#and Pokey is very proud of himself

[heart-aflame]

The Lords in Black decide to practice a dance Pokey made inside the Waylon house, and Grace stumbles across them doing that and leaves more confused than when she came in. She's starting to think it's better if she stopped going in there, since things keep happening whenever she's in the building.

[admiralackbarssugarbaby]

smoke break

Pairing: Dio Morrissey x Shiv (Pu-239)

Summary: Shiv gets Dio a gift.

Rating: M

Contents/Warnings: fluff, 1 pet name used twice, kissing, tiniest allusion to sex, this is set in some vague nebulous time and place… don’t think about it too hard.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is for @morallyinept 's Flora & Fauna Challenge, which you can find the masterlist for here! I was reading through the Pu-239 fics on AO3 the other day, one of which featured these two, and they wouldn’t leave me alone after that. There is a bonus full moodboard at the bottom of the fic because I couldn’t resist!!

Enjoy! Feel free to let me know what you think. :D

When Shiv unlocks the door to their apartment, Dio is seated in his usual spot on the worn leather couch, booted feet propped up on the coffee table. He doesn’t look up at Shiv’s entrance, continuing to scroll through his phone.

This had become a common scene over the past year, and Shiv couldn’t be more glad for it.

“Are you going to continue gawking from the doorway like a fool, or are you going to come in?”

Despite the harsh needling, Shiv cracks a wide grin. He kicks the door closed. With one hand, he tosses his keys down on the coffee table, while he holds his other behind his back.

“Baby, I got something for you.”

Dio looks at up at him then, trying to feign disinterest. Still, Shiv knows he can’t resist the allure of a surprise.

“Close your eyes. Hold out your hand.”

Dio betrays himself with how quick he is to drop his phone onto the seat beside him and follow the orders. His tight black t-shirt bunches across his shoulders and chest and he holds out his open palm. Shiv notices the hole right below the collar of Dio’s shirt that means it’s actually his. The thought of all the points at which the two of them blend together warms something in Shiv’s chest and he hesitates in handing Dio his gift.

Dio cracks an eye open, wondering what’s happening. Shiv barks out a laugh at that.

“Aht! Eyes closed!”

Dio shuts his eye again, the ghost of a smile turning up the edge of his mouth.

“Impatient!” Even still, Shiv quickly places what he brought home into Dio’s hand.

Dio’s eyebrows furrow at the weight of what he’s been handed. He opens his eyes once more, blinking at the sight before him.

“What’s this?”

“It is cactus. It is pokey. Like someone else I know.”

Dio rolls his eyes, but cradles the little potted plant in both hands. He turns it back and forth, admiring how the colors of the leaves change from green at the very base of the plant to a deep purple-black. A couple of them are bent or missing but the plant is still pretty. The pot itself is plain. Grey ceramic, but purposefully roughened and chipped, to mimic the texture of broken concrete.

“Where did you get this, anyway?”

“Hardware store. Was on sale!” Shiv boasts, squaring his shoulders. Surely Dio had to be proud of his ability to find something cool for a bargain.

Dio gives Shiv a look as he toes off his shoes and flops down on the couch next to him.

“Where are we gonna put this thing?”

At that question, Shiv pouts a little, shoulders drooping. “I thought you might like it for… for the color. But I can take it back…” He goes to reach for the plant, but Dio pulls it back out of his reach.

“No, it’s mine.” Shiv cocks a brow at him, and Dio begins to feel the heat of embarrassment prickle at the back of his neck. “I never said I didn’t like it. I simply asked where to put it.”

They both consider the room a moment. Their dingy little apartment wasn’t very conducive to supporting plant life. Still, there was one window at the side of the living room that let in a decent amount of light for most of the day. The sill was home to a couple crystals and an incense burner in the shape of a dragon. Shiv seemed to consider it first, gently taking the little succulent with him over to the window. He rearranges what is already there, being sure that the crystals would still catch the light at the same time the plant did, and that the dragon was faced away from the floral addition. That way the smoke that would come billowing from the dragon’s mouth wouldn’t hit the plant when one of them were inevitably dumb enough to forget and light it.

Dio watches as Shiv carefully shuffles things around at the window. For as tough as he liked to make himself seem, Shiv was a gooey ball of feelings wrapped in a red leather jacket. He played fast and loose with his own safety sometimes, but he always took care of Dio’s things, and Dio himself, and just the thought of that made Dio’s heart flutter.

“There!” Shiv turns and sweeps a hand out to display his work. Suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed, Dio can’t help but smile and Shiv quickly rejoins him on the couch. He sits a little closer this time, leaning over to butt his head into Dio’s shoulder. Dio nudges him in return.

They’re both quiet a moment, before Dio shifts a little, turning to face the other. Shiv lifts his head at the movement, brows drawn together in question. Dio lifts a hand, tracing his fingers over the line of Shiv’s jaw, catching on the hint of stubble that had shown up since he shaved yesterday. Shiv’s long, dark eyelashes flutter at the feeling.

He leans into Dio’s touch, murmuring a quiet “Baby…”, which Dio hushes gently before leaning close to press their mouths together.

Despite being rather chaste, the feeling is like electricity running down Shiv’s spine, a moan ripping from loose from his chest near instantaneously. He grabs a fistful of the shirt that Dio wears, wrapping the other hand around the back of Dio’s neck.

Shiv swipes his tongue out against Dio’s lips. Dio’s quick to reciprocate, humming when their tongues slide against each other.

They stay locked together until the need for air wins out, then they part, panting. Shiv rests his forehead against Dio’s own. He gives Dio’s neck a squeeze before sliding his hand over to cradle the other’s jaw. He thumbs at the black earring danging from Dio’s earlobe.

He seems to startle a little when he realizes how tight he’s gripping the shirt fabric in his other fist. He pulles back a little, letting go of the shirt, and smoothing it back down against Dio’s chest. Shiv scoffs along with the action, amused at his own thoughts, which slip out unbidden at the end of his sharp laughter.

“I like seeing you wear my shirt.”

The comment strokes at Dio’s ego in just the right way, and he smirks, pressing closer to the hand still on his chest.

“But, you would look much better without it.”

Dio is caught off guard and any thought of further seduction cracks under the awful, incredible pick-up line. He tosses his head with a laugh, which turns into a startled yelp as Shiv lunges at him, pressing his warm mouth to the exposed column of Dio’s throat. Shiv presses Dio further down into the couch, wood and leather squeaking with their movements. They continue to giggle, even as more and more sighs and moans get mixed into the noise, the small apartment becoming filled with the sounds of joy and pleasure.

…

Dio never actually says “thank you”. Even though some of his rough edges have been filed down since they met, as hard to believe as it is at times, vocalizing basic manners is something Dio still struggles with. Instead, he shows his gratitude in other ways.

This time it manifests a couple days later when, much to Shiv’s delight, a bunch of red and black roses, a half dozen each, appear on the windowsill in a crystal vase next to the succulent.

Dio can be just as prickly as the plant that he had been gifted, but Shiv thinks his spines are just as much a ruse for Dio as they are for the cactus. With just a little digging, he is pure sweetness beneath the surface.

They really are two peas in a pod.

...

[amazingmsme]

your lib hcs were so good omg, do you have any for them as lees? i so need wiggly to be absolutely WRECKED, he’s so cocky and self important all the time, he needs to be taken down a peg fr. plus the fact that he made tickling his whole thing is so perfect for teasing.. “if you don’t enjoy this, why did you make it a part of your brand? it’s like you were thinking about it, like you wanted it!”

OKAY U GAVE US LER!THE LORDS IN BLACK HCS.

…we need the lee! Hcs now 👁👁 /j/nf

Do you have any lee headcanons for the Lords in Black?

Back by popular demand, it’s the lords lees in black! You’ve heard of tickle monsters, now get ready for tickled monsters! Again, this got p long so gonna put it under the cut

All the libs blush their respective colors

Based off the doll designs, all of their tummies are fuzzy & a different color than the rest of their fur, so they’re all pretty ticklish there, some more than others 😉

Pokey

He’s one of the more fun & “chill” lords, so it’s not much of a surprise that he just kinda rolls over & lets his bros wreck his shit

He thinks it’s fun & enjoys the feeling itself as well as the feeling of laughing freely

He has deep, rich laugh that sounds like pure joy itself. If you get him really laughing it can legit shake the room

Because the hivemind is tuned in to him, they know exactly when he’s in a lee mood. They coordinate their attack & take turns tickling him & he lets it happen because he promised them happiness & world peace & if this is what they wanna do he won’t stop them!

His most ticklish spots are his neck & belly because those muscles are most associated with singing (vocal cords & diaphragm) & ribs since they cage the lungs. Oh, & ears. I may be tickle trash, but I try to have some kind of reasoning behind why I headcanon characters as being ticklish certain places

I think Tinky & Wiggly are the ones who tickle him the most because they both have bully energy

Blinky

Funny how they just love watching other people get their shit wrecked but when it’s HIS turn he’s covering his face out of embarrassment

Arguably the most flustered, but Wiggly gives him a run for his money, he’s just more angy about it

Absolutely no idea why, but I’m getting ticklish hands vibes. Probably the long sleeves over the hands

Watcher with a thousand eyes=eyes in the back of his head=ticklish scalp? 👀👀👀

Has a really cute high pitched giggle that’s very bubbly

The shiny leggings & boots draw a lot of attention to the lower body, & it makes me think his worst spots are his hips, knees & feet. & the baggy hoodie makes me feel like his armpits are also up there

Tinky

This unhinged goatman constantly has to be put in his place by his brothers & tickling is the best (& easiest) way to do so

He absolutely provokes them to wreck his shit because he thinks it’s so much fun & he loves to laugh & be silly & make. & he always feels so proud of himself to dragging the rest of them down to “his level” but then they immediately make him regret it… then he does it again an hour later

Very open about how much he loves it, but still gets embarrassed when his brothers tease him about it

He has hooves instead of feet, & if you were to try to buff them up or polish them he’d be such a giggly snorting mess

He has a shrill, hysterical cackle like how he laughs in The Summoning

He has a lil goat tail & if you scratch at the small of his back he arches away with the loudest screech you’ve ever heard

His most ticklish spots are his ears/neck, thighs & knees, & hooves if you use a rough enough touch

His ears are super soft & velvety & if you rub them between your fingers he can’t stop snorting between giggles

Tickling makes him so hyper & excited & his bros have to work extra hard to tide him out

Nibbly

Besides Tinky, he is the happiest & most playful of the lib & always has that classic wide grin plastered on his face. & he has a bright, joyous laugh to match!

Because he has such a big mouth, his laugh is really loud & bombastic. He also has a really cute giggle that’s sweet as honey

Gets really flustered if you use his own techniques & teases against him

Can’t stand tickle bites or raspberries despite how much he loves to dish them out

The fluffy arm sleeves really got me thinking about how it probably tickles him on accident when he moves, especially around his armpits

Even when he’s not tickled, he’s just very giggly

Since his whole thing is eating, his tummy is one of his worst spots. Also his thighs, sides & armpits

Wiggly

What you’ve all been waiting for tbh, am I right?

Biggest fucking lee out of all the lib but is in such hard denial mode. The Tickle Me Wiggly doll was the first step to acceptance & he keeps trying to make excuses for why he chose the name

Like it absolutely could’ve been just a Wiggly doll, no tickling required but he made his choice & stuck with it

Keeps insisting he had to make something unassuming & innocent & all his bros are just like mmmmhmmmm 😏

He’s sooo easy to fluster but be careful, he gets mad when he’s embarrassed. Not his usual scary levels of anger but def pissy

Even tho he loves it he will always try to run away. Gotta keep up appearances

His laugh is shrill & borders on cackling. Sometimes it’s giggly & bouncy & broken up by hiccups like in the middle of Made in America

A very jittery & nervous lee. He laughs in anticipation & curls in on himself & tries to talk himself out of the situation he absolutely put himself in

All of the lords wreck his shit on a regular basis because it’s the only way they can knock him down a peg

Most ticklish spots are of course his belly well, ribs, feet & knees, but he’s basically a walking tickle spot

Hands down the most ticklish out of all the lords in black

Swears up a storm & when tickled. Also some pretty severe sounding threats that he’d never actually carry out

[hoffmans-hoffman]

Sergio Alvarez(McGarry)

Name: Sergio Corazón De Oro Alvarez(Later McGarry)

Nickname: Pokey 2.0(Andrea Wyatt), Poindexter(Josh Lyman), Sad puppy(Jackson Pax), Son/Kid(Leo McGarry), Baby Brother/Little Bro(Mallory O'Brien)

Gender: Male, He/They

Occupation: Journalist, occupational hazard for Jackson Pax, Cheer leader for CJ and Danny

Religion: Ex Roman Catholic, Ex Jewish, Currently Atheist(All three have a short storyline)

First appearance: Pilot

Last appearance: Tomorrow

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

Ones True Self

Sergio very early in season one learns about his biological father's past learning his biological father was a thief. This makes him feel like he may turn into his father, though never really knowing his father. He spirals and his best friend Jackson Pax makes time to talk with Sergio about the ongoing story a different journalist is plotting to get Sergio removed from the White House but with the help of CJ Cregg the story is snuffed out.

Adoption and Mental Health

Sergio at the start of season three is adopted by Leo McGarry as their father and son bond is strong, Leo gave this surprise on Sergio's birthday. Though very excited that he'll be a part of a good family, he tries to be Roman Catholic but some of his views points do not follow that religion. So after a few months of emotion and spiritual stress he and Leo have a very long and emotional conversation about how Sergio needs to find what's best for him not to try to do something that he thinks would just make Leo proud.

The Fist Fight

When he, Donna, Josh and Toby are stuck/lost, he and Toby talking about religion and he started to think Judaism may be the best religion for him. Toby on the other hand doesn't think that Sergio's religious choice should be in a spur of the choice this leads to a poor attempt of them getting into a fist fight causing Sergio to miss a call from Sam Seaborn.

It is later when they are in the bar, Sergio listens to Sam's voicemail -

“Jackson is gone...he...he, he's dead...I tried Toby and Josh but they didn't answer...I just please call me when you get a chance...„ Sam's voice was full of emotion in the voicemail...Sergio turns his head about call over Josh and Toby but stops himself and calls Sam back as he headed outside

The Loss of Jackson Pax

Sergio's newspaper wants him to write a story about Jackson Pax's untimely passing. Sergio writes drafts and drafts of articles and he hates every single one of them. He asks Danny Concannon for help with how to write the memorial article but it is ultimately CJ Cregg who truly helps Sergio out.

The loss of Leo McGarry

Sergio loses his phone and is uninformed of Leo's heart attack for most of the day. He doesn't get to see Leo in the hospital at all, he finds his phone and calls Molly and is told that Leo is gone. He lets his anger over take him in that moment and he hangs up and screams, just screams so loud that his neighbors call the police.

[mysticraven20]

Destiny - Chapter 12

@adrinetteapril

[Prompt 27: Ring]

“So, little black mole rat, you’re telling me that I put this ring on and I’ll transform into a superhero?” Adrien placed a hand to his head, “what the hell did I drink last night?”

The little black … what did he call himself? A korma? No that’s not right, a kwami? Yeah, kwami. This little black kwami had appeared from nowhere, trying to get him to put on a black ring and say some sort of ‘abracadabra’ spell. A ring which apparently held the unlimited power of destruction.

If he didn’t know whether he was going insane or just received his first load of luck in a year. What a day!

“I am not a mole rat, and I’m actually quite offended by that.”

Adrien held out his palm allowing the kwami to place the ring down in it. He studied it, noticing the paw print on the crown of the ring.

“A cat?”

“No shit Sherlock,” the kwami said, rolling his eyes.

“So I’ll turn into a cat? Will I be like Black Panther … you know, undeniably awesome?”

“That depends, do you still pun?”

“Never stopped.”

“Then no.”

Adrien sulked, running his thumb over the small piece of metal. This tiny thing could change his life, but did he want the responsibility? There was a lot going on in his life at the moment and he didn’t know how this would fit in.

“Do you have a name?” Adrien asked.

“I do.”

“And would you like to share it with the class?”

The kwami smirked and Adrien couldn’t help being a little freaked out by the shift in the kwami’s mood.

“Well you're different … I like it.” The black floating blob began to cackle as he flew around Adrien’s dorm room. Thank God everyone had gone to their classes, this was definitely something he couldn’t explain. “The names Plagg, and I like cheese, I also hate your father but enough of that.”

“Guys an asshole, not many people do like him.”

Plagg’s mouth gaped open, his small mouth moving up and down. “So … you don’t do everything he asks?”

“Within reason I do, but at the moment I’m choosing to ignore him which is going to piss him off and probably cause him to storm my room in the next hour if he can be bothered to leave his office.”

“Well done kid, you’ve grown some balls, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, I think …” Why was he having such a natural conversation with this ‘thing’? It was almost as though he’d known it for years, like that had some deep down bond. Maybe he’d passed out somewhere? After all, he had asked Marinette out on a date, that was a big deal and could easily cause him to hyperventilate.

“Okay, here’s the low down.”

“You’re quite hip for someone who’s thousands of years old.” Adrien said, a smile on his lips.

“What can I say? My last holder was a very cool kid. Anyway, the world is in need of the ladybug and cat miraculous holders. There’s a villain out there that has activated the butterfly miraculous and it’s up to you two to stop them. You can destroy things and your ladybug can create them. You’re two halves of a whole -“

“Hold up?” Adrien stopped the kwami in mid rant. “Two halves of a whole? Like soulmates?”

“Oh, yes! You’re definitely that.” Plagg laughed, floating over to Adrien’s mini fridge and phasing inside. “Good to see you like cheese kid.” The muffled sound came from inside the fridge before the door unlocked and the kwami came out carrying a couple of pieces of Camembert.

“So I’m meant to be romantically linked to this person?”

“Sure,” Plagg said, tossing the cheese in the air before swallowing it whole.

Adrien looked at the kwami horrified. “That’s not how you treat that kind of cheese.”

Plagg repeated the action with his second piece “Sue me,” he said, grinning up at Adrien. “If you want to be a hero you need to feed me cheese.”

“But it’s so expensive.”

“You’re rich, you can handle it, by the way what’s up with this pokey room? Where’s the climbing wall, and the skate ramp?”

Adrien couldn’t quite get to grips with what was happening. How the hell did this kwami know so much about him? About his life?

“My parents are rich, I’m just trying to be normal.”

“Pfft, try all you want kid, you’ll never be normal.”

“Thanks for the boost of confidence. So about this ladybug person?”

“Oh yes,” Plagg continued, “you work as yin and Yang, you balance each other out and one can’t be active without the other. Once a millennia a perfect pairing comes along, and surprise, you’re part of it.”

“But I have a girlfriend - well, not a girlfriend yet but we’re arranging a date and I’m quite sure I love her … so you know … maybe I’m not the right guy for this.”

“You’re the only guy for this,” Plagg said, his face exasperated. “Whoever this girl is will have nothing on your partner. She’s everything you could ever want.”

“Ha! Not going to happen! Nothing can beat my girl. She’s perfect.”

Adrien looked curiously as Plagg flew in circles mumbling something about still not having a brain and here they go again, along with something about a never ending square.

“Let me guess, blonde.” Plagg said, rolling his eyes.

“Nope,” Adrien threw the ring in the air before catching it and repeating.

“Red head?”

“Nope.”

“Model?”

“Hell no!”

“Black hair?” Plagg asked the question tentatively, looking at Adrien with one eyebrow raised and a lot of interest plastered over his face.

“Oh yes, wonderful gorgeous raven hair,” Adrien sighed out dreamily.

“Does she fence?”

“She probably could if she wanted to, but she’s quite clumsy so I could see that failing quickly. I used to date a girl with black hair who fenced though. She was cool, we’re still good friends.”

“Good friends? Or just friends?” Plagg asked, eyebrow raised.

“G-good friends? Why? Does it make a difference?”

“You have no idea!”

The kwami, sorry Plagg, moved closer to Adrien, looking him in the eye. The little dude was being quite freaky.

“Okay then, does she have blue eyes?” Suddenly, Plagg sounded hopeful.

“Like a bluebell.”

“Short?”

“Fits perfectly under my chin.” Adrien remembered how they’d danced together. How perfect Marinette had slotted against his body.

“Creative?”

“Oh yes, and practical, she fixed her sofa by herself after I’d broken it.”

“You broke her sofa?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Gutted I missed it.” Plagg laughed.

“She’s beautiful, and confident. She’s forgiving and caring and … her eyes, and her hair and …”

“Okay, lover boy, I don’t need anymore information. I get you’re crazy for this girl.”

“I am,” Adrien smiled. “She told me last night that she likes me too.”

“Such a sap!”

Adrien smiled at the kwami, holding up the ring once more and watching the sun coming through the window and glinting off it. He pursed his lips in consideration.

“You sure there’s no one else who could control this power?” Adrien asked, sudden fear overpowering him as he poised the ring on the tip of his finger.

“Once in a millennium kid.”

Adrien nodded, watching the band slide down his finger and change colour to a startling silver. It felt good … no, good wasn’t the right word for this sudden absorption of power. It felt great.

“Will I need a super name?”

“Most certainly! You’ll become a black cat … so you know …”

“Yes I do! Night Feline!” Adrien stood up and punched into the air.

“What?” Plagg squealed, “hell no!”

“The panther,”

“No.”

“The Jaguar.”

“You’re not even trying now.”

Adrien began to pace his room. A black cat name … the name of a cat that’s black …

“Black cat, no! She’s in Spider-Man. Black Panther - Marvel, Cat Black? No. Black cat? Rubbish. Cat - cat - cat -“ he began to click his fingers growing ever impatient with himself as he tried to find the right name.

“Noir Cat?” Plagg threw in.

“Noir Cat? Hummm… not bad! Cat - cat - cat … I’ve got it.”

He turned to look at Plagg, his eyes wide and a smile plastered on his face.

“What’s your name then kid?”

“Catwalker. Because, you know, I walk down the catwalk.” Just in case Plagg didn’t know, Adrien commenced into his best model walk, moving up and down his room before striking a pose in front of the mirror.

Plagg hit a little flipper/fin/hand thing to his head, a groan leaving his mouth. “No, no, nope!”

“How about you transform my costume into white and I become a white cat and I can be called Chat Bl-“ Plagg flew forward, placing a flipper/fin/hand thing to Adrien’s mouth. Restricting those words from leaving.

“I refuse to turn white, not going to happen, nope, black, black, black.”

Grabbing Plagg by the waist he pulled him away. “Fine. How about Chat Noir?”

Plagg’s smile was the only answer he needed.

“Welcome to the World of the Miraculous, Chat Noir.”

[dobbyjen]

Tiny Dancer

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader 

Rating: M

Word Count: 1900

Warnings: some swearing, kisses, a tad of drinking, cute dad Frankie 

Summary: Frankie comes home just in time for his daughter’s dance recital

A/N: So I’ve never written a fic before so this is my first one. Grammar and all that crap is probably wrong but whatever. I am no writer at all. If anyone does read it please be nice. It was just a cute little idea that popped into my head because the world needs more dad Frankie fics. Might write something else in the future in this universe if anyone reads this. 

__________________________________________________________

“Mommy when daddy come?” your 3 year old pouts as you help her into her ballet outfit. You sigh and grab the 2 fuzzy yellow scrunchies off the bathroom counter and start parting her hair into two.

“I’m not sure Franny.” she frowns even more and wiggles are head out of your hands.

“I wike daddy do hair!” she screams and stomps her foot onto the bathroom tiles. You groan as you look into her teary big brown eyes. Frankie’s eyes. Frankie has been gone for 6 days and it was getting alot harder to deal with the mini Frankie. Francesca Morales was the splitting image of her father. Looks and personality wise. And she was the BIGGEST daddy’s girl. She’d been wrapped around his finger the second she came out. 

“Daddy should be home soon and then you can show him pictures of how beautiful you look today.” her frown gets a tad smaller and she scoots back in between your legs for you to do her hair. “Maybe if you do your pretty toes so well we can get a treat after the recital?” you barely have time to tighten the last scrunchie as she whips around and crushes your neck into a hug.

“Yay mommy! Get pupcakes?! I so good at pwetty toes!” she skips around the bathroom practicing her pretty toes as you finish packing her little purple dinosaur backpack.

“Of course princess. Let’s get going before we’re late.”

__________________________________________________________

“Frankie you said you were done with this shit! I’m going to personality kick Pope’s ass.” you huff as you plop down on the bed. Frankie sighs and comes over, bending between you legs.

“It will be 3 days...max babe. We need the money. I’m doing this for you and Francesca.”

“Frankie...i swear to god if you don’t come home...i...i don’t know...”

“Hey hey hey everything is gonna be okay. Pope said there’s no way this can go wrong. It’s go in, get the money and we’re out home free. I promise.”

__________________________________________________________

“Do you want me to wait here in case she throws you out?” Pope snickers as he pulls up outside the Morales house. Frankie glares at Pope and smacks his hat off his head.

“Fuck off. If anything she’s gonna kick your ass.” Frankie mumbles as he gets out of the truck and runs up the front porch. He twists the doorknob and whacks his head on the door as he realizes its locked. “What the....” Frankie panics for a minute wondering why its locked. They only just moved into the house 2 months ago and hadn’t gotten around to getting a spare key hidden. Frankie wracks his brain for why you wouldn’t be home. There’s no way you left with Francesca was there? “Hey what day is it?” Frankie yells back to Pope who is still sitting in his truck.

“Uhhhh...Sunday June 12th?” Pope yells back and Frankie feels like he just got slapped in the face.

“FUCK!” Frankie yells and runs back into Pope’s truck. “Drop me off at the civic centre NOW.”

“What why? They’re not home?” Pope sputters as he rips the truck into drive.

“Today is Franny’s first dance recital and i think it already started. Fuck she’s defiantly gonna kill me now.”

__________________________________________________________

Pope doesn’t even have time to put the truck into park before Frankie is jumping out and running through the doors of the civic centre. He stops as he reads the sign looking for the room with the dance recital. Auditorium 5. He runs down the hallway and stops when he sees a table selling flowers.

“How much for all of them.” Frankie huffs as he grabs outs his wallet. The young boy stares at Frankie with a gaping mouth.

“Uhhhh.....they're’ a-a dollar a-a fl-flower sir.” Frankie nods and throws him a 10. The boy swallows his nerves and hands Frankie a bouquet of rainbow roses. Frankie murmurs a thanks and sneaks into auditorium 5. There’s no seats available so he just stands against the back wall. There’s a group of 2 year olds on stage at the moment attempting a hip hop routine and Frankie chuckles to himself thinking of how Franny would look hopping around to the upbeat music. He looks down at the program and sees that her group is next.

The hip hop group run off the stage and the crowd cheers for them. Two young girls come out and take away the previous props and set out 8 pairs of yellow pom poms. Walking on Sunshine starts to play as the 8 little girls coming skipping out to find their spots. Frankie’s face begins to hurt from smiling so much as he spots Francesca. Wearing her yellow dance onesie and yellow tutu with her hair up in two messy pigtails. She does the little 2 minute routine so well Frankie can feel his eyes welling up with tears. Fuck he’s proud of her. This is why he needed to get home. He couldn’t fathom missing another experience like this. You and Francesca were the reason he kept pushing though the hard days. You both were his entire world.

__________________________________________________________

The recital comes to an end and all the parents wait around in the main foyer waiting for their little dancer to come out. 

Frankie fidgets with the bouquet of flowers in his hands as he looks around the crowd for a glimpse of you. He looks down at his watch and panics that he missed you guys and you went home, until......

“DADDY?!!!” You look up startled by your daughter’s random outburst and Frankie spins around as he hears his little girl screaming. He drops to his knees as Francesca comes flying into his arms. Frankie wraps his one arm around her small body and cradles her head with his hand and holds her close to him. The flowers drop to the ground long forgotten.

“Hi princess. I missed you so much. You did so good with all your twirls.” he whispered to her, smothering her head with kisses. She giggles uncontrollably and moves her head to kiss Frankie’s face all over as well. Making sure she kissed away the couple of tears away that snuck out. “These flowers are for you Fran.” Frankie smiles and puts the giant bouquet in her tiny arms.

“Woooow!! Mommy look!” Franny squeals and Frankie finally looks up and is met with your tear filled eyes. He stands with Franny in his arms and walks over to you.

“Hi.” he whispers. You gasp as you wrap your arms around the both of them. Frankie sighs as he buries his face into you hair, breathing in your scent. Fuck he missed this.

“W-when did you get back?” you sniffle and pull back to look into his brown eyes. Francesca looked between her parents confused and pawed at both their faces to dry their tears. Frankie chuckled at her gesture and tickled her side a bit making his favourite sound ring through his ears. A very high pitched giggle.

“Uhh...like 2 hours ago? I stopped at home first and then realized what day it was. I won’t miss this day for the world.”

“You shaved.” You said as you rubbed your hands over his bare jaw. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his face this bare before. You loved his patchy beard so dearly but you could probably get used to this face as well.

“Daddy no more pokey.” Franny scrunched up her face and placed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. You both laugh.

“Do you like it love?” Frankie questions.

“As long as your home and safe that’s all that matters to me.” you whisper as you lean in to kiss his lips.

“Ew yucky kisses!!” Franny squeals as she pushes your faces apart. Frankie chuckles as he moves his kisses to all over his daughter face. “Mommy we get pupcakes now?”

“Mommy promised you cupcakes?” Franny nods her head and Frankie looks towards his wife.

“Well i guess you did do an amazing job princess and i did promise this morning. She barely let me do her hair. Wanted you to do it.” you said rolling your eyes at Frankie. Frankie chuckled as you all walked out to the parking lot. 

“I mean i would have done a way better job.” you rolled your eyes yet again and smacked his shoulder lightly as you unlocked Frankie’s truck. Frankie buckled Franny into her car seat and then shut the door. He turned and grabbed you in a bone crushing hug. “I’m so sorry it took so long love. Nothing went as planned and we didn’t even get the money. And I-I dont...”

“Frankie stop. You don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s go get our little ballerina a cupcake k?” Frankie smiles and captures your lips in one last kiss. “I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the moon and back even more.”

__________________________________________________________

“I think she finally crashed” Frankie says as he grabs a beer from the fridge and plops down next to you on the couch taking a big swig.

“I swear to god if she doesn’t sleep through the night again I’m gonna...ugghh” You mumble into your wine glass. 

Frankie turns towards you and raises an eyebrow. “She hasn’t been sleeping?”

“Umm not since you’ve left. She wakes up around 2:30 every night crying for you. So i bring her into bed and she sleeps on your pillow with one of your shirts. It soothes her back to sleep. She also naps with one of shirts.” You sigh and look away from him, blinking back the tears. Frankie frowns, puts his beer on the coffee table and grabs your wine glass too. 

“Cmere.....i’m so sorry i left babe. I didn’t mean for it to be so hard for you. I’m never leaving again.” You cry into his side as he rubs his hand through your hair.

“What-what happened Frankie....I know you’re not okay. You don’t just disappear off the face of the earth for a week. Pope said it was going to be okay....I wouldn’t have let you go if...”

Frankie shudders and looks up at the ceiling trying to blink the tears away. You sit up and grab his face gently in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“I’ve got you honey. Whenever you want to talk i’m here.” you give a small reassuring smile and wipe the silent tears falling down his face. That breaks Frankie. He begins to sob and explain the terrible events of the last week. You hold him and listen. 

When he’s finished you both just lay on the couch holding each other.

“When- when we lost Tom....all i thought about was you and Francesca and how I needed to get home. I swear to god I am never doing anything like that again. Pope said the money should free up by Wednesday so we’ll be good for a while. Will and I were thinking of opening up a shop, keep is busy for a while. I’m never leaving you guys ever again. We can take Franny to the shelter next week and she can pick out her dog finally.”

You giggle at the dog comment. That little girl has been asking for a dog the second she could talk and Uncle Benny put that idea into her head. “She’d really like that. And i’m also still kicking Pope’s ass next time I see him.”

Frankie laughs and kisses you head “Oh babe I’ve already warned him.”

__________________________________________________________

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto - Part Five - Orientation

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation

Things actually start happening now :D

As always, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and @onereyofstarlight​ for all their amazing help. We’re deep into the hard slog now, but I am still enjoying this so that is a good sign :D

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this and cheer me on. The hard slog of the middle of a long fic can be as bad as the hard slog in the middle of a painting, so all cheering is always welcome. But ultimately, I’m hoping you are find this enjoyable and not boring :D Nutty is learning here, so big L plate on my forehead.

Let the antics continue.

-o-o-o-

Virgil stared at his father’s broad back as he walked the length of the gantry toward the elevator. Scott paused a moment and Virgil placed a hand on his back in support. Muscle beneath many micro layers of spacesuit rippled as his brother loosened his shoulders. A glance of fiery blue and Scott followed his father.

As was the way of things.

Virgil followed Scott.

As was the way of things.

The cavern was a large one. It had to be to fit Three beneath its airlock doors. His heads up display confirmed pressurisation of the bay to Earth normal and his mind did the calculations on the infrastructure required to pump that much atmosphere into such a large space so quickly. He couldn’t help but be impressed.

The gantry led to an elevator platform and they crowded onto it. Gordon brushed up against him as if to catch his attention and a worried frown was shot in Virgil’s direction.

As the gantry retracted and the platform lowered, Virgil let a hand brush against Gordon’s side. If he did the same to Alan, well, they were his brothers and he may have needed the connections a little himself.

The ride down gave them a great view of the heavy equipment available in the bay. Virgil had accessed all the information he could get his hands on during the trip out, needing to know how he was going to deploy their own equipment.

He had known this was going to be an underground job and had packed accordingly. The problem with underground was initial deployment - how to get the equipment under the ground.

The backup was always to make their own holes. But that could be unnecessarily messy and a last resort. So Virgil was quite happy to see the set up included all the heavy-duty crane and hover support he could ever want.

TI had equipped this expedition exceedingly well.

Walters met them at the bottom of the bay. The rock had been ground smooth down here, filler shone in places where ice had obviously been removed, making the floor a patchwork of white and dark grey, human ingenuity and raw moon.

The Commander nodded to Scott, but it was their father whose hand he grasped solidly before pulling him into a hug. “Space Jockey, it is so good to see you. Thank you for coming.” Walters stepped back and held Jeff at arms’ length. “You’ve gone grey.”

“And you’re bald. Your point?” But their father was grinning through the plasiglass of his helmet.

“We’re both a little crunchy around the edges.” He turned to Lee. “Hey, Scrappy.”

“Graeme, I may be old, but I can still kick your ass over that.” Despite the threat, Uncle Lee grabbed the man’s hand and shook it with enthusiasm.

“These are my boys.” Dad gestured at them in turn. “Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan. John is still aboard the Excel and will be liaising from there.”

Walters nodded at each of them in turn, his white-grey spacesuit wrinkling with the movement. He had his helmet on just like the IR crew did. Best chance to avoid contamination or some random bug the Tracys might had inadvertently brought with them.

Of course, Virgil and John had run the decon protocols before departure and it was obvious Callisto had its own methods, but the risk was there. Helmets on unless they had no choice.

Another thing about space that was annoying - listening to your own breathing in a confined container. Okay for short term, total annoyance long term. Especially if your nose got itchy.

It was a sign that Virgil really needed more sleep when he managed to miss a chunk of what Walters was saying simply because he was designing an in-helmet nose scratcher in his head. Well, it could be multifunctional if he gave it enough reach. Head scratcher, chin scratcher-

Gordon nudged him.

Unfortunately, right in his bruises. “Ow.” He glared at his brother only to find the fish gesturing with his eyes.

Commander Walters was looking at Virgil with a question on his face. Both Scott and Dad were frowning at him. Oh shit. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“The Commander asked if we would like to survey the entrance to the caves first or deploy our equipment.” Dad’s voice was very...patient. “Scott said it was your decision.”

Virgil didn’t hesitate, regardless of the embarrassment. “I’ve scoured your maps, Commander, but I would be happier if you could show us the entrance to the cave network. It’s not far?” maps and diagrams were one thing. Reality was another.

Walters eyed him a little curiously. “Sure. Follow me.” And he led them towards a set of massive doors.

For a moment there, Virgil expected some grinding machinery to split the doors wide like some grand movie entrance complete with cinematic music, but no, Walters led them to a small airlock embedded in the left door and ushered them through.

It was kind of disappointing actually.

“We keep the Garden isolated as a precaution and as a way to monitor the function of the ecosystem.

“Garden?” Alan had obviously not had time to fully read up on the Base like the rest of them.

Walters’ eyes lit up despite everything. “You are in for a treat. The Garden is our horticultural team’s ultimate triumph.”

The doors opened and sunlight flooded into the airlock. And it was sunlight enough for Virgil’s jaw to drop. They stepped out into an environment so familiar, they may as well have stepped out the back door of the villa.

Except it wasn’t. The plants were recognisable, yes, but their growth most definitely was not.

This was not in the briefing notes.

“This looks suspiciously familiar.” It was Gordon who stepped to the front of the group.

Walters frowned. “Excuse me.”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed in on the man. He pointed at a nearby tree. “Pokey trees don’t get that big in five years, Commander. What’s in the water?”

It was Walters’ turn to frown. “Pokey trees?” A blink. “Oh, pohutukawa. No, they do not. However, with some special treatment and the lack of strong gravity, they can.”

Virgil stared up at the giant tree. It was far too thin at the base for the spread of the massive branches and it seem wrong somehow. Everything was too long and looked as if it was going to fall. What was even more odd was the sound of a honeyeater argument in those branches. A scuffle, a ruckus of squawks and a flash of grey and yellow flew out from amongst the leaves and darted over the rocky hill in front of them.

“You have birds?!” Gordon sounded caught between amazement and outrage.

Walters stared at him a moment longer. “We have much more than that.” He turned away and led them away from the tree and up a winding path. Virgil’s boots crunched gravel that glittered as it moved. He frowned at what was probably nothing more than ground up moon. It was pale and sparkling like some set prop out of an early science fiction show John might have watched.

But he was soon distracted by much more fascinating sights.

The path led up a small hill and soon he realised that they were in a massive cavern, bigger than all the hangars beneath Tracy Island combined.

And it was full of life.

Birds of several different kinds flew about the ‘sky’. A sky dominated by a number of extremely bright lights hanging from a ceiling so high it couldn’t be seen for the brilliance. Oddly growing foliage was everywhere. The lone pokey tree by the door was scarlet in blossom, but it was not alone. Flowers sprouted from wonky stems and too tall grass. The little hill they were standing on was the highest point in the cavern, the ground sloping down into the distance. At the far edge, a lake had ducks swimming in it.

“How the hell?” It was Gordon, but Virgil’s questions were not far behind.

Several physical requirements clicked into place. The cavern was obviously heated and pressurised with an Earth level atmosphere just like the hangar, otherwise those birds wouldn’t be able to fly beyond bouncing in the gravity.

While Gordon’s head seemed ready to explode, Virgil managed one word. “How?”

Walters had a quietly confident smirk on his face. “A combination of research, applied science and a whole pile of luck.” A sigh. “This is Ju’s baby.”

Scott shifted where he stood. “Where is the access to the cave network?” Virgil glanced at his brother. There was an intensity in his eyes that spoke of both mission urgency and further questions that would need asking once that mission was complete.

Walters exhaled and nodded. “This way.” He led them down the other side of the hill to what eventually proved to be another set of massive doors. “The caverns were here when we arrived. We knew of them before we left Earth, but what we did not realise was their extent.” Walters stopped in front of the doors. He gestured at the cavern. “To create all this, we only needed to seal the cavern entrance overhead – which the Base did nicely. We installed a series of atmospheric inducers, the heating and the lighting. The rest we grew from seed or egg.” The man was obviously proud of their achievements.

“Sir, the caves?” Scott was getting rightfully impatient.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.” He swallowed and hurried over to yet another small door within a door.

Virgil took another step forward, intending on seeing how the door was unlocked when his world suddenly doubled. His stomach rolled over with that familiar nausea ever so reminiscent of their trip out here.

He swallowed and closed his eyes a second.

“Virg? You okay?” Gordon was whispering on a closed channel.

Virgil cranked his eyes open, lack of sleep suddenly piling on top of him. His fish brother was frowning at him. Scott, their father and Uncle Lee were walking towards Walters and the door.

The sudden vertigo had him fearing an incident inside his helmet.

But then as he took a step towards Gordon, the nausea faded away, a single last cramp dissipating as his little brother approached and put a hand on his arm.

“Virg?”

“I’m okay. Just felt dizzy for a second there.”

“T-drive?”

“Probably.”

“Meds wearing off?”

“Didn’t think I would need them.”

Now Alan had stopped following Scott and was looking back. Any minute now and he would have not only Scott on his ass, but Dad as well. He straightened his spine. “I’m good.” But whatever it was had triggered the beginnings of a headache.

Damn.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d completed a rescue with a headache. He’d throw back some paracetamol when they went back to Three to source their equipment.

“You sure?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

Gordon held up his hands. “Just checking, bro. Don’t get your pants in a twist. Hard to unknot them out here.”

But Gordon was still frowning at him.

Alan was turning back...

Move or get smothered.

He flexed his shoulders and strode off to join the rest of this family.

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared after his heavy lifting brother.

Damn that T-drive. His own stomach hadn’t fully recovered either and Virgil was obviously still feeling it.

Gordon pondered whether Virg could knock him out for the voyage home. Maybe knock both of them out.

Alan was frowning and gesturing for him to hurry up. Scott and Dad had already entered what turned out to be yet another airlock.

Space was hard work.

He kicked at the gravel as he trotted after his brother and darted into the huge airlock with his brothers.

Walters was talking again as he sealed the door behind them. “The cavern appears to have been a terminus for this branch of the cave network.” Walters should seek a job as a tour guide. “As I said earlier, we knew about some of the caves before we arrived, but it became increasingly clear that our sensors weren’t telling the full story when we discovered exactly how many tunnels are under the surface here.”

Gordon felt the room depressurise and his HUD declared the atmosphere had become almost nothing. He frowned. It was still something though and he remembered that Callisto was one of those odd places that had the bare minimum of a bunch of gases clinging to it.

He was pretty sure that if he pinged Johnny, he could give him an essay on it, Jupiter luny fan he was.

Walters opened the other side of the airlock and led them through.

Oh, wow.

They were once again in a cavern, a smaller one to the one they had just left and it was obviously more in its natural state. The big doors were sealed into one wall and a lighting system had been deployed running off into the distance.

And there was a lot of distance. The cavern was definitely a tunnel, a good twenty metres wide and high. But that wasn’t all that had his jaw dropping.

The walls were sparkling in the light.

Walters must have seen his reaction or the reaction of his family. “Pretty amazing, huh? The walls are full of a mix of ice and rock. The ice catches the light, but there is also an unusual amount of mineralised crystal as well. We’ve found several types of quartz along with precious metals.”

Gordon was only half listening to him. He wandered over to the nearest wall and examined it. Ice. Water. But in a way it was rarely seen on Earth. Kinda interesting. He ran a hand over the wall and frowned. “You say this is natural?”

“Other than stringing up the lights and installing the doors, from here on, it is pure Callisto.”

“This was made by running water.” Even Gordon knew how impossible that was in the current environment. He looked up to find everyone staring at him. “Hey, I know my element when I see it. This wall has been eroded by running water.”

Walters slumped just a little. “Thank you. Ju has been saying that since we got here. Unfortunately, we can’t work out how that can possibly be a thing, but yeah, all the tunnels, if we were on Earth? Water made. Like limestone caves apparently.” A snort. “Ju has been very adamant about it.”

“Have you reported this?” Dad’s voice startled Gordon a little.

“Reported? Sure. But all her peers are less than accepting. All signs point to Callisto as having had no crustal movement since it formed, minor atmosphere, and certainly no running water at these pressures.”

“But this is a fact.” Gordon frowned again. “What about the reports of an ocean on Callisto under the crust.” Yes, he had checked that out. This wasn’t his first Jovian moon after all. It was why he had brought Four with him.

“Too far down. We can’t reach it. And besides, it is impossible for water to exist as a liquid on the surface, there is not enough atmospheric pressure. We’re barely five hundred metres down here. We haven’t been able to explain it, and until we do, it is considered only one possible and likely doubtful explanation.”

Gordon turned back to the wall. It glittered at him as if daring him to discover its mysteries. “Virg?”

“Hmm?” His brother’s voice was distracted enough to distract Gordon. He flicked over to a private comm. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Gordon. What did you want?”

Gordon grunted. “You got something to test the rocks?”

“If needs be. We have a rescue to complete first.” Virgil killed the private line and turned to Walters. “I’m satisfied. Scott, we need some recon. I recommend we get two dragonflies down here.”

Scott nodded. “Okay, we are go. Alan, you’re with me. Gordon, you’re Virgil’s wingman.”

As it should be.

Besides, Gordon wanted to keep an eye on their resident lumberjack. He was acting weird.

“Dad, you and Uncle Lee are our liaisons with Base.”

Gordon bit his lip.

“Scott-“

The Commander of International Rescue held up his hand, fire in his eyes. “No, arguments.”

Dad’s eyes latched onto Scott and flared, but Uncle Lee grabbed his arm. “Space Jockey...”

Grey eyes flickered to his best friend and got a dose of determined Lee Taylor for the effort.

Their father’s lips thinned as nobody moved for a whole moment, Scott emanating commander vibes all over the cavern. If Dad didn’t obey, all hell was going to let loose.

“Thunderbird Five to Callisto.” John’s voice echoed over multiple comms, a faint and unfamiliar hiss and crackle in the background.

The moment snapped and Scott tapped his comms. “We read you, Thunderbird Five.”

“There is considerable interference on comms, you should be aware. I cannot guarantee service at all times. Source is unknown.”

“Noted.”

Damn, that was going to make this even more difficult. They could get lost down here themselves.

But then this wouldn’t be the first time Gordon had worked without contact with his brothers.

First time in space, though.

“Scott, we have located two life signs.”

“What?!” Walters took a step forward and looked ready to climb into Scott’s commset to get further information.

The commander ignored him. “Details, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos and I were able to work around the majority of the interference and we have two faint lifesigns registering to the north of Callisto Base, almost directly under Burr crater.”

“Only Two? We have five missing persons, Thunderbird Five.”

“I know, Scott.” John’s voice was calm but sad. “Eos is still working on that interference, but at this point I don’t expect to find more. We’ve been able to map the caverns and tunnels within a thousand-kilometre radius. Sending the data to your comms now. Other than those two, I’m reading nothing. I do not have enough resolution to locate anything more specific.”

Like dead bodies.

All of them shifted where they stood, caught between the positive of a location and the negative of three missing rescuees.

“Keep looking, Thunderbird Five.” Scott’s voice was empty of emotion.

They had a mission and now they had a target.

“FAB.”

The line cut out.

Virgil had already pulled up the map John supplied on his wrist ‘projector, his eyes combing the holographic maze of tunnels. Even from here Gordon could see they were massive. If these had been eroded by water, the rivers had been big.

But their history would have to wait. There were lives at stake and Scott was already moving back to the airlock, Virgil and the rest of the group hurrying to follow.

Gordon hesitated just a second, lured by the thought of water flowing through the rock in such a low-pressure environment that the liquid should be ice.

The walls sparkled at him.

But the mission...

He took a step forward and his foot kicked something tiny that bounced ahead of him. Frowning, he bent to pick it up.

The crystal was no bigger than his fingernail and sparkled pink in the lighting.

“Gordon!” Scott was glaring at him from inside the airlock.

The aquanaut shoved the stone into his kit and hurried to catch up.

Perhaps space was a little more interesting than he thought.

-o-o-o-

Next

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

One Step Closer

A/N #1: 2000 words... Short fics are not my strong suit these days. Oh well. This is part 4 of my Celestial Ball series. The title and part of the story is inspired by this song. You can listen to it if you want to, but it won’t take away anything from the story if you don’t. (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

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

A few days after Charlie had asked her to the ball, Alice and her friends entered an empty classroom. Well, almost empty. In the middle of the room stood Merula and a boy Alice had seen when she had classes with Hufflepuff. Said boy walked toward them.

"Diego! Thank you so much for helping us with our dancing," exclaimed Penny as she saw the boy.

"No problem, Penny. It always makes Diego happy to help out a pretty lady," he said, kissing the back of her hand.

"Does he always talk about himself in the third person?" whispered Rowan.

"Most of the time, yes," whispered Tonks, rolling her eyes.

"Why is Merula here?" grumbled Alice, her jaw clenched.

"Because he asked me to be his dance partner since I'm a pretty good dancer. I'm sure you have two left feet, Beaumont," said Merula, snickering.

"Now, now, Merula. That attitude may work during a duel, but a dancer has to be full of grace, and it is not a very graceful attitude. If you're not nicer, Diego will find a new partner," said Diego, looking sternly at Merula, who nodded, rolling her eyes.

"Diego takes two things seriously: dancing and duelling," whispered Penny to her friends.

"Now," started Diego, looking at the small group in front of him, "choose a partner. Once this is done, we shall begin the lesson."

"Alice?" whispered Charlie, holding out his hand. "May I?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure!" replied Alice, taking Charlie's hand as she kept glaring at Merula.

Andre and Penny decided to team up, while Rowan quickly grabbed Bill's arm. Tulip and Tonks linked their arms together, leaving Ben and Barnaby to dance with each other.

"Well, that is unexpected, but we shall work with it," said Diego, looking at the last two couples as he took Merula's hand. "Ok, gentlemen, place your right hand on your partner's back and wrap your left hand around her right hand. Ladies, put your left hand on your partner's shoulder."

While the first three couples followed his instructions without any issues, the same-sex duos ended up in strange positions. Barnaby and Ben were holding each other's backs, while Tonks and Tulip were holding their shoulders.

"This is not how I remember waltzing," said Barnaby, looking confused.

"Ah! You have waltzed before! Good! But Diego sees he should adapt his vocabulary. Andre, Bill, Charlie, Barnaby, and Tulip shall be the leads, while the others shall be the follows. Ok? Ok," said Diego, staring at the last two couples. "So, Tulip and Barnaby, you place yourselves like the gentlemen over there, and Ben and Tonks, like the ladies."

"Why am I not the lead?" complained Tonks, pouting as she placed her hand in Tulip's hand.

"'Cause you're too clumsy to lead," pointed out Tulip, placing her right hand on Tonks' back.

"Ok, now, leads, move your left foot forward. Land softly to give the step an airy feel. Bend your left leg slightly, stepping on the ball of your foot. As the lead, you will always step forward and guide your partner," explained Diego as he demonstrated it with Merula.

For the next hour or so, he explained to the group of friends the basic steps of a waltz. Barnaby was very graceful in his dancing, very carefully leading Ben, who was nervously following along. Tonks and Tulip stopped listening to Diego at some point and started doing the hokey pokey. Rowan was staring at Bill the entire time they were dancing, making Bill feel self-conscious. Andre and Penny were the most talented, smoothly following Diego's demonstration, while gossiping at the same time.

On the other hand, Alice and Charlie were quite mechanical in their dancing, spending the entire time staring at their feet, doing each step one at a time. Merula snickered, observing them, making Alice lose her concentration. She glared at Merula, not paying attention to her steps, which led the couple to trip and fall on the ground. Merula burst out laughing.

"I see..." said Diego, observing Charlie helping Alice get up. "Very well. It is enough for today. Except for you two. Diego will give you extra lessons."

"Why? Except for the part where we fell, we followed the steps perfectly," said Alice, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, but Mr. Weasley is too nervous, and you are too rigid. Dancing is so much more than a series of steps. Dancing... is a language that is felt instead of heard," tried to explain Diego.

"That sounds like a ton of..." mumbled Tulip, before being interrupted by Alice.

"Yeah, but don't we have to make sure that we won't bump into other couples?" asked Alice.

"Yes, but if you are in tune with your surroundings, it will happen naturally. Penny and Andre danced magnificently while gossiping about two students, and they didn't bump into anyone."

"Oh, can't wait to spend more time looking at Beaumont failing miserably," snickered Merula.

"No. You are clearly a distraction, and they need guidance more than a demonstration," waving away Merula, who pouted as she left.

"Good luck," said Penny and Andre as they left.

The other couples were deemed good enough by Diego, leaving him alone wit the two prefects as the others had left. He crossed his arms, observing them. Alice shifted her weight from one leg to the other, doing her best to ignore Diego's stare as she bit her lower lip. Charlie was nervously tapping his fingers together. Diego suddenly walked toward Alice, stopping right in front of her. She stared at him, nearly cross-eyed.

"You are rigid because you are afraid," said Diego.

"Pardon?" asked Alice, frowning.

"You are afraid of not leading. As the Curse-Breaker, you have always been the leader, having people rely on you and never the other way around. That is why you are rigid. This time, you have to trust your partner, you have to let him lead, let go of your insecurities," said Diego, before turning his attention to Charlie. "As for you, you have to be confident. How can she trust you if you do not trust yourself? Now, position, and... Practice!"

And so, they started practicing again, Diego stopping them every now and then to tell one to loosen their shoulders and the other to stop looking at their feet.

"Let him lead!"

"Stop looking at your feet!"

"Give and take!"

"You are the lead! Show it!"

"Trust him!"

"Back and forth!"

They kept practicing under the strict orders of Diego until it was dark outside.

"Diego, can we stop? We have homeworks to do," pleaded Alice.

"Yes, alright. It is getting better. You can go for now, but we shall practice after class during the week,".  said Diego, nodding.

"What? Why?" asked Charlie, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Because not only are you doing the first dance with the other prefects, but all eyes will be on the school's celebrity: the Curse-Breaker. If people see you dancing and then learn you took lessons with me, at the stage you are now, no one will believe Diego is a great dancer," explained Diego.

"I see," said Alice, rubbing her shoulder as she started leaving the empty classroom with Charlie.

"One more thing. Next time, you should look into each other's eyes," said Diego, staring at them as they nodded before leaving.

Thus, on Monday, after class, their lessons with Diego started again, with them now having to look into the other's eyes. Both of them were so embarrassed, they kept tripping and stepping on each other's toes.

"Diego! This idea of yours just makes it worse!" exclaimed Alice, rubbing her toes while Charlie apologized.

"No! It is perfect. Nobody wants to see dancers staring at their feet. Also, it will force you to rely on Charlie. As soon as you surrender, what's inside will sweep on through, and the boundaries between you two will disappear," exclaimed Diego. "Position!"

And they continued their dancing, with a few more tumbles and toe-stepping, until it was time for dinner. The next day, Diego observed a small improvement in the couple's dancing. Their facial expressions, though, were stiff, as if staring at one another made them uncomfortable.

"Why are you nervous looking at each other? Are you not friends?" asked Diego, scratching his head.

"Yes, but staring that much into someone else's face is strange," explained Alice as Charlie nodded.

"I see... Why don't you talk while dancing? Might help you look more natural," suggested Diego.

"Won't it distract us?" asked Alice.

"Perhaps, but it will help you understand that dance is like a conversation, except you actually never need to make a sound. Just let your emotion tell your body what to do."

They followed his instruction and started talking about their day and dragons as they danced. They were looking at each other smiling, laughing, relaxed. Their basic steps were much more fluid, and so Diego decided to add some advanced steps on the next day, making them move in circle as they did their basic waltz steps. On Thursday, he taught them how to do an underarm turn while waltzing. By Friday, Diego had them dancing along to some music, teaching them how to listen to the tempo of the music so that they could follow it when they danced.

"Once the music hits you, inhibitions fall away, and you'll find that you're expressing things your voice doesn't dare to say. Don't be afraid, just let go!" said Diego as he observed them dancing around the empty classroom.

Alice and Charlie kept dancing under Diego's watchful eye until he started clapping.

"Perfect! You look much more natural now. I am proud of you! You are ready for next week!" exclaimed Diego.

"Next week?" questioned Charlie, raising an eyebrow, his hand still on Alice's back.

"Oh! Did no one tell you? McGonagall is going to teach the prefects a small choreography to do at the beginning of the waltz. I shall assist her," explained Diego.

"Will this never end," complained Alice, her left hand hanging over Charlie's shoulder as she stared at Diego.

"Not until the actual ball, no. It is not because you don't need me anymore that you can just stop practicing. You have to keep at it. And you should think about practicing with heels eventually, Miss Beaumont," said Diego, looking down at Alice's shoes.

"Why?" asked Alice, looking down at her feet.

"You don't actually plan to wear those shoes with your dress, are you?" asked Diego, looking up at Alice with his eyebrows raised.

"My dress?" said Alice, frowning. "Oh! My dress! Merlin!" she exclaimed, looking in shock at Charlie.

"What? What is it?" asked Charlie, concerned.

"I don't have an outfit! How can I choose my shoes if I don't have an outfit! Andre. I need to speak with Andre. Goodnight!" she said, looking at Charlie as she started to head out of the classroom.

"Goodnight," replied Charlie with a smile before she closed the door behind her.

"You can thank me later," said Diego, looking at his fingernails.

"About the dance lessons? No need to wait, I'm really thankful," replied Charlie, scratching his temple.

"No, no, no. While I am pleased you appreciate my lessons, I meant that you can thank me in bringing you two closers," said Diego with a small smile raising the corner of his mouth.

"Closer? We were already close," replied Charlie, frowning.

"As friends, perhaps, but Miss Beaumont seems to keep her heart behind a wall. With the dancing, I feel she has opened herself a bit more to you. I feel that she will soon realize that she actually reciprocates your feelings for her," said Diego before leaving the classroom.

Charlie was left alone with his thoughts. Thinking about the week he had spent dancing with Alice, he couldn't help but think about what Diego had said. He could be right, Charlie thought to himself smiling as he left the classroom.

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

A/N #2: I hope you enjoyed this fic. If you did feel free to leave a comment. This was inspired by the prompt “Dance” from @hphm-fictober 2019 prompts. Also, a small note about Diego. Now, when we are first introduced to him in DADA, he seemed like the cliché of the “Latin Lover”, and when Merula introduces us to him, the stereotype was somewhat reinforced. I decided to keep that side of Diego, but I think that behind that cliché, he’s very insightful, hence his conversation at the end with Charlie, and his explanation for Alice's stiffness while dancing. 

[thank-god-and-you]

A/N: This is a very, very belated birthday present for the lovely Amy. I am so, so sorry it’s taken me so long to finish this for you. I hate myself. But I hope it was worth the wait and you can still enjoy it even though your birthday is long gone.

-- --

Broken Eggs, Mending Hearts

“Well, look at you,” said Robert. “All set up in a home of your own. I’m proud of you.”

John snorted, a touch bitterly. “You have low standards, then.”

They stood together in the pokey front room, squashed tightly together. Neither of them were small men and the living space, advertised as comforting, was most definitely uncomfortable.

“At least you’ve got a place of your own now,” said Robert bracingly. “It’s better than still being stuck in that house with Vera, you have to admit.”

Yes, he could concede to that. The house had been a point of contention with them over the last year, with Vera demanding that he give it up to her, and him refusing in turn. But he was so tired of the way that it was stalling the divorce, so tired of being tied to her, and in the end he had decided that no property was worth this level of unhappiness. So he had conceded to signing the house over to her if she was willing to put her signature to the divorce papers. So far she had remained silent on that matter, but he hoped that the promise of winning that particular battle would make her more amenable to compromising. This flat was far from the thing that he’d wanted, but it got him out of the house and on the way to being an independent bachelor once more, so at least that was something.

He just wished that he’d been able to afford something a little better than this. Vera was trying to bleed him dry in the divorce, and until all that was settled, he couldn’t begin to build up his savings. For the time being he was stuck here.

“You’re right,” he said. “The only good thing about this whole shitty situation.”

“Don’t be like that. There’s always a silver lining, no matter how small. Sometimes we have to take small steps to achieve big things.”

“Are you just going to stand there and spout nonsense from self-help books at me?” said John, reluctantly amused.

Robert put his hand over his heart, pretending to be mortally wounded. “I’m just trying to help you, Bates. But if you don’t want that, then fine. I’ll go.”

John checked his watch. “That might not be a bad idea. I’ve still got to get these things sorted out, and I’m going to have to nip to the corner shop to get some things in for tonight.”

“I can do that for you. Or you can come over to ours for tea. Cora would be happy to have you.”

John wasn’t sure how true that was; he and Cora were polite and civil to one another, but he had the feeling that she wasn’t overly keen on him. She’d told him that she was very, very grateful that he had saved her husband’s life but he thought that she was a little jealous, too, of the tight bond they had shared for so many years. After all, there were things that John knew about Robert that he doubted his friend would ever breathe to Cora, no matter how strong their marriage was.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I ought to go out and get a feel for the surroundings. But thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“No problem. You know where I am if you need me. And I insist that you come over at the weekend for Sunday dinner. I don’t trust you to look after yourself. You’ll need a good feeding, and I won’t see you going down the nick.”

“You’re worse than my mother.”

“I know what you were like during our time in the army, that’s all. And you couldn’t cook for toffee.”

“Neither could you. In fact, you were a lot worse than I was. Who was the one who almost set fire to the whole camp?”

Robert waved his hand dismissively. “Details, details. Besides, I lucked out with Cora. She’s clever, gorgeous, and can cook a decent meal. I’m forever in her debt.”

“And never forget that again,” said John mildly. “If you really don’t mind having me, I suppose I’ll come over.”

“Excellent. See you soon, then, Bates. Good luck with the unpacking.”

John glanced around dismally at all of the cardboard boxes, the categories that his entire life had been packed into. It was rather depressing, really, that his life had become this. All of his achievements, all of his milestones, everything had been condensed down into a few paltry boxes. “Thanks, mate. See you soon.”

Robert waved, and was gone. Resigned, John set about emptying the boxes, decorating his sparse new space with a few more homey touches. It would probably take quite a while before it began to feel like a true home.

After a while, however, his stomach began to growl insistently. It had been a long time since the soggy sandwich he’d scarfed down at dinner. He wouldn’t be able to carry on without some sustenance. The supermarket was a drive across town, so the corner shop would indeed have to be sufficient for tonight. He grabbed his wallet and keys from the side, locked the door behind him, and set off.

He enjoyed the walk to the shop, glad to be away from the chaos of his flat for the time being. He certainly wouldn’t be able to avoid the mess when he returned, and his knee was beginning to ache with the repetitive motion of lifting the boxes onto the sides for unpacking, but it was nice to be carefree for the moment. He picked up a basket when he arrived and strolled around the tiny aisles scrutinising the goods. Figuring that he’d do a good shop at the supermarket tomorrow, he settled on the essentials: bread, milk, butter, cheese, ham, eggs. If nothing else, he could make himself an omelette. One step at a time; he didn’t have to channel Jamie Oliver on his first night. He paid for his goods and stepped back outside into the cool evening air.

Transporting the goods home, however, proved to be a trickier feat. Saddled as he was with the cane, it meant that he had to gather all of the carrier bags in his left hand. They were not heavy, but they still left him feeling decidedly lopsided, and he knew that he must look a right sight to anyone peering through their curtains. Poor cripple, they would probably be thinking. Or lazy lout. It was usually fifty-fifty these days.

As much as he hated to admit it, by the time he reached the building’s doors, he was a little breathless. The brisk walk, coupled with the strains of the day, had left him feeling sore, and he paused to gather himself before he pushed on to the final leg of his journey. The lift wasn’t an option; there was a limp ‘Do Not Use’ sign taped to it. He would have to struggle up all the flights of stairs.

He was just worrying whether his knee would let him face it when he heard a voice behind him say, “Need a hand with any of that?”

He turned at once to find a petite young woman walking towards him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. His first instinct was to stiffen in self-defence, ready to fight yet another battle against someone who wished to pity him, but the sunny smile she sent his way disarmed him. She had a kind, open face, and as ridiculous as it sounded, he had no wish to offend her; he had the distinct impression that showing kindness to strangers was a regular weapon in her arsenal.

And, though he hated himself for even thinking it, he could not help but notice how beautiful she was. Her features were pale and delicate, with light blue eyes which sparkled like the cerulean sky above. Her blonde hair looked so silky, the sort of hair that he’d be able to run his fingers through for hours without ever getting bored. She was small in stature, but slim, the kind of enviable physique that seemed to come naturally to some women.

With the way that the sun was shining behind her, making her almost glow, she looked like an angel sent from God, the answer to all of his prayers. All she was missing was the damned halo.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he said instead, as politely as possible, hoping to dispel the disconcerting thought. He’d been raised a Catholic by his fierce Irish mother, but it had been a long time since he’d given any kind of thought to religion, disillusioned as he’d become by death and destruction. There were no such things as angels, even if this gorgeous stranger almost fit the bill to a tee.

“Sure,” said the woman. “I’m glad. Don’t mind me. I just know what a pain this place can be.”

“You live here?” said John, surprised.

She laughed. “Of course I do. Though I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m new to the area, moved in today,” he supplied. “John Bates.”

“Anna Smith,” she returned. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

She held out her hand to him to shake. He scrabbled to shove his cane in his left hand so he could return the gesture, but he must have caught it in the plastic carrier bag, because the next thing he knew there was an ominous ripping sound. Time seemed to slow as he lurched to stop the contents of his shopping from falling out the ruined sides.

No such luck.

Anna squealed as the bread bounced and rolled, the cheese hit the ground with a flump, and the milk burst and pulsed in the street like the blood of a dying animal.

And the eggs made a horrible, dull thunking sound, like a head being cracked open.

“Shit!” John yelped, stumbling backwards away from the wreckage. “Shit. There goes my tea.”

“Bugger,” said Anna. “I didn’t intend for that to happen.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I offered you my hand.”

“Because you were being kind. Here.” Now hands free, John thrust his hand towards her again. “You might as well finish the deal.”

Tentatively, she did so. She had a nice grip, confident but not too firm. If John allowed it to, the frustrations of the last few months could come bubbling over, culminating in his irritation that his meagre tea plans had ended up all over the floor. It meant that another trip to the shops was on the cards. But none of this was Anna’s fault, and he was trying his hardest to be a better man. He would not take that out on her, especially when she had been nothing other than friendly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said when she dropped his hand. Her accent was soothing. He liked the way that she elongated her vowels. He had a good ear for accents, having spent a lot of his time travelling with the army, and he knew a native Yorkshire tongue when he heard one. There was something very attractive about it. “What were you planning on making?”

“Please don’t apologise,” he told her, rapidly shaking away that treacherous last thought and bending with a huff to pick up the bread, cheese, and ham to give himself something else to focus on. Those, at least, appeared okay. The ham was the only thing that had escaped unscathed; the bread was a bit squashed and the block of cheese had lost its shape a little, but otherwise they were edible. “It was an accident. I wasn’t planning anything spectacular, just an omelette. I can hardly manage anything else. All the same, I’d better get this bread upstairs before I head back down to the shops.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I bet you’ve got loads of things you need to be getting on with if you’ve just moved in today. Whatever you say, I do feel partially responsible for this, so the least I can do is the neighbourly thing and offer you some eggs.  That way you can at least still make your omelette.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was start accepting charity.

Anna, however, seemed determined to ignore him. “No, really, I insist. Which flat is yours? I’ll hurry inside really quickly and bring them up to you.”

She jutted her chin defiantly and, as much as he hated it, he knew there was no arguing with her. He knew nothing of her, this stranger, but he could tell that she was a little spitfire. It was a refreshing change to see that fire used for good and not ill, as had always been the case with Vera. It was the thought of his wife that made him nod now.

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you. I’m flat 4D.”

Anna brightened. “You’re right above me! I’m 3D.”

She was almost a neighbour. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Clearing his throat, he gathered his things together and said, “Well, I’d better be heading up.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

She was quicker than he was, and bounded off in front of him like a little fawn. He watched her go for a moment then set off at a much more sedate pace, gritting his teeth against the wrench in his knee—he must have injured himself when he tried to catch his wayward things. By the time he’d got back to his flat and laid his things out on the worktop, Anna was only a few minutes behind, offering him a sheepish smile and half a dozen eggs in a neat little carton, along with some mushrooms and tomatoes.

“I thought you could spruce your omelette up even more,” she explained. “I know it’s not a lot…”

“It’s lovely,” he interrupted her, touched by the gesture. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Welcome to Downton, Mr. Bates.”

She walked away then, and he closed the door behind her, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Perhaps there really were some angels in disguise after all.

-- --

Wilting Flowers, Blooming Hope

Life in Downton was certainly not perfect, but it was a damned sight better than what he’d been used to in the past five years. There were no screaming matches, no drinking until he passed out, no rutting that bordered on the painful. He was free in a way that he had not been for years, and bit by bit he was finding his feet and beginning to enjoy his life again. Most people would not find it the least bit fulfilling, but after being trapped for so long in such a stranglehold, it suited him down to the ground.

All of it was significantly improved by the presence of Anna, who had become a firm and steady friend, almost to the point where she overtook Robert, though if the latter ever found that out then he’d probably throw the biggest most moping fit of all.

At first, they had simply exchanged pleasantries when they saw each other, asking after each other’s welfare, with John never leaving without a smile. But, when they had bumped into each other at one of the Crawley gatherings and realised that their ties ran deeper than they’d initially thought, they’d grown even closer. Mobile numbers exchanged, trips to the cinema taken, days out to the nearby beaches organised, meals cooked in or eaten out, TV shows binged. It was amazing just how quickly he’d felt comfortable with her, when usually it took him a long time to see anyone as more than a passing acquaintance, but there was something almost fey-like about Anna’s abilities to get him to open up to her. He’d told her things that he’d never thought he’d share with anyone else again, and she in turned seemed to trust him with some of the more intimate details in her life. And he had to admit: it was nice to have a friend so close to hand, and a friend who never judged or pushed him to be anything other than he was. Robert was a wonderful man, but he did not have the listening skills that Anna possessed. With every day that passed, it became more and more apparent that he needed her in his life.

Which terrified him. Because the longer he spent with her, the more he began to realise that she was the kind of woman men dreamed about. She was funny, she was kind, she took no shit, and she was gorgeous to boot. His early thought that she’d looked like an angel had only been cemented further with her every action, and with someone like that, it seemed almost inevitable that the soft feelings he had for her would melt into something more.

He’d told himself that he would keep all women at arm’s length, and he’d failed miserably. She made him feel things that he had never, ever felt before.

It was all futile, of course. Anna would never look at him the same way he looked at her, and that was the best thing all round. What could he possibly have to offer her? In the last stages of his divorce he was poorer and more bitter than he had ever been, and well aware of the mistakes he had made which would prevent him from loading his baggage onto someone else’s back. Anna did not deserve that. She deserved someone young, vibrant, free.

Which no doubt she was getting now.

John pushed his food around his plate moodily, trying very hard not to imagine what might be going on at this very moment. When Anna had come to him asking if he would check in on her flat during the weekend because she was going away, he had agreed readily. She was a trainee nurse and worked hard every single day caring for those around her, and it was about time that she got some time away from work to relax and do something for herself.

But that was before he’d realised that she was going on a mad weekend with Mary and Sybil to Magaluf on a hen party. Magaluf, of all places. Or Shagaluf as Mary had candidly told him on the day the minibus had arrived to whisk them all away. The place of drinking until dawn, of no inhibitions, of hooking up with someone new every night.

The thought of it made John’s skin crawl. Anna was, of course, entitled to go out there and do whatever she pleased. She was a young woman in the prime of her life and deserved to have fun. It was on him that he’d started to develop feelings for her and did not want to think about her in bed with some young Spaniard with rippling abs and irresistible brown eyes.

Even though he knew it shouldn’t, it had put him in a bad mood for the rest of the weekend. He had shut himself in his flat and tried to concentrate on the book that he’d been neglecting for the past few weeks, but his mind wandered constantly, wondering who Anna was with now. He would not ask her—it was none of her business—but his heart ached with the thought that right at this very minute some gym buff was running his hands all over her body.

If only drowning his sorrows in the local pub was an option.

In the end, he’d decided to buy a last-minute ticket at nearby Elland Road. At least being in the zone of a football match would work for a little while.

It certainly did help for a short while, but the brooding thoughts returned when it was all over, and there was nothing else to distract him. Sunday passed slowly and Monday even more so, his eyes straying to the clock to count down the hours to her return. She was due back at some point later that evening.

On the way home, he was struck by a stupid, rash urge. He should do something nice for her, something that would hopefully brighten her mood after a long, tiring few days.

He should be careful. It was a reckless move, would likely imply more than he should say. But he could not stop himself.

He stopped off at the supermarket and dithered in front of the flowers. He was disappointed with the range. Where were all the pretty, vibrant bouquets? These ones were on their last legs, heads drooping, leaves on the turn. He stopped one of the workers, a bored looking young man.

“Is this all there is?” he asked desperately. “I was hoping for something…else.”

“Sorry, mate,” the lad replied, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “We’ve had a bit of a problem with the flowers over the last few days. Someone hasn’t been watering them properly. These are the best of a bad bunch. We’re not due another flower order until mid-week.”

“Shouldn’t be selling them, then, if they’re all so bad,” John said grumpily, but in the end he chose the least battered bunch he could find. They were not worth the five pounds that the sticker demanded, but he paid it anyway. He just hoped that Anna wouldn’t be too disappointed with them. He’d have to explain himself to her.

He made his way back across town to the block of flats and dithered for a moment. When he stopped to think about what he was doing, it was ridiculous. What man went out and bought flowers to freshen up a friend’s flat? He could not imagine any of the men he knew doing something like that. What if it aroused Anna’s suspicions? What if it made her uncomfortable? That was the last thing he wanted to do. And yet he could not back out now. It was too late. He had to go through with it, for better or worse.

Taking a deep breath, he fished her key out and let himself into her flat. It was pristinely clean and sunny. He liked coming here; its warmth and brightness felt very much like coming home.

Much like being with Anna always did.

He shook that thought away because it was not constructive. He did not want to pry into her personal things too much when she wasn’t here to know about it, but he located a vase in one of her cupboards and set about arranging the flowers. They looked feeble when he’d done, made even worse by his poor handiwork, but there was nothing he could do to change that now.

He was just debating where he should put them to give them maximum effect—Christ, he needed something to make them look better—when he heard a scuffling out in the corridor. It was probably the young couple that lived across from her. They were always having some kind of argument. How Anna put up with them was a mystery to him. They’d drive him mad. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the flowers. Would putting them on the coffee table be his best bet?

The door behind him creaked open. He whirled around at once, his heart pounding, clutching the vase of flowers as if it was going to ward off whatever was coming…

…And he came face to face with Anna.

She blinked, as if surprised to see him there, but a broad grin soon overtook her features. “John! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” he managed, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He wished that he could put the flower down. What a prat he must look, standing here with them like this…

True to form, Anna’s eyes honed in on them at once. “Oh! What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Flowers,” he muttered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “I just…I thought they might cheer your flat up for your homecoming. I wasn’t expecting you back until later tonight. I wouldn’t have been here otherwise.”

Anna dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that! I’m glad you’re here! I’ve missed you.”

Those words were hard to process. To think that someone like Anna, someone beautiful and kind and funny might miss him when she’d probably had men falling over themselves to keep her company this weekend, was mind-boggling.

But he didn’t have time to even reiterate her sentiment before she had moved on, as if her words had been nothing more than a casual observance. “And you’re right, we were supposed to get home later, but our flight was changed last-minute. The one we were supposed to catch has been cancelled because of air miles or something, and so the airline managed to squeeze us on to the one before. Not everyone has been as lucky as that. Some have had to stay an extra day. I think Mary was gunning for that, to be honest. She met a bloke whilst she was over there and I don’t think she would have minded seeing him again.”

That did not surprise John in the least; Mary was as fickle with her men as she was with her clothes. “I see. Spare me the details.”

Anna shuddered. “Don’t worry, I will. It’s enough that I’ve had to know about it. I don’t fancy bringing the memories up again. I think I’ve seen more of her this week than I ever wanted to. I will admit, he was nice-looking though. A Turk.”

John’s mood soured further at that. “I see.”

Seemingly oblivious, Anna smirked. “You know what Mary’s like. Nothing but the most gorgeous things for her.”

“As long as she had fun,” he managed.

“Oh, she definitely had that,” said Anna, pulling a face.

“And what about you?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them; they seemed to hang for an eternity between them before Anna shot him that smile, the one that was slightly crooked and altogether too beautiful. “Well, I enjoyed the relaxing in the day, but the rest of it wasn’t much fun.”

“It wasn’t?” John did not dare get his hopes up. He would not be able to take it if she admitted that she had met someone out there. But nor could he stop himself from wanting to know, from needing to know, like the witness unable to look away from the most gruesome of sights. “I would have thought you’d have enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, mostly,” she clarified. “But I must admit that I started to feel my age. The others are so much younger than I am. They spent all of their days sleeping away their hangovers and all of their nights drinking until seven in the morning. I couldn’t keep up with that. I’d had enough after the first day. I don’t think I’ve ever been as sick as I was then. I made sure I took it steady after that.”

John had to smile at that. He could well imagine Anna lying there, groaning, swearing that she was never going to drink ever again. He knew that the Crawley girls could be bad influences, especially carefree Sybil and reckless Mary. It would not be difficult to be led astray by the two of them. And that wasn’t even taking Ethel into consideration, and she could be worse than anyone.

“Well, I can empathise with the raging hangovers,” he offered. “I’ve had more than enough of those in my time, much to my regret.”

“I definitely regretted that one,” she agreed. “And I’ll be honest, I rather turned into the mother of the group after that. It made me feel ancient.”

“You’re twenty-six,” he scoffed. “Hardly ancient.”

“Compared with Mary and Sybil I am. Sybil’s only eighteen, for goodness sake. I felt like I had a duty to keep my eye on her. I think Robert and Cora would have killed me if anything bad had happened to her. Though I must confess that I didn’t do my job all that well…”

“What does that mean?” said John. “Did she do something outrageous? Get a tattoo while drunk or something?”

“Worse,” Anna shuddered. “She met someone.”

“Ah,” said John. It was coming back to sex again, and thinking about his goddaughter in that position was even less appealing than thinking of Mary. Sybil was still a baby, to be kept wrapped in cotton wool and protected from the world.

“Yes,” said Anna miserably. “Though he wasn’t too bad, I suppose. He spent the whole weekend following her around like a little puppy. He did seem to really like her, and he took her phone number with him. I’m not sure it’ll last, though. He’s from Ireland.”

“Oh, that’ll really please Robert if he ever finds out,” snickered John. “You know his feelings towards the Irish. He’s a prejudiced patriot at heart.”

“Tell me about it,” said Anna. “But I’m going to deny all knowledge of it. I’ll say it happened out of my eye line.”

“And what could you have possibly have been doing to keep you so distracted?” said John, then immediately wished he hadn’t; although it had been meant as a joke, it brought the image of Anna wrapped around some tanned athlete to his mind.

Anna rolled her eyes at him. “Fishing for details doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“I wasn’t—” he began, blushing like a damned schoolboy all over again.

Anna’s mouth curled upwards in a teasing smile. “If you say so, Mr. Bates. Now, give me those flowers. I think I ought to put them pride of place.”

“They’re not very nice,” he said tentatively as he handed them over dutifully. “I’m sorry. I wanted to give you nicer ones than that.”

“Don’t apologise,” she said. “They’re lovely. It’s the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me, buying me flowers just to cheer the place up.”

“I doubt that very much,” he said. She was the kind of woman who would inspire anyone to make grand gestures. Surely she was teasing him about his weak, wilting flowers, so very pathetic in the light of all she really deserved.

A reflection on him, perhaps.

But Anna shook her head. “No, I mean it.” She brought them to her nose and inhaled deeply. “See? They still smell heavenly. I’ll give them some water and I’m sure they’ll bloom beautifully. Some things just need some time and attention, Mr. Bates. You shouldn’t give up on something just because it looks a bit battered on the outside.”

John cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Yes, well. I’m glad you got home safely. But I ought to get going. I’ve still got some things to sort out of myself.”

“Of course,” said Anna, stepping aside. “We’ll catch up soon?”

“Yes,” said John. He debated bending in to kiss her cheek—Christ, he’d not seen her in a few days and he’d missed her so much—but he resisted the urge. Limping past her, he made it to the door and wrenched it open a little more roughly than intended.

“John.”

He’d already stepped over the threshold; her voice made him turn.

“Yes?” he said, frowning. “What is it, Anna?”

She stared him down for a moment, before tilting her head to the side. “I didn’t meet anyone out there, you know. I’m very, very happy with the way things are at the moment.”

He did not know what to say in answer to that, but it sent him back up to his flat with an extra spring in his step.

Perhaps…perhaps, as insane as it sounded, something could bloom after all.

-- --

Burned Toast, Raw Emotion

John woke early on Saturday, to the low morning light and the chirping of the birds. For a moment he simply lay there, exulting in the nothingness, before pushing the sheets away. It was time he got up and did something. What, he wasn’t quite sure. But he was meeting Anna later for a coffee, and as much as he was looking forward to seeing her, he had to take some time out to reconcile the war in his heart with the future that was now sure to be in front of him.

Anna had been on a date last night.

No doubt she would fill him in on the details today, and he had to practice looking pleased for her when inside his heart was breaking. He’d had opportunities to do something about the vortex of feelings that swirled around inside him, but he’d been too cowardly to face his fears, and now all opportunity had passed him by. This was different to the holiday in Magaluf; he’d spotted them leaving through the window, and the man that Anna had been with was nothing like those immature prats who had swarmed her abroad.  Whoever this guy was, he was clearly well-groomed, in a sharp suit and a crisp white shirt. He obviously knew what money was, and would be able to treat her like a princess. They hadn’t been holding hands when they’d gone out but they might have been when they came back; he hadn’t gone to look, but he’d heard their voices through the wide-open window after midnight, and it had sounded as if they’d had a good time.

He swore to himself and scrubbed a hand down his face. It was time to accept the facts of life, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

He shaved off his overnight shadow and showered, then headed to the bedroom to pull on his customary jeans and shirt. It promised to be another scorching day outside—Britain was in the throes of its first heatwave in years, and it was horrible—then decided that the best way of getting rid of some of this pent-up frustration would be to go for a morning walk. The experts always said that exercise was good for that kind of thing, didn’t they? Well, there was no better time to try it.

As he was swiping his keys up from the coffee table, however, he heard it below his feet. A bang and a shriek. Christ, that hadn’t sounded good. Had Anna hurt herself? Heart hammering, he snatched the keys up, locked the door quickly behind him—it took him three attempts to get the key into the lock—and hurried for the stairs as quickly as his knee would allow. He’d take a detour on the way down, just to make sure that she was okay. He’d never be able to go out now without checking that she was fine, and he’d never forgive himself if she’d hurt herself and he’d not gone to see if she was all right.

And what if her bloke is there? a sly voice in the back of his head said. What if she asked him to stay for the night?

He shook the thought away, taking a shuddering breath even as the thought made him feel sick to the stomach. If that was indeed the case, well, he’d have to face it like an adult and get on with it. There was nothing he could do to prevent the tide, and he could not take out his bitterness on Anna, not when she was the person who meant most to him in the whole world. He would simply have to deal with it. She’d never been meant for him, anyway.

He drew up short when he reached her door, taking a second to compose himself before raising his fist and rapping his knuckles against the wood.

“Anna?” he called. “Anna, are you all right?”

He could hear shuffling behind the barrier. “I’m fine.”

“Can you open up? I’d like to see for myself. I won’t keep you long. I’m just heading out.”

There was more rustling, then the door creaked open.

His breath caught in his throat.

He’d never seen her like this before, and the sight of her in her natural environment simply took his breath away. This was not the carefully composed, sunny Anna he was used to seeing. The Anna before him was a little puffy-eyed from not having enough sleep, her hair was a tangled mess, there was no makeup in sight, and she was wearing a baggy t-shirt and oversized shorts that had slipped over her hips.

She was gorgeous.

“’M all right,” she mumbled, not quite meeting his eye. “I dropped something on my foot.”

With a lurch, he realised that her feet were bare. As petite as the rest of her, the intimacy of the sight made him flush all over. What a stupid thing to touch his heart. And yet he couldn’t stop it. There was indeed a darkening patch there, which suggested that it would bruise.

“What did you drop?” he asked.

“That bloody paperweight Mary bought me. I was trying to get my papers out from under it and it slipped off and hit me. Came bloody keen as well.”

“Ice it or something,” he advised.

“Don’t have any in, do I? Stupid really, given what this weather’s like.”

“I could pick some up for you on my way back round,” he offered. “I can detour to the corner shop.”

For the first time all morning, her eyes met his, peeking up at him shyly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d do anything for you, you know.”

The words lingered between them, and he cursed at their implication. He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet.

“Well, thank you,” Anna said softly. “That would be most kind. Do you want to come in a moment?”

“I’d better not,” he said, checking his watch. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Anna furrowed her brows. “Since when have I ever said that you’re intruding?”

He shrugged, careful to keep his gaze well away from her. “You might have company for all I know.”

From the look on Anna’s face, he knew that she’d cottoned on to what he was inferring. She coloured delicately, but shook her head. “There’s no one else here, John. Just me.”

The admission lightened some of the load on his shoulders,, but he did not change his stance. “Still, the longer we put off icing that, the worse it’ll be.”

“Well, perhaps you can stay for a cup of tea afterwards?”

“I’d like that,” John admitted; he could not lie. “I won’t be too long, perhaps half an hour or so. In the meantime—” He broke off, sniffing the air. “Hang on, do you smell burning?”

“Burning?” said Anna, puzzled, taking a deep drag of air herself. Her eyes widened. “Shit! The toast!”

With that, she scarpered back into the room, leaving John blinking after her. Deciding that he’d rather not be lingering on her doorstep like an uncertain teenager, he followed her inside. He could hear her banging about in the kitchen, and he followed the sounds there. The toast under the grill was almost on fire, smoke coming off it in an alarming manner, and Anna was frantically searching through her draws for something to get it out with. If they left it much longer they might have a fire on their hands, so John gritted his teeth, grabbed hold of the nearby tea towel, and wrapped it as best he could around the grill pan. He managed to hook it out and Anna dodged out of the way so he could fling it in the sink. It sat there smouldering dangerously, the acrid smell almost making him gag. Anna ducked under him and scrabbled to get the window open, flinging it as wide as she could.

“I had you down as a better cook than that,” he managed, hoping to lighten the mood.

Anna glared at him, but it was playful. “I’ll have you know that I am. I blame you for this.”

“Me? What have I done?”

“Distracting me with your gallant behaviour. I would have had perfectly nice toast if you hadn’t come sweeping in like a knight in shining armour.”

“Well, excuse me for caring about you.”

These slips of the tongue, weighted with so much, would be the death of him, he knew. Anna looked at him steadily and he turned away on the pretence of checking on the charred thing in the sink.

“How about I bring some kind of pastry from the coffee shop on the way back?” he said. “Would that make it up to you?”

“It might,” she said. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Go and sit down,” he said. “I’ll make you a cup of tea to drink while I’m gone, and I’ll just pop out for you.”

“What would I do without you?” she murmured, hobbling towards the tiny sitting room. John waited until she was gone, taking the time to gather himself, before switching on the kettle to boil. He listened to the sounds of Anna getting comfortable on her couch, and banged about making her the perfect cup of tea. That, at least, was one thing he was guaranteed to get right. He could make a mean cup of tea.

Once it was done, coupled with a few biscuits to satiate Anna’s sweet tooth, he limped back into the room. Anna had her foot elevated on the coffee table, and he kept his eyes on her face as he handed her the cup. “Here you are, milady. Now sit tight.”

He’d half-turned away when her soft voice stopped him. “John.”

“Yes?” he said.

“Wait a minute. Lean down a little.”

Confused, John watched as Anna placed the mug on the coffee table. “What?”

She huffed. “I’m not in the best of states to come to you right now, so I want you to come to me.”

“Why?”

She huffed, a definite edge to her voice now. “If you keep questioning me, I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Lose your nerve to do what?”

She huffed again, almost grinding her teeth in frustration now, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. John barely had time to register alarm that she would probably be able to see his hairy belly underneath before she tugged him towards her with surprising strength. He flailed about, narrowly missing hitting Anna with his cane as he dropped it so he could put a steadying hand against the back of the sofa just above Anna’s head.

“What the hell—” he yelped, heart beating far too fast in his chest, but Anna’s spare hand snaked between them, yanked the collar of his shit still further down towards her, and angled her head up to his.

Time stopped.

Anna was kissing him.

Anna was kissing him.

His brain was frozen, as if he’d plummeted into icy depths and could not make himself function again. It was the one overwhelming thought in his mind as Anna’s mouth moved softly over his, that Anna, his best friend, the woman he had been longing to kiss for so goddamned long, was actually doing this.

Before he could even stop to enjoy it, however, she pulled away from him. With a jolt, he realised that she was scowling. Christ, that was all he needed, for her to regret it as soon as it had happened. He had not been the instigator, thank God, but how could he laugh it off when inside his heart was already beginning to crack…?

“Bleedn’ hell, John,” she said.

“What?” he said, his mouth feeling thick. He could still feel the weight of her mouth on his, like a phantom.

“I’m putting myself out here! The very least you could do is give me a sign!”

“What?” he repeated. Her eyes flashed, and he had a nasty feeling that he was sailing perilously close to the wind with his inability to form any other words.

But how could he? Words had fled the moment that Anna’s mouth had touched his, so soft and warm. He had dreamt about that moment over and over, had ached for it so desperately, and it had happened like that, completely out of the blue, robbing him of all intelligence. How was he supposed to articulate the things that were going around in his head, his question of what the hell was going on, of what this meant for them?

“Give me something!” Anna said, and there was a definite edge to her voice now. If he didn’t answer her, he had a feeling that he would be facing down her wrath. He had never seen Anna lose her temper—she was so sweet-tempered and measured at all times, a stark contrast to Mary’s wild changes in mood—but even the most placid person would reach breaking point at some time. Apparently this was Anna’s.

“I—just—what?” he managed, then, realising that he had said the dreaded ‘W’ word again, hastened to add on, “Did that just happen?”

“Yes,” she ground out. “Yes, John. That just happened. I just kissed you.”

“Wow,” he said. “Wow.”

“God, you’re terrible at this,” she snapped. “I still don’t have a clue whether I’ve just screwed everything up for us or not.”

John blinked at her, brain sluggishly beginning to work again. “Oh, no. No, you haven’t messed anything up.”

“But are you just saying that because you’re such a gentleman, or do you actually mean it?”

He thought back on all those days of longing, all those nights of aching for her and torturing himself on how much he wanted to confess how he felt. He thought on his determination to let her go and live the life she deserved with a man that he could never be.

The right thing to do for her would be to let her down gently, to tell her that he loved her as a friend but they could never be more than that. It would kill him inside, but it would be wrong to tie her down. If one of them had to sacrifice happiness it should be him, to atone for all of the sins in his past.

But the words got stuck in his throat, like cement, and he could not force them out. The plain truth of the matter was that he wanted this woman, and he didn’t think that he’d ever recover if he watched her get on with her life with someone else. Hadn’t the date yesterday proven that to him? This would be his last chance, of that he had no doubt. If he did not seize it now, he would never get another.

He bent his head down and caught her lips again.

Anna made a muffled sound of surprise against him, but her arms wound eagerly around his shoulders and she kissed him back in earnest, her mouth opening up beneath his with such enthusiasm that it made him shudder. She tasted of tea, and he pushed closer, desperate to have more of her. He was walking through an oasis after years of being denied; he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed someone, and the simple pleasure of it was crashing over him now, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The movement of her mouth was sending pleasure arrowing straight down to the pit of his stomach, and he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, angling her head just slightly so he could meet her tongue. Electricity exploded down his spine, and when Anna ran her hands down his body to pull him even closer, he broke the kiss, burying his head into her shoulder and taking deep breaths, trying to control himself. He resisted her attempts to bring him closer, hyper-aware that if his body touched hers he would embarrass himself by letting her know just how much he wanted her. She seemed to understand his desire to pull away this time; her hands smoothed down his back reassuringly, and she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, nestling her nose there. For long moments, neither of them said a thing.

“I think that answers my question,” Anna said at last, then started to giggle. He couldn’t help himself, laughing too; it seemed the best way to release the disbelieving, relieved tension in his body. Christ, he was trembling. He’d never been like this in his whole life.

“So I take it you won’t be seeing your date again?” he asked.

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “No. He was nice enough, but…”

“But?”

“He wasn’t you,” she said simply. “Mary insisted that I go, but I wasn’t quite ready to give up on you.”

“Mary knows?” he said, not quite sure how he felt about that. He tried to remember if she had ever dropped any obvious hints that he hadn’t picked up on at the time, too busy wallowing in self-pity.

“No,” said Anna. “No, I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want her to make things uncomfortable for you if you didn’t feel the same way. I know how awkward she can be about those kinds of things sometimes. But I’ve been single for a long time now, and I suppose she decided that it was time I got back in the saddle. I didn’t really know how to tell her that I wasn’t interested without having to confess that I had my eye on someone, so I went along with it. He wasn’t a complete arsehole, which I ought to be grateful for. Mary does like to pick them.”

John knew that from experience; Mary had dated some frights in her time, including that awful Tony Foyle, who had stalked her for a few months after she had broken up with him.

He could well imagine that Anna’s type of bloke was a long way from Mary’s, and the idea of the younger woman match-making for her was laughable in its own way. Still, the knowledge that Anna hadn’t had the best time in the world simply because the bloke hadn’t been him cheered him no end.

“And you’re sure that you’re making the right choice?” he ventured.

“Yes,” was the instant response. “I want you, not him. I’m not going to pretend that he wasn’t nice. He was. But he didn’t get my heart racing, and he didn’t give me butterflies.”

“I give you butterflies?” he asked, nonplussed. It was a thought that he couldn’t get his head around; what on earth about him could make Anna feel that way? He had much more flab than muscle, and at fifteen years her senior he would hardly be the sort of person that most women in their mid-twenties found attractive.

“You always have,” she said vaguely. “I thought I’d been pretty obvious on that score, John.”

“I’ve never been much good at reading women,” he admitted. The only woman he’d read with ease had been Vera, but she’d been so obvious about everything that only an idiot would have missed the signs; she’d set out to snare him with her sexuality, ad young and stupid as he’d been, she’d succeeded. In the years that had followed, it had been impossible to miss her venom and indifference towards him. After the injury, that had only got worse, and there had been too much poison for their relationship to possibly survive.

“I’ll say,” said Anna, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, no wonder I’ve never been one for dating. It’s utterly exhausting.”

“But you’re willing to give it a go now?” he said hopefully. Perhaps foolishly. There was no such thing as plain sailing in his life, and he doubted he would be lucky with this.

She tilted her head just so. “Yes. Though I’m going to have to let Lee know, which I expect is going to be a horrendously uncomfortable conversation. I at least owe him that after everything.”

“‘After everything’?”

“Well, you know. He did take me out to dinner and walk me home like a true gentleman.”

“And kissed you on the doorstep?” said John. His heart lurched horribly in his chest at the thought of this bloke with his hands all over Anna’s body, perhaps holding her in the places he himself had been holding her only minutes before.

Anna smirked at him. “Jealous, are we?”

“No,” he lied, pulling away completely. “You have the right to kiss whoever you want to.”

“How kind of you to say.” She kept the tension going between them for a few more seconds before shaking her head. “Honestly, men are ridiculous, pouting over every tiny thing.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.” She reached up and ran her index finger over his lips. He promptly relaxed his mouth, scowling at her. “Don’t look so worried, of course I didn’t kiss him. I think he wanted me to, but he was a perfect gentleman about it all. And I’ve already told you: it’s you I want. I’m not going to go around kissing anyone else when as far as I’m concerned you’re the only one I want to kiss.”

Her words placated him, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry if I was a bit of an arse. It’s just…I’m not used to the idea that you might have feelings for me. It feels too good to be true.”

“Well, believe,” she said softly. “I’d never lie to you, John. You’re my best friend, and I’d never want to hurt you.”

“I know,” he reassured her. “I feel the same way. It’s just…surreal.” He couldn’t stop his grin from spreading. “Christ, I can’t believe you kissed me.”

She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “Neither can I. It was…rather forward of me. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

“I’m glad it did. I liked it. And if we’re being honest, I don’t think I would have had the courage to make the first move.”

“Then I’m glad I did. It felt right. You were being so caring, I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d tried.”

“It did feel right,” he agreed softly. So right. More than he could ever put into words. As clichéd and pathetic as it sounded, it felt like coming home, as if he’d found the missing part of his soul after so many years of searching. He’d had feelings for people before, and he was sure that Anna had too, but there was something about the way he felt for Anna that transcended everything he’d ever felt. The idea of soulmates was corny…but on some level he truly believed that that was what Anna was to him. He could have this was someone else and no doubt be comfortable with it…but there would always be the sense that something was missing, just some tiny piece, like the final one in a jigsaw that prevented the full, glorious picture.

Anna shifted with a wince, and he suddenly remembered the purpose of this mission before he had been distracted by the delights of Anna’s mouth.

“Ice,” he said. “I was going to get you ice.”

“You needn’t bother,” she said. “I can manage. You can stay here and keep me company.”

A tempting as the prospect was, he was determined to do this properly. He would not jump into bed with her at the first invitation, no matter how agreeable that sounded to his body, which had been without the touch of a woman for so long. No, he did not want her to think that that was all he wanted her for when her mind, her cheerfulness, her wit, all was so much more appealing to him. “I’m a man of my word. When I say I’m going to get you ice and something for breakfast, that’s what I’m going to do. But then I’ll come back and perhaps we can sit and watch a movie?” A movie would be safe. It would give them the opportunity to cuddle up with each other, but he was determined that it would go no further than that. Escaping for a little while would give him time to regroup and strengthen his resolve. He’d had to have nerves of steel during the war, and he could rediscover them now.

Anna looked slightly disappointed, but she nodded her head. “Sounds good. See you soon.”

He bent his head one more time and kissed her, pulling away before she could deepen it too much. Taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her skin, he pecked at her forehead, gathered his cane from where it had fallen, and stumped towards the door. In the doorway he turned to look at her one more time, mussed and beautiful as she was, and felt a surge of deep, deep affection for her. It was too soon to tell her he loved her, but the feeling was growing nevertheless, sweeping him away on a riptide.

What a lucky, lucky man he was.

-- --          

Sour Milk, Sweet Victory

The text came when he was halfway through the day. There was nothing to suggest that there was anything inherently wrong, but it gave John a reason to pause nevertheless.

If you can get away ASAP, I think you should. It’s important. x

It was precise and to the point, and very unlike Anna. Emojis were the bane of his life, but she loved them; she wrote him essays by text message, to let him know that she was thinking about him, that she couldn’t wait to see him.  The kiss was reassuring, but there was something ominous about it, and it put him on edge. Had something happened? Was she ill?

Christ, had she fallen pregnant?

That would certainly be a speedbump in the road. It wasn’t as if he might not want children with Anna in the future—she would make a wonderful mother and he was certain that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life without her—but these were still early days, and if he was truly honest with himself, he had not planned children into his relationship until further down the line. Realistically, there was no question about what they would do in his mind, but it was something that would need a great deal of consideration—after all, it was Anna’s body, not his.

He was probably getting ahead of himself. There was probably nothing to worry about. Still, he needed to put his mind at rest.

Thankfully, begging off work early was not difficult. Robert was quick to point out that he always worked more hours than he needed to, and he was happy to let him take the afternoon off. Grateful, John shot off a text. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Anna did not respond on the way home, and he parked his car and practically ran inside, damn his leg. He hammered on Anna’s door for a full minute before realising that she might be up at his flat. They’d exchanged keys a mere two weeks ago for convenience, and he used his now to quickly check that she wasn’t anywhere in the flat before heading up towards his own. His key scraped in the lock as he pushed open his own door.

He stopped short, feeling as if the bottom had just dropped out of his world.

“Hello, Johnny,” said Vera. She was standing in the little kitchenette, leaning against the worktop. “You’re out of milk, I’m sorry to say. It’s gone off. Which is a shame, as I rather fancied a cup of tea. Of course, I wouldn’t say no to a nip of something stronger if you have it. I can usually rely on you to have that.”

The absurdity of the statement, of her standing right there in his flat when he had not seen her since she had signed her name on the dotted line in the solicitor’s office was simply overwhelming. Surreal. She was talking about sour milk as if he’d just gone back in time five years.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, spat with more vehemence than he wanted to show her.

Vera folded her arms across her chest, her icy blue eyes flashing with gleeful malice. “That’s not a very nice way to greet your wife, Johnny.”

“Ex-wife,” he spat back at her.

“Ah, of course, you wouldn’t let that little detail slip me by, would you? It’s no surprise you’d want to remind me of that fact, not when your pretty little piece is here. Didn’t take you long to get your end away, did it? There’s no wonder the milk’s gone sour. I bet you’re never here to use it.”

It was then that John realised that Anna was indeed there too, standing quietly behind the sofa, analysing the scene in front of her. He hardly dared look at her, terrified that he would see regret and judgement in her gaze. He could only imagine how this scene must have played out. Vera had never been known for her grace, spouted vitriol on a regular basis. If Anna had already been here when she had arrived—and she must have been, given the text, given her presence here now—then he could only imagine the things that she might have said. It did not bear thinking about.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, closing the door behind him.

“I came to see how you are.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t be like that, Johnny. I won’t stand to be talked to like that.” Vera turned towards Anna, a snake-like smile curling her mouth. “Do you know that he’s got a horrible temper, dearie? Snaps at the slightest thing and says the most awful things. I feared for my life sometimes.”

“Like hell you did.”

“See? I feel sorry for you, putting up with someone like him. You must be desperate.”

Anna rolled her shoulders back, jutting her chin defiantly. “On the contrary, I count myself fortunate.”

“And that’s the most unfortunate thing I’ve ever heard. Your standards must be exceedingly low if you consider yourself fortunate to be with a broken down old drunk. Has he told you about that, eh? That he gets so pissed that he shouts and breaks things and sometimes wants to fuck you even though he says that he hates you?”

John felt himself going cold all over, bile rising in his throat. He could not bring himself to look in Anna’s direction, terrified of what he might see in her face. Revulsion. Horror. Belief in Vera’s words.

“John doesn’t drink,” Anna said calmly.

Vera’s face twisted in an ugly sneer. “How naïve you are.”

“He hasn’t touched a drop in five years. Since splitting from you, in fact.”

“He told you this, did he? And you believed him. What a silly little girl you are.”

Anna shrugged. “I believe him because he’s telling the truth.”

“And has he told you about all of the other ugly skeletons in his closet? Has he told you about prison?” Vera’s eyes gleamed with triumph; clearly she believed that she was going to shake the very foundations of their fledgling relationship.

“Of course he has,” said Anna without missing a beat.

“Really?” said Vera scathingly.

John stepped forward. “Really. People have the right to know the worst of me.”

“It just helped me to see the best of him,” said Anna. “He’s made mistakes in his past, but he’s not the same man anymore.”

“Mistakes!” cackled Vera. “You call having a criminal record a mistake? Men like my husband never change.”

“Ex-husband,” said Anna, sounding bored. “Look, is this all you’ve come to do? Try to intimidate me out of being with John? Because it’s not going to work and I’ve got better things to be doing with my time than listening to a jealous ex.”

“Jealous? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m not. That’s what you sound like. A bitter old woman who can’t stand to see anyone else happy.”

“Batesy doesn’t know how to make anyone else happy.”

“He makes me happy,” said Anna defiantly. “He makes me very happy. So if you’ve come here hell-bent on revenge, I’m going to have to burst your bubble. I know that he struggled with alcoholism. I know that you were poorly matched. I know that he’s had a suspended prison sentence.  Nothing you’ve come to say will shock me, so let me save us both some time.”

“You’re an arrogant little bitch, aren’t you?” said Vera.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” John snarled, taking a step forward, but Anna held up her hand.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, John,” she said.

“But you’re quite happy to fight his,” sneered Vera.

“Because he’s too much of a gentleman to do it himself,” Anna retorted. “He’ll fight with honour, but I can fight as dirty as the rest of them. So go on, I dare you. I can take you down any day of the week.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Are you willing to test it?”

The two women stared each other down. Anna was several inches shorter than Vera was, but she stood tall and unafraid, and in that moment John felt, despite the sickening pounding of his heart, such a warm surge of affection for her. She really was the best of women. No one had ever defended him like this before, and it did not make him feel vulnerable. In fact, he had never felt more powerful. Taking a deep breath, he limped around the room to Anna’s side, positioning himself protectively at her shoulder.

“I think it’s time you left,” he told Vera quietly.

Her eyes flashed. “I don’t think so, Johnny. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

“Then allow me to make this easy for you,” said Anna, taking a step forward. “If you don’t leave now I will call the police. John owes you nothing. If you continue to harass him then I will personally make sure that you get your just desserts, starting with breaking and entering. I have a friend in the police force, you see, and he’d be very happy to take my case up. A quiet word in the right person’s ear and you’ll be behind bars in no time. I suspect that you wouldn’t like it there.”

“Are you threatening me?” Vera hissed. “Because I can have you tied up just as quickly.”

“I’d like to see you try,” said Anna. “Who would believe you over me? I’d be willing to wager on that outcome. So go on, try me.”

Vera glared at them with a stare icy enough to freeze before turning on her heel and storming to the door. In the threshold she turned.

“This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me,” she said.

“Yes,” said Anna, “it is.” She marched across the room. “Darken this doorstep again and you’ll be sorry you ever did.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” said Anna. “It’s a promise.” With that, she slammed the door in Vera’s face.

Ringing silence followed. Every muscle in John’s body was tensed, as if ready for battle. He strained to hear Vera’s footsteps fading away.

“That won’t be the end of it,” he said softly.

Anna was breathing hard. “I beg to differ. I don’t think she’s stupid enough to test it.”

She wasn’t stupid, no, but she was cunning, and would not take kindly to being made a fool of in front of him. Still, John pushed his disquiet away for the time being. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t be. I always knew that she was a bitch, but I never realised just how much until just now.”

“I can’t imagine it was a cosy atmosphere.”

She laughed. “Oh, it wasn’t. I think I took her by surprise, actually. She was probably expecting to see you coming through the door and instead she got me. For a split-second I think she thought she’d broken into the wrong flat before she put two and two together. It was an interesting fifteen minutes to say the least.”

“I’d understand if this changed things between us.”

“Don’t be silly! I meant what I said, John Bates. You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, but you’d let her walk all over you. I won’t let that happen. And I certainly won’t let her ruin what we have. It’s good, isn’t it?”

He looked at her. Yes, it was good. Better than good. He’d never known relationships could be like this. Such bliss.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it’s good.”

“There we are, then,” Anna said simply. “That’s all there is to it. She’s not going to win. I won’t let her.”

“I just can’t believe meeting her hasn’t put you off me.”

“I know you have a past, John. So does everyone else. I meant what I said. I know you’re not the same man as before, and I like you just as you are. She was right about one thing, though.”

“Oh?” said John, his heart twisting.

Anna gave him a little smile. “Your milk has gone off. So how about we do what we’ve done all week and go down to mine?”

She came over to his side and wrapped her arms around him. John squeezed her back tightly, stooping to rest his chin against the crown of her head. He couldn’t share her certainty that Vera was gone for good, but there was one thing that he had total confidence in:

No matter what, Anna would be right there, fighting tooth and nail for what they could build together.

And he’d never been happier.

-- --

Melted Chocolate, Gooey Hearts

These days, Robert frequently liked to tell him that he had become one of those exceedingly dull people whose personalities all but disappeared when they met someone they liked. John rolled his eyes in return, though he suspected that there was some truth in his friend’s words, and more than a little fear that things were changing. As happy as Robert was for him, their friendship was entering unchartered waters; in all of the years that they had known each other—over two decades now—Robert had never known him to be in a happy, stable relationship. It was bound to be weird for him. Hell, it was weird for John himself.

But as incomprehensible as it all sounded, things were going better than ever with Anna. She was endlessly patient with him as he navigated through feelings and situations he had never known before; after their first real fight, he had been sure that it was all over, that she would scream that she never wanted to see him again. That was something that Vera would have done, screeching abuse at him about everything from his worthless disability to his inadequacy in the bedroom, before she would have stormed back into his life as if she knew that no one else in the world had a right to be there but her.

His tongue, often sharpened by the drink and by Vera’s goading, had not completely forgotten how to injure, but he had been racked by a crippling guilt he had never known before as soon as he’d uttered harsh words to Anna. She had not flinched, but he had sensed the hardening of her mouth, and her request for him to leave had not been an unreasonable one. He’d gone at once, too cowardly to do any different, and had spent the following day with his phone in his sweaty palm, trying to work up the courage to speak to her, to grovel at her feet like she deserved. In the end, inevitably, Anna had come to him, still stony and barbed, but at least willing to work on his awful imperfections. He had not been able to thank her enough for giving him the second chance he did not merit, and had promised himself that no matter what it took he would master that stupid Irish temper of his, because Anna had already sacrificed so much for him, and he would not pay her back more poorly than he already was.

They’d worked through it, like adults should, and he marvelled at the fact that he was able to have a mature, normal relationship with a woman that did not involve constantly breaking-and-making up. Anna stoked his desire to be a better man, and if there was anyone he was determined to succeed for, it was for her.

So they had gone from strength to strength, and now John finally felt in a place of peace.

On their six month anniversary, he splashed down the high street. The warm August rain was a welcome change to the unbearably hot weather they’d been enduring recently, and he tilted his head up to it, enjoying the feel of it against his face. It brought back decent memories of his time in the army, when any kind of relief from the searing weather abroad had been seized with both hands, and his comrades had whooped and run out into it, relishing the novelty of being cool once more. Anna too enjoyed the rain, and he would never forget the first moment that he’d seen her out in it, drenched to the bone in a summer monsoon, arms wide as if welcoming it; he’d joined her there, kissing her fiercely as if they were in some corny movie, her mouth warm and wet, rivulets running down her skin. It was another memory he’d treasure forever.

He was just splashing past the bright lights of the big name department store when he saw it. The local chocolatier’s shop window was cosy and inviting, filled with all manner of delectable treats, and John was drawn to them at once. He pressed his palm against the cool glass, peering closer at the display.

They’d already exchanged presents that morning, of course. He’d bought her a delicate piece of jewellery, his anxiety rising all the time as he tried to decide what was a suitable gift for a first, small anniversary; in return she had surprised him with a thoughtful weekend away to Harrogate, a quaint little Yorkshire town he had always been interested in visiting.

But Anna loved chocolate, and he had many happy memories of her sneaking the last one, or choosing the sweetest, chocolatiest thing on the menu to satisfy her cravings. Chocolates were a simple gift, but he had already gone for the overt declaration, and he knew that she would appreciate this small gesture just as much as any other. Shaking his head like a dog to dispel some of the excess water, he shuffled inside the shop.

There were so many things that he was spoiled for choice. In the end he plumped for the personal box, which meant that he could fill it with whatever chocolate he wanted. He chose all of Anna’s favourites, from strawberry-centred to caramel, and the shop worker kindly wrapped it up in a neat bow, much better than anything he could have done. Satisfied, he continued with his journey home.

Once there he laid the box down on the table and headed for the shower. It would be nice to scrub the grime from the day away, and he wanted to look his best for Anna. They were not going out to dine tonight—they had reservations for the weekend—but he still wanted to make the best impression he could.

By the time he got out of the shower, however, it was to a missed call on his phone from Anna. Frowning, he swiped it open. What could be wrong? He hoped she was okay. He hadn’t expected to hear from her before he met up with her. He hit the speed dial that she’d inputted for him and thrust the phone against his ear, waiting for her to answer.

She did so almost immediately.

“Hi,” she said, sounding tired.

“Hello, my darling. I’m sorry I missed your call. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she sighed, but she didn’t quite sound it. “Just…I’m sorry, John.”

“Sorry? For what?”

Now her voice trembled slightly. “I think I have to cancel tonight.”

His stomach plummeted in disappointment, but he kept his voice even. “Oh, okay.”

“I hate myself for having to do it.”

“Can I…can I ask why?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, my head’s all over the place at the minute.”

It was all the work she was doing at the moment. When she wasn’t working out in the real world she was coming home to pore over her assignments, determined to get the best grades and achieve her dream of helping others as a career. John was so proud of her, but it was troubling too—he was trying to find that fine line of supporting her with every fibre of his being and also stepping in to make her take a break when he thought that she was doing far too much. He did not want her to think that he was trying to control her life in any way—Christ, that was the last thing he wanted to do—but at the same time he wanted to let her know that he was concerned about her, that he cared about her.

That he loved her.

The words had not yet passed his lips, but that did not make his feelings any less true.

“I’ve got to finish my assignment.” Anna’s voice pulled him back to the present, and he forced himself to focus on her words. “I thought I was done but…well, I think I must have pressed the wrong button last night and it hasn’t saved it and I didn’t notice it because I didn’t go to bed until gone one, so I’m going to have to do the final bit all over again and it’s due on Friday so I have to get it done—”

“Say no more,” he interrupted her. “I get it. We didn’t have any plans.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“I wish things could be different,” she said fretfully. “I just feel like a horrible girlfriend, not wanting to see you.”

“I know you want to see me. And it’s not like it’s a proper anniversary. Hell, it’s not a year’s. It’s fine, Anna, honestly.”

“But…”

The idea occurred to him then. “Well, how about…how about I come down to yours anyway, then? I won’t get in your way. I’ll be like a little ghost in the flat. I’ll bring a book to keep me occupied but I could cook you something so you don’t have to stop what you’re doing. And I promise that I won’t speak a single word to you until you’re done for the evening. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Anna gratefully. “But are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, of course I don’t. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

The words lingered all over again, like they had the first time he’d spoken them, and he heard the smile in Anna’s voice. “Then please, come on down. I’d love to see you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. Feeling happier than he had at the beginning of the conversation, he pulled on his clothes, swiped the chocolates from the table and then, as an afterthought, raided his fridge for some ingredients. He knew what Anna could be like, and when she was in the zone as she had been this week, she often forgot to check to see what she had in stock. He did not want to be confronted with an empty fridge when he arrived and, since meeting Anna, he had become a lot better about making sure that he had actual food to work with and not just microwave meals for one.

Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he set off down the flight of steps for Anna’s place. He keyed himself in. She was sitting at her little desk in the sitting room, but she swivelled around on her chair when he entered, giving him a beaming smile.

“Hey,” she said.

John mimed zipping his mouth. “I’m not here, remember?”

“So I can’t even say hello to you?”

“Not if it’s going to distract you from what you’re doing,” he teased.

She pouted. “So that means I don’t get a kiss?”

“You’ll get a kiss goodnight when I leave. Or you’ll get one as a reward if you finish your paper before then.”

“Is that a challenge, Mr. Bates?”

“It might be. The question is, are you up for it?”

She jutted her chin. “I think I might be.”

“Great. Well, you get on. I’m going to go through to the kitchen and start cooking. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Okay,” she said, turning back to her work. John watched her for a beat longer before moving towards the kitchen. He enjoyed being in here. It was laid out in exactly the same way that his was, but she’d filled her cupboards differently, and each time he opened one expecting to see one thing and finding another he felt like he was getting to know her just that little bit more intimately. It was a nice feeling.

He was certainly no connoisseur, so he stuck to something tried and trusted. His mother had once shown him how to make a mean lasagne, and it had become his signature dish. He chopped potatoes for homemade chips and cleared away his mess whilst his basic creation cooked, determined that Anna wouldn’t have anything to fuss with tonight. When that was done he sat himself down at the table and pulled out his book. The longer he could leave Anna on her own, the better.

Once tea was cooked, he popped his head in on the sitting room.

“Love, it’s ready,” he said.

Anna glanced up, rubbing at her eyes. She was looking sleepy now. “Oh, thank you, John. I’m coming.”

She pushed her chair away and made her way towards him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she passed, and it made her smile brighten. That only made the warm glow in his chest kindle more vibrantly. Following her, he plated up the meal and took it across to her.

“Do you want any wine?” he asked her as he sat himself down.

“Better not,” she said. “It’ll send me straight to sleep and that won’t do me any good. I can have a celebratory glass later.”

“Fair enough.” John chewed a mouthful of food, gathered his courage, and said, “I have something else for you.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know we’ve already exchanged gifts but it’s only something small.” He pushed his chair away from the table and fetched the chocolates, which he had left on the side. Anna’s eyes widened when she saw the box.

“Oh, John, you didn’t have to!” she cooed, taking them from his hands. “You’re so thoughtful.”

He shrugged. “I wish it was something better, but…”

“It’s perfect,” she told him firmly. “These are my favourites. Thank you so much. These will make the perfect dessert.” She leaned across the table and pressed her mouth to his, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“You’re welcome. Now, how about we eat so you can get back to work?”

“That eager to get rid of me?” she teased.

“No, of course not!” he said. “But the quicker you get done, the quicker we can spend some quality time together.”

She beamed at him, and attacked her food with gusto. When they were done, John insisted that she leave the tidying up to him so that she could concentrate on what mattered. She protested a little but soon disappeared back into the sitting room, taking the chocolates with her. John hummed to himself as he returned the kitchen to its pre-tea state.

Once he was finished, he decided that he couldn’t hide in the kitchen any longer, and took his book though to the sitting room. He had no intention of disturbing Anna, but he reasoned that he wouldn’t be too much of a distraction if he just sat on the sofa quietly whilst she worked.

The book was less than enthralling when compared with Anna .He tried reading a few pages but he kept catching his gaze slipping away from the page and latching on to Anna instead, studying her as she studied her notes. The warm glow in his heart spread further, warming him to the tips of his fingers and toes. She had her feet tucked up beneath her, chewing whimsically at the end of the pen she had in her mouth. She looked unbearably adorable like that, the little frown of concentration creasing her brows.

“What are you staring at?” she murmured without looking up from the page.

“How did you know I was looking at you?” he grinned.

“I can feel the weight of your gaze on me. Besides, I haven’t heard you rustling the pages on your book for ages.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said. “I was just thinking.”

“Hmm?” Anna turned the page of the medical book she was using as a reference, her finger moving lazily over the lines. “What’s that then?”

“I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

He could tell that she hadn’t truly registered what he had said, too preoccupied with what she was reading. “That’s good.”

He stretched, abandoning his book to one side. “I hope it is.”

Anna didn’t immediately respond, bending to write something else on the page. This had not been his plan for the evening. He still did not want to distract her from what she needed to do. She was so close to realising her dream of helping those around her. Qualifying as a nurse would be her greatest achievement, and she was a mere two assignments away from doing just that. He wanted to support her every step of the way, but now that he had given voice to the thoughts that had been clamouring in his head for so long now, it was difficult to box them back up.

He’d been careful to hold himself back, not wanting to get too carried away in what they had, but since she had sent Vera packing so admirably, never swaying away from any of the barbs that had been thrown at her, it had made him fall even harder for her, and no matter what came now, it was time that she knew.

“It is,” she murmured, scrabbling about on her desk for a chocolate without looking and popping it into her mouth. They were melting; he watched as she popped her thumb into her mouth and sucked off the excess chocolate. How beautiful she was.

“Well, that’s good, then. I was half-afraid that my confession of love would go down like a lead balloon.”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” she said absently, then froze halfway through turning the page. Very slowly, she turned to look at him, as if she didn’t quite dare believe what she thought she’d heard. “Wait, what?”

John couldn’t help grinning broadly, folding his arms across his chest. “I said that I’m glad you’re not against hearing that I love you.”

“What?”

“Are you going deaf?” He paused for greater effect, then said with slow deliberation, dragging out the words, “I love you.”

Anna blinked at him a few times, as if that would help her to process the information better. “You…love me?”

“I do.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.”

“Bloody hell,” she said, throwing down her pen; it hit the edge of her desk and bounced away. She didn’t seem to notice, leaping to her feet and sending her chair clattering sideways. “You just said—you love—bloody hell!”

“Are you all right?” he asked her, amused. His glee quickly softened into something soft and all-consuming as she turned those blue eyes on him. They were shimmering with unshed tears, and when she spoke again, her voice was quivering.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Believe,” he told her, echoing her word from all that time ago. “And…and it’s okay? You’re not put off or anything?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “You silly beggar! As if I’d be put off by that! In my whole life, I’ve never been as happy as I am in this moment. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words, John. I love you too.”

Now it was his turn to be momentarily paralysed. “You do?” In his most hopeful imaginings he’d yearned to hear her echo those words back at him, so that they could have the fairy tale ending that they both deserved. But somehow, hearing those words in reality blew away every single visualisation that he’d ever had. He’d never been able to conjure up that level of emotion in her voice, an overwhelming mix of delight, desire, and giddy disbelief.

“I love you too,” she repeated. “I love you so much, John.”

She swept towards him then, and practically launched herself at him. He huffed as her full weight careened into him, instinctively moving to wrap his arms around her. She buried her head against his shoulder, squeezing him tight in return.

“This feels like a dream,” she said, her voice muffled. “Please don’t wake me up.”

He toyed with her hair, cradling the back of her head in his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Although things had hopefully changed forever—and for better—between them, life still had to go on. Anna still had her assignment to finish. He still had to play the role of overseer to ensure that she didn’t get too side-tracked.

Anna pulled back enough to press her mouth against his, tasting of the delicious chocolates. As he held her in his arms, John supposed they could delay for just a few more minutes to bask in this perfect golden moment.

-- --

The prompt was:

I JUST MOVED INTO A NEW APARTMENT AND WENT TO BUY GROCERIES, BUT I BOUGHT MORE THAN I COULD CARRY BACK. I’VE STOPPED TO CATCH MY BREATH WHEN I HEAR SOMEONE ASKING IF I NEED HELP AND I LOOK UP AND THE SUN IS LITERALLY MAKING YOU GLOW LIKE A DAMN ANGEL AU

[tsuki-sennin]

EarthBound – Episode 58: Walking Together

As you can tell by the video length, we’re not gonna be home for a little while longer. I doubt that, if you made it this far, you’d care about spoilers at this point, but I might as well say, one more time, for all the hours we spent together... Spoilers, I guess...

>Giygas, the Universal Cosmic Destroyer and embodiment of Evil itself, has been destroyed thanks to the prayers of everyone who had followed this journey. The world is at peace now. Let us walk on the path home together.

>The children of Polestar Preschool seem to be doing well. I don’t blame them for wanting souvenirs, considering the places we’ve gone.

>Mom continues to be awesome. SHE EVEN WROTE BEEEEF IN HER LETTER JUST TO MESS WITH US.

>No, Googi is from Universe 6, where Champa, Vados, Frost, Hit, and the not-endangered Saiyan race are. This is Universe 7.

>Tony wants to see his buddy again... after all this time... see? It’s canon. He’s realistically gay, and damn well written by a 46 year old man. And it’s not the main crux of his character.

>Mr. Saturn kay-o! Boing!

>Apple Kid and his pet mouse are doing well. Time to research this mysterious “courage” that let us defeat Giygas.

>I love horseshoes! Sure thing, man!

>Dr. Andonuts is REALLY lucky that we could come back to our bodies. That dog guy who made that indie RPG that was very pointedly about NOT killing people made a ROM hack detailing what could’ve happened otherwise.

>I want another ending like this game.

>Look at all of this good we’ve done for the Saturns. Ding!

>We’re outright bourgeois now! Zoom!

>Dakota!

>Look at how tranquil Eagleland is now.

>Oh, hello editing Emile!

>...are you perhaps another gay character, ma’am? You seem to be excited by the prospect of a lady kissing you.

>What kind of adventures did Masked Man have? Why is this guy upset about people possibly dying to monsters not happening anymore? Why does this guy applaud us? No reason, I suppose.

>The treehouse kids seem to be a peaceful lot now.

>Perhaps we’ll let them use our place at Beak’s Point.

>We’ll never get a resolution on that Mach Pizza thing, it seems, but Bob has a very painful letter from a Marilyn talking about the Ultra 64 and how amazing Chrono Trigger is (can’t blame her at all!).

>Frank seems to have fully reformed himself, even offering a drink. Only mineral water though! He’s still underage!

>...looks like Ness x Paula is a popular ship round these parts.

>...the sequel won’t be around for a good several years, Captain Strong. Just wanted to warn you now.

>Pirkle once again proves himself a politician!

>Rambo-type guy... Shades Man doubts it.

>Mole man thinks we rock! And this lady wants to get married!

>Someone make a hack about Mushroom Man!

>God, this game’s dialogue just puts a silly smile on my face.

>...wow, way to ditch your kid, random NPC couple Emile never showed.

>Venus’s mom doesn’t want to see her daughter naked. Good.

>Al Everdred. He lived, he worked, he fought, he died. Rest in peace.

>Mr. T says “That’s crap!”

>The For Sale sign is dead.

>I’m a big fan of the “No”, Mr. Nuts and Seeds person but I do see the merits of “Yes”.

>Thanks, ahead of time.

>Hi, you!

>Mr. Carpainter is stuck in Gay Baby Jail. Quick! Soft reset!

>Mach Pizza is failing. Guess people just want a gold old fashioned Burger nowadays.

>Guess not everyone stuck under Giygas’s influence was an otherwise good person.

>Runway Fire still sounds like a “Worst Cooks in America” style fashion show.

>NO. STAY OUT OF THAT TENT, DR. ROSALES. I SWEAR TO POO’S ANCESTOR I WILL RIDE YOUR ASS ON THIS.

>GOOD.

>We get high praise from Talah Rama.

>Penetella Giovanni still hasn’t taken down his sign yet. Maybe he’ll leave it there as a memento of his family’s tradition. I bet it’ll become a hot tourist destination someday!

>They only found a diamond... well, you take what you get...

>Welcome to Corneria!

>DAMN YOU THOMAS JEFFERSON!

>Enrich Grand Hotel? Who’s this Enrich and why has he taken over?! Is he part of the Togami clan?!

>...Mr. Buff Shades Red Shirt, our friend here is a girl.

>100 cm rocket propelled grenades, more likely.

>From the top of the world to the elevator. Yet Monotoli seems content to be alive and well as an honest hard working man once more.

>GEE I DUNNO HOW YOU DESPAWNED HIM, MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE YOU MESSED WITH SPACE TIME!

>Looks like the girl’s still working her job. Maybe they have shifts or something... either way, we can now freely stare at her hips... Paula too... maybe...

>YOU KIDS DON’T LOOK VERY BRIGHT.

>Oh... well, I don’t need you, lady!

>The guys in Jackie’s Cafe/Boris’s Bar are doing well! They’ve even got a new friend named Aloysius!

>...you reap what you sow, Mr. Minch. All I’m gonna say.

>Tony and Maxwell are hanging out in front of the building with the Bubble Monkey’s Wife! What a beary happy day! Upupupupu!

>The Tessie Watching Club continue their activities. Bubble Monkey’s marriage isn’t doing so hot, but hey!

>The Escargo Express guy is taking good care of his family. ZOICKS! HIS KID PUT DOG FOOD IN THE MICROWAVE, SCOOB!

>Pokey kidnapped Apple Kid personally. Maybe he did it in his Spider Mech?

>FREE MAGIC TARTS!

>So Tumblr has been moved! The Lazy Cowpoke Stop n’ Go is a marked improvement, I feel!

>Lots of In Japan today, huh Emile?

>Shattered Man made us just as shattered as he is!

>Are we in purgatory or something? Because I had no idea we could do this!

>Racist Pedo Zombie Hooker Lady still gives us no closure.

>”Nah man, it’s the study of Phil!” Like... Flex Tape?

>Poo’s proud of us! We did really well!

>Let’s go ride on a boat with our girl Paula.

>When I was a kid, I thought that “Anchors aweigh” was a dialect-thing for “Anchors away”. The only time I saw it spelled out was in the Pokemon Sinnoh games (and I think maybe Drawn to Life), so...

>Pokey’s still stinking up the place, even if he’s not here.

>Red Cross stays neutral. Always.

>Brick Road’s still around.

>The weird business man hanging out in Deep Darkness seems to be like those people working with the zombies or that little shit in Fourside who stole our ruler.

>Useless broken.

>Even the Tenda are willing to give back the shyness book. Their elder can go anywhere he wants now!

>The Rock relinquishes his words.

>Damn, Ness got game! First Paula, then Venus, and now a hot librarian? ...wish I was that good when I was a kid...

>We got that kiss!

>Hey, don’t we gotta wrap this up soon? I guess next time we meet will be the last time we see each other, huh? Huh... it’ll feel weird not talking about this anymore. Man, what’ll I do afterwards?

[dr-edits-fanart-and-imagines]

For the one shot prompt, how about 7 and Kuzuryuu? If you can of course 🌻

Ahmya is super loud, rip FuyuFuyuhiko Kuzuryuu (Ultimate Yakuza) + Ahmya Fujioka (Ultimate BMX Racer): Meeting

“Ohhhh maw gawd! You’re so tiny! Like a stuffed animal!” Ahmya exclaimed, completely skipping the whole introduction part. 

Fuyuhiko groaned loudly, “Oh, fantastic– hey, put me down, bitch!” He yelps as Ahmya picks him up by under the arms. He starts kicking and moving around as much as possible, trying his best to get this freak to drop him. 

“Oh, calm down! You’re so small, I can’t resist!” Ahmya gently drops him before pinching one of his cheeks, “What’s your talent? Ultimate Cutiepie?” She giggles. 

“I’m the Ultimate Yakuza, bitch!” He dusts himself off and backs away from her after slapping her hand away from his face. 

“And I’m the Prime Minister!” She laughs loudly, “Actually, I’m the Ultimate BMX Racer! Haven’t lost a single race!” She places her leather-gloved hands on her hips, a wide and proud smile imprinted on her face. 

“Yeah, I really don’t care, fuck off already.” Fuyuhiko grumbled under his breath, folding his arms and beginning to turn away. 

“Wow, you’re a real stick in the mud, aren’t ya? Ya little shit? I can tell you’re totally entitled!” Ahmya’s smile never faltered, even when insulting the Ultimate Yakuza. 

“Ugh! Shut up already! Where is Peko when I need her?!” He began striding off, only to have Ahmya in tow. 

“Is Pokey your girlfriend?” She asked. 

He didn’t even answer that time, just started walking faster and faster. At some point, she got distracted by something shiny. 

Ahmya, basically a very loud puppy. Very lovable, just doesn’t shut up.

[organized-chaos-named-anna]

My Grandpa Had A Tarantula

My grandpa had a tarantula.  He kept it in his basement where any spider should be. I was always curious about it. A nervous curiosity, where the nervousness creates a giddy feeling persuading you to go further in search of more. My mother on the other hand was not very fond of this spider. Anything creepy crawly for that matter. My grandpa knew this and very much used it to his advantage. You see tarantulas shed. But not in the normal way we think of shedding. It creates a replica of itself and emerges from the shell leaving behind a crunchy and very realistic photocopy. My grandpa would take this hollowed-out version and place it outside of its cage. Somewhere where it could possibly look like it had escaped and very plausibly could come after you. I was the accomplice. Yes, innocent me was persuaded into convincing my mother to enter the basement, while my grandpa convinced her his stepping away from the barbecue could only lead to disaster and so was unable to accompany me himself. But really the moment we left he turned off the grill and scurried to the basement door, awaiting the scream. 

So we climbed down the wooden steps to the cage. But the cage was empty. That was when the first panic set into my mother’s eyes. It raised the hair on her arms, a predatory feature to appear bigger than yourself to ward off other potential enemies. An enemy she could very easily squash with her boot. But as we looked around the suspense grew and even I was starting to get a bit startled as we crouched and searched. She was finally eye level with the table searching underneath the cage when she came face to face with what she thought then was my Grandpa’s pet spider. This was good. Grandpa had only wanted for her to see it, but to be millimeters away from the face. He would surely be happy with the results. She screeched and fell back grabbing me and running upstairs as she did a dance that resembled the hokey pokey to get rid of the hundreds of spiders that seemed to be crawling all over her skin right now. My grandpa laughed a big hearty laugh and my mother looked in disbelief. I just stood watching, smiling, proud to have made him happy, unbeknownst to me the level of cruelty to this act. My mom then berated with my grandpa with swears and hits to the arm that wouldn’t leave any serious damage but would definitely provide her some peace. And then we would sit down to eat.

This was how my relationship was with my grandpa. He would do slightly crazy things, and I would go along with it, admiring him like a God. We were inseparable. Although others saw him as an alcoholic ladies’ man, I just thought the trouble-minded jack Kerouac-ness added to his character. After all, who are they to judge, they have their flaws too, I just think his made him even better. It wasn’t until years later when he had passed did I realize the uncanny resemblance of myself to grandpa. I followed him because he was exactly who I wanted to be and what I was:  a stubborn-minded, untamed, passionate to the point of insanity, free-living, pleasure motivated, creature of habit. In a world with chaos and millions of people, there is no such comfort as finding someone whose brain works the same way. To share in the same pains and passions is the greatest feeling ever. From him, I realized not only who I am, but what I must avoid to be my best self. He died due to his love of drink being greater than his love for life. Although I am inclined to the same self-destructive behavior, I am motivated to prove to the world that he, and we, are not what people perceive us to be. That our passions when tunneled into work can change the world. I am his living legacy and he is my inspiration.

I would love to have met my Grandpa Denny. As much as it may presently hurt you to be lied to, and the anger you feel arising at my deception, I wish you to take a moment to re-evaluate and re-examine my motivations for writing this piece. Why should it matter if I have met him or not? From the stories and pictures, it is clear to see that he is someone very important to me and I not only would have loved, but do love. Does it even really matter to these stories if he was even real to begin with? It is a true story, just not one that is real. It doesn’t change anything about who I am or the connection I feel to my Grandpa. In every retelling, I still sit in admiration and see myself in the exact same position. Next to him as my mother yells at him, getting him a refill on his scotch as he hits on the newly divorced group of moms at the pool. Even just as I describe this to you, it feels as if you know him and that enough makes him very real.

[loving-jack-kelly]

Demigod Newsies

-Crutchie >son of Hephaestus fight me >made it to camp when he was ten >was claimed pretty quick >he's an amputee and had a normal prosthetic leg, a nice one, but not magic or divine or anything >his newfound siblings right away wanted to make him a new one, a weapon used celestial bronze one, but he insisted on doing it himself since it was his own body >it took him a while and he's continually adjusting it but he built himself a leg and it's awesome? Super steampunk looking, bronze, it has like ten weapons in it, it's just really cool >while he was working on it though, he did let his siblings upgrade his crutch and when he pulls the handle it pretty much turns into a super cool sword and he has his own super cool fighting style centered around his leg and his crutch >his dad is so proud Hephaestus looks down whenever he's fighting and is like "look at my son fucking shit up and messing with Ares's kids and winning capture the flag look at him go" -Jack >son of Apollo also fight me on this >his relationship with Apollo is really chill bc lbr Apollo gives no shits and Jack Kelly gives negative shits sometimes after sunset you'll just find Jack and a few of his sibling chilling by the lake laughing at their dad's shitty haikus while Apollo is busy turning the lake into a hot tub >Jack is really good with missile weapons and you'd think he'd use a bow and arrows but he bribed a Hephaestus camper into making him a fucking rocket launcher that doubles as a fireworks launcher and you better believe he uses it >he hates basketball because he doesn't like running for that long straight but he can sink a half court shot every time and he's really good at baseball >he also got Apollos music abilities, so he's really good at writing tunes but horrible at poetry and lyrics he usually enlists the Aphrodite kids on that part >he did inherit the thing where he can curse people to talk in rhymes and he abuses it greatly sometimes half the camp will be walking around swearing in rhymes about Jack >he and Crutchie are best friends and have been since Crutchie was part of the group that rescued Jack ala Percy and Thalia in the beginning of Titans Curse -The Jacobs Siblings >are simultaneously the envy and confusion of the camp >Davey is a son of Athena >Sarah is a daughter of Demeter >and Les is a son of Hecate >it's pretty rare for a god to have more than one kid with the same mortal let alone one mortal have three kids with three different gods >Davey is so good at planning, big picture kind of stuff, and organization, you don't want to be against him during capture the flag >Sarah can controls plants and you also don't want to be against her during capture the flag she'll turn the whole forest into a weapon >Les is magic but he either can't or doesn't want to control it so when he's happy everything is fine but if he's mad he'll curse you without quite knowing what he's doing >Davey and Sarah and so by extension Les are also really close with Jack -therefore Athena, Demeter, Hephaestus and Apollo are Allies in Capture the flag -you don't want to mess with them because they have all the tactical prowess of Athena, the control of the forest itself from Demeter, the inventions and weapons of Hephaestus and the impulsivity and lack of common sense of Apollo so they're ruthless almost on accident -Katherine >Arrives when she's thirteen and is claimed by Athena >causes a stir because her dad is a super famous author and she's famous for being his trouble making daughter >she and Davey are super close super fast and so are she and Jack and the alliance is made even stronger >she fights with two daggers with these pokey things sort of like a wrist guard coming off the hilts but really the balance the knives for throwing and she has good aim -Race >son of Poseidon and he's very proud of it >has never been on the losing team for capture the flag except when he's on the same team as Ares because he hates Oscar and Morris who are the head counselors and when he's on their team he takes a nap >when he's not on their team he turns the river into a wall of water and only lets a few people past so his team will win -Spot >visits from Camp Jupiter once in a while >is a son of Trivia, who is the roman equivalent of Hecate >he fights with magic >his mom gave him a set of magic dice that pretty much is just enchanted D&D dice that help him make decisions and predictions >he's also a pretty badass sword fighter but he'd rather not have to >when he finally asks Race out he legitimately gets slapped in the face with a wave by Poseidon and as a result specifies for like a year that none of his sacrifice is for the god of the sea, wether in Greek or roman form >he also adopts Les as his personal trainee and takes him to Camp Jupiter for war games and poor Davey is stressed -Romeo >is a child of Aphrodite >is also a horrible matchmaker in that he can tell if somebody would be a great couple but is really bad at getting them together >he's also afab genderfluid and when he came out Aphrodite herself came down from Olympus and gave him a makeover and that's their claim to fame >his mortal mom (Aphrodite is Not Straight cmon guys) named him Juliet and he kept up the Shakespeare theme when she picked their new name >in entirely in love with Specs and is ridiculous about it -Specs >nonbinary child of Hephaestus >very buff >also very in love with Romeo >they and Davey invented a new sign language that the whole camp learned because their deaf it's really useful in all sorts of things because only Camp Half Blood people know it >their glasses not only improve their impressively bad vision but also let them see through the Mist so that's useful -there's not really a plot I guess I just really like the idea of them in the PJO universe -so yeah add on all you want -also if anyone literally anyone wants to draw Crutchie with his leg and crutch in this au I'd be eternally grateful -and finally I'm so sorry about the formatting I'm on Mobile and I'll fix it when I'm not anymore

[phantaire]

This time two days ago I’d just got out of the Eugene O'Neill Theatre having seen The Book of Mormon on Broadway (with @slightlytookish!) I am now back in the UK, and timezones are mysterious and cruel things and so I have inflicted my jetlag on everyone’s favourite Elder Price. Wikipedia states that jetlag can have “cognitive effects include poorer performance on mental tasks and concentration, increased fatigue, headaches, and irritability” so I thought I’d be mean. (Once I’ve got over my jetlag and had this beta’d I’ll AO3 it.)

Plus Nine Kevin Price centric. (McKinley/Price pre-relationship if you squint/want)  Canon compliant.

Sleep came easily to Kevin Price, it always had. His bedtime routine had been set in stone since he’d been a young boy; he would say goodnight to his mom and dad, he and his brothers would brush their teeth huddled around the bathroom sink – Lucas helping Ethan, Jack elbowing Michael, and Sarah using their parents en-suite rather than sharing with the boys -  and then Kevin would say his prayers, lay down in bed and think of Planet Orlando until those thoughts turned into dreams. Almost always of Planet Orlando.

And, apart from the one time that he snuck out of bed, and the consequences and dreams which followed, that had been Kevin’s night-time routine for nineteen years. He got into bed, he slept, he dreamt and then he woke up. He didn’t oversleep or complain about having to get up in the mornings, always getting at least eight hours, if not nine. He’d make his best crisply first thing in the morning after he work up, and plumped his cushions ready for the night ahead.

Sleep had come easily at the Missionary Training Center too. The days had been full of work, rewarding and sometimes repetitive, but not hard, and Kevin had always been ready to learn. He couldn’t be the best if he didn’t know more than everybody else, so he applied himself and at night dreamt of the Epcot Center and having his photograph taken with Mickey Mouse. The framed picture of Kevin, all teeth and sunburn with Mickey’s hand on his shoulder - taken when Kevin was nine and learning the wonders of Orlando for the first time – had the rest of his siblings in too, and Kevin didn’t think that it was too selfish to want a picture that was just for him.

He’d never flown internationally before. Kevin had slept all the way to Orlando, and it had appeared out the plane window like a dream in his childhood, and there was part of Kevin, that part that was still a child and not a man grown and about to go and spread the word. There was a part of Kevin that expected his mission to start in the same way, a fresh slate. Scene change and suddenly, Uganda.

That wasn’t, it turned out, how international travel worked. It had seemed very civilised for their flight time to be at 4:26, they could sleep on the plane and wake up fresh faced and ready to start the most important two years of their lives. It was Wednesday afternoon when they left Salt Lake City, and Friday evening when they arrived in Kitguli. Flight delays, nearly missed connections and two plane transfers not to mention the late bus meant that they had been travelling for nearly 42 hours, and his new companion had been talking almost non-stop. When Elder Cunningham hadn’t been talking, or filming – “Elder, what do you think about the fact that we might miss our next flight?” “Elder Price, look they’ve got Star Trek on the inflight entertainment system, we should totally watch it together!” “Best friend! Can I have your snacks?” – he had been snoring. Loudly. But Kevin couldn’t sleep, they had been forever chasing sunrises but he couldn’t afford not to be present, this was where Heavenly Father said that he should be, and Heavenly Father wasn’t wrong. There had to be a reason for this, and that reason would be found in Uganda.

Kevin is tired down to the very bones of himself, but, this – men with guns rifling through their cases and stealing their belongings, a blasphemous deprived people who have dismissed the presence of the Latter Day Saints in their village for months - somehow is what Heavenly Father wants of him so that he can get everything that he’s always wanted. And so he has to work for it – if it were easy then it wouldn’t be incredible? Right?

It’s overwhelming and loud, and the village is bustling and bright even at this hour, and for a moment Kevin imagines that the Mission Hut is going to be an oasis of calm, they are Mormons after all. The Elders should be settling down to get ready for sleep, the District Leader, McKinley, should meet them, shake their hands and give them a gentle introduction to progress in the village. And then Kevin can sleep. Once he’s slept, then he can start again. He doesn’t know what day it is.

He finds himself dancing. He wonders, briefly, whether this is twisted take on a Hell Dream. Could this be his punishment for contemplating the complimentary coffee on the plane? Or for judging his new companion? Elder Cunningham isn’t really that bad, and Kevin is tired, and confused. But no, he is unfortunately awake and the dancing is really happening. At least his District Leader appears to be pleased by it. It must be hard to be having gay thoughts, Kevin admires him. He also wishes that he would be quiet.

The bedroom issued to Elder Cunningham and himself is cramped, pokey and dark. It blessedly has two uncomfortable looking single beds, he imagines that Elder Cunningham will want the bed nearest the window – and at this moment Kevin could care less, as long as he can sleep. His prayers are silent, conducted as he undresses, surely Heavenly Father can’t begrudge him for that, and he’s almost settled into blissful silence, when Elder Cunningham starts talking. And Kevin is tired, and exhausted, and starting to run out of patience with his companion, but he can’t not acknowledge Elder Cunningham’s uncertainty. Elder Cunningham has tried to bolster his emotions, not that he needs it, but he’s reminded Kevin that he can do something incredible, and Elder Cunningham’s father should be proud of his son, Cunningham isn’t a bad person, just… intense. He hopes that Cunningham calms down in the morning, that a night’s sleep will be good for both of them and that the world will align itself properly tomorrow.

It doesn’t.

Kevin wakes up tired with a faint headache pounding at his temple, and the day doesn’t get better from there. He should be snappier with his answers, he’s practiced and learnt and he knows these stories and the best ways to introduce people into the Church. But he stumbles when Dr Gotswana starts talking about maggots in unsavoury places, taking longer than he should to pull his concentration back.

Cunningham isn’t helping, and that isn’t fair and he knows it because he can see how much Elder Cunningham is trying to help, but Kevin is light headed and tired. The noise of a gunshot is enough to startle him into semi-consciousness. The sensation of blood is a strange one, warm and tacky. When he yawns he gets blood on his palm. He was standing in front of Elder Cunningham when the General shot the village’s butcher in the face – Kevin can’t remember his name, and he wants to cry and he’s never been an expressively emotional person, at least, not for negative emotions, he should always wear a smile, but he just can’t at the moment, it is too much here – so he is drenched and tired and shocked, while Elder Cunningham is dry, and alert and why had Elder Cunningham’s prayer been answered?

It shouldn’t have been so hard to work out what the right thing to do was, granted, these circumstances were exceptional but there were rules and Kevin had always followed them. But those rules had led him here. They should have led him to Orlando. His incredible journey should have led him there.

And then, it did.

A Hell Dream isn’t restful at the best of times, and these are the worst of times. The dream is vivid, and bright, feathered and sequined, and horrific. It seems to last and lifetime, at least ten hours of his life has been lost to the redness. He’s almost euphoric when he awakens; fear, adrenaline and righteousness pounding through him.

The village is going to be saved, and Kevin is the one who is going to do it. Up until Kevin needs to be saved, and it turns out that it is the village who does it. The village and Nabulungi, and the pageant, and Arnold Cunningham, his best friend.

The days between the events of the General, and the hospital and the baptisms and the Mission President’s visit blur into one. Kevin can’t rest, and when he finds himself stopping then he can’t bear to stop. It’s too much to try and think, it feels as though he hasn’t slept in weeks, and that he hasn’t felt peace in far longer. None of what has passed makes any sense, his head pounds, his body aches he feels violated and confused and - “of course you woke up, you drank twelve cups of coffee!”

But he hasn’t slept.

When they were seven years old Jack had stayed up all night. He’d tried to make Kevin stay up too, saying that it would be fun that they could tell scary stories and sneak around the house, maybe watch some TV or play games while the rest of the house was sleeping. But Kevin had said his prayers and tucked himself into his neatly made bed. The next day Jack was giddy with lack of sleep, he’d rocked on his hands and giggled into his cereal and he’d been sent to bed early without any dessert the next day. Kevin felt like that, watching the car-crash of the pageant unfold in front of him he could barely contain his giddy joy at the misfortune they found themselves in. As though it was happening to somebody else, as though other people were going to suffer for this, as though there were no consequences for them.

And then, at McKinley’s and Cunningham’s and Nabulungi’s faces he felt the true magnitude of the action rock into him like the swell hitting the bow of a boat.  Understanding, actual understanding, like Joseph Smith at the moment of his death, you have to believe the words because of what they can do for you, and not just what they say or who said them. Arnold Cunningham had created an Orlando, it had never been about getting Planet Orlando, but about making that within yourself.

Kevin smiled, delirious.

When Kevin woke up he was twisted onto the couch in the living quarters of the Mission Hut, a grown man curled up under a soft pink blanket that wasn’t his. Kinks in his back and a crick in his neck, eyelids still heavy with sleep, a dry mouth, a rested body and a ready soul. It was time to wake up, something unexpected and incredible was about to begin.

[save-me-san-fran-psychonauts]

Rhombus of Ruin Thoughts

I know I’m a week late to the party, but I was finally able to play the game for myself and I loved it!! Here are a few thoughts I had during and after the session .

Spoilers for those who haven't played it!

-I thought it was clever that the voices of the other characters sounded like it was coming out of a bad radio. Really shows how distant they seem when Raz was peering through Truman's eyes

-also, the foreshadowing on the plane for the delusional states! It was the records of "All Paul" for Oleander, Lili's music box, Milla's Suitcase, and Sasha's book of Astropsionics

-Raz sounded physically sick when he was near the Psilirium. Even though he's much more resistant to it than the others, being around it alone still really dampened his powers.

-Also, if it required that much Psilirium to dampen Truman's powers, then Raz must be really freaking powerful.

-Raz actually getting to enjoy water was super touching, and actually a big reminder that he knows so little about the ocean.

-"Harold, meet the real Lili Zanotto!" He's so proud aaa he's adorable

-I really loved that reveal of the fish people. All the little squeaks and chirps they make suddenly made sense and I think they're pretty adorable. I guess Loboto experimented with fish a lot.

-But these fish seem much more well put together compared to Linda. I wonder if she was built specifically to look like that, whereas these ones in the Rhombus are sort of built to be drones.

-Raz: Look! I'm Mr. Pokey-scope! Me: *softly* holy shit

-He named the bull Edgar I'm so happy. I wonder if we'll get more references to the inmates in the second game.

-watching the animation of Sasha talk about the aliens and telling the others to relax is actually super adorable. He smiles so widely!

-I felt the worst second hand embarrassment when I reached Oleander's level

-Raz's little gasp when he returns back to his body! He sounded so frightened!

-even though I knew Loboto was going to be in this game, it was still so breathtaking to see him again. My hand was covering my mouth the whole time.

-WHO IS LOBOTO'S CLIENT I GOTTA KNOW

-when you pick up Loboto with telelkinesis, he tells you to stop it and that it's unnatural. When I heard those words again from his parents  in the memories, it suddenly made the moment more painful.

-not to mention i NEVER EXPECTED THAT WE WOULD GO INTO HIS MIND. I WAS INCREDIBLY EXCITED

-you can't interact psychically with First Mate Loboto. They probably don't want you CV'ing into him, but I just wanted to see what would happen if you TK'ed him!

-also First Mate Loboto's animation is really adorable. He bounces/stumbles over to the clock to slow down time, and then presses himself against the wall once he stops.

-so the robo-arm is strapped onto him... now I'm curious as to how he moves it.

-we... still don't really know what is under Loboto's showercap. We got a bald first mate, and an exposed brain monster, but we still don't know for certain.

-Loboto fighting against Loboto. Interesting symbolism.

-speaking of interesting symbolism, First Mate Loboto giving in to Monstroboto. I wonder if First Mate Loboto is sort of the representation of his conscience. Not to mention, what would happen if Raz didn't show up to help...

-I'm noticing a lot of parallels between Raz and Little Loboto. Goggle-like glasses, Parents refusing to let him use psychic powers, father wanting him to follow in his footsteps...

-Although he's intruding upon it, Raz not wanting to do anything in the house because he wanted to be respectful of Loboto's private place is actually kind of sweet.

-well, now we know what the scar over his eye and by his ear came from.

-I can't believe I didn't get the whole "moral compass" thing until recently. Well played.

-you get the trophy "Save Loboto" the moment the moral compass snaps beck into place.

-also, in the trophy list says "Rescue Lili, Rescue Sasha, etc." but it says "Save Loboto". I'm sure there's a very simple answer for why they chose the word "save", but I like over analyzing things.

-Sasha says he won't let the gold record go because it's important science, even though he said himself that it was government made. I just think that he wants to listen to the song on it.

-Raz's little voice crack when he says, "What about me!" snapped my heart into two. Give this kid your approval, it's all he wants!

-loved Loboto's little peak in the jet. I do hope we get a redemption arc worthy of his character!

-Truman: your bBOYFRIEEND??????????? Me: wHEEZE

[benevolentbridgetroll]

FRIEND! What do I have to do to get that librarian knights baze/chirrut fic because I will do it. Name your price.

aksidfhedjfil, BUDDY!!! I’m so flattered. This fic is murdering me tbh. I have a 20 page google doc with headcanons and plotting that just … keeps growing, but every time I try to write it turns into “Chirrut is relief. Baze is very relief too. There is much crying and also tender hugging”. I’ve never actually written fic before so it’s all a bit Much.

Anyway, your ask has kicked my butt into actually pinning down a tiny snippet (thank you for that) so here it is. I hope it doesn’t disappoint because you asked for knightly librarianship and this is post-temple angst, but it’s in the same universe and it’s all I got.

If anyone is interested in more of this, the other post is here.

Chirrut jerks awake from the latest occurrence of his worst childhood nightmare drenched in sweat. He stuffs his fists under his armpits in an attempt to get his shaking under control and drags in shallow, panicked breaths. It’s always the same scenario: not only has he lost the battle against the encroaching darkness eating away at his vision, but his other senses have also gone dead. He’s floating untethered but completely trapped in his own body, unable to hear anything but the rabbit-fast, fragile thump of his heartbeat in his ears, or feel anything but the cold sweat slicking his skin. There’s nothing but terror, suffocating and inescapable.

He all but throws himself out of bed and crosses his room to the window. He’s been blind for almost two decades now and has come to terms with his disability in every way that matters; the fact that this particular night terror still plagues him is a source of unending frustration. When he reaches the windowsill, he nudges the glass pane open to take a deep breath of cold, outside air while his fingers stretch out to find the bumpy leaves of the spearmint plant he keeps there. As he plucks off a leaf and brings it to his nose, he can feel the tension start to slowly ease out of his muscles. Going through the familiar motions of this particular ritual has always helped him to centre himself and this time is no different. In strict observance of its next step, he turns his gaze inwards and lovingly unfolds the well-worn memory of how it all began.

The dreams had started before he arrived at the temple, when he was but a child and the idea of losing his sight seemed like the most terrifying thing in the world. The first few times he’d woken up screaming, he’d been slapped and promptly dumped outside the family tent to shiver the rest of the night away. So he’d rapidly learned to be quiet about it, his reactions limited to stifled gasps and violent shudders. After arriving at the temple, he’d been almost grateful for the practice: he doubted that waking everyone up screaming in the middle of the night would have garnered him much goodwill amongst his already wary dormitory mates. He would either curl up tightly under his blanket, trying to regulate his his own erratic breathing by counting the even exhalations of the child in the next bed, or get up and make his way into one of the inner courtyards where the icy flagstones under his bare feet and the cold, clean scent of the wind nipping at his nose would chase away the lingering cobwebs of his panic.

That was before Baze.

When the bright boy with his steady presence and complete lack of selfishness had wandered into the temple and immediately become the centre of its enclosed universe, Chirrut had been cagey. He’d long since learned not to expect anything from strangers and even though the regularity of temple life was slowly eroding his inherent mistrust of pretty much everything, old habits had deep roots and were not so easily shrugged off. But this kind-eyed boy had kept reaching his hand out to Chirrut until one day, Chirrut had tentatively started to reach back.

In view of all this, Chirrut shouldn’t have been surprised when, the next time he crept outside to banish the ugly fear crawling under his skin, he suddenly had a set of warm fingers wrapped around his own to offset the cold. He was further caught off guard when Baze tugged him forward and out into the garden where, with quiet words and gentle hands, he introduced Chirrut to new textures and smells, catching up all of his senses and firmly grounding him back in his body.

Once Chirrut was fully in control again, he’d starting gathering the courage to actually look Baze in the face and thank him properly. Steeling himself, he’d lifted his head just in time to catch the impish gleam in the older boy’s eye as he gleefully stuffed a handful of loamy earth down the back of Chirrut’s nightshirt. With an outraged shriek, Chirrut had gamely joined battle and when they’d crawled back into his bed together an hour later, caked in dirt and happily exhausted, Chirrut had pressed his back to Baze’s, relishing the warmth. The next morning, the Masters had found them runny-nosed and tangled in filthy sheets and Chirrut had borne their scolding as well as the extra laundry shift they dished out with good grace, basking in the glow of his friend’s conspiratorial smile.

The next time Baze had left to on his bi-weekly visit to his family, he had brought back a textured clay pot containing a tiny spearmint shoot and had stood it on Chirrut’s bedside table with a proud grunt; “Now you don’t have to go outside anymore”. With hindsight, Chirrut can pinpoint this as the exact moment when he had finally let his hackles drop and uncomplainingly fallen into Baze Malbus’ orbit.

Of course, the plant and pot now decorating Chirrut’s solitary room are not the ones that Baze had gifted him as a child. Like most of his possessions, they were lost when the temple was sacked. But these replacements were one of the first things that Chirrut had brought into his pokey new home. Baze may be away (not gone, never gone), his absence a gaping hole at Chirrut’s side, but Chirrut does everything he can to keep his husband close in his thoughts and his gestures. 

Chirrut draws in one last deep, steadying breath before pulling the window closed and tapping his wrist-pad to check the time. He sighs, no point in trying to go back to bed then. He’ll just make himself a cup of strong tea before going out. It’ll make him early to meet his contact, but Nijedha is big and alive enough a city to be awake at night, even under imperial curfew. A leisurely stroll through beloved streets will help him settle the last of his jangling nerves before the main event. The thought of just what that entails is enough to make his cheek dimple with the barest imprint of a vicious smile, because it turns out that Chirrut Îmwe’s absolute favourite thing in the world - apart from the way Baze honk-laughs at his more obnoxious jokes - is sabotage.