporting him from behind.

“Of course not.” You sat beside him on your knees, placing the flowers on the floor beside you and placing your hands in your lap.

“You can relax you know.” He laughed as he saw how stiff you were sat in his presence. “Please, I just want to feel normal for 10 minutes.” His voice held a slight emotional tone to it that anyone would miss if it wasn’t for how much you were paying attention to him. You quickly rearranged yourself to sit with your legs crossed. “So,” He looked at you and you couldn’t quite believe how stunning he was. His skin was perfect, and he had such a boyish and handsome face. “Mark talks about you all the time.” He had a cheeky smile on his face, his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for you to spill the gossip to him about his trusted friend.

“He does?” You raised an eyebrow, your cheeks heating up at the mention of your new boyfriend.

“Yep, he’s smitten. It’s rather sweet actually, and yes he did tell me that you two are now a couple.”

“What else does he say about me?” You were curious to hear what Mark had been saying to one of the royals about you.

“He constantly goes on about how beautiful you are, which I must admit, he’s not wrong.” The Prince winked at you which caused your heart to plummet through you. You had never expected the Prince to be such a flirt, but you knew he was only being playful though. Which you assumed was rare due to not many people having good things to say about him. He’d also admitted to wanting to be normal for a short period of time, so you could only assume he didn’t let many people see this side of him.

“Thank you.” You thought it was only polite to accept his compliment, bowing your head in appreciation before training your eyes on a butterfly floating past you gracefully.

“Oh I almost forgot!” You turned to face him again, his smile reaching his eyes and making his them turn into half-moons. His face then suddenly fell, his eyes turning a bright amber colour. “Hurt Mark, and you’ll have me to answer to.” You could have sworn a little bit of urine leaked out of you in that moment, but then his eyes were back to their normal brown, a laugh leaving his lips and his eyes crinkling up again. “I’m only playing with you,” With that he pushed himself up onto his feet, his hand gently touching your shoulder. “I must be going, if you need anything please don’t hesitate to come find me.”

“Thank you, your highness.” You smiled up at him, feeling more comfortable being in his presence now that you knew despite all the rumours about him being a cold, harsh prince, he actually had a sense of humour and a soft side.

“Please, just call me Jeno when it’s the two of us. Goodbye (Y/N).” He patted your shoulder and made his leave. You glanced down at the roses beside you, your heart warming at how beautiful they were and how he went out of his way to deliver them personally to you. You then remembered what he said about Mark and a blush raised on your cheeks. You had no idea that Mark spoke about you to other people, especially the prince. You were happy that Mark had someone he could confined in within the castle walls though.

---

Since establishing your relationship with Mark, you can surely say life at the castle has been different. A lot of the maids now approached you as if you were higher ranked than them, which confused you to say the least, considering your job role hadn’t changed at all. You spoke to Seulgi about it and she brushed it off as them making sure to be on your good side, as many wizard’s can be very protective over people they love. You’d also found out people thought this way because of the son of the last witch who lived in the castle. Apparently, his mother was murdered by order of the king for some unknown reason, which is what lead him to curse Prince Jeno. Now it made sense to you why he’d ran away.

You didn’t know whether to tell Mark about your encounter with Prince Jeno, but when he’d come to your room and saw the extravagant bouquet of roses making his little bunch of daffodils look small in comparison, you had to explain to him how you’re acquired them and who from. He was shocked that Jeno had reached out an olive branch to you, stating it was out of character for him to do that. You noted the hint of jealousy in Marks voice as he said “Nice flowers though…”

In your free time Mark would now take you on dates. Your first official date was to the town, where he’d surprised you by taking you to the bakery your parents owned. Your heart felt so full of love and contentment that day when you got to see your parents for the first time in months and introduce your new boyfriend to them. You guess seeing your brother was alright too, (you had hugged him and squeezed him super tight). Every other date after that was just as romantic as the first, but you weren’t sure he would ever be able to top the thoughtfulness behind the first date. It had been a month of dating Mark and you were already 100% sure you were head over heels in love with the slightly awkward, shy, but completely lovable man. He showered you in love and affection and made sure you knew how he felt towards you daily.

It was your day off, so you got dressed into a pale blue knee length dress and a matching long cardigan, slipping on your comfy shoes when you saw a stray piece of parchment on the floor. It looked like it had been slipped through the gap at the bottom of your bedroom door.

Good morning my angel, meet me in the courtyard when you wake up.

Your love, Mark.

You smiled as your stared at his slightly messy handwriting, rereading his words multiple times as your heart soared. You did wonder why he wanted to meet in the courtyard though. You hadn’t been there many times but every time you’d been there, guards were training or Jisung had been mulling around in his free time. You’d gotten to know the young guard very well, but never had the heart to ask why they had someone as young as him guarding the front gate when most of the knights and guards were twice the size of him and looked like they had experience behind their belt. He was a total sweetheart and he got excited about things very quickly. There was a time when you’d baked cookies in the castle kitchen for Mark, but you encountered Jisung on the way to deliver them to Mark, so you gave Jisung a cookie and he acted like a child being given a crown.

As much as you like Jisung, you hoped Mark was alone in the courtyard. You walked to the courtyard with a skip in your step, greeting anyone you came across politely. The hot breeze hit you as you walked through the exit, the sun beating down on your exposed skin causing you to squint until your eyes adjusted to the sudden light. You navigated your way to the courtyard, walking past the gardens and greenhouse, your skin starting to dampen under the sun much to your dismay. You heard Mark’s voice as you neared the courtyard, his voice uncharacteristically loud as you could hear his words clearly from around the corner.

“You have to leave, please!” He sounded like he was begging whoever was stood beside him. You didn’t hear anyone respond to him, so you assumed they’d wordlessly left the courtyard. You brushed down any creases that had formulated in your dress, putting on a sweet smile as you rounded the corner. Before you laid your eyes on Mark, your eyes had glued themselves onto the creature that was too big to ignore. It was then that you realised Mark had been talking to the gigantic dragon beside him. The sheer size of the dragon made Mark look like a toddler in comparison. It had an ombre of different shades of red scales, its folded wings as black as a night sky that was void of any stars, and its golden eyes trained on your stilled figure. You gulped in fright, having only ever heard bad things and horror stories about dragons. Not once had you ever heard a story that started with ‘The great dragon who didn’t eat people’. You remember one particular story told to you by the seamstress in the town, about a dragon who had destroyed a whole village with only two breaths of fire leaving its throat.

Taking a step back on instinct, you remembered that Mark was still stood beside the dragon, your eyes finding his. He looked panicked as he watched you, his eyes wide and mouth parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the right words to explain what was going on. He was monitoring your reaction, trying to figure out how you were coping with seeing a dragon in the flesh for the first time. Mark had clearly not planned for this dragon to be there when you arrived.

“(Y/N),” He spoke up timidly, holding a hand out to you as a silent encouragement to join him. “it’s okay, he won’t hurt you.” You thought back to seeing Prince Jeno turn into a wolf in front of you, that suddenly feeling like nothing now you were stood in the eyesight of one of the most dangerous creatures known to man. You’d take an angsty wolf over a dragon any day. Mark opened his mouth to speak again, but before any words could leave his mouth, the dragon took two steps towards you, its body looming over you and blocking your view from the sun, a shadow casting over you as a result. Although, you didn’t think that it was the heat from the sun that was causing you to sweat anymore. It, or as Mark had addressed it as, he, dipped his head down to your level. His face getting closer to you by the second. You could feel your heart start to beat faster in your chest, a wave of chills rippled through your body, and your palms started to get clammy from the anxiety coursing through your system. The dragon puffed some air from his nose, like it was letting out a sigh. You felt your hair and dress flutter from the gust of air hitting you, just as Mark tried to approach you. He wasn’t able to though, the heavy tail of the dragon slamming hard onto the ground between the you and Mark, separating you both. You flinched at the loud noise, gulping from having your security blanket of a boyfriend blocked from you.

“Mark what’s he doing?” You voice was shaky from the anxiety you had bubbling in your stomach like a boiling potion that Mark brewed, ready for it to explode at any moment.

“He’s pl-” Mark was cut off by the low growling of the giant beast beside you overpowering the sound of his voice, it sounding like it was rumbling throughout its entire body. The dragon bared his teeth at you, lowering his head down until he was at eye-level with you, his eyes narrowing at you as if he was ready to attack you at any given moment. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over the brim of your eyes as you stared at the beast, its mouth opening with the light of fire building in the back of its throat. Your fight or flight mode suddenly kicked in, adrenaline sparking up in your veins and causing your legs to take off before your brain had even processed what your body was doing. You didn’t hear Mark calling out to you as you ran, too in your own head to notice his frantic shouts. You ran out of the courtyard the way you came in, dashing through the castle grounds and back inside the castle.

“(Y/N)?” Seulgi caught your arm as you went to run past her, stopping you instantly. “What’s wrong?” You gulped, trying to catch your breath as your started to hyperventilate from what you’d just experienced. Everything that happened with Prince Jeno came rushing back into your mind, it all hitting boiling point as bursting inside of you. You weren’t used to things like this happening, you came from a quiet family in a part of the town where not much crime happened and any creatures other than human were rare.

“Dragon.” You managed to squeak out between soft sobs leaving your lips, your hands running through your hair in your distress.

“Oh! Hey that’s ju-” You didn’t let her finish, shaking your head and pulling your arm away from her hold.

“I can’t stay here anymore. I’m going, I-I can’t.” You mumbled in a frenzy, turning away from her to run down the hall to your room. After you’d left her, she’d hurried down the halls to find Mark, poking her head in multiple rooms he could be in as she didn’t know his whereabouts. She finally found him as he jogged into the castle, sweaty dripping off of his forehead and a worried expression marred on his face.

“Mark!” She called out, gaining his attention quickly as he approached her. It was then that she noticed that he had Jisung trailing behind him looking like a scolded child, his head tilted down and fingers knotted together.

“Have you seen (Y/N)?” Mark’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped, his hands shaking slightly as he brushed the hair off of his damp forehead.

“Yeah she came running through here in a complete state! Jisung what did you do?!” She frowned at the young boy, his head sinking into his shoulders like he knew he was about to be scolded more.

“I was only playing…” He mumbled in a soft voice, his lips coming out into a natural pout as he tried to defend himself. Seulgi opened her mouth, about to yell at Jisung when Mark held his hand up to her.

“Don’t. I’ve already shouted at him enough.” Despite the fact that Jisung had really frightened you in an immature act, Mark still had a soft spot for the boy, and didn’t see much point in Seulgi just repeating everything that he’d already shouted at him. “Where is she?”

“She ran that way, I’m assuming she’s gone to her room.” She pointed down the hall to where you’d retreated to.

“Thank you, Jisung, stay with Seulgi, you can apologise to (Y/N) later.” He pointed his finger at Jisung to show the severity of his words, then turned to Seulgi and nodded in appreciation at her for sharing your possible whereabouts with him.

“Mark, she wants to leave, you need to hurry before she goes.” He nodded again, taking off in a run down the hall to where the maids’ quarters were situated. He ran down the stairs and along the long hallway to your door, not bothering to knock before he burst through the door. He let out a sigh as he was met to an empty room, all of your belongings and the backpack you used to bring everything in was gone.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, dashing back down the hall and up the stairs. He stopped for a moment, racking his brain for ideas of your whereabouts until an idea spark in his head. He remembered the crystal ball he rarely used tucked in the back of one of his cupboards. He knew if he used it correctly, he would be able to see you and use it for clues as to where you were. He sprinted, ignoring the burning in his lungs, passing his potion room, and hurrying down a flight of stairs, almost tripping in his haste, before bursting into the room that he used as his bedroom. He paused when he saw you hurrying to stuff what he recognised to be one of your books that you’d leant him into your already full bag.

“(Y/N)!” He rushed over to you, noticing your tear streaked and flushed face which made his heart sink. Without thinking he grabbed your bag, tearing it out of your hands with a hard tug and throwing it onto the floor. “You can’t leave me.” He shook his head, tears building up in his own eyes as his eyes bore into your own.

“I have to go; I can’t stay here something will end up killing me Mark!” He went to reach for your bag, his hands coming out and gripping both of your wrists to restrict you.

“No. Please, I can’t lose you over something this stupid.” His voice cracked, his throat drying up and stinging from the emotions he was feeling.

“It’s not stupid! I’m scared. I don’t want to be here anymore, let me go.” You tried to pull away from Mark, but his grip got tighter, desperation coursing through him as he refused to let you go.

“It is stupid!!! The dragon is Jisung, he was being stupid and trying to scare you because he was bored (Y/N). He’s a dragon hybrid, he wouldn’t ever hurt you, if anything him being here means you’re safer than you could ever be in the town without him.” He tried to think of all the words he could say to change your mind, his heart cracking at the thought of you leaving him. The desperation in his eyes was hurting your heart, you hated that his was upsetting to him, but you couldn’t help the flight mode you were currently in. “I’ve already told him off, please you can’t just go! What about me huh? Were you just going to go without even telling me?” He sniffed back his tears, letting out a breath as he tried to cope with the horrible thoughts going through his head. You looked down, knowing the answer to his question but not wanting to admit it to him.

“What about when Jeno just turned into a fucking wolf in front of me Mark?! Every time I think I’m safe another person I think is normal turns into a creature that could kill me without a second thought! I don’t want to live in fear!” You diverted the conversation away from what he’d asked you, instead trying to justify your reasons to leave because as your adrenaline dwindled you started to realise how stupid and dramatic you were being.

“You know damn well I would die before I let anything hurt you…do you not trust me?” A lone tear fell onto his cheek, his eyes bloodshot from his emotions taking over him.

“I’m sorry Mark.” You whispered, stepping closer to him until you were chest to chest with him. You looked up into his eyes, noting the hurt behind them as he gazed into your own eyes. He let go of your wrists, slowly moving his hands up over your arms to your hips. He blinked, another round of tears cascading onto his red cheeks. He swallowed his emotions down and let out a sigh. “I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, cupping his cheeks in your palms and wiping his tears away with your thumbs. He nodded, not trusting his voice and instead opting to lean down and place a lingering kiss onto your lips. You kissed back, the kiss tasting salty from yours or his tears, you couldn’t tell who they belonged to. He tilted his head to the side, kissing your more passionately and not waiting for permission to force his tongue into your mouth. He brushed his tongue against your own and his hands held onto your hips with a strong grip. You let out a soft whimper into his mouth, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he pulled you flush against him, his mouth moving frantically against yours like your kisses were what was keeping him alive. He stopped kissing you, his lips just a hairs width away from your own as he panted, trying to catch his breath from your heated kiss.

“I love you, never leave me.” He whispered, his lips finding yours again in a very brief but soft kiss. One thing you’d heard from the whispers that went around the castle was that wizards could be naturally clingy to their significant others. People suspected it was the constant danger that they possessed within their own powers that caused them to be this way when they cared for someone. Mark had shown this within your month-long relationship. He had cared for you more than anyone, apart from your parents, ever had. And you also found that wherever you went, Mark would be not far from you ready to protect you if he had to. There one time when you thought you were walking down the castle halls alone. You’d tripped on a bunched-up bit of rug and had nearly face planted the floor when a sudden force made you feel weightless and situated you up right again. You hadn’t seen Mark around, but you knew for a fact that you not falling was because of his handy work.

“Never,” You pressed your lips to his again, kissing him with heat behind the kiss as you held onto his shoulders. “I love you too.” You mumbled between kisses. He smiled into the kiss momentarily before backing you up to his bed. He reluctantly pulled away from the kiss to lay you on his bed on your back, climbing over you when he was sure you were comfortable with your head rested against his plush pillows. You hadn’t yet had sex with Mark. Sure, you’d made out with him, but the kisses had mostly been reserved and had been stopped by him after his hands started to wander. He pressed his body to yours; his body weight being held up by your own body with the help of his forearms pressed to pillows on either side of your head. His kisses trailed from your lips, to your jaw, and finally found their stop at your neck. He started off with laying soft, wet kisses to your neck, then he started to suck at your hot skin. You felt arousal spark within your heat, butterflies tumbling around in your stomach as he stopped sucking and licked a stripe up your neck where he’d just made a dark bruise. He blew cool air against the bruise he’d just made, his eyes admiring his handy work at making his mark on you. Shivers ran down your spine from the cool air hitting your damp skin, causing you to squirm underneath him and roll your hips up into his, hinting at what you wanted him to do to you. He smirked, leaning back in and placing a lingering, timid kiss to you parted lips. He ground his hips against yours, and it was the first time you’d felt his own arousal against you. His hard bulge pressed against your covered centre and making a whine of want rip from your throat.

“Mark…” You whined in a breathy moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and cupping his cheeks in your hands, leading his lips back to your own. He pulled away after a moment, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Do you want this?” He whispered against your lips, his eyes still shut as he started to roll his hips into yours, not being able to stop himself as the friction against his hard length felt too good. You nodded, running your hands through his hair and connecting your lips once more. “I’ve never done this before, tell me if I hurt you.” He didn’t know whether you had done this before or not, he assumed you hadn’t, but in the moment, he was too shy to ask. He reluctantly sat back on his knees, your parted legs falling either side of his own as he quickly unbuttoned his white shirt. He slipped it from his shoulders, and you smiled at the sight of his bare chest for the first time. He was beautiful, his muscles looking defined from the shadows of the light of the flickering candles. You noticed the dark trail of hair that lead into the confines of his black trousers, licking your lips in wonder at what he was packing underneath. You looked up at his face and noticed for the first time that something was missing.

“Where’s your glasses?” You tilted your head and raised an eyebrow, not used to seeing him without the pair of rounded glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He paused, his eyes slightly wide and his mouth pursed.

“Er…” He looked around his room from his spot on the bed, squinting a little as if it would help before he shrugged. “I don’t actually know…” You giggled, sitting up and pecking his lips once. You started to unbutton the front of your dress, only the top half of it having buttons. The material fell from your shoulders, revealing your plain white bra underneath. It wasn’t anything special, most people only wore plain undergarments, but you’d heard people were starting to make pretty looking bras and panties from lace material. You hoped one day you could own something like that. Mark bit his bottom lip as he stared down at your chest, his heart beating faster and he felt more blood rush down south. He helped you slip the dress off your body, holding the material in his hands as he debated whether to fold it or not. He chose not to, throwing it to the floor before turning his attention back to you as you laid back against his pillows. He could see a damp patch on your panties, his throat feeling dry as he reached a finger out and ran it from the top of your panties to where the little wet spot was. You shuddered, subconsciously parting your legs wider. He shuffled out of his trousers, leaving him only in his white boxers. You could see the outline of his hard cock underneath them and you felt a buzz of excitement cause you to get wetter at the thought of him putting it inside of you.

“I haven’t done this before either.” You blurted out, a pang of nerves hitting you as he slowly pushed down his underwear, his hard cock springing up which is what had caused the little sparks of anxiety to flare up in you. The more you looked at it the more you were sure it would never fit inside of you. Mark let out a small sigh of relief at your confession, glad he didn’t have to live up to the expectation of another man on his first attempt, but also because the thought of another man seeing you in the same way Mark currently had his eyes on you, made him feel a little bit sick with jealousy. He leaned over you, motioning for you to arch your back so he could unclip your bra. He wrapped his arms around you and started to fiddle with the clasp, struggling to undo it with his shaky hands. You bit your bottom lip, your chest starting to shake from how you were holding in your laughter at his failure to open your bra. He groaned, stopping and sitting back on his knees. He snapped his fingers and as he did, the clasp popped open, leaving the material loose on your chest. Your mouth dropped open in surprise at his little trick.

“Impressive.” You smiled widely at him, his own mouth breaking out into a wide smile too.

“Thank you.” He winked, pulling the bra from your body and pausing before leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasped at the unfamiliar feeling flushing through you as he sucked at your sensitive bud. His tongue swirled around your nipple, flicking at it before sucking it into his mouth again. He rolled his hips into yours, his cock rubbing against your clothed clit and giving you a pleasure you’d never felt before. He moved over and did the same to your other nipple, paying close attention to it until he descended down your torso, placing soft kisses to your stomach as he got further down. You lifted your hips and he slid your panties down your legs slowly, throwing them behind him without a care as he stared down at your glistening entrance. He gulped, pushing your legs up to your chest as he leaned in and tentatively licking from your hole up to your clit, lapping your juices up on his tongue and closing his eyes at your taste. You moaned quietly, biting your bottom lip as Mark leaned back in and flicked his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Mark!” You gasped as he sucked on your clit, sliding a finger inside your wet walls, pumping it slowly in and out of you before adding another finger alongside it.

“Does it feel good baby?” He whispered against your folds, running his tongue over them repeatedly and nipping at them with his teeth. You nodded quickly, biting your bottom lip and humming in contentment. He smirked, pressing a kiss to your clit and pumping his fingers in you faster. He withdrew his fingers, climbing over you and pressing his chest to your own. He wrapped your legs around his waist and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, lining up his length to your hole. “Tell me if it hurts.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, leaving his lips lingering over yours as he nervously pressed into you. The slight pain you felt took your breath away, a soft gasp falling from your lips as you gripped onto his back. He paused for a second before continuing to push into you. You winced slightly, Mark’s lips finding yours to comfort you as he noticed the pained expression on your face. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, he waited until your posture relaxed. You let out a soft sigh, rubbing your hands on his back softly as a wordless hint that you were ready. “I love you.” He whispered against your lips, slowly pulling out of you only to push back inside of you slowly, repeating this multiple times until he had a slow, steady rhythm going.

“I love you too Mark.” You let out a gentle moan, tilting your head back as his thrusts become stronger, his confidence building the more he was making sure you were enjoying it. You weren’t sure for how long you and Mark were making love for; it could have been minutes or hours. But one thing you did know was how much you felt for him. He was gentle and kept asking you if you were okay, he gave you kisses and varied between fast thrusts and slow thrusts, dragging out the whole act so he could spend a longer time showing his love for you during the intimate act. He finished before you, drawn out, incoherent words falling from his lips as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, his hips slamming into you one final time as he coated your walls with his load. He attempted to thrust into you more to finish you off, but the oversensitivity he felt made it impossible for him, so instead he pulled out of you and used his fingers to bring you to your high. You’d never experienced an orgasm before, and the one Mark provided you with made your toes curl, your back arch, and stars to fuzz your vision up. He looked proud of himself as you whimpered out his name, your pussy constricting on his fingers as he watched you in awe. You went to sleep that night, curled up in Mark’s arms feeling safer than you’d ever felt in your life.

---

Since you and Mark had hit another milestone in your relationship, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. It had been two months since you made love for the first time, and since then you were stuck in what a lot of people would call the ‘honeymoon phase’. You would spend most of your nights in Mark’s bed, but you wouldn’t always be having sex. Some nights you would simply cuddle up under the candlelight with him whilst he told you stories he’d heard throughout his life, or you’d read a book while Mark wrote down his to-do list for the next day. You just loved being with Mark and found yourself infatuated with the quiet wizard. Although he wasn’t nearly as quiet around you as what he used to be. Mark was so wrapped up in you that he’d accidentally brewed the wrong potion for one of the maids who was suffering with a common cold, she ended up with pale white hair that was quite a comparison to the red hair she had before she drank the potion. Luckily. she wasn’t too mad, and Mark had brewed a perfect potion to fix the problem.

You walked into Mark’s work room, a feather duster in hand and a cheeky smile on your face as you got to the bottom of the rounded staircase. You spotted him immediately, stood by his small cauldron that was situated on his large table, his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his hair neat against his forehead, signs he was brewing a potion that didn’t stress him out. When Mark got stressed, he would run his hands through his hair, consequently messing up the dark looks and making them look untidy. He was wearing his normal uniform, a white shirt and black trousers, but today he opted for a short-sleeved shirt instead of his usual long sleeved ones.

“Is that for the Prince?” You approached him, laying the duster on the table and gently placing your hand on Mark’s arm, rubbing your fingers against his bare skin in circles. He turned to you and smiled, nodding his head before leaning down and pecking your lips lightly with his own as a way of greeting. “I saw him earlier actually, he mentioned that he needed more potion as tomorrow is a full moon and he’s completely out.”

“That’s why I’m making this for him now.” Mark chuckled and bumped his hip into yours. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around his middle, nuzzling your head into his chest as you watched him continue to make the potion. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a sigh. “No, I did put eight elder wood berries in…yes I definitely did.” You heard him mumble to himself in doubt.

“If you get any spare time can you make more of that potion you make for me please?” You knew Mark would know what you meant without naming the potion. Since you’d started having sex with Mark regularly, he’d been making a particular potion that with one sip would prevent the chance of pregnancy after sex. It was a well-known potion amongst people in town that cost a lot of money, often leading to people forgoing it and ending up with a lot of kids they’d struggle to cloth and feed. Luckily for you, your boyfriend was a wizard, so you got all the sex and contraceptive juice for free.

“Yeah of course, I’ll start brewing it later, but it won’t be ready until tomorrow.” He looked at you and noticed your pout, a soft laugh leaving his lips. “You can go one night without sex.”

“Fine!” You sighed dramatically, picking up your feather duster and starting to dust around the room, purposely leaning over surfaces and watching Mark to see if he had his eyes on you. He didn’t, too focused on his job.

---

You and Mark had normally retired to his chambers by 9pm on his workdays. But you found yourself in his work room with him at 11:50pm, sat on his worktable as you waited for the potion he’d brewed for you to cool off before you could consume it. He’d promised it would be ready within the next 20 minutes, so you found yourself staring at his enchanted clock often, hoping the time would go quicker.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted time to go quicker than what I want it to now.” You mumbled against his lips, your hands having found their way into his untucked shirt as you trailed your fingertips over his abs, his stomach flexing as it tickled every now and then.

“I’ve never seen you so desperate before.” He laughed softly, connecting your lips and tangling his hands up in the locks of your hair. He pulled back from you as a loud bang echoed through the room. You looked up to find the source of the loud noise in surprise.

“Mark! Are you down there?!” A breathless voice called out from the top of the rounded staircase; the crash having been from the heavy door hitting the stone wall loudly.

“It’s Jeno.” Mark commented, pulling away from you, he rushed to the staircase, you following behind him in curiosity. “Yes, do you need me?” He called out, jogging up the stairs with you hot on his tail. When you got to the top of the stairs, you saw Prince Jeno slumped against the wall, his cheek pressed to the cold stone and his face covered in a sheen of sweat. His white shirt was nearly see-through from how drench in sweat it was, the material sticking to his chest and abdomen. You also noticed he was panting fast, finding it hard to catch his breath.

“S-something’s not right.” He gulped, his throat dry and his voice coming out raspy. “I feel really bad, an-and it doesn’t feel li-like anything I’ve ever felt before.” He groaned, hunching over and holding onto his stomach as if he’d just been kicked hard there. You saw how his whole body was shuddering like he was freezing cold despite the perspiration he had on his skin. “I think I’m sick.” Mark furrowed his eyebrows at the Prince, going through his head to try and figure out what it could be he was suffering from.

“Did you take your potion earlier?” He asked with a nervous tone to his voice. Jeno nodded, groaning and stumbling out into the hall of the castle. You followed, rushing over to him and holding onto him to stop him from falling. There wasn’t much light, all the torches and candles usually lit in the halls having been put out earlier on in the evening. There was limited light coming through the big window beside you, but not much as the moon was situated before clouds.

“You’re burning up Jeno.” You placed your hand on his forehead, not caring about getting your hand wet from his sweat, just wanting to figure out what was happening to the poor boy. His forehead was hot to the touch, almost too hot for you to be able to handle and you’d never felt anyone have a temperature like this before. Mark was still racking his brains, now doubting the potion he’d made the day prior, he looked at his feet, retracing all of his steps and actions. You watched Jeno, his body slumping more before his body was illuminated under the bright light of the full moon appearing out from behind the cloud it was behind. At the same time, you heard the enchanted clock chime to signify midnight from the workroom. Jeno gasped, his body becoming completely rigid in your hold and his eyes turning in a bright amber colour. Mark looked up quickly, realisation hitting him as he remembered only putting in 5 elder wood berried instead of the required eight. Jeno seemed to realise what was about to happen as he tried to push you away from him, but he was too late.

“(Y/N)! Let go of-” He never got to finish his sentence. Jeno’s body erupting into a giant black wolf with you stood far too close to him. In his attempt to shove you away, his hands had turned into large paws with razor sharp claws, ripping down your right arm and shredding the skin, leaving big gashes that oozed with blood dripping down your skin. You’d been pushed to the floor from the strength of the Jeno, the pain not hitting you yet as adrenaline pumped through you. Jeno backed off, his eyes trained on you in disgust at what he’d just done to you. He turned around and took off, the wolf disappearing from sight and leaving you alone with Mark. Mark stood shellshocked, his brain not kicking in until you let out a sob in pain. He grabbed you and picked you up into his arms, not caring about the blood soaking into his clothes or dripping onto the floor as he rushed you into his workroom. “It’s going to be okay baby.” He muttered, looking around the room for the most comfortable and appropriate place to set you down. In the end he opted to sitting you on the floor. You felt your body shaking from the adrenaline pumping through you, the pain in your arm feeling like nothing you’d ever felt before. You didn’t look at your cuts as Mark rushed around the room, gathering up different pieces of equipment and bottles.

“Mark it hurts.” You whimpered, wanting him to drop everything to wrap you up in the confines of his arms. He glanced at you and gulped, letting out a harsh sigh and rushing back to you.

“I’m sorry please forgive me.” He took your face in his bloody hands, looking you in the eyes before shutting his own tightly, muttering some words that you’d heard him use before on someone else. You knew what was about to happen and it freaked you out.

“Mark no wait please don’t.” You cried harder, trying to pull his hands from your cheeks. “No Mark pl-” You stopped talking as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your body going limp in his hold as he knocked you unconscious using a spell. He knew this way you wouldn’t feel any pain and he could fix you up with more ease, he’d also be able to confine in other people without worrying you. He gulped, feeling sick with guilt as he knew this was all his fault for not being careful enough when brewing the Prince’s potion.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He held you to his chest and let out hard sob, tears falling down his face as he broke his promise of you never getting hurt.

---

Mark hadn’t slept; his eyes were dark underneath from his lack of sleep and were bloodshot with tears. His hair was a mess and he was still wearing the blood-stained shirt even 13 hours after it had been bloodied. He was torn, he didn’t know how to treat your wounds with magic until he’d figured out the logistics behind your cuts. He’d bound them in material to prevent too much blood loss, but he knew time was running out.

“I don’t know what to do, I’m at a loss.” In rage, he threw the book he was holding across the room, clenching his fists up and resisting the urge to slam his fists into the wall. Seulgi flinched in shock at his sudden rage, having never witnessed the placid man get this emotional before. They’d left you tucked up in his bed, still unconscious as the spell Mark had used on you would keep you asleep for five to seven days.

“Mark, I doubt that it’s going to change her.” She softly spoke, picking up the book he’d thrown and placing it gently on the table.

“You don’t know that Seulgi, he’s a fucking werewolf and he scratched her! You know how it works.” He mumbled in anger, shaking his head and running his hands over his face. “I have two options, I can heal her quickly, the wounds will close up within days, but it won’t stop her from turning into a werewolf. The other option is…” He winces at the thought of the second option, sighing before continuing. “It will heal her slowly, she’ll be in so much pain for weeks, but it will eliminate any chances of her becoming one of those things.”

“You will make the right choice; I know you will.” She rubbed his arm comfortingly, smiling weakly with a horrible feeling in her gut at the horrible choice he has to make. “Just remember that Jeno isn’t a purebred werewolf, he was cursed, it could be different. Besides, it’s never actually been proven that a werewolf’s scratch can turn a human into one of them.”

“Hm…there is a third option.” He walked to the large cabinet that had a lock on it, one only he could open. He pressed his thumb to it and the lock popped open. Opening the cupboard, he took out a black, opaque bottle. “Dark magic.”

“No. Mark if the king knows you used dark magic, he will have your head.” Seugli’s voice had a commanding tone to it. “It’s not worth the risk, when she recovers, she will need you more than ever Mark.” He placed it back in the cupboard and locked it up again.

“Like she needs me, I promised her I would never let anyone hurt her and look at the situation we’re in now!” His rose his voice again, before letting out a sigh and nodding. “You’re right…I’m going to change her dressing.” He left the workroom without another word, walking to his room with his head down and letting himself in. When he looked up to check on you, he frowned, his face hardening as he saw Jeno sitting at your bedside, your hand tucked up in both of his. “Get out.” Mark growled, not caring for formalities as anger sparked up in his chest. Jeno looked over at him and shook his head, his eyes red and cheeks wet from where he’d been crying.

“Mark I’m so sorry.” He let out a choked sob, fresh tears falling from his eyes. He felt guilty, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“It was. Get out Jeno.” Mark had never been this harsh to the Prince before, never having raised his voice out of respect, but he felt that if he blamed Jeno it would make his own guilt dwindle. But as he looked at the Prince, he let out a sigh, feeling more guilty at trying to pass the blame on. Jeno opened his mouth to speak but Mark beat him to it. “It’s my fault…”

“How?” Jeno sniffed, his hands still encased over your own.

“I was too distracted when I made your potion, I didn’t put in enough of a certain ingredient, which made the potion too weak a-and,” He struggled to confess, his stomach twisting in anxiety. “That’s the reason why you couldn’t resist changing at the full-moon. The reason why you’d never felt that way before was because your body was trying to use the potion to stop you from changing. But due to the weakness of the potion, it was like a battle inside your body. I’m so sorry your highness.” He went back to using formalities, bowing to the Prince in front of him. Jeno’s eyes darkened, his mouth hardening into a line as he tried to control the temper, he felt rising in him, knowing if the potion he had was weak, it wouldn’t stop him from changing when his emotions flared up. He was lucky to have not changed from his sadness, but he guessed the potion, although weak, was having a slight effect on him.

“You tried to blame me, tried to make me feel as if I had done this to her.” His voice was low, and Mark was starting to get concerned about Jeno’s temper. “You did this to her.” He stood up, letting go of your hand and storming from the room, deciding it was best to subtract himself from the situation in case he made it worse.

“Fuck.” Mark groaned, grabbing the clean cloth on his bedside table before looking down at your peaceful face. “I’m sorry my love.” He whispered, laying soft kiss on your warm forehead.

---

A week had passed before your eyes blinked open slowly, your head feeling groggy and you’d never felt so hungry before in your life. You gulped as memories flooded back into your mind of what happened. You were hurt that Mark had gone against your will and used a charm that would render you unconscious when you’d pleaded with him not to. You moved your left arm, the one that was injured ad let out a yelp in pain. It was wrapped up tightly in white cloth, your injuries not visible but going by the pain you felt, it wasn’t any better.

“Mark?” You called out, your throat dry and voice barely there. When you received no reply, your hesitantly swung your legs out of his bed, pouring yourself a glass of water from the jug he always had on his bedside table. You drank the liquid fast, feeling a wash of relief at the cool water. You slowly walked out of the room, up the stairs and to Mark’s workroom where you assumed, he’d be. You pushed the door open slowly when you heard voices, making your way down the rounded staircase slowly.

“You’re lucky Mark, if you were anyone else, I would have ripped you to shreds.” You recognised the voice as Prince Jeno’s. “But I have forgiven you. However,” He stopped talking, sniffing the air as he smelt your scent waft into the room. “Never mind.” You appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the two men as they stood by the fireplace that had a large cauldron bubbling over the top of it.

“Baby!” Mark rushed over to you, cupping your face in his hands and scouring his eyes over you to make sure you were okay.

“I’m fine.” You snapped at him, turning your face away from his as you remembered what he’d done. “Care to explain what happened?” Jeno approached you slowly, worried in case you would turn away from him in fright. On the contrary, you walked up to him and stood close to him. Mark gulped down his jealous and told you from start to finish what had went wrong. You listened carefully and nodded along, taking in all his words and his constant apologies.

“I’m sorry too.” Jeno spoke quietly, hesitating before taking your good hand in his. He placed a soft kiss to the back of you hand and let out a sigh. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered. “Forgive him please, he has hardly slept, and he’s been going out of his mind trying to make you better.” With that he left you two alone. You looked at Mark, your eyes not showing any emotion as you stared at him.

“Can I have a hug? I really need one.” His face crinkled up as he tried to hold back the tears in his eyes, them threatening to fall like a water at a flood barrier. Your face softened as you watched the boy you love break down in front of you.

“Come here.” You raised your good arm, motioning for him to come to you. He rushed to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms around your middle. You felt his body shake as he let out small sobs, all the emotions he’d held back for the past few days finally coming to light at the sight of you up on your feet. “I love you; I don’t blame you.” You whispered, rubbing his back with your hand and squeezing him tightly. “Thank you for making the choice, I know it must have been a hard decision.” He’d told you about the choices he had to make, and how he opted to heal you slowly to prevent any changes in you.

“Are you in pain?” He pulled back to look into your eyes.

“A little, I’ll be okay.” He smiled softly, leaning down to capture your lips in his own. You didn’t feel hungry anymore, all your appetite washed away with Mark’s tears.

“I haven’t got anything I can give you to stop the pain, it could interfere with what I’ve already given you.” He sighed, placing a soft kiss to your jaw.

“I just want to lay with you.” You whispered softly, clinging onto Mark’s body. He stiffened and widened his eyes at you.

“I-it’s a bit too early for that! You’re still too badly injured I could hurt you!” Mark had clearly misunderstood you. You laughed gently and smiled at him with a roll of your eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant I want to lay beside you in bed Mark.” His eyebrows raised in realisation, his mouth opening in an ‘o’ shape.

“We can do that.” He took your good hand in his own, leading you back to his room. He pulled back the covers and got into his bed, opening his arms up for you to crawl into his embrace. You wasted no time in cuddling up to him, closing your eyes in contentment and ignoring the pain you felt shooting up your arm.

“Thank you for everything you did,” You snuggled your head into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly but with caution of your injury. “I hope you don’t think this means I trust you less, you couldn’t have stopped him from changing as quick as he did, and everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

“I broke my promise to you though. I promised you’d never get hurt and you did. I messed up his potion which caused him to turn.” He closed his eyes, squeezing them hard to get the image of you covered in blood out of his mind. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’m so in love with you.” You opened your eyes, letting them trail up his delicate features to his closed eyes. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down into yours.

“As am I with you.” He smiled, leaning his face down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You kissed him with a burning love in your heart, the feeling of your injuries being nothing when you had Mark by your side.

(A/N: Thank you so much for reading this, it’s my longest piece so far and I’m really proud of this work. Please give me feedback and keep an eye out for the next part in the series, which will be Renjun’s part. It will go into more depth about his story that was briefly mentioned in this part. Again, thank you.)

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drake-the-incubus · 4 years ago

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This is a gift for @striderhell from the Homestuck Secret Santa 2020 (@homestuckss). I was aiming for 3000 words but uh, Dirk as a muse didn’t want to continue exploring the concept of gender given his rigid but philosophical nature.

I hope this was good, and if not just gimme a shout and I’ll try and come up with something better.

Word Count: 1521 Fandom: Homestuck Characters: Dirk Strider, Roxy Lalonde Relationships: Dirk Strider & Roxy Lalonde (Platonic/Friends)

Additional Notes: Roxy uses He/Him and They/Them, I’ve never finished the epilogues but I love NB Rox. Dirk uses no pronouns in this, as I wanted to try that out.

Please enjoy Dirk exploring his gender.

Sometimes in an effort to define ourselves, we feel trapped to conform to some rigid aspect or label in hopes to reach an understanding of who we are. At times this process can be frustrating and dissatisfying. Other people take weeks or days, and some of them take years or never figure it out.

Perhaps gender, as a construct, can’t be fully understood, but we can understand ourselves as people without it. The tale before you, is only a short of someone who wishes to take a journey many end up doing, and most have never encountered.

Dirk was sitting in a cafe on Earth-C, sipping on a coffee in between tinkering with another pair of shades. The goal was updating and adding a better set of graphics, hoping to add some additional features to make things easier.

It had been a while since the Prince of Heart had seen the rest of the gods. Jake would visit once in a while, and they would have a friendly spar or talk. Roxy would message once in a while, letting Dirk know any spicy news about the rest.

Dave would randomly show up, they would stare each other down before both Striders would give a thumbs up and go their separate ways.

Rose would often come by, trading witty banter and wisdom. Both of them struggled with the massive impact of their god tiers and would often talk about it to one another.

Today though, Dirk decided a change of area would suit this project best, specifically needing to leave the workshop and enjoy some caffeine. Recently a problem developed that would continue to nag at the Prince even through the night. Lack of sleep was the reason why Dirk had picked a coffee shop. It made the most sense.

Gender did not.

Dirk had been going through a lot lately, and when Roxy had come out as trans, it had been taken pretty well by most of them. Not that it would be different if Dirk came out either, but rather that would take knowing what was going on.

This was a laughable moment, since they all had beaten the game, made it out and enjoyed their own little home in the midst of nothing. Creating entire worlds and civilizations with the help of their space and time players, but Dirk was sitting there, in a cafe, trying to figure out what gender even was and how it related to the god’s own identity.

Pronouns were hard, but so was even figuring this shit out. Making a copy of your brain at thirteen was much easier than figuring out if you’re cis or not, and Dirk didn’t know.

The more it was thought about, the more the thought cropped up, what if it turned out the being Cis wasn’t the result. Dirk was absolutely sure about not being a chick, nothing really appealed about that, but then again there was a very similar feeling over the current gender.

Man, agender or woman. Those were the categories that presented themselves currently. Working harder to connect the shades to the newly built chip, Dirk jolted when suddenly Roxy sat down across the table.

“I called out to you, but you didn’t answer.” He said leaning over and looking over the project. “I was wondering what made you change location, you’re pretty adamant to work in your workshop Dirkie.”

“I needed to think, which I was doing when you were calling out to me. Thinking so hard about creating a new line of orange pop with more caffeine than this cup of coffee that the world died out and I was left to only the one set of thoughts for once.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, and crossed his arms. “Really now? You think that I can’t tell something bigger is going on in that Strider head of yours? You’ve come up with projects while having a philosophical discussion with Rose and texting Dave a rap battle. You’re the king of multi-tasking, which also means your attention is usually divided more, and you’re attempting to put a wire on the wrong side of that.”

Dirk frowned and sighed, putting the project down. “Well, I can’t get nothing past you I suppose. I guess one thing that’s on my mind is how much I miss AR, since he was a good source of introspection, then again I have no idea if that would have helped in the first place.” Tapping fingers filled the space between them as the Prince looked outside at the billions of humans and trolls walking over the streets.

“I’ve been contemplating what gender is and how I relate to it since you came out as nonbinary. It’s been making me think about what is my gender, and I’ve come to the conclusion none of them really fit, but that’s also something to worry about since that means I don’t relate to any of the options-“

“Before you go on a long tangent, I want to ask, what are the options?” He interrupted Dirk while cocking his head.

“Agender, man and woman.” Dirk said bluntly, staring at Roxy. The laughter that resulted made the god tip the iconic shades down to stare at Roxy with deadpan orange eyes.

“I get greeted by your eye colour, score! But no, you got it all wrong, gender isn’t rigid categories, it’s a spectrum. You can’t define it by strict labels and there’s too many to count. So you don’t fit in three, there’s millions of genders. Some might not have a word for it right now. I’m nonbinary, but that’s because I’m not a man or a woman completely, I’m somewhere in the middle, closer to a man if I were to describe it as like, a sliding scale. So don’t be in a hurry, and don’t worry if you don’t figure it out.”

“I need to. Not knowing makes things difficult. I know it might be unhealthy to obsess over, but ever since I made Auto Responder, I had the need to understand myself fully and everything about myself.” With an elbow on the table, Dirk took a hand and raked it through the mess of hair. Having done so more than a hundred times earlier, the Prince was sure it was a complete and utter mess at this point, and would need to be taken care of at home.

“Well, I have a list of some of the other more known ones, maybe one of them check out for you?” He offered a tablet.

Dirk took it, and looked over the list of options and each description of it, mumbling under breath before placing the tablet back down with a definite, “I’m going to use Genderless for now and see what happens.” It looked interesting, the excerpt specifically outlined not having a gender at all due to neurodivergence, rather than lacking a gender or having no gender, different from agender. It didn’t feel much different from everything else, but nothing did. Having several of the entries be defined by one’s neurodivergence was weird, but the more thought placed into the concept, the more it felt real to Dirk. Rather it meant that the Prince would have to take Rose up on her offer to get a fully evaluation soon, even if both of them came to the conclusion Dirk was probably neurodivergent and that it wasn’t impactful with how the god had lived life before the game.

“Are there any pronouns I should use for you?”

Pursing lips, Dirk gave a shake of the head. “None preferably. I think I need more time to actually think everything over. I have no positive or negative feelings for anything on there, and so I’m debating on if I’m everything or not. I can figure out how to make an exact replica of my own brain as a teenager, create robots, plot out the exact way I can kiss Jake and even save everyone's lives getting into the game. I’ve designed complex interactions to lead to the outcome I desire, and I can’t even pick a gender. This is quite frankly, ridiculous.”

“You don’t gotta. Dirk, it’s not about just picking a gender, it’s about figuring out a big part of yourself, and something most people don’t do for yours. You figured out you’re gay, now you’re figuring out what else you could be.” He placed a hand on Dirk’s and gave him a smile. “Whatever your result, I’m here for you. Even if you later think you’re a Cis man I’ll still be here for you. We might be siblings but we were friends first and that matters the most to me.”

Dirk gave a snort. “This is so fucking corny, but thanks Rox. I appreciate the love and support. Maybe I can treat you to another coffee since I feel like if I don’t buy one soon I’m going to be kicked out for making a mess of a window table.” Motioning towards the table, and standing up, the god stretched out. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Caramel Macchiato please.”

“Gotcha.”

#homestuck secret santa 2020 #striderhell #I fucking was gonna make this christmas eve but I got busy the past two days #Glad I waited because this Idea was much better #trans nonbinary characters #dirk is amab

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jq37 · 5 years ago

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The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 16

Into the Woods

We rejoin our Bad Kids (minus Riz, who we’ll get to in a bit) who are still on the Goldenrod while chaos happens around them. Fig adds to the chaos by successfully (with a 30!) pretending to be one of Goldenhoard’s minions to no real plot significant effect. I just feel the need to mention every time Fig rolls a 30+. The kids get Gilear out of his hiding place--a sarcophagus--right before it’s launched out as ammo. His safety proves short-lived however because, when Ayda pings that Riz is no longer on the same plane as them, Fabian recklessly sails the Goldenrod directly into Riz’s last known location, instantly killing both himself and Gilear. So he’s for sure back to his old self.

Kristen brings them back up and passes some heals out generally while she’s at it. Meanwhile, with a Nat 20, Adaine fully Oracles out and knows exactly where Riz was being held. There, they find a smear of blood (which they taste???? even though they know the disease is communicable by blood???) and Riz’s briefcase, but no body. Plus Tracker smells Celestial energy and Ayda senses conjuration magic. But all that subtle sleuthing is made pointless by Kristen getting a Nat 20 (of course) to just stumble into the next room and find a room full of footage of exactly what happened. Wild.

Bill can’t get them to where Riz is. The best he can do is get them to the Astral Plane. Fig remembers to check on the stuff she stole from Vraz. Baby just got a to-do list but Fig conveniently grabbed a scroll which will create a portal back to Arborly. Then, they cast Zone of Truth on Goldenhoard who gives them this information before they get to the Astral Plane:

Arianwyn was never working with him.

He repeats what we already knew about the NK giving him a coin as part of them working together in the past. He adds that his money being spent would mean it would come back to him 5 fold and also increase the spread of the NK’s power.

He thinks the NK is a creep and says he never talks and only appears in weird dreams. At Fig’s prompting, he says he does look a lot like the skeletal figure in Adaine’s Scry on the Shadowcat. He also says he never dealt directly with the Shadowcat and can’t see her in the photo. However, the Shadowcat did put him in touch with Aelwen.

The NK had more followers in Elmville but Goldenhoard doesn’t know who else was because he refused to join the Shadowcat network, which was a requirement. (I wonder if they include whoever the couple in Sandra-Lnn’s past was)

He let the NK have Sylvere when he was taking over the world because he didn’t care about it.

Meanwhile, our little Angel Riz is en route to heaven with his dad who is happy-shocked to see him. Pok calls in that he’s coming in with a “good aligned, possible CI,” and it’s immediately clear based on the reaction of the person on the other side of the call that Pok talks about Riz all the time in glowing terms. They arrive in heaven and Riz sees that he has a little chair set up at a copy of his grave so he can sit and listen when Riz and Sklonda come and talk to him. Ally is almost crying. Lou is almost crying. I’m almost crying.

Heaven--or at least this version of heaven--is set up like an office but outside. I’m picturing the classic Window’s XP background. We learn that Pok is a part of a special force called the Lower Planar Recon Task Force. Basically, it’s full of traditionally evil aligned races (like goblins and gnolls) who are perfect for infiltrating places like Hell. We also see that Pok has a plaque for getting his death avenged by his son.

Anyway, we see where Riz gets his attitude from when Pok kicks puts his gameface on (“Clues first, friends later.”) and has an extended puzzle solving scene with Riz (sprinkled with some father/son stuff). Highlights:

Heaven actually didn’t know about the Kalina=Disease thing. Riz and the gang cracked that for them. Kalina doesn’t ping a Detect Good/Evil but Pok thinks she would ping a Detect Poison/Disease.

He started seeing Kalina about 22 years ago after a mission with the Third Ring (see below). No, he didn’t cheat on Sklonda. If it happened via sexual contact, it would have been pre-meeting her.

Kalina can’t pick things up but she can create the sensation of weight and substance by hijacking your nervous system. So, to his knowledge at the time, Pok had touched her.

He was introduced to Kalina by someone he already knew and trusted from the Third Ring (Falinel government agency).

Kalina doesn’t have godly intelligence or omniscience. The way she blew her cover was accidentally mentioning seeing something firsthand she would have had no way of seeing (a river being in a certain place). He didn’t call her out then but he clocked it and started looking into her extra-governmentally.

Kalina got Sklonda her job in Elmville--which directly put Pok in the path of Goldenhoard, who ate him. He also strongly suspects that he got Pok’s citizenship revoked--an action that allowed Goldenhoard to harm him.

Pok thinks that, despite the Bad Kids’ focus on the sex aspect of the Shadowcat plague, it’s a lot more general than that (see eg: the life transference spell moving it from Sandra-Lynn to Tracker).

Father/Son Interlude #1: Riz mentions that all of his friends are super horny all the time and he’s not about that. Pok says that he was a super late bloomer so it’s fine if he’s not into that now or if he’s not into it period--though he selfishly does want grandkids.

Father/Son Interlude #2: Pok also shares a story about his own relationship with his superficially distant but actually loving 1st gen immigrant dad the twin theses of which are “People show love in different ways,” and “Work is an act of love,” a sentiment that workaholic Riz appreciates.

Most demons can see Kalina.

Pok was in hell undercover to try and figure out how devils had been successful in keeping Kalina at bay. He showed up in the Bottomless Pit but he was trapped there for a while--presumably because Gorthalax was in a gem at that time (also Riz mentions for the first time that Sklonda is dating him which he takes OK).

Pok has a new body so Kalina can’t tap into it. Kalina must have learned where Pok was because Sklonda infected Gorthalax once they started dating and she got the info from him. And since Kalina spurred him to come rescue Pok than she probably wanted him to blow his cover.

Kalina avoided having her picture taken. Once it was taken, she wasn’t able to do certain things she was able to before.

Pok says that Riz probably won’t be able to visit him again without pretty powerful magic, but Riz isn’t too concerned because he has some pretty powerful friends. And, with that, Pok offers to hire Riz as a consultant for heaven which, you can imagine, he is very here for. He takes his son to get suited up.

Back with the other Bad Kids, they look at the assorted things Bill has looted and find some Holy Water, which they pocket, and a birthday present for Fig, which she is pretty easily convinced to open early. It’s a sick new bass which doubles as a literal axe (OK, not an axe, it has serrated edges, I just like the idea of an axe-axe) and can shatter rubies. They then say bye to Bill and get back to Arborly (with the Hangman who is still knocked out, but not destroyed like before).

The group collectively decides to leave Gilear in Arborly for both his safety and the safety of Kristen’s high level spell slots. Adaine takes some of his blood so she can Scry on him if necessary. Sandra-Lynn and Gilear exercise their parental rights to make their daughter feel awkward about her love interest. Speaking of said love interest, we learn what Ayda was working on in secret: a spell for Adaine! It’s called Adaine’s Furious Fists and it essentially lets her magic punch people. Adaine can punch people now! I mean, she’s been doing it since S1 but now she can do it effectually! Love that for her!

Back to Riz. He’s in with an angel called Isosceles (think quasi-eldritch horror Biblical angel, not Halloween costume angel) who is like the Q of the squad. Riz gets hooked up with some new gear:

Trick bullets (like how Green Arrow has trick arrows)

A grappling gun attachment for his gun

Arcadian Watch: Equipped w/ a saw, laser (1d4 radiant dmg) and lockpick

Seraphim Vest: Basically a wingsuit (temp fly speed of 40 but only laterally and down, not up)

Gregorian Tie: Equipped with a spy camera

Once he’s suited up, Pok calls up a door that will get Riz back to the moment in time it was called. But, since they’re in no rush now, he asks Riz to take a walk with him and fill him in on some of the boring, mundane, unimportant stuff he missed from RIz’s childhood. It’s very sweet.

Afterwards, Riz pops back up in Arborly and everyone is super happy to see him. Riz almost blurts out what he learned about his dad but wisely moves the conversation to the Van where he tells them everything except the personal family stuff. Based on the info from Riz, Adaine thinks that Kalina was probably introduced into eleven society a couple hundred years ago by Landrynn Lear (fake cleric spreading the Kalina virus they learned about a few eps ago) so it’s not super weird Aelwen and Arianwyn would have been working with her. It’s less weird than Pok working than them.

Kristen latches onto the part about the picture being taken of her taking away some of her power and they all do checks to puzzle that out. Adaine (with Arcana) realizes that Kalina has to maintain herself in all these people all the time and, if a picture is taken of her--has to make it so that she can be seen by all of those people at all times which is a permanent spell effect which is-as we learned earlier this season--very hard to pull off. Her not being able to do certain things once the pic was taken was probably just her losing power from the strain of this extra magical effect (my takeaway: don’t let her destroy that photo--or, use it as a bargaining chip). Kristen (with Religion) thinks the 4 transubstantiations (familiar to plague and spellbook to curse and so on) are curses which overlap and create synergy (my takeaway: take them out one by one and watch them exponentially drop off in effectiveness). Gorgug (with a Tinkerer’s check) surmises that the way to take the most pics of Kalina and weaken her would be to take a video of her and broadcast it to as many people as possible.

Gorgug also has another thought: He wants to know if them having and spending their cursed money is actively endangering him. At the prospect, he decides to give all of his money away to the Tinkerer’s Hall (without telling them it’s dragon money, which means the curse won’t get passed on). Kristen, Fig, and Riz follow suit, much to Fabian’s shock and horror. Adaine opts to keep her money since she has no caring family to fall back on.

They also--I’m just gonna bluntly say this insane thing that Ally conceived of--have another shrimp party which they livestream in hopes that it will go viral, gain a following, and then when they have video of Kalina, they can get lots of people to watch it. And you know what the craziest part is? It’s not a bad plan. It’s c r a z y, but not illogical. To quote Mr. Lee Mulligan, “The charity shrimp party goes super viral.” Amazing.

The next day, Adaine brings back Boggy (who poofed in the last fight) as an owl so he’ll be a little safer while in Sylvere. Don’t worry, he’s still spherical as ever. The Hangman (now healed) stays behind, as does the Van--but they do take it actual gem out and take it with them. Baby is there and does come with them. Ayda and GaF also come at Fig’s request.

Fig is able to open a passage into Sylvere and they can instantly feel the ambient badness. They decide to start looking for the three things they need to make the Kalina Vaccine: Starmoth chrysalis, Herrowgray nectar, and Lundgreen pollen. The jocks and Boggy go for the chrysalis, Sandra-Lynn, Fig, Adaine, and Ayda go for the nectar, while Kristen, Riz, and Tracker look for the pollen.

The boys don’t find anything but, suddenly, there’s an image of a super creepy witch’s cottage in the gem, and Zathriel (the Celestial inside) bugs out before the gem goes dark. And Ragh is suddenly gone.

In her group, Sandra-Lynn flies off on Baxter in search of the nectar but the flapping noises that should be happening suddenly stop. Ayda offers to fly after her but then also becomes distressed, asking why they’re in a house (the others can’t see it) before also vanishing.

Kristen, Riz, and Tracker are looking around stagnant water for the pollen and they see Kalina’s reflection in the water. Kristen starts to film her on her crystal. Kalina (who they can all see at the same time for once) says that in Sylvere, nightmares are real, something demonstrated when Tracker fully wolfs out without the presence of an actual full moon. Kristen tries to Dimension Door out but they're too far in. They try to subdue her but Trcker vanishes into moths (?). Kalina says that Tracker is chasing down what she thinks is Kristen to kill her (which would make sense as being her nightmare). She says that she said she’d kill them if they got into the forest and here they are. She does a little damage to Riz to underline the statement and Riz starts recording her secretly. Kalina is doing small bits of damage (like 1-4 I think) but it’s enough that it will kill them before they have the chance to make tinctures.

The jocks find the chrysalis and then look for the others. Fig tries to use Ada’s feather to find her but, like the sapphire, it’s dead. Through Boggy, Adaine can see the jocks are flipping out and find the nectar and go find them.

Kristen casts Greater Restoration of Riz and tells him to find Tracker. The attacks stop on Riz and double on Kristen. She’ll be dead before she can employ any kind of healing mojo than can help significantly and the other healer is MIA. Everyone is running to find each other and then they suddenly hear, emanating from every corner of the forest creepy laughter and they all see a crowned skull. Concerning!

Detention

Fabian for Crashing the Goldenrod

This was almost like the ribbon dancing sequence except Kristen had something to potentially gain from that and this was an absolutely insane course of action for no particular reason.

Honor Roll

Kristen for Using Her One Greater Restoration on Riz

What a quintessential healer move. Having one heal and giving it away to your party member. Listen, she may have rejected Helio, but he picked her for a reason. Girl is a BAMF.

Random Thoughts

“You can't make these things up. You can. We did.”

Actual Crazy Person Bill Seacaseter: I had to kill Gilear as a matter of course but I love Gilear!

Bill tells Gilear to kill any man who looks askance at Hilariel. Fig (mirroring a comment to Bill from last season) questions what he should do if any woman looks at her. An enthusiastic, “Dealer’s choice!” is the answer.

"If you die in hell do you die in real life?"

Is the message of this season just “Vaccinate your kids”?

Fabian offers to threaten someone who’s bullying Gilear. You know what that is? Growth.

Bill brought the Bad Kids to the Astral Plane but they wanted to get back to Arborly ASAP. I wonder if there was something Brennan expected them to do there and they didn’t.

Fig ripping the scroll was wild but, honestly, I might have thought that was how it worked too. It’s for sure a thing sometimes. But, in a similar vein, very concerned Fig is going to accidentally shatter Gorthalax’s gem prematurely with that bass. Feel like she’s not 100% clear on how that works.

“I don’t have a crush one anyone. I just want to be rich.”

Riz took over from Adaine this episode in unpacking my high school experiences, lemme tell you.

Wondering where Baron fits into all this. It seems like the kind of effect that Sylvere would be able to produce but he wasn’t in Sylvere when that happened and I feel like that wouldn’t be Riz’s nightmare (unless it represented anxiety about his not dating or s/t like that). What was that about? Who exactly caused it and with what ability? Is that just a standard demon power?

Not important but last week when Brennan said a halo formed around Pok he distinctly motioned around his head and not over his head so I felt happy to have interpreted that correctly when he said this ep that the halo was one of those you see in old pics of like the Madonna and Child and not a modern-traditional angel halo.

The idea of a lower plane task force is extremely dope from a world building perspective. Like, that makes total sense.

“Don’t even talk to me until my death’s avenged.” I knew that was going to be a real mug as soon as it was said.

The stuff with Pok and Riz was so unbelievably sweet. Him having a chair set up to listen to his family talk at his grave? Him clearly being the proudest dad and talking about Riz all the time? Him wanting to just talk about unimportant stuff with Riz because it’s his important stuff. Ugh, my entire heart. And Riz immediately reverting to full, “My dad could beat up your dad,” mode. I love them so much.

I feel like Siobhan took coming up with a spell for Ayda as an actual out of game homework assignment which she should because Brennan *will* let her do it and then Ayda will save the party with it. That’s how D&D works baby I don’t make the rules. Hit me up with your best ideas.

Adaine actually asked Gilear for some of his hair in order to Scry on him and he’s the one who offered blood instead because he couldn’t spare any more hair. Feel like there’s gotta be a spell for that

Siobhan just casually says the phrase, “Mycelium web,” once again just being Adaine.

Couldn’t Kalina just say, “Screw it,” and stop showing up in pictures if the strain gets too much? Like, if your cover is blown, it’s blown. Or is it set up in such a way that it’s gonna screw her before she has the chance to turn it off?

It’s funny that Zac is playing such a low Int character because he’s actually figured out a lot of stuff this season and he’s the one who remembered that dragon madness won’t get passed on if the person who gets the money has no knowledge that it’s dragon money. I wonder if we’ll get to see him play a non-Himbo next season.

Adaine, predictably, has no social media presence. Speaking of social media, I love the naming convention of just sticking the word “fantasy” in front of things like Twitter and Google--as in, “You guys are all over Fantasy Twitter.” Like, why even complicate things? You know what this is.

Goodbye card for Gilear: Outside--Gilear I need you/Inside--to get me a cortado.

I had a stray thought that Riz could possibly use the door to come back after having done angel training for like a month but (1) that’s a little meta-gamey and (2) they were making an exception for him to be there that short time as it was. Anything else probably would have been pushing it.

Is Pok’s heaven affiliated with any deity or is it just where all the good workaholic secret agents go? To me, it seems like it liaises with all the other heavens more than being it’s own main heaven, you know?

Oh man. Ayda disappearing and Fig clutching her powerful feather, begging her to come back after indirectly putting her the situation she’s currently in? Heartbreaking dude.

I wonder why the people who disappeared disappeared beyond just getting rid of the NPCs.

Edit: Forgot to mention the part where Kristen rolled a -1 with her trash Dex so Ayda had to give her a portent roll to not instantly blow everything.

The Bad Kids are in a very precarious position right now. If I trusted Kalina to be someone of her word, I might try to bargain with her--destroy the picture in return for letting us leave. From a DM standpoint, I think it’s probably a good time for an Abernant Ex-Machina. They’re in the forest too as far as we know and they gotta come back into the story somehow. This could be the time.

Everyone going off about how Riz is a little angel and he could have told them if he was a Celestial and how much he loves Gilear while he’s not in the scene and can’t say anything is peak D&D.

Bill Seacaster saying a bunch of insane nonsense and then Adaine being like, “Nice seeing you Mr. Seacaster,” is also peak D&D.

This episode, Adaine, Fig*, Kristen and Brennan (as Sandra-Lynn) each rolled a Nat 20. Adaine and FIg each rolled one Nat 1 that was canceled by disadvantage and Riz rolled one Nat 1 that stuck.

*I actually am not 100% Fig rolled at Nat 20. Kristen did for sure but I don’t have a Tally for her so I might have flipped those by accident. If you happen to know for some weird reason, lemme know.

#fantasy high #fantasy high live #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers

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hispeculiartreasure · 6 years ago

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All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Two | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 1,800ish

Chapter 2/24

Warnings: None.

AN: One last chapter of some set-up before we dive in deep! Thanks for all the love for this series, it really warms my heart! Special shoutout to @barnesrogersvstheworld for reading over this and helping me find something that was missing. You the best, Attie.

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

The remainder of your first day passes fairly quickly between entry paperwork and an endless list of demands from your new boss. Currently he’s provided you with a mountain of letters he had clumsily typed in the time he’d been without a typist. You have the happy task of proofreading and retyping before the correspondence is mailed. The page in front of you is covered in red pencil-marks, denoting how desperately Anderson needed a typist.

Mid-circle, a fellow typist interrupts you to introduce herself and welcome you to the office. She’s bubbly and talks a hundred miles an hour, but she’s kind. The chances are low that you’ll remember her name after the day you’ve had, but you try to be as cheerful and friendly as possible.

Alright, back to paperwork. Blah blah blah, ‘looking for a person with experience amf charisma’-wait, that should be ‘and’, lemme circle that- Your hand ghosts over your desk where you last remember dropping your pencil. Where did it- under these papers maybe? No. On the floor. . . where the hell did it go, that’s the only red pencil I’ve got. God, this day needs to be over because I’m about to lose my mind. I-

A rapid tapping about makes you jump out of your skin. You hear the tap several more times, swiveling your head around the office. It isn’t until you turn to the window that you find what - or more accurately, who - is making the noise.

A window washer right outside the window - the same man who’s near-death you’d experienced this morning. He’s smiling kindly and- What is he doing?

Even though every hair is in place, he’s acting like he’s brushing a piece behind is ear. He lets out an amused huff at what you assume is your thoroughly confused expression. A finger points at you, then repeats the action.

Is my hair doing something crazy? This is embarrassing. I don’t feel anything out of plac- Oh.

You pull the missing pencil from behind your ear, having no memory of putting it there in the first place. A deep sigh leaves you, tension from the first day trying to find some relief.

“Thank you,” you mouth. He nods in response which you take to mean You’re welcome.

He holds up his pointer finger and quirks an eyebrow. You nod. “First day, yeah.”

He takes an exaggerated breath in, holds it, and releases it.

You laugh quietly to yourself. Yeah, I do need to breathe.

“Good luck,” he says silently. You nod again and share in a smile before someone calling your name takes your attention away from the window.

As the days go by, you find yourself settling into your new role. It’s an adjustment from your previous position, that you can’t deny. But there are still methodical steps to follow and the clacking of your typewriter’s keys always soothes your frayed nerves. An unexpected addition to your job has been seeing Mr. Barely-Alive Window Washer. Every day he drops down from above to wash a window on your floor.

From what you can tell from his pattern, he starts on the highest floor and rappels down to wash each window below in that column until he reaches the ground. The next day, he starts one column of windows over and descends again. Which means he came to clean one of your giant windows once a day when he was on your side of the building. And it was typically right after lunch, usually when you move from typing originals to writing up copies. More out of curiosity than anything else you find yourself sneaking glances at him.

Boy, was he handsome. The plop-him-on-a-movie-set-right-now kind of handsome. Now that he wasn’t falling to his doom, his dark hair was slicked back, perfectly styled, which only serves to highlight a firm, stubbled jaw line. He’s not the bulkiest guy you’ve ever seen but you sense a leaner strength that could only be the result of working hard on-the-job.

You catch yourself staring so you divert your attention back to the pile of paperwork you need to type up, distribute, and file. Next time you look out the window, you catch him staring. He smiles guiltily, tilting his head to the side in a Sorry kinda way. You smile back, wave, and shake your head. Don’t worry about it.

He continues with his duties and when you look over again, he’s gone.

“Whaddya say, Newbie?”

“Huh?” you rotate your chair to face the gaggle of girls surrounding Suzy’s desk.

“You didn’t hear a word we said, did you?” the redhead asks smugly, a hint of knowing in her eye.

“Sorry, got distracted.”

The blonde perched on Suzy’s desk - Connie, you think is her name - waggles her eyebrows at you. “We’re talking Captain America.”

“Connie is a little obsessed, if you hadn’t gathered.” Your eyes flit to the sultry young woman on the other side of Suzy. Her name is . . . Charity? “Went to three separate shows of his before he became an actual war hero.”

“Obsessed is a strong word. And if I was, could you blame me?” she fans herself dramatically, drawing a giggle from the group. “So, Newbie. There’s rumors that he’s back in New York for good. Ya think it’s gossip or fact?”

You shake your head. “I have no clue. From the sounds of it, you’d know better than anyone else.”

“I think he’s here. He’s originally from New York, ya know.”

“What does he have that’s here? Family?” Suzy asks skeptically.

“I wonder what his day-job is now. . .” sighs a smaller girl whose name you kick yourself for forgetting.

Connie leans in, “Well I heard he’s doing top-secret work for the government.”

Your bark of laughter draws everyone’s gaze back to you. “Come on, you can’t be serious.” All eyes are on you, no one else is laughing. “I mean, that’s ridiculous. I’m sure he’s gone back to a normal job just like everyone else.”

“There is nothing normal about that man, if you catch my drift.”

“Constance Adler!” Suzy fusses, “Settle down, Flannery will be back any minute.”

“I’m not wrong!” she holds her hands up defensively. “What I’d give for just an evening of that man’s time.” Everyone groans, several wads of paper being tossed at her from different desks before it dissipates into giggles.

“Did I miss a scheduled meeting?” a cool voice echoes in the now-silent room.

Connie jumps three feet into the air, landing on her feet. “No ma’am,” the group answers.

“Then I trust we will all be returning to our work?”

A unanimous “yes ma’am” sounds off before the group scatters to their work stations.

Flannery looks between you and Suzy before rotating stiffly on her heel. Suzy sticks out her tongue out to Flannery’s back, prompting you to bite hard on your lip to avoid being caught laughing.

Things aren’t so bad here after all.

------

Friday afternoon, you stare at the envelope that contains payment for your first week of work. While it definitely contains more than your last post had paid, you dread how you “have” to spend it this weekend. Sure, you could ignore your boss’s wishes and continue dressing like you had all week. But your gut told you that the man wouldn’t take kindly to thumbing your nose at him. It wasn’t like you dressed inappropriately. Your blouses were always crisp and neat and your pants pressed and clean. Though from eyeing the other ladies in the office, you’ve come to realize you were the only one who preferred pants to skirts. Your job in the factory had gotten you accustomed to dressing practically and safely - not to mention more comfortably. The idea that you had to go back to a life of pumps and snug dresses was daunting, but you knew you had to make an effort.

Your roommate had already promised to take you to a beauty parlor to get a fashionable cut after she had hinted that your natural hairstyle was slightly dated. Debbie was a lover of all things makeup and jumped at the chance to help you “glam up” your usual routine. You don’t usually give much thought to how you look. Not from lack of vanity, but becoming accustomed to your quality of work being a higher priority than how you looked. Now you had to accept the fact that you didn’t have that luxury. To do well in this office, you’ll have to look the part.

“You coming, Newbie?” Suzy chirps, handbag in tow.

“Coming where?”

“Flannery had a doctor’s appointment, so a coupla us are ditching early to grab drinks. Connie just has to hit up this club where Captain America’s been sighted.” You both roll your eyes simultaneously. “But there’s alcohol, so I’m in. You?”

“I think it’s a little early on in my career to be leaving work early. Maybe next time.” You smile, hoping it softens the refusal.

“Suit yourself,” she turns with a shrug. “You had a good first week, kid. See ya Monday!”

The office has thinned out through the day, only you and a few other employees are left plugging away at paperwork. Bristles scraping against glass diverts your attention from the monotonous work. Mr. Window Washer was back working on a new pane. This one seemed to be causing him a bit of trouble if you took his scrunched up eyebrows as any indication. With determination he scrubbed hard at a particular spot, continuing to add water and soap to the mix.

Armed with a smirk and a handkerchief from your handbag you join him on your side of the glass. Ignoring his puzzled look, you easily wipe the black smudge off of the inner window. “Thanks,” he mouths with a small smile before he rinses the soap and clears the window of excess water. As you turn back to your chair, he waves you back. He taps his temple twice and points at you. Smart girl.

You snort and gesture to the paperwork covering your desk. “Bored,” you say, doing your best to communicate how dull the work was on your face.

The corner of his mouth turns up and he nods with sympathy. He huffs a sigh, aiming his gaze to the rest of the windows he has to clean today. He seems tired, a little run down. From the week you had been here, you could tell he worked hard. You found yourself hoping he had a moment to rest the upcoming weekend.

He points down to the ground and shrugs. Gotta go. You wag your fingers with a smile which he easily returns before sliding down to the fifth floor. Facing your desk again, you check your watch, wishing the day would speed up so you could make it to Macy’s before they closed.

Chapter Three

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#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky x Reader #Reader Insert #Marvel Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #All We've Got is Time #beka writes #Chapter Two #don't mind me i'm scheduling this while avoiding thinking about endgame #when this posts endgame will be breaking my heart #so have some fluff

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calligraphist-artemisia · 5 years ago

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Across Time and Space (Chapter 15 - Final)

Summary: Sequel to I’ll Take Her Place. Slav is showing off a piece of experimental equipment, when it malfunctions and blasts Katie and Keithir to another universe. At the same time, it drags Pidge and Keith over into theirs, effectively swapping places. With their fate resting in the hands of Slav, will they be able to get back home? Or are they stuck to live the rest of their lives in the wrong universe?

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the username “kishirokitsune”.

–

Here we are at the very final chapter. A big THANK YOU to everyone who has reblogged or liked chapters over the course of this fic. And a bigger thank you to anyone who has left a comment on some of them! I know I’m not the best at responding on here, but I do read and cherish all of them. With this chapter up, the poll is now closed! Next up on my list of Kidge fics to write is the one shot "Instinct", so keep on the look out for that. As far as the next multi-chapter goes, it's a secret. ;) I will say, that it will be fun and set in a non-canon universe.

Chapter 15

Keith comfortably sat on the couch in the paladin lounge, one arm holding a tablet so he could help review possible battle strategies and the other draped lightly across the back of the couch where Pidge sat and was scanning over the latest attempt at integrating Altean tech into Garrison fighter-class ships. If he glanced over, he could see a header which read: “Mecha Flex Exofighter – Prototype 0.8”.

“Do you ever want to just punch Lotor in his stupid, smug face?” Pidge asked, completely unsolicited. She dropped her tablet into her lap and threw back her head in a display of pent up frustration.

Keith set aside his work in a more gentle manner. “You know I do. What's going on now?”

“Nothing. It's just the usual,” Pidge grumbled. “Going on about how the Galra need quintessence and looking into the rift in the remains of Daibazaal is the best way to do that, even though Shiro's pointed out a number of times that without the war, the Galra don't have a need for that much quintessence. I think it's the only reason Allura hasn't given in and started to help him. Well, that and Lance redirecting her to whatever issue the Garrison is having in figuring out how Altean technology works.

“I just wish we didn't have to have him around, even if he has been useful.” Pidge sighed and tipped her head to the side, her hair just barely brushing against Keith's shoulder.

“Best to keep him where we can keep an eye on him,” he recited, trying not to focus on how close she was. Just a few more centimeters...

Pidge grinned and sat up straight so she could playfully nudge him. “Now you sound like Shiro.”

“Does that mean you'll listen to me?”

“Ha! Not a chance!”

The door slid open and they quickly separated as Krolia and Travis walked in. Keith blushed and removed his arm from the back of the couch, pointedly looking away as his heartbeat quickened.

Krolia raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about how closely they were sitting, which Keith was grateful for. He still wasn't sure what was going on between him and Pidge and he appreciated the room everyone was giving them to figure it out on their own.

“Is everything alright?” Pidge asked.

“We got a message from Slav askin' us to meet him here,” Travis explained. “I'm guessin' he's not here yet.”

Keith wondered if he had an appropriate excuse to leave before Slav arrived, but couldn't think of a single one that his parents wouldn't immediately see through. It was a talent his dad had been surprisingly bad at in the beginning, whereas it took his mom roughly two weeks to figure it out.

It was hard to believe it had only been one year since everything in his life changed for the better. Shiro was back to his old self. He had both of his parents in his life. A close friendship with Pidge. The respect of Commander Iverson and other officers of the Galaxy Garrison – which had always felt like an impossibility.

Pidge picked up her tablet. “I should get back to the lab and see what Hunk thinks about the flaxum assembly. There have been some concerns about it coming loose during flight and I need to run some ideas by him.”

“Nice try, but you and I both know Hunk's with your mom talking about solutions for food production in space,” Keith said, stopping her before she could stand up. If he had to deal with Slav, so did she.

Pidge slumped back. “Just wait until it's my turn to design another holo-deck exercise.”

“I look forward to it.”

He knew she meant it as a form of revenge for making her stay, but he genuinely enjoyed the programs she created so far, even the ones he failed at. Each one had its own challenge and unique solution.

Keith's favorite so far was the one most hated by everyone else who tried it. (Except, amusingly, his mom and Kolivan – maybe it was a Galra thing.) It was a ninety minute obstacle course which Lance nicknamed “The Death Gauntlet”. Between the various traps, the training robot stalking the participant through a maze, the portion run in complete darkness, and a half dozen other tasks, it was little wonder that most people failed halfway through. And even if they did complete it, no one managed it in the intended ninety minutes, though Shiro came the closest on his third attempt and got his time down to one-hundred-and-three minutes.

“It will be worse than the Death Gauntlet,” Pidge warned, jostling him from his thoughts.

“You heard about Lance's name for it, huh?” Keith asked.

“Kind of hard not to when everyone calls it that now,” Pidge said with a shrug. “Anyway, you're really not going to like the next one. I've gotten requests for a team-building version of it and while I could just copy the original and add the allowance of more than one participant, that would be boring.”

Keith nodded in agreement. It would be boring, not just for Pidge, but for him as well, even if it did require working with an unknown team.

“But if you're nice to me, maybe I can swing it so you're with someone who takes it seriously, like Shiro,” Pidge tried to bribe him.

As long as it wasn't Griffin, Keith figured he'd survive. Luckily, everyone knew that it wasn't an option as the last time.

The door slid open a second time and Slav shuffled inside, his arms laden with an unfortunately familiar machine.

Pidge went still next to Keith. “Why do you have that?”

Krolia and Travis exchanged worried looks, keeping their distance from Slav as he made his way to the table and set it down. He began pushing buttons and flipping switches.

“Slav, why do you have that?” Pidge asked a second time. “I thought you destroyed it because it's too dangerous to keep around.”

“Don't worry, it's perfectly safe!” Slav cheerily assured them.

Maybe Keith should have let Pidge go after all. Or rolled with her excuse to leave and made up a reason to go with her. His parents probably would have let him.

The trans-reality extrapolater hummed to life and a blue light began to shine from the top, causing the space above it to waver. After a few seconds, an image began to form – a figure with dark hair and pale purple skin.

Travis stepped closer. “Keithir?”

The image solidified until it was clear that it was Keithir, who appeared to be trying to speak to them. Travis walked over until he was standing in front of the machine, at which point a second blue light began emitting from the side and scanned him up and down.

“Dad?” Keithir's voice came through. “Can you hear me? Slav, are you sure this thing is working correctly?”

“There's nothing wrong with my machine!”

Travis chuckled. “I can hear you, but I don't understand. I thought...” He paused to shake his head. “It's good to see you again.”

Keithir smiled back at him; a smile which grew broader as Krolia joined Travis in front of the machine. “We asked Slav to hold off on destroying it and helped him get it to work the way he intended. This is... this is our last chance. It was a risk waiting this long.”

“But one worth it,” Katie said off-screen.

Keithir shifted aside to let his wife step into frame next to him. In her arms, wrapped in a deep purple blanket, was a baby with the faintest fuzz of black hair on top of her head and the trace of darkening markings up each cheek.

Pidge breathed out softly, reaching for Keith's arm.

“We'd like you to meet your granddaughter, Princess Krolia of Daibazaal.”

#voltron #kidge #kidgemas #fanfiction #reality swap au #final chapter

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thehangeddemon · 5 years ago

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The Truth in the Frame || Maximus & Xavier

Maximus: Finally, a radio in the house. The mansion felt whole with music. His master had been generous to allow him a radio in the kitchen. He wouldn't dare ask for a record player in his bedroom, though. Not for some time.

A fresh cigarette was brought to his rose-colored lips, left to dangle while he cleaned the rifles and sang under his breath.

"Show me the way to go home. I'm tired and I want to go to bed. I had a little drink about an hour ago, and it went right to my head..."

Xavier: Maximus could've asked for a record player in solid gold and Xavier would've found it for him. He was still very much determined to get his butler to indulge in the finer things in life.

Just like Xavier himself was currently doing by going through every last book in the library and ridding himself of every volume he deemed inferior.

The pile of discards contained more of those wretched obscure novels Eisley had been so obsessed with. The damn things seemed to be multiplying.

Maximus: Hearing a book fall in the library caught his attention. Looking up from the barrel of an antique, looking out towards the hallway as though he could somehow see what was going on from the other side of the dining table.

He disappeared, reappearing in the doorway of the library, hands behind his back to hide his cigarette.

"Are you alright, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier's hair was far too tousled for a man that had simply been going through books but it was a reflection of his frustration.

"Who needs five copies of Lolita!? It's not a rare, priceless work of which precious few copies exist, it was published only last year!"

Maximus: "Are they first editions?" he frowned. Smoke began to appear over his head.

Xavier: "Only one, the rest are copies you could get at any bookshop in the country! In the world even! Did he really need that many tomes devoted to some man fucking a child? Or was it simply because Nabakov is Russian and he was obsessed with Russians?"

He paused his tirade as he noticed and smelled the smoke. "You know, Fairchild, as a former smoker and still occasional smoker and demon with a supernatural sense of smell, there really is no need to hide your habit."

Maximus: Slowly, firmly, his cheek was bitten into, if only to withhold his smile. There was something about his master's rants, and the precious fact that he was not their target, which absolutely humored him to his core.

And the mention of his habit caused him to duck his head, which did nothing but highlight his fought smile.

"M'lord." Thank you. His hands were brought from hiding. "The first editions will be worth money someday. I promise you that. The rest can be kindle."

Xavier: "I can steal a first edition in fifty years and get the money then. For now...." He tossed the book in his hand on the discard pile. "Lucifer deliver me from the Russians. This obsession of his wasn't limited to Nabakov. You see this?"

He pointed to two stacks on the table. "Four copies of War and Peace and six—six!—of Anna Karenina! Why!?"

Maximus: "What was he looking for exactly?" He crossed the library in search of the first editions. Each were placed in a separate pile out of his master's reach.

Xavier: "Meaning? Companionship? Enlightenment? Hell only knows."

Maximus would have to work fast, Xavier was prepared to throw everything into the fireplace.

Maximus: With his master's back turned, the small stack of first editions were brought to his room in a blink, left on his nightstand. He'd returned just as quickly, and set to task collecting everything else. The rest would be for the fire. He'd much rather burn them in the driveway.

"Canapes this evening, or a crown roast? Either way, I'd like to practice mixing martinis."

Xavier: Xavier quit frowning at the bookshelves the moment Maximus mentioned canapés.

“Does canapés mean pastry? Because if so then yes. Yes to the martinis as well.”

Maximus: "I was thinking along the lines of smoked salmon mousse on cucumber and deviled eggs, but - I should have known you would want pastry." His toy soldier smiled towards the fire. His cigarette was brought to his lips to cease such nonsense.

Xavier: “Is both an option or is that pushing my luck?” he asked with a smile.

Maximus: "Whatever you desire I'll give you."

Xavier: “In that case, I would like to put in a request for pastry along with those deviled eggs.”

Maximus: "A vol au vent? Mine are usually lopsided."

Xavier: “There is no wrong way to consume puff pastry.”

Maximus: "Then I shall take care that your belief remains after this evening."

Xavier: “I’m certain it wi—more War and Peace! That’s it we’re destroying the library.”

Maximus: "Come now." The ridiculous pile of books had created a small hill in the hall. He crossed the library with the aim of stealing War and Peace from his master's hands.

"When you told me you wanted Russian literature gone, I had assumed - wrongly - you meant in the Russian language. This is my fault. I'll see to this myself."

Xavier: “I did! That’s exactly what I meant! I thought that’s all there was to this obsession of his! I never would have or could have imagined this!” He gestured wildly with the book. “No wonder he let the mansion fall into such disrepair, he was busy hoarding Tolstoy novels.”

Maximus: "We all have our obsessions. Some more tasteful than others." Gently, he reached around for the book, taking it from his line of sight.

Xavier: He let his butler take the book without argument. “You know those hidden compartments and alcoves he had? Forget supernatural objects, they’re probably full of vodka and nesting dolls.”

Maximus: "We'll find the body of his secret Russian wife eventually," he smiled. An expression which had loosened...somewhat, since his arrival.

Xavier: “Maybe that’s the reason for the obsession. Keep an eye out for remains.”

Maximus: "And scratching, yes. And hidden rooms and runaway vodka."

Xavier: “And the nesting dolls.”

Maximus: His butler ducked his head to conceal how fond his smile was becoming. So far, his master had remained true to his word. While there had been those before him to have made promises, Xavier Atlas had his humanity on his side. Something which, even if subconsciously, had eased some of the tension in his rigid frame.

His cold cigarette was given a glance.

"I should get back to work on the rifles, m'lord. Dinner will be at seven."

Xavier: The reduction in tension hadn't gone unnoticed, but just now all Xavier could think about was the state of this library.

He did see that smile though. That was something cheerful to cling to in the midst of all this madness.

"I'll be down promptly. One of these days perhaps we'll have ourselves a priest hunt. That's something to look forward to."

Maximus: "You're only saying that because Mr. Eisley isn't around to kill again."

Xavier: "And oh, how I wish he was today. I'd bring him back and drown him in dust and Russian novels."

Maximus: Ah. Maximus needed his quick bow and disappearance act. Otherwise, his master would have caught him in a sudden fluttery laugh, one which he expelled in the kitchen.

Xavier: Xavier entertained himself for a few glorious moments with the thought of killing that tasteless hack all over again in a variety of scenarios.

"If only," he said to himself with a wistful sigh before getting back to throwing books on his pile.

Maximus: The guns were returned to their respective stands and mounts. One more polished mark of pride. Another cigarette was ignited. The radio volume was increased to better dampen the sound of his singing. The music of today wasn't nearly as tasteful as the jazz and ragtime behind them.

Xavier: At some point during Xavier's frenzied book throwing, it occurred to him to start a list of all the titles missing from the library that he wanted to add.

In his view, there was a shameful omission of all the British greats. Not to mention the rest of the world. What sort of library didn't have a single copy of Hamlet?

Maximus: Maximus was blissfully unaware of his master's continued frenzy, having assumed he had quelled some of his rage. He was too busy with dinner, singing Chattanooga Choo-Choo to himself in almost full voice, hindered by the cigarette between his lips he refused to put out. Deviled eggs and chicken pesto vol au vents.

They needed a proper garden and chicken coop. The yard had been cleaned, but the house was not yet complete. One item at a time, he reminded himself.

Xavier: Xavier paused his furious scribbling and turned toward the door. Was that Maximus' voice?

He put down his pen and paper and listened intently. He could hear the radio downstairs, the steady sound of a knife hitting a cutting board, the movements of a meal being prepared, and over it all, Maximus. Singing.

Moving as silently as a spirit, he made his way toward the door and poked his head out.

Maximus: His nasally timbre bled into his singing, though somehow clear of rasp otherwise present in the mumbling of songs. He would have kicked himself had he known what his master was doing. Rather, chopped chicken, onions, and butter made it to the heated pan.

Xavier: Xavier had at least some suspicion that that was exactly how his butler would react if he knew he'd been caught singing, so rather than get closer and risk discovery, he stayed where he was. It was...nice, to see Maximus relaxing. Even if it was only in private.

Maximus: A quick check of the time. Not yet for the pastry. The filling was removed from the heat.

Dinner would be on time, as it was every night. He had pulled the pastry from the refrigerator too soon. Only the choicest towering pieces, filled to the brim, were presented at the dining table. A white wine was served alongside in their new crystal.

Xavier: Having indulged himself, Xavier returned to his task, smiling the entire time. That rage over the Russian novel infestation was lessening by the moment.

By the time he went downstairs for dinner he was positively cheerful.

Maximus: His servant stood patiently by the table. He smiled in greeting.

"A successful evening, m'lord?"

Xavier: "Extremely," said Xavier, beaming as he sat and unfolded his napkin on his lap. "The small hill has become a small mountain and I've started a list."

Maximus: "I expect we'll be going to another store soon," he said while pouring the wine.

Xavier: "Probably more than one if the bookshop in town doesn't have all the volumes I require to get the library up to snuff."

Maximus: "Only in English?"

Xavier: "English, French, Spanish, German, and Italian."

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord." The bottle was placed away, and he returned to his standing position.

Xavier: Xavier sampled the wine and gave an approving hum. "Mmm, good choice. And the pastry looks beautiful."

Maximus: Of course these do. "Thank you, m'lord. Just a little patience was required."

Xavier: "Like with many of the worthy things in life." He selected a vol au vent and tasted it, a huge grin immediately breaking out across his face.

Well done, it said.

Maximus: That was...what he wanted to see. Something more than a satisfactory job and making it another night in peace. This was more significant. A smile of a job well done stroked his ego.

Aware of his master's penchant for conversation, he continued. "Which titles are you considering?"

Xavier: Mouth full, Xavier pulled his list from his pocket and offered it before pointing at the nearest chair.

Maximus: Moments like these, despite how many there had been for the past weeks, still rendered him awkward. He took the offered seat without protest and unfolded the list.

"I'm expecting to find Dante Alighieri."

Xavier: Xavier nodded and ate another vol au vent. Of course. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory.

Maximus: "As much as you are straying from Russian anythings, might I make a suggestion?"

Xavier: Another nod. "Anyone but Tolstoy."

Maximus: "Have you heard of Ayn Rand, m'lord?"

Xavier: "I kept getting distracted during The Fountainhead. She does love to ramble on."

Maximus: "He reminds me of you."

Xavier: "Because I live to spite God?"

Maximus: His gaze fell, but only for a moment. "In a Hell filled with Peter Keatings."

Xavier: Xavier gave Maximus a small smile and reached into his pocket for his pen. "Go on then, add the rambling Russian. English translation only."

Maximus: And so he would, writing the title and author in quick fluid cursive.

"What are your thoughts, m'lord, on having a chicken coop?"

Xavier: “As a lover of omelets and chicken Marsala, very favorable.”

Maximus: Excellent. Less shopping in town and efficiency once his garden bore evidence of his labor.

He suddenly felt an urge to play his violin. He wanted to give his master something more than the day-to-day.

"Would you like some more wine?" he asked instead.

Xavier: "Why, yes, thank you. Pour one for yourself and join me."

Maximus: "I...have my dinner in the kitchen, m'lord." Though he would pour an extra glass of wine to comply.

Xavier: "Bring it and have it in the dining room," he said, smile softening a bit.

Maximus: Gently, he sighed. If he didn't know better, he could fool himself into hearing a plea in his master's tone, as though their roles had reversed.

He excused himself, returning with a plate of equally filled...and considerably lopsided pastry, deviled eggs, and filling on toast.

"The illusion is destroyed."

Xavier: "What illusion?" Asked around another blissful mouthful of pastry. "I promise I will try the deviled eggs, I just have an extreme weakness for pastry. Must be the Englishman in me."

Maximus: Then...have a leaning tower of pesto, he offered, slowly taking one of his master's paprika covered eggs. A trade.

Xavier: Leaning perhaps, but perfectly magnificent, as Xavier's face clearly reflected. If he wasn't certain Maximus would turn the color of the paprika on those eggs, Xavier would be raining praise.

Maximus: Maximus contentedly ate in silence. In the supposed safety of the Atlas home, his rigidity of the Plaza lapsed in the form of open-faced sandwich making. Carefully and quietly cutting his deviled eggs to suitable size for two pieces of garlic toast. Having requested a servant dine with him, he might as well eat as he would in private.

"You never cease to surprise me, m'lord." Said after a sip of sauvignon blanc.

Xavier: Xavier thought nothing of Maximus' sandwich making; in fact, he welcomed it. The way he saw things, every small bit of relaxation and comfort from his butler just meant that he was beginning to trust his surroundings--and him--more and more.

He smiled at the comment. "Do I?" he asked, finally trying an egg and humming in approval.

Maximus: "Yes," he said, keeping his head up as he spoke. "Tomorrow, this might be for naught. Tomorrow you might burn everything I possess. You might take back everything you've told me. I've been gullible with you. I've been through the hands of many owners, and still," he shrugged, "and still I'm here, enjoying myself."

Xavier: "I'm glad that you are," he said softly. "I know that it's far too soon to scrub those thoughts from your head, but I am glad you're enjoying yourself. I hope to make that a permanent condition for you."

He took a sip of wine. "What would you say to putting a record player in here?"

Maximus: He would have told any servant that appeared in the summons this exact line.

He had reached for his glass and paused. "A record player? That would...be lovely, m'lord."

Xavier: "I thought so. A grand, beautiful one to fit the room. And one for the sitting room as well."

Maximus: His smile revealed teeth. "Then we must also find you the best records."

Xavier: He smiled back. "Yes we must. Which ones are you fond of?"

Maximus: There he went again.

"I...enjoy...jazz, m'lord, and classical."

Xavier: “Then we shall get your favorites from both genres.”

Maximus: "What do you prefer?"

Xavier: “I’m fond of jazz and classical myself. Especially Tchaikovsky, ironically enough.”

Maximus: "I'm partial to Paganini, Vivaldi, Bazzini...Glenn Miller."

Xavier: “We’ll get them all. I’m rather fond of Glenn Miller myself. Benny Goodman as well.”

Maximus: His smile began to fade. "In New York, you told Mr. Aello you're not musically inclined. Is that true, m'lord?"

Xavier: “As far as playing ability, yes. I tried learning the piano once and was vastly disappointed that I didn’t immediately turn into Chopin.”

Maximus: "No one wants to be Chopin. Not even Chopin."

Xavier: Xavier laughed. “God and the Devil love the man. He played and composed like a piano murdered his entire family.”

Maximus: "Bazzini wanted to prove he was better than Paganini. They either sold their souls or were nephilim."

Xavier: “Seems like Bazzini had a complex. He probably sold his soul.”

Maximus: His servant suddenly ducked his chin and nibbled absently at his dinner.

"Did you...sell your soul?"

Xavier: He shook his head. “Not in the traditional way. My soul was always bound for the pit. There was no need to expedite the process.”

Maximus: "Over revenge?"

Xavier: He nodded. “It’s said that any man who pursues vengeance should dig two graves, one for himself and one for his enemy. I dug many, many graves.”

Maximus: "Was the revenge honorable?" For some reason he was looking for excuses.

Xavier: "To me it was. But as I was the one exacting it, perhaps I'm biased."

Maximus: "Most likely, m'lord, but one day perhaps, I shall hear your reasoning."

Xavier: "Yes, perhaps." And you'll tell me my revenge was a fool's errand, just like my father did.

Maximus: After a moment, he gently added, "Only when you trust me."

Xavier: Xavier smiled softly. “I do already. More than anyone in years. Some things merely need to be worked up to.”

Maximus: "In years? It's been two months."

Xavier: “Indeed. And I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not terribly...social.”

Maximus: "You're settling into a new home."

Xavier: “Even settled, I’ve never been the social type.”

Xavier: “The tailor’s. They’re terribly fussy about being on time for appointments and I’d hate to annoy them. They’re the best in the city.”

Once outside the station, Xavier hailed a taxi and gave the address to the driver in practiced Italian after exchanging cheerful greetings.

Maximus: He remained silent during their brief walk towards the road. He appreciated their surroundings and fresh Mediterranean atmosphere.

In the taxi, with the driver's attention elsewhere, he leaned over. "Your Italian is sharp, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier beamed with what was very obviously pride. “Why thank you, Maximus. It’s a testament to how much time I spend here, purchasing clothing and otherwise.”

Maximus: "I'm sure." He straightened and stared out the window, but not for long. "M'lord, why do you not call me Fairchild now?"

Xavier: That gave Xavier pause. He hadn’t noticed until this very moment that he’d dropped that small formality. How long had it been?

“We’ve been together for a couple of months now. I daresay we’ve gotten to know each other a decent bit. Felt...right. I can always go back, of course, if you prefer.”

Maximus: "I'm...not sure I should have an opinion, m'lord. I know what you are to me, and that is unwavering."

Xavier: “You know you do, and that I value it.” He smiled. “It doesn’t bother you then? That I call you Maximus?”

Maximus: "I... don't know, m'lord. I don't feel offended. If your lordship prefers Maximus, then I have no objections."

Xavier: “I’m glad to hear it. But if you do find you have an objection in the future, whatever it may be, I do hope you’ll tell me. I’d hate to cause you discomfort.”

Maximus: "...You really mean that, don't you?" he gently asked.

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “I do,” he said softly.

Maximus: Something to ponder later. For now, "Do you have a middle name, m'lord?"

Xavier: “I don’t, as a matter of fact. My father didn’t bless me or my brother with one.”

Maximus: "Your brother?" He turned more in his master's direction out of respect.

Xavier: “Indeed. He’s the elder.”

Maximus: "Is he...?"

Xavier: “Dead? Quite. Several years after me.”

Maximus: "I assumed as much. But I mean to ask if he is at all like you."

Xavier: “Only in one sense, and even then in the loosest way. We’re rather polar opposites, have been always.”

Maximus: "An angel, then?" he dared smirk.

Xavier: “In the metaphorical sense, and by the estimation of many, I’m sure,” he said with a chuckle.

Maximus: "I wouldn't have guessed you to be the baby. You carry yourself as an older brother, or only child."

Xavier: “In many ways, ways I will tell you about someday, I was the only child. But only to him. Not to anyone else.”

Maximus: "'Curiouser and curiouser,'" he said to the window.

Xavier: Xavier grinned to himself. “Most things with me tend to be.”

Maximus: "I don't think you're as complicated as all that, m'lord."

Xavier: “Perhaps not. We all like to think we’re more complicated than we actually are. Me, I’m....layered.”

Maximus: He turned his gaze on his master. "You're curious, but complicated?" He was willing to accept punishment for his forwardness.

Xavier: “Curious, complicated, and multi-layered. Like a demonic cake.”

Maximus: "I would like to... politely disagree."

Xavier: “You don’t think I’m a cake?”

Maximus: There was a quiet war being waged against himself, as so often of late, to prevent himself from smiling.

"Hmm." He needed to look away. What beautiful scenery.

Xavier: Xavier laughed and shook his head. “I’ll take that as a no. I’m but a simple rich man.”

Maximus: "You're not simple, m'lord, but you're not complicated as all that. You want things and you take them."

Xavier: “So I’m straightforward if nothing else. Not a bad thing to be, really.”

Maximus: "No. Not at all, m'lord."

Xavier: “I’m glad you also think so,” he said with a smile. With time, he hoped to learn what Maximus was apart from gloriously efficient.

“The shop isn’t far. Another two streets.”

Maximus: "You're missing warm tones in your wardrobe. A set of tails wouldn't hurt either."

Xavier: “I agree. And I suppose I could stand to add in some warmer reds and browns. Can’t wear black all the time.”

Maximus: "No. That's my area, m'lord," he smiled.

Xavier: “And you pull it off marvelously.”

Maximus: "Are you flirting with me, m'lord?" he whispered.

Xavier: “Would it scandalize you if I was?”

Maximus: "I have no reputation in which to tarnish."

Xavier: “In that case, I am flirting with you.” How do you feel about that, Maximus?

Maximus: He felt betrayed. He felt surprised and yet expectant of this moment. He was elated and in mourning.

There were butterflies in his stomach.

"We must find you some friends, m'lord," he managed to smile. It was the only thing he could think to say.

Xavier: “I have friends. Massimo for example.” The tailor whose name was on a sign above the shop they stopped in front of.

Maximus: "A friend with your measurements. Very good, m'lord." The subject seemed dropped for now. He didn't know whether or not he felt relieved.

Xavier: “My thoughts exactly.” Xavier paid the driver and asked him to wait, promising him a big tip at the end of the day.

The driver was more than happy to oblige, even coming around to open the door for them.

Maximus: Very rarely did he wish to know what his masters were thinking. Very rarely, when he could, was it anything worthwhile. The consequences were always severe. With Xavier he felt regret. Moments like this being unable to glimpse were small tortures.

The shop door was held open for his master, eyes forward as usual. His black bowler hat was removed as they stepped through, remaining behind as he had momentarily forgotten he was to participate.

Xavier: “Signore Rossmara!” They were met with Massimo’s booming greeting before they were even all the way through the door.

Despite his short stature and rather broad frame, the tailor looked impeccable. A walking gentleman’s magazine cover with a jovial face and bon vivant spirit.

“Massimo,” Xavier said fondly, allowing himself to be pulled into a hearty handshake. “Are you well? How’s business?”

“Stupendous now that you’re here!” The tailor noticed Maximus. “Who is this? Have you brought me a new client?”

“I have. Massimo, this is my assistant, Mr. Townsend.”

“Why hello, Signore Townsend! Welcome to Massimo’s!”

Maximus: The human was studied during his rough greeting. Maximus became David with a charming smile. He reached for Massimo's hand without prompt.

"Buongiorno. A pleasure to meet you."

Xavier: Maximus’ hand was shaken enthusiastically. “Buongiorno, Signore Townsend, buongiorno! Welcome to my shop! We’re the best tailor in all Milano. Anything you need, we can make for you here. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for today?” His question was addressed to both of them.

“I’d like Mr. Townsend to be fitted for a few suits. One casual, a set of livery, and two formal suits.”

Massimo’s eyes practically gleamed.

Maximus: He dared give his master a look. That was months’ worth of wages he would be refusing from this day forth. Surely, his gaze said everything while Massimo's attention lingered elsewhere.

"Be sure to expand Lord Rossmara's pockets. They seem to be bottomless."

Xavier: Xavier simply smiled back. He had no intention of allowing Maximus to refuse anything, suits or wages. His butler would simply have to put up with being paid and well dressed.

“I thank Our Lord every day for it, Signore Townsend,” Massimo laughed, gesturing for them to follow him.

In short order he had Maximus up on the podium to be measured and had an assistant selecting samples.

Maximus: Having someone other than his master so near kept his entire being on edge. Until the measuring tape fell away, he barely breathed. A glance over his shoulder was directed towards his master. He gauged his reaction to a young male human so near his property.

"Have you found suitable cufflinks, m'lord?" His tone of voice gave nothing away.

Xavier: Xavier could sense Maximus’ discomfort and made sure to stay in his butler’s line of sight. With any luck he’s be able to offer silent reassurance.

Fortunately for all involved, Massimo was the consummate professional; he worked quickly and respectfully and was done in half the time it would have taken a less experienced man.

“I will in due course. Which reminds me, we shall also be looking at ties and accessories, Massimo.”

“Very good, Signore Rossmara, I will have Luciano bring you a varied selection of everything.”

Maximus: His anxiety only lasted as long as his master remained out of sight. Everything from last night to this moment was not at all what he had expected. He'd been too informal for the past month. At some point he was going to be paying the price. He felt as though he were tipping from a narrow window.

"You need a gold pair," he said softly.

Xavier: Both Massimo and his assistant nodded in agreement.

Xavier smiled. “Bring the gold first then, Luciano. I’d hate to disappoint.”

“Si, signore.”

Maximus: "Is that all you need of me at the moment, signore?"

Xavier: Massimo nodded again. “Yes, Signore Townsend, you may step down. The dressing rooms are through that curtain there.” He pointed to the right before taking a handful of hangers with suit jackets and pants on them from Luciano. “These are all casual suits. Please try them on to see how you like them.”

Maximus: "Grazie," he smiled. One last glance to his master before turning his back to them. He preferred the monochromatic outfits. Gravitated towards black, gray, and dark green, which were hung separately from the rest. Only the gray double-breasted required special touch. A new blazer wouldn't hurt, he thought. I won't be getting it here. Something to look forward to in town once his pockets were heavy. More bowties for his casual workdays, he added to his mental list. This was all a little extravagant, but he wouldn't deny the wishes of his owner.

Xavier: While Maximus dressed, Xavier selected cuff links from the velvet tray Luciano brought for him. Something simple and elegant for the everyday and something more ornate for evening wear. Perhaps two pairs for each.

Meanwhile, Massimo’s attention was on his newest client. “How is everything fitting, signore?” he called to Maximus.

Maximus: "The dark green one is large, but not by an entire size."

Xavier: “Would you like the dark green one? If so, we’ll pin it and set it aside.”

Maximus: "I would, yes. Actually, I think the sleeves on the gray one, here, is slightly too long."

Xavier: “Bene. We shall do the green first and then the gray. Luciano, the pins.” The tailor turned to Xavier. “Have you selected your cuff links, Signore Rossmara?”

Xavier nodded. “I believe so. I await Mr. Townsend’s opinion.”

Maximus: Words which caught his ear sharply. "Nothing too gaudy, m'lord, and I will approve."

Xavier: Xavier laughed. “I wouldn’t think of it. I went for something elegant and understated.”

Maximus: "Is this true, Massimo?"

Xavier: “They’re beautiful choices, Signore Townsend. Very fitting for his lordship.”

Maximus: "Fitting," he echoed. "Please show me, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier waited until Maximus came out of the fitting room and gestured to a small velvet tray containing his choices.

“I await your verdict.”

Maximus: His tie was adjusted for the fifth time as he returned. A set of silver and gold were picked up and inspected as soon as they were within reach.

"These are fitting, yes, but not at all what I would call understated."

Xavier: “Those are the evening ones.” He pointed to another pair. “These are the understated ones, for everyday wear.”

Maximus: "What do you think of these?" A pair of round silver and onyx. "I think these are very suiting."

Xavier: Xavier examined them and nodded in approval. “Agreed. I should find a tie to go with them.”

Maximus: "A black textured tie would pair perfectly." He turned towards the tailor for response.

Xavier: Massimo was already asking Luciano to bring a selection of ties, and bringing another tray laden with cuff links for Maximus to choose from.

Maximus: Nothing ornate or above his station. One set of silver with braided edge, one set of gold bars. His fingers lingered over button shaped mother of pearl, but said nothing.

"It's your turn to be lavished."

Xavier: The lingering was noticed and noted.

“And you as well. It’s time for ties. Select a couple for each suit.”

Maximus: "I can get ties in Paradise. Are you certain, m'lord?" Only for his ears.

Xavier: “I’m certain, Maximus,” Xavier replied just as softly. “No tie in Paradise can compare to the ties here.”

Maximus: "You're too kind." Then he would do as commanded, choosing various textures of black neckties. If insisting, he would stray towards gray and white.

"Now, I must insist you allow the tailor to see to you."

Xavier: Xavier let Maximus choose whatever his heart desired, secretly eyeing a few ties he thought would suit his butler. He’d ask Massimo to set them aside when they got to the dressing room.

Speaking of.

“Yes, of course. We need those warm tones and those tails. Massimo—“

“Yes, Signore Atlas. I’ll pull pieces right away.”

Maximus: "Should I ever know you that well someday," he smiled. "Be sure to put those tails to good work this year. The house will be ready for dinner parties as soon as we settle the remaining furniture."

Xavier: He grinned. “I think you’re well on your way. This very morning you timed breakfast precisely with my awakening.” To him that meant they were well on their way toward establishing the intimacy that came with living under the same roof.

“Once my tails and furniture are in order I should get some friends so I have someone to throw a dinner party for.”

Maximus: His morning breakfast had been an apology for the night before. Still, it had pleased him, and so it would continue.

"Speaking of. I look forward to seeing to the frames today. We must find a suitable artist."

Xavier: “As am I. They’ll be the perfect finishing touch for the drawing room. As far as the artist, we might be able to find an excellent one on this trip. Do you know any good portrait artists, Massimo?”

The tailor hummed while he considered. “Not personally, but I will have Luciano find you a suitable one.”

Maximus: "Molto gentile da parte tua, signore." So rare it was to speak his mother's native tongue.

Xavier: Well now Massimo looked positively delighted. Maximus had officially endeared himself into becoming a top client.

“Of course, signore, of course! Anything for you and Signore Rossmara! Luciano and I will find you the best portrait painter, not just in Milano, but all Italia.”

Maximus: The exclamation jarred him from his guard. Ducked head and smile followed the promise. Gratitude in his third language. A look given to his master from behind his lashes.

Xavier: Xavier was grinning like the cat that got the canary. He just knew coming here was a good idea and there was the proof.

“Your diligence and dedication are much appreciated, Massimo, thank you.”

“You’re too kind, Signore Rossmara, too kind. Ah, here we are.” He accepted some hangers from Luciano. “These are the tails, Signore Rossmara. If you’ll step into the dressing room, please.”

Maximus: Maximus' smile remained well after his master's disappearance into the dressing room. The room felt brighter, wider than when they had stepped inside. Days like today reminded him of Crawford. The tall, lanky man too old for this world. A man too quiet for his own good. A benevolent master, most of the time. He dared miss him.

His thoughts swam away from him, his eyes somewhere far away when Atlas returned.

Xavier: "What do you think?" Xavier asked as he emerged from the dressing room and stopped in front of the mirror, turning this way and that to study his reflection. "They'll need adjusting of course."

Luciano always had to pull stops a size to big and trousers that were too short; Xavier's height and shoulders always demanded adjustments.

Maximus: "I should have tried my hand at clothing years ago. I doubt I'd be trusted by the next-" The smile was more sheepish than honest.

Xavier: "Well you're certainly trusted now." He did a turn. "Do I pass muster?"

Maximus: "Not with those trousers, m'lord."

Xavier: “Offend? Not at all. It doesn’t surprise me, either. I know I’m relatively young by demonic standards.”

Maximus: "I don't think by much. I'm...young, too."

Xavier: “Probably by a decent bit. I died in 1935.”

Maximus: "I..." he swallowed, "it was 1899." He was grateful for the waiter. Barolo and ossobucco for himself, ordered after Atlas.

Xavier: Xavier chose the house white and the tortellini and a risotto for them for share.

“About ten years before I was born,” he said thoughtfully. “And look at us now. Two young demons about to enjoy some exquisite food in Milan.”

Maximus: "I believe you're my youngest master," he smiled, one of his more honest. "Among other things, I'm not afraid to say."

Xavier: “An honor indeed,” he said with a grin.

Maximus: "You can be so brazen."

Xavier: “It’s definitely been said before.”

He gave their waiter a nod of thanks when their wine was brought over. “I’ve made a whole life out of it.”

Maximus: "Do you ever regret not hiring a human? A vampire?" Today had gone so well, broken so many rules given by himself and others. He dared laugh at the absurdity. "I'm going to wake up tomorrow at the Crawford house."

Xavier: “Vampire? Lucifer, save us all.” Xavier shook his head and sipped his wine. “Vampires are too involved in their own affairs and humans require too much explanation. I made the ideal choice and got the ideal candidate, and the only place you’ll be waking up is your own bed.”

Maximus: "Right, because..." He began picking at his fingers underneath the table. A new little tick. He could scarcely hear the bustling of Milanese over his own clamoring negativity. His thoughts had been etched with every new master. Too much for Atlas to carve away at once.

"I'm grateful, truly."

Xavier: As much as he’d like to carve away all those dreadful thoughts at once, he was quite satisfied chipping away a bit at a time. “And I’m grateful to you for setting my house to such terrific order.”

Maximus: The next exhale straightened his spine. He was relaxed, despite his proper appearance.

"I look forward to your first dinner party. The house is something to be proud of."

Xavier: “It certainly is. You’ll have to help me scrounge up some guests.”

Maximus: "The most prominent figures in Paradise." Of course. "Establish an unforgettable rapport."

Xavier: “Not to sound arrogant but I believe I am the most prominent figure in Paradise.”

Maximus: "It wouldn't hurt to have connections. The road ahead isn't clear."

Xavier: “I suppose not, although I am tempted to exist beneath a veil of mystery.”

Maximus: "If something were to happen to me, I'd rather burn knowing you'll have options."

Xavier: Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.

“I suppose I could invite the less prominent but moderately well-off citizens of Paradise for a dinner party.”

Maximus: A well-reached smile. "Very good, m'lord. That's the spirit."

Xavier: “I’m sure the whole town has been dying to know what has become of Damien Eisley’s neglected mansion.”

Maximus: "Your updates will upset a few, but we'll turn them around."

Xavier: “Only those with no taste will be upset.”

Maximus: "You're impeccable, m'lord?" A brave tease with crinkling around his eyes.

Xavier: Xavier grinned into his wine glass. “Undoubtedly.”

Maximus: "I will not argue. Neither as servant nor assistant."

Xavier: He laughed softly. “Jolly good then. We shall be impeccable together thanks to Massimo.”

Maximus: Just as casually, said with well-considered ease, "Will your father be proud of your progress?"

Xavier: “Who’s to say,” he said with a shrug. “The man is inscrutable. I usually take his silence as approval.”

Maximus: "Is a lot of your relationship a guessing game?" Today, with a tingle down his spine, he would not apologize. Just to see.

Xavier: “For the most part. I gave up asking him questions, he never gives straight answers. Like all ancient beings I suppose.”

Maximus: "They want us to figure out the puzzle for ourselves. Either that, or their language restricted what is commonplace today."

Xavier: “With him it’s the former I think. He loves riddles, it’s exhausting.”

Maximus: "I appreciate the silence. It's its own riddle."

Xavier: “I’d rather the silence to be perfectly frank. Leaves more room for interpretation and gives more leeway. If I do something he isn’t pleased with he has to live with it in a way, because he never told me not to.”

He smiled again. “He loves his riddles, I love my loopholes.”

Maximus: "I prefer silence to riddles I know I will fail to interpret. Sabotaged from their first syllable for a passive thrill of seeing me fail and punished."

Now his eyes fell. "Forgive me. I'm - I'm being - I forget myself and it's unlike me. I swear."

Xavier: “I got a fair bit of those myself when I was on the rack. As if he needed more excuses to torment me.”

Like so many times before, Xavier’s expression softened. “I have nothing to forgive. You’re free to speak your mind with me.”

Maximus: "When you say that, m'lord, understand why you are unlike my former masters."

Xavier: He nodded. “I know I am,” he said softly. “In more ways than I probably know.”

Maximus: "It goes to everyone's head." His voice would not carry over the mortal city hum, but enough weight for a demon's ear.

Xavier: “Most everyone doesn’t have their humanity intact.” Sometimes he even thought it was heightened. There were days he just felt too fucking human.

Maximus: "But that-" He leaned away, silent as their plates were placed in front of them like silent offerings. Their waiter bowed and turned away, as though fully aware of his interruption.

Xavier: “I love European waitstaff,” he said after the waiter had been thanked and had moved away. “They’re so aware.”

Maximus: This time, his smile was more familiar, more sterile. His attention would fall upon his meal.

Xavier: Xavier knew that smile all too well. That was Maximus’ butler smile. Still lovely, but not as lovely as his very rare genuine smiles.

“Trying to predict the future is a fool’s errand but I can say with some confidence that the only thing that has gone to my head is my prowess for theft.”

Maximus: "In the past two months, I've only witnessed this prowess once, m'lord. Are you sure?"

Xavier: “We’ve been preoccupied,” he said, giving Maximus a quick, charming grin. “But be assured I’ll be taking advantage of any opportunity that presents itself.”

Maximus: "Just as soon as I can find someone with an agenda against me?" His master's smile had coaxed a more favorable expression, one more teasing and relaxed.

Xavier: Xavier grinned widely. So Maximus had noticed Xavier's Robin Hood-esque defense of his honor. "Precisely. All agendas against you will be met with thieving force."

Maximus: Of course he had, though he'd seen the gesture merely as an excuse to snatch essentials for the mansion. "Well, you've brought this half-breed home. There will be no prejudice here."

Xavier: "There certainly will not. And if you see any, tell me and it will be dealt with swiftly."

Maximus: "I'm used to it, m'lord."

Xavier: "So am I. All the more reason not to let it stand."

Maximus: "No one will belittle you. Your demeanor is too regal."

Xavier: "It should be, I bought myself a viscountcy. I'm an honest to goodness lord."

Maximus: Maximus tried to conceal his smile with a sip of wine.

Xavier: He could try as hard as he wanted, but Xavier caught it nonetheless. "That would also annoy my stepmother. Something else to cling to."

Maximus: "She's long gone. She can't hurt you anymore." He was still too young. Just allowing things to fly from his mouth without thinking. He debated on apologizing, but waited for his master's reaction.

Xavier: Xavier smiled wistfully and toasted the air. "Thank God and the Devil for that, too. Long may she and my father stay on the rack."

Maximus: No punishment? How much was he allowed to get away with?

"Have you seen them? There?"

Xavier: "I've seen him. He went first so I had more time to look. Haven't found her yet. Until I do I'll content myself with dancing on her grave."

Maximus: "Could she be a wraith? Or...moved on already?"

Xavier: "Old hag is too stubborn to move on peacefully. She'll cling out of pure spite and consider herself a martyr for being sent to the pit."

Maximus: "I could find out for you, m'lord. If you really want to know the truth."

Xavier: "Perhaps in due time. I rather like the thought of her being tormented for tens of hundreds of years before I find her and she has to watch me watch her be ripped to shreds." Another wistful smile. "Warms my little black heart."

Maximus: "Are you concerned that is not the case?"

Xavier: "Not particularly. If it is, lovely. If not, I also like the thought of dragging her there myself."

Maximus: "Is that possible?"

Xavier: "I don't see why it couldn't be. If something is tying her to this mortal coil it wouldn't be terribly difficult to sever the connection."

Maximus: "Oh. I thought you meant from - from Heaven."

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. "Oh no, my dear, no. The hag isn't getting up there."

Maximus: Just a playful banter, but still he enjoyed being called dear. 'Be a dear' was the most he'd ever been given.

Another moment of vulnerability stolen by the waiter. This time, he was grateful.

Xavier: He'd scarcely noticed the slip, but now that those gates had been opened the endearment would no doubt be making regular appearances.

"Ah, glorious. Grazie," he told the waiter, inhaling deeply. "Bless the Italians."

Maximus: "Careful, you'll burn me," he smiled.

Xavier: His smile was met with a laugh, which in turn was followed by a blissful sigh at the first mouthful of food.

Maximus: His meal swelled his thoughts with memories of his mother's cooking. Sweet sentimentality through rose tinted lens. His manners were dropped long enough to mop his plate with bread. Even then, done so with elegant fingers. Not a drop spilt.

"Thank you, m'lord. For everything today."

Xavier: Maximus wasn't alone in his temporary lack of manners; it would've been criminal to waste a single bit of sauce or of the lovely bread on the table.

"You're more than welcome, Maximus. Happy to do it."

Maximus: "I'm looking forward to seeing to the frames. It feels overdue."

Xavier: "It does. Perhaps I've been avoiding thinking about the matter. Two months on and something about Aello still unsettles me."

Maximus: "He was probably harmless. No more a threat than we were to him."

Xavier: "There's threats and there's threats. I'm not entirely certain he's human."

Maximus: "Neither do I, but we don't slaughter everyone."

Xavier: "True enough, and we won't. We'll just enjoy the frames and avoid him."

Maximus: "Then are you ready, m'lord?"

Xavier: Xavier took a deep breath and nodded. "I am indeed. Unto the breach."

Maximus: The fabric was gathered and tucked under his arm. They reappeared somewhere in California sans an unforgiving sky and unwelcoming stench. His handkerchief was returned to his nose without mention. This had become his routine.

Xavier: The stench was as familiar as the layout of Milan in Xavier’s mind, only a million times less pleasant. He missed it already.

“Disgraceful,” he sighed.

Maximus: "M'lord?" More nasally than usual in an attempt to conceal his bleeding.

Xavier: "I fail to see what benefit is derived from our kind smelling like sulfur. We already have black eyes. Surely that's enough identification."

Maximus: "This is meant to be a punishment, in every sense of the word."

Xavier: "More of an annoyance than a punishment in my view."

Maximus: The piece of cloth was folded onto itself and tucked away. He would rather bleed than leave his master sullied. This had long ago been deemed his duty by Shore, and no demon in his place had ever questioned his generosity.

Xavier: Assuming Maximus had put his handkerchief away because it was too stained, Xavier offered his own. "Let us set this fabric somewhere safe and get on with the frame inspection."

Maximus: "Oh. No, thank you. I couldn't." Though he'd yet to realize a fresh bead of blood had begun its trickle downward.

"Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "You could." He gestured at his butler's nose. "You're still bleeding, take it."

Maximus: He wouldn't deny him twice, as much as he wanted to. A quiet thank you uttered as he took the ivory cloth and placed it to his nose.

Xavier: Xavier gave an approving nod. “Excellent. Now.” He looked around. “Should we walk or see to a taxi?”

Maximus: "I wouldn't mind the walk, m'lord. We've been in taxis all day."

Xavier: “Very true. In that case, allow me to help you with the fabric.”

Maximus: "I can't allow that, m'lord. I'm alright."

Xavier: “I insist. We’ve a bit of a walk ahead.”

Maximus: "You'll scuff your clothes."

Xavier: “Scuffs can be removed.”

Maximus: "Why must you argue with me?" Asked gently, of course.

Xavier: “It’s what I do,” he said with a smile, carefully taking half the fabric.

Maximus: The fabric was reluctantly released. His servant had no clue as to the blush, softest shade of pink, flush to his cheeks. As though this were submission for something far more intimate.

Xavier: Maximus might have been unaware of it, but Xavier certainly was not. No comment was made, but he silently committed it to memory, savoring every detail and nuance it brought to Maximus’ face. Such beautiful, delicate features his butler had.

“Very good,” he said softly, starting down the road and waiting for Maximus to fall into step beside him.

Maximus: Beside yes, but always by a half-step, just barely from eyeshot. A ghost meant to open doors and take coats from shoulders, to serve tea and renew plates as if from nowhere.

As they approached the warehouse, his butler appeared by the door.

Xavier: A ghost Xavier intended to make more corporeal. One of these days Maximus would comfortably walk by his side from place to place with scarcely a second thought; Xavier was determined to make it so.

He smiled and nodded in thanks as he stepped through the door and into the main office of his shipping warehouse. He exchanged a brief greeting with the middle-aged man at the desk, who'd immediately stood to attention.

"I should have two crates waiting for me, Greaves."

"Yes, your lordship, from New York. Sender Aello?"

Xavier nodded. "Those are the ones, yes. Where are they?"

"Finch put them in the secure holding room beside your office."

"Thank you, Greaves. Keep an eye on this fabric and mind you, don't let it get stained. It'll be the drapes in my drawing room before much longer."

Greaves nodded and relieved both of them from their burden. "Yes, your lordship."

"By the by, this is Townsend, my new assistant. Treat him as you would me."

Another nod from Greaves. "Yes, your lordship. Welcome, Mr. Townsend."

Maximus: A warehouse if ever there was one, but belonging to Xavier Atlas somehow made the ceilings higher, and the air crisp as though he were still outside in the December wind.

Greaves seemed well kept, despite his long years. Human, just as his master had said. Had they any idea of their employer?

His false name jerked his thoughts, and that which followed put a rod in his spine.

David Townsend, tall in posture and steady hands on his hat, bowed his head. The most polite smile one could muster without teeth followed without word.

Xavier: Greaves' tidiness and mannerisms reflected the way Xavier ran his business. The warehouse was large and busy, and though there was the buzz of conversation and occasional roar of bawdy laughter, every employee was dressed smartly and moved efficiently. This was a tight ship and Xavier was enormously proud of it.

Greaves handed them off to the aforementioned Finch, a much younger and scrawnier man with a cigarette between his lips and a Midwestern accent. He filled Xavier in on the goings on as they moved through the warehouse, dodging dockers and weaving between crates.

"Shipment's here, your lordship sir." Finch stopped in front of a heavy metal door. "Two crates, two frames, both unopened just like you said."

"Thank you, Finch. That will be all."

Maximus: They were followed behind, listening to every detail. Of the man downstairs complaining about his wife. To the man by his side laughing at his misfortune in marriage. He could hear the clatter of crates to which their destination remained in queue. The sound of large, tired trucks beyond the warehouse. Always, his master's voice above it all as though whispered nose-to-ear.

He waited for Finch to leave the room, for the door to close and muffle their surroundings. He placed his hat on the desk, along with his gloves. He continued without word towards the nearest crate.

Xavier: "Wait a moment, Maximus." Xavier eyed the crates. They seemed innocuous enough. Still...

"Can you feel anything? Smell anything? A strange energy signature, the traces of a spell?"

Maximus: His servant turned, his smile unlike that given to his employers. A playful, silent note, with a finger brought to his lips. Let me work, his eyes said. To mollify, he reached for the smaller crate first. The box was placed on top of the other, opened with brute strength.

Xavier: Xavier smiled and nodded, stepping back to let Maximus do whatever it was he was going to do but not dropping his guard. He almost expected Aello himself to pop out of one of those crates.

The crate opened and Xavier tensed, ready to defend Maximus and himself.

Maximus: That would have been nothing if not entertaining. A fat, jolly man with rosy cheeks stuffed into a child-size crate would have been unforgettable. He still wasn't sure what it was he had initially done to catch the salesman's attention. Whatever the case, the smaller frame was unearthed from the paper pulp. No burning, freezing, no sudden shock to his system. Nothing but wood and bits of metal long ago replacing thick twine.

The frame was set aside and studied much the same as it had in October. Beautiful, as expected, but unassuming.

The first crate was set aside. Onto the next.

Xavier: Like the crate it had just been in, the frame looked innocuous. Lovely and ornate and innocuous. A close inspection still had to be made but so far so good.

Maximus: It's larger twin was pulled in the same fashion and leaned against it's crate. This time, he kneeled in front of it, inspected as close as he could manage for tiny scribbled spells or hidden drops of blood.

Xavier: Xavier dared step closer. He still didn't feel any strange energy signatures but they weren't always present. Something sinister could still be lurking.

While Maximus studied the frames, he took it upon himself to study the crates themselves. It wasn't always the thing inside the box that held the nasty surprise; just as often it was the box.

Maximus: Pale fingers gently glided along the edge of the frame, feeling grooves or scratches. It was then he nicked his middle finger. The smallest prick with the tiniest bead of blood. So inconsequential, in his quiet thoughts, not to disturb his master. His hand carefully fell to his side, out of his master's sight.

Xavier: However tiny, they were demons. Their sense of smell was as sharp as any shark, and Xavier didn't need to be a mile away to smell that tiny metallic trace in the air.

"Did you cut yourself?" he asked suddenly, whipping around.

Maximus: Deer in headlights. His servant stared for a moment, caught completely off guard.

Xavier: "Let me see."

Maximus: He could not tell him no. He was eternally bound to obey. His hand, reluctantly, was presented palm-side up. The tiny scratch was barely inflamed, as though arguing to heal.

Xavier: Xavier gently took Maximus' hand and brought it closer to examine the cut. "Did the frame do this or a piece of the crate?" he asked as he began to heal it.

Maximus: "A shard of wood behind the frame." His eyes never left their hands.

Xavier: That was the next order of business then. He'd see to it only after Maximus' hand was set to rights and he'd made sure that the cut hadn't had any other effect on his butler.

Maximus: No obvious effect. Still calm, pale, and rigid. "It was most likely nothing, m'lord."

Xavier: "We can't be too careful, Maximus. Many a spell can be done with demon blood and this is a brilliant and stealthy way to get some."

Time to inspect the back of the frame.

Maximus: Everything about the frame spoke of simultaneous age and care. Long ago someone had taken the time to sand, paint, varnish, with consideration of every dip and hill of craftsmanship. The shard did not belong, as though someone had been careless with something so expensive.

Xavier: The shard did not indeed belong. As though by design. After all, why take such care with every aspect of the frame and leave they one imperfection untouched and unattended to.

He went to the door and stuck his head out. “Finch!”

The man appeared in moments. “Yes, your lordship sir?”

“Bring me some pliers and sandpaper.”

“Right away, your lordship.”

Maximus: "I can pull it apart myself," he called to his master's back.

Xavier: “Precautions, my dear. We must take them all.”

Maximus: There it was again. He tried not to think too deeply on his pet name. Still, his thoughts lingered while staring a hole into the large frame.

Xavier: Finch returned with the requested pliers and sandpaper, with a pair of gloves thrown in for good measure.

Xavier nodded as he took everything. "Thank you, Finch. The crate remnants will be going into the incinerator. Sooner rather than later, please."

"Yes, your lordship sir."

Once Finch had moved away, Xavier put on the gloves and turned the frame so the backside was facing him. Any inscriptions? Any sigils?

Maximus: Nothing of note. Only the single splinter of wood, as though it had fallen against a sharp corner.

Maximus slowly shifted to the side, giving his master room.

"I can remove it."

Xavier: "Don't trouble yourself, Maximus. Much as I love these frames I don't trust them one bit." He carefully removed the shard from the frame and braced for calamity.

If none came, he'd begin sanding down the location where it had been, along with any spots of Maximus' blood.

Maximus: "Then why did you purchase them, m'lord?" Yes, there was humor in his tone, but Atlas was looking away.

Xavier: Maximus would be able to hear the smile in Xavier's voice. "Because they really are nice frames. And they would look lovely in my house."

Maximus: There was no drop or blood to speak of. Once the shard was removed, it seemed the frame had always existed with a smooth, almost perfect dip the length of a small fingernail.

Xavier: Xavier squinted at the frame. This was a magical object. He didn't know exactly how or exactly what it did, but he was almost certain it was an artifact.

"When we return to Paradise, remind me to purchase some sort of print at the frame shop. Two, in fact. One for each frame. We're going to do a little experiment."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." He wouldn't question what that would be at this time. He would find out be tonight.

"Shall I take us home?"

Xavier: "How's your energy? We can still take the train or hire a car."

Maximus: "I'll be fine. I swear. I just need to gather the fabrics."

Xavier: "Then let's go collect them from Greaves."

Maximus: "M'lord." Fabrics over one arm, held very carefully. The frames were hung from his other. This he would refuse, given how often they had traveled already. He wanted his master comfortable at his own expense. They would return to the mansion in one piece. Another bloody nose, standing in the middle of the drawing room.

Xavier: “Thank you for getting us back in once piece. How do you feel?”

Maximus: "Exhausted of nosebleeds, but I'm well."

Xavier: “Nothing odd around the site of your cut?”

Maximus: He looked to his hand. "No, m'lord." None that he could see.

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Very good. But if you start feeling strange or notice something amiss, tell me immediately.”

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord," a response he was forced to give. Should he obey, he did not yet know if he could avoid.

Xavier: “Promise?”

Maximus: "I - Yes, m'lord." What he wanted to say verses what was spoken was quietly concealed in his eyes.

Xavier: His eyes were telling Maximus to go ahead and speak his mind.

Maximus: He turned away. "This frame for which room, m'lord?"

Xavier: “The larger one for this room,” he said softly. “The smaller for the library.”

Maximus: Then without word, he took the smaller frame in hand, bowed, and walked away.

Xavier: Xavier waited until he heard Maximus’ footsteps on the stairs before he sighed softly. He only hoped Maximus kept to his promise.

Maximus: He felt a little ridiculous. The frame had simply scuffed on its travel across the United States. There was no great mystery here. The only mystery was why Xavier was more worried than he was.

Xavier. That was the first time he'd ever thought of him by his first name. He was losing his senses. He'd never warmly regarded any owner, with perhaps the smallest exception of Crawford. He was property, a tool, a plaything one would pick up and put down at leisure.

The frame was secured onto the wall near one of the great shelves. His thoughts swam in memories, too fogged to pay attention to his task. In the middle of the library he stood, allowing himself a moment to find a clearing from his mind. There was a name for this, surely, but he did not know. He could not move, only exist.

Deep breath. He'd found his way out.

The frame was perfectly center. This was the smaller one, was it not? It seemed taller than when he had unearthed it from the crate.

Xavier: Whether the frame had been scuffed en route to the warehouse mattered precious little to Xavier's paranoia; it was far more concerned with the man who had done the sending.

That Aello was not human--or was a human with magic--was all but a certainty in his mind. Ordinary humans didn't have the kind of aura, that kind of energy. They'd settled and parted on decent terms (Xavier made sure of that) but still the suspicion remained. His paranoia had served him very well for the past several decades and he saw no need to start doubting it now simply because Aello was a jolly old man.

If it turned out he was worrying for nothing, all the better. If not, then he was prepared.

Xavier heaved a long sigh. He needed a drink. "Maximus?" he called.

Maximus: His servant appeared in an instant. The light pouring through the windows made him appear paler than usual.

"M'lord?"

Xavier: ......He second-thought that drink.

"Let's put the kettle on. We've traveled many miles today, we've earned a cup of tea."

Maximus: Assent with a bow. This time he would use his legs and walk to the kitchen. Some bread and butter would be added to the tea tray as well. A wave of calm seemed to have washed over him since the library.

Xavier: While Maximus put together the tea service, Xavier started a fire for them. The days were getting colder and colder and shorter and shorter, making even this palatial manor house feel cozy and warm.

All that was missing was the record player he still needed to find.

Maximus: What they did have was radio, and in the absence of radio, there was Maximus' voice, quietly singing in Italian while waiting for water to boil.

Xavier: To Xavier, that was just as good as any record he could play. And like nearly every other time Maximus had sung over the past two months, Xavier snuck closer to listen.

Maximus: Despite his hearing, he was not in tune with the house this evening. There was no need for such caution as to listen to every groan and sigh of the floors and corridors. Sweet love songs passed his lips without concern, switching into the more easily spoken French as the kettle whistled.

Xavier: That was something to be thankful for. Still, Xavier didn't want to push his luck and get even closer than he already was, no matter how much he wanted to see the expression on Maximus' face as he sang. He could hear and admire his butler just fine through the wall. Such a beautiful voice and kept so private. He hoped the day would come when it wouldn't be.

He'd wait until the last possible second to make his way back to the drawing room.

Maximus: Wherever his master had wondered throughout the house, his servant would find him, tray in hands. His disposition was composed. No different from the everyday taciturn behavior, with the exception of his eyes. One might call them sedated.

The tray was placed on a table.

"I don't suppose you're famished," he finally said, "but I brought a little something."

Xavier: Xavier gave Maximus a warm smile in greeting. “No Englishman ever said no to food with their tea. Especially when it’s bread.”

Maximus: "It's missing fried clams and sauce. Perhaps tomorrow."

Xavier: “I shall look forward to that. Make me all your Louisiana specialties.”

Maximus: "That's what I'm for, m'lord."

Xavier: You're so much more than that, he thought to himself. He would've said it aloud, but he had a feeling Maximus wasn't quite ready to hear it.

"Until then, sit and have a cup of tea with me. You've earned it."

Maximus: He'd learned not to attempt to argue. A quick lesson of just two months. Only after making his master's cup of tea did he take to a seat near the tray.

November 8, 2019

Xavier: Xavier was glad the lesson had stuck; his next goal was for Maximus to just automatically pour himself a cup or make a plate or sit down of his own free will. Slow and steady.

"How does the frame look in the library?"

Maximus: "As though it should have always been there," he said gently to his cup.

Xavier: "Then it was the correct choice."

Maximus: "Master Atlas." Two words equally delicate, as though barely lifted from his tongue.

Xavier: "Yes, Maximus?" he said softly.

Maximus: The demon blinked, brow furrowed enough to wrinkle. "I don't know."

Xavier: "Is something bothering you?"

Maximus: "No. I just suddenly needed to say your name."

Xavier: He gave Maximus a gentle smile. "You can say it as often as you like."

Maximus: Maximus swallowed and sat his cup aside. "I didn't mean to." His eyes had taken on a daydreamt state.

Xavier: "That's all right, Maximus. I don't mind."

Maximus: "I'm going to...clean now, m'lord. I need -" what was he about to say? That would have been awful. Where was his mind now? "Excuse me." His cup was returned to the tray and abandoned. With brisk stride he removed himself from the room.

Xavier: Xavier's brow furrowed. What had just happened?

He cast a glance at the empty frame. Perhaps....

He set his own cup down and followed after Maximus.

Maximus: He was humming, seemingly without shame, a Chick Bullock song. Breathy lyrics uttered from red wine lips as he headed towards the library. His shoulders slacked from lack of tension. Ungloved fingers gently caressed the banister as he ascended.

Xavier: The furrowed brow became a full-on frown. Maximus was humming? Out in the open? Where Xavier could easily hear?

Something wasn't right.

He waited until his butler reached the landing and turned before starting up the stairs himself.

Maximus: A handful of leather-bound books were pulled from their shelves, thumbed, and set aside. Papers were stacked neatly and put away. Pillows refluffed and returned. The books, written in French, were then gathered in his arm. Center of the room he paused, staring off into space. The demon blinked, looked to his arm and shivered as though shaking off the cold. These were books he had wanted to read since his master brought them home. He couldn't read them all at once. Three of the four were returned.

Xavier: Xavier couldn't quite decide whether he was more fascinated or concerned. Maximus helping himself to books in the library wasn't a shock; Xavier had told him he was free to do so. The...ease about him was definitely noteworthy, however. Usually it seemed like his butler never fully allowed himself to relax, and here he was, relaxed.

What actually concerned him was the moment when Maximus paused and shivered and looked at his arm. Was that the same side the cut had been on?

Maximus: His shiver had begun with his right side, the side which had been pierced by the frame. The bewilderment on his servant's features had been towards his insatiable inclination. With the books returned, he turned towards the door, paused directly in front of the frame. The literature in his hands, a hardback treasure gifted to the world by a woman, was hugged to his chest.

Xavier: "I knew it," Xavier muttered to himself, stepping into his butler's line of sight. His paranoia continued to serve him well.

"Maximus." His tone was light and gentle. Casual even. "We're going to pop into town for a bit. There are some things I need."

Maximus: His butler's posture straightened with a violent jerk, nearly dropped the book from his chest. It was as though he had been struck.

"I can get them for you, m'lord."

Xavier: He smiled. "That's quite all right, I fancy a drive. We could both use a break from our usual form of travel. We can bring the fabric to the shop while we're there."

Maximus: He glanced behind, as though expecting someone to be there. Perhaps the fabric, even. "Will we make it in time? Most stores will be closing soon."

Xavier: "We should, yes. If we don't then that's no bother for us, now is it?" His voice had remained gentle, his smile soft, and reassuring. "Come."

Maximus: "No, it's no bother, but I'd hate for you to be disappointed." His eyes closed, berating himself for all of two seconds. "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "I doubt very much that I will be. We have plenty of time." All is well. Just come to me and away from the frame.

Once Maximus had joined him, Xavier waited until his butler started down the hall before he closed and telepathically locked the library door.

Downstairs, the drawing room door was also locking itself. A simple precaution.

He led them to garage and into the car, keeping a close eye on Maximus as they started down the road.

Maximus: As usual, Maximus opened the passenger side door for his master. Being the one and only servant of the house, he'd quickly grown accustomed to playing every role in one. His surprise was mild when his master refused him.

The fabric had been placed in the backseat. During the drive, he stared out the window, hands in his lap, perfectly quiet.

Xavier: No outward signs of distress. Good. That meant whatever was happening wasn't causing pain.

Time for some tests.

"I was thinking we could stop by the ice cream parlor as well. It's been ages since I had any. What's your favorite flavor?"

Maximus: His servant looked on, nonchalant. "I don't have a favorite."

Xavier: “Perhaps I should buy several for you to see if we can find one.”

Maximus: "That's just frivolous, m'lord."

Xavier: “Frivolity makes life more fun. Let’s also get a cake.”

Maximus: "I can bake you one better than those in town."

Xavier: Xavier grinned. “Can you indeed? What’s your best recipe?”

Maximus: "Praline...with joconde sponge. It's the only one I know, so it's perfect."

Xavier: “In that case, we’ll get you all the ingredients you need. And a cake pan, as I don’t think we have one.”

Maximus: "What do you think I've made your elaborate English pies in?"

Xavier: “Ah, yes,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you must be getting tired of making so much pastry.”

Maximus: "My arms are strong from the effort. You enjoy my cooking. I can't complain about that."

Xavier: Xavier smiled to himself. He was beginning to see the effects. "I do enjoy your cooking, very much. I also enjoy sharing it with you."

Maximus: "It won't last, m'lord." His eyes closed again. "I ask for your forgiveness. I'm behaving most inappropriately."

Xavier: "No, Maximus, you're not behaving inappropriately. This is simply the result of the spell."

Maximus: "I thought previous masters were paranoid."

Xavier: "My paranoia has borne fruit. The frame seems to be lowering all your inhibitions and making you speak your mind."

Maximus: "How do you..."

Xavier: "You're answering all my questions without a filter and you can't seem to stop yourself."

Maximus: "I..." He closed his mouth. Indeed, he was about to say something else. Let's try again. "When did you know?"

Xavier: "You dashed out of the room like you were on fire, kept staring off into space, and gave the frame on the wall a strange look while shivering and looked at the arm you cut."

Maximus: "You followed me?" That's all he heard.

Xavier: "Yes. You never dash anywhere like you're on fire. You walk or hasten in a composed manner."

Maximus: "I didn't...dash. I walked...briskly."

Xavier: "For you, that's a dash."

Maximus: "I couldn't be in the room with you."

Xavier: "Because you kept wanting to say things and couldn't stop yourself?"

Maximus: His eyes remained closed. "I felt human again, but...I was better composed as a child. It made no sense."

Xavier: "It's the frame," he said softly. "Remember how I said that all sorts of spells can be done with blood? It took yours and had this effect on you."

Maximus: "When this is over I - anyway you see fit to punish me, I won't...I accept."

Xavier: "Darling, why would I punish you for something that isn't your fault? You didn't inscribe the frame with a spell and intentionally cut yourself with it."

Maximus: "I wish you would and just get it over with." His hands clutched to white knuckles. "I'm sorry."

Xavier: "Maximus, stop apologizing. I'm not going to punish you. I have no desire to punish you and no plans to punish you."

Maximus: "Please, just once so I can breathe."

Xavier: “I don’t want to punish you. I have absolutely zero desire or intention. I know you keep bracing for it and expecting it but it isn’t going to come.”

Maximus: "You're not the first demon to make that promise, master."

Xavier: “I’m sure I’m not. But I’m the first that plans to keep it.”

Maximus: "You're going to hurt more than anyone before you."

Xavier: "I sincerely hope I don't," he said softly. "I don't want to hurt you, Maximus."

Maximus: "Please forget everything I've said today when this is over."

Xavier: "I'll forget everything but your promise for fried clams and sauce." He offered a small smile.

Maximus: And all without having to open his eyes. He was grateful he'd been allowed.

"Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s get this frame situation sorted.”

Maximus: "What are you going to do?"

Xavier: “I’m going to try a simple cleansing spell. Ancient Roman in origin. I need salt, spelt, and sage.”

Maximus: "So you are going to hurt me."

Xavier: "Oh no, not for you. For the frame, to get rid of the spell."

Maximus: We don't know what that might do to me. A thought he just managed to keep to himself. "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: Indeed they did not. Xavier hoped that cleansing the spell from the frame would break its effect on Maximus but there was no way to be sure. Unless...

"There is another option. I could contact Aello."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord." There was no way around an argument.

Xavier: "How do you feel? Physically?"

Maximus: With a full understanding of his predicament, he managed to swallow his words.

"Several ways."

Xavier: "Could you tell me? I wouldn't pry, but I need to understand what's happening to you so I can try to understand the spell."

Maximus: "I beg you, please don't demand of me."

Xavier: Xavier sighed softly. "Very well. Can I at least ask if you are in pain?"

Maximus: "No pain, m'lord."

Xavier: He nodded. At least there was that.

"Very well. We'll drop off the fabric and get the items I need and I suppose we'll see how to proceed from there."

Maximus: "If you'll allow me, I can find a way to deal with this myself. I am at fault."

Xavier: "Darling, I really wish you would stop blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault. You were inspecting the frames because I suspected they were enchanted somehow."

Maximus: "I shouldn't have regarded him at all. It wasn't my place. I am not darling."

Xavier: "You had no reason not to regard him. When we walked into his shop, we thought he was simply another shopkeeper. We must have interacted with a dozen shopkeepers over the past couple of months, no reason to suspect anything amiss."

Maximus: "But he didn't look at you the way he looked at me. It was me, m'lord."

Xavier: "He did the looking, Maximus, not you. His fixation, his strange attention. You did as I asked and stayed behind me. You didn't instigate this."

Maximus: "I -" Both fists cracked under the strain of his clench. They always look. It's always initiated by others. I cannot have a year of peace. I know this. What do I do? What do my eyes say that I cannot conceal? What am I constantly doing wrong? What did Mays see?

"Your confidence in me knows no bounds."

Xavier: "No, it doesn't." Said with complete conviction and no hesitation. "Our bond means your loyalty has been given to me. It also means mine has been given to you. You're part of my household. I will defend you, I will answer for you, and I will see you provided for."

Maximus: "Did you mean this pact when you created my summons?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. "I didn't anticipate it, no. That the bond would beget loyalty I knew. The rest of it? It's because it's you."

Maximus: "I don't deserve it."

Xavier: "And I don't deserve a beautiful estate and an enviable art collection and wardrobe. But I have all of that anyway."

Maximus: He could control this, so long as he kept his grip. If he clenched enough to bleed, then he could keep silent. The town was within sight.

Xavier: Within sight and quickly getting closer. Should he stop talking or try to diffuse or distract?

"If we're very lucky, there could be a time limit on the spell's efficacy. I wonder if transporting the frames out of the house would help. I could make actual copies of them and keep the enchanted originals in the warehouse."

Maximus: "I think we should call him. I want to know why, and what's to come of this. Or see to him."

His fingers released, revealing rows of crescent blood.

Xavier: "Seeing him might be asking for trouble. We'll find a phone box and give him a call."

Maximus: "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "I won't tell him the spell is affecting you. I'll tell him it's affecting a member of my household staff. I learned long ago not to provide details unless explicitly asked for them."

Maximus: "He'll know," he said, forcing himself to heal. In doing so, a wave of calm washed over him. He felt the tension release from his muscles of their own accord.

Xavier: "Perhaps, perhaps not. For all he knows I have a full accompaniment of maids, footmen, and hall boys."

Maximus: Without word, Maximus disappeared from the moving vehicle. Appearing on the side of the road next to the small, lonesome post office.

Xavier: He should've been surprised, but considering what he had guessed about the spell--and what Maximus had admitted--his butler's disappearance came as no shock. He could only imagine what Maximus was stopping himself from saying.

The car was parked and Xavier soon joined his butler. "Would you like to listen in on the call or would you rather stay out here?"

Maximus: A cigarette rested between his lips as His Lordship made his approach. He faced away as he apologized.

"I shall do whatever you think is best, m'lord," said softly, a gust of smoke with each word.

Xavier: “I’m asking what you want. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, I should say. You’ve had a long day.”

Maximus: "I want many things. I want to say your name and I want - I want to finish this cigarette and forget today."

Xavier: Xavier nodded and tried to offer what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Finish your cigarette. I'm going to go make this call and hope it bears fruit."

Maximus: Yes, Xavier, he thought. He turned his back on him entirely, taking a long, agonizingly slow drag in the hopes of burning his lungs.

Xavier: It wouldn't be held against him. This was turning into a very, very strange day.

Xavier excused himself and stepped into the booth, closing the door behind him. He called the long-distance operator and asked to be put through to Aello's shop, simultaneously hoping the man would answer and dreading that he would.

Maximus: The line connected after two to rings. The silence which followed, however brief, swelled with an aura of anticipation. The voice on the other line was no less grand and humored as it had been in October.

"Rossmara, how fortunate to receive you."

Xavier: The greeting gave Xavier pause. He hadn't given Aello the name Rossmara. He'd given him his vessel's name. Deidrich.

"Good evening, Mr. Aello," he said evenly. "Should I venture to guess that you've been expecting my call?"

Maximus: "You may venture much! It might all bear fruit. At any rate, I am very pleased to hear from you."

Xavier: "I wish I could say I'm calling under pleasant circumstances, Mr. Aello. I have a bone to pick with you."

Maximus: "You make it sound so unpleasant. I hear it in your tone. Quite sour. Though such matters should be discussed face-to-face, you and the young master might have qualms. I promise you there would be none. Would you prefer Rossmara, Deidrich, or Atlas?"

Xavier: "Well, I must confess that I am quite sour, whatever you see fit to call me. I would prefer to know why a legitimate purchase from what I assume to be a legitimate business has resulted in the maiming of one of my members of staff."

Maximus: "Maim? Maim?!" A full-bodied laughter crackled the line. "Heavens no! No, he is quite safe."

Xavier: "I'm afraid to disagree. Blood has been spilled absent cause, Mr. Aello."

Maximus: "Only in being unfathomable to you is it absent anything. I promise it was just a drop. A drop of knowledge beneficial to the both of us. I needed to know his structure."

Xavier: "May I ask why? Have we committed some offense against you, in this life or a past one?"

Maximus: "Offense? My good demon, there is no offense made! Only in regard to the creatures that wound the little doll without releasing the key."

Xavier: "Am I to understand that you contrived to steal blood in order to help?"

Maximus: "As I previously stated, I wished to understand his structure. His aura was covered in brambles he did not intentionally grow, from a single vine planted years ago. I had to see his unguarded underbelly. I'm so very glad I did. Do forgive me, but I believe I can give him, what shall we call it...a more suitable forever home, should you allow me to just take him off your hands. I have been looking for such man for what feels like a millennium."

Xavier: "Well, Mr. Aello, you're going to have to continue your search for a while longer. He is not a frame or some other commodity that is for sale and I am not going to part with him. He is under my care and begging your pardon, I think he is in the most suitable home he can be in. What's more, he is currently in distress and I would very much appreciate your insights into how I might relieve it."

Maximus: "As we are begging pardons, I must ask one of you. Everything has a price, and despite your fairness for buying full price, you are a demon with another demon under your thumb. Surely, it would be of no great effort to find yourself another."

Xavier: "It's not a matter of effort, Mr. Aello, it's a matter of loyalty and principle. Shocking, I know."

Maximus: "How much is he worth to you? Substantial comfort? Riches? What about pain? How much are you willing to sacrifice to keep him? Everything has a price. Name his worth and I shall concede."

Xavier: Xavier's jaw clenched. He looked to the man outside, suddenly struck with how much he had come to mean in a mere two months.

"Not everything, Mr. Aello," he said softly. "How much would it cost me for you to leave us alone? To leave him alone?"

Maximus: A rumbling hum. "Do you like him this way? Honest? Have you heard a venomous word from his lips?"

Xavier: "He did not choose to be this way. He is not comfortable this way. I was not exaggerating when I said he was distressed, nor was I being facetious when I asked you how I might relieve it."

Maximus: "I am giving you the release, should you answer my question. There is no need for all of that, Your Lordship."

Xavier: "I like him the way he is, not the way the spell is making him be." As much as he wanted Maximus to be more open and comfortable around him, Xavier had no intention of forcing it and he didn't care to see someone else forcing it. He owed Maximus more than to have someone change him on a whim. He didn't want someone to change him, he liked his butler precisely the way he was, absent artifice or embellishments.

Can you hear that in his voice, Mr. Aello?

Maximus: A long calm silence followed. "And the unkind word? Has there been one?"

Xavier: "No, there has not."

Maximus: "Truth without spite. Truth gentle and sweet like nectar. One day you will realize you cannot keep him to breast. When that day comes, it is my sincere hope you remember the name Aello. Have him drink from honeysuckle. Place your thumb to his forehead, and his underbelly shall be armored once more."

Xavier: Xavier heaved a long, silent breath of relief. "I do not know how much you know of me, Mr. Aello, but if there's one thing I'm proficient at in this life, it's holding the things that matter to breast. I thank you for your assistance."

Maximus: "I do it for Master Fairchild, my good demon. I will take a knee for now, but this will not be my final hello and goodbye. To your health and good fortune." Only a moment later did the line sever.

Xavier: "So do I," Xavier murmured to himself once the line disconnected. "So do I."

He took a moment to compose himself and rejoined Maximus, face all smiles. "You'll soon be feeling like yourself, Maximus."

Maximus: His servant was well into his second cigarette. His master's presence was enough cause to stamp the ember on the pavement.

"May I ask what happened?"

Xavier: "I asked him for help and he gave it to me."

Maximus: "But...But why...?"

Xavier: "Why did he do it or why did he help?"

Maximus: His posture, though correct, lacked a little something in the shoulders. "Both, please."

Xavier: Xavier found and held Maximus’ gaze. “He wanted to take you for himself and when I refused to give you over he relented and told me how to break the spell.”

Maximus: "Take me, m'lord? I'm nobody. Nobody to notice like that."

Xavier: “It would seem that you are.”

Maximus: "I...I'm sorry. It was my fault, as I said."

Xavier: “You can’t be faulted for existing, and I won’t fault you for existing.”

Maximus: "You're not a demon."

Xavier: “Then I really would like that whole sulfur business to come to an end.” Dare he hope for a smile?

Maximus: Rather than a smile, he closed his eyes. Nothing so harsh as though in self-beration. It was as though he'd been kissed on the cheek.

Xavier: Too soon for hope. Tomorrow was another day.

“Come. We must procure some honeysuckle.”

Maximus: "This was a fae if ever one were to craft a spell."

Xavier: “Couldn’t have said it better myself. It’s rather disarming to have my aliases known.”

Maximus: "He knew you?"

Xavier: Xavier nodded and led the way back to the car. "Yes. When he first answered me called me Rossmara, and later on he asked if I preferred to be called Atlas, Rossmara, or Deidrich."

Maximus: "Everything he does is based on truth, from the moment we met him."

Xavier: "Including his spell." He telepathically opened both their doors. No humans around to see at the moment.

Maximus: "There's honeysuckle at home. If you would prefer to go home, I will drive the car back, m'lord."

Xavier: "Ah, very good. Then we've only to stop at the fabric shop." And he would be driving.

Maximus: "I take that as a no, then." He made his way around to the passenger's side.

Xavier: "Tomorrow everything can return to normal. Today, let me look after you."

Maximus: He resorted to biting his tongue. Stop making me feel wanted.

"As you wish, Lord Atlas."

Xavier: "Thank you. Off we go, then."

They managed to arrive at the shop just before the owner was set to close, and even then they were only granted entry because the woman knew theirs was a big, high paying job.

Xavier handed over the fabric, money, and his requirements in short order and they were soon on their way back home.

Maximus: Maximus resorted to standing outside. He felt so inappropriate and useless. How they could return to what they were after his appalling behavior he didn't know. A decision needed to be made, one which forced the childhood habit of biting his thumbnail and hugging himself. He was vulnerable, and his reputation forever tarnished.

Back in the car, he stared out his window.

"Just after the gate, the honeysuckle is that way," he gestured.

Xavier: Xavier looked in the direction Maximus indicated and nodded.

Before they got to that, there was something he needed to say.

"Do you remember," he began softly, "what you asked me that afternoon we had tea at the Plaza?"

Maximus: Moistened lips parted, a gentle utterance of yes. Of course he remembered that afternoon. "But things are different now, aren't they?"

Xavier: "No, they aren't." He brought the car to a stop and turned to Maximus. "Aello thought he could offer me something in exchange for you. He asked me to name my price because he assumed I was like many of our brethren, absent principle and consumed by greed. So I told him what I'm about to tell you."

Only when he was certain Maximus was listening did he continue. "You are not a commodity to me. You are not something to be traded or sold. I told you that you were mine and you are mine. I will not allow someone to try to undermine our bond, remove you from your home, or hurt you on a whim. Not Aello, not anyone."

Maximus: When the car came to a halt, his anticipation spiked and plummeted, and again when his master turned to face him. An unpleasant knot had formed on the back of his neck from the stress. His mind and body could not come to an agreement.

For once in their brief history, he felt the difference in their ages. He was his first; he could not blame the demon for his gracious ignorance.

"When you were handed that scrap of paper, you were given the promise of a slave. No matter how beguiling your words, you know. I am yours. You will not allow anyone else to have what belongs to you. Your kindness has its limitations. You can't even set me free, had you a mind to. I would be given to someone else in less than an hour. No matter the gesture, you will always be master."

Whether it was Aello's intention or not, he had given Maximus a shallow form of his expectation. One way or another, he knew Xavier Atlas would hurt him. His altruism was an affliction.

"I'm going to get out now, m'lord," he whispered.

Xavier: He could strangle that bleeding Fae. He still had a mind to. Veiled threats didn’t sit well with him and that’s what Aello truly was.

“I don’t know how much honeysuckle we’ll need,” he responded softly. “I’ll grab a bunch. The spell won’t take more than a few moments.”

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord." The door was shut gently behind him.

Xavier: Sighing, Xavier went to park the car before going in search of honeysuckle, mildly annoyed at himself for not asking how much.

There was precious little nectar in each flower so....surely a bouquet would do. If more was needed he’d bring every last flower back to the house.

Maximus: Maximus remained in the woods on the grounds. He'd found a bush covered in pale pink honeysuckle and felt no inclination to move. His master would find him eventually.

Xavier: Xavier had gotten to know the woods surrounding his estate rather well since they'd been here and found Maximus rather quickly. He was eager to be done with this.

"Maximus?" he called softly to announce his presence.

Maximus: His servant turned, a tiny flower pinched between his fingers. "The day started out so well," he said softly. "With all things considered."

Xavier: "It did. You'll like Massimo's work. He only gives his best, even more so when it's someone he likes."

Maximus: He had nothing to say in regard to Massimo. His impulse told him to offer the flower to his master, and so he did.

Xavier: Xavier accepted it, and offered the bouquet in return. "You have to drink the nectar while I say an incantation." He paused for a beat. "It requires that I touch you."

Maximus: "You don't have to seek permission," he said without thinking. At this point he just accepted his fate while he knew it to last.

Xavier: He didn't respond verbally, but his look very clearly said 'yes I do'.

"I have to press my thumb to your forehead. It will only take a few moments."

Maximus: For everything this spell forced from his quiet thoughts and untouched impulses, looking at a tiny pink flower and deciding it to be edible had not crossed his mind. He closed his eyes. Without apology, the honeysuckle was placed on his tongue. Bitter petals and a sweet surprise.

Xavier: "Keep eating them until I finish. Just to be safe."

With greater care than he could remember doing anything, Xavier pressed his thumb to Maximus' forehead and began the incantation.

"Truth without spite," he murmured. "Truth gentle and sweet like nectar."

Maximus: Those were the words meant to be said during this spell? Had the spell been designed that way, or was this meant to reflect himself? Eyes opened, looking at his master with confusion. He...had nothing to say. His compulsion to embarrass himself had dissipated.

Xavier: The confusion caught him off guard. "Are you all right? Did it work?"

Maximus: "What does that even mean, m'lord?" asked quietly.

Xavier: "The incantation?"

Maximus: For some reason the words upset him. They were too syrupy in his regard.

He realized he had yet to speak.

"It's over."

Xavier: Shoulders he hadn't noticed were tense relaxed. "Good. Excellent. That's the incantation Aello gave me. I didn't question it."

Maximus: While the man in front of him began to square his own.

He couldn't let go of their words. Gentle and sweet like nectar. Was that supposed to be him?

"Then I shall not either," he lied.

Xavier: "If you find the effects are only temporary or more present themselves, tell me immediately. I wouldn't put it past that blasted Fae to continue to play games."

Maximus: His expression had lost its mellow. The same gaze just shy of his master's eyes. "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "Even the tiniest thing amiss. Now that I know doing so won't hurt you, I'll cleanse the frames tomorrow and see about having a telephone put in."

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. Shall I get started on dinner?" Perhaps his appetite had reappeared since their ordeal.

Xavier: "Yes, thank you." He needed a meal, a drink, and a long brood.

Maximus: With a quick little bow, he turned and headed towards the house.

Xavier: Xavier waited until Maximus had disappeared inside before letting out a long sigh. How was it only dinner time? The day had felt eternal.

Then again, unwanted and insidious Fae magic tended to do that.

"And we're meant to be the demons," he muttered, heading up to the library to begin his drinking and brooding.

Maximus: The menu was an uncomplicated three course meal. Bourbon stout French onion soup with beef consommé, Louisiana beef stew served in bread bowl, a single serving apricot gelatin salad. A bold red wine would be poured from his left, without word or prompt. A subtle white for dessert. His toy soldier had returned to customary form. Sober, sharp features and immaculate dress; white gloves included. If offered to join, he would say he was replete from taste testing. Eyes forward, quiet in his corner of the room.

Xavier: Xavier wanted nothing more than to have his household returned to normal, so of course Maximus would be invited to join him. He still held hope that one day his butler would simply sit at the table without prompt or invitation, but just now with Maximus' refusal that hope felt very small.

"Maximus," he said at last, looking up from his stew. "Please sit down. You don't have to eat if you don't want to or speak to me or even look at me, but please sit down."

Maximus: I'd rather not, he wanted to say, but refused. Quietly, instead, he took the furthest seat at the table. Fingers laced together and rested in front of him on the table.

Xavier: Having expected Maximus to politely decline once more, it was a pleasant surprise that he'd actually sat. Perhaps things weren't quite so hopeless.

And perhaps his optimism was due to the wine selection and hearty food. Impossible to tell at the moment.

"Splendid work," he said softly. "Everything is delicious."

Maximus: "Thank you, m'lord," said just as softly.

Xavier: "There's a delivery coming tomorrow from Bordeaux. Six cases of wine, four red, two white. I've already settled the bill."

Maximus: "Very good, m'lord. I'll see to it."

Xavier: "We'll go to the post office tomorrow morning and inquire about getting a telephone put in. Perhaps two, one for each end of the house. Perhaps the library and the butler's pantry?"

Maximus: Again, "Yes, m'lord."

Xavier: "I would also like to finally see to the record players and radios and a television set for my sitting room. Would you like one?"

Maximus: "I have my radio, m'lord. Thank you."

Xavier: "I meant a television set."

Maximus: "I mean I am content."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. "Very well."

Maximus: Maximus subtly gestured to his plate, asking without words if he was finished with his main course.

Xavier: He nodded again. Yes, he was finished.

Maximus: Then dinner would be traded for dessert, and without having to be told, he returned to his seat, as he supposed his master would desire.

Xavier: It was an inkling of what he desired, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Maximus was thanked and complimented again, for the dessert and the wine selection.

Maximus: "Do you like movies, m'lord?" A question to break the silence.

Xavier: Another pleasant surprise.

"I do, yes. Very much."

Maximus: "When we were in town, I saw a poster for Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

Xavier: His interest piqued, and it showed. "Did you indeed? Is it playing now or sometime soon?"

Maximus: "This weekend, m'lord. Would you like for me to get you a ticket?"

Xavier: "Yes, if you get two."

Maximus: "Oh..."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. His offer was on the table and he wouldn't elaborate. If Maximus agreed to come then splendid, they'd have a nice evening at the pictures. If not, no pictures and no harm done.

Maximus: "Saturday afternoon, m'lord?" he eventually conceded.

Xavier: At last, a soft smile. "Saturday afternoon sounds lovely."

Maximus: "Very good...m'lord."

Xavier: Xavier nodded again, much more cheerful as he finished his dessert.

#The Truth in the Frame chapter #maximusfairchild

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cptnsantiago · 5 years ago

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it’s always better when we’re together

summary: Rosa straight up cackles at that, “On second thought, you might just want to pull a Kylie Jenner, keep it a secret the whole time.” Jake and Amy navigate telling the people closest to them about Baby Santiago-Peralta.

read on ao3

Their first task, after the kissing and crying and hugging, is going to the store to buy a big ol’ binder. It was Jake’s idea, he was eager to get to researching and preparing but he knew he wouldn’t get the right tabs because there are so many of them. His initiative makes Amy want to pounce him right there in the kitchen but a binder covering the next nine months of their lives is also very appealing.

So now 2 hours later, new binder and special tabs on the table, Amy starts with the contents list. Jake had been reading one of the books he bought when he told Amy he was ready to start trying but now he’s been staring at her for a few minutes now with a smile on plastered his face and his fingers grazing her abdomen.

“Hey, you know we’re going to need a whole section dedicated to figuring out how to tell Charles right?”

Amy snorts lightly at this very real observation, because there’s no way Charles will react in a calm manner. He fainted when they got engaged, so there’s no telling what dramatic reaction he’s going to have. “I’m not sure any amount of preparation will help us with Boyle.” Amy’s smile only grows when Jake takes her laptop to type his idea down, “I think we just need to… Um…”

“Yeah there’s no way we can approach this without him losing his mind!” Jake is laughing and shaking his head. “And everyone else too, this is a pretty big deal.”

“Yeah, we’re having a baby. A real life tiny human, weird right?” She just wants to take the moment in so she closes the laptop and pushes it to the side. He wraps his arms around her waist, hands falling again on her stomach. “I love you so much Jake.”

“I love you so much too.” Jake says, heart eyes ablaze, “And I am so ecstatic, and terrified but I know we’ve got this. We’re a team. Ultra parenting team of geniuses.”

They were really lucky to be where they were, having only been trying for four months. On date night months earlier, Jake had started to telling her how he’d been doing with his therapist. He revealed that in the past weeks they had been discussing his dad issues, but through that he felt ready to try for a baby if she was also ready.

Amy had instantly begun to draft her trying for baby and pregnancy binder out in her head, it had been bliss. There was some interesting attempts when she was ovulating, and weirdly it made their sex life more amazing. Neither thought that was possible.

After months of trying, finally on a Saturday morning, they got around to taking one of their spare pregnancy tests in the bathroom. Missed period, swollen breasts, nausea and almost fainting on duty. They were certain this was it.

Here they are now, on cloud nine of the knowledge of the life forming in her body. “Ames, seriously, you- I’m so happy we’re doing this. You’re gonna be such a great mom, and I never truly thought I could be a dad. But with you, I feel like I can do it all.”

Amy laughs affectionately as she wipes a tear from her face, “I’m so glad I can use pregnancy hormones as an excuse to cry for a while.”

～

It’s just over a month later when people start to get suspicious of Jake and Amy. She struggles to keep the morning sickness under wraps and her temper is a tad out of control at times. Jake checks up on her more than usual, sends her frequent texts. They aren’t so great at the secret keeping thing.

Rosa confronts them first in the break room. “You’re being weird. Why are you weird?”

Amy scoffs, “Weird?”

“Weird? Rosa you’re weird.” Jake adds, chuckling nervously but they’re both such bad liars. His shoulders slump and he looks over at Amy.

“What’s happening?” Rosa sits at the table with them.

“Amy’s pregnant.” Jake admits bashfully, and she’s watching as Rosa’s mouth twitches into a smile.

“That’s dope. Congrats.” Her eyes scan over the both of them, “The weirdness makes a lot of sense.”

“Thanks Rosa.” Amy beams, “You’re going to be such a cool aunt.”

“Tia Rosa. The coolest. And you guys are gonna such great parents.”

“I would ask for a hug but that would be more suspicious.” Jake mumbles quickly, “We need to up our game.”

“Maybe we should just start telling people…” Amy shrugs, “There’s only two weeks until we’re out of the first trimester.”

“Yeah and maybe letting Boyle have his official meltdown over it will help us relax.”

Rosa straight up cackles at that, “On second thought, you might just want to pull a Kylie Jenner, keep it a secret the whole time.”

“Yeah I thought about that but I don’t think it’s possible.” Amy sighs.

“We just gotta rip off the bandaid.” Jake says, “Then once he’s done his freaking out, then we’ll have a nice stern talk about personal space.”

“Good luck mommy and daddy!” Rosa says in a cutesy voice, “That’s just a taste of what you’re in for.”

～

They invite Charles over for dinner a few nights later, and both Jake and Amy were hyped up as if they’re about to tell their parents. He has of course offered to bring dinner, and Amy is hoping there isn’t anything too weird in it because she’d rather not feel nauseous for this. Jake has a copy of their last ultrasound in his pocket, ready to give to Charles.

Minutes before he’s due to arrive, Jake finds Amy in their bathroom brushing her teeth and he can tell that nerves are getting to her. “You feeling okay?” Jake wraps his arm around her, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“Yeah, this is exciting.” Amy says after rinsing her mouth, “It’s a long weekend in front of us. Boyle, then Holt tomorrow night -”

“Wait what?” Jake’s eyes pop out of his head. For him, telling Holt is more exciting than his actual dad, a person he’d prefer not to tell.

“Didn’t I tell you we’re going to his house for rice with Kevin tomorrow?”

“Uh, no babe.” Jake is laughing nervously now, turning Amy around so they’re facing each other.

“Oh god , there’s no way I have baby brain already? I’m so sure I told you yesterday!”

“You didn’t even put it on the calendar? This is shocking.” Jake is poking her sides teasingly and she is trying to make a comeback but only weird noises came out of her mouth before they both hear a knock on the door. “Don’t think we’re not talking about this again later.”

Amy rolls her eyes with a smile and goes to greet Charles at the door. His energy from when he walks through the door is just as usual, and once he’s got his lasagne in the oven to warm up he gives them both warm hugs. “You saw us yesterday, Boyle.” Jake reminds him.

“Always too long to hang out with my favourite couple!” Boyle is bouncing on his heels, and Amy is glancing at him curiously as she gets them all drinks.

They all sit down on their couch and Jake immediately has his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Jake is engaged in a conversation about the day he spent with Nikolaj, and the excitement on his face makes her heart swell. She’s reminded of how great of a father Jake is going to be any time they talk about Nikolaj, or when interacting with Iggy or Terry’s kids. For a moment, all of her energy goes towards not crying.

“So we actually invited you for dinner tonight for a reason.” Jake says, intertwining his hand with hers and she can see Boyle shift to the edge of his seat in excitement.

“Besides seeing our favourite co-worker, we do have something to tell you,” Amy declared, “I’m pregnant!”

The noise that came out of Boyle was loud, however much more tame than either of them expected. “I am so happy for you two, you’re going to be such amazing parents,” Charles chokes out, bringing his hand to his face. He’s jumping over and holding them both in his arms. His reaction is, timid, to say the least.

“You figured it out.” Amy sighs, understanding washing over her.

“WHAT NO THIS IS MY GENUINE REACTION!” Boyle screeches. “Okay fine, I figured it out three weeks ago.”

“How?” Jake murmured, Boyle sitting back down next to them, with a soft smile on his face. “Well, first look at you, you’re glowing all the time!” He gushes, “But also I noticed how you’ve been sick, a bit snappy I guess… And you guys aren’t subtle, at all.”

Boyle tells them about seeing them come from the bathroom one morning, and Jake had been smiling and talking about an apparent dentist appointment, but he had remembered that Jake had already been to the dentist that year. “And Amy didn’t look so good so I put two and two together. You forget I’m an unlicensed doula.”

“How can we forget that?” Amy cringes.

“Wow, I’m surprised you didn’t freak out on us like we expected.” Jake laughed, “You fainted when we got engaged.”

“Well, I know pregnancy can be overwhelming. And… I know that I can be a bit much so I wanted to respect Amy’s space and wait until you decided to tell me.”

“Wow, Charles, thank you. I really appreciate that.” Amy’s chin begins to wobble at the thoughtfulness of their friend.

“Plus Genevieve got the brunt of my excitement, there was a lot of crying.” Boyle laughs. “Nikolaj is very excited to have a little cousin!”

Amy chuckles tearfully at this. “Doesn’t he already have heaps of cousins?”

“Yes but none of those cousins is YOUR BABY!” He shrieks again. “AMERICA’S DREAM BABY!”

～

Usually if they’re late, it is most of the time Jake’s fault. But today, they are 12 minutes late to dinner at the Holt and Cozner household. And it was this damn fetus’ fault. Amy had spent the hour previously upchucking her breakfast and lunch, despite having felt fine all day. Jake had insisted they reschedule but she didn’t want to delay sharing the news with her captain, mentor and friend any longer.

Neither of them comment on their lateness, but offer them drinks instead. Jake shakes his head while Amy asks for a water and they settle at their dining table while Kevin serves up their rice into bowls. “I’m really excited for a nice plain meal tonight.” Amy whispered to Jake with a chuckle.

“How have your weekends been, pleasant I hope?” Holt asks, his tone plain but somehow caring.

“Yes we’ve had some nice downtime, and Charles came for dinner last night.” Amy recalled.

As pleasant conversation began between the group; Jake ate his rice quietly, stuck in his own thoughts. He didn’t have any reason to truly be nervous, Holt (and Kevin, really) had been there for there the debate on children almost a year ago now and he had always been supportive of both him and Amy. But still, the importance their captain had in their lives made him excited and nervous in a way he didn’t expect to be. Telling his mom (and dad, he guesses), had been easier and more exciting; this was their first grandchild, so their happiness was contagious. Telling Victor and Camila was a bit nerve wracking, but they were thrilled for the pair of course. Telling Holt and Kevin was the last of the big people to tell before telling the last of their squad. It was scary.

“Jake?” Kevin repeated.

“Jacob?” Holt attempted to get Jake out of his stupor.

“Babe?” Amy’s hand rests on his shoulder, concern etched on her face. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“What’s going on Jake?” Holt questioned sternly.

“Well, we have some news.” Amy announced, her hand falling on his knee as an attempt to settle his nerves. “We’re having a baby!”

The happiness in his wife’s voice snaps him out of it, a smile creeping up onto his face again. “Yep, Amy’s, uh, preggo! Bun in the oven!”

Holt spares a glance at his husband before looking back at Jake and Amy. “Congratulations, Jake and Amy, on the ‘bun in the oven’.” Kevin comments with a small grin on his face. “I’m sure the two of you will make competent parents.”

Holt is quiet for a moment more before he speaks up, “I am so delighted by this news and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come as people. Congratulations.”

Amy sucks in a deep breath as she attempts to fend off the tears once again, and taking a glimpse over at her husband she sees the tears forming in his eyes and back at Holt she sees his lips are pursed in an emotional smile. She gives into her emotions and allows the tears to fall down her cheeks with a laugh. “Thank you.”

Holt stands up out of his chair and walks over to the pair, and when the both of them stand, he embraces them both one by one. None of them are trying to keep the tears in anymore, and once the hug is over Amy pulls the ultrasound copy out of her pocket to show it to him. The smile that appears on his face is so bright, Amy clasps onto Jake’s arm. “Is this a spare copy?” Amy nods, “May I keep this?”

“Yeah anything for their favourite grandpa? Grandaptain?” Jake babbled, “Or whatever.”

“I’m sure Raymond and I would be delighted to be included in your child’s life.” Kevin cuts in for his speechless husband.

“I would love to be their Grandaptain.” Holt chuckles, placing his free hand on Jake’s shoulder.

～

The rest of the announcements go smoothly over the next few weeks. Gina reacts in a cool, Gina-esque way, but later pulls Amy inside to offer genuine advice and tells her how happy she is for them. Terry envelopes them in a giant bear hug before Amy begs to be let go before she pukes all over him. Hitchcock and Scully offer their babysitting services, which they politely decline. Amy’s squad downstairs cheers loudly for her, congratulations echo through the room and she almost cries at the support.

Once the entire precinct is aware, Rosa begins tabling out bets on different aspects of Jake and Amy’s kid. Birthday and gender, being the main ones. “I’m sorry, but Amy has SEVEN brothers. No way it’ll be a girl.” Boyle says as he puts $100 down.

“Wow, okay. Genetics are stupid . It’s going to be a girl.” Rosa has her arms crossed, grinning as both Jake and Amy walk over to them, “What do the parents think? Boy or girl?”

“Seven brothers. Boy doiiii.” Jake drones lightly, his arm snaking around Amy’s wait to rest on the side of the tiny bump that is hidden by her uniform. “It’s literally safest bet to make.”

Amy’s smile is bright as she laughs at her husband, the bets are out of control but half of the bet money is going to them as a squad gift so she can’t complain. She takes out her wallet takes out a $20 bill and puts it down on the bet jar Rosa is holding.

“I think we might be surprised.”

#peraltiago #my fics #peraltiago fics #b99 #writing #b99 fanfiction #jake x amy fic

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whippedkoalas · 6 years ago

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Hello everyone! I’m late, because I forgot my computer last night and I posted it on the wrong blog this morning (lol), but here is the promised fic for Christmas.

I hope all of you are spending these holidays like you want to. Thank you for always being lovely to me. I’m sending big virtual hugs to every single one of you.

Take care.

Christmas time is always special. You hear about Christmas on TV, the streets and shops are decorated, you might even be on holidays. It’s the time where the year ends, too.

A lot of people associate family time with Christmas times. And that’s where it starts being complicated for people who aren’t in touch with their families.

For the past 5 years, Noora and William have spent Christmas time on their own. Just the two of them. Their friends all have family gatherings to attend and they really don’t want to spend time with their respective families. The first Christmas they spent together they went to New York. The second one they stayed in Norway, but went to Flaam. Then they stayed in Oslo the year after. Last year they went to Prague.

This year, they’re staying in Oslo because they just bought a house in the suburbs of the city and do not have the budget to do anything fancy.

Furthermore, Vilde organized a party with everyone.

All the girls will be there. Isak and Even, Jonas, Chris, Yousef, Elias, and Eskild as well.

It’s not something they can do a lot because they all have their own lives now, but this year they really wanted to do something special.

They’re having a Christmas Eve Brunch. Vilde has been sending forms and messages and emails to organize this for months now and it was her idea to meet in the morning so that Chris, Jonas, and Eskild could come.

They all have been sent a list of things to come with.

They decided to organize a Secret Santa as well.

MONDAY 24TH 09:07

Vilde doesn’t live too far from their new house, and the weather isn’t terrible this morning, so Noora and William arrive early. The whole house is decorated already.

Noora and William were in charge of fruit juices.

“Vilde?” Noora shouts, entering the house.

They hear noise in the kitchen, probably the reason why Vilde didn’t hear them knocking.

Vilde accepted to host the Christmas brunch in her grandmother’s house. She has been living in this house for a while now, since her grandmother’s death.

When they get to the kitchen, they find Vilde cooking.

“Hello, Vilde ?”

Vilde turns her head instantly.

“Noora! Oh is it 9:30 already?” she looks at them in panic and only relaxes a bit when they tell her no.

Soon, Vilde gives them tasks to do. Before they know it, everyone has arrived.

They all settle in the living room. The decoration is outdated and even terrific but Vilde swears on her life she hasn’t had time or money to redecorate the whole house.

MONDAY 24TH 10:18

The whole table is full of different food everyone has brought. Everyone is talking and laughing. Only Vilde is a bit stressed.

“it reminds me of Sana’s Eid party,” Noora says to William, who nods in agreement.

“do you want some orange juice?” he asks in response, even though he has a glass for her already in his hand. Noora nods.

Chris is not far from them, chatting with Elias and Eskild. Eskild is trying to get the number of one of Chris’ co-worker.

In a corner, Yousef and Sana are arguing about the table decoration. Yousef is smiling fondly at his fiancé who is struggling with the napkins.

Vilde and Even are in the kitchen, trying to hide the birthday cake for Sana.

Isak and Jonas are chatting together with Eva, like old times.

Christina is sitting on the floor, playing with Vilde’s cat.

Noora watches them all doing their own thing but together nonetheless, tears in her eyes.

William takes her in his arm.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Noora shakes her head and snuggles against him. “I’m just emotional. It’s a great gift to have them still in our lives even five years after.I can’t wait for them to open their gifts.”

William smiles.

MONDAY 24TH 10:43

Vilde asked them to sit down around the living room’s table again. She and Chris have organized a game.

They are playing “two lies and one truth, Christmas with high school friends edition” according to Chris, which means that they have to find situations that happened (or not) with someone who is in the room or at least during their high school years.

They decided that Eva was the first to go, even with her protests because she doesn’t have any ideas.

“okay. 1. when we were in middle school, Isak discovered that Jonas and I were together because he found us making out in the school’s toilets.”

Isak chuckles.

“2. Christoffer and I actually dated for the first six months of our last year but we didn’t say anything. Or at least I didn’t.”

Eva smiles cheekily at Chris.

“3. Christina and I went to a double date once. It was shit, I ended up going home alone, but Chris got luckier and went home with my date.”

“There is no way those stories happened and you didn’t tell us.” Sana points out. “no way. They are all lies”

“You didn’t date Chris” William says.

“it’s for sure the first one because Chris would have spilled the tea about the double date on the group chat, while she was banging Eva’s date” Vilde adds.

Chris starts laughing out loud.

They all start giving argument to guess what is the truth when William says in Noora’s ear “Jonas and Isak are quiet. So the first is the truth.”

Noora gets one point.

They continue sharing stories about each other. They learn that Yousef had a crush on Sana since basically forever according to Elias.

Chris reveals that William had a discount on their russbus because he slept with the girl who was selling it. (“That’s prostitution,” says Noora.)

Jonas’ truth is that his mother asks him every time she sees him if he’s going to marry Eva someday. (No.)

Vilde reveals she still sees Magnus once in a while.

Chris tells them Sana and she sold their russbus for much more money than they should have.

Noora says she lied about Eskild’s birthday to Eva’s to go on a date with William. (Eva hadn’t realized.)

While Eskild tells everyone he used to steal everything he needed from William and Noora back when they lived together, Noora snuggles into William’s embrace and tells him “you’re next. Do it now”

Trying not to get the others’ attention, he replies “are you sure?”

She nods. “I would have laughed. But you won’t. So do it.”

When it’s his turn, William tries to be as serious as possible.

“1. Chris and I spent a night in our school. By accident, but we did.

2. Noora and I are having a baby.

3. Last year, when we went skiing, the boys and I lied to you girls, and we went to drink something instead of skiing like we told you”

Chris, who is the only one who knows what is the truth, still takes a few seconds to register what’s happening.

“Holy fucking shit! No way!”

Everyone else is silent, trying to guess if William is joking or not.

Then when they realize that he’s not and yes, William and Noora are having a baby, they start talking and screaming and cooing all at the same time. Noora just nods, shyly. She’s still sitting almost on William’s lap. He kisses her forehead.

“so yes. We didn’t plan on telling you through a game, but I haven’t spent the night with Chris in Nissen and we really went skiing with the boys last year…” he says, while the others are watching him with wide eyes.

“but I am definitely pregnant” Noora tells them, wiping tears from her eyes.

“fuck hormones” she adds, which makes everyone laughs.

MONDAY 24TH 11:33

After congratulating the new parents, they decide to give the secret Santa gifts. They all receive a copy of Noora’s first ultrasound as a special gift. That’s how Noora and William had planned on telling them.

They had agreed not to give anything too fancy or expensive, but not one of them has followed the rule.

They all laugh together and try to guess who is their secret Santa.

Some gifts are funny, like the sweater with dicks on it Christina found for Eskild, some of them are more personal, like the necklace William gives to Noora, with “in love since 2015” written inside of the heart. she tries to mock him because it’s a sappy gift, but she immediately started crying when she opened the box so she lost credibility.

Some gifts are surprising, like the beautiful purse Christoffer gives to Vilde, making sure she knows William did not help him.

After the distribution, Vilde suggests they could take pictures and they spent the next hour taking pictures of each other to be sure to keep those memories with them forever.

MONDAY 24TH 12:58

They all sing Happy Birthday to Sana. She didn’t really expect to have a birthday cake because she’s throwing a big party in two weeks, but she’s very happy to be surrounded by all of her friends for this special day. She makes a wish, as always. And Jonas makes a speech, as always.

“today, I wanted to tell you how much I am thankful to have an amazing group of friends. We’ve been friends forever and we still are.

But I feel like I should tell you that I am glad to grow up and grow old with you. I am happy to be able to see you going for new adventures, like parenthood. I think what we have is precious. We might not be able to see each other every week, or we might not all be the best of friends, but we care for each other and we are here for each other and I think that it’s a very rare bond that we have. So happy birthday, Sana. I can’t wait to see you blow out the candles every year”

#noorhelm #drabble

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dimplesandcurlsss · 7 years ago

Text

My Fanfic Quotes

This is for the anon who requested I make a list of my favorite quotes from the fanfics I have written-- my fics are all pretty long so i kinda went overboard...reading through the first two was particularly nostalgic so I was copying and pasting all over the place! It was like a trip down memory lane. I feel like it wasn’t even me writing them. Anyway, anon, this is for you! I...hope you see it somehow!

Drummer Boy

“But then a surprised laugh spills out of Keith’s mouth; a strange, melodic sound and a grin splitting his face in a way that Lance has never seen before. His eyes shine, his delicate nose scrunching and his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. Lance somehow forgets all about that bubble of guilt, because there is a bubble of something terrifying taking it’s place.

Lance wants to hear that laugh so, so much more.”

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

“He takes a long drag, eyes fluttering shut. He wonders why the spot where Keith’s knee is touching his feels like it’s on fire.”

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

“He eats a chip, listening to the crunch as if it is a million cosmic explosions occurring right on his tongue.

“Oh my god, you are so high.” Kate is smiling now, amused.”

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

“Keith hums a deep laugh, barely audible. “You’re cute when you're angry.”

Lance just stares at him, blinking. “I-uh..” He falters. “I- wha-“

“Don’t hurt yourself. Also, we’re here.” He says, pointing upwards.

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

“How can you like Cheetos but not Doritos?”

“They’re not fluffy enough!”

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

(in regards to the spot where he likes being touched)--“So there. That is confidential information though. For the most part, the unfortunate bastards who wanna fuck me have to figure it out themselves. So don’t go around blabbing. It’s a trade secret.” Keith’s tone is serious, but he has a goofy smile plastered onto his face, and his cheeks are flushed like he is embarrassed.”

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

To: Lance

Did you know that a whale dick is called a dork?

To: Keith

You’re a dork. Go the fuck to sleep.

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

He knows that there are stars out tonight and he doesn't even need to look up, because Keith’s dark eyes are literally filled with reflections of the tiny silver dots. Lance feels like he could write poems about Keith’s face. Or novels. Or maybe telenovelas. Keith is smiling softly at him, probably waiting for him to speak, but he has completely forgotten how.

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

“I don’t know whats going on Hunk. I see him and then I just want to see him again and again. I like his smile, and his hair, and his stupid lip ring, and I can’t, for the life of me, stop thinking about him. I mean, not that I’m thinking about him, you know? But like, he likes Cheetos? And he has anger issues. But like, not really anymore—“

“Lance.”

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

“And I didn’t realize until he was fucking me into the mattress and I looked over his shoulder and saw a giant squirrel staring down at me.”

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

“You called me beautiful last night.” Keith says, voice low and soft.

“Because you are.” Lance breathes, finally giving in.

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

Lance plops down at Hunk’s counter. “Do you have any alcohol? I need to get wasted. Actually? Lets just go out to the parking lot and you can run me over with your car. But you have to make sure to at least put me in a coma for eighty years, so that when I wake up everyone I know is dead.”

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

“Alright, I’ve had it, Keith.” Lance is holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re a frustrating, temperamental, manipulative and deceptive asshole with a god-awful temper and a horrible taste in fashion, and I swear to god, I would hate you, I really would, if I didn't love you so fucking much.”

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

Something Just Like This

“Of course, surrounding all of this camp nonsense is miles and miles of endless woods. Woods and nothing else. Keith is on a forest island. In hell.”

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

“How the quiznack did that happen? There’s no way you just won.”

“We just won, Lance. The Loser Cabin just beat your doodle!” Keith practically shrieks it, excitement bubbling in his stomach at Lance’s dumbfounded expression. The rest of his campers start whooping and cheering around him.

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

“Unlike Keith, this boy is made for the summer. He is made for the hot sun and the water, for grass stains and campfires, for giggling children and tan lines. He is light and golden and glowing, like the sun. Keith feels his face heat up.”

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

“Lance walked out of the cabin to join his campers in the courtyard and Keith turned to Jack, who was sticking his tongue out at him. “You think Lance is dreaaammyyy!” He says exaggeratedly, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Hey, hey, that’s not—” Keith sighs defeatedly. “That’s a super secret, alright? So how about I keep your super secret, and you keep mine, okay?"

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

Keith flushes, suddenly very aware of how naked he is. “I’m…skinny dipping?”

“You what?” Lance is grinning wildly. “You want to skinny dip? What the hell? Who even are you?” Lance is still grinning, eyes glinting again, and Keith is drinking it up.

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

“Not only does he have to be trapped in a car with Lance, the boy who fell asleep curled around him last night as he sobbed like a child; but he also has to be trapped in a car with Lance, who looks so breathtaking in his stupid blue polo as the sun filters through the car window and lines his face with a golden halo. Lance’s hair is messy in the most exquisite way. He makes bedhead look beautiful. He makes everything look beautiful. He is so damn beau--

“Hey, tonto.” Lance’s voice lacks its usual mirth. “Eyes on the road.”

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

“It takes approximately seven and a half minutes for Lance to knock over a store display. He has a baguette in one hand and a large plate in the other, using them as a sword and shield. He points forward screaming “charge!” and forcing Keith to push the cart forward. A pyramid of cans come crashing to the ground and they both stare at it, in mild shock, unsure of what to do, before hauling ass, paying, and sprinting out of the store.”

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

“Holy shit.” Pidge says, to which Coran’s voice is heard somewhere in the distance saying, “Language, Pidge!”

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

“Keith doesn’t even understand what is going on, but he laughs all the same. Because this is Lance and Lance is hilarious and beautiful and captivating so he laughs because what else can his drunk ass do?”

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

“He briefly wonders, in his drunken haze, if it is possible to die from wanting someone so badly.”

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

“You got me plane tickets.” Lance says again, softly.

Keith nods, trying to control the blush burning it’s way across his whole body. “I...yeah.”

At that, Lance lets out a sob that sounds oddly like a laugh and grabs Keith’s face, smashing their lips together.”

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

“What if all of this is just a magic spell and I’m actually an ugly troll who takes on his true form in small suburban college towns?” Lance says, sounding genuinely worried.”

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

“But reading physics textbooks with Lance sitting on his bed his different. Studying for exams while Lance doodles on his small whiteboard is different. Everything is just different now, with Lance around; and it’s a good different. It is like there is sunlight cast over all of the tasks that used to be mundane and dry.”

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

(After keith gets horribly sunburned)

“Wanna know what the best part of this trip is?”

Keith continues looking at Lance with his eyebrow raised, waiting for him to answer his own question. He expects something cheesy, like ‘being with you’ or ‘spending time here with you’. But what Lance actually says is, “Now when I call you rojo , it’s even funnier because you’re actually rojo.”

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

Follow My Lead

“You’re not from here, are you?”

The shots are put in front of Keith and he takes one of them, feeling the effects of the alcohol buzzing in his brain. “No.” He rasps, throat burning. “What gave it away?”

Mystery boy laughs. It is a genuine grin that shows off his white teeth and small dimples in his cheeks. “I don’t know, it might’ve been the shoes that are shinier than my car, but who knows for sure.” He replies.”

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

“You saw him again. I can tell. You look like you hate the world a fraction less than usual this weekend. Something had to have happened.”

Keith sighs, rolling his eyes. “For your information, I still hate the world.”

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

He can’t help it. He’s such a slut for vaguely asian guys in expensive suits...named Keith.

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

“Well, maybe I’ve just finally found my soulfuck.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow at him. “Your what?”

“You know, my soulmate, but just for fucking.” Keith states matter of factly.

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

Lance chucks a pillow at her. “If you’re not playing, then no talking. Hey Keith, ready to get your ass beat?”

Keith blinks at him.

“In...in Mario kart. Keith. Jesus.” He adds, shaking his head and laughing. Keith feels himself blushing, and chuckles nervously.

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

“I bet there’s a special brand of ‘soulmate flirting’ that I’ll just never master.” His voice comes out sadder than he wants it to.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him, looking thoroughly confused and a little shocked by the awkward turn this conversation has taken. “I mean…” He trails off a little, thinking. Keith watches his eyes as they cast downwards, eyelashes fanning against his smooth cheeks. He turns away from Keith and busies himself with the papers on the counter again. “I mean... I think that’s just called talking .”

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

“Jesus, you’re burning up.”

“Mmhmm.” Lance mumbles. “Burning up for you , babe.” He attempts a charming grin. Dream Keith looks at him like he’s insane and then rolls his eyes.

“Figures you would flirt when you’re on the brink of hospitalization.”

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

(in regards to a sex toy)

“I'm going to guess that this--” he points to a rather awkwardly shaped end--”has something to do with an ass.”

“Wow. You should write a book.”

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

“Sometimes, the way we feel just doesn't line up. But it doesn't mean...like, it doesn't mean you're not enough, or something. So just don't take it so personally.”

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

(about a sex toy)

“Brace yourself! I figured it out! I think it's for women though. But I mean, a hole is a hole right?”

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

“No, I…” Keith frowns slightly. “I really like it.”

“My deodorant?”

“Yeah. It smells good. Like...like how stores smell when they’ve got all the fake christmas trees out. You know, except better, obviously. Cause like...you’re not a fake tree.”

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

“He looks up at Lance and tilts his head to the side, questioningly. It’s something, Lance’s has noticed, that he always does when he wants Lance to kiss him. It’s like he is tilting his head in preparation to fit their lips together. Lance doesn't think that he realizes he does it, which makes it all the more attractive.”

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

“It’s just Lance. The same Lance it’s always been. The same Lance he sleeps with and then leaves five minutes later. But now it’s Lance Sanchez, who sacrificed a whole weekend just to save Keith’s ass, who wakes up at the crack of dawn to follow his fucking dreams, who gets excited over minibars and free pretzels, and who looks really, really good in a suit.

And naked.

And pretty much all the time.”

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

Lance giggles and turns his head to face Keith, who has a small smile on his lips. Keith’s eyes are still trained onto the ceiling. Lance tries and fails to quell his rapid heartbeat as he studies Keith’s profile. How is this boy so gorgeous? What kind of deal did he make with the devil to have that face? “We’re going to have so much sex tonight.”

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

“You forgot to have sex with your fuckbuddy?”

“We got caught up in other things, okay?”

“Like falling in love with each other?”

“I’m not in love with him!” Lance shouts into his hands.

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

“You know! That guy you flirted with at the gym that one day.” Okay, Keith definitely sounds psychotic. “He was all ‘oh hey, I'm trying to up my game’ and you were all ‘oh totally, you’re a ten on my super strict attractiveness scale, get in my ass’--”

“I was not--!”

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

“Mornin’ sunshine!” He says, eyes bright. He's got a rumpled t-shirt on with some boxers underneath. Keith glances down and sees little cartoon bananas all over the fabric. He bites back a smile. Lance is holding a pan and a spatula over the stove, frying what appears to be an inhumane amount of bacon and some scrambled eggs. Keith swallows, and seriously, is he already blushing? He just woke up for god’s sake.

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

It’s only been a week but Keith feels literally starved for Lance’s stupid, stupid lips, and when he feels them, something inside him melts. A very pathetic whimpering sound makes its way out of his throat and Lance responds by snaking an arm around his waist, pulling him closer as if to tell him that he understands.

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

Tears fill his eyes and he can't get Lance’s smell off of his hoodie. A hoodie that he used to wear because it smelled like Shiro, now covered in the scent of Lance’s deodorant.

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

He doesn’t know who moves forward, but then they are kissing, and it’s like thousands of explosions are going off all over Keith’s body, searing and popping and burning and it’s almost so good that it’s painful.

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

Of course he feels guilty for punching Keith, but really, he didn’t know what else to do. It was either punch him, or grab him by the shoulders and scream “I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU TWAT” and he wasn’t sure he had enough courage to do the second thing so he stuck with the first thing.

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

Maria shakes her head in disbelief. “How the hell this even happen ? Goofy little Lance can’t pull a guy like that! Did you drug him? Oh my god you drugged him.”

“Are you ki--No! I didn’t drug him, you idiot! I’ve got game!”

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

Slowly, and very hesitantly, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment, Lance lifts a finger to poke Keith's nose. “I would've thought that I at least bruised you. Was my punch really that weak?”

Keith giggles, swatting Lance’s finger away. “I was bleeding for a while. Does that help?”

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

“These are a little small for me so, they’ll fit you.” He smirks.

“Excuse me?” Keith snaps. “What are you implying?”

“That you are a tiny, small, minuscule, ant of a person.” Lance says teasingly, listing the words off with his fingers.

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

“L-Look, you were my soulfuck. Well I mean, that’s what I thought— I mean I initially had spelled it S-O-U-L you know like heart and soul and all that? Like soulmate except soul fuck but—maybe I got the spelling wrong because, well, you know, sole like S-O-L-E is… I'm not talking about like 'sole of a shoe' I’m talking sole like ‘solo' like 'only one' and maybe that’s the spelling I was looking for because you’re the sole fuck, like ‘only-one fuck' meaning you’re the only person—“ Keith swallows. “—that I want to fuck.”

Lance blinks at him. Then blinks again. “What the hell are you talking about?”

If you made it to the end, I love you.

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writesandramblings · 7 years ago

Text

The Captain’s Secret - p.12

“Affairs of the Heartless”

Full Chapter List << 11 - The Cure for What Ails 13 - Callbacks >>

"Testing one, two, three. Huh. Well, that's creepy."

"I don't know, I think it's an improvement."

Lorca fixed Benford with a look. They were in the ready room running a final test of the fake Peter Bhandary: a live-rendered image of Bhandary mapped on top of Lorca's expressions and movements, with fake kelbonite interference to mask any imperfections. Benford grinned back at Lorca. "You haven't looked that good in, well, ever!"

Lorca pointed at the display and the image in the display pointed right back. "You really think this asshole looks better than I do? And remember, I am your captain."

"Well, when you put it that way, he looks ten times as good as you."

"Jack!" said Lorca, exasperated but laughing.

Benford laughed, too. "If you didn't know how good-looking you were, the universe would be a much better place."

It was a blatant lie. It had to be, because Benford had used Lorca's good looks to his own advantage in various bars over the years before he'd gotten married. "I didn't know you found me attractive," Lorca shot back.

Benford raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I didn't say that. I think what I said was you find yourself attractive? And that is a dangerous thing."

Lorca snorted. There was nothing to be gained by arguing the point. "All right, let's turn on the audio filter." He cleared his throat.

"Ready when you are."

"Jack Benford is the worst." As Lorca spoke these words aloud, the computer rendered the speech into a tone and pitch matching Bhandary's voiceprint just a smidge of a second behind real-time, so it sounded like two people saying the exact same thing at the same rate in near-unison. It was, for Lorca at least, markedly disconcerting hearing another voice at virtually the same time as his own. He specifically chose a few unusual test sentences to push the limits of the speech algorithm. "Rubber baby buggy bumpers. This fortune cookie intentionally left blank. Not for all the horses in Andalusia."

"Now that's creepy," declared Benford, muting the audio. "But it's working. You want to go over any more lines?" They'd spent much of the past ninety minutes running through various conversational scenarios in preparation for the main event.

"Nope. Let's get Lalana up here and go." Benford sent the summons and double-checked everything one more time.

While he waited for Lalana's arrival, Lorca ran his hand through his hair and was annoyed to see Bhandary's image do the same. Luckily he wouldn't be looking at the image during the actual transmission, because Bhandary's smug face still irked him. He scrunched up his own face and tried to make it look like Bhandary was crying.

An incoming commlink interrupted this diversion. It was Ek'Ez. "Yes, doctor?"

"Captain, I have discovered the most amazing thing about lului!"

"Is it an emergency?"

"I—no, captain. Not an emergency."

Lalana arrived with her security escort. Lorca motioned for her to wait and the escort stepped outside. "Is it anything that will change in the next ten minutes? Or that I need to know right now?"

Ek'Ez paused. "No. It is nothing of the sort."

"Then I'll talk to you again in ten minutes." He terminated the comm link.

“Captain!” said Lalana cheerfully. "I am so happy to be able to help you."

"Yep," said Lorca, slipping in the earpieces that would let them pass him any pertinent information in a manner that wouldn't distract him from the task at hand. Lalana wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary to this part of the plan, but on the off chance something came up, it was better she be present to provide her insight into the Dartarans on demand, and if nothing else, Lorca knew she'd be an appreciative audience.

Benford went over the procedure for the transmission one more time with Lalana. Lorca stared into the monitor and smiled. Here went nothing, do or die. "Initiate transmission."

The answer wasn't immediate, but it came. T'rond'n's face appeared onscreen. Because they were copying Bhandary's previous transmission codes from the Dartarans' archives, T'rond'n expected exactly what he saw: Peter Bhandary, albeit with significant visual interference.

Lorca affected a tone he thought fit the conceited persona of a smarmy socialite like Bhandary. It came out like a bad cross between a California valley girl and a mimicry of foppish, old school British aristocracy, with a smattering of sycophantic insincerity thrown in on top for good measure. Of course, the computer made it sound like Bhandary, but the emotion and cadence of the performance came through to add that extra layer of scumbag. "T'rond'n! You're alive! I'm so glad to see you! When I heard what happened... "

"Peter," said T'rond'n, apparently all the greeting Lorca was going to get. "This is unexpected."

"I heard Starfleet destroyed your ship!" The words had been carefully chosen to convince the Dartarans of the impetus for Bhandary's contact, and having the facts of the matter appear diluted through a small game of interstellar telephone gave it the ring of truth. It wouldn't do to have Bhandary seem too well-informed and make the conversation smell like the setup it actually was. "Is Margeh...?"

"Margeh is here. We were not on the ship that was destroyed."

"Thank goodness. Who was on it?"

T'rond'n shifted but did not immediately answer. Margeh came into view. "A thief," she said, appraising the interference on the transmission. "Where are you?"

Lorca wouldn't have minded trying the whole conversation on T'rond'n, but luck wasn't with him. From everything he knew about the couple, Margeh was the savvier of the two, and he would have to tread carefully to get this conversation where he needed it to go. Of course, that was why he'd insisted on doing it himself. "Sorry about the picture quality. I'm at a kelbonite mine. In fact, if you're in the market for any..."

"No, thank you, Peter," said T'rond'n, gruffly but not angrily.

Lorca switched right back to the chase. "So the thief stole your ship?"

Margeh hissed angrily. "Our lului was stolen. The ship was... circumstantial."

Lorca was pleasantly surprised to have Margeh come out and say it. He'd had four other lines prepped to convince her to reveal the fact, and now that he didn't have to use them, he could jump right into the next part. "The lului? Really? Did you get it back at least?"

"No," said T'rond'n, in something like a sigh. "She was on the ship that was destroyed."

"No! Oh, that's a shame." Lorca's voice practically oozed concern. It was maybe a tad overwrought, but Dartarans were notoriously stoic and tended to think of humans as emotional, and Lorca knew Bhandary was an emotional enough person to stay up late crying, so may as well play up to their expectations. "It was such a charming creature. The way it changed colors on command... Really impressive." Lorca imagined Lalana was probably having a good laugh right now. Of course, Margeh was not so kindly disposed towards her former pet at this point, since the thief and the stolen goods were one and the same. "Will you get another one?"

"Unlikely."

Minor setback, but expected. Margeh had to be led to the idea in such a way that it felt like her own. She was almost a harder nut to crack than Billingsley. (Lorca wondered if Margeh might be susceptible to the same sort of icebreaker he'd applied in the chief engineer's case. Probably not.) "That's right, I remember, you said they were almost impossible to catch. Such a shame. You probably won't get that lucky again."

Margeh jerked her head in affront. There it was. "Luck had nothing to do with it," she said. "Hunting is about skill, preparation, patience, and knowledge of your prey. Luck is for amateurs."

"Of course, you're right, my apologies. I'm sure no one knows more about lului than you at this point." Ha. "You could probably catch as many as you wanted. At the end of the day, you don't need any proof. You know you had a lului, and that's all that matters. No one can take that accomplishment away from you. And if anyone ever doubts it, you can call me, and I'll set the record straight." He smiled.

Most people could have found comfort in that sentiment, but from everything Lorca had heard and read about Margeh, she was not most people.

As a general rule, Dartaran society split certain roles down gender lines, as many human societies once had in the past. The difference was that the Dartaran split persisted into the present day. Some sociologists theorized that it did so because while the two genders were seen as fundamentally different, they were both equally important and present in Dartar's overall political, societal, and historic landscape. Co-dominance, Starfleet's file called it. A subtle but distinct difference from true egality.

The split was this: male Dartarans mostly handled logistics, production, and trade, while females governed sciences, culture, and spirituality. They were called the Hand and the Head in Dartaran philosophy respectively. Starfleet's sociological profile included a foundational Dartaran axiom, "Without the Hand, the Head cannot act, and without the Head, the Hand has nothing to do." (It was additionally worth noting that Dartaran culture was slightly more monolithic than most, as Dartar featured but a single supercontinent that had unified under the Head and Hand banner around the time that Caesar walked the Earth.)

It wasn't a hard rule, and there were plenty of figures in Dartaran history who defied these gender norms, but that didn't mean there wasn't pushback when someone did break the mold, simply because it was seen as abnormal.

As a successful merchant, Margeh had broken that mold and had the chip on her shoulder to match. Her entire life, she had been motivated by the need to prove herself to everyone around her, and this still held true today. To doubly undercut something she had accomplished by suggesting she needed a human male to back her up on it as proof...

"Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time. I'm just so glad you're both safe. Let me know if you're in the market for a new ship. I've got a line on some Vulcan shuttles. They're not cheap, but they're very fast." Nice little dig at the slow speed of Margeh and T'rond'n's transports, just in case they still weren't feeling inadequate enough to motivate Margeh to compensate.

"Yes," said Margeh softly, her mind clearly elsewhere.

"Thank you, Peter," said T'rond'n, almost mechanically, and the transmission terminated.

Lorca removed the earpieces and turned around. Benford had his padd under his arm and was clapping slowly. "I don't know that they took the bait, but..."

"It really looked like you were Peter Bhandary!" said Lalana excitedly, hands rotating.

"Don't say that," groaned Lorca. If he never had to see Bhandary's face again, it would be a day too soon.

Her hands paused. "Why? Was that not the point?"

"Yes, but..."

Benford snorted and explained, "He thinks his face is much better looking than Bhandary's is." The reveal was his little way of getting back at Lorca .

"Oh, without doubt!" agreed Lalana, earnestly and without hesitation. "Your face is the best."

Lorca's disgruntled glare at Benford was replaced by a look of surprise and delight. "Look at that, even Lalana agrees."

"How do you mean?" asked Benford suspiciously, wondering how a lului could possibly gauge human attractiveness when the two species were so incredibly different.

"I have noticed that humans do not express with movements very much, because you don't have tails and fur, so instead you put the things that you feel on your faces. And you have the most things of any human on your face."

The sentence was so ridiculous, Lorca's shoulders shook with silent laughter and he covered his face with his hand. He had the most things on his face? What did that even... Perceiving her comment had made Lorca happy, Lalana resumed rotating her hands.

"I think you've got that backwards," Benford said, thinking lului probably expressed so many emotions with their hands and tails because their faces were largely incapable of expression. They were basically two eyes and a mouth that switched between an upside-down V shape when closed and a diamond when open. They could not smile, squint, or even blink. "But more importantly, captain, what about Margeh and T'rond'n?

"What about them?" His tone was jovial, even nonchalant.

"Their response was a little... lackluster, maybe?"

Lorca snorted with amusement. "Tell me, Jack. You in a gambling mood?"

Benford had learned a long time ago: never, ever bet against Gabriel Lorca. "I guess you saw something I didn't!"

Probably several things, thought Lorca, but said diplomatically, "If they haven't made their overture by the end of the day, we'll call it a bust. But they will. Now, if you'll give me the room... and sorry I didn't end up needing you, Lalana, but you can never be too prepared for a curveball."

"Oh, that is no trouble, captain, it was my pleasure. But what is a 'curveball' and how do we 'give you' the..." Lalana began saying, but Benford ushered her out.

Lorca glanced past his reflection in the window and drummed his fingers, expression blank. He also needed to check in with Dr. Ek'Ez. He may as well do that first, in case it was something worth reporting to Starfleet. He took a moment to crack a cookie as a quick snack, then opened a visual comm line to sickbay. "Dr. Ek'Ez, you had something to report?"

"Captain!" Though it had been several minutes now, Ek'Ez's excitement and enthusiasm had not waned one bit. "In my most recent battery of tests, I have discovered the most amazing thing!"

Lorca hadn't given Ek'Ez permission to run any tests. He hadn't forbidden it, but he hadn't approved it, either. "I thought you were just running decon."

"Well, yes, captain, but Lalana kept insisting it was not necessary, and once I determined the reason she thought this, it merited scientific exploration."

"Well don't leave me in suspense, doctor," said Lorca. Trying to get succinct answers out of Ek'Ez verbally was every bit as hard as trying to parse his rambly, meandering written reports.

"Captain, Lalana is, and I apologize for the inadequacies of language in communicating this, but she is a many-celled organism."

Lorca blinked slowly and took a breath. Almost all forms of life were cellular in origin, with the higher forms being comprised of trillions and trillions of cells. "Anything else?"

"Ah, I am not explaining it right. She is many cells unified into a single, coherent organism." This cleared absolutely nothing up. "She is cells!" Lorca began to wonder if this was some sort of mental breakdown. Ek'Ez turned his head. "Sam! Will you please come and explain this?"

Li's face came into view, her dark eyes staring with disturbing lifelessness at Lorca. "She is the cells, captain," said Li. It was a subtle difference of a single word, but it was enough of a difference that Lorca realized what Ek'Ez was trying to say. Li further clarified, "Individually and collectively."

"Are you saying she's a trillion self-aware cells?" he attempted.

"Not quite! Yes, in that she is aware of herself on a cellular level, and that all her cells are part of a neural network, and no, in that there is what could be described as a central neural structure which is the core of her consciousness... Allow me to back up a moment." Ek'Ez blinked his eyes repeatedly, something he did when he was clearing his mind. Lorca winced, expecting this would get worse before it got better.

"In most species, cells are differentiated into tissue types, and form unique biological structures, which we call organs."

Lorca wanted to smack Ek'Ez. "They do teach biology at the Academy," he deadpanned. "Even to meatheads."

"Yes, of course, I apologize. I simply want to make sure the distinction here is clear. While Lalana possesses several differentiated tissue structures — her eyes, for example, and bone structure, and her central neural structure — the majority of her tissues are not differentiated. She does not have blood, or a heart, or a liver, or even what you and I would call a stomach. Rather, her body is made up of a mass of multipurpose, unspecialized — or perhaps more accurately, multi-specialized — cells which perform all the basic biological functions at once, configured as an interlocking lattice of cells and operating as a diffuse network transmitting nutrients and information through connections of the cellular membrane!"

There was an accompanying graphic showing a lului cell and the pipelike structures on the cell's outer membrane which connected to other, identical cells with the same features.

Lorca knew Lalana had no heartbeat from their conversation on the Tederek moon, and had seen firsthand the lack of blood in the wound on her leg, but hadn't put those two facts together until now. She was literally heartless.

"It's like she's made up of stem cells," offered Dr. Li from off-screen. (Lorca wished she would just decide if she wanted to be in this conversation or not, and behave accordingly.)

"Yes, they do have a progenitive nature. The medical implications, captain!"

The medical implications were what, exactly? This was interesting and all, and Lorca hardly wanted the doctors to condescend to him with infantile explanations, but... They already knew Lalana was strange. She was an alien. It was sort of the point, to seek out strange, new life.

Ek'Ez continued, oblivious to Lorca's disinterest in the unnamed implications. "If only her cells were more robust. My research was completely confounded while you were gone with her."

"If it's a question of keeping the cells alive," said Li, trailing off mysteriously.

"Would you like to join this conversation, Dr. Li?" Lorca said finally, and was rewarded by Li moving into view just behind Ek'Ez. (In so much as Li's dead-eyed face could be considered a reward of any kind.)

"The problem is," Ek'Ez began to explain, as if Lorca had asked him for an explanation (he had not), "the tremendous cellular decay rate. When lului cells are disconnected from the central matrix, they quickly begin to die. The samples survive for mere minutes, captain." He closed his eyes in disappointment.

"We can easily solve this by studying the cells without removing them," said Li, more to Ek'Ez than Lorca.

Ek'Ez was reluctant. "That is true, but..."

Lorca understood perfectly what Li was suggesting. They'd just rescued Lalana from captivity, and Li wanted to subject her to live experimentation. Sometimes Lorca wondered if Li had become a doctor because she was interested in curing infectious diseases or causing them. Technically-speaking, Li had a heart, but the word "heartless" suited her even more than it did Lalana. "Have you spoken to Lalana about this?"

Li nodded. "Yes, she was amenable."

Of course she was amenable, it was Lalana. "I really wish you hadn't," said Lorca. "You understand she's our guest? We're taking her back to her planet?"

"I wish to mount a medical research mission on that planet when we do!" said Ek'Ez.

Lorca suspected that was why Ek'Ez had contacted him, really: not to share the news of his discovery, but to ask Lorca to petition Starfleet on his behalf to lead a research mission before someone else of more importance learned about lului and tried to do the same.

One big problem with that. Two, actually. "Doctor. Has Lalana told you the history of Luluan?"

"History, captain?" Ek'Ez's inquiries had been entirely centered around medical and biological subjects, not history. Problem one: lului historically did not welcome aliens who used technology, and Ek'Ez had clearly missed the memo on the type of greeting such visitors tended to get.

That wasn't all. "You understand her people aren't warp-capable?" Understatement of the day, there.

"Well, yes, but as they have already been interfered with... by other parties..." Ek'Ez realized what he was saying and trailed off. "I see." Problem two: General Order 1. While it wasn't fully intact in this case, that didn't mean it didn't merit applying after the fact, especially if it was what the lului wanted for themselves.

"I'll do what I can, doctor, but no promises. Whether or not you get any sort of research expedition out of all this, I can't say. Best make use of the time you have now."

"The facilities on this ship, captain... they are..." The Triton wasn't a research ship. It wasn't even an exploration ship. Its medical and science facilities were, compared to most ships in the fleet at this point, rudimentary at best.

"It may be the only chance you get. Anything else?"

"Mm, no. Thank you for your time, captain."

Two down, one to go. Lorca double-checked San Francisco local time out of habit and requested a channel.

To his surprise, Cornwell appeared on the other end of the line. "Hello, Gabriel."

Her greeting indicated this wouldn't be an entirely formal conversation and he responded in kind. "Katrina. Wasn't expecting you."

"Are you ever?"

Lorca thought a moment. "No. You are a singularly surprising woman any man would be a fool to try and wrap his head around."

She looked immensely satisfied by the compliment. "Coming from the great Gabriel Lorca..." They'd had plenty of conversations in the past about Lorca's tendency for self-aggrandizement and Cornwell was well within her rights to make light of it. "Admiral Wainwright's at a conference on Rigel IV. He appointed me full admiral pro tem in his absence."

"Moving on up in the world, aren't we?"

She gave a short laugh. "I like to think so! At any rate, tell me how it went."

His childhood love of exploratory fiction served him well as he outlined the events of the Tederek mission. He knew exactly which parts to mention, which parts to gloss over, and how to phrase it all in a way that made Cornwell's eyes go wide with awe. He made sure to include Billingsley's fall from the ladder for the comedy and heroics, the gruesome joke that was the leskos for the drama and adventure ("galaxy's most murderous herbivore," he called it), and the encounter with the mind-eaters for a dash of horror and a second helping of heroism. He did not mention the near-miss with T'rond'n in the bathroom, or the giant gaping hole in Lalana's leg. Neither mishap had affected the mission's outcome, and he already knew they did not appear in Morita's writeup

She laughed and shook her head at the end of the tale, trying to picture Lorca impersonating an interstellar socialite. "So what's why you needed those files!"

"What did you think I was going to do with them?"

"Honestly?" she said, fixing him with a look. "I thought you might try to track him down and kidnap him, or detain him and have him do the outreach to the Dartarans."

"That was Plan C at best," he offered, and she laughed, despite the fact she suspected the joke wasn't far from the truth.

Something occurred to Lorca. "Say, you wouldn't happen to be the reason Admiral Over-My-Dead-Body signed off my little project, would you?"

Cornwell snorted, amused but disapproving. "Maybe we don't call him that in his office, even if he's not here."

It wasn't an answer. Lorca lifted an eyebrow.

Cornwell relented. "I only said he might give you a little leeway and see what you'd do with it. And that you wouldn't disappoint if he did."

"And have I disappointed?"

"Not yet," she smiled, "but you still don't have a direct line to the merchants."

"It's coming."

"So you say." Her tone was more lighthearted than worried. If Lorca said it was forthcoming, she believed him. But she did have another concern. Her expression darkened as she leaned forward and asked, "Be honest with me now, if Admiral Wainwright had said no to this whole mission, would you have accepted it?"

"He didn't say no."

"If he had."

"Focus on the road you're on, not the road you didn't travel," said Lorca. Cornwell recognized a fortune cookie when she heard one and frowned in response. Lorca knew he had to give her more than that. "If I'd thought I wasn't going to get the go-ahead, I wouldn't have checked in with command in the first place, I'd've exercised my discretion as captain. But I knew you'd have my back."

Cornwell mentally kicked herself for inadvertently enabling the whole charade. "So the whole point of you informing Starfleet in the first place was just to show off."

Lorca scoffed with feigned offense and smiled. "You got me." A moment later he was serious again. "I would have accepted Starfleet's orders, but I knew you wouldn't let Wainwright or anyone else stop me from doing the right thing." The right thing, in this context, meaning whatever he wanted to do. "A whole planet, Katrina, and they need our help."

"Your help, you mean."

Lorca shrugged as if it made no difference. "Right place, right time. That's all."

"Seems to happen a lot with you," she observed. "Careful now. Karma might balance the scales one day."

It was an entirely different aspect to karma than the one he'd talked about with Lalana, and while Lorca didn't fully ascribe to the idea as Cornwell was presenting it, there was a fortune cookie that read, All jokes have a kernel of truth. "That's why I'm on a starship. Karma will never catch up." She rolled her eyes at him. Lorca felt the tiniest pang. "You know, you're missed out here on the far reaches of civilization."

Cornwell smiled and shook her head. "Someone has to maintain the inner reaches, or else what's the point? Anyway, it was good to see you, Gabriel."

"Oh, I'm sure it was. Apparently, I have the most things of any human on my face."

Momentary confusion colored Cornwell's face. "What?"

"Nothing," said Lorca, smiling to himself. "Something our alien guest said."

Part 13

#Star Trek Discovery #fanfiction #Gabriel Lorca #Captain Lorca #Katrina Cornwell

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