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crazy-little-cool-cat · 6 years ago

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Hand in Glove - Chapter 8 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: Since I couldn’t post a sneak peek this time without ruining everything, I figured I might as well just post the entire thing and be done with it. Kate, my muse; Julia, my soulmate; Alex, my love - this one’s for you.

Word Count: ~2.2K

Warnings: Angst.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

It wasn’t cold, but Annie was shivering. Storming out on Ben wasn’t the smartest choice she made, but she felt trapped. She didn’t know if she wanted that baby. Their baby. Ben, on the other hand, made it clear that he’s all in. All it took was one bright smile, and Annie knew. She knocked on the door again, constantly looking over her shoulder. When the door opened, she heaved out a sigh of relief. After driving around for just over two hours, she was glad she could finally stop running.

“Hey!”

“Hi. You’re not busy, right?”

“No, no.�� Rami stepped back and motioned Annie inside, closing the door behind her and leading her to his living room with a hand on the small of her back, “this is a surprise.”

“Things turned to shit.” Annie collapsed on the plush cushions, “can I just… hang around here a little?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Is there any point to do that?” Annie’s voice was barely over a whisper. Rami shrugged silently. “I’m pregnant. I think he wants to have this baby. I fucking know he does.”

“Makes sense. He’s ridiculously crazy about kids.” Rami scratched the side of his neck. “And, you know, he’s batshit crazy about you since that damn wedding.”

“This is not the reaction I was expecting…” Annie’s whole face scrunched up in confusion.

“I was briefed about it all,” Rami chuckled, “if you really thought those three gossips would just keep it to themselves you need to get your head checked.”

“Solid point.” Annie nodded solemnly. “Still, I can’t have a baby with someone I’ve just met a few months ago.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” Annie groaned and threw her head back. “I’m not some cookie-cutter girly girl.”

“Oh, believe me,” Rami chuckled, “no one ever presumed you are.”

“I don’t want marriage and a hoard of kids,” Annie closed her eyes, “I don’t want to be the lonely, bitter wife that stays home and waits for her husband all day.”

“Ben wouldn’t want to turn you into one of those, you know.”

Annie’s phone kept buzzing in her bag. She knew who was calling. She knew he was probably going out of his mind at her silence. She hated putting him through it all. She also hated the situation that caused her to run away.

“So, what’s your plan?”

“I was hoping to just crash here tonight? Hide in plain sight, you know?” Annie realised how pathetic she sounded, “figure out the rest of it later.”

“You’re more than welcome to,” Rami smiled softly, “are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

###

“She’s at Rami’s?!”

Ben couldn’t help but scream at this point. He was up all night, replaying what had transpired with Annie, trying to understand what happened. He tried calling Annabelle, but she wouldn’t pick up. He sent around a million texts. No reply. He even drove around the places he knew she likes to go. No sign of her or her car. Then, his phone rang and he couldn’t answer the call fast enough; only to hear Gwilym say that Annabelle had ended up at Rami fucking Malek’s place.

“Ben, calm your tits, mate.”

“Don’t tell me to calm my fucking tits, Gwil,” Ben snapped, “I was up all fucking night!”

“I know, we all were.”

“Only to find out that she’s literally in the last place I’d ever…” Ben barked out a laugh, “she’s so fucking brilliant.”

“She was always a master of Hide’n’Seek.”

“That tiny little -”

“Watch it,” Gwil warned, “that’s the mother of your unborn child you’re talking about.”

“I’m calling Rami.”

“I strongly advise you don’t do that,” Gwil quipped, “she needs some quiet time.”

“She dropped a bomb on me, man!”

“On all of us.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“You will, in time.”

“How are you so calm about this?!”

“I’ve known her for her entire life. I know she’ll come around.”

“When?”

“Ben, I really have to hang up now.”

“Of course you do.”

“Don’t call Rami.”

“I won’t.”

“Do I need to send Joe over there to babysit?”

“Fuck off.”

###

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Rami finished the last of his coffee and hurriedly stuffed things into his bag, “or the rest of the world, for that matter.”

“I’m not planning on avoiding him forever.”

“It’s been two days, babe.”

“Did you -” Annabelle looked absolutely bamboozled, “did you just call me babe?”

“Sorry, force of habit,” Rami grimaced and chuckled, “usually the only girl I have around here is Lucy.”

“I still don’t know what the fuck am I supposed to say to him.”

“The truth would be a great start!”

“Really, Rami?” Annabelle tossed a throw pillow at his head as he passed by her, “you did not just say that.”

“I did and you know I’m right. You can’t stay here forever. Lucy will get suspicious.”

“Just say that you’re kicking me out then!” Annie laughed for the first time in two whole days.

“Never, you are such an emotional delight.”

“Motherfu -”

“Leaving now!” Rami interrupted her and shut the door.

Annie leaned back down with a huff. She reached for her phone, turning it on. She couldn’t handle the constant buzzing and notifications lighting up her screen. She just needed everything - everyone - to stop. Now that she felt calmer, she was ready to gauge the damage she had done.

###

There was a very tense, awkward silence during lunch. The four boys sat around their usual table in the catering tent. Gwil and Joe tried to keep up appearances and break the tension with some banter and jokes. Rami and Ben, however, have not spoken to each other since Ben found out his girlfriend - his pregnant girlfriend - is hiding at Rami’s for the second day, now.

“Can we please discuss the elephant in the room?” Gwil said, looking from Ben to Rami.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Rami started, pushing his food around, “she’s at my house. That’s that.”

“You really think that what you said makes perfect sense?” Ben scoffed, “or are you really just a bloody idiot?”

“Ugh,” Joe groaned, “here we go, again...”

“She doesn’t want to see you yet!” Rami rolled his eyes and dropped his fork, “get over it.”

“Rami…” Joe glowered.

“No, seriously! Ben’s out here throwing a tantrum because he knocked up his girlfriend,” Joe was about to interrupt but Rami held up his hand to stop him and carried on ranting, ��and she needs some time to think about the fact that he’s thrilled about having a child with a girl he’s known for just a few months!” Rami held up four fingers, “Four. Months. Can you blame her for wanting to just -”

“You think I’m thrilled?” Ben snickered, “you fucking owl with your goddamn huge fucking eyes -”

“Ben!” Gwil smacked him.

“Oh, so now you don’t want that baby?” Rami raised an eyebrow and sipped his soda.

“No, I do!” Ben hissed, “I’m fucking scared but I still want this to happen!”

“Okay,” Rami nodded, “but what she wants is to be able to think without you pressuring her! As long as that’s the case, she’s staying with me.”

“No. No!” Ben looked at his three best friends, “she’s my girlfriend. She’s hiding over at your house.”

“She needs time!”

“But I need her!”

“Ben -”

“No!” he felt he’s at his wits end, “I haven’t slept in two days. At all. Her phone is off, I can’t reach her,” Ben’s voice broke, “I know where she is and I can’t fucking do anything about it. Because you,” Ben pointed at Rami, “won’t let me see the mother of my own bloody child.”

“Ben,” Rami smirked wickedly, “what if she doesn’t want to have your bloody child? Huh?”

“Did -” Ben’s green eyes widened in sheer horror, “is that what she said? She said she doesn’t want it?”

“No, you asshole,” Rami picked up his fork and stuffed his face full of Ravioli, “she didn’t say anything about what she wants. That’s why she needs time to think.”

Gwil frowned at his phone, completely detached from the entire fight. He opened his mouth to speak a few times and snapped it shut.

“Annie just texted me,” Gwil blurted out. His mouth agape, his green eyes shining with hope, Ben looked at his girlfriend’s cousin in utter shock. “She said you should check your phone.”

###

Annabelle didn’t know how her life got so out of hand. She felt like it was slipping out of her control and it terrified her. After trying to think about the entire ordeal and getting nowhere, she figured she might as well just talk to him.

Ben wasted no time when his workday ended and he went straight to Rami’s doorstep. They stood outside on the stoop, so Ben could have a smoke. They have been going on and on for about an hour now, with no conclusion. Annie looked at her red Chuck Taylors, stuffed her hands in her oversized hoody’s pockets and shook her head, disappointed with herself.

“I honestly can’t believe you want this… this…”

“Baby? Yeah,” Ben inhaled a deep cloud of smoke and blew it out, turning his head away from Annie, “Me too. But I do.”

“This can’t be happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’ve been in this relationship for, what, four months now?” Annabelle felt like screaming at his stupid, beautiful face. “Because we don’t even live together, Ben! Because -”

“So, move in with me.”

“Are you even listening to yourself right now?!”

“Annie, your entire heap of shit is already at my house. You’re there every night.” Ben was losing his patience, “come to think of it, we do live together.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. Stop paying rent for a flat you no longer live in.” He pointed at her with his cigarette, “it’s fucking wasteful.”

“And what,” Annie mocked, “we’ll get married, have our baby, I’ll be your happy little housewife while you’re never around because of your fucking job?”

“Other than that middle and last parts, yeah,” Ben dropped his half smoked cigarette to the floor and stomped on it to put it out, “sounds good to me.”

“Fuck off.”

“Annie, what do I need to do for you to finally be okay with the fact that I fucking love you?”

“You love the thought of me, you don’t love me.”

“Oh, great, you’re spewing shit out of your mouth again.”

“Ben, I will never, ever, be that girl,” Annie could feel rage bubble up in her veins, “I don’t want marriage. I don’t want to be the wife that sits alone all day and waits for her husband to come home after he fucked his mistress.”

“Mistress? Have you gone utterly mad? What are you even on about?”

“I don’t know, Ben!” Annie’s voice rose about two octaves, “listen to me. I am not what you want me to be.”

“What do you think it is that I want you to be, exactly?” Ben threw his arms out to his sides, “I won’t even dream of proposing to you, if you don’t want me to. I don’t care about any of it,” he glared at the tiny little ball of anger in front of him, “I don’t want to fuck anyone else but you. I’m not sure I ever will.”

“Of cou -”

“Shut up and let me fucking finish,” he growled, “you are so infuriating, you know that? Annabelle, I don’t love the thought of you. I love you, alright?”

“I can’t give you what you want and -”

“You can give me you. That’s literally all I want.”

“And that?” Annie pointed at her belly, “do you want that?”

“I do.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then that’s totally up to you. It will make me so, so sad,” Ben pulled her to him, “but it’s your decision, bottom line.” He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head up so they could finally look at each other’s eyes, “Annie, I would never force anything on you.”

“I just don’t know…”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Ben could see Annie build her walls up, “Annie, stay with me, here. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ben.”

“What?”

“Don’t say you’re not going to hurt me because you don’t know that.” Annabelle put her hands on his wrists, “you might hurt me. I might hurt you.”

“You’re right.”

“You say you love me now,” Annie’s thumbs rubbed circles on Ben’s skin, “but what if you just stop one day?”

“That would be impossible, be realistic.” They both giggled softly at that. “Annie, I love you.”

“People will talk about this.”

“Let them. I really don’t care about these people.” Ben pressed his forehead to Annie’s, “this is ours. Not theirs.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t function these past two days, Annie,” he chuckled, “it’s like everything depends on your existence around me, now.”

Annie nodded slightly and sighed. She knew exactly what he meant, because she felt it too.

“I fucking love you, do you not understand that?”

“No,” Annie smiled, “I mean, I do. I fucking love you, too.”

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dememarquette · 6 years ago

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Office Raid

I heard a knock on the door, flaring my temper. I'm not usually this impatient, it's just that time of the year. Tax Season. My primary line of work is in Greed. Meaning, I pitch businesses, get them started, and hand over the keys. I do accounting in the background, ensuring my clients maintain their wealth so they can enjoy it. That, unfortunately, includes managing their accounts. I know every tax break in the book. It's all a matter of playing Tetris with finances to keep them happy- for, say...hundreds of people. If not thousands. Because of this, everything between January to April is a nightmare. I have hateful quotas, and my free time is sank into inane questions like 'How can I claim my employees as dependents?' The batshit accounting of my multi-million dollar clients doesn't happen overnight. My schedule is clean of new patronage until April 12th, but lot of good it does when they still arrive at my door. I wanted to put up a sign, 'Come back in May.' "Come on in." I say instead. Julia would kill me if I turned down anyone, regardless if I was up to my eyeballs in W-2's and Form SS-4's. "But make it snappy." I said snappy- I know I did- but I think he heard 'blast my goddamn door open.' The seven foot panel blew off its hinges, sailing across the room at an flawless horizontal angle. I stared as it smacked against the wall, cracking the already-unstable structure. I gave the curious incident the benefit of doubt. This is Hell, after all. I couldn't jump to conclusions to accuse my guest- But the moment one armored boot stepped into the room, it became a safe assumption. The forth circle isn't known for its sturdy craftsmanship but he was still pleased with himself. He sauntered in like he'd receive an ovation. I did stand, but it was scantly out of reverence. "Hello." I said, at a loss. "Why don't you make yourself at home?" "Demetrius Marquette," He announced, standing grandiose just inside the entry way. Decked out in red and gold, the familiar uniform took such majestic inspiration from the Romans that it'd be impressive if it wasn’t set off by a swampy water cooler in the background. "I am Arodeus, and I have orders bestowed upon me by the 6th Choir to terminate you immediately." I don't know how one is normally supposed to oppose a declaration like that, so I did my best. "...Not guilty," I reasoned. "Of which part, exactly?" "...All of it." His head canted. One arm eminently held a thick document to his chest like he was here to strongarm a petition on climate change. "The dozens of counts of violating your celibacy vows? Sacrilege? Fraud? The hundreds of documented instances of simony during your time as a member of the clergy? And all of the Hellish transactions that succeeded it?" He posed. "All of that?" I considered carefully. Yeah. Checks out. "Hey, uh- listen. It sounds awful when you word it like that, but my application was fifty pages for a reason. By the way, who let you in-?" "Consider it rejected." With practiced dispassion, his wrist flicked. The ream of pages scattered across my office floor in a manner about half as cool as he pictured it. I recognized my giant letterhead anywhere. Alone, it presented a very large problem but in the category of 'will kill me now' versus 'will get me killed later,' the angel was in the former. "You know what?" I took a generous step backward. "Totally understood. Thanks for stopping by." "Not that easy." His wings snapped, and he shot across the floor. I had a split second's notice to move. That manifested as a genius two foot teleport to the side. His reflexes were faster. My tail was yanked a sharp pull to the left. All 200lbs of my weight was shifted off center, rocking my balance. I fell forward straight into his fist as he lobbed an uppercut at my ribs, working with gravity to double-team me. 'Fuck-' I folded as the air was forcibly vented from my lungs. Retaliating in that instant, I wrenched my elbow to his gut, but he was prepared. Agile, he suspended himself to take the force out of the blow. My hit simply guided him in the air of where he'd float next. I stumbled with his weight gone suddenly, while he touched ground for a graceful landing. "Did you even read it?!" "Oh I read it. We all did." "It wasn't your mail!" "No-" He pondered. "No it wasn't. Not until your name was flagged as a repeat offender. At which point, yeah. It was ours. Good read though." "Thanks?" I combusted to appear at his side. I learned that the hard way what his answer to that was. My hand connected, and if I had taken Tak's punching class I was sure it would have cracked. The moment he lost sight of me for the barest of seconds he threw up a shield. My knuckles skinned where it graze off the surface. I had no time to re-evaluate before the wall disappeared, priming him to deliver another kick. This one rocketed me into my bookshelves. They tipped, threatening to crush me with the likes of the Intradimensional Exchange Rates and the Necroeconomicon, but held steady. Arodeus was already closing in for a second round, but I could already feel the air tense for a second shield. Knowing better than to go on the offense close range, I lifted my hand to fake out a hook. It worked, long enough for him to to summon a defense just for me to spark a fire inside it. It flared bright, a globe of flames that ignited him like a goddamn lava lamp. He howled out a sharp note of agony before it popped. The blaze released, and the forcefield burst in a wave of Holy heat. His wings flared wide, putting out the unassuming fires in one pump of his wings. His feathers were left dusted with ash, frayed so thin it looked like he hadn't used conditioner in two years. Still, even if he looked like a BP oil spill duckling, he was more humored by my counter than threatened. As someone who was actually proud of that maneuver, that was actually very concerning. I threw my hands up, making it clear I never intended to cause the damage I didn't actually reap. "Listen guy, I don't want to fight!" "Ah, great! You don't have to!" He grabbed my client chair. I reared back into the wall behind my desk. A moment too late I realized that it happened to be against the most priceless fixture of my office. I couldn't tell if it was out of spite or sudden inspiration, but he held the chair over his head. My eyes widened- "NO! No! N-NOT-" And hurled it into the glass. "-the fish tank!" I cried. "You ASShole!" A torrent jetted from the top, breaching my office with an aggravated geyser of mineral treated water and glass. Katy perry's Last Friday Night sputtered into distorted gargling as the damage claimed everything. The atmosphere of Hell turned my desk into a grill; my gobies and angelfish fried instantly. The rest erupted into a veil of steam, obscuring me long enough to crawl under my desk. I yanked open the drawer, hand blindingly reaching for anything of use. Scissors, letter opener- I'll take a Montblanc if it meant not being defenseless. The angel rounded the corner, tearing shit up as he passed. He couldn't see clearly so anything vaguely smart and stylish was destroyed in his warpath. My lamp shattered against the wall, and my accent table overturned, with my artisanly selected selfies lost to the destruction. I very much doubt his memo for my extermination today included office renovation. He was being a dick, and my neighbors on either side were complacent jackasses too. They throw a fit if Lady Gaga was belting it too hard but you bet my asskicking was music to their ears. And because my intuition stops short of fisticuffs, he found me too soon. Cornered, I blasted him in the face. The inferno lasted all of two seconds as the shower behind him put it out and doused me in turn. He reeled back, leaving my hand to fizzle out in a thin line of smoke. "Shit-!" Arodeus drew a reedy breath through his teeth. He cradled his face, one palm to a shiny, fleshy cheek. It healed in a glow of white, alighting the skin until there was no trace of trauma at all. His grimace of pain turned into a cheerful 'ta-da,' showmanship for my benefit. I hadn't ruined even one of his perfect eyebrows. On my very short list of lines of defense, that was it. "Oh come on!" I angled to take a shot at his kneecaps but he got me first. One kick to the spine of my seat, and he tipped it on its wheels. It bashed into me one, two, three times in rapid succession. Defending myself meant getting a hand caught in the metal bars and slammed into my face. The collateral damage from my elbows alone drew blood. I was crushed up against the wall of my desk like a 1980's nuculear drill. An attempt for freedom put me in the perfect spot for a forth blow knocked my knee into my jaw. I slid to the ground, favoring my side. My world blurred- a smear of reds and oranges- as he snagged my collar, and fished me out to the open to be salt-waterboarded. "You do realize I'm just an accountant right?" I croaked. A stream was still cascading over the jagged glass, spilling directly onto my face and the nape of his neck. His charred wings were being weighed down, but he made up for it in the delighted posture of a man about to finish the job. Borrowing his words, it would not be that easy. "389 hostage souls say differently." "What? Hostage-?!" I squinted through the burn. "They're not hostages. They're legally attained!" "Gee, I hope you kept the receipts." (For the record: I did, but he wasn't here for semantics.) The heat of a holy fist charging up was unmistakable. My vision was still flickering through static but his power presented itself as a flare of white in my retinas that'd be debilitating had I not had protection. Just before the hit would land, I was reminded of a prior engagement. My office phone beeped- the antiquated hunk of plastic, too ancient and powerful to be bothered by the sizzling fish carcasses and water damage. "Mr.Marquette, your 2PM?" "Yeah!" My head lolled. "Send them in!" My attacker snapped toward the door, and I disappeared under his weight. - - - Cross-planar, and thousands of miles away, I hit the sidewalk in a limp. I had moved without thinking, landing in a pleasant suburb bathed in spring's afternoon sunlight. It served as a delightful contrast to how I was feeling- which was shit. I was screwed. I was so fucked. If the angel was worth his salt, I'd be tracked right after he dealt with whoever walked into my office, no matter what corner of the globe I popped to. I was running on borrowed time, and with all my options exhausted, I turned to my phone. My contact list spun like a rotary. Demon, demon, demon- Why am I friends with so many demons? The thought was counter-intuitive to me before 2013, now they made up half my friendslist and are completely useless in the face of celestial opposition. I slumped against a tree as I searched for alternatives. I recognized the neighborhood as upstate Washington, a personal spot for me. It shouldn't be the first go-to in an emergency, but I was concussed and apparently craving foie gras. Down the block, surrounded by a beautiful lot of imported cars, Chez Tzaz stood tall. No other spots were coming to my bruised brain when I needed them most. But it was as safe of a spot as any when it came down to it. At least there I had a bouncer. Not only that, but it sparked a sudden moment of clarity. I jerked the scrollbar back up to the top. Adria. I shot off a text. It was unfortunately less than polite. [2:03 PM] do u mind calling rock me amadeus off my back!! Her response was instantaneous. [2:03 PM] WHAT?? WHO?? [2:03 PM] the angel sent to my office!! said he was there to kill me?? i thought you said you'd warn me!! [2:04 PM] ARE YOU SERIOUS?? WHERE ARE YOU?? I twitched my thumbs volley a text back but arguing in the distance caught my attention. Someone without a reservation had made it to the door and was causing a scene. Sure, I was still seeing stars, but it was hard to miss the glaring refraction of light off their heels. That damn uniform again. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach. [2:05 PM] they are at my restaurant too??? That has to mean my apartment has already been raided. And my vacation home. And who knows what else. I'm not modest with my brand. Anything that has my involvement is emblazoned with my logo- I've plastered it everywhere I could make my mark because nuance isn't my strong suit. The unsaid consequences of this made my head pound. [2:06 PM] IF YOU ARE CLOSE ENOUGH TO SEE THEM, YOU ARE CLOSE ENOUGH FOR THEM TO SENSE YOU. GET. OUT OF THERE. I wanted to. I truly did. But all of the locations I could visualize in my mind belonged to that of other demons. Archer's apartment just thirty minutes away, Niko's office who already suffered a remodeling this year, my favorite cafe- I didn't want to drag my trouble to them. Especially not when it was looking inevitable. Meanwhile, in the distance my dutiful hostess was patiently and condescendingly explaining the dress code policy just like I taught her (armor is NOT formal-wear post the 1700's, please see the handbook). The distraught angel launched into full riposte about her obstruction of justice, so much so that I ignored my phone for ten whole seconds. By then, Adria already had an essay, surmised with a frantic, 'What are you going to do? I'm serious, where are you?' rephrased a spectacular three different ways with various usage of caps lock. [2:08 PM] im at chez tzaz. washington [2:08 PM] WHAT? WHY? WHY ARE YOU STILL THERE? [2:08 PM] why are THEY here??? The text bubble popped. The three ellipses disappeared with her abandoned thought, and I was left on read. I couldn't tell if it was a bust. Not until I heard the timely flapping of wings behind me, noticeably less toasty than Mr.Arodeus. The sound should have made me panic, but I had no doubt who it was. "What did I say? Are you an idiot?!" She hissed. As a cordial 'hello,' she shoved me into a tree. "Go!" "Ow?!" "You can 'ow' when you're safe!!" "Well?? Where do you want me to go, huh? They can find me!" I thought about jumping to whatever I could think of. Maybe to the first thing Google maps would suggest, but for it to work I had to seriously think about my location before going. At that moment, I wasn't sure if it was possible. It felt like my mind was jumbled to the point where if I tried again, I'd end up in the exact same spot. Did I also mention I felt safer by her? Because that too. She combed her bangs back, stressing as she craned around me and the tree to view the angel at the door. Looking between the two of them, they matched. How narrow was the chance that she'd be on my execution team? "Friend of yours?" "I told you to stop pushing it! They definitely have a kill order on you now." "What fantastic information that would have been earlier." "I. TOLD. YOU!" She shot back, barely restrained. Scratch that- her voice was kept low so she had dibs on killing me first. "I told you this would happen! You have friends right? Go to them!" "And endanger them too?" "Go to someone, I don't know, capable!" "You?" "Not me!! I have to deal with this." My hostess was now calling security. And in the face of one haughty college student, the angel apparently felt the need to as well. Now there was two of them, and the arrival of the second seemed to register on Adria's radar. She turned around at the same time- -And looked like she was about to blow a gasket. "Oh my God- you need to go NOW." "And what are you going to do?" "This isn't about me Mr.Sends-My-Lifestory-to-the-people-who-want-to-murder-me! LEAVE! Now!!" "I can't-" "NO! No more talking! LEAVE!" I couldn't argue any more. Our bickering caused two heads across the way to snap up. She gave me one final, violent shove, and I disappeared to the last place muscle memory remembered her pissed at me. The cowboy strip club was a start. - - - Six hours later, I was across the United States and checked into a motel. After my headache faded, I broke up my trail into pieces, ranging from teleports, taxis, and one distressing trip aboard public transport. Under the assumption that no angel would dare subject themselves to the general populace on such intimate terms (see: wedged between the lunch rush and earlybird boozers), I felt safe. Adria did not. "This is my fault." She said, for a third time, pacing the floor. I looked up from the pages of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, spoon in mouth. The first time we had this conversation, I was covertly panicked. By the second, I wore myself out. And by the third? I have more productive things to talk about. "I knew it was a bad idea. I knew they were doing raids-" "Do you always do this?" It couldn't just be me noticing it, that there was something egregiously wrong with this picture. She was an angel- a Power, a soldier of Heaven's prestigious battalion- worrying this hard over a demon she met two months ago. Don't get me wrong. I get it, I'm charming, I'm suave, and maybe in the right light my atoning adds a tragic depth to my character that may drive the angels wild- But I was still just that. A player on the opposite team, who made a huge mistake that got me booked in the first motel who'd take cash instead of card, until I was sure I wasn't being followed and I looked presentable enough to see my friends again. And she was here with me, inexplicably, trying to make my screw-ups her own. Why? I had no idea. "Do what?" "Overthink." "This is not overthinking!" She said, denial in gusto. I began worrying a lot less when her catastrophic thinking began siphoning all the energy in the room. That left her fretting on her own, while I examined Martha Stewart's upcoming Spring line. I much preferred being told how to pick the perfect counter-top than conduct my own life. "I should have been the adult. I shouldn't have sent the letter knowing what was going on upstairs." I snorted, flipping a page idly. "Don't take credit for my plan." "I'm not taking credit, I'm taking responsibility!" "And why would you do a thing like that?" She rolled her eyes. "What are you going to do now? Tell me." "Easy. I get Dr.Nikolai to write me a doctor's note." "Really?" She stopped, sudden. Her tensely folded arms fell loose. Taken off-step of our normal rhythm, I almost didn't have the heart to issue a reality check. She caught up to me in the next beat though, defeated with a heavy sigh. "Aren't you afraid..?" "Yes and no." I shrugged. "I need this to wrap up. I already miss my shower and my kitchen, I mean look at that-" I waved a hand at the sad, sad kitchenette through the door. One half-wall was fencing it off from the living room. It sounds trendy in theory, but the execution here had bar stools doubling as coffee tables, and the bite-size microwave trying to hop the border. The whole layout was claustrophobic, and pretending that this was the biggest of my problems worked for me. Not her. She plunged onto the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. Her bangs fell over her eyes in a tousled mess that matched her fringing braid. My busted up face didn't hold a candle- looking at the two of us, you would have thought her life was the one turned upside down. "You aren't taking this seriously." "I'm taking it seriously, Adria. Are you just trying to admit you are afraid?" "Yeah! Yeah, I am actually! It's like every time I try to help I only make things worse!" "Well that's funny because I refuse to do anything but believe you helped me." I shut the magazine, scooting to her side, with Ben & Jerry's in tow. "I wanted my name up there. Guess what? Now it's there. What's a little clout?" "Clout," She spurned, tired. "Would you call what he did to your face clout too?" Her hand delicately lifted to assess the damage but I ducked away. Not today, ma'am. I shifted my shades like it'd cover the bruise bleeding down into my cheek bone. It wasn't the worst of it. I imagined my chest to be a blotchy bovine pattern by now, but I sensed her concern for what it was: another way for her to feel worse about herself. Another way to be a failure. "No touching." "Yeah, well. Here's the rest of your things." She tossed me a bag. They were necessities I requested. The woman had yet to get herself an iPhone but had no problem grabbing my shopping list of moisturizers and specific detergents. The Green Giant wasn't on my list (it was her own addition to my list of demands, which she loving refereed to as 'shit you ACTUALLY need') but she grabbed that. Punching the bag into submission seemed to give her reprieve when just saying she helped didn't. I watched her pulverize the frozen vegetables, under the guise of breaking them up for me, until it was just sad and vaguely terrifying. The Quick And Easy Dinnertime Medley didn't deserve this, nor did she. Something bad was going on in that head of hers- guilt. I didn't understand it, but I know I didn't need to because it was ridiculous to begin with. "Hey. Heeeey," I leaned into her shoulder. "I don't know why you're so broken up about this but it's fine. I'm the one who should be worrying right?" "But you're NOT. I am! And I can't help it, okay." "You helped me, alright? You did," I rescued the bag, putting it against my sore ribs like she originally intended. "You did something for me no one else could. And for some reason that wasn't enough, and now you're here!" "Yes." She admitted, biting her lip. "Doing nothing." "Nope- nope. You're leaving out the cool part. You're here breaking three heavenly laws in the process." "Definitely." "Like a rebel. Like a spy. And my hero~" "And getting you putted on a most wanted list by mail, and delivering frozen peas? They should make me a saint, too." "Yup. Saint Kyriakoloupoulos, Patron of unconventional assistance." I said, mocking prayer. "And fists. If only I invoked you then." You could tell she wanted to answer something else melodramatic and guilt ridden, but her gaze fell to my hands.

The beginnings of a smile tried to set in, trickling in through the recesses of her totalitarian 'No Fun Allowed' conscious. "...Did you even get a hit in?" I grinned, quickly concealing my bare knuckles behind my back. The worst of it was healed to superficial scrapes, which regrettably looked a lot less cool when trying to impress a girl with non-existent fighting prowess. "Depends. Are you rooting for my side?" I pretended like I wasn't expecting a specific response. That the wrong one wouldn't disappoint me, and that this bag of groceries may be the last piece of divine intervention I get out of this woman who already followed me down to the strip clubs of 2nd, and was now tagging along my fugitive romp across America. But she didn't. She pulled her legs up onto the bed, trying to mull over my question as if the answer wasn't clear on her face. She always was a bad liar. "Maybe." "Thought so. Ice cream?"

#office raid #towns #adria #story

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