#VICTOR’S MOM— no wonder he loves her SO MUCH and bet his life on the line for her as well. Like Mom– Like son apparently 🤧😭

[fatefought]

haymitch makes a face at the comment the other makes. " that's a lot to say from someone who doesn't have to keep coming back. " his finger briefly goes near his ear. haymitch makes a quick, small circular motion with it. the sign is obvious for crazy. his sympathy had dried for annie cresta soon after her games. he had wondered if the insanity case was faked ; it's smart of her if it was. " i'd take what she says with a grain of salt. if you're trying to pal around with people from four, i'd stray. mags is better company, and it'd be wise to get to know finnick. " his motives aren't the purest. the latter two had the same motivations as the quarter quell survivor. in time katniss will come to find that out, ( if porter isn't the beginning of a line of dominos, that is. )

" alliances between mentors can be as valuable as those among tributes. " he knows the words don't need to be aired. it's pretty obvious, isn't it ? yet, time and time again he sees green mentors alienate themselves and their tributes. it's a fool's strategy ; it surprises abernathy that fresh faced victors can forget how difficult it is to win without strong allies. he nods at her comment of effie. she's an asset to the team. she makes those from twelve more palatable to capitolites. few have that innate charm that peeta mellark radiates. he imagines that was a breath of fresh air to the escort. but with someone like kolton, not even the power of effie can't make him easier to stomach. ( in another life, haymitch would have liked him as a distant drinking buddy. )

" she is. i think her mom made the dress madge's aunt wore to her reaping, " he notes. the i think downplays it. he knows ; soon after she was buried in the same one. it was baby blue, people remarked. what a stupid name for a color. he had stayed on the outskirts of her service. ( he hadn't been invited to silas or dorthea's funerals. ) thoughts get pushed back down ; there's no time to think of his youth, much less when sober-ish. " that's smart, he can probably coach her for the cameras among other things. "

eyes start searching for the male tribute once more. he's fairing better than before, but haymitch would still bet on chandler to outlast him. a somber thought lingers within him. will their tributes be punished more for years on end given last year's defiance ? he felt it carried on for five games after he incorporated the forcefield in his victory. neither katniss nor peeta lost their loved ones, so he can only imagine twelve will be target practice significantly longer. " have kolton focus on combat-style weaponry. when he goes into withdrawls, the shakes will likely impact most of his aim. he'll have to fight close range. "

she feels tickled to press on, but she doesn't. katniss hates to talk about her games, and she knows haymitch feels similar — only his games were exactly twenty - five years ago, and even then, they don't show any glimpses of the sharp eyed, dark haired boy from the seam who is district twelve's longest living victor (there's the other one, but they don't talk about her anywhere, and katniss believes she was just made up, to try and give the kids from twelve some hope that victors can come from there). "supposedly you have now. annie cresta said she thought you'd come alone again, or something." she had expected them to honeymoon a bit longer, but annie had been the only one to suggest such a thing. everyone else was enthused by her presence; sickening, truly, but it had made katniss ponder — if things were normal, would haymitch like to have her as his companion in mentoring? without peeta as a buffer, interactions between them weren't all that pleasant because they weren't pleasant people.

"don't want to leave effie too close to him." effie means well, but kolton is seam, and katniss didn't like the way a capitolite had said last night that she could barely understand him because of his drawl — she hadn't even noticed it until last night people from twelve even had an accent. she crinkles her nose at the thought, and allows her eyes to wander in the direction of the townie. "i think she's from the seamstress' family." obviously, katniss hadn't much need of them; all their clothes had been made at home, sown over and over again until they had to make another. and now, with cinna, she has never needed chandler's service. never will have the opportunity, actually. the thought is disheartening. "i will tell her to stick to the survival stations. picking the right berries may keep her going for a little longer." katniss doesn't say she will survive. the chances are low, after all (and you don't cheer for a townie, gale had once barked at thom over stew while they pointed at the flickering screen on the hob).

he's not lying, about her and peeta. they are a good team. but that didn't seem to matter right now; both and her peeta had a similar thought: they couldn't bear the thought of sending people to die. and this is their fucking job here, isn't it? "i will switch with him, then. he can take chandler, and you guys can come up with some clever strategy."

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s 2022 Birthday Story (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a content that is yet to be released in the global server! ♡

Collect the memory items and look back on that birthday before he met you. An e-mail from the past guided him to stop in front of the amusement park on that day~ ♡

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

—

[Note]: Yeah, the Victor we are gonna meet here is 27 years old, who will be turning 28~ :>

[T/N]: This is a personal recommendation. If it’s possible for you, I would very highly recommend listening to Victor’s new theme song, which was released in his birthday event, while reading this. THE FEELS IT GIVES.... 🌊✊

Here’s the link to the music: [YouTube ♡] || [Bilibili ♡]

—

✧ [Chapter 1] ✧

After several days of rain, the weather has finally cleared up today. The warm sunshine sprinkles in through the French window, coaxing the greeneries in the corner to unfold their branches and leaves, and climb up to the window edges. Victor stands in front of the window with a cup of coffee, overlooking at the endless streams of people flowing between the buildings. The prolonged bitter aroma mingling with the mellow hemp fragrance in the room lingers between the breaths. Just at this moment–– the mobile phone on the table vibrates.

Victor takes a light sip of his coffee, and turns his head to pick up his phone. A smile lifts up the corners of his lips.

He sits down in his chair, takes off his glasses, and answers the phone.

“Aunt.”

—

The video call has been made from the distant Atlantic Coast–– a relative’s child is holding their wedding ceremony in Spain, and had sent a special invitation. Even though he had to travel across the oceans, his father felt that he should be present. So, his father went with his aunt. It’s the morrow of their arrival. Victor was afraid of disturbing their rest, and originally planned on getting in touch with them again a bit later at night.

“Vic! Your dad and I have just woken up, and wanted to inform you that we are safe and sound.”

In the video footage, his aunt waves at him, followed by directing the camera towards his father, who is in the middle of having his breakfast. His father raises his coffee cup towards him, and he also picks up his coffee cup in return, sending his good wishes from afar.

—

“How are things, aunt? Has the journey been exhausting for you guys?”

“It wasn’t exhausting. How can it be exhausting? You don’t know how comfortable the sunshine and the wind are here. I’m living in a manor on the outskirts with your dad. You can see the ocean here as soon as you open your eyes. By the way, on our way over here, I just heard some of your uncles saying that the wedding ceremony is being arranged on a cruise. If I had known earlier that the wedding is going to be held at sea.... I should have brought two scarves in pretty colors. The wind is very strong at the sea, and I don’t know if it’s going to be cold or not.”

Victor laughs and continues following his aunt’s words,

“The weather is good today. If you have the time, you can go out for a walk around the town. Who knows, perhaps you might be able to pick up a nice-looking scarf.”

—

His aunt seems to have the same intention. When Victor mentions it like that, she hurriedly goes along with it and drags her brother along to plan the itinerary. Seeing the frowning of his father and the helpless look on his face, Victor can’t help but tease,

“Dad, it’s been a long time since you’ve gone out. This is a rare trip. Why don’t you accompany aunt in the stroll to go shopping?”

“It’s not like you don’t know your dad. He likes to shut himself indoors and be alone all the time. Just when your mom was around, he was willing to go out for walks.”

Even though his aunt complains, the smile on her face doesn’t diminish. She reaches out to take the phone farther away, and shows Victor the view of the manor.

“Vic, the owner of the manor where we are staying at is also in the red wine business, and has a variety of good collection of wines. We ordered two cases from his wine cellar when we had dinner with him last night. We will send them back to you today.” 

—

“It’s your birthday in two days, and this is a birthday present for you. Aunt can’t make the longevity noodles for you this year, so you remember to make yourself a bowl of noodles to eat.”

His aunt brings the phone in front of her and starts to eat breakfast while talking at the same time,

“Your dad says that you’re already grown up enough to know how to take care of yourself. So, aunt won’t keep reminding you about anything else, lest you think aunt talks too much. Everything is going fine with us here, so don’t worry. After the wedding ceremony is over, I’ll get your dad to give you another call.”

Victor nods,

“Alright. Let me know when you guys have confirmed your return time, and I’ll book the air tickets for you.”

—

Aunt waves her hand at him,

“That’s all for now then. I’m hanging up. Don’t worry, go back to work. Happy birthday, Vic-Vic! And remember to eat longevity noodles.”

Smiling, Victor waves and hangs up the phone. The ambience of the room returns to quietude once again.

At the same time, there are several knocks on the door,

“CEO, sorry to have interrupted you.... a representative of Yuanhang Securities has arrived at LFG.”

Victor stands up and buttons up his suit,

“I will be there immediately.”

✧ [Chapter 2] ✧

“What’s the specific contents of this conference, and why does it require two days? The CEO also has a meeting on the morning of the 14th in his itinerary. If we were to reschedule, it’s true that the 12th and 13th are only days that would be the most fitting. Goldman, would you like to ask the CEO if he has any other arrangements for the next two days? If there is no problem, I will book the flight and the hotel for the CEO in advance.”

In the pantry, the administrative staff is checking the arrangement of Victor’s schedule while having coffee at the same time, and having a chat with Goldman, who is sitting at the counter and eating a takeout.

Goldman bites on his spoon as he takes out his phone, checking it over and over again.

—

“If we were to schedule for 12th and 13th.... it will indeed be a very tight schedule, and he will be back on Friday. So, he will have one less day of overtime.”

He goes through each of the itineraries in his mind, still pondering whether there is a better option or not,

“But the 13th is the CEO’s birthday. I wonder if he has any personal arrangements....”

“Just ask him about it. I don’t think so. The CEO is such a busy man, he is working all day. How could he take up the time to celebrate his birthday.... ”

The administrative staff adds half a packet of white sugar into the coffee, and gives it a two clockwise turns with the stirring stick in the cup.

“But if he had a girlfriend.... I can’t say for sure, perhaps his girlfriend could help him through.”

—

“What’s on your mind? I stay with the CEO almost 24 hours a day. He simply doesn’t have any time for dating because his entire day is filled with nothing but work. Unless he can conjure up another 24 hours.... otherwise, I don’t think it’s possible that he will have a girlfriend who would celebrate his birthday with him in another ten years.”

Goldman finishes his bowl of meat in one gulp. When he looks up, he sees Victor who is heading straight in this direction.

“C-CEO, well....” 

He hurriedly puts the lid on his lunchbox, and draws out several paper towels to wipe the oil off the counter.

Victor glances at him,

“I was just passing by. I didn’t hear anything.”

—

The administrative staff interjects just in time,

“CEO, we were just talking about arranging the time of the conference, and the time of booking the flight and hotel. As it currently stands, scheduling on the 12th and 13th is the most suitable. But it’s your birthday on 13th. So, we wanted to ask you in advance if you have any other plans on your birthday.”

Victor nods,

“None. Let’s arrange it on 12th and 13th. Thank you guys for your hard work.”

—

“By the way, CEO, just wait for a moment, please––”

As though suddenly remembering something, the administrative staff runs to her desk in two or three steps, bends down to retrieve a small gift bag from a drawer, and turns to come back.

“This is our company’s staffs birthday benefit, a gift box of fountain pen.”

As she speaks, she gives the gift bag to Victor.

“A total of one hundred and fifty three employees had birthdays in January. All the gifts have already been given out. This one’s yours. We wish you a happy birthday.”

Victor receives the gift bag, and takes out a beautifully wrapped box from it. He can’t help smiling slightly as he opens the box,

“Thank you. The gifts were a very good purchase.”

“You’re welcome.”

She smiles cheerfully, picks up her coffee and leaves the pantry.

—

Goldman throws his take-out box into the trash can, and tidies up his suit within a couple of minutes.

“CEO, since the time of the conference has already been finalized, I will notify each department to start preparing and report the progress of the task to you later on.”

Victor nods. As he sees Goldman turning his head to leave, he can’t help adding another sentence,

“After we’re done with the work this time, I will treat you to dinner.”

✧ [Chapter 3] ✧

[Note]: In case you don’t know who Ronan is – he was a young director looking for opportunities to start his career, and young Victor was just starting to build up LFG back then. Ronan came to Victor with a proposal. After evaluating it properly, Victor invested in Ronan’s project. Ronan’s project later won several international awards, and with that, the still learning to walk LFG also got its first base for spreading its wings. Ronan later became a world known director, LFG became “LFG”, Victor became “Victor.” And they are very close friends. Ronan has made appearance in Victor’s “Taste Of Life Mind Quest” and “Garden Date”. :>

—

Another red light.

The same second the car stops, the cell phone rings out. Victor presses the Bluetooth call, and Ronan’s slightly “noisy” greeting comes over the speaker. Victor reaches out and turns down the volume, smiling and sighing.

“What’s the reason for delaying your trip of coming to Loveland City this time around?”

Ronan chuckles,

“I’m indeed calling you with a huge apology. Your tone sounds as though I’ve bailed on you very frequently.”

—

Victor fixes his gaze on the red light.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Anyway, it’s a really important thing this time. During this time, I met a renowned local scholar here in India, and he agreed to help me sort out the details of the documentary. But his vacation is for only twenty days, so I’ve to make every second count. However, a day as important as your birthday, I won’t forget–– Coincidentally, I’ve found an ancient painting from here, I’ll give it to you when we meet. You will definitely like it.”

Victor makes fun subconsciously,

“You’re still so uncreative when it comes to giving gifts.”

—

“How much better are you than me? Aside from the every day life being filled with work, there isn’t one bit of novelty.”

As Ronan speaks, there are hoots of laughter from a group of people around him, as though someone is talking about something interesting. Hearing this, Victor can’t help but laugh as well.

“It seems that you’re having a great trip to India this time.”

“I will tell you about it in detail the next time I return to Loveland City in order to find you for a drink. On my birthday the last time, I said that I wanted to meet you for a drink, but we haven’t been able to get one yet.”

Ronan pauses, suddenly waking up with a start,

“ ....come to think of it, we haven’t seen each other for more than half a year. How come the time passed without even feeling it at all.”

—

“What was the reason for not celebrating your birthday the last time?”

Victor mulls it over,

“I think you said it was because you have a friend who needed your help. Has it all been taken care of now?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t really a big deal.” 

Ronan says, releasing a rare sigh.

“But as people grow up, don’t you think they naturally feel that their birthdays aren’t important? It doesn’t matter whether it’s work, or friends, or something else – they are all more important than your own birthday.”

As the red light counts down to sixty seconds, Victor looks at the information that unceasingly keeps being pushed to his phone, and simply sweeps his gaze past the crowd of people walking across the zebra crossing outside the window in a calm manner,

“It’s probably because when you become mature, you don’t put yourself first anymore.”

—

“....it’s really like that.”

Ronan pauses for a moment,

“But shouldn’t it be like this?”

“Indeed”,

Victor flips through his itinerary,

“Are you still flying to Europe after you leave India next month? I will be in France for twenty days next month. So, if it’s on your way, the drink is on me.”

“It’s not quite on the way, but it’s worth a detour for that drink”,

Ronan readily gives an affirmative answer.

“It’s a deal then, see you next month. I’ll come with a birthday present for you and some interesting stories. Happy birthday.”

As the red light counts down to the final three seconds, Victor places his hand on the hang-up button,

“See you next month.”

✧ [Chapter 4] ✧

“In fact, for some time now, many people have been discussing how they originally thought that LFG’s decision to invest in Tiankang Medical was intended for setting foot in the medical industry. But, they didn’t expect LFG to establish a medical foundation with them instead. It’s not only very surprising, but also admirable.”

In the studio, the host of a financial magazine, who is dressed in Western-styled attire, looks sideways at Victor, smiling and gesturing at him,

“Another person said in the comments section of the news report that they feel very proud to be a shareholder of LFG.”

Victor smiles lightly,

“It’s really too kind of you. Since its inception, LFG has received a great amount of attention and support from people of all walks of life in the society. In return, it’s natural to undertake a certain amount of social responsibilities and do something as far as our capabilities extend. Compared with those enterprises that can genuinely push the society to step forward, and can truly make people’s lives better, LFG still hasn’t done anything nearly sufficient.”

—

“Speaking of which, isn’t CEO Victor’s birthday coming up? If I remember correctly, CEO Victor is the youngest person to appear on the front cover of our magazine since its founding thirty years ago. I’ve received the cover shoot footage from the director just now, and I’m totally subdued by CEO Victor’s graceful bearing. I wonder as the eve of his birthday is approaching, if CEO Victor.... has any special arrangements?”

The host stresses on the word “special”, seemingly hoping that he can share some exclusive itineraries with the audience and boost the ratings of the show. But Victor simply leans closer to the microphone and takes out his phone,

“There are really no special arrangements. I’m afraid I won’t have the time to celebrate my birthday as I have a lot of works to handle that day. Perhaps when I’m done with my work, I will cook myself a nice meal to celebrate.”

—

“So it turns out that CEO Victor is not only an exceptional investor, but he also has interest in the culinary skills–– With such a conscientious leader at the helm, the future of LFG is one bound to be worth looking forward to. It seems that company’s extensive recognition at this current stage and the prosperous share prices with each passing day are the best birthday presents CEO Victor could have given himself. CEO Victor, thank you for coming today. On behalf of Wise Magazine, I’d like to wish CEO Victor a happy birthday in advance.”

“Let’s explore the business wisdom and build a wonderful life together. Follow Wise on WeChat for first-hand business information....”

In the waiting room, Victor reaches out to pick up the remote control and turns off the TV. The spacious, semi-open compartment returns to quietude once again. He spreads the magazine on his lap, and sweeps a cursory glance over the contents. The bold fonts of the headline is extraordinarily eye-grabbing–– LFG invests in the Tiankang Medical, a strategic contract signing meeting to be held in three days’ time.

—

Victor doesn’t pay much attention to the specific contents of the report and puts the magazine back on the coffee table. 

Soon after, a polite greeting can be heard,

“Mr. Victor, First Class passengers on flight LY248 have already been allowed to board.”

Victor gets up and brushes away the creases on his windbreaker, following the flight attendant to the boarding gate.

As the flight attendant guides him down the stairs, she gives him a slight sideways glance,

“Mr. Victor, it’s your birthday tomorrow. On behalf of the entire Loveland Flight Crew, I would like to wish you a happy birthday. At the same time, we have also prepared a special meal and a cake for you on board. I wonder if you have any personal preference in particular or any contradictions?”

“Thank you.”

Victor responds with a smile, and moves to the side to make way and let the lady leading the way to go first,

“It’s all fine. I’ve always had faith in your food quality.”

✧ [Chapter 5] ✧

The top floor of the Camellia Hotel is surrounded by 360 degrees of panoramic glasses, making one able to look at the lights of the entire city as well as give one the feeling of being able to reach out and touch the stars overhead. Victor sits in the bathtub, casually brushing back the wet hair drooping in front of his forehead as he leans against the massage band at the back side of the bathtub, water vapor rising in the air from the lower part of the tub and gushing out in a stream of water.

When the decanted red wine in his hand has achieved its best flavor, he swirls the wine glass slightly and takes a sip. Then, he once again turns his head to the right, casting his gaze towards the boundless night.

Across the street, in the relatively opposite direction from him is the Tiankang Medical building. When it’s overlooked from this angle, the entire building seems like a door, standing between the heaven and earth, spanning between life and death.

—

He turns his head and puts down the glass. Then he picks up the minutes of the meeting from the tabletop and flips through it.

LFG Medical Foundation. This is a foundation jointly established and funded by LFG and the Tiankang Medical, and the funds will be used for pharmaceutical research and providing patient care–– Above all, Tiankang Medical announced half a year ago that their latest drug for the treatment of brain tumor had already entered the clinical stage, and if the research and development went smoothly, perhaps it could be regarded as a breakthrough against fighting brain tumors.

From equity investments to fund allocations, to recruiting the finest medical team in the name of LFG, to carrying out collaboration with every major hospital.... during this time, he’s hardly had a moment’s rest. Victor picks up his wine glass once again, drinks it all down in one long sip, and releases a long sigh of relief.

—

He recalls that case he saw a year ago at a meeting at Tiankang.

Female patient, 32 years old. Her deteriorating condition had led to blindness. She bought a pair of shoes as a birthday present for her son who had just turned five, but she was unable to help him tie his shoelaces. People from Tiankang Medical said that she was the most energetic and cooperative of all patients. No matter what side effects the medications might have caused, she endured everything. But her situation really wasn’t optimistic.

Immediately afterwards, silence engulfed the entire conference room.

—

As he stared at the PPT projection, his mind unconsciously replayed the smell of sterile water, the incandescent lights in the hospital corridors, the red indicator light on the nurses’ table, the plastic patterns on the indwelling needles....

Every single details– he still remembers vividly.

The water vapor in the bathroom spreads over the glass with no restraints, separating the night view outside the window in a layer of hazy mist.

—

Victor’s gaze rests on the case display on the middle page of the minutes. Today, one year later, all her signs have improved. Although there is no telling how much more medicines she will have to take and how much suffering she will have to endure, at least now it seems that she will be able to celebrate her son’s sixth birthday together with him happily. The doctor-in-charge has said that if everything goes on without a hitch, she will be able to fight for at least another five years. Perhaps by the time these five years are over, a new miracle will emerge.

“Happy birthday.”

—

Victor whispers softly, wishing this little boy he has never met.

The time on the phone has just crossed the zero, and it reads 13th January. The curtain of night hangs low, and the entire city is enveloped in a deep silence. A few meteors seem to quietly streak across the distant horizon.

✧ [Chapter 6] ✧

At 7:30 in the morning, Victor opens his mailbox according to his usual practice. At a glance, he sees that e-mail which was sent exactly at midnight. He opens it with a smile, his line of sight stopping over the first sentence:

“Happy birthday, dear Vic-Vic.”

This is a letter from the past. It came from his mother’s mailbox.

He doesn’t know how many e-mails she has written before she passed away, saved them in the draft box, and set the time for each of the e-mail to be sent––

The mail system wasn’t so advanced back then, and the time could only be fixed to the following year. Thereupon, his father does as she wished for. He logs into her mailbox from time to time, and sets the delivery time so that the mails would arrive on time.

—

She said that it’s a surprise, and that if it were to be delivered every year, Vic-Vic wouldn’t feel the novelty of it. So, it’s already been three years since he had received the last birthday greeting from his mother.

He continues to lower his gaze.

Each of her letters is handwritten, and then it has been scanned into the computer. He can vaguely feel her expression and her tone of voice as she wrote– through each of the characters in her handwriting.

—

She said:

“Vic-Vic, today should be your 28th birthday. Happy birthday to you. After you’ve grown up, you wouldn’t be spending your birthday with your mom and dad anymore. I wonder if you would be occupied with work today, or perhaps you would be on a date with your girlfriend? 28 years ago on this day, mom brought you into this world, hoping that she would be able to give you a happy and carefree life, hoping that you would become the happiest child in this world, the most blessed child.”

—

“Remember when you were little and you went out with us on a stroll in the streets. You used to like those little toys they sold in the stores. Your dad said that you already have a lot of toys, and you nodded your head thoughtfully and dragged us along. But I wasn’t willing. So, I bought all the toys from the store for you without letting your father know. Mom doesn’t need you to be thoughtful, well-behaved, obedient. She only needs you to be happy. As far as your mom is concerned, preparing these letters for you one by one, imagining how you would feel when you receive them– the thought itself gives me a kind of subtle joy, as though I’m able to transcend the barriers of time and accompany you on your birthday every year in the future.”

—

“Very fascinating, isn’t that so? Originally, it was supposed to be a some kind of gift to you that would make you feel happy. But it seems that in the process of preparing this surprise, mom is the one who feels even happier.”

“Anyway, what kind of gift would the 28 year old Vic-Vic want to receive?”

“....”

—

Victor pulls the e-mail down, and below is a hand-drawn ticket to the amusement park using crayons.

She said that, even when you are all grown up, you must still be an interesting adult. There’s also a small line after it, enclosed in brackets, which reads:

“If you are happy, it doesn’t matter if it’s funny. Your happiness is more important.”

“Happy 28th birthday to you.”

—

The entire e-mail consists of only several hundred characters, but Victor has been reading it for no less than an hour.

Victor prints out the ticket, puts it in his pocket, changes his clothes and leaves for the amusement park.

—

It’s a Friday, a working day. So, there are only a few people in the amusement park. But with the cheerful and lighthearted music on the backdrop, one can still feel their feet lifting in high spirits. Victor walks around and surveys the surrounding in an unhurried manner, finally stopping in front of a facility.

The amusement park staffs are guiding the queuing crowd to go inside. After giving it a thought, he also walks into the facility, and sits on the installation nearest to him. A staff member wearing a chubby doll’s vest walks over to him, bows in an adorable manner, and helps him in buckling up the seatbelts. He then points his finger towards the blue sky in deadly earnestness,

“A great adventure is about to begin–– ladies and gentlemen, prepare to set sail. Let’s soar into the sky!”

—

Victor is stunned for a moment. At this moment, the clanking of metals and the jingling music rings out, and a little girl’s cheerful laughter comes from behind him,

“taking off–– ahhh flying––”

The flying device undulates up and down, climbing to the heights little by little. A subtle breeze surges in front of him, ruffling the fringes resting over his temples.

Victor can’t help but let out a laugh, his fingers pressing against his pocket, as though he can touch the neatly folded, hand-drawn ticket inside.

“I will be very happy.”

Facing the sky, he holds out his hand.

—

[T/N]: Victor’s aunt calls him by “泽言” (Zeyan)– which I translated as “Vic”. In one occasion, his aunt addresses him as “言言” (YanYan), likely recalling Victor’s mom. Victor’s mom addresses him as “言言” (YanYan)– which I translated as “Vic-Vic”~ ♡

—

💘 • Date: Here

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH22

And we’re back! Chapters will resume posting on Fridays both here on tumblr and on AO3 (linked below). I hope you’re ready for the second half of this story. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that are different from last time, so I hope you all enjoy it!

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Chapter 22: Mean

Marinette chewed her lip, picking at the hem of her shirt. She’d been too nervous to sleep, and the coffee she drank on the way to the hotel made her jittery. Clara and her manager flipped through her designs, the silence eating away at Marinette’s composure. Did Clara like them? Hate them? Had Marinette let her down? Why wasn’t she saying anything?

Clara glanced up at Marinette, a smile curling on her lips. She stood up with an amused giggle and took Marinette’s hands. “Oh, Marinette, you can chill. These designs really fit the bill. Choosing you was in good taste. Eloise, send these to my tailor, posthaste.” Clara winked, and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. “Truly, great work, Marinette. I love them.”

“I’m glad. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” Marinette bowed.

“Although your formality is rather cutesy, there’s no need since you and I are friends, you see.” She spun Marinette around and pulled her in for a hug. “I felt a connection with you right away. If you ever need anything, you just have to say.”

Marinette’s chest swelled as Clara pulled away and brushed her nose with a finger.

“Eloise, write a check for her beautiful mind.” Clara ordered, pacing over to the piano. “I’ve got an idea for a new song that will be simply divine!”

Clara’s manager tore a check from her book and handed it to Marinette as Clara began to pluck at the piano. Marinette did a double-take to make sure the decimal was in the right place, but before she could protest, Clara’s security guard ushered her out.

“Goodbye, my dearest friend. I’ll miss you until we meet again!” Clara blew a kiss.

As the door closed behind her, Marinette glanced down at the check, heart pounding. Clara liked her designs! She considered Marinette a friend! Oh, she’d love to see the look on Lila’s face the day Clara walked the red carpet in Marinette’s dress.

“I’m so proud of you, Marinette!” Tikki said as Marinette tapped the button for the elevator. “You worked really hard, and it paid off.”

“I’m just happy that Clara liked my designs. It’s not about the money for me. I want to design clothes that make people feel good,” she said, stepping onto the elevator. “I can’t wait to tell everyone over tea this afternoon!”

“Will there be cookies at the tea party?” Tikki asked.

Marinette shot her a knowing smile and brushed her kwami’s nose with one finger. “Control that sweet tooth of yours.”

“I want to celebrate your accomplishments!” Tikki shot back indignantly. “If there happens to be cookies there, then so be it.”

“Tell you what,” Marinette said as the elevator dinged on the first floor. “I told everyone to come over at 2. Why don’t you and I celebrate now? Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Tikki perked up, ducking down into her purse. Marinette shut the clasp as she paced out the front doors of the hotel. Pulling out her phone to see where Andre was stationed today, she failed to look up as she rounded the corner and collided with another person.

“Sorry!” she gasped as they both stumbled backward, but upon seeing the face of her victim, her face hardened.

“Finally apologizing for trying to upstage me? It’s about time,” Lila said.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you. Nothing else.” Marinette rolled her eyes and stepped around her.

“So, you’re not sorry for abandoning all of your friends then? For turning your back on Alya?” Lila asked.

Marinette’s hands balled into fists, but she didn’t stop. “Alya made her choice.”

“And she chose me over you.” Lila smirked. “She even got us matching bff necklaces. She’s so sweet.”

“Congratulations. I’m sure your genuine friendship built on honesty and trust will last a lifetime.” Marinette retorted.

“I’m just glad she finally deleted her blog dedicated to that insect. She has so much more time on her hands to do all of my work,” Lila said. “You know, I’m class representative now since you deserted your post.”

Marinette bit her lip hard. Lila was taunting her, and she knew it. How could anyone be this vindictive? Marinette had always known Lila was evil, but she really had a way of one-upping herself. Marinette made a promise with Adrien to stay out of it, but no matter how far she ran, Lila was always right behind her.

Marinette spun around with a sharp retort on her tongue, but a silver limo pulling up to the curb cut her off. She half expected blond hair to pop out, but to her surprise, it was Martin who appeared.

“Hey, Marinette. I saw you walking, so I had my driver pull over.” He flicked his gaze between them. “Do you and your friend need a ride?”

“Ha! She and I will never be friends. I have much better taste,” Lila said.

Martin eyed Marinette, eyebrows knitting together when she shifted her weight.

“Then if you don’t mind, please leave her alone. She’s my friend,” he requested.

“You don’t want to be friends with a loser like her. I’m the great-granddaughter of world-famous piano player, Victor Laurent,” she said, fluffing her hair. Her sinister smile said that she’d taken all of Marinette’s friends once, and she’d do it again.

“Victor Laurent didn’t have any children. He died alone at the age of 72 from pneumonia…” Martin tilted his head to one side. “And anyway, Marinette’s great-uncle is a world-famous chef with his own brand of cookware—my mom loves his knives. Not to mention she knows Jagged Stone and is good friends with Adrien Agreste. She has a lot of connections.”

Marinette stifled a laugh as Lila gasped in offense. Martin blinked in confusion as Lila stalked off with a huff, glaring over her shoulder at them.

“Who was that girl?” he asked.

“One of the worst human beings you’ll ever meet,” Marinette replied. When Martin seemed confused, she added, “It’s a long story. I was actually on my way to get some ice cream. Wanna come?”

“Sure.”

Andre was in Marinette’s favorite spot in the Trocadero—a fitting compensation for the unpleasant encounter they’d just had. They found a bench, ice cream cones in hand, and Marinette flopped onto it with a sigh. Lila was insufferable, but Marinette wasn’t going to let it spoil her day. Clara liked her designs. Nothing else mattered.

“So, that’s the girl who turned all of your friends against you?” Martin asked, and Marinette nodded. “Wow. No wonder you changed schools. I would have changed cities.”

“I thought about it.” Marinette took a spoonful of ice cream. “She’s super manipulative, and if you side against her, she does everything in her power to ruin your life.”

“She sounds like Gabrielle just without the muscle, but at least we don’t have to put up with her now that her family’s bankrupt,” Martin said.

“Yeah…” Marinette lowered her gaze. “I bet you were really happy when you found out about Gabrielle.”

Martin shrugged. “I’m glad she doesn’t pick on everyone anymore, but I can’t imagine losing everything. I feel kinda bad for her… Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said. “Actually, I feel the same way. No one deserves to go through that.” She pursed her lips, jabbing her ice cream with the spoon. “I’m surprised you of all people don’t hate her. She was the worst to you.”

“I try not to hate anyone,” Martin said around a bite. “I think everyone has good inside them deep down, and with the right influence, anyone can change if they want to.”

“So, you think Gabrielle could be a good person?” she asked.

“Well, sure. Why not?” Martin quirked a brow.

Marinette eyed him, a small smile curling on her lips. She sat up and turned to face him.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Uh, sure. What’s up?” he asked.

“It’s a long story, but Gabrielle and I are kind of friends now. I think…” Marinette admitted. “I haven’t told anyone because of everything, but I think you’re right. Anyone can be nice if they want to be, even Gabrielle.” When Martin seemed stunned, she curled her shoulders and added, “Do you hate me?”

Martin’s face softened, and he shook his head. “Of course not! I could never hate you.” He assured her. “I think it’s good. If anyone can help Gabrielle find the light inside of her, it’s you, Marinette.”

She leaned back on the bench with a smile, the spring sun warming her cheeks. Winter was over, leaving the cold and dreary behind. Nature was turning over new leaves. A fresh start, just like Marinette wanted. She took a deep breath, picturing all of the good things in her life. Adrien, Macy, Eliott, Martin, Gabrielle. Chloe, weirdly. Her parents, Tikki, Master Fu, Chat Noir, Clara. New opportunities. New beginnings.

She exhaled, letting all of the negative flow out with her breath. Lila had no power over her anymore, and after two months of running, Marinette was finally free.

♪♫♪ Cruel Summer ♪♫♪

Marinette hummed jovially, the heat from the tea kettle on the stove warming her arms. Her friends would be over soon to celebrate her presentation. After her run-in with Lila earlier, Martin dropped her off at home, where her dad made special macarons for their celebration. Talking to Martin eased her nerves, and Lila’s empty threats were far from her mind. Today she was celebrating.

It was the first time her new friends were coming to hang out at her house. After seeing all of their extravagant homes, Marinette might have felt self-conscious about her family’s tiny apartment, but her friends never gave her reason to worry. If only Adrien were joining them, but he was busy with a photoshoot. He promised to make it up to her, which had her head swimming with possibilities. Oh, she hoped whatever he had in mind involved kissing. Three almosts was driving her wild. Would she ever get to kiss those perfect lips?

And what were they now? Were they dating? Marinette didn’t know for sure, but they had to be pretty close, right? Adrien was so bold with her lately, complimenting her, touching her face, her hair, her hands… One of these days she’d snatch those lips down to hers if he didn’t kiss her soon. Kissing Adrien—the thought alone made her melt.

She wanted to hear his voice, but did she dare call him? He probably wouldn’t answer since he never brought his phone to photoshoots—always so professional. Then again, she could listen to his really cute voicemail… And she still hadn’t told him how her presentation went. Maybe she’d leave him a message. Girlfriends were allowed to do that, right? Oh god, Adrien’s girlfriend! She’d have to get used to calling herself that. Okay, no more stalling. New beginnings. Marinette wasn’t going to second-guess herself anymore. She was going to charge forward with confidence!

Pressing the call button, she chewed her lip with a giggle. This was really happening! One cute voicemail, then the next time they saw each other, she was going to kiss Adrien on the lips. Then they’d become boyfriend and girlfriend, date throughout the rest of collége and lycée, go off to university and get married, have 3 kids, and a hamster named-

Wait!

What was she going to say in the voicemail? She didn’t know how to be cute and flirty! Every time she tried, she ended up rambling about her toothbrush or falling down stairs. She needed to write a script. Abort! Abort!

“Missing me already?”

Marinette’s heart skipped at Adrien’s flirtatious lilt.

“Adrien! You answered,” she gasped.

“You called me, and you’re surprised I picked up?” he chuckled.

“Well, I thought you had a photoshoot, I was just going to leave a message,” Marinette said.

“I just got done with makeup, so I have a few minutes. I was actually thinking of calling you,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“No worries. I understand.” She assured him.

“I take it your presentation went well?”

“Yeah! That’s what I was calling to tell you. Clara loved my designs! I’ve never been so happy.” Marinette paced the length of her living room, biting back a smile. “I ran into Lila as I was leaving, but not even she could ruin my mood.”

“Whoa, wait! You ran into Lila?” Adrien asked.

“Ugh, yeah, but it was fine. Martin swooped in before she got me too riled up. She even tried to lie him out of backing me up, but he totally called her out. I’ve never seen her pout so hard.” When Adrien remained quiet on the other end, she added, “I’m fine, really. I’m not going to let her bother me anymore. This thing with Clara could open up a lot of opportunities for me.”

“I guess you’re right. Lila only wishes she were half as talented as you. You’re amazing, Marinette,” Adrien said, bringing a familiar warmth to her cheeks. “They’re ready for me on set, so I have to go.”

Marinette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to tell you the good news, and…talk for a minute.”

“You can interrupt me anytime. I’m always happy to hear your voice,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Marinette bit back a smile.

“Oh, and congratulations! You deserve it, Marinette.”

Marinette hung up with a dreamy sigh, hugging her phone to her chest. She was going to replay that conversation in her head for the rest of the evening. Before she could get lost in her lovestruck daydreams, the doorbell rang.

“Congratulations!” Macy hugged Marinette’s neck the moment she opened the door. “Oh, I knew she was going to love them!”

“Uh, I think you’re choking her.” Martin pointed out, and Macy let go.

“Sorry! But you did it! A major celebrity is going to wear your designs to an official awards show. That’s huge!” Macy squealed. “Oh! Is this your living room? It’s so cozy!”

As Macy pushed past Marinette into the apartment, Martin presented her with a bouquet of flowers.

“We picked these up for you on the way.”

“Thanks! That’s so sweet.” Marinette gestured him in, moving to find a vase in the kitchen. “Where’s Eliott?”

“He’ll be here soon. He was auditioning for another play today, so he’s running late,” Macy explained. “Your house is so cute! Did you make these pillows?”

“Uh, yeah. They were one of the first things I learned how to sew,” Marinette said, filling a vase in the sink. “My dad made macarons, and I’m making tea if you want any.”

Martin helped himself, taking a seat at the table, but Macy moved over to the bookcase to look at their family photos. Marinette set the vase in the middle of the table and grabbed the cups from the cupboard.

“Are you feeling better now?” Martin asked while she set the table. “I mean, after running into that girl earlier?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, surprised by how much she meant it. “I’m not worried about her anymore. I’m fine.”

Martin relaxed. “Good. You seem happier now than when you first came to school,” he said. “I could tell how sad you were, even when you were smiling.”

Marinette grabbed the kettle from the stove and pursed her lips.

“I guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s been hard, but I’m really lucky to have people that support me. I have you all to thank for that.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Martin smiled, an expression Marinette returned.

“Right.”

“Marinette? Is this you?” Macy held up a baby picture. “You were so cute!”

Marinette’s cheeks burned, but before she could snatch the photo away from her, the front door flew open. Eliott burst in, hair disheveled and eyes wide with panic.

“Eliott? What’s-” Macy started.

“I need help!”

[lia-jones]

Resistance - Evol: Chapter 26 - Home II

Author's note: Hello beautiful people! I come late but bearing gifts! Due to time constrictions, and because my chapters keep getting longer and longer, I have decided to only post every two weeks on Tuesday. It's the only way I can actually assure at this point to deliver content in a timely and consistent fashion. I hope you do understand.

I watched as Owen played with the waves, letting them softly kiss his tiny feet only to run away from them, giggling. I believe that before me and Victor, Owen had never seen the ocean. For me, the ocean had always been a big part of my childhood.

You should always greet the ocean before diving in, my mother taught us, her fingertips gently caressing the salty water. It will know you respect it, and it will welcome you and protect you.

And she laughed as she watched us play in the wet sand, the waves kissing us with the same sweetness they were kissing my son, as she took another drag of her usual cigarette. I couldn’t help but smile at that memory as well, moved by the simplicity and sweetness of all the things that mattered back then.

A much different reality now that she was gone. I was still shaking, my body echoing the tremble in my father's voice, telling us about the patient who came to visit my mother in her office with a gun, saying she hadn’t been able to quiet the voices in his head. He did the job himself, afterwards, his dead body joining my mother’s on the bloody floor.

According to the police and some witnesses, the whole situation didn't last more than two minutes. And I bet that for 1 minute and fifty seconds all my mother cared about was to help him. And for the last ten, the ones when she knew it would be her last, I know she thought of us. I wondered what she thought about me. The weight of unfinished business weighed on me.

The truth was, I didn’t know the faintest thing about my own mother. My family didn’t know anything about her either. She had lied to all of us, the woman I trusted with my life, the one I ran to when I needed solid ground, she had lied to me. About who she was. About who I was. To everyone.

But now that she was gone, it hurt not having the time to make amends. It almost felt petty to hold such lies against her. Because one thing I did know about my mother, an undeniable truth that no lie could taint: She loved me. And now that I was a mother, watching my son playing with soft waves as the tide rose, I could feel how she felt about me and my brother. And despite what I said in a moment of anger, there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my son. 

“Mom, look at this seashell!” My son ran to me, handing me a somewhat large cone shaped seashell. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is.” I smiled, taking it from his tiny hands to admire it. “Do you want to know a secret?”

He nodded, wide eyed.

“Seashells hold stories from where they’ve been.” I pressed the seashell against my son’s ear. “Can you hear the ocean? Like when you’re deep under water?”

“Like when I’m swimming with Dad and I dive real deep.” His mouth hung in astonishment as he paid attention to what he was hearing. “It sounds exactly the same.”

I smiled fondly, remembering how once it was my mother holding a seashell against my ear.

“I wish Dad were here to listen to it too.” Owen pouted slightly, giving me a dirty look. “He would have come and play in the water with me.”

“Well, about that, I need to talk to you.” I patted on the spot on the blanket beside me. “Sit down, Bug.”

My son gave me a puzzled look, but did as told, waiting patiently for me to start.

“If Grandpa asks… maybe we shouldn’t tell him about my and Dad’s experiment.”

“Why not?” Inquisitive brown eyes focused on me. Oh boy.

“Well, because it’s kind of a complicated story, and maybe Grandpa wouldn’t understand and worry. We don’t want to upset him.”

“Why should he worry?” Owen shrugged. “It’s only temporary, you’re not getting a divorce.”

“Exactly.” I felt my heart speed up slightly. “And I don’t want him to think that, so maybe-”

“What if he asks?”

“We say Dad stayed in Loveland because he was very busy with work, as usual.”

“But that’s lying.” Owen frowned, a slight accusatory tone in his voice. “Dad stayed in Loveland because you told him not to come, he wanted to help. Do you want me to lie?”

“You are right, lying is a bad thing.” I admitted. “But sometimes we do bad things because we want the best for the people we love. You can understand that, right?”

He paused, wearing the very same expression his father wore when pondering something. 

“Yes, I can.” He nodded.

“Because you are the brightest boy I have ever met.” I kissed his forehead. “And I love you very much. Now, want to race me inside the house?”

The smile he gave me before bolting inside the house almost made me forget about the pain. Almost.

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

“Pedro was cremated last night.” My father threw casually as he was making toast. I was by his side cutting fruit for breakfast.

“Who’s Pe…” And then it dawned on me. The man who killed my mother.

“I forgot to tell you, the police called me yesterday saying his body would be released. They scheduled the cremation right away. They didn’t even have a wake.”

“No point in mourning a murderer, I guess.” I answered dryly, my knife hitting the wooden board hard, echoing my frustration. “So they released his body, but not Mom’s? What a joke.”

“It’s an ongoing police investigation, Andy. That’s why it’s taking a bit longer. We need to be a little patient, that’s all.”

“Patient my ass, that sergeant is going to hear from me about this.” I  started pacing, too worked up to stay still. “They won’t release my mother’s body, they won’t let us into her office, what for? There is no need for an investigation, we know who did it, that son of the bitch killed himself before we could bring them to justice!”

“He was sick.” My father held my arm lovingly, trying to calm me down. “He was desperate. Your mother would’ve wanted-”

“My mother would’ve wanted to be alive! She would’ve wanted to see her grandkids grow! She would’ve wanted to grow old with you! She would’ve wanted-”

I was interrupted by my father’s arms enveloping me in a bear hug. And at that moment, I was 8 again, and he was my Dad, my fortress, holding me steady. I wrapped my arms around him, waiting for the tears to come, but they simply wouldn’t. My heart refused to hurt him with my hurt.  

“She would’ve wanted to apologize.” My father spoke. “She would’ve wanted to call you, and make amends. And she did, Andy. She never told me what happened between you two, and I have a feeling you won’t tell me either, but she loved you and thought of you every single day. And she forgave you.”

I looked up, reading the exhaustion and pain in my father’s eyes while he selflessly gave himself and forgot all about himself, so he could be there for me.

“How can you be so strong?” I pressed my face against his chest, wrapping my arms tighter around him.

“That’s what your mother would’ve wanted.” His voice shook slightly.

We broke the embrace and cleared our throats as we heard Owen enter the room.

“I’m hungry.” Owen mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Fruit and toast for my little red haired bug!” My father exclaimed, putting on a bright face. “Although your mother did a number on the bananas.” He showed the cutting board with the bananas I practically smashed in anger.

“It’s ok, I bet they still taste good.” Owen shrugged. “Do you have any honey?”

“Let me pour some for you.” My father poured the honey on my son’s toast, drawing a smiley face, just like he did to me when I was a child. “How’s your father, by the way? When is he coming?”

I froze, staring at my son, silently begging him to keep our secret.

“He’s not coming, he is too busy with work.” Owen shrugged as he bit his toast, making me deflate in relief.

“Between LFG and LCG and all that happened with Kasey, we thought it was simply not wise for Victor to leave town. He regrets not being here, but we still have a lot of issues to solve.”

“Life goes on, as it should.” My father smiled at me. “A man’s duty is to take care of his family.”

“Actually, he really wanted to come, but Mom wouldn’t let him.” 

“Owen!”

“What do you mean, your mother wouldn’t let him?” I was about to answer, but my father raised his hand. “Let the boy speak, Andrea.”

Again, I felt like I was eight, caught red handed with the cookie jar.

“Mom and Dad are doing an experiment, because Mom needs to focus at work. She moved to another apartment, and I stay with Mom and Dad on different days.” He gave me an angry look. “But now it doesn’t even make sense, because you are not working! Why didn’t you let him come with us?”

“Is this true?” 

“Yes, we have been…” I paused, choosing my words carefully in front of my son. “Living in different places for a while now. I didn’t want to worry you with it.”

My father watched my son as he calmly ate his breakfast.

“We’ll discuss this some other time.” He gave me a stern look, letting me know I wasn’t off the hook just yet. “You said you were going to the police station, see how the investigation is going?”

“Yes, I should go right now, actually.” I grabbed my purse, welcoming the chance to flee. “Do you mind if I take your car?”

“Take your mother’s.” My father walked to the hallway. “Let me get you her keys.”

“I know you told me not to say anything, and I disobeyed.” Owen whispered. “But sometimes we do bad things because we want the best for the people we love.”

Before I could retort, my father entered the kitchen again, handing me a set of keys.

“Will you be ok with him?” I asked, nodding towards Owen. “I can ask Josh to pick him up. Maybe you should get some rest.”

“He’s my grandson, of course I will be ok with him.” He ruffled my son’s curls. “Besides, this little guy and I have a lot to discuss.”

Which didn’t mean anything good for me. Even if Owen didn’t want to talk, my father would find a way to make him spill the beans. A skill he had learned from the very best of inquisitors, my mother.

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

“What do you mean the morgue hasn’t released her body yet? It’s been three days already! It was a gunshot wound, you found the weapon, you found the culprit, there’s nothing more to investigate!”

“Lady, I already told your father, this is no longer in our hands.” The sergeant raised his hands apologetically. “Apparently what happened to your mother caused quite a commotion, and other entities were involved.”

“What other entities?”

“I am not at liberty to say.”

“Can I at least go to her office and get some of her personal belongings? She kept some banking information in there.”

“I suspect you won’t even be able to get close.” The sergeant sat down heavily. “The place is taped and heavily guarded. Whatever your mother or that patient were up to, we will find out soon enough.”

I paused, gathering my thoughts. Could this have something to do with her Evol? 

“If they suspect my mother was involved in something, why hasn’t my father been contacted yet? Why aren’t they asking her family?”

“Mrs. Lee…” The sergeant gave me a grave look. “I honestly don’t know.”

Whenever my mother had a patient dealing with the grief of a deceased loved one, she would often use the term closure. That’s what they always came for, closure. The end of the chapter, the end of the pain, a brand new beginning. And then she would add, closure is impossible. There is no vacuum left when someone dies, something always stays behind, be it the words that remain unsaid, the projects that weren’t finished, a family that loves them and that will continue on, but always with their absence. In my mother’s case, especially because I knew things about her that no one else knew, closure was surely unattainable. And it felt like I had been left with this heritage, these actions which brought repercussions we were surely to feel, and I knew nothing about. Worse, I didn’t know how to deal with them.

I looked around inside my mother’s car with brand new eyes, to all the things that belonged to her, all the faint traces she had left behind, trying to assess who she really was. But I kept being drawn to the things that tied me to her, like the radio button I broke after a session at the therapist recalling my abuse, or the macaroni necklace I made when I was 4, which she hung on her rearview mirror. If Victor were here, he would know what to do. But I had been adamant in leaving him behind.

“I’ll postpone all my meetings for the next few days and get the jet ready.” He spoke as I packed my bag. “I’ll go home and pack, I’ll meet you here in half an hour so we can take the jet.”

“Victor…” I hesitated. “Look, I’m really thankful for you letting me stay for the night at your apartment and supporting me but…” I looked him in the eyes. “This is something I need to do by myself.”

I could see in his eyes he wanted to argue back, he wanted to insist on coming with me, but he kept silent. After an agonizingly long pause, he finally spoke.

“I understand.” He nodded, looking down. “But at least take the jet. It will make the long trip easier on you and Owen.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. “You don’t need to stay here and keep me company, I know you have better things to do.”

“You’re my number one priority.” He asserted. “Always have been, always will be.”

“Victor…”

“Always.” He declared. He took a step closer, holding my shoulder like he was silently begging me to look him in the eyes. “No, Andrea, you need to listen to me. I will respect the space you’ve requested, but on one condition: If you find yourself in a difficult situation that you can’t resolve on your own, you will call me and ask for help. You don’t need to go through this all alone. I’m here.”

“I know, but-”

“Remember when Mina passed away?” Gray eyes locked with mine, sharing a memory. “You gave me the space to mourn, but you never left my side. I want to pay you in kind. And don’t even dare say things are different because we are separated, because they are not. Whether you’re willing to accept it or not, my feelings bind me to you. This is an unbreakable bond, Andrea. I will always be by your side, even from a distance.”

He answered at the first ring tone.

“What on earth have you been doing?” He scolded me. “It’s been two days since you left!”

“You could have called me if you were worried.” I defended myself. “Are you seriously mad at me over this?”

“I was respecting…” He let out a sigh. “Forget it. How are you? How are things going?”

“I’m fine. Owen is also fine. He’s with my father now, otherwise I would pass him the phone.”

“I can call him later for that.” Victor paused. “Anyway, I’m glad you called. Thank you.”

“Yeah, I…” I bit my lip, planning in my mind what I would say. If I mentioned the word Evol, Victor would jump from his desk into a plane right away.

“Yes?” He urged with a soft voice.

“I could use your help, actually. The police is not being very cooperative in releasing my mother’s body for us to cremate. I don’t know what else to do, maybe the legal team could get some more information on how to proceed.”

“I will meet with them as soon as we hang up. I promise you this matter will be over by the end of your day.”

“Thank you.” I sighed in relief. At least I could do that for her.

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s huge already. Thank you.”

“You already said that. You don’t need to thank me. Just tell me how you are doing.”

“I’m fine. I’m doing fine.”

“You already said that too. Actually, you’ve been saying fine a lot.”

The truth was, even I didn’t know how I was doing. Whatever was there to feel, I was pushing it down, deep inside me. My goal was to help my father and to honor my mother like she deserved. I didn’t matter, and whatever feelings or issues or doubts I had didn’t matter either. I just had to keep going and do my best. So I answered in a way I was sure my husband would understand.

“My mother died.”

“Yes.” He paused. “I’ll call you as soon as I get an answer from the lawyers. Let me know if you need anything else. I lo-”

I pressed the End button before he could say it, my heart running a thousand miles per second. And then it dawned on me, what I really needed. I needed him. The one thing I refused to have, and I didn’t even know why anymore. In light of my mother’s death, none of what had happened had any weight.

I drove through the city, busying myself with errands, planning my mother’s funeral, confident that Victor would keep his word. After an hour, I got a call from an unknown number. It looked like it was from a landline in Lisbon, probably some contact Victor had sent out to help me.

“Estou?” I answered hurriedly, in Portuguese.

“Dr. Lee?” A vaguely familiar voice sounded on the other side of the line. “I hope I’m calling at an opportune time.”

“It’s me, yes.” I frowned. “How can I help you?”

“It is my understanding that your mother passed away recently. I am calling you to present my condolences.”

“And who are you again?”

“My apologies, I forgot to state my name. I am an old acquaintance of Victor’s, we met at your office, right after the release of the first part of your study, do you remember? Lucien Xu.”

I was silent for a moment, astonished by the way he spoke, like he hadn’t thrown some serious threats at me and my family, like he didn’t have a connection to that shady organization, like he was just some old friend, calling to pay his respects. I put him on speaker, my fingers swiping swiftly over the phone, typing Victor a text. He must have sensed my panic, because he spoke in a much softer voice.

“Dr. Lee, I must assure you that I wish you no harm. In fact, considering the present conjecture, you can truly believe I am a friend, not a foe. I’m certain your husband has his reasons to distrust me, but I can guarantee you the reasons that caused us to become opponents no longer exist. We are on the same side.”

I paused, staring at the phone, the unsent message staring at me from the screen.

“Why the change of heart?”

“A paradigm shift. A few years ago some important information came to surface, and what once was simply ceased to be. However, the stakes are much higher now, and at this point of the game, the pawns have either been defeated or put aside. The strongest pieces are at play now, and I’m afraid they won’t be deterred as easily.”

“Is this the part when you say it’s not a threat, it’s a warning?”

“If my determinations are correct, you must be aware by now of your true nature, which means you must be at least somewhat aware of your mother’s actions. However, I also estimate you are probably unaware of your mother’s true motivations.”

My finger hovered over the Send button, pondering my choices. Fight or flight?

“What do you know about my mother?”

“I know her death wasn’t a violent crime committed by a patient. Your little outburst at that island was enough to draw the attention of some very dangerous people. They found her through you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible.

“Alright, Dr. Xu, you caught my attention. And I’m pretty sure you’re not in Lisbon for the pastéis de nata. When do you want to meet?”

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

 The smart thing to do would be calling Victor right away, telling him that if Lucien Xu was trying to reach me, he could also be in danger. From Lucien’s cryptic words, it was clear that Black Swan was still active, and not neutralized, like Victor thought. If he was in any danger, I should let him know right away, give him time to prepare himself for any potential attack. But my gut and my reasoning seemed to agree on one thing, if BS was out there and involved with that man, their focus was on my mother and me. I didn’t know how or why, but Lucien seemed to know a lot more about my mother than I did, and I wouldn’t let the opportunity to get that information slide. I couldn’t tell Victor, he would have forbade me to come, he would come and get me himself, but he wouldn’t allow me to go.

On the other hand, this could also be a trap, and I was deliberately putting myself in great danger. And if that was the case, I didn’t want Victor to be close either. I would be the only casualty.

I froze by the door of the café, spotting him through the glass panes, sitting in the back of the room. I took a deep breath, trying to slow down my heartbeat. I had no reason to be afraid, he wouldn’t dare hurt me in front of all those people.

“Impressive.” He smiled as he watched me sit down, facing him. “For a moment I didn’t think you would come. But it was obviously foolish of me to expect anything else.”

“You talk like you know me.” I gave him a bitter smile. “You don’t know me at all, Dr. Xu.”

“I know what you are capable of, even if you don’t know it yet, Dr. Lee. I know the extent of your power, what you can do with your Evol. In due time, you’ll see it for yourself.”

I felt like an easy prey, being played with before he delivered the fatal blow. I sat up straight in my chair.

“That still doesn’t answer why you are here, Dr. Xu. You say there was a paradigm shift, you are a different man now. What are your true intentions, then?”

“To honor the dead. Mine and yours. You see, we are bonded by our parents' past. One could even say we are family.”

“Our parents?”

“You must remember them, I’m sure. They were the ones that gave you those injections.”

I remembered the gentle man that held my hand and gave me lollipops. And after a while, I could see the resemblance. They even had the same soft polite voice.

“I do remember my mother telling me they were trying to leave Black Swan, while you do their bidding. I guess the apple did fall far from the tree this time.” I clenched my fists in anger under the table. “Do not try to fabricate a common ground using our families, Dr. Xu. You’re wasting your time trying to feed me such lies. I can’t speak for your parents, but I know my mother didn’t have any connections with Black Swan. If anything, she was trying to save me from them. She was trying to save me from people like you.”

“I have no intention of hiding my ties with Black Swan.” He calmly stirred a sugar cube into his coffee. “It felt like a heritage before, but now it’s only a necessary evil. You see, one must dwell into the dark cave to see just how dark it is. Your husband understands this idea very well. Your mother did too.”

“You know, I came here to find some answers about my mother, but now I realize my mistake. You say you know her, but you don’t, at all.” I stood up. “This was clearly a waste of my time. Do as you must, I’m leaving.”

“I know she dove deep into the cave like no one before her, just to save someone very precious to her. And in order to do that, she had to become one of those you hate so much.”

“My mother was a therapist.” I spat back.

“Your mother was a spy, one of the best Black Swan had ever seen. Her codename was Psyche. If you know what her Evol was, you’ll know how fitting the name was.”

“You’re lying.”

Lucien got up suddenly, his hand taking mine, forcing me to sit back down.

“Your mother risked her life repeatedly and gave it willingly so you could be saved. Don’t waste her sacrifice on the account of your clueless stubbornness.”

“Sacrifice?” I couldn’t help but raise my voice, even if slightly. “It wasn’t her sacrifice. It was of the children she left to die in that God forsaken orphanage. You talk about her like she was some hero, when all she did was cower away and hide, leaving others to their misfortune.”

“She was a hero!” He gritted through his teeth, his kind eyes now looking dangerous. “You have no idea of how many lives were lost because of you, and how it is to carry that weight. You don’t understand how special you are, and how you can potentially affect the destiny of many others, including mine. It’s time you learn your place in history, and live up to the role.”

“The role? What the hell are you talking about?”

Lucien kept silent, straightening his clothes, his dignified stance returning to him little by little.

“Maybe it was a little naive of me to think you’d take my word for it.” He brought the coffee cup to his smiling lips. “But fortunately, you won’t have to. As a true scientist, even if one of the mind, your mother always kept her studies very well documented. But I’m sure none of this is new to you.”

“What about it?” I was starting to lose my patience with this man.

“It is known she has documented everything that happened, every single detail of her past, for an event exactly like this one. Many people are looking for your mother’s journals as we speak. Why do you think it is taking so long for her body to be released and her office available for you to reach?”

My eyes widened. Of course he would know about this. Black Swan was behind it. By asking Victor to help me, I had put him in danger.

“It is time you honor all that was lost because of you.” He got up, dropping a ten euro bill on the table. “Should you fail to do what you were destined to, or try to run away from it, I will have no choice but to hunt you down and kill you.”

“Finally, the threat.” I smiled bitterly at him.

“As you expected, it is not a threat, only a warning.” He gave me a resolved look. “Dr. Lee, don’t take any of my words lightly. I am a friend.”

“A friend who will kill me if I don’t play his game.”

“Dr. Lee, make no mistake.” He bent towards me, his face closer to mine. “If we ever come to that, you’ll be the one begging me to put you out of your misery.”

[sergeant-spoons]

C, F, H and T 🥰😘

Ask game linked here (it won’t show up on my blog, for some reason, and a chance to link to @mercurygray’s wonderful profile is always a plus - go read her work!).

C: What member do you identify with most?

Hmmm—that’s a hard one! I think, in a way, that my OCs all derive from a part of my own personality. Their core traits tend to be the traits I wish I could amplify in myself. So I suppose it’s fair to say that I identify with Phyllis Dotson’s love of baking and want for a family just as much as I identify with Verity Rich’s mom-friend instincts and introvertedness. The same goes for Harley Gibbs’ independence, Judy Hartmann’s love of writing (no surprises there, I bet), Leslie Sheppard’s die-hard loyalty; the list goes on.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This one took me a while to figure out. I think my favorite dialogue scenes are from this one shot—From May to June—this other one shot—There’s A Fine, Fine Line—and this scene in In Defense of Chicanery—Chapter 36.

For From May to June and There’s A Fine, Fine Line: I think these two pieces are some of the best characterizations I’ve done with George Luz and Bill Guarnere respectively. 

Ex (From May to June):

“I love that laugh.”

“Mine?”

He snorts.

“No, General Taylor’s.”

and (There’s A Fine, Fine Line)

Powler seems about to correct him, then decides it's not worth it.

"No. You're not sleeping there."

"Ain't ya choice, Miss-"

"If it's too small for me it's much too small for you," she argues before he can think of an applicable epitaph other than 'Gorgeous'.

"Are you callin' me fat?" He knows she isn't, but he thinks it will make her squirm, and he's right.

And from IDOC:

“Huh!” Skip waved, smirking with his usual cheer and charm. “Consider us blessed. Hey, Victor Rich, over there, huddlin’ up to Doc- not so lucky. Got knicked in the ear by a bullet from the heavens above.” 

Skip cupped his hands around his mouth as if Verity could no longer hear him quite so well. 

“How’s that old thing healin’ up, you poor martyr?”

She mustered an empty chuckle for his sake, consoled just enough by Gene’s distant warmth pressed against her side.

“Well, I can still hear, so not as hole-y as you think.”

For this ^^ excerpt, it was (and remains) one of my favorite scenes to write. This is the wounded list scene with Skip, Lipton, Popeye, Liebgott, Guarnere, and the rest of Easy in Bastogne right after Joe Toye returns from the aid station. The scene in the show is a breath of fresh air in the middle of a very difficult and damaging situation—writing it in IDOC felt very much the same.

Also, I love this bit, a little earlier in the scene...

“Perry Bloom over there,” he [Skip] announced, “got his fingers nipped at by the winter, but he’s got a mean left hook, so he fended off the freeze alright.”

“I taught him that,” Toye cut in, and Perry nodded along gladly, sharing a glance with Toye that made Verity shrink slightly into her scarf. They were being a bit bold, weren’t they? Then again, what she wouldn’t give for the chance to express warmth and seek comfort without having to hide it all the damn time.

...because it is one of very few moments in which we get to see Toye and Perry’s blossoming relationship.

H: How would you describe your style?

I think the biggest thing I would identify with my style is the habit I have of using actions between dialogue more often than dialogue tags (or, similarly, using a dialogue tag with an action attached). My ADHD leads me to pay attention to whatever a person is doing while they are speaking (if I am physically present with them) and something I have noticed is that there is very rarely stagnancy in a natural conversation/situation. Life is full of motion. Even the most minute actions—like the tapping of a foot, a glance at a passing butterfly, or the flickering of a smile—can add that pinch of realism I’m always looking to put into my writing.

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

None that I can think of off the top of my head in the Band of Brothers fandom, but in The Hobbit fandom, there is a shocking number of (quick trigger warning) incest fics with the Durins (Thorin, Fili, and Kili), a ‘trope’ which makes me very uncomfy.

Thank you so much for this ask, Francy! ILY, my dear. 🥰💕

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #9 (part one)

Victor

You guys, I’m so happy right now! I don’t even know where to start!

First off, I’m still on Sulani. Yuri said it was okay for me to keep my original flight and stay as long as I’d planned to. At first I didn’t want to, because I missed him so badly and because I was still shaken up from what happened with the boat, but then I started thinking about all the cool stuff I hadn’t seen and done yet.

I’m going home today. My flight is just before noon, and I’ll be sleeping in my own bed tonight. I can hardly wait to see Yuri, but I’m glad I decided to stay here for the full fourteen days after all. It's been awesome, and I'm never going to forget this experience, especially the new friends I've made here. Alana, Mitchell and Kalani have all been great, and I hope we'll be able to see each other again in the future.

But, I'll tell you more about the rest of my trip later, because I have news.

The other reason why I'm so happy is because I've got something wonderful to look forward to when I get home. You'll never guess what it is!

Yuri told me that my mom is coming to visit us! Apparently, she invited herself, which is a totally Mom thing to do, and it sounds like Yuri's fine with it, so I'm excited. I haven't seen my mom in person since I moved to Mt. Komorebi nearly eighteen months ago, and I miss her like crazy. We video chat a lot, and we call and text, but it's not the same. The first thing I'm going to do when I see her is give her the most epic hug of all time.

It's going to be so much fun, showing her all around Mt. Komorebi, and introducing her to our friends, and it goes without saying that we'll spend lots of time on the mountain. Mom loves snowboarding almost as much as I do. I've been dying to try the climbing course the mountain recreation organization offers, too. I'm scared to ask Yuri to do that with me, in case he gets hurt, but I'll bet Mom will go for it. She's adventurous like me, and she’s got the strength and the stamina to climb, if anyone I know does. I think we'll probably go to the hot spring, and there'll likely be a festival for Harvestfest, and... ahh! Honestly, I'm just super thrilled to have the two people I love most in the whole world with me at the same time.

Oh! Also, this might not be as interesting to you, but I'm looking forward to cooking for my mom and showing her how much I've improved. I know how to do my own laundry now as well. Yuri said he wasn't going to do it for me because it's an important adult skill that everyone needs to have, and he taught me to do it. When I lived in Willow Creek, I usually just took my laundry to Mom's house, even though I was living in my own flat. But, it's like I've been growing up a lot during this past year and a half, and I think Mom's going to be really proud of me.

This is my mom, by the way. Her name’s Grace. Dr. Victoria Grace Nelson, but she’s always gone by Grace. She said I would’ve been named Victoria, after her, if I’d been born a girl, but obviously I'm a boy and so I ended up being Victor instead. Anyway, my mom is just Mom to me. She's smart and pretty and amazing at sports, and I love her so much.

Okay... I know you want to hear more about my trip. There'll be lots of time when my mom is visiting for me to tell you all about her, so let me get back to Sulani for a minute.

Just like he promised, Mitchell introduced me to his friend Kalani, and Kalani's older brother Kai, who also happens to be Mitchell's housemate.

Kai is twenty-six, only a year older than me, but he acts a lot older than that. He's so serious, and doesn't seem like he'd be very fun to hang out with.

Kalani, on the other hand, definitely knows how to enjoy himself, and we hit it off right away. Kalani is twenty-two, and he's still kind of in that stage of life where its hard to decide whether you'd rather be an adult or stay a kid forever. He's great, though. He's hilarious and he loves to laugh and joke, and he knows everything about the island.

Mitchell and Kalani have been showing me around and making sure I don't get lost or hurt. The day after my misadventure with the outrigger, Mitchell suggested that we should do something on land and not too strenuous, so he and Kalani and I went to pick fruit. How cool is that? You've got to love a place where you can find free food just conveniently hanging from a tree or a plant.

The day after that, Mitchell and I went snorkelling together, and although I was nervous at first, it didn't take me long to relax and get into it. I've never seen so many exotic fish in my entire life, and the plants and coral are like something from an alien world. It's stunning, and I'm slightly envious that Mitchell gets to see this stuff every day. While we were in the water, Mitchell stayed close to me and made sure I was okay. Every time we surfaced, he asked me if I was all right, and I appreciated that. It's too bad he's an only child. He'd have made a great big brother for somebody.

Later that day, he took me on his boat, which is bigger than that ridiculous outrigger thing I tried to learn to sail on. I wore a life jacket, which I assumed was Mitchell's because it was too big for me. He tightened the straps as much as he could, though, and he said it'd be fine as long as it was secure enough not to float off me if I were in the water. To test it, he tried to pull it off, and we were both satisfied when he couldn't.

Mitchell's a great sailor, and he handled his boat like he's been doing it practically his whole life. For all I know, maybe he has. We sailed around the island to an area where no one lives, where there's this actual, honest-to-Watcher volcano. Mitchell said it's inactive, but it was kind of smoking at the top, so I don't know.

The water was all green and weird at the foot of the volcano, and Mitchell told me it was like that because of a certain kind of algae that thrives in the environmental conditions created by the volcano. We couldn't sail too close to it, but I wasn't all that disappointed. I was fine with viewing it from a distance.

Another day, when Mitchell was too busy to go with us, Kalani and I went hiking in this kind of jungle-y area with cliffs that drop straight down to the sea. It’s beautiful there, but it’s also kind of terrifying. In hindsight, I’m not sure why i found it scary, though. Hheights don’t usually bother me, and if there’d been snow on it, I’d drop straight over something like that on my snowboard.

Hidden at the base of one of the cliffs, there was this tiny waterfall. Kalani told me it’s one of his favourite spots, and he likes to come here when he’s got something important to think about. I can see why. It’s secluded and peaceful, and certainly nobody would bother him here.

He told me that it’s also a spot for couples, that people like to bring their significant others here for special moments together. I could totally appreciate that as well. I imagined kissing Yuri under the waterfall in the late afternoon sun, and then watching the sunset while cuddling on the beach, wrapped together in a blanket. Maybe some day we’ll get to do that, I thought.

I asked Kalani if there was anyone he wanted to bring here. He looked kind of embarrassed, but he said yes. The problem, he confessed, was that he didn’t think his family would approve of his choice. I empathized with that.

Yuri’s parents aren’t my biggest fans. In fact, I’m pretty sure Yuri’s dad actually despises me. Mr. Okamoto says I’m a ‘corrupting influence’, yet somehow he’s cool with Yuri hanging out with Seiji and Taka. Don’t get me wrong; I like Takahiro and Seiji, and we have a lot of fun together, but Seiji is kind of an idiot. He’s a serial lover, reckless and a little insensitive at times, and I think if anyone’s the real corrupting influence, it’s him. I mean, you wouldn’t catch me drinking till I passed out, or participating in a contest to see who could have the most one night stands in a month, or crushing beer cans on my head. I have class. Well, sort of. As much as a guy can have, growing up on the run-down side of Willow Creek and being raised by a single mom who lets you eat mac and cheese straight from the pot it was cooked in.

But, I'm getting off-topic. Too hyper to focus, I guess.

Yesterday was my last full day here, and I finally got to have a proper look at the shipwreck. Mitchell said he'd come and get me around eleven o'clock, so I hung around my campsite in the morning, reading and playing on my phone a bit and relaxing in the sun.

Around ten-fifteen, I decided that I probably had time for a swim before Mitchell showed up. I'd just stepped into the water when I heard a big splash off to my right.

I looked that way in time to see Mitchell's blond hair breaking the surface. He shook the wet hair off his face the moment his entire head was above water, and then started swimming toward my campsite. As soon as he spotted me, he raised a hand and gave me a quick wave.

"Hey, Victor!" he called out. "I'm a bit early. Hope you don't mind."

"It's cool," I said, as I waded in to meet him. "Did you come here on your boat?"

"Yeah," he said, and gestured vaguely in the direction he'd come from. "It's over there, anchored just around that point. The water's too shallow to bring it all the way in here."

"I'll take your word for that," I said.

"Are you ready to go exploring?"

"Yeah! But, where's Kalani? I thought he was coming with us, too."

"He is," Mitchell said. "He had something to do this morning, but he said he’s going to meet us there."

Kalani never seemed to be around when Mitchell and I did anything that involved water, and I kind of wanted to ask Mitchell about it. Yuri would probably tell me to err on the side of discretion though, which is his polite way of saying I should mind my own business, so I kept my curiosity to myself. I guessed maybe Kalani can't swim or that he's nervous on boats. I can absolutely appreciate boat-related anxiety.

"Are we going to sail there?" I asked.

Mitchell smiled. "So, you feel the pull of the sea after all."

"Actually," I said. "I'd be fine if I never, ever felt the pull of the sea again. I was just wondering, since you came on your boat."

"I prefer my boat, but we can go overland to Admiral's Wreckage. It's a bit of a hike, but the sights are worth it." He held up a small bag which, up to that point, I hadn't even noticed he was carrying. "Dry clothes," he said, and then because I must've looked confused, "Waterproof bag. I'll just change quickly. You should put on something dry too, and then we can get going."

"Okay," I agreed.

He was right. It was quite a hike, but the scenery was worth it.

Kalani was indeed waiting there for us when we arrived. When he saw Mitchell, he kind of flung himself at him and hugged him with what looked like enough strength to squeeze the air out of most people. I know with one hundred percent certainty that I’d injure Yuri if I tried to do something like that to him, but it seemed Mitchell was able to hold up to Kalani's dangerous affection. No one can say Kalani lacks enthusiasm.

"Easy, Kalani," Mitchell said. "Remember what I keep telling you."

"Sorry!" Kalani exclaimed. "But, I missed you."

"You saw me two hours ago."

"That's practically forever!"

Mitchell looked amused. "You have absolutely no sense of time, do you, my wild creature? Come on, now. Either relax or let go."

Kalani must've decided he wasn't quite ready to let go, and he relaxed so thoroughly that I could see all the tension going out of his arms and back. He looked as if he wanted to melt against Mitchell's chest and shoulder. For his part, Mitchell was laughing and trying to hold Kalani up.

"This would be better if we were in the water," Kalani said.

"Later," Mitchell told him.

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now, I need you to behave like a grown up for a while, okay? Think you can do that?”

The whole exchange was a bit awkward to watch, but at the same time, I was pleased for them because they were so cute together and clearly had something unique and special going on.

I guess now I know who Kalani wants to go to that waterfall with.

Kalani pouted a little, but he let Mitchell go, and stood back. He evidently hadn't noticed me standing there before, but when he did, he give me a little grin and greeted me with, "Hello, Victor. Guess what? It's haunted shipwreck time!"

"Can't wait!” I said, and meant it.

We didn't see any ghosts, but the shipwreck was impressive. Kalani said we'd have to come back at night if we wanted to go ghost hunting, and he sounded so serious that I wasn't sure if I should believe him or not. Then, he told me a story about a ghost mermaid, which I knew he had to be making up.

"Mermaids aren't real," I said. "They're just legends, right?"

"Of course they're real," said Kalani. "Mermen, too."

Mitchell made a noise, sucking air between his teeth like you'd do if you got a sudden minor injury like a paper cut or like burning your finger or lip on hot food. He didn't say anything, though.

I stared at Kalani for a second, attempting to judge whether or not he was joking. Concluding that it was a joke, I played along. "You mean, there are guy mermaids?"

"Mermen," Kalani repeated. "There have to be mermen and mermaids, Victor. How else would you get baby mer-people?"

I laughed so hard, I actually snorted. "You are the literal best, Kalani."

He flashed a big, goofy grin. "I know. Mitchell says that about me, too."

I glanced at Mitchell, whose face was as red as the pomegranates we'd picked earlier in the week. He mumbled, "Did I say that?"

Kalani hopped over to him and caught him by the hand. "Come on, Mitchell! We have to show Victor the shipwreck garden next."

The 'shipwreck garden' turned out to be a lush, green spot not too far from the remains of the old ship. It was colourful and vibrant and smelled exactly how I imagined a tropical garden should smell. There were a dozen different kinds of flowers and plants, all shaded by tall, thin palm trees. It was breathtaking.

After that, we trekked all around the area of the shipwreck. I took lots of pictures. Mitchell was quiet, but Kalani kept us entertained with a running commentary on everything, as well as telling me about some of his favourite island legends. The one I liked best was a story about how mer-people had learned to read. According to Kalani, that one is an important tale in island folklore.

All too soon, it was time to leave. I asked Mitchell and Kalani if they'd like to come back to my campsite for something to eat, and they both agreed, although Kalani said he had to go home first and would join us later. I asked him how he was getting home, since I hadn't seen a boat anywhere nearby, and there didn't seem to be any other way to go except by the path Mitchell and I had used to get here.

"I'm going to swim," Kalani said.

So much for my theory about him being afraid of water.

I didn't miss the pointed look Mitchell shot his way. Mitchell looked almost annoyed for a second, but then his face softened and he reached out to stroke Kalani's arm.

"Please be careful,” he said.

From his expression, I suspected Mitchell had wanted to say something completely different, but thought better of it in front of me. I couldn't help questioning what it was that'd changed the mood so abruptly, and I wondered if I'd ever find out.

[emmakillianfan]

A Christmas Story for You

To @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ for Christmas. While I haven’t had as much time for it as I had hoped, I hope you are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoy this little story that kind of got away from me. Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to you!

Due to illness and post graduate studies I’m a bit rusty on the fanfiction story writing, but I hope you enjoy it. I have loved the opportunity to be your secret santa. As I said from the beginning, I’m a big fan of your writing.

Getting to Know You at Christmas

Emma Swan hated to mingle at these social events her parents held each year as a welcome to the holiday season. Her mother easily socialized with people, remembering names and details of each person’s life in the coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father was just as gregarious, shaking hands and clapping older gentlemen on the back as the mused over details of long-ago exchanges and funny occurrences that she never quite could understand. She liked people, even had friends. But there was something missing for her from the conversations and laughter that seemed to lift over the swell of Christmas carols and the flashes of lights from the tree and cameras snapping shots of huddled groups of friends, family, and compatriots.

“Your mother is worried about you,” Ruby Lucas-Gale said with a knowing smile as Emma reached for another mini pizza and shoved it in whole. “You don’t look happy.”

Keeping her lips sealed, Emma shot her friend a plastered smile and shrug.

“You could at least move away from the bar. She’s going to think this is a re-do of last year’s party where you went to bed with a bottle of tequila under each arm after telling everyone that you were sleeping until the new year.”

“I should have kept that promise,” Emma groused, giving a slight wave when her mother looked at her pleadingly. “I could have avoided the Christmas Karaoke party at Victor’s, the cookie exchange at your grandmother’s, and let’s not forget the pot luck at Regina and Robin’s where I was shamed for bringing your grandmother’s frozen lasagna as my contribution. Not only had Regina made one, but I didn’t even realize it was still frozen.”

“You brought a pie too,” Ruby reminded her. “I don’t remember anyone noting that was store bought.”

“I ate it in the car working up the nerve to go inside because my mother set me up on a date. Who does that? Blind dates on Christmas?”

“She means well,” Ruby added consolingly, patting her hands down her red dress that seemed to creep up her toned thighs each time she moved. “And Graham was…”

Emma held up one hand in protest. “Don’t defend him. First he was your ex. He was nice but a little or more than a little too intense with his whole getting back to nature and communing with animals thing. My mother has horrible taste in men for me. For a woman who believes in fairy tales and calls my father her prince charming, I don’t think she would survive a day on Tinder.” It had been the long running commentary at the parties that somewhere in the crowd was there to be set up with Emma. Some who did not partake in the dancing or singing along around the piano would try to guess who it was going to be this year. Bets were currently on about a gawky man with a green tie who was currently chatting up Zelena Mills in the corner.

“Just remember she means well.” Linking arms with Emma, Ruby pulled her friend out onto the makeshift dance floor and began to sway her hips to the beat of a modern Christmas tune that Emma knew was by some current pop singer. “So I’m guessing your next date is in here somewhere. Where oh where could he be?”

“You are annoying,” Emma pouted, folding her arms over her chest yet still swaying a bit to the up-tempo beat. “I thought you had money that guy in the green tie.” He was the typical type her mother would love to see her date. She could hear the school teacher turned public servant now telling her how she just knew he was the kind of guy she would love to get to know.

“Possibility,” Ruby said, tapping her bright red lips in mock thoughtfulness. “What about Archie?” He’s been hanging around over in that corner in a conversation with Regina and Robin for a little bit now. Seems to look over here every once in a while.”

“Everyone is looking at you, Ruby,” Emma hissed in exasperation. You are showing more skin that is advisable with the temperature and you’re currently bumping and grinding to Christmas tunes.”

“Maybe he’s setting up some pre-marital counseling for them. Okay…one of the guys from the mines? Leroy?”

“That’s a tad incestuous since they are practically my uncles.” Emma scanned the crowd to see her father and mother in conversation over by the French doors leading out to the patio that had been sprayed with twinkle lights and that included a new audio system he had spent the day fiddling with as her younger brother tried out the microphones in his own rendition of some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was just 14 and still at that awkward stage, suffering the embarrassment of parents who doted and friends who loved to point that out to him. Her own son idolized him though. “I’m thinking he’s a no show. My mom is in her plotting mode. Look at the way she’s talking to my dad.”

Sure enough her parents were furtively whispering, her mother holding up a hand to hide her mouth as though nobody would notice. It would be debated for years to come which of the two women noticed him first though. A slender, tall man with piercing blue eyes and sardonic smile seemed to rush up to her parents and hug them in turn. Even though Emma couldn’t make out the words, her father gave the man his double shoulder clap before spinning him about to the crowd and pointing out a few people.

“Maybe him,” Ruby said, lifting onto the balls of her feet even higher than her shoes allowed and balancing herself against Emma. “He’s a hottie.”

“Doubtful,” Emma noted, swinging her gaze across the room to the man in the green tie who was now eating a banana and doing nothing for his resemblance to a simian creature as Ruby had declared. “I don’t have that sort of luck. My mother doesn’t…” She never got to finish the sentence when she noted who had just entered the party and made a line straight toward greeting her parents. Neal…the once love of her life turned affection into weapons and her self confidence into a puddle of what if. She was better now, but the sight of him seemed to jangle her nerves in a way that made her doubt her recovery. They managed to co-parent their son with little trouble, but he wasn’t one she wanted to see socially. The fact he always had a date on his arm just added to her discomfort.

Ruby was one of the few people who understood. Twirling her in the direction of the mystery man who was now noshing on a few of the crisp veggies without bothering to dip them into the various sauces, Ruby leaned in and whispered loudly in Emma’s ear. “Don’t question it. Just go introduce yourself. It’ll be less awkward that way.”

Emma would forever question the logic in that, but for the moment felt her feet begin to move one after the other and in no time she was standing in front of him. His eyes were even more striking up close and she caught a whiff of his cologne that was a spicey scent that she would later blame for her mouth watering and her words feeling like they slid off her tongue without regard to custom or reason.

“Emma,” she said by way of invitation. Her smile was a little forced and her hand held out in mid air a beat too long as he shoved a celery stick in his mouth and raised his own in greeting. “I guess my parents probably told you that.”

“Your parents?” he repeated, the smiled he was giving her lifted higher on the right side of his face as did his right eyebrow. He seemed to be surprised by her, almost as if he was not expecting the conversation. That irritated her a bit.

She gave a wave over her shoulder to where they stood by the fireplace. “Mary Margaret and David. The Nolans. You were just talking to them.”

“Aye, David and my older brother went to school together back in the day. They invited me to…”

She brushed off his explanation. “No, I get it. It’s so them. They don’t think I have any skills in that area at all. Apparently, they have given up on finding someone local.” She shrugged and when he seemed he wasn’t going to answer, she reached across and grabbed a carrot stick. Placing it in her mouth she made a face and immediately removed it. “Rabbit food.”

“You do know how to flatter man, love. I’m not sure I would want to be just one of the multitudes.” His smile was wider as he watched her, his questions about her easy and slick as she tried to explain that her parents were young when she was born and waited nearly two decades before their miracle child was born. He seemed to know nothing about her, which was odd for a set up. Maybe he was just being polite.

“So you’re not from around here,” she asked when he paused to take a drink. Even over the rim of the cup his eyebrows raised again. “I’m the sheriff. I sort of notice things like accents. I do sort of like accents like yours. Different than other guys around here.”

“Boston by way of London,” Killian answered. “And you, love? Always a resident of this seafaring town?”

“Most all my life,” she admitted, leaving out a few pit stops along the way. “Mom probably told you that the best place to take me for a dinner date is Granny’s. She loves it there, plus Granny will spy on us and give her updates every few minutes. I’m more into this Italian place near the docks. Awesome seafood and pasta. And their lasagna isn’t frozen. It’s more date like, I think. You know, checked table clothes, drippy candles, wine, and all that.”

“A classic romantic?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, I mean if we have to go out, it makes sense to go someplace like that.” She held out her hand and gestured to his phone. “I’ll give you my number in case mom hasn’t already. A date is a date, but might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“By all means,” he said, handing her the latest device on the market. She noted that he did everything with his right hand, his left staying next to his side and covered in a black glove. She was about to mention it when she heard her father’s voice and laughter.

“You’ve met our Emma,” David said, joining the duo at the table and placing one hand under Emma’s elbow. “Our daughter can be a bit blunt. I hope she hasn’t insulted you or made you change your mind.”

“Dad,” Emma said, swatting him playfully.

“She’s been absolutely brilliant,” Killian answered, shoving his phone in his pocket. “By the way, love, name’s Killian Jones. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.”

David nodded knowingly. “Killian is here to work with your mother on her bid for the mayor’s office. He’s a wiz when it comes to all things in local politics. Very highly recommended.”

“Work for mom?” Emma asked weakly, trying to ignore the not quite so humble smile that played about Killian’s mouth. “You mean he’s not…”

“Of course, Regina is taking time off to plan her wedding and then get settled into married life. She recommended Killian to run your mom’s campaign since Archie is considering and Mal has already announced. Anyway, it is good you met. Killian’s going to need to talk to you about your role in promoting our family. Maybe you can meet up at Granny’s later this week.” David glanced around the room and gripped his daughter’s arm harder. “I wanted to introduce you to someone I met when I was buying supplies for the farm. His name is Walsh.”

Emma stammered a bit, her face turning pink as Killian continued to hold that smile that showed both bemusement and cockiness. “Walsh…”

“Go ahead, love,” Killian said. “We’ll finish our conversation at this Granny’s or perhaps you might like the atmosphere.”

Emma was sure that her face was bright red as his eyebrows lifted up and down in a way that made her wonder just what lascivious thoughts were rolling around in that head of his. She felt those blue eyes on her as her father made another excuse and led her over to the man in the green tie who was smiling nervously at her and oblivious to her discomfort and not so secret looks over at Killian Jones.

She nodded appropriately and even asked a few questions about Walsh and his furniture design business. Her own rental was outfitted with castoffs and hand me downs that had seemed comfortable and worn at the time. He was telling her why it was important to have pieces that spoke of her uniqueness and character. At least that was what she heard on the occasions she bothered to listen and didn’t internalize the flinches and groans as her parents introduced Killian Jones to every person in the room. She wasn’t pleased to see most of the single women giggling and flashing him flirtatious smiles that he easily returned. There was no need to be jealous, but still the emotion was creeping up her spine as she watched him actually kiss Ruby’s hand like something out of a novel.

“I could show you sometime,” Walsh interrupted. She jumped at being caught unaware and repeated the words back to him in hopes of making some sense of the situation. “My shop. I have some really beautiful pieces I think you would like.”

“Well, if I am ever in the market,” she said, realizing that he was holding out a business card with his personal number written on the back. “Have you met August and his father Marco. They do some of the most beautiful woodwork you have ever seen. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“We were right about the monkey guy,” Ruby said defeatedly, kicking off her shoes and reclining on the bed in Emma’s childhood bedroom. The room didn’t quite do justice to the angsty teen she had been, but still boasted teen idol posters of boy bands and even the dollhouse brought by Santa one year. “But that other guy was cute and quite the charmer. Even I was about to hit on him. I had such high hopes for your mother.”

Emma flinched as she unclipped her hair and left it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. “Yeah, so he’s not my set up of the year. Yet I asked him out, sort of. I don’t know. I made a fool out of myself.”

“He didn’t seem too offended,” Ruby suggested. “I mean I was distracted once Dorothy agreed to dance but every time I looked in his direction he was looking in yours. And I might add that was pretty often.”

“Right, he was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with me.” Emma was about to bemoan her embarrassed state a little more when her phone dinged out one and then another text message. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the realization. It was Killian. Ruby immediately wanted to know what he had to say and proceeded to inspect the picture he sent just in case Emma was confused if he was the guy in the green tie or not.

“Emma, you might have had a rough start, but he’s hot. And he’s clearly interested. Why else would he text?” Passing the phone back, she shrugged. “And let’s face it, you and commitment aren’t that strong of allies. He’s from out of town. Mary Margaret said he travels all over to do these little campaigns. I’m seeing excellent fling material.”

The text was taunting her, a coy comment about Italian restaurants and then a reminder of who he was with the picture. “I should answer him. I mean it would be rude not to answer, right?”

“Your mother would say not to be rude to anyone, but I’m telling you there is no reason to be rude to that guy.” Ruby reached over and grabbed a 10 year old magazine from the table, clearly bored with the conversation. “But I mean it is up to you. Text him. Don’t text him. Your choice.” Ruby flipped the pages casually, bringing up what dresses Regina was going to want them to wear at her wedding. She insisted that red wouldn’t be that garish at a Christmas event. It wasn’t until Emma refused to correct her that Ruby even looked over cautiously. “You haven’t texted him?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Ruby propped herself onto one elbow. “It’s written all over your face.”

Emma shoved the phone back in her bag and let her head loll against the mattress as she sat cross legged on the floor. She rarely was in this room now, but somehow it felt comfortable and almost nostalgic to discuss dating and boys with her friend just down the hall from her parents. At least she wasn’t practicing writing his name with hers or anything like that. “I don’t get crushes.”

“You’re much too tough for that.”

Emma wasn’t exactly wrong about her aversion to crushes. She was in her twenties and already sheriff of the small coastal town. She wore practical boots or sneakers more than heels and her long hair had not seen princess curls in months. This event at her parents was the first time she’d worn a dress except to church. “If I did, and I’m not saying I do, what difference does it make. I’m a grown woman, mother of a 10 year old, and I have a career. I’m hardly going to make cootie catchers and see if his name comes up after saying some horrible rhyme.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully and went back to the magazine. “Not to mention horribly ugly and boring. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“You are going to pay for that one, Ruby,” Emma laughed, tossing a pillow and joining in as Ruby cackled with laughter. They were both laughing so hard that Emma barely heard the familiar chirp of her phone ringing. Holding up a hand to silence her friend, she shushed her and reached for it. She only hoped she sounded less winded than she felt as she said her own name and waited for the response.

“I hope I didn’t call to late,” a male English accent sounded on the other end. Even without seeing him in person, she could already picture that bemused smirk and light in his eyes. “I meant to check back with you, love, but time got away from me and then you were gone.”

“Oh um…good…I mean great…I mean you didn’t call too late,” Emma gestured wildly at her friend who was making choking signs in response to her word vomit. “But why did you call?”

“Well, love, you did give me your number,” he reminded her. “I tried texting, but didn’t get a response. I thought perhaps you were screening, but I had to give it a shot. I was hoping you might have a bit of time for me tomorrow – breakfast perhaps? I know you said you preferred that little Italian place, but I have never known such an establishment to be open very early. Perhaps that Granny’s, you spoke of? We could save the Italian place for our dinner date. I have been craving some ravioli lately.”

“Date?” Emma stammered, ignoring the way that Ruby looked ready to pounce. “I…”

“You did sort of ask me out and I must say it was a masterful way to do so. I would love to accompany you for dinner, Emma. But first we have a bit of business to discuss about your mother’s campaign. Breakfast then? 8 a.m.? Granny’s?”

“I’ll be there,” she answered dully as he spoke politely for a moment about thanking her for her time.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

Emma’s father had not gotten the memo that she was going out for breakfast, as he was flipping pancakes onto a large plate as she descended the stairs, handed her son his permission slip for the field trip, and dodged the family’s collie that seemed to be underfoot. Her mother showed no signs of worry as she sipped her morning coffee and reminded Emma to wear a scarf and hat as she consoled her husband that there were not too many pancakes and Emma wouldn’t have eaten them all anyway.

She pulled her yellow bug up in front of the diner, taking the last of the spots at 8:05 a.m. That was early for her and not a big worry that she was late for meeting with Killian. That was until she walked in, kicked a bit of the snow off her boots (the black ones with a heel that were in her old closet and could not be described as practical – don’t judge), and spied Killian at one of the booths talking to Tink. The bubbly blonde was petite and perfect, a face and voice like a cherub in a painting. Every year she had the solo at the church choir’s Christmas Eve performance and every year people wiped away tears at her beautiful rendition. She didn’t look very angelic as she perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward to talk animatedly with Killian. Her smile flashing at him and even an occasional stroke of his arm with her hand to emphasize a point. Even in the 90 seconds she had been standing there kicking her boots and unwinding the mile long scarf from her mother, she had watched the waitress stop by and lean across the table to give Killian quite the view down her shirt.

Ruby must have noticed too, as she left her spot behind the counter and fluffed Emma’s hair with an encouraging nod and a teasing note that Emma was wearing lip gloss. Spinning her with one hand on her shoulder, Ruby sort of nudged her in the direction of the booth with a hissed reminder to smile.

“Killian,” Emma said, ignoring the pout from Tink, whose real name was Isabella but didn’t want to be confused with the town librarian, Belle, “sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he said, scooting out to stand as she arrived. “I was going over a few notes for the kick off and Tink here was catching me up on some of the ideocracies that make small town politics so fun.”

Emma flashed a quick smile at her childhood friend, watching her slink out of the booth and tell Killian she was in the town directory if he wanted to call. He did not follow her with his eyes as she sashayed toward the door, nor did he smirk like Emma wanted to do when Ruby called after Tink to tell her that she still owed for her morning tea. It wasn’t that she disliked Tink, but there was that feeling that made her feel ill when she saw her flirting with Killian.

He gestured for her to sit down a simple glance toward the counter sent the waitress scrambling to bring them menus and take their orders. Or maybe it was just his order, as he had to call her back to get Emma’s. Despite his seemingly healthy eating style the night before, he matched her order of a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Granny had even fancied it up with chocolate shavings.

His questions were easy at first, wanting to know about her childhood and then her job. While a few were personal, he did not seem to be prying. She even managed to ask him a few and he offered some answers of his own without objecting too loudly and then quickly getting them back on track. She learned of his naval experience that paid for his education and how he had become involved in the campaigns and politics of small cities and his love of the ocean and aged rum.

“So is your position as sheriff an elected one?” he asked, casually resting back in the vinyl seat across from her.

She was taking two sips to his one when she noticed the way he smiled as he watched her. Instinctively she raised her hand up to swipe at the whipped cream that might have gathered on her nose but found none. “What?” she asked in exasperation. “Did I make a mess?”

“No, I am simply enjoying watching you share your experiences as sheriff. Your passion for it shines on your face, love.”

She knew she was probably blushing and rolled her fork through the home fries as a distraction.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

For the next few days they saw each other often. There was the announcement of her mother’s candidacy where she helped place signage. She ran into him when she went to inspect a license of one of the vendors at the skating rink and ended up sharing a drink and conversation. While pondering which type of creamer to buy, he popped up out of no where and offered a suggestion. He was even there when the church choir had a rehearsal, claiming he was talking to some potential volunteers. He did apologize for that when the choir director called Emma out for missing two of her cues in a row because she was watching him, in the words of Regina, make doe eyes at her and silently flirt.

In the mean time, her mother had been talking up Walsh’s skills in design and potential as a date for Emma. There was now a gaping hole in the living room at the farm house where her mother was having him design a custom entertainment center. Her brother was already complaining that the television on the floor was not the greatest idea. Emma tried to explain Walsh wasn’t her type, but her mother wasn’t hearing it and was asking when she was seeing him again. Given that she had not saved his number and had mutually agreed with him that they weren’t really each other’s type it seemed unlikely. However, Mary Margaret was so cutely sure she had done well this year that Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her.

One morning over doughnuts at the station her mother read the speech Killian had written for her campaign and asked her daughter for feedback. Emma offered a few remarks as the woman adjusted the clutter on her father’s desk.

“I think he’s handsome,” her mother said at one point. “Kinda has that mysterious look to him.”

“Who?” Emma asked distractedly. “Dad?”

It was the pronoun game.

“No, I was talking about…” The phone ringing cut off what Emma was sure was a pep talk about Walsh. The conversation was left unfinished as Emma went to investigate the case of the missing trash can lids. Spoiler: some of the kids were using them for sledding.

It was a full two days later before she saw Killian again. Granted he had texted a few times and called her “by accident” when he claimed he had meant to call her mother to discuss strategy. He was humming a tune and scrolling through his tablet when she and her son, Henry, spotted him inside the library. Apparently, he had set up shop in the corner and had everything but a receptionist there to greet visitors. Her son, who had heard his name a few times from his grandparents, pointed him out in a totally obvious way that made Emma want to crawl under the table. Somehow she managed to take a few steps closer and do more than the wave she originally planned.

“Nice office,” she said of the table he had commandeered. “Quiet I guess.”

“It has it’s perks,” he offered. “I was heading over to talk to your father. He said he would be at the station this afternoon. I take it you are not?”

“Short break to get my son home before I go back to face the files on my desk.” She knew her son was already done checking out his three books and would be joining them any second. She only hoped he would not blurt out an inappropriate question. She was about to send up a silent prayer when she noted that the glove Killian normally wore on his left hand was off and a synthetic material prosthetic was in its place. Before she could say anything, he looked down at the hand as though surprised by it and shrugged.

“Naval accident, an accident.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” she said not sure what else to say about it. It was clearly an old injury and hardly one she had a blame in causing.

“Tis an old pain,” he told her. “Most days I don’t really think of it.”

She nodded, glancing at her son who was still in conversation with Belle. “Does that mean you are getting more comfortable with me?” She instantly regretted saying that, as it came off a little weak.

“You do seem to put me at ease, love.” He winked at her and leaned a little to the left as her son ran up beside her. “You, lad, must be Henry. Your grandparents tell me you are quite the author.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically and continued the conversation for a few more beats, nearly forgetting his mother was there. Even a comment from another patron, Will, that Killian was clearly trying to get to the mother through the son, went unnoticed by all but Emma who stood taller and tried to let it slide. Killian was quite the conversationalist, observantly noting that Henry was holding a book on piracy along the New England states. That really got them going until Emma reminded Henry that she needed to drop him off at home to meet the tutor and get back to work.

That was how she ended up with Killian sitting in her living room and then the two of them walking side by side back to the station to interview her father. He opened doors for her, asked her less probing questions, and complimented the way she handled one of the boys known for getting into trouble with a stern look and warning. She was starting to feel natural about it all when he stopped short at the wreath decorated double doors and scratched behind his ear.

“I was wondering, love,” he said, shifting his eyes to the door and back to her again. “Rather I was hoping you might…well, bloody hell, I was hoping to ask you on that date. I gather you weren’t aware of who I was or why I was here when you sort of asked me.”

“I thought you were the guy my parents set me up with this year. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

He smiled nervously, his lips tight and his eyes again darting to the doors. She realized he was looking to see if her father was lurking. “It was rather adorable actually and I was thinking…”

She closed her eyes as he searched for the words, something she was sure he rarely did in his life. He always seemed to know the perfect thing to say and the perfect way to say it. “Killian, you don’t have to…”

“And if I want to?”

“Then maybe we could meet up tomorrow evening? Or wait no…tomorrow is the winter carnival for the kids at the orphanage and I am hosting the movie portion. Maybe Thursday…no Henry’s got his soccer game. I would say Friday but I’ve got choir practice and Saturday is mom’s campaign rally.” She truly looked sorry about her schedule as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Busy lass,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ll have to consider another time. Or by chance are you free this evening?”

Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes briefly. “I want to say yes, but my father is in there and I’d rather not mention this to him. And given that my son is likely to either eat potato chips and chocolate milk for dinner, stay up past bedtime for video games or inappropriate movies, or worst yet burn the place down in an attempt to see what he can melt in the oven, I’m thinking I need a back up babysitting plan that doesn’t include my parents.”

“Rather not hear the I told you so? Or are you hoping to keep me your little secret?”

“My parents are a little on the enthusiastic side when it comes to my love life.” She tilted her head back for a moment and then made eye contact again. “I have a plan, but you have to swear to me that we won’t be going to Granny’s or any place else they would be spotted.”

He assured her that paper napkins weren’t on the menu. “I have no issue with being circumspect, love. Trust me, I can plan an evening for us.”

If she didn’t trust him, she didn’t show it as he ushered her inside and greeted David. His cheeks were a little red from the cold and she knew hers were too. However, David never seemed to notice their conversation outside. She saw him pulling out his notes when she spoke up and asked David if Henry could perhaps have dinner with them. She managed to ask nonchalantly, simply a scheduling glitch.

“Any particular reason,” David asked, barely hiding his smile.

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely, crossing her denim clad legs and pulling a stack of files into her lap. “Did you see Leroy’s file? I need to check about his court date.”

“Haven’t seen it. Anyone I know?” He was trying to watch her in the reflection of his computer screen, sneaking a few knowing looks at Killian who was flipping casually through his notebook.

“Oh you know,” she said, pausing to look at a document, “that guy from your party.” She didn’t want to lie to her dad, but she could tell he was not going to let up. It was one thing to have her father believe it was Walsh but another to flat out tell him that.

Killian seemed to understand, interrupting the awkwardness with a cheeky smile. “Since Emma appears to be on a deadline and you’ll be entertaining the lad this evening, it sounds like we need to get through these questions to prepare your wife’s talking points. Let’s start with the most obvious. You have a role that is second in command here at the station and in the community. How does that work with you effectively reporting to your own daughter?”

Emma let out a little sigh and as her father droned on about how proud he was of her, she shot Killian a grateful look. Her father seemed to take pride in both his work and how well she did her job, showing him pictures of celebrations after tough cases were solved and the commendations she had gotten from the governor. Most grown children worry that they aren’t successful enough or are somehow a disappointment to their parents. Emma didn’t have that worry when David Nolan talked about her.

He was still talking about how well Emma had worked with Regina who was stepping down to concentrate on her new life when Emma slipped out to change. Neither he nor Killian seemed to notice that she almost spoke up twice to tell Killian that maybe tonight wasn’t the best timing. Then she reminded herself of Ruby’s advice. He was a nice and more than good looking man. He didn’t even live here. So what if she went out with him. It was just fun.

She repeated that to herself as she went to her car to head home and change. That is until the realization hit that she didn’t really have anything to wear. A trip to one clothing store in town would rouse suspicion and the tailor was a friend of her mother’s. There was only one place to go.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“No leather, no spiked heels, no red, no plunging necklines, and I would preferably like to sit down without flashing everyone in town,” Emma said as Ruby dove into the bowels of her closet up above Granny’s. The woman had squealed, hugged Emma, and asked if certain parts had been shaved or waxed. Emma assured her that was not an issue and that she just needed something that didn’t have the capacity for her shoulder or hip holster. Ruby had of course said she had just the thing.

With no sign of her wardrobe addition, Emma looked at her phone and two unread texts.

Killian: Your father is in search of your old scouting badges. I feel like we should have code words. Perhaps not. Meet me at the docks at 7?

She answered quickly, not wanting Ruby to interfere with the response that would probably be inappropriate. A quick see you then and an internally debated smiley emoji would have to suffice. The next message was from her mother.

Mom: David says you have a date. Very exciting. When you come by to pick Henry up, I want to hear all about it. I’ll wait up.

Her mother was going to be an issue. She loved the eternal optimist that was her mother, a woman who had more than her fair share of darkness, including losing two parents early in life, but rose above it to see the good in people. Wasn’t that what Emma was doing. She was seeing the good in Killian despite the voices inside that said this was a bad idea. Well, she could rationalize it that way. Her mother truly wanted a happily ever after for her daughter, something even  Emma couldn’t disagree with in scheme of things. The fact that her mother even believed in such things was pretty amazing.

Ruby emerged with a black dress that looked more like a set of random strips all stitched together. Beneath it was a red dress that flared out and looked more appropriate for dancing. And beneath that was a soft mauve frock with a full skirt and wrapped bodice. She knew that was the one she wanted to wear, but knowing Ruby she had to at least try the others. Half an hour later she was wearing the lighter colored dress, matching nude heels, and her hair was what her friend called casually curled.

She was standing with her arms crossed for warmth at the docks at 7:01 when Killian emerged from one of the sailboats with a single red rose in his hands. “Apparently,” he said, steadily walking the gang plank despite the swell of the waves that had her not quite sure if she was standing still or not, “it is nearly impossible to procure just a rose this time of year. You almost ended up with a pot of poinsettias.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

He assured her that it was no trouble and that she was beautiful herself. Below deck he had a small table set with real dishes and flatware, a bottle of wine and containers of pastas and sauces from the Italian restaurant she had mentioned. The only thing, he mused, was that he could not do the candles since such items were not really safe on a boat.

“Confession time,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “I borrowed the boat. I don’t have one here in Storybrooke.”

“I knew that,” she admitted. “It’s my uncle Leroy’s boat.”

“Short man, scruffy looking, kind of grumpy?”

“Always grumpy, yes. It’s nice of you though. Not too many prying eyes.”

He took a sip and pondered that for a moment. “I take it that you would prefer to keep things clandestine just in case. I am also guessing that you gave the information to your friend Ruby just in case I turn out to be a murderer.”

“I can take care of myself.” She squared her shoulders off.

“Aye, I believe you can, love.”

The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation and only a few awkward pauses that were usually filled before it got to be too much. Killian had even brought along a set of speakers to stream music allowing them to dance. It was a tough that even Emma thought was sweet as his arms were around her in a way that she admitted fit. She wasn’t sure how much life was left in his phone or when the clouds that had been building all day would open up with snow, but time seemed to stand still as they swayed. Her eyes closed and her head resting against his right shoulder. He lifted their entwined hands and softly kissed hers. She was glad her eyes were closed and her head nestled against his chest.

She could feel his breathing change and his hold feeling tense. Her name came out as a whisper from him. She lifted her head and found his eyes searching hers. “Emma? I would very much like to kiss you.”

“I’m not sure you can handle that,” she teased in just as soft of a voice. Yet she closed the space between them and let him close the rest. Their lips touching softly at first and then with more passion. Her hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him toward her and his hand hovered at her hair before threading through it with a sort of awe she had never experienced.

They might have stayed like that for a while had the siren of her dad’s cruiser not shattered the cold and quiet night. Maybe they should have stayed below deck, ignored her father’s presence on the docks. However, that plan faded as his footsteps grew closer and she knew, just knew that someone had spotted them on Leroy’s boat and reported it. Resigned to the fate that her father was about to find out who her date was with and probably have an opinion about it, she took a step back and turned to climb up into the cold. While he said nothing, Killian placed his own jacket, a worn leather one, over her shoulders. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Dad?” she asked, holding one hand over her eyes to shield it from the giant flakes falling silently from the sky. “Did something…”

Her father looked startled and even a little embarrassed to see her there. His breathing was normalizing when Killian emerged too, which sent his eyes wide and his gasp of surprise sharpening. “I didn’t realize…”

“Everything okay, mate?” Killian asked. His dark colored shirt and black vest offered little warmth against the plummeting temperatures. However, he did not indicate it by shivering or otherwise complaining.

“Sure…I mean I was just answering a call about someone attempting to break in cars when I saw Emma’s bug. Someone said they thought they saw the suspect run this way and…”

Emma gave her father a nod, taking a deep breath to switch back into her role as sheriff. “Any description?”

Her father’s eyes drifted to where Killian’s hand was covering hers and giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. They narrowed and his voice faltered as he answered, “light colored hair, red sweatshirt, about 5’9”, thin.”

“Sounds like a juvenile,” Emma assessed. “I’m assuming we don’t have any camera visuals. Last time we investigated over here the cameras were malfunctioning and I haven’t noticed…”

“Emma,” her father said, his boots shuffling a little on the worn planks of the dock that were beginning to be covered in snow. “You don’t have to…I mean…You’re on a date…I guess you are.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, glancing at Killian who seemed to be enjoying the moment. Suddenly she felt the urge to clear up the misconceptions she had caused. “I didn’t mean to…” She cleared her throat. “I know you probably thought I meant I was seeing that Walsh guy.”

“Your mother’s buying an entertainment center from him,” David answered with confusion. “It’s not my business who…but where is Walsh?” He did manage to lower the flashlight and seem less ominous there on the docks, but still had his hand on his hip and was rocking backwards as he waited for explanations.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t exactly seen him since the party.” Emma glanced at Killian who was standing closer to her than she realized. That wasn’t exactly unpleasant as a prospect. “Killian and I…”

“You and Killian,” he father parroted with the confusion that it hadn’t dawned on him. “You and Killian what?”

Killian gave her hand another squeeze and took a step forward as though offering himself as tribute. “Aye, mate. I do fancy your daughter and she and I have been spending time together.”

Blinking back at them, David appeared to running through the occasions he had seen them together and attempting to digest this information. “So the conversation about intentions toward Emma should be delivered to you and not Walsh?” It was too dark to know for sure, but Emma thought he looked a little disappointed.

She reminded him that there was a potential thief on the loose and he assured her he had it under control and to go back to her date. Killian just sort of shrugged and offered his analysis that it wasn’t that much of a secret after all. They talked a bit longer, took a slow walk toward her car, and both hopped in with him saying he would walk to Granny’s after she was safely at her parents with her son.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, speeding up the wipers against the snow. “I can drop you off. No need for you to freeze.”

He looked toward her in the dark car and gave her a soft smile. “Your father is bound to have told your mother about our date, love. I know you had hoped to keep it secret. I only wanted to offer my services should you want them to fend off her disappointment and concern.” He jumped when she placed her hand over his prosthetic.

“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them with another failed attempt at matchmaking. My mother has to be ready to give up by now.”

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “she might have to give up anyway. If we were to date, surely she would not attempt to replace me each year.” Her hand jerked away fast, something he noticed. “I hoped you might want…”

She sighed, turning her car off the coastal road to the one that led toward town. “Killian, I am the one who originally asked you out. Even if that was a misunderstanding. I had fun. I enjoy spending time with you. But…”

“But?”

“But we live in two different cities. The special election is going to be over next month. What kind of relationship can we have when you’ll be off on your next job and I’ll still be here? I’m not 18 and free to wander around after you. I have a job, parents, a son, and responsibilities.”

“We could…”

“Killian, I like you. I like spending time with you, but I’m not interested in starting a go no where or long distance relationship. I want more than a pen pal. Think about it. You do too.” The driveway of the farmhouse was coming into sight and then disappeared as she passed it. “I’ll take you back to Granny’s. No sense in talking to my mother about this. We’ll just say it was a one time thing.”

“As you wish.” His voice was quiet, deep, and almost wistful.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

As the holidays grew nearer, Emma’s parents and Killian went into campaign overdrive. There were photoshoots of the whole family on the farm. Her mother even managed to sneak in a few candid shots of Emma and Killian. Speaking of Mary Margaret, she was only mildly disappointed at Emma’s secret that she was not seeing Walsh. That was quickly erased as she said she had considered setting her daughter up with Killian, but was quickly dissuaded when her internal voice said her daughter would object. Nobody corrected her on it.

For his part, Killian worked hard and would try to sneak in time with Emma. They shared a few lunches, walked around the farm discussing a few strategies, and shopped together for a present for her parents. He sat with them on Christmas Eve when Emma performed with the choir for mass, looking just as in awe and proud as her parents did. He even joined them for the evening meal on Christmas, leaving behind a gift for Emma rather than making a big deal of her opening it in front of everyone.

As the wreathes were removed and the snow seemed not as white, the election day finally drew close and Killian was even more of a fixture. He was constantly showing up with a new tactic and shoving his client in front of cameras to announce a proposed initiative. Everything from illiteracy to hunger would be addressed by Mary Margaret Nolan for mayor. When election day arrived, more than 60% of the voters chose her and he beamed proudly from the sidelines. Most people noticed the hug shared between Emma and Killian, but it seemed to be just part of the celebration. It went so long into the night that nobody really saw the two of them saying goodbye the next morning.

“I wish it was different,” she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps someday, love. After all, nothing stays the same.”

She watched as the Uber driver loaded his bags and Killian reluctantly slid into the backseat. Their eyes were locked and the unsaid words hung in the air. She wasn’t sure she even breathed again until she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house. Her father was flipping pancakes, but her mother was at the doorway even as she dragged up the steps of the front porch.

“I like him,” her mother said. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, accepting the hug and hurrying in before the next gust of wind. “I just…I don’t want this every time we see each other. I don’t want to miss him and have the constant feel like a clock is counting down the hours.”

“I know, Emma. And that is very practical, but if you…”

Emma didn’t wait for her mom to finish the statement before greeting her father and asking about setting the table. It wouldn’t be the last time that her mother brought him up. She would over the next few months, mentioning seeing him at some event or another. Emma never asked, but her mother would always update her on his well being. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t know. He still called. He texted. When he was in the area he would invite her to dinner or to an event. She occasionally went but always told herself it was just casual. He never tried to kiss her again and she never sat herself too close to him, despite Ruby’s advice to do so.

A book he had mentioned to her once said of the protagonist and her lover turned best friend, “they would continue to call and write until eventually they were just acquaintances and no longer a real part of each other’s lives.” That’s what Emma resigned herself to when he didn’t answer her text or voicemail inviting him to her parents’ annual party. He’d been pretty scarce for the past few weeks. Their conversations short and usually interrupted by something or someone. She once even heard a female voice in the background and wondered if he was seeing someone. That idea hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She wore red to her parents’ party, her hair hanging loose and the smile on her face tense and unyielding. She was sipping on champagne and watching as Regina and Robin twirled around the room still in bliss nearly a year after their wedding. Walsh was there too, dancing with Zelena and inking a new design deal with Marco. Neal had brought Tink as his date, which made Emma roll her eyes. And her parents were at their prime greeting and hugging all of those in attendance.

“Emma,” her mother called out when a few more guests were greeted. “Come here. I want you to say hello to someone.”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look as Emma begrudgingly dragged her feet over to where her parents were standing. And there he stood, Killian in a freshly pressed suit with a wide smile on his face as she approached. Her mother was giddy as she mockingly introduced them. “Emma, you remember my old campaign manager, Killian, right? Well, he was in town getting settled because his new job at the governor’s office starts next month. I was thinking that he might be just the kind of guy you’d like to get to know.”

[bluboothalassophile]

Love all of your jayrae fics! Was wondering if you would please be able to write a fix about raven and Roy's friendship or how they get along?

Hello,

I actually have a long story for them going, Yee Naaldlooshi, so I hope you enjoy Chapter 2! 

Featuring a cross over with the Mystery Inc Gang!

The Ranch...

Raven stood in Durango, Colorado, the wind tugging on her braid as she felt ancient magic pulsing through the grounds she stood on. It was rather quaint, and beautiful here, they were at a gas station by the river, which was gently rolling on by. She leaned on the hood of the car, looking at the scenery around her, it wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen outside of old westerns.

Lian was giggling as she ran towards her, and Raven smiled as she caught the girl.

“Rae! Lookie!” she ordered holding up a keychain.

“It’s lovely sweetie,” Raven said. The pure innocent joy Lian had was infectious and soothing on Rae’s empathy.

“Daddy say I can give it to his…bwoder,” Lian said.

“Brother,” Raven corrected. “And it’ll be a lovely gift.”

“Think he’ll like me?” Lian whispered in a loud hushed tone.

“I think it’d be hard for him not to like you,” Raven said.

“Ready to hit the road ladies?” Roy appeared then.

“Yeah,” Lian giggled in delight as Raven loaded her up into the car. Twisting around Raven pulled up the buckles for the carseat and tapped Lian’s nose lightly when she was all secure; her keychain clutched firmly in her hands.

“We’re forty minutes out from Farmington, and I think twenty from your aunt’s farm,” Roy said.

Raven said nothing to that.

“Family’s not bad, Rae,” Roy pointed out starting up the car.

“I have a family,” she pointed out. “And I don’t, Roy I’ll never be able to live with myself if something happens to them because of me. At least Victor, Harley and Ivy can take care of themselves. Alice and them, they can’t.”

“Hey, I get it, but they’re your family, you’ll need to accept that one day.”

“I do accept it, which was why I was willing to stay away.”

“Family doesn’t do that, trust me, and Jason for that matter, on this. They don’t disappear just because it’d be easy or convenient for you.

“I could wish, right?” she sighed.

“No,” he chuckled. “It’ll be fine, Rae. It’ll be fun!”

Raven knew that she and Roy had drastically different opinions on what was and was not fun. She had a feeling that this was about as fun for her as Artemis and Wally’s wedding would be for Roy. Not that he had a bad relationship with his family, but rather he and Artemis butted heads all the time, and Wally was his best friend marrying a girl who was like his little sister. Rae saw the reasons for Roy’s discomfort about the wedding, but they were going.

 Once they were on the road again Raven watched the scenery as Lian talked about everything she wanted to do. She was mostly fascinated with the idea of horses, she wanted to ride one. Roy thought it was amusing and said he’d look into if Bird still had the horses for her to ride.

“You never said how you were tied to the tribes,” Raven said when Lian had fallen asleep and they drew near the Reservations. She could feel Roy’s tensions building.

“My dad, my biological dad, not Ollie, he was a Game Warden, he and my biological mom had me kind of young, it didn’t work out well. His second wife was a part of the tribe, Catherine was a sweetheart,” Roy admitted.

“What happened?”

“She died, Dad stayed on the Res with her family, so did I, and then dad died, and well, you know, I’m a fuck up,” Roy muttered the last bit more to himself than her.

“You’re not,” Raven said softly. He turned to look at her, and she smiled a bit. “We all mess up, make mistakes, do things we regret,” she said softly.

“Yeah, but, black out drunk, I think I killed Bird’s dad,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” Raven said levelly. “You’re not a killer Roy.”

“You sure about that? I am an Outlaw,” he said roguishly.

“Positive, it takes a killer to know a killer,” Raven said levelly. Roy was safe, he wasn’t afraid to take lethal action if push came to shove, but he worked so hard on not doing that. He did hand out crippling injuries, but he had never killed a single person as far as the knew.

“I think Thea and Brave Bow would disagree with you,” he said levelly.

“I don’t think so.”

“Rae, you’re not always right,” he pointed out.

“Maybe not, but I am right about this, Roy Harper. You are no killer.” She stated.

They turned onto a dusty road and Raven blinked; not seeing a street sign.

“Are you sure this is the road?” she sputtered.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“There’s no name,” she started.

“A lot of the roads aren’t marked; it’s just… just pay attention to where we’re going and we’ll be good.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Mary-Beth was bored. She was very bored.

Not that she didn’t like visiting her mother’s ranch, but she preferred life on Long Island with all her friends, and schooling.

They had come out here though for a few months, because her mom’s right hand man, John Trujillo, who was in charge of the while they were in New York, had called about a problem. Apparently an oil company wanted to take mom’s family land, so the dispute wasn’t pretty.

However, Alice had also managed to invite Rachel here for a weekend; that was a massive feat apparently which had her mother reorganizing and redecorating the guest rooms repeatedly.

The house her family lived in was built by her grandfather Alan, when he had settled in New Mexico. Her grandmother, Oolijee had refused to leave her family lands, so her grandfather had asked to build her a house. It was a massive house, seven bedrooms, five washrooms, plumbing, electricity, a huge kitchen, open porch and massive windows around to see the mountains. It was a nice house, and there were huge stables, and a nice house for the ranch hands to live in too. She knew it was nice, very nice, and well maintained, her grandfather had operated the property into a solid ranch; much to her grandmother’s delight, and kept it prosperous. It was a beautiful property, even her great-grandfather who had held nothing but disdain at best for her grandfather, had been impressed.

Mary looked up from her phone when John appeared at the foot of the stairs leading towards the house.

“Miss Roth,” he said softly.

“Mom’s in the guestrooms preparing for cousin Rachel and her friends,” she said to him. He nodded.

John Trujillo was a very intimidating man, a hard face, with dark eyes. He looked like the warriors of old honestly, even with his long hair styled like a mohawk. She didn’t understand why her mother had hired him, but the man was terrifying. So soft spoken and good with animals. Mary looked out at the expanse of nothing for miles until the mountains and sighed.

She was bored and there was no cell service!

~~~*~*~*~~~

John Trujillo was walking out of the house when an old car pulled up in a cloud of dust. He had gone to Alice because one of the ranch hand’s son had gone missing; Shiye was a good young lad but he was missing all the same, which was something of a concern. Alice had said to take out search parties, but to keep it quiet in case the person who had done the abduction was watching. She had also suggested ramping up security, which he agreed with.

John watched as a young woman got out of the car first. She had many piercings on her ears, that he could see, large sunglasses perched on her nose, long loose black hair that seemed to fall however it pleased around her, and a face of contradictions. She looked like Angela, he thought, and she looked very familiar. He couldn’t place his finger on why she looked familiar but she did.

She walked next to a tall man with red hair and a lean build, who was holding a black hair toddler with bright green eyes.

“Are you sure this is the place Roy?” the woman asked, her voice was a voice meant for seduction. Smokey, graveled, and beautiful, now he recognized her.

The Raven.

It had been many decades since he had last seen her. She was a beautiful young woman, he didn’t need her to remove her glasses to know those dark eyes were raking over him, assessing him to be a threat or alley.

“Well, it’s the right place, cous,” Mary’s voice said behind him.

“It’s nice to see you again Mary-Beth,” the Raven’s voice said smoothly.

“Rachel,” Mary said tightly. “This is mom’s right hand, and the head of the Ranch, John Trujillo,” Mary introduced him. “John, this is Rachel Roth, my Aunt Angela’s daughter.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the Raven said holding her hand out.

He didn’t touch the empath as he tilted his head a bit in acknowledgement before walking by her. She was a small, slight woman and he saw those dark eyes watch him as walked by.

If the Raven was here then whatever was taking the children wasn’t no damn coyote; he would bet her arrival to mean the supernatural was stirring once again.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Shaggy didn’t struggle under Daphne’s bags as they walked to the car she had rented them to meet up with Fred and Velma.

A lot had changed over the years, but the jobs for PIs never really did. Daphne ran her blog, built her name up as a reporter, while Velma was still into all sorts of science work that he didn’t understand, and Fred was a budding author.

And he… well, when he wasn’t a PI he actually was a chef, at a restaurant he had opened up back in Coolsville. He’d have stayed in Louisiana, but he just couldn’t. Besides, yearly visits to check in on Grimwood Academy were taken and he got to see everything going on down at the plantation. The school had decided to plant Moonscar Island Chili Peppers. He had acquired Moonscar Island after Simone Lenoir’s and Lena Dupree’s ‘disappearance. Special Agent Beau Neville had all but begged him to so no one else got drawn into the weir voodoo.

Shaggy had because his own family’s plantation was close enough that acquiring the island was just an expansion of his plantation.

Yes, he kept his family’s ancient money and plantations a secret from the gang but he didn’t know how they’d look at him if they knew. Daphne knew, but her family was insanely rich and Mayflower old in the states with their wealth. Shaggy’s family was mostly French and had settled in New Oreleans area, it was because his mom married a Yank that he had grown up in Coolsville rather than on the family plantation.

“You’re here!” Fred shouted in glee, Velma smiled.

“We figured we’d pick you up at the airport rather than making you drive all the way up,” Velma said as she got out of the Mystery van.

“RELMA!” Scooby bellowed as he pounced her in glee.

“Thanks!” Daphne said.

“Yeah, thanks!” Shaggy grinned as Fred took some of the bags that belonged to Daphne.

“Just like old times,” Fred said.

“She doesn’t pack less,” Shaggy muttered as they packed up the van. The gang took their normal seats, he was sitting with Scooby as they looked over the custom Scooby snacks Velma had picked up for them.

“It is a weird case, and no one’s digging into it,” Velma said.

“Why not?”

“Alice said they don’t look into reservation problems and there aren’t enough cops on the reservation to look into this, and all the leads are dead ends,” Fred said.

“That’s sad,” Daphne said.

“Yeah,” Shaggy agreed as Scooby’s head rested on his shoulder. He didn’t like solving mysteries, but they did make him feel like he was giving something back to life by solving them.

Despite the PTS, anxiety and his ADHD going off the wall when they worked them.

[darkseen-archive]

short  blurbs  about  my  thg  ocs  under  the  cut

verona  king  :  a  dreamer,  verona  was  one  of  the  brightest  souls  in  the  capitol.  she  loved  the  colors  that  filled  her  surroundings,  loved  the  spectacle  everyone  put  on  for  her  to  see.  but  she  was  naive,  oh  so  naive.  never  did  she  see  the  tragedy  behind  those  surgeries  and  changes  or  behind  the  games.  it  was  not  until  she  met  penny  (  @glassae  )  and  her  brother  that  she  began  to  understand.  at  first  it  seemed  like  a  dream  come  true  --  a  chance  to  show  the  world  her  work  and  her  designs.  but  then  thread  died  and  penny  was  swallowed  by  darkness  and  the  light  in  verona’s  eyes  went  off.  the  bright  girl  was  no  more,  slowly  defining  as  years  went  by  and  more  of  district  8  tributes  perished  before  her  eyes.  it  was  no  wonder  she  stood  by  cinna  the  moment  he  spoke  of  the  mockingjay  --  her  fate  as  bitter  as  his.

jimena  balami  :  victor  of  the  66th  games,  jimena  was  never  one  many  people  bet  on.  she  was  young  when  they  called  her  to  be  a  tribute  --  only  fifteen  and  oh  so  sweet.  a  girl  who  would  still  sew  clothes  for  her  sister’s  dolls.  except  when  it  came  down  to  the  games,  jimena  was  tired  of  being  underestimated.  she  thrived  /  mostly  hiding.  she  did  her  fair  share  of  killing  though  --  whoever  said  that  fabrics  were  not  good  for  struggling  did  not  know  the  first  thing  about  how  lethal  fashion  can  be.  as  for  the  fan  favorite  from  district  two  who  would  make  jokes  about  how  he  would  take  pleasure  in  killing  jimena?  she  saved  him  for  last,  sewing  his  lips  closed  so  he  would  never  run  his  mouth  again  before  killing  him.  the  games  made  a  monster  out  of  her  and  she  embraced  what  happened,  becoming  a  perfect  puppet  for  the  capitol.  jimena  never  went  back  home  to  her  family,  cutting  ties  completely.  instead  she  remained  in  the  capitol,  choosing  to  act  as  an  escort  for  district  8.  upon  meeting  katniss,  however,  something  changed.  seeing  how  desperate  she  was  to  protect  her  sister,  jimena  was  reminded  of  her  own  family  --  seeing  katniss’  determination,  she  was  reminded  of  her  own.  when  katniss  and  peeta  won,  she  went  home  to  beg  for  forgiveness  and  to  try  and  escape  to  district  13  --  she  never  made  it  there.

rafaela  martinez  :  capitol  girl,  born  and  raised  with  luxury  /  rafaela  never  did  give  too  much  thought  about  the  way  their  world  worked.  she  had  a  life,  she  had  a  family  and  it  was  all  good.  but  there  were  certain  things  she  did  not  know,  such  as  the  fact  her  father  was  a  tribute  her  mother  knew  from  her  district  and  her  mom  cheated  on  her  husband  with  him  during  her  father’s  games.  he  died  back  then,  taking  his  secret  with  him.  she  also  did  not  know  what  life  was  like  outside  the  capitol,  being  fed  lies  by  the  man  she  called  dad  (  he  just  wanted  to  protect  his  delicate  flower  from  the  world,  or  so  he  said.  )  however,  it  was  all  for  nothing  the  moment  rafaela  fell  in  love  herself  /  for  a  tribute.  it  all  happened  so  fast.  they  met,  crossed  looks  and  started  exchanging  notes.  it  helped  that  she  asked  to  be  part  of  their  prep  team  (  she  was  supposed  to  work  with  another  district,  but  things  change.  )  and  then  they  got  closer,  the  tales  about  life  outside  the  capitol  reaching  innocent  ears  and  destroying  her  idea  of  fairytales  --  and  then  she  had  to  watch  them  die  (  or  not,  if  anyone  wants  to  make  them  wink.  )  that  was  when  it  all  changed  --  they  changed  her.  she  was  perfect  child  no  more.  it  was  how  she  befriended  portia  and  the  others  in  peeta  and  katniss’  prep  teams  and  eventually  joined  the  revolution.  her  end?  a  tragedy  as  well,  executed.  but  at  least  she  saw  the  truth  (  and  the  error  of  her  ways  )  before  it  was  too  late  /  not  before  she  broke  daddy’s  heart.

[santoteez]

In The Bronx - Hongjoong (5)

Part: 5 of (?)

Masterlist to other parts/fics: Here

Genre: Drugdealer!Hongjoong, Drugdealer! SeonghwaAU, Angst, Eventual Fluff

Word Count:  2.2k

Requested: no

Warnings: MC is a black female, mentions of drugs, mentions of child neglect & abandonment, swearing, Hongjoong’s brother is inspired by Mingi

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU.

Hongjoong smiled bittersweetly as he watched Santana and Minjoon lined up to leave the facility.

“Arms out.” The guard said, approaching him once again with the handcuffs. Once he was chained up, he was escorted back to his cell awaiting the public defender he was appointed when he arrived. He was unchained in front of his cell, rubbing his wrists once they were free and walking in.

“I don’t know what you’re here for, kid,” the guard said, closing the cell back. “but you’re probably the most well-behaved inmate I’ve ever escorted. Didn’t fight. Your visitors seem like nice people. I’m guessing the boy is your brother, looks just like you. The girl that was with him, that your lady?” Hongjoong nodded. “If you get outta here, do me a favor. Whatever you did that got you here, cut it out. It’s not every day you see loving people come visit. 90% of those visitors are gang members coming to brief their leaders on the latest. Do right by them.”

Hongjoong nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He walked over to his bed, laying down.

“Your first visit. How was it?” His cellmate asked.

Hongjoong didn’t know much about him. Hell, he had yet to even see his face. Since last night, the man sat in his bed, facing the wall. He didn’t even leave the room to eat. His food was brought to the cell while Hongjoong was escorted to the cafeteria that morning. Hongjoong wondered if he ever used the bathroom.

“It was fine, thanks.” He answered, retrieving the pencil and paper he had convinced the guard to get him.

“What about that girl you were up all night drawing a picture of? Was she there?”

Hongjoong looked up at him, putting away his drawing of Santana. “Nah, it’s just a character. Not a real person.”

“I’ve been here a long time, kid. No one gets locked up and starts drawing cartoons. I bet that’s the girl the guard was talking about.”

Hongjoong sighed. “Maybe. You ever get any visitors?”

“Nah, no one wants anything to do with me. They hate me.”

“Why? What you in for?”

“Murder.”

“I see.” Hongjoong continued his drawing.

“What you in here for, kid?”

“A whole lot of bullshit. I don’t regret it though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I did it all for my brother.”

“You must love him.”

“With all I’ve got. It’s just us.”

“And your parents?”

“I don’t remember much of my father. He never came around the house. I probably saw him briefly when my mom was pregnant with my brother. As for my mother, I haven’t seen her since I was five.”

“Are you from The Bronx?”

“Yep.”

“Is your name Joongie by any chance? Your brother is Minjoon?”

Hongjoong nearly dropped his pencil. He hadn’t heard that nickname in years. Only his mother ever called him that. It’s why he insisted on going by HJ. “How do you know that? Who told you that shit?”

“Your mother was Jinwoo. And the last time you saw her, the man she left with had a scar on his face.” For the first time, the man turned around to fully face Hongjoong. “A scar exactly like this one.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Hongjoong muttered as he observed the scar that ran from the man’s eye down to his chin.

Kim Hongjoong, good afternoon.” A tall blond approached the cell. “I’m Sarah Fawcett, your public defender. I’m going to go get the guard to take you out so we can talk for a bit, okay?”

Hongjoong nodded as she walked off, getting up to wait by the gate.

“Joongie-”

“Don’t call me that. That person doesn’t exist. When I come back, just face the wall. I don’t want to talk to you.” Hongjoong said as the gate opened.

He followed the public defender to a small interrogation room. It was empty except for a stainless-steel table and two matching chairs.

“Hongjoong, have a seat, please. I see here you’re facing a life sentence for the attempted murder Timothy and Clarence Claremont. I spoke to the arresting officer as well as the attorney for the Claremonts. We’ve all discussed a plea deal. They’ll reduce your sentence if you plead guilty for this case…as well as the Paredes case.”

“Woah, wait. Paredes? You mean Lil Victor that got caught in a drive-by up the block?”

“That is correct.”

“I had nothing to do with that! I was nowhere near there at that time!”

“Do you have an alibi?”

“I was home all day that day.”

“Can anyone attest for that? Anyone else there with you?”

“No, It’s only me and my teenage brother. He was at school. But I was home. I was-” Hongjoong paused, remembering what he was truly doing that afternoon. “sleeping. I woke up around 2:50 to go pick up Minjoon at 3:30. That’s the truth.”

“It may be the truth, but it will barely hold up in court.”

“Why am I even being tried for this? Where did this come from? You haven’t even asked me anything about the Coca Twins.”

“Well, did you do that?”

“No.”

“Ahh, so you expect me to believe you’re just this impeccable citizen from The Bronx that’s done no wrong?”

“I don’t know, why don’t we ask my clean record?”

“Okay, how about this,” she folded her hands on the table. “You plead guilty, and I issue an insanity plea. Say that you did it in a frenzy.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “Nah man, I ain’t crazy. You want me to admit that I killed someone, AND almost killed two other people? In the same day? That literally makes no sense. And all for what? To reduce my sentence to 80 years? 60 maybe? I’m not going down like that. No way.”

Sarah sighed, visibly upset. “Look, kid, you don’t have much of a chance here. If this goes to trial, there’s a 90% chance you’re convicted. Just take the deal.”

Hongjoong leaned in, resting his arms on the table. “Fuck you.” He smiled.

“Okay, you know what? I think we’re done here.”

“I think so, too.” Hongjoong nodded.

“Guard! You can take him back.” Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose.

Hongjoong ran his hand through his hair as he walked back into his cell. He laid down, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well.”

“Shut up.” Hongjoong closed his eyes. “Please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up.”

“You wanna know why you don’t remember your father? I spent most of my time in and out of this hellhole.”

“What? Now that I don’t wanna talk to you, you expect me to believe you’re my dad? Cut the crap.” Hongjoong laid on his side, away from the man.

“When you were three, you burned yourself on a hot spoon. Your mom was using it for heroin. You had a burn mark on your wrist for almost a week, and your mom beat you for touching it. Those marks took even longer to heal.”

“Anyone with eyes could see that my mother beat me. Plus, we lived in a building full of druggies. Anyone could’ve told you that.”

“When Minjoon was born, it was in the bathroom of a diner. You were the one that called 911 when the workers freaked out when they didn’t know what to do. You were the one that talked them through the whole thing. You took responsibility from a young age.”

“That was a public space. Lots of people found out about that.”

The man sighed. “Okay. How bout this: There’s a birthmark on your inner thigh. In the shape of a heart. You used to always say that you had two hearts because you loved your mom times two.”

Hongjoong turned to face the man. “I only ever told my mom that.” Finally getting a good look at the man, it was insane how much he looked like him, sans the scar. He may have had a couple wrinkles here and there, but it was like looking into a mirror.

The man nodded. “It’s nice to see you, son.”

Hongjoong chuckled. “Wow. I have a dad. Hooray. Two parents that left me for dead.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it? Huh? You thought the other drug addicts would just pick me and Minjoon up and take us into their needle-poked arms to raise us as theirs?”

“When the police pulled up to the house, it was your mom that called them. She gave an anonymous tip-off that two children were left stranded on a stoop and the older one was crying.”

“That makes no sense. Why would she do that?”

“Your mom was young, dumb, and a feen. She did a lot of things that make no sense. The biggest one being following me. That day, I told her you would be better off without her. To just leave you at the hands of the state.”

“Why the FUCK would you do that?”

“I was just as dumb as she was. I was a kingpin for the Barbosa Cartel. She refused to live with me after you were born. She said you’d be safer living far from me. I was crazy about your mother, but as long as you and your brother were in the picture, she wanted nothing to do with me. So, I came up with the knucklehead idea to separate you from her. No kids, no problem. I threatened to kill you if she didn’t abandon you. She preferred you alive, so she obliged. I came for her that afternoon, she left you on the steps. Once we turned the corner, she reported the sighting. She moved in with me, changed her name. She never forgot about you, though. She always went snooping around, seeing how many foster homes you been to, where you were going to school. She saw how Minjoon excelled, and she saw when you dropped out. She was distraught. Said it was all her fault. She wanted nothing more than to run back to you. So, one day I told her she could. I told her to go to you.”

“I don’t remember ever seeing my mom again, so that’s a lie.”

The man shook his head. “She never got the chance to. On her way to your neighborhood, she ran into a man she owed money to years ago. I kept her sheltered all that time so no one knew where she was. She was gunned down on the spot. When word got back to me, I was furious. He killed the person that mattered to me the most. I hunted the man down and strangled him with my bare hands. That’s why I’m here.”

“Barbosa? So you’re the man they call King.” King nodded. Tears streamed down Hongjoong’s face. “You’re so full of shit. Do you realize what the fuck I went through? Countless nights crying for my mother, wondering where she went. I never focused in school, never warmed up to foster parents who did a shit ton more for me than either of you, all because I was scared to love anyone who might leave! I’ve been so scared of being abandoned that I did a whole lotta shit just to make sure I got legal guardianship of Minjoon, and it’s because of that shit that I’m in here, stuck with your bitch ass!” Hongjoong got up, pacing the room back and forth. “You said you were a kingpin, right? Well, I guess history repeats.” He shook his head. “Nah, I gotta get out of here. Get out, go back to school, leave this life behind. I gotta be somebody because the LAST person I wanna be is you. I refuse to end up like this. Because that girl in the drawing? She’s my world. The one that’s responsible for my smile and the one that takes away all my worries. I’m so in love with her, and I would NEVER, in a million fucking years on this earth, do to her what you did to my mother. To my FAMILY. You’re fucking despicable. I could’ve lived my whole fucking life without meeting you and died a happy death.”

“Wanna know something?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me anyway. Your meathead ass is dead from the neck up.”

King ignored the insult. “That officer that brought you in. He’s filthy. Always convicting people of shit they didn’t do. Adding charges from nowhere. He and that public defender are one and the same. You find a way to prove that, you’ll be out in no time.”

Hongjoong shrugged. “Why are you telling me all this? Why do you suddenly care?”

“Because I may be related to you, but you’re nothing like me. And honestly, I don’t wanna see you in here either. You should be out there, going to school, chilling with your brother, loving your lady. The world owes you that much.”

Hongjoong grabbed his metal cup from his bedside, banging it against the metal bars of the cell. “Yo guard! Let me out, I gotta make a phone call! Don’t forget you still owe me for not letting me make one last night!”

If Hongjoong didn’t see a way out before, he definitely did now.

[wittywallflower]

One of them (probs Pen) getting so jealous she sprouts out she is in love with Schneider

Here it is!

Group therapy leads Penelope to an epiphany about her feelings for Schneider

“Penelope, we havent heard from you yet.” Pam kept her voice admirably neutral.

“I don’t got a lot to say.” Penelope waved off the group therapy leader with a smile.

More than one eyebrow went up. The Cuban was not known as being the wallflower of the group. Penelope knew that and didn’t fail to notice the disbelief on some faces.

“Really.” She insisted “Things are really good right now. I don’t need to take the time away from people with problems they need to talk about. You’ve all listened to my problems plenty.”

“And we are always here to help with those.” Pam said. "But its important for all of us to take the time to acknowledge and celebrate the good things as well. Seeing each other succeed and be happy is a reminder that its possible for all of us, no matter what we are dealing with.”

The women around the circle nodded at that. The therapy meetings helped them in a lot of ways. They had shed a lot of tears together but also shared a lot of smiles and a lot of laughter.

“So, Penelope, would you like to share the good things with us?” Pam asked.

“Okay, well”, Penelope rubbed her palms down her jeans as she considered where to begin. “As you know, i finished my exams. I am officially an NP.”

She took a moment to preen as there was another round of congratulations from her friends.

“And honestly, its like I can breathe again. So much of the pressure is off; no more tests, no more studying, no more researching the reproductive habits of frogs, as if that’s ever going to come up when i am treating bronchitis.” She shook her head, pantomiming shaking off that mental load. “I’m not even nervous about doing the job, I actually feel totally confident in my abilities.”

Which was a marvel when she remembered how she used to second guess her decisions as a nurse, asking Dr. Berkowitz for a consult on so many things she wouldn't question these days.

“Mi mami’s doctor is really pleased with her health, she’s not even fighting me about some of the dietary changes anymore. Elena is an essay writing machine right now, she is raking in so many scholarships for college. So that’s an anxiety attack i don't have to have until next year. Let’s see, what else… Alex has his first serious girlfriend now.”

That had the group chuckling and those who had mothered teen boys expressed their sympathies.

“Yeah, I hear that.” Penelope continued. “But I’ve met her and her family goes to my church. She’s a real good girl. One of the ones we would have called stuck up prudes back in high school, you know? Even Alex couldn’t charm her into anything too bad.

“My tax return was very nice this year. Oh, and I tried that tapas place 3 blocks over on Cayuga street with Schneider last weekend! Food’s a little pricey but the drinks are cheap and really good. We should all go sometime.”

The expected reaction would be for the group to enthuse about a new place to grab post-therapy cocktails but instead Penelope met mostly questioning faces.

“So you’re finally dating that dude?” Ramona asked.

“What? Schneider?” Penelope shook her head in denial. "No, we just got dinner together.”

“Just the two of you?” Penelope nodded in answer to that. “The two of you at a trendy new restaurant on a date night?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date. We eat together most nights.” she said.

“At home with your mom and kids, not alone out on the town. Did you split the bill?”

“Well, no, he paid.” Penelope had to admit, but she was quick to explain. “But that’s just because he lost a bet we had."

I don’t know,” Ramona said, "still sounds a lot like a date. Do you two usually hang out together when one of you isn't having a crisis?”

“No.”

Not without the rest of the family around. But for the group, that just made their solo outing together seem more significant.

Jill tried to back her up.

“It better not be a date. Doesn’t that Schneider guy have a girlfriend?” she asked.

“Actually, they broke up.” Penelope had to admit.

“Really?”

Jill raised an eyebrow and grinned at the other women, who she had spoken to at length about Schneider’s attractiveness after meeting him at Penelope’s place. Then Penelope’s car was in the shop once, requiring Schneider to drop her off at a meeting. They’d all taken a good long look for themselves that night; after that he became a regular topic of admiring conversation.

“So if he isn’t dating her, and he isn’t dating you… what’s he doing Friday night?” Jill asked.

The group laughed and Penelope joined them at first but then waved the idea off.

“Actually there’s some old musical airing on one of the Spanish channels that night, he promised to watch it with my mom,” she said.

It was really sweet of Schneider to agree to that. The old films tended to make Lydia emotional with memories of home and her Berto. Schneider loved listening to her stories and was always good at cheering the older woman up with requests for dancing lessons or some gentle flirting.

Penelope sensed the stares from the group again. What? It wasn’t that weird for a man to sacrifice his Friday night to keep an old lady he wasn't even related to company. At least not if that man was Schneider. He did macrame with his tenants so they wouldn’t get lonely, por dios. Abruptly, Penelope shifted gears.

“But if you want, Jill,” she joked, elbowing her friend in the side, “I can ask if he is free Saturday night.”

Jill shook her head with a grin. “I’m busy Saturday, what about Sunday? Does he go to worship? 'Cause as we all know i can rock the hell out of a sundress, and he’d look real good on my arm walking into church.”

The whole group cracked up at that.

“I’ll take him Saturday night!”  Another woman piped up. “My cousin is getting married and a hot, rich guy will make a better date than Tom from the mail room at work.”

“No one is forcing you to take Tom.” Penelope pointed out.

“Yeah but its a wedding and going to a wedding alone is just asking for pity.” she said.

Penelope really couldn’t deny that after her own experience at Victor’s ceremony. She’d actually been tempted to ask Schneider to be her date to that. So she wasn’t sure why it rubbed her wrong now to think of him being someone else’s wedding arm candy.

“So, what’s wrong with Tom then?” she asked.

“Um, he’s not a really rich, really hot, really tall Canadian that i want to climb like a maple tree?”

The eruption of ribald laughter covered Penelope’s silent reaction.

‘Hey, he went to your daughter’s quinces right? How does he look in a suit?”

The reminder of Schneider in his suit, weirdly-sexy with that smooth face and no glasses hiding those bright blue eyes of his, … Penelope couldn’t help it, she blushed a bit at the memory.

“Wow, that good huh?” Jill teased her when Penelope didn’t answer. “You know, I have a wedding to go to in 3 weeks myself…”

More laughter. These women loved to talk smack and riff off each other. Penelope knew it was an all a lot of bluster and bullshit. Usually she gave as good as she got. But she was quiet now, strangely unsettled by the words flying around her.

“Is there a waiting list a girl can get on?” was asked with seeming earnestness.

Yeah, so what? So Schneider was kind of hot; kind of really hot. That had never affected Penelope’s opinion of him, or how she treated him. He wasn’t some piece of meat.

“Yeah, I don’t need him for a date,” Ramona stated the obvious, “but I wouldn’t say no to him helping me change my brake pads.”

“My mom’s retirement party is in March. Does he do the fake boyfriend thing, or will that cost extra?”

“Cost extra? If Richie Rich isn’t paying for everything, what’s the point?"

The jokes came fast and easy, but Penelope wasn't finding them very funny. What was he, some sugar daddy for these girls to use and discard? Sure, maybe he did stuff for her sometimes that didn’t exact fall under a landlord’s duties, but that was different. They were friends, they did things for each other, took care of each other. It wasn’t like that.

She was special.

She tried not to acknowledge the thought, just like she tried not to face the fact that she didn’t want to share that with anyone. She didn’t want to share him.

Being quiet really wasn’t a Penelope trait, so her friends took pointed notice that she wasn’t joining the banter. They had been hearing about this guy for years, wondering when or if the two would ever stop dancing around each other. Of course, it is entirely possible for a man and a woman to be close friends on an entirely platonic basis.

But its also possible to be in denial when one’s feelings start to change.

They had listened over the years as he became increasingly important in her life. And they certainly were not above baiting Penelope into admitting it.

“Hey Pen, you’ve seen him in bike shorts. What’s he packin’?” one bold voice asked. Penelope went rigid in her seat. “Now there’s one tool of his I’d like to borrow!”

Oh hell no.

“Well, you can’t!” Penelope snapped.

“Well, if no one else is using it…”

“He’s not a gigolo, or some boy-toy for you to play with!” Penelope exploded. "He’s been through a lot and he’s had too many people let him down!”

Pam settled a hand on her arm and Penelope realized she had been shifting in her seat in agitation. “Penelope, we’re just joking around. You know that. Can we talk about why it bothers you so much?”

“He’s such a good man and so many people look down on him and treat him like he is worthless, even his own family. I don't want that for him. He deserves better.”

“We know he means a lot to you-”

“Yeah. He does.” Penelope cut Pam off. “I don’t know what I’d do with out him. I rely on him to help me with my anxiety attacks. I trust him with my mami and my kids. I, I…”

She groped for the words, trying to find some way to explain it to these women. To make them understand that Schneider’s presence in her life was a blessing, that any person would be lucky to have him around. How to make them see what an amazing guy he is. And also why she couldn’t stand anyone else getting the same special Schneider treatment she got. Didn’t want to do it all without his help.

The group didn’t make it easier for her. They could sense Penelope was on the cusp of a revelation. There were no jokes now, no pointed comments about Schneider’s abs, or queries into any desire Penelope might have to run her tongue over them. They knew that when Penelope got started, sometimes it was best to just let her go, let her ramble and rant and rave until she led herself to the obvious conclusion. They had been waiting for her to work this one out.

Penelope looked around at the expressions on their faces. No one seemed surprised by her spirited defense of Schneider. More impressively, no one was even smirking in that “haha, got you to admit you don’t hate him” kinda way. Suddenly it seemed like the group knew her better than she knew herself. Like they knew what the denial had kept her from acknowledging all along and knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“Holy crap, I love him.”

Penelope breathed out a sigh at the intense realization. It was a surprise. Of course. When had she fallen for the man-baby? But judging by the feeling of relief, the loosening of a tension she hadn’t even known she was holding, it had been a long time coming. She smiled, feeling like another weight had been lifted from her chest and she was taking a full deep breath for the first time in years.

Then her mind started to race again. Her smile fell and when her eyes darted around the group again, they had a slightly panicked look in them. Acknowledging her feelings was one thing (one damned difficult thing), but acting on them?

“Well, what now?!?” she asked in a panic.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twenty-Six - Dura Lex, Sed Lex

Before we start:

This work is unbeta'd and English is not my first language. I apologize for any mistakes you may find. Have fun reading!

They made us pack a suitcase, just in case. So that the child wouldn’t have to go through the pain of being separated at the place he learned to love and call his own. Like leaving the love of his parents in a cold and impersonal courtroom would be any better.

I resentfully grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with some of Owen’s belongings without him knowing. I put inside a toothbrush and a comb, some underwear and some clothes, pajamas. I put in there all the things he would need for a night out, keeping his favorite things in his room. Because he wouldn’t need to go. Because even if he did go, he wouldn’t go for long. But mostly because the things he loved the most belonged with the place he loved the most and with the people that loved him the most.

The morning of the trial, I found myself staring at his room, holding that duffel bag tightly, my nails digging deep in the fabric, almost ripping it. I hated that duffel bag and all it represented. If I could, I would set it on fire.

“Are you ready? It’s time to go.”

Victor was standing in the doorway, impeccably dressed in his charcoal suit with a burgundy shirt. He looked calm and focused, undefeatable. Ready for the battle.

“I don’t want Owen to see this.” I showed him the bag I was holding. “Go ahead and put Owen in the car, I’ll go shortly.”

“Andrea.” My husband held my hand, giving me a determined look.

“I know.” I squeezed his hand. “We got this.”

____________________________________________________________

Something came up. I’ll be home for dinner.

The note was taunting, sitting perfectly on the polished marble surface, sporting her usual perky handwriting.

Andrea was nowhere to be found.

“Are you sure she didn’t tell you where she was going?”

Owen, who was busy cutting his french toast, shrugged yet again.

“No. Only that she had a plane to catch. And that I should behave while she’s gone.”

“It’s not like her to just leave without saying anything.” Victor took his phone from his pocket, wondering if he should try to call an eleventh time.

“Well, she did say something.” The boy replied matter-of-factly, eyes still on his plate. “She left a note.”

Victor wanted to explain to his son that the information on that note amounted to nothing, that even though his mother had been clear enough that she’d be gone, she had also been cryptic enough to worry him. Victor hated to be kept out of the loop like that, it was a habit that came with his job, to always hold every single piece of information about everything. Andrea, however, was well versed in the art of pulling the rug from under his feet, and sometimes could act so randomly it was hard for him to predict her next move. He had to admit he found it alluring, but also annoying.

It wasn’t like he was controlling or domineering, he just felt safer knowing at all times where she was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it wi-

“Eat your toast.” Victor quickly ended the subject, not in the mood to explain anything anymore.

___________________________________________________________

“All rise.” The bailiff announced. “Department One of the Family Court is now in session. Judge Erica Bridges presiding. Please be seated.”

We all got up from our seats, Victor taking Owen’s hand as to motion him to do the same. The judge was a petite woman with bright blue eyes that were framed with dark eyebrows and hair. She looked far too young to be a judge, yet she had this intimidating aura that made everyone around her feel insignificant. It,reminded me of my husband, keeping everyone on their toes with his mere presence.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” The judge opened a file in front of her. “Calling the case of Cole VS Lee regarding the custody of Owen Cole. Are both sides ready?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” The layers replied.

I couldn’t help but look to my side, to the familiar face that had been giving me grief for so long: Pamela Cole. She sat beside her lawyer with a humble look on her face, wearing a modest black dress like she was in mourning, probably to earn sympathy points from the judge. A heatwave coursed through my body, as anger started to churn inside of me. Anger for her audacity to come into my office and tell me all those lies, wanting to take advantage of my sympathy. Anger towards myself, for being an idiot and believing her.

I hated her for having the same DNA as my child, as I hated DNA for being used for such vile purposes. My mind was running wild with thoughts of revulsion and grievance when I felt a warm hand taking mine. It was my husband, looking intently at me like he could read my thoughts, probably because he was having them too. And with just a little magical squeeze of his fingers, all the fire was gone, being replaced by a sense of confidence. We were ready. She would not win.

“And are you Owen?” I heard the judge addressing my son. “You are a very handsome young man.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” He answered politely. “My mom tells me the same thing.”

Laughter echoed in the courtroom.

“You know what we are doing here today, Owen?”

“My grandmother wants to be my forever family.”

“Good.” The judge smiled at him. “Now, I have something to ask you. We are going to start talking about very boring grownup things, so it would be better if you go with this gentleman to a special room we have, where you can read, or play a little. Is that ok?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me who I want to be with?” Owen frowned.

“Oh, I definitely want to know what you feel about all this. It won’t take long, I’ll call you after a little while, ok?”

I squeezed Victor’s hand tighter as I watched our son being taken away. This was it, it was about to start. How did he look so cool, so centered, when all I wanted was to just grab the boy and make a run for it? But then he looked at me, and I could see it in his eyes. The glint of worry only a wife’s trained eye would recognize on him.

“Very well, now that the child is away, you can make your first statements.”

__________________________________________________________

“Where on Earth are you?” He answered the phone, ready to scold her.

“Well, you are correct. I am indeed on Planet Earth.” She joked, unfazed by his severe tone. “I have ten missed calls from you, didn’t you see my note?”

“You mean the elaborate itinerary of my wife’s whereabouts and the extensive list of reasons why she suddenly disappeared the day before our son’s custody trial?” He gave her a mocking tone. “No, I must have missed it.”

“Victor…” She sighed.

“If instead, you are referring to the ridiculous piece of crumpled paper you left on our kitchen counter stating you were alive by the time you left the house, then yes, I am holding it as we speak.”

“Something came up.”

“Your note already told me as much, if I can decipher your messy handwriting correctly. What else do you have to say for yourself?”

Another sigh came from the other end of the line. Victor was perfectly aware of how difficult he was being, but he couldn’t be more indifferent to it. A week ago, they were fighting because he had kept her at bay. Now, she was doing the exact same thing. If Victor was a gambler, he would bet his fortune on how he wouldn’t like the reason.

“Look, I’ll be completely honest with you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I had an idea. Something that can help us. And I wanted to give it a try.”

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to contain his frustration. What was she up to this time? And why wouldn't she give him a straight answer already?

“You can tell me when I get there. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come to pick you up.”

“Do you trust me?” Her disarming question.

“With my life.” He promptly answered. “However, do I need to remind you that we agreed never to keep things from each other? What happened to “we’re in this together”?”

“You told me I wouldn’t fight hard enough for you and Owen.”

Victor paused. He did say that. He wished he didn’t.

“I don’t think that’s true, and you know that.” His tone softened.

“Maybe it is. Well, it was. The truth is…” She hesitated for a second. “I felt weak. I felt like I was losing. And I was so afraid to lose again that I thought it would be better to just stop fighting. I felt like if I lost, I would never recover from it. Do I make sense?”

Victor remembered her howling in his arms at that clinic in Switzerland, when she was told they couldn’t have a biological baby. And his own desperate moments on that kitchen floor, not long ago.

“What I didn’t realize was that, by giving up, I was letting both of you down. I was letting my family down. So this is my way to show you that I believe in us, I believe in us as a family, I’m fighting for us. That’s why I need to do this alone. I need to prove to you that I’m all in. Will you let me?”

___________________________________________________________

“Your Honor, the adoption was made under extremely odd circumstances, and with no respect for the law.” Pamela’s lawyer argued. “My client was not informed of her daughter’s passing, or that the child was left alone.”

“The late mother left a suicide note stating that she did not intend the grandmother to have any contact with the child.” One of Victor’s lawyers argued back.

“I take it you have such a letter in your possession.” The Judge asked.

I jumped on my seat, surprised that they were even mentioning it. Didn’t we agree we weren’t going to use it? I watched incredulously as the lawyer glanced at Victor, waiting for instructions. Victor squeezed my hand again, nodding to the lawyer. What the hell was happening? The lawyer paused and sighed heavily before addressing the judge again.

“No, Your Honor, we do not. That letter was unfortunately lost with some other papers.”

“Your Honor, with all due respect, this trial is a waste of our time.” The other lawyer spoke again. “Should Victor and Andrea Lee be ordinary people instead of public figures, the orphanage would have contacted the grandmother, as it lawfully should, and we wouldn’t be wasting public time and resources! My client has proved that she is fit to be the child’s guardian, and by law, she should have custody. And despite whatever story Mr. Lee’s lawyers wish you to believe, there is obviously no letter from the daughter. Even if there was, there would still be the matter of the daughter’s mental condition when she wrote it.”

“Do you have anything else to present to us to make your case?” The judge turned to our legal team.

__________________________________________________________

Owen spent most of his day in his bedroom, coming out only when summoned. Things had changed dramatically between Victor and Owen since the panic attack, and Owen was treating him with the same distance he did back when he first started living with them: he started to address him as Sir again and seemed to avoid all kinds of interactions. When they were forced to be together, like when sharing a meal, Owen kept his eyes on his plate, barely saying anything other than some short bitter words.

Victor couldn’t blame him. He had acted cold and distant during the funeral, disregarding his family. Everything one won’t expect from a parent. It was only natural that Owen was suspicious of him now, he had lost his trust in him. Victor’s penance was now to get it back.

“Are you hungry?” Victor entered the boy’s room after a brief knock. “I have some frozen mango, we could make sorbet together.”

“No, thank you.” Owen answered, not caring to lift his eyes from the book he was reading.

“What do you have there?” Victor tried again. “Is that the book Mom bought you?”

“Yes.”

“The Beesy Life.” He read from the cover. “Anything interesting about bees?” Knowing his son, he would surely jump at the opportunity of stating an extensive list of facts.

“They make honey.” He quickly dismissed him. “Can you leave so I can read?”

“Why don’t we go outside and play some football together? It’s sunny today.”

The boy seemed to bury himself even more in his book.

“No, thank you. I’m reading.”

Victor surely had his work cut out for him. With a heavy sigh, he sat on his son’s bed. Diversions wouldn’t work, he would have to stop being a coward and just cut to the chase.

“Owen, we need to talk. Do you think you can put that book down?”

Victor grimaced as his son obediently placed the book on his lap, giving him his undivided attention. It was so hard to find the right words. Andrea usually helped him with these things, making notice little things he couldn’t see, encouraging him to open up a little more. Ironically, when things were hard, Andrea was always nowhere to be found. Or maybe things were hard because she wasn’t around, Victor wasn’t sure anymore. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to imagine how Andrea would do it.

“I need to apologize.” Victor began. “I was callous and cold towards you and your mother, and-”

“Was it because of that letter you got? The day we went to the market?”

Victor turned to his son, astonished.

“Mom cried the day you got that letter. And every day after that.” The boy explained, like he understood Victor’s surprise. “And you began to fight. You never fight.”

“Owen...” Victor looked at his son, not knowing what to say.

“What did it say?”

_______________________________________________________

“Alright Owen, now that the grownups have talked, I want to get to know you better. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

My son looked at me with hesitant eyes, and I gave him a small nod of reassurance, mouthing It’s ok.

“Ok.” He nodded, following the bailiff nervously to the witness stand.

“Well done. Are you comfortable there?”

My husband’s hand squeezed mine hard. I ran my thumb over his. Owen would be ok. He was a smart child.

“Do you see this document I’m holding?” The judge showed him a folder. “This is your file, it tells me things about you. So, I know you are five, and you have been living with the Lees for almost a year, and you are doing very well at school… But it doesn’t tell me other important things, like, what are your favorite hobbies, if you have any close friends…”

“My best friend’s name is Mathew, he’s from my class. We play soccer together.” Owen promptly answered. “I like to play soccer, with my friends or with my Dad. I also like insects, I want to be an entomologist. That’s why my Mom calls me Bug. Oh, and we have a pet lobster! His name is Mr. Lobster, my Dad lets me feed him sometimes.”

“A pet lobster? That’s unusual.” She chuckled. “I can see in your file that you are doing well at school, no disciplinary reports… It seems you adjusted very well to that new reality.”

“Miss Dillon says God works in mysterious ways.” The boy looked at the judge in all seriousness. The judge frowned, taken aback by his statement.

“I could say that He does, Owen. But why do you say that?”

“A while ago, we went to have dinner at Gavin and Mia’s, and Mom got sick and threw up all over the floor. And later that night, I woke up and Mom and Dad were talking, and I did something I shouldn’t have.”

I looked at Victor, confused. What on Earth was Owen talking about?

“What did you do, Owen?” The judge asked.

“I eavesdropped.” His head hung in shame. “But I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I was worried about Mom. And then I heard Dad talking about the bad man that hurt Mom, and because of him she can’t get a baby. So…” Owen looked at me, hesitating.

“Yes?” The judge pressed.

“I don’t like that Mom got hurt so badly, but if God works in mysterious ways, maybe He made that bad man hurt Mom so she would adopt me, because He knew my other mom would die.” He shifted nervously in his chair, giving the judge a pleading look. “I know the other lady is my real family, and maybe she is a really nice lady, but I already have a family. I love my Mom and Dad, and I know they love me. Can I please keep them? Can they be my forever family? Please?”

My son’s words pierced my heart, and all the tears of fear and anguish I had been hiding came full force. Despite knowing my background, Owen would never really know how he was an angel in my and Victor’s life, filling our life with color and love. Losing my son was like getting my heart ripped out of my chest, and nothing would ever fill that gap. Victor’s grip on my hand tightened, the brief twitch of his finger making me look up. His eyes were also filled with tears, as he held onto my hand for strength, just like I held his. And as I looked around, wiping my tears with the back of my fingers, I noticed there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Except for Pamela, who looked at us with utter disdain.

“Well, Owen…” The judge cleared her throat. “Thank you so much for talking to me. I will consider your words.”

_________________________________________________________

Victor looked his son in the eyes, trying to formulate the right words to say. There weren’t any. If his wife was there, and not on some kind of wild goose chase, she would tell him to speak from the heart. And it was more and more evident that raw honesty would have to do.

“You have a grandmother. Your biological mother’s mother. She wants to adopt you.”

“I have a grandmother?”

Victor’s eyes fell to the ground.

“Yes.”

Owen jumped from his seat, eyes wide in anger.

“You told me nothing would make you send me back! You told me you were my forever family!” The boy broke down crying. “You were lying!”

“I never lied to you, Owen, you-”

“You told me I was a Lee! That I was your son!” Victor tried to hug his son, but he wouldn’t let him, hitting him with his clenched fists. “You don’t love me, you want to send me back!”

“You are my son!” Victor held his son tight, his voice echoing through the apartment. “You are a Lee, you’ll always be a Lee, and no one will take you away!” Victor felt his eyes sting with emotion, his voice faltering as he spoke. “I will not allow it.”

Victor pulled his son to his arms, tears running freely from his eyes too. He was so brutally inept when it came to expressing his feelings, yet he needed to show his son he loved him above everything.

“I am your father, Owen, and there is no law in this world that can change that. And we do want to be your family. Otherwise, why would your mother be crying all this time? Why would I become so insufferable?”

“Please don’t leave me.” Owen begged, his face buried in his father’s chest.

Victor knew that sentiment all too well. To hold a loved one so desperately and still feel her slip away from his fingers, leaving nothing but loneliness, no one to gather and mend the shards of his broken heart. But those days were over for Victor. And they were also over for Owen.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Victor smiled, wiping the tears from his boy’s cheek. “You belong with us.”

Before he was a father, Victor would scorn those romantic fools that told him about how deeply a parent can love his child. He simply found it impossible to be. He has never been loved that deeply, he couldn’t even fathom how that must feel like. But at that moment, with Owen's little arms wrapped around his neck, Victor’s heart felt like a deep wide ocean, filled with love and joyful selflessness, a complete devotion to that little red-haired boy. And a promise, no, a purpose to devote every single day of his life to his happiness.

“So I don’t need to go?” Owen asked, breaking his embrace.

“No, you don’t. You’re a Lee and that’s settled.”

Owen’s bedroom door flung open.

“Mom!” Owen left his father’s arms to run to his mother.

“Bug!” Andrea lifted him in her arms, giving him a tight hug. “I missed you so much, little one!”

“Where have you been?” Victor went to his wife.

“I did it.” She bit her bottom lip in excitement, putting their son down and reaching for her purse.

“And may I know what exactly did you do?”

“We won.” She smiled widely, handing Victor an envelope.

Victor read the document inside, not believing his own eyes. They had never contemplated it, it seemed so impossible…

“What is it, Dad?” Owen looked at both of them, excited. Victor lifted him up in the air with joy, twirling him in his arms.

“What we needed to officially make you a Lee.”

__________________________________________________________

Victor stood quietly at a hidden corner of the main hallway, talking on his phone. An oblivious passerby would think he was having a calm conversation, but I knew better: by the look in his eyes, Victor Lee was making some serious threats at that precise moment. Our legal team was reunited not far behind, deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, the panic very clear in the faces of some of them. Something had gone wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong. And my job was to sit quietly with Owen, trying to distract them the best I could from the gravity of the situation.

“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!” Owen chanted excitedly, as I tried my best to discreetly grasp what was happening. “Mom, are you paying attention?”

“Yes, Bug. Go ahead.” I answered distractedly as I noticed my husband look at his phone in silence, poker face in place.

“You may all come in.” The bailiff called us. “The judge has come to a deliberation.”

A bad feeling glued me to my seat, and for the life of me, my legs wouldn’t work. I looked at my son, the sweet five year old that meant the world to me, and I feared this would be the last time I would see them. I slapped myself mentally for being distracted looking at Victor and the lawyers, when I could just have enjoyed this last moment with him and played thumb wars.

“Owen, you come with me to the other room, alright?” The bailiff took his hand and I held his other one, unwilling to let go.

“Lady…” The bailiff pleaded.

Just one second, damn it! I may lose him forever, I just need this extra second!

“Owen…”

“Yes, Mom?” Sweet brown eyes stared at me expectantly.

I wanted to tell him I loved him, and that he would be an honorable man, and that someday I would love to know the kind of person he would grow up to be. I wanted to tell him that I would cry for him every single night, that he wasn’t born out of my mangled body but he was mine, that I would never forget about him, for as long as I should live. I wanted to tell him I would never adopt another child, that no child would ever take his place, and that my heart would belong to him forever. But I couldn’t. If he was going to be with his grandmother, I had to make things as easy as I possibly could for him. Even if they were impossibly hard for me. So, instead, I ruffled his hair.

“You did very well, with the judge.” I smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks!” He smiled confidently. “I love you, Mom!”

As Owen walked away, holding the bailiff’s hand with a smile, a dark shadow ran across my line of vision. It was Victor, taking his son in his arms. And that was when I knew my suspicions weren’t unfounded: we were losing him.

I witnessed the sadness in Victor’s eyes as he smiled at his son, hugging him and tousling his red curls. And then the glint of despair, as his eyes landed on me, his expression telling me he was close to falling apart. I wouldn’t have to be strong just for Owen. I would have to be strong for Victor too. So I summoned the last of my strength and stood up. For better and for worse, we are in this together. I won’t let you fall, handsome.

We never said a word, as Victor took my hand and led me inside the courtroom. I didn’t know what had failed, and it wasn’t important. I took a shot and I missed. We wouldn’t win this one. I thought about the duffel bag in my car and regretted not putting one of Owen’s favorite books in there. He would need something to distract him tonight.

The judge entered the room, and while I could see the hesitant look on everyone’s faces, I couldn’t care less about it. I had no interest in hearing someone say I couldn’t be a mother, I already was. Even if a piece of paper said otherwise. Owen was my son.

“I have to say, this was one of the hardest decisions I had to make in my whole career.” The judge started her deliberation. “Dura lex sed lex. This means, the law is hard, but it is the law. The law speaks of rights and duties, it tells us in which direction to go, but the law does not contemplate feelings. The law does not abide by what makes us feel better. The law is impartial to love and to emotions. It is so by design, so we don’t let our hearts cloud our judgments. The law is correct, but that doesn’t exclude the fact that it can be very painful.”

The sound of heavy wooden doors opening abruptly echoed through the room, making us all jump in surprise. From them, one of our lawyers ran, stopping only in front of the judge.

“Your Honor, I apologize for my audacity towards this court.” The lawyer bowed. “But new evidence has arrived that cannot be ignored.” He handed her an envelope.

I looked at Victor, puzzled. Was it…

“Can you please explain to me and Mrs. Cole’s lawyer, what exactly am I looking at?” The judge opened the envelope.

“Mrs. Lee was able to track down the child’s biological father.” The lawyer explained. “She flew yesterday to Acomb and met him at the hospital where he is working as an intern doctor, and he granted her and Mr. Lee parental rights. We were just waiting for the lab to give us the DNA results.”

“And why am I getting this just now?”

“We couldn’t present the documents without being sure that Mr. Richardson was indeed Owen’s biological father.”

“Your Honor, this is highly inadequate! I contest this man’s right to give parental rights, he was never in the child’s life to begin with!” Pamela’s lawyer argued.

“Neither was your client, Counsellor.” The judge gave the lawyer a frown. “Well, it works for me.” The judge banged her hammer. “The Family Court decides that Mr. and Mrs. Lee will be granted full custody of the child Owen Cole, concluding the adoption process, effective immediately. Congratulations, you can get your son for the next room.”

Victor and I practically crashed against each other in a tight embrace, smiles mixed with tears, emotions running wild. We had won, we had our son. We were officially a family.

We entered the other room with joy in our hearts, laughing as Owen ran into our arms.

“I'm going home with you guys?”

“You are officially a Lee!” Victor laughed as he threw the boy in his arms.

“You adopted me? You are my forever family?” Owen teared up, reaching out to me so he could hug me as well.

“We are a family.” My throat tightened as I hugged the two men I loved the most in this world. “And we are forever.”

Victor pulled me close to them, wrapping both me and our son in a tight hug. And I couldn’t help but think back to our year, so full of adversity. Despite it all, we came through. We fought and found solace in one another. We became stronger and more united, we grew together, as a family, and we would continue to do so.

Love does conquer all.

Author's Note: This project has been going for a year now (it started in February 2020) and it won't be over any time soon, so I would like to ask you, as much as possible, for your support, because we still have a very long way to go. So, if you enjoy the work, don't forget to comment and reblog. It gives it traction and enables other people to learn about it, and for me to get more excited about what I do.

[shreyamistry]

Choices September Creates

Hey! If any of you have requested something or wondering why I haven’t posted any fics lately, I’m here to tell you why! I’ve spent the past 2(ish) weeks preparing for Choices September Creates and I finished my last fic today! So without further ado, I bring you the schedule and ships/fic summaries for the upcoming events! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in any of them, the first one Rain comes out September 1st, Apology the 2nd and so forth! (these are all at liberty to change if I see fit, but currently, this is the determined schedule for me.).

l. Rain - Hana x MC

Tonight, Liam will pick Nicole to be his bride, unknowing to him that she and Hana have fallen in love. Despite her attempts to force herself out of her feelings, Hana simply can’t stop herself from falling for Nicole. Finding herself in the pouring rain, Hana has to make her choice and Lady Nicole has to accept it.

II. Apology - Hana x Madeleine (NSFW-ISH)*

Madeleine finds herself having to leave Hana after a night of love, due to her occupation in the palace it’s rather urgent and she finds herself having to leave Hana again. Reflecting on the past Madeleine and Hana talk through her apologizes, leaving Madeleine to wonder what Hana will ever see in her.

III. Dance - Eleanor x MC

When Victor’s birthday rolls around, Hannah invites Eleanor to join her, knowing it would be her first time to a club Hannah wants to make sure Eleanor can handle it. Eleanor, however, is very perplexed by the idea of grown adults in this century enjoying high tea for his birthday late at night.

IV, Magic - Kenna x Annelyse

Annelyse and Kenna journey back to Aurelia after being repaired from Dom’s destruction under Hex’s capture. Kenna finds herself compelled at how well Annelyse’s people have settled back into her home and the respect they all share for one another. Kenna sees it as nothing more than magical.

V. Fight - Drake x Liam (NSFW)

Drake wants Liam, Liam wants Drake, but Liam knows it’s not possible. Yet he always finds himself night after night with Drake beneath him, his heart full of love, desire, and lust. He wants to fight his instincts and be with Madeleine, however, he can’t bring himself to fight the sexual gratification and love he gets from Drake in the dark of the night.

VI. Home - Zekei x M!MC

Zekei and Nova decide to spend the night together, after raiding the kitchen staff for snacks they retreat back into Nova’s room and reminisce about home and their childhood, both opening up more than they ever have before. Nova finds himself straddling his best friend, but what will that mean for them?

VII. Future - Kiara x Penelope

Kiara and Penelope often find themselves questioning the future, what will it mean for them? After yet another rift between the pair, Kiara worries that Penelope is moving on and as much as she tries to not let it bother her, she ultimately fails. Trying on the maid of honor dresses together for Hana and Nicole, Penelope makes an admission Kiara will never forget.

VIII. Cozy Night In - Kate x MC

After being released on bail, Kate and Jesse decide to spend the night together at Kate’s apartment. Jesse organized all kinds of treats to help Kate relax and feel better after finally being able to come home from her time in captivity. But what’s a sleepover without an admission of love?

IX. Vacation - AME Jury House Fic (Comedy)**

The night of the double elimination, Bianca and Jamie wind up in the Jury House with all the previously booted out cast. Together in the living room, Teagan helps set up a movie as everyone argues about Han’s pick mainly Lina. Can they survive the night together or will there be hell to pay?

X. Loss - Damien x M!MC (MCD)***

With the loss of some members of their crew, Damien and Kai must move forward with their remaining crew to save themselves and other from Eros. However, Kai finds himself falling further every day unable to cope with the loss in his chest, his only safety coming from Damien now, but can he pull himself together before it’s too late?

XI. Family - Ivy x MC (SUGGESTIVE)****

Ivy invites Jamie back to her hometown for a family reunion. The pair reminiscing on the past they’ve lived and further to come, and Jamie gets to know Ivy’s mother and her past in pageantry. The night falls and Ivy wants nothing more than a few quiet moments with her lover, but her mom may have other plans for her.

XII. Anniversary - Kenji x M!MC (NSFW)

Celebrating the one year anniversary of Talos and Nightwing coming together, Kenji invites Kyle to his apartment where they share a dance on the deck and a bottle of wine. However, Kenji has more exciting and fun plans for them that night, but will Poppy and Dax interrupt their fun?

XIII. What If - Kate x MC

The night before Kate is due to be wed, she and Jesse relax in his room at the bed and breakfast in Jesse’s room. Drinking liquor they stole from Miss. Harlenay, Jesse and Kate decide to think about how life could have turned out? What their wedding would be like if it happened to them?

XIV. New Beginnings - Bianca x MC

Bianca and Jamie agree to do a swimsuit photoshoot to promote America’s Most Eligible. After the season they’ve had and the feelings they’ve harbored for each other, Piper and Jen both agreed it’d be the best course of action to get them more viewers seeing the love that will bloom on TV. However, Jamie starts to have doubts about doing this photoshoot, luckily for them, Bianca’s there to help.

XV. Smut - Kenna x Val (NSFW)

As a war takes Kenna and her group by surprise, an attack they couldn’t have planned for no matter what Kenna finds herself alone and stranded in the woods searching desperately for Val. After their fallout moments before the bombs went off, Kenna couldn’t forgive herself if Val died thinking Kenna hated her.

XVI. Heartache - Becca x MC

Armed with evidence of an affair between the pair, Becca can’t handle the drama, the deceit, and betrayal she’s felt from Emily and packs her bags. Emily begs her not to leave, confused why someone would say she and Kassidy were sleeping together behind Becca’s back and why Becca would believe her.

XVII. Unexpected - Poppy x MC

Alex sets up another date between Dax and Poppy in hopes of getting them together and leaves them in a bar to talk things through while they help Eva with a secret project. Poppy knows she doesn’t love Dax or even remotely like him, at one point maybe, but not anymore. Before the night ends she and Alex can’t help, but make a half-drunken mess of things.

XVIII. Bad Day - Madison x Becca

After being broken up with, Madison turns to Becca for a day of helping her feel better. However Becca can’t help, but notice how flirty Madison keeps acting around her and she’d be a liar if she said it didn’t scare her and excite her all at the same time. With the recent news of their breakup, how will the day affect Madison and Becca’s relationship?

XIX. Camping - Dan x MC

Dan and Devon decide to go camping in the woods to cope with everything that happened post-Redfield, Dan knew he could use the support and Devon pretending it didn’t bother them as much as they said it didn’t. Devon can’t help but want to set up a memorial for Noah, no matter how much it hurts to be there or how much Noah hurt them. All the while a surprise visitor waits for them.

XX. Fluff - Crash x Chazz

This one has been deleted. I can’t write anything I don’t like, and as much as I loved the pairing I couldn’t find myself inspired to work with it. Sorry to anyone who was loking forward to it.

XXI. Autumn -

Couldn’t figure out what to do for this day. If you have any ideas hit me up, otherwise this prompt ain’t being done.

XXII. Endings - Kamilah x MC (NSFW)

Kimberly finishes her final day working for RainesCorp as Adrian’s right-hand woman and secures herself a position now as Kamilah’s, with Kamilah’s assistant moving on to a better position within the company. An ending is a new beginning, and Kimberly wants to break in the new job with some fun.

XXIII. Birth - Victoria x MC

Victoria and Normani are having their first child, with all of their friends around Normani delivers her baby with Victoria by her side the entire time. Matt’s petrified because he looked, Seth is making fun of him, and Teja is getting her hand broken by Normani’s grip while trying to keep the boys under control.

XXIV. Animals - Maxwell x MC

Maxwell invites Riley to a private dinner for two during an endangered animal awareness event. Where he plans a special surprise for them, but Riley has other plans for how the night should go on. But the pair may find themselves in deep trouble when they get caught.

XXV. Best Friends - Kaitlyn x MC

Celeste needs help with her fanfiction, Vasquez told her to channel her creative energies further than her internship and she decides fanfiction is her best bet. However, she’s having trouble putting into words how Val and Kenna should confess their love, luckily Kaitlyn is around to help (and tease her).

XXVI. Lies - Alana x MC (SUGGESTIVE)

Nadia and Kai discuss Kai’s relationship with Nadia. Kai worries that Nadia doesn’t care about them, and the fact that she lies so much to them, even over little things that shouldn’t bother Kai as much as it does. Nadia’s advice might not be all that helpful, but at least Kai channeled away some frustration.

XXVII. Sleepover - Naomi x MC

Jesse wants to surprise Naomi at her ranch with a night of fun at home, after finally being able to make their way back to Birtchport for the weekend. They cook her a lovely meal and get news over the phone that will change both of their lives for better or worse. Can they tough it out and make it last?

XXVIII. Moving Day - Han x M!MC (NSFW)

Han and Landon finish moving all of their stuff into their new apartment after spending the entire day moving by themselves, at Han’s suggestion of not needing any help. Landon finds himself surprised they managed to do it all, and sore with his back killing him. Han offers to give him an innocent massaging, but Landon’s expecting a little more from his boyfriend.

XXIX. Clean - Bianca x MC

Lina shows Jamie Bianca’s biggest secret much to Han’s disapproval, a confession that could easily make or break their relationship. Smuggly Lina walks away leaving Bianca and Jamie to sort out the details of what happened and decide what comes next for the pair or if anything at all comes for them next.

XXX. Celebrate - Grace (@zig-a-zow’s mc) x Aiden

When Grace’s birthday rolls around, Aiden decides to plan something special for her and the rest of their friends. Grace admittedly appreciated it, however, he wasn’t sure if she even wanted to celebrate further than just her and Aiden. As the party rages on an item on the menu catches her hand and she’s determined to prove herself to have a good night.

Notes:

Books with M!MC + F!MC that just say ‘MC’ will have they pronouns, so you an picture it however you want!

* - NSFW-ISH means exactly what it says, it’s not NSFW but it directly references NSFW actions.

** - Comedy means it’s just a funny fic, it’s not anything deep except a joke fic to make you laugh!

*** - MCD is Major Character Death

**** - Suggestive hints to NSFW concepts, but isn’t directly NSFW/NSFW-ish!

[80srockher]

Yuri on Ice Rewatch and Live-Commentary, Episode 1: Easy as Pirozhki!! The Grand Prix Final of Tears

*There are spoilers throughout.  I also make assumptions that anyone reading has already seen the episode or has a grasp of the content.*

Source: http://yurionicescreencaps.tumblr.com

The opening scene is so pretty.  Really sets a tone.  I went in knowing nothing about the anime first go-around, so I found Yuri and Victor’s grow/glow-ups montages interesting.  

This theme song is… not my favorite.  Maybe it’s the French horns?  That and too much synth.  I usually skip over it but want to give it a chance this go-around.

Heh, Victor and his gold blades to match his gold medal.  And his European af haircut.  Can’t remember the last time I saw an American past the age of 12 with bangs. No mistaking him for anything other than Eastern European.

Also, the poster on the left is for Victor, I believe.  Can he pull his leg that high in the air?  Was that featured and I forgot?  I’ll be on the lookout for it.

Also, looks like Jean JACK made it to Sochi and placed third here too, lolz.

Yes, please listen to your coach, Yuri.  Don’t poke the wound.  Stay off the internets.  ESPECIALLY the figure skating internets.  What little I remember from when I used to follow the sport is that it’s dramatic, to put it nicely.

I keep getting distracted by the utter Euro-ness of the Europeans in this show. The cut of Coach Celestino’s suit is so Italian I weep. He’s too smooth.

Yuri’s name tag has his name in Cyrillic as well?  Cute.

My first impression of Yuri was that he looks about 18 and that impression hasn’t changed.  Perhaps it’s the glasses, but he def looks youthful. I’m also someone who’s been accused of looking a decade+ younger than I actually am, so I can sympathize.

Speaking of sympathy – Yuri caved to pressure, binged ate before the competition while mourning his dog, then bombed his first trip to the Grand Prix final.  All in front of his idol.  Damnity damn damn.  Sorry, kid.

Is Cao Bin ever introduced on the show?  Something else I forgot, maybe?

Now, when I first saw this poor child crying in the bathroom, that’s when I knew the series was going to be much different from the light-hearted anime about figure skating I expected.  It got real deep real quick.

Yuri Plisetsky “The Russian Punk”.  Is this something the in-universe media refers to him as?  Because I only recall (JPN) Yuri saying it and only this once.

This screencap is during the scene where the journalist Marooka (sp?) is hassling Yuri about his future plans and instead of answering, Yuri can only stare at someone else’s puppy that reminds him of his dead Vicchan.

This baby is crying. Cry.ing.  This has been a tough day for poor Yuri, overall.

And he talks down to himself so much.  It’s all his fault he caved to pressure. He was an idiot to think he could meet his idol on the same playing field.   He’s come so far and still thinks so little of his accomplishments.

So, I understand this “one year later” is not really accurate, lol.  It’s just the new  year following the previous season.  I was confused initially about a number of soon-to-happen events before Yuri’s mental alter ego cleared it up.

So, per Minako’s voice actress, Yuri really is pronounced YOO-RI.  Cute.

Four Continents is… not a Grand Prix competition?  My figure skating knowledge is all rust now.

LOL, Minako does. Not. Play. And she wears a pinky ring.  My God, that death grip on poor Yuri.

It’s snowing outside the train station when Yuri and Minako leave.  So, it’s not unusual to snow in this region in March, but it’s highly unusual a month or so later. Man, hard to believe Yuri sat around for almost an entire month before the infamous video became viral.  More on that, later.

So, based on everyone’s interactions with Yuri so far, the only person who cares that he didn’t make it to the World Championships is him.  And he should care since he’s worked basically his entire life towards that goal.  But, he doesn’t appear to have let anyone down but himself, though he doesn’t act that way.

So, the fact that the family hot springs is named “Yu-topia”… did that influence Yuri’s name at all, I wonder?

Ha!  I wish I could have recorded the Japanese actor’s voice when he says this line.  He makes Yuri sound so done with it all, lol.  It’s the best.

Ok, so a number of very interesting and entertaining things happen in succession that I don’t feel like screencapping.  No hug between the littlest Katsuki and the senior Katsukis, even though he hasn’t been home in 5 years.  Fascinating. No doubt cultural (I’m guessing) but fascinating.  

Yuri’s mom basically calls Minako a drunk.  To her face. LOL.  But I imagine no one can get mad at this sweet lady.

Minako calls Yuri out on his weight gain in front of God and everybody.  Though, I think it’s more of a matter of his clothes no longer fitting due to said weight gain.  

But, his parents don’t care. Eat more pork cutlet bowls, Yuri! Welcome home!

Vicchan’s shrine is where they also store the unused treadmill.  Want to bet the only person to use it was Yuri?

Then older sis Mari-neechan appears with frosted tips.  I can appreciate a character that doesn’t beat around the bush (a trait she inherited from her mother, I imagine).  Welcome home, Yuri, but don’t sit on your ass.  Start thinking about your next move.    

Actually *loads headcanon* I suspect Mari doesn’t want Yuri to give up on skating.  The longer he stays at home, the more quitting becomes a possibility.

So, the Katsuki family hot springs resort (Inn?  Restaurant?) is the last one standing in town.  Very OT, but I wonder if the hot springs are still an attraction at all and are perhaps, government-owned?  Protected, used by tourists for a fee, perhaps?  I think about things like that.

Having never visited a hot spring, and based on the setting around Minako while she watches the World Championships on TV, it appears to be a place for people to come, soak, and lounge and grab a bite to eat if the mood strikes.  So, the Katsukis wait on people basically all day long.  Gotta be exhausting work.

Yuuuuuko!  The Madonna of Ice Castle Hasetsu!  Yuri’s crush on her is hella cute.

A slight segue to Yuri’s perceived attraction to Yuko and what it could imply about his sexual identity.  Per his labeling of Yuko as a “Madonna,” I figure Yuri considers Yuko untouchable, perhaps even “too good” for him.  Yuko, just like Victor, is “ideal”.  For someone as self-conscious as Yuri, comparing any romantic prospects against his two ideals was probably a convenient excuse not to get *too* close to anyone, male or female.  That being said, he didn’t pursue Yuko.  Alcohol loosened enough of Yuri’s inhibitions to eventually openly flirt with Victor, but this is still an important distinction, IMO.  He pursued one of his ideals (in more ways than one, even going so far as to leave home to in hopes of becoming Victor’s equal) and left the other one behind.

Yuri idealizes/d Yuko, and comes to love Victor.  He’s gay.  Bi, at the least.  

I don’t feel confident in applying any other labels, because I’m a straight.  Yuri could fall under any number of categories as long it they include, IMO, same-sex attraction.

In actuality, Yuko is “introduced” to the audience as Yuri’s straight love interest, but that doesn’t last long.  Cute and clever, show creators.  Cute. And . Clever.

Then we find out, via flashback, a) how adorable they all were when they were little kids and b) Yuko wanted to see Yuri compete against Victor.  Yuko has been a profound influence on Yuri.

So, Victor.  This guy is in a class by himself.  The animators obviously invested a lot of time in his movements.  You can see why he leads the field even at 27.

Also, the creators had the nerve, the audacity, the unmitigated gall to compose an original opera aria for a cartoon.  That was my next indicator that this was more than a cutesy figure skating anime.  

The song really is beautiful, too.  Probably my favorite in the soundtrack.

Who’s the last IRL skater to win 5 consecutive World Championships?  Michelle Kwan, maybe?  Who is Kwan’s male equivalent?  Back then, probably Alexei Yagudin?  May research. May not. 

Anyway, Victor is the Michelle Kwan of YOI-verse lol.

Hmm.  Here come the three brats.  Good God.  Poor Yuko and Takeshi lol.

So sweet to see Yuri’s childhood bully is his biggest fan now.

Sooo, Yuko’s triplets secretly record Yuri’s private performance, post it online (sometime before April 10, when Victor shows up), and things progress rather quickly from there...

Or do they?  It appeared to me that Yuri caught up with Yuko at the rink the same day he returned home.  Did he skate Victor’s routine for her that day, as well, or did it happen later?  Perhaps the triplets waited a few weeks to post the video, or else it took a few weeks to go viral.  Did Yuri turn off his phone for *weeks* to avoid the world?

Maybe he got home on March 30 and then the whole month of April just went to hell for him?  The possibilities...

LOL, I’m so SO mad the title of the video is “Katsuki Yuri TRIED to Skate Victor’s FS Program”. Those brats.

This might be the most unattractive Victor’s ever looked.  Severe close-ups aren’t flattering on anyone.  Welp, down the rabbit hole now.  

So, in the next scene it snows in April which doesn’t stop anyone from stripping naked to bathe in a hot spring, apparently.  Or it just doesn’t stop Victor.

#moneyshot

I like this ending theme much better.  It’s a head-bopper.  The Instagram reel kills me.  

Thanks to anyone who took the time to read through this stream of consciousness!  No idea how long it may take me to get through the rest.  I tip my hat to those who regularly and passionately participate in fandom.  It’s a lot of work!

[rosyredlipstick]

growing pains (1/3)

“Thirty and flirty and thriving.” Victor read off the cover, sighing happily at the bound paper in his hands. The glossy H.M. Magazine cover shined back at him. “I wish I wish was thirty.”

Be careful what you wish for, they say.

-

December, 2000

  This month's issue, almost as if by magic, came in the mail the day before Victor Nikiforov's thirteenth birthday.

It was actually due to a minor postal mishap that several people were in quite big trouble for, but Victor would still not hesitate to label it magic. Because this - the shiny, perfect, spotless December issue of his most beloved magazine was here.

“Thirty and flirty and thriving.” Victor read off the cover, sighing happily at the bound paper in his hands. The glossy H.M. Magazine cover shined back at him. “I want to be older.”

From the couch, Yakov frowned at him laid across the carpet. “Do not hurry to get older, Vitya. It will come. Enjoy being young.”

“Being young sucks,” he whined, hugging the thick paper to his chest. On the cover, Mariah Carey beamed back at him, looking impossibly joyful about her age. Thirty and flirty and thriving, Mariah has it all!

Victor had no idea what ‘all’ Mariah had, but dear Britney Spears did he want it.

Victor huffed, “I wish I was thirty.”

Yakov gave him a rare soft look, ruffling his hair to Victor’s visible dismay. “You’re a teenager now, yes? Teenagers complain all the time. Seems like you are already growing up.”

Victor wrinkled his nose, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “Yakov,” he complained loudly, grabbing up all his magazines, ignoring the amused look the older man was throwing him as he stomped away. Yakov, the traitor, could be heard laughing.

Ugh, he was the worst.

Victor sighed, dropping the magazines across his bed, and turned to his overflowing closet. Checking the clock on his bedside, he flipped his hair - it was almost time.

He surveyed his outfit options, laying them side by side before pulling on a few to examine in the mirror, and didn’t have to wait long before Yakov was yelling up the stairs.

“Katsuki is here,” Yakov was announcing from the kitchen, as if that was any surprise. Yuuri came over everyday after his dance rehearsal, four fifteen on the dot.

“Tell him I’m in my room!” Victor shoved another article of clothing on, frowning at the mirror. A distressed denim vest over his rainbow turtleneck, a favorite combination of his.

“Victor?” Yuuri was already calling out, his tell-tale numerous keychains clashing together as he bounced up the stairs.

Victor wasted no moment, pulling the other boy into his room. “Yuuri!” He gestured to himself only slightly frantic, “How do I look? Is this the one?”

Yuuri paused in the doorway, still in his clothes from practice, and gave Victor a fond look. “Victor,” he told him, a smile in his voice. “You look fine.”

“Yuuri,” he whined, flipping his hair back. “ I can't just look fine today. I have to look perfect. ”

“Well, you look perfect.”  There was a small, nearly unnoticeable blush on the apples of his cheeks. But under the low lighting of Victor's bedroom, neither boy paid it much attention.

Victor only sighed, snatching up the glossy magazine that had fallen to the floor. “Don't lie to me.” He gestured to one of the models posing somewhat uncomfortably next to an article  column. “I'll never look perfect like them .”

Yuuri frowned down at the blank faced model, his cheeks fading some. “They don't look like they're having much fun. Maybe that’s good.”  He scrambled to his feet like a thought was just occurring to him. “I’m going to grab my book bag from the living room. I’ll be right back!”

And he returned after only a few moments, a minute at most. But that didn’t stop Victor from doing a complete 180 on his emotions. Victor, having heard Yuuri coming back onto the room, cried out dramatically.

Yuuri stepped over Victor’s body thrown across the carpet, paying him no real attention as he shuffled through his bag.

Victor squinted his eyes at the other boy as Yuuri took a comfortable place leaning against his bed frame, fully unzipping his backpack at last. Victor let out another dramatic wail, cracking open an eyelid to look at the other boy. No response.

Finally, he just threw himself over Yuuri’s lap, his hand over his forehead, his hair falling with expert ease to waterfall across Yuuri’s knees.

Yuuri sighed, a slight, hidden smile in place, and tipped his head to the side. He looked down to the other boy. “Yes, Victor?”

“Yuuri,” There were real, glistening tears in Victor’s eyes. It was a talent, honest. “Yuuri, my life is horrible.”

“What’s wrong now?” Yuuri, the traitor, held a trace of amusement in his voice as he surveyed Victor’s forlorn figure still half-draped across the floor. “Do I need to make the fish face?”

Victor sobbed, throwing his hands in the air. Before him, H.M. Magazine 's newest edition laid out across the carpet. “Not even the fish face will fix this!”

“Must be serious,” Yuuri tucked his feet under him, jostling Victor slightly. “Want to tell me what’s so horribly wrong?”

At that, Victor’s eyes filled again with unshed tears. Yuuri vaguely wondered if he should be filming this - Victor could use this as an audition tape one day.

Victor only gestured with sorrow towards the shiny pages, more emotion building up in his chest. He sat up, mostly just to prove a point. “I’m never going to be as beautiful as Leonardo diCaprio. I’m never going to be as big and famous.” He sobbed into his hands. “I bet Leo never had braces.”

Yuuri’s cracking grin was soft, light, and just the tiniest bit amused as he rubbed circles into Victor’s back. “You’re gonna have the best teeth in the world,” Yuuri reassured him. He paused in his movement, his cheeks filling with color. “And...you know, if it came to it...I’d pick you over Leo any day.”

Victor looked up from where he had shoved his face into his knees, turning a bit to the other boy in amazement. “Wait, honest?”

The color went darker, “Of course, Victor.”

Victor seemed to be processing the compliment. “You saw Titanic , right?”

“My mom fast forwarded some parts, but yeah.” His smile turned a shade of coy. “I like you better.”

Victor blinked a few times. “Wow,” he breathed out before beaming. “I like you more than Leo diCaprio too!”

He and Yuuri shared matching, slightly shy smiles. They seemed to be sharing more and more of those these days. Yuuri, after a moment, broke the moment with a giggle, his hand coming up to his mouth. He was always calmer around Victor, especially when the other boy was in one of his dramatic moods. Yuuri, the worst best friend in the entire world, seemed to find them funny.  

Something seemed to occur to Yuuri then as he leaned back from the moment, blinking a few times. He turned to the book bag at his side, “Oh! What I went for my bag for -” he dug around for a second, pulling out a few books before making a noise of triumph as he revealed a small tissue paper wrapped bundle.

“Happy birthday, Vitya.” Yuuri’s smile was small and coy, a flickering thing. He pushed the small, tightly wrapped package into Victor’s hands, his cheeks coloring.

Victor perked up, the last of all his previous dramatic emotion fading nearly instantly. “You got me something for my birthday!”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, fond and soft. “Of course I did. Now open it!”

Victor, nearly bouncing in place, tore open the light blue paper with reckless abandon. After a moment, he gasped.

His hands fluttered around the tissue paper in excitement, “Yuuri!” He beamed, “It’s a glitter choker! I’ve been wanting one of these!”

“I couldn’t get the one from dELiA’s you wanted,” Yuuri’s voice was apologetic, “but I found this one from the flea market!” He smiled sweetly, “The lady said it was magic.”

Victor’s light laugh was like a ringing bell, “It looks magical. I love it.” He beamed, “Can you help me put it on?”

The same slight color from earlier was back, “Right now?”

Victor shoved the necklace at him, turning and picking up his hair so Yuuri would link it. “Of course, if there’s any occasion to wear my new magic choker, it’s on my thirteenth birthday, Yuuri!”

“It is,” Yuuri gave him a small, shy smile. “So what do you want to do?” Yuuri leaned into his side, enjoying the warmth coming off the other other boy. “Mom said I could stay out till eight tonight to celebrate.”

Victor gasped, “That’s almost two hours later than usual!”

Yuuri shared in his excitement, “I know! We can do almost anything!”

“Oh!” A thought occurred to him then, and he grabbed onto the other boy’s hand, grinning brightly. “Let’s get to the rink before it gets too crowded! We can take turns practicing our jumps!”

“I want to come!”

Victor groaned nearly instantly at the high voice interrupting their conversation. Of course.

“Get out of my room, Yura.” Victor complained, returning to sprawling out, now across his bed. Yura had taken to sitting outside Victor’s bedroom while Yuuri visited and listening in on their conversations for opportunities to blackmail Victor for candy. More often than not, it worked out in Yura’s favor. “It’s my birthday and Yakov said I didn’t have to babysit.”

Yuuri tsked , “Be nice, Vitya.” He gave Yura a soft, welcoming smile. “You can come if you want, Yura, we’re leaving soon.”

The smaller boy beamed in all his four year old glory, “I’ll get my skates!” He smiled, his smile all window gaps from lost teeth. “I put tiger stickers on them!”

Yura ran and fetched them obediently, and puffed out his chest in pride as Yuuri cooed and admonished the tiger stickers in all the right spots. Victor dropped his crossed arms and sighed, smiling slightly. He didn’t really mind taking him along - he probably would have brought him anyways. Yura was cute when he was trying to impress Yuuri’s easily provoked amazement.

“If you’re going to come -” Yura beamed at him, “- you might as well be able to see.” Victor  gestured to the space in front of his knees, “If you hurry up, I’ll braid it out of your face.”

He was nearly vibrating in excitement, tripping over his feet in his haste to grab his skate bag. He plopped the bag in front of Yuuri, giving him a shy smile, and pulled his knees to his chest. He tipped his head back onto Victor’s knees, chubby cheeks spread out into a wide smile. “The pretty braid?”

Victor was already separating his fine silk hair. “I suppose.”

Yuuri gave them both a fond look, moving to collect the ripped wrapping paper from the carpet.

Victor continued the simple braid, much less complicated than Yura thought, and tied it off with the band on his wrist. Smoothing the stubborn fly-aways back from Yura’s face, he stood.

“Go make sure Yakov’s ready,” Victor told Yura, patting his head as the younger boy scrambled to his feet and raced out the door. He’d probably want to examine the braid to make sure it was perfect.

“Look who I found!” Yuuri heaved himself through the doorway, a dog much too big to be cradled in Yuuri’s arms doing exactly that. Victor brightened.

Yuuri let the dog to the ground, “Say bye to Makkachin!” Yuuri smiled sweetly, leaning forward to press his face into the dog’s fur.

Victor nearly melted, bending over to better see her. “Makkachin, ” he sang out, grinning widely. She jumped up, leaning her front paws on his hip, and panted happily up at him. “Makka, Makka, Makka ~” Victor lifted her up, hugging her to his chest despite her large size, and pushed his face into her fur.

She was the best dog.

“She’s the best dog,” Yuuri sighed, scratching her behind her ears in the way she loved. He was still trying to convince his parents to get one and must have been somewhat successful - he heard Mr. Katsuki asking after where Yakov had gotten Makkachin.

God. Two poodles. What a future.

Yura was already goraning out in frustration at the foot of the stairs, stomping his foot. “Vitya! Hurry up, Yakov is almost ready!”

Victor sighed, pushing one more kiss onto Makkachin’s nose, before grabbing Yuuri’s hand and pulling him down the stairs.

Yakov, only groaning a bit about his old bones, drove them to the rink, and left them with admission money and a promise to be back in a few hours.

He and Yuuri rushed to the rink, barely any people there but a few teens louding in the corner of the rink, and moved to shove their shaktes on, excitement clear in both of their grins. They dropped Yura, pouting, off at the smaller rink, a few younger kids lingering on the ice, and took off towards the ice.

Being on the ice with Yuuri was the best. Showing off fake routines, talking about their practices, ignoring Yakov’s advice - it was some of Victor’s favorite things to do.

“Minako wants me to double up on my dance practice but that would mean less skating,” Yuuri shrugged, smiling softly. He was skating backwards to face Victor, ease in every motion of his body. “And I like skating.”

“It’s like, our only hang out time for just the two of us,” Victor pointed out, playing with his footwork a bit.

“And Yura,” There was laughter in his voice, “don’t forget Yura.”

Victor puffed out a sigh, not actually annoyed but never willing to admit it. Little brothers were supposed to be annoying.

Yuuri smiled, grabbing onto his hand, and pulled him along the ice. They were good like that - hand in hand, gliding across like they were meant to. Victor peeked a look over at the other boy, suddenly shy with what he had to say.

“Yakov is talking about having me try out for a local competition,” There was a slight rare blush filling Victor’s cheeks, “I’m gonna have to make a routine and everything.”

“Victor!” Yuuri grabbed onto his arm in excitement, “Victor, that would be so cool. ”

Victor beamed, “I thought so! He wants me to start practicing next week.” He lit up after a moment, “Yuuri! Yuuri, you should try out too!” He gestured towards Yuuri’s smooth skating, “You’re as good as me, we could totally do it together! We’re already here all the time, we can practice together!”

A nervous expression passed over Yuuri’s face, “I don’t know…”

Victor grabbed onto the other boy’s hand, a serious look coming over his face. Rare, on his usually grinning face. “Yuuri,” he said, “you’re like, my favorite skater ever. I’ll be there with you. You already like making routines out of your dance programs, we can totally do this!”

Yuuri’s cheeks were flushed - from the cold air of the rink, probably. Slowly, he dipped his chin, and gave Victor a hesitant nod. “I’ll talk to Minako about it.”

Victor’s rare expression broke with a grin, beaming, and pulling the other boy into a quick hug. “This is the best birthday ever!”

“Oh!” At that, Yuuri pulled away, his head turning back towards the edge of the rink. “We should get some pictures, let me go get my camera!” Yuuri grinned, excited. After slipping on his skate guards, he hobbled off to the lockers. Victor watched him go with a smile, warming up on his own to go around once more.

But before he could, one of the teens lingering in the corner of the rink slid up, her hands on her hips.

“Hey, kid.” The teen jammed her thumb over her shoulder, frowning down at him. “Get off the ice, your time is up.”

Victor frowned, glancing over to the sign handing on the wall. He cocked his head to the side, unsure. “It’s….still open for another hour.”

The older teen gave him a dull look, “Only teens get to stay in the big rink after regular hours.” She gestured towards the smaller practice one in the distance. Victor could just barely see Yura racing across the surface. “Shouldn’t you be in the kid section?”

“It’s my birthday. I’m thirteen.” Victor angled up his chin like he’d seen Lillia do. “And you should be nice to me, I’m going to be famous one day.”

“Really?” There was laughter in her voice. “Sweetheart, you’ve got braces, baby fat, and just enough acne to be in a Proactiv commercial. You might wanna stick to something else, hun.”

Victor blinked at her. There was no cruelty in her tone, just bumping laughter, This - he - was just a joke to her. She was being starkly honest.

That...made it worst. A lot worse.

He was skating off the rink before he had another thought about it, swallowing against the tightening in his throat. The girl’s laughter trailed after him, a horrible soundtrack to his retreat.

“I got the camera -” Yuuri cut himself off, his smile dropping at Victor’s red, watery eyes. “I - Victor - what -”

Victor rushed straight past him, sliding on his skate guards, and rushing off the rink. In one hand, his bag swung widely as he wobbled away.

He threw himself into the nearest doorway - a closet, one he and Yuuri once hid out in when Yakov came looking for them - and locked the door behind himself, already sobbing.

She was right. This nameless teen, so cool and suave at only a few years older than he was - she was right. She had taken a single look at him and known everything Victor had sealed away under layers of dramatics and silly faces.

He slid down the door, shaking, tears soaking themselves into his shirt collar. She was so right. He was just a stupid thirteen year old, with a generic daydream of being famous, just like every other thirteen year old out there.

Where his bag had fallen, the contents spilled out open onto the concrete. Mariah Carey grinned at him like a secret, confident and cool and poised. The magazine cover almost shined under the dim light of the closet, just enough for Victor to read clearly the words splashed across.

Thirty and flirty, and thriving.

“I hate being thirteen. I just want to be be thirty,” he sobbed, burying his head into his knees. “ I just want to be be thirty. Thirty, flirty, and thriving. ”

He continued to hit his head against the back of the supplies closet door, sobbing, and his mantra only grew more desperate. Outside the door, Yuuri was banging on the door in panic and worry, his voice calling out pleas to open the door and Victor’s name in equal.

And the glitter choker, tight around the pale column of his throat, sparkled even under the dim, dim lighting of the room.

He must have pinned his hair back last night.

It was a rare morning in which he didn’t wake up with his silver locks tangled around his neck, frizzy around his cheeks. He was honestly a bit proud of himself to remember to tie it back - it was a habit he was trying to train himself into.

He squinted around the dark room in confusion. His room usually never got this dark in the mornings due to his window facing the sun. Must be bad weather today.

Sharp ringing - what must have woken him up, he barely registered it until now - started up again. It was off in the distance, in another room, but loud enough to clearly hear from his own room. One of Yakov’s alarms, probably.

He stretched out in his bed, his bones popping. Makkachin wasn’t in bed with him - she had probably curled up in Yura’s bed for the night. Traitor.

Well, he might as well start the day. Start breakfast, at the very least.

He stumbled out of bed, his mind still in the process of booting up, and nearly tripped over his dark sheets. Had he been fully awake, maybe he would have noticed the out of place furniture, or how silky his usually scratchy sheets were, or - at the very least - the silken pajamas that hung from his frame, as he usually slept in Yakov’s old shirts. But, as he blinked against a wave of fatigue, he didn’t notice any of this at first.  

He almost called out to Yakov, instead mumbling around a yawn. He pushed open the bedroom door, squinting against the hallway light, and froze.

He...he wasn’t at home.

He jumped back into the dark room, suddenly wide awake. He wasn’t anywhere he knew, not the Katsuki inn, or Lilia’s apartment, or any of his uncle’s houses. Nowhere he remembered.

The last thing he remembered was at the rink. Running into the closet, crying, Yuuri banging at the door. He must have fallen asleep there, and maybe Yuuri called someone. That would...make sense. Maybe.

He patted around the wall, sighing in relief when he managed to flip up the light switch. Okay. Okay, progress.

He was alone, it seemed, in a wide expansive room, all gray steel and white sheets. A bed, a small couch, and an empty bookshelf. Nearly bare. From here, he could see a the darkened tile of a bathroom and light carpet of a closet. More to investigate later, after he found Yakov.

He sighed, turning back to the doorway, and came face-to-face with the mirror hanging on the fall.

He stared into the mirror. A older man - with his features, with his wide blue eyes, with his mouth parted open - stared back at him.

Victor screamed.

The man screamed back.

Was that…? It had to be, that was him but, how? How was this even possible?

Oh god. Victor’s face in the mirror gasped. His hair.

He ran a shaking hand through the short - oh god, it was so short - cropped hair. It barely reached his ears.

His hand smacked over his mouth - his braces were gone. He peered at his reflection a bit closer - no braces, just perfect straight teeth that were definitely not his own.

“Oh my god,” he gasped out, right before choking. His voice - god, it was so deep. His eyes were crazed as he met them through his own reflection, “Oh my god.”

He had to find Yakov. He would - he would know what to do, the older man always did and this was surely something better handled by an adult.

A real adult, that is.

He wrenched the door open, calling out for Yakov and Yuri to no response, half expecting Makkachin to come bursting through the door as he cracked it open. There was no one else there but Victor.

And that annoying constant ringing.

He followed the sound, frowning and looking more than a little crazed and desperate, before stumbling into the living room. More unfamiliar surroundings - this time a coffee table paired with a pale couch, a dark coat thrown over the arm. He beelined for that first.

The ringing was coming from a sleek black block in the coat pocket. Christophe, it read. He inspected the loud device, the ring continuing. Maybe it was a music player, of some sort?

After a few moments, the ringing stopped. Victor let out a small sigh of relief, putting the block to the side. Along with the block in his pocket, a dark leather wallet. Something familiar, at least.

Victor flipped it open, his own tiny image staring back at him. He had a license, apparently. A few sleek cards - with his name on them, unbelievable considering that Yakov didn’t even let him run into the store with the older man’s card. His gaze flickered to the coffee table in front of the couch, stark white envelopes thrown about. He examined them, breathing low. Bills - bills with his full name and impossible dates on them, both such unlikely occurrences he stumbled back. He fell onto the couch, a breath rushing out of him.

Okay. He needed to think.

He picked up another one of the envelopes only to drop it back immediately. His eyes went wide.

That was...him.

Under the small pile of bills and papers, was his face. On...a magazine. Oh god. And not just any magazine. He picked it up slowly, his hands gentle and careful as if holding holy text, and stared at the bound paper.

His face was on the cover of H.M. Magazine . His face - unblemished with smooth, perfect skin - was on the cover, with text on either side bracketing his face in. No braces, no acne, no baby fat.

That was...good.

“Okay,” he said out loud, staring at the cover. The picture stared him down, looking impassive and bored. Victor didn’t even know he could look like that. “This is good.” He set down the magazine, falling back on the couch. “This could never happen in real life. So that means I’m dreaming. I can...I can deal with that.” He took a breath, “I’m dreaming.”

The ringing started back up. Apparently, even in dreams everyday annoyances were still commonplace.

He ignored it, instead looking around the apartment his dream had come up with. A bit plain, if anything, with too much gray and white. Where was all the color? His bedroom back home was a mess of neon color and peeling teen celebrity posters. Where was his Romeo + Juliet poster? It was limited edition and cost all of his allowance for two months. The least his unconscious could do was treasure it in his weird hallucination.

Rough pounding on the door pulled him out of his desperate, frantic thoughts, and Victor jumped up and looked to the door in only slight fear. Someone...was here.

Maybe if he ignored it…

Victor waited a few more moment but the knocking only persisted. The loud ringing started up again. Hesitantly, he took a step forward. Still no stopping.

“Victor,” a voice, slightly annoyed, was calling through the door. “Victor, we’re behind schedule.”

Victor leaned forward, narrowing his eye towards the small glass circle in the wood. Behind the door, someone huffed in annoyance.

“Um,” Victor attempted to place any familiarity to the person he stared through at the peephole. “Who is it?”

Victor watched the man roll his eyes before calling out, “Christophe.” The man, even through the peephole, was obviously in a hurry, “Open the door, Victor. We need to go.”

Victor took a breath. Okay. Yakov had drilled into he and Yura at very young ages the dangers of strangers. You don’t let strangers in, and you certainly don’t go with them.

But he knew Victor’s name, and Christophe - was that the name from the ringing block?

This was all a dream anyways. Everything would be fine.

Victor opened the door, his eyes crazed, his hair still sticking up in all directions.

Christophe barely spared him a glance past the initial. “Silk pajama pants?” Christophe’s voice was carefully neutral. “Attempting to start a new fashion trend, Mr. Nikiforov?”

“Uh,” Victor blinked, tightening his arms around himself. “Yeah. Um. That’s what I do.”

Christophe didn’t offer any other words, only holding out a cardboard cup. Victor took it numbly, without much thought.

“I’ve been calling you for an hour and a half.” Christophe’s voice held no emotion as he whipped out his own sleek black block - nearly identical to Victor’s own - and began tapping on it. Curiously, he peeked at the other man’s screen, a bit mystified.

Christophe didn’t seem to find anything out of the usual with this, “I’ve pushed back the meeting with JJ’s people - he’s still very insistent on being the first cover model to show off his tattoo - and the committee meeting is still set for this afternoon.” Christophe, without paying him much attention, began passing over Victor the heavy coat and scarf, gesturing towards the shoes haphazard in the doorway. Victor fumbled to lace them up, tying them up neatly, before Christophe disappeared around a corner.

If it was a dream then Victor should...go along with it?

He grabbed his few things, slammed the door behind him, and rushed after Christophe, impatiently holding the elevator.

In the elevator, Christophe had already turned his attention back to his hands, cradling his own black block. Victor bit his lip and began to put on his - he supposed it was his, after Christophe had shoved it towards him - coat. It was heavy and dark, nothing like the fluorescent puffer jacket at home. Victor took a deep breath.

“What’s…” Christophe glanced up at his voice, “What’s the date today?”

The other man gave him an unimpressed look, “March 14th.”

“And, uh.” Victor tried to keep his voice was wobbling. “What year?”

Christophe gave him a severe side-eye. “2017. Do I need to call someone? Your doctor?”

“No, no,” Victor shook his head furiously, “Just checking.”

Okay. Weird dream, where it wasn’t his birthday but three months, seventeen years later. That was...fine.

Christophe lead him to a parked limo at the curb, nearly dragging his elbow the entire way. Victor only clenched at his coffeecup, only hesitating briefly before following the other man into the car.

“Um,” Victor very gently the door behind him. There was a driver in the front, who peeled away the curb almost immediately. “Where are we going?”

Christophe’s voice was a sigh even if he didn’t do so. “How late were you out last night?”

“I -” Victor thought. The last memory he had was in the closet of the skating rink. It would have been well past his usual eight o’clock curfew at that point. “Late.”  

Christophe sighed, “I can tell. I’ll try and see what appointments I can move around.”

Victor didn’t respond despite Christophe clearly waiting for him to. He shot a look at the other man, swallowing. Everything suddenly felt very real.

“Am I…” He was almost scared to ask, “Am I not dreaming?”

Christophe gave him a slightly dull look, going back to tapping away at his phone. “If you’re dreaming, then we’re both living out this nightmare.”

There was a beat of silence. Victor bit his lip to shreds, “So, no?”

“No, Victor. You’re not dreaming. I don’t know what you did last night -” he gestured to the entirety of Victor, “But we have a lot on the agenda for today. Try your drink.”

Slowly, he sipped at the steaming drink and almost immediately had to resist the urge to spit it across the leather cushions.

Christophe gave him a weary look, “Something wrong, Mr. Nikiforov?”

Somehow, Victor forced down the sip. He winced, pulling the cup in cup holder, and made no plans to ever touch it again. “Is that coffee?”

“Yes, sir.” Christophe answered promptly. “The same order you drink every morning. Would you like me to get something else more to your liking?”

“No, no I just -” What was Victor suppose to say, I’m not allowed to drink coffee and that might be good because that’s disgusting? “Not thirsty.”

Christophe didn’t comment any further, only staring down at his glowing block. Maybe...a small TV? Was that possible in the future?

“We’re here,” Christophe shoved the black block into his pocket, sliding out. Victor, with not much other choice, followed.

And in front of them was the H.M. Magazine headquarters.

That was obvious even without the classy cursive font and logo - slightly different than the one Victor remembered - adorning the building. It was the same building that appeared in a rare edition of the magazine, usually to advertise some contest for a fan to win a visit. Victor had been loyally entering for years.

Christophe took no moment to stare as Victor did, instead sweeping into the building without a second glance. Victor stumbled across the sidewalk to follow.

The other man already had a badge at the ready, flashing it towards the towering security guards, barely breaking stride as he dipped through a metal detector. Victor, casting a worried look towards the tall, uniformed woman closest to him, slowly followed.

“I’m with him,” Victor pointed unnecessarily at Christophe to the security guard, a spike of worry hitting him.

The guard only nodded politely, making no move for a card like Christophe had provided. “Of course, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Oh. They knew his name. That was... really cool.  

Christophe gave them a tight smile, grabbing onto Victor’s arm and pulling him away. The elevator was already there, waiting, the few people inside vacating almost instantly the moment Victor and Christophe were in sight. Christophe - with his perfect suit, neutral voice, careful language - he must be a big deal here.

The elevator went up to nearly the top floor - remarkable for such a towering skyscraper - and Christophe was out of the door before the doors even opened fully.

Christophe went directly to the side desk in front of a large doorway, beginning to set up his things, pressing a few buttons on a large screen. Victor stayed in place, glancing around the office with wide eyes.

Christophe noticed his lingering, giving him a pleasant look. “Is there something you still require, sir?”

“Oh, um.” Victor blinked at the sir. “Uh, where can I sit?”

The other man stared at him for a long moment, “...your office, I presume?”

“My...office.” Victor stated slowly, “I have an office here? In H.M. Magazine headquarters?”

“Yes,” Christophe was now visibly impatient, gesturing towards the nearby doorway with his free hand. “It’s right there, sir.”

Again with the sir.

Victor reached up, only catching himself at the last second as he went to wind a long piece of hair around his finger. Instead, he only rested his hand on his neck. “Um, what do I do? What do you do?”

“I’m your assistant,” he stated slowly. There was a low bitter tone in his voice that Victor didn’t quite fully catch, “and you’re Editor-in-Chief of History Maker Magazine.”

Victor’s mind went white noise.

“I...what?” Victor choked, his hands coming up to his face. “I...am?”

“Yes,” he agreed simply, sighing, before reaching into Victor’s own pocket to pull out the sleek block that had been making noise all morning. Victor carefully packaged his ‘oh my god future me is the editor in chief for H.M. Magazine, oh my god’ freak out away for another time. Later, when he was alone and far from anyone who could hear him scream in pure excitement. “Have you answered any of your texts this morning?”

Victor perked up at that - he had a phone, here? He had glanced around a bit when in the apartment for his blocky Nokia but hadn’t had any success.

Although...if this was the future - the present, kinda? - he did suppose he would have probably gotten a new phone along the way.

Like the sleek black block.

“Let me see that,” he frowned down at the box. “This is my...phone?” he pushed on the sides, holding it up to his eyes. “How does the keyboard come out?”

Christophe only sighed, “What did you end up taking last night?” he tsked , taking the phone out of his hands. “It can’t have been that good if it’s still messing you up.”

“Taking?” Victor gave him a blank look, cocking his head.

Christophe’s annoyed look was turning slightly concerned. “You took something while you were at the club last night, right?

“What are you talking about?” Victor blinked a few times, trying to catch up with the conversation. Taking something, like stealing? Victor would never steal, Yakov would surely and swiftly have his skin for even considering the thought. But at a club? Victor had only read a few articles about clubs in magazines, that wrote of drinks and dancing, hundreds of people pressed together for music. But Victor had been studying H. M. magazine since Yakov started letting him buy them with his allowance, and there was the rare cautionary article on clubs, about bad drinks, worse men, and even some on...

Victor’s look of confusion was instantly overtaken by a look of horror, “Are you talking about drugs?” He hissed, his hand coming up to his chest. “Christophe, I pledged DARE in middle school. I would never take drugs. They’re illegal. ” That didn’t seem to satisfy the other man at all, despite the rare note of ernest emotion in Victor’s voice.

Christophe shoved the screen back into his hands, a frown still on his face. “You’re gonna be out of it all day. The committee can’t see you like this - you can hide in your office all day if you want but they won’t like it.” Christophe blew some air up into his bangs, “Not again.”

An opportunity to sit down and evaluate what the heck was going on. “Okay!” Victor beamed, a heart-shaped smile gracing his delicate features. Christophe nearly started in surprise. “Could you…”

Victor glanced around the office, smiling at the few eyes he caught. Those employees immediately snapped their gazes back to their desks, shaking slightly, but Victor paid them no attention. “Could you show me...um...I mean, my office?”

Christophe stared at him for another long moment before walking ahead through the open doorway. Victor, with not much other choice, followed him, and had to stifle down his gasp almost immediately.

His office was beautiful, a glossy picture of sophistication, like something straight out of a Frasier episode. He almost expected Niles to be lounging around the corner.

“Oh my god, my office is amazing.” Victor beamed, his hands coming up to his face even as Christophe shut the door tightly behind them both.  

Frosted glass wrapped around the walls facing the office, the beautiful skyline of the city on view out the parallel glass. A dark colored desk, neat and spotless, with crystal and glass paperweights lining up the front, that complimented the dark couch that ran across the wall. Not many pictures, aside from a large black and white painting was a bit boring for Victor’s taste, and the few framed editions of the magazine that lined up on the walls.

Victor let out a breath, his hands fluttering at his sides. “I can’t believe this is mine.”

“This is worse than the Fashion Week acid trip of 2014,” Christophe muttered, setting a bottle of water on the table, guiding Victor to his seat. “If you weren’t paying me a truly absurd amount of money I’d quit right now.” He straightened up, giving Victor a dull look. “I think I’ll give myself a raise after this.”

Victor only nodded happily, “You probably deserve it.” He was still in awe of the wide expanse room, the sophisticated feel that even the air held. He felt too underdressed to be breathing it. “Hey Christophe, we’re...friends, right?” Victor’s eyes were wide and blue, an openness that hadn’t been there in years.

Christophe gave him a strange look, his hands on his hips. There was a dismissiveness in his voice even as he said, “Sure, Victor.”

Victor didn’t notice the tone, only beaming. That was good!

Christophe gave him a few more instructions - not to step out his office unless absolutely necessary, not to answer any emails or texts if he could help it, a few other orders that Victor mostly drowned out - before finally closing the door behind him, leaving Victor alone.

He settled down in his plush office chair, spinning a few times for effect. He giggled uncontrollably, kicking his feet out. He had managed it after all. Unless this was all a very vivid lucid dream - and than if so, props to Victor himself for his own creativity - then he’d actually reached his dreams. Yuuri was right.

Yuuri.

He gasped, his hands going to tap blindly at his phone, the screen flashing different colors with every touch. Victor had absolutely no idea what any of them meant.

In his avid tapping, he accidently hit the small button at the bottom of the screen, and the screen went dark.

Oh god, he broke it.

After a second, the screen spelled out a few words.

How can I help you?

A small microphone icon was at the bottom. Hesitantly, Victor pressed it. He leaned in closer to the phone, first trying a simple, “...hello?”

There was a slight vibration from the phone. “Hello there,” A neutral feminine voice floated from the speakers, making Victor’s jaw fall open in surprise. He gasped, holding the phone away from him.

Oh god, they had done it. They had made robots. Victor owned a tiny robot.

This was the best day of his life.

The screen was black, a multi-colored line at the bottom bumping up at every slight sound. It seemed to be waiting.

Victor fumbled the sleek phone in surprise, pressing the button once again. “Um, what’s your name?”

There was no hesitation or lag. The future was amazing. “My name is Siri,” the voice answered,

“How can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, hi! I’m Victor. But you know that. Um. What...are you?” There was a moment of silence. Even robots thought, it seemed.

The robot ignored the question. “Hi there,” it only responded. Victor bit his lip. Many too many questions?

“Are you...a person?” Was Victor talking to a real person, like a phone call? If so, who? Was this Siri another one of his friends or coworkers?

“I’m not sure that matters,” the voice answered simply, the words spelling out on the screen.

Well. Victor supposed it didn’t. Maybe not a person, then. He liked his robot theory.

He shook his head. He had more important things to focus on. “Siri,” he started, watching the words spell out on the screen. This was so cool. “Can you make a phone call for me?” Victor was nearly certain there would be no way he could figure it out on his own, and Siri seemed to want to help.

“Sure,” the voice answered, relief hitting Victor like a wave. “Who do you want me to call?”

“Call Yuuri,” his voice nearly fell into a beg, his fingers turning to clench at the metal. Yuuri would know what to do - he always did. Yuuri, other then Yakov, was the smartest person he knew. Yuuri - Yuuri could help him, fix whatever was going on here.

There was a pause, as Siri must have thought over the request. Finally, after only a few seconds, the device lit back up with words and voice. “Sorry, you don’t have anyone named ‘Yuuri’ in your contacts.”

Victor bit his lip. Maybe he had the boy saved in as some other contact. He tapped his way over to the number pad, a bad feeling bubbling in his chest.  

He had long since memorized Yuuri’s cell phone number but was careful as he typed it in, mouthing the numbers as he did so. He waited a few seconds, staring at the still screen, and tapped the green phone icon. A good start, it would seem, as the screen changed and a dial tone started up.

He pressed the screen to his face, his knees coming up to his chest, and clenched his hands when almost immediately, the call went straight to a prerecorded message declared the number out of service.

Okay. Okay, this was fine. Everything was fine - Yuuri probably got a new phone too, and maybe Victor hadn’t managed to program it in yet.

“Siri,” his throat bobbed, “Call Yakov.”

Another few seconds, another dead end. A voicemail this time, instead excusing his absence on a vacation in St. Petersburg with - and Victor let out a low sigh of relief - Yura, saying they would be back in a week, and demanding the caller not to clog up the machine with a message. Same old Yakov, it seemed.

Victor would be lying if he said he didn’t process that with a bit of relief. But also -

“I can’t believe they went to Russia without me,” His voice was scandalized in the silence of the room. After another moment - mentally preparing his dramatic monologue he was sure to go off on once he was with them again - he returned to his phone.

He had a truly absurd number of contacts but in comparison a nearly vacant amount of text conversations. One with Christophe - which seemed to be mostly tasks sent from Victor’s own phone, a few more professional sounding conversations that nearly had Victor bored to tears, a single other conversation from what sounded like a lost food delivery driver. Where were all Victor’s friends?

He bit his lip, holding his phone to his chest.

Yakov, Yura, and Yuuri weren’t even listed there.

Maybe he just preferred to talk to them in a different way, emailing or IM-ing online. That would make sense - that was how he and Yuuri would talk at night when their parents were taking up the landline.

Yeah. That made sense.

He spent the majority of the morning talking to Siri - she wasn’t much for conversation but seemed alright with answering any of the questions he could come up with - about celebrities and pop culture, mostly.

Dawson’s Creek had ended, apparently. Yuuri was going to be heartbroken. That was their show.

Well, he would have been. Past tense.

He shook the thoughts out of his head. He’d probably just forgotten everything for a bit, perhaps he hit his head or something, but give it a few days and he’d remember where he kept Yuuri’s phone number, and Yakov and Yura would be home from Russia, and they’d all laugh about it. Victor was sure.

But he couldn’t sit around and think about that all day.

Outside his office door, there was a flurry of movement obvious though the shadow and reflection that played across the frosted glass. Victor couldn’t see a single thing outside into the room - that must be horrible. How did people know he was in here so to come talk to him?

But that did inspire something - mostly the thought of his empty stomach.

“Christophe?” Victor gave him a heart shaped grin as he peeked around the doorway to his desk, “Wanna get lunch?”

Christophe gave him a nod, as if expecting this, and typed for a few more moments before standing. “What do you want?”

Victor shrugged happily, reaching for his own coat from where Christophe had hung it that morning. “Whatever you want! I’m not picky.”

Christophe paused where he was gathering his things. “You’re...coming?”

Victor cocked his head, still unfamiliar with the lack of hair tracing over his shoulders. “Uh, yeah? We’re gonna go get food, right?”

“I usually bring it to your office for you,” he explained slowly, “you’re...really out of it, aren’t you?”

Victor gave him a bright, if slightly strained, smile. “Nope!” He popped the word, “I’m feeling great, actually! Just want some air. What are you feeling?”

“Uh,” for the first time all morning, the other man looked thrown. “What do I want?”

Victor nodded, smiling. His short hair flopped around his ears, falling over one of his eyes. It wasn’t a bad hairstyle, now that he was considering it.

Christophe looked unsure, “We could go by that bistro on Fifth Avenue, the one with the   prawn-and-avocado roulade dish you like.”

“Okay!” Victor had no idea what that dish was, “Sounds good!”

Christophe lead them the same way they came - confident and quick-stepped - and Victor lagged behind him. He waved at the other workers hidden behind cubicles and desk walls, faltering when none of them returned his grin. Most of them ducked out of sight, wincing, after catching his eye.

He frowned, looking much more like this regular self, or so several of the workers thought, and followed Christophe out of the building. The other man, thankfully, knew exactly where he was going.

The same driver from before was in the front seat - did Victor have his own driver? - and barely blinked as Christophe relayed an address. After a moment, Christophe closed the small window between them and leaned back.

“Do I have my own driver?” Victor blinked at the closed privacy divider, gaping.

“Yes,” Christophe’s voice was just beginning to hit the edge of his patience. “Raoul.“

“Raoul,” Victor smiled, “I really do have everything - wow!”

Christophe’s low huff of annoyance was not audible enough through the noise pollution of the New York traffic around them. “Yes, sir.”  

The car ride was short - too short, as Victor gazed around the skyscrapers and city in unabashed amazement.

Victor let Christophe lead the short way down the street, confident and cool as he maneuvered his way through the New York crowd, Victor following breathlessly.

New York City. Wow.

The other man made a sharp turn into a small darkened doorway, Victor scrambling to follow.

“Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Giacometti,” The front of house nodded to them as they entered. Victor had to stifle an excited giggle. “Pleased to have your acquaintance.”

Christophe held up two fingers, barely sparing a look towards the other man. “Two tables, please.”

Victor shot him a wounded look. “You don’t want to sit with me?”

“You...want us to share a table?” Christophe gave him a quizzical look, “You usually insist on eating alone.”

Victor’s mouth smoothed out in a line, “Well, today I want company. Let’s sit?”

Christophe, after shooting a weird look to Victor’s back, followed after a moment of hesitation.

Victor threw himself into the booth, bouncing lightly on the plush leather cushion. Christophe slid gracefully across from him, still eyeing the other man.

The waiter, a nervous looking young man, came up to them, nearly trembling. Victor gave him a reassuring smile. Must be his first day on the job, so exciting!

The smile only seemed to trip him up more. “What - what can I get for you, Mr. Nikiforov?”

Victor lit up - he knew his name, that was so cool! Victor must come here a lot. Victor always wanted one of those kind of places, where he could stroll in and suavely order the regular

The waiter was waiting for an answer. Victor glanced at the table top for a second - there were no menus. “What do you have to drink?”

“Well, uh -” The waiter’s voice cracked, “we have the Chateau Margaux 2009 you got last time you were here, as well as your choice of -”

Victor bit his lip. Sure, he was excited to try everything his new thirty style life had to offer but after everything that had happened today, he was craving something more familiar.

“Do you have orange soda?” Victor gave him a reassuring smile. “In the can?”

The waiter gave him a wide-eyed look. “Orange… soda? Like, Fanta?”

“Sure,” Victor agreed happily, turning back to Christophe. His jaw was slack in surprise. “Christophe, anything to drink?”

The other man took a breath, seemingly coming back to himself, and ordered his own drink - something French and utterly impossible for Victor to repeat.

The waiter was stiff and tense now, his arms folded behind his back. “Anything...else?”

“Oh,” Victor dragged out the word in excitement. “Can we get some mozzarella sticks? Yakov never lets me get them!” He paused, “Um, when I was little, I mean.”

Christophe gave him a weird look as the waiter took down the order.

“Mozzarella sticks?” He considered aloud. “Munchies, maybe?”

“I always have the munchies for mozzarella sticks!” Victor agreed happily. “Have you ever had them here?”

“They definitely don’t serve mozzarella sticks here,” Christophe thumbed a bit of the condensation off his water glass off, flicking it onto the pale tablecloth.

“Oh,” Victor cocked his head to the side, “why did they let me order them?” He gave the other man a small pout, “I was really craving them.”

Christophe gave him a doubtful look, “Don’t worry. You’re Victor Nikiforov. They’ll make them.”

He brightened at that. This was all so cool.

“So, why are you my assistant?” Victor leaned forward, his head rested on his folded hands. “You don’t want to do this forever, right?”

Christophe blinked a few times, staring at him strangely. “You’ve...never asked me that before.”

Victor paused at that. It seemed he and Chris were together nearly constantly, and Victor hadn’t asked? That was...strange. “I’m asking now,” he smiled, the answer a bit lame.

“I…” Christophe trailed off, “I want to be an on staff photographer for National Geographic. But they said I needed more experience and a stellar recommendation letter and…” Christophe’s smile grew slightly strained. “Who better than Victor Nikiforov to write it?”

Victor nearly squealed in delight, his hands clapping together. “Oh, Chris! That’s so exciting! How much longer do you have with the magazine?”

“I was thinking six more months,” Chris’s voice was very soft, “That’ll have been four years of experience. I’ve been in contact with one of their hiring people and - and they think I have a pretty good chance.”

Victor grinned at him. Sure - working at H.M. Magazine was his dream job, but Christophe wanted more than an assistant job forever, so it was perfectly understandable. “That’s great, Chris! What kind of photos do you take?” Hopefully the formatting of photography hadn't changed too much. Photos were kind of forever, right?

Christophe instead completely ignored his question, counter with his own statement after a moment.

“You’re not upset,” Christophe observed leaning back in his chair. “When Sara quit for TIME you refused to even let her use you as a reference.”

“I did?” Victor blinked a few times in surprise, “But...why? Did we leave on bad terms?”

“She was one of your favorite editors, actually. And she did everything to the letter - even let you know a month and a half in advance.” Christophe sighed, sympathy in his voice. “You were livid.”

Victor’s voice was a breath, “What did I do?”

Chris gave him a hard look, his voice serious. “You made her pack up her desk the day she told you. She was in tears.”

“That’s awful,” Victor looked down at his clenched hands.

There was a beat of silence. “Yeah,” Chris agreed, taking a sip of his drink. “It was.”

Victor swallowed against the tense feeling in the air, his eyes flickering away from Christophe's questioning, intense gaze. With the action, his eye caught on a flash of gold. He gasped.  

“You’re married?” Victor beamed, pulling the other man’s hand closer to inspect the gold band. “Chris, that’s so exciting!”

“Engaged,” Christophe corrected him, shaking his head and pushing his hand through his hair. It was like he was winding up for something. “Yeah. I am. I’ve told you this.”

“Oh,” Victor bit his lip, “well, I’m really happy for you, Chris. You’re a really nice person.”

Christophe clenched his jaw at that, glancing away. There was a fire in his eyes. It suddenly felt much too tense.

“Are you...okay?” Victor tried, fiddling with the paper napkin, ripping it into bits.

Christophe took a breath, “Actually, I’m not sure.” He swept his hand through the air, “Because I have no idea what’s going on and it’s freaking me out.”

Victor’s eyes were wide. Was he actually so bad at being himself that he couldn’t last a few hours? “What...what do you mean?”

“You just keep -” Christophe gestured vaguely to the air, “pretending we’re like, best friends or something. Before today you’ve never called me Chris, or gotten lunch with me, or any of this. And, like, I don’t think you’ve ever even laughed in my presence and especially never asked me questions about my life? And this just doesn’t seem like a bad hangover or spoiled leftovers from last night.” Christophe was rambling, “So I’m not sure if this a new article idea - befriending your help or something - but I don’t want any part in it, Victor. I’m your assistant, not your trend guinea pig. I’m relieved you agreed to write my recommendation letter but - but I’m not sacrificing my dignity for some cover quote.”

“I’m not -” Victor held up his hands in plea, his eyes wide. “I’m don’t - I’m not -” Victor took a breath, swallowing. “This isn’t for the magazine. Or anything.”

“Then why?” Christophe’s voice was a near demand that even he still startled with after a moment.

“I don’t -” Victor took a steadying breath, his hand still clenched around Christophe’s sleeve. “You said we were friends earlier,” Victor glanced away, “it’s okay if you were lying. But I would like to be.”

Christopher seemed to be suspicious of the entire situation. “And why is that?”

Victor let his shoulders drop. “Christophe,” he started, rubbing at his collarbone. He thought to his nearly empty phone log, the text conversations that only related to work, the blank and neutral tone Christophe carried with him. “It seems I don’t have many friends here. But…” he trailed off, tracing invisible patterns on the table. “I’d like to change that.”  

Christophe still held a suspicious look in his gaze. Victor tried again, wishing he still had his long silver hair to flip over a shoulder before leaning in.

“So…” Victor flashed him a blinding grin, “Friends?”

Christophe, still in a state of surprise and completely unsure what to say, only nodded very slowly, very unsure. A wave of relief hit him. He nearly wilted in relief against the expensive leather booth, grinning widely. Only half a day in and he was already improving his life - he was great at this!

Christophe, though, was still quiet, his gaze narrowed. Victor needed to engage him somehow.

How had he managed to pull Yuuri into such an amazing friendship? If Christophe and him were going to be great friends, he needed to pull out the big guns.

He thought of the first time Victor had met Yuuri. Both boys had been wearing matching Spice Girls shirts, and Victor had proclaimed that a sign from the gods before attaching himself to the other boy for the next several years.

Vaguely, Victor wondered if older Yuuri remembered that, but returned his focus to the man in front of him. He bit his lip.

Victor was wearing silk pajama pants; Christophe was dressed in sleek dark lines. Not that, then.

But...

“Celebrity crush,” Victor grinned, leaning across the dark wood table, his hands fanned out. “Which of the ‘N Sync guys would you date?”

Christophe wrinkled his nose, finally more relaxed. “Oh god, ‘N Sync? I haven’t listened to them in years.” He thought for a moment, his head resting on his cupped hand. “I love Justin, but probably Lance. Being the only gay member, you know, actually puts him on the playing field and everything.”

There was a moment of silence.

Victor gasped.

“Lance Bass is gay,” Victor’s voice was of complete awe and astonishment, “I - oh my god. This changes everything.”

Christophe gave him a curious look. “Yes. You know that - I’ve watched you spend the entirely of a red carpet exclusive flirting with him. It’s on Youtube.”

“I -” Victor forced himself back under control. “I just, uh, forgot. You know how it is.”

It was a lame excuse, so thin Victor could practically snap the lie in half, but Christophe didn’t question him on it past a curious look.

They finished up their lunch - the mozzarella sticks brought out were wonderful even if the main dish did make him wrinkle his nose a bit - and Chris even made some conversation with him, once he stopped looking so strained.

They made their way back to the office, Christophe still frowning slightly as Victor babbled on most of the drive back, but was at least nowhere near the strain of tense he had shown at lunch.

Chris gestured towards his desk, “I’ve got to get some work done but I had one of the interns grab your laptop from your apartment, it should be on your desk.”

“Oh,” What in Britney’s name is a laptop , Victor thought frantically, keeping his smile in place. “I’ll get to that, then!”

Christipe waved him off, watching the other man with a narrowed, still slightly suspicious eye, as Victor disappeared into his office. Here, at least, Victor could collect himself.

He sat at his desk, bouncing on the plush leather seat, before facing the desk itself. There wasn't much there, not even a rouge Post-It note for Victor to look over, only neat stacked papers, none of them interesting at first glance, a single locked drawer, and, what Chris must have been talking about, a clean sleek piece of tech awaiting him.

He stared at it for a long moment. The logo, a small white apple, looked strangely familiar. After a few moments, it clicked.

An iBook! Victor had seen a few of his classmates with them, but Yakov had always claimed them to be too expensive. Did Victor manage to get one, a much fancier looking one admittedly, in the future?

He really did have everything. Victor was almost in awe.

He poked at the iBook - laptop , he reminded himself - opening it up, frowning slightly.

...Maybe this was best figured out later.

He surveyed the rest of his office, taking a closer eye to it then before. Not any photos, unlike Victor’s old locker back at the middle school which was nearly bursting with color and printouts of Makkachin in various outfits. No color, not really, other than from the lineup of past issues. Bored, a seemingly not going to figure out his laptop anytime soon, he ran his fingers up and down the issue spines, pulling one out at random. It would do him good to catch up with that was fashion now, after all.

After only a few pages in, he frowned. Was the magazine like this when he was young? Blank faced models staring out, the only occasional splash of color being across a woman’s lips, the accent in an advertisement. This was hardly any fun to read.

It was a few more hours of this - flipping through the magazines, poking at his phone mostly -  before Christophe was back, lingering in the doorway. Victor gave him a friendly smile.

“Are you going to be in by nine tomorrow?” Christophe asked, “Or should I come by your apartment again?”

“I’ll be ready,” Victor promised. Christophe nodded.

“Your car is here for whenever you’re done,” Christophe paused in the doorway. “Should I let Raoul know you’ll be down?”

Victor jumped up, his office chair going spinning behind him. “Yes!”

He could finally get back to his apartment, maybe find out what exactly was going on. Find out more about himself, at the very least. He grabbed his things, humming under his breath, and swept out of the doorway.

He paused, his coat in his arms, and lingering in front of Christophe’s desk. The other man glanced up, expectant. Maybe…?

Victor hesitated before finally speaking. “Do I have a Yuuri in my contacts?”

Christophe raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Yuri, your little brother? Yes, Victor, you have -”

“No,” Victor cut him off with an apologetic look, “Um. Yuuri Katsuki? Do I have his number?”

Christophe gave him a curious look, turning to tap away at his tablet. “Not that I have listed,” He answered after a moment, “but if you have his information, I can look him up.”

“Oh, um.” Victor blinked a few times. “We actually grew up as next door neighbors. I know his parents used to own the spa and hotel in town but, um, the number I had was disconnected.”

Christophe wrote down the limited info Victor had - info that was probably years outdated for all that Victor knew - and promised results. Victor gave him a wobbly smile that Christophe, after a moment, returned himself.

Good. Progress.

He made his way down the elevator and lobby to the street where, surprisingly, the familiar long stretched limousine was already waiting.

Victor...could get used to this lifestyle. Once after he got in contact with his friends and family, obviously.

He slid into the backseat, beaming as he bounced on the expensive leather, and grinned at his driver through the mirror. Raoul, however, gave him no response. Victor tried a bit harder, unclicking his seatbelt to lean forward.

“How long have you been driving me?” Victor asked curiously, edging closer to the privacy divider.

“Eleven years, Mr. Nikiforov.” He answered.

Victor hummed, “That’s cool!”

“Yes, sir.” He only agreed, going quiet. Older Victor didn’t seem to have a lot of conversation with the people he saw everyday. That was...weird. Yakov usually had to yell at him for making conversation with the grocery ladies and neighbor dog walkers. Maybe it finally stuck when he got older.

Raoul said nothing for the rest trip, not even announcing when they pulled up, simply flipping off the radio and waiting for Victor to leave.

“Thank you,” Victor have him a wide smile, hoping it didn’t come off too awkward. “Have a nice day!”

He carefully shut the door behind him, Yakov hated when he was careless, especially in regards to Yakov’s ancient box car, and approached the skyscraping building. He vaguely remembered the location of his apartment from that morning, and hoped to all that was Britney Spears he wasn’t wrong.

“Oh,” he blinked as a tall, thin boy ran forward to open the door for him. Dark, rich red uniform, nicely pressed, an elegant logo on his breast. He was nearly out of breath as he jerked the door open, propping it open with his foot.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” the teenage bellhop looked close to bowing as he kept the heavy door open, his voice high. “Did you have a nice day?”

Victor could only dramatically sigh, dropping his shoulders, as he swept through the doorway. “It’s been such a long day -” he narrowed his eyes as he read off the nametag, “Drew. How was yours?”

The question only seemed to push the boy off balanced, confused as Victor’s grinned in thanks. “It was wonderful!” His voice cracked, his face matching the dark rogue of his uniform. “Absolutely perfect!”

Victor matched his tone, beaming. “That’s great!”

“Yes, sir!” The boy’s voice only rose another nervous pitch. Dogs nearby beware.

They faced off with matching ecstatic beams, Victor honestly, truly joyful he had found someone so willing to smile, Drew nearly fearing for his life. Or worse, his job.

“Well, have a nice night!” Victor’s smile, impossibly, grew wider as he waved and went off. In the background, unnoticed to Victor, the teen slumped over the nearly surface and let out a breath.

He made it up to his apartment - thank you Britney! - and only took a bit of shuffling with his keyring before he was back inside. Somewhat disheveled from this morning, but nothing he couldn’t deal with.

He checked out the rooms properly this time, slightly bored with the decor but eh, he could work with it. He paused, his eye catching on the pile of shoes he had left in the doorway, and bit at his lip, unsure.

Yakov must have Makkachin, wherever she was. Current Victor seemed so busy, it was probably best for her, having all of Yakov’s and Yura’s attention. Victor was probably working such long hours and never home and...it was probably best for her.

Still. He’d do anything right now for a quick hug and kiss from his favorite pup.

He let out a breath, more a little choked up over the thought of his dog, and returned back into the living room. It was such a large space to have all to himself. It was the kind of place that looked better with people in it, he could already tell. When Yakov and Yura were back in town, he’d have to have them over immediately. Maybe they’d know what was going on.

He turned back to the task at hand. He had to get more familiar with what was going on, Christophe wouldn’t let him blame this all on bad leftovers or whatever forever.

Well, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. And that meant knowing all there was to know about current fashion.

“Siri,” Victor threw himself on the couch, his feet in the air. “What are the Kardashians?”

If there was one thing Victor was the absolutely the most disappointed with in his future-present it was his closet.

How foolish and naive Victor had been that morning, bouncing in place as he ran to flip on the lights and get ready for the day. He had been ecstatic, saving the exciting task for the morning. He had gotten up two hours early, Victor wasn’t sure he had ever gotten up two hours early for anything.

He was the Editor-in-Chief at one of the biggest fashion magazines in the world.

But Spears, it didn’t show.

He had gapped in horror that morning as he surveyed his limited options. He didn’t think he had ever seen such a collection of dark colors outside of a funeral.

And they were all in his closet.  

He needed a fainting couch solely for this ordeal. He’d have to ask Christophe how to get one, if this was the reality he was living in.

He worked with what he had, although it seemed like a shopping trip was in desperate need.

He, somehow, made his way back to the office without much assistance - other than asking a nervous looking receptionist quick directions - and soon he was back on the top floor, in front of Christophe’s desk. The other man was already there, scratching away at some paperwork, but stood once Victor approached, almost on instinct.

“Christophe,” Victor’s voice was a near lament, cutting Christophe off before he could begin his morning announcements. “Do you see what I’m wearing?”

The other man glanced up, giving Victor a questioning look before answering.

“Something...better than silk pajamas?” Christophe tried after a moment of hesitation, a bit unsure with the teasing, as he let his tablet fall to his side. But Victor only groaned.

“I own way too many boring colors,” Victor frowned down at his outfit, a nearly all black ensemble. “This was one of the only instances of color I had that wasn’t white, black, gray, or tan!”

“You usually stick to base and neutral colors,” Christopher affirmed, eyeing his top. It was cropped, which Victor secretly delighted in. Yakov hated the cropped tops worn by the models in Victor’s magazines. “I think that was a gift from Lacerda after we did that feature on them.”

“Yeah, well, everything else in my closet is super boring. What was I even thinking?” Christophe shrugged, not really willing to answer that question, and turned back to his tablet, his fingertip sliding across the surface. A few notifications blinked back at him. Victor nearly fainted from boredom.

See? Fainting couch. So incredibly useful.

Victor’s eyes lit up in idea, “Hey, can I take a day off? Go shopping?”

Christophe had his schedule up in a second, “You don’t have anything important today, just minor stuff I can push back.” He bit his lip, “JJ’s people are still unhappy about your cancellation yesterday but they should be fine as long as you make the meeting tomorrow.”

“So…” Victor trailed off with the word, leaning forward onto Christophe’s desk eagerly.

“You haven’t taken a real vacation in -” Christophe flipped through a stack of papers. “Six years. One day off shouldn’t hurt.”

Victor nearly fist bumped. Hell yeah, day’s off were the best.

He paused, thinking it over. A thought occurred to him. “If I’m off, what do you do?”

Christophe paused, considering. “I...don’t really know. You’ve never taken a day off before.”

Victor grinned suddenly, slapping his hands on Christophe’s desk in excitement. “Let’s go shopping! I need more color and you can help me!”

“ Me helping you with your fashion choices?” Christophe gave him a doubtful look. Victor’s hands were clasped together, wide eyes persistent.

Finally, Christophe relented. “Alright,” he was already calling up Raoul, updating him.

Victor beamed, “We’re gonna get the coolest clothes ever!”

“Are those...platform sneakers?”

Victor held them to his chest in excitement, nearly vibrating with the emotion. “The only pair left!”

Christophe gave him a doubtful look, “From 2001, maybe.” He gave him a curious look, “Are you trying to bring the 90s vintage look back or something?”

“Or something,” he smiled, kicking off his plain loafers without thought. From his side, Christophe made a wounded noise at the expensive leather scuffing together.

“They’re perfect,” he sighed, angling his foot to be a better look at them.

Christophe gave him a raised eyebrow but said nothing.

Victor stood, taking a few steps and already stumbling into the nearest shelf. Giggling, he pushed his hair back and struggled to regain his balance.

“This is the weirdest thing ever,” Christophe mused, “shopping with Victor Nikiforov as he stumbles around in old 90s trends.”

“I'm totally getting these,” Victor grinned, shoving them back into the box and hugging it to his chest. He froze after a moment, staring over at the register. “Wait…”

Christophe was already on top of it, his hand extended towards the other man.

“Here,” Christophe held out his wallet. He must have grabbed it for Victor off his desk. “Your credit card.”

“I…” Victor held up the sleek black card close to his face. “I have a credit card?”

“Yes,” Christophe answered absentmindedly, scrolling away on his phone. “You left it at the office.”

“Is there a limit on here?” Victor examined the thin piece of plastic, in awe.

Christophe thought for a moment, “I actually don’t know. But you once spent almost 30k at Herm é s after a bad sales week, so probably not.”

“Thirty...thousand?” Victor was breathless.

Christophe nodded, pulling up his call screen. “I can call and ask if you want to know -”

“No,” Victor breathed out, cradling the plastic. “No, that’s…fine.”

This changed….everything.  

“Christophe…” His voice was a low tone that immediately made the other man’s shoulders go tense. That was Victor’s editorial meeting voice, when nothing was right and veering left. But instead of his traditional cold, hard eyes - he was nearly shaking in awe. “Christophe, this changes everything.”

“...Turtlenecks? Really?”

“I can totally pull them off now,” Victor gushed, waving the fabric around. From the side, the sales associate nearly threw herself forward to keep the pale cashmere from hitting the floor. “Oh, they even have them striped!”

Christophe shared a look of bewilderment with the associate, both slightly desperate. Neither of them had any idea what to do.

“And Mr. Nikiforov, you would like…”

“All of these,” Victor smiled sweetly, “seven pairs of overalls.” He thought for a moment. “Do they come in any other colors?”

Christophe had taken a call outside the store, still shooting Victor confused looks. Victor perked up after a moment, “Do they come in pink?”

The sales manager almost bowed over the clothing in protectiveness. What was he going to do with them? Burn them?

Everyone knew about Nikiforov’s hatred for denim.

Everyone.

“Or yellow?”

The sales manager lifted up her chin slowly, only barely trembling. “We...have some in the back.”

Victor clasped his hands together, obvious to the worker’s distress. “Great!”

“Oh, wasn’t that so much fun, Christophe?”

The other man looked shell-shocked, as if shocked from the amount of shopping Victor had managed to accomplish. He swallowed, “It was...an experience.”

“I got the cutest pair of strappy sandals,” Victor sighed, hugging the bags to his chest. “We should totally do -”  

Christophe cut him off, grabbing his sleeve and pulling roughly before Victor could turn onto the next street. Startled, he looked to the other man, a surprising dark look on his face.

“Paparazzi,” Christophe muttered darkly, hooking his hand around Victor’s elbow to pull him away. In his other hand, he tapped away quickly at his phone screen before cursing. “Someone caught a picture of you shopping, they’re probably lined up from here to the office.”

Victor could barely hide his look of surprise, “Me?”

Christophe was texting with one hand, dragging Victor with other. He ignored Victor’s question. “Raoul is waiting on the next street over, by the Starbucks.” He let go of Victor’s arm, passing over the few bags he had been carrying in his elbow. “He can get you back to your apartment without much hassle.”

“Oh,” Victor paused, giving the other man a stranger look. “Aren’t you coming?”

Christophe waved him off, “I’m heading back to throw them off.” He checked his phone one last time, “You’ll be in the office tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” He said, beaming. The other man turned to walk away but, at last second, turned to give his boss a hesitant grin of his own.

Christophe, at least, was getting a bit more used to the smiling.

“Morning Christophe!” Victor threw his heavy coat over the coat rack, turning to accept his the cardboard cup Christophe held out automatically each morning. After his first two days of quietly dumping his usual order down the bathroom sink, he finally asked the other man to switch his order to hot chocolate. Much better, in Victor’s opinion.

But Christophe wasn’t already holding out the cup as usual, instead staring down at Victor’s legs with raised eyebrows.

“You’re wearing jeans,” Christophe frowned. “Very...colorful jeans.”

Victor kicked out his legs in excitement, “I saw them in the window and I just had to have them.”

Christophe was still struggling with processing what he was seeing. His eyes were wide, even as Victor playfully posed for the other man.

“You banned jeans in the office over seven years ago,” Christophe gave him a confused look, “is that rule just, off for today? Is this a new style?”

“I banned jeans?” Victor could barely control his gasp. “But I love denim!”

Christophe only gave him a shrug, still staring down at Victor’s legs in question. He seemed almost perplexed by them.

It was Victor’s turn to frown. “Do you not like them?”

“They’re...not bad. Despite my initial thought,” Christophe examined the jeans for a few more seconds. “It’s very grunge. You’re still on your 90s kick, then?” Victor nodded happily, Christophe continued. “People will be expecting a feature, then. I’ll let the other editors know.”  He paused, narrowing his eyes at Victor’s face. “What’s on your face?”

Victor nearly squealed in excitement at the question. He had checked three different stores before finding them last night.

“I got them from Claire’s,” Victor explained, pulling out the clear sheet of plastic, already grinning. “Want some? The green ones would look great on you.”

Christophe took the sheet, frowning in confusion. “...Claire’s? I haven’t heard of it.”

Victor gave him a wide eyed look, “Claire’s is the best. I got my ears pierced there when I was eleven!” Victor had been annoyed when he saw current him had long since let them close up. Victor had bled for those.  

“Wait,” Christophe was lowering the sheet, realising. “That Claire’s? The violently pink, cheap junk store aims at, like, seven to thirteen year olds?”

Victor pouted, crossing his arms. “Well, I like Claire’s.” He had gotten a new case and handful of charms for this phone while he was in there. He loved it in there.

“You stepped inside of a Claire’s?” Christophe seemed to be struggling with this. “Did anyone recognize you?”

The checkout girl had choked on her smoothie when he swept through the doors.

“Nope!” Victor popped out, smiling. He took the sheet from Christophe's lax hands, examining. The green ones matched the other man’s eyes nearly perfectly.

Victor leaned in, pressing the small gem to the corner of Christophe’s eye. “There!” He beamed, “We match!”

Christophe’s hand came up to brush his own face, the action numb as he stared at the few freckles of color adorning Victor’s skin. Victor hadn’t been able to choose for himself, instead picking an array of pink, blue, and purple.

“New trend?” He tried, his voice weak.

“New trend.” Victor agreed happily, his hands clapping together.

Christophe blinked, pulling away. “I’ll...have Mila write up an article on them, then.”

Victor beamed, “Good idea!”

Later that day, it was Victor’s first major meeting inside his older body, and he was determined to do it right. Or...at least not get himself fired. Right.

Christophe seemed used to debriefing him on his meetings, at least. He read off his tablet with easy grace, repeating names and jobs and important reminders and pointers such as JJ loves to talk about himself, it’ll help loosen him up and loves his family, his sister just got accepted into University, a good talking point and many more, scrawled down in Christophe’s notebook. The other man, thankfully, would be by his side to take notes the entire time, which helped Victor’s nerves in the least.

They arrived last to the meeting, held in their building, a point that Christophe had insisted on, despite them simply waiting in his office space until they all arrived. But Chris seemed to know what he was talking about, so Victor only smiled and went along with it.

They swept in five minutes past the time written on Victor’s calendar, both their faces smooth and neutral - as Christophe reminded him to do in an odd voice - and everyone waiting stood as they entered. Victor still wasn’t used to it.

The women nearest to them, young with chopped dark hair, stepped forward first to greet them, her hands clasped before her.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” The woman smiled politely, Isabella , Christophe had reminded lowly just as they entered, JJ’s manager and rumored girlfriend . Her eyes flickered quick over him, almost a spark of surprise there. “You’re looking good, I see. I love the jeans.”

Victor shot a smug look over to Chris, who didn’t even bother hiding his quick, amused eye roll. “Thank you, Isabella.” He liked her, she seemed genuine. A man, tall with dark hair cut similar to Chris’s - was that the style now? - stood up behind her, confidence radiating off him.

The man flashed double J’s as he stood, grinning widely. “JJ is very excited to grace H.M.’s cover with his image.” The man shot a large grin towards his manager, “Has the H.M. Man of the Year been announced yet?”

“It’s only March,” she was somehow smiling fondly at the other man. “We’ll have to wait until November, at least.”

He only waved her words off, a quick smile in her direction, before turning towards Victor with a cocky look on his face. He must be a big fan of his client then. Victor, already, was not nearly as fond of him.

“Well...okay.” Victor gave him a natural smile. “Sorry, what’s your name again? I’m Victor.”  

Christophe had insisted that he didn’t need to introduce himself so much but honestly, that just felt rude. Lillia would kill him if he started slacking off on his manners.

But the man, his hands falling from the double J’s, only froze, staring at him a bit blankly. The room had frozen and Christophe, at his side, had a death grip on his sleeve.

“That’s JJ ,” Christophe hissed into his ear, “the man we’re here to see.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Victor matched his low tone, “He keeps referring to himself in third person!”

“That’s his thing.”

“I’m sure it just slipped Mr. Nikiforov’s mind,” his manager- Isabella, Christophe had mentioned - was stepping forward, her hand on the superstar’s arm. She gave Victor a smile almost as neutral as his own, “He’s a very busy man after all.”   

“It’s nice to meet you,” Victor tried again.  

“We’ve met before,” JJ finally spoke up from his frozen position, crossing his arms, “ several times.”

“Oh,” Victor tried to grin, and the meeting only went downhill from there.

Christophe’s grip was tight on his elbow as he pulled him to the side, a brief recess. JJ kept looking over at them with a terse frown, ignoring his team completely.

“Was that some kind of power move?” Christophe hissed, somehow keeping his face neutral. “Which, I mean, fine, okay just warn me next time.”

“Power move?” Victor’s eyes were wide, “I...did I?”

Christophe stared at him.

“Did you…” He trailed off in disbelief, “Did you...forget the face one of the most major superstars in Hollywood right now?”

There was a guilty beat of silence.

Victor shrugged. Christophe looked stricken.

“I’ll do better,” Victor swore, trying mostly to reassure, crossing his heart. “It just totally slipped my mind.” Which wasn’t really a lie? Good, Victor, keep on that. “Now…” his eyes flickered back to the group behind the glass, “Should we get back? I think they’re waiting for us.”

“Another moment,” Christophe pulled out his phone, fully aware of the attention on them. “It’s better to make them wait, it’ll make them uneasy.”

Victor blinked. He hadn’t thought about it that way.

Christophe, at least, knew what he was talking about.

The next morning, Christophe rushed up to Victor’s office doorway like a hell storm.

He locked eyes with Victor’s lounged around figure, the other man straightening up instantly. In his hand, his phone shined multi-color.

He swept into the room, striding over to Victor’s couch, and was nearly burning with disbelief and frustration. Chris had been on the phone nearly all morning, speaking to press and being hounded by paparazzi. He had fielded no less than three phone calls from the committee.

And when the committee calls, you answer.

Christophe had been failing that particular, very incredibly important, rule all morning.

Victor sat up in alarm, staring at the other man with wide eyes. The other man was heaving for breath. In a quick movement, Christophe rushed towards the other man.

“What the hell are you doing to your Instagram,” Christophe snatched Victor’s phone away from him in a second, glaring at both the thin piece of technology and the other man in equal. “No less than eleven news sites are reporting on it, four of them actual major ones. There’s a twitter hashtag.”

“...Hashtag?” At Victor’s blank look, Christophe only groaned out in frustration.

Christophe couldn’t pull out his own hair over this. It was pretty and expensive and Fabeo would never forgive him if Christophe ruined his careful work. He took a very needed, a very careful breath.

“Your Instagram, Victor.” Christophe prompted, his voice holding the severity of death-row. “What are you doing to your Instagram.”

“Instagram…” Victor thought for a moment, his shoulders dropping from where they had risen in alarm. “Oh! The photo app. Yeah, I like that one!”

Christophe gave him a frustrated look, tapping away at Victor phone. “So? What are you doing?”

Victor...didn’t really have an answer for that. What was the big deal? He was just doing what everyone else was doing.

“I saw people posting photos they liked,” He shrugged, “So I posted some I liked. They’re nice, right?”

“This is a photo of a pigeon,” Christophe stated slowly, holding out the photo screen as evidence. “A pigeon attacking half a doughnut.”

Victor beamed, “But look at how happy it looks!”

Christophe slowly began shaking his head, “People are going crazy, Victor. Everyone thinks your weird photos like, mean some secret message or something. Everyone’s decoding them like crazy.”

“They are?” Victor looked down at his phone in question. “They’re just photos I like. They don’t mean anything.”

“You’re the face of a multi-million dollar company and head of one of the largest fashion magazines in the world,” Christophe was pinching his nose, “You can’t just post photos of street pretzels and blurry shots of the trashy street.”

“It was a mouse!” Victor gushed, “It was eating a hot dog on the ground!”

“You do understand that’s worse, right? Like, that’s something you understand?”

“It was a cute mouse,” Victor frowned. “If I can’t post photos I like, what am I even supposed to do?”

“Just,” Christophe gestured to the air, “go back to posting the annual city skyline or outfit of the day. I don’t know, your usual stuff.”  

“But that’s so boring,” there was an obvious whine in his voice that Christophe, Victor’s assistant of four years, coach and bystander through hundreds of hangovers, morning afters, and bad trips, had never heard. “Can’t you do it? You like photos.”

Christophe paused, turning slightly to examine Victor’s bored expression, almost as if seeing if the other man was being serious. If Victor was closer to the other man, Chris was almost sure he’d hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“Fine,” Christophe finally agreed despite his stomach flipping at the thought of having his photos on Victor Nikiforov’s instagram. His photos, on display for millions of people to see.

The likes alone.

Victor still seemed sadden by the loss of his Instagram, frowning and biting at his lip.

Christophe observed Victor’s downtrodden face for another moment before sighing. “I’ll set you up a spam account and you can post all the ugly New York and bird photos you want.”

Victor perked up, “Really?”

Christophe sighed despite the corner of his lips twitching up. “Sure. I can set it up tonight and have it ready by tomorrow.”

Victor wrinkled his nose. Tomorrow was so far away. A thought occurred to him.

“Christophe,” Victor gasped, grabbing the other man’s hand. “We should have a sleepover.”

There was an intense shot of joy in the question, the thrill of having a sleepover without prior warning - without having to beg Yakov for several days for the rare opportunity. He could have people over whenever he wanted.

But a look of uncertainty flashed over Chris’s face. He pulled his hand away from Victor’s like it was burning. “Victor, no I - I can’t. I won’t .” He threw his shoulders back like he was going off to war, putting some space between them. “I love Matthieu, I’m not going to -”

Victor flinched back, his mouth falling open. “I wasn’t -” his voice was soft, low. “That’s not what I meant. I meant like -” he gestured uselessly to the air, “face masks. And painting our nails. You can show me how you want my Instagram.”

Was… was future him really so bad that Christophe would be quick to assume that?

“Just a normal sleepover,” he clarified once more. “Just regular fun. Movies and bad food.”

Christophe, at least, lost that nervous look on his face. He relaxed just the tiniest of bits, his shoulders dropping. “Just a regular sleepover?” He bit his lip, thinking, a stranger look coming over his face. After a long moment, he let out a small chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve to one of those since high school, at least.”

“It’ll be fun!” Victor’s excitement was back, relief at the other boy’s dropped emotion. “I totally promise!”

Christophe watched him for another moment - his eye catching on the worn knees of Victor’s jeans, his heart shaped smile, his fluttering, excited hands - and after another moment of consideration, slowly nodded.

Victor squealed, jumping up. “Oh, this is so exciting!”

“I’ll be over around eight?” Christophe paused in question, clearly still slightly hesitant.

Victor nodded excitedly, “Yeah! Okay, I’ll be ready!”

Victor was not ready.

He had left the office only an hour after Christophe had agreed to the sleepover, suddenly remembering the entirely incredibly important fact that he had nothing at all for a sleepover.

He surveyed the usual supplies lined up on his counter - chocolate bars, popcorn in bowls, soda in nearly every color, a few other sleepover staples - and bit his lip. Were sleepovers different in the future? Maybe this wasn’t how they went at all.

He almost wanted to return back to the corner store he had made a desperate run into. What if Christophe didn’t like anything he bought? Everything he gotten was more of his and Yuuri’s taste after all.

It didn’t matter - it seemed, from the light knock on his door, a quick peek through the glass hole, that he was out of time. A flush of energy hit him.

“You’re here!” Victor was nearly jumping in excitement as he threw the door open, beaming at the other man.

Christophe held up a paper bag, a duffel draped over his shoulders. “I am,” he tilted the paper bag towards Victor to take. “And I brought wine.”

“Oooo,” Victor really did jump in place, “wine!”

Victor had never had wine past the few gross sips at church or the single glass at family events.

Victor pulled the bottle from the bag, squealing. “It’s pink!”

Christophe let himself in, toeing off his shoes and hanging his coat. “It’s a nice rosé, one of my favorites. Where do you keep your glasses?”

“Oh, um…” Victor trailed off, glancing towards his kitchen. He had mostly managed to avoid the intimating room so far. Yakov had never let him cook at home, and this was one of the only rules Victor was content to keep as an adult. “I’ll get them. You can throw your stuff in my room.”

Christophe was already nodding in agreement, pausing for a moment to survey the apartment, before going off in the direction of the hallway. He seemed...unfamiliar with the space.

Victor turned back to the silver chrome expanse of space, biting his lip. He had mostly gotten away with lunches with Christophe and ordering in since he had, well, shown up. He had attempted to fry a few eggs one morning, a brave but foolish thought, and had broken two plates and mug before he had even gotten the frying pan on the stovetop. He was in no rush to repeat that experience, especially with company.

“All the cups are dirty,” Victor only happily claimed, setting down two plastic cups he had found in the back of a cabinet. These, at least, wouldn’t be a casualty of shattering across the hardwood.

Christophe didn’t seem to mind, only taking the cups so he could pour out a small amount into each. Victor had put on a playlist as he got everything ready - mostly popcorn into bowls, candy and pop lined up on the counters as he and Yuuri always liked to do - and sang along under his breath as a sugar pop song played. Britney, of course. He wasn’t one for blasphemy.

“Have you heard the latest office gossip?” Christophe pressed the plastic cup into his hand, leaning back against the bed frame. Christophe had an impossible gift of always looking incredibly at ease with his surroundings, even as leaned across Victor’s bed with a cheap cup of expensive wine.

Victor perked up, falling forward in the bed to kick up his feet, keeping his cup from spilling over. “Gossip?” He gasped, “with who?”

Christophe set off into a story that made Victor blush and gasp in equal points, causing him to lean forward in excitement and groan out in embarrassment.

Poor, poor Georgi.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Victor jumped up from his seat, rushing off into the other room before returning with a wide, silver bowl. He beamed, setting it in the middle of the bed, and grabbed more supplies out of the bathroom.

Victor pinned hair bangs out of his hair, a truly unnecessary amount of glittery butterfly clips standing out in stark color against his silver locks. “I read that oatmeal makes your skin softer,” he explained, gesturing to the metal bowl in front of them.

Christophe let out a small laugh, “That’s so outdated.” Nonetheless, he leaned forward to inspect the bowl. After a moment, his nose wrinkled. “Is there...fruit in this?”

Victor shrugged, already leaning forward to the mirror to begin smearing the goop on his face. “It’s what I had in my cabinet.”

Christophe let out a real laugh this time, “It’s supposed to be plain oats, Victor.”

Victor paused, mid-rub of the oatmeal onto his cheeks, “Oh.” After a moment, he shrugged. “Well, at least we’ll smell like strawberries.”

Christophe observed him for a moment, “I thought you were like, deadly serious about what you put on your skin?” He gave him a dull look, “Don’t you remember the time I bought the wrong face cream? I thought you were going to fire me.”

He tried to hide his gasp of surprise. “Over lotion?”

“I mean,” Christophe gave him a shrug, “There’s a reason the media calls you ‘The Ice King’ of fashion.”

“Because I love snow?” Victor guessed half-heartedly. “Wait, is that why people always comment snowflakes on my Instagram?”

Chris gave him a sympathetic nod.

Victor sighed, his hands dropping. “I thought they were just wishing me a happy winter.”

“It’s March.”

He shrugged, “It’s still cold.”  

He sighed again, staring down at his hands. They were so much older than he remembered. He didn’t even know hands got older.

The silence was getting slightly uncomfortable, with Christophe pursing his lips. Victor forced a smile.

“You can wash your face before you put the mask on!” Victor gestured towards the cracked open bathroom door. “There’s soap on the counter.”

Chris nodded, standing and stretching, before padding off to the bathroom. Victor leaned in closer to the mirror to rub more oats onto his forehead - and what in the world had happened in the past seventeen years to his forehead, oh god - but after only a few moments, Christophe was stepping back into the bedroom.

“Victor…” Christophe trailed off, holding up the small box to show the other man. Victor perked up, a real smile already forming. He had specially ordered it online - which you could do! Press a button and it showed up a day later! The future was truly magical.

Oh. Christophe had asked a question.

Victor blinked, “Excuse me, what?”

Christophe huffed, shaking the box for attention. “I asked, what is this?”

“Oh, I was going to try and give myself frosted tips,” He sighed, bubbles in his voice. “Yakov never let me get them growing up.” There was a stretch of silence. Victor glanced over his shoulder.

Christophe was staring at him in no short manner of horror. He grabbed onto Victor hand, clenching at it for dear life. “Victor,” his voice was as grave as death itself, “Victor, I know you’re going through something weird and it consists of a phase with 90s trends which, okay, a few of them aren’t that bad. But -  but Victor , frosted tips?” Christophe shook his head slowly, blinking, “You can’t. As your friend, I can't - I won’t - let you do that to your beautiful hair. For gods sake, your hair is insured. You can’t.”

Victor paused mid-protest, staring at Christophe’s wide, begging eyes, and slowly started to beam. His hands clapped together, held close to his chest.

Christophe seemed entirely confused by the emotion. “What - why are you so happy?”

Victor grinned, slightly watery. “You called me your friend.”  

The other man stared at him for another long moment, now in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” he seemed to be realizing. “Like, an actually ridiculous man. When did this even happen?”

He shrugged happily, “Just different, I guess.” He risked a quick look towards the other man. “Is it a...good different?”

The other man was quiet for a long moment before leaning in next to the other man, going to apply the oatmeal goo to his own face. “Yeah. It is.”

Even as the oatmeal hardened and pulled on his skin, Victor could only beam.

The next Monday, after a long Friday night of gossip and old rom-coms that Victor had to pretend he’s seen and definitely wasn’t crying over for the first time, he was back at the office.

Christophe was going through his usual morning check-list of meetings and tasks, most of which Victor would have to find some way to bluff through.

Silence, he had learned, truly worked wonders. In a meeting, when committee members were staring him down, editors waiting for his approval, and Victor had absolutely no idea what was going on, he could go quiet and neutral and passive, and after a few minutes, the silence would be answer enough. Someone would eventually speak up, or nervously suggest something, and Victor could only usually get away with a nod or hum and that would be that. This must have not been too out of character for him, as not yet no one had questioned him on it, not even Chris, who was becoming increasingly comfortable in his presence.

Oh, Christophe was still talking. Not listening wasn’t...the best when it came to Chris’s checklists. It usually led to the other man pinching his nose and speaking in a low, tense voice which, like, wasn’t the best. He forced himself back to the conversation.

Victor nodded like he knew exactly what Christophe had been talking about. “And the editorial meeting?” He asked, glancing towards the post-it note in the corner of his screen. Those, at least, weren’t nearly as stressful as the committee ones.

“Tomorrow, at noon.” Christophe’s eyes were glued to his tablet as he looked over the schedule one last time. Victor nodded, making a note of it as the other man read over some text.

“Oh also, Yakov and Yuri are back in town,” Christophe flipped his tablet to show Victor the screen. “Yuri won gold for his competition - should I send the usual bouquet and note?”

Victor jumped up, “They’re back?!” He was already shoving his arms though his jacket, “And gold? For what?”

“It says here the World Championships? Sounds prestigious.” Christophe flipped the tablet back and started tapping at it again. “How about a vase and ribbon upgrade?”

“For the -” Victor cut himself off, the thought hitting him. “Yuri ice skates.” He snatched Christophe’s tablet back, going back to the last window to stare in awe at Yuri - oh god, Yuri , so tall and grown - mid-jump across the ice. “He’s so good! ”

He shoved the tablet back, grabbing his phone and wallet. “Cancel my afternoon!” He called over his shoulder, “And send Yakov’s address to Raoul!”

“Victor - “ Christophe was cut off by the slam of his office door as he ran off.

In his dash off, he bumped into a young woman, her folders falling from her arms. At the sight of him, she froze.

“Debbie!” He fell to the ground, gathering up all the papers, his voice apologetic. “Sorry about that! Oh, I love your flats!” He beamed, handing the folders back into her still arms. “Have a nice day!”

He was shaking in his seat nearly the entire ride there - longer than Victor had expected but short enough that he was still grinning in excitement as they pulled up. Somewhat longer then an hour he estimated, they were pulling up to a small, modest house, the grass overgrown, the wood paneling peeling. Not Victor’s home, then.

His heart skipped a beat at the unfamiliar house. That was fine. As long as Yakov and Yura were there, that was enough for him. Enough familiarity for him.

And Yuuri - they would know. They had to.

He pulled out his sparse silver key ring, the metal pieces clinking together with the action. He only had three keys - one for his apartment, his office, and a bronze one he hadn’t figured out yet. He tried the bronze key, biting his lip, and frowned. Nope.

Instead, he settled for knocking against the wood roughly, his excited grin returning. Behind the door, he could very faintly see a shadow warped through the textured glass. Dark fabric, a scowl, gray hair.

The door cracked open, just a bit, and Victor pushed through it, grinning.

“Yakov!” He beamed, throwing his arms around the larger, much more stiff man. He was taller than Yakov. Oh, wow. This was amazing.

Oh god . He stifled down a wild giggle, what happened

“Victor,” Yakov was frowning, “what...what are you doing here? What are you wearing?”

Victor glanced down to his outfit, “It’s fashion , Yakov.” He laughed, hugging the other man again. It was just like he was actually thirteen again, hugging and teasing Yakov. Victor had missed it so much.

But Yakov was pushing him away, a confused look on his face. He took a few steps back in which Victor immediately followed - they were in the kitchen, it seemed.

Yakov seemed pained about something. Had he been taking his medicine? Victor worried his lip between his teeth as the other man began speaking once again. “Your assistants came and picked up all your things, Victor. We gave them all your boxes.”

“What?” Victor shook off his comments, “No, Yakov, I’m here to see you guys! Christophe said you were finally back in town!”

“Victor -” And why was Yakov calling him that? He hadn’t heard the other man call him his formal name in years, always some fond substitution in place. “I do not know why you’re here. We have made no attempt to use your name or connection in Yura’s skating -”

“Yakov…” Victor struggled for words, interrupting. What was he talking about, no connection to Victor? Had Victor… forbid that? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I mean, I -”

“I must go lay down, it was a long flight.” Yakov’s gaze was trained on the window outside the kitchen, “Please see yourself out once you’ve collected what you’ve come for.”

Yakov shook his head, giving him an oddly wounded look before stalking away into the other room. Where, Victor had no idea. He didn’t have much idea about any of this house.

“Victor?” An oddly aggressive voice barked out, the word whipping out and hitting him with nearly physical force. Victor turned, already knowing - he would always know when it came to his little brother - and paused at the sight.   

“Yura?” His voice was soft, fleeting.

“It’s just Yuri,” the younger man scowled, letting his hair fall over his face. He was in the same warm up jacket from the photo Christophe had shown him. He was much taller than Victor would have guessed, all his rosy baby fat gone. Victor was nearly breathless with the sight - his baby brother was gone, now a grown man of, what, twenty two?

Victor let out a breath, a grin already warming up, but was interrupted by his brother’s scowling words.  “You know that, old man. What the hell are you doing here?”

Victor blinked at his rough tone, “I just wanted to congratulate you -”

“Consider me congratulated,” Yuri sneered at him, tough and ugly. His angry gaze flickering over him. “Feel free to leave now.”

“What?” A wounded look crossed his face. He blinked in face of the hard emotion, “I - Yuri? What’s wrong?”

“What, no ugly flowers and single sentence card?” Yuri instead questioned, still scowling, “Yakov and I are so disappointed.”

Victor opened his mouth to respond, most likely another question of confusion, but in the distance, there was barking. A few moments later, a furry head peeked around the doorway. Almost instantly, Victor broke out into a watery beam.

“Oh, Makkachin!” Victor nearly sobbed in relief, falling to his knees and opening his arms. He didn’t want to assume the worst when he woke up in this odd time, but it had been a long time. Victor had almost been afraid to question Makkachin’s whereabouts, and Chris had no idea who Victor was asking about. Relief was incredibly evident in every aspect of his body. “My sweetheart!”

But instead of the instant tackle Victor had been expecting - the one he used to come home from school to nearly everyday - Makkachin stayed in place, even scooting a bit behind Yuri’s slouching figure.

Victor’s face fell, a picture of confusion. He dropped his arms, “What’s - what’s wrong with her? Why won’t she come?”

Yura rolled his eyes, “You trained her not to jump all over you, you idiot. Said the slobber and dog hair was ruining your outfits.” He spat the words out, screwing up his face in distaste.

Victor blinked a few times, his hands screwing up into fists, as he processed that. He clenched at the fabric of his jacket.

His voice was soft, his eyes glued to the dog as she slowly walked out of the room, her tail barely wagging. She was a lot more gray than he remembered. “She doesn’t live with me?”

Yuri sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “What, is your mind going with your old age?” He ignored the hurt look on Victor’s face, “You had Yakov take her when you got your Manhattan townhouse, you said you didn’t want to worry about her messing up your furniture.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” his voice was soft, more of a thought to himself. Yuri scoffed anyways, rolling his eyes. They had nearly a permanent role doing so.

“Yeah, well.” Yuri shrugged, tipping his head so more of his messy hair fell into his face. God, Victor had hated that growing up.

He cast a miserable look at the doorway Makkachin had disappeared through, swallowing. His heart hurt so much he resisted the urge to check for a physical injury.

Instead, he shook off the emotion, shaking his head at the other boy.

“Your hair is all in your face,” Victor’s voice was the picture of exasperation, “here, take a seat, let me braid it out -”

Yuri flinched away, anger wrinkling up his fine adult features. “What the hell are you doing? Why - why are you even here?”

Victor took a breath, his hands dropping. There was so much here, so much that Victor didn’t even know how to start to deal with, but this - this he could do.

Yuri narrowed his eyes at Victor, so tense he was nearly shaking. “You want something, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I -” I don’t want anything, almost slipped out. But that wasn’t true.

“I was looking for Yuuri,” Victor explained, his gaze catching on everything so familiar and unfamiliar about the kitchen. The same chipped mug Yakov took his coffee in every morning, the same old metal pots and pans, the same fine painted china tucked away in the cabinet. Nearly everything else was different. “I haven’t been able to get into contact with him.”

“Yuuri?” A look of confusion somewhat replaced the anger on Yuri’s face. “Yuuri....Katsuki?”

Victor gave him a weak laugh, a bad feeling coming over him. “Do I know any other Yuri’s then you two?”

His scowl only deepened, “I have no idea who you know,” he spat, crossing his arms. “Victor, what’s going the fuck on? Yakov and I haven’t seen you in seven months and suddenly you’re showing up, making the old man’s blood pressure rise, asking stupid questions, and now you’re looking for Katsuki? What the hell is going on?”

“I -” Victor cut himself off. There was no way he would be able to explain this to Yuri, especially with his current glaring daggers and clenched jaw. Victor could only give him a helpless shrug.

They stared at each other for long moment. Victor shifted his weight, uncertain, and ran a hand through his hair. Yuri seemed to be tracking each of these movements. Finally, he huffed.

“You know what? Fine. Fuck it.” Yuri stomped over to the kitchen, opening and slamming drawers without much thought. “Despite your assholeness, the Katsuki’s kept up with Yakov and I after we moved. Here.” He shoved a blue flyer over, scowling. “They gave us a flyer for their new restaurant. Now will you get the fuck out of my house?”  

Victor took the paper automatically, holding it to his chest, and cast the other boy a wounded look. “Yura -”

“It’s Yuri, ” he snapped, shoving him towards the door. Victor was stumbling off the doorstep when he turned, catching his little brother glaring at him through the doorway. “And next time, when you need something, don���t bother coming here.” Yuri slammed the door after, cutting off all words, leaving Victor staring at the pale wood of the door.

That was his little brother.

Little Yura, with chubby red cheeks - always sticky - and sparkling green eyes and silk hair, always following him and Yuuri around like a little duckling. Always demanding attention and affection in turn, plopping down in Victor’s lap more than not.

That angry young man - cursing and tense and tightly wound - that was him.

God, what did Victor do.

He held the crumpled flyer to his chest, blinking back wetness in his eyes.

A flyer for the Katsuki restaurant. But...after seventeen years, there was no guarantee that Yuuri still lived with his parents. Was he really willing to show up at their family place, especially after whatever horrible things Victor did? He took a deep breath, the breath frosting in front of him. Ice King indeed.

The flyer laid out on the wood wrinkled and ripped from his grip.

His eyes kept going back to it, his hands folded and still in his lap. He had gotten Raoul to drop him off at the nearest busy coffee shop, where he could hide his silver hair under a hat, go unnoticed, gather his thoughts and nearly broken heart.

He had sent Christophe a photo of it a few minutes ago, wondering if there was any way Chris could check if Yuuri was still there. The other man seemed strangely adept at gathering information. He wondered if his future self - present self? - older self had realized that. He wondered if he knew how fortunate, and unfortunate, he was.

Turns out there wasn’t a different way he spoke to Yakov and Yura. He just...didn’t.

He checked his phone, mostly interested in the time, and paused.

A notification from Chris - an address. The coffee cup in his hand - his old usual order, from what Chris had told him - went completely untouched other than his immediate squeeze of surprise at the text.

Got into contact with Katsuki’s family. A few white lies later, here’s his current address. Let me know if I’m cancelling your tomorrow.

It...was local.

Victor immediately forwarded the text to Raoul, and threw his cup to the bin.

thank you so much to tumblr users @cunning-and-cool & @ginriku for looking this through at its first draft, as well as @rinarraven for being the best beta ever and watching 13 going on 30 with me at 5 am because i was burning out on inspiration. thanks y'all! &

before the change, christophe's life was the real life version of the devil wears prada except he was by himself and "there was no fabulous emily blunt in the corner providing snarky commentary or guidance"

also i primarily based this idea off the two versions of vitya i often see in this fandom? the ditzy, giggly selfish kid vs the cold, mean dismissive man. im hoping to write both of them well, as well as later showing what I see as the 'real' victor? also i love chick flicks so.

im aware that victor's birthday is on dec 25th and the ice rink would probably be closed, and they would be celebrating christmas. i know. but at the time same time, i wanted to write this fic and it takes place on vityas birthday. so.

pls give me validation i need it to live

[startofamoment]

B99 + Childhood Friends AU: in which Jake attends each of Amy’s eleven birthdays at the planetarium.

6 year old Jake alternates between pulling little Amy's pigtails and running around exhibits with her older brothers. 

He tires himself out and falls asleep halfway through the afternoon planetarium space show. Mrs. Santiago has to carry him around the museum for half an hour after that, until he's awake enough to walk around on his own.

7 year old Jake makes it his personal mission to win every single party game that year. Any other kid might cry over how competitive (i.e. mean) Jake is being, but Amy stands her ground and manages to beat him in nearly every game. 

In the end, Jake's the one who's in tears. Karen has to pick him up early because he's inconsolable after losing Pin The Ring On Saturn.

8 year old Jake is on his best behavior through the morning (partly because Karen gave him a lengthy talking-to on the car ride over, but also because he’s been kind of subdued overall since Roger left a few months prior). He does go ham on lunch, especially when they bring out Amy’s blue cake. 

Mrs. Santiago has to cradle him in her lap during the space show because he has too much of a tummy ache. (The Santiago brothers make fun of him for at least a week after that, but Amy defends him with her life and also sends him a Get Well Soon! card.)

9 year old Jake has just discovered Star Wars and spends most of the party trying to find planet models of Hoth and Tatooine. While the other kids just laugh at him, Amy informs him that Star Wars is both fictional and inaccurate then proceeds to tell him about how awesome the real universe actually is. 

The two of them unknowingly break off from the group at some point because Amy’s too engrossed in telling him about the International Space Station, and Jake’s just hanging on to every word she says. They’re officially lost for a whole 12 minutes, but Mrs. Santiago eventually finds them in the full-scale space shuttle replica, laughing and pretending to be space pilots slash jedi. 

Given last year’s "I Thought I Lost You Between Mars and Jupiter And I Didn’t Know How To Tell Mrs. Peralta” fiasco (along with every single Jake-related mess the years before), Mrs. Santiago assigns her oldest sons to make sure the 10 year old boy does not get into any trouble. 

Luis (who is visiting from college) and Miguel (who is a high school senior) keep a close watch on Jake throughout the party, which just means getting front row seats to their little sister listing off her favorite constellations and being the happiest she’s ever been.

Out of sheer boredom (because they’ve pretty much memorized all the exhibits at this point), they start betting on when Jake and Amy will get together. (”When Amy’s 11, for sure. I mean, have you seen them?!” “Yes, Miguel, I have seen them. They’re children.”) 

Amy’s other older brothers eventually join in on the betting pool. (The younger Santiago boys are excluded because they only have candy and spare change to offer.) 

11 year old Jake puts extra thought into coming up with a gift for Amy. (He settles on a sudoku book and a handwritten note with only one spelling error.) It costs him two weeks’ worth of allowance, but it’s all worth it when her face lights up upon opening his present. At the last minute, he sneaks a kiss on her cheek before running off to where Karen said she would pick him up.

One of Amy’s brothers sees this and immediately updates the others on their group e-mail chain. Miguel demands his winnings, but they refuse to pay up since the two technically aren’t dating yet. (A detailed list of conditions is made to avoid future confusion.)

Mr. Santiago overhears his sons talking about their bet and makes time to attend Amy’s 12th birthday party and meet (i.e. evaluate) Jake himself. (Victor had been busy with police work the years before but had always made it up to his daughter one way or another.) Jake sticks with one of the Santiago brothers the whole time, disappointing literally everyone. 

He does give Amy a shy smile on the way out, and his birthday card (with no spelling errors) makes her entire week.

Another girl schedules her pool party on the same day as Amy’s 13th birthday party, so only her brothers and Jake show up to the planetarium. She’s really sad at first, but then Jake cracks a joke and makes her smile. 

They get permission to roam the museum on their own and eventually end up in the space shuttle replica Mrs. Santiago found them playing in ages ago. The twinkling lights from the fake control panel somehow make Amy look prettier than ever (which should be impossible because she’s already way prettier than everyone else, even Jenny Gildenhorn), and Jake musters up the courage to kiss her for realz. 

The kiss (her first!!) is way too short because her little brother Alex spots them and promptly yells, “I’M TELLING MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” before running off.

Manny is so sure this means he’s won the betting pool, but the two still don’t start dating because Amy freaks out and Jake is convinced that her not doing anything means she’s not interested. 

A week before Amy’s 14th birthday, Mrs. Santiago asks her whether she wants to invite everyone or just Jacob to the planetarium. With her ears and cheeks burning, she stammers out: “Just Jake.” (Jake doesn’t realize he’s the only guest until Karen drops him off and he sees Amy sitting alone on the front steps of the museum.) 

He spends a good half hour wondering if this is a date / what any of this means, but his questions are answered when Amy casually slips her hand in his and laces their fingers together. 

They kiss again at Their Spot™ in the space shuttle... and in the back row of the space show, and behind the model of the moon, and on the bench outside the museum.

They officially start dating a few weeks after, and Mrs. Santiago wins the betting pool.

For her 15th birthday, Amy asks Jake to give her a guided tour of the museum. (”I’ve spent every birthday since we were 9 just talking your ear off! I want to see if you’ve actually learned anything.”) 

Jake, of course, spent those visits to the museum just gazing at Amy with heart eyes and thinking about how smart and pretty she is, so he ends up just pulling shit out of thin air.  

He does get the facts about Amy’s favorite star right, and that earns him a make out sesh through the entire space show. (They almost get kicked out, but the manager knows them and loves that they’re finally together.) 

16 year old Jake convinces the employees to let him turn one of the staff lounges into an “exclusive exhibit.” He leads Amy into the dark room, where one wall is covered in glow in the dark stars spelling out: “PROM?”

She rolls her eyes because Jesus Christ, her boyfriend is so Extra, and- “Jake, you didn’t have to do any of this. Did you seriously think I would say no?”

They pass by the gift shop to splurge on commemorative memorabilia since it’s her last birthday at the planetarium for the foreseeable future. (She expects to be out of state scouting out colleges during her next birthday.) 

Years later, Jake takes her back to the planetarium for old time’s sake. At the end of the space show, the constellations move across the dome ceiling to form: “Will you marry me?” (This would’ve cost Jake big bucks but the museum board members were moved by his story of what the planetarium meant to him.)

At this point, Amy’s not even sure she should still be surprised by how Extra her boyfriend is. 

She says yes. 

HI I’M BOTH SORRY AND NOT SORRY THAT THIS LIST WAS SO LONG. Also, major props to @the-pontiac-bandit, @peraltiagoisland, @stardustsantiago, @elsaclack, and @proofthatihaveaheart for listening to me yell about this AU!!! ♡♡♡