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nalgenewhore · 4 years ago

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With My Life - Chapter Ten

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: (all graphic) violence, guns, blood, smut, PTSD

an: here she is. i dont have anything else to say.

Elide paced in the parking garage, obsessively checking her index cards.

Her neat, precise notes and paragraph prompts stared up at her until they became jumbled. They started moving off the page and Elide nearly cried in distress. “L, it’s not- nothing’s working.”

Lorcan’s dark head popped up over the roof of the car, his eyes soft with concern, but there was something else. Ever since they had woken, Lorcan had been withdrawn. Detached. “What’s not working?”

She gestured to the cards, hating that tears stung the back of her eyes. “I can’t- I don’t know what I’m talking about! It’s like- it’s like I’m faking my way through it.” Elide looked down at the ground, ashamed that she was talking about her measly little thesis when Lorcan was packing and planning for their lives as runaways. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her vision blurred with tears. Elide sniffled as she heard his steps grow closer until he was standing in front of her and tilting her chin back. “Princess, it does matter. Your work is important and I care about it.” She laughed tearfully, finally smiling. Lorcan’s thumb stroked her chin and he smiled down at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve grown up in this shit - you know it better than any of those reviewers, ok?”

Elide nodded, rising onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and press her face into his chest, “Thank you,” she whispered, the steady tattoo of his heart calming her. Pulling away, she wiped her cheeks, “Remind me what the plan is?”

Lorcan nodded and kissed the top of her head, leading her to the car. He opened and closed the passenger door for her before going around the back to toss in the last heavy bag - Elide didn’t want to think about what was in it, given the contents of the hidden compartment in the back of his closet - in the trunk.

She reorganised her flashcards, making sure they were in the correct order. Lorcan slid in the driver’s seat and breathed out slowly, “You have office hours until nine thirty. Your thesis review isn’t until eleven, that’ll last one hour, at the most, yes?” Elide nodded and he continued, “Then, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to the airport. Everyone else will meet us there, and we’ll leave.”

Elide nodded, reaching over to grip his hand. She was staring straight out the windshield, a small smile tugging at her lips when Lorcan kissed the back of her hand. “Don’t worry, princess. This’ll all be over before you know it.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan parked his car three blocks west and one block north of Vaughan’s apartment.

He walked up with nothing more than his car keys and wallet, only keeping his phone in case Elide called.

When he went in, Vaughan was tinkering with something on his kitchen table, playing OutKast’s Rosa Parks as he worked. He slapped Lorcan’s hand away when he poked the device, cursing him away in their mother tongue, “Away, bastard.”

Lorcan laughed and pulled the end of his brother’s braid, leaping away when Vaughan threatened him with the mini blowtorch. He grabbed the kitchen knife lying on the counter and aimed it at Vaughan, making a slashing motion.

They were locked in a dangerous dance, circling each other slowly, Vaughan’s blowtorch lit. Lorcan went to strike when Nehemia walked in, clearly unimpressed and altogether unsurprised by the predicament. “Down, children. Vaughan, stop trying to burn his hair and Lorcan, away with the knife.” They glared at each other, but did as they were told.

Lorcan went to sit next to Nehemia, looking over her shoulder at the computer. “Find anything new?”

The woman shook her head, sighing as she put her braids into a bun and swearing when she realised she didn’t have an elastic. Lorcan pulled one off his wrist and handed it to her, squinting to read what was on her screen. “Are these her Wyrd connections?” Lorcan asked, dragging the cursor over a map.

“Yes, and no. Not all of them are Wyrd… it’s complicated,” Nehemia huffed, grabbing the computer and typing something. Its motor clicked and whirred as it worked. “She’s hidden her imports well. Various legitimate cargo.” She opened an image, “See this, this was a container of produce from Eyllwe.”

Nehemia went to change the image, but something had Lorcan pausing her, “Wait, just hold on… I think I’ve seen that container before.”

“What container?” Fenrys asked as he walked in, carrying a long, suspiciously shaped duffel bag.

Vaughan looked up and frowned, “Hellas, Fen, maybe next time, choose a different fucking bag? It’s like you’re trying to make people think you have a sniper rifle in there, gods damn, man.”

“That’s what I fucking told you,” Connall muttered, slapping the upside of his twin’s head.

“Boys, shut up, I’m trying to think,” Lorcan said, digging out his phone. “I’ve seen that container before. That number, I know it.”

“I’ll reverse search it,” Nehemia said, opening the database of images the agency had access to.

Lorcan clicked through a batch of photos from the largest arms bust they had done. Maeve had wanted each of them to take pictures on their personal phones - for reasons she never explained and ones they all knew better to ask about.

“Here,” he said, showing Nehemia the picture. “It’s the same container.”

She took his phone from him and used a cord to attach it to her computer. The pictures loaded onto the screen and Lorcan got up to pace, “She’s selling guns, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she is,” Nehemia said, “and it goes back a decade, Lorcan. She’s been in on this since the beginning. Before Erawan started anything, she’s the mastermind.”

They all looked at each other, sadness and defeat flickering in their eyes.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide breathed in slowly and exhaled calmly, waiting to be called into the room. Her presentation was memorised and no one knew the subject like her.

“Miss Lochan?” Elide opened her eyes, looking to one of the reviewer’s assistants. “We’re ready for you.”

With a slight, polite smile, Elide picked up her bag and followed the young woman into the cold office, nodding to the panel that sat on one side of the desk.

Darrow was sitting there too and he winked at her. Elide’s tense posture relaxed a bit as she put her bag down.

“Welcome, Miss Lochan.”

“Thank you for having me,” she said, trying to remain calm as she handed out copies of her presentation and connected her laptop to the projector. She checked to make sure it was on the white screen behind her and prayed briefly to Anneith, hoping her goddess would allow a small mercy.

There was a rustle of paper as the reviewers flipped through her presentation and then the man sitting in the middle nodded once, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Elide nodded and picked up her index cards. She didn’t need them and she had hardly ever used them, but they brought a sense of reassurance if she ever lost her place. “Of course.” Elide picked up the fob to click through her slides and clicked to the introduction slide.

Thinking of herself as a child, scared and alone, thinking of the others like her and the ones the system had let down, Elide opened her mouth and the words flowed out of her.

Her words were succinct and precise, no need to embellish a thing. Elide held the room’s attention, she commanded it, and her presentation flew by.

With one minor stumble over the abstract of her latest lab, Elide was proud of what she had accomplished and that shone through her as she finished her delivery.

Then came the questioning period. She answered their queries without hesitation, save for when an older woman asked why she had chosen this particular subject.

“Um, I-” Elide coughed, her throat suddenly feeling very, very dry. She took a sip from the glass of water she had been given at the start, using the momentary pause to collect herself. “I have always been interested by the inner workings of the human mind, I suppose. When I was a child, I was rather shy and could always be found with my nose stuck in a book that I probably shouldn’t have been reading.”

A light chuckle went through the panel at that and Elide smiled, waiting to continue. “When my parents died, the only living relative I had was deemed unfit to care for me, which he was, and I was placed in the foster system. I was never adopted and I aged out eventually. I spent most of that time trying to find a way to get out and the only viable option that wouldn’t have left me dead was school.”

A repressed memory of a foster parent burning her school materials and books, projects and papers she had worked tirelessly over, in an oil drum flashed through her mind. Elide was ashamed of the way her throat burned with the threat of sobs.

Somehow, she managed to finish off, “I have lived through what I study and I can attest to the fact that no one would wish it on another person. The foster system hasn’t changed practically since it was created and it sets children up for disaster, in more ways than one.” With a shaky smile, Elide said, “I want to help and I want change. This is simply the best way I know how.”

Pity, mixed with respect, swam through the questioners’ eyes and they all thanked her, standing to shake her hand as she exited.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The bags were all packed. Everything, everything was planned and they had strategized where they would all be going.

Elide and Lorcan would be going to Suria by plane, then take the train to Orynth in two days' time. Vaughan and Nehemia were flying to Rifthold and catching a connecting flight to Orynth.

On account of Aelin’s delicate condition, her doctor - after Rowan had said they would be returning to Terrasen for a funeral - suggested keeping flights to a minimum, she and Rowan would be flying directly to Orynth and staying in the safe house.

Vaughan handed out fake passports to them all. Nehemia took hers and stepped out onto the balcony.

She let the boys say their good-byes, knowing it was always the hardest part of an assignment for them. If one was hurt, they all bled.

Nehemia pocketed her fake passport and wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her chin into the collar of her jacket. It was too cold in Wendlyn and she dreaded spending the coldest months in Orynth.

She had never quite adjusted to anything but the balmy temperature of Banjali.

Nehemia looked up when the sliding door opened, seeing her husband standing there. She glanced back into the apartment, just catching the end of Vaughan’s double braid as he closed the door behind him.

“Mi��” Fenrys began, his dark eyes rippling with a deep sadness. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

She shook her head and stepped to him, tucking herself into his chest. “Don’t say sorry, please. It’s not the time for apologies.”

Her kind and loving husband wrapped his arms around her, dipping his chin to rest it on her head. “I still am.”

Nehemia pressed her face into his neck as tears pricked her eyes, “It’s not supposed to be like this.” She slid her arms around him, feeling like she would crumble to the ground without it. “I don’t want to say good-bye, Fen.”

Graceful fingers tilted her chin up and soft, heartbreakingly soft eyes met hers. “I don’t want to say good-bye either, but…”

“We have to,” she finished for him, smiling sadly. Fenrys nodded and unclasped the golden chain he wore every day. A gold band hung from it. Nehemia shook her head, whispering, “No, Fen, please–”

He pressed it into her hand, gently gripping her jaw, “I need you to keep it safe for me, Mi.” Fenrys closed her hand over his wedding ring. It was still warm from his skin. Neither Fenrys nor Nehemia wore their rings on their fingers.

It meant more to them to wear them on necklaces - that way they remained close to their hearts and souls. Nehemia wanted to fling it back at him, wanted to scream no, she wouldn’t wear it, but she held it close and nodded. Fenrys cupped her face, brushing his thumbs over her regal, majestic cheekbones, “Hold it when you miss me.” He leaned down, kissing her brow. “Hold it when you’re mad and squeeze it tight enough that I can feel it.”

His lips dusted soft caresses over her eyelids, “Scream at it and be angry because your man had to do the hero thing and save the world.” Nehemia laughed tearfully, her inhale unsteady when he kissed her cheek, “Wear it when you’re sad and wear it when you’re happy.”

Fenrys pressed his lips to her other cheek, whispering softly, “Wear it until I come home to you, ok?”

Nehemia rose on her tiptoes, kissing him soundly, her promise in the embrace as she held her fist to his heart. The other hand cupped the back of his neck as Fenrys dipped her, his arms banded around her waist. “I promise,” she whispered.

Pulling away, Nehemia stroked her fingers over his neck, gazing up into his eyes. “Don’t do anything dumb, you hear me?”

That swaggering, signature Marama twin happy-go-lucky grin tugged at his full lips, his wicked sharp teeth flashing white. Nehemia could’ve sworn she saw fantom fangs ghosting over his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek, “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t save the world until I’m back.”

Fenrys laughed, the sound rich and rolling, “Of course. I’ll try to stop the boys.”

Nehemia chuckled and walked back into the apartment, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She locked it and braced her hands against the sink, sobs trapped in her chest.

She looked at the mirror, the flickering light catching on the cuffs adoring her hair. With shaking hands, Nehemia clasped Fenrys’ chain around her neck and began undoing the cuffs until her hair was plain save for the intricate pattern of her tribal braids. Her tears spilled down her cheeks, but still, her chin remained up. She would not bow her head, not once.

Nehemia didn’t bother wiping her cheeks as she strode back into the living room to find that everyone had returned. Subtly, she tucked the chain beneath her top. Nobody but her and Fenrys had to know that intimate detail of their life. It would be their little secret.

She didn’t look at anyone but Fenrys and walked over to him, pressing her jewellery into his hand. In Eyllwe, she told him, “Keep these safe for me.”

“Mi–”

“Please.”

Fenrys pocketed the adornments, glum acceptance flashing in his eyes. He leaned down, kissing the top of her head where three cornrows crossed before joining the countless others in falling freely down to her waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, pulling away and wiping her cheeks. “We should go. Ellie’s meeting ends in ten minutes and she’ll be anxious if we aren’t on time.”

No one dared to go against the command in her voice. They said one last farewell as Connall lifted her off her feet, practically squashing the life from her. Nehemia laughed, her hands on his shoulders when her brother in law finally set her back down. “Bye, Con. Take care of him for me.”

Fenrys spluttered and pulled her back to him, his hands squeezing her hips reassuringly, “I don’t need to be taken care of.”

Nehemia just smiled and pulled him down for one last kiss, “Humour me, ya hayati.”

He nodded, finally letting her go. Fenrys slung his arm around Connall’s shoulders and shooed her out the door. With one more smile, Nehemia turned and walked away, resisting the urge to look back.

Later, when all was said and done, she would regret not taking one more second to memorise the way they looked.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide kept her chin up while she strode through the hallways to her office and collected the things she would need while she was… away.

“Knock, knock.”

She turned, smiling at the sight of Darrow. “Oh, hi.”

“That was very well done, Elide,” he said, stepping in and passing her the various things she had put on her desk. “You’re really leaving, hmm?”

Elide paused, her computer charger held above her bag. She put it down and turned, nodding slightly. “Yes. I just- I’m sorry, Darrow.”

He waved his hand dismissively, “Oh, don’t mind me. Just being a crotchety old man. You deserve a break, Elide. You’ve been hitting a few snags in your work so go. Be with your lover,” he teased, laughing when she made a face.

“Don’t tell him you called him my ‘lover’. He’ll never let me hear the end of it,” Elide said. Darrow held his arms open and Elide stepped forward, hugging him tightly. Tears sprang unbidden in her eyes and she whispered, “Thank you for everything. I can never repay you.”

“No, you can’t,” Darrow said, pushing her thanks off like it made him uncomfortable. “Alright, I have a class to teach. You take care of yourself, you hear me? I won’t be tolerating any calls from some foreign hospital because you decided to let loose for a night.”

Elide laughed and wiped her eyes, “I make no promises.” Darrow rolled his eyes and hugged her one last time before walking out of her office.

She sighed and finished packing her stuff up, remembering to leave the key with the receptionist.

It was cold and grey outside, which seemed to fit the day. Elide crossed her arms over her chest to conserve heat as she waited on the curb for Lorcan.

Just as she was about to pull out her phone to call him, a black car pulled up in front of her. An unbidden grin appeared on her face and Elide bit her lip to quell it as she walked down the stairs. The passenger door unlocked, popping open by itself.

Elide bent at her waist, peering into the car. She tucked her hair behind her ear, frowning, “Can I help you?” The man sitting behind the wheel was decidedly not Lorcan, nor was it any of the other boys she’d become close with.

He had mousy brown hair cut in a shaggy, unkempt style, that he had obviously attempted to brush into some sort of shape. His eyes were blue, but watery. Vapid. Insipid. The man smiled and she suppressed the shudder that ran through her. “You must be Elide. My name is Cairn, Cairn Beinn.”

She straightened, dismissing him. Lorcan would be by soon. Elide cocked her jaw, not in the mood to be tricked by anyone and certainly not whoever this piss-baby male was. “No, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong person.”

He chuckled unkindly and got out of the car, watching her over the car top, “I admire your self-preservation skills, Ms. Lochan, but I assure you, I’m not here to harm you.” Elide held in her scoff and shifted on her feet, uneasily glancing down the street. No one else was there. “Mr. Salvaterre sent me to bring you to the airport. Please, I can call him for you from the car.”

Elide looked at her watch and tapped her foot. With a tired sigh, she offered Cairn a tight-lipped smile and walked down the path to the car. She missed the way Cairn’s smile turned predatory.

With one hand on the door, Elide took her handbag off her shoulder, half in the car. The voice at her shoulder told her to look once more down the street.

She did, tossing a tired glance over her shoulder just as Lorcan’s Aston Martin turned the corner. She gasped, looking in fear at Cairn. He, alerted by her sound of surprise, looked in the mirror and swore, leaning over to grab her long coat and roughly yank her in.

Elide pushed at him when he leaned across her to close the door and he spat at her, “Sit fucking still or I’ll shoot your precious boyfriend. Again.” Without another word, he revved the engine and sped down the street, tires squealing on asphalt.

She looked in the side mirror, through the cloud of burning rubber, and saw Lorcan’s car speeding after them. Fear seized her, Elide was frozen. Until, that same voice reminded her of the blade she kept in her bag.

Carefully, Elide reached her hand into the outer pocket, her fingers closing around the cool weapon. Cairn swerved violently around a truck, causing her to bump into the window and cry out softly.

He whipped his head to her, snarling something nasty, but Elide wasn’t listening as she withdrew her fist and stabbed, managing to get his eye. Cairn screamed, slapping his hand over the wound, “You bitch!” He slapped her backhanded across the face, sending her crashing back in her seat. “You’re fucking dead.”

Elide gripped her bag as he slammed on the breaks, managing to stay in her seat and not go flying.

Cairn turned to her, blood dripping down his face, which was purple and twisted with rage. “You’re fuckin–”

She lashed out with her foot, the thin heel of her stiletto ramming into his gut. While Cairn was incapacitated, doubled over, Elide wrenched the door open and shot out, the tires of Lorcan’s car screaming as he braked.

She didn’t look back as she grabbed her bag and ran. Lorcan leaned across to open the door for her and Elide dived in, quickly slamming the door shut behind her. “Go,” she breathed, bracing her hands against the dashboard as Lorcan nodded and ripped away, shooting past Cairn as he stumbled out of the car, holding a gun up.

Lorcan looked in the rearview mirror and swore low, “Fuck, what did you do to him, princess?”

“Stabbed his right eye,” she said bluntly, feeling numb as the adrenaline faded away. Her face really fucking hurt from the slap and the cut, courtesry of Cairn’s rings. Elide worked her jaw, hissing through her teeth. “And kicked him. Really fuckin’ hard. With my stiletto heel.”

Pride glowed in Lorcan’s eyes as he turned into an unmarked alley and parked the car. He turned to her, scanning her for injuries. His eyes were practically spitting flame as he gently gripped her jaw to tilt her head. “What did he do.”

Breathing out slowly, Elide put her hand over his, “He slapped me after I stabbed him.” She attempted a soothing smile, “That’s it, L.”

He grunted, narrowing his eyes. Then, he covered her eyes with his hand, “Close your eyes, love.”

She held in her sigh, knowing she didn’t need to be checked for a concussion. “L, I don’t need–”

“Humour me,” he said, not able to hide the tremble in his words. He was scared. Her big, terrifying, intimidating, and aggressive boyfriend was… scared.

Elide did as he asked, the smarting sensation in her face fading as she waited. After a minute, Lorcan pulled his hand away, checking to see how her pupils dilated. He nodded, his smile relieved, “All good, Lochan.”

Gently, he cupped her face, stroking his thumb over the cut on her cheekbone, “Still wears the rings, huh?”

“It’s not funny, L. Who is he and how does he know me? How does he know where I work?”

Lorcan didn’t say anything as he reached across her lap and opened the glove compartment. He took out the first aid kit and opened it. “He’s… an old employee. Holds a grudge, I guess.”

Elide ran her tongue over her teeth, fuming silently. “You guess? I just stabbed someone and the best you can come up with is I guess?”

“El–”

“No, you know what? I’m done. I can’t do this, Lorcan! I don’t want to do this,” she said, her voice shaking. Her eyes were wide. Lorcan tilted her chin to the side, focusing on the cut. Elide wanted to scream, but his fingers were soft and soothing on her skin, grounding her as her thoughts swirled around her mind like a storm.

He kissed her forehead after he cleaned the cut, “Just a flesh wound. I don’t even think it’ll scar.”

Elide exhaled, pulling away from him just enough to look into his eyes, “I’m scared.”

Lorcan sighed through his nose and brushed her hair back, picking out a piece of something. “I know.” Those two little words tore at his heart. He wasn’t sure Elide had once let herself break and with two words, her cracks were showing. He moved his seat back and pulled her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin.

And it was there, in the front seat of Lorcan’s car, that Elide Lochan finally broke.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Vaughan was the first to hug Elide when she and Lorcan arrived at the airport. She’d gotten a chance to change out of her meeting clothes. Now, she was wearing a pair of leggings and a hoodie. Perfect for air travel. “Ellie-Boo!”

“Hey, V,” she whispered, offering a tired smile.

“L said you stabbed someone?”

She froze, her shoulders tensing. Lorcan noticed and stepped up behind her. With a supportive touch on the small of her back, Lorcan gently tugged her to his side. He spoke in his mother tongue to Vaughan, always preferring the melodic language of his childhood over the common speech.

The man nodded, quickly distracted. Elide all but sagged against Lorcan, turning her head and pressing her forehead against his body in thanks.

Aelin trailed up, sipping on something through a straw. She smiled and rested her hand on Elide’s upper arm, rubbing softly, “Hi, sweetheart. Do you want some milkshake?”

Elide huffed a laugh and shook her head. She raised on her toes to kiss Lorcan softly and whisper something before turning back to Aelin. “Oh, I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I’m starving and these parasites need some food. Come with me?”

Lorcan looked at Aelin over Elide’s head and relief flooded his face as he mouthed, Thank you. He knew what Aelin was trying to do.

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and nodded, “Let’s find you some food, then.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

They met up in front of security, just to the side and in a camera blindspot. Elide was picking at a wrap and sipping on a lemonade. It wasn’t much, but at least she was eating something.

Nehemia distributed their boarding passes out. Her face was closed off after saying farewell to Fenrys. Elide slid up to her, wrapping her arm around Nehemia’s waist and offering her the extra lemonade she had gotten.

It was ironic that Elide was forcing her into consuming some sort of nutrients. “So, where are we going?”

“V and I are going to Rifthold. Ace and Ro are going straight to Orynth, I wanted to minimise flight travel for her. You,” Nehemia said, exchanging a pair of passes for the lemonade, “and Lor will be going to Suria. We already got a hotel room for you two, so don’t worry about anything, ok?”

Elide wanted to make sure Nehemia was ok, but Nehemia did best when she was fussing over everyone else. “Thank you, love.”

Since her and Lorcan’s flight was the soonest, they had to get going. Elide hugged everyone, leaving Nehemia for last.

As she hugged the elegant woman, Elide felt Nehemia slump against her and braced her. “You got this, ok, Mi?”

Nehemia sniffled and nodded, standing up straight. “I know. It’s not forever, right?” She nodded to Lorcan, standing by the entrance. He was talking quietly to Vaughan and Rowan. “Go, go. I’ll see you soon, anyhow.”

Elide nodded, reaching up one last time to wipe Nehemia’s eyes, “I’ll see you soon, ves’tacha.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Ya hayati: Arabic, ‘my life’ (i previously used Xhosa for Eyllwe, but since i see nehemia as east african - specifically sudanese - i changed it to match the local languag)

inspo for nehemia’s braids

Ves’tacha: Romani, ‘beloved’ (i use Romani for Blackbeak)

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse e @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @lovemollywho @queen-of-glass @jlinez @sleeping-and-books @ireallyshouldsleeprn @verypaleninja @januarystears @magicalunicorngypsy @sis-it-dont-add-up @keshavomit

#with my life #wml chapter ten #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #very intense no #i wonder what cairn meant by 'again' hmm

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fallinfor-youreyes · 6 years ago

Note

Rosvolio for the “We’ve been communicating entirely by email/phone/carrier pigeon/paid messenger for the past year as we work to bring some peace and order to this troubled land” prompt please! (if you feel so inclined)

Full prompt: “We’ve been communicating entirely by email/phone/carrier pigeon/paid messenger for the past year as we work to bring some peace and order to this troubled land, so when I walked into the negotiation room to sit down with the fearsome and terrible politician/businessperson/famed warrior that all my people are so afraid of, I didn’t really expect it to be you.” This fic got away from me and became a monster, but I hope you enjoy it. Read it on Ao3!

The entire disaster startswith an email.

Shehas about a million emails a day — perks of being her aunt’ssecretary— but this one sticks out.

I’ma dumbass, please help.

It’spossibly the first subject line that has made her laugh ever, so sheopens it first, instead of one of the other million emails thatcurrently need her attention before her one o’clock meeting thisafternoon,

Igot your email from one of the organizers, but I missed theconference last week, and I was wondering if you had some notes. Mydumbass of a boss forgot that I wasn’t there, and didn’t take anynotes himself, and as you know, it was a really important meeting.Any information you could send my way would be a great help.

Ben

Rosalinerolls her eyes as she collects all of notes from the conference intoa folder, and attaches it to the email. She assumes it’s a poorintern or new hire, not even high enough on the totem pole to get anofficial email.

Don’tworry. You’re not a dumbass. Happens all the time. Let me know ifyou have any questions.

Ros

Shedeletes her official signature, as to not intimate the poor guy,expecting that to be the end of it and moves her way back intothe slog of other emails. She gets through about 10 more before hercomputer dings, and dumbass extraordinaire has responded to her.

Youare a lifesaver. Honestly. I owe you a drink at the next conference.

Ben

Rosalinestares at the email for a little longer than necessary. Most peoplejust see her as the secretary to the assembly woman, the note taker,the email answerer. No one ever really goes out of their way to wantto thank her.

Hercursor hovers over the reply button for a moment too long.

I’llhold you to it.

Ros

Thesecond she hits send, her aunts voice echoes through the hall, andRosaline tries her best to not smash her head into the desk.

Twomore years. Two more years until Livia is out of college, andRosaline can quit being her aunt’s secretary. Two more years untilshe doesn’t have to answer emails, and take notes, and makes up allof the plans and proposals, and basically be running the entireCapulet side of Verona by herself.

Twomore years.

Andthen she can leave.

He’sabsentmindedly going through all of his personal emails when it popsup.

Soabout that drink…

Hehad almost completely forgotten about his hungover escapade intoattempting to be fired, which only led to his Uncle’s threateningto take away his wages and have him arrested for embezzlement.

Benvolioknew better than underestimate his uncle, so he fell back in line,and tracked down someone who could get him what he needed.

Whichled him to the apparent ‘best note taker in all of Veronapolitics’. In his attempt to get back onto his uncles good side,Benvolio had only found her email, completely forgotten her name, andforgot the password to his official email account, leaving her witheven less information about him.

Thefact that she even emails him back is astounding.

Hernotes are clear and impeccable, and quite literally saved his life.He might not know exactly who she is, but he’s pretty sure shecould take over the world.

Heclicks open the email, half expecting half hoping that she’s goingto cash in on his offer from a few weeks ago.

Fromone dumbass to another, are you at the conference this weekend? Andif you are, could you share your notes? Something came up with myboss, but I know this conference is really important, so anything youhave will be amazing.

Ros

Theslightest bit of disappointment runs through him, but he pushes itaway, and instead focuses on the more important things going on.

Ican guarantee they will not be as good as yours, but yeah, once Iclean them up I’ll send them your way.

Hepauses a moment, thinking. It wouldn’t hurt to have the number ofthe best note taker in all of Verona. It would probably be a goodthing, in all honesty.

Here’smy number in case you have any questions.

Ben

Hepockets his phone and straightens himself out when he hears thefootsteps coming down the hall.

“Benvolio.”His uncle says, eyes sharp and calculating. “This is AmbassadorRyan. He’s very important in the plans we have coming up withVerona.”

Theman studies Benvolio through cold, blue eyes. He’s used to this. Tobeing questioned by his uncle’s people, to being studied, andwatched.

“I’veheard a lot about you, Mr. Montague,” the ambassador says.

“Allgood things, I hope.”

Hisuncle flashes him a warning look, but the ambassador just swallowshard.

“Thatyou are even more ruthless than your uncle here.”

Benvolioducks his head and tries not to smile. People don’t tend to likehim because he’s quiet. Because he watches them back.

“Justtrying to do what is best for Verona,” he says. His uncle claps hisback, and it takes all of his willpower not to jump.

Hecan get through this. He has to.

Hehas no other choice.

Sheputs him as dumbass in her phone.

Rosalineis in Milan, at a fashion show that her aunt deemed more importantthan the conference. Because apparently, maintain a foreign relationby going to a fashion show is more important than keeping Verona fromfalling apart.

Heraunt is off schmoozing someone and she decided that she could handleit by herself, so Rosaline is sitting alone, at the hotel bar, andfor some reason, she pulls out her hone and stares at his contactinformation.

Shethinks it’s because he’s the first person who’s made her laughin a few weeks, or she just wants to talk to someone who doesn’tknow anything about her, or maybe the Italian wine is just going toher head, but she clicks on her number and types out the message.

Sowhat exactly did you do that qualifies you as a dumbass?

Benvoliostares at the message, making sure it is actually from the number ofthe best note taker in the all of Verona.

Hetakes another sip of his drink, drums his fingers on the table, andcontemplates.

Hecould tell her the truth. About how he got drunk enough to forget himown name, and slept through his flight, too hungover to call hisuncle and tell him he quit.

Orhe could lie. Say he got sick or lost his passport, or simply wrotethe wrong date in his schedule.

Benvolioorders another drink.

Wasdoing my best to get fired?

Whatchanged?

Gotmy priorities straight.

Forsome reason they don’t stop talking. They somehow never are at thesame conference or meeting or debate at the same time, so they tradenotes back and forth over email, and then they text. It starts off astypically work related things, but eventually, they start todissolve.

“Whatare you smiling at?” Livia asks, jumping up onto the kitchencounter.

“Nothing.”Rosaline stuffs her phone in her pocket, and continues to stir thepasta. Livia’s eyes narrow at her, but Rosaline ignores her. She’shad lots of practice.

Herphone buzzes, and Livia jumps off the counter, skillfully slipping itfrom her pocket before Rosaline can stop her. She’s had lots ofpractice too.

“Who’sDumbass?”

“Livia,”Rosaline groans, attempting to grab her phone back, but Livia dancesout of reach.

“Sothen Merc trips up the last step and right into Romeo, who drops thebottle that we had literally spent all day trying to get, and that’show our night ended. Sitting on the roof of our high school,completely sober like a bunch of idiots.” Livia’s face softens abit as she reads. “Sounds sweet.”

“Giveit back.” Rosaline elbows her in the gut in an attempt to get herphone, but Livia is quick.

“Whoare they?”

“He’snobody!”

Liviapauses, jaw dropping. “He? Doesn’t sound like a nobody.”

“Heis. I promise.”

“Whyis he called dumbass in your phone?”

Rosalinereaches out again, hoping she’s too distracted looking at thephone. She’s able to get hand on it, but Livia pulls back and thensome how, the screen changes, and the phone is ringing, and Rosalinedrops it.

Liviacatches the phone just before it collides with the floor, and a voiceechoes from the inside.

“Hello?”

There’sglee written all over Livia’s face, and Rosaline dives for it,easily taking it out of her sisters hands.

“Hi.”

“Ros?”The voice at the end says, and he’s only spoken two words, but shelikes his voice. She likes his voice a whole lot.

“Yeah.Yeah, sorry my sister thinks she’s funny. I didn’t mean to botheryou,” Rosaline says, slipping out of the kitchen.

“You’renot bothering me,” he says. He must notice he says it too fast,because he quickly tacks on, “What are you up to?”

“Iwas making dinner. What about you?” Rosaline lets herself collapseonto the couch, swinging her legs over the arm rest.

“Readingover the latest agreement.”

“Thislate?”

“Worksnever done is it?” He sighs, and she thinks it sounds like he’ssettling into a chair or something, but she can’t be sure.

“Whichparts are you reviewing?”

“Thecompromise settlement. Even though it will never go through.”

“Ican walk you through it,” Rosaline offers. She slips up before sherealizes what she’s said. They have an anonymity about this. Shedoesn’t know who he works for, and her email doesn’t include herexact position or what office she is apart of.

“You’reworking on the compromise acts as well?” Ben asks.

“Yeah.I wrote part of act 5 in the latest attempt.”

Bencoughs likes he’s choking on something. “Jesus, you’re not oneof the administration, are you?”

“No,”Rosaline says, unable to stop the laughter in her voice. “Just asecretary.”

“Whowrites the bills?”

“It’sa complicated arrangement.” Rosaline twists herself on the couchuntil she can pulls her legs up to her chest. “You’re notadministration, are you?”

“Noway. Official title is aide, but I like to call it personal servant.”

“Whydon’t you leave?”

There’sa pause at the other end of the line, and she feels like she can hearhim thinking.

“It’sa complicated arrangement.” He repeats her words back to her, andfor stupid reason, it fills her with warmth.

“Soyou don’t think they will work? Th new accords?” Rosaline asks.

“Probablynot. Both sides are asking too much, and neither will give in. Theywon’t compromise for the compromise.”

“Hmm.”Rosaline switches the phone to speaker, and pulls up the compromiseon her phone.

“What?”Ben asks.

“Whatif we tried.”

“Whatdo you mean?”

“Justme and you. The aide and the secretary. I write most of my bossessections, and you probably have some information that could beuseful. They’ve been trying to reach a compromise for over a yearnow. Maybe we can try something different.” It’s a crazy idea.Rosaline knows that. But she also knows that if nothing is doneVerona will tear itself to the ground, and as much as she wants toleave, Verona is her home.

“Okay.I mean the worst that can happen is we can get fired.” Benvolioagrees.

“Exactly.”Rosaline brings the phone back up to her ear. “I’ll email youabout it. Once I find some time.”

“Yeah.Yeah, that sounds good.”

There’sa pause of silence, but it’s comfortable. She finds herself smilingfor no good reason.

“Ros?”He says, after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“I’mglad your sister accidentally called me.”

Thesmile on her face grows a stupid amount. “Yeah. Me too.”

Benvoliostares at his phone for a little longer than necessary after shehangs up. He still has about 20 pages of the accords to read beforetomorrow, and needs to type up the main points for his uncle, butthere’s something about the best note taker in the Verona that hecan’t tie down.

They’veonly known each other for a few weeks, and he knows approximatelythree things about her, but he liked talking to her. He enjoyedtalking to her, about work of all things.

Andnow they are going to try and save Verona together. Because he likedtalking to her.

Hisphone buzzes in his hand and he jumps almost dropping it, before hesees Mercutio texted the group chat about a party on Saturday, andthat if Benvolio didn’t come, he was going to revoke his friendshipcard.

Benvoliotexts them back, telling them he’ll keep them updated. Before helocks his phone, he flicks back to her contact information, andbefore he chickens out, he types out a message and sends it.

Heturns his phone off before she can answer back, and focuses on thetask at hand.

Youcan call me anytime you want.

Theywork surprisingly well together. Over the next week they not onlystart discussing a plan to finish the compromise, but they also fallinto a routine.

Hetexts her sometimes, first thing in the morning while he’s waitingonline for his coffee. Most of the time it’s stupid things like astupid quote he saw on a calendar, or a picture of a dog he sees onhis walk. One morning, he asks texts her good morning, and asks whather her coffee order.

Why?

Whenwe finally meet I’m taking you out for coffee. Or drinks. You canpick your poison.

Shetexts him back a picture of her iced vanilla coffee and an eye rollemoji, and for the rest of the day, he can’t stop smiling.

He’stexting her about some of the ideas for the compromise when he walksinto the party that Mercutio told him about, hitting send just asRomeo crashes into him with way too much energy for how late it is.

“Iswear to god, I haven’t seen you in six months.”

Benvolioshrugs his cousin off, only to be attacked by Mercutio a secondlater.

“Guys,it’s been 3 weeks. Tops,” He says, making his way over to grab adrink before they can fight him on it.

“No,”Mercutio shakes his head and pulls out his phone. “This photo wastaken 2 months ago. That was the last time we saw you.”

Benvoliotakes a sip of his drink and glances at the photo. He knows they areright, but he refuses to give them the satisfaction. “It’s beenbusy at work.”

Aflash of concern crossed Romeo’s face, but it’s gone in aninstant when he sees someone walk through the door. “I’ll beright back!”

Benvolio’sphone buzzes at that exact moment, so he turns away from his friendsand can’t stop the smile on his face when he sees her name.

Mycousin is literally going to be the death of me.

Canwe pick up the compromise tmm? I refuse to work past 9 on Saturdays.

Course.I’m out anyway.

Shedoesn’t text him back explaining the cousin thing, and it hits himthat she probably thinks he doesn’t want to talk to her anymore,which the exact opposite of what he wanted, so he pulls his phoneback out just as Romeo comes back, this time, a beautiful girl on hisarm.

Whathappened with your cousin?

“Guys,this is Jules.” Romeo says, almost bouncing with energy.

Mercutiosimply raises an eyebrow at them over his drink.

“She’smy girlfriend.”

Julesblushes and hides her face in his shoulder.

“Ben,”Benvolio says, offering her his hand.

“Juliet.”She gives him a dazzling smile before turning to Mercutio.

“Ofthe Capulet variety, right?” Mercutio asks, dropping a kiss to herknuckles.

Thesmile drops from her face and she turns to Romeo, and Benvolio ispretty sure he can see some fear in her eyes.

“Theyknow?”

“Ididn’t—“

“Iam a Prince, my dear. It’s part of my parameters that I know who’swho, and knowing the sole heir of the Capulet’s is basically at thetop of that list.” Mercutio says. “Would you like a drink, love?”

Julietrelaxes just slightly.

Benvolioglares at his cousin when her back is turned, prepared to talk somesense into him later.

Shemakes bad dating choices. And then I have to clean up the mess.

Tellme about it. Pretty sure my cousin is using his girlfriend to rebelagainst his dad.

Mercutio’schin digs into Benvolio’s shoulder, and he locks his phone as fastas he can.

“Whoya talking to Benny Boy?”

“Noone.”

“Mhmm.”Mercutio pokes him in the stomach hard enough to almost make himspill his drink. “Been busy at work? Or been busy with a newromantic prospect.”

“Youknow you would be the first to know, Merc.”

“Whatdo you think about them?” Mercutio says, slinging an arm aroundBenvolio’s shoulder.

Romeois whispering something to Juliet and she’s laughing, leaning intohim, a giant smile on Romeo’s face.

“Ithink it’s a recipe for trouble.”

“Wealways knew that Romeo would end up in it eventually, hanging out thelikes of us.”

Benvoliotakes a sip of his drink, and tries to ignore his phone buzz in hispocket. “I’ll talk to him about it later.”

Mercutiopats his head, and steals the rest of his drink. “Until then, letshave some fun shall we.”

Ohyoung love. I remember having time for that.

“Hello?”

Sheanswers on the first ring, and for some reason it makes the entireworld stop shaking.

“Iseverything okay? It’s 3 in the morning.”

Sheshould be asleep, but her aunt called her 4 hours ago about a problemwith an upcoming meeting that needed to be fixed asap.

“Isit lame if I say I missed your voice?” He sounds groggy, like hejust work up, or hasn’t even gotten to bed yet.

Shegiggles, light and beautiful, and he doesn’t even know what shelooks like but he might be half in love with her.

“No,”she sighs, but she sound content. “No, it’s not lame as all.”

Theyare silent for a beat, and he can hear papers ruffling across thephone.

“Iseverything okay?” She asks again.

“Yeah,it’s just…”

He’sdrunk. And his hands have been shaking for the last hour, and all hewants to quit his job and leave Verona, and never return, but there’sthings he needs to do. Like make sure Romeo is safe, and finish thiscompromise, and maybe, finally, meet her.

He’ssilent for long time, like he’s thinking of the right words. Shelets him think, just listening to him breathe and imagining what helooks like, all the way across the phone.

“It’sbeen a tough week. And I’m a dumbass,” he finally says. There’san edge to his voice that she can’t place.

“Samereason as last time?”

“Ihaven’t missed work yet, so no. But close.” He sighs, and she’spretty sure she can hear his head thump against something.

“God,”he groans. “I’ve really missed your voice.”

Rosalinepulls her legs up to her and chest and rests her head on her knees.

“What’syour coffee order?” She asks, because she never goes his.

“CaramelMacchiato.”

“Nowthat’s lame,” she says, laughing at him,

“No,it’s not. It’s delicious.” He’s automatically on the defense,trained by years of Romeo and Mercutio’s teasing.

“Iguess I’ll have to try it then. When you take me out for thatcoffee.” She says it so easily that it almost takes him off guard.

Forthe first time in almost his entire career, he’s looking forward tothe next meeting.

“Yeah.When we get that coffee.”

“Areyou sure everything is alright?”

“Yeah.I’m good.” Better now, he wants to say, but it’s late, and he’sdrunk, and it might not be for the best.

“Good.”

Theyhang up only a few moments later, and Rosaline drops her head to herdesk. She really cannot wait for that coffee.

Chancesof you being at the Midlands conference?

Beingsent back to Milan that day.

Boardmeeting on the 10th?

Requiredto be two states away for a speech.

It’slike the universe it working against us, Ros.

I’mmissing the meetings for the next three weeks after that. Campaignduties.

Well.Seems like we won’t be able to get that coffee until the nextcompromise conference.

28days.

Isit lame if I say I’m counting the minutes.

Very.

ButI like lame.

“Ohno,” Guiliana says, collapsing dramatically into her desk chair, aweek before the next compromise conference. It’s the first she’sbeen in before 10 in the last month so it much be pretty important.

“What’swrong?” Rosaline asks, pulling out the stress relief tea that shesaved for special occasions.

“TheMontague’s. They are bringing along their aide to the compromise.”Guiliana accepts the tea, and clicks her nails along the desk. “It’ssaid he’s even more terrible than his uncle.”

“Isthat even possible?”

Guiliananods. “How are the proposals coming along. They need to be perfectif that monster is dragging along his beast. I’ll need your noteson it by Friday. “

Rosalinesnags one of the stress teas for herself. She had been working on theproposal with Ben for the last few weeks, casually flirting inbetween emails and late night conversations.

Theydefinitely aren’t dating, but this is the closest thing she’s hadto a relationship since her last breakup over two years ago. And shelikes him. Likes him way more than she should.

Butthey work well together. And for the first time, Rosaline feels likethe compromise might actually work.

“Ihave some notes now. About the new voting zones, if you wanted todiscuss them.” Rosaline offers.

“Isaid Friday, Rosaline,” Guiliana snaps. She waves her hand toindicate that she is done with her, and Rosaline steals anotherpacket of tea for good measure.

Justa few more years, she tells herself.

Justa few more years.

willyou be my alibi for when I set my boss’s office on fire?

Course.I’ll even help you if you want.

“Wait?The Montague aide is coming?” Isabella asks, almost choking on herwine.

“Whyis everyone reacting like that?” Rosaline says, refillingIsabella’s glass.

“Because,I mean, he’s literally found problems even in the most perfectproposals. And he’s quiet. But like, pretty sure he knows all ofyour secrets. He just watches you.” Isabella shivers. “I’veonly met him once, but he’s scary.”

Helenatips her head back on the couch. “I’ve heard he isn’t all thatbad. You just feel like he is studying you. And he only speaks to hisuncle.”

“It’sunnerving.” Isabella protests. She settles on the couch next to hergirlfriend, and takes a sip of her wine. “But enough talk about theconference. Tell us about phone boy,” Isabella says, her eyessparkling.

“Youmean dumbass?’ Livia says, dropping her book bag at the door andkicking off her shoes.

“Whosedumbass?” Juliet asks, following Livia into the living room.

“He’sjust a guy.” Rosaline says, glad that no one can see her blush.

“Howcome I haven’t heard of him?” Juliet asks, pouring two moreglasses of wine, and passing one to Livia.

“Becauseyou’ve been too busy dating a Montague for the past few months.”Rosaline shoots back.

“Fair.”Juliet tips her glass, and settles on the floor. “What’s his realname?”

“Ben.”Isabella supplies before Rosaline can answer. “And she’s meetinghim at the conference on Tuesday.”

“Shutup,” Rosaline says, stuffing her face into a pillow.

“Oh,”Juliet says. “Ohhhhh.”

“Yep.”Livia pokes Rosaline in the knee. “Are you excited?”

“I’mnot taking about this.”

Helenastarts to laugh, and then the entire room is laughing, and Rosalinethrows a handful of popcorn in their general directions.

Herphone buzzes, and her cheeks flush even more.

WouldI be getting my hopes up if I asked you to dinner after our coffee?

“Betchathat’s him,” Isabella says.

“She’sblushing,” Livia says.

“Shutup.”

Goingto be running late today. Boss had some mishaps this morning. Getcoffee after?

Benvolioreads over the text again, and his stomach drops. He was hoping theycould meet before the meeting, before the craziness, beforeeverything possibly went to shit.

Yeah.That works for me. Hope everything is okay.

Yeah.Just typical boss problems.

Hisuncle claps a hand on his shoulder, and Benvolio almost drops hisphone.

“Areyou ready, nephew?”

“Yes,”Benvolio says, trying not to grind his teeth.

“TheCapulet’s are running late, so we should have at least a little bitof pull for our side today.” Damiano slips down the hall, andsomething in Benvolio’s heart snaps.

Capulet’s.

Runninglate.

Justhis luck. The girl he’s halfway in love with is most likely amember of his families worst enemy.

Hecan already hear Mercutio laughing at him

Shesneaks into the conference room at the last second before the meetingstarts, settling into her typical seat on the outskirts of the room,computer at the ready for notes.

But she’s not looking at hercomputer. She looking around the room, hoping to stumble across thename tag for a Benjamin or a Ben. It’s childish of her, but shewants to find him before he finds her.

Peopleare still chatting quietly with each other, so she takes her timescanning the names, the anticipation making her heart beat a littlebit too fast.

Hereyes fall upon the Montagues’ and she takes a moment from lookingfor Ben to investigate the apparently terrible aide. There’sDamiano Montague who she knows very well, and her eyes fall to thenext name tag.

BenvolioMontague.

Rosaline let’s her eyesslide up to the man’s face, but he’s already looking at her.

He’s attractive. The kind ofattractive that is almost dangerous. Everyone had told her he wasdangerous, a beast in his own right.

But something about him makesher want to trust him.

His features melt into a smallsmile, and he raises his hand in greeting.

And that’s when it hits her.

Ben.

Benvolio.

As in Montague.

All of the excitement meltsinto stress.

Of course she wouldaccidentally fall in love with the one person she could never have.

She could see her friendslaughing at her already.

Surprisingly, the compromisegoes over well. The Montague’s get the church and the surroundingareas that they had been after for years, and in return, theCapulet’s get the university. The opposing sides all agree, and anofficial signing date is decided.

It worked. Their compromiseworked.

And no one would ever know itwas them.

Rosaline can understand whyeveryone was afraid of the Montague aid. He had watchful eyes, and attimes, it looked like he see right through people. He was alwaysscribbling furiously, and when he spoke to his uncle, the entire roomheld their breath.

But, she also knew him. Andshe knew that he wanted this compromise as bad as she did.

She’s walking out of theconference room, when someone grabs her arm, and before she knows it,she’s being swept into one of the smaller waiting rooms.

And he’s there.

Ben.

Benvolio Montague.

The man she is supposed tohate, and fear, and never, ever trust.

But all she wants to do iskiss him.

“Hi,” she says, trying tocontain the smile on her face.

“Hi.”

She’s beautiful. Even morebeautiful close up.

Ros.

Rosaline.

Of the Capulet variety.

He honestly should have seenit coming, retribution for the way he talked to Romeo about Juliet.

“You’re not at scary aseveryone thinks you are, you know.” Rosaline Capulet is smiling athim. She has mischief in her eyes, and a proud smile on her lips, andgod, if he wasn’t already half in love with her, he’s pretty surethis could send him over the edge.

“I never claimed to be.”

“I think it’s because younever smile.”

She’s teasing him. They’vebeen talking long enough for him to know that.

“Maybe I had nothing tosmile at.” He says. He takes a step toward, like there’s agravitational pull leading him straight to her side.

She’s hugging her laptop toher chest, and she ducks her head, hiding her own smile from him.“You smiled at me.”

She doesn’t know what toexpect. He’s too far away from her for her to touch him, but whenshe glances back up, he’s closer to her.

“I did.” The edges of hislips quirk up, and Rosaline shakes her head at him.

He’s ridiculous. And aflirt. And she’s really, really attracted to him.

“You know,” she says,placing her laptop down on one of the desk, before making her own wayto be closer to him. “I didn’t expect one of the most ruthlessmen in all of Verona Politics to be you.”

Benvolio scoffs, and she’spretty sure she sees him retract into himself slightly. “Why,because the Montague’s are such outstanding people?”

There’s a poison in hisvoice, one she’s heard before when he talked about his ‘boss’,who she now realizes in his uncle. There’s a hatred there, a stripof exposed wiring, a wound full of salt.

“No.” She shakes her head,and takes the last few steps until she’s close enough that if shewanted she could reach out and touch his arm. “I meant, I didn’texpect the guy who sent me the only email heading that has ever mademe laugh, the guy who I had spent the last three months trying tosave Verona with, the guy who would call me at three in the morningto tell me he missed my voice, to also be considered dangerous andruthless, and all around terrible. Because that is not the man Iknow.” She stops, right in front of him, gently grabbing his jaw tomake him look at her. “That is not the man I saw in there. That isnot the man I am seriously thinking about kissing right now.”

He’s pretty sure he hasforgotten how to breathe.

It’s one of the first thingshe learned how to do, so he’s not sure how she’s managed to makehim forget, but he has.

She wants to kiss him. And hevery desperately wants to kiss her back.

But, he’s forgotten how tobreath, and his brain is not functioning at full capacity.

“I like your voice evenbetter in person.” It’s not his most eloquent moment, but herface lights up, and he suddenly remembers how to be a person, andslips his hand around her waist so he can tug her closer.

“So how about that coffee?”He asks, his other hand sliding around the curve of jaw.

“Would it be terrible of meto say lets skip the coffee and go straight to dinner? The only thingI’ve had to eat today was half a day old croissant.”

“No. Dinner sounds good.”He’s smiling at her when her hands slide over his shoulders, andthen the next thing he knows, her lips find his, and he forgetseverything expect her name.

Ros.

Rosaline.

Of the Capulet variety.

His heart may or may not skipright out of his chest.

“Wait, that’sdumbass?”Juliet all but screams, grabbing Rosaline’s arm in theprocess. “Benvolio Montague?”

Rosaline attempts to detachher cousin from her arm, while Isabella stares at at said dumbassacross the bar, who is telling his collective group of friends abouther.

Livia has her ‘I-knew-it’smile on her face, and Helena is trying her best to not look smug.

“After all the shit you gaveme about Romeo, and you have been secretly dating your own Montaguefor months!” Juliet says, loud enough that the Benvolio glances upat them.

“Jules, calm down,”Rosaline pleads. “We haven’t been dating for months. It’s onlybeen like a week.”

Juliet scoffs, and evenIsabella can’t stop her laugh.

“Pretty your phone historywould go against that statement, Rosaline,” Isabella says.

“Shut up.” Rosaline pullsher drink closer, and glares at her friends.

“Can I take credit for this?I mean, I’m the reason you guys started talking.” Livia says,hooking her chin over her sisters shoulder.

“No.”

Benvolio glances at themagain, and this time he catches her eye and smiles. She instantlysmiles back, and her friends collectively start to laugh.

But she ignores them.

Benvolio mouths, ‘all good?’at her and she nods, causing his smile to grow. She watches at hepats Romeo on the shoulder, and then before she knows it, he’s oftheir side of the bar, wrapping his arms around her and burying hishead into her neck.

“Hi.” He says, lipsbrushing over her skin.

“Hi.”

Someone groans and makes acomment about PDA, but Rosaline ignores them. All of them are guiltyof the same thing, so they don’t have a say.

“Would it be lame if I saidI missed you.” Benvolio mumbles, wrapping his arms tighter aroundher.

“Yes. But I missed you too.”

She feels him smile againsther skin, and then, he’s twirling her around and his lips are onhers, and everything falls into place.

They both still have terriblejobs and even worse families, but they have each other. And plans tochange things, and great friends, and a Verona that might justsurvive because of their compromise, and each other.

He pulls back and rests hisforehead against hers.

He’s a self-proclaimeddumbass and a regretful Montague, and much better man than he giveshimself credit for, and he’s all hers.

All because of an email.

She wouldn’t have it anyother way.

#rosvolio #still star crossed #still star crossed fic #ssc #ssc fic #benvolio montague #rosaline capulet #my fics #anonymous #prompts

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