#Verve Hotels

[amv-reset]

Nobody: My brain at 2 PM: "Bitter Sweet Loser, Baby"

[hotelbooking]

Mid Valley 1km away Verve Suites Old Klang Road We provide 1 free car park to the guest. This is a contemporary, unique & youthful studio. It caters for guest with an eye for creativity who enjoys being surrounded by personal collectibles. The unit has a very liveable feel despite the compact size. The atmosphere is light and flexible, from the color palette to the choice of loose furniture, floating shelves and cabinetry. Inside you will find air-cond, kitchen hod & hoob, air purifier, washer dryer, fridge & internet broadband.You can also find The Alley (Milk Tea Shop), Posh Cafe (western food) and Tipsy Monkey Bar at Ground floor of the building. There is a bus stop right in front of our place (less than 30m). You can go to Mid Valley, KL Sentral & Pasar Seni from here (trust me, it is very convenient).P/S: Guest will have to pay a RM200 refundable deposit upon check in.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 1

[prompt: against a wall window]

male reader x huh yunjin

5k words

You're not entirely sure where the jacket to your suit has gone.

You know you should know; it’s a rental and you need to return it in a week. But Yunjin told you to take it off, and since then, things have been... a little hazy.

More concerning - or it would be, had Yunjin not also lost some part of her attire - is what her thumbs are hooked into. Like she's peeling out the silhouette to her skin-tight, backless dress - the way she can't keep from leaning against the elevator wall. Your lips have the taste of her red lipstick all over, and her body melts with every little flick of the tip of her tongue against yours, puddles that much further when she feels your fingers curling into the folds of that skin-tight black material.

The motion to push the fabric up and over the rise of her hips is a purposeful kind of thing.

For the past hour, her skirt kept brushing over the fabric of your pants while you went from shaking hands to kissing hands to her placing yours on the hem of her dress, in the quiet space of a balcony the hotel staff had clearly marked as off-limits. A kiss behind the shell of her ear, a suggestion, a shiver.

Now, things are happening in a sort of reverse: from slow and curious, to needing more and wanting less, and suddenly, neither of you want to wait - until her thighs are spread wide apart, with your free hand slid over her smooth thigh, fingers skirting the edges of her lace, cupped over her heat - right, there. The throbbing.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," is what she's asking.

"Something awful," you reply, but there's only a gasp out of her throat to prove your point. No words.

Just the look: desire clouding over the expression. The not-so-subtle display of want, need. Tongue pressing to lips and tugging along the corner. A moan, two, quieted behind the knuckle she can't quite help putting in her mouth.

You consider shoving her panties down the curve of her thighs and spinning her around - leaving her arms to brace the railing and keeping the dress around her waist while you fuck. Quick, rough.

The mental image is too nice to let it go.

You consider how much she might genuinely prefer to that to whatever she'd had in mind when she suggested you really ought see the view of the city from her room - oh, the skyline, it's gorgeous, she offered, lips tugged into a perfectly practiced little quirk that said: the view of me, on all fours, face down into a mattress as my ass swallows down your cock - I can't wait to have you.

You can feel the thought concrete itself to the base of your skull when you roll the flat of your finger over her clit and start sliding up and down between the lips of her pussy - finding her a little wet already, dripping onto the fabric in the most obvious way. When the elevator stops a few floors shy, you try to play it off by squeezing at her rib cage and tugging the fabric back in place, hiding the tell-tale lines between the fabric, just as Yunjin starts that gentle laugh from the very base of her spine. A real beautiful timbre in its sound.

But things get more muddled, admittedly, when the doors ding and the group on the other side piles through.

There's an exchange of glances, where they're asking if this is allowed, is there enough room, can they make room. One of them, in a dizzyingly plunging, strapless blue number that has you pressing your palm into the small of Yunjin's back just a little more than you have been up to that point, considers, carefully.

"Yunjin," she says, fingers brushing through the fringe of a smart-chic bob, prim cut of jet-black hair.

Yunjin shifts her weight onto the other heel. "Chaewon."

"By the looks of it," she says, and the way she looks you over has all the judgmental verve of an older sister, a real cold stare. "You've got a I'll-be-staying-in-tonight kind of vibe."

A deeper laugh now, rolling out across the backs of her teeth. "If it's all the same to you," is what you hear from her, "it'll be an early night for me."

“Don’t make it a habit,” she tells Yunjin.

“We’re just going to go enjoy the view.”

“Yeah.” Chaewon gives you one final, disapproving expression. “I bet he will.”

The elevator isn't totally silent, not for the subtle hum and whir of machinery. But everything is a lot closer now. Especially your thoughts, the way Yunjin pulls herself closer against you by a hand on the back of your dress shirt - her fingernails mapping the ridge of your spine, finding your hip bone, thumb curving back and forth against the curve of it.

The four girls at the corner are just making chatter in their corner of the lift. They've got a reservation - in name, anyway. If things were as simple as getting from the hotel to the elevator and beyond, no need for the next forty floors to pass at a snail's pace.

In fact, the four have this sort of tense, concentrated way to them that suggests otherwise - like maybe they came all this way and made that sort of promise to have the whole night end the way some things ought: alone.

"Don't stop on account of us," one of them says after a while.

Which is enough to set off this glare into the furl of Yunjin’s brows. Not her friend's intention. But they laugh it off.

When the doors scuttle open, finally, the two of you stumble out, feet not catching up to the rest of you before Yunjin has her fingers around your wrist and drags you out. Her heels - red-bottomed and not entirely flat but definitely a lot less heel-ey than others (she’s tall, she says, it makes her self-conscious), are clacking quick across marble tile until she arrives at the door of her room, pulls her keycard out of her clutch and leans shoulder-first into the door after the click and whir of entry.

She takes a step backward.

The door locks at your back when it's kicked into its frame.

The first thing you notice is her dress: pooled on the floor around the arches of her heels, cast off like a cloak or some overcoat - to be tossed aside once the sun goes down.

"Make a habit out of this, huh?" you ask in an effort to keep yourself busy - gawking's never been a good look on anyone, even with your natural gifts, the glint in your smile, all your charm - but the curves of her body are stunning, curves that start where her thighs begin, wrap around her hips, cut in at her waist, bloom from the perfectly-small-breasts that now are showing their dusky pink nipples, firm and on full display.

All of Yunjin, like this, beneath pale moonlight pouring diffuse through the fish-bowl-glass of her hotel room, is nothing short of an invitation.

A good look, is what you're about to say if you don't come up with anything else.

"You do this kind of thing often?"

"What's that," Yunjin says over the sharp line of a grin.

"What I mean to say is: I hadn't pegged you for the," and you gesture, rather elegantly, with the flop of your wrist, "lure-some-poor-sap-away-from-a-party-and-take-advantage kind of type," before managing something like a genuine laugh. "Not to knock that lifestyle or anything."

"There's not a thing in the world you know about me," is what she offers. Which is, unsurprisingly, totally true, and slightly unfair.

Yunjin is walking toward you while you consider it.

Drifting when she comes around. It's that close. You can smell the warmth of her skin, a whiff of that vanilla, an infuriating softness - the room is dark, but the moon is bright and the city is glowing, reflecting its light and the various hues from neon signs below, outside, until Yunjin stops, standing right in front of you, just, waiting.

Then, the steady rise of an eyebrow that, for a second, feels like a challenge.

“So," you kiss into her lips, and that's the first. "Let me know you."

The second is when her hands slip up and over the back of your neck and you can't keep from reaching for her sides, pulling her closer. Her hips and ass and those fucking gorgeous, full, legs that can't decide which direction to take - until she's pressed, warm, soft, and perfect against your body, and she's sighing this sigh, heavy, a moan.

The third time, she's licking into your mouth, tongue rolling in and around the taste of your own.

"Too many clothes," she murmurs, and you can feel the pull at your half-undone bowtie, the collar to your dress shirt. She's working the buttons off their slots with deft, clever fingers.

"That's what happens when I'm trying to look sharp."

"Sharp, and hot."

"Is it working?"

Her eyes are as dark as the hair framing the smile that plays at the edge of her mouth. "I'm taking your clothes off, aren't I?"

"Mm," you reply, a smirk of your own. Pressed right into her jaw, her neck, the column of her throat, where she tastes sweet and salty. Like the sea and the night. Before you can even ask, with your fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear, I'm guessing you want me to do the same.

Yunjin makes a sound like, mm-hm.

The hotel room is quite standard, which is to say, nice. But, for what it is, it's not too fancy. There's a large, king-size bed with the crispest sheets you've ever felt. A little kitchenette. Some counter space and a fridge. A TV hanging opposite the bed, with an armchair and a love-seat positioned to face the screen.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Yunjin asks, and her voice is low. Almost a husk, a whisper.

"What did you have in mind?" you say to her, and there's a hand on the nape of your neck, a fist of soft, slender fingers wrapping the length of your cock.

"You're going to fuck me until I'm cumming on your cock. You'll get me on my knees, first, though."

"That's the plan?"

"Unless you have another." Yunjin grins, a smile so full and bright and genuine. You don't know anything beyond her name and the perfectly sculpted curve of her ass. She could be anyone, an actress, a singer, a model. A girl-next-door. A friend of a friend.

She could be yours.

And in a way, when she's on her knees, her mouth hot and tight around the shape of your cock, those fucking lips pressed into the base of it, sliding easy with the spit she leaves on your shaft, that's exactly what you tell her.

"Yunjin," is all you're saying, a sigh, a hiss. You're helping her get your pants off the ends of your feet while your cock is lathered and bathed in her spit, feeling her slender fingers pull up and down your shaft. "That feels so fucking good, baby. Just like that." It's fast, sloppy, she's taking you in and out of her hot mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world. A slurp, a cough, and she's completely unfettered, sucking down and swallowing another breath - not to mention all that about her tongue. A swirl over the head of your cock and you show how much you like it, letting her read the bite into your lip, inventorying every little wince through your brow.

But see - you have your fingers in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. Away from where Yunjin's eyes are breathtaking and glittering, blinking back up under upturned brows, looking up at you from where she's taking you into the hot wet of her mouth, inch-by-inch. And the part of you, this cruel, twisting sensation, would hate for her to think anything of your hands - how they're at the top of her head, cradled behind, and easing her forward, the head of your cock teasing the roof of her mouth.

The back of her mouth.

The back of her throat.

Fuck, her eyes go wide. She's good. She takes it.

And just from the pretty look she keeps on her face, Yunjin loves it. Loves to be pushed, loves to have her hands running along the ridge of your thigh until her fingers are prying the very bottom, the underside, your balls. Like this, with her kneeling down between your legs, the flexing muscle of her upper arms to her palms squeezed tight on either cheek of your ass, where the heat starts to stir deep - to pull. Bring the full length of you to the back of her throat.

The choked sound from deep in her chest should surprise you.

And for the shortest moment, you're holding still and forcing her head, your hands keeping her perfectly put: just there, right there. Exactly like that - where she could look like the perfect mess and feel a twitch right between those lips that keep asking so kindly, go ahead, fuck a load of cum down my throat, baby, use these lips - the soft swell of these lips until you're cumming for me.

Or something else along those lines.

The thought of it crosses your mind: cum spilling from the corner of her mouth as she tries to take everything you have. The flutter in her throat wringing it all down. The mess that all would make. Not that she isn’t already a perfect sight.

You tug on her hair again.

Yunjin's eyes sparkle.

Her eyelashes go a little droopy, hazy. Dark.

And she starts humming across this wistful note of a sigh as her lips start slipping over your shaft - dragging in that slow, agonizing, blissful way over everywhere sensitive and aching. Taking her time, while one hand goes up and strokes what her mouth can't touch, while you pull her head, those perfect strands, just a touch further down, because if she can't quite deep-throat you then Yunjin can give a goddamn masterful impression.

Her cheeks hollow, and the suction - god.

You could cum right in between the pretty little pout of her lips, over the flat of her tongue. Right down her throat.

But in a turn of events neither of you anticipate, you don't do it; you are, much like anyone else, not without limits. Which is probably how you end up lifting Yunjin back up by the underside of her elbows, asking, "that feels a little one-sided, no?"

It's only fair to pull a smirk, kiss, all the best tricks - all for the best parts of her, full, curving, down from her neck, shoulders, her arms, the palms of her hands, every part of her: that perfect shade of peach, pink. From there, everything else falls away. The slow way Yunjin sneaks away with the kind of saunter you'd expect, hips swaying all the way up, sashaying out this inviting side-to-side before you realize it's working -

And you're asking, "Yunjin?" then telling, "I want you up against that window."

The sun's long set - but it'll come up soon enough, over the edges of skyscraper-blocks and shining up out from the base, until everything is bright and gleaming.

"Which window?" she teases.

So you swat at her ass. A not-so-delicate slap. "I don't care so long as I fuck you into it."

"And if someone sees?" she laughs out, still intent on teasing you, and the small edge in her voice is some combination of excitement and worry.

"Then we better give them something worth seeing."

Yunjin's palms land flush to the glass, fingers spread out - wide, wanting, willing - where the blue, yellow glow of city lights shines in over the curves of her profile, the slope of her cheek, the bright pools her irises turn under the warmth. She's the only thing worth seeing, and there's nothing that could possibly stop you from needing, wanting more, right now.

There's no other explanation. No other reason, really, to explain how you're desperate: to fill her, bury yourself inside her - to where you're promising, coming up behind her and guiding her over - so you can spread those creamy thighs apart, push her shoulders up against the cold surface of the window. Where she'll catch a view of her reflection staring back at her: beautiful, exposed, and hers.

"I'm going to fuck you now," is exactly what she's been begging you to say, is why she ends up feeling, with the deep, twisting need building somewhere, how you'll work your cock so deep into her wanting cunt that the only thing that makes her legs go weak - wobbling, really - is the promise of cock rubbing so close and teasing the slick folds between her legs. Until she's a little more demanding, needy - and fuck, where is all the foreplay you'd promised earlier? That perfect, thick cock of yours is missing. She knows what all this really needs.

"Yeah? You need me here?" and she gets this whine, a little pathetic, but in the cutest way.

Yunjin turns her eyes to you, over her shoulder, just the faintest bit of a sneer. 

Because she needs it, right now - rough, quick, good. 

A gasp catches in her throat when you drag your cockhead through her wet heat, once, twice, and the slide of it against her clit becomes the only thing that matters in the entire goddamn world. 

"Inside," her teeth are clamping hard on her lip now, holding it from trembling as she tries to put words together, "Put," is where she loses focus and you're sucking, and kissing, and biting at her shoulder, "put, fuck. Please, put your, put - that cock of yours in my-" You slip into her hot-soaking-wet cunt, and after you've clenched a fist and brought a palm to the center of the window, so that you could open up your body around her a little easier, her muscles squeeze and grip and milk the first few strokes so tight. So-fucking-good.

There's not even a word for it, how she fit like a glove around the first thrust, but if the expression on your face says anything, it's everything Yunjin wanted and more: the shape, the angle, how you're pressing your fingers so hard into the impossible geometry of her waist, the round of her ass - oh, she’ll be a mess of red marks, shapes and lines, reminders of how good you fucked her - these long deep strokes in and out of her creaming pussy - evidence left where the heat inside her builds and pools.

And god, Yunjin is so, so easy to fuck: you can pound into her as rough and steady and fast as she'd begged - there with your other hand, pulling hard, hard, at the loose, dark locks of her hair. Where it has Yunjin gasping, moaning, the whole nine. She has to look to find her balance - and meets the two silhouettes framed inside the reflection on the window. Two shapes, lost in the blurred shadow and outline of lights outside the hotel window, behind which the whole city and its crowds might have stopped the way they'd started, with the rest of you caught between these strange moments:

First, the mindfulness. The purpose and meaning in movement, sensation. In being alive and young, hot, gorgeous and dumb as you can afford to be be.

Yunjin's murmuring, "right there, I want you," or telling, or begging, "don't, you have no idea, I, no-" until your body presses flush up against hers, hips rocking into her perfect figure - taking you like she was built for it, and everything feels so much tighter now, so much closer. Her palms and cheek against the glass, her knees are all shaking and ready to fold at any moment. "So deep, fuck. Fuck me right there, just like that."

Then as you suppose, the unbridled lust on display: Yunjin's turned to this kind of abandon - she's swearing out loud, saying things that have no name and very little form until you've dragged the roughness of your fingers all over her body and found she needs a palmprint on her inner thighs, her ass. That she's whimpering with every deeper plunge until, finally, she gets what she's after - and the words are falling out of her mouth. All it does is mean nothing now - whatever you've been waiting to hear, the pleas to fuck her harder, the cocksleeve talk, or any other request or order.

It's a small miracle, really, considering how she'd gotten you throbbing and aching with just the press of her lips and the dangerous little curl of her tongue - the tight heat all in the back of her throat - but Yunjin cums first.

Loudly. 

Messily, too, as she rides out the feeling - tightness gathering right into her core. But her head, it's in the clouds and a little far away, the skyline bathing her skin in shades of glittering silver and gold. And god, the heat of her tight, twitching, soaked pussy - pulsing around the thrusting curve of your cock: the sublime kind of place, spot, rhythm.

How her arms give out and she's pressed, flushed, back to chest with you, right there. Her words are soft. Wholly unimaginative: yes and fuck, yes and oh, she wants you, loves how well you fuck. The murmur comes from that gorgeous body of hers, the exact shape of everything that feels good to feel. The jut of her hips and her legs are longer than her height suggests they'd be, flawless from the ankle and foot to her thigh to where your arm wraps around the base of her ribs, hugging her from the back.

It's a perfect fit.

And not in the glass-slipper kind of way that means there is such a thing as a soulmate, no.

"Cum in me," she breathes, and then - all over. That's it. The moment your fingers are splayed back out over the pane of window, she can't hold her gaze steady. Those tears prick up at the corner, where they get caught. Where her voice is too high and pitchy - begging, a whining noise and some syllable. Something inaudible that has pressing these hot, open-mouthed kisses right into the pretty rise-and-falls of her spine. The sloppy-wet sound from your cock slipping back in, and back again, until you're just left fucking these little ragged breathes out of her chest.

The space between her lips and the glass, the white-ghosting breaths of air out between those plump little pouts that have shaped and molded themselves into some version of words, a few half-finished pleads: “kiss, hold, fill, fuck, just," and, "my body, love-

"Your fucking pussy, Yunjin, holy shit, it's - fucking - so, god," you all but growl out.

Pounding into the tight clench of her cunt.

The bed in the other room might be the better choice, the sheets and pillows for more support than the hard wall she's propped against. But the glass, to see the view and take her up against it: it feels nice, cool and comfortable, even when your motion makes it fogged and sticky with condensation. She had, when your first thrust pushed inside the molten heat of her pussy, reached around the corner - fingertips splaying wide apart, up, along the foggy pane, watching the shadow of her palms turn blurry and indistinguishable against the soft glow of neon beyond.

"I'm cumming," you tell her, "I'm cumming - fuck," before shoving her body even further into the glass. Fucking her hard - just short of bending her to the point of where she might break.

That last stroke or two goes a little wild; all that coiled and pressurized want and need, boiling over the moment you fuck your cum deep into her trembling body. This time, your sounds aren't just the thoughtless hum and groan from the depth of your lungs, but some collection of dirty words, grunts. Nasty things. A whole host of obscenities: like how it's for the sake of claiming, leaving something of yourself behind. How you're pulling the smooth, curve of her hips into your body to push as much of yourself inside the gripping warmth of her. How your hot cum is starting to spill from her pink, perfect, hole - all for the better because when you take your thumb and swirl and trace and smear all along her slippery-wet slick, she gets like this: squirming in these lazy, needy little wriggles against your touch.

It takes the two of you sometime longer to move. Not long, but, you know, a little while.

When it is that Yunjin comes back to herself, you feel the smile as the ghost over your arm.

The kind of thing to ask, though you're too fucked to pay attention, are questions about life: where do you go to school, how long will you stay? All of that. There's a quiet moment where your mind plays back, vaguely, a little more intensely, the realization - and regret of it, the waste - of fucking a stranger for a night.

And in a real short moment:

"That was - really good," she says, still not recovered quite enough to walk.

Yunjin sounds all that same: a stranger. Not familiar. That's, like, your last chance or whatever. Before this becomes a one-off.

("Stay for a while?" is what she doesn't manage to ever ask.)

"Have to leave early tomorrow." And she looks at you, shoulders dipping at the ends. She says things like: "my work," and "we have an international flight. Customs is a bitch."

"Oh," is what you say to all that, looking her body over again, drinking down all the small details of her. The ones you'll lose forever after tonight. All of them, you know.

All because that's how it had to be, from the start.

"For sure."

Yunjin's hands are twisting at the end of her hair, stroking and brushing through the silky, black strands. Just for something to do: maybe, optimistically to keep herself occupied with some semblance of a thought that has nothing at all to do with how she can't seem to shake this sudden, cresting wave of frustration - how there's an urgent throb from deep within, pushing into her skin like a force.

You swallow. Try to smile. "It was fun."

-

The hotel's checkout desk is staffed by a cheerful looking man, almost fresh out of high-school. Too cheerful a smile, perhaps, and maybe a little too bright for the time of day. You'd been busy pacing the lobby, trying not to stare at your phone for the third or fourth time since stepping out of the elevator. Your feet have scuffed the ground under the coffee table, around the floral couches - almost tripping over the boutiques lined in the middle of this path. Likely you'd have considered them if you weren't focused elsewhere.

Thinking about how you'd put off any discussion about piecing back together your rental suit.

"Did you have a good stay, sir?" the concierge asks, reaching out across his desk to pick up a card. He's placing a machine in front of him.

Your face warms ever-so-slightly. "Wonderful."

"That's what we like to hear. Just swipe your key here."

The machine's screen flashes and there's another cheerful beep, indicating everything was processed.

"Could you get me my receipt?"

"Absolutely. One second."

And the printer whirs to life: spitting out line-after-line of printed data. Until there are twelve characters of nonsense and garbage, including but not limited to the link to a questionnaire and an explanation for all the boxes marked 'x'. It also indicates your total costs (minimal, really) and lists a detailed breakdown of services: breakfast, in-room bar, laundry, towels - all the necessities.

"There, would you like- wait. Sir? Someone asked me to hand this to you," and after reaching under the desk, "looks like a suit jacket of sorts."

"Oh."

He raises an eyebrow. "From the event, I'm assuming."

It's hard to tell what it's about. But as you wrap your fingers into the cloth of the fabric, tug at it a bit, there's a note that slips and falls to the floor.

You sort of frown, skeptical. Fumble with the note. And the note says this:

In your absence, I helped myself to your jacket, your wallet, an extra serving of breakfast, as well as a large iced-coffee. Promise you I'll get the next one. Call me: (xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

Affectionately, your (girl)friend for an evening,

Huh Yunjin

[starkwlkr]

there’s love if you want it (sv5)

there’s love if you want it don’t sound like no sonnet, my lord — the verve

I wait for you masterlist

DECEMBER 2010

The FIA Gala was starting to bore Sebastian. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, after all it was him who was being honored. He kept looking down at his watch wanting time to go by faster. Why? In a couple hours, Sofia Barrett was leaving Monaco and he didn’t want her to leave without saying goodbye.

“You’re doing it again.” Christian Horner whispered to Sebastian. He was of course referring to Sebastian’s foot tapping.

“Sorry.” Sebastian apologized. “Listen, I don’t want to see rude . . .”

“I’m sure no one will notice if you leave a few minutes early, Seb.” That was all it took for the German to excuse himself and make his way to the nearest exit.

From his seat, Mark Webber chuckled and sipped on his champagne. “He is so whipped.”

Luckily, Sofia’s hotel was near the gala so Sebastian had the ‘brilliant’ idea of running in his dress shoes all the way to her. If it was any another person, he would no even try, but this was Sofia Barrett and for her, he would run like his life depended on it. When he finally did make it to her hotel, he ran to the elevator, but the door had already closed in his face.

“Fuck! Fuck! No!” Sebastian shouted. He felt like he was running out of time so he started pushing the button for the next elevator. As he kept pushing it, he heard his name being called by the sweetest voice ever.

“Sebastian?” He quickly turned and saw Sofia with her suitcase by her side. “I’m pretty sure the gala is still happening. Why are you here?”

“You were leaving. . .” Was all he managed to say. “I wanted to see you before you left.”

Sofia’s lips turned into a smile. “Are you going to get in trouble for leaving early?”

“Probably, but I think it’s worth it if I got to see you.” Sebastian replied.

“The world champion getting in trouble just so he can see me? You’re something else, Seb.” Sofia laughed.

“Are you going to Iceland?” Sebastian asked. He remembered her mentioning Iceland a few months ago, something about a family member getting married there.

Sofia slowly nodded. “Yeah, but I’m going to London. I’m spending Christmas and New Years with my boyfriend and his family.”

Her words hit him like a truck. Boyfriend. Since when? She never brought up that word ever. He was beginning to think it was some sort of prank set up by Mark to get him to confess his true feelings. It had to be a prank! When did she find a boyfriend?

“Oh. You’re dating an Englishman?” Was all he could say. Out of all the words in the world, he decided to say that.

Sofia laughed. “I promise he’s a good guy. He’s already met my parents and sister. They like him.”

“That’s . . . Good. But what about that MotoGP guy? What’s his name? Casey?”

“Casey is a friend. Always had been.” He noticed a little anger in her voice. Sofia got annoyed whenever someone brought up her friendship with Casey Stoner. The media assumed it was more than a friendship, but her and the Australian were simply friends.

“I’ll see you soon. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, champ. Love you.” Sofia placed a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek as she gave him a hug.

“Yeah, you too.” He cleared his throat. “Have a safe flight. Call when you land?”

“Time zones, Seb.” She reminded him.

“I’ll wait. You know I always wait for you.”

And he did. No matter what, Sebastian Vettel always waited for Sofia Barrett.

@forza-pastry @distancedss

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 17 - Moxie

Moxie (noun) 1. a courageous spirit and determination/perseverance 2. vigor / verve / pep. 3. an outstanding skill; know-how

Tags & Warnings: None The song mentioned ist "Perhaps" by Oscar D'León, if you want to listen along to it!

“My feathery fellow, are you quite sure that you don't want to find something more entertaining to do?”

He gripped his cane, tightly, restraining himself from whipping it over the birds head. The boy, Dante, had followed him everywhere like a lost puppy, chatting away and talking his ears off the whole morning. A lastor had always hated dogs. Charlie had, to his great misfortune, whipped his dear assistant away - again – for dealing with whatever trifle with the upcoming event that needed her utmost assistance, and stuck him with the delightful task of dealing with the newest addition to the hotel.

What unnerved him the most was the demons inability to recognize his blatant dislike for him. Sure, as usual Alastor weaved his snark remarks and snide comments into a overly cordial demeanor, but really - one should have assumed the threatening glares or the rising intensity of his aggravated static would constitute as obvious warning signs, making the bird realize his intentions weren't warm and welcoming. But this dunce, seemingly blind to all those very clear anti-social clues, only smiled through it all, ignoring every jab he aimed, and Alastor wished he could strangle some sense of self-preservation into him.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't go over well with the girls - Charlie and Vaggie grew quickly attached to Dante - not to forget about his kitten, who would doubtlessly at least frown upon her best friends second demise. In conclusion: Murder was forbidden. And therefore, so was strangling. For now.

Alastor's ears twitched involuntarily at the mental image of her expression of disappointment. He was so engrossed in trying to tune out the idiot that talked his ears off, his memory reminded him, rather intrusively, how beautiful he thought her lips were when she bit them in anger, and how she did it - oh so, temptingly - in situations he wished to be alone with her. And her body. Oh, this soft and enticingly supple body, flushing in the most charming hues of pink when she became flustered, angered, annoyed, aroused. How warm had it felt under him, so willing to react to his touch, welcoming him with a feverish yearning that lit his mind ablaze... His well-concealed tail started wagging, bordering on making noise, and he willed himself back to calmness.

Lately, his mind often wandered off like this, Alastor noted. Since their night in his bayou he felt... restless, in a sense that he craved to be close to her again. It was odd, for him - normally he would have taken the chance to enjoy some distance, his own personal space being a very important part of him. Especially after the revelation that his – let's call it: small fit - had been proven to have been slightly unnecessary. Yet, he started to feel uneasy and annoyed when she wasn't by his side, feelings that only intensified the longer they were separated.

"Oh no, Mr. Alastor, I don't mind helping you!" The demon pulled him harshly back into the here and now, his cheerfulness unceasing and infuriating. He clenched his fists, ready to kill, but he only took in a long, calming breath.

"And what a tremendous help you are.", he smiled at Dante, with such fake courtesy, that someone less dull should've felt the underlined message - but no. This moron went on, babbling his head off, asking questions he answered shortly, or commented on every little thing - making it ever so difficult to focus on actual matters of business, like the rebuilding of the collapsed west wing he was currently working on. While he observed his created minions removing rubble and debris, the nightingale just looked at this painting or that bust, completely useless.

"...and munchkin offered to help me, without her, I would've never made it through the dancing finals."

Wait, what did he say? Alastor looked over to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Pardon?"

Dante, standing in front of a bust of the goetian duchess Gremory, turned and smiled at him. "Oh, we had a contemporary dance workshop, the final grade was a big performance in front of an audience." He laughed softly, fondness in his eyes. "I have two left feet, and was sure I'd fail the class. But (Y/n) is a beast on the dance floor, and she offered to be my partner, helped me practice after school and all."

"I see.", Alastor replied, keeping his eyes on his work. So, his little kitten could dance, hm?

"She taught me a lot, actually.", the bird continued, and the deer didn't miss the fondness in his tone. "About dance and music, but also about life, what it means to have a real friend..." The demon stilled for a moment. "She always seemed sad, even when she was putting up a cheerful face. Like she was searching for something, and didn't find what she was looking for. But here, I mean... when she's with you, she seems... different. Really happy."

Alastor turned to look at him, and found a knowing smile looking up in... was that admiration? Maybe this little sinner wasn't as daft as he thought he was. The birds feathers ruffled a bit nervously under his stare, probably a subconscious reflex, and he spoke again, in an earnest, earnest voice.

"I'm, just saying... she, well, she deserves to be happy, truly happy, so... Whatever you're doing, or saying, or giving to her, Mr. Alastor, keep doing that, please."

Alastor stopped for a moment, eyes slightly wider than usual. Then, his mouth opened in a short laugh, eyes closing in amused astonishment.

"Is this... meant to be some kind of approval, dear boy, by any chance?"

Dante hesitated for a short moment. "Um, in a way, I guess."

He contemplated a few seconds longer, tilting his head with an indulgent smile. The simpleton had no idea what he had done in the bayou. Still, there was this irritating genuineness to his tone, an earnest request from someone who cared deeply for his gem, and for a moment, his honest efforts and dedication showed through the cracks of Alastor's deep dislike of him.

"I will take your word for it then, featherling."

The bird nodded slowly and smiled in the direction of a painting, as if it was an indication of what his mind dwelled on.

You went over the third list Charlie handed you with a deep sigh. You barely finished your breakfast when she and Vaggie took you with them into the office, to “get your input about a few things”. 'A few things', as you quickly learned, had been elaborate (and mostly impossible) plans for decorations, dinner menues, guest lists and other things Charlie was too indecisive about to decide on her own. Normally you wouldn't have minded helping her, working alongside Vaggie to tune down Charlies enthusiastic endeavors and manage logistics around the event, but the thought of Dante alone with Alastor for a prolonged amount of time like 'all morning' made you worried, unfocused and frankly – impatient.

“So, you see, Al will provide the music, aside from our program, but I don't know how formal we should be...”, Charlie rattled, shuffling through countless papers. “We are sending invites to practically every name in hell, wealthy sinners, overlords, even some of the goetian royalties, and dad will come – I think, maybe – so, maybe we need to plan for that. But I don't know what they'll expect, we don't know that.” She looked stressed and worried, which would normally be compensated by Vaggie. But she too looked tired and unsure, scratching her arms every now and again, with a lost look on her face. You put the paper aside and took Charlie's shoulders. She shut up instantly and gave you an apologetic smile.

“Breathe, both of you. We're going to figure it out, I promise.”

"Thank you for all your help.”, Vaggie suddenly said, looking away as if she was embarrassed. “I... we have never planned something big like this before, and without you... well, we probably would've given up by now, if it wasn't for you. I know I gave you a hard time, but... yeah. Thanks.”

It was the first genuine praise you heard her giving you and you felt not only surprise, but content. Slowly but surely, the mistrust and defensiveness of her towards you had changed, and although you felt a bit guilty about not being honest to them, you still genuinely wanted to be seen as an ally, not an enemy.

"I'm glad to be of help, really. Now, come on, let's tackle this. Charlie, I'm sure you, as princess of hell, know something about the in's and out's of formal events down here.", you said encouragingly, sensing Vaggie's discomfort at this admission of emotional vulnerability and deciding not to drag it out. Charlie sniffled tears away, but smiled nonetheless.

"Okay, yes, let's tackle this.", she took a deep breath. "Well, let me think... When I was a teen, mom and dad often held big concerts or balls, maybe.... maybe we could have Al's band play some songs to dance to? Formal and classy in the beginning, and maybe something more modern for the informal part, like an after party?"

You folded your arms and gave her a nod. "There's the royal intuition, princess." The corners of your lips twitched. "But maybe don't count on Alastor for modern songs. I am sure Angel can happily provide us with a DJ or a good - halfway modest - playlist at least."

Charlie giggled, the excitement back in her eyes. Her girlfriend however, looked not as convinced.

"That's a good idea and all, hon',", she hesitantly said, "but I don't think the others know how to dance, except for maybe Husk and the radio idiot. I sure can't."

"Oh yeah, you're right..." Charlie's mood seemed to dampen for just a moment, until she locked eyes with you. Her eyes widened into big, round, sparkling orbs.

Oh for fucks sake.

"I wonder if we could find a trained dancer among the hotel staff who would be willing to help us out?", she chirped with pleading, sweet-looking eyes and an innocent, beaming smile. “Pleeeeeease?”

„Alright guys,“, you sighed as you put your hair into a ponytail. Charlie, in her untameable enthusiasm, had rounded everyone up in the foyer for their first 'totally spontaneous and super-fun dance lesson/bonding activity'.

In the short time it took her to find, instruct and bribe everyone to participate, you - in wise foresight - had run back to your room and changed into more comfortable clothes, discarding the belt entirely, exchanged your blouse for a flowy boat-neckline lounge shirt and threw on your black leather heels. It kind of excited you to dance, really dance, again - it was what you had become the best at at the Academy, this particular talent landing you most of the meager few roles after graduation.

But looking at the rag-tag-group before you, your ardor quickly receded. Husk was looking doubtful and annoyed, Angel distracted and with much too much silliness and mischief in his demeanor, Vaggie looked nervous and tense while Dante was Dante, you knew him well enough to know that even through he didn't lack eagerness he was a left-footed disaster waiting to happen. And Niffy... well, you doubted she was there to learn to dance at all, manically polishing the floor underneath her as the group waited to begin.

Your gaze fell to Alastor, who watched you with amused pity. His grin was much too smug as he sat a bit aside in one of the armchairs, his midday cup of coffee before him and his hands rhythmically tapping on the coffee table. You felt him examining you, eyes landing on the shoes he gifted you, and his smile widened a bit. You quickly turned your face before it could flush at this simple gesture.

“So, umm. Does anyone except Dante have any experience at dancing?” Angel raised his hands with a smirk - you sighed. “Ballroom dances.” Angel flipped you off and laughed, taking his hand down again. Charlie nodded with a shy smile, her hand remained up. “A bit, I'm no good at all. But we're here to learn, and I'm sure it will be fun, right, guys?”

You crossed your arms and thought for a moment. “Alright. We don't have a lot of time and I don't think any of you have the patience to get really detailed. So let's just stick to two or three basic dances, easy ones that are versatile enough, yeah?” “Waltzes are fun, and pretty standard, too.”, Dante smiled. “My Mom and Dad always loved to dance foxtrot, can we do that, (Y/n)?”, Charlie chirped, bopping on her feet.

Angel huffed. “Okay, if we're just learnin' the boring frigid dances, I'm out. I don't have these hips to not shake 'em, Rocks.” “Don't you already shake them enough at work?”, Vaggie mumbled unnerved, earning a mocking grin from the spider. “'What, Vagina? Jealous that I know how to use 'em better than 'ya?”

"OKAY .”, you interjected, slightly annoyed as you massaged your temples, feeling Alastor's suppressed laugh in the back of your neck. “So, the waltz and the foxtrot are good, easy dances to learn, we'll do that. And Angel, I'll throw in the Cha Cha, to busy your hips instead of your mouth, sounds fair?” "Oh sugar tits, 'ya know I'm a professional, I can do both at the same..." he grinned at Dante with a wink, but you cut him off quickly, seeing Dante backing off with a nervous smile.

"GREAT, awesome, let's pair you guys up."

With an apologetic smile to the cat, you pulled Angel to Husk in the hopes he would be able to manage the... vigor of your lewd friend. Charlie and Vaggie were a given pair, already getting in position, which left Niffty and Dante. The nightingale looked at the still cleaning and scrubbing maid, then to you, with a helpless shrug. Dreading the pain your feet will be in as, from experience, Dante would definitely step on them relentlessly, you take a deep breath.

"Alright, Dante, I guess you will..."

"Be just a perfect partner for our dear Niffty. The little darling is quite the enthusiastic learner, very fitting for a beginner such as you, would you not say, sweetheart?"

Alastor's 'question' wasn't aimed at you, but Niffty, voice vibrating overly cheery in a quiet threat, cutting you off once more. Niffty, already putting the polishing cloth away in her pocket, gave him a quick curtsy, and skitted over to Dante, smiling manically. He chuckled, looking a bit worriedly to her, but kept a cheerful smile as she enthusiastically grabbed his hands and pulled herself onto his feet.

With all of them paired up, you were left with...

"Looks like I am at your service for a change." Alastor's grin widened. He appeared next to the record player and adjusted his suit jacket, folding his hands behind his back and gesturing with his head a tiny bit to the side of him. A sign. He wanted you to join him by his side, to come to him, a little, subtle power play. Your body reacted naturally by walking to him, without further need to think about it. His eyes stayed with yours as he slowly nodded approvingly, stepping towards you.

With you standing only inches apart from his broad frame and a curious blush creeping on your cheeks as your memories served up the recent moments the both of you had shared together - It took great effort on your part to ignore the intense, very unbecoming thoughts that flooded your head, but you cleared your throat and clapped your hands.

"So. Let's start with the Cha Cha."

"Alright, Angel, for the tenth time, stay in box form, your hips can only sway AFTER the forward steps, so move...", you sighed exasperated. You had given them the basic steps, how to count and what the man and the women's posture should look like, having Alastor waiting (and slightly brooding) at the side lines. You patted an annoyed looking Husk on the back, and gave a side glance to Niffty and Dante. As chaotic as they were, they were already in a weird, hilarious looking sync, both counting their steps and mowing down furniture (and the other dancers) as they tumbled across the foyer in vague looking Cha Cha moves. Charlie was giving a rather frustrated and grumbling Vaggie a much needed pep talk, but from her embarrassed giggling and the exhausted look on Vaggie's face you guessed it wasn't going well.

"Goddammit, you can't give me this much shit, Husky!", Angel groaned and grabbed Husk's shoulder and paw - despite the cat's disgruntled protests - and tried again to lead his reluctant partner in an overly dramatic fashion, mumbling loudly 'da-da cha-cha-cha'.

"Actually, no - I totally can, if I want to.", he hissed back, pulling the spider back roughly by his upper arm in the opposite direction.

"Uuuuh, getting rough with me now, baby? You know I like it like that."

"Will you two fucking stop bitching at each other for once and dance?", Vaggie shouted over her shoulder, stepping on Charlies toes – again.

"Hey, language!", the princess yelped, hopping on one foot while holding the other.

"Well, isn't this a productive lesson." Alastor grinned, his eyes following Niffty who spun a helpless Dante into a bookshelf. You stared at him, your expression unamused, and he chuckled.

"It is quite literally not.", you groaned, gesturing towards the couples. "Please, help me."

He leaned in, close enough for you to feel his hot breath on your cheek, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Are you asking me for a dance, dear?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestive, flirty tone of his voice, and you swallowed. God, cool your head, at least try to have a backbone.

"Might be more effective to show than tell."

The deer straightened himself again, eyes glinting at you mischievously, while you took out a vinyl from the sleeve, smiling at the title – you knew that song well. The music started playing from the gramophone, a latin jazz song with a catchy rhythm. Alastor stepped back, his smile widened and he made a short, elegant bow, offering you his hand.

"Let us see if we can salvage the situation, then." He pulled you close to him, positioning his hands perfectly, as if he'd trained it thousands of times. It took your breath away, the instant feeling of a dance partner who actually knew what he was doing making you feel queezy and excited at the same time. "Dante, Niffty, would you please get out of the way, thank you."

The bird and the maid, less in mid-step and more in mid-stumble, jumped aside, the latter still counting out loud. The other pairs stopped their feeble attempts too, watching in stunned silence what was happening. He started to move, and you followed his movements perfectly.

"Now, I assume the problem lays with the fact that not one of these simpletons are familiar with the art of dance, or has at least the basic ability to count?", Alastor cooed, just barely loud enough for you to hear it over the music.

"If you're not used to it, it can be hard in the beginning." You felt a little proud when he twirled you, and you came back smoothly. He hummed in approval.

"Not that difficult, after all. It is easy enough to count, if one is able to hear, and follow a few simple steps, if one is able to walk."

"You make it sound like it's child's play.", you chuckled, and he smiled wider, letting you take the lead briefly.

"Quite. But if there's no other solution than to teach them, why not make an actual game out of it next time?"

"...how so?"

"Simple, really. Make it into a competition. That always works for me." He leaned back, twirling you out again. "Give the winner a reward."

"What reward?", you asked, and he leaned in, closer than before, and lowered his voice as his hand moved from your hip to your thigh, pulling it up into a borderline scandalous pose.

"I can think of a few ideas."

Your face flushed instantly, and he laughed his staticy laughter, his claws digging into your skin ever so slightly as he held you tight, leading the both of you with such elegance that your heart beat faster, the butterflies in your stomach erupting in an unruly flurry.

"I think we have their attention now, darling."

Indeed, you felt the many eyes on you, and your dance. Alastor's hold tightened, his movements became sharper, the pace faster and his grip harder, pushing you, challenging you. You kept up easily, the tension between the two of you rising. You heard Angel whistling through his teeth, and in a moment of Alastor pulling you into another pose, you had the clarity of mind to give the gawking group a stern, aggravated look.

"What are you guys doing, gawking like that? Stop staring, start dancing."

Vaggie and Charlie exchanged a brief, flustered look, and started their attempts again, albeit a bit more successful. Angel had a smug, knowing smirk on his face as he turned back to Husk, and the cat sighed, rolling his eyes and adjusting his bow tie, muttering something along the lines of 'this is not gonna end well'.

The Radio Demon's grip tightened around you even more, his hand moving dangerously high on your thigh, the other one gripping your waist almost possessively. He leaned his head towards your neck, his lips brushing against the soft, sensitive skin as he whispered.

"Look at them, little kitten. Look at how they try and fail, compared to us."

His teeth grazed the soft, vulnerable spot right under your jaw, and the sensation sent a shiver through your spine. He grinned, and pulled back.

"I don't know... they seem to make at least some progress."

"Such a gracious teacher." He mused, twirling you once more and catching you again, pressing his chest against yours. You were starting to breathe heavily, the strain of keeping up with him taking its toll, or was it the tension of his suggestive words? "It is no wonder my lovely assistant was able to earn her place in a prestigious school of cultural arts. If she's able to teach these dunderheads how to move their bodies, I wonder what she might be able to teach others, given the right incentive."

Your face burned with a red heat, the implications of his words hitting hard. Alastor, in his usual teasing and unusual suggestive manner, was always saying such things, always dancing around the topic (pun not intended). Never going straight into it. Yet, somehow, in a weird and roundabout way, his words lately carried a meaning with them, a promise - a silent, secret wish - and it excited you, thrilled you even. You realized why he and you seemed to dance so perfectly well together: Leading a dance commanded to take full control and having a plan, following a dance meant to give it up and let your partner make the decisions for you, reacting to even the most subtle hints.

"I guess there are no awards for doing a teachers job?", you asked, trying to keep up with his quick steps, feeling his gaze piercing into yours.

"Oh, I'm sure a well deserved one will present itself soon enough."

The song was about to end, and he lifted his hand, signaling you to go under his arm, and you did, twirling into the final position, his hand on the small of your back, holding you against his chest, and your arms wrapped around his neck, face turned away. He must've done that on purpose, right? Keeping this last moment to himself, to pull you so close, so intimate you closed your eyes in certain expectancy of an impending kiss. When the song ended without it, the rest of the world seemed to come back abruptly, and you blinked, realizing you weren't alone with Alastor but in a room full with people. People with eyes. And ears. And most of them with functional brains. Shit.

"Well, that was some hot fuckin' shit."

Angel's voice pulled you back completely, and you stepped back a bit, out of the Radio Demon's embrace, and felt the eyes of the rest of the group on you again, especially Vaggies.

"Language, Angel!", Charlie squealed, her cheeks red, but she was smiling.

"But in a way Angel is right.", Dante said, giving you an approving thumbs up. "You still got it, munchkin. And Mr. Alastor, that was..."

"A goddamn performance, yeah.", Husk mumbled, crossing his arms, and Vaggie hummed, her one eye flitting back and forth between you and the tall, red demon.

"Well, that's a word for it."

"As I always say, my friends - the world is a stage. Sometimes even one worth sharing, given the right talent." He took your hand, bowed elegantly and planted a small, tender kiss on it, his red eyes looking up and never leaving yours. You were still blushing, a little breathless, a little speechless, and nodded, turning your eyes away to find a way to ground yourself again.

"Ummm, that was a good start. Yeah. Cool. Let's take a small break, drink something, and we'll continue in five."

Alastor sat back, content, watching his kitten hurry off to the kitchen to grab some water for everyone. He saw her tail all fluffed up and swishing upright, which only made him grin wider as he returned to his armchair. The rest of the group broke into excited, albeit not exactly dance related conversations.

Husker came up to him and put down a glass of whiskey next to his emptied mug, which Alastor took and drank in one swing. He looked over the cat, whose face was contorted in a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

"That was a nice little stunt you pulled there."

"Stunt, dear Husker? I am not sure I know what you mean."

"Cut the crap, Boss. I have a nose for that kind of stuff, and it reeked of bullshit."

"Oh-ho! Language, Husker!", Alastor said with mock indignation, grinning widely.

Husk looked him over, and frowned, tilting his head. "Fuck. Yo' actually look pleased."

"Mh... Do I?"

"Yeah. Kinda. And not in the goddamn smug way yo' usually do... if your psychotic asshole attitude would allow the feeling, that is." Husk raised one of his furry eyebrows. "Do yo'... Am I getting something right here?"

"I'm afraid you will have to specify, because I don't have the faintest idea about what you are blabbering."

The cat pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Holy shit, you fuckin'... Does this... You and her, do you-" He gestured vaguely into the direction of the hallway.

Alastor stayed silent and lifted his glass for another fill, and Husk grabbed the bottle with a snarl and opened it up, pouring it for him with shaking paws.

"Yo' know what, forget I even tried to ask that stupid question."

"Best if you do. You know very well, dear friend, what happens to curious beings putting their noses too far in my business."

"Asshole.", he growled and filled his own glass with whiskey, knocking back half the bottle in a swing, grimacing when the burning liquid traveled down his throat, and putting the now significantly lighter bottle down with a huff. The cat demon looked over his shoulder, watching as his pet returned with a tray full of various drinks, handing one to Niffty who looked both disheveled and exhilarated. "M'tellin' yo', it's not gonna end well."

"So are a lot of things down here. No point to fear a day that hasn't even begun." The cat demon gripped his glass tighter, obviously biting his tongue. But the expression on his longtime companions face was something Alastor hasn't seen in quite some time - genuine worry. For what, Alastor didn't care enough to think about, although he suspected it to be about her rather than himself. In her efforts, it seemed his little gem really weaved some pretty impactful bonds to the residents, first Angel Dust, then Niffty and Charlie, now even Husk.

"You would be surprised, Husker my friend, the number of things I am able to... work out." Alastor laughed darkly, not exactly oblivious of the double meaning he offered, but in a rather malicious and ill humored tone. He eyed the little, scarlet cyclops as she threw herself around his kittens neck, babbling on about the 'memories she'll cherish forever', and that she learned 'an excellent dance that required a partner with excellent feathers for them to have fun with', and then he watched his kitten trying to appease her by patting her head. Somehow, Nifftys hair entangled in her hand, and he watched with keen eyes as she slowly and carefully pulled magenta hair from the red thread on her finger, easing the little demon into holding still as to not rip it from her digit.

Somewhere, deep inside, this unfamiliar sting appeared again, and he had no other choice but to attribute it to his strange fondness of the scarred beauty he acquired not too long ago, and which steadily increased every moment they spent together. A soft smile curled over her lips as she threw a glace back to him, still listening to the small maid, but with a freed hand, thread safely in place and intact. H usk was talking still, Alastor wasn't sure if he was aware or not. It didn't matter to him at the moment. Another conversation caught his attention, a hushed discussion happening over with Vaggie and the little princess.

It looked serious. And serious talk made him want to frown, even with his tight smile sewn into place.

<< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter >>

[secretlythepits]

So, his optimistic oncologist took him off immunotherapy since it hasn’t been effective. He referred him to a clinical trial in Orlando (4 hours away). He has a zoom appointment next week so he can get in. I looked into the trial. It’s a targeted therapy that works on a specific gene, which 5-8% have. It’s shown promise in European trials, extending life by a couple of months to maybe a year. We’ll see… If not, there might be a trial here, but it has a chemo he already had as a part of it and his oncologist (and I) don’t want him to have it again. It seems like it would just be needless suffering.

I’ve been looking into cancer charities for hotel assistance. I think I might be able to get a discount. At some point I should run a gofundme, but I don’t know when. I’m not sure how much that would help, since we did one his first go round. We already tapped those resources. It’s so awkward. This highlights the fact that even if I wanted to, I can’t get a regular job right now. I have to be available in a way no new hire could be. I think that’s a blessing because I don’t want to give up on my dream. There is no way I could be a caregiver for the end of life, raise my kids, work full time, and work on my fledgling company. I have no support. It’s all me.

When my soul sister visited in November, she told me I would blossom after he was gone. Don’t force things now, she warned. You can only do so much.

I was crushed most of the day. Physically tired in a way I never am. I couldn’t work and I just decided to give myself grace and I rested. By late afternoon I had some verve back and went on a walk. The fog is clearing. I’d like to do my editing tomorrow and maybe some meal prep, because this is the point when cooking dinner feels like too much, but with no income, we have no other options. Honestly, I’ll feel good if I can do the editing and a few freezer meals. Oh, and I think I really need to exercise. I really want to give myself a better, stronger body. I’m an emotional zombie eater (what a sentence!), but I don’t want this bad news to set me into a deeper state of unhealthy.

It’s so hard.

I love chocolate and butter.

[aeth-eris]

Astrology Jukebox Observations

Moon in 1st House: "Cosmic Love" by Florence + The Machine

Venus Square Moon: "Maps" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Mars in 7th House: "Lover I Don't Have to Love" by Bright Eyes

Jupiter Trine Uranus: "Float On" by Modest Mouse

Saturn in 10th House: "Bitter Sweet Symphony" by The Verve

Neptune Conjunct Ascendant: "Space Oddity" by David Bowie

Pluto in 8th House: "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes

Mercury in 3rd House: "Clint Eastwood" by Gorillaz

Sun in 5th House: "Kids" by MGMT

Uranus Opposition Midheaven: "Reptilia" by The Strokes

Mercury in 12th House: "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap

Venus in 6th House: "Dog Days Are Over" by Florence + The Machine

Mars Square Pluto: "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin

Jupiter in 9th House: "All These Things That I've Done" by The Killers

Saturn Trine Neptune: "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead

Uranus in 4th House: "House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals

Neptune Opposition Sun: "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac

Pluto Conjunct Moon: "Hurt" by Johnny Cash

Sun in 8th House: "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" by Neutral Milk Hotel

Moon Trine Venus: "Heartbeats" by The Knife

[cyclesofmystery]

Art Hickman’s Orchestra, 1919

I’ve always really loved this novelty shot of the Hickman Orchestra, and I thought this fine colorization job by Mario Unger really brought a new life to it. The photo and colorization are the main attraction here, BUT I’m going to give some context as to who these guys are in case anyone is curious.

Hickman’s outfit is one of a couple 1910s dance bands that really laid the groundwork for what popular music would sound like in the 20s (and for what it’s worth, probably my personal favorite of that particular late-1910s style which I love so dearly). Hickman’s group was among the first popular bands to utilize a saxophone section, which was kind of a big moment for the trajectory of pop music and jazz in the first half of the 20th century. Their sound took the syncopated edge of contemporary “jass” and ragtime and infused that into a ballroom orchestra style. The resulting music carries itself with a refined and elegant air, but with a certain simmering rakishness underneath- and when these guys really dig into it, they play with an undeniable ragged verve. My favorite sides by them are probably Hesitating Blues and Cairo (both recorded 1919), however Hickman is probably best remembered by his 1917 composition Rose Room (named for the hotel ballroom at which they were the house band), which you still hear played often enough today (that is, if you’re in with the right scene). Would’ve loved to hear what this band sounded like live, I can only imagine that the old acoustic recordings don’t do them full justice.

[blueberry-ovaries]

SOUNDTRACK TO YOUR LIFE MIXTAPE

a music tag game where u create a mixtape ft songs that could be in a movie about ur life! :D

thank you for the tag @the-cinnamontography-is-amazing <3 this was so much fun!!

NON PRESSURE TAGS:

@malarkgirlypop @mads-nixon @bast0gne @scottsummersgal @liptonsbabe @1waveshortofashipwreck

LIST OF SONGS

1. Opening Credits - Brown Eyed Girl // Van Morrison

2. Wake Up Scene - The Ballroom Blitz // Sweet

3. Average Day Scene - Walk This Way // Aerosmith

4. Driving Scene - Hotel California // Eagles

5. Growing Up Scene - My Girl // The Temptations

6. First Date Scene - Champagne Supernova // Oasis

7. Falling In Love Scene - Lover, You Should’ve Come Over // Jeff Buckley

8. Love Scene - From Eden // Hozier

9. Fight With a Friend Scene - Rumour Has It // Adele

10. Heartbreak Scene - Iris // The Goo Goo Dolls

11. Mental Breakdown - Nobody’s Soldier // Hozier

12. Moving Out - Piano Man // Billy Joel

13. Getting a Job - 9 to 5 // Dolly Parton

14. Taking The Train Scene - Funky Town // Pseudo Echo

15. Deep Thoughts Scene - Imagine // John Lennon

16. Lesson Learning Scene - This Town // Niall Horan

17. Getting Back Together Scene - Love Of My Life // Harry Styles

18. Party Scene - Low // Flo Rida, T-Pain

19. Happy Dance Scene - Old Time Rock & Roll // Bob Segar

20. Homesick Scene - Matilda // Harry Styles

21. Long Night Alone Scene - Angels // Robbie Williams

22. Night Driving Scene - Tongue Tied // GROUPLOVE

23. Flashback Scene - Bitter Sweet Symphony (Remastered) // The Verve

24. New Beginnings - I’m Still Standing // Elton John

25. Closing Credits - Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) // Edison Lighthouse

[hotelbooking]

Ipoh Gunung Rapat Family Home by Verve (8 Pax) This unit is locate in strategic area which takes merely 3-6 minutes to [Ipoh Town Area], roughly 10-15 minutes to [Lost Worl of Tambun]. It is specifically designed to accommodate 6 to 8 pax comfortably, which is suitable to all kind of people be it leisure travelers, families or business travelers. Large compound Private parking space available for 3-4 cars!

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year 2024, Part III (The Lists)

Winged Wheel

Dusted’s writers picked two for the mid-year exchange, but any of them could easily reel off a dozen or more other favorites.  Find out what else they liked in this collection of lists. 

If you haven’t read Part I or Part II yet, check them out. 

Christian Carey

Arooj Aftab —  Night Reign (Verve)

Richard Baker —  The Tyranny of Fun (NMC)

Kyle Bruckman —  Of Rivers (New Focus)

Madi Diaz —  Weird Feeling (Anti)

Julia Holter —  Something in the Room She Moves (Domino)

Hurray for the Riff Raff —  The Past is Still Alive (Nonesuch)

Vijay Iyer, Linda May Han Oh, Tyshawn Sorey —  Compassion (ECM)

Kali Malone —  All Life Long (Ideologic Organ)

Rosali — Bite Down (Merge)

Caroline Shaw and Sō Percussion —  Rectangles and Circumstance (Nonesuch)

Ches Smith —  Laugh Ash (Pyroclastic)

Waxahatchee —  Tigers Blood (Anti)

Tim Clarke

DIIV — Frog In Boiling Water (Fantasy)

Loma — How Will I Live Without A Body? (Sub Pop)

Jessica Pratt — Here in the Pitch (City Slang)

Jon Mckiel — Hex (You’ve Changed)

Winged Wheel — Big Hotel (12XU)

Corridor — Mimi (Sub Pop)

English Teacher — This Could Be Texas (Island)

Helado Negro — Phasor (4AD)

Ty Segall — Three Bells (Drag City)

The Smile — Wall of Eyes (XL)

Andrew Forell

Arab Strap — I’m totally fine with it 👍 don’t give a fuck anymore 👍 (Rock Action)

Camera Obscura — Look to the East, Look to the West (Merge)

Daryl Groetsch — Above the Shore (self-released)

Drahla — angeltape (Captured Tracks)

Geotic — The Anchorite (Basement’s Basement)

Iceboy Violet, Nueen — You Said You’d Hold my Hand Through the Fire (Hyperdub)

Kim Gordon — The Collective (Matador)

Mick Harvey — Five Ways to Say Goodbye (Mute)

Sandwell District — Where Next? (Point of Departure)

Umbrellas — Fairweather Friend (Slumberland)

Yosa Peit — Gutbuster (Fire)

Reissues:

Brion Gysin — Junk (WEWANTSOUNDS)

These Immortal Souls — Get Lost (Don’t Lie!) Mute

Bryon Hayes

Rosali – Bite Down (Merge)

Winged Wheel – Big Hotel (12xU)

Gastr Del Sol – We Have Dozens of Titles (Drag City)

Beings – There is a Garden (No Quarter)

Ambarchi Berthling Werliin – Dusted II (Drag City)

Sunburned Hand of the Man – Nimbus (Three Lobed)

Water Damage – In E (12xU)

Dun-Dun Band – Pita Parka Pt. 1: Xam Egdub (Ansible Editions)

Gerycz Powers Rolin – Activator (12xU)

Magic Tuber String Band – Needlefall (Thrill Jockey)

Alex Johnson

Rosali — Bite Down (Merge)

RE Seraphin —  Fool’s Mate (Take A Turn/Safe Suburban Home)

Uranium Club —  Infants Under the Bulb (Static Shock)

The Spatulas —  Beehive Mind (Post Present Medium)

Yohei —  Echo You Know (Perpetual Doom)

Pardoner —  Paranoid in Hell (Convulse)

NYSSA —  Shake Me Where I’m Foolish (Six Shooter)

Nowhere Flower —  Ruts the Place (Radical Documents)

Sheer Mag —  Playing Favorites (Third Man)

Cindy Lee —  Diamond Jubilee (Realistik Studios)

Oren Ambachi / Johan Berthling / Andreas Werlin —  Ghosted II (Drag City)

Winged Wheel —  Big Hotel (12XU)

Jennifer Kelly

Rosali—Bite Down (Merge)

Mdou Moctar—Funeral for Justice (Matador)

Mary Timony—Untame the Tiger (Merge)

Myriam Gendron—Mayday (Thrill Jockey)

Lupa Citto—S-T (12XU)

James Elkington & Nathan Salsburg—All Gist (Paradise of Bachelors)

Rail Band—S-T (Mississippi)

Winged Wheel—Big Hotel (12XU)

Six Organs of Admittance—Time is Glass (Drag City)

Split System—Vol. 2 (Goner)

Ian Mathers

The Body & Dis Fig — Orchards of a Futile Heaven (Thrill Jockey)

Broadcast — Spell Blanket: Collected Demos 2006-2009 (Warp)

Cassandra Jenkins — My Light, My Destroyer (Dead Oceans)

Chelsea Wolfe — She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She (Loma Vista)

Jessica Moss — For UNRWA (Self released)

Laura Masotto — The Spirit of Things (7K!)

loscil // lawrence english — Chroma (Self released)

Myriam Gendron — Mayday (Feeding Tube/Thrill Jockey)

Polar Inertia — Environment Control (Northern Electronics)

Whitelands — Night-bound Eyes Are Blind to the Day (Sonic Cathedral)

Jim Marks

Ben Allison, Steve Cardenas, and Ted Nash — Tell the Birds I Said Hello: The Music of Herbie Nichols (Sonic Camera)

Mary Halvorson — Cloudward (Nonesuch)

Demian Cabaud — Arbol Adentro (Porta Jazz)

Fabiano do Nascimento and Sam Gendel — The Room (Real World)

Francesco Sensi — In Abstracto (WoW)

James Brandon Lewis Quartet — Transfiguration (Intakt)

James Elkington and Nathan Salsburg — All Gist (Paradise of Bachelors)

Juan Pablo Alcazar — Otro Quatuor Pour La Fin Du Temps (Porta Jazz)

Michele di Toro, Yuri Goloubev, and Hans Mathisen — Trinomics (Calogola)

Tony Moreno Trio — Ballads Volume 1 (Sunnyside)

Patrick Masterson

Cindy Lee — Diamond Jubilee (Realistik)

Chief Keef — Almighty So 2 (43B)

Marika Hackman — Big Sigh (Chrysalis)

Water Damage — In E (12XU)

Oneida — Expensive Air (Joyful Noise)

Winged Wheel — Big Hotel (12XU)

Burial — “Dreamfear / Boy Sent From Above" (XL)

Gouge Away — Deep Sage (Deathwish Inc.)

Blues Ambush — Blues Ambush (Radical Documents)

Tei Shi — Valerie (self-released)

Armand Hammer — BLK LBL (self-released)

Donato Dozzy — Magda (Spazio Disponibile)

Bill Meyer

 أحمد  [Ahmed] —Wood Blues (Astral Spirits)

 أحمد  [Ahmed]—Giant Beauty (Fönstret)

Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet—Four Guitars Live (Palilalia) 

Itasca—Imitation of War (Paradise of Bachelors) 

Lisa Ullen, Heirloom (Fönstret)

Lumpeks—Polonez (Umlaut) 

Matthew Shipp Trio, New Directions in Jazz Piano Trio (ESP-Disk’)

Olivia Block—The Mountains Pass (Black Truffle)

Oren Ambarchi / Johan Berthling / Andreas Werliin—Ghosted II (Drag City)

Rafael Toral—Spectral Evolution (Moikai) 

The Handover—The Handover (Sublime Frequencies) 

Tomeka Reid Quartet—3x3 (Cuneiform) 

Jonathan Shaw

Bad Breeding—Contempt (Iron Lung)

Fuera de Sektor—Juegos Prohibidos (La Vida Es un Mus)

Cindy Lee—Diamond Jubilee (Realistik Studios)

SUMAC—The Healer (Thrill Jockey)

Thou—Umbilical (Sacred Bones)

VR Sex—“Hard Copy” (Dais)

[numberonenat]

i asked chat gpt to make a playlist based on each one of the brothers of obey me…

here's part 2 and 3: the dateables + luke / the side characters

here's what it gave me:

lucifer:

"sympathy for the devil" by the rolling stones

"smooth operator" by sade

"devil inside" by INXS

"demon" by imagine dragons

"lucifer" by SHINee

"bad guy" by billie eilish

"personal jesus" by depeche mode

"no rest for the wicked" by lykke li

"highway to hell" by AC/DC

"dark horse" by katy perry ft. juicy j

"i put a spell on you" by creedence clearwater revival

"power" by kanye West

"black magic woman" by santana

"boulevard of broken dreams" by green day

"wicked game" by chris isaak

mammon:

"can't stop the feeling!" by justin timberlake

"money" by pink floyd

"material girl" by madonna

"don't stop me now" by queen

"irresistible" by fall out boy ft. demi lovato

"i want it all" by queen

"rich girl" by hall & oates

"break free" by ariana grande

"gold digger" by kanye west

"born to be wild" by steppenwolf

"counting stars" by onerepublic

"uptown funk" by mark ronson ft. bruno mars

"i love it" by icona pop ft. charli XCX

"shut up and dance" by walk the moon

"take a walk" by passion pit

leviathan:

"nerd" by three loco

"all the small things" by blink-182

"the real slim shady" by eminem

"anime" by riton & kah-lo

"superhero" by 5 seconds of summer

"loser" by beck

"gamer" by karliene

"virtual insanity" by jamiroquai

"no tears left to cry" by ariana grande

"in the end" by linkin park

"radioactive" by imagine dragons

"the middle" by zedd, maren morris, grey

"numb" by linkin park

"gangnam style" by psy

"last friday night (T.G.I.F.)" by katy perry

satan:

"bitter sweet symphony" by the verve

"imagine" by john lennon

"bohemian rhapsody" by queen

"hotel california" by eagles

"hallelujah" by leonard cohen

"smooth" by santana ft. rob thomas

"time in a bottle" by jim croce

"wish you were here" by pink floyd

"somewhere only we know" by keane

"black" by pearl jam

"dust in the wind" by kansas

"vincent" by don mclean

"blackbird" by the beatles

"under the bridge" by red hot chili peppers

"sultans of swing" by dire straits

asmodeus:

"vogue" by madonna

"glamorous" by fergie ft. ludacris

"beautiful" by christina aguilera

"i'm too sexy" by right said fred

"fashion" by david bowie

"confident" by demi lovato

"glam" by christina aguilera

"fancy" by iggy azalea ft. charli XCX

"manicure" by lady gaga

"glamourous indie rock & roll" by the killers

"G.U.Y." by lady gaga

"primadonna" by MARINA

"supermodel (you better work)" by rupaul

"gold digger" by kanye west

"diamonds" by rihanna

beelzebub:

"sugar, sugar" by the archies

"banana pancakes" by jack johnson

"all star" by smash mouth

"don't stop believin'" by journey

"i want to hold your hand" by the beatles

"lean on me" by bill withers

"stand by me" by ben e. king

"with a little help from my friends" by the beatles

"three little birds" by bob marley & the wailers

"can't help falling in love" by elvis presley

"i'll be there for you" by the rembrandts

"count on me" by bruno mars

"lean on me" by club nouveau

"i just called to say i love you" by stevie wonder

"better together" by jack johnson

belphegor:

"enter sandman" by metallica

"lose yourself" by eminem

"don't wake me up" by chris brown

"sweet dreams (are made of this)" by eurythmics

"lazy song" by bruno mars

"sleeping in" by the postal service

"dreams" by fleetwood mac

"mad world" by tears for fears

"lucid dreams" by juice WRLD

"wake me up when september ends" by green day

"hotel california" by eagles

"boulevard of broken dreams" by green day

"i don't want to miss a thing" by aerosmith

"talking in your sleep" by the romantics

"no sleep 'til brooklyn" by beastie boys

this was fun lol

except for the repetitive ones, i acctually liked this - even with the ridiculous or that make no sense...

i'll definatelly make a part 2 with the side characters and maybe with characters from another fandom. i'll put the link here when i do it.

[robynochs]

Fun last Friday night at MassEquality's Beacons of Light fundraiser at the Verve Hotel in Natick, MA. Here's me with Executive Director Tanya Neslusan

[dirtylowdown2]

Roswell Rudd/Lafayette Harris DUO

Happy Birthday trombonist/composer ROSWELL RUDD

"Roswell Rudd and Lafayette Harris perform the 'Fats' Waller composition GREY TURNING BLUE OVER YOU at Bard's Spegieltent on July 27, 2008. "

Yale grad played trad jazz and cut two LPs with Eli's Chosen Six, then dove headfirst into the NYC avant-garde, working w/Steve Lacy, Bill Dixon, Archie Shepp, NY Art Quartet (w/John Tchicai), Gato Barbieri, and Charlie Haden's Liberation Music Orch. Taught at college level, long stint w/Catskills hotel show bands; mid-'90s career revival w/CDs for CIMP and reunion w/Lacy for Verve (2000). Extensive collabs w/musicians from Mali, Mongolia, Latin America always lifted by his vibrant energy, musical daring, generosity of spirit. "You blow in this end of the trombone and sound comes out the other end and disrupts the cosmos." (RR)

[wonderbreadwoman]

Choose the Ideal Seagull Lighting Chandeliers for Home from Five Demanding Categories

Inclusion of perfect lighting fixtures has become an integral part of home interior in modern life. Keeping the right pace with consumers demand for innovative range of illuminating accessories, the emergence of Seagull lighting chandeliers and pendants has taken the global market by storm. The hanging lighting fixtures go far beyond visit site here classic floor lamps, ceiling illumination or contemporary range of illumination accessories.

No denying, the simplest way to rejuvenate your interior without much effort, investment, and major upgrades is providing them with a beauty touch with hottest range of lighting systems. Gone are the days, when people used to décor their home only during festive time, and factually, this has become a part of common home interior. Consider beautifying your rooms with Seagull lighting chandeliers that can fetch dramatic change by adding charm, majesty, and verve within the home ambiance. In the evolving industry, use of chandeliers is no more limiting to the lobby, reception hall, or porch but can be wonderfully cascaded over the dining table, bedroom, drawing room, or hall.

To sparkle with the most matching chandeliers, sharing six great ideas for your choice. Classic Candle Chandeliers For over the centuries, candle style Seagull lighting chandeliers have fascinated millions of hearts. Most possibility this is one of the top demanding piece of chandeliers in the industry which is born to boast their personality and elegance from hotel reception hall to commoner’s home. Available in diversity of sizes, shapes and prices, you can always reach traditional chandeliers and consider them for your dinning place, hall, or entryway.

Crystal Shimmer Amidst the trendy Seagull lighting chandeliers, crystal shimmer is likely to be the majesty of your entryway or dining room. The beams of crystal shines go far way in thousands of directions that look simply marvelous transforming the ambiance like a dream world. While the round shape is most trendy choice, you can get varieties in shapes, sizes, and types of crystals. Rustic Chandeliers With rustic Seagull lighting chandeliers, you can bring together tradition and trend in one platform. They are perfect choice for your country home ambiance, holiday cottage or beach log cabin. Rustic group of chandeliers are designed with varieties of natural elements, metal pieces and accessories and are accessible in range of designs, colors, illuminating tools, and features.

An ideal place to let them astound your guests is suspending them over the dining table. Industrial Chandeliers If you are one of them who look for something out of the box, consider preparing the space over the dining table, the entry way, porch with industrial Seagull lighting chandeliers. They are ideal to boast your personality and taste with a different viewpoint. Typically, some of the common elements that they embrace include exposed metallic finish, uncovered bulbs, ornamenting rods, and other fixtures.

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: i said a boom chicka boom!

Logan's swept off his feet. As is Maddox, in an entirely different way.

⁂

Janus breathes deeply and slowly as he fills out the information to check out of the hotel, signing the paper with a final flourish.

This weekend. Done with. The reunion with his son and ex-husband, done with.

The extensive legal battle they’re now apparently embroiled in? Just beginning. Remy Zawistowski has told them it will be a long, long lawsuit. But that paperwork will simply have to wait until he returns to London. 

Now to that damned plane.

“Have a good flight, Mr. James.”

He manages to tell the concierge thank you instead of asking if he’s being mocked.

“Where’s Roman?” Janus asks Logan, tucking his wallet into his jacket pocket.

“He said he’d be down in just a moment,” Logan says, signing off his own paperwork and quadruple-checking for the presence of his passport.

“All right, then,” Janus sighs.

Patton smiles from where he’s waiting, that bashful, sweet smile.

“Have a safe flight.”

“I’d certainly hope so,” Janus mutters.

Patton’s smile turns more sympathetic. “Still not a big fan of planes, huh?”

“I don’t know how anyone can be a fan of planes,” Janus says, scowling.

The elevator door dings, and Janus looks. Ah, there’s his sons. Except…

“Oh, Remus, what on earth are you about to do,” Patton groans quietly.

…except the two boys are dressed identically from head to toe: hair mussed, gold-and-green earrings, button-downs, black jeans, each wearing one of the other’s trainers to create a mixed pair—one with red right-green left, the other with red left-green right.

And one twin is wearing an orange shirt, and the other twin is wearing a pink one.

“Boys,” Janus says. “What on earth are you both doing? We have a plane to catch.”

“Here’s the deal, Dads,” the twin in orange says, in an American accent. “We thought it over, and we decided we’re being totally hornswoggled.”

“Goldbricked.” The pink twin says in the same accent.

“Swindled, even!”

“I blame you for getting Roman that thesaurus,” Janus tells Logan.

“Papa promised we’d go on our camping trip, and we wanna go,” the orange twin says, switching the accent to English. “Together.”

“What camping trip?” Janus says, turning to Patton.

“The one we go on every summer together before school starts,” the pink twin says in an English accent.

Patton visibly falters.

“Roman, this is ridiculous,” Janus says. “Go upstairs, get your things, and put your proper clothes on.” 

The pink twin smiles up at Janus. “Are you sure I’m Roman?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Janus bluffs.

“But it’s kind of hard to be 100% positive,” the pink twin says, switching accents again. “Isn’t it?”

Janus chews the inside of his cheek.

“Boys,” Patton says in a stern tone, putting his hands on his hips. “This is not the time for tricks. You’re going to make your father miss his flight.”

Janus wouldn’t mind prolonging the inevitable flight, actually.

“I know!” Patton says, turning to Janus and brightening. “We’ll check the—”

Except, in a move that must clearly be choreographed, each twin turns, pulling down their left ear.

To reveal identical winestain birthmarks.

Patton slumps, but Janus licks his finger and, in the tradition of parents everywhere, takes the nearest twin and tries to clean away any makeup with spit and his own verve.

“Aw, Dad,” the orange twin says with a laugh. “Won’t it be a shame if you spend all this time trying to rub it off only to find out that one of these is hypothetically applied with waterproof makeup?”

Janus releases the twin, frustrated.

“Remus!” Patton calls.

But the twins are prepared for this too.

“Yes?” They chorus in sly London accents.

“Say ‘ears,’” Janus demands.

“Ears!” Both twins declare, in a thoroughly American accent.

Patton bends forward, staring the orange twin in the face, then the pink.

“This one’s Remus,” he says, pointing to the orange twin. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Pa!” The orange twin says, bright and chipper. “It’d sure be a pain if you ended up sending the wrong kid all the way back to England.”

“But hey, if you’re totally sure,” The pink twin says.

For not being raised together, the pair of them wear smug on their faces in the exact same way.

“Here’s our proposition,” the pink twin says, stepping forward, then beckoning the orange one to stand beside him. “We go back to Pa’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Janus splutters.

“And,” the orange twin says. “When we get back, we’ll tell you which one’s Remus, and which one’s Roman.”

Oh, nuh-uh, no way.

Janus James does not do camping.

“Or,” Janus says. “You do as we say, and I take one of you back to London, whether you like it or not.”

The twins beam up at him.

⁂

Patton probably should be acting a bit stricter and sterner about this.

Probably.

But he’s just so gosh darn excited.

For the first time in their lives—in his life—he gets to bring both of his boys along on the yearly Big Camping Trip. Remus, naturally, has thrived in the times of Big Camping Trip; he’s always been the sort to run out and get muddy, he’s a quick learner, and, of course, all things gross and mucky in nature that seem to drive some away only draws him in.

But now he also gets to bring along Roman.

He is a bit nervous; Roman is, after all, a city boy. But Roman’s also a city boy who just spent his entire summer at an outdoorsy camp. 

Patton hopes, very selfishly, that camp didn’t teach Roman everything about thriving outdoors. He’d like to share this with him too.

But there is someone who isn’t very happy about this latest predicament.

“Patton,” Maddox hisses as Patton hauls the boys’ bags of supplies into the trunk. “What am I meant to do at home for three days—sit at home and knit?!”

“It’s a bit of a sticky situation, honey,” Patton says.

Maddox buzzes right on by the pun. “Sticky situation?! What do you mean, sticky situation, what exactly—?”

But, as if on cue, Janus, with sunglasses and wrapped up in a yellow-and-brown flannel that Patton would put ten bucks on him not owning the day before, descends the stairs.

Maddox whirls back to him.

“Excuse me,” he says through clenched teeth. “What is he doing here?!”

Patton sighs, running a hand over his stubble. “That’s part of the sticky situation I was just about to explain, honey. The boys want the four of us to… y’know. Go together.”

“What?!” Maddox says. “What are you, suddenly, the Brady Bunch?! This is ridic—”

“Hello,” Janus says, smoothly cutting off Maddox’s gathering up of steam. “Everything all right?”

“Actually, no,” Maddox says before Patton can jump in. “It isn’t. I didn’t realize you were going on this little outing, and to tell you the truth, I’m not so sure I’m okay with it.”

Janus shrugs. “I agree.”

That seems to take some of the heat out of the situation. Maddox blinks at Janus.

“I mean—ex-husband in the next sleeping bag is a little weird.”

“Thank you,” Maddox says, smiling at Patton, as if to say, there, you see?!

“I absolutely insist that you come with us.” Janus says brightly. 

There’s something about the curl of his lips… something about the shine in his eye… But Patton’s too excited about the concept of sharing this camping trip with almost everyone he loves to really dissect it.

“Janus—” Maddox starts, the smile fading from his face.

“No, really, Maddox, it’s the least I can do,” Janus insists. Patton tries not to narrow his eyes at him; that chipper, cheerful voice… Patton’s heard it reflected through their son back at him over the years.

“Oh, Maddox, that would be perfect,” Patton says excitedly. “What a great opportunity to bond with the boys!”

“Well—” Maddox falters.

Janus smiles, placing a hand over his heart, as beatific as an angel. “I’ve messed up your entire weekend, really, please.”

Maddox hesitates. And hesitates some more.

“I don’t know if I have a ton of supplies.”

“I’ll share!” Patton says happily. “Virgil always says I buy too many camping supplies anyway.”

“I’ll…” Maddox swallows, then, “I don’t know if I have the proper things—”

“Oh, Patton’s an experienced outdoorsman,” Janus says briskly. “I certainly don’t have anything. If he says he has enough supplies to cover you, he surely does.”

Maddox sighs.

“Let me go pack some clothes.”

Patton kisses him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll make sure we’ve got all the things you’ll need!”

And so Maddox goes inside to pack.

⁂

“All right, boys, pay close attention to how I tie in everything,” Patton instructs. “You’d be shocked at all the things in your life that can be helped by a well-placed, well-tied knot!”

“Uh, Dad,” one of his sons says; if solely from the color he’s wearing, a green t-shirt under a black flannel with a black handkerchief tied around his wrist, it’s Remus. “What’s Maddox doing?”

Patton glances over, then down at the boys, beaming. “Your father invited him!”

“What?!” The other twin says; white t-shirt, red flannel, red handkerchief tied to keep his hair out of his face.

“I know it’s a change in plans, but don’t worry,” Patton says brightly. “We should have everything we need, and Remus—whichever one of you is Remus,” he adds obligingly, in case they’ve double-bluffed him, “You know this trail well, we’ve gone on it before, you remember that nice, quiet lake up in the mountains? Oh, it’ll be so beautiful at this time of year, I can’t wait for you two to see it!”

The boys exchange a look.

“All right, back to the knot, now,” he says merrily. “I know you two spent eight weeks at summer camp, but I bet your old man’s still got some tricks up his sleeves!”

The boys sigh, but return their attention to Patton fastening the last of their luggage.

Once Patton ties the knot, tugging on it to demonstrate its sturdiness, he opens the door for Maddox to hop in the truck, then the back door for the boys, then hopping into the driver’s seat himself, and—

“All right, all set?” Janus says briskly, and pokes his head in through the driver’s side door, tapping at the window. “Have fun, you four!”

Patton blinks at him. “I thought we were all going?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” Janus says, turning his face up to Patton’s. “I really think you and Maddox ought to have some time alone before the big day. Plus, it gives me more time to get a solid sketch for Maddox’s wedding suit.”

“C’mon, Dad, that’s not the deal!” The green twin cries out in dismay.

“Oh, honestly,” Janus says dismissively, waving a hand at the boys. “You’ll have so much more fun without me.”

“Look, if you’re not going, I don’t have to go,” Maddox says hastily. “Trust me, I’m not exactly a big nature guy.”

“But this’ll be your chance to really get to know the boys,” Janus insists, his eyes round and shiny as marbles. “After all, after the wedding… they’re half yours.”

Wait. No. His eyes aren’t shiny. They’re glinting.

But Janus just smiles and steps back from the truck, waving. 

“Have fun, you all!”

Patton sees the twins, not quite in unison, cross their arms and scowl and roll their eyes at the world in general.

“Aw, lighten up, kids,” Patton says brightly, turning so they go down the lane. “We’ll have a great time, just the four of us bonding together!”

Weirdly, this doesn’t seem to cheer them up much. Instead, they bend their heads together, whispering in each others’ ears and starting some kind of rollicking hand-slapping game.

⁂

Well, say this for this hiking experience gone awry: it really is beautiful out here.

Roman is in constant awe of how big things are here in the states, this hiking trail being no exception; the woods sprawl as far as the eye can see (some number of miles that Papa has mentioned that Roman has not bothered attempting to calculate into proper metrics) the mountains looming huge in the sky, the trees as tall as skyscrapers. The air here is crisp and fresh; it’s sunny and breezy, meaning it’s not too hot or too cold. 

And Papa, seemingly so caught up in the whimsy and beauty of nature, is having the time of his life.

He knows a surprising amount about wildlife, which, when Roman thinks about it, isn’t too surprising; he makes his living growing grapes, it makes sense he knows a great deal about plants, and therefore a great deal about the animals around them.

Also, Papa just seems like the sort who likes all things four-legged and furry, whether they’re Sammy the dog or a cute little beaver that Papa excitedly points out as they’re near the mouth of the river at the very start of their hike.

Roman learns a lot, actually: like the state wildlife for California (grizzly bears, California red-legged frogs, California dogface butterflies, and golden orange fish for animals; California poppies for flowers, and purple needlegrass for grass), the reintroduction of the once-extinct California Condors and Humboldt Martens, and California’s native and invasive snake populations, most of which are perfectly harmless, but there’s easy ways to recognize the seven venomous ones to steer clear from.

Papa knows quite a bit about snakes, actually, which does strike Roman as odd. It doesn’t fit the furry categories most other animals of fascination have in common.

It’s really interesting, so long as he ignores the one huffing and puffing in the back.

Well. Ignoring him and, of course, arranging some tomfoolery.

They’ve arranged themselves strategically; Papa forging the way, Remus behind him, Roman blocking Maddox’s view, and Maddox trailing behind.

It’s not hard, after all, to nudge a rock in the way enough times that Maddox has to constantly keep his eyes on his absolutely impractical, if cute, shoes, to prevent twisting his ankles even more than he already has. 

Which gives Remus the cover to sabotage tree branches, which gives Roman plenty of time to trip the trapped branches to thwack back into Maddox’s face with just enough inconsistency to be startling each time.

Roman hears Maddox swear—not even remotely creatively, Remus would certainly do better—and grins to himself, watching Remus’s hand come up to his mouth, surely to stifle his own cackling.

It doesn’t take long until Papa’s distracted, having come to a complete stop, his head craned back to look up at the trees.

“Oh, wow, boys,” Papa calls in a hushed voice. “Shh, c’mere! Look, look—up in those branches!”

Roman obligingly hustles forward, falling into step beside his father as Remus takes his other side.

“Look, right there—do you see that? That pretty shade of blue, by this river?”

Roman puts a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun to see a bird—fairly big, and impressively hidden from their main sightline—a big bird with a straight bill, vibrant as a bluebird, winging from the branches down to the riverbank, flapping its great impressive wings.

“That, boys,” his father says, voice soft, “is a tricolored heron.”

Remus makes a sound of recognition; Roman tilts his head at it, then looks curiously back to his father.

Papa smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder, and nods back to it.

“These ones pretty solitary; they usually live in swamps, or by the coasts. Some other herons live by lakes.”

“There were some at camp,” Remus offers. “But I think those were great blue herons.”

Papa absentmindedly reaches over to ruffle his hair. Remus just continues staring, but he leans into the touch.

“Tricolored herons,” Papa continues, “are more common in this area of the world, but pretty rare outside it. I think they’ve been seen as far south as Brazil, almost always by oceans. I’d bet that one’s near breeding season; a male, probably, judging by that color blue, see how vibrant it is?”

“Cornflower,” Roman provides. “On the body, anyway. It’s a deeper blue near the face.”

Papa smiles at him.

“Yeah, sweetie,” he says, gently adjusting his red handkerchief back into place to keep tidy. “Like cornflower blue. That’s a great observation.”

They all stand in silence, for a while, watching the heron bob about the riverbank, eventually splashing in and diving its head down, coming up with something in its beak that it didn’t have before.

“Cool,” Remus says with relish.

“Yeah,” Papa says. “Really cool. Did you see that, Maddox? What a gorgeous bird!”

“Yes,” Maddox says, through gritted teeth, having caught up to them but standing several feet away, eyeing the nonexistent path they’d taken with some caution. “Nature is so… beautiful.”

Remus turns to smile up at Maddox. “Isn’t it just?”

Roman is the one who has to put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter then.

⁂

And so they trek along; they stop here and there for water breaks, or witnessing some of the unique flora and fauna in this region of California; once, Papa manages to peek through the trees and point out a doe and a fawn just in time for the three of them to watch them cavort about a sun-dappled valley, all of them silent, as if worried that a single word would shatter their Disney-esque sense of peace.

There is a lot of flora and fauna to be seen. Roman spots the promised California poppies, the great pops of orange against the lush green of the grass, which he’d forced Remus to take a picture of for him to paint later. He also gets to see a variety of little mammals scurrying about—squirrels and chipmunks and voles, mostly, but also the occasional little dormouse or kangaroo rat, which makes Remus coo and Maddox squeal. 

No bears or mountain lions or any of the seven venomous snakes that Papa made Remus swear up and down not to mess with, Remus, I’m serious, they could cause some really serious injury, which suits Roman just fine, but seems to make Remus pout a little whenever it’s pointed out.

They also just get to behold some gorgeous scenery: sunlight dappling through the leaves, the view from when they get high up the rocks looking down into the vast forest below, the glimmering, constantly-moving lakes and rivers. 

They make a pretty good pace, except…

“I’m gonna kill my trainer,” Maddox wheezes, plopping down onto a rock and slinging his backpack off his shoulders. “He says I’m in such great shape.”

Roman watches Remus bend down and pick up a rock the size of his fist. Roman quickly busies himself with catching up with Papa, doing something to keep himself from giggling.

“I can’t believe people actually do this for fun,” Maddox grouses.

“Hold on,” Papa says, gesturing to Roman as he’s about to buzz by. “We’re stopping.”

“Again?” Remus groans. Roman turns; Remus has done a decent job of hiding his rock of choice from any prying eyes. Instead, he’s got his Polaroid and digital cameras in hand, as if he’d been evaluating which one to use to take a picture rather than weigh Maddox down. “Pa, it’ll take us three days just to get to the lake at this rate.”

Remus, Roman has noticed, only voices this complaint when it comes to Maddox bringing them all to a halt. He hadn’t breathed a word when Roman demanded they stop for photos of the poppies.

“Maddox isn’t used to the altitude,” Papa explains patiently, for what feels like the hundredth time. “Besides, it’s nice to take our time and pause, it doesn’t have to be such a rush all the time. We probably wouldn’t have seen that neat heron if we hadn’t stopped, would we?”

Roman sighs. “I guess.”

Papa pats Roman on the shoulder. “I want to check our progress and consult my compass, anyway. How about you go grab Remus and use his camera to take a picture of something you want to sketch later?”

Roman pauses. “Erm—”

“Oh, sweetie, the jig’s up,” he says in a warm, friendly voice.

“Aw, man,” Remus says from a distance.

“I guessed on each of you before we even hit the road,” Papa says, fiddling lightly with Roman’s handkerchief. “But the heron confirmed it; Remus would know those types of birds after this camping trip, and you kind of tipped yourself off with knowing some niche color names. Your dad always knew the perfect name for any color we ever saw.”

“Aw, man,” Roman echoes, but does as his Pa says.

“If it makes you feel better,” Papa after Roman’s retreating back, “the pair of you can change on the final day before you get out of the tent and I won’t know which of you’s which for the hike back down!”

That does make Roman feel a little better, but Remus just sighs and holds out the Polaroid for Roman to take.

“I already got some wildflower pictures,” Remus says, “on my digital one” and Roman brightens.

“Thanks!” He says, and pivots to pretend to evaluate. “Let’s see… Maddox,” he says. Maddox turns to him, and Remus immediately takes his opportunity to start piling Maddox’s backpack full of stones, “what do you think I should draw?”

“Oh, what do I care,” Maddox groans. “I’m in serious pain—someone hand me my Evian—”

“Sure,” Remus says, zipping up the offending stone-filled pocket in question, then pausing.

“Excellent,” Roman hears Remus whisper, and spies Remus reach for something out of the corner of his eyes. 

Roman turns slightly to look.

And he sees a squirming lizard cupped carefully in Remus’s hands, only to find purchase on Maddox’s water bottle.

Roman puts the Polaroid in front of his mouth to hide his grin.

“Here you go, Maddy!” Remus says in a bright, friendly voice, handing over the water bottle.

Maddox unscrews the water bottle, tilts it to his mouth, and comes face-to-face with Roman’s new favorite reptile.

Roman snaps a pic.

The resultant high-pitched scream is absolutely music to Roman’s ears.

Maddox hurls the water bottle away from him and falls off of his rock entirely, screaming still; Papa moves past Roman.

“Honey, are you okay?” He says in concern. “What happened?”

“Aw,” Remus says, as sweet as he can possibly sound, carefully lifting the lizard to eye level. “Pa, look! This little guy was on his water bottle! Isn’t he cute?”

“Oh,” Papa says, sounding relieved that it wasn’t an ax-killer come barreling through the woods, from the sound of the screams. “Here, Remus, put the little fella down, he probably doesn’t want to be held that much. He won’t hurt you, Maddox, that’s a perfectly harmless little guy! I bet he’s a—”

“Ugh!” Maddox shrieks, cutting off any semblance of animal identification that might follow. “Get that thing away from me, I hate things that crawl! Ugh!”

Remus looks offended on the lizard’s behalf, but obligingly secrets the lizard out of Maddox’s sight.

He doesn’t, Roman notices, actually let him go.

“Oh—uh,” Maddox falters, making embarrassed eye contact with Papa. “I’ll be fine—just a shock—you go on, you go on ahead—”

“You’re sure?” Papa says.

“Yes, go on, keep going,” Maddox says, “I’ve just about caught my breath!” 

So Papa turns back to his bag, resuming his examination of both compass and map.

And so Papa doesn’t see Remus carefully place the lizard atop Maddox’s once perfectly coiffed hair, falling out of its precious styling with the addition of the sun’s heat and his own sweat.

“Make sure to help Maddox, boys!” Papa says, and briefly forges ahead.

“Sure, you’ll help me,” Maddox growls, pushing himself to his feet and pushing past the twins. “Right over a cliff, you’d help me.”

“Not a bad idea,” Roman mutters into Remus’s ear.

“Yeah,” Remus whispers back, “see any cliffs?”

“Need a hand, Mads?” Roman calls in his brightest voice.

“Not from you, thank you,” Maddox snarls, turning to face them again. “Don’t think I can’t see right through those excuses; I swear I will make your lives miserable from the moment I say I. Do.”

Roman crosses his arms. 

“Got it?” Maddox snarls, and pivots again to follow Papa.

“Got it,” Remus says, then, not quite so loudly, “Cruella.”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Oh nothing, nothing,” Roman says breezily, then, so quietly that Maddox would surely question if he heard it again, “Cruella.”

“Oh,” Roman says, pivoting once they’re both past him. “By the way, Mads? I think there’s something in your hair.”

And with that last rebuttal, as Maddox begins to pat at his temples with a confused look on his face, the lizard slithering forward to put a clammy toe on his forehead, Roman turns and hightails it to catch up with Papa before either of them can be blamed for any resultant screeching.

⁂

Janus excuses himself from any semblance of group activity, citing work, which is good. Virgil only kind of knows how to navigate conversation with his best friend’s ex-husband.

But then that leaves him and Logan, alone in the kitchen together.

“Erm,” Logan says. “Do you have any plans for the day?”

“No,” Virgil says, awkwardly patting the counter. “No, not really.”

“No. Me, either. Would you be open to a proposal?”

“...sure.”

“Roman will be upset he’s missed it,” Logan murmurs, then, “I think the weather today is meant to be wonderful. Would you like to go on a picnic?”

“A picnic?” Virgil blurts out.

“You’d know the most picturesque location, of course, given that you live here. We could pack a lunch, a bottle of wine…”

Logan trails off, then takes his glasses off, removing a small cloth from his shirt’s pocket to polish hem.

“You can say no, if you’d like, I wouldn’t be offended.”

His voice is very even and emotionless. 

“No!” Virgil blurts out. “I mean—No, that sounds… nice. I would like a picnic. That sounds really nice.”

Logan finishes polishing his glasses, settling his glasses on his nose. “Good! Shall we pack?”

“Okay,” Virgil says, “okay. Um—let me grab something from the cellar.”

“I’ll find lunch supplies,” Logan says, and so they part ways, only to reunite at the back door.

“After you,” Logan says, and so Virgil leads him to the stables, and the question begins to echo around Virgil’s mind.

Is he trying to ask me out on a date? he thinks, even as he introduces Logan to the wonder of petting a horse.

“This is Sprout—have you ever ridden a horse before?” Virgil asks.

“Once.”

“Are you comfortable with riding one again? She’s good for beginners; we got her for Remus when he was a kid. I can ride with you, she can take two.”

“Well—yes, riding with someone else would make me feel more comfortable. So long as you don’t laugh at me for how I attempt to mount it,” Logan says.

“I’ll help—here,” Virgil says, moving closer and offering a hand. “Just put your foot in the stirrup—”

Logan does, uncertainly, but then he takes Virgil’s hand, and Virgil helps push him the rest of the way up so that he slings a leg over Sprout, sitting astride.

“Perfect,” Virgil says. “Just like that. I wouldn’t have laughed at you at all.”

“Well, that must be a success,” Logan says. 

Virgil goes and gathers the basket, mounts Sprout sitting in front of Logan, and Logan wraps a surprisingly muscular arm around his waist.

His chest is warm against Virgil’s back.

It’s… very distracting. It’s a good thing Sprout knows the grounds so well, and she never goes into anything quicker than a canter.

“Have you lived in California long?”

“Since Remus was born,” Virgil says. “I was born and raised in Philadelphia—I met Patton when we were pretty young, he was in college and I was bouncing around looking for work…”

And so Virgil tells his life’s story; moving from east coast to west, moving in with Patton to help with Remus and the vineyard, the work he does around the house and around the fields…

Is this a date? Virgil thinks. These feel like the sort of questions one would ask a date.

“What about you?” Virgil prompts. “Have you lived in London long?” 

“All my life,” Logan says, and then he starts talking about it—raised with Janus like a brother, doing a lot of the financial, hard numbers-side of the business for the wedding outfits, living with Roman and Janus’s father to help with Roman all this time…

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Logan says as they come to a stop.

It’s field full of local Californian wildflowers; a hidden gem of the vineyard. Riots of blues and yellows and reds against the lush green grass, hidden from most of the rest of the world by a loose ring of trees.

“This is my favorite place here,” Virgil says, and he loops Sprout’s reins about a tree branch so she doesn’t run off.

Logan’s set out a picnic blanket as he does that; Virgil removes the bottle of wine (a classic Parker Knoll chardonnay) and begins to pour it into plastic cups, passing one to Logan.

“Thank you,” Logan says, accepting it, then, “oh, this smells lovely.”

“I’m pretty biased—but thanks,” Virgil says.

“Cheers,” Logan says, lifting the glass. “To you.”

Is this a date?

“To you,” Virgil echoes, and they move to touch glasses. 

But Logan’s hand brushes against his, and that does it.

“Is this a date?!”

Virgil’s words hang in the air. 

Logan blinks. “Would you like it to be?”

“Do you want it to be?” Virgil says. “It’s just—I’m very out of practice, but. Impromptu picnic… horseback riding… wildflower field… bottle of wine… touching hands…?”

Logan considers this. “I suppose it meets the metrics, doesn’t it?”

Virgil nods.

“All right,” Logan says. “It can be. Only if you’d like it to be, of course.”

“I do,” Virgil says.

Logan breaks out into a relieved smile. 

It’s dazzling. Virgil loses the very breath from his lungs at the sight of it, and he realizes that he really quite strongly wants to see that smile again.

“Good,” Logan says. “I hadn’t considered it, but I would like it to be, too.”

“Okay,” Virgil says, then pushes a hand through his hair, swallowing. “Okay. A date.”

“You say that as if it worries you.”

“Everything worries me.”

“Surely not everything.”

Virgil snorts. “I promise if there’s a thing happening, I can find a way to worry about it. All the psychologists and psychiatrists I’ve ever had say so.”

Logan considers this. “Would establishing clear parameters help? In terms of expectations and potential outcomes.”

“Probably,” Virgil says, which he thinks is the nicest way to say sure, it’ll help some, but I’m going to be anxious about this regardless of how often I’m reassured.

“For me too,” Logan admits. “I was never much of a dater. I have very little grasp on how this sort of thing normally goes.”

“Our situation’s not exactly normal, either,” Virgil points out. “I’m your cousin-once-removed’s caretaker…”

“And I’m your ward’s cousin-once-removed,” Logan says. 

“No mutual friends who intended to set us up, no lonely hearts ad, no speed-dating conference…”

“Just the matter of my cousin’s divorce,” Logan says.

“Yeah,” Virgil says with a big sigh. “That.” 

“Salient points. All right, I suppose it’s time we consider this carefully,” Logan says. “Firstly, if we do indulge in potentially delightful things, and neither of us enjoy it, I suppose we’ll have to suffer a very awkward walk back up to the house and then pretend to find other things to do, at which point we’ll reconvene for dinner and then depart for separate continents shortly after.”

“Only a little painful,” Virgil allows.

“Rather minor hits to the ego, yes, but ultimately survivable,” Logan says. “Then, if we do do those very delightful things and we both enjoy it, then we both enjoy a couple days spent in another man’s company, with the potential to see each other again, considering each of us has a young charge who must be trotted between continents to see each other.”

“Hm,” Virgil allows.

“Not necessarily a deeply romantic long-distance relationship, if we don’t like,” Logan says, scrupulously casual. “Perhaps just a…”

Virgil arches his eyebrows. “An occasional romp in the sheets?”

Logan flushes. “I was going to say mutually-enjoyed dalliance.”

“Oh—yes,” Virgil says, his cheeks heating. “That works as well.”

“We can. Erm. Revisit that proposal.”

“Oh?”

“Perhaps we should start with a kiss first,” Logan says. “Our options are, as discussed—mutual, brief embarrassment; mutual, brief enjoyment; mutual enjoyment that could have the potential to be discussed to be not quite as brief.”

Virgil considers this. He can’t really find a hole in this proposal. So long as Logan keeps to his word—and he seems like the sort who would—the worst of it really is just a little embarrassment. And Virgil gets embarrassed all the time. He can barely check out at the grocery store without getting embarrassed that he’s doing something the wrong way.

With the concept of something so promising… And Logan really is quite handsome…

“Whichever way you consider it,” Logan continues. “I do believe we have nothing to lose.”

“Well,” Virgil says, his voice gone much huskier than normal. “I certainly can’t argue with that logic.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t,” Logan says, and he leans in and kisses him.

He moves gently and gingerly, as if he’s a little nervous even after all that discussion of the logical thing to do; Virgil certainly can’t blame him, he’s got his hands fisted in his lap to keep from doing anything too improper.

Logan’s tongue brushes against his bottom lip before he pulls back.

“All right?” He murmurs very quietly.

“All right,” Virgil says breathlessly, and they come eagerly back together, and he is no longer worried about propriety, not with the promising hint of tongues and hands and Logan’s body pressed to his…

And so Virgil kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him…

⁂

Roman makes his excuse to step aside as Remus spends a lot of time distracting Pa with questions about potential invasive species they should be worried about. It’s almost too easy, really.

But that provides a fair bit of cover as Pa talks about various fish and plant and bird species that might cause various problems, and the more he talks about various fish and plant and bird species that might cause various problems, the less time he has to notice that Roman is off causing various problems.

Roman slips back at Remus’s side, beholding the lake before them.

“All good?” Pa says, glancing at them.

“Yep!” Roman says brightly.

“Did you do it?” Remus mutters into his ear.

In answer, Roman slips a small piece of sandpaper out of his pocket for Remus to see, then quickly replaces it so no one else will.

“I did the mountain lion stick thing too,” he breathes out, pretending to busy himself with checking his fishing line.

Remus grins. Excellent.

“All right, boys, worms on hooks?”

“Yep!”

Pa glances over at the tent.

“Maddox?” He calls out.

Maddox pokes his head out, looking very uncalm.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Pa says. “We’re fishing for dinner!”

“Fishing?” Maddox says. “With worms?!”

“Yep!” Pa says cheerfully. “Should be a lot of trout this time of year.”

Maddox’s eyes go to the twins and, surely imagining what they could do with a canister of unsupervised worms, calls “I’ll spectate!” and quickly reaches for a pair of shoes.

From Roman’s quietly hissed yessss, they’re the ones Roman’s just spent filing away the soles.

“Okay, boys, let’s cast our lines before Maddox gets here,” Patton says. “You always want to look back, to make sure no one’s caught on your hook—here, you two space out, that might get a bit messy later.”

The twins obligingly shuffle apart.

“And back,” Patton says, demonstrating with his own pole, “and… cast!”

Remus and Roman watch their kid-friendly bobbers land gently in the water.

“Good one,” Remus says, “yours got out pretty—”

“OH!”

The Parkers (and James) turn at the abrupt sound.

“Oh, Maddox!” Pa cries out, taking in the scene. “Maddox, are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” Maddox says, teeth gritted, from where he’s landed sprawled in the dirt. He, slowly, gets to his feet. “Must have slipped. Um… I’ll just sit right here.”

And he sits on the rocks right next to the canister of worms, giving them a deeply disgusted look.

Roman and Remus snicker together.

And that’s how their afternoon goes: Maddox, keeping a wary eye on the worms and therefore missing the tiny seashells that Remus sneaks into his pockets for the sole purpose of sticking into his shoes to make them even more uncomfortable; Patton, patiently walking them through the finer arts of fishing; and Roman and Remus, each trying their very best to taunt fish into coming to bite by waggling their poles to and fro to make the bait dance appealingly under the water.

And all the while, whenever Maddox seems to try to get up, he slips and falls on the slightly slicker rocks by the lake.

It’s a lovely way to spend time, Remus thinks, even as Maddox manages to make his way over to Pa, to press his reddened lips against his jaw and murmur in his ear.

Pa squeezes Maddox’s waist comfortingly.

“Papa!” Roman cries. “Papa, I think I’ve got a big one!”

“Oh—coming, sweetie!” Pa pats Maddox’s shoulder before he splashes through the shallows to come help Roman haul a fish to the surface; Roman, straining, looks grateful for Pa’s help to pull it to the surface.

Maddox, seeming to realize that he’s left both Remus and the worms unsupervised, takes one step. Two.

Then he yelps and falls, yet again, right on his ass.

But this time, he manages to land in the muddy banks of the lake.

Remus buries his face in his flannel sleeves before he loses it entirely.

⁂

There is something so soothing to Remus’s animal hindbrain about sitting in front of a crackling bonfire, warmed by it as the lakeside night air cools rapidly around them, huddled in a hoodie alongside his brother, and eating something he’s caught and killed.

And also to see the abject, absolute misery on Maddox’s face as he sits, scowling at them, wrapped up in the itchiest blanket that Pa’s brought. That’s pretty soothing too.

“Here we are, fellas,” Pa declares, approaching with an armful of sticks and branches, “this ought to hold us for a while.”

He tosses a thicker branch onto the fire, poking it into place with a stick, before he settles alongside Maddox.

“You sure you don’t want any trout, Daddox?” Remus says, then, “I hope that’s okay, by the way, if I start testing out dad-type nicknames with you.”

“I think your Dad would prefer if you called me Maddox,” he says pointedly. “And no, thank you. I do not eat trout. For the thousandth time.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Pa says, sounding genuinely contrite. “You liked salmon and tilapia, I just assumed seafood would be a go…”

“I will wait for breakfast,” Maddox says. “What are we having?”

“Trout!” Remus and Roman chorus together, in their most annoying voice.

Maddox lets out a great, frustrated sigh, then slaps at his wrist, missing the buzzing bug.

“I’ve got a protein bar, I think, if you’d like—the trout’s part of the experience,” Pa says.

“Mm, and what’s the other part?” Maddox snaps, getting out the bottle the twins had planted in his pack. “Being eaten alive by mosquitos?!”

“Let me see what you’re using,” Pa says, holding out a hand, and Maddox passes it over then grumpily scratches at the bug bites on his legs.

Pa sniffs it, then, frowning, dabs out a bit of the solution onto his wrist, touching his tongue to it.

“Well, you’ll attract every bug in the state with this stuff,” Pa says. “It’s sugar and water, where’d you get it?”

Maddox glowers at the twins.

“Oh, is that where that went?” Remus says cheerfully. “I saw the idea in a magazine, Pa, sugar-water for your instant coffee in the morning.”

Pa levels a stern look over at him. 

“In a bottle with a dropper?”

Remus just smiles.

“That’s it,” Maddox declares, throwing off the blanket in a huff. “I am taking one large sleeping pill and going to bed.”

Then Maddox gets up and picks up two sticks from the firewood. 

And then he starts clacking them together, leveling an anxious look to the darkness of the woods, where positively anything could jump out at them.

He fell for it, Remus thought gleefully. I can’t believe it, he fell for it—

“Uh, honey,” Pa says. “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t want the mountain lions to—”

But then Maddox falls quiet. Remus snorts around a mouthful of trout.

“There aren’t,” Maddox says, practically gnashing his teeth, “any mountain lions up here. Are there.”

“...No.”

Maddox contemptuously casts the sticks aside. 

He promptly cups Pa’s face in his hands, bends down, and tries to suck the very life out of his mouth, clinging to him like some kind of lousy, lusty octopus.

Remus grimaces at Roman, who looks similarly repulsed.

Pa awkwardly clears his throat, smearing a hand over his stubble, before he sets aside the trout and gives the boys an unsmiling look.

“Boys,” he says. “Those were a couple of unkind tricks to pull. Sugar water? Mountain lions?”

Ah, so he hasn't caught on to all the other ones, Remus thinks. Good.

Pa continues, “I’m not marrying him because he’s Annie Oakley.”

Roman blinks. “Who’s Annie Oakley?”

“This isn’t his thing,” Pa says. “You don’t have to make it harder for him. I know that tricks like this are sometimes the way you show affection, Remus, but he doesn’t know you like I do. Just… cool it. Okay?”

The boys exchange a look.

“Okay,” Remus says. Roman’s staring down at his dinner plate. Remus copies him, trying to seem properly repentant. He looks up just enough to see Pa chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“This is going to spoil that talking-to,” he admits.

“No, no, it won’t spoil it,” Remus says hastily. “You were very effective. Practically harsh, even. I feel real chastened.”

“Yes, definitely,” Roman says. “We’ve been told.”

A grin splits Pa’s face. “Who wants some s’mores?”

“Me! Me!” The boys cry out, and so they set aside the issue of Maddox entirely to enjoy their fire-roasted sweets.

⁂

“Okay,” Remus says. “We have to do something tonight. Something big. Maddox said he’s taking a sleeping pill; that give us a lot of ammo.”

Roman hesitates, scratching a fingernail against the artificial material of their tent.

“I’m not sure about this,” Roman admits. “Do you think Papa will get very angry?”

“Pa? He doesn’t really get mad.”

“He might,” Roman says anxiously. “He seemed upset when he caught us at it.”

“Okay, well,” Remus says. “Think about it. Which is more likely to make him upset? Us pulling a couple measly little tricks, or getting trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who’s only with him for his money, who’s bound to start trying to ship us off to military boarding school in Sweden or some crap, and getting Virgil to move out, which means Pa is going to be all alone with him and powerless to do anything, because he still thinks he loves him?!”

Roman’s face has gone paler and paler, while Remus feels himself getting madder and madder.

“And,” Remus pushes, “all the while, Dad is single and standing there as the worst the one that got away ever? Which one would make him more upset, Roman?! I think the tricks are pretty small fry compared to that!”

Roman sets his jaw. Remus meets Roman’s eyes, which have gone flinty and cold.

“Give me every awful idea you’ve got.”

And, gleefully unfurling the pages of his notepad, Remus does.

⁂

It’s very easy for Janus to get lost in his work.

The idea for a design there, a decent surface for him to doodle here, and suddenly hours have slipped away from him. 

Being in his ex-husband’s house apparently does not quell that urge.

Janus stands, stretching out his arms and wrists, wandering from his office into the hall.

“Hello?” He calls. “Hello, anyone home? Are you back yet?”

His voice echoes down the way; Janus pivots to examine the (surprisingly modern) tastefully decorated living room.

“Logan?” Janus calls. “Virgil?”

Still nothing. He goes, then, to the kitchen, where Logan’s spare glasses cloth is still waiting.

Clutter. Left on a counter. If Logan were here, it would be unheard of.

So he isn’t.

Logan, swept away on a date. For hours and hours.

“Unbelievable,” Janus mutters, and goes about scrounging for dinner.

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter