#I’m not disastrously upset and I will delete this later but it makes me wonder

[s0uth3park]

I just found out that someone I’ve been following on both accs for ages has me blocked here 😭 wtf

[sunflwrvolume6]

someone lost, something gained [36]

This is a huge step, a leap forward that she won’t ever be able to take back. And if this all ends disastrously, she will not only lose the only man who’s held her interest in three years but the man who has made her happy through such a horrible time. She meant what she told Antonio. She didn’t think she would ever smile again after Granddad passed, and that thought alone terrifies her.

[ao3 ☆ wattpad part one | part two]

[previous ☆ masterlist]

[get tagged here]

note: not going to lie, this is 4k of pure tooth-rotting fluff. i almost split it into 2 chapters/posts, but here it is in all its glory.

Veda frowns at her reflection, smoothing down the front of her dress. It’s too much, she knows it is, but Hattie had been adamant about this particular outfit. She’d said that if Niall didn’t want to take Veda to bed immediately after seeing her in this dress, then he’s either stupid or just not that into her. Veda crosses her fingers and hopes her cousin is right.

But she still walks out of the bathroom and into Hattie’s room with doubts swirling in her mind. “Are you sure I’m not, like, showing too much?”

“Veeeeee,” groans Hattie as she tosses her book aside. “Look. Yes, your back is exposed, and yes, maybe it’s a deeper neckline than you’re used to. But you don’t look like a two-dollar prostitute, so it’s a win.”

“Well, thank god for small mercies.” Sighing, Veda makes her way back to the mirror, calling over her shoulder, “What should I-?”

“Oh, step aside. Your favourite cousin is here to save the day. Sit,” Hattie orders with a vague gesture toward the tub.

Veda rolls her eyes but obeys while Hattie rummages through the bag Veda brought downstairs with her. Hattie comes up with an eyeliner pencil and bottle of foundation. She warns Veda to stay completely still -”Or I will stab you in the eye and not feel bad at all” - then gets to work. Veda follows every command, tilts her head up and down and side to side. She even manages to somehow control the twitching of her eyelids as her cousin applies mascara.

Finally, Hattie steps away and beams. “Hey, you actually look somewhat presentable.”

“Hey, you’re actually kinda being an ass.”

Hattie yelps when Veda goes to stand. “What do you think we’re doing? We aren’t done!”

“I’m supposed to be meeting him soon,” Veda protests, and Hattie shoves at her shoulders until Veda sits again. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you.”

“Worth it.”

Forty minutes later, Veda is slipping her feet into a pair of nude peep-toe heels, courtesy of her cousin who heard about the date finally happening and went shopping. She sighs and checks her reflection again. Dark red lips, perfect winged liner, curled lashes, and a touch of peach on her cheeks make her look entirely different than her every-day face. The mass of curls pinned on top of her head is definitely a change from her usual bun, and Veda will never waste the time again.

But even she has to admit Hattie’s magic has made her look incredible.

“Be home by Cinderella, or the carriage turns back into a pumpkin.” Hattie drops to sit on the couch and cocks her head. “Better yet, don’t come home at all.”

“Wow, you really think I’d put out on the first date?”

“For Niall? Yes.”

Veda pauses before collapsing into giggles. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. Don’t burn down the house.”

“I’ve been cooking since I was six. I think the house will be standing when you come home in the morning.”

Veda slides her phone into her purse and steps out onto the stoop, pulling the door shut behind her. Someone whistles sharply across the street, and she checks that Nonna isn’t watching before she raises her middle finger at Antonio. He laughs, shaking his head, and tells her to have fun. He really doesn’t need to add the lascivious wink - she hears the innuendo in his voice - but he does anyway.

“I’ll tell Nonna you’re pestering me, Ant.”

“She gets one look at’chu, she’s gonna wonder where you’re goin’ all dolled up. You really want questions right now?”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow,” she giggles as she makes her way down the block to the subway.

The sun edges closer to the horizon, but the heat of the day is nowhere near dissipating. Veda’s heels click against the pavement, joining the cacophony of fellow pedestrians moving to and fro. The restaurant is just ahead.

Her heart beats faster in her chest the closer she gets.

Hattie made sure Veda was out of the house in time, but Veda didn’t make sure she was actually ready for this.

This is a huge step, a leap forward that she won’t ever be able to take back. And if this all ends disastrously, she will not only lose the only man who’s held her interest in three years but the man who has made her happy through such a horrible time. She meant what she told Antonio. She didn’t think she would ever smile again after Granddad passed, and that thought alone terrifies her.

Niall is quite possibly the most wonderful she could ever love like this, and losing him would be just as devastating as losing Granddad.

Love. Far too early for that, Mitchell.

Light streams through the enormous windows, catches on Niall’s dark hair like a halo around his head. He’s staring down at the phone in his hand; his thumb taps at the screen, he pauses, then his thumb taps again. The process repeats five times before Veda’s phone vibrates against her side. She steps out of the foot-traffic, digging through her purse until she comes up with the device.

From: Niall > I’m excited to see you

It is such a simple message, but it brings a smile to Veda’s face until her cheeks hurt. She locks her phone and looks at him. He’s gorgeous. His face falls when he sees she’s read the message but isn’t responding. She swallows down the sudden surge of nerves and eases her way through the evening crowd.

“How many times did you write that message only to delete it again?”

His head snaps up, and his smile falters as his gaze skims over her body. “Fuck, Veda, you look - wow. You’re gorgeous.”

“Oh. Um, thank you. Hattie did all the work. I just played the role of live-action Barbie.” Her face heats up at the way his eyes are still on her. She steps forward to kiss his cheek. “You look amazing, too.”

And he really, really does. The gunmetal grey of his V-neck brings out the blue in his eyes, and his dark jeans only accentuate the muscles they hide. Veda’s mouth grows dry as she stares, fragments of a dream worming its way to the forefront of her mind. She wants to feel beneath her fingertips the stubble along his jaw, the soft strands of his hair between her fingers.

She wants to make him look as turned inside-out as he makes her feel.

Ever a gentleman, he holds the door open and waves her through. She laughs softly.

“This is just so you can stare at my ass, isn’t it?”

“I’m only a man, Ve-Veda,” he chuckles as his hand settles on her lower back, a steady point of warmth that rapidly overtakes her entire body.

Veda will remember nothing of the decor, none of the faces they pass as they follow the host to their table, or the aromas of meals that mingle in the air. All she can focus on is how his hand hasn’t moved. The way his fingers brush against the hem of her dress above the curve of her ass. The rush of her heart as it desperately tries to push oxygen through her veins instead of the desire to lead him to the bathroom.

As much as she loathes the loss of contact, Veda is thankful when they sit. His touch was far too distracting, and it is nearly impossible to be on your best behaviour when all you want to do is feel more of that touch in places unsuitable for public audience. He grins at her from across the table; his eyes hold a knowing gleam, and she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing.

She barely spares a second to check the menu, ultimately deciding on a salad. He frowns slightly, opens his mouth, but she shakes her head. The confusion on his face disappears when she explains she only eats like a pig at home. Being out in the real world means she has to use the manners Granddad worked so hard to teach her. Niall laughs and tells her she’s doing a great job.

“So, I have to admit something. I’ve been wanting to ask you out for, well, too long.”

Veda cocks her head. “Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to make you feel like I was pushing myself onto you.”

She can’t help it - she starts giggling. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny. I mean, it kinda is? It’s why I don’t text you every day asking you to come over.”

“You should have. DB and I would’ve loved to spend more time with you.”

Ellie’s words echo in her mind, and Veda drops her gaze to stare at the glass of water. She doesn’t want to voice the doubts, but she knows she needs to. She has to know.

“Can I ask why? You wanted to ask me out, I mean. Aren’t you worried that this is just me, like, latching onto the first person who shows me a teeny tiny iota of stability during a life-altering event?”

“Well, I wasn’t before!” He taps his finger against his glass and laughs quietly. When he looks at her again, there’s an earnestness on his face that astounds her. “No, I’m not. Veda, I figured out a long time ago that sometimes, you make a choice and it turns out to be the worst fucking decision of your life. But it’s a lesson learnt, and you move on and try to remember that lesson.”

“But what if it turns out this is just my brain craving affection and comfort after I lost my best friend?”

He smiles softly, reaches for her hand, and she lets him link their fingers together. “Then I can’t be too upset, can I, that I’m the one who got to offer it to you.”

“Nope, nope, nope,” Veda mutters as she blinks rapidly, but the burning remains in her eyes. “I can’t do this. You are too damn perfect. What the Hell.”

The stricken expression on his face is replaced with amused exasperation, and he lifts her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. She bites her lower lip to stop her giggles, even as the server arrives with their meals, and Niall sticks his tongue out at Veda.

The date seems almost…effortless. As if it’s merely one of their hang-outs in a restaurant instead of her house. Even the knowledge that this is changing their relationship isn’t enough to make Veda panic for long. He keeps her laughing with stories of his childhood, and she tells him more about her life with Granddad, even the tale of her throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the street while he taught Hattie how to ride a bike.

She never wants it to end.

“Where to next?” she asks as he leads her toward the door.

“Well, I figured you weren’t the type of girl who would be content with sitting in the dark for two hours while watching a film that may or may not be awful.”

“You guessed right.” Veda frowns when he hails a taxi, his hand tight around hers. “You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re lucky I trust you.”

“I’ll do my best not to fuck that up then.”

Veda stares at him for a moment then shakes away the feeling that he is far better than she deserves. Everything he’s told her has been pleasant, wonderful. Even the strained relationship with his brother pales in comparison to her own familial ties. She doesn’t tell him that, though. It isn’t a competition, and she would hate to ruin the atmosphere of the evening. She would take the win in a landslide, anyway.

Niall helps her from the backseat, his hand solid and strong and not releasing her even after she’s on her feet. His lips brush against her cheek, and Veda ducks her head to hide her smile as they step away from the cab so it can drive off. She squeezes his hand then turns toward their destination. She pauses, blinks at the dark blue building and bright yellow letters.

“IKEA?”

Niall shrugs and shifts his weight. The lot lights wash his eyes an icy blue, but there’s so much warmth there. “Has a date ever done this with you?”

“No, I can say with absolute certainty that this is incredibly unique.” She bites her bottom lip at how uncomfortable he looks, as if he’s afraid he has messed this up. She sighs, touching his cheek with her free hand. “You were right. A movie would have been cliche, and I am so not dressed for anything requiring more than walking. Niall, this is perfect.”

His gaze drops to her lips, but he doesn’t kiss her like she desperately hopes he will. Wants him to. Instead, he smiles and loops his arm with hers. She waits to pout until he’s not looking at her. Why won’t he just kiss her already? He has had ample opportunity, and she’s practically begging for it by this point. After all, it was only a month ago that she kissed him. It’s his turn now.

He suggests a game as they walk through the aisles, pointedly following the arrows on the floor unlike the other people. The rules are simple, he says: Find the most ridiculous items on the shelves to decorate a home with, and whoever has the weirdest collection wins.

“What’s the prize?” she asks even as she adds a tray printed with ugly Santas to her list.

“If I win, I… hm. I get another date with you.”

“And if I win?”

“Another date with me.”

Veda giggles, presses her face into the side of his arm. “So either way, we both win?”

“Exactly.”

She tugs on his arm after a moment, and he follows obediently to the mini-home setup. His face scrunches up once inside, his eyes darting around the small space. Veda understands his distaste for the tiny home - the idea of leaving less of an imprint on the environment is nice, but she needs more room to move.

This, though, seems more like -

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“I am,” he admits with a self-deprecating chuckle. Nervous. Anxious.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. How could you have known?”

She immediately steps out of the display, pulling him with her, and Niall draws in a deep breath once they’re back in the aisle. He squeezes her hand gently. Forgiveness. With an apologetic smile, she gestures for him to lead the way.

The kids’ section instantly catches her attention. Not the bedding or furniture, but the toys. She never really had playthings as a child, since Olivia wasn’t much of a mother, so Veda, without shame, checks out the stock of every store she steps foot into. Granddad started her plush animal collection, and Veda adds to it every chance she gets.

Niall doesn’t judge her for her excitement over the stuffed dogs and teddy bears and penguins. In fact, he even moves away to look in other bins, holding up various creatures for her scrutiny. She falls a little more for him because of it. For once, she feels like she doesn’t have to hide a part of her.

That she can show everything she is, and he won’t think less of her.

“Veda! Oh, my god, come here.”

Veda turns away from the pandas and makes her way through the cramped aisle to his side. Her eyes widen, and she gasps at what he’s found. “Holy hell, they’re amazing! They’re bigger than DB!”

“It’s ridiculous.” He pauses, resting his hand on her back, and she meets his eye. “Want one?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t need it.”

He frowns as his fingers catch her chin, hold her head still so she can’t look away. “Ve-Veda, I didn’t ask if you needed it. I asked if you wanted it. Yes or no, no thinking allowed.”

And what else can she say except “Yes”?

His smile lights up his entire face, and he lets her go to dig through the bin. She raises a brow when he comes back victorious with a plushie in his hands. He lifts a shoulder jerkily, explains that the ones on the bottom haven’t been touched by gross hands nearly as often as the ones on top.

Veda accepts the reasoning - it’s logical, after all - and reaches for the shark. He takes her purse so she can clutch the stuffed animal to her chest. She knows her grin is too wide, too childlike, but the heat beneath her ribs overwhelms any potential embarrassment.

No guy has ever offered to buy her a stuffed animal, let alone a three-foot shark.

Once he’s paid for the blåhaj, as the tag proclaims, and a new leash for David Barkie, Veda follows Niall back out to the car park. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, kissing her temple, and they walk in silence toward the nearest subway stop. A heady thrumming kicks up in her veins, singing praises of how wonderful the night has been.

How amazing Niall is, even before he’s given her one of the best dates she’ll ever remember.

Her mind suddenly stutters to a halt as they stand together on the subway, scarcely an inch between them though there’s no need. They’re the only ones on within a two-seat radius. She groans as her head drops back. He stares at her with a question in his eyes. Veda sighs and wonders how to explain what she’s thinking. What comes out is:

“This date wasn’t terrible.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” he asks, the words slow and purposeful. Like he doesn’t want to offend her or be offended himself.

“Yes and no.” She exhales sharply and decides to go all-in. “Okay, so you remember how we met because of my friend Ellie’s wedding? Well, I was the maid of honour, and I gave a speech about Chris and Ellie’s first date.”

“I’m guessing it was terrible?”

“The worst. She called me after, and I swear, I almost fell asleep as she told me because it was just… so boring. There was no chemistry! But she went out with him again, and now they’re all gross and in love and married. So I said I wanted a date like that. Something terrible that lead to an amazing love like that.”

Niall nods slowly, and Veda leans into him when the car sways, coming to a stop. “Well, I suppose this could be our second date, because me coming over after your granddad passed was a terrible time for you.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Veda laughs, the sound watery but bright. “I think I’ll take the perfect first date considering how long it took to finally get to it.”

Niall steps out onto the platform first, reaching back for her hand. His brows are drawn together, a slight downturn to his lips, and Veda wonders what he could be thinking about. What could have made him so serious so quickly? When he strokes his chin, she realises he’s putting her on.

“The perfect first date?”

She rolls her eyes but plays along. “Yep. Almost guaranteed you’ll get a kiss at the end of the night.”

“Anything I can do to make it happen?” he asks, pulling her closer when a group of men walk past. Not even nine-thirty and they’re already drunk. One of them whistles under his breath, his gaze heavy on Veda’s exposed skin, and Niall hurries her along.

“Keep being you, I suppose.”

Nonna stands in her doorway, watches as Niall and Veda approach, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even wave. Veda appreciates that, though she would like a bit more privacy as she comes to a stop at the top of her stoop.

Setting the shark down at her feet, Veda stares up at Niall through the glow of the porch light, at the soft curve to his lips and the way his eyes shine. She steps further into his space and thanks the inventor of heels as she kisses Niall’s smile away. His hands settle gently on her hips, warm even through the fabric of her dress, and she wraps her arms around his neck to bring him closer. His heartbeat is rapid against her, or maybe it’s hers that is fluttering so quickly beneath her ribs.

Nearly every single neighbour is peering through their windows when Veda finally pulls back, and she huffs out a quiet laugh. “And here I thought living in a small town would be the only way to get this kinda nosiness.”

“They worry about you,” he whispers, shrugging, and Veda kisses him again. God, she is falling too hard for him, and she doesn’t want to stop.

“Thank you for tonight. I really enjoyed it.”

Niall is the one who kisses her this time. One hand cups her cheek, and she chases the taste of wine and chocolate on his tongue. Heat flares up in her belly as his fingers press firmly into her skin. She wants more than this slice of perfection.

She wants him, any way she can have him.

The invitation is on the tip of her tongue, the plea for him to stay the night, for the night to never end. But then he’s pulling away, putting a sliver of distance between them, and her body goes cold without him. He whispers a goodnight, his lips brushing hers once more, then makes his way down the stairs.

Veda watches him walk away and wishes she’d asked him to stay. Her mind catalogues all the things she’s going to tell Granddad about tonight, about how amazing and unique and unexpected it was, before -

Right.

She can’t tell him anything. Tears burn in her eyes at the reminder. Granddad would have loved Niall, and Niall would have loved Granddad. Granddad will never meet Niall. So Veda does the next best thing: She grabs the stuffed shark off the stoop, carries it inside, and sets off to find Hattie.

[wildroseofarran]

In Need of a Shoulder || Luke & Tristan

Luke: {Text: Tristan} Hi, Tristan. It's Luke. I understand if you do not wish to speak to me, feel free to ignore this. I was just wondering if you'd feel okay seeing me? Perhaps I could see what your home looks like after all this time? I'm sorry if this upsets you, I have nobody else to turn to.

Tristan: Tristan just stared at his phone for a minute, reading and rereading Luke's text. After their disastrous not-date he'd considered deleting Luke's number, ultimately deciding against it.

Now he got to look at Luke's message asking to him and the series of happy messages they'd exchanged before that ill-fated breakfast. Yay.

Still, he couldn't just ignore him.

{Text to Luke} Hey, Luke

{Text to Luke} Yeah, you can come over. 159 Coastal Road

{Text to Luke} It's the house with the blue shutters

Luke: Luke remembers to breathe when Tristan replies. He starts to walk away from his home. Away from Fletcher. Away from the shop. Away from all the memories it held. Away from his love. Away from his first real kiss. Away from everything he didn't feel strong enough to handle in that moment.

{Text} Thank you.

Tristan: {Text} No problem

Tristan returned his phone to his pocket and began tidying up his living room a little. Last thing he needed was to give his unexpected company even more of a bad impression.

Luke: Luke walks slowly, takes his time looking up at the sky and out at sea. He strolls, giving himself far too much time to think.

He wished he hadn't left Fletcher. He shouldn't have. What would he think now? That Luke has given up? That Luke was gone for good? He stops suddenly.

He brings out his phone, opens his contact list, stares at Fletcher's name. Just call him. Apologise for leaving. Or don't. Go to a store, purchase some wine and some flowers and promise that you still love him.

Take care of him.

Why did you leave?

Luke's eyes began to water. He had made a mistake. Fletcher may never forgive him for leaving.

Locking his phone he puts it away, back in his pocket. If Fletcher wanted him home he'd call. He must want some space, too. As he had said before. Sometimes he just wants space.

He keeps going until he finds a home that matches the description, and gently knocks.

Tristan: The door opened just a moment later, revealing Tristan in all his loose-haired, sweat pants-clad glory. Well, if you could call it glory. He looked like he was expecting doom to walk through his door, and from the looks of things, Luke expected it to be inside.

"Come on in," he said, stepping aside so Luke could enter.

The house was small and not all that far off from the beach shack description Tristan had once given it. The furniture was made of dark wood, slightly worn. The couch was leather, the décor decidedly nautical, the walls painted sage green. Overall a very masculine space.

Luke: "Thank you..." he couldn't thank him enough for giving him some form of escape. He steps in and starts to look around, allowing himself to take it all in. "It's lovely."

Tristan: "It's not exactly Versailles but it keeps the rain off. Can I uh...get you anything? Water? Tea? Whiskey?"

Luke: "Tea would be wonderful, if you're making yourself some, too. Otherwise I'm alright without it. Would you like me to take off my shoes?"

Tristan: Tristan nodded, even going so far as to offer a smile. "I'll put the kettle on," he said, moving into the kitchen. There was only a breakfast bar separating it from the living room, so he was still able to see Luke.

"You don't have to do that. That rug's seen worse."

Luke: "Alright." he walks in and takes a seat carefully. He removes his jacket and folds it over the armrest. "I... really am... sorry, Tristan. We could have left things better and I... I know this isn't ideal. I appreciate you being willing to see me again. I promise I wouldn't have requested such a thing of you if I felt like I had... options."

Tristan: "Given the...situation, I doubt there's anything you could've done to make it better. Could've been a hell of lot worse. I waited for Fletcher to come deck me for a couple days but he never showed. Probably have you to thank for that."

He filled the kettle and put it on the heat. "It's all right, Luke, really. Not like you forced your way in here at gunpoint."

Luke: "You didn't know." and Luke believed that entirely, nobody could fake Tristan's reaction. It had been genuine and apologetic.

"Um... has... anything changed with you?"

Tristan: "I still kissed you. I would've decked me if I were in his shoes." He shrugged and leaned against the counter. "I catch the fish, sell the fish, and repeat. Same old, same old. You? Anything new?"

Luke: People from my past have come back into my life. Fletcher proposed to me. I met a demon. I saw Ronan overdose. I met Fletcher's mother and she didn't like me. Fletcher died and was gone for a week. I've become an angel.

"S-same..." he rubs his arm anxiously.

Tristan: Tristan studied Luke for a few moments. "No it's not," he said quietly. "Something happened."

Luke: "A lot has happened." he smiles sadly, it doesn't reach his eyes and Luke isn't really sure why he even bothered to attempt it. "A lot - a lot of good things. Some bad. Such is life."

Tristan: "Sure is," he agreed with a nod, noting that attempt at a smile. "But something tells me it's the bad that brought you here."

Luke: "Um-" he tried to imagine how Fletcher might feel about him telling Tristan about their personal affairs. He... didn't really know what to say. "I don't think Fletcher wants to be with me anymore."

Tristan: His brow furrowed. "What makes you say that?"

Luke: "He suggested that I only loved the idea of us... of something stable and sane. He said that love isn't enough. He said 'maybe this isn't meant to be'." he inhales, "I - I'm sorry, Tristan. I know it might not be something you want to hear about, I know it might be inappropriate but honestly I didn't... plan on asking you for advice. I mostly wanted a distraction, if that's alright."

Tristan: Tristan studied Luke for a few more moments before the whistle of the kettle distracted him.

Nodding to himself, he grabbed a thermos from a cabinet, added the water, the tea, and some sugar.

"All right, come on. Put on your jacket."

Luke: "Wh-where are we going?"

Tristan: "For a sail."

Luke: "At this time?"

Tristan: "Yep," he said, grabbing his own jacket from a peg near the door.

Luke: "A-are you sure?" he slowly stands, picking up his jacket.

Tristan: "Sure am."

Luke: Luke nods, and puts on his jacket. Instinctively he goes to tell Fletcher, but stops before he can type out the text. He locks his phone again.

Tristan: Tristan led the way out the back door and across his small expanse of yard to a small dock where a ship lay waiting.

After handing Luke the thermos, he hopped aboard and turned on the lights. "Watch your step," he said, offering Luke a hand getting on.

Luke: "Thank you." he quietly says as he takes the thermos, holding it close to his chest to warm himself up. He recalled the time he had sailed on a boat with Fletcher, their first date. Luke looks down, hesitating before taking Tristan's hand and stepping carefully onto the boat.

Tristan: The moment Luke was safely onboard Tristan moved away from him again. There would be no lingering. Luke wasn't his to linger over.

"Have a seat," he said softly, prepping to set sail.

Luke: Luke knows he shouldn't mind, he knows he should appreciate Tristan's effort to put some space between them, but... it just made him feel worse, in a way. This is another person he has hurt.

He quietly does as he is told.

Tristan: "There's a blanket in the storage space underneath that bench if you get cold. Scarf and gloves, too. Night sailing is a frequent occurrence on this ship."

Tristan let down the sail, untethered them from the dock, let the breeze navigate them into more open water.

Luke: He zips up his jacket and wraps his arms around himself. "Do you have a... I don't know boat terms very well. A below-deck?"

Tristan: "Cabin, and yes. A small one."

Luke: "Could I see it?"

Tristan: Tristan nodded. "Go for it. Hatch is over to the right there."

The space below deck was just as sparse and masculine as Tristan's house. There was a tiny galley kitchen, a matchbox of a bathroom, a couple of storage closets, and a slightly larger area crammed with papers and a desk that served as Tristan's 'office'.

Luke: Luke stands, finding balance and making his way down. He breathes, letting the moment of being alone fuel him. Fingertips graze along the decoration, the furniture, he feels all of Tristan's life. Once he feels ready to, he emerges. Going beneath the bench, he brings out the scarf and wraps it around himself, covering the bottom half of his face with it.

Tristan: By the time Luke returned, Tristan had gotten them to the sound. It was the perfect night for sail. The sky was clear, the water was calm. Everything was still and peaceful.

He took them out just a little further before lowering the sail. "Pour us some tea."

Luke: Luke had been staring at the water, tempted to run his fingers through it just to feel - but he knew better than to do it. Opening the thermos he pours it out for Tristan, offering it to him before pouring some for himself.

"It's beautiful out here." he muses quietly, sipping the drink.

Tristan: "Thanks." Tristan took a seat beside Luke and pulled a crate closer so they'd have something to prop their feet on.

"Yes, it is," he said, sipping his tea. "Best distraction you'll find anywhere."

Luke: Luke lifts his feet, hugging onto his drink.

There's a moment of silence before he asks, "What... made you want to kiss me? Y-you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

Tristan: Tristan took a deep breath. "I liked you. The moment seemed perfect. I wanted to kiss you on the beach but uh..." He gave a humorless chuckle. "I didn't wanna push my luck on our first date."

Luke: "Really? After meeting me only that once?"

Tristan: He nodded. "Yeah. After meeting you that once."

Luke: He runs a finger around his cup. "You are... the second person I've kissed on the lips in my entire life." He still wasn't sure about whether or not he's going to count Ronan's sleep-kiss. He didn't know if it was even true, and he didn't feel like he wanted to count a kiss he couldn't even remember.

Tristan: "The second?" That meant... "Fletcher was the first, wasn't he?" He was probably a lot of Luke's firsts.

Luke: Luke nods.

"He put it off for so long. Practically made me beg him." another sad smile on his delicate features.

Tristan: "Why didn't he give in earlier?" Look at you. Who wouldn't want to kiss you?

Luke: "He knew I hadn't.. been with anyone like that before. I think he wanted it to be perfect..." and it had been glorious. "I'm starting to believe that I simply read too many books, and this idea of romance and love and perfection I had in my head was just... wrong."

Tristan: Well. He knew where Fletcher was coming from.

"Why's that? Wanting a first kiss to be perfect is pretty much the cornerstone of love and romance."

Luke: "But I've always believed that love is... the most powerful thing we have. The closest a human can get to magic." But neither he nor Fletcher were human. "Apparently love isn't nearly enough to warrant happiness."

Tristan: Tristan nodded. "It can be, and for the lucky ones it is. But even magic takes work. Or, well, relationships take work. As nice as it is to think love is always movie moments and pillow talk and candlelit dinners, it can be messy."

Luke: "Messy is one thing... Fletcher gave up on us today. He decided all of the good moments weren't worth the bad." He drinks more tea. "I can't be the only one who fights."

Tristan: "True enough," Tristan said softly, following Luke's lead and sipping his tea. "Both people fighting is part of the work it takes to make things work."

"What led to that decision?"

Luke: Luke nods. He had thought he and Fletcher had made progress. Minor setbacks are to be expected, but he never thought Fletcher would be willing to break up over his insecurities. It made him feel as though he doubted more than Luke's feelings, but his own as well. Luke isn't a mind-reader.

"He... And please don't tell him I've told you, he proposed to me and I said no."

Tristan: Well now Tristan was frowning. Something was off here, it had to be. He'd seen the look on Luke's face when Tristan had talked about Fletcher. He hadn't realized it then, of course, but looking back it was more than clear that Luke was completely in love with him. Saying no to a marriage proposal didn't make any sense.

"Why did you say no?" he asked softly. "Don't you love him?"

Luke: "We have never spoken about the future in such a long-term way. When we first met he was so ready to up and leave. He was still planning on it, even after some time with me. We've never spoken about what we want to do, where we want to go, our hopes, our dreams, anything we want out of life. To suddenly propose to me? It felt... ridiculous. Unplanned. It felt... spur of the moment in a bad way. It felt like he... just wanted to do it to feel... secure. Couples who want to be together forever start to plan their lives before it's even a real thought, they talk about the future, about how 'one day' we'll see these countries, meet these people, do this, little things. To go from living day by day to suddenly wanting to marry me... it felt... like he was just finding a way of keeping me there. He said he didn't want to talk about the future because it scares him but... it scares me too. It scares everyone. And what does he think will happen if we get married? That we'd never have to talk about the future? He's obviously not even ready for marriage if he isn't ready to have mature conversations about our relationship. The more I think about it... the more I feel as though he just doesn't love me as much as he says he does, that he doesn't truly see a life with me."

Tristan: Tristan sipped his tea as he listened, taking it all in, trying to see the situation from as many angles as he possibly could and not just see it through the filter of his own experiences. That wouldn't help Luke at all.

Although if he was honest with himself, he didn't know if anything he could offer would do anything to help Luke either.

"We can't...really plan farther than a few seconds into the future. Things tend to work out differently than we anticipate. Best laid plans and all that. Which isn't to say you're wrong, you're not. Conversations about the future are part of every serious relationship, it's the nature of the beast and it's important to have them.

"On the flip side, though? You don't propose to someone you don't see a future with, planned or not. You don't propose to someone you're not in love with. In the days of arranged marriages maybe but not now. Proposing is....a promise. A promise that something inside you has told you you're able to make. For love, for the future. It's hope in its purest form."

Luke: "It's not about literal plans. It's about dreams."

Luke shakes his head. "Getting married for the wrong reasons is a very real thing. People propose to people they aren't completely in love with because they settle all the time. It's why the divorce rates are so high. You and I... romantics might like to think that marriage is sacred but it just isn't."

Tristan: Tristan's expression was very sad and very far away when he asked, "What did his face look like when you refused?"

Luke: "He just wanted to act like it hadn't happened."

Tristan: He gently shook his head. "Not what he did," he said softly. "What he looked like."

Luke: "He... wasn't looking at me. He was watching his hands."

Tristan: Tristan nodded. "He didn't propose for the wrong reason," he whispered, glazed eyes looking out over the horizon.

Luke: "Even so, I said no for the right ones."

Tristan: He said nothing for a few long moments. He was a thousand miles away, watching his memories play like a movie projected on the night sky.

Luke: Luke looks down into his lap and finishes off his tea in silence.

"Maybe I just expect too much from people," he finally says.

Tristan: "Do you love him?"

Luke: "That's not enough," he whispers.

Tristan: "It's a start."

Luke: "If love changed anything... today wouldn't have happened."

Tristan: "If love changed nothing you wouldn't be here with me. I wouldn't be here with you. I'd be tucked up in a house by the river with the love of my life."

Luke: "... With the love of your life?" Did Tristan have someone?

Tristan: Tristan nodded. "Yep. He's married to someone else now. That someone is the person who's tucked up with him tonight."

Luke: "I - oh. I'm sorry." He exhales and rubs his face, "I know how that feels."

Tristan: "Don't be. He left me a long time ago. Years." Tristan sighed and reached into the storage space for the bottle of whiskey he kept there.

"Best advice I could give you? Don't be me. Whatever you do, don't be me, Luke."

Luke: Luke's gaze moves down from Tristan's face to his lips, down his neck, down his chest, to his hands.

"I tried to fix things. I... won't give you more information than you probably want but I tried to... cool us off. I went into the shower and he did some work, I think. We had a moment to breathe, apart. I invited him in... he just didn't... it feels as though... he almost condescends to me in a way. On more than one occasion he has acted as if I don't know what I want or who I am. He tries to tell me how I feel. He tries to tell me what I'm thinking. There's a side to me I..." a dominant side, "don't typically reveal, a side that's private, and he thinks it's just something that has been drilled into my head from an outside source and that I must be too stupid to really know who I am or what I feel or what I want from life. And he rejects me frequently, he isn't willing to do basic things with me yet he wants to get married?"

Luke stands, setting the cup down where his feet had been.

"And I'm meant to be the one to always be put together! To always be the one who is secure and holding on to him. Yes, he cared for me when I was unwell but what about when I feel insecure? When I need him to make me feel good about myself? He just says no, he wants to wait, he wants this, he wants that. Excuse after excuse. I can't read minds. It just feels as though he doesn't want me. Yes, he proposed, yes, he seemed unnerved about me saying no but he didn't try to overcome it in a healthy way and it isn't as if literal abusive people don't propose to others all the time so suggesting that marriage is just for happy people in love is insane. But - he sat there and decided to tell me what my life has apparently been lacking! As if he knows! As if he was there! What's more, he did something truly awful that I had no way of talking him out of, something that was so... terrible. Something he'd be willing to do again. Something I... honestly haven't forgiven him for. I say nothing. I don't hold it against him because it's the past, even if it hurts me to think about I would never use it as leverage in an argument or anything quite that bitter. I give him respect - I don't pry into his relationship with Pete, I don't pretend I know what it was like, I don't compare it to us now, I don't remind him about it, yet Fletcher can't let how Ronan and I were go. We were teenagers, we were kids. He acts as though Ronan has never been a good friend to me but he -"

He stops. Realising how he has been ranting and how inappropriate that all must have been.

"I'm sorry. I just never get to be the one who's hurt." tears are blinked from his eyes.

Tristan: Tristan wouldn't interrupt or comment while Luke was ranting. He was a firm believer that ranting was healthy for the soul and from the sounds of things, Luke's soul was in desperate need of some relief.

And what better place to get that all out than here, where there was no one around to hear or judge?

When Luke fell silent, Tristan refilled his cup with tea, adding a healthy measure of whiskey. He offered it and patted the seat beside him.

"Not to sound like a broken record, but don't be." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, offered it, too. "Rant. Scream. Cry. Throw shit if you need to. Let the hurt in. It's the only way to get it out."

Luke: Luke inhales a trembling breath and hesitantly takes the cup, slowly seating himself again. He stares at the drink. Well. He's never had this before.

"I don't get to. I've gone through such... big changes. My entire life has been changed completely recently, completely flipped upside down. So many things have come one after the other and I'm far too many people's rocks. I don't get to feel overwhelmed. I don't get to have a bad day, in case it makes Fletcher feel insecure and it causes an argument or some problem. I have to just smile and take it all in stride and I..." he rubs his thigh, "in a relationship... one where they're planning to get married one day? That shouldn't be the case. I should be able to feel bad and just feel it without the paranoia and guilt. I shouldn't be able to just... be who I am."

Tristan: "Who says you don't get to? Fletcher? Ronan?"

Luke: "Ronan has allowed me to cry with him numerous times. Ronan has... been there for me. He hasn't judged me. He has never taken an outburst of mine to heart, which is why I do the same for him. It's a kindness. It's a level of understanding. I don't doubt that Fletcher would care for me to the best of his ability but... not in the unconditional way Ronan did. Or the way I do. At least not that I can imagine. I couldn't even calmly explain to him that we aren't ready for marriage without him wanting to completely end things with me."

Tristan: "Maybe that's part of the problem," Tristan said gently. "I'm not saying this to stir the pot or to sway you one way or the other. I'm just trying to see both sides because that's what I do.

"Maybe you and Fletcher are having that disconnect because...you're used to Ronan's comfort. Everyone's got their own way of caring and comforting other people and since you've got a longer history with Ronan, you're used to his. It happens, we're human."

Tristan took a deep breath. He really hoped he wasn't overstepping. "Did he say he wanted to end things with you? Has he ever been unkind when you needed a shoulder to lean on or just wanted a hug?"

Luke: "Maybe. Maybe I'm just used to there being no rules and no boundaries and... with Fletcher there are so many of both."

Oh, his heart.

"He did. He said perhaps we aren't meant to be. He suggested we... finish." Luke sips the drink and cringes faintly, "He hasn't... been unkind to me, that I can recall. Not on purpose, anyway. But the problem is that... I've never felt as though I could just ask for a hug. Because what happens when I do? I get home, I tell Fletcher I feel unhappy, I ask him to hug me. He asks what's wrong. I tell him... something unrelated to us. He finds a way to make it somehow something negative he has done. It's... it's just exhausting. I want to make him feel better about himself, I do. I just don't think I'm capable of it. And his mother doesn't like me."

Tristan: "Well. I can't say what was going through his mind at the time he said that, but the word that stands out to me there is 'perhaps'. You two were having a fight after dealing with something very intense, and in the heat of the moment people say shit they don't mean. And that shit's usually driven by anger or hurt or fear. Maybe he did say that but that doesn't mean he meant it or wanted it."

He poured himself some more whiskey. "Remember back at the bakery when you asked me what Fletcher was like when we were younger? I told you he kept to himself and that's true, but I didn't tell you why. He wasn't...the most social person. There were a lot of people that made fun of him and said shit about him because kids are fucking awful and that's what they do. And his mom didn't help. She never let him go over to anyone's house to hang out or let him play with other kids in the park or do the things kids should be able to do. That leaves scars.

"I said we can't predict more than a few seconds into the future, right? So maybe if you did ask Fletcher for a hug after you'd had a shitty day, what you're imagining would happen. But maybe it wouldn't. There's just as much chance of one happening as the other."

Tristan wrapped an arm around Luke's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "You've got to give the guy some credit, Luke. If you don't give him any, how can he give you any? This is a two-way street, and as far as I'm concerned, Billy Gale not liking you is something to be proud of."

Luke: Luke leans into him, rests against his shoulder.

He takes that all in, squeezes it and takes every droplet of thought he can.

He doesn't know what he's meant to do. He's afraid of the next step.

"But it doesn't matter how heated a situation gets I would never suggest we should break up."

Then again, people are simply different.

"She likes Ronan."

He didn't know what else to say.

Tristan: "You can't know that for sure, Luke. As well as we all think we know ourselves, we still do shit that gives us that moment of 'what the fuck was that?'. Again, part of being human. We don't know what we're capable of until the right circumstances come along and show us."

He gave Luke another squeeze. "As much as I love the guy, Ronan hangs out with some pretty questionable folk. And yes, I'm lumping Billy Gale in with them. She's a perfectly nice lady but she's done her son a disservice and this right here is proof. The job of every parent is to fuck their kid up--even the best ones do it in some way--but I really think Fletcher would be a more secure person if she hadn't sheltered him so much.

"He's not a bad guy. In fact, he's one of the most decent people I know. I know he'd give you a hug if you asked. He'd probably be wondering why you wanted it from him the entire time but he'd give it to you. He'd push past all the shit his mother ingrained into him and the way people treated him when we were younger and he'd give it to you."

Luke: She had her reasons, which Luke assumes Tristan knew nothing about. She was afraid, and parents teach their children what to fear. In this case, it seemed, she had taught Fletcher to fear everyone.

Luke takes a deep breath, brushes away tears that had accumulated. "I don't know what to do."

Tristan: "For now, you sit. Drink your tea, cry, look at the water for a little while. Let your soul calm down."

Tristan draped the blanket back over Luke.

Luke: Sighing, the angel moves closer to Tristan, bundling the blanket over the two of them in silence. He watches the water, but is only focusing on Tristan. He didn't want to think about Fletcher, about what may be happening back home, about what damage he may have caused. He just wanted to think about how Tristan's hair felt against him from where he was on his shoulder, about his warmth, his kindness. His beauty.

Tristan: Tristan let the silence stretch between them, aware only of the movie reel that was still playing with gleeful cruelty in his head.

After a long, long time he finally said, very softly, "You know how I told you not to be me?"

Luke: Luke nods, slowly blinking.

Tristan: "I know what it's like. When the fight's finally over."

Luke: He sits up. A gentle hand settles on his cheek and he leans over to kiss his cheek gently. "I meant what I said that day. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I remember thinking of how like the ocean you are. So beautiful, so calming. A gentle consistency, a refreshing symbiosis."

Tristan: Tristan gave Luke a sad smile. "Someone else said that to me, too. Not the poetry, the part about someone being lucky to have me."

Luke: "They're right. You're truly wonderful. Caring, kind, understanding..." things he wished Fletcher could be just a little bit more.

Tristan: "Here's the thing about that. See, love isn't the thing that isn't enough. Being caring, kind, and understanding? That's not enough."

He sighed, straightening just a bit. "The man I told you about before? He said that to me when he left me. We were together for years. I met his family, he met mine. We took trips, had mind-blowing sex, the whole nine. On the surface a perfect relationship, yes? But one day, things changed."

Luke: "Did he... meet this someone else while you were together?"

Tristan: Tristan shook his head. "There was no one else. Maybe that would've been easier."

He took a sip of whiskey, abandoning the tea. "It was hard to notice anything was wrong at first. He was still himself, still affectionate and open. But sometimes when things were quiet between us, I'd look over and realize a part of him was a million miles away. And the more time passed, the worse it got.

"At one point, it was like...like he was in the river, and the current was doing its best to drag him away but he wouldn't let it. He was fighting it as hard as he could and I was fighting to pull him up on shore, pull him to safety. We fought that fight together for as long as we could and we fought hard."

Luke: "...What was the last straw?"

Tristan: "That's what makes it all so goddamn sad." Tristan shook his head and gave a humorless chuckle. "The last straw had already happened. All that fighting he did? He wasn't trying to keep doom from our doorstep. Doom had already come and he was doing his best to pretend it hadn't.

"He'd fallen out of love with me. He still loved me, still cared about me, but he just...wasn't in love with me anymore. That's how you know the fight's over. When someone you love--someone who has all of you--sits you down, looks you in the eye, and tells you they don't love you. And means it."

Luke: "... Tristan..." he breathes, "I'm sorry." his hand is taken and held. "You... deserve so much more."

Tristan: "Whether I do or don't is in the lap of the gods," Tristan said softly, giving Luke's hand a squeeze. "Point is this: it doesn't matter if you fight or disagree or go through periods of adjustment as long as you love each other enough to hold on and pull each other up on shore. That fight only ends when one of you looks at the other and says you don't love them, and means it.

"You and Fletcher had a setback. A big one, but a setback nonetheless. You had a fight, things were said in the heat of the moment. But that doesn't mean it's over. You guys have a shot of making it. Take it from someone who didn't have one."

Luke: "But that doesn't make our problems fade. Recovering from this one argument doesn't fix everything I've said. It doesn't make everything better. It's only one problem solved."

Tristan: "Very true. But you've got to start somewhere, Luke. Rome wasn't built in a day, and it didn't fall in one either."

Luke: "I'm sure it burnt down in one." He smiles weakly and brings Tristan's hand to his lips. "Thank you, Tristan."

Tristan: At last, a genuine smile. "Rome was a stubborn broad. She fought to the bitter, bloody end."

"I'm just here to offer perspective. I like Fletcher. I like you, too. And call me a romantic, but I want ya'll to be okay."

Luke: "I... have lost hope in that possibility."

Tristan: "Life is never without hope."

Luke: "That's what I thought, too. But my heart can't take it anymore."

Tristan: "Don't let one day take away your hope. That's all we've got in this life. I know you're hurting. I know you're tired. But I also know you love Fletcher. It's practically oozing out of your pores. I just don't want you to give up, that's all."

Luke: "It isn't just this one day..." He mutters to himself. "I shouldn't... have left."

Tristan: "Heat of the moment," Tristan said quietly.

Luke: Luke licks his lips.

"I don't know if I'm ready to go back."

Tristan: He nodded. "It's okay if you're not. You've had an intense night."

Tristan: "......Ever night fished?"

Luke: He chuckles. "I definitely have not."

Tristan: "Wanna give it a shot?"

Luke: "I'd love to. We don't have to kill fish do we?"

Tristan: "I can put corks on the hooks."

Luke: He nods. "That sounds good."

Tristan: "You got it." He got to his feet and made his way below deck, emerging a few moments later with a couple of fishing poles in hand.

"If were father out we might have a shot of pulling up something really cool. Here in the sound, though, we might see a bass or a catfish."

Luke: "I'm sure to a newbie like me it will be just as exciting." he smiles, standing and taking one of the fishing poles.

Tristan: "You know what I should do?" Tristan chuckled, putting a cork on the end of Luke's hook. "I should take you noodling."

Luke: "Noodling? As in, you want to make noodles with me?" he's joking…though he genuinely doesn't know what that is.

Tristan: "Nope, got nothing to do with actual noodles. Although I do make a mean pasta."

Luke: He chuckles, "I believe you."

Tristan: "Noodling is when you go fishing for catfish. With your bare hands."

Luke: Luke's eyes widen. "... Absolutely not."

Tristan: "It's fun! People have competitions!"

Luke: "And I would win, but that isn't the point."

Tristan: "Oh you would, huh? You'd beat the Tri-County Noodling champion?"

Luke: "Exactly. Butterflies have landed on my hands. Squirrels have allowed me to pet them." He had an unfair advantage, being an angel.

Tristan: "Butterflies and squirrels have nothing on catfish. You stick your arm in their dens and drag them out and trust me, it's like poking a sleeping dragon."

Luke: Luke laughs, "A dragon would sleep peacefully by my side!"

Tristan: "Well, not to knock your potential catfish whispering skills, but the reigning Tri-County Noodling champion doubts that very seriously."

Luke: "The reigning Tri-County Noodling Champion doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does."

Tristan: He chuckled. "Apparently not. Now, you know your way around a fishing pole?"

Luke: "I don't. Teach me." He adjusts to be closer to the edge of the boat.

Tristan: "You right or left handed?"

Luke: "Right."

Tristan: "Then take the pole in your right hand, reel the line back, and place your index finger over it to hold it in place. Like so." Tristan did the same, letting Luke see.

Luke: "Reel -" he tries to copy but definitely gets it wrong. "Are my hands in the right place?"

Tristan: "Right, beginner. Here." He adjusted Luke's hold on the fishing pole so he could hold it and the line comfortably. "How's that?"

Luke: Luke nods. "Alright. Better, thank you."

Tristan: "No problem. Now, I want you to imagine the face of a clock. You're gonna bring the pole back to 2 o'clock and then forward to 10 o'clock, releasing the line at the same time." He demonstrated.

"Back to two, forward and release on 10." And again. "Back to two, forward and release on 10."

Luke: He... is enjoying watching Tristan more than he could possibly enjoy doing it himself. He smiles at the beautiful man.

"Back at ten, release on two. Understood."

Tristan: "Other way around," Tristan chuckled.

Luke: "I know, it was my attempt at a joke." He grins and tries it out, but swings back a little too far and throws it right ahead of him.

Tristan: Tristan smiled. Luke certainly seemed to be feeling better. "I give your delivery a 7."

"All right, doing good, doing good, doing...." Well shit.

Luke: It's caught quickly - a last-minute catch few humans could have made. His body is in a different location in a blink.

"... Too much force, I think..." He slowly returns to his position beside Tristan.

Tristan: Tristan was staring at Luke, just...blinking. "...Yeah...too much force...." Guy had the reflexes of a goddamn cat on speed.

Luke: He clears his throat.

Well.

"Um..."

Tristan: "You uh...you pulled back too far, cast a little too hard."

Luke: There was no point allowing this to become awkward. He didn't want it to be. He didn't want to keep secrets, either. If this was going to be long-term.

"Did Ronan tell you what I am?"

Tristan: His brow furrowed. "Did--what? You're not...?" Human?

Luke: Oh. Luke looks to his feet. He had told Luke that he'd been clear about what he is, so he hoped this wasn't going to cause him a heart attack. He's able to provide aid if need be.

"I am an angel... of some form."

Tristan: "....An angel? Like an angel angel? With the wings and the halo and the harp?"

Luke: "... Essentially. I am willing to show you if you want proof but... not out here. Someone may see." He rubs his arm nervously.

Tristan: "I said fuck in front of you. More than once." He looked up at the sky. "I'm gonna get struck by lightning, aren't I?"

Luke: Luke laughs and moves forward, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Fletcher has said worse." And Ronan has said worse than him. "It's alright. You've been forgiven."

Tristan: "I gave an angel whiskey."

Luke: "You gave an angel a kiss."

Tristan: "I'm going right to hell."

Luke: "Not if I have anything to do with it." He grins. "You... believe me?"

Tristan: Tristan nodded. "Yeah, I do. Told you I looked like a Christmas angel. Guess I hit the mark closer than I intended."

Luke: He shakes his head, laughing. That was easier than he thought it would be.

"You amaze me."

Tristan: "Not all that amazing. I do know something about...your world. Enough not to have a heart attack when someone tells me they're an angel."

Luke: "Hm. I can't think of anyone more worthy of knowing. You are the most incredible human I've met in... decades." ... Possibly a weird sentence.

Tristan: "What about Fletcher?" Tristan asked quietly, turning toward the water.

Luke: Luke had specified 'human' for a reason.

Of course he couldn't say that.

"I am not going to beg for him to love me and stay with me."

Tristan: "You don't have to beg him, Luke. He already loves you, and you love him."

Luke: "If he expected me to respond to 'maybe this wasn't meant to be' with 'please, Fletcher. Please. Don't do this. I love you.' then he…I've done that too many times with too many draining people."

Tristan: "Fletcher's not the type of guy to expect that. He doesn't play people that way."

Luke: "Then, yet again, it is only me fighting for us." He sighs and rubs his face. "I just... want to be selfish for once in my life. Is that terrible? Am I... cruel for feeling that way? I want to receive now. I want... someone who jumps at the idea of making love to me because they're so passionate about me, weeps at the thought of how much they love me, tells me poetry that reminds them of me... I want more than I think Fletcher can give."

But I love him with all my heart.

Tristan: "No, it's not terrible. It's...well, I can't say part of being human technically but since you're here among us, I'll say it anyway. There's nothing wrong with wanting those things and wishing someone would give them to you. But you've gotta realize that no one...is gonna do exactly what you imagine all the time. Just because Fletcher doesn't give you poetry doesn't mean he can't, or isn't thinking of any. You have to be patient, Luke. I know you've been patient for a long time, and probably with a lot of people in your life, but so has Fletcher."

Tristan sighed. "Call me a romantic, but he's been waiting for you for a long time. He's...getting used to you. Getting used to having someone love him."

Luke: "I didn't mean it quite so literally I just...he's known me for almost a year. How much more time could I possibly give?"

Tristan: "I can't answer that for you, Luke. I wish I could but I think the two of you are going to have to play it by ear. All I can say is...be gentle with yourself, and with him. Take it a day at a time."

Luke: Another deep breath. He closes his eyes and feels the sea air. "I wish I could be carefree for one night. Just one."

Tristan: "You can be. Hence my telling you to be gentle to yourself, and not just about tonight and not just about Fletcher. Something tells me you've been burning the candle at both ends emotionally for a very, very long time."

Luke: Tears are held in and it takes all of Luke's strength. "I have been." Ninety years too long.

Tristan: Tristan laid a hand on Luke's shoulder and squeezed. "Even angels have their limits, Luke. You can't be everyone's rock and not have one yourself. You've got to let yourself lean on someone. Let yourself lean on Fletcher. He'll catch you, I promise he'll catch you."

Luke: Luke sniffles and rubs his eyes. "But I can't say all of this to him. It would only make him believe further that we shouldn't be together. It will only make him push me away."

Tristan: "You have to, Luke. You have to talk to him, otherwise this will fester between you. You have to let each other in."

Luke: Luke stares for a moment before nodding. "You're right, Tristan. You're right."

Tristan: Tristan gave his shoulder another squeeze. "It'll be brutal and you'll hate my guts for pushing you to do it, but cleaning out the wound is the only way to heal it."

Luke: He smiles sadly. "I know I would have given you the same advice. So thank you." He takes Tristan's hand in order to kiss his knuckles.

Tristan: He smiled softly. Luke had the biggest chivalrous streak of anyone he'd ever met, human and non-human.

"You're welcome."

Luke: "I... think I would like... to go back to land now, if that's okay. If you ever trust me with your fishing equipment again I will be very surprised."

Tristan: Tristan laughed. "Since you caught it, I'll trust you on a probationary basis, Mr. Angel. Sit tight. I'll take us back."

Luke: "Mister angel, hm?" he grins as he takes a seat, burying himself in the scarf.

Tristan: "Yep. Mister," said Tristan, smiling as he raised the sail again. "You look like a mister. Like in a Jane Austin novel."

Luke: He smiles, looking out at the sea. "'There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart'."

Tristan: "Emma. Which, incidentally, would've been my name if I'd been a girl. Or Isabel."

Luke: God, Tristan was so well read. He knew poetry and novels and authors and quotes and it made Luke's heart do silly things. It was so attractive to him, like heaven in a man.

"Do you have any flaws?"

Tristan: "I'm a hermit, I'm stubborn, I smell like fish, and I'm allergic to conventional soap and peanuts."

Luke: "Stubborn? You? What are you stubborn about?"

Tristan: "This ship mainly. My business."

Luke: "Then you have a right to be stubborn, it is your business, your rules. Your life. It is a leadership quality."

Tristan: "See, you'd think that, right? A while back some guy shows up at the docks, starts hanging around. And starts critiquing my upkeep of my ship."

Luke: "And what is it that Mr. Stubborn did?"

Tristan: "Argued with him, poked at him, refused to use his name. Usual petty things. Then the guy up and says he wants to invest in my ship. Times were lean then. The Adriana needed repairs but I couldn't afford them and feed myself. Guess he really liked boats and really felt sorry for me."

Luke: "Did you end up selling it?"

Tristan: "Nope. Took his money and brought her back to glory." He spread his arms, indicating the pristine ship they were sailing on. "Gorgeous, isn't she?"

Luke: "Yes," Luke's bright eyes focused on Tristan only, "gorgeous."

Tristan: Meanwhile, Tristan's were focused on his beloved ship. "Ever read a novel called The Venice Adriana?"

Luke: "I unfortunately can't say that I have."

Tristan: "It's a story about this writer that goes to Italy to interview a former opera diva for a book. Loosely based on the life of Maria Callas, who was my first love."

Luke: "Your... your first love?"

Tristan: "Yep. Only woman I could see myself with. If she came back to life right now and said 'Tristan, run away to Fiji with me', I'd go. Ever hear her do Carmen?"

Luke: "I have." He smiles gently, "I must say, you have very high standards for women."

Tristan: "So high that she's the only woman for me," Tristan chuckled. "I named my ship after her. Indirectly. The Venice Adriana."

Luke: "So... what are your standards for men?"

Tristan: Tristan sighed, chuckled again. "Hell if I know."

Luke: "That's fair." He chuckles.

Tristan: "Guess I'll know them when I'm meant to."

Luke: "I suppose so." He sadly muses, looking out at the vast nothingness. The sound of a bird crying out distracted him, and he starts to search for the creature.

"Can you hear that?"

Tristan: Tristan tilted his head toward the call. "Loon."

Luke: "It's in pain." He slowly stands. "I can feel it."

Tristan: "North, south, east, or west?"

Luke: "..." He's silent for a moment. "Up." He faces the sky and sees a bird trying desperately to fly. "There." He points upwards, to the east.

Tristan: Tristan's gaze followed Luke's finger, steering the ship in the same direction. "I don't suppose you can fly?"

Luke: Luke hesitated. "Well..." Answer enough, surely?

Tristan: "That a yes?" Being an angel did come with wings, didn't it?

Luke: Luke removes his jacket and starts to take off his shirt and all that came with it. The bird was flying towards a tree it would surely hit into. In a moment Luke was pushing off of the boat, causing it to rock gently as large white wings appear from his back. His skin glows a white, and he goes to stop animal.

Tristan: Before Tristan could so much as think to lower the sail again, Luke was up and stripping. "What are y...." Oh. Oh.

He was....he was actually an angel. Wings and ethereal glow and everything. Like in a stained-glass window.

And all Tristan could do was stare.

Luke: Luke had gotten in the way of the bird and the tree just in time, the bird cried out to him, a wing crooked and weak.

The angel lays his hands out, cupped together. He exudes calm, and it wouldn't only be the bird that feels the relaxation, but also every creature around. Including Tristan. The bird falls into Luke's hands and remains still to be taken back to the boat.

Tristan: Tristan heaved a long sigh, feeling a sense of peace wash over him that was unlike any he could ever remember feeling.

He took a moment to gather himself before lowering the sail and going below deck for the first aid kit.

Luke: Luke lands gently on the boat, wings folding against his back. The bird is laid on the floor and the angel starts to check for the cause of pain.

Tristan: "What's the matter with him?" Tristan asked as he emerged, small case in hand. "He break something?"

Luke:  "I wonder if... someone tried to hunt him. It looks as though a sharp object tore through his wing here." He lifts it to show Tristan the bloodied injury, the bird calmly allowing him to do so. Fingers brush over the wound, and it slowly begins to heal.

Tristan: Tristan studied the wound. "If they did, they're a lousy shot. Lucky for him. Loons are a protected species but not everyone around here respects that."

Luke: "What a shame. They're beautiful." The birds hops up, jumps up onto Luke's lap and begins to sing. It stretches its wings out, now perfectly healthy.

Tristan: "I think it's that beauty that makes them a target." And wasn't that always the way?

Tristan had to stare in wonder for a moment. Knowing angels existed and actually seeing an angel be...well, an angel, were two very different things. It was amazing. "Guess we won't need this," he said, setting aside the first aid kit.

Luke: Luke smiles gently, "I'm sorry. I thought it would be quicker." The bird sings and pecks before flying away, leaving them alone once again.

Tristan: "No, no, nothing to be sorry about," said Tristan, smiling as the loon went on its way. "The loon's okay. That's the important thing."

Luke: Luke nods, standing and picking his shirt back up. "I agree."

Tristan: "Ready to set sail again?"

Luke: Once bundled up he nods and sits, "I am."

Tristan: Tristan raised the sail again, intending to get them back on course before changing his mind.

"I'm gonna drop you off at the docks. Shorter walk to Fletcher's from there."

Luke: Luke inhales sharply. "I'm going straight to Fletcher?"

Tristan: "....Aren't you?"

Luke: "... If I've over-stayed my welcome."

Tristan: "Not at all, I just thought since we...I thought you intended to go talk to him."

Luke: "I... do. I - I will. I... yes."

Tristan: "I can take us back to my dock. Longer walk, more time to think?"

Luke: He wanted to ask if he could spend the night hiding in Tristan's home, but he knew he couldn't be out all night and return to Fletcher the next day and expect there to be no reaction.

"No... it's... it's alright. Whatever is easier for you. Thank you."

Tristan: "Just a matter of steering, Luke," Tristan said softly. "If you want more time, I can give it to you."

Luke: Luke stands, going over by Tristan to watch him steer. "More time would be nice."

Tristan: "You got it." He nodded toward the wheel. "Wanna give it a try?"

Luke: Luke smiles and nods, moving closer.

Tristan: "All right, one hand here and another here." He guided Luke's hands into place. "Keep your movements slow and gentle. We're aiming....for that rogue cloud right over there."

Luke: Luke relaxes, following orders and finding a tight grip on the wheel. Oh, gentle - he loosens his hands.

"... Okay... don't let go." He laughs, "I don't want to be responsible for our untimely deaths."

Tristan: Tristan chuckled. "You've got this. No rocks or tricky spots to navigate around. Just straight ahead."

Luke: "How do I - do I steer in the opposite direction I want to go in?"

Tristan: "Very carefully. Turn too fast and the rudder will snap right in half. It helps if you've got a good wind to help you along, then all you have to do is reposition the sails."

Luke: "Sounds complicated." He grins, doing his best to keep them steady.

Tristan: "It can be," Tristan said with a smile. "Takes a while to get the hang of it and even then half of it is instinct."

Luke: "You must have a lot of instincts."

Tristan: "Sure do. I need them to keep me alive, especially when the sea's rough."

Luke: "Well... if you ever find it difficult... if you sincerely pray I can... I can help you. I'll hear it. Or just text me." He grins. "Whichever is easier."

Tristan: "That would be texting," he chuckled. He'd never been one for prayer, even when he was younger. He'd learned real fast that no one was up there listening. "And thank you, I'll definitely keep that in mind."

Luke: Luke smiles, "Of course." He was living proof that Tristan had been wrong about that, but he didn't mind. Either way, Luke was there. He was an option.

Tristan: One Tristan would definitely keep in mind if he ever found himself in a particularly dicey situation.

"All right, let me lower the sail and I'll take over," he said when his house and dock came into view a few minutes later.

Luke: He backs away, feeling quite proud that nothing had broken. "I'm academically clever, but things like that definitely stump me."

Tristan: "They stumped me, too, at first. But years of practice and a good teacher will make anyone more than capable of navigating a ship of any size."

With the sail lowered, Tristan guided them into dock.

Luke: While on the outside he smiled and watched them get closer to land, on the inside he was dreading every inch. He still hadn't decided what he wanted to come from his conversation with Fletcher. He didn't even know if he wanted a solution that night.

Probably not.

He doubted this would be such a quick fix.

Tristan: "Land ho," said Tristan, tossing the rope onto the dock as soon as it was close enough and jumping after it to tie them off.

Luke: Nerves set in and it shows on his face. He stands slowly.

"I suppose this is it, then."

Tristan: "Hey." Tristan offered Luke a reassuring smile. "Everything's gonna be okay, Luke."

Luke: Luke carefully steps out of the boat to squeeze his arm. "Thank you. Truly. For everything. I will repay you."

Tristan: "You're welcome, and you don't have to repay anything. This is what friends do."

Luke: "Friends," he repeats thoughtfully, stepping forward to bring him into a hug.

Tristan: "Friends," said Tristan, giving him a bolstering squeeze.

Luke: He gives Tristan a brief kiss on the cheek before backing up. "Would you like me to walk you home?"

Tristan: "Thanks, but I've got it from here. Wanna hang on to the scarf? Wind's picking up."

Luke: Luke shakes his head, "N-no I couldn't -" He had forgotten about it since it was so warm, but he starts to take it off.

Tristan: Tristan stilled his hands and wrapped it back around his neck. "Hang on to it, Luke."

Luke: His arms fall to his sides. "Okay." The angel nods, "Thank you."

Tristan: "No problem. You be careful, all right?"

Luke: "You too. Have a nice evening." He smiles with his eyes, since his mouth is buried in the scarf.

Tristan: He smiled back. "I will. Now go on before the wind gets worse and you catch pneumonia."

Luke: "Angels don't catch pneumonia," he teases, going to walk in the direction of Fletcher's home. He waves to Tristan.

Tristan: Tristan waved back, waiting until Luke disappeared from sight before going inside.