#him and Fleetfoot should be besties

[acourtofquestions]

"Your wyvern seems like more of a dog than anything."

It was not an insult, Manon reminded herself. The Crochans kept dogs as pets. Adored them, as humans did. "His name is Abraxos," Manon said. "He is ... different."

[mariaofdoranelle]

URDAD - part 5

Lonely TCGTATGG would like to pair up with congenial AGCATACC

Warnings: mentions of kinky times? Maybe light nsfw idk

Words: 1,4k

A little recap because it’s been so fucking long: Rowan’s the father of Aelin’s bestie, Imogen. He kept it distant until he found Aelin a job at his hospital. She works with the machinery and he’s allergic to technology so she helps him out a lot. They grew close. Aelin planned to break up with Chaol, the boyfriend she lived with, and then become roomies with Imogen. But then she finds out that Chaol and Imogen have been sleeping together and oh no she’s homeless now! Rowan feels bad and offers her a place to stay out of the pureness of his heart, but she fucks him to get back at her friend. Now they’re fucking like bunnies but no one knows yet.

Also, Anne Jausten is Rowan’s most treasured digital slide scanner.

Now let’s fucking goooooo

When Aelin invited Rowan to visit apartments with her again, she was expecting incisive views from a more experienced person, not incessant bitching that ended up being a pain in her ass.

She stomped down the hallway leading to her “office”—the medical equipment maintenance room—and Rowan followed hot on her heels, refusing to take the hint.

“I’m sorry,” he said for the millionth time. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Swear it.” She turned around and crossed her arms. “Swear on Anne Jausten that you didn’t act like this on purpose.”

He silently stood with a pleading look in his eye. Maybe because of the two nurses eyeing him curiously, or because he didn’t have anything good to say for himself.

What bugged Aelin the most is that she couldn’t understand why he was trying to sabotage her apartment hunting. Why would he bother to visit the places with her just to talk trash about them. Yes, she was well aware that those apartments weren’t near as nice as his fancy two-story home, but they were nice enough, especially when the deadline she was given to leave was so close.

Rowan had previously told her she could stay for ‘one or two weeks’, and in the meanwhile he fucked her numerous times. Aelin’s experience said it was time for her to go. Not that this kind of behavior applies to all men, but it does to most of them—especially the hot and chronically single ones, like Dr. Whitethorn.

Aelin unlocked her office—not quite, but it was a space for herself of sorts. The room was spacious and almost as well-lit as an OR, but it felt cramped from the amount of broken and old machines waiting for her to repair, along with a few lost causes the hospital had yet to discard. Rowan followed her inside, so she leaned against a broken anesthesia machine with crossed arms and said, “I have work to do. Are you explaining what happened or not?”

Rowan wrapped both arms around her waist and gave a string of pecks on her neck.

“Can’t we just forget about it?”

“No!” She immediately unwrapped herself from him. “You’re not touching me until you explain why the fuck you’re acting so weird!”

Rowan immediately took a step back, both hands up in surrender. Good to know. From what she’s heard, not all doctors in this hospital would.

“You’re serious?”

Aelin crossed her arms again and nodded.

A sigh. “I’m not lying to you. I really don’t like the apartments we’ve visited. I care about you and Fleetfoot, going from my place to that would be a huge downgrade.”

Aelin threw her head back and laughed. Loudly. His confused expression made her want to explain things, but the hilariously of this took all the breath from her lungs.

“Rowan, I won’t be able to afford a place like yours at all within the next 10 years.”

“That’s why you should stay with me. At least for now.”

That took the amusement out of her face. Aelin’s thoughts were blank as she examined his apprehensive pine green eyes. There was only one chair because no one ever visited her down there, so she sat while Rowan leaned on a machine near her.

“You’re serious? Like, roommates till a better rent do us part?”

Rowan tilted his head, waiting for her answer—confirmation enough for a quiet guy like him. Still, things weren’t looking good. She probably could afford half the cost of his place, but if she paid for all that, she would barely be able to afford food.

She finally answered, “The only way I can afford my part of the rent is if it’s split based on income.”

Rowan bit his bottom lip in a poor-piss attempt to not laugh, which earned him a slap on the bicep.

“Aelin, I don’t pay rent myself. I won’t ask that of you.”

He was offering her a home for free?

Aelin never doubted she was a good lay, but holy rutting Mala.

But this was too good to be true. “What about house chores?”

“Not your concern. Just look after yourself and Fleetfoot.”

Aelin got up from her chair, rounding Rowan with her eyes narrowed at him. This was too unreal. He had to have an ulterior motive.

“No sexual clauses?”

“Not at my request.” His eyes darkened and he added with a suggestive tone, “But I can be very compliant if you add one.”

A beep interrupted their conversation—she was needed her in the ER.

Knowing what the sound meant, Rowan raised both brows in question. What do you say?

“I still don’t know,” she said while putting her lab coat on.

This feels too good, too easy. Aelin would live as a guest in his house, for free, after hooking up for a week and a half. What it he gets bored of her? What happens to her when he regrets it? What if he changes his mind after his daughter finds out and inevitably throws a tantrum?

As if reading her thoughts, Rowan took a step closer, carefully tucked her hair behind her ear, caressed her jaw with his thumb before he murmured, “I just want to see you safe and taken care of, that’s all.”

Aelin closed her eyes, a little overwhelmed. He might be the most thoughtful situationship she’s ever had. She tucked her head on his chest and chuckled, and he pulled her closer, letting her feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he caressed her hair.

Rowan slipped a strand of Aelin’s hair behind her ear, his carefree expression morphed into something else. “Will you at least think about it?”

Aelin tried to plaster a earnest face, but the corners of her lips kept tugging up. “You won’t make this easy for me, will you?”

His eyes widened. “I’m already making this as easy as I can!”

Another call urging her to go to the ER broke them apart.

Aelin took a step back and squeezed his hand. “See you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner.”

It was hard to stop her mind from racing as she took the elevator to the ER. Rowan’s offer got more tempting each time she thought about it and, to be honest, Aelin didn’t want to stop the late-night sex followed by morning cuddles either, even if she knew this wouldn’t be permanent.

It’d be good. She could save some money for her masters while staying with him. Aelin knew her place, so falling in love with Dr. Whitethorn was nothing more than a fleeting thought in her mental ‘cons’ list about living with him.

˜˜

Aelin expected to give him her final answer over dinner like any other person does, but when he texted her saying he’d be late because he was needed on a late surgery, the idea she had was too good to pass on.

The sound of his car pulling up made her put her phone down and run to the kitchen, wearing nothing but his favorite apron.

Aelin sat on the dinner table between two trays: one with freshly-cut fruit—strawberries, mango, banana, cherries—and another with little bowls of more liquid stuff, such as honey and chocolate sauce.

The thud of the front door being shut. Slow footsteps. Her heartbeat being the loudest of them all.

“Baby…” Rowan carefully stepped into the kitchen, still with his scrubs on, bewildered eyes aflame as he studied her mostly naked body. “What’re you doing?”

“Accepting your offer.” Aelin crossed her legs and tilted her head in a saucy, near predatory manner while still keeping an innocent tone when she explained, “You said you want me to stay. I thought I’d earn my keep.”

“You know you don’t have to—“

Rowan cut himself off when Aelin slid just the top of his apron off her body, exposing her breasts.

He cleared his throat and corrected, “How so?”

Aelin gave him a sly grin, a little brownie point for playing along.

“Dinner.”

She thrust her chest out and suggestively dipped her middle finger in the bowl with the honey, eyes trained on him as she slid it from her upper chest to her shoulder.

And waited until Rowan’s brain restarted so he could lick it off.

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[writtenonreceipts]

rowaelin the only single person in the friend group?

AN:Enjoy!

The Singles Club Isn’t Always Lonely

As Rowan entered the local bar, he shook rain from his coat and hair.  For the past two days it had seemed like constant cloud coverage lingered and that meant rain.  Not that Rowan particularly minded the rain.  It just grew tiresome.  He had yet to find a reason to fully rejoice in it.

He waved to Brullo, the bartender, and headed back to the usual table where he and his friends usually took over.  Indeed, Vaughan and Connall were seated drinks in hand and in deep conversation about something.  Gavriel and Fenrys were shooting darts—Gav wiping Fenrys’ ass with the score.  Though Fenrys was always more in it for the social aspect than the competitive nature.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” Connall called when he looked up to see Rowan crossing the bar towards them. 

Shooting his friend a vulgar gesture, Rowan took a seat in one of the stool and drew a freshly opened beer towards him.

“I should ask you all the same question,” Rowan grunted.  He took a swig of beer and sighed.  “Between wives and girlfriends, I thought you’d all bail on meeting up.”

“Hell, no!” Fenrys shot a wild dart and came to sling an arm over Rowan’s shoulder. “Tradition.  As Asterin so lovingly reminds me, I need to spend more time with you losers.  I think it’s just so she can go to the shooting range with Manon and Elide, but you know.”

“Nehemia says that I’m hovering,” Connall said.  “As if I can hover.  She’s seven months pregnant, I should be allowed to be concerned.”

“You’ve texted six times in the last half hour, man,” Vaughan said.  He pointed meaningfully to his friend's phone.

Connall scowled. “Concerned.”

“Hovering,” Rowan said.  He took another drin.

“You have to let her live her life still, Con,” Gavriel said.  He plucked the round of darts from the board and turned back to his friends. “When Endara was pregnant with Aedion she and Evalin would go on week long spa getaways.”

Connall looked absolutely horrified. “But—”

“No,” Gavriel insisted.  “Space and foot rubs.”

“That contradicts itself,” Connall muttered.

“Just saying,” Gavriel said.

Sometimes, Rowan found it hard to believe that Gavriel had a son their same age.  Sometimes, Rowan found it hard to believe that Gavriel was as old as he was.  Of course, he would never say it to the man’s face.  Because getting his ass kicked was not on his list of things to do.

“This is why Rolfe and I communicate,” Vaughan said.  He grabbed Connall’s phone before he could check it for a nonexistent text.

“You and boyfriend have a very strange definition of communication,” Fenrys said. “You also need to lock your front door.”

“You need to knock,” Vaughan said unapologetically.

Rowan rolled his eyes at his friend's antics. “Where’s Salvaterre?  Why am I on the chopping block.”

“Because he texted,” Vaughan said emphatically, “that he would be late.”

“Elide had an important meeting at work and he wanted to take her out for ice cream after,” Fenrys grumbled. “They’re almost as disgusting as Conn and Mia.”

“See,” Rowan finally spoke up, “this is why I am remaining single.”

The group groaned, throwing peanut husks at him while telling him to grow up.  Rowan simply laughed.  It was a conversation they’d all tried to have with him.  Get a girlfriend Rowan.  Go out on more dates Rowan.  You work too much Rowan.

He knew they were just giving him a hard time.  For the most part.  But he also couldn’t help but let the words dig into his skin.

They’d miraculously been through a lot together.  Despite the age differences between them all, something had drawn them together with a love of history, hand-to-hand combat, and drunken nights of poker.

“Hey, assholes!” Lorcan entered the bar and exchanged a few words with Brullo before coming to the table.

“‘Bout time, man,” Connall called.  He kicked a stool out for the other man.

“I was supporting my girlfriend,” Lorcan said, “shouldn’t you be with your wife?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking Elide to marry you?” Connall shot back.

Lorcan launched into a coughing fit just as he took a drink of beer. “What?”

“It’s been two months and all we’ve heard from you is how great this girl is.  Coming from you that’s practically a wedding announcement,” Rowan added, grinning fiendishly when Lorcan’s face heated

“Yeah, you know, speaking of relationships, I haven’t seen you taking anyone out lately,” Lorcan groused.

Before Rowan could either shoot Lorcan the finger or snark back to him, Brullo arrived with another round of beer.

The rest of the night passed in easy conversation punctuated Fenrys’ claims that at the next poker night he would win every hand.  Granted he was on his third beer as he said this.

It was just like any other night.  And yet by the time midnight rolled around, he listened as his friends claimed necessity to return to domesticity.

Nehemia had cravings.  Elide, Manon, and Asterin were drunk and needed a ride.  Rolfe threatened to watch Bridgerton alone.  And Endara claimed Gavriel had left her kitchen a mess.  

Life as it should be was chaos.  And while Rowan knew he wouldn’t have it any other way, as he paid off the tab with Brullo—consequence of a lost bet—he found himself facing a night of pouring rain and a semi-drunk Connall to haul around.

#

When Aelin Galathynius swore a life of solitude, it was for a good reason.  She’d recently adopted a dog after all and Fleetfoot needed her undivided attention.  

Now, five years later, she regretted nothing.  Especially when Fleetfoot was such an excellent snuggling companion.

While her apartment was small, and admittedly shabby, it was home.  Had been since she’d moved out of last foster home five years ago.  Almost every single one of her friends had lived with her in that time.  From Manon deeming it for your own good so you don’t end up murdered in this hellish part of town, to Elide claiming that I have no idea how to live by myself, you have to help me.

The apartment had known many people.  Had known fights and tears.  Had known emotional breakdowns and dance parties.  

And yet, as Aelin came home from work on a glorious Friday evening, it felt empty.  Even with Fleetfoot eagerly dancing around her feet.  Even as she hooked on the leash and took a brisk walk around the block with Fleetfoot bounding along joyfully.  Even when she returned home and turned her music on while she made dinner.

Empty.

Only the pouring rain outside gave any indication of the outside world.

Aelin turned her music up louder.

Perhaps it would have been so bad if Elide were here with her.  Or Nehemia.  Any of her friends.  But it was date night and she knew just how much her friends had been missing their boys.  

Elide worked so much and she’d recently started dating Lorcan Salvaterre they barely saw each other.  Nehemia was having a baby with the love of her life.  And then even though she and Asterin weren’t the closest, Aelin did miss her drinking buddy.  And Yrene was so busy with her internship that all she had time for was her new marriage.

Aelin couldn’t have been happier for her friends, truly.  They were all living their best lives.  And so was Aelin.

She’d graduated with her degree in history, specializing in warfare and weaponry.  Now she was teaching part-time at a community college and part of a research team that was working an archeology dig out in Wendlyn.  Everything she’d wanted.  Everything she’d worked so hard to get.

Life was good.  Or so she kept telling herself.

“You really need to start locking your door!”

Aelin turned from the mess of spaghetti she was trying to make to find Elide, Asterin, and Manon entering her apartment.  She held a spatula out threateningly.

“You can't just barge into people’s apartments,” Aelin said.

“We can if the door’s unlocked,” Manon replied.  She wasted no time in kicking off her shoes and tossing her jacket onto Aelin’s couch. “Please tell me you have wine.”

“What’d Dorian do now?” Aelin asked as Manon easily went to the kitchen and found the bottle of wine.  Not the cheap stuff.

“Nothing,” Manon grumbled.

Asterin barked out a laugh.  “He brought up meeting his parents.”

“And moving in together,” Elide added.

Manon brandished the corkscrew threateningly. “Don’t make me use this.”

Chuckling, Aelin turned the burners of her stove off. “It’s Dorian.  You can tell him no to both things and he’ll get it.”

Manon grunted and began chugging her very full glass of wine.

“Lorcan mentioned moving in together,” Elide said. Wine spurted from Manon’s nose and Elide rolled his eyes. “Eventually.  He didn’t actually ask just one of those brief passing comments.”

“You know, I still don’t like him,” Aelin said.  She dished up a few bowls of pasta and started handing them out.

“Please the two of you are practically besties,” Elide said.  She gave Aelin a wink before settling in a chair at the small dining room table.

“Speaking of besties,” Asterin added, “Fenrys just sent me a text.  They are getting wasted at the bar.”

“Is Gav with them?” Elide asked through a mouthful of pasta.

“Yeah, thank the Goddess,” Asterin said.  “I don’t want to pick his drunk ass up.”

Manon made an approving sound and poured herself another glass of wine. “Because we are getting ourselves drunk.”

Aelin debated taking the wine away from Manon already, but shrugged.  She needed a distraction from everything else.  Before sitting down, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey she kept in case of emergencies and few glasses.  It was girl’s night, why not?

“You do know you’re going to have to talk to Dorian, eventually right?” Aelin asked, pouring out whiskey.

“Shush,” Manon said. “Talking is overrated.  We’ll just have sex and get over it.”

Aelin made a face. “I’d rather not think of you and one of my best friends in that way.”

“It’s sex!” Manon shouted. “C’mon, Aelin.  I know it can’t have been that long since you slept with someone.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes.  She most certainly should have taken the wine away.  Wine drunk Manon was a whole different animal than whiskey drunk Manon.

“Ohh,” Elide said, already pushing back her half-eaten bowl of pasta for the whiskey. “I might know of someone.  Actually, Lorcan knows him.”

“No!” Aelin shouted at the same time Asterin screeched, “yes!”

“He’s very attractive,” Elide said with a knowing nod.

“And works out, a ton,” Asterin added. “He and Fen are training for a marathon.”

Aelin didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.  She worked out and believed in a healthy lifestyle.  But she also believed in chocolate.  And cake.

Even as her friends slid side-glances her direction, Aelin ignored them.  They’d been hounding her to date more.  Ever since Sam had broken up with her when she wouldn’t move across the country with him and the mess with Chaol...Aelin hadn’t been in a serious relationship.  And she was fine.  Did she miss casual dates? Yes.  Someone she could talk to about everything and anything?  Yes.  Did she miss sex?  Absolutely.

On the last item she could rectify that easily.  Just swing by the nearest club, but Aelin had always craved connection more than casualties.  

She knocked back her shot of whiskey and nabbed the bottle from Manon who was well on her way to drunk.

Elide laughed at Aelin’s diversion from talking and got up to turn Aelin’s stereo up.

“You’ve gotta find a way to support Fleetfoot,” the petite brunette said, “being a single mom is hard.”

“Screw you!” Aelin growled.

“Pretty sure Lorcan’s already taking care of that,” Asterin said.

“No!” Manon and Aelin shouted together.

Cackling madly, Elide downed her whiskey and began dancing.  It didn’t take long before all four girls were drunk and dancing madly to the music.  And Aelin was able to forget everything else about the day and little comments her friends had made.

It wasn’t until after midnight that Lorcan and Fenrys showed up to take the other girl’s home.  Fenry, a bit tipsy himself.

“Baby!” Elide squealed when she threw open the door.

Had Aelin been a touch more wasted she would have missed the soft smile that flitted across Lorcan’s face as his girlfriend flung herself at him.  Aelin might not have understood where the hell that relationship had come from but she was slowly starting to accept it.

“Be safe,” Aelin demanded as she ushered her drunk friends out the door, Lorcan assuring her he had only drank one beer over an hour ago.

“Get a Tinder!” Asterin hollered as Aelin closed the door.

And just like that, she was left to an empty apartment.

#

When Rowan got into the business of researching ancient warfare and artifacts of war, he’d known it would give him hell in the future.  Not that he would regret it of course, but for the past five years he’d dealt with questioning papers, developing thesis, tossing out said thesis, and trying to appear that he knew what he was doing.

It was a miracle if he could accomplish that last item.

By the time he made it home from work, he was exhausted.  The text from Elide--how she’d gotten his number Rowan had no idea--declaring a night out didn’t help any.  But it had been a few weeks since he and his friend--all his friends had gotten together.

So he dragged his sorry hide into a shower and down to Brullo’s bar.

And just like always he was the last to arrive.

“Whitethorn!” Vaughan called out.

Rowan raised his hand in recognition before getting a drink from Brullo.

Already, his friends had their drinks and their girls--and in Vaughan’s case, boy.  Nothing about the night seemed far from normal.  Even if Rowan wasn’t as familiar with Asterin or Rolfe, being around this group of people always put him at ease.

“You look like hell, Rowan,” Nehemia said with a sympathetic smile.  She wore a simple gray dress that showed off her growing bump, her black hair twisted in thick braids.

Rowan offered a returning smile. “It was a hellish day.”

Connall thrust a beer into his hands. “Here’s to make it better.  Although my lovely wife has already graced you with her presence, so consider yourself lucky.”

Rolling his eyes, Rowan shoved his friend away. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Too much,” Loran supplied.  As usual he was seated in the corner of their table, nursing a beer.

“Where’s Elide?” Rowan asked. “Seeing as she’s the one who made me come.”

Lorcan gestured out to the dance floor.  The dance floor.  Since when did Brullo let anyone start dancing?  Not in the past five years that Rowan and his friends had come.  Unless one of them or another patron got too drunk.

But there was some song with a deep, thrumming beat reverberated through the bar.  Someone must have bribed Brullo to put it on.  Likely the fiends who were dancing like they had no care in the world.

Fenrys and Asterin were practically glued together and were less dancing and more making out.  Nearby Gavriel and Endara were mostly laughing while tripping over their feet to keep with the beat of the song.  What caught Rowan’s attention however was Elide.

Or rather her dance partner.

The woman was tall, lean, and had the frame of a fighter.  She moved so easily to the music that Rowan was focused on her more than the song.  Her blond hair hung well past her shoulders in golden waves matching her gold dress perfectly.  But perhaps what was so striking was the carefree smile she wore.  The way she laughed and leaned into Elide as the song changed to a sultrier chord.  But neither woman seemed to notice, or care.

Until the blonde looked up and the low lights emitting from the dance floor set a low fire to her eyes and dug into him, holding him in place.  And his breath caught.

Elide broke the spell that had settled over him.

“Rowan!” She yelled and waved frantically for him to join the dancing.

“No,” Rowan called back firmly.  The last time he had decided to go dancing with Elide he had ended up shirtless, hungover, and in a car halfway to Mexico.  

Elide pouted at him before crooking her finger to her boyfriend.  Lorcan was already up and out of his seat making his way toward her.  It was still strange to Rowan to see the brute of a man soften for anyone.

Shaking his head, Rowan returned to the bar to get another drink.

“Can I get something as well, Brullo?” The airy confidence of the woman, snagged Rowan’s attention and he turned to see the Elide’s former dance partner standing beside him.

From this angle, Rowan was better able to see that spark of gold and blue in her eyes, a splash of freckles on her nose.  She was beautiful.

“You must be Rowan,” she said with a single brow raised.

He nodded and accepted a beer from Brullo. “I am, but I don’t seem to know you.”

Her mouth pulled up on one side. “Aelin.  Elide and I grew up together.  Figured since I never see her anymore, I had to come see what this place is all about.”

“Elide dragged you out here, didn’t she?” Rowan asked.

“She is terrifying when she wants to be,” Aelin agreed.  She offered him a full grin in that instant and Rowan knew that if possible, he would try and make her smile like that again. “And she offered to pay my tab.”

“Meaning Lorcan will be paying your tab,” Rowan said.

“He does have his uses, other than being a brute.” Aelin laughed at that and took the drink Brullo offered her.  She turned her gaze on him, those eyes so full of light. “I suppose I should get used to him though.  Elide seems to like him.”

She wasn’t wrong Rowan realized.  “Anyone that can get Lorcan to actually get out and dance is a miracle worker.”

“Except, she didn’t get you out there dancing,” Aelin said.  She let out a soft laugh leaning closer to him.

And there it was, something different.  And perhaps Rowan wouldn’t identify it for a long time.  Wouldn’t really know what it was.  But there was something about Aelin that drew him in.  He’d known her for all of ten minutes, didn’t even know her last name, and here he was completely ensnared.

“I don’t dance,” Rowan said.

Aelin cackled. “Not yet anyway.”

She knocked back the rest of her drink and grabbed Rowan’s arm pulling him to the dancefloor.

Perhaps if they’d been paying closer attention, they would have noticed the high-five Asterin and Elide exchanged.  Or the passing of bills between Vaughan, Connall, and Gavriel.  There was a great deal they didn’t notice.

Not how the rain stopped pouring outside.  Not how the emptiness of the night was overcome by more than music and alcohol.  It was a silent shift.  A careful one.  One that would become more than alright with them.

#

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