#but claire puts too much importance on her birthday. and she expects you to give her two gifts too (for valentines as well)

[hsslilly-blog]

claire’s birthday was on a saturday in 2015…

[literaryslapshot]

Baby Please Come Home - Nate Mackinnon

a heartbroken Nate doesn’t know what to do, so he calls his best friend to find out where he went wrong

contains: cuss words, angst, gn reader (if i made a mistake, please let me know), it's kinda sad in the beginning,

word count: 1,787

12 fics of Christmas

tagging: @thecoldwind @drei-mrssvechii @puckbunnyforsway @snidneycrabby @multistann @theweightofstardust

Nate was in a rut. Not a hockey rut, no, there he was doing just fine. Playing like normal Nathan Mackinnon, scoring goals and making plays on both sides of the ice. In that area of his life, he was doing just fine. But in his personal life? That’s where he was in a rut.

His girlfriend of almost a year, Claire, broke up with him. It was an out of the blue, shock to the world, break up. It was the last thing in the world he was expecting to hear from her when she came over. Claire didn’t stay for long; she broke the news, saying she wasn’t feeling things anymore and it was best that things end between them, and she grabbed all of her belongings and left.

She left him, with dinner on the stove for two ready to be eaten, and two wine glasses that were meant to be filled. He stayed standing in his entryway for a few minutes after she left, staring at the door, waiting to see if she would come back. Perhaps she was just playing a joke on him, someone set her up to do it. But ten minutes went by, and she didn’t come back. Ten turned into twenty, and twenty turned into forty, and soon it was nearing nine thirty and Nate had to go to bed. She wasn’t coming back.

He put dishes away and put the dinner into tupperware containers, saving them for the next few days. He went through the motions of cleaning up the kitchen, tidying up and putting things away where they belong. Turned off the lights and the television, heading to his bedroom where he would start getting ready for bed.

He stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to finally hit. Staring, wondering why she would do this. Why now? They had just set up christmas plans, he had just bought two plane tickets to bring her to Nova Scotia for a couple days. Nate was so excited too, telling his mom about her and how he really loved her.

Had he done something wrong? Did he forget an important date that she didn’t tell him about? Nate knows he’s not the most romantic guy in the world, but he tries. He tries really hard, especially for the people he loves. He even got her flowers and an edible arrangement sent to her apartment when he was out of town for a game on her birthday. He tried. But apparently, it wasn’t hard enough.

He turned on the tv in his room, finding a movie to watch that would hopefully lull him to sleep. Watching something that he had seen a thousand times over, something that he could quote word for word, he still found himself wide awake. It wasn’t too late, just past ten.

Maybe Y/N is awake…

He thought to himself. Reaching for his phone he scrolled through his contacts, his phone hovering over your name. He pressed the call button and pressed his phone to his ear, silently asking that you wouldn’t answer.

“Helloooo?” you dragged out, answering the phone in the way you always did and it made him feel much better. So much better than he has in the past three hours. He didn’t respond right away, leaving you concerned. “Nathan? Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” he responded. His tone alarmed you, it sounded…dull. He sounded like he had no life in him at all- granted the time of night he’s calling, you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s up? Everything alright?” he still took a few minutes to finally respond. All you heard was heavy breathing and what sounded like a choked out sob coming from his side of the phone.

“She broke up with me,” he confessed. That’s when it all came out. The tears, the emotions, the confusion of it all. He vented, told you everything that Claire said and everything he felt about it. You had never heard a man so heart broken before. He truly was sad about it.

And you’re not surprised by his reaction, not at all. The things he did for Claire even had your jaw dropping sometimes. He loved her, dearly. There were times when Nate thought he met the one. Times where he thought that this girl was gonna be the one he spent the rest of his days with. But apparently, that was not going to happen. And he hated it.

“Do you want me to come over?” you asked, fully prepared to drive across town if he requested it. He was quick to say no, even though he would have enjoyed the company. You continued to talk with Nate, he continued to vent and you continued to listen.

Now you’ve been on the phone for over an hour and the conversation was slowly coming to an end. There was one question that he was dying to ask, but was too nervous to ask it. But maybe it was because he was too tired and he was not thinking straight, or maybe he just didn’t want to go back home alone, but he asked anyway.

“Do you want to go to Nova Scotia with me?” he blurted out. His words had you stunned. That was the last question you expected to hear. You were aware of his plans for the holidays, and he was aware that you planned on staying in town. “You don’t have to say yes now. I leave early on the twenty fourth, I've already got a ticket and it’s yours if you want it. Just let me know.”

You said your goodbyes and when you hung up the phone, you were now wide awake. Thinking if it would be wrong or not to go with him, fresh off of a break up. But on the other hand, he did invite you. And why would he invite you if he didn’t want to go alone?

You decide to sleep on it. Across town, Nate is doing the same thing. Instead of overthinking and worrying about what he had just done, he decides to sleep on it. Hoping, praying to God that he didn’t just make the biggest mistake of his life.

-

When Nate woke up, he prayed that all of last night was just a dream. But when he opens instagram and goes to Claire's page, all of the pictures that she had posted with him are gone. All the memories they made, going on trips to the springs, the summer they spent with each other on the lake, and the pictures from the dates they went on together. He supposes that he should delete the ones that he has too, even though he doesn’t want to just yet.

Eventually he pulls himself out of bed and gets dressed, deciding it would be better than spending his day sulking. Starting his morning breakfast by putting the coffee grounds in the right place and pouring the water in, the sound of the doorbell stops him momentarily.

He opens the door to find you, still in your pajamas, with your tumbler in your hand filled with coffee. “I’ll go to Canada with you.” you blurt out before he can even say hello. Walking past him you enter his home, going to sit at his kitchen bar. “But only on one condition,” you implied.

He started back on making his breakfast, cracking eggs open and pouring them into the frying pan while he waited for your follow up. “You have to call Claire and talk it out with her. Clearly you have some things that need to be said and I'm not the one you need to tell. You need to talk to her, Nate.”

He knew what you said was right. He knew that it would make him feel ten times better if he talked to Claire, ask questions that he had been asking the walls of his bedroom for the past twelve hours. “Here, I'll finish breakfast and you give her a call.”

You shooed him away and took the spatula from his hand. Nate picked up the phone from the counter. He dialed Claire's number and patiently waited on the couch for her to pick up. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, afraid of what might be said.

“Hello, you’ve reached Claire…”

He took a sigh of relief. He was glad she did not pick up, to be honest. He waited for the beep to start talking, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He laughed nervously at first, and then realized that it was just Claire he was talking to. Even though she wasn’t listening.

“...I don't know why I called, well. I do know why. I wanted to talk things out, but you’re probably busy with family. You’re probably on your way to Arizona now.” he kept talking into the phone, some of it making sense and some of it didn’t.

“It’s gonna feel strange without you. This wasn’t how I planned on spending Christmas this year, without you. I would really like to talk things out, Claire. I just don’t get it. I don’t understand where things went wrong with us.”

Nate eventually hung up the phone and he tossed it to the other side of the couch, putting his face in his hands. You noticed his body language, and how the tension in the room was thicker now than it was when you arrived. You took the frying pan off the stove and set it on the other side, putting the spatula in the sink and you started to walk over to him on the couch. Sitting next to him you rested your hand on his back, resting your head on his shoulder.

“She’ll talk to you when she’s ready. But it was good that you called her, it means a lot to her. I promise.” you comforted, rubbing circles over his back. He picked his head up and smiled at you, leaning back against the soft cushions of the couch. “Come on, your food is gonna get cold.”

Halfway through breakfast you made small talk with each other; you began to ask him about the trip and he gave you all the answers to all of your odd questions.

“Thank you for wanting to come with me, Y/N. It means a lot.” You smiled and gave him a hug while standing in the hallway of his apartment, getting ready to leave and head back to your place to start packing for a trip you didn’t even know you would go on a day ago. “Of course, Nate. anything for a friend like you.”

.・。♡.・゜✭・.・✫・゜✭・。. ♡・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜♡・。.✫

- thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it. i kind of hated the way i ended it, but i also am not super proud of this. but nonetheless i hope you liked it!

xo, j

[estrel]

for @ickyv29​ ‘s prompt: Claire taking Jack out of the bunker so Cas and Dean can set up a surprise party? Chaos ensues. 

here you go !! jack looks like he’s in his teens for this one, but he did that just to hang out w claire god bles <3 also falls into transnatural,, you’ll see why (^:

It’s always spooky seeing Jack age up in front of her very eyes. One second he’s practically just a step up from a toddler, and the next, Jack is taller than Claire and wearing the exact same goofy smile on his face.

She supposes the one good thing that comes out of it is that none of them have to guess at what he’ll look like in the future when he’s older. He still looks just the same as he does when he’s three feet tall or whatever, except that maybe he seems a little calmer, and Claire feels a little more comfortable talking to him as if they’re friends rather than...half...step...siblings? 

Which is why she agrees to take care of him for the day, with the intention of showing him her favorite “grown up” spots, though she promises Dean that everything they’re doing will be kosher.

It’s not.

“Okay Jack,” Claire claps a hand on his shoulder, much sturdier than the one she’s used to poking at when they’re playing with legos on the Bunker floor. “Are you ready to be a big kid now?”

He nods fervently and she smiles, pulling a little on his shirt sleeve so that he’ll follow her into the mall.

The grown up spots she intends to take Jack to are mild, at best. She just thinks he should be able to get the full teenage experience, even if she never really did, and he isn’t really a teen. 

The first place they stop at is Claire’s, rightfully so. Jack, like everyone else she has ever known, points at the sign and nudges her. She expects the usual comment about “they named you after the store,” but instead he says, “They named the store after you,” and she nods her head in agreement.

“Sure did,” she says, “how do you feel about getting your ears pierced?”

They step inside, and Jack takes in all the rows of merchandise. “Pierced? Won’t Dad and Dee and Sam get mad?” 

Claire shrugs, watching Jack’s eyes light up when he sees the over-the-top girly accessories. “No big deal, you can always just heal the holes right up with your super powers, can’t you?” 

She calls Jack’s nephil magic “super powers” to please him, under the guise that it makes more sense to passerby if she’s talking to a four year old about super powers rather than angel mojo. 

It does the job, so he agrees, and the next thing she knows, they’re walking out of Claire’s with a bag full of flowery headwear and Jack’s two pierced ears.

Claire would be lying if she said her heart wasn’t racing thinking about the potential lecture she’d receive from Jack’s dads. But it was worth it to see Jack look at her like she hung the moon, a hand constantly raising to touch tentatively at his ears. 

“Next up,” she announces, “mani-pedis.”

“What’s that?”

Claire holds out her hand, chipped with black nail polish. “Nail painting. You’re gonna love it.”

She’s not really the type to get a manicure—in fact, Claire’s probably only had one in her life when she was like eight—but half of these (all of these) activities are more so to cater to Jack on his birthday, and the stuff he’d enjoy (and also whatever would piss off Dean the most).

And she’s right—Jack loves the little foot bath with the fancy water jets, and giggles the whole time the lady is scrubbing at his feet and nails. He enthusiastically asks for rainbow colors (a different color on each finger and toe), and Claire has to explain that he’s gotta wait patiently for them to dry or else they’ll get messed up.

“Do you like the rainbows?” Jack asks, showing them to her when they leave. She gets a feeling there’s a certain importance to the question that she’s missing, but she nods and gives him a careful fist bump. “Rainbows are sick,” she says.

“Sick,” Jack repeats, “that’s not good. Do they need medicine? What do they have?”

Claire snorts and waves him off, “No, dummy. Sick like...’cool.’”

“Ohhh,” Jack visually internalizes that thought for safekeeping, “sick.”

Claire checks her phone while they stuff their faces with mall pizza, quickly answering Kaia’s messages with a smile, assuring Jody that all is well, and sending Dean snarky comments about their surprise party taking forever to set up.

She sets her phone down to pay attention to Jack again, only to find him staring at her already, a contemplative look in his face.

“Uh...do I have food on my face or something?”

Jack shakes his head. “I had a...question.”

Oh. She leans her elbows on the table, crossing her forearms. “Okay, shoot.”

“You like girls,” he starts, and she hides an amused smirk, “and Dad and Dee like each other...but. I don’t like anybody yet because I’m not old enough and I don’t know anyone my age.”

You’re also a four year old half-angel being that’s presenting like he’s eighteen, she wants to supply, but Claire only shrugs. “You don’t gotta like anybody kiddo. Sometimes people just want friends, and that’s fine.”

He nods seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay. But what about... me?”

“What about you?”

“Well I’m...I like boy things,” he says, “but I like girl things too. Does that mean I’m like Dee?”

“Bisexual?” Claire supplies, and then scrunches her face up a little, “like you said, bud, I think you’re too young to tell--”

“I know,” he chirps, and then studies his nails. “I don’t mean like that. I mean...I like those things... for me. Like, tutus and capes and man-ee-cures, and cowboy hats.”

Claire takes a second to think it over, and then it all clicks. “Oh! You mean your gender, right?”

“I think so,” he says. 

“Well all that stuff you listed has to do with gender expression. And really, anyone can dress or look however they want, regardless of pronouns or orientation. But...put it this way, would it make you feel better if people referred to you as ‘she’ and ‘her?’“

Jack shakes his head. “No...”

“Do you like ‘he’ and ‘him’?” A nod. “What about ‘they’ and ‘them’?” There’s a pause, Jack mulling it over, before he nods.

“Is it okay to have more than one?” 

“Totally okay.”

“Then yes,” they sit straighter, “I like both.”

“Cool,” Claire smiles, holding up a fist for another fist bump. Jack knocks their knuckles against hers. 

“Sick,” he agrees. 

Just then her phone starts to buzz, lighting up with a text from Cas that says ‘we’re done. you can come back now (:’ 

She looks back up at Jack with their pierced ears and rainbow nail polish.

“On second thought,” she says, standing and offering her hand, “I think they’ll love it.”

[perriewinklenerdie]

Close and not close enough (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! How we feeling, fam? Good? Broken? All of the above? GOOD. This is the dinner scene with my twist, cause I refuse to stand by and watch that delicious slow burn get to me. It is here that I would like to express my deep sadness to all the Rafael stans, PB did you dirty, I'm so sorry you have to go through that.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060491

Tag list:   @paleweasels , @lilyofchoices , @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @cassiusownsmyass, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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

Her shift came and went in a blink of an eye. It was her first day back and she already felt as though she ran a marathon and needed a break. Unfortunately for her, it didn’t look like she would get a break after work. The dinner with the governor was like a second job of the day; she was sure that there would be no time to relax.

Ethan said that he would drive her there, so she tried not to make him wait too long. Taking her coat off, she glided her hands over any crease on her green blouse she could find, ran her fingers through her hair and left the locker room.

Walking into the lobby, she noticed Ethan’s tense posture, his back to her. Next to him stood Harper Emery, smiling at him gently. They talked about something and Claire noticed how Ethan kept his distance from her, maintaining the friendly atmosphere. Harper was the first one to notice her, her expression one of politeness and openness. Upon her reaction, Ethan turned around to greet her too, his eyes sparking up as they met hers.

“Dr. Herondale. Nice of you to finally join us.” He nodded, using his words carefully, which almost made Claire laugh when she noticed the usual playful banter that was never too far away from their conversations. She grinned at him, holding his gaze for a moment too long before Harper’s voice broke their connection.

“Claire. I was so intrigued when I heard you’d be joining us. Ethan said you made quite the impression on the Governor.” Her smile was wide and Claire tried to find any indication that it wasn’t sincere, but it seemed as though Harper was genuinely interested in what she had to say and who she was as a person.

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Then consider impressing Governor Rivera your full-time job for the rest of the night. If she’s taken a particular shine to you, we should use that.” Harper’s eyes gleamed with determination, like she was preparing herself for a battle. Claire froze, uncertain what exactly was going on.

“Wait… how much is at stake here?” she heard her own voice going up an octave, her eyes shifting to Ethan, only to find him already looking at her. He didn’t even attempt to make it seem as though he wasn’t, and she couldn’t tell exactly why.

“Edenbrook is a non-profit. We rely on a significant amount of annual subsidies for research, education and community service.”

“The state budget’s up for review now. We need to make sure the Governor sees the value of what the voters are paying for.” Ethan joined in, gesturing with his hand gently as he spoke, his eyes still focused solely on her. If Harper found it strange, she didn’t say anything about it.

Claire nodded, her face settling into a look of stern motivation. “I’ll do my best. Our patients will suffer if our funding goes down. I won’t let that happen.”

“None of us will.” He agreed, pursing his lips tightly in anger over whoever thought it was an appropriate idea to cut the budget of a hospital.

“Game faces on, team. Let’s secure that funding.” Harper clapped her hands twice, eager to get to work, and the three of them walked out of the building, aiming their steps towards the parking lot.

Ethan kept himself close to Claire, with Harper trailing slightly behind them. From time to time, his hand would brush against Claire’s sending a shock wave up their arms at alarming speed. They would move away from each other at that feeling, only to be brought back together seconds later, the cycle repeating until they reached his car. He opened the door to the passenger’s seat, then helped Harper get into the back of the car before taking his seat behind the steering wheel himself and starting the car.

He wouldn’t say the atmosphere was stiff, but he would call it tense. Maybe it was the weight of the situation they were in, their dinner having the potential of being the most important dinner in the next couple of months. Maybe it was the fact that he had been with both of them, and he was now realizing that, with one of them, he found it impossible to forget about everything she did. In his peripheral vision he saw Claire fidgeting, twisting her fingers nervously.

Looking back at it, he didn’t really think about what he was doing, it just felt right. He reached out with his hand for hers, squeezing gently, running his thumb over the back of her hand with the most tender of touches he could afford at that moment. In the rearview mirror he saw Harper’s eyes light up in surprise that was quickly disguised and substituted by a blank stare at whatever it was ahead of them.

Taking his hand back, he attempted, time and time again to compose himself and not let his eyes stray back to the blonde by his side. Claire’s gaze, however, lingered on the side of his face shamelessly, grinning at how fast he changed the radio station when some upbeat song came on, unbothered by the look Harper was most likely sending her. He couldn’t remember the last time he wished he was alone with Claire, despite how much he tried not to do that, to not tempt himself with what he could have had had he not been so stubborn.

He parked the car and turned the engine off, walking out to assist them both, but Harper already got out by the time he reached their side of the car. Claire, however, didn’t, so he held the door open for her, and then placed his hand on the small of her back for a brief second before shaking himself, like waking up from a trance, and letting his hand fall back against his side. She looked back at him, giving him a sad smile, before they both entered the building.

A waiter escorted them through the seemingly endless rows of tables, between people dressed in overpriced suits and dresses that would be thrown into the pits of their wardrobes as soon as they went back home. Governor Rivera, along with some of her staff and a smiling Naveen were seated by the table in the far corner of the restaurant, all of them stood up to greet them.

“Ah, here they are.” Naveen laughed, clapping Ethan on his back, then hugging Claire and Harper briefly. The Governor smiled warmly at the three of them, looking them over quickly.

“It’s so nice to see you again, and to meet you, Doctor Emery. Oh, and happy birthday!” she exclaimed, putting her hand on Harper’s arm and squeezing, leaving her flustered. Claire’s eyes widened as she remembered what happened earlier that day, but thankfully, the other doctor played along.

“Uh… thank you?”

Governor Rivera waved her hand towards the table invitingly. “Please, sit. I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering the table.”

“Trust me, her taste is excellent.” Naveen chimed in, grinning widely at his friends.

Claire followed her gut and sat down on the seat across from the Governor. That way, she had Harper on the other side of the table too, as well as Naveen. Busy with hanging her purse on the back of her chair, she didn’t see Ethan sliding into the chair next to her, but she did feel his body pressing against hers gently, and then the smell of his cologne reached her senses and she let herself slipping slightly before she gripped the ledge and held on, bringing herself back to the safe land. The whole incident went by, unnoticed by their companions, but by the absent look in Ethan’s eyes, she could tell that he went through the similar experience.

“I’m very glad to have a chance to speak with you further, Claire.” Governor smiled at her warmly, her eyes observing her closely, not letting her forget what all of that was really about.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Governor.”

“Are you happy working at Edenbrook?” she questioned, the double meaning of her every word, every question so tangible that it left her mind in a brief state of haze before she gathered herself for an answer.

“There is nowhere in the world I’d rather work.” Claire exhaled deeply, grounding herself in the reality of the situation, feeling all the eyes, locked and focused solely on her.

“I expect that’s just one of many reasons Dr. Ramsey referred to you as the ‘bright future of Edenbrook’ earlier.” She mused, looking Claire dead in the eyes the entire time they talked. The stare was so intense that she barely could stand to maintain the contact. Fortunately for her, Naveen came to her rescue, allowing her to look away from the burning eyes of the Governor and focus on something else.

“And he was right to do so.” His smile was warm and reassuring, comforting and encouraging. When she looked back at the woman in front of her, she found that she was still looking at her, almost like she was preparing to deal the final blow. And deliver the said blow, she did.

“What does Edenbrook’s bright future look like to you, Claire?”

Claire’s throat closed up, making it difficult to swallow or breath, and she felt herself look to all the senior doctors, sitting by the table with her. From Naveen that blinked happily at her, to Harper that nodded with determination in her eyes. And to Ethan, that stared at her with so much faith that she swore he might burst.

“I think it lies in our training. There is a reason Edenbrook is the crown jewel of Massachusetts healthcare. Why med students from all over the country try to match here. It’s the best place to hone your skills as a physician. We’re the envy of the world, and we intend to stay that way.” She took a deep breath before speaking, picking her words carefully as to not overstep and fully encapsulate every part of why that hospital was special, why they needed the money without specifically saying that in so many words.

“You’re quite confident. But I can tell you have the know-how to back it up. You almost remind me of myself!” The Governor’s smile got wider, like she finally allowed herself to show a peak of her real emotions instead of carefully curated ones that she had mastered over the years.

They get interrupted by a waiter, who settles a series of platters all over the table, all containing a variety of seafood. Claire gasped in surprise, causing Governor Rivera to chuckle invitingly.

“This is the first of eight courses. I suggest we leave any further shop talk until at least the seventh.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me!” Naveen exclaims, looking at Claire from his seat across the table, expressing his approval and gratitude for what she said. The corners of her lips lift up gently in return before they all focus on the food in front of them.

She refrained from reaching forward, instead waiting for the other side of the table to do that first, and it was at that exact moment that she felt a slight movement beneath the table. Ethan’s knee touched hers delicately, awaking the sparks that she was hoping would go away with enough time and space. Claire’s eyes moved to catch his, but he avoids her gaze, making it seem as though the touch was a mistake, an innocent misstep on his part. His face was blank, wiped of any emotions, but from where she was sitting, she could see a hint of a blush that slowly creeped up his neck, just beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Bon appetit!” The Governor said, helping herself to some of the food in front of her, finally starting the dinner.

Claire would be damned if anyone asked her why she got flustered at that moment, or the moment after that, and she would be forced to lie about it being hot in the room or how she could feel the hear of the day catching up to her. The real reason was Ethan Ramsey, sitting next to her, continuously grazing her knee with his, like he couldn’t get enough of her touch, like he was starved for it.

He would never admit it, of course, he would deny everything and call a person delusional, but he knew that there was no fooling Claire. Out of curiosity, she asked for their menu for the night, and once she began reading it, she felt Ethan lean over to her, dangerously close. Their faces were so near that she could feel his breath on her cheek, his knee now pressing against hers with constant pressure.

“If you want to walk out of here on your own legs, I suggest you skip the fifth course.” He muttered under his breath, gazing at her, waiting for her to turn her eyes to him. Once she did, he saw playful sparks, dancing in her green irises, and she scrunched her nose adorably at him.

“Wouldn’t that be a faux pas?” musing quietly, she looked him dead in the eyes, then added. “We wouldn’t want anyone to notice, now, would we?”

Fully aware of what they were doing, they leaned back with just a ghost of a smile, his touch leaving her once more. He enjoyed it, the game they were playing, so plainly in sight of everyone around them, and yet, only the two of them really knew what was going on.

“Ethan, why don’t you tell the Governor what the diagnostics team is up to now?” Naveen asked all of a sudden, making Ethan have to lean forward and brace himself against the table, resting his hands on the flat surface comfortably. He cleared his throat before speaking about what the present and the future of the team was.  From the looks on the faces of his companions, he could tell that they were genuinely interested in everything he had to say, and he could talk like that, uninterrupted, for hours.

But, of course, life was never that simple. Not his, at least.

Claire leaned forward, mirroring his posture, sharing her outlook on the team. As a new addition, she had a fresh eye to everything that they were up to, and her input into the conversation was greatly appreciated by the Governor and her team.

Ethan thought nothing of the way she sat a few inches closer to him when she was fixing her position on her chair. He should have. He was talking about all the possibilities the team could have if they continue growing and working the way they were now, when he felt a slight movement against his ankle, pushing up his calf and then back down. Air escaped his lungs, then was rapidly taken in again as he gasped inaudibly, struggling to maintain a straight face. He knew what she was doing, even if only by the look of innocence she had on her face when he turned to check with her if she agreed with what he was saying.

She nodded, taking the lead in the conversation, her foot still making its journey up and down his leg. Ethan’s frustration at the teasing that most likely would not get any resolve skyrocketed fairly quickly, until it reached the point in which she either stopped, or he retaliated. Having decided to attack her with her own weapon, he mirrored her actions in great detail, allowing his foot to push between hers and trace the line of her bare leg.

It was her pure luck and a coincidence that she stopped talking as soon as he started taunting her, giving back as much as she gave him, but never crossing the line. Ethan allowed himself to look at her, one deep dive into her eyes, and immediately he knew it was a mistake. He always seemed to get lost in them, but that night, it was different. Definitely had something to do with the longing he felt for the woman he was looking at. She stared back at him with just as much intensity, never backing down from a challenge, but there was no competition, just two people that wanted, but couldn’t get it right.

A tight sound of clearing throat broke them from the spell that bound them together in a gaze. Ethan’s head snapped in the direction of where the sound came from and, to his surprise, he saw Harper, her eyebrow up in a silent question. The moment she saw his eyes, though, her whole demeanor changed. From that point forward, she knew. She understood now, she saw it clearly, even if Ethan himself didn’t.

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

The rest of the evening went fairly well, a smooth sail compared to how it started. Ethan expected the ride home to be a nightmare, but, to his surprise, Harper didn’t mention anything, she didn’t act differently to either of them, and held a fairly normal conversation with them both. He drove her home first, wishing her a good night before she closed the door behind her, leaving Ethan and Claire alone at last. The silence was a welcome change of pace, enclosing them both in its precious luxury. She groaned lightly, sinking deeper into her seat.

“I’ve never felt so full in my life.” she sighed, turning her head to watch him as he grinned widely.

“You should have taken my advice and skipped the fifth course.”

Shaking her head, she tangled her fingers together and looped her hands over her knee, trying to get comfortable. “No way. When the Governor of Massachusetts pays for eight amazing courses, you eat eight amazing courses. I had no idea rich people food tested so much better than what they serve to us plebes.”

Ethan nodded slightly, realizing how much painful truth was plainly expressed in her snarky comment. “We do live disgustingly well, yes.”

Her eyes find their way to his face again, tracing the way the lights of the street cast descending shadows off his sharp cheekbones. Almost as though he could feel the heat of her stare, he turns to look at her. “What is it?”

“Do you think we convinced her?”

“Thanks to you, yes. I think we did.” he smiled at her tenderly, observing her for a moment longer before returning his focus to the road ahead of them, driving safely.

She debated what to do with herself, feeling an all too familiar pull towards him. Her body ached to touch him, to feel him, and there was nothing that she could possibly do to stop herself. Cautiously, gently, she leaned over, letting her head nestle into the crook of his shoulder. The comfort and warmth of his closeness engulfed her like the softest blanket ever created. Her eyes flew to the rearview mirror, catching the way his whole face was lit up with a bright smile.

The ride to her apartment is entirely too short for them to really appreciate the familiar feeling of comfort that their touch gave them. He stopped the car, turning to look at her with regret in his eyes.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to come up for a nightcap.” She asks either way, even though she already knows the answer. Ethan allows himself to look at her, to roam her whole being with yearning in his gaze, plain as day. His fingers move as though they have a mind of their own, brushing the skin of her cheek gently, trying desperately to remember the feeling until the next time when he would allow himself to indulge in such a luxury. A real luxury, not a fake one that money can buy. Finally, he shakes his head, his lips curling into a rueful smile.

“Goodnight, Claire.”

“Goodnight, Ethan.” She reached for his hand, still pressed to her face, and squeezes gently before letting her other hand grasp the handle and open the door.

Ethan’s mind was swirling in the worst tempest he felt in a while. Every time he had to push her away, it got worse, and he feared the time when it will get too much for him to handle and he will just break. Not ‘would’ but ‘will’. Because he was certain that this day was coming, he just didn’t know how soon that would be.

He saw in his mind the moment in which her hand would let go of his, and he couldn’t physically bring himself to let it happen. Tightening his grip, he let out a broken moan. “Claire-“

She turned around, one hand in his, the other at the still closed door, her eyes carrying the question. He leaned towards her, placing both of his hands on her cheeks, his index fingers locking behind her ears as he stroked her skin with his thumbs tenderly. They stared at one another, unsure what that moment was and what it meant until he groaned, a full of pain sound, and pulled her to him in great haste, slamming their lips together in a hungry kiss that took their breaths away.

Claire’s eyes fluttered shut after her initial shock subsided, her hands resting temporarily on his sides, gripping his sweater tightly, tugging his body towards her as much as she could. She sighed when the kiss broke, both of them panting heavily, desperate to take back the air that was lost when they connected, but their grip on one another never wavered. It didn’t even take a moment for her to move her hands to his hair and pull him right back to where he was just a while ago, kissing him, again and again, like she couldn’t get enough of him. Ethan’s face twisted like he was in great pain, but nevertheless, he pulled her even nearer. There was no space left between them, only him, her and the unknown depth of their feelings that neither could have possibly known.

It’s Claire that finally breaks the kiss for good, resting their foreheads against one another, eyes still closed. She tried to push the memory into her head hard enough so that it would stay there. The way he held her, the way he tasted, the way he felt against her. Once they both dared to open their eyes, only to find out that no, they were not dreaming, she smiled at him softly, a melancholic smile that made his heart ache.

“Sleep well, Ethan.” She whispered, leaving a ghost of a kiss against his lips and going to her apartment. By the door, she turned around, Ethan’s eyes still on her. Still full of regret, still watching only her.  

[365days365movies]

January 20, 2021: Taken (2008)

Well, I know one thing about this movie. He’s gonna find ‘em. And he’s gonna kill ‘em. And also, Luc Besson didn’t direct this movie! Yeah, my bad, he wrote this movie. But, then, he also wrote Leon, so I wasn’t entirely wrong. Anyway, 2008!

I remember this year well. Obama was elected the first Black president of the United States of America; the Olympics took place in Beijing, months after a massive earthquake in Sichuan; the Large Hadron Collider was totally gonna make a black hole; and, of course, the most important news event of that year: Iron Man and The Dark Knight came out.

And of course, the film Taken came out, creating what is arguably the most repeated film meme ever. Or, at the very least, it’s WAY up there. It’s a 12-year old meme at this point, but lemme tell ya: this thing was HUGE in 2008. Not the movie itself, just the meme. And I could lie and tell you that I’m watching this movie because it’s another French action thriller, and it’s fitting, but…

...it’s the meme. It’s 100% the meme, I’m not gonna lie to you guys. So, uh...yeah, Taken, let’s do this. SPOILERS AHEAD!

Recap

Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) is dreaming of his daughter and wife. In the modern day, he brings a birthday gift to his daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace), and his bitter ex-wife Lenore (Famke Janssen), who is married to a very wealthy man, Stuart (Xander Berkeley). Bryan, meanwhile, is a recent and comparatively poor retiree, whose friends come over for a night of drinks.

Retiree from what, you ask? Well, it’s likely the CIA, given that his friends refer to military missions and Langley. They invite him to join security detail for a pop star, Sheerah (Holly Valance), In the process, he saves her from crazed fans, including a knife-wielding assailant. Not sure why that guy wants to LITERALLY STAB HER, but somebody needs to look into that guy!

Out of gratitude, Sheerah gives Bryan some references to give to his daughter, who wants to be a singer, apparently. However, when he sees her and Lenore the next day, all she wants from him is permission to go on a trip to Paris with her friends. When he shows his doubts for her safety, she’s upset, and his wife berates him for...government and military service? I mean, that stuff breaks up marriages, of course, but GODDAMN, Lenore’s bitter about it! Whoof.

Bryan’s definitely being made to be sympathetic, while Lenore’s the opposite of that. And Bryan’s understandably worried about his daughter’s safety, as she’ll be abroad. And we get the idea that Bryan’s a bit of a helicopter parent, but...c’mon! He’s underage daughter is asking to go to Paris with her friends! It’s cause for a parent to be worried, and yet Lenore is like, “She needs to be freeeeeeeeeee!” And that’s made even WORSE by the fact that both of them lie to Bryan, a father who clearly loves his daughter, because she’s actually following U2 on a music tour around Europe!

Which...really? U2? Who the hell can stand that much Bono, for their ENTIRE EUROPEAN TOUR? Anyway, what I’m saying is, Lenore sucks, and I’m not Kim’s biggest fan either. But I get the feeling that, given the one thing I know about this movie...Bryan’s gonna be proven right. So Kim and her friend, Amanda (Katie Cassidy) go to Europe, alone, despite Bryan’s understandable misgivings. 

They IMMEDIATELY get hit on by Peter, a French boy who gives them a ride. He invites them to a party, Amanda accepts for them, and this is OBVIOUSLY A BAD IDEA. That’s even further confirmed by Peter making a mysterious call, telling the other person about the girls’ location. Kim doesn’t call Bryan, as promised, and Amanda is clearly a TERRIBLE influence. Looks like Bryan was completely right to be concerned, if his daughter’s gonna be so irresponsible. Oh, also because they’re about to get kidnapped.

Luckily, Kim had called Bryan just before, after realizing that he had called her, and he guides her through the upcoming kidnapping. With his help, although she gets kidnapped, Bryan is able to figure out that the kidnappers are Albanian, and that one of them is a six-foot tall bearded man with a moon and star tattoo on his right hand DAMN THAT’S OBSERVANT. But still...she’s been Taken.

Someone picks up the phone...and he says the speech.

Had to do it, folks. It’s the most iconic scene in the film. Time for action! Bryan calls a friend with Langley connections, then goes straight to Lenore and Stuart’s place, who find out that BRYAN WAS FUCKING RIGHT GODDAMMIT HOW DO YOU FEEL NOW 

 Having COMPLETELY FUCKED UP, Lenore asks Bryan to get her back safely. They actually figure out that the men who kidnapped her are professional sex-traffickers, who specialize in kidnapping travelling women and putting them in prostitution. But they tend to disappear...within 96 Hours. That’s how long Bryan has to find her, as well as being an alternate title for this film!

The time limit, by the way, is a common construct for the action-thriller. You know, “she has 12 hours to live,” that kind of deal. Thrillers are going to be peppered throughout this year, and there are a few coming up as well, so might as well start with this one, right?

Bryan flies to Paris, then makes his way to the apartment, tracing Kim’s steps up to her kidnapping. He also finds her destroyed phone, alongside an SD card with photos. From this, he gets a blurry look at Peter. I get the feeling that his face isn’t about to look much better. Speaking of, Peter’s playing his old tricks at the airport, and is caught by Bryan. Painfully caught. After Bryan fights off another guy, and chases Peter up a road, Peter also gets caught by karma.

80 hours left. Having exhausted options, Bryan meets an old contact, Jean-Claude (Olivier Rabourdin), who tells him where the Albanians hang out. He hires an Albanian translator, then heads for a prostitute-heavy area. He harrangues a prostitute until her manager comes out, whom he puts a small microphone on. With the translator’s help, he discovers that they’re having “merchandise problems” at a construction site. 

Following a hunch, he makes his way there, and sees several drug-addicted young women in a makeshift brothel. Also there is his daughter’s jacket. The prostitute that has it, however, is not exactly cognitively sound at the moment. So...she’s Taken. By Bryan, who fights his way out of the brothel and construction site, with gunshots, explosions, and car chases along the way.

Bryan brings the girl back to a hotel, where he somehow gets ahold of an IV and medicine, and detoxes her in the room. Which, given the time frame and other factors...seems like a very large risk to take for testimony that, let’s be honest, right not exist. Still, as this is happening, he gets a call from Jean-Claude, asking to meet.

56 hours left. After 7 people dead, a destroyed trailer, and 3 people injured (and probably stolen medicine from a hospital, let’s be honest), Bryan isn’t exactly the best friend of the French government. He escapes police custody and heads back to the hotel, where the girl is cogent enough to remember where she got the jacket: from Kim herself, at the house with the red door on the road of paradise. No, really.

Bryan gets to the house, and poses as Jean-Claude...badly. He apparently passes his bluff check, and takes advantage of a corrupt police system, and makes them give him protection money. Over the course of the conversation, he figures out that one of them is Marco. Which means that he found him. And he said that when he found him…

After that spree is done, he searches the facility and looks for Kim. He doesn’t find her...but he does find Amanda. And sadly, he’s too late for her. Turns out, though, that he didn’t kill Marko (Arben Bajraktaraj), the leader of the group. And of course not! He has some questions.

Bryan tortures Marko using electricity, and he reveals that Kim’s been sold quickly, as she is a virgin. She’s been sold to Patrice Saint-Clair (Gerard Watkins), although Marko doesn’t know where he is. And so, Bryan fulfills his promise, and electrocutes him. He then makes his way to meet Jean-Claude at his home. And, uh...that’s when he crosses a line.

...Um. Bryan shot his wife. And yeah, Jean-Claude’s clearly not on the up-and-up, but he’s not directly complicit in the kidnapping of his daughter. And yeah, he’s in Bryan’s way, but JESUS CHRIST DUDE. He officially loses the moral high-ground here for me, even if his cause is just. Jean-Claude concedes, and Bryan gets the information that he’s looking for and leaves, knocking Jean-Claude out in the process.

Bryan goes to the Saint-Clair residence, where an auction is taking place for various young women. The last of these is, of course, Kim. Having barged into a booth of one of the buyers, he forces him to buy Kim (ew). Unfortunately, he’s caught and chained to a pipe, where Saint-Clair’s henchmen are about to kill him. But, of course...

Bryan escapes and kills Saint-Clair in the process, but not before finding out that Kim’s been Taken to a boat. He obtains a car, and after a length (and seizure-inducing) car chase, gets onto the boat, which is owned by the Sheik, a man of unknown Arabic origin. And yeah, in case you were wondering, this feels very...VERY...wrong. It’s brief, yeah, but...you gave a rich Arabic guy multiple wives obtained through illegal means and made them the main villain? FUCKIN’ OOF BRUV

Anyway, as expected, Bryan kicks the asses of everybody on the boat, and finally rescues Kim, killing the Sheik in the process. The two have a tearful embrace, and Bryan NEVER LETS HER OUT OF HIS SIGHT AGAIN PROBABLY. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT BONO. THIS IS ALL YOUR GODDAMN FAULT.

Well, Bryan wins the I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG GODDAMIT award, Kim gets to go home and meet that singer from before, Lenore gives Bryan some consideration as a human being for once, Stuart stepfathers, and that’s Taken! Also, WHERE IN THE HELL ARE AMANDA’S PARENTS, A GIRL IS DEAD

Epilogue soon!

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Gallows Pole

In the midst of the Lawboy shitposting, a Sam-centric chapter to see what he got up to after Dean went to hell. Special thanks to my bro @friedchickenangelwings for keeping me in check forever and always, I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.

Sam sobs. He can’t help it; he can’t do anything else. His big brother’s body is impaled on the post in front of him, the ground is littered with beheaded bodies, and two little boys are crying outside somewhere in the dark. And he can’t stop crying.

“It’s not okay. It’s not!” 

He tries to take back those words that had made his brother leave, but Dean's chest doesn’t shudder back into life, and it won’t. It hangs there, heavy and lifeless, and it always will. Dean is dead. 

And for what?

When Sam’s head starts to pound from the tears, he finally takes breaths to calm himself. Common sense floods back into his head and overtakes his grief, and he pulls Dean’s body off the stupid rusty nail that killed him. He lowers him to the ground and closes his eyes, because he can’t bear to look at his dead stare any longer. 

He doesn’t want to leave the barn. He knows he has to, but he doesn’t want to leave his brother there all alone. That’s what Dean had always been most afraid of: being alone. He stands frozen to the spot for more minutes than he should, trying to reason with his grief. Finally, finally, he wins, and he turns around to see his breath in the air before him. Sam immediately gasps, another desperate sob coming from nowhere, because the night isn’t cold enough for that.

“Dean?” He screams it. “Dean!” It’s gotta be him, Dean’s a ghost, Dean’s here, Dean’s trying to talk to him. “Dean!” 

“No, I’m sorry, Sam.” Kevin Tran flickers to form in front of him, pity and sadness in his eyes. “But Dean’s okay.” 

Sam rubs his eyes. He thinks for a second he’s hallucinating again, that losing Dean for real broke down all the sanity he’d built over the years. “K-Kevin?” Though he didn’t know it was possible, his stomach takes yet another plunge, like a boulder has just been dropped on him. Kevin’s incorporeal form shakes into being the thought once more that he did that, his hands killed Kevin, he’s the reason Kevin is a ghost. He’s in a room with the corpse and untethered soul of two people he loves and two people he watched die.

As if sensing all the ways Sam is shaking apart, Kevin nods and starts to reach out before realizing it would be no use. “Yeah, Sam, it’s me.” 

“But- w-w why?” Sam curses his voice for failing him, curses the shaking that sobbing left him with, curses it because he needs to be strong now. For Dean. “Why didn’t you help us?” A ghost would’ve been a great thing to have in a fight! A ghost could probably, I don’t know, push Dean away from a deadly-sharp hook on the wall? If Kevin has been here, why- “Is Dean in the veil? Can he hear me? Dean!” 

Kevin throws a gust of air in his face to get his attention, and it hits Sam like a slap. He looks back at the ghost, wideyed. Kevin looks apologetic. “I don’t have a lot of time, but you need to calm down. Seriously.”

“I can’t calm down-”

“No, Sam, you need to calm down.” Kevin looks upward nervously, as if he’s expecting to see some big figure raise the roof of the barnhouse up and peek down at them. “I’ll explain, but first thing you need to know is: Dean’s dead. He’s in heaven, and he’s in trouble.” 

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

Sam drives the Impala at exactly the speed limit, eyes dried to the point of aching. Dean’s wrapped body is sprawled out in the back seat, and if Sam just glances in the rearview mirror he can almost pretend he’s just passed out. Just had one too many shots of Cuervo and conked out so his little brother can drive. Sure. Whatever gets you through the night. 

Dropping off the kids was easy. Traumatized kids don’t say much, don’t ask too many questions, and they’ll forget the shellshocked stranger that saved them soon enough. Either that or he will haunt their nightmares, but Sam can’t help that. He can’t help anyone at this point, covered in dirt and blood and exhausted. He drives out to the middle of the forest anyway, Kevin’s words on a loop in his head. 

“You have to be normal. Chuck can’t want to watch you at all. So just play into his game. Pretend to only care about Dean, get out of the life, settle down.”

Sam had frowned, Eileen instantly springing to his mind. Surely he can care about her, right? “But-” 

“No, Sam, I’m sorry. Dean told me to tell you that Eileen… it’s just too dangerous. He likes you two. He’s gotta hate your life so much he doesn’t want to see it. It’s gotta bore him.” 

So Sam burns his brother's body in a forest alone, with only Miracle for company. There’s a dagger in his chest that tells him he’s betraying everyone he cares about, including Dean. Dean wanted a big funeral. He wanted his whole family there, not just his brother and a dog. And Eileen. There are three unread texts and a missed video call from Eileen already. Apparently Kevin hadn’t visited her yet. To let her know. 

It doesn’t take Sam long to leave the bunker. It just feels like a punch to the gut at this point. That table over there, carved with their family’s names, that’s where he and Dean swore they’d be free. They swore they’d get everything they wanted and everything they deserved. And now Sam has one pillow on his bed and an empty bunker full of the possessions of dead people. 

He knows there is a plan. He knows that. And it should comfort him, but it doesn’t, because he still has to live his long, boring, lonely life without the woman he loves or the family he misses or the brother he mourns. Time on Earth is torturously slow. 

The small things make the ache in his heart just a little lighter. He finds a job he likes, teaching history and the classics to teenagers. He remembers his old English teacher, and he tries to be that to kids that need it, kids that remind him of Claire or Jack. He gets to see Jody and the girls once every few years, a risk that he knows is worth it because it keeps him going. He can’t see Eileen. It would hurt too much. They both agreed the one time they called. He keeps learning ASL anyway, and he tells the story of him and Eileen meeting (slightly modified) to the kids in his class. 

He finds a wife. It was one of the things he put off, but after three years he knows he has to get on with it or he’ll get depressed. He needs someone, even if she is boring and too-nice and entirely too gullible. She’s nice and he’s good to her, but he can’t love her because she’s not real. Not in the way that Eileen is. She might as well be a blurred out mother figure action doll, for all she knows. And he hates himself for marrying her, when she deserves someone who finds her boringness interesting, but he knows this is what Chuck expects. He expects Sam to marry a nice woman and have a kid named Dean and grow old always hurting for the old times. Oh, and Sam does. 

He’d rather be back in the pit with Lucifer than this domestic djinn dream, but he reminds himself every day that someday they’re going to get rid of Chuck and then he’ll be able to live. Dean too. Cas too. And Jack. Sam’s going to kill that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing he does, living or dead. And it looks like it’ll be dead.

His fiftieth birthday has come and gone when Kevin finally comes back. The lights in Sam’s classroom flicker and go out, and then Kevin is there, chest heaving. He runs to the chalkboard and picks up a piece of chalk, and Sam’s talking as he writes. 

“Kevin, how’s Dean? Any updates on what’s happening in heaven? Is Chu-Jack okay?”

Kevin turns around, irritated, until he sees the look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, listen, everything is… fine. We’re working on it. Look, the important thing is that you get these ingredients-” he points to the chalkboard, “and perform the spell. But listen, it’s gotta be next week. Friday. There’s a full moon, it’s… you gotta make it happen.” 

Sam’s eyes bulge. “Friday? Kevin, what the hell, a little notice would be nice! How am I supposed to get-” he looks past him to the hastily written ingredients. “These ingredients are insane! It’lll take me weeks just to fly around the fucking world to grab them!” 

Kevin throws his hands up, looking almost as stressed as Sam. “Listen, man, we’re doing our best up there! Time is fucked up and we’re trying to be sneaky and it is a lot of pressure!” he finally takes a deep breath, which seems to help. “I’m sorry, I know it’s too much to ask, but we have no choice. Call a witch friend for the ingredients, summon Rowena and let her in on the plan. It’s Friday or never.” 

He flickers out before Sam can even reply. Apparently the stress and talking like that took too much out of him. Sam’s left alone to say “Sorry,” to an empty classroom. He sits down heavily at his desk and runs a hand through his graying hair. 

He copies down the ingredients and the spell and it’s then that he knows he definitely needs help. Luckily, he knows who to call. 

The phone rings so long Sam thinks about hanging up, but he picks up just before he can. “Sam!” Max sounds winded, and the first thought that enters Sam’s head is not appropriate for the occasion. 

“Hey Max, you got a second? You’re not…” busy? Jesus, Sam is blushing.

Max laughs. “Nah, you’re good, man. What’s up?” 

God, to speak to someone who understands his life again. To really get to talk to them. “Uh, it’s kinda not the kind of thing to talk about over the phone. Can I drive to you?” 

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

“Hey, Rowena,” 

Sam’s natural state is apparently social awkwardness now. Dean would say that had always been true… No, not the time to get sidetracked with that sad shit. He shuffles his feet again and adjusts a candle, waiting for Rowena to appear. He’s fifty fucking years old. He’s fine.

“Hello, dearie.” 

Sam grins at her, but is once again met with the sad eyes Kevin always gives him. “Fuck, can everybody stop with the dead brother horrible life shit?” She doesn’t look taken aback, no that’s not Rowena. She looks more like a school principal that just got told off by an 8th grader, surprised and a little offended. Sam softens a little bit. “Sorry, I just- listen, I get it, okay? My life is fucked up and it’s all a lie to beat God, I know. Can we move past that and get back to the saving the world stuff?” 

A slow smile spreads across Rowena’s face, and she pats him on the cheek. “There she is. Hello, Samuel.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hi Rowena, how are you?” 

“Oh, just dandy. Tamped down a few ne’er-do-wells, not a problem. Being worshipped every day is hard work, but I manage, somehow.” 

“I’m sure. ‘Jack’ giving you any trouble?” 

She waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve barely seen the boy since he took over. Apparently he’s much more interested in watching his little short films in heaven than anything down below…” Sam’s got a question on his lips but she waves that away too. Too little time to explain the intricacies of eternal family drama that heaven is currently. “It doesn’t matter. I have free reign, which means I can pop in for our little soirees.” 

Sam nods, grateful that that’s true at least. He hands her the list of ingredients and the spell and watches as she studies it. “Problem?” 

“Hm. No, I can do that.” She looks up brightly at him. “I’m the greatest witch of all time, Samuel. I’m more worried about how you will accomplish it.” She looks down at his summoning ritual and bends down to correct a chalk mark with her finger. “You’re a wee bit rusty.” 

Sam scoffs. He’s missed this. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I called up my friend Max, Max Banes. He’s going to help me out.” 

“Max Banes? Hm.” For a second, Sam thought he saw something flash across Rowena’s face.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She shrugs it off. “I’ve heard of the witch, that’s all. He’ll be good help for you, I’m sure. Now, Samuel, if you’ll excuse me… Underworlds to run and all that.” She steps away, but Sam stops her before she can disappear again.

“Wait!” He hugs her tightly. She only resists for a moment before she returns the hug, a light tap on his shoulder. “Thank you, Rowena.” 

“Of course, Samuel. Until next time.” 

She’s gone with a puff of smoke and Sam is left hugging air.

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Tag list: @dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

[spookytsubaki]

Gifts

@babes-week prompt No.3 Gifts. And what better to write about than anniversary gifts?  enjoyyyy

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An anniversary to anyone is obviously a special occasion. The flowers, the loving little notes, and the occasional gift. Lydia Deetz found she thrived when planning such things. She had been working on her idea for quite some time now; where to go, what to say, and what she would get her beloved friend. She knew oftentimes, she was the one who was planning meticulously for whatever idea they had set up, but she knew he wouldn’t forget something as huge as this.

After all, who could forget their own anniversary?

She had been able to keep everything hidden for the majority of the week, most of the time just stuffing the supplies in her school bag- then eventually her closet. However, she was surprised he hadn’t tried to pester her at all this week about it. She knew very well by now that anytime a holiday (or anything involving exchanging gifts) was coming, he would try to figure it out, to check all the knooks and crannies of her room, sometimes the entire house. However this year, he seemed almost unbothered by the fact.

Nevertheless, tonight was the night. She had practically raced home from school, ignoring any snide comments Claire offered that day. As she arrived home, she was quick to cover any mirrors that could let him see what she was doing. She then took out all the supplies she had stockpiled over the week: a little black book filled with all sorts of poetry and incantions (More for the mood than anything), A dark cloth, small red candles, a box of candied beetles, and two rings. 

While she knew these things were nothing too special, she figured the little bands might mean something regarding their friendship. She had specifically had them engraved (costing her a good two month’s allowance) and now they laid in a velvety striped box, safe from any peeking eyes. 

She lit the candles, set the beetles directly across from her, and took a breath. She hoped he liked it. She knew it was silly to be this grand over something like this, but he was a showman, and she knew he was always one to be loud and proud of his trinkets. And maybe a bit of her hoped he would see the intention behind the rings. 

So with one last look around, she cleaned herself up and sat down. She was ready, box stuffed in her pocket, candles drawing a lovely silhouette, she summoned him. 

“Though I know I should be wary, still I venture someplace scary. 

Ghostly hauntings I turn loose,

 Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice.”

For most of the week the ghost with the most had noticed his younger friend acting rather strange. He couldn't place his finger on it, but she seemed to be hiding something. He had checked the calendar Lydia had gotten him to see if any special date was coming up. It wasn't Christmas, Halloween, or her birthday. He thought that maybe it was that time of the month for her, maybe that was why she was being strange. 

With a sigh he sat on the old couch in the road house waiting for her to call him, yet she was late to calling him. He checked the time once again and groaned, what was taking her so long? He had missed her all day due to her being at school also known as  hell for her- at least in his mind. The ghost tapped his foot on the ground as he placed his head in his hands. What was his friend up to? As soon as she got home she always called him. 

That's when he finally felt it through his body, she was saying the magic words finally! Once that final saying of his name came he appeared in her room a big grin on his face. “LYDIA!” He yelled happily before yanking her into a bone crushing hug. “Why ya so late on callin’ me?” He asked, looking at the tiny girl with curious eyes. “Ya never wait this long babes.” He continued, still holding her close, not even noticing the whole set up she had. His eyes only focused on her. 

Little did he know he had really messed up on forgetting today.

“So whatcha wanna do babes?” The ghost with the most asked as he let go of her and spun her around a big toothy grin on his face. He looked at her with almost loving eyes as he waited for her answer. 

She watched as the green light filled the room, giving her ghoul a grand entrance as usual. She was excited to see his reaction to everything when he finally took it all in. She should’ve known better than to expect him to just sit down so they could exchange their gifts. As she was tackled in a hug, soft laughs escaped her. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I had a lot to do! That’s all!” She explained a big grin on her face. She was sure he remembered. Why wouldn’t he? He was always so good about this stuff- considering it was probably one of the only things that kept him out of trouble. She sat back up, fixing her hair as she kept that chipper little smile on her face. When he asked what she wanted to do, however, she gave him a confused look. She thought she made it pretty clear with how everything was set up. Maybe he was just playing a game with her. 

“Well, I was thinking we could stay here and hang out, after a long day there’s nothing I’d rather do than hang out with you.” She quipped sincerely, fidgeting with the ring box in her pocket. She hoped he would get the idea of this gift. After this year, and certain events ensued, the tension of their relationship had thickened quite a bit.  That wasn’t to say they weren’t still thick as thieves, but every hand brush, every meaningful look, every scheme, one of them was always looking out for the other’s signals. 

He felt his dead heart melt at her words. That was his favorite thing to do with her anyways, just hang out. As he finally looked around he noticed the set up and looked a bit confused, an interesting way to hang out he thought. “What’s this for?” He asked his face still confused as he looked back at her. 

His eyes then landed on the black and white box she held, he tilted his head like a dog. “Fancy box, is it for me?” He asked with a small chuckle. Now he was curious as to what his lovely best friend had planned for him. Maybe there was something special going on today? His birthday? No, no couldn't be that. Maybe it was some mystical holiday she knew about and wanted to celebrate it. 

Whatever it was he was curious as to what if was.  

Lydia frowned slightly when her friend asked her what the set up was. Was he really continuing this game? She looked around at the ornate details she had included. She was fine with playing it this way, it just seemed a bit odd. “For ambiance.” She answered noncommittally with a shrug. 

She had mindlessly taken out the ring box in the process of her getting lost in thought. She stroked the velvet as if using almost for meditative purposes; that is, before she was drawn from her thoughts by his raspy voice. She looked at the box as he gestured to it, as if it had just been placed in her hand. 

“Uhm yeah..But why don’t we wait for a few..” she chuckled nervously, wanting to now back out of her plan. Who was she kidding? She was a child. Why would he like her? She shook away these thoughts. Now was her chance to give it to him, if only she could work up the nerves now. 

“Oh! I got you something else as well! That was the last one in store, apparently beetles are quite a popular sweet.” She teased, handing him the box. This should buy her a little more time to work up the nerves. Besides, if they kept beating around the bush, maybe she would get an easy break. 

“Beetles! You know me so well babes.” With almost delicate hands he took the box and opened it picking up one of the beetles. He plopped it in his mouth almost swallowing it whole as he did. “The beetles are great babes, but I’d really like to see what's in that.” He motioned once again to the velvet box.

With one quick movement he grabbed the velvet box his curiosity taking over him as he needed to see what was inside it. He floated above her as he observed the small box wondering what could be so important in it. What did it have to do with this day as well? He questioned. 

“Why did you wanna give this to me today? What’s so important anyway?” He asked his raspy voice, still curious as he looked down at her about ready to open the velvet box. 

Her grin returned as she thought she distracted him a little longer, and could have her way with time. Unfortunately, it appeared he had other plans and was not so easily distracted. “You’ll see it soon I swe-Hey!” 

With one swift movement, he had snatched the small box from her grasp. She jumped, trying to reach it, but alas, being that short held it’s disadvantages. “Give it back! Come on Beej! I’ll let you see it soon! I promise!” she tried to bargain as she continued her futile attempts at getting the box. 

When he asked her what was so important about today it hit her. He didn’t remember. He wasn’t playing dumb, he truly didn’t remember. Her heart sank as she stopped attempting to reach for the box. “You really don’t remember, do you?” she asked softly, sobering reality setting in. 

Slowly he floated down to her and handed her the box back, he noticed how sad her face went. What could he be forgetting that was so important to her? “Remember what?” He mutters looking at her feeling bad for how upset he made her. 

“Lyds just tell me what today is, I looked at the calendar nothin’ was planned.” He mutters with a sigh. “Ya know I mark everythin’ down since ya got it for me.” 

She shook her head, feeling her heart shatter. Was their relationship really that insignificant? She had put so much thought into it. And he forgot. She handed the box back to him and gave a pitiful chuckle. “Forget it.  Here’s your gift. Happy anniversary Beetlejuice.” She mumbled, brushing past him. How could he forget?

The rings sat in the box, untouched, and engraved in delicate silver letters was the phrase:

‘Till Death do us apart’

[deanieweaniewrites]

After The Deposit

Read on AO3 Here

Rated: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings

Pairing: Destiel

Tags: Meet-cute, Awkward Flirting, First Date, Twin Fic

Summary:  This is a twin fic that goes along with casbeanwrite's A Safe Deposit This is the same fic from Castiel's point of view, plus the aftermath and a sweet ending. Castiel is a nurse at a fertility clinic. Dean is a sperm donor for his friend Charlie and her wife. They flirt over a cup of Dean's semen and go on their first date.

Castiel was a hard worker throughout his whole life. Some would call him a workaholic, but what could he say? He liked his job. He worked in a fertility clinic as a nurse. There were ups and downs to his job, as there were with any career. He mostly saw couples, women trying to have children, and then there were the men coming in for fertility tests where they would have to make a deposit. Every once in a while, that part was awkward, but he always did his best to make sure everyone felt comfortable and like they weren’t being judged.

Today was different than the usual days. It was all normal until Mr. Green eyes and oh-so-sexy bowlegs walked in. He only felt slightly creepy when he immediately looked up this guy’s file for a name. Dean. He put on his professional face and tried to make Dean comfortable.

The last thing he expected was for Dean to flirt with him . He was surprised and a little embarrassed. This guy was either married or in a committed relationship, so that made this awkward and inappropriate. He brought the magazines Dean asked for and left when he asked, his cheeks flushed pink. He went back to his station to work on some paperwork. That was when his coworker, Balthazar, decided to bother him.

“Hey Cassie. Did you see the stud that just came in?”

“Yes, I did. I was the one who took him back.” Castiel tried to ignore him, but it was no use. Balthazar’s arm was on his shoulder and he was all up in his space.

“You gonna get his number?”

“He’s in a fertility clinic. I’m sure he’s in a very loving and committed relationship.”

Balthazar hummed. “Why don’t you find out what he’s in for?”

Castiel picked up Dean’s file and skimmed over it. Sure enough, he was a donor for someone named Dorothy. She had a patient file here too. Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, but he knew it was just part of the job. Dean said he flirted when he was nervous, so he wasn’t really interested in Castiel, he was just weirded out. Castiel ignored Balthazar while he waited for Dean to return.

When Dean did return, he found out that Dean wasn’t trying to get a wife or girlfriend pregnant, he was donating for his lesbian friends. Oh, that was sweet. Too sweet. Of course Dean was stupidly hot and a sweet guy. Getting his number had to be one of the greatest moments of his life.

When he arrived home that evening, he immediately started getting ready. He showered and shaved, leaving a thin layer of stubble. He startled when he turned and his daughter, Claire, was right there in the doorway after he got dressed.

“Do you have a date?”

Castiel smiled a bit. “Maybe.” He was so thankful for the relationship he had with Claire. It was rocky at first after her mother died, but things were better now. She was fifteen now and she had matured a lot over the past five years.

Claire beamed. “Really? Tell me about him or her. What are they like? Where did you meet them?”

Castiel smiled. “His name is Dean. I met him at work.”

“You didn’t tell me they hired someone new.”

“He doesn’t work there.”

“...You’re going a date with a patient?”

“Yes, but he’s single. He was there to donate for his friends, who are lesbians, so they can’t conceive on their own.”

Claire smiled. “That’s sweet. Is he cute?”

“Very.” Castiel finished tying his tie and gave Claire a gentle squeeze of the shoulder as he passed her.

A few hours later, Castiel found himself waiting at a table at a local restaurant. He tapped his foot anxiously as he waited for Dean. When he finally saw him across the restaurant, he couldn’t resist the urge to beam and stand up to make himself more visible.

He wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to hug Dean or just wave, so with his hand up, he stuck it out for Dean to shake, as if that wasn’t the most awkward thing he had ever done. He felt a slight rush of relief when Dean simply laughed and shook his hand.

“Relax, man. It’s just dinner.”

“Dinner with the man I flirted with over a cup of semen while I was at work.” Castiel sat back down in his seat. “I’ve never been here before.”

“You’ve never been to The Roadhouse? If you like burgers, you’re going to love this.” He sat down across from Castiel and placed his arms on the table, leaning forward with a flirty grin.

Castiel smiled softly. “I do love hamburgers.” His phone dinged and he blushed. “I’m sorry, I know it’s rude to text on a date, but I need to leave my phone on in case my daughter texts me.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Making sure your kid is okay is more important than stupid date etiquette.”

Castiel checked his phone, and sure enough, it was Claire.

Claire Novak

How’s it going? Is he there yet?

Castiel Novak

Great. He just got here. Are you okay?

Claire Novak

I’m fine. I’m just checking in on you. Have fun!

Castiel smiled at his phone and set it aside. “She was just asking if you were here yet.”

Dean nodded. “How old is she?”

“She just turned fifteen.”

“Big birthday. She get her driver’s permit?”

“Oh yeah, she did. I felt bad, because I started crying at the DMV and embarrassed her. She says it wasn’t actually that embarrassing, but it was embarrassing for me.” He blushed. Why was he admitting this on a date?

“That’s sweet. You sound like a really caring father.”

Castiel smiled. Damn, he was just as charming and nice as he was attractive. “Thank you. I try to be. She’s the light of my life. I do everything for her. It hasn’t exactly been easy for her, so she deserves everything I can give her now.” He would have stopped at ‘thank you’, but Dean seemed to be enjoying listening to him, which felt nice.

“How is it that you’re stupidly gorgeous and a great guy all in one?”

Castiel’s cheeks flushed. “You’re saying that about me? I was thinking the same about you. I’ve been thinking that ever since we got here. You’ve let me sit here and blab about my daughter and you’ve barely spoken.”

“Maybe it’s just because I love the sound of your voice. After all, thinking about it is what got me off today.” Dean put a hand over his face. “God, I really can’t control myself around you.”

Castiel laughed softly. “It is pretty entertaining.” He glanced up as the waitress that sat him approaching the table. She grinned at Dean.

“So you finally got a hot date? About time. You gettin’ your usual?”

Dean grinned up at the waitress. “Hell yeah I am. How’re you, Jo?”

“I’m good. Mom’s behind the bar tonight and Ash is bussing tables, as usual.” She looked over at Castiel. “If he gives you any trouble, you tell me and I’ll whoop his ass.”

Castiel smiled. “I’ll be sure to do that, thank you.”

Jo smiled back. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll just have a water and a cheeseburger with the usual toppings, thank you.”

Jo picked up their menus and left to go get their drinks.

Castiel looked back at Dean. “You must come here a lot.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve come here since I was a teenager. Jo and I went to highschool together. She’s a fireball. Her mom is too. Ash is a cool guy. He’s the one with the mullet. You’ll see him around.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ve talked a lot about my family, tell me about yours.”

“Well, not much to say. I don’t have a lot of family. There’s my little brother, Sammy. He lives out in Palo Alto, California. He’s a lawyer. He’s such a smart kid. He got a full ride to Stanford right out of highschool. His fiance, Jessica, she’s a sweetheart. They’re going to move out here at the end of the year. I miss them, so I’m looking forward to being able to see them more. I hate driving out there.”

“Why don’t you fly?”

“Hell no. I don’t do planes.” Dean shook his head. “I love driving, but 25 hours is rough. I usually stop overnight, so it takes two days to get there, three if I don’t leave at the asscrack of dawn.”

Castiel nodded. “I understand. Everyone has some irrational fear.” He smiled softly. “That’s really impressive that your brother went to Stanford.”

Dean beamed proudly. “I know, right. He’s a good kid, so smart.”

“You probably miss him.”

“Oh yeah, I miss him a lot. I can’t wait for him to move down here.” He smiled. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Claire.” He picked up his phone and showed his wallpaper, which was a picture of him and Claire. She had her hair long and braided on the side, which was her favorite style.

Dean smiled. “That’s a great picture. She looks like she loves you a lot.”

“She does.” Castiel set his phone back down. He was absolutely smitten as he talked to Dean. Conversation flowed with ease and was barely interrupted by the arrival of their food. They talked over their burgers and Castiel learned a lot about Dean. He was an auto mechanic, and had worked on cars since he was ten. He grew up all over the continental US, but he was born in right here in Lawrence, and he spent his high school years in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. They were still talking long after their meals were over, and soon it was getting late.

“I hate to cut us off, but I did promise Claire I’d be home before nine. I’m sure she would be fine, but I should still probably go.”

“Oh wow, it’s that late? Damn, yeah I’ll let you go.”

Castiel was going to just go home, but then he blurted something out. “Do you want to come over?”

Dean blinked in surprise. “I mean, yeah, I’d like that.”

Castiel was tense until he heard Dean’s answer. He wanted to spend more time with Dean. “You want to follow me there? It’s not far.”

“Sounds good.” Dean led the way out of the Roadhouse. They had already paid for their meals. He looked around. “Which car is yours?”

“The Lincoln, right over there.”

Dean nodded. “Alright. See you there.” He smiled.

Castiel smiled back and nodded. “See you there.” He got into his car and made sure Dean was behind him before he started driving. His house was a cute townhouse near the center of town. He had a flower garden out front and a vegetable garden in the back. He parked in his garage and got out of his car. He looked back at Dean’s car and walked to the driver’s side door. When Dean rolled down the window, he leaned in slightly.

“Mind if I go in first to let Claire know you’re here?”

“Not at all.” Dean chewed his lip as Castiel started to leave. “Wait-“

“Hm?” Castiel turned back and found Dean’s face way closer than before. His eyes flicked down to his lips and he swallowed. A few seconds later, Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a quick kiss. Castiel kissed back and pulled away with a grin. “I’ll be back.” He was practically giddy as he walked up to the door and let himself in. Within seconds, Claire was bounding down the stairs.

“Tell me everything! What’s he like? What did you do? Was he nice? Did you tell him about me?”

Castiel smiled. “Slow down, it’s actually not over yet. He’s in the driveway and-“

“Can I meet him?”

“Sure. I just wanted to let you know that he was here before letting him inside. I didn’t want to startle you. Have you done your homework yet?”

“No, but-“

“You can meet Dean, but then you’re going to finish your homework. It’s late.”

Claire nodded. “Okay.”

Castiel stepped back outside and waved for Dean to come inside.

Dean walked up the sidewalk. “I like the garden.”

“Thank you.” Castiel let Dean inside. “Dean, this is my daughter, Claire. Claire, this is Dean.”

Claire waved. “Hey, Dean. Thanks for taking my dad out. He needed that. It’s been forever since he’s dated.”

Dean chuckled softly. “No problem. In fairness, I only gave him my number. He asked me out.”

Claire smiled. “He likes you, then. Good to meet you, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you too, Claire.” Dean watched as she went upstairs and then turned to Castiel. “She’s sweet.”

“She is.” He hummed. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Dean followed Castiel to the living room and sat down next to him on the couch, taking his shoes off once Castiel did.

Castiel turned the TV on before looking at Dean. “Kiss me again.” He was surprised at his own forwardness, but he needed to feel Dean’s lips again.

Dean had a wide grin. “Another chance to kiss you like I mean it? Hell, I’ll take it.” He ran his thumb over Castiel’s jaw before leaning in for another kiss.

Castiel’s head spun and his world suddenly became very small. All he saw was himself and Dean, right here. All of his worries were gone. Everything with Dean felt so right. He had known this guy for eight hours and he was so head-over-heels. Hands drifted and nothing was rushed. A couch make-out session moved up to Castiel’s bedroom and became something more. Castiel fell asleep that night with his head on Dean’s chest, arm thrown over him.

The following morning, Castiel’s alarm went off and he turned it off, sitting up with a yawn. He looked over and his heart fell when the bed was empty. Did Dean already leave? He put his worries on pause when he heard Claire laughing downstairs. He quickly threw some clothes on and walked downstairs. He was met with a delicious smell of bacon and eggs. He saw Dean in the kitchen cooking and Claire sitting on the island with a piece of bacon in her mouth. Castiel smiled and walked up to Dean. “Good morning.”

“Morning. Hope you don’t mind me making breakfast.”

“Not at all. I can’t cook.”

“He set spaghetti on fire once.” Claire hummed.

Dean laughed. “That’s amazing.” He put the bacon and eggs on plates and set them on the table. When Claire’s back was turned, he snuck a kiss to Castiel’s cheek.

Castiel had no idea that morning how deep his love ran for Dean. That first date became one of many. Dean came over all the time to cook dinner, and they exchanged texts almost constantly. Dean constantly made jokes about how they met.

Dean Winchester

To this day, I still think about the time you held my semen in a cup and accepted my number

Castiel Novak

That was disgusting

Dean Winchester

Hey, you’ve seen me come a bunch of times now ;)

Castiel Novak

I’m at work

Dean Winchester

Oh, was that winky face too “provocative”?

Castiel Novak

No, the part where you referenced our sexual relations was inappropriate

Dean Winchester

Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Hey, meet me at the overlook today.

Castiel Novak

The one at the lake?

Dean Winchester

Yeah, that one. Great place to celebrate a six month anniversary, right?

Castiel Novak

It’s perfect. I’ll see you there. Love you

Dean Winchester

Love you too

That evening, Castiel walked the trail to the overlook. When he arrived, he found a blanket laid out and a basket full of food and wine. It was perfect. He watched the sun set over the lake, colors dissipating from the sky. When he stood up, he turned around to find Dean down on one knee with a little box in his hands.

After a year of marriage, Castiel walked into the fertility clinic for the first time without scrubs, because he wasn’t here for work today. Today, he and Dean were here for children of their own.

[audramh]

All Along

/ one-shot AU of Sam and Cait /

Inspired by a recent post on how different things could have -- and should have -- been, if Outlander had been everyone’s focus and there was no narrative.

She was awake, and she was cold.  The flat was quiet, save her husband’s rhythmic breathing. He slept under both sheet and duvet, leaving her very little of either.  How very few people on this earth knew he was a cover hog, she thought, and yet those same people would be quick to call it endearing. She rolled her eyes and glanced at the alarm on her side of the bed:  12:47am. She should be asleep too.  Their driver would be here in less than seven hours. There would be time spent in wardrobe and hair, and she dreaded the extra concealer that awaited her if she showed up with dark circles. Still, here she lay, more pensive than sleepy. Might as well try a change of scenery. She grabbed her phone for company.

She slipped out of bed and quietly padded to the kitchen. Maybe just a quick dram of the whisky samples they’d been trying out. She opened the highest cupboard where they were stored, well out of a curious toddler’s reach. There were eight glass decanters, all devoid of labels. They were simply marked A through H to remove any preconceived notions of depth and flavor as they sampled and compared characteristics, whittling them down to what would become the Great Glen signature flavor profile. She’d enjoyed a smooth one she’d tried the other day, but which was it?  A? C? The low level of bottle G was all she needed as proof that one was heavy on peat smoke. His favorite. Compromising, she chose bottle B and poured.

She sat down at the table, sipped her whisky, pulled up Instagram, and scrolled back several years. Perhaps comforting memories would lull her back to sleep. A photo from their chemistry test, all the way back in 2013. It was this very post that piqued fans’ curiosity and led to the season 3 DVD extra. She was giddily nervous, he was sweating profusely. “That was YOUR fault”, he told her much later. It had hit him as soon as she walked in and shook his hand: he’d spent 34 years as half of the whole he never knew he could be. She took longer to get there, not wanting to succumb to such a cliché as falling in love with one’s costar, but it was pointless. Giving into it had lent authenticity not only to her life but to her character as well. By the time she delivered the line “This isn’t usual” on camera, she had long since meant it. She scrolled to the photo of them taken that day, on a tartan atop a mountain, on his birthday. That was the day he said “I love you” for the first time:  his present to himself was to know that he’d told her.

A photo of their hands, her engagement ring prominently featured. She’d captioned it simply: “Yes.” Nearly 10K comments on that post. Congratulations and best wishes from family, friends, fans, cast and crew, network executives. They hadn’t known what to expect, but an outpouring like this was beyond their imagination.  A photo from PaleyFest 2015, where Ron Moore had to rein in Kristin Dos Santos’ excitement to get her to focus back on the show itself. Their wedding photo, minus the kilt so many Outlander fans had expected to see. Their misplaced shock and furor was short-lived, thankfully. After all, it wasn’t Jamie and Claire’s wedding day;  it was theirs.  

The photo of Eddie, asleep, next to a pair of baby booties. The caption was all her husband’s idea:  to be honest by telling fans the Droughtlander between seasons 2 and 3 would be slightly longer than anticipated, asking for patience as they worked on “a very important personal project together”, and promising to share updates now and then. She had to admit: it was inspired. She scrolled to the photo she’d taken looking down at her growing bump, which was also helping to support a cup of tea. A photo of their newborn daughter’s feet. A nursing photo taken by her husband (she was no shrinking violet where functions of the human body were concerned, and besides:  his protective instincts ensured it was tastefully done.)

Either the memories or the whisky kicked in, and she knew sleep would come. She put her empty glass in the sink, closed out Instagram, and quietly retraced her steps. Through the living room, past their gleaming awards:  an Emmy for each (his for season 1, hers for season 2), and a Golden Globe (also his, for season 1.) Beaming with pride, she returned to bed. He didn’t wake, but instinctively curled toward her in sleep, enveloping her with his body. Luckily, she was able to get enough of the sheet and duvet to combat his ice-cold feet. God Almighty. He might well look like Jamie Fraser, but his cold feet always gave him away. A minute later, she felt the rhythm of her breathing match his and drifted off.

She was in Albrecht’s office being lectured, along with her husband, about jeopardizing his investment. The show. The largely female fanbase. She couldn’t wrap her head around what he was saying:  he’s upset that we fell in love for real? Other executives chimed in, two corporate attorneys produced a drafted deal to quash their relationship. Publicly, at least. Legally it was binding, so they had no power to undo it. But God, this felt crazy. She looked at her husband, saw his strong chin quiver, and tried to steady him by rubbing his back before the strain got the better of her and she leaned forward to shield her face with her hands. Shock. Her face was going numb. This is shock. Breathe. Try to breathe. Stern voices gave way to yelling. The air in the room was suffocating with coercion.  Now she was being interviewed. She heard herself saying they were “not together”. She was saying it on camera! She was denying their marriage! Avoiding eye contact at all costs. Trying to hold herself in check. Now another sound bite:  she was calling the show’s fans “horny grannies”. Why was she doing this?! And Captain Kirk was shaming and attacking their fans on Twitter? This made no sense. They’d never even met him. Now she was on the red carpet with… her assistant, Tony? She looked down and saw not HER engagement ring, but a thoughtless substitute. And no wedding band at all. Where was her husband? She scanned up ahead until she found him, standing a little too close to a blonde. They seemed to move together in a pair. Ill-matched, to be sure, and he wasn’t being overly attentive, but nonetheless a pair they seemed to be. He didn’t make eye contact with his wife. She couldn’t even be sure he knew she was there. And now she saw herself in frilly, frumpy, shapeless clothes. She could see she was trying to hide her pregnancy. Why? Why would she do this? She loved being pregnant. Had they forced her to do this? To feel shame at growing a life inside her? What followed were flashes of hiding from public view when together. Secrecy. Never wearing their wedding bands. Never holding hands. Never standing too close at work events. Reining in their famously open-mouthed kisses on camera for good measure. Hiding. Pretending. Hurting. Lying.

She bolted awake with a loud gasp, which woke her husband. “OH my God”, she burst out. His hand went to her bare shoulder, then to her cheek and forehead. “You’re in a cold sweat, love. What have you dreamt?” She propped herself up, got her breathing under control, accepted his hand when he offered it, and answered:  “It was all a lie. All of it.” Even in the darkness, she saw him briskly shake his head in an effort to understand. “What? What was a lie?” She remembered it vividly enough to tell him that she dreamt they’d been forced to hide it all. Their relationship. Their marriage. Their life. Their love. He was becoming more awake as she explained, and confusion had given way to comfort. “Babe, come here.” He pulled her to him, smoothed her hair away from her sweaty hairline, and told her the truth she knew but still needed to hear:  “Shhh. It’s alright. We’re at home. Our home. You’re wearing your wedding ring, and so am I.  Same as ever. We’ve been public all along. Everyone knows." She’d relaxed into his words, spoken comfortingly in a near-whisper, and allowed them to sink in.  “You’re right. I know you’re right.” She exhaled deeply. “One thing:  stay away from blondes, you hear me?” She sank into the shape of his body as he curled around her once more. “Blondes have never been my type and you know it.” He smiled and kissed her earlobe. “Go back to sleep, love.”

The next thing she knew, it was daylight. Their daughter leapt onto the bed, forcing space between them and plopping on her back. The airy duvet made a slight whoosh in response, and she placed her tiny hand on top of her Da’s open palm. He snapped his fist around hers like a Venus fly trap: their unspoken language that her tall, strong Da would always make her feel safe and give her his protection.  She rewarded him with a high-pitched squeal as she always did. The three of them lay together for a bit. Da’s eyes had gone shut again, but his large hand hadn’t let up around their toddler’s. Their beautiful, blue-eyed girl with morning-mussed hair. Everything about this version of their life felt real again as she rolled toward the center of the bed and smoothed her daughter’s hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead.  

“Mam?”

That lovely word sounded like a single-syllable symphony to her ear.  “Yes, my darling?”

“Brudder pooped.”

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 70

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

MANY THANKS to all who have been with this story from the get go or who have just discovered it.  This is where we are at the moment.

James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp have been successful in bringing to justice several of the Rising Dragons’ inner circle.  The elusive leader of the triad, Sun Yee Lok has still not been captured, but he is aware that Claire may be connected to these deaths.  Hence, the mission is getting more dangerous for her as suspicions about her rise.

Jamie, therefore, must be super vigilant to keep his Sassenach out of peril while at the same time dismantling the triad person by person.  However, sometimes things arise that railroad their plans. Nevertheless, they have each other and that is all that matters in the end, for there is nothing that Jamie won’t do to keep Claire safe.

 And so, the story continues…

SYNOPSIS:  Claire is a little jealous of the woman Jamie met in the park until he explains just who she was. When she returns to the OCTB in the morning, all discussion is about the car bombing, but Inspector Jiang Ng deflects any responsibility away from the Rising Dragons’ involvement in the incident.

  CHAPTER 70

Jamie watched his Claire with some concern in his eyes.  It was difficult to know what she was thinking when she’d handed him the orange juice.  He was aware that she seemed a little distracted as if lost in her thoughts as to what had just happened, and had retreated into herself to try and reconcile her feelings.  However, when he noticed how preoccupied she seemed to be, he also put Karen Yee, her boyfriend Andrew Ma, and the incidents that had just taken place out of his mind.  His thoughts, however, were centred on his Sassenach.

Had it just dawned on her that they were alone in the park?  Was it something else?  

Or was she thinking about last night? To his mind’s eye Claire Beauchamp was the most beautiful human being he had ever met. The hardest thing he had done was to leave her alone in the wee hours of the morning, however, leaving the note had been a spur of the moment decision. It was not something that he would normally have done and perhaps it revealed more than he should have about his feelings for her. He was not a romantic and didn’t want to give Claire the wrong impression but she seemed to bring out this side of him. Perhaps he should have just said “Be back later,” but that was too abrupt, especially after what they had shared last night. His message warranted more than that, Claire deserved more than that. In reflection, he was glad that he’d said what he did. Last night had been sensational. Their encounters in the kitchen and again in the bedroom had been a turning point. He didn’t want to leave his Sassenach but if he hadn’t, they would have made love again and again. There was also a touch of sadness mixed with the euphoria he felt, for he knew at some stage they would have to pull back. When that would be, he couldn’t say ... but their relationship would be under too much scrutiny back at Section One unless they were able to find a way. He was still wary that things would change when they both returned to Section, but in the meantime, they would take what they could get. However, despite the machinations of their superiors, he would find a way for them to be together. It had not been easy for his Claire. This mission thus far had many twists and turns that had placed her in jeopardy on several occasions. She was not out of the woods yet as danger lurked in the most innocent of places. Had she seen the disquiet he’d felt for her being around the two people who had just left? He didn’t trust them but was thankful that they would not be around until the weekend, and if not for Jonathon Randall’s birthday next Saturday, he would have dealt with them personally this week. He was concerned about her neighbour and now that he had met Karen’s boyfriend, he knew that they were planning something. Most likely they were planning a kidnapping plot. The couple had acted suspiciously and then there was the man who Claire said had bumped into her. Hopefully his warning about them would make her more vigilant around them as well as at the OCTB.  However, adding up all the elements of the equation, he didn’t like the answer he was getting. Section had ordered him to check a lead in Shanghai and he’d reluctantly left Claire to sleep a little longer without waking her.  He’d hurried back to Hong Kong for his rendezvous with his informant Fiona Graham in the park as well as to meet up with Claire. He’d hoped that she could provide some Intel on Inspector Ng, but providing him with a disk was indeed a bonus for Section One. It was much more than he’d expected and could provide Intel that led to the whereabouts of Sun Yee Lok. Perhaps it would also shed some light on who Karen really was and more importantly about Inspector Jiang Ng’s alliance with the Rising Dragons triad. Although he’d found out certain things at Section that he needed to know about him, there were still too many other loose ends still dangling about Inspector Ng’s dealings with the triad. The disk might give him the answers. The woman he’d met who Claire was unaware of, had been working as a double agent for Section One and also as an informant for the OCTB for several years. Fiona had been worried that she was being watched and had been nervous about their meeting. The Intel she’d given him in the park was indeed contentious and would implicate Inspector Jiang Ng and link him to the Rising Dragons. Hence in retrospect, because of what had happened to her, Fiona had had every good reason to be uneasy. Her untimely death in the explosion meant that she must have been getting too close to ousting the Inspector as a traitor.

His rendezvous with his informant had unfortunately ended in tragedy. Fiona had been worried that she may have been compromised and the explosion was proof that her fears were warranted.  Nevertheless, she had provided Section One with invaluable Intel but her death was the price you paid when dangerous men became ruthless. He worried that this could have implications for Claire’s safety and her role at the OCTB. The Inspector was an astute man and should he find out about his Sassenach ... this would place her in danger. All the more reason he was glad he was back in Hong Kong to keep an eye on her. Things could become volatile if and when Inspector Ng was backed into a corner. The sooner he was brought into Section One the better. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire’s voice broke into his thoughts and shook Jamie from his reverie. “Who was that woman you were talking to earlier Jamie?”

He saw her hesitation at asking but replied candidly. “I wondered when ye would ask Sassenach.”

“Hmm ... so I gather you saw me following you.”

“Aye,” he stated looking at her with a wry grin on his face. Jamie then glanced away before Claire could see the mirth of his teasing. She should have known that he missed nothing where she was concerned. He had known she was there from the first instance as he had observed her with Karen. Unbeknownst to her he had kept them under surveillance for most of their jog through the park. A little miffed at his answer Claire probed further a little green-eyed with curiosity and persisted with her questioning, “Well? ... Who was she?” Jamie didn’t answer, for his thoughts again turned to their meeting.

The talk with Fiona had been helpful.  He knew however, that she was concerned about her cover and had tried to appease her that he would help.  He’d found out information that he needed to know about Inspector Jiang Ng, but there were still too many loose ends about the man still dangling. Perhaps when Fergus analysed the disk that Fiona had given him then Section would know a lot more about the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau leader. 

Moving towards him, Claire grabbed his arm. Jamie turned around to her as she persisted in her questioning. Her voice had an edge to it as she tied to disguise her suppressed jealousy.

“Was she a source?” 

“Aye, she was. She was someone who happened to have dealings with the OCTB,” he finally admitted quite delighted that his Claire was a little bit jealous of his meeting with Fiona. “Section too?” “Aye.” Claire nodded, but Jamie was minimalist in his replies. Prying for more information than he was willing to give she broached a more sensitive area that may prove upsetting if this woman meant more to Jamie than he was letting on.

“A friend or …?”

“Why?” he replied knowing that Claire would not rest until she found out who she was. She bowed her head so that Jamie could not see that she was unsure how he would answer her question. “Just curious I guess.” “She was a contact.” Claire gave him a blank stare then nodded again while more questions spun around in her head. “There was an explosion.” “I ken.” “The girl in the car, did she mean something?” He understood the veiled interest that underlined her question. Claire was jealous and this thrilled him in a way he never thought it would. “No...” “Oh, ... I see. You seemed very friendly with her though.” “There was nothing more.” “You’re sure about that?” She inquired wanting to know the real relationship between Jamie and the beautiful woman. She’d seen the affection between them and although she tried to disguise it, Claire was eaten away with the green-eyed monster.   Jamie clasped her hand and lazily ran his thumb over her Mound of Venus. “She was an operative Sassenach ... her name was Fiona Graham.” Blue eyes, met blue eyes as he continued to caress her hand.  “You could have let me know she was a Section informant.” “This is an important mission Claire. It’s about protecting you and finding Sun Yee Lok. It’s nae about personal relationships. I dinna let personal considerations interfere with my work.” Claire felt a little downhearted by the thoughts that tried to rationalise Jamie’s words. “It’s nae about personal relationships.”

Although she listened to what he was saying, his words did not ring true with the James Fraser she knew ... the one who had been there for her every step of the way on this and other missions. The one who had moved heaven and earth for her many times over.  The man who had always been her confidant, her lover, her rock.  He had gone against Section on many occasions if he thought she was in jeopardy but had still come through for Section One, so why would he say such a thing? But she was glad that he had, for everything between them was personal.

Obviously, Jamie too felt something for her but had his feelings overwhelmed him and caught him off guard?  He’d shown her in so many ways that he loved her but was he not yet ready to say that more openly.  Did it really matter in the long run, because in her heart of hearts, she knew James Fraser loved her?  However, what he had said was a lie, for he had let his personal considerations interfere ... but only for her benefit. Clearly other women really didn’t count. His answers only clarified his feelings and she should have realised this, but her emotions were going haywire.  

She felt terrible and such a shrew because she sounded so jealous about Fiona Graham ... it was most unlike her to place restrictions on anyone let alone Jamie. ... He wasn’t her property ... he owed her no answers except the ones he wanted to give. She felt terrible that the green-eyed monster had reared its ugly head. She should have known better.

Feeling a little chastened and a tad ungrateful especially after all Jamie had done for her to protect her on this mission, Claire was apologetic in her demeanour towards him next.

“I’m so sorry Jamie.  I was jealous when I saw you kiss her.”

“Nae apologies necessary Sassenach.  ‘Tis naught between us ye ken,” he replied with a little smirk bowing his lips. “But with you … ’tis different Claire.  I ken you know this.”

Lowering her gaze and smiling, Claire was suitably chastised, but she was also deliriously happy with Jamie’s honest reply.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Changing the subject, she finally probed for more clarification about the bombing. “Who was the hitter then?” 

“Could be anyone Claire,” he replied succinctly but still pleased with the smile that had crossed her face in reference to Fiona.

“Someone from the Rising Dragons’ triad?” “Most probably ... but it could also be an individual.” “It’s obviously someone good enough to take out your source with a sophisticated car bomb.” “Aye ‘tis.” “Do you have any idea who it might be Jamie?” “Not yet, although I suspect it could be Inspector Ng or a contact of his.” His answer was not totally unexpected given his association with the Rising Dragons, but Jamie’s reply made Claire a little anxious as to what they had spoken about. “Why? What did she tell you?” “She confirmed our suspicions about the Inspector and gave me a disk.” “Can we trust her Intel?” “Aye we can. I’ll look at the disk before I give it to Fergus. If there's anything useful on it, it could affect how we're going to proceed.” “What if the disk is encrypted?” “If there’s something I can’t decipher, he’ll let us know and funnel it through to me.” Suddenly Claire was a little worried and this registered in her voice was she spoke. “Do you think it will affect my mission at the OCTB?”

“Maybe ... especially if it concerns Inspector Ng.”  Turning to her Jamie then quietly replied, “Keep alert and monitor his actions Sassenach. This is how it has to be handled for the time being.”

“I understand.” “Everything will proceed as planned. We’ll follow the mission parameters already laid out. You’ll attend the nightclub on Saturday night, and if Inspector Ng is in attendance, we’ll bring him in to Section as well.” “Okay.”

The following morning at the OCTB …

On returning to work at the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau the next morning, Claire’s colleagues greeted her with the buzz about the car bombing in Victoria Park. 

“Did you hear the news?” Ian Murray inquired enthusiastically when he saw her come into the room. “What news?” “The car bombing ... You couldn’t have missed it Claire. It was all over the evening news and the newspapers this morning.” “Oh, I thought you meant something else,” she evaded putting her things away in her locker. “I do know about it ... I was in the park when it happened.” “No? ... Really? Did you see anything?” Ian gushed rapidly at her. “No.” Interjecting, John So amusedly stated the obvious. “Well ... I won’t bother asking how your long weekend was then Claire.” “Quiet ... that is, until I went jogging in the park yesterday,” she replied back in jest.

He laughed. “Well it certainly looks as if this week is going to be busy. All personnel in our department have been summoned to a briefing in Inspector’s Ng’s office.” 

“Come on we better get there ASAP ... you know what the Inspector is like if anyone is late,” Ian called out from the door. John and Claire exchanged a look at Ian Murray’s enthusiasm, then collecting the things they needed for the briefing from their desks, they followed him out the door. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* John, Ian and Claire entered Inspector Ng’s office and they all sat together near the front of the room. A large interactive white board was already set up in the room for the briefing, and they didn’t have to wait too long before he made an appearance. Glancing around at those gathered Inspector Ng, rested his eyes on Claire Beauchamp a moment longer than the others before beginning. Activating the newest technology at the OCTB, a picture of Victoria Park appeared then with the click of a switch, the image changed to show the car park located on the outer area of the park. Looking around at those gathered Inspector Ng began looking at the screen and pointing out the scene of the crime. “As you are aware there was an explosion in Victoria Park yesterday here in the car park.” Then turning to look at those assembled he stated, “There was one fatality.” “Do we know who the victim was sir?” “Unfortunately the deceased was unrecognizable. Forensics has informed me that their investigations will take some time in order to identify the body. However, from eye witness accounts the dead person was a woman ... Caucasian ... about five feet four inches tall and aged in her thirties.” “Do we have any leads Inspector as to the bomber?” John So enquired inquisitive to what information the OCTB already had. “Several eyewitnesses have given statements but this was no ordinary murder.” Ian voiced the question that other officers were wondering about. “Why’s that Inspector?” “It has the typical signature of a triad execution.” “What about the Rising Dragons? Could it be them?” Claire asked, knowing what the Inspector would say. He briefly glanced at her before stating, “No. It’s not their way of dealing with their enemies.” “Red Lanterns?” “No ... it’s not them either John.” “Which one then?” “Car bombings are the signature of the Black Panthers. They are ruthless and like to leave very little in the way of clues to their crimes. This is particularly so with kidnapping incidents.” “Samuel Li is back in Hong Kong ... perhaps this was a kidnapping gone wrong?” Ian Murray suggested as a possible motive.

“Possibly, but that is conjecture at the moment.”

Claire observed the interaction between the Inspector and the detectives gathered at the briefing and watched as he weaved a plausible scenario for placing blame. 

He was good ... very good, but the charade that Inspector Jiang Ng was playing amused her. She knew that the woman murdered had obvious ties to him and that he was playing the game of cat and mouse in the blame game. The stalling of Forensics would certainly help him diffuse any attention away from himself and onto Samuel Li or a rival triad group. From the Intel Section had on Inspector Ng, it was known that he was ruthless enough to frame someone else for the crime. He was trying to create the perfect alibi by implicating others for if the powers that be found out about his association with the Rising Dragons ... then he would be doomed. She would need to keep an eye on Inspector Ng, keep her ear to the ground and watch her back as well as Jamie had instructed. “Do we have any leads?” John So asked wondering where they could start to piece together clues as to the how, why and who may be responsible. “Not as yet ... by the time officers arrived at the park any perpetrator would have been long gone.” “I was in the park with my neighbour yesterday,” Claire announced unexpectedly shocking those gathered except for her colleagues. Inspector Jiang Ng gave her a penetrating look. “Did you see anything or anyone suspicious?” “No sir ... I just heard the explosion.” “Did you happen to see the woman victim in the park at all Claire? It would certainly help with our enquiries if you can remember something.” “No sir ... I was looking around the flea market. There were several women of that description there, but I really can’t shed any light on who she was.” “That’s a pity. If you do happen to remember something, it could make a big difference.” “Yes sir.” “Are there any clues to go on Inspector?” “It’s sheer speculation at the moment Ian, but a cell phone found in some bushes near the scene may have been used to detonate the device.” “Anything else?” “One witness said that a woman fitting the deceased’s description was seen talking to a man in the park but he had walked away before the bomb went off.” “Were they able to give a description of the mystery man?” Claire asked somewhat nervous to his answer in case Jamie may have been compromised too. “Unfortunately, she was very vague on any specific details, only that he was wearing dark glasses.” Summarising what Intel they had, Claire stated, “So it will be difficult to even know if he was Chinese or any other nationality then?” “Regrettably ... yes.” “What do you need us to do Inspector?” one of the operatives asked. “I expect all teams to focus on the Black Panthers triad. I want to know the exact movements of all their principal players but particularly Samuel Li. I need you to set up surveillance and report back about anyone who he meets during this week.” Looking for confirmation from John So and Claire, Ian Murray volunteered, “We can do that Inspector.” “I also need someone to trace all of Samuel Li’s landline and cell phone calls to see if he has had communication with any known cohorts who could have carried out this crime.” “We’re on it already sir.” “I also want to know if this mystery man is in any way connected with the Black Panthers.” “That might be impossible given what we have to go on Inspector.” “Give it your best shot.” “I’m sure we can cover that also sir,” John replied on behalf of his team. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Inspector Jiang Ng surreptitiously surveyed the officers in his office and he noticed the buzz that a new investigation caused. There was much chatter amongst members of the OCTB and he was most pleased. But more importantly he had done enough. He’d managed to focus the attention of the car bomber away from any possible connection with him and the Rising Dragons and placed it solely on the Black Panthers and Samuel Li. When the time came, he would make a watertight case against Li that would hold up in court. If by chance anything was found to implicate him or the Rising Dragons, he would be able to eradicate the information before it was taken further. All things were possible when you ran the department including exonerating him from any blame and the triad as well. He’d be in the clear and his position at the OCTB would be intact. Smugly he decided to play his trump card. “Good ... I want no stone unturned in this investigation. The people of Hong Kong need to know that it is safe for parents to take their children to Victoria Park to play... It is important too that all the people who enjoy the tranquillity that a park offers its citizens can do so in peace and harmony.” “We need to protect the innocent children and the future; we need to protect them both,” Claire elucidated philosophically well aware of Inspector Ng’s side stepping. “We can’t let the criminals gain an upper hand can we now sir?” His gaze rested on her for a moment longer than necessary wondering if she had called his bluff. “Certainly not Claire!” “Hear! Hear!” was the collective reply from those gathered. “No one is untouchable including a lot of senior triad office-bearers. That’s why it is imperative that we bring the perpetrators of this crime to justice,” he answered wondering if Claire’s cryptic question was alluding to him. Suddenly he felt a little nervous. Claire merely looked at him with a replica of Jamie’s patent blank stare. Yes, she thought ... no one is untouchable ... especially you Inspector Ng. Your time of reckoning will come and you will get your just deserts for ruthless men eventually make mistakes and have to suffer the consequences of their actions. When that happened Madeline would be waiting in the White Room for his imminent presence. Clearing his throat Inspector Ng confidently looked around at all those gathered before adding, “I am proud of all your efforts everyone ... men and women alike. The OCTB is the most professional and efficient police agency I've ever dealt with. That will be all.” A unanimous and sustained clapping ensured at his final statement as the detectives left to begin their investigations. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* When everyone had left the room Inspector Jiang Ng remained behind and pondered Claire Beauchamp’s probing looks, questions and answers. This was a woman who was a chameleon. Sun Yee Lok had asked him to tell him all he knew about her. At the time, the picture was sketchy. Perhaps now he was just really getting to know her. He would guarantee that Claire Beauchamp knew more than she let on and more than she should. Not only would he need to watch his step around her, but he would be keeping a very close eye on Claire’s movements too. Perhaps it was time to step up his surveillance of her. Whilst she was at the OCTB he would be able to monitor her movements and Karen was in place to keep an eye on her at home and at the nightclub on Saturday but maybe there should be more. He would wait and see what transpired this week before making his final decision. What he did come to realise however, was at some time in the future if not before, Claire Beauchamp was a marked woman.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

[twdeadfanfic]

Don’t look back Pt.1/3

*Summary:  Daryl is used to his brother coming and going out of his life, leaving him alone, since he was a kid. He’s used to Merle meaning trouble too, and to be dragged into all his messes as Daryl loyally follows his brother. But this time Merle’s mess has reached top and has affected more people than the brothers, and Daryl finds himself wanting to step in and fix it, as once again he’s left alone by his brother. Inspired by me wondering how Daryl felt about having always done as Merle says and yet being always left alone, and especially by wondering how is Daryl so good with kids, handling baby Judith so good, like a pro since day one.

*Tags/Warnings: There’s cute stuff here, but the main tag is Angst.  Daryl’s pov, there’s an OC (well…two…), but still, this is mostly a Daryl Dixon fic. Once again, this gets pretty angsty, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Angsty week has started! I’ll post all three chapters this week cos my birthday is coming this saturday. This is very diferent to what I usually write, I’m so excited and nervous...

Also, I’ve been reblogging some pictures of Norman Reedus that I’ve called “young Daryl” and some gifsets that I think kind of have a bit of the vibe of this mini-series. If you want to check it, this is the tag Don’t look back.

Link to my masterlist with my other works can be found on the description of this blog. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but tumblr doesn’t show posts with links in the tags.

----

It’s still early in the day when Daryl comes back from hunting, a handful of squirrels and a rabbit inside his bag. He has been out in the woods hunting since before the sun went up, didn’t have anything better to do. He heads back home to get his kills ready, not sure of what to do with himself.

Merle is gone again, and by now Daryl should be used to it, Merle has always been coming and going from his life, due to him whether leaving to who-knows-where or why, or to him ending up first in juvie when they were kids, then in jail when they grew up. But this time he had been home for a long, long while and now Daryl finds he can’t remember what he used to do back when Merle wasn’t there.  

He is just too used to follow Merle everywhere, doing whatever shit he had in mind for the day, just like always, just like Daryl began to do when he was a kid without nobody else and Merle was around long enough, until he inevitable was left alone on his own again. And in those lonely times, Daryl still doesn’t know what to do with himself. He likes it, though, the solitude, he doesn’t like to deal with people, he’s not good at it, and it’s clear people doesn’t like to deal with him either.

It’s not only him, the people in that town doesn’t like to deal with the Dixon’s in general, nor their asshole of a father nor his brother. They had a reputation already before Daryl was old enough to understand it. It extends to Merle’s small biker gang, to a lesser degree although the whole town knew they were trouble.

It’s the gang’s fault that Merle is gone again, in a way, though it’s mostly Merle’s fault. As always. Daryl should be used to it. Merle has been trouble always, but it seems that since he founded that gang, he managed to multiply that trouble for ten. And now it has finally reached top and exploded.

Daryl should have expected his brother to end up in something like that at some point, honestly.

Merle had been doing drugs almost since Daryl could remember, doing whatever was necessary to get them, dragging Daryl along, though somehow Daryl never used. In recent years, Merle had begun dealing too, and it wasn’t like Daryl wasn’t used to all of his brother’s more than questionable business, so he just kept tailing along. He hasn’t anything else to do anyway, nobody else to be with, besides his brother. Only Dixons care for Dixons, Merle taught him that when he was a kid.

And with the gang, Merle’s humble business had grown into something…well, something still rather small, but big enough to get into trouble. Merle has a way of finding trouble. And of course, Daryl can’t help but still do what he’s told, and follow Merle around. That’s what Dixons do. And Merle’s blood,  so they gotta be together.  And Daryl likes bikes and being in the gang ain't’ that bad, and his brother’s around, so he helps with anything Merle needs from him, any business that needs to get done, doesn’t give it a second thought.

Except the last one. The one that ended up with his brother in jail for longer than usual, one of the members of the gang dead, and the club broken.

Daryl doesn’t even really know what happened. Apparently, his brother took good care on keeping him in the shadows for this one. Daryl is still unsure of why. It would be beautiful to think that Merle thought it would be more dangerous than usual and so he wanted to protect him, but Daryl mostly thinks it’s because Merle thought he’d mess it or chicken out. Daryl’s always trying to prove himself to his brother, since they were kids, but Merle always finds something to put him down, to show him how he’s not good enough. Maybe he thought like that again this time. Daryl doesn’t know if that makes him lucky or not. It makes him pissed, though.

Daryl doesn’t take shit from anyone, doesn’t care about anyone, doesn’t give a single shit about what people think of him or how they talk at his back. Except when it’s his brother. Merle’s blood. It’s his family, his older brother, the only thing Daryl has. That’s different. It makes sense in his head.

And now Merle’s gone again, to jail, for longer than usual, though Daryl doesn’t know the details. The death of David hasn’t been linked to whatever business Merle has messed, but Daryl can put two and two together, besides the other men from the gang have stopped meeting or even talking. Not that Daryl would miss them.

Two weeks have passed since that and Daryl is still confused about the whole thing, and he is still not used to not having his brother around anymore, able to do whatever he wants to. But he doesn’t really seem to know what he wants to do.

He is so wrapped on his own head that he doesn’t realize who the woman ahead on the street is, doesn’t even see her until it’s too late to hide or take another street. She must be one of the people he doesn’t want to ever see again. Daryl doesn’t really remember her name, something like Claire he thinks, but the important thing is that her husband got killed because of Merle’s gang, hell, because of Merle too probably, for whatever shit mess of a business he got him in.

And to make it even worse, the tiny bundle wrapped to her with some sort of scarf reminds him that they had a baby not even a month ago. It’s strange, it doesn’t make sense, but looking at her feels like a punch to the gut. She’s fumbling with some bags, trying to carry them while also carrying the baby, but she seems to have lost her grip on one, too distracted to notice who is walking next to her.

Daryl wants to take advantage of that to walk past her quick and hope he doesn’t see her ever again, but somehow he finds himself stopping next to her, asking her if she needs help. He kicks himself and regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth, he doesn’t even know why he did it.

“Oh, thanks, no I-” Claire begins talking without looking up, still fumbling with the bags, and once she does look and sees him, she stops for a moment, and Daryl knows she has recognized him. They had seen each other a few times before, though they hadn’t really talked much. She looks different now, though, sad and tired, exhausted even, her eyes rimmed red and with deep dark circles under them, and that stabbing pain in Daryl’s gut just get worse. “Hey, you’re Daryl, right? Merle’s brother.”

Daryl nods, looking to the ground, unable to hold her gaze. He expects her to yell at him, insult him, slap him, anything like that, but she doesn’t, and they stay in awkward silence for another moment, a couple seconds that felt eternal to Daryl.

“I heard he was sent to jail,” she finally says and Daryl still doesn’t look at her. “Are you holding up okay?”

His eyes snap up at that, looking at her with a confused frown on his face. Is she serious? Is she really asking him how is he doing? He tries to listen for some hidden intention behind it but she sounds genuine, and Daryl doesn’t understand how could she be the one asking him that. Claire seems to see something in his face, and she shrugs.

“It’s just I’ve never seen you not at your brother’s side.” She explains and Daryl doesn’t know how to take that but he’s embarrassed anyway. That’s what he must look like, his brother’s shadow, nothing else nothing more, that’s what he must be. Daryl wasn’t with him when he got himself sent to jail, though, or when Claire’s husband ended up dead. Once again, Daryl can’t look at her.  “Just thought it might be strange for you not to have him around.”

“I’m used to him not being here, at him coming and going,” Daryl mutters, eyes still trained on the ground. He wonders if he should ask her the same, his husband is gone in a worse way than his brother, but he already knows the answer and doesn’t see the point in asking.

There’s another awkward silence before Claire finally gathers her bags as best as she can. “Well, see you around, Daryl.”

“You sure you don’t need help?” Daryl finds himself asking again, he still doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels guilty about the whole thing for some reason, and the image of her looking so overwhelmed, so sad and exhausted, makes his stomach clench.

She chuckles, seeming embarrassed. “I guess when I left home this morning I was feeling more powerful.” She tries to joke weakly. “Didn’t know I was going to end up having to carry all this shit…I had to do groceries, and then there was a lot of baby things that I still needed to get, and since I was already out I decided, why not…” She’s sounding as overwhelmed as she looks, and Daryl looks at her, wondering if she really doesn’t have someone to help her with anything now. “At least this tiny one here it’s not heavy, but-” She stops and lets out another awkward chuckle. “Sorry, you don’t care about any of this.”

“It’s okay…” Daryl mumbles awkwardly, he doesn’t know what to say.

“I told half my life to that poor cashier too… I guess that after being days only talking to a baby it makes you speak to any adult you see around...” She tries to joke, but she sounds sad and embarrassed. “Anyway, sorry again, I gotta go.”

“You don’t have any family or nothing?” Daryl gathers enough courage to ask, still half expecting her to flip him off at any moment.

Claire seems embarrassed again as she gives him a tiny, weak smile. “Not besides this tiny lady here.” She nods to the baby, tightly snuggled to her in that strange long scarf, but Daryl can’t look at her without feeling like someone is stabbing him. “But she’s a handful…so, yeah, everything I need.” Daryl notices her voice faltering and he doesn’t dare to look at her. “Well…as I said, I gotta go.”

“I can help you with the bags.” Daryl forces himself to ask again, though his voice is barely audible.

Claire seems unsure, looking from the bags to him, and then back at the baby and the bags. “I don’t want to bother you…”

“Ain’t no bother.”

“Sure?” She asks, and Daryl nods, eyes still down. “Well, okay, if you really don’t mind…it’d be nice, actually, thank you.”

Nodding, Daryl takes as many bags as she allows him and follows her in silence until she stops in front of what he assumes is her door.

“Thanks, really.” Claire gives him a small smile, opening the door enough to push the bags inside. The baby had been quiet, but now Daryl notices her moving, peeking up from the scarf, and he couldn’t help but look at her with curiosity. Claire notices and her smile grows a bit bigger. “Oh, you don’t know her, do you? That’s Emily.”

The baby looks at him for a couple of seconds, blinking, and then she seems to decide he’s not interesting enough and snuggles her face into the scarf again.

“She looks like David.” It’s after it lefts his mouth that Daryl realizes it was the wrong thing to say, but he can’t help himself. He never thought he’d see someone’s features in a baby, he’s always thought all babies look the same, and he’s puzzled to find Emily’s eyes and nose are similar to David’s. Maybe kids do look like their parents…Daryl doesn’t like the idea that much. She looks at Claire and her eyes are wet, so he rushes to mumble an apology, but the woman shakes her head.

“Yeah, she does look like him, doesn’t she? Has some of his features.” Claire swallows hard. “It’s a good thing.”

Daryl doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing.

“Well, thanks again.” Claire smiles sadly and makes to walk into the house but she stops. “Daryl… I appreciate you helping me today with the bags, but I need no pity, alright?”

It takes Daryl aback a bit, but he nods. He understands, he could never stand pity. He turns to leave and Claire calls after him.

“Hey.” Daryl stops but he doesn’t turn around. “I know why you did this. But I’m pretty sure that whatever happened to-” She stops herself from saying the name as if it hurts. “That whatever happened wasn’t your fault. And I’m sure too that you are not your brother.” Daryl doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know if he fully understands it, and he stays silent. “But what the hell do I know, I don’t know you. Anyway, I need no pity, and I think you need no guilt.”

Daryl still doesn’t say a word, doesn’t turn around, and when he hears the door closing he walks away, her words echoing in his mind for days.

*

Daryl can swear he’s not following Claire or stalking her, or anything like that, but in the following days he finds himself bumping into her and the baby more often than not. The town’s small after all. At first, he doesn’t dare to approach her again. Then comes a day when he sees her carrying groceries and Daryl finds himself offering his help again, and she agrees. Other times he just greets her and then lets her talk to him about whatever she wants if she feels like it. It seems she likes it, needs it even. She still seems lonely.

At first, it was just a couple of awkward, polite sentences, that eventually turn into long conversations in which Daryl doesn’t say that much but that he enjoys anyway, and he likes that after them Claire looks less miserable. She still looks sad, tired, lonely, and Daryl still feels like someone stabs him when he thinks about it, but he doesn’t know if he could do anything about it, or if it’s his place. He doesn’t know either why he wants to help her, he just wants it. And if he’s honest with himself, their conversations make him feel less lonely too, and he finds himself looking forward to find her on the street.

He doesn’t interact that much with the baby, doesn’t know how, doesn’t think she’d like him anyway. She doesn’t seem very interested in him whenever he’s talking with her mom. There’s one day, though, when the baby gets an arm out the scarf and wraps the tiniest hand Daryl has ever seen around one of his fingers. Daryl doesn’t’ know what to do, and he freezes, doesn’t even dare to breathe as the baby tugs at his finger, looking at it as if in deep thought. Whatever babies think about. Daryl is taken aback when he hears Claire’s quiet laugh, he doesn’t remember hearing her laugh before, and he couldn’t help the smile that tug at the corner of his mouth as he looks from the baby to her.

It’s in about two weeks after that that Daryl gathers enough courage to knock on her door to give her some of the pieces he had hunted. He’d been thinking about that for a while but hadn’t dared yet, he doesn’t know what she’ll think or if maybe she’ll be angry he went to her place.  His stomach clenches with nerves as he knocks on the door and it takes him all he has not to run away.

Claire seems surprised when she sees him there, though not angry, and her surprise and confusion only seems to grow when he awkwardly hands her a rabbit, telling her he hunted it and has enough to spare one. Daryl looks down, waiting for her to say something, awkward and self-conscious, thinking she’s going to laugh or yell at him, but then she’s smiling and thanking him, even though she still seems confused. Next time Daryl brings her one of his kills, he makes sure to get it clean and ready first.

About a month later, after several talks while Claire walks Emily, and several rabbits delivered, one day Daryl knocks on her door with a bunch of squirrels that he had hunted that day and that should last her for a few days. Claire opens the door and gives him that smile that no matter what is still sad.

“This doesn’t look like rabbit.”

“It ain’t. It’s squirrel.” Daryl’s curiosity gets the best of him and he peeks at Emily, who’s once again wrapped in that scarf, snuggled tightly to her mother, and seeming asleep. She’s still tiny but Daryl thinks she looks a bit bigger.

“Squirrel?” She seems surprised. “I’ve never cooked that before.”

“I make stew with them.” He usually hunts more squirrels than rabbits, but he had thought maybe Claire would like the rabbits more, and now he’s unsure about having brought her squirrels today.

Soon she gives him her sad smile, though. “Thank you, Daryl. I’ll try.” Daryl nods and turns to leave, but she stops him, speaking again. “Actually…maybe you could show me how to make that stew?” She asks and Daryl is not really sure of what she means. “If you want, maybe, you could come in and show me how you cook it, we three could have lunch together. That’s if you don’t have anything else to do.”

Daryl looks at her in silence, not knowing what to do. It makes him feel awkward, getting into her home, but she’s smiling softly at him, waiting for him to say something without pressuring him into anything. He chews on his thumbnail, nervous, but nods, they had spent a lot of time together talking after all.

“Alright.” Claire walks him into her place and he follows her to the kitchen in awkward silence. “Feel free to use whatever you need to.” Daryl feels uncomfortable about going through her stuff, though, and so Claire lays out everything he might need and then steps aside to watch him work on the stew, asking questions from time to time.

Daryl can’t help but feel nervous and self-conscious feeling her eyes on him, making him clumsier than he’d ever be. Claire seems to notice and she gives him more space, telling him she’s going to change the baby and leaving him alone for a little while. She comes back with Emily on her arms instead of wrapped in the scarf, seeming more awake.

“The stew will be ready soon, I can go now.”

“If you want to.” She sits down on a chair, cooing the baby. “But you can stay and have lunch with us, I told you. We’d want you to.” Daryl bites his thumbnail again but finds himself nodding. “Great. Sit down if you want.”

Daryl does as he’s told, and for a moment he looks at her and the baby in silence.

“Do you want to hold her?” Claire offers, catching him glancing curiously at Emily, and Daryl immediately shakes his head, panicking at the idea.

“No!”

“We’ll try not to take offense in how fast you said that no.” Claire’s chuckles quietly.

“Didn’t mean it like that, just…” Daryl shrugs helplessly.

“I’d be okay, Daryl, she’s not a bomb.” Claire jokes. “Come, hold your arms out.”

Daryl is more than unsure about it but finally gives in, trying to copy the position of her arms with his. Claire holds the baby with only one arm with a skill Daryl is sure he’ll never have and reaches out her free hand to gently reposition one of his arms before carefully placing Emily on them. Daryl is paralyzed, can’t even breathe, but the baby doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t cry or fuss, just looks up at him.

“There you go,” Clair says but Daryl can’t tear his eyes from the tiny baby to look at her. Slowly, he begins to relax, holding her with more confidence, a silly smile spreading across his face.  Claire laughs quietly. “Why don’t you hold her while I make her bottle?” Daryl nods, still looking at Emily, wondering if he had ever seen something so small before, wondering how could something so small be a person.

He’d already decided he wanted to help her mother if he could, make her life easier, first out of guilt and later because he found Claire’s really nice, but now those feelings seem to multiply, and Daryl finds himself wanting to protect that tiny human being in a way that takes him aback. It scares him at first, making him want to give the baby back to her mother and run to never come back, but that feeling is soon gone as Emily reaches out to try and touch his face with her tiniest hands, smiling.

Claire’s words as she speaks while she makes the bottle make Daryl come back to earth.

“It was easier when I could just latch her to a breast and she’d feed herself, I hate this thing of having to get bottles ready and what not, but I don’t have milk all of a sudden, they said it might be stress or what not.”

Daryl’s cheeks burn at her words, can’t help it, with her talking about her breasts and what not all of a sudden. Claire turns around and laughs at his flustered state. “Really? Did that embarrass you? You’re cute, Dixon Jr.”

That only makes Daryl blush more and he shrugs, defensive, but tries not to bother Emily.

“You really aren’t that much like your brother, are you?”

Daryl doesn’t know what she’s talking about and so he just stays silent, uncomfortable.

“I don’t mean nothing bad. Merle came once to talk with David, when Emily was just a few days old, and voiced his opinion about how lucky she was of being ‘sucking on my tits’ all day long.”

Daryl blushes even more, he doesn’t think it’s possible but he does. It does sound like his brother, though, Daryl can almost hear his voice. He’s not really sure of what to say to that.

“And David didn’t say anything to my ass of a brother?”

Claire laughs quietly again, her smile ever sad. "David was a good man and I love him but he wasn't one to stand against Merle Dixon…actually, I don’t know anyone who was.”

Daryl hums a yes, he knows that well. He also has the suspicion that whatever Merle and David talked that day, it involved the business that got one of them in jail and the other killed. Another invisible dagger of guilt stabs at his gut.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Claire asks softly and Daryl doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, because it’s stupid but he does miss his ass of a brother. He can only imagine how Claire must feel.

Claire finishes with the bottle and sits down next to him, reaching out to pass him the bottle and Daryl looks at her confused. “Feed her, it’ll be okay. She looks so comfortable there.” She does, almost like she likes him to hold her, much to Daryl’s disbelieve. He shifts carefully and holds his breath as he holds her only with one arm, reaching out to take the bottle. As soon as Emily sees it close to her mouth, she latches onto it and begins drinking, and Daryl feels all kind of weird things going through him as he looks at her.

Once Emily finishes her bottle, Clare takes her again. She burps her and then she begins to wrap that scarf around herself and the baby, holding her snuggled to her. Daryl looks at her amazed, wondering how she knows how to twist it, fold it, knot it and everything to keep it in place with Emily looking so snuggly, and all that while holding the baby.

Claire notices and she smiles. “Yeah, it takes practice. It’s a baby sling, I like to have her close while having my hands free, but at first I almost strangled myself.” She chuckles.

“Looks like she likes it too,” Daryl observes, Emily has her eyes closed as she almost hides her face completely in one of the folds of the material, probably about to take a nap.

“Yeah…” Claire smiles softly at the baby. “You think that stew is ready?”

"Oh, yes.” Daryl feels like an idiot, he has forgotten about it. He gets up and turns off the stove while Claire takes out a couple of bowls and spoons, setting the table. Daryl pours the stew on the bowls and sits down, hoping it’ll be good enough.

Claire takes her bowl, mindful of Emily, and takes a spoonful. She looks at Daryl with wide eyes, blinking as if surprised, and he isn’t sure if that’s good or not.

“Man, you can cook! I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t this.”

Daryl can’t help but blush at that, looking down to his stew, and they both eat in silence, though somehow it isn’t as awkward as Daryl might have thought.

-------

Well...what do you guys think of this?What do you think of the idea? I’m nervous about if you’re going to like this new thing or not.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you liked it! If you have a moment, please let me know your thoughts in the comments, your feedback makes my day! It seems I finally was able to write a short thing.

As always, English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes.

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[ephrampettaline]

chatzy au log with @cassiegermaine, @ephrampettaline, and @joeyvoeman

Cassie heard the gunshots as she was thrown into a nearby car and she and the Skull Boys Leader were sped away from the scene. Cassie sat almost unmoving the entire trip. She didn’t know what to expect from Petal, but a dress shop wasn’t it. Retrospectively? It was a great cover, and Cassie was grateful she wasn’t dragged into some mucky underground instead. 

She was placed in a chair in the corner of the store floor, one of the burly Skull Boys tying her hands with rope. It wasn’t extra tight or elaborate, and felt more like show than anything. But Cassie was really surprised when they returned with a small plate dived with saltines and rationed out peanut butter. 

“Thanks…for the hospitality?” She squinted, taking the plate and balancing it on her lap.

Petal came over – changed into a different outfit, this time a pastel pink Chanel skirt suit and matching hat – and sat across from Cassie again, hands folded on the skull head of her cane. “We’re not savages, after all,” she said, and the Skull Boy placed a second plate of peanut butter crackers on the small table next to his boss. As well as a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne, which Petal poured for them both. “Cincin,” she said with a merry laugh, drinking and then selecting a cracker.

Ephram holstered his gun, panting, and hung his hands against his hips as he paced in thought. “There’s only a few dress shops south of the river,” he said, “and most of them let the seamstress girls sleep there. Unwieldy places for holding a captive.” He looked at Joey from below angry, tightly-drawn brows, a spur of searing satisfaction – not enough, not nearly enough – in his belly at the sight of the blood on Voeman’s face. The blow Ephram had dealt him with his gun butt hadn’t been an intense one, but it’d been hard enough to vent frustration.

Joey had taken the hit gladly, honestly feeling as if he deserved it for letting both Ephram and Cassie down. His nose was gushing blood as it sat at an odd angle, but he ignored the tear-bringing pain as he tried his best to formulate a plan with Ephram. “Should we grab backup or try stealth?” he asked. Ephram had been his superior in the war, and he always looked to him for guidance. Joey was very much a follower, and he knew his place. “And the shipment. It’s compromised.”

Ephram turned his head and spat, following it with a string of curses. “Good thing we didn’t pay for those guns, then,” he said, biting off the words. “I’m not about to have tonight be a sweep on Kingfisher losses.” He turned and started back towards Clair de Lune, telling Joey, “Get us a car. I need to make a call.”

Joey nodded, feeling like a little boy in trouble with his Pa. He rushed out of the alley and drove the car with the shipment back to the compound for safe keeping, spending a little time in the bathroom to reset his own nose and apologizing to the maid for getting blood all over the towels before heading back to Clair de Lune with another car, waiting out front for Ephram. God, he’d really fucked up this time. 

He bashed his fist into the steering wheel, the release of rage feeling good for the moment. He imagined it was one of the Skull Boys. Whichever one took Cassie. He punched it more, seeing a face slowly turn to mush under his knuckles in his imagination. Then Cassie being so impressed with him she took him back. He got divorced from his bitch wife and….it was all an illusion. He knew this wouldn’t end well for him, in pretty much any capacity.

Cassie carefully balanced her glass of champagne as well, returning the toast and only taking a sip because Petal had done so before her. “If you wanted in with the Kingfisher’s – you didn’t have to orchestrate something this elaborate.” Cassie commented coolly, leaving her crackers untouched. She still hadn’t gotten a straight answer with Skull Boys, but the obvious was this, Petal wanted to lure them away from safe ground. Which could be more disastrous than Cassie initially gave them credit for. 

“Where are my children Petal?” She asked, trying to remain placid and calm, but her knuckles tightened around the glass. “That’s something I’m going to have to take personal.” There were guidelines, at the very least, and the Skull Boys seemingly trampled over that one.

Ephram swung himself into the car without greeting, merely barking out, “Larkspur and Camden. There’s a Russian dress shop there." 

He’d been damn lucky to get Freddie on the line at all, this random time at night; not lucky enough to avoid having to talk to Wawelski, but that was beside the point. And Freddie’d ponied up a possible location with a minimum of hornpipe dancing required, for which Ephram had the nagging feeling he’d owe his … fuck, his friend and business partner something later. "Do I need to tell you to drive up on it from the back roads, or can you figure that one out yourself?” It was an unkind and cutting comment, since Ephram well knew Joey’s capacity in a tense situation, but he didn’t feel like being kind.

Joey had thankfully gotten all his anger and frustration out before Ephram got into the car, because the last thing he need was the man thinking he’d not only lost his sister, but his own marbles. He didn’t respond to Ephram’s biting comments, simply grunting in understanding as he shifted into gear and headed off. It wasn’t too far a drive from where they were, but long enough for the tense silence to weigh down heavy on Joey’s mind and body, his shoulders hunching with every moment of Ephram’s seething sitting next to him. Finally, they made it to the dress shop, approaching inconspicuously from the back. He parked and turned to Ephram for orders.

Petal leaned forward, flashing a brilliant, pearly smile. “Oh, Cassie! I don’t have your children. I imagine they’re safe as plums in a cake, tucked away in their little cradles.” She sipped her champagne, still smiling. “That was only to get your attention and let you know we mean business. That’s what we’re all here for, right? Business.” She reached out and patted Cassie’s knee, a marquise-cut pink diamond ring sparkling on one elegant, waxen finger. “Yours, mine … ours.”

Cassie knew it could have been a ploy, but she wanted to take it more seriously than not, play on the safe side just in case The Skull Boys had reached out for her kids. They were watching them though. Close enough to be lurking around Addie’s birthday. Cassie tucked the information away for later, ego only slightly bruised that Petal could toy so easily with her. It was the cost of family. “My brother, or any of the Slap Jacks won’t take this as a business venture when they show up.” Cassie warned her. “If you have anything of real importance, you better clear it up fast.”

Petal kept on smiling at Cassie, although it curled a little more at the corners of her mouth. She toyed with the stem of her champagne glass, but then Bosco appeared looming up from the wooden stairs at the back of the room they were in, and Petal nodded. “It seems they’ve arrived,” she said, smoothing her skirt over her knees. “I think given your brother’s proclivities, I might just be able to … wriggle my way out of any sour mood he might be in, hmmmm?” Petal winked at Cassie and put her glass down so she could snug her hands under her Chanel-covered breasts and give them a primping heft.

Ephram had spent the drive sorting out the possible angles of approach, the possible outcomes, the possible pitfalls. But when the engine turned off and Joey looked at him expectantly, he found himself defaulting to what he’d always gone with when he was pressed down to the wire: what felt right in the moment. “Keep your jacket open,” Ephram said, his voice calm despite the low grate of its register. “Let them see what you’re carryin’. We’ll walk up to the back door. I’m sure they’re expecting us, anyhow." 

He got out of the car, unbuttoning his own suit jacket so the leather of his shoulder holster was obvious, and waited for Joey so they could walk abreast of each other instead of Ephram in front.

Joey did as he was cold, opening his bomber jacket to show the revolver tucked in his waistband. The same revolver that had killed one of the other Skull Boys only an hour or so before. "What’s the plan if it goes sideways. Gun’s blazin’?” he asked. Usually they weren’t keen on making so much noise if it was uncalled for, but this was Cassie they were talking about. He was sure the two of them would do just about anything to make sure she came back safe.

Ephram muttered, “We don’t have a whole lot of options here, Voeman. We’ll just have to make sure it don’t go sideways." 

Two block-shouldered Skull Boys eyefucked them as they approached, but once the Jacks were in hailing distance, one of them said, "Boss lady says you’re to go on up and meet her. Your sister too.” He pointed at Joey. “This hump better not go trigger-happy like he did back at Clair.”

Joey held his gaze with the Skull Boys that greeted them with a stern brow, trying his best not to clench his fists. “Don’t give me a reason and I won’t,” he said, like it was a generous offer.

Ephram let Joey go through the door first, following behind with their boots thumping thread dust from the wooden stairs as they mounted them. “Steady on, Sergeant,” Ephram said sotto voce to Joey’s broad back, once they got a glimpse of Cassie tied up to a chair and the extravagant Petal Popovitch sitting across from her for all the world like the two women had been discussing corsetry and ribbons.

Petal raked an avaricious, somewhat hungry gaze over the two men as they filled up the staircase, giving a pleased hum and folding her be-ringed hands over her knee as she crossed her legs. “Verrrrry nice,” she said. “I’ve seen you before, of course, my dear Kingfisher, but you–” Petal made a little claw gesture at Joey. “Rrrwowr.”

Joey simply glared at Petal as she lewdly ogled him. If it hadn’t been for Ephram’s quiet reminder, Joey would have been liable to pop off at any moment, seeing Cassie tied up like that. At least she didn’t look hurt in any way. “Keep your claws to yourself,” he muttered quietly.

“Ephram.” Cassie greeted the familiar face of her brother in a calm tone, her gaze falling to Joey next. The dimple in her cheek appeared as she smothered the tiniest grin. Mostly because she was laughing at herself, at the whole situation. “Joey.” She tilted her head back at Petal’s more enthusiastic greeting and added sarcastically, “Sorry about my friend. I guess not even all the meatheads on her payroll can keep her satisfied.”

Ephram scanned Cassie quickly before nodding at her, then greeting the Skull Boys boss. “Miss Popovitch,” he said. “This ain’t much of a friendly parlay, now, is it? At this hour of the night and with only crackers and champagne and ropes and abduction to smooth the way.” Very deliberately, Ephram told Joey, “Untie my sister, please, Joey.”

Joey nodded curtly, happy to stride over and do just that. He knelt down in front of Cassie, easily undoing the knot that kept her hands together. It wasn’t a very good knot at that. Joey had tied plenty of people up in his day, and this wasn’t how you did it. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” he asked in a hushed voice, not able to help himself.

“Don’t worry about me.” Cassie shook her head, brushing off the rope and standing stiffly by her chair still. “Keep wise Joey.” She muttered even softer than before, her head only slightly tilting towards Ephram and the Skull Boy leader. “We’re not out of here yet.”

The cold shoulder from Joey and subsequent scold from Cassie brought a pout to Petal’s face, and she sniffed, rubbing some imaginary smudge from her pink diamond and holding it up to admire as it sparkled even in the low light. “Yes, fine, untie her,” Petal said, “we weren’t intending to keep her, heavens to betsy. This was only a shot across the bow, Mr. Kingfisher. After all, the Skull Boys are capable of also flying governmental colours, if we get the chance.” She kept Joey and Cassie in the periphery of her vision, but Petal’s attention was chiefly on Ephram and the look of sudden understanding that crossed his face at her comment.

Petal leaned back in her chair, settling her shoulders from side to side and causing her bosom to move in all sorts of ways. “So about that parlay, Mr. Kingfisher,” she said. “If you’ve got a moment to spare….”

Ephram met her eyes for a long beat, then turned to Joey. “Take Cassie,” he said, putting one hand on Joey’s shoulder, “and wait in the car for me. They won’t try to stop you. I’ll be along directly. Don’t come back inside, just wait till I come out.” Ephram gave Joey a searching look, willing the man to listen to him and follow his instructions, no matter what other impulses Joey might have. “You hear me? Take Cassie with you and keep her safe in the car. I’ll be along.”

Joey didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all. Leaving Ephram here by himself rubbed him the wrong way, but at least he was still trusting Joey with his sister, so that was a good sign. He just nodded at the order, guiding Cassie back to the car with no resistance from the Skull Boys, just as he’d said. “What does she want?” he asked once they were out of earshot. “What happened?”

Cassie eyes widened, “What? No!” It was the first time she’d raised her voice throughout the entire ordeal. She didn’t trust Petal, a part of her didn’t trust Ephram’s judgement which spelled nothing but a recipe for disaster. “Don’t touch me. Damn it Ephram, don’t be stupid.” She was glaring daggers at him, they were supposed to handle things jointly. 

But Joey guided her out of the room. Cassie smacked him when they were back at the car, and hit his broad chest again for good measure. “Hell if I know.” She grumbled. “She seemed interested in Freddie Watts. My role with Slap Jacks. But she just did a lot of fancy blathering too.”

Joey took his licks from the other Kingfisher this time, his cheek stinging as he listened to her. “I didn’t like leaving him in there either, but what was I suppose to do, Cassie? I already killed two of their goons to find out where they took you.” He’d thought for a moment he’d lost her and his life in well fell swoop. At least he was sure one of those things was safe now. “She’s either dumb as a sack of bricks or she’s got an ace up her sleeve. Either way, I don’t trust her far as I can throw her.” He ran a hand through his short, crop of hair. “Your kids are safe, by the way. I checked on ‘em before we came over…”

Since Joey had posed it as a question, Cassie answered him unflinching, “You do as I say, no matter what.” Being taken off the streets had shaken her just a little deep down, and she was taking her frustration out on Joey, because she could. “Ephram makes the decisions but someone’s gotta be there for checks and balances. That’s me.” 

She kicked the tire of the car lightly, glancing back over her shoulder to squint at the upper story window of the dress shop. “They’ve been watching the kids. Who knows how long the Skull Boys have been skulking around for a chance.”

Joey crossed his arms. “And what is it you’d have me do then?” He sighed in frustration. He knew how their partnership worked, but Ephram wasn’t really one to respect it, and it always put Joey in a hard position. He was horrified when she informed him they’d been watching the kids. “I’ll fucking kill 'em if I see them around your kids.”

Cassie huffed, knowing at this point her complaints and demands didn’t mean much of anything. They were outside on the sidewalk and Ephram was indoors with Petal doing god knows what. “I don’t know. But at least I’d get to tell Ephram he was being a fucking idiot to his face.” She grumbled again. Cassie waved Joey off, “Yeah, don’t get me wrong I appreciate the offer-“ She looked back to Joey and his busted up face again, “But let’s keep the bloodshed to a minimum for now. My brother can’t be losing a loyal Jack and starting a war all at the same time.”

“Right. I’ll keep it professional,” he said curtly, slightly mirroring their earlier conversation. He was a bit tired of being kicked around in the moment, even by Cassie, and so he just leaned against the car, striking up a cigarette as he waited for Ephram to return. He looked at his watch, ready to give it about ten more minutes before he charged in there. He tapped Cassie on the shoulder and offered her a cigarette between his fingers.

Cassie rolled her eyes slightly at him, hearing the irritation in his voice. “Take it easy.” Cassie sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.” She started to tap her heel in an anxious manner as they stood there continuing to wait, and took the cigarette when it was offered. “If Skull Boys really wanna patch it up, Ephram’s clearly listening.” She motioned to the window, before turning so that Joey could light the cigarette for her. After a drag she added, “If it didn’t touch business? I’d let you kill Petal. And if your nose wasn’t all broken and crooked-“ Cassie smirked slightly, “I’d even give you a thank you kiss.”

“Do I?” Joey asked. Cassie, like her brother, was notoriously hard to read. But he let himself relax a bit, the tenseness in his shoulders slouching as Cassie spoke. At the mention of a kiss, he felt himself perk up on instinct, but then he smirked a smirk that didn’t quite make it up to his eyes. Sadness filled his eyes. Longing. Loss. “Don’t tease me, Cassie.”

Cassie shook her head at Joey’s puppy dog like look. Then that plea. The sad thing was, she did like Joey quite a bit. But it would never work. She could steel herself to that fact, but he just couldn’t. “I would kiss you, you lug.” Cassie insisted, taking another puff from her cigarette, “If you didn’t get lost in your fantasies. I wonder how you ever made it to work with the Slap Jacks at all aside from being war buddies with my brother.” She squinted up at him, waving some of the access smoke away, “Kingfisher’s can’t let business and love intertwine. It’s a dangerous disaster.”

“You didn’t have a problem with my fantasies when they involved you laid out under me,” Joey whispered, approaching her from behind and laying his hands on her shoulders, letting them trail down her arms slowly. But just as quickly, he pulled away, knowing what he was doing to himself. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “You’re always right…”

Cassie scowled at the whisper. It was an overly cocky comment coming from him, but before Cassie even got the chance to retort or deflect Joey backed down again. It was only slightly pathetic. If he hadn’t gotten wrapped up with the Slap Jacks, he probably could have made something more out of himself than a trailing heavy hitter. “Well, at least someone has that figured out.”

The back door to the dress shop opened and shut with a bang that could be heard all the way to the two waiting by the car, the noise heralding the appearance of Ephram’s tall frame long-legging it towards them at a rushed clip that showed the slight limp the war had left him with. “Let’s go,” he said tightly when he reached them, his face drawn and pale, beads of sweat standing out across his brow and down the line of his nose. He huddled in his seat, arms folded tight and tucked in around himself, and when one of the Skull Boys appeared unexpectedly out of the darkness Ephram looked like he might be violently sick. 

“Boss said you forgot something,” the Skull Boy said, handing Cassie a lace-edged handkerchief and sauntering off back to his post. The fine, soft cloth fell delicately open when she took it; nestled there in the pretty folds of fabric was Ephram’s neatly excised, bloodstained left ring finger.

[one-chicago-fanfiction]

Jay comes out to Will

This is how it almost happened. The morning after a one night stand, Jay woke up to sunlight spilling in through his blinds, and the sound of someone knocking on his door. The man beside him barely stirred, and Jay slipped into boxers and a t-shirt before answering the door.

Will. Awake and put together. Too much, too early.

“Morning,” his brother smiled, as if the street had even really started to come to life yet. “Got some things I wanna talk to you about. About the wedding.”

“Will,” Jay said, fatigue still clinging to his bones. “What time is it.”

“Around seven,” Will said. “I’ve got a little time before work. Can I come in?” Jay heard footsteps in the house behind him then, the unmistakable sound of floorboards creaking beneath the weight of another person. His heart rate spiked, and it must have shown in his face because Will wasn’t looking at him the same way anymore. There was a mischievous, knowing grin on his face.

“Oh,” he said, drawing the word out. “I see. You’ve got a girl in there.”

“Something like that,” Jay said, an unbearable heat rising in his cheeks, a tightness in his chest.

“Okay, heart breaker. I’ll go. Meet me at Molly’s later? Bring your friend too, if you want. I wanna meet her if she’s gonna be your wedding date.”

“Get out of here,” Jay said, and Will was still grinning like a teenager as he retreated down the steps. Jay pushed the door shut before Will was even in his car. What an embarrassing brother. What an embarrassing situation that almost was.

Jay barely had time to be relieved. He turned toward the apartment, caught the figure leaning in his bedroom doorway, arms folded across a bare chest, looking at Jay like he was only now understanding him. A twinge of disappointment in Kelly Severide’s expression.

“Something like that?” he asked, and hearing his own words repeated back only made the guilt worse.

“I gotta get to the district,” Jay told him, even though they both knew it was a little too early.

There was an accusation in what Kelly said next. Not in the words themselves, not even in the way they were said, but burning beneath it all like dying embers.

“Your brother doesn’t know?”

—

Molly’s. Jay was barely through the door and already Will was smirking. Sometimes it seemed like he hadn’t changed at all since he was fourteen.

“You know,” Jay pulled himself onto the stool opposite his brother, “you were never this embarrassing when we were kids.” “Maybe I wanna be an embarrassing dad someday,” he shrugged. “What better practice than being an embarrassing older brother. So you’re seeing someone?”

“Definitely not,” Jay said. “I’m trying to expose as few people as possible to you.”

“Very funny,” Will said. “At least tell me you’re bringing a date to the wedding. Want me to have Nat set you up with someone? You met her friend, Rebecca, at Nat’s birthday thing. She’s single again. Oh, or there’s Renee. She runs a private gym not too far from the hospital. Or Claire, she’s—”

“Will,” Jay’s voice was sharper than he’d intended. He wasn’t sure exactly what had changed in him, but something had given way. His patience, the walls he’d built between himself and his brother long ago. His willingness to pretend to fit into the boxes people expected him to, when the truth was there were parts of Jay that Will hadn’t even known to look for.

“What?” Will asked. “I’m annoying you with this. I’m just a little wired. Blame the wedding.”

“It’s not that,” Jay waved his brother’s concerns away. The words came out fast, because if he didn’t say them all at once he wouldn’t have said them at all. “There’s something I have to tell you.” Will’s expression shifted into concern. He leaned forward a touch, like he could feel the weight of the truth Jay was about to divulge.

“What is it?” he asked. A beat of silence. “You know you can tell me things, right? Anything you want.” He was trying so hard, so hard to be the good brother he’d convinced himself he wasn’t before. Everything had changed since their dad died. So many conversations with Will felt like apologies that Jay didn’t know how to handle. He didn’t want this to be a confession too, an admission of guilt. He didn’t want this to be like pulling a band-aid from a festering wound.

“The date I bring to the wedding,” Jay said, keeping the words slow and careful now, watching Will’s face for any flicker of change. Looking for signs to throw this door shut again, to keep on running away. “Would you—I mean…would you freak out on me if I brought a guy?” It wasn’t the right way to phrase it. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was sure he’d done it all wrong. His heart was pounding, his palms sweating on the table. But Will didn’t recoil, his expression didn’t contort in disgust. Confusion, maybe, for a second. Jay watched his brother process the words, watched him swallow hard, open his mouth, close it again.

“Are you…” Will started, stopped, started again. “Are you saying you’re gay?” There was no judgment in Will’s voice, just more confusion. He could see the thoughts churning through Will’s head. So many girlfriends, so much flirting.

“No,” Jay said. “I’m telling you I’m bi. Bisexual.”

“Oh,” Will said, and there was something overwhelmingly calming about the way his face changed, like everything made sense now, like it wasn’t weird, didn’t feel wrong.

“If you need time to get your head around it, I get it.”

“No,” Will said. “No, Jay, I…I don’t need time. I just…I’ve never heard you talk about guys, never even seen you look at a guy. How didn’t I notice this?” Jay shrugged.

“People don’t notice stuff they don’t know they should look for,” he said. He’d seen it dozens of times in his life, in lots of different ways. The partners of suspects living in ignorance. The spouses of his army buddies, choosing to believe their husbands and wives had come back whole.

“How long have you known?”

“Honestly?” Jay said. “I don’t know. A long time, I guess.”

“Did dad know?” Will asked, and the question knifed right through Jay, turned him cold. He hadn’t expected it, the quickness of it. His heart slammed against his chest, his breath came out a little shaky. He thought about lying to him, about keeping at least some of the distance between them intact, but the longer he looked at Will, the more he could tell this question was important to him. The answer was something he needed. Will wasn’t the only one who longed to be a better brother. Jay glanced away because he needed to, over to the bar, gestured for more drinks. He pulled cash from his wallet to give his trembling hands something to do.

“I told him,” he said. “He didn’t exactly wanna discuss it in detail. You know how he was.” He said it with a smile, like it was all a fond memory, like he couldn’t still hear the echoes of his father’s cruelty if he thought about it long enough.

“I do,” Will said, his own smile thin, not reaching his eyes. “If you didn’t talk, you argued. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we argued about it.” He couldn’t keep his eyes on Will. He slid cash across the table when Otis brought the drinks over, smiled at him in the hope he didn’t notice the awkward tension the brothers had fallen into. Will didn’t speak again until Otis was gone.

“What kind of arguments?” he said. He was looking at his beer instead of his brother. Kelly’s words from this morning came back to him, a hand clawing out of a grave. Your brother doesn’t know? There were a lot of things his brother didn’t know. So many apologies to make without ever saying the word sorry. So many admissions to make without ever admitting to anything.

“He told me once that if I ever brought a guy back to his house, he’d beat the hell out of both of us.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Will said, too quickly. “I mean, he shouldn’t have said it. But he would never do that.” The silence that fell between them then was different. Thicker, heavier, black clouds before devastation. And eventually, Will looked at him through the darkness and realised he was wrong, realised the scope of all the things he hadn’t been around to witness. “What aren’t you telling me right now?”

“I’m telling you a lot right now,” Jay’s voice was low, dangerous. It didn’t silence Will.

“Seriously, Jay,” he said. “If he did something, you have to tell me. Did he…did he hurt you?”

“No,” Jay said, but the word was barely a breath. Too weak.

“Jay,” Will’s voice was a warning.

“One time,” Jay said, to quiet him more than anything. “One time. He was real drunk. I don’t even know how it came up. We argued about everything, man. Everything. That night, we argued about me, about a guy. He took a swing at me, I hit him back, he never did it again.”

“He hit you?”

“He tried,” Jay said. “Like I said, he was wasted. I knocked him on his ass. By the time he got up, he couldn’t even remember what we were fighting about.”

“Jesus, Jay,” Will shook his head. His eyes were distant, like he was pulling away the layers of their past, trying to figure out what he might have been doing while his father was throwing a punch at his little brother. Guilt seared through Jay’s chest. “If he was still here, I’d—”

“He’s not,” Jay said. “He’s gone, Will. You’re the one who told me I gotta learn to deal with that. You do too. He was an ass. He wasn’t a good father, Will.”

“I loved him,” Will said, his voice cracking on the words. “I never thought he’d…I never would have left you with him.”

“I loved him too,” Jay said. “Pretty sure he loved us as well.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Will said, and it could have been the glint of the light, but Jay was sure his brother’s eyes were wet.

“No,” Jay admitted. “It doesn’t.” They sat together, passed a handful of minutes in silence. Jay sipped his beer. Will all but ignored his. Jay was trying not to think about those words. I never would have left you with him. It had felt that way at first, that Will had gotten out and hadn’t bothered to come back for Jay. It had felt like that for years. There were things even Will Halstead couldn’t put back together. There were grievances even Jay didn’t need to amend.

“I won’t freak out,” Will said at last. Jay furrowed his brow in confusion, and Will was almost smiling. “If you bring a guy to the wedding. Bring whoever you want. Just bring someone you care about, okay? The guy from this morning?”

“Wow,” Jay chuckled. “Look who’s suddenly perceptive.”

“Who is he?”

“You gotta stop,” Jay said. “You’re worse than Mom would have been.” Will laughed at that, a genuine laugh that swallowed the last of the tension away.

And just like that, they were okay again.  

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

For your pride ficlets could you do bisexual Claire? I love your writing so much!

New Song

Ever since she was little, Claire knew exactly how her life would go.  Her mother always told her so.  When she was a toddler, this was reassuring, as the world seemed big and scary and she so very, very small.  But, as she got older?  Not so much.

By the time she hit high school, Claire knew she didn’t want all the things Mom (who couldn’t even remember her daughter’s birthday without checking a calendar) had told her she’d have or go through in her life.  Claire didn’t want to go into the student government.  She endured debate club because it was interesting, but not something she was impassioned about.  She took AP classes and always got the best grades.  Those did matter.  Claire did want to get into a good college, but sometimes?  Sometimes she wished she could just shrug everything off and read plays all day or find bootleg recordings of Broadway musicals on the Internet.

But Claire never said so.  Mostly to avoid being lectured on how Mom just wanted what was best for her.  Knew what was best for her etc. etc.  She wanted Claire to have the best life imaginable and that meant going after every opportunity.  Every.  Single.  One.

Sometimes it was enough to make Claire scream.  Silently.  Into her pillow.  At night.  When no one else could hear.

Papa Skull was the first thing Claire ever really got to choose for herself, all on her own.  Mom believed she should be free to choose her own hobbies and interests (if they didn’t interfere with anything else), so music wasn’t something she tried to restrict.  Then, freshman year, when her new friend Mary offered her an earbud and a chance to listen to “The Best Band Ever”, Claire took it, and subsequently fell in love with the band.

Papa Skull’s songs spoke of independence, identity, rebellion.  They were loud.  Brash.  Confident.  Claire was confident (or, at least, could act it when necessary), but Papa Skull was on an entirely new level.  One she’d never realized even existed.

Then their lead singer came out as bisexual.

The social media posts covering the event explained what that meant, but not really.  Not enough.  So Claire conducted her own research.  On the school’s computers.  Her parents never said they monitored what she did online, but she did wonder.  It was better to just play it safe.

She wasn’t bisexual, or at least she didn’t think she was.  Not then.  She certainly wasn’t just because a musician in her favorite band was.  But Claire was curious.  She knew that being Gay existed and she’d heard other labels in passing every now and then, but she’d never really thought about them before.  There was never really any point.  She may not like Mom’s plans for her to marry a nice, well-off guy, but she’d never put much thought into objecting.  There were much more important things, like convincing her that being part of the school’s plays wouldn’t negatively affect anything else.

Though the more Claire thought about it, about being bisexual, the more she liked the idea.  She liked guys, sure.  There were some she found cute and stuff.  She could see herself in relationships with them.  But what about girls?  She had never really considered that, but the more she prodded the idea, the more she liked it.  Nonbinary people, too.  Claire could see herself being attracted to them.

She spent a while debating between different labels before coming back to bisexuality.  It felt comfortable.  It fit.  Claire was bisexual.

But nothing really changed.  Not at first.

Claire came out to Mary and Darci, and then Shannon.  Telling them made her nervous, but, in the end, it was worth it.  Her friends accepted her.

Telling her family was…Claire wasn’t ready to come out to them.  Not yet.  Not ever.  She already knew her love for theater would take her away from the path her mom wanted for her life.  She didn’t really want to think about what would happen if she also admitted to being bisexual.  Claire wasn’t sure how much it would change what she decided to do with her life.  But being bisexual was a part of her.  A big part of her.  It would always influence her.  She didn’t want to just ignore it or pretend it wasn’t there.

Sometimes it bothered her that nothing had changed.  Not that it needed to.  Not really.  The world didn’t revolve around her and all that.  But it would be nice?  For things to be…not completely different, but not the same either.  For there to be a little more recognition.

Claire bought a bisexual pride pin to put on her backpack.  That helped.  Though no one really knew what it was, or cared enough to ask.  Not that she wanted them to.  Well, she did.  Sort of.

Claire found out about the Papa Skull contest through Mary, who sent her a string of texts about it.  The band wanted to write songs inspired by their fans.  Anyone who wanted could send in a letter telling them about what was important to them, the band would pick three, and then compose songs based on those things.

It took four days and not being able to focus in any of her classes for Claire to write a letter, then another two to finalize a version of it she liked enough, and finally one more day for her to send it off in the mail.

She didn’t expect anything to come of it.  Papa Skull had likely received tons of letters.  The probably that hers would be chosen?  Yeah, well, Claire had done the math.  It didn’t come out in her favor.

And then it did.

Her letter, her words, had spoken to them.  Papa Skull announced they’d compose a song, an anthem really, for bisexuality.

Claire couldn’t believe it.  Not really.  Not until the song came on the radio while her Papi was driving her to the movie theater where she’d be meeting Mary and Darci.

First, the station, had introduced the song and explained what it was about.  Claire bit her lip, expecting Papi to change to a different station.  He didn’t.  Maybe he wasn’t paying attention?  No, he was tapping his fingers on the wheel along with the beat.  Wait.  Papi liked the song?  The song explicitly about bisexuality?

Claire glanced at her father, and then tentatively asked him if he liked the song.

“It’s a good song.  Reminds me of a friend I had in college.  He was bisexual.”  Papi replied.  “That’s that band you like too.  Right?  The Skulls one?”

“Yeah, that’s them.”  Claire glanced his way.  “So, you know what bisexuality is?”

“Oh yeah.”

The next song came on, and it seemed like the conversation was going to end there.  Papi wasn’t exactly the most talkative about these sorts of things.  Claire felt too anxious to keep prodding.

Then, Papi spoke again, “I know your mother can be a bit overbearing at times.  She really just wants what she thinks is best for you.  Even if that may not be what you want.”  He looked at her.  “I was a teenager once, you know.  I know what it’s like.  Just give her some time, ok?  She’ll come around and see that you’re your own person.”  He stopped at a red light and used the opportunity to reach a hand over and place it on her shoulder.  “And if she doesn’t at first, I’ll be there to be you back up.  Ok?”

The light turned green and he started driving again.

“If you ever need to talk about anything and I mean anything, you can come to me, too.”  Papi took a deep breath.  “I promise I won’t judge.  I want to protect you.  I know I can take that a bit too far.  But I will listen.  I will try.  I love you.”

Claire smiled.  “Thanks, Papi.”

She wasn’t ready to talk openly about being bisexual with him, or mom, quite yet.

But soon.

[camille-marshall-blog]

Birthday Ficlet Part #3

Alternately Titled: Wait For It

a/n: hi hi hiiiiiiiiiii!! And now we reach the final part of Marshall’s Birthday Fic Trilogy. This one mainly features @nathaniel-schreave , so thank you so much Claire for the RP!! Also, I forgot to thank @victoria-seaberg and @ladyaadamaier in my last post for coming to the party sooooo Thank you guys!!!! Making this a short author’s note so yeeeeeet. (also, you guys probably might notice that I’ve been using lyrics from Hamilton, so kinda would like to mention that they’re nice accompaniments to their respective fics lol) Anyways, Happy New Year’s Eve from my timezone to yours! Hope you enjoy! (3799 words)

“Woah… Ah.. Hi!” I greet, surprised to be seeing Natalie Nate at the door. It was getting late, and I wasn’t really expecting him to make an appearance tonight.

“Hey, happy birthday. I wasn’t sure what to get you so I kinda just guessed and got you this.” Nate greets as he hands me the poorly wrapped box. “Sorry about the wrapping, it’s not my best skill.” he adds.

“Wow!” I try to avoid eye contact for a second, feeling flattered by his gesture. “Thank you so much!”

This felt oddly… different, the whole receiving so many gifts thing- I mean. I try to shrug off the distinct feeling, focusing my attention on inspecting Nate’s wrapping skills. It wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, that honor belonged to my sister.  “The wrapping's not that bad, give yourself a break.”

He flashes me a look that seems to suspect my patronization, “a 5 year old could’ve done better.”

A small chuckle escapes my lips, “You're not used to wrapping gifts?”

“Nope, not a thing I have to do often.”

Of course he didn’t have to wrap gifts often, there were probably people who did that for him… but I’m surprised to know that he did take the time to wrap mine.

“I'm flattered that you took the time to wrap mine though.” I smirk, it was a thoughtful gesture.

“I’m not sure you’ll want to be flattered over that, anyway enough about the wrapping what’s happening in here?” Nate tries to catch a glimpse of the festivities happening inside, and I step aside to give him a better view.

“Truth or Dare, and a number of people that I theorize have had too much alcohol.” I answer with an amused tone, no way was I drinking tonight, but it was pretty funny to see everyone fool around as effect of the alcohol in their systems. 

“That’s what happens at parties.” He laughs and I laugh with him, then shaking my head disapprovingly.

“I wouldn't really know what happens at a party,honestly.” I shrug my shoulders, “But would you... want to come in...? Have some cake?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, stepping inside to get a full view of the party. “wow like all the girls are here.” he comments as everyone greets him and waves.

“I was just surprised as you were when Venus brought me here,” I shrug as we make our way to the cake.

“But everyone was sober and you weren’t walking in in the middle of truth or dare…” Nate jokingly replies with a laugh.

I snap my fingers and point to him, “Good point… so,” I say reaching the table, “Can I interest you with a slice of cake made by the talented Clara Éclair?”

Nate catches up to me, “Oh of course.”

“Here you go.” I say as hand him one of the plates that already had a slice of cake with a fork on it.

“Oh my gosh, just as good as the other one. I seriously don’t know how bakers do it.” Nate comments after taking his first bite.

“Baking is the closest thing we have to wizardry.” I laugh at his reaction, relating to how much I appreciated the cake- it was glorious.

“true, very true” he mumbles as he continues to dig into the slice of cake.

“So…” I start off, trying to make more conversation (I know, that’s a surprise even to me) “…how's your day been?”

I mentally face palm myself for using the worst conversation starter. Well, it’s not the worst to me, it’s actually something I would like to be asked every now and then- but I mentally berate myself for the lack of substance in my question.

“It’s been pretty well, how’s yours?”

“Well, you can guess that the day has been pretty eventful from this party alone.” I gesture to the girls still having a go at truth or dare.

“True.” he agrees looking to the group.

“I bet that you don't typically spend your birthdays like this…”

“Not really, my mom likes birthdays to just be family.”

“Really?” I raise my eyebrows, “So it's just you and your family together?”

Nate nods before giving his explanation, “the whole family together is always... something. Like I had to have a party for all the board members, other royals and important people of society because it was my 20th birthday and right before the selection. But my mom decides the actually birthday to just family, it’s really nice actually.”

“Huh, I remember watching a broadcast of that party- there was waaaay too many people for a party…” I remember watching that Report with the Bullets back in Fort Hamilton, when I was just a second lieutenant and my friends were still based in Illea, when everything was completely different.

I continue after being caught up in my thoughts for a second, “…but I guess that's the way things are for the Schreave's golden boy. It sounds nice that you got to spend your birthday with your family.”

A pang of jealousy strikes me at the thought of how united Nate’s family seemed, how it seemed like everyone really valued each other as member of the family, how stable they all were. I wanted that.

“Oh the golden boy?” he raises his eyebrow questioningly at me.

“You technically are their golden boy. Eldest son... heir to the throne... need I say more of your titles?” I explain to him smirking. Golden boy was just a nickname that naturally came to me, it described him perfectly quite honestly. He was golden.. That would have been a nice call sign if he were a pilot- though I’m pretty sure that the guards used something else when referring to him for security details.

“Oh I’ve heard Illeas Sweetheart from another selected,” he adds in good humor. 

“Ah yes, Illea's Sweetheart- and let's not forget ‘Nate the ideal Mate’.” I respond, remembering a magazine cover I had saw laying on one of the tables on the library, I found that title hilarious- though probably not completely disagreeable.

Nate rolls his eyes, “who could forget that one.”

“Everyone basically loves you- hence... ‘Golden Boy’.” I reason with a laugh, it was like he was a compliment magnet.

“Thanks,” he laughs.

“Don't let it all get to your head though” I smirk, “You'll lose your charm.”

“You do realize this isn’t the first time I’ve heard those names.” Nate claire-ifies with me. ((Love you Claire <3 Don’t kill me for this pun))

“Of course... a guy like you? You probably hear that on a daily basis.” I muse.

“I’d say more weekly. But yes.”

“Weekly basis... how oddly specific!” I raise my eyebrow. Did he actually keep track?

“Interviews…” he explains further.

“Ahhhh... I get it.” I nod in amusement, still adding a teasing tone in my voice.

“What! I have to do them..” Nate exclaims, probably trying to clear his own reputation to me, and I’m trying not to laugh too much.

“Of course, because you're the golden boy.” I tease, enjoying using the new nickname.

“Okay you can stop it with the names now” he declares and I relent my name tirade.

“Okay okay..” I jokingly raise my hands in defeat, “Enough about being the golden boy…” I couldn’t resist using it one last time and it earns me a glare from Nate that makes me snicker a little.

“How are you holding up with the ball?” I ask while making sure to change the topic and avoid the temptation of calling him another nickname.

Nate shrugs, “I’m fine, it’s one of those things where you have to just be there. You can’t prepare yourself for it.”

“Lady Collette's been saying the same thing- doesn't stop her telling us every single bit of etiquette we should practice throughout the entire thing.”

“She takes her job... very seriously” Nate agrees.

“She does... she should consider an alternate career as a drill sergeant though, she'd fit right in.”

“I’ll let her know,” he winks at me jokingly.

“She does a good job though... teaching us stuff. I've definitely improved my ability to ‘glide through the dance floor like a swan on a lake’.” I explain, putting air quotations as I use the same description as Lady Collette often mentioned during practices.

“Oh is that what you’re supposed to do?” Nate exagerates with mock surprise, “I do more of a graceful elephant dancing on ice.” he smirks before chuckling.

“I'm pretty sure that elephants on ice still have a chance to be incredibly graceful.” I counter, though laughing with him. I’d pay good money to see his impression of graceful elephant dancing on ice tomorrow at the ball.

“Yeah okay. Are you all ready for tomorrow night?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” I nod. “Well, I'm mentally preparing myself for all those... people that are gonna be there.”

It’s not that I hated people, I just felt overwhelmed by big groups of people and trying to not make a fool out of myself in front of all of them. Big groups of people always made it more difficult to observe things.

“It’s really only going to be the girls, guards, royal family and maybe a couple of board members. Nothing too crazy.” Nate reasons out, and I admit that it helps ease me.

“Nothing too crazy- yeah.” I try to shake my head, shaking off the unease. I shouldn’t be scared of some ball.

“Seriously they aren’t that bad. If anything they are boring. Unless all the girls get drunk,” Nate points to the girls, “which it seem like they might.”

I laugh, “I doubt it would be boring tomorrow but ... I wouldn't want to see everyone else get drunk. Some of us need to be the responsible adults.” I kinda felt the need to make sure everyone didn’t drink too much for tonight, it was my party afterall (well, it was hosted by Vee- but as the reason for the party, I felt the responsibility to make sure everyone was okay)

“It’ll happen, I’m betting it now.” Nate amusingly declares.

“And what would you exactly wage that all the girls would get drunk tomorrow?” I raise my eyebrow questioningly at him, surprised in the confidence of his statement.

“First of all I never said all of them. But at least…” Nate looks at the group, “7 of them. If 7 or more girls get drunk you owe me…”

I interrupt him with a scoff, “depends on what you'd be interested in getting from this…”

What he would want from me did intrigue me, honestly.

“Well how about this, if you win I can get you out of one day of lessons.” Nate offers with a raised eyebrow. One day off lessons, I’d love that- a day with no lesson or anything.

Now, I needed to offer my own proposal of what I’d do if I’d lose this bet. I didn’t have anything great to offer in exchange for that one day of freedom from lessons, and I doubt that Nate would be interested in getting flight lessons from me. Every action has its equal opposite reaction, and bets often worked that way too- with that I decide on my punishment in case I lose the bet (decide while mentally kicking myself, of course).

“Fine, if 7 or more girls get drunk… I will…” I roll my eyes at how stupid this was going to sound, “get as drunk as they are.”

“Seriously?” Nate raises his eyebrow in surprise.

“I'm serious,” I reply, looking him straight in the eye to prove it. “Unless you're interested in anything else?”

“Nope, I’m fine with you getting drunk. Deal?” he extends his hand out in front of him. Now or never, Marshall- the bet has been made, no backing out now.

I take his hand and shake it firmly, I’ll be damned if I backed out of a bet. “I can't believe my dignity is riding on everyone else's sobriety tomorrow.”

“No telling the girls about this. That’s unfair.” Nate adds in a serious tone.

“I'll play fair, your highness- don't sweat it.” I smirk. Scout’s Soldier’s honor.

“I’m not losing anything. It’s a win either way for you.” Nate smirks back at me before continuing, “but really you could get out of lessons. I wished for those days as a child.” he shares.

“I wish for them everyday,” I reply laughing earning me Nate’s accompanying laughter. As much as future queen duties were fascinating (well, not fascinating to me, but I’m sure that the other girls were fascinated), I often wondered what it was like for the king, the allocations for military budgets and resources, collaborating with the best generals for the country’s military strategy (a job my father briefly had served under here in Angeles)- a part of me was interested in knowing what it was like to handle those responsibilities, and an idea pops into my head.

“One more condition- If I get out of lessons, I want to spend it seeing what you actually do as a prince.”

I know Nate didn’t have the heavy load of tasks, seeing that he was still a monarch in training, but it was something different and maybe more of my speed and pay grade.

“Um…” he pauses to think for a moment.

“I’d have to ask my dad, but it’s also my dad so he’ll probably say yes, unless we have some big secret plan going on.” he smirks jokingly at me. “But you are mostly just going to be sitting there watching me do paperwork.”

“I'd take paperwork over sitting and getting lectured on the dos and don'ts for princesses-in-training.” It was all getting unnecessarily repetitive, honestly- a change in course topic would be refreshing.

“Okay then. It’s boring.” Nate mutters.

“Ahhh the burden of being royalty…” I say as I take a look at my watch to check the time.

12:07 AM

“Whoa, It's already Christmas morning.”

“Is it?” Nate proceeds to check his watch, “hm... it is. Well Merry Christmas.” he smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Natalie.” I smile back at him, leaning against the wall.

Nate rolls his eyes, “Another nick name from our very own Michelle.”

“Get used to it- Natalie's growing on me,” I laugh, “Or would you prefer Golden Boy?”

“Natalie is just fine.” he replies in exasperation.

Now that I knew it was Christmas day, a part of me wondered if Santa would show up in the palace bringing everyone gifts… gifts.. GIFTS! Speaking of gifts…

“So Natalie, On the topic of Christmas... how about you come with me for a while?” I ask, making my way to Vee’s door.

“Uh... sure…” he replies in a slightly confused tone as he follows me.

I lead him across the hallway, “We're just headed to my room across the hall, don't worry.”

“I wasn’t worried, more confused” he mutters.

“Let me spell it out: I'm getting your Christmas gift- hold on.” I open my door and leave the door open, “You can come in if you want.”

“Okay” he says as he walks right behind me, “what a nice room.” he comments.

“Thanks, I like to keep everything organized.” Well, it was a force of habit after living all those years in military school.

I open my closet and search for the present I had just wrapped a while ago after I picked it up from Shipka, who handled the mail. Ah, there it is. I pull out the small box.

“This just came in the mail today.” I explain as I walk up to him.

“I’m guessing that’s for me…” Nate wonders out loud.

“Indeed it is,” I offer him the present, “Merry Christmas.”

He accepts the box and starts to unwrap it, “You do know you didn’t have to get me something.”

“Nah, I figured that I wanted to get you something.” I shrug, if only he knew the day-long internal debate it took to figure that out.

“I asked Jace what you might want... and he said guitar picks and I know that you're a Potterhead from the others so... yeah I figured these.” I look down, trying to not make much eye contact- I wasn’t sure he was going to like the Harry Potter-themed guitar picks, “would be something you'd like.”

Despite my eyes downturned, I manage to see shock come across his expression before he smiles,“Wow, these are really cool. Oh my, thank you.”

“Yeah, I made sure to get a set.. cause I know that they're pretty easy to lose so yeah..” I laugh, trying to shake off my nerves- honestly, I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am and it building up inside of me. “Hope you like them.”

“I really do, thank you. Can I give you a hug...?” he says, and I’m surprised to hear him asking me that. Did he notice how I wasn’t the most comfortable with physical closeness? I’m astonished to say the least. Nate was beginning to earn more of my trust.

I rub my neck, thinking about it. I wouldn’t mind it… anymore. A hug felt like a nice thing to have right now.

“Yeah, sure.” I agree, opening my arms to him.

In a split second, I feel my nerves ease as he wraps his arms around me. It’s a sudden silence and heat that comforts me, the kind that made my heart leap. Being this close to him makes me realize how warm he was to hold, and I wouldn’t have minded basking in his heat a little longer.

“Thank you,” Nate gives me a one side smile as we break apart, and a part of me instantly misses his warmth. But the two of us resume that comfortable distance away from each other, and I’m thankful that it doesn’t feel awkward.

“I feel like I should be thanking you,” I laugh, pushing my hair behind my ear before I put my hands behind my back.

“Why?”

“You have no idea how worried I was if you'd like the gift or not.” I explain to him.

Nate laughs, “They literally are my two favorite things.”

“Good to know that I didn't mess up.” I smile, I’ve always liked getting people the right gifts, Nate was no different.

“Now I feel like my leggings weren’t good enough.” he shakes his head.

“What? No! I'd probably use them as much as I can.” The leggings Nate gave a while ago was actually really pretty (and they were navy blue too)

“Okay good” Nate lets out a sigh of relief.

I pat his shoulder reassuringly, “ I like them a lot, trust me.”

He flashes another infectious smile, and I’m starting to realize how much time we’ve spent away from the party. I check my watch and confirm my realization.

“We should be headed back to Vee's room... or I should at least be back at my own party.” I tell him, taking a step back from him and towards the door.

“Maybe, you are the guest of honor.” He replies.

“Duty calls,” I laugh. “Thank you for visiting the party, by the way.” I turn to him as we start walking to my door, “Too bad that you missed Taylor Swift.”

“No problem, happy birthday and now merry Christmas.” he says walking with me.

“You too Natalie,” I open the door for the two of us and walk out into the hallway with him.

“Have fun at your party. Tell all the girls bye for me,” Nate waves as I watch him walk away before going back inside Vee’s room and catch some of the girls still having a go at Truth or Dare where we continued to laugh and have fun throughout the entire night and into the morning.

[redstarfiction-blog]

Part 11 of Sonas/Happiness.

Hi everyone, I am so sorry that this has been so long coming. I came to a bit of a cross-road in the story and wasn’t sure how to continue so I left it alone for a little while but now I have found the thread again. In this chapter we first jump forward and then lean backward in time and this is how it will likely continue for a couple of chapters at least and through Brianna’s perspective. 

I really hope you will enjoy it and thank you all so much for your kindness and your patience.

Han xxx

My Introduction to My Father and Re-Learning My Mother by Brianna Ellen Randall Fraser Mackenzie

1782

I couldn’t say for sure exactly when I began to feel like a Fraser. Da made me feel as welcome as he could from the very beginning, as did all of the Murray clan, and Mama of course, but my intrinsic willingness to be included did not kick in immediately.

I was, for want of a better word, overwhelmed.

I’d had plenty of time to come to terms with Jamie and the tale of his love for my mother, and her love for him which was, to me anyway, more important. Mama’s love for Jamie Fraser was what rocked my world and threatened to tip everything into a void of self-doubt and bitterness.

Seeing them together though … I understood it. I saw the way she touched his hand as she passed by him and the way his hand lighted on her hip as they walked together. I noticed the way her eyes sought his at the dinner table and the way he smiled at her, a little lift of the corner of his mouth that was warm and certain. In all these ways and more they each said ‘I love you’ perhaps a hundred times a day.

I had never heard Mama say ‘I love you’ to Daddy. Nor had I seen her offer the words in tiny, silent acts of adoration as she did with Jamie. I had seen her write it in birthday cards and on Christmas gift tags though and as a kid, I had thought that was proof enough. I had been wrong and that knowledge had made me fear that I was wrong about the way she loved me too.

Funnily enough it was Jamie who bridged that void too. I saw myself, my existence, through his eyes. I saw how he adored my presence and how he marvelled at various things I did. It was a bit much really, to go from being a beloved daughter to being an flaunted treasure but what made it a pleasure was seeing Mama's reaction to his joy.

She urged me forward and shared in his happiness in a way that I had never known her to do. Her pride in me was so obvious that I began to worry I would simply never live up to it…

“Bree?”

Roger’s head popped round the study door and Bree jolted in her seat, her fingers skittering across the page smudging half dried dotted ‘I’s and dashes of ‘t’s.

“Ach! Sorry love!”

Roger bit his lip abashedly, noting the streaks of ink, as he made his way in carrying a tray of coffee and gingernut biscuits.

“No problem, what is a dirty page in the face of such service?”

Bree grinned up at him, stretching her hands above her head and rolling her neck from side to side.

“How is the draft coming along?”

“Better. I feel like I’m finally saying what I want to say about them. About how they were together.”

“How they still are!”

Roger grinned and Bree nodded, snorting.

“Yes, though if Da tramps mud in through the house again Mama might kill him. You know how protective she is of the new rug.”

“Aye, but in your Da’s defence he was just trying to catch Mandy before she could carry the wee frog too far into the house and claim it to be a pet.”

Bree laughed and bit into one of the freshly baked biscuits sighing in pleasure.

“Did Aunt Jenny make these?”

“Aye, the main batch was to decorate the cake for Robbie’s birthday, these are the overspills.”

“I can’t believe my baby brother is about to turn sixteen! And take his first voyage too!”

Bree sighed and shook her head. Roger grinned and bent to place a kiss on the top of her hair.

“Ye should see the state of your mother, she’s cried twice today already and your Da hasn’t even brought the trunk down from the loft yet.”

“Poor Mama. I should go and distract her with something.”

“Unless you intend to help her bind the laddie’s hands and feet and bolt the doors and windows of his room to stop him leaving, I doubt you’ll find her easy to distract.”

Bree smiled in a distracted fashion and closed her eyes as Roger’s hands settled on her shoulders massaging lightly, giving herself over to the sensation and relaxing beneath his gentle fingers.

She let the motion loll her and carry her back through the years, across acres of memory to a time that seemed so desperately long ago and yet also so close that she could still feel the press of her brother’s heel against the palm of her hand, flat against their mother’s belly.

They had been sat in the kitchen, mere minutes after she had met their father for the first time, when Claire had gasped and beamed at them both in delight, gripping first Jamie’s hand and then Brianna’s and pressing their palms to her middle.

Bree remembered the awed look upon her father’s face, his eyes wide and almost disbelieving as the baby turned and stretched, pressing fists, feet and bottom against their hands. She had felt almost like an intruder on their moment, the moment that Jamie had never had with her, both parents feeling the proof of their love. She had begun to move her hand away, intending to leave them be, but Jamie had caught her fingers gently within his free hand

“Stay, Brianna. If ye dinna mind doing so.”

“Sure … I mean … If you want me to…”

“Aye, I do.”

“We both do.”

Her Mama had reached out and cupped her cheek so lightly that Bree had to look to make sure she was not imagining the touch. Her mother’s other hand had settled over Jamie’s, resting against her belly, connecting the four of them physically in a pose that was as symbolic of family as any that had ever been known.

Over the weeks that had followed, she and Jamie came to know each other. It made her smile still to think of the first awkward attempts at working side by side, hesitant and overly polite, neither wanting to spoil the sweet bubble of domesticity that had formed around them.

She had been eager to show her knowledge of guns, horses, and woodwork whilst he had been very happy to listen, encourage, and advise where necessary, but always with a studious respect of the newness of their acquaintance.

It had been a loose rock that had finally bridged the formality. She had been stepping out of the creek, barefoot from laying nets for trout, when the stone she stood on rolled out beneath her, turning her ankle sharply.

The joint had swollen instantly, Jamie’s quick thinking to remove her boot had stopped it needing to be cut off later as within minutes it was three times its usual size.

Jamie had carefully taken her foot into his lap and ever so gently turned it this way and that, biting his own lip at Brianna’s pained gasps.

“I dinna think it is broken but we should get ye back to the house, lass.”

Jamie was still hunkered down on his haunches before her, his brows knotted in sympathy and Bree slapped the ground in frustration,

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It really hurts.”

She had felt foolishly embarrassed, as if she was fussing about a little bump.

“Aye, no doubt. Let me get the bags and I’ll carry ye.”

“Oh! No, Da, really. I can walk.”

She had blushed furiously and struggled to stand, only succeeding in putting a fraction of her weight on the foot before crying out in pain and staggering into his waiting arms.

“Nonsense. Ye can barely stand.”

Jamie had smiled, steadying her and retrieving her boot from the ground.

“Bide here a moment, Bree. Can ye balance? Good.”

Bree had done as he said, wobbly slightly, most of her weight on the uninjured foot as she watched him gather the spare nets and poles, moving with that particular grace and elegance that she longed to capture in lines of charcoal and paint but had not yet built the courage to ask.

“Right, wrap ye arm around my neck, mo chridhe.”

“Da, are ye sure you can … I mean … I’m nearly the same size as you!”

Jamie had snorted at that and held his hand out before her face, long fingers spread wide and cocked an eyebrow in friendly challenge. Bree had placed her own hand against his and laughed at the size difference. Yes, she was big, but the startlingly obvious truth was that he was considerably bigger.

“I think I’ll manage, eh? Now, take a hold of me.”

Bree had done as he asked and besides a small grunt of effort as he had boosted her into his arms, her Da had shown no other visible signs of strain.

She had been amazed at the ease with which he carried her, she had known he was strong but even after nearly two miles his breathing wasn’t laboured and his stride was wide and even, careful not to jostle her and she felt safer in his arms than she had ever expected to feel.

Bree had found herself wondering what it might have been like to have been raised by this man, to have been lifted with familiar ease and sheltered by him from her first breath. With her wondering came a sense of absolute certainty that had she grown up with him, Jamie Fraser would have held her and carried her, supported her and tended to her injuries when they occurred with the same natural affection that he displayed now. She would never have had to feel vulnerable or ashamed. 

Normally any such thought caused a stab of guilt over the Daddy she had lost but now, she merely felt a gentle pull of hope for the future, hope that she would come to know her father well enough that the need for imagining would cease and be replaced with more certainties like this one.

They arrived at Lallybroch within half an hour and as they made their way toward the front door, a low, rising scream reached their ears. Before either of them could react, Jenny’s face appeared at the window and she yelled

“Claire’s having the baby!”

*

To be continued ….