#but also he knows-Part of why he’d loved her-Should���ve known when she won’t talk it’s something that brutal-Needing wanting her to know

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

New fic!! The original idea was for a steamy one-shot gift fic for the wonderful @krisrix but the plot ran away with me and it’s now a full-blown multi-chapter fic. Updates will hopefully be on a regular basis. 

Hope you like it @krisrix! I”ve been meaning to write you something ever since you created that amazing art for Can’t Find My Way Home! 

Behind Closed Doors

Baz

I can’t get out of David Mage’s office fast enough. I thought weekly one-on-one meetings with him were torture but now he’s moved them up to twice a week, as we reach the end of year, and it’s simply excruciating.

I hate him. I hate this job. I’ve come to despise working at Watford, which breaks my heart. But I won’t leave. I’m going to stay the course and I’ll be damned if I don’t outlast Mage here.

My mother started this company. This is her legacy and I won’t let that pompous bastard ruin it.

He’s doing his best to do just that. The numbers bear that out. Month after month I’ve been trying to communicate to him what a disaster his policies are. How they’re actually weakening the company. He just spouts some drivel about “fresh starts ”and “thinking outside the box” and then the phrase I absolutely abhor: “take it to the next level.”

I damn near leveled him when he said that today.

Father still sits on the Board of Directors but it hasn’t been much help. Somehow the rest of the Board has morphed into collection of lackeys for Mage; sycophants, supporters, cronies. It’s sickening. I think the only reason Father still has a seat is because he started Watford with Mother. They can’t vote him out.

At least I don’t think they can.

I’m storming down the corridor to get to the blessed isolation of my office when a voice calls out behind me.

“Baz!”

I can’t deal with Snow right now. I really can’t. I quicken my pace but the wanker just speeds up to catch me. Literally. He actually tugs at my sleeve.

I stop and level a glare at him. “What do you want, Snow? Some of us have work to do to keep this company afloat.”

Simon Snow is Mage’s personal assistant. His right hand man. His closest confidant and staunchest supporter. His jack of all trades.

I wish I could hate him as much as I hate Mage. I’ve tried.

I’m stupid enough to have fallen in love with him instead. It’s a cross I have to bear, but at this moment being in his presence after that disastrous meeting is almost more than I can handle.

“You haven’t sent in an RSVP for the Christmas party yet. I need to send the final number to the caterer today. I’ve sent you three emails about it, Baz.”

I arch my brow and give Snow my iciest sneer. “As if I have time to read frivolous emails about social gatherings. It’s end of year, Snow. The busiest time for the financial department, which you should know. Happens this time every year.”

“Christmas comes this time each year,” Snow mumbles.

Did he really just quote the Beach Boys most idiotic lyric at me? It shouldn’t surprise me that Snow likes that utterly insipid Christmas song. It’s absolutely endearing that he does.

I harden my heart against his charm.

“Yes, Snow. I’m quite aware. End of year financial accounting also comes this time each year and that’s rightfully occupying far more of my attention than the utterly useless Christmas party you’re harping about.”

He looks hurt. I internally curse myself. It’s not Snow’s fault I’m in this mood. It’s not Snow’s fault that he’s in charge of the dreaded Watford annual Christmas party. It’s not Snow’s fault I’m in love with him.

Actually, that last one is entirely Snow’s fault. He can’t walk around this place with that riot of disheveled bronze curls, the constellations of moles and freckles on his tawny skin, that bloody dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, his distressingly charming personality, completely unwarranted kindness, and expect me not to fall recklessly, hopelessly in love with him.

I’m so weak for this boy.

I soften my voice. “Listen, Snow. I know you’re putting all your energy into the party right now. I’m putting all mine to the financials.” I take a breath. I can do this. “I’m sorry I haven’t responded to your emails.”

Simon perks right back up at my apology. “That’s alright, Baz. I know how stressful end of year is for you. That’s why I emailed, so you could get back to me when you had a free moment.” He glances back towards Mage’s office. “I should have known better than to run you down after a meeting with Mr. Mage.”

Two years working here and he still calls him Mr. Mage. It’s ludicrous. And that bastard never corrects him. It’s some hierarchy, respect bullshit. It’s not like Snow doesn’t know Mage well enough to call him David.

He’s Mage’s pet project. Scholarship student out of the care home system and under Mage’s tutelage for years at that small university Mage worked at before he inflicted himself upon us here at Watford.

Corporations don’t function like universities though and Mage’s management here is a testament to that. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d come to Watford to purposely run us into the ground.

Perhaps he has. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Snow is still looking at me, likely waiting for a response. Instead I let my mind wander, like I usually do when I am confronted with him.

I have to, for self-preservation. Being near Snow is like being caught in a tractor beam, like he’s the sun and I’m crashing into him. It’s why I try to avoid him at all costs. He’s too distracting.

I’m doing it again.

“So, shall I put you down as a yes, then, Baz?”

“Yes, fine, whatever.” I’m pathetic. I hate the party. I only go because I know how much work Snow puts into it and because he looks so damn good in a suit.

“And shall I put a plus-one?”

“What?”

“Are you bringing a date?”

Bollocks. This is why I should have answered his email. To avoid awkward questions like this. To avoid inadvertently saying something monumentally stupid like “you can be my plus-one, Simon.”

“Ah, no, no, just me.”

“Right, then.” Snow beams at me. “I’ll mark you down for one. We’ve still got a spot open at our table. I’ll put you with us.”  His smile grows even wider. “Saturday at seven. At the Club. I’ll see you there, Baz.”

He nods and then scurries back down the hallway towards Mage’s office.

Fuck. How am I going to get through an entire evening at the same table as Snow?

Simon

I really should know better than to interrupt Baz when he’s in a snit and storming down the hallway from Mage’s office.

If it weren’t for the fact that he’s always in a snit after a meeting with Mage.

I know they don’t get on. It’s too bad really. Watford’s a family thing for Baz. But it still must be hard to see someone else in his mother’s place. In her office. Running her company.

I’m not sure I agree with all of Mage’s policies either. I know he was the dean at the school but I uni isn't like the corporate world.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t work here, with him. I mean, I know it’s a good job, with solid prospects, a good salary, stable environment. But I’m not using my degree here, am I?

I double majored in Sociology and Human Resources. I’m actually overqualified to be a personal assistant, but here I am planning Christmas parties and managing Mage’s schedule.

I owe him. For a lot of things. Getting me out of the care home system. Supporting me for that scholarship to the private secondary school that paved my way to getting into uni. Being my mentor at uni. Hiring me when he got this job.

It’s quite a lot. I can’t just walk away from this. I like Watford. I like what they do here. I like the values this company has. Or had, I suppose. Things are changing quite a bit under Mage.

He’s the one who would write a reference for me, if I left. Which is why I don’t dare leave. I’m not sure he wouldn’t consider it a betrayal. He’s funny that way. Very focused on loyalty and allegiance. Everything seems to boil down to “us and them” with him. He and I are the “us” and it seems everyone else is the “them.”

Particularly Baz and his father. The other long-term Watford employees. Half the Board.

Well, less than half now. A fair number have ‘retired’ and been replaced with people who are friends with Mage.

I didn’t think that’s how Boards worked. Maybe I’m just naïve.

I can’t let myself think about all that. I just have to concentrate on doing my job and doing it well.

I’m glad I caught Baz, even if he was in a mood.

I think he’s always in a mood. Two years I’ve been here and Baz is still an enigma to me. I’ve asked Penny about him. She’s been here longer than I have. She just says he’s brilliant and a tosser and that I should let him be.

Easier said than done.

There’s something fascinating about Baz. It’s not just that he’s fit either.

He’s quite fit.

But he’s intriguing as a person, not just because of how he looks. He’s young to be the CFO of a corporation the size of Watford. I know he was top of his class at LSE. Brilliant financial mind, could have had any job he wanted but he wanted to work here. With his mother. So, he started in the financial department and worked his way up.

Penny told me he’d just been promoted to CFO when the accident happened. It was a bad multiple car pileup on the M5. Baz actually passed by it on his way home that night. I can’t imagine how that must have felt. Seeing that car, knowing it was his mother’s.

I don’t know how he came back to work here, after that.

But he did. Agatha says he’s much more withdrawn since then. He used to be a bit more social, would occasionally go out to lunch with people, sometimes even to the pub for drinks after work.

Not now.

Baz comes in early, goes home late. He’s rarely out of his office unless it’s to lead a department meeting or meet with Mage. I think he even eats in there.

I’ve tried to get to know him. Hasn’t gone too well. I mean we’ve talked, of course, but not much more than that. Not for lack of trying on my part though.

I plan the corporate activities—the Christmas party, the summer soiree at the Club, periodic department morale boosters and whatnot. Retirement parties, new employee meet and greets. All sorts of events.

Baz rarely goes to any of them. I mean, he comes to the Christmas party every year and the summer event, but it’s more like he makes an appearance. Shows up, has a drink, shakes some hands with Board members and then buggers off.

I don’t know why I’m so determined to be friends with him. Penny says I’m obsessed. I disagree.

I think it’s just that he seems lonely and that bothers me.

I know how that feels.

Baz

The only diversion at the Christmas party this year has been Snow. He spent the first hour rushing around, talking to the caterer, having a word with the DJ, sorting some table seating mishap. We were well into the dessert course before he finally sat down.

In the open seat next to me.

I’d planned to leave after dessert, make my cursory rounds with the Board members and then scuttle out of here before anyone noticed. It’s still my plan, but having Snow seated next to me is definitely putting a wrench in the works.

I go to such lengths to avoid proximity to him. But having him so near, being able to look at him up close��it’s mesmerizing.

I practically swoon when his knee inadvertently bumps mine under the table. He’s left-handed so we end up knocking our hands together as he eats his food. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Snow eat before. He does it with a gusto, determination and rapidity that’s breath-taking. I think he ate every remaining roll in the bread basket. And he took my butter. Not that I was planning on eating it but still. I don’t think he’s quite aware of plate assignments at formal table settings.

Or he just loves butter.

From the way he slathered it on his roll I’m going to assume it’s the latter.

He’s also hitting the wine fairly hard. We have a few bottles at our table but Bunce and Wellbelove have only had a glass each. I’ve sipped at mine. I don’t think Rhys drinks and Gareth has a whiskey by him.

Snow’s on his third glass by the time the DJ starts playing and the dance floor begins to fill.

I think he’s well on the way to being pissed. He hurried off to hand over a check to the caterer but it appears he took a detour to the bar. Snow’s back and he’s got a drink in each hand.  

“Here.” He hands me one.

I shake my head. “Sorry, Snow. One glass limit for me tonight. I’m driving.”

His face falls for a moment but then he shakes his head and beams at me. “More for me then, I suppose.”

“Simon.” Bunce is seated on his other side. “I don’t think you need two Mojitos.” She commandeers the one intended for me and passes it off to Wellbelove.

Wellbelove just shrugs and takes it.

“I think I’m entitled to as many Mojitos as I please.” Snow leans back in his chair and proceeds to down his entire drink.

“What’s brought this on?” Bunce asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. She darts a concerned look in my direction.

As if I would have any idea why Snow has decided to drown his sorrows in rum. It’s a tempting idea to follow suit except for the fact that I despise rum.

And I hate being drunk. Hate the loss of control, the giddiness, the way I find myself saying things that absolutely should not be said. That would be a disaster here, with Snow at my side.

Who knows what nonsense I would start spouting about the blue of his eyes or the light glinting in his bronze curls. I’d never live it down. I’d die of mortification on the spot.

I’ll stick to one glass of wine and then a lonely drive home to end my night curled up with a good book.

Of course, that’s not what happens.

What happens is that Snow continues to drink. Profusely.

Wellbelove offers to take him home when she leaves but he waves her away. Bunce tries to be more forceful with him but he’s having none of her bossiness tonight (Bunce is a force of nature) (I’m secretly relieved I don’t have to interact with her department often).

“I can’t leave, Penny. Not until everyone else packs it up. I’ve got to pay the DJ and make sure everyone’s got a ride home. It’s my job.” Snow’s explaining this to her, with his hands on her shoulders and an adorably earnest expression on his face.

“Yes, I know that, Simon. Perhaps that would have been a good reason not to make so many trips to the bar, now wouldn’t it?”

He laughs. It comes out as a bark, nothing like Snow’s usual laugh. I take a closer look at him. There’s a hint of desperation behind the forced cheerfulness. I hadn’t noticed it before. Something’s bothering Snow, enough to make him behave this way, so out of character for him.

“It’s alright, Penny. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I don’t know how to handle my liquor. Better than most.”

“That’s not the point, Simon.” Bunce groans. She looks at her watch again. “I need to go. I’ve got to get to the airport early tomorrow morning.” She tugs at his sleeve.

Bunce’s boyfriend lives in America. I don’t know how they manage this long-distance relationship of theirs but I do know there’s a lot of flying back and forth for holidays.

I step closer to them and then, even though I’ve just had the one drink, I find myself saying something absolutely rash. “I’ll drive him home, Bunce. You go on.”

They both turn to look at me, Bunce incredulous and Snow inordinately pleased. “There you go, Penny. Baz’ll get me home. You can count on Baz. That’s what he does all day, he counts things. Count on Baz. Baz’ll take care of me, Pen.”

Bunce rolls her eyes and then fixes me with a stern look. “Baz, so help me, you better get him home in one piece.”

I give her a bored look, hopefully masking the ridiculous way my heart is pounding at the thought that I’ll be watching over Snow and at the way he’s gazing at me right now.

Because he is. Gazing at me, I mean. Raptly, intently, fondly. I can’t quite wrap my head around his expression. I want him to look at me like that all the time.  

“Relax, Bunce. I’m quite sure I can handle getting one pleasantly drunk employee home.” I focus on Snow, who is literally beaming at me now. “As long as you remember where you live, Snow, we should be fine.”

“I’m pleasant now, am I?” Snow’s latched onto that unfortunate word choice of mine. I’m not even soused and I’ve already said too much. I am utterly pathetic.

Bunce shakes her head but leaves Snow in my tender care. She writes his address on a paper napkin and shoves it in my pocket before she goes, to his disapproval. “I know where I live, Pen. I’m not a complete idiot.”

She gives him an odd look, her gaze going back and forth between us thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure, Simon. I’m not so sure.” And then she leaves.

It takes a while to sort everything out. Snow has a check in his pocket for the DJ. He has a conversation with the Club manager about sending the bar bill to the office. He wanders around making sure there aren’t any purses or coats or belongings left behind, and then we finally make our departure.

He’s tipsy, that’s for certain, but I think Bunce was mistaken as to how drunk he is. Granted, he’s taken in a prodigious amount of liquor, but I think he’s got the right of it—he can handle the alcohol, better than I had assumed.  He’s uninhibited, that’s for certain, but he’s definitely not incoherent.

I input the address Bunce scribbled onto the napkin in my SatNav as Snow leans back in the passenger seat of my car, a sigh escaping him as he does.

“You alright, Snow?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes are closed. He looks tired. I haven’t put much thought into all he does, to make these parties go off without a hitch. He’s the one doing all the work, behind the scenes, but he certainly doesn’t get any credit for it.

I feel bad for snarling at him as much as I do.

“Are you sure?” Why am I still talking?

“Yeah, it’s just been a bit of rough night.”

“Why’s that? You pulled it off again. Lovely evening for all.”

He turns his head to the side and opens his eyes. “You really thought it was lovely?”

I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight. My voice softens as I answer. “I do. You always do a wonderful job with these events, Snow. It’s a thankless job, I’m sure, but thank you for doing it.”

Snow’s smile is brilliant. I reluctantly turn my eyes back to the road. “Thanks, Baz. I wish everyone agreed with you.”

I frown. “I can’t think anyone would find much to criticize.” I give him a wry look. “Other than the DJ insisting on playing The Electric Slide.” I dare another sidelong glance at him. His grin is even wider now. “That needs to be on the no-play list.”

“Ah, come on, Baz. It got a lot of people on the dance floor.”

“Not me.”

“And what would get you on the dance floor? I didn’t see you out there at all tonight.”

My mouth is dry. I’m not prepared to have this type of conversation with Snow. It’s not intimate but it’s somehow far more personal than any we’ve had previously.

“I don’t dance.”

Snow snorts. Literally. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“And why not?”

I can’t help glancing at him again. He’s laser-focused on me as he answers, an intensity in his gaze that makes my skin tingle.  “You don’t move like someone who can’t dance.”

I swallow. This is definitely veering into intimate territory. I take a breath and answer him. “I didn’t say I couldn’t. I said I don’t. There’s a difference.”

“Ah. So what would it take for you to dance?”

“Nothing that comes to mind.”

“Hmm.”

We lapse into silence. We’re almost at Snow’s flat. I’m utterly failing at the witty banter. I’ve got Snow’s undivided attention and I can’t for the life of me come up with anything to say. It’s tragic, really.

I pull up in front of his building. There’s a spot conveniently open. I manoeuvre the car into the tight space and park. “Alright then, Snow?”

This smile of his is soft, not the heart-stopping brilliance of before. I think I love this one even more. It’s private, personal, like he’s saved it just for me. That’s a load of rubbish, I know, but I let myself believe it for a moment.

“Yes, thank you, Baz. Thanks for driving me home.” Snow’s made no move to unbuckle his seatbelt or get out of the car. He’s just contemplating me. Raptly.

It’s like staring into the sun. I can’t hold his gaze. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, clear my throat and force my eyes away from him. “Alright, then.” Christ, now I’m repeating myself. Will the embarrassments of tonight never end?

He reaches out a hand and gently touches my forearm. It’s electric. I can feel the heat of it through the fabric of my suit. Then it’s gone and Snow is swiftly unbuckling his belt and making his way out of the car.  He leans into the open door. “See you Monday, Baz.” And then he’s gone, the door thudding closed behind him. He’s not the steadiest on his feet but he’ll do. He just needs to get in the building and up to his flat.

I stay parked anyway, to be certain he makes it in safely. It’s a good thing I do, because I can see the distress on his face a moment later. He’s patting down his pockets, face rapidly growing more alarmed as his search continues. He stares at the car, expression frantic now. I roll down the window. “What’s the problem?”

Simon rushes back, stumbling a bit as he does. “Baz. I can’t find my keys. I can’t find them anywhere.” He’s scrabbling in his pockets again—trousers, suit jacket, overcoat. His eyes meet mine. “Fuck. I must have dropped them at the Club.”

“Is there a spare set anywhere?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to leave a set with Penny but I keep forgetting.”

Blast it. “Get in. We’ll head back to the Club. The cleaning crew should be there.”

The cleaning crew is not there. No one is. The Club is locked, dark and deserted. I’m a bit taken aback. You’d think they’d want the place cleaned up before the Sunday brunch crowd. I’m rethinking my whole attitude towards the place.

But that’s not helping with the Snow situation. “What am I going to do?” He’s got his hands in his hair, furiously pulling at his curls. “I can’t get into my building. I can’t call Penny—she’s got an early flight, I don’t dare wake her up.”

I make my decision. It’s a stupid, moronic, risky decision, but I’m tired and I’m besotted with this blasted boy and I can’t just leave him to his own devices, now can I? I told Bunce I’d take care of him and I damn well keep my promises. I can’t help the small sigh that escapes me. “You can come home with me, Snow. I’ve got a sofa you can use for the night. I’ll bring you round here in the morning so you can track down your keys.”

His hands drop to his sides and his red-rimmed eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry to be such a pain in the arse, Baz, really I am.” His brow furrows. “You can drop me off at a hotel or something. I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

I can’t help but frown back. “I am not having you spend the night in a hotel. I’ve got a perfectly serviceable sofa at my place. It’s not an inconvenience. It’s easier this way, truly. I can help you search for your keys tomorrow.”

His face softens to that fond look again and I’m wrecked. I can’t think when Snow looks at me like that. “Thanks, Baz. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate this. I feel like such a knobhead.”

I just nod at him. I don’t quite trust my voice at the moment. My heart is beating so rapidly that I swear he can hear it when he gets in the car.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Snow’s fine.

Fuck. I most certainly am not fine. I’m going to have Simon Snow sleeping at my flat. It’s a fucking dream come true but not in the way I’d fantasized.

I’m simply helping him out. It’s just for one night. This means nothing.  

It means everything.

Christ, what am I even thinking? It can’t mean anything. Honestly, even if Snow were interested, which he’s certainly not, it’s against company policy. No fraternizing. No inter-office romances. Strictly off-limits, especially for one of the chief officers to potentially be involved with a subordinate.

It’s theoretically both an HR and Compliance violation, even if it’s not spelled out explicitly in the handbook.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve kept my distance from him. Not given in to the temptation to test the waters, see if he’s even remotely interested. Because it’s doomed from the start. I can’t date Snow. Not as long as he’s employed at Watford.

Snow’s still babbling rambling apologies to me. I let him. I’m too tired to argue and too overwhelmed to speak at the moment.

He falls silent by the time we pull into the parking garage at my building. He’s still a bit wobbly but not enough that I have to steady him, thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if I had him leaning into me right now.

I find out the answer to that question moments later as I fumble with my keys. My hands are shaking and it takes me a few tries to fit the key in the lock. Just enough time for Snow to slump against the wall and slide down to a seated position.

“No, Snow, what? Not here. We’re almost inside. Come on, now, get up.” He’s got his eyes closed.

“It’s spinning a bit, Baz.” The words are just a whisper.

“Bloody hell. You were fine just a minute ago. How much did you have to drink?”

He shakes his head and then stops with a moan, both hands going up to grip his temples. My eyes dart around the landing.  I need to get this idiot inside.

“I had a shot of whiskey when I went to get my coat, just before we left.”

“Snow, you are an absolute moron. What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”

“Mage.” It’s even quieter than before but I hear it.  It sears my heart. What did Mage do, to have Simon behave so out of character tonight?

It’s not something I’m going to delve into out here. Somehow, I’ve got to get him into my flat. I should be able to pry it out of him while I fetch him some water and paracetamol. He’ll definitely need both.

And pyjamas.

Blast it. I do not need the mental image of Snow wearing my pyjamas at this particular moment.

I shove the door open, drop my keys in my pocket and reach out a hand towards him. “Up, Snow.” He opens his eyes and stares at my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. We can talk about whatever’s bothering you then, alright?” I’m using my gentlest voice, the coaxing one I used to use on my siblings when I’d try to get them to go to bed.

Snow reaches up and grips my hand and I haul him to his feet. He stumbles a bit and leans into me hard. I’m not expecting it and my arm involuntarily slides around his waist to steady him. We stagger into my flat, Snow a near dead weight in my arms. I manoeuvre him to the sofa where he’ll spend the night and he drops down heavily onto the cushions. The momentum drags me down as well.  

Snow slumps against the back of the sofa and I leap to my feet. “I’ll just be a moment.” I take my overcoat off and toss it on a chair before hurrying to the kitchen to fetch Snow some water. It takes me a few moments to hunt down the paracetamol. I rarely use it so I check the bottle to make sure it’s not expired. Thankfully, it’s not. I tuck the bottle in my pocket and head to my room for a pair of pyjamas.

I return to find Snow, head lolling back on the sofa, snoring gently. He’s ridiculous and entrancing and the line of his neck is utterly enthralling.  I can’t take my eyes off him.  I shake my head in irritation and raise my voice. “Snow. Wake up. You can’t sleep in your suit.”

His head bobs up and his eyes widen. It takes a moment for him to focus on me but when he does a smile lights up his face. “Baz.”

“Present and accounted, Snow. Now, sit up, that’s right. Time for some water or you’ll feel like absolute shite in the morning.” “Think I’m going to feel like that no matter what.”

“You’ll feel worse if you don’t do as I say. Now, come on, drink the water and then I need you to take some paracetamol for your head. It’s going to be pounding soon enough, I’m sure.”

Snow obediently takes the paracetamol and drinks most of the water. I scamper off to the kitchen to bring him another glass. He’s managed to stay awake this time. He blinks up at me. “Thanks, Bazy.”

That’s not going to do at all. I’m absolutely not going to tolerate nicknames from this intoxicated wanker.

“You do not get to call me that, Snow. Under no circumstances do I answer to nicknames.”

“Baz’s a nickname.” It comes out as a mumble.

I roll my eyes. “That’s my name, Snow. It’s not a nickname. It’s what everyone calls me.”

“Not your father. Not Mage. Call you Basilton, they do.”

“I am not going to engage in a debate about my name while you are inebriated. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Give it a rest.”

“Alright, Bazy.”

“Snow.” My voice has an edge to it. I don’t care how adorable he’s being at the moment. I simply cannot allow this.

“Hmm. How’s this then. I’ll stop the Bazy bit if you stop calling me Snow. M’ok?”

“What?”

“M’name’s Simon.”

“I’m aware.”

“Rather you call me that, than Snow.”

I sigh. “Fine, then. Simon. Are you happy now?”

He grins in response and then proceeds to slump further down. This won’t do at all. He’s still in his suit.

“Might need the loo.”

Of course, he needs to use the loo. I position myself in front of him and hoist him up. We lurch our way to the bathroom down the hall. I go in search of a spare pillow and blanket while Snow—er, Simon—uses the facilities. There’s some thumping and bumping, which is likely his attempt at getting out of his clothes and into the pyjamas I left with him. I can feel my face heat up. I’m going to leave him in his suit if he hasn’t managed to change out of it himself. There are some lines that simply can’t be crossed.

Simon’s somehow managed to get out of his suit and into my pyjamas and I can’t say that the sight of him in them doesn’t make my head spin. His clothing is scattered on the floor and over the side of the bathtub. I tut at him and gather it all up, hanging it in the hall closet once I get him situated on the sofa again.

“You need to drink more water, Simon.”

“I will if you sit with me a bit.”

I sit at the far end of the sofa, perched on the edge. Simon tilts his head in my direction, eyes heavy-lidded. “Thanks, Baz.”

“Drink your water.” He takes a few sips and then closes his eyes again. “What’s going on tonight, Simon? I’ve never seen you like this.”

He opens his eyes and regards me thoughtfully. “How would you know? You don’t really spend much time in my company do you, Baz?”

He’s right. I don’t. I observe him from a distance, taking note of every nuance of him, every facial expression, every burst of laughter. I’ve collected scraps of information about him from office gossip and the interactions we’ve had. I know him better than he thinks.

I’ve been to most of the corporate events since he started working here and I’ve never seen him behave in an inappropriate fashion. It’s not that he’s been behaving poorly tonight. It’s just so unlike him. “I know you take pride in what you do and you are usually impeccable in your behaviour. Tonight’s a bit of a departure from that, wouldn’t you say?”

He sighs.

“Simon. What’s going on?”

“I got into a bit of a scrap with Mage.”

“When?”

“At the party.”

I think back on the night. I don’t recall seeing Simon with Mage but I didn’t have eyes on him the whole time. He was running around quite a bit all evening.

“What about?”

“Quite a few things. The party mostly.” Simon exhales again and his expression becomes grave. “No one gave me any new parameters for the cost. I followed last year’s budget. Mage had approved it a few months ago.”

A chill goes through me. I’d just gone over the projected year-end numbers with Mage Friday. They weren’t good. He’s been vastly overspending with marketing and Board-focused events. Retreats. Strategic planning sessions. Consultants. Corporate mumbo-jumbo as far as I’m concerned. Colossally wasteful. It’s done nothing for our bottom line. Made it worse, if anything.

Our customers rely on our thoroughness and reliability. Mage has cut a swathe through the staff in the last two years, alienating long-term employees and hiring toadies who curry his favor. The loss of Possibelf six months ago and Minos a few weeks after decimated those departments. Mage hired Bunce’s brother, but Premal is new to the business and far too arrogant to ask for help. The managers under him have been floundering for months, despite my clandestine assistance.

Assistance Mage has sharply reprimanded me for more than once.  

He was incensed on Friday, with the numbers I had shown him. Accurate, up to date, precise numbers. He’d threatened another round of layoffs, which will only weaken us further. That’s why I was in such a foul mood when Simon caught me.

It seems Simon’s borne the brunt of Mage’s rage as well. “What did he say?” My tone is far gentler than it typically is with him.

“He was furious about the menu. The open bar. The holiday prizes we give out every year.”

That was my mother’s tradition. A series of gifts for random employees. She’d draw the names out of a top hat and the winners would march off with an iPad or a new watch. A television or a swanky SatNav. There were always one or two splashy items while the rest were more moderate. It was a unique way to boost employee morale and add a tinge of excitement to the party. Something a bit more personal than the yearly holiday bonus check.

Simon was still speaking. “Said we couldn’t afford it. Said I’d overstepped my bounds by not clearing it with him.” His face clouds over. “But I did clear it with him, Baz. I cleared it with him months ago, when I booked the Club. When I purchased the items. How was I to know the funds were more precarious now?”

There was no way for Simon to know. Not if Mage hadn’t told him. He is a direct report to Mage, no one else. It isn’t my place to peruse the budgets with the CEO’s assistant. Another example of how unfit this man is to run the company.  

Simon leans forward, his head buried in his hands. “Christ, I feel like such a fucking idiot. I never intended to make things worse.”

I’m not sure how I end up with my hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You did what you’re supposed to do. It’s his job to keep up with the finances. It’s his job to communicate if he needs plans to change.” My hand makes its way across his back and then he’s leaning against me, his head on my shoulder.

I can smell the clean, fresh scent of his hair. His curls are tickling my neck. He’s pressed up against me and I can’t pull away. I’m riveted to the spot.  

I find myself crooning soothing phrases into his hair. It isn’t Simon’s fault and it’s complete bollocks that Mage has made him feel responsible and guilty. No wonder he was hitting the drinks hard tonight.

If I know anything about Snow it’s that he’s frugal to a fault. He grew up in the care system, had nothing of his own. The scholarship may have rescued him from that environment but he’s never lost his sense of caution about expenses. It’s a well-known office fact. I don’t need to know him well to know this about him.

It’s obvious from where he lives. How he eats. I think he’s the only other employee who brings food from home almost exclusively. I do it because I’m anti-social and I don’t really like eating in front of others much. He does it to conserve his finances.

I keep murmuring comforting words to him. It’s basically a litany of “it’s alright, you did nothing wrong” repeated over and over at this point. I’m not quite sure what else to do. I really should get up and get him settled for the night.

But I don’t want to. I know it’s wrong to relish the sensation of him near me but it’s been far too long since I’ve had human contact like this. I know I’m supposed to be comforting him but this is consoling me as well.

I may never have another chance to hold him in my arms like this.

I don’t know how much time passes. I’ve stopped speaking now, I’m just holding him. He stirs and lifts his head. He’s so close. Our eyes lock and I’m lost in the blue of his gaze.

“Thank you, Baz.” It’s a whisper but the feel of his breath ghosting against my lips makes me shiver. His hand comes up to cup my face and his head tilts up.

And then he kisses me. Simon Snow is kissing me and it’s simultaneously the best thing and the worst thing in the world.

The best because it’s Simon Snow kissing me and I’ve desperately wanted this for so long. I’ve never been kissed quite like this. He’s doing this thing with his jaw and it’s overwhelming me. It’s soft, passionate, so devastatingly sensual that my lips part of their own volition and I lose myself in the taste of him.

It’s the worst because I can’t let him keep doing it. He’s not himself. He’s had too much to drink. He doesn’t mean this. He’s not thinking clearly. I pull away, every nerve in my body alight with the sense of him. I’m literally dragging my lips from his as the regret pools in my stomach, weighing me down.

“I’m sorry, Simon. That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

He blinks at me, face flushed. “What’re you apologizing for? I kissed you.”

“I know that. But you’re not yourself. I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

Simon frowns at me. “But I wanted to.”

I’m not prepared for this. I feel exposed, raw, vulnerable. It’s all I’ve wanted and the reality that I can’t let myself have this is devastating.

“You may think that now, Simon, but you likely won’t feel the same way tomorrow.” I shift away slightly and then stand up. I can’t help but reach out one more time, to rest my hand on his shoulder. I can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. It’s an effort to step back but I have to do it.

I yank the pillow and blanket from the armchair nearby and make a show of fluffing the pillow and settling it in place for him. I give him a gentle push and he slides down until he’s curled up on his side. He looks so young, so trusting. My hand creeps forward of its own volition to sweep the curls off his forehead, my fingers lingering in his hair for a moment. I settle the blanket over him and decisively step away.

Simon’s eyes follow me as I move towards the hallway leading to my room. “Good night, Simon.”

I close my eyes for a brief second and then switch the light off. I see him shift a bit in the dimness,hear his whispered “goodnight, Baz”and then I turn away to find the lonely comfort of my room.

It takes me a long time to fall asleep.

Simon

Baz may think I’m going to forget this or regret it in the morning. He couldn’t be more wrong. The only thing I might regret is the hangover I’m sure to have tomorrow, but I don’t expect I’m going to feel much remorse about that.  

I doubt I’d have had the courage to kiss Baz just now, if I hadn’t had a few drinks in me.

I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve at all, if Mage hadn’t aggravated me to the point of throwing all caution to the wind and indulging in more liquor than I’ve had since uni. Can’t be helped.

It did serve to clarify things for me.

I like Baz. More than like him.

I can’t delude myself that the feelings I have for him are just casual interest or fascination. The truth is I’ve had a crush on Baz for quite some time now.

I’d resigned myself to it being a one-sided attraction but I’m not sure that’s true, if the way he responded to my kissing him is any indication.

I liked that too.

I pull the blanket up to my chin. It smells like Baz; cedar and bergamot.

I breathe the scent in and let my eyes drift closed.

[writinginstardust]

Pining For A Prince | Part 2

Pairing: Keith x Lance

Warnings: some swearing and mentions of drinking/sex

A/N:  We must thank god for strangers who can’t keep their mouths shut for they may be the key to ending the pining of my two favourite idiots. Also I’ve not been to American Disney in forever so I’m working off very limited knowledge of how stuff works there but I’ve googled and like the tunnels and stuff under the parks are a real thing, they just might not be exactly as I’ve made them but like who cares? Let me know what you think!

Word Count: 2793

*

At the happiest place on Earth a new day brought with it a very tired and grumpy-looking group of 18-24 year-olds and one surprisingly chipper 20-year-old attempting to carry a frankly outrageous number of caffeinated drinks. That 20-year-old was of course Lance because apparently he was the only one who had anything close to a healthy sleep schedule.

“Morning everyone!” He greeted as he entered their favourite lounge area under the park.

“He brought coffee! Thank god, I think I might die without it!” Allura was the closest to being awake of them all and called out the second she saw him. Immediately he was charged by all his friends as they scrambled to get their caffeine fix.

“Alright guys, let me put these down and then you animals can kill each other for your coffee.” They backed off and gave him room to get to one of the tables but were back at it before he even had a chance to grab his own drink.

“Lance, sweetie, you are an angel. Thank you!” Allura pressed kiss to his cheek as she passed with Romelle who grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

“Thanks doofus!” that was Pidge who was clearly so tired she hadn't noticed her costume wasn't on right and the sight made him chuckle a bit before a warm hand clapping him on the shoulder drew his focus. He turned his head and was met with a sleepy smile from Keith. It was probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life and he felt his cheeks flush as it brought to mind a very vivid image of what it would be like to wake up to that every morning.

“Thanks man. And thanks for ordering it the way I like, Shiro always refuses to.” Another surprising thing Lance had learned about Keith was that instead of the expected bitter black coffee, he liked the most sickeningly sweet stuff Lance had ever tasted. It was honestly disgusting and he didn't understand how Keith could drink it like that but with his odd coffee taste, who was he to judge?

“No biggie, I know what you're all like without it.”

“I'd argue that we're a delight without the caffeine but I was about ready to kill someone just for a sip when you turned up.” The statement came from Nadia and knowing her as Lance did, he absolutely believed it.

“Looks like I got here just in time. You guys enjoy, I've gotta get changed.”

“Oh shit, me too!” Apparently Keith had only just realised he was still in his own sweatpants and t-shirt rather than his costume.

“You're  hopeless in the morning. C'mon dude, let's go. You too Matt, you've forgotten your tights.” Lance grabbed their hands and tugged them into the changing rooms, not thinking about the fact that he was about to see Keith in a state of semi-undress that his body likely couldn't actually handle.

It took him longer it should have to get in costume, his eyes frequently being drawn to to Keith. It wasn't his fault. Keith was really, really hot. It's not like he hadn't known that before but suddenly being confronted with the reality of Keith's abs- Lance's brain short-circuited.

“Hey Matt, come help me with this would you? Shiro normally does it for me.”

“Sorry, I've got coffee to drink and a little sister to annoy.” Matt, who had until then been doing absolutely nothing, flashed them both a cheeky grin and grabbed his untouched coffee before rushing towards the door. “I'm sure Lance would be happy to help though!” And then he was gone. Bastard.

“You mind?” Keith seemed unconcerned with Matt's sudden, odd behaviour and oblivious to Lance's internal struggle between wanting to be close to him and wanting to run away at the thought.

“...Uh, yeah okay.” He shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner and made quick work of sorting out the last of Keith's costume. He might have lingered, hands smoothing down some of the fabric for longer than was necessary, but he would deny it happened if Keith decided to call him out on it.

“Thanks.” Keith’s voice was unexpectedly quiet and strained and Lance flicked his eyes up in surprise, not having noticed just quite how close their faces were, breath mingling in the small gap between their lips. Lance was too startled to move away or in fact do anything but stare. He’d never been quite this close to Keith before and was caught in the violet of his eyes, even more beautiful up close, he could get lost in those eyes for days.

After a few more moments had passed and Lance had still failed to move or react in any way but staring in awe, Keith’s cheeks developed an adorable blush that he knew was going to be stuck in his mind all day. Keith cleared his throat and that finally broke his trance. He stepped back quickly, feeling his own cheeks heating up and praying that the older boy wouldn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah...no problem dude.” He flashed him a quick smile before hurrying to finish dressing himself, needing to not be alone with Keith any longer. Footsteps passed close behind him as Keith made his way to the door and Lance tried not to look at him, still feeling awkward. He breathed a sigh of relief when the door finally shut and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. Images of Keith’s soft smile, his cute blush, his beautiful eyes flashed before him and he groaned, scrubbing at his eyes to try and get rid of them. They wouldn’t go.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. It was going to be a tough day.

It only got worse a couple of hours later. A little after the park opened they were all still lingering near the castle meeting guests and taking photos. Normally by then many of them would have left, Lance and Allura off to New Orleans Square, Pidge to Pixie Hollow, the princesses to Fantasyland, Matt pretty much wherever he pleased, but they’d all got caught up by the sheer number of guests wanting to meet them today.

A cute little girl in a purple dress and mouse ears came up to him, eyes wide with the wonder he saw countless times a day.

“You’re prince Naveen.”

“I am little one, what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to tell you that you’re really pretty.”

“Why thank you, you’re very pretty too.” The little girl blushed and giggled at the compliment.

“But don’t you think Tiana is the most beautiful?” Her gaze strayed to where Allura was entertaining a family with 4 young children and Lance followed it. He knew what the girl meant, Allura was stunning. Movement behind her caught his eye as he watched and he flicked his focus to it, spotting Keith leading a girl of about 11 in a little dance, both of them smiling brightly. God it was adorable.

“You’re right, Tiana is very beautiful. You want to know a secret though?”

“Yes!” The girl’s smile widened further and she wiggled about in excitement.

“I think Prince Eric is really pretty too.” He whispered it to her and she giggled again before whispering back.

“Can I tell you a secret too?” He nodded. “I think he’s pretty too.” Lance grinned.

“I think you should tell him that. Just don’t tell him what I said. Pinky promise?” He held out his little finger and she wrapped her own around it.

“Pinky promise.”

“You know, I think Princess Tiana would like to meet you, we should go see her now, it looks like she’s free.” The little girl glanced over and sure enough the family previously occupying Allura were just getting ready to head off. Lance took her hand and walked the few feet between them and Allura.

“Princess, I’ve got someone for you to meet. She thinks you’re really pretty.” The little girl blushed but smiled anyway. They spent another minute or so talking with her and allowed her parents to take some photos before they each gave her a quick hug and she skipped away in the direction of Ezor and Keith. He looked over at said boy and felt his stomach flip. He really shouldn’t have mentioned thinking he was pretty but his mind had been occupied with him and it had slipped out. It was okay though, it’s not like Keith would find out.

“Stop staring, you’re being obvious.” Allura whispered, smirking when he turned back to her. The crowd had thinned significantly and they were finally able to head off to New Orleans Square, walking slowly arm in arm.

“Maybe I will, but only if you stop looking at Romelle every 30 seconds. You’re the one that’s being obvious.” He smirked right back. Two could play at this game.

“I really don’t like it when you’re right.” She let it drop after that and they continued walking, stopping every now and then to talk to a few park guests, neither noticing their crushes gazing after them.

A gentle tug on his costume brought Keith’s attention away from his conversation with Ezor and down to a giggling little girl with mischief in her eyes.

“Hey kiddo, you need something?”

“I need to tell you something but it’s a secret so you can’t tell anyone else.”

“I promise I won’t say a word.” He crouched down and allowed her to lean in and whisper in his ear.

“Prince Naveen thinks your pretty.” Well that wasn’t what he expected at all. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly and he leaned back to look at her questioningly.

“Did he tell you that?” She nodded vigorously.

“Yep, do you think he’s pretty too?” His eyes flicked involuntarily over to Lance who was walking away with Allura and he felt a dopey, in-love smile spread across his face.

“I think he’s very pretty. You can’t tell anyone though.”

“I promise.” He didn't believe that at all, assuming she'd probably made a similar promise to Lance, but seeing as she'd already talked to him he felt his secret was probably safe. She didn't say anything more and ran off back to her parents leaving a very mentally whiplashed Keith in her wake.

He spent most of the next hour completely unable to focus. Sure he managed do his job well, pretending was second nature by now, but his mind was racing a million miles an hour. What had Lance meant by calling him pretty? Was the child being totally honest? Did this mean Lance might like him as well? Or was he reading too much into the compliment? He didn't want to get his hopes up though and wasn't sure what he'd even do if Lance did like him back, there was no way he'd ever be able to actually ask him on a date himself, even being certain of his feelings.

He groaned as he entered his usual break lounge, why did having feelings have to be so difficult? James, looking very nice in his Flynn Rider get-up, Romelle, Nyma, and Adam all looked up as he entered, the four of them calling out half-hearted greetings from where they relaxed, recovering from the heat as best they could before having to brave it again.

“Hey guys.” He grabbed some water and flopped into a seat beside Adam, making no further attempt at conversation as he continued thinking about what Lance had apparently said.

“Something on your mind?” Adam was looking at him quizzically, he'd learned to read Keith pretty well over the years they'd known each other.

“Nothing to worry about,” he lied, faking a reassuring smile that he knew Adam would see right through anyway. Luckily for him, or unlucky as the case may be, a new voice interrupted.

“So, Romelle, tomorrow: Allura, me, Nadia, James, Hunk and Shay, beach barbecue and drinks? You in?” Of course it was Lance, the one person he couldn't be around right now. “Oh, hey Keith!”

“Hey Lance,” he said it so quietly he wasn't sure the other boy even heard and shrunk in on himself at Lance's gaze on him. Lance studied him for a moment longer confused by the awkward response but shrugged it off quickly. A knowing glance between the two boys and smirk from Adam made Keith want to curl up and die.

“Romelle?” Thankfully Lance turned his attention back to the girl.

“I'd love to come, I'll need a ride though and if you're all drinking…” she trailed off. Romelle lived too far from their favourite, virtually unknown, little beach to walk.

“You could stay with Allura for a couple of days, she said she doesn't mind.” Keith could hear the plotting tone in Lance's voice. At least someone was likely to get their happily ever after soon.

“Sounds great.” Romelle was definitely blushing and Keith was with everyone else in hoping this might finally get the two girls together. “Keith should come too though. You've got the day off right?” And now everyone was looking at him expectantly, Romelle with a wicked smile. Maybe Keith wasn't as invested in her happiness as he thought.

“Uh- is there any point if I can't drink with you guys?” Keith lived as far away as Romelle and he'd never been thankful for that until now. It may just be his ticket out of a day of Lance-induced torture.

“You could stay with me if you want?” Did Lance really have to be such a considerate friend all the time? Really? Keith couldn't deny that the chance to be alone with Lance, spend the night with him, would normally have been a gift but today it seemed more like a curse. Of course now he had no good reason not to go. It would be weird not to accept the offer.

“Alright then, you're sure you don't mind?”

“Yeah it's no problem dude, everyone's still on for dinner at Hunk's tonight yeah? V can catch a ride home with Axca, Shiro can take your car, and I’ll give you a ride if that's okay? Like no offense, but I do not trust your driving.” Keith contemplated arguing in defence of his driving but ultimately just nodded his agreement to the plan. Apparently one night at Lance's was becoming two and this was really not going to be good for his heart. “Awesome. I'll see you guys later then.” He waved and left the lounge allowing Keith to relax again at last. For about five seconds. Adam leaned over and whispered to him.

“I know I'm not technically the big brother but I'm doing this on Shiro's behalf.” Keith didn't like where this was going. Anything done on behalf of Shiro was not a good thing in his books. “Have fun on your date and remember to use protection. We don't want little Keith and Lance hybrids running around just yet.” Keith so nearly smacked him for that.

“How is it that you of all people have such a poor understanding of how biology and gay sex work?” He glared. “And it's not a date.” He added as an afterthought. He kind of wished it was though.

“Sure it's not.” He couldn't be bothered to argue anymore and instead opted for rolling his eyes and shoving Adam away, sinking further into his seat and spacing out again. Lance, once again was at the forefront of his mind and he spent a long time trying in vain to figure out what on earth he had meant when he'd said he was pretty. He continued drawing blanks and had only succeeded in giving himself a headache by the time Ezor shook him back to reality.

“Come on, break time is over, we've got kids to entertain.”

“Right,” he said, still a bit dazed, “coming.” He was about to say goodbye to the others when he realised they'd all already left. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with Lance thoughts he might have realised that obviously they wouldn't still be there, his break had started later after all. However, unfortunately Lance, whether present or not, had an uncanny ability to completely scramble his thoughts and throw out any sort of logic he might have.

Sighing, Keith scrubbed a hand over his face and went to a mirror to check his appearance, touching up his costume makeup a little and smoothing his hair back in place. He followed Ezor back through the tunnels and out into the park, desperately trying to push the last lingering wisp of Lance from his mind but it clung on stubbornly, not unlike Lance himself. It was going to be a long day.

[janiedean]

I've seen some people say that after Theon gets captured and tortured by Ramsay he starts to "romanticize" his relationship with Robb so he can cling to something good, even though Robb was never that affectionate or understanding with Theon. Thoughts?

.... is this a new development I missed when I was away?

anyway, tldr: 100% complete bullshit.

long answer: I don’t have the hassle to look for quotes so please let me quote myself from a meta I wrote in the dawn of times when s2 was airing which was about how you can see in the text that robb REALLY loved theon forreal, I’ll just quote you the relevant parts but if you wanna read the entire thing the link’s there:

Point in case the first: regardless of what some people who don’t pay attention to this plot line think, Theon *did* actually care about Robb a whole damn lot and the fact that he sided with his dad was more of personal betrayal of *Robb* rather than the whole betraying the Starks thing - which doesn’t make any sense whatsoever since he owed them as a family exactly zilch. Point the second: Robb *did* actually care about Theon equally. Point the third, and that’s what I would actually like to talk about since it’s a side I rarely see discussed: while we all see/get Theon’s side of things aka ‘Robb was the only person who ever cared about him for real during his entire stay at Winterfell and arguably the only one who ever cared about him openly except his mother until that point pretty much’, there’s also Robb’s side of things, which is where I want to blather about under the read more: everyone - seriously, *everyone* - got on his case about it. Meaning: Robb is the exception to the whole 'don’t get attached to him in case his dad fucks up’ deal, but if you look at it from his POV, he really must have liked Theon a lot, because it’s not just that he’s the only one, it’s that if you pay attention everyone frowns upon it or thinks he’s being a complete idiot to actually trust Theon for real. And it’s arguably something that must have happened for the entire time Theon was at Winterfell.

+

Never mind that this is what Theon had to say about his general treatment (and the *gentling* I suppose):

Lord Eddard had tried to play the father from time to time, but to Theon he had always remained the man who’d brought blood and fire to Pyke and taken him from his home. As a boy, he had lived in fear of Stark’s stern face and great dark sword. His wife was, if anything, even more distant and suspicious.

and

As if ten years in Winterfell could make a Stark. Lord Eddard had raised him among his own children, but Theon had never been one of them. The whole castle, from Lady Stark to the lowliest kitchen scullion, knew he was hostage to his father’s good behavior, and treated him accordingly. Even the bastard Jon Snow had been accorded more honor than he had.

What a party. Except that he always says that Robb is like a brother, that he had affection for him, that as far as he cares he can rule the Riverlands while he rules Winterfell (… okay Theon okay *facepalms*) until he actually thinks he should have died with him. Never mind that Robb actually knew how shit worked in the Iron Islands so it means they actually talked about it and so on. Thing is: Robb kept on with it for ten years and never faltered once in thinking his judgment was sound until he thought that Theon had killed his brothers (which didn’t happen anyway) when everyone and their relatives gave him shit for it. If Maester Luwin told Bran *that* thing above, he probably has told Robb as well, and most probably he had been discouraged from it more than once, and he still kept on not caring.

^^^ now THAT above is from acok, not adwd. if theon’s thinking he has a CERTAIN AFFECTION for robb in acok, then he’s not romanticizing shit. anyway, going ahead, I was analyzing the woods scene which EVERYONE likes to quote as the reason why robb doesn’t REALLY like theon, I’m skipping on the first half but the point I wanted to make was:

Bran openly dislikes Theon and doesn’t get why Robb likes to hang out with him, when discussing serious matters he tells Robb as straight as it gets without actually putting it in blunt terms that he’s an idiot for wanting to listen to Theon and call the banners, when Theon says that there’s a chance Ned could die he gets screamed at even if Theon’s nineteen and Bran is eight, and tbh he hadn’t even been saying it mockingly - now, I get that if you’re eight you’re going to react like that, but the guy also didn’t tell you anything that Robb hadn’t been trying to say was a chance earlier - and when Theon tries to make his point (albeit not too nicely but that’s him for you) Bran is like ‘well my parents listened to the person you don’t care for so you’re obviously wrong’ and Robb has to actually *insist* and justify himself because he takes everyone’s opinion - Theon’s included - into account. Now, if Jon had been there instead of Theon and he had said to call the banners, would that have gotten that reaction and most of all, would Robb have had to freaking justify himself to his eight year old brother for listening to someone older than him for that matter? I kinda doubt it. But like, if you have to justify yourself to, repeating again, your *eight-year old brother* when you’re a) his eldest, b) his lord, c) in charge as far as everyone is concerned, how much do you think he’s done that already? Robb also seems pretty tired overall, and who’d blame him - that’s not even the first or last time in the books he justifies himself for liking Theon.

(Theon’s take about it to his dad:

“ He heeds me, yes. I ’ve hunted with him, trained with him, shared meat and mead with him, warred at his side. I have earned his trust. He looks on me as an older brother, he -”

speaks for itself I think.)

Anyway, five pages later some wildlings kidnap Bran and they threaten to kill him if anyone moves, and the situation is solved when Theon fires an arrow at the one holding him thus enabling everyone to take action and also saving Bran’s life. And what happens? Robb lashes out at him because if anything got wrong in there Bran could have died. My very humble opinion is that he took it out on Theon because he was worked up already and he felt like he had to show to everyone that he actually didn’t forget that Theon was supposed to not be his bff, but that’s where things go pear-shaped. Theon’s opinion of that drama:

[Dagmer] gave me more smiles than my father and Eddard Stark together. Even Robb… he ought to have won a smile the day he’d saved Bran from that wildling, but instead he’d gotten a scolding, as if he were some cook who’d burned the stew.

Like. Theon is legitimately fucking hurt about that and he *still* is hung-up about it A WHOLE FUCKING LOT after it happened. It’s probably been at least some months in between then and him thinking *that*, and he’s still hurt about it - talk about the depth of psychological damage going on here if *that* was something he couldn’t bring himself to forget, but let’s go on. Theon didn’t expect it from *him*. Like, even Robb, as if Robb was the only person he didn’t want that treatment from.

Except, let’s go a moment to that lovely exchange Robb and Cat have in ACOK when she tells him he shouldn’t send Theon to the Iron Islands:

“Theon’s fought bravely for us. I told you how he saved Bran from those wildlings in the wolfswood. If the Lannisters won’t make peace, I’ll have need of Lord Greyjoy’s longships.” “You’ll have them sooner if you keep his son as hostage.” “He’s been a hostage half his life.” “For good reason,” Catelyn said. “Balon Greyjoy is not a man to be trusted. He wore a crown himself, remember, if only for a season. He may aspire to wear one again.” Robb stood. “I will not grudge him that. If I’m King in the North, let him be King of the Iron Islands, if that’s his desire. I’ll give him a crown gladly, so long as he helps us bring down the Lannisters.” “Robb-” “I’m sending Theon. Good day, Mother. Grey Wind, come.” Robb walked off briskly, the direwolf padding beside him.

Now, I’m 100% sure that Robb never *told* Theon that because otherwise Theon wouldn’t have been thinking Robb just scolded him for that, which - seriously Robb WHY WOULDN’T YOU *facepalms again* -, but let’s just look at it for a minute. Robb tells Cat that Theon is trustworthy because he saved Bran’s life, so he *does* know that he was unfair to him, and he does consider it the way Theon hoped he would have. Never mind that he’s also the only one who points out that maybe the guy is tired of being a hostage and that he gets how bad it i s. Never mind also that this conversation is all kind of heartbreakingly ironic because Robb is right about Theon wanting the best for the both of them and Cat is right about it being a bad idea because it backfires, but at the same time Cat was 100% wrong about Balon giving them a fleet if he kept Theon hostage (he didn’t give a shit) and Robb was wrong about sending *Theon* there because of course it’d have ended up badly if Balon didn’t accept the plan. But anyway, if you look at it, Robb, who does love his mother *and* keeps her counsel in high regard *and* wouldn’t disrespect her ever, pretty much cuts Cat short as if he’s just fucking entirely done with this conversation and doesn’t want to hear about that anymore. Why? Most probably because he’s just the umpteenth time when he trusts Theon to do something and someone else (anyone) tells him it’s a bad idea without a) knowing Theon, b) knowing the reasons why Robb trusts him, c) even entertaining for a moment the notion that Robb might be right. Never mind that this entire deal is 100% more tragic because Theon ends up betraying Robb and takes the whole Bran incident into account when it was actually one of the reasons why Robb was so sure he was trustworthy on top of having known him for ten years.

+

And regardless of all the above, he does send Theon after all even if he probably was the only one thinking it was a good idea. This idiot liked Theon so much that not only he was so close with him that he was more of a brother to him than any son born of Balon’s loins, but he also was so in spite of the fact that he probably spent most of his life (actually he’s known Theon for ten years and he was five when they met so do the maths, it’s 2/3rds of someone’s life) being told that he shouldn’t. Even from his own actual brothers/mother for that matter. Like good fucking grief Theon thinks he got it all wrong and he should have died with him because that’s how much Robb mattered, and about that, I highly doubt that Theon was the one making friends first considering what he has to say about everyone else in WF. Can we just take a moment to appreciate the fact that Robb never let his judgment waver until the WF mess (and even after then he didn’t want Theon to be tortured) even if he was discouraged from keeping Theon in high regard constantly, as if he should have no reason to do it just because everyone else judged him on the basis of his family name first? I feel like this is a thing that gets overlooked a lot, and while obviously Robb never had the same issues as Theon and surely he had an easier life I just think it’s really important to their relationship that he kept on getting shit for it and he still never really cared. And it also speaks volumes that when Theon has actually, y'know, found himself again in ADWD it kind of happens when he realizes he should have been with Robb, he doesn’t say something like 'I wish we could have talked it out’ or 'I wish I hadn’t taken WF’ or anything of the kind. He thinks that he should have  died at the fucking Red Wedding aka died of the worst death you could come up with because that was where he was supposed to be. But no, let’s assume that he betrayed him just because he thought he could and it was no big deal or that Robb had it easy when he was like a brother to him instead - uhm, NOPE.

what I’m fishing at here is that saying theon romanticizes robb’s rship with him is highly in contrast with anything the text suggests on that point because actually robb’s relationship with him is the one constant he has that ties him to his previous life (he says robb’s name more than his own in his first three adwd chapters but X°DDD) and guess what it never happens with asha or his mom or anyone else. he puts two and two together about what he has done wrong and where he should have been THINKING ABOUT ROBB, and guess what realizing that he should have been with him is what unblocks him and pushes him to do better and save jeyne. and again, wanting to die at the red wedding is not romanticizing anything because no one with half a brain would want to die at the red wedding since it’s not... a quick or painless of short death. like, it’s DYING IN A MASSACRE NO ONE WANTS THAT XDDD also if you read bran’s povs he complains about all the time robb spends with theon every other moment and jon does go like ‘meh why does robb even like him’ and so on, and catelyn is like ROBB YOUR FRIENDSHIP CHOICES ARE TERRIBLE and nvm ned. like. also:

"So long as Theon Greyjoy sits in your father's seat with your brothers' blood on his hands, these other foes must wait," Catelyn told her son. "Your first duty is to defend your own people, win back Winterfell, and hang Theon in a crow's cage to die slowly. Or else put off that crown for good, Robb, for men will know that you are no true king at all." From the way Robb looked at her, she could tell that it had been a long while since anyone had dared speak to him so bluntly. "When they told me Winterfell had fallen, I wanted to go north at once," he said, with a hint of defensiveness. "I wanted to free Bran and Rickon, but I thought . . . I never dreamed that Theon could harm them, truly. If I had . . .""It is too late for ifs, and too late for rescues," Catelyn said. "All that remains is vengeance."

"I cannot speak to that. There is much confusion in any war. Many false reports. All I can tell you is that my nephews claim it was this bastard son of Bolton's who saved the women of Winterfell, and the little ones. They are safe at the Dreadfort now, all those who remain.""Theon," Robb said suddenly. "What happened to Theon Greyjoy? Was he slain?"Lame Lothar spread his hands. "That I cannot say, Your Grace. Walder and Walder made no mention of his fate. Perhaps Lord Bolton might know, if he has had word from this son of his."

This is a cold man, Catelyn realized, not for the first time."Did Ramsay mention Theon Greyjoy?" Robb demanded. "Was he slain as well, or did he flee?"Roose Bolton removed a ragged strip of leather from the pouch at his belt. "My son sent this with his letter."

Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. "Put it away. Please.""Flaying Theon will not bring my brothers back," Robb said. "I want his head, not his skin.""He is Balon Greyjoy's only living son," Lord Bolton said softly, as if they had forgotten, "and now rightful King of the Iron Islands. A captive king has great value as a hostage."

I mean. guys. IT’S TEXTUAL. if your bff conquers your castle and you don’t immediately go take it back because YOU WOULDN’T DREAM HE’D HARM YOUR SIBLINGS (and you’re actually right but nvm) then you really did trust that person or do trust them still. so: there’s no single shred of text that robb actually didn’t care about theon or didn’t love him actually all the contrary, thanks for coming to my ted talk XD

[bytheanchorarchived]

@vcrlac replied to your post “sometimes

i cannot believe that right now everyone thinks izzy started taking it on her own bc she 'needed a release' not her own superior, who she was supposed to be able to trust, gave it to her.

me either, it makes me incredibly upset. more reasoning and triggering content (read warnings) under the cut.

@pcrcbctci replied to your post “sometimes i just sit here and tremble at the thought of how @ldertree...”

tbh not to be triggering but to me it was really rapey and i know they didn't go there but just like i can't help but feel like yeah it did

i was talking to @vcrlac last night about exactly that, and it’s something i’ve felt from day one and have been thinking about for a very very long time. it’s how i felt during the scene, it’s how sick it got me watching it, it’s how revolting it was to see, and here are a few reasons why that we share in opinion:

1. @ldertree is her superior, is@belle was supposed to TRUST him. despite everything he did, what he did before to j@ce was (as far as she knows) just cl@ve business. he was trying to catch someone they believe to be a spy, and while she hates him for thinking it, she can’t exactly judge, and once j@ce underwent trial, izzy thought he was released and everything was okay again. she had no idea what @ldertree did with the blackmailing, what he did DURING the trial, the words he told j@ce, etc. she had no reason not to trust him with a MEDICINE. she had no reason to believe that the cl@ve envoy and head of the institute would do something so LOW to her as to violate her body, and completely change the body she lives in that is her HOME for the rest of her life.

2. they live in a military society. again. that influences her TRUST on him. does sh have a whole dam lot of politics? of course they do, but their CORE is military, which means that when a superior is aiding a soldier with a war battle, to think they would do ANYTHING to harm that soldier would be utterly DISGRACEFUL. imagine a captain in battle, poisoning their injured soldier, that had every chance to live and go on with their lives, just bc they could. and as talia pointed out, it’d be disrespectful for her to say no, when he was just offering her some relief AND the possibility of more responsibility and a rise in rank, considering he told her he wanted to help her so she could lead their mission to the ir0n sisters..

3. he did a HORRIBLE thing, and yet, he practically didn’t use it for anything. he tried to get her to spy on cl@ry, but when that didn’t work, he didn’t even push it, and then tried to get her to “DATE” him, in exchange for the drug, so wth was his real motives here??!! it just makes the whole thing more disgusting than if he was just trying to gather power and grow in the eyes of the cl@ve as a strong leader who can control v@lentine’s children. it’d still be despicable, but it’s unclear if that’s even WHY he did what he did, when he gave up so easily. he could had easily blackmailed izzy, i.e. by threatening to report to the cl@ve she was an addict and a risk to their missions, she couldn’t prove he was the one that gave it to her. he had more than the means to either get her to do what he wanted or kick her out like he did j@ce, so she couldn’t speak against him. he did neither.

4. he used something he SOMEHOW knew about her (bc he somehow knows a lot of fucking things he wasn’t supposed to), about her love for the ir0n sisters to lure her in. he used a CHILDHOOD DREAM of !zzy’s to violate her. doesn’t get much worse than that. he made her feel proud, happy, and hopeful, and then used her body against her consent and gave her a life-time sentence.

5. why is izzy not saying anything?! is@belle’s EMBARRASSED (as is common for anyone to be when violated in such a manner). she thinks (as good part of this victim-blaming fandom) that it was all her fault. she thinks she should had KNOWN better, that she should had known ABOUT the drug, that she should had NEVER trusted @ldertree (even tho her entire society and values she was raised with told her to), that she should had been STRONGER and STOPPED it somehow, AFTER he had already turned her into an addict from day one. she’s humiliated, as she’s said countless times she feels WEAK and guilty for everything she did after that, even though she was REMARKABLY STRONG and none of it was her fault. she blames herself for being a fool, and not stopping sooner (even though she had no idea that she was becoming an addict and what that drug was doing to her, and that she wouldn’t be able to stop). she doesn’t WANT people to know, because she doesn’t WANT blame taken off of her. she wants people to blame her so she can keep herself in check, and not forget what she did. contrary to what fandom thinks, she IS a good person and she DOES blame herself for all of it. 

6. what @ldertree did to her, changed her body forever. she’s never gonna be able to forget it or get over it. addicts never become ex-addicts. she won’t be able to drink again, something she used to enjoy, she won’t be able to lose control just for fun, because she can’t afford to anymore, she won’t ever forget her shame, she will always be vulnerable to vampires, and their lure, as they crudely rubbed in our faces in another episode (something that made me just as sick to watch). she will never feel comfortable around them again, not completely. it will take her a VERY long time for her to feel like her body is entirely hers again, and she might not even feel it. (let’s not even GET into the fact that the ONE person that “helped” her out of addiction is the ONE person that tried to kill her little brother and betrayed all of them. it just makes me want to hurl for her. the level of DISTRUST this girl should have, is gonna have, to anyone NEW?!! is... i can’t even. but we’re here to talk about @ldertree, and @ldertree is not an abused child with demon blood that couldn’t have done any better if he tried) he is a SANE man, in perfect mental capabilities that was COMPLETELY aware that what he was doing was gonna stain is@belle for LIFE, possibly KILL her, and if not, ruin all of her relationships, her dreams, and her future. 

7. do YOU KNOW HOW BAD IT HURT to watch her not pass the purity test? doesn’t get more metaphorical, hurtful, and quite frankly, awful than that, does it? she was violated against her will and then she didn’t pass a purity test, and she was UTTERLY HUMILIATED in front of her CHILDHOOD HEROES, in front of her role models, the people she looked up to during her entire LIFE, the people she worked herself to the ground to maybe get the chance to impress one day. even if she didn’t want to be a part of them, she still craved their RESPECT, izzy CRAVES RESPECT so badly, VALIDATION, is the ONE thing she needs the most, and @ldertree not only STRIPPED that away from her, in the eyes of her society, family and loved ones, he sent her to her childhood heroes and let her be publicly disgraced by her military superiors and people she held at her highest standard, and will now very probably always look down at her. 

8. no one fucking ASKED her how she started. no one asked her. they just assumed she’d take something like that knowingly to ease her pain. as though they didn’t know her at all. as though they didn’t know is@belle would never hurt her own body like that. as though they didn’t know she loves herself more than that. as though they never believed she was ‘the strongest of us all’ at all. because if they DID, they’d have asked her. and then MAYBE, she might’ve told them.

9. the scene ITSELF?! him brushing her hair aside, his hands on her, her sleeve down, her tears, her look of drowsy ecstasy, the sick pleasure that was obvious on him. it was MADE to feel that way. it wasn’t even clinical or cold, it was dirty and downright disgusting. he took advantage of her in more than one way and if his plan had worked he’d had got her into bed without any consent out of it (since he did ask to exchange “dating” for drugs). they can’t say it wasn’t meant to feel that way. if it was, @ldertree would have just given the pot to her, but he wanted to make sure she was gonna use it, because he KNEW she’d be lost from the VERY FIRST touch. and he also enjoyed doing it, enjoyed violating her.

TL;DR  if felt that way for a REASON. it had all the characteristics of abuse, and it was supposed to be that way but it was later never addressed. izzy is living in a shame that isn’t HERS, and she’s lost her self trust and her self reliance and doesn’t believe she’s strong anymore. she doesn’t trust herself, and her family thinks she did it to herself, and izzy believes it. it’s the worst case scenario, and i don’t think they’ll address it again. she’ll have to deal with it for the rest of her life, but she’ll never get someone to tell her it was never her fault to start with. that she’s not WEAK for trusting her superior, for using a drug without knowing it, for doing the actions any addict would, for battling this completely on her own, for being humiliated by something she didn’t do, for being made to feel like a STRANGER in her own BODY. so yeah. it does feel that way i’d say.