#box sash windows | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daviddwebb9099 · 1 year ago

Text

Reviving a Classic: Modern Upgrades for Box Sash Windows

The beauty and charm of box sash windows

Step into a world where time stands still, where every glance out of your window transports you to a quieter, more graceful era. Box sash windows are not just mere openings in the wall; they are works of art that capture the essence of historical architecture with their detailed joinery and delicate balance mechanisms. Join us as we delve into the enchanting world of box sash windows, unveiling their hidden stories and celebrating their enduring beauty that effortlessly bridges past and present in our modern lives.

Common issues with traditional box sash windows

Traditional box sash windows are beloved for their classic charm and elegance, but these iconic features also face several common issues. One of the major problems is draughts, as these windows can often be less energy-efficient compared to their modern counterparts. The design of box sash windows can make them prone to letting cold air infiltrate a room, resulting in higher heating bills during colder months.

Another prevalent issue with traditional box sash windows is their susceptibility to rot and decay. Over time, moisture can penetrate the wood and cause it to deteriorate, leading to structural damage and compromising the window's functionality. Furthermore, maintaining and repairing traditional box sash windows can be time-consuming and costly due to intricate glass pane configurations and intricate mechanical systems. Homeowners need to invest in regular maintenance or risk facing potential issues such as jamming or broken cords.

Luckily, there are solutions available that address these common problems with traditional box sash windows. Installing secondary glazing is an effective way to improve energy efficiency by creating an additional barrier against draughts without altering the window's original appearance. Additionally, advancements in materials have led to rot-resistant options such as uPVC or timber that has been pre-treated against decay – providing homeowners with a longer-lasting solution. Finally, considering replacement options like slimline double-glazed units or sliding sashes can offer improved insulation while retaining the timeless aesthetic that makes these windows so popular today.

Modern upgrades for improved functionality

When it comes to modern upgrades for improved functionality, one area that often gets overlooked is traditional box sash windows. These beautiful and timeless features of a home can be made even better with a few simple updates. For example, adding double glazing to your sash windows can significantly improve energy efficiency and reduce outside noise. With the advancements in technology, you can now have all the benefits of modern insulation without sacrificing the classic look of your windows.

Another upgrade that can greatly enhance the functionality of your sash windows is installing a spring balance system. This clever mechanism replaces the old-fashioned pulley system and allows for smoother operation and easier maintenance. No more struggling with sticking or rattling windows - with a spring balance system, opening and closing your sash windows becomes effortless. Additionally, these systems are designed to last longer than traditional pulleys, saving you money on future repairs or replacements.

One final upgrade worth considering is adding window locks for increased security. Traditional box sash windows are not always known for their robust locking mechanisms, which can leave your home vulnerable to break-ins. By installing modern window locks specially designed for sash windows, you can gain peace of mind knowing that your home is secure against unwanted intruders. Plus, these locks can be discreetly installed so as not to detract from the appearance of your beautiful sash windows.

Energy-efficient solutions for box sash windows

When it comes to traditional box sash windows, energy efficiency may not be the first thing that comes to mind. However, with advancements in technology and design, there are now several energy-efficient solutions available for these classic windows. One such solution is the installation of double-glazing. By fitting two panes of glass with a layer of insulating gas in between, double-glazed sash windows can significantly reduce heat loss and draughts, improving thermal comfort and lowering energy bills.

Another energy-efficient option for box sash windows is the use of draught-proofing techniques. Traditional sash windows tend to have gaps and cracks that allow cold air to enter and warm air to escape, leading to energy wastage. Draught-proofing involves sealing these gaps using various methods such as adding brush strips or seals around the frames and rebates. This not only improves insulation but also helps reduce noise pollution from outside.

In addition to these solutions, it's worth considering secondary glazing as an energy-efficient option for box sash windows. This involves fitting a discreet secondary window on the inside of the existing window frame, creating an extra layer of insulation without altering their appearance from the outside. Secondary glazing helps enhance thermal performance by trapping heat between the two layers of glass while also reducing noise infiltration.

By exploring these energy-efficient solutions for box sash windows, homeowners can maintain the charm and character of their traditional windows while enjoying enhanced comfort and lower energy consumption.

Enhancing security without compromising aesthetics

When it comes to home security, many homeowners find themselves torn between functionality and aesthetics. However, there is no need to compromise one for the other, especially with traditional box sash windows. These elegant and timeless windows can enhance your home's security without compromising its overall aesthetic appeal.

One way to enhance the security of traditional box sash windows is by adding key-operated locks. These locks are discreetly installed within the window frame and provide an extra layer of protection against intruders. Additionally, reinforced glass can be used to make it much harder for burglars to break into your home through these windows. With advancements in technology, laminated glass options are now available that not only improve security but also provide sound insulation and UV protection.

Another innovative way to enhance security while maintaining the charm of traditional box sash windows is by using window film. This translucent material acts as an additional barrier against forced entry attempts while still allowing natural light to illuminate your living space. Window film provides a cost-effective solution that can be easily applied directly onto existing glass panes without altering the window's original design.

By considering these enhanced security solutions for traditional box sash windows, homeowners can have peace of mind knowing their homes are well-protected without sacrificing the beauty and authenticity these classic windows bring.

Maintaining and preserving the classic style

The allure of a classic style can never be underestimated. Whether it's in fashion, architecture, or interior design, there is something timeless and elegant about preserving traditional elements. Take, for example, the beloved classic feature of traditional box sash windows. These windows have been a hallmark of architectural charm for centuries and continue to captivate the eye with their refined simplicity.

Maintaining and preserving these unique windows requires some care and attention but is well worth the effort. Regular cleaning helps to keep them looking pristine while also allowing natural light to flood into your space unimpeded. Repairing any damage promptly is crucial in order to prevent further deterioration and maintain their integrity as an essential part of your home's aesthetic appeal.

In addition to maintenance, there are also modern techniques available for enhancing the energy efficiency of traditional box sash windows without compromising their classic style. Installing double glazing or adding draught-proofing strips can significantly improve insulation while still retaining the character of these charming features.

By taking the time to properly maintain and preserve classic elements like traditional box sash windows, you not only enhance the visual appeal of your space but also contribute towards preserving a cherished tradition that has stood the test of time. Embracing this blend of old-world charm and modern functionality allows you to create a truly captivating living environment that embodies both elegance and practicality.

Conclusion: The perfect blend of tradition and modernity

In conclusion, the perfect blend of tradition and modernity can be exemplified by the integration of traditional box sash windows into contemporary architectural designs. These classic windows are known for their elegant and timeless charm, but their compatibility with modern technologies makes them an ideal choice for homeowners seeking a harmonious balance between the past and the present.

One of the key advantages of traditional box sash windows is their ability to retain historic character while offering enhanced energy efficiency. With advancements in materials and design, these windows can now provide excellent insulation, minimizing heat loss during winter months and reducing energy consumption. This combination not only preserves the aesthetic appeal of older buildings but also increases sustainability.

Moreover, these traditional windows offer more than just visual appeal; they provide a link to our cultural heritage while catering to contemporary needs. The craftsmanship that goes into manufacturing box sash windows contributes to their enduring popularity in historical restoration projects. By incorporating such elements into modern homes, we embrace a sense of history and appreciate the artistry that has been passed down through generations.

The integration of traditional box sash windows into modern architecture encapsulates our desire for nostalgia, authenticity, and innovation. It allows us to celebrate our rich heritage while embracing technological advancement. As society continues to evolve, it is essential to find ways to bridge tradition and modernity – blending old-world charm with new-age convenience – creating spaces that honor our past yet propel us towards an exciting future.

#box sash windows #best box sash #london

0 notes

anythingeverything0000 · 2 years ago

Text

Energy Efficiency in Style: How Box Sash Windows Can Save Money

Energy efficiency is a key concern for homeowners looking to reduce their carbon footprint and lower their energy bills. One effective way to achieve this goal is by investing in the finest quality sash windows. Sash windows not only enhance the aesthetic appeal of a home but also provide numerous benefits when it comes to energy efficiency. By minimizing heat loss and reducing the need for artificial cooling or heating, these windows can significantly contribute to creating an eco-friendly and cost-effective living environment. In this article, we will explore the various advantages of energy-efficient sash windows, highlighting how they can transform homes into more sustainable and comfortable spaces.

What are box sash windows?

Box sash windows are a classic and elegant choice for homeowners seeking the finest quality sash windows. These traditional windows consist of two vertical sliding panels, or sashes, which can be opened from either the top or bottom. One of the key features that sets box sash windows apart is their smooth operation and excellent ventilation capabilities. With a simple pull on the sash, homeowners can effortlessly control the airflow in their home, allowing for a comfortable and refreshing environment.

In addition to their functionality, box sash windows are known for their timeless beauty. Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, these windows exude a sense of sophistication and charm that enhances any architectural style. The finely crafted frames showcase elegant joinery techniques that add depth and character to both modern homes and period properties alike.

How box sash windows can improve insulation?

Box sash windows have long been a popular choice for homeowners due to their aesthetic appeal and timeless elegance. However, what many people may not realize is that these windows can also significantly improve insulation in a property. With the advancement of modern technology and the use of innovative materials, box sash window companies are now able to create energy-efficient solutions that help reduce heat loss and enhance thermal performance.

One key feature of box sash windows that contributes to improved insulation is their double glazing design. Unlike traditional single-pane windows, double glazing consists of two glass panes separated by a layer of air or gas. This additional layer creates an effective barrier against external elements, preventing cold air from entering and warm air from escaping the property. As a result, homeowners can enjoy a more comfortable living environment while reducing their energy consumption and lowering heating bills.

The cost-saving potential of box sash windows

Box sash windows have long been revered for their elegance and timeless appeal, but did you know that they also possess impressive cost-saving potential? As homeowners become increasingly conscious of energy consumption and rising utility bills, investing in box sash windows from a reputable box sash window company can be a wise decision. These windows are adept at retaining heat during the winter months, effectively insulating your home and reducing the need for excessive heating. Additionally, their design allows for efficient ventilation during the summer, eliminating the need for power-hungry air conditioning units.

One of the key reasons why box sash windows excel in saving costs is their ability to reduce heat loss. The traditional sliding mechanism of these windows ensures a snug fit when closed, preventing drafts that can seep through gaps commonly found in other styles.

Box sash windows as a stylish addition to homes

Box sash windows have long been admired for their timeless elegance and classic design. As a stylish addition to any home, these windows not only enhance the overall aesthetic but also provide practical benefits. A reputable box sash window company can help transform your property, giving it a touch of sophistication and charm that will be the envy of your neighbors.

With their sliding mechanism and slender frames, box sash windows offer an abundance of natural light while maximizing space efficiency. The smooth operation of these windows allows for easy ventilation and cleaning, making them both functional and convenient. Additionally, their traditional look adds character to any style of architecture, be it Victorian or Georgian, creating a sense of heritage that is sure to impress visitors.

When seeking the perfect box sash window company for your home improvement project, it is crucial to choose one with experience and expertise in this specific field.

Conclusion: Embracing energy efficiency with box sash windows

Box sash windows have become increasingly popular in recent years, and for good reason. Not only do they add a touch of elegance to any home, but they also offer excellent energy efficiency benefits. By choosing a reputable box sash window company, homeowners can embrace energy efficiency and enjoy lower heating bills.

One of the main reasons why box sash windows are so energy-efficient is their ability to provide effective insulation. With their double-glazed panels and tight-fitting frames, these windows prevent heat from escaping during the colder months and keep cool air inside during the summer. This not only creates a more comfortable living environment but also reduces the need for excessive heating or cooling, ultimately leading to significant cost savings on energy bills.

Additionally, box sash windows often come with advanced features such as draft-proofing strips and weather seals that further enhance their thermal performance.

#energy efficient #box sash windows #london #best box sash windows

0 notes

ninezeroltd · 5 days ago

Text

Why Choose Timber Box Sash Windows for Your Home?

Explore the timeless charm, energy efficiency, and sustainability of timber box sash windows. Discover their natural beauty, enhanced insulation, durability, and customisation options. Perfect for period and modern homes alike, they are a smart investment for a more comfortable, secure, and eco-friendly home. Contact Nine Zero to learn more.

#timber box sash windows #timber sash windows UK #energy-efficient sash windows #sustainable timber sash windows #secure box sash windows #period property windows #custom timber sash windows #natural timber windows #Nine Zero

0 notes

lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Secretive Santa: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (8) Seasons may have changed, but some hearts still need soothed. And what better time than Christmas for some well-intentioned mischief? Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Usual Lakes fare. Established relationship. Theve (?) Soft smut , mild angst, humour, fluff and cunning plans throughout. (w/c 7.3k)

You would never forget the look on Thor’s face as the Fiat had drawn up the loose stone drive to the cottage. The glow of his smile was visible through the windshield at 100 paces.

As he and Rogers had exited the car with a spring in their step, you were starting to think the last two days had been just what everyone had needed.

The air was crisp this morning, winter’s first biting chill stinging your cheeks.

Steve’s face was glossy and fresh with the flushed sheen of recent spa treatments. His forehead shone. He strode towards you with a nod, extending his hand to shake Loki’s with a quiet ‘howdy’ as Thor brought up the rear.

‘Do you really think they slept together?’ you’d gaped to Loki as you’d lain in bed after dinner last night, thoroughly sated with food and sex. Loki had laughed gently, making your chin bounce on his bare chest. ‘There were twelve condoms in the pack I bought to get a rise from Rogers,’ he’d replied. An eyebrow had risen as you stared vacantly. ‘How many times have we had sex, darling?’ Loki had continued.

A smirk had played at the corner of his perfect mouth, still glistening with your arousal. It was burned into your memory. The soft mischief in every line.

You had bit your lip, the look of intense concentration on your face making Loki chuckle again. ‘Full, or just oral?’ you’d replied wilfully. ‘Ten,’ Loki had mouthed, raking a hand through his hair as he arched his back. One of his legs draped over the side of the single bed. ‘There were ten in the box when they left. So either-’ ‘It’s happened, or it’s going to!’ you’d gasped. Loki had shrugged. Maybe, his silence had said - but he was still smiling. Now, you tilted your chin as Thor stood beside Steve.

The captain hooked an arm around the blonde god’s shoulder, the pep of the men’s familiar pleasantries filling the air like birdsong. Thor’s followed suit, giving each other an affectionate pat before breaking apart. “You guys ready to blow off?” Steve asked, gesturing to the Fiat.

Loki’s nose wrinkled. “I humbly petition to sit in the front passenger seat this time.” he muttered, making his suitcase disappear in a flash of green. “We can take turns,” Thor offered. A relevation.

Startled, Loki’s eyebrows rose. You looked between them, smiling as the men nodded agreement in sage trifecta.

Although you’d been lumbered driving for the next seven hours back to the Essex compound, it would be another world than the trip up had been. And besides, none of these particular Earth's Mightiest Heroes could drive stick.

“Let’s go home,” you murmured, meeting Loki’s eyes as his hand slid into yours with a squeeze. “Home,” he smiled.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. The seasons changed again. But thankfully, Loki had not.

Frost adorned trees lining Central Park were visible from the god’s bedroom window. Like cake toppers, you mused as you pulled the curtains behind a sash, dusted with icing sugar. A pair of strong hands slid around your waist, slippers nipping at your heels as he moulded his stomach against your back.

Long fingers tugged against the loose sash of your robe.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured against the muss of your morning hair. His breath was warm in the shell of your ear, the heat of his skin sinking from his bare chest through your gown.

You could feel the bulge in his loose pyjama pants pulse against your ass. “They need me,” you whined, tilting your chin to meet his pleading eyes. He knew you couldn’t resist those eyes. Christmas lights on the tree in the corner lit up the golden veins of his irises. “I need you,” he retorted. The wounded tone of his voice tugged your heartstrings.

You rolled your eyes.

Loki tutted. “Agent?” he warned playfully. Playful, but no less devastating. It made your core flush with ill-timed desire. “We don’t do that anymore.” It had become a mantra. An amber light which snuffed out behaviours that no longer had a place in your relationship. And expectation of equality, you conceded, worked both ways. “Come back to bed,” he husked again, deeper this time.

Loki’s forefinger looped around the sash of your robe, stepping back slowly. Two steps, then three. You followed, falling to his lap as he sat back on the mattress. “It’s cold outside. Rogers will understand.” You scoffed, curling the mess of his hair behind one perfectly formed ear. Whatever happened, it needed to sound believable. Just a normal mission. A normal mission. “It’s not Steve I’m worried about,” you said.

Loki frowned, urging you to continue as his fingers danced dangerously up your leg. They began to massage the curve of your ass beneath the silk. “It’s your brother – he’s been antsy all week. All month, actually. Chewed Scott out the other day for being late – even Steve was embarrassed.” Loki’s hand paused. “Will he be there? On this ‘very important mission’?” he muttered, staring at your breasts with a faraway look in his eyes. “My brother, I mean…” You swallowed, the oath of utter secrecy bubbling behind your teeth, willing itself to be broken.

You managed a half-hearted shrug. Loki’s pinched fingers slid down the opening of your robe, before raising his gaze with a wolfish glint.

“Perhaps Rogers is rubbing off on him,” he quipped, lips stretching in a smirk. You slapped his shoulder lightly, trying to stand before Loki pulled you back in. His lips traced your own, inhaling against your breath. “Or on him,” he finished smugly.

You slapped his shoulder again.

“It’s been ages since the lakes, and neither of them have said a word,” you huffed, standing and shrugging your robe to the floor.

Taking a moment to enjoy the awed slant of Loki’s brows, you turned and made your way to the small selection of clothes you kept in his rooms. “If they were a thing, we’d know by now. They barely speak to each other these days.” You unhooked a combat suit, feeling the weight of Loki’s stare on your naked ass. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you asked innocently, glancing back over your shoulder. The god’s eyes snapped from your rear to your face.

“What?” he coughed. He was hard. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you repeated, trying to hold in a satisfied smile. “About him and Steve?” Loki crossed his legs, trying to dampen the arousal pumping through his veins. “No,” he sniffed. “But he is acting particularly meat-headishness of late. I should speak to him.” “You should-” you said, pulling the suit over your shoulders and sliding the zip upwards. Loki’s crestfallen eyes lingered as your cleavage disappeared from view. “I should-” he muttered absent-mindedly as you drew closer and leant down to give him a kiss. His train of thought dissipated in the air.

You paused, feeling his breath cloud around your mouth. As much as you wanted to stay, this was important. The secrecy that surrounded Steve’s message had made that clear.

Loki kissed you. First soft, then firm. A promise.

And the warmth of it lingered as you made your reluctant way down the Tower elevators and into the crisp New York December day.

You checked the top right corner of the screen nestled in your thick gloves. Nine seventeen. Shit. The dot on the GPS moved up East 50th street. Skies had darkened, clouds threatening snow. Wreaths and lightbulb-adorned foliage hung against shop windows, festive displays catching your eye.

That jacket would look incredible on Loki, you thought fleetingly; before the shade of a skyscraper loomed above. Making a mental note to come back and get it, you paused; taking a moment at the railing. It overlooked the golden statue in Rockefeller Plaza. Even at this time in the morning, skaters made their way around the rink with various displays of aptitude. A man who reminded you very much of Colin Robertson hung stiffly onto the side as his other half skated backwards, encouraging him enthusiastically. You smiled. “Thanks for coming,” a voice murmured over your shoulder.

You clutched your chest. “Steve!” you gasped.

Ever since the lakes, the relationship with your superior had become a lot more familiar. An unexpected bonus. The captain wore a thick hat low on his brow. And sunglasses, of course. A navy blue jacket was zipped up under his chin. He looked stiff, hands jammed in his pockets. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder while you leant against the railing. “You going to tell me what this is about, now?” you said quietly.

Steve nodded curtly, clearing his throat. It fogged the air. “Seems I drew Odinson in the secretive santa and I need your advice.” You arched a brow, ‘secretive santa’ making your lip twitch with laughter which would be entirely inappropriate.

“Go on,” you mustered warily. Steve cleared his throat again, removing his sunglasses. He produced a small microfibre flannel from his pocket, beginning to polish them. “You know him better than I do, see” he mumbled, meeting your sceptical gaze. You titled your head. Steve’s cheeks were pink. And not from cold. Not just from cold, anyway.

“I don’t know about that,” you replied softly. The captain’s eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of ulterior meaning.

“You spent a lot of time together before the cabin,” you explained, seeing his face soften. “- which I appreciate, by the way. We both do.” You squeezed his hand. “I think together we can find the perfect gift – don’t you?” Steve exhaled loudly. It was relief. “Well, I did have one idea I wanted to run by you…” he smiled shyly.

Your eyebrows rose.

In response, Steve nudged his head towards a store on the other side of the plaza. A smile stretched across your face.

“Perfect!” you cried, making Steve cringe. “Keep your voice down,” he hushed, wincing as a passer by jostled his shoulder. “I don’t want that Heimdall character ruining the surprise.” You laughed playfully. “If you’re on his radar then-” you started, before thinking better of it. Thankfully, Steve was too busy putting his sunglasses on and tugging the woolly hat down to notice.

FAO Schwarz was heaving with shoppers. Crowds bustled around elaborate displays of every toy imaginable. Normal-looking businessmen and women clutched large paper bags with boxes slotted in expert precision making their way quickly past you to the entrance. Trying to fit in what they could before work, you reckoned. The superheroes of the everyday. New York’s iconic toy-store was a Christmas wonderland, wreaths adorning pillars and large glittering snowflakes hanging from tall ceilings. Paul McCartney’s chirpy vocals rang from concealed speakers, heralding the season. Steve paused beside one of the perfectly coiffured trees lining the walkway through the store, glancing shiftily over his shoulder. “Maybe you should lose the sunglasses?” you suggested. He nodded reluctantly, slipping them into his pocket. “It’s over here,” he murmured.

He was frowning lightly, concern in those famously blue eyes. His Captain face. If you weren’t acutely aware of the context, you might be forgiven for thinking that this was a super-serious mission.

But, you reminded yourself, for him...maybe it is. You decided not to make light of it.

The two of you slipped around several hordes of shoppers towards a wall at the back of the store. Rows of plush animal faces stared vacantly in immaculate lines. Steve stopped. He folded his arms, spreading his feet in a stoic stance.

“There,” he said firmly, nodding towards a modest circular display. “Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes widening.

Out the corner of your vision, you saw Steve’s chin snap towards you; the feeling of his anxious stare beating into your profile. A grin spread on your lips. “It’s perfect,” you squealed, turning to him. You gripped his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You’re a genius. He’ll love it.” Steve blushed, looking down. He scuffed his foot on the polished floor. It squeaked. “Golly,” he muttered, smiling bashfully. “You really think?”

You nodded, meaning it with your whole heart. “Perfect.”

Loki pursed his lips. He could hear the neolithic grunting of his brother doing some manner of inane task in the kitchen up ahead. It echoed.

Apparently, Thor had not been called to whatever mission had stolen you from his bed after all.

He rounded the corner, immediately tensing. The God of Thunder stood hunched over a toaster, miniscule in one meaty hand. In the other, he had a knife jammed deep in the contraption, wiggling it around. “You should turn that off at the wall, you know-” Loki drawled. Thor looked up, smiling.

“My breakfast is entrapped, brother. There is no other way.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” Thor muttered, demeanour hardening. "The rolly-eye-thing."

Loki bristled. “For some things there is no alternate or adequate lexicology to express oneself, brother.” Thor humphed, rattling the knife deeper.

A blackened pop-tart fell to the counter amid a cascade of crumbs. With silent vindication, he raised it in his grasp and shook it in Loki’s direction. A triumphant grin spread across his face as Loki slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “So?” Loki said smoothly, tilting his head. It was a loaded syllable. Thor’s brow scrunched. Loki wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of his ill-gotten prize or the vagueness of his opening gambit which caused it. “What?” Thor crunched. Flecks of burnt fell with abandon to his scruffy beard and a white muscle vest stretched tight on his chest. It was stained with what looked like mustard, and chocolate - one hoped.

This is not that garment's first dawn, Loki thought. He sighed pointedly. “Look, we’ve been dancing around this for weeks. Your increase in short-temperedness and decrease in both affinity and hygiene has been noted.” The blonde pressed his fingers sarcastically to his chest, eyes wide. “You talk of me?” he exclaimed incredulously before chuckling, shaking his head.

Without warning, Thor released a thundering fart. It tapered to a whining toot before he spoke again. “You must be mistaken brother.” Loki didn't flinch. Not even a millimetre.

“I am not,” was Loki’s curt response. He clasped his hands on the counter-top, now marred with specks of charred pop-tart. They looked like ants. His disapproving eyes rose to meet his brother, now looking shifty. He was chewing, avoiding Loki’s analytical stare.

Thor flicked his hair back. It had a crispness to it. Some kind of resolve settled over his features, and there was a sharp glint in his eye Loki didn’t like.

“Have you told her you love her yet?” his elder brother quipped bitterly. Sarcasm seeped from him like steam. Or maybe that was the lingering stench of flatulence. “Again?” Loki tensed, resisting the bait. “That is none of your concern.”

He straightened, making space as Thor leant on the counter opposite, fist propped beneath his chin. The blonde batted his eyelashes innocently. Loki wanted to punch him. “Oh but it is, brother-” Thor smarmed, lip curling in a smirk that Loki would recognise in a mirror. “I am most concerned about it indeed.”

The two of them sat in silence, unspoken asgardian curses curling the air. “A truth for a truth?” Loki postured coldly, circling his fingertip on the counter. The question hung in the air. An old compromise last involked in their youth, in the days of the cabin-with-no-place.

It had become such a staple of breaking their stubborn stalemates that Frigga had commissioned the Asgardian Crones to weave a token.

‘To solidify the sentiment, for harmony’ she had said.

Millions of silken threads created the finest handkerchief in Asgard, an ombre of green and red which softened in silken waves to the centre; melding to one. Harmony.

On it, hand-stitched in the truest gold were the words. The only words which could provoke amnesty between the heirs. The symbol exchanged between them at times of familial discord. Whoever held it, must forfeit one admission for another or face the consequences.

En sannhet byttet mot en sannhet, A truth exchanged for a truth, Loki mulled as he traced a dark vein of the marbled counter-top.

It was not an accord invoked lightly. The ceremonial handkerchief itself may be lost to places known only to few, but once uttered, the oath must be fulfilled. He followed the winding tendril to the edge before meeting his brother’s eyes. Thor snorted, slapping the hand beneath his chin to the surface. “Fine” he gruffed.

“You and Rogers-” Loki cut in, seizing the moment. He watched his brother’s brow crease, short-lived victory turning to regret. “Is he the cause of the foul mood which has plagued you these past weeks?” Thor shuffled his feet, pushing himself upright against the counter. “I see not business that is of-” he began to parrot, but Loki waved a dismissive hand. “Brother, please-” he snapped sharply. “Even adorned with our lifespans, this banal rhetoric could last us to the gates of Valhalla.” He watched as his brother’s features relented, a quiet sigh rising in his chest. Thor swallowed. “He will not speak of it,” he muttered.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Of what?” Thor’s jaw set, looking at his brother with exasperation. “Our amorous union, short-lived as it was.” A small smile played at Loki’s lips.

Vindication, he thought. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

He summoned the willpower that had become so familiar from his newly-trained approach to your relationship, reminding himself that vulnerability was to be encouraged, not exploited. Carefully, he re-adjusted himself on the stool. He made sure he looked sympathetic. “I wasn’t sure if-” “Yes, yes…” Thor mumbled dismissively, glancing around the walls. Pink had risen in his cheeks.

“Rogers asked me not to say anything. But methinks it’s all for nought now regardless.”

“So the two of you...at the cottage?” Loki probed.

Thor nodded. “It started as a ruse, a part of the plan should it be required to stay you in the correct location but-” he swallowed.

“When the moment arose, the moment took me...us, and- our kinship, such as it was, had changed somehow. The nights we spent setting things in motion for the two of you, we grew closer. I cannot place it, brother. I just…”

“That sounds familiar,” Loki said softly. Without realising it, he had reached for his brother’s hand.

Thor squeezed it, staring down as he continued. “The love of a male is not unfamiliar to either of us-” Thor said, glancing up briefly. “But to Rogers…” he trailed off. “-It is all unfamiliar.” Loki finished. His brother nodded. “At the spa...we talked about what the future could look like. Many plans were made, but-” Thor swallowed thickly. “-when we returned, things were different?” Loki murmured tentatively.

Thor nodded again.

Loki knew that fear all too well. He would be lying if he said that his heart hadn’t pounded the whole flight home, wondering if a return to reality outside of the bubble created in the cottage would return you to your senses too. The thought of losing you again had been almost too much to bear. “I know not if it is his values. His image. Whether his feelings have changed or whether the intrigue was more of an allure than reality- he has barely spoken two words of warmth since our return. And when he does speak – I find myself behaving most unbefitting my feelings. Pushing him further, like you did.” Tears welled in the blonde’s eyes.

“Or perhaps it is I, brother,” Thor continued, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. It twisted Loki’s heart. His elder brother released a mirthless chuckle of resignation before continuing, fingertip circling on the marble anxiously. “Perhaps it is I.”

In seconds, Loki stood and rounded the counter.

He drew his brother close, feeling the strength of Thor’s grip tentatively curl around his shoulders. The god’s chest heaved, shallow breaths ricocheting against Loki’s neck. He found himself pressing his brother’s head into his hold, trying to steady the silent sobs swallowed with every gulp of air.

Had they ever embraced like this? Loki didn’t think so. Not that he could recall. But, strangely, he found he didn’t care.

“It’s alright, brother” he heard himself murmur, not knowing what else to say.

Thor choked back a shuddering sigh as Loki continued to stroke his hair. He rested his chin on his brother’s head, closing his eyes. “It’s alright.”

A paper bag adorned with toy soldiers rustled by your feet below the table.

Steve had given strict instructions to keep it in your sight while he bought coffee. You peeked inside again, smiling.

Somehow, you’d managed to convince him to while away a little more time before heading back to the Tower, citing Loki’s suspicions. But really, you just wanted to spend time with him.

Ever since the lakes, Steve had softened – which wasn’t a bad thing. In some ways you felt much closer, but in others; from others – he seemed to be pulling away. “Careful, it’s hot” he quipped, nudging the wooden chair out with his foot.

He squeezed to sit at the world’s smallest table that you had commandeered in the corner of the café. You mouthed thanks, pulling the mug over. “Reminds me of the cottage,” you smiled; looking up innocently. Steve’s eyebrows peaked, before he frowned lightly. “I guess,” he muttered. Festive jazz played over the bustle of mid-morning conversation and clinking plates. The milk steamer spluttered endlessly behind the bar. You scooped a blob of cappuccino foam onto your finger, sucking it off. It was now or never. After all, it was Christmas.

“Are you alright, Cap?” you started deferentially, hoping that the softness you felt in your heart shone through. Steve looked up, blue eyes deep in thought.

“Can I trust you, Agent?” he asked warily as his gaze glanced over your shoulder. Your features softened further, tension easing. You reached across the space between you, fingers curling over his forearm. “Steve,” you whispered. “I owe you so much. So much. I care about you, and Loki does too.” Steve’s brow arched sceptically. “He does,” you smiled, squeezing his arm. The smile fell gradually as you studied his face. “You can trust me,” you said quietly. Seriously. The captain nodded, taking a deep breath. “I…” he started.

Your brow twitched, an uneasy feeling spreading under your skin as Steve readjusted his feet beneath the table. His fingernails scratched at the wood, tapping as he glanced out the window and back again. “I…” he pursed his lips, avoiding your eyes. “-fucked up,” he hissed. Your stare widened. “Steve!” you gasped. He looked at you sheepishly. “Apologies,” he muttered. Clearly, your look of abject confusion was enough to spur him on. He leant forwards, urging you to do the same. A woman stood at the next table. Both of you watched her leave. Steve turned back to you, his eyes trained on the coffee cup nestled between his palms. “Our...mutual friend. The blonde,” he said quietly. You squeezed his arm again to signal understanding. “Well...as it turns out, I enjoy his company a bunch.” Steve’s eyelashes fluttered upwards, bashful gaze swimming above pink cheeks. He bit his lip. “A bunch. You see?” “I see,” you replied gently. Steve released a wistful sigh.

He licked his lips, fingers playing with the mug handle. “Things happened at the lakes that I didn’t expect. That I never woulda...that I-” he sighed, hanging his head.

“I told him it was a mistake.” He blew out a puff of air. “What a ninny,” he chided himself under his breath. You tilted your head. It was breaking your heart. “Do you think it was a mistake?” Steve shook his head, sighing again. “No,” said quietly. “But now he won’t talk to me. Not like before– as though he’s realised it was a mistake. He’s done with ol’ chum over here. I can’t blame him. I guess it’s not a big deal for a god and whatnot but for me-” Steve swallowed, words drying up. “Trust me, I know how it feels” you whispered.

Steve’s eyes met yours. They were glassy with tears, darting from your own to the pictures hanging on the wall and back again.

“I fucked up,” he breathed again. His voice trembled on the swear.

“It’s alright,” you cooed sadly as your thumb stroked Steve’s palm. You squeezed again. "It's gonna be alright."

Loki paced back and forth across the rug in his living room.

He’d tried buzzing your apartment four times at thirty minute intervals. Each time, he had been left more enthused than the previous.

His mind was alight with the thrill of the plot.

Through an entirely subtle process of elimination over the past hours, he had deduced that there was only one member of the team you could be with on this auspicious morning. Rogers. And after his conversation with his brother – he needed the intel you had most certainly gathered – whether intentionally or no.

There was more to this ‘mission’ of yours than met the eye, of this he was certain. He was certain, because he had planted the seeds himself.

There was a knock at the door. Loki’s feet skidded back against the rug in his haste to the handle, throwing it wide and bustling you inside.

“-Loki-” you gasped while he glanced to either side of the hallway before spinning you against the wall with a ravishing kiss.

His senses came alive beneath your touch. The bright cool of your skin, the scent of coffee and spiced gingerbread clinging to your hair; an almost imperceptible tacky patch on your cheekbone where some soul had left a passing kiss. Lipbalm. Rogers.

“What have you been up to my secretive elf?” he purred against your parted lips. Your coat hung open, the avengers uniform you had donned this morning for his benefit, he was sure; on half-display.

“I...uh-” Loki smirked as your palms steadied against the wall. You were panting, face flushed from the onslaught of his affections. Fingers raked through your hair as you met his eyes, blinking several times.

“You tied your hair back,” you noted, dazed.

Loki scoffed at the attempt at subterfuge, grabbing your hand.

“Come,” he said as he pulled you towards the sofa. You landed with a soft bounce as the god took centre stage in the living room. He pressed his fingertips together, hands peaked in a triangle. It touched his lips briefly. “Brace thyself, darling” he drawled. Unbuttoning your coat, Loki felt his gaze fall down the black material tight to your arms. It clung to your chest, the zip far too low for any official business. His stare lingered on the curve of your waist, how it taunted and teased him as you shuffled back on the sprawling sofa.

“Consider me braced,” you said pointedly. He cleared his throat. “My brother,” he started, pausing for effect. You stared at him expectantly.

Loki admitted to himself that he was a little disappointed you did not seem more intrigued by the fatted bounty of gossip he was about to spill forth. But he decided to maintain the theatre it deserved regardless. “-is in love with…” he paused again, smirking mischievously- “Rogers.” Your head fell back, landing in the cushions as your hands covered your face. “Oh thank fuck for that!” you gasped, beginning to laugh despite yourself. Loki frowned. This was not the response he had expected.

Between sighs of relief, you peered through your fingers at the bemused god. He was standing with his hands on his hips, the irritation palpable. The foot began to tap.

“Come here,” you placated. Patting the cushion beside you, his face softened; but an eyebrow remained raised.

“I would have thought my most excellent investigations would yield a smidgeon more praise from you my dear,” he said with feigned annoyance as he sat. “Nonetheless, I imagine your response means welcome news?” You nodded. “Steve feels the same. At least – I think he does.” Loki’s face scrunched. “You think? Please. Rogers should be on his hands and knees thanking the norns for my brother’s affections.” It was your turn to frown. “But Steve doesn’t know how Thor feels – your brother’s been palming him off.” Loki smirked.

“Not like that,” you sighed as you fell back again against the cushions. “We have to do something Loki...they’re mad about each other. They both think the other isn’t interested for one reason or another. They just need-” “-a little nudge?” Loki purred.

You met his stare. Those beautiful eyes swirled with the warm glow of the treelights, sparking mischief in golden flecks buried in deepest blue. Shadows cast by candlelight danced in the carve of his cheekbones.

“A little nudge,” you repeated, tilting your head with a knowing smile.

“After all, it would be rude not to return the favour. Don’t you agree?” the god murmured as his fingers danced up your suit.

They fastened around the zip at your chest, pulling slowly down. In seconds, Loki had gracefully shifted and buried his face in your cleavage. Hot kisses worked against the skin, breath warming any hint of chill still lingering in your bones.

Your hands slid past his temples as he made it to your neck, fingers winding in the lengths of his ponytail before pulling it free.

“Minx,” he slurred against the curve.

You could feel the sharp of his teeth against your collarbone as he smiled. Hands sliding over his broad shoulders, you took a moment to appreciate the tight knit of the camel sweater he wore at the meat of his biceps. Camel, he’d insisted. Not beige. And in the heady afterglow of lovemaking amidst a sea of sparkling Christmas lights, a cunning plan began to form.

You made your way to the common room, gift-bag swinging.

The presents that you and Loki had procured for your team-mates sat nestled inside – one for Scott, one for Wanda.

The tradition was a fairly new one, but a highlight of the festive calendar. On Christmas Eve, before outsider guests for Tony’s annual party began to arrive- the Avengers gathered and exchanged all manner of tat and risque shit. You often wondered how much the picture on your phone of Bruce holding up the dinner-plate sized cock ring Tony had made for him would fetch on the open market. But you had decided long ago that it was priceless. “Brother!” you imitated in a deep, accented growl.

Thor spun on the common room sofa, his wary look melting to a wide smile. You ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He spun, making you squeal. A whining mash of faint tunefulness emitted from his chest as the god lowered you to the ground. Jingle Bells. “Ah, you pressed the penguin’s nose” he hummed, booping the knitted beakish blob. “He sings,” he explained, pleased with himself. “I can see that,” you said as you made your way to the tree. “But turn around – you can’t see which presents are ours...” Thor obliged, smiling as he busied himself fluffing a garland by the fireplace. "Perhaps we should invite my Penguin friend to the carol concert at Stark's festive jamboree tomorrow," he boomed across the room. You watched him, remembering the feeling of acting normally while tendrils of heartache wrapped around your insides.

"-Certainly, he can hold a tune better than I" Thor continued, chuckling to himself. A pang of sadness mellowed as you turned back to the pile beneath the tree. Scanning, you tried to look for one that could be Steve’s – but none fit the bill. “Okay I’m done,” you said casually as you stood. Thor continued fluffing the garland. You sidled over, trying to act casual. “Have you um...added yours yet?” Thor shook his head regretfully. “Having a little trouble with my assigned giftee” he muttered. His eyes flickered to yours guiltily. “There is something I wish to give them, but I am unsure it would be welcome.” A small smile played on your lips. “Something tells me any gift of yours would be welcome,” you said, watching his bottom lip roll beneath the top with a sceptical grunt. “Is it something I can help with?” you probed, “maybe a second opinion would ease your mind.” “No,” Thor mumbled. He sighed. “I fear this is something I must endeavour alone, sister.” You frowned. How the fuck did Thor manage one of these cunning plans, you wondered as Michael Buble crooned in the background. “I wished to speak to you as it happens,” he murmured. Your lips pursed. The tone of his voice, the tension in his shoulders. Flashing lights interwoven in the fireplace garland illuminated a newly crimson hue to his skin. “Did my brother...mention anything to you of late?” You snorted. “You’ll have to be more specific when it comes to Loki. He never shuts up,” you smiled, feigning ignorance. Thor chuckled. “Indeed,” he said as he picked at a ribbon. “Well then...more specifically about, me.” You shook your head. You hated lying to him, but in this case – it was for the greater good. The god nodded softly, still inspecting the ribbon between his fingers. “Good. Well. That wasn’t what I wished to speak to you about anyway.” You swallowed. Cryptic Thor was never a welcome guest at any gathering. “My brother,” he continued cautiously, eyeing you before moving his fingers to another strand of greenery hanging over the side of the mahogany mantel. “-He intends to declare his love for you this Yuletide.”

Your jaw dropped, neck craning forwards. “Oh,” was all you could manage.

The side of Thor’s mouth twitched in an apologetic smile. “I am aware that your relationship has been, what is the parlance...taken ‘back to basics’ in some respects-” “Yeah,” you mumbled. Suddenly the ribbons decorating the garland looked very interesting. You and he stood in silence, straightening Pepper’s ornamentation.

Thor cleared his throat. “Knowing you the way I do sister,” he said softly, “I thought that forearmed would be forewarned.” “It’s the other way around,” you snipped. "Forewarned is forearmed." Out the corner of your eye, you saw Thor’s face fall. “Sorry,” you added quietly. The god’s hand curled around your shoulder, pulling you to him in a brief sidehug before releasing it.

“It’s just...we agreed not to rush things,” you explained under your breath.

You knew that he knew this, but verbalisation was needed. The cogs of your mind whirled.

“We haven’t moved back in together, we just keep a few things at each others places...go on a lot of dates, we’re working on ourselves, you know? Avoiding the mistakes we made last time. Like...well, like rushing things.” Thor turned towards you, bicep leaning against the mantle-piece as he listened diligently. You could feel the track of his gaze over your face.

Unable to take it anymore, you turned to look at him. “He’s doing so well, Thor. We’re doing so well. I’m happy. Really happy,” The words sounded panicked. You hated that. Thor reached out, cupping your hand in his. “I just...I don’t want it to ruin anything,” you finished. Looking up, the god’s concerned stare was waiting like you knew it would be.

“Do you love him?” was all Thor said.

Heat rose in your cheeks.

The truth was that you did. That you always had, and probably always would. But in hindsight, those three little words had heralded the beginning of the end last time. When his rose-tinted effort to contain the smarm and arrogance had well and truly gone absent without leave.

In some ways, the old Loki had taken your love to mean your unending loyalty. Unconditionally, in the truest sense of the word. Your unquestioning support and adulation no matter his behaviour, however many times you tried to stand your ground. And while his actions these past months had gone a long way to assuage those lingering doubts – the fear that it could flare up his old habits made your blood run cold.

Seconds ticked on while Thor’s question hung in the air.

“I thought it best you have time to consider it before the moment was upon you,” he said quietly. “My apologies if I have overstepped.”

You shook your head, linking your fingers through his. Without realising, tears had begun to prick your eyes. He raised a palm to your cheek, wiping away a droplet which had spilled over the rim. “No tears, sis” he rumbled lovingly. “It’s Christmas.” You felt a weak smile grow as Thor extended his forefinger. It lingered in the air between you. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

He moved the finger slowly to the penguin’s beak.

It pressed against the jumper. Against the lumpy misshapen knob of black knit, Thor's eyes never leaving yours.

And as the squeaking whine of electronic Jingle Bells filled the air, it dissolved the scent of sadness into a waft of cinnamon candlesmoke. You and the god of Thunder began to laugh.

Loki leant against the counter of your kitchenette.

He watched as you waited for the kettle to finish boiling, staring at it intently. Something was off. Your fingertip ran around the rim of a glass teapot sitting on the side. Loki could smell the spiced chai leaves from here. “Are you alright, darling?” he ventured cautiously. You offered a weak smile as the kettle clicked off the boil. Steam billowed around your jawline as you poured.

Loki was careful not to let his face betray the nerves bubbling in his stomach. If he was honest with himself, he’d been waiting for something to crop up that would throw the fine-sailing vessel of your relationship off-course.

It’s only a matter of time until she changes her mind, he’d think with twisting sadness as he watched you sleep. With me, it’s always just a matter of time.

He absorbed the purse of your lips, the absent-minded wipe of a droplet of tea from the counter-top before you blew the steam gently. Its motion sent a wave of rich tea and spices in his direction.

Your slipper socks rustled against the tiles as you made your way over to him, still resting against the counter’s lip. You set the mug down to his side, hands sliding over his hips. They clasped behind his back at the base of his spine.

“I have to talk to you about something, and it’s not easy-” you murmured softly.

Your eyes were wide and vulnerable, a slight tremble of your lip making his heart race. The scent of your festive perfume filled his nostrils, like ginger biscuits.

“Go on,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure he could manage much more.

You swallowed thickly, fingers toying with the back of his sweater. Black, today. Loki hoped it was not an ensemble of foreshadowing. “I ran into your brother in the common room."

Loki exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh,” he breathed, a small smile breaking. But your expression didn’t change. The god felt your fingers pull nervously against his sweater. Bad for the knit. “He um-now, don’t be mad at him-” Loki began to frown. “He uh, mentioned that you were maybe thinking about...um, saying something soon. To me.” Realisation blossomed, vines of anger and embarrassment twisting around the thought as he cursed his brother’s loose lips. He should have known. Loki swallowed, feeling his features harden but being unable to stop it.

Your gaze fell, the trace of your fingertips around his middle as you brought them together in front of you; pulling nervously at the ends.

“That devious, two-faced buffoon” Loki muttered bitterly, concerned eyes darting back to your face. “I told him that in confidence.” You looked up at him incredulously. “Well, he told you about Steve in confidence.” “That’s different,” he snipped, noting the immediate rise of your eyebrow. “It’s you.” he finished, glancing to the floor as he felt his cheeks begin to flush. “Loki…” he heard you begin softly, curling a rogue strand of hair behind his ear. He couldn’t look. “Loki,” you repeated, firmer this time. Your forefinger nudged beneath his chin, tilting his face up. He wondered if he looked as wilted as he felt. From the look in your eyes, he suspected he did.

“I understand,” he heard himself say. It was petulant. It was cold and detached in a way that scared him. The warm hit of your lips meeting his unexpectedly made his knees buckle, hands bracing against the counter-top. Your palms slid up his chest, over the tensed ropes of shoulder muscle, over the curve of his neck. Everything was in that kiss. The heat, the longing, the need. “Loki,” you breathed softly into his open mouth. “Mmm,” he mewled, eyes closed. “I love that you feel that way, I’m just…I’m scared that-” Loki opened his eyes. He saw a swirl of tears threatening the beautiful hues of your irises. There would be no tears of sadness this Christmas, he had decided. Not on his account. “Afraid, of things that may change?” he probed quietly. You nodded.

Loki sighed, cupping your jaw. He ran a thumb back and forth across your lips, moist from the kiss. “Change be not always a harbinger of doom, I hope the last few months have reassured you of that.” You nodded again. “I know that it's different now, it just...took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected...I just-not yet...” you trailed off. Loki smiled softly. The way your body was pressed against him, as close as you could be. The way your fingers gripped and grasped against each dip of muscle it encountered as though he would turn to dust if you did not.

Loki realised in that moment that if this scenario had occurred years before, he would have been insulted. He would have been childish. Enraged, perhaps, at the audacity of the woman he adored doubting him. But now, all he felt was closeness. The bravery of your admission that he felt his soul. That you trusted him again.

Words, he pondered as he placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. What wounds have I inflicted on this woman with words.

Action must once more be paramount. The words can heal, he realised as he memorised the softness of your skin beneath his lips. But words can wait. “Perhaps we can agree” he began, measuring every syllable with the rise and fall of your chest against his own, “that, should you feel comfortable in doing so...you could, say it first- when it is right for you. When it is right for us.”

His voice was deep and melodic, a rumbling lullaby of devotion he willed would still your thundering heart. He hoped you could feel the love simmering in those words. He had never hoped anything more. You tilted your head into the curve of his neck, kissing the exposed skin. “-and be safe in the knowledge the sentiment will be returned, when you are ready” he added quietly.

Your hands slipped once more around his hips, pulling him tightly against you with your head buried in his neck. Loki held you like that, letting the waft perfume from your hair fill his nostrils.

I love you, he mouthed silently.

The soundless click of his tongue over mute syllables wound its way through strands of your hair.

He felt your fingers begin toying with the waistband of his trousers. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “Darling,” he purred as your head left his shoulder. You tilted your face to meet his gaze, alight with the comfortable joy he knew so well.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered. A smile had spread across your face that made Loki’s heart burst. The first button on his chinos popped. “Well, quite-” he smouldered playfully. Loki felt his hips rock upwards into your waiting palm, a low groan bubbling in his throat while you stroked the arousal growing beneath cotton. “You fixed the secret Santa, didn’t you?” you coaxed. Changing the subject, Loki noticed. But he let it pass. It was hardly a question.

Loki rolled his lips, pondering. “I may have ensured that my brother and Rogers drew each others names, yes.” He let out another moan as you squeezed the thick root of his cock through the chinos. “Good boy,” you hummed. It sent a shudder of need up his spine.

“How long have you been planning this?” you said, beginning to walk backwards with Loki’s sweater firmly in your grip. He chuckled, curls tapping against his jaw. “A while,” Loki smouldered. “Seeds that I have planted have sprouted most elegantly. Although there were a few pieces of the puzzle which remained unclear until the last few days.”

You paused, making the god’s stomach collide with yours. He released an exaggerated ooft.

“Final pieces of the puzzle? Like the fact they actually have feelings for each other?” you giggled. Loki shrugged non-nonchalantly. You were playing. “A minor detail,” he drawled. “Everything needed to be in place, just in case.” Your mouth hung open, stunned into silence. “It’s Christmas,” he added with mock-incredulity – as though it explained everything. “Miraculous things happen at Christmas in this realm, do they not?”

His fingers curled around your shoulders, switching your positions and lowering himself to the sofa. He widened his legs, hips flexing upwards. Fairy lights gleamed and sparked their warmth in a halo, golden spills rolling over your skin as you pulled the jumper you wore over your head. Firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows against the walls.

He would never understand the beauty of you. And perhaps, Loki surmised, he did not have to. It was his fortune to appreciate it, not question it.

A finger twirled in the air, evaporating his clothes in a seasonal golden and scarlet shimmer. Yours followed. Loki’s thighs widened further as you manoeuvred onto his lap, covering his mouth in a hungry kiss. His fingers raked through your hair, hips bucking up as he sought the sweetest harbour his body had ever known.

“Say it again,” he pleaded darkly as you slipped a hand between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock to your entrance. Twin gasps cut the air as you seated yourself on the thick tip, slow motions rocking down into shallow moans. “Good boy,” you murmured lovingly in his ear.

Loki let his head fall back against the cushions, fingertips sinking into the soft rounds of your ass as he bottomed out. He let you work against his body, feeling your pleasure spill and slip against the taut veins of his cock. Every little gasp, every breathy groan of his name. Your god. Each slow roll of your hips met the gentle buck from a clench of his ass. Your god. He was yours, completely.

You knew that now for certain. He was sure of it. And all the while, a few floors below, his brother was wrapping a gift for Steve Rogers.

As the final strip of crinkled sellotape was placed firmly against the paper, and as the ribbon he had smuggled from the common room garland was retied- one might have been forgiven for thinking a green light glowed within it; leaking from loose edges.

Thor had frowned, doing a double take.

The package seemed to tingle in his hold. The blonde put the strange feeling down to nerves.

But as his younger brother lost himself in pleasure, spilling his seed and his devotion within the arms of his beloved; the gift had been made whole in Thor’s oblivious hands.

A gift that would change everything.

Continued in Comfort and Joy (Final)

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki (marvel)#loki imagine #loki x you #loki x female reader smut #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki gif

531 notes · View notes

marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months ago

Text

We're Not Friends

Summary: River Cartwright x Fe!Reader -> River comes to you after fighting with The Dogs, which comes as a surprise to you since you're not friends.

Disclaimer: I have only just started Slow Horses but I wanted to write something for his character. This is also going to have a part 2. Mostly made up sub-plot away from the show. Reader cleans River's wounds and helps him shave. Smaller intimate moments, fluff. Mention of a cheating ex-boyfriend. Swearing. Not Proof Read.

“What the hell happened to you?”

It was just a little after two in the morning when someone started banging on your front door. They’d been using the knocker for a while, the pitch of its bang against the wooden door getting louder and higher. Then the thumping started.

So, after laying in bed hoping it would stop – maybe someone was drunk and got the wrong house again. You got up and moved across to the sash window. They’d been thumping the door for a while which scared you, but considering they hadn’t broken the door down yet, you figured it wasn’t someone trying to break in.

Looking down into the dark street, you recognised a figure walking backwards from your door.

River Cartwright.

Except, from the dim light of a car’s headlamp turning down the road, you saw a slightly clearer image of him.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Just let me in.”

“Cartwright, there’s a hospital-”

He looked around hurriedly and practically hissed at you to shut up. “Shhhh. I know. Just- please.”

It took you a moment and a half to consider letting him in. But considering he didn’t want a hospital to deal with the blood on his face, you agreed.

“There’s a key in the safety box.” You told him. “Let yourself in.”

He walked back towards the box, but then walked back. “What’s the code?”

“My birthday.”

“And that is?”

With both hands on the window ledge, you leaned out. “It was last week, River.”

“Oh. Right.”

Rolling your eyes as he thought back to last week, you shut your window and locked it again, hearing your front door finally open and watching as it closed behind River.

Switching a lamp on in your landing hallway, you got a clearer picture of River as he slowly ascended the stairs. The blood wasn’t just on his face, it covered most of his clothes, too.

“Relax. It’s not mine. Well,” he looked down at himself and back at you. “Not all of it.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“What? No.”

You took in all the blood. “You’re covered, Cartwright.”

Then a small smile graced his face. “‘Should see the other guy.”

For a moment you stared at him before rolling your eyes and heading towards the bathroom. “In here.”

River took his chance to examine your place as he watched you walk away. “Not gonna lie, I was half expecting you to curse me out.”

“Don’t worry. I am. It’s just too early in the morning for it.” You leaned over the sink and closed the window, stopping the cold air from surrounding the room making you colder than you wanted. “Now why the fuck are you here? Other than the bloody face. And I’m guessing Lamb followed me home, so that’s why you know where I live.”

Turning around, you got a better look at River in the light of the bathroom. He had a couple more scapes and cuts than you’d counted when you first looked at him on your landing. Most of the blood seemed to be dry and his clothes weren’t cut.

“The Dogs.”

With your hands on your hips, your head dropped down. “That’s why the fuck you’re here. Of course it is. Okay. Sit down.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Cartwright.”

He just nodded and sat down on the lid of the toilet seat as you found a fresh face cloth plus the first aid kit you kept under the sink. Then you moved back down the hallway and turned off the lamps before turning the bathroom light off.

“There’s enough light from the window for me to see what I’m doing.” You told him as you heard him go to speak. With a street lamp being closer and brighter to your bathroom window than your front door, it shone directly across River.

Finally, running the tap to fill the sink with warm water, you dunked the face cloth into it before turning the tap off.

“Do I want to know why you got into a fist fight with The Dogs? Move your legs.” Knocking your knee with his, River opened up his legs and you stepped into them, your fingers under his chin forcing his head up to look at you.

“No, probably – zzzz – not.” River hissed as you pressed the cloth back to some of the grazes on his face. “Anyway, how do you know it was a fist fight?”

“Other than your face being covered in blood?” You felt him nod under your fingers. “Your knuckles.”

He looked down at his hands. Scaped, bruised and bleeding. You forced him to look at you again as you wiped away the dry blood.

“And why did you come to me? You pass three of the others just to get here.”

River stalled. “I don’t know where they live.”

“And you just so happened to remember my address?”

“Yes.”

“But not my birthday?” River didn’t know what to say. “Relax. I know we’re not friends. I’m not hurt.”

That made him feel a little better…kind of.

“I am confused, though.”

“Why?”

You stopped dabbing at the blood, dunking the cloth back into the water and wringing it out. “Why not go to the hospital?”

“I was a little busy running.”

“Sooo, run to the hospital.”

River wasn’t amused. “Little late for that, now.”

“You’re lucky I know what I’m doing.”

He tilted his head a little. “Do you?”

You looked in his eyes for a moment before going back to his wounds. “Better than the others would.”

You caught the soft smirk on his face. “Right.”

For the next five minutes, you both remained silent. You’d washed most of the blood away, but you couldn’t help mentioning his beard.

“I thought you learnt how to shave when you were a kid.”

He seemed a little offended. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything. I’m saying you need a shave.”

“Thanks.”

You stood back and cleaned most of the blood out of the face cloth before watching the bloody water wash down the drain. “I can do it for you.”

Looking over your shoulder, River was running a hand through his beard in the dim reflection of the mirror.

River looked at you, his hand dropping from his face. “Yeah, I don't think I like the idea of you having a razor that close to my throat.”

With all the muscles in your face relaxing, River could already read the look on your face. Even if you were still in the dark. Your face was telling him to get over himself.

“Stay there.”

“Do you even have razors?” Looking around your bathroom, he couldn’t see any other than the one on the plate below the shower head.

You appeared back in the doorway of the bathroom. “I do.” You paused for a moment as you looked at his body. “Take your shirt off.”

“You’re shaving my face.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re wearing a collar, Cartwright.” You walked away and down the hall to another room. “I don’t want to spill anything else on it. Besides, I can shove it on a quick cycle. Blood shouldn’t be too hard to get out since it’s so early.”

As he listened to you talk, he rolled his eyes, reluctantly doing as you ordered. “How do you know how to get blood out of clothes?”

You appeared back in the doorway. “Seriously?”

Then he remembered you were a woman. “Right.”

Fully removing his shirt, he threw it to you. “Be right back.”

And you were. From downstairs, he could hear the washing machine starting to fill with water as you climbed back up the stairs and came into the bathroom. “Found it.”

River watched as you waved a small shaving wrap in the air before you unravelled it and told him to keep hold of it.

“Why do you even have one of these?”

“Look at me.” Taking a fresh face cloth, you began to carefully wash his face before eventually you wiped away the face wash and placed the hot cloth against the bottom half of his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” River told you, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth.

You sighed. “Ex-boyfriend’s Christmas present. Broke up with him before I could give it to him.”

Dropping the cloth back into the sink, you lifted the package from River’s hands before opening it up and giving it back to him to lay across his legs.

You began lathering up the shaving cream before you carefully brushed it in and around his beard. “What did he do? I thought breaking up before Christmas was illegal.”

“Statistically speaking, most people break up a few weeks before Christmas. Mainly because they don’t want to have to buy Christmas presents.”

“But you already bought one.” He pointed out. “So what did he do?”

“If you must know, I found out he was fucking our downstairs neighbour for three months, so.” Your voice trailed off as you placed the shaving brush down and picked up the straight razor.

“Are you gonna Sweeney-Todd-me if I keep asking you questions?”

“Maybe,” you deadpanned.

“Keep my mouth shut. Got it.”

And he did. Despite that, however, he did keep his eyes on you. Despite the darkness of the bathroom, the light that lit up his face was bleeding onto yours. His legs opened a little wider once more for you to step into them. For a few moments, when his mind would wander, River could feel his hands twitch to reach out for you. But then he’d force himself back into reality.

You took extra care with the razor as you tidied his beard up. Your finger delicate against his skin, you turned his head a little each way as you moved around his face before tilting his head up fully.

“When did you learn to shave a beard?” River asked you once you’d shaken the shaving foam and hair off the razor for the final time before grabbing the previous cloth to wipe his face.

“A friend from college. His family ran a barber shop. Spent a couple afternoons there working when they were understaffed.”

River’s eyes widened for a moment. “Wow. Wasn’t expecting that answer.”

You laughed a little. “What? Did you expect me to say my boyfriend or something?”

He shrugged. You laughed again and stepped back into his legs. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Cartwright.”

He looked back up at you without you having to tell him. “Do you want me to know? Or would that make us too close to being friends?”

You leaned forward a little. “We’ll never be friends, Cartwright.”

You cursed at yourself in your head as you realised your eyes had momentarily shifted from his eyes to his lips. But by the looks of it, River was doing the same thing.

You were thankful for the lack of light in the bathroom, or else he might have been able to see the heat on your cheeks more clearly. A small chuckle escaped your chest as you threw the face cloth at his bare chest.

“Take a shower, Cartwright. You’re still covered in blood.”

Watching you leave, River lowered his head and let out a breath as he ran a hand through his head. That was close. Too close.

As he took a shower, washing off the extra blood, you moved his shirt into the dryer before looking through some old boxes in your spare room for men’s clothes. However, as you approached your bathroom door to knock, you’d failed to notice the lack of sound from your shower.

With your finger raised to knock on the door, the door opened in front of you and you were met with a freshly showered, waist wrapped in a towel, River Cartwright. And for a moment, your brain faltered.

“Uhh. Um.” You physically shook your head and forced your gaze onto him. “I left you some clothes in the spare room.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Feel free to stay the night. I’m gonna…I’m gonna get some sleep while it’s still dark outside. And, River? Me offering you to stay the night still doesn’t make us friends.”

River nodded, watching you walk towards your bedroom. However, although he didn’t miss the look on your face when he opened the bathroom door, he did miss you looking back from your bedroom as he walked towards the spare one.

When you closed your bedroom door, you cursed at yourself again for checking him out as he walked away; hair dripping droplets of water down his toned back, a towel wrapped firmly around his hips.

It took you a little longer than you liked in order to get back to sleep since part of you was still listening out for him to open your front door, but since it never came, you eventually fell asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you were still groggy from the broken sleep. Eventually pulling yourself out of bed, you opened your door and found the spare bedroom door open slightly.

He must already be awake.

Going downstairs and towards your kitchen, you were surprised to find him sitting at the kitchen table, his leg stretched out, still dressed in the pajamas you’d set out on the bed, a coffee in his hand.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Morning.”

You were thankful your back was to him when he first spoke. His voice was deeper and gruffer than usual. Maybe he hadn’t been awake long.

“How’d you sleep?”

He sucked his teeth. “If I told you that, that might make us friends.”

“Fair enough.”

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you grabbed the carton of milk from the fridge. “How’s your face?”

“Healing.” River told you.

Pulling out a chair, you eventually sat across from him and took in his face. There was some bruising, but that would heal soon enough. So would the smaller cuts and grazes.

“How are your hands?”

You looked at them as he wrapped them around his mug. They looked worse than his face. Healing, but rough.

“Swelling is going down.”

“Do they hurt?”

He nodded, curling his hand into a tight fist before relaxing it. “No, well, a little.”

River watched as you stood from your spot at the table and opened up one of the kitchen drawers and sat back down. “Give me your hand.”

He went to do so but then pulled it back. “What are you gonna do?”

You flipped the tube up in your hand. “It’s just a healing cream.”

“Oh, right.”

You watched him carefully as he gave you his hand. “Why? What did you think I was going to do?”

“I tried to open a flashbox once and got burnt.”

“That was clever.”

He hissed a little before giving a small groan. “Yes. Thank you. Anyway, when I showed Sid, she slapped me. Well, my hand. The one I’d burnt.”

“Good. I’m glad. You deserved it.”

River tried to pull his hand away, but you kept a firm grip on it as you gently dabbed the cream across his knuckles. “Ow, hey. It was for a good cause.”

“What good cause? Figuring out the rest of Pi?”

River stopped pulling away and looked at you. “How do you-”

“You’re not my friend. You don’t get that privilege.”

“Then what privilege do you get to check me out?” You caught River’s smug smile as your gaze flashed to his. “You can deny it all you want, but I saw how you were looking.”

You could feel your entire body. It felt like it was on fire. And not in a good way. “It was three in the morning. Everyone knows human defences are weakest at that time.”

“Weak in muscle or weak at the knees?”

You pressed into one of the cuts on his hand. “Fuck- Ow, ow, ow. Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

Letting go, River shook his hand to try and relieve some of the pain before you pulled his other hand across the table and dabbed the cream across the cuts one by one.

“In all seriousness, thank you.” You looked back at him, your cheeks cooling. “You could have told me to fuck off, and you didn’t. So…thanks.”

You just nodded, finishing up with his hand. He gave you a quiet thanks once more as he examined his hand, the feeling of your fingers still ghosting over his knuckles as you twisted the cap back onto the cream and lay it down on the table.

#river cartwright #river cartwright x reader #slough house #river x reader #river cartwright x you #jack lowden slow horses #jackson lamb #catherine standish #enemies to lovers #part one #fluff #angst #falling in love #kissing

42 notes · View notes

modernsashwindowuk · 2 months ago

Text

High-Quality uPVC Sash Windows for Trade Customers

Quickslide, based in West Yorkshire, is one of the UK's leading window manufacturers, known for top-notch quality and clever design. We're all about making homes look great and feel cosy with our wide range of windows, including box sash windows, made-to-measure sash windows, and modern uPVC sliding sash windows. Whether you're a homeowner or in the trade, our double-glazed uPVC sash windows offer classic style with modern perks like energy efficiency and durability. Designed to mix traditional charm with a fresh, modern vibe, our windows are crafted to fit your home perfectly. With a focus on quality and happy customers, Quickslide is your trusted choice for stunning, made-to-measure windows. Visit: https://www.quickslide.co.uk/windows/sash-windows/pvcu-sliding-sash-windows/

#box sash windows #made to measure sash windows #double-glazed uPVC sash windows trade #uPVC sliding sash windows #modern uPVC sash windows #sash windows #uPVC windows #new windows #modern sash windows #timber alternative sash windows

0 notes

slippinmickeys · 3 months ago

Text

The Unseelie Court (5/16)

They had awoken early, before sunup, and Scully had drifted through the dark passage of the connecting door and into her own room, closing the door behind her. She met Mulder outside an hour later, tying the sash of her light woolen coat.

When Mulder turned the engine over to get the heat going, he looked over at her.

“Sheriff’s office or morgue?” he asked.

“Sheriff’s office, I think,” she said. “We need to submit the leaf into evidence before the chain of custody gets murky. Then maybe we can all head over to the morgue together and figure out just what the hell is going on. I had the diener run another set of dental X-Rays on the new body.”

“The old body,” Mulder said.

“The body,” Scully conceded, somewhat testily.

Though it was past sunrise, the light was moody and Mulder turned on his headlights before he swung out of the motel parking lot. The radio gave a squelch of static and Scully reached forward and snapped it off, a heavy sigh briefly fogging up the passenger window, hiding the gray day on the window’s other side.

“You okay?” Mulder asked as they bumped over the curb and onto the roadway. It was something he probably wouldn’t have done before they’d started sleeping together, but a newly vulnerable part of him worried he’d done something wrong.

“Fine,” she said. Of course.

Mulder sighed himself, his mood suddenly matching that of the weather.

The sky wasn’t overcast; it was depressed, the cloud cover drooping so low it seemed to lean on top of the trees.

The drive was short, no more than five minutes, and they were out of the car and strolling through the front doors of the Sheriff’s office before they’d had time to figure out a game plan.

The deputy who’d met them at the morgue the evening before was sitting behind the duty desk, and he seemed just as startled to see them as he had twelve hours prior.

“Deputy Miller,” Mulder said. “Before we talk to the Sheriff, I have some evidence that needs to be added to what the forensic unit pulled from the lakeshore yesterday. Can you see me back to the evidence room, please?”

“Um,” the deputy said. “Can I see your badge again?”

Mulder and Scully both flipped them up.

“Alright,” Miller stood. “Okay. Um, follow me.”

For lack of anything else to do, Scully followed them, through the still fairly empty bullpen and into a back hallway, where Miller fumbled with a ring of keys before finding the right one and unlocking the evidence room door.

The deputy led them to a bankers box and handed over a clipboard to Mulder before removing the lid off the top and taking a step back. Mulder stopped writing when he looked down inside.

“This is the wrong box, son,” Mulder said.

Intrigued, Scully moved around his other side and peered in. Inside the box, encased in sealed plastic evidence bags, were the red toy bucket from near the body on the beach, as well as the beer bottle and coins. But the bottle was that of a weathered Bud Light, and the coins from Daly’s pocket were just a handful of dull pennies. The iron ingot was nowhere to be seen.

“This is the box from yesterday,” Miller said, going pale. “It says so right here.”

“The victim had a pocketful of rare coins and an iron ingot, and the beer bottle near the body was not Bud Light,” Mulder said.

“Excuse me,” said a loud voice from the doorway. “Can I help you?”

All three of them turned to see the Sheriff standing in the doorway looking thunderous.

“Miller, just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, taking a step inside. “No one but law enforcement is allowed inside the evidence room. If the Prosecutor’s office finds out about this—”

“They’re FBI!” said Miller, at the same time Mulder said:

“Sheriff Cox.”

The Sheriff stopped his rant, cocking his head at Mulder.

“We were just logging in evidence we got from our initial examination of Daly Carmichael in the morgue,” Mulder explained. “We ran into a bit of a situation last night and were hoping for your input.”

“You’re here about Daly Carmichael?” the Sheriff asked. “I didn’t think the FBI had jurisdiction, but I’d be more than happy to accept your help with the case.”

“Sir?” Scully said, confused.

“I don’t know who called you, but—”

“You did,” Mulder said, setting the evidence log book down on top of the file box. “You called me. Yesterday morning.”

“I think you must have mistaken me for someone else. Did one of my deputies…”

Mulder turned and looked down at Scully, exchanging confused looks.

“Yeah,” Mulder finally said. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened. It must have been one of your deputies.”

“Mulder?” Scully said quietly. He shook his head at her, just a quick motion and moved toward the Sheriff, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder and steering him out of the evidence room.

“Why don’t you tell me about the case?” Mulder said.

***

“Mulder what the fuck ?” Scully said, the very second they had walked out of the Sheriff’s office doors and into the brisk outside air. She had not called out Mulder in front of LLE for not pushing back on the collective amnesia they all seemed to be suffering, but she sure as hell wasn’t waiting any longer. He’d gone right along with it, reintroducing himself to deputies they’d spoken with yesterday, getting the full run-down on a case they were already investigating. She was appalled.

“Did you see that?” Mulder said, excitedly. “No memory of meeting us yesterday. None of them! That rookie deputy, Andy, standing there in the bullpen. No idea who we were. And Deputy Avery, the relief on his face when the Sheriff asked him to give us the file and I told him we already had it? Avery had no idea where the file was and thought he was about to get his ass handed to him. Probably thinks we saved his career.”

“How do these people have no memory of yesterday, Mulder? It makes no sense .”

“I wonder if your diener Aeon remembers,” Mulder said. “Or if they got to him, too.”

“If who got to him? Mulder .”

Scully stopped short and grabbed Mulder by the arm, pulling him back toward her.

“Mulder, explain to me what you think is going on. Because I’m about to march back in that building and demand an office-wide drug test. Or, I don’t know, look for a hypnotist in the closet! You didn’t press them on the fact that none of them seemed to remember anything about yesterday other than the fact that they found the body of an alleged missing person, nor the very important fact that evidence from the crime scene was very clearly swapped out .”

“Magic,” Mulder said. “I think we’re dealing with some kind of magic. And it started last night the moment you took this out of Daly Carmichael’s mouth.” At this he produced the evidence bag with the leaf in it.

“You didn’t log it in?”

“Under the circumstances? No,” he said.

Scully blew out a breath. She couldn’t argue with that particular decision.

“The Sheriff is going to follow us to the morgue,” Mulder said a little more gently. “Let’s…see how this all plays out.”

He was walking to the car before Scully had a chance to fully register the word “magic.”

***

“This is the body that was found on the beach yesterday morning?” Scully asked, still in her business suit and wool coat. She was standing at the head of the examination table looking down at the older body that had appeared the night before. “In exactly this condition?”

“That’s him,” the Sheriff said. “The techs from Richmond finished up at the scene and we shipped him over here. You said you took a look at him yesterday? Any idea what killed him?”

The Sheriff was standing not far from the table’s other side with Mulder flanking him to the right. Avery stood patiently just inside the door

“I haven’t had a chance to perform the autopsy yet,” Scully said. “All that’s been done is trace.” She turned toward the door. “Where’s the diener?” she asked.

Aeon hadn’t shown his face yet, though the body and everything else was prepped and ready, and the dental X-rays were up and waiting to be looked at in the light box. The Sheriff assured her that copies had been sent to the state forensic dentist.

The night before, Aeon had been just as baffled as Mulder and Scully by the aged state of the body and had agreed to run another set of dental X-Rays.

“Crazy that he was wearing the same clothes he went missing in,” Sheriff Cox said. “All these years later.”

“Assuming this is Daly Carmichael,” Scully said.

“I mean…you don’t think it is?”

“Not without confirming his dental records.”

“I know you’re not a forensic dentist,” said the Sheriff. “But maybe you could take a look?”

Scully glanced over at the dental X-rays in the light box. The ‘70s originals from Daly Carmichael were significantly smaller–the edges of the film rounded and hoary. Scully shared a look with Mulder and he nodded at her. She blew out an unhappy breath but nevertheless moved over to the lightbox and turned it on.

The similarities were apparent the moment she looked at them. The second molar on the left side on all three X-rays showed identical amalgam fillings, each with an odd, distinct shape similar to that of Rhode Island. It wouldn’t take a forensic specialist to confirm that all three X-rays were of the same mouth-Daly Carmichael.

“These,” she said, sighing unhappily, “appear to all be from the same person.”

“Daly Carmichael,” Mulder said, clarifying.

“Yes,” Scully said. “Though I would still like confirmation from the forensic specialist.”

She knew it was a mere formality, but she was determined to do things by the book.

“Still,” the Sheriff said, smiling. “It’s great to get confirmation. And close a case.”

“We still don’t know what killed him,” Scully said.

“Can you find out? Your partner says you’re a forensic pathologist?”

Scully didn’t answer for so long that Mulder took a step forward. “Scully?” he said. “Can you?”

“I can try,” she said.

***

When Scully emerged from the locker room having changed into scrubs, the Sheriff and his deputy were gone and Aeon was back, cornered by Mulder, who appeared to be questioning him.

“So you remember us coming in here yesterday?” Mulder asked him.

“Of course I remember you coming in here yesterday,” Aeon said testily. “Hours after you should have been. And then all kinds of shit happened. You ruined my night.”

“Anybody else here yesterday? Where’s the local ME?”

“On vacation,” Aeon said. “This is a small county, Agent Mulder. It’s just the two of us.”

“Mulder,” Scully said, hoping to diffuse what was turning into a heated conversation.

Her partner turned to her. The diener took the opportunity to step around him.

“Do you need anything else before you begin your examination?” Aeon asked Scully.

“I’m good,” she said.

“I’m not done asking questions,” Mulder said.

“I think you are,” said Aeon, and Mulder’s phone trilled from his pocket. The little man gave him a satisfied smirk.

Mulder reached in and pulled out his phone. “Skinner,” he said, looking down at the display. When he looked back up, the diener had left the bay. Mulder let the phone go to voicemail. He’d call his superior back.

“I guess they didn’t get to your diener,” Mulder said. “Who I don’t think I like.”

“The feeling appears to be mutual,” Scully said. “I’m just glad whatever insanity is happening down there at the Sheriff’s office doesn’t extend to here.”

Mulder had to agree with that one. “Do you think the body has any answers?”

“If it does,” Scully said, reaching out and grabbing a scalpel, “it’s not going to be magic.”

Mulder wasn’t so sure about that. He had long ago accepted that their job turned them into ecstatics, subject to mystical experiences.

He thought about the dark opening into the trees by the lakeside, what he was now sure were Daly Carmichael’s footprints leading out of it.

“While you do this,” he said, moving to the door. “I’m going to go back to the crime scene.”

“Okay,” Scully said, reaching up to turn on the recording mic above her head, catching his eye before looking back down at the body before her. “Be careful, Mulder.”

“I will,” he assured her.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #the unseelie court

34 notes · View notes