#honestly love this arrangement so much I’m so glad I put it in the foyer

[salmonid-carcass]

Will you, when I’m gone, remember me?

Just wanted to announce that I’ve finally finished decorating mine and @woopsies3456 cottage in final fantasy 14!

Please stop by and look around if you have the time! We’re on Dynamis/Halicarnassus and currently reside in ward 11 plot 25 of the mist.

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - For Luck

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x Florist!Reader

Summary: Steve introduces you to some of the most important people in his life, but are you ready for all that comes with it?

W/C: 4,743

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, gambling

A/N: When I saw @redhead-wine-and-literature-club was doing a floral based challenge I couldn't pass up the opportunity to add to this series! April 28th - Cornflower - good-luck charm. Even though this is part of a series of oneshots it can be read as a standalone! If you like it please like/reblog/comment and check out my other fics! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

The sunlight through the windows warms your skin while the breeze of the small fan on the counter gives you goosebumps. Dog days of Summer slowly set in over the city and with them came a slight dip in business. No one wants a rooftop wedding when it’s 100 degrees out and the drinks are watered down with sweat. You didn’t mind though, it let you put in a little extra time and care to the orders you did have.

You picked up a stem of cornflower and nestled it between snapdragons and lisianthus. It was so dreamy you couldn’t help but sigh, you almost wished it was for yourself. It was for an elopement, an eager young couple came in this morning all smiles asking if you could take the last minute order. Feeling a little sappy from your own relationship you couldn’t turn them down.

You started in on the boutonniere when the music you had on was paused. Curious, you looked at your phone to find you had an incoming call. You balanced the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you gathered supplies.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Doll. How are you?” Steve’s warm voice greeted you.

You smiled into the receiver. “I’m good, just working on the last order of the day. What are you up to?”

“Well actually that’s what I called to ask you. You free tonight?”

“You can meet me at the shop in an hour. Sound good?” You promised.

“Sounds like a plan. I love you, doll, I’ll see you soon.”

After returning his affections you hung up and set to work, excited to be finished and see Steve. Despite his involvement with the mob, which neither of you had really addressed head-on yet, things were going really well. Even though he was involved with murky dealings he was sweet to you and you were in love with him. You tried to plan your night with Steve in your head as you worked.

____

The ringing of a bell roused you from your work, expecting to see the young couple here to pick up their flowers. You were instead face to face with Steve’s handsome smirk and playful eyes. Your smile grew wider as he approached the counter. You held the boutonniere up to the lapel of his jacket and eyed it from a distance.

“Do I have a hot date I didn’t know about?” He joked.

“No!” You giggled, “The flowers are for a couple that came in the shop this morning, they’re going to elope and the groom’s got your complexion, thought I’d see how this looks on you before I finish”

“Oh? And how do I look as a groom?” He questioned.

Your cheeks heated instantly and you felt shy. You managed to squeak out that he looked nice before you had to turn away to box up the flowers. You couldn’t help the stupid smile on your face. You and Steve never talked about marriage before but things were getting serious between you. Maybe he just felt extra cheeky today.

“I like the blue, very colorful”

“They’re cornflowers, they’re a good luck charm! I figured they were fitting for their little wedding. So what did you have in mind for tonight? It’s too hot to sit on the patio but I’ve got a pint of ice cream with our names on it in the freezer at home” You raised your eyebrows in offer.

“Well actually, I was hoping you could be my good luck charm tonight. Bucky’s got a few of us getting together tonight for poker and you’ve yet to meet my friends. What do you say?”

Oh. You weren’t sure what to say. You hadn’t met his friends yet because you were uncomfortable with his mob work and you knew they were involved. But you also knew they were his friends and they were important to him. It’s not like you could avoid them forever. Poker with a mob boss? Sure why not?

You put on a slightly uneasy smile and nodded.

“Well I have to tell you, I haven’t played in forever but I would love to meet your friends” You told him.

“I promise, no shop talk. But I’ve been telling them about you. Buck’s wife Natasha has been dying to meet you. I also promise not to make you play poker.” He said with an easy grin.

“Alright, I just have to wait on this couple to pick up their flowers and close up. Shouldn’t be more than 20 minutes. You can wait here if you want but I’ve got no A/C”

Steve nodded and took off his jacket. He rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie.

“For you? I’ll sweat it out.” He said.

____

After a quick pit stop at your place to change you were on your way. You smiled in the passenger’s seat, still reeling from the look on the young bride’s face when she saw her bouquet. That was undoubtedly the best part of your job, seeing the joy on your customer’s faces when they saw their arrangements. Maybe this feeling could carry you through the night.

The tires of Steve’s Audi crunched under the gravel of the long driveway up to Bucky’s estate. Steve told you he had a townhouse in Brooklyn but for the most part they stayed at their estate outside of the city. You looked up at the facade of the house and admired the ivy that clung to the bricks.

Parking the car Steve got out and quickly made his way to your side to let you out. Just one of the many old-fashioned quirks that he had. You accepted his hand as he helped you out of the car and leaned up to kiss his cheek. His hand traveled down to rub your back reassuringly. You looked up at him.

“Don’t worry, they’ll love you. Natasha can be intense but she means well. Just be yourself and they’ll love you just as much as I do.” He kissed your hair to soothe you and lead you towards the door.

Steve nodded at the man at the door. “Scott. Nice to see you, this is my girlfriend”

You smiled and gave him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Scott���.

He smiled and greeted you in kind, lifting his hand to shake yours. When he did his jacket rode up and you could see the holster and butt of his gun. You ignored it and shook his hand.

Scott opened the door for you and you entered the house. Mansion, might be a better word honestly. Marble floors, oak woodwork, all the look of any house you’d find in the area and all in line with how you’d think a rich mob boss might live. The foyer was empty but you could hear voices in the distance.

Steve waltzed through the halls like he lived here, when he was at work he probably practically did. The space was teeming with energy as they bantered on with trash talk and promises of beating one another. Men sat at a round table drinking, waiting to deal cards and women standing around sipping on wine.

One man looked familiar from the pictures you’d seen around Steve’s place. His sharp jaw and long dark hair drew your attention instantly; Bucky Barnes, King of Brooklyn. His brows were pinched together in a scowl but he had a playful grin on his face. You steeled yourself the best you could and prepared for your introduction. Just think of him as Steve’s childhood best friend.

“Steve! ‘Bout time you showed up you bastard!” an accented voice belonging to a tall blond man with long hair called. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “And are you the enchantress that our dear friend goes on and on about? Now that I’m meeting you I can see why!”

Steve let out an embarrassed laugh and motioned towards his friend. “This is Thor, don’t let the muscle fool you, he’s a total teddy bear”

You gave him your name and extended your hand when he brought you in for a bone-crushing hug. You let out a laugh and hugged him back, grateful for something to ease the tension you felt.

“How’s that for a warm welcome, huh?” A voice sounded from behind you.

Thor released you from your hug and you took a desperately needed breath. He patted you on the shoulder.

“Wanted to make our dear Steven’s girl feel at home, that’s all” Thor explained. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to beating your boyfriend at poker.” You laughed at that and turned to face the man who spoke earlier.

That man was none other than Bucky, who reached out for your hand. You gave it to him and he instead lifted it to give a gentle kiss.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting the one and only. Stevie here won’t shut up about you sometimes. I’m Bucky but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I’ve heard about you too, it’s nice to finally meet.” You nodded as you took your hand back.

“I’m afraid I need to steal your man, we’ve been waiting on him to start the game but tell you what, why don’t you go find my wife Natasha, I know she’s been dying to meet you.”

Great, not at all intimidating. Okay fine just smile and breathe. Maybe get a drink. You smiled at Bucky. “The redhead, right?” He nodded and sent you on your way. One last look at Steve you shot him a worried look but he only winked at you.

You looked around the room and shrunk in on yourself a bit. You were never the best with social outings or being in new environments. You looked around again and found the very redhead you had been in search of smirking at you from the corner. She was dressed in a sleek black dress and looked effortlessly beautiful but also like she could strangle a man with her bare hands. You steeled yourself with a smile you’re sure she saw straight through.

“So you’re the one responsible for the flowers at my wedding?” You nodded Pleasesayyoulikedthempleasesayyoulikedthem “I loved them! The wedding planner recommended you and I’m so glad she did. It’s so hard to find a good color pallet but you nailed it. Come on, you need a drink then I’ll introduce you to the girls”

She ushered you towards the kitchen where she took the waiting wine glass from the counter and handed it to you. You didn’t like red but you’d drink it anyways. You brought the glass to your lips and took a sip.

You two talked for a bit in the kitchen, maybe she wasn’t as scary as she seemed. You tipped the stem of your glass until there was nothing left. Before you could ask for different wine she was topping you off from the same bottle. Another round of apprehensive sips and hidden grimaces but you thanked her regardless. It was now your goal to find the sociable sweet spot of drunkenness. You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks from the alcohol as tipsiness settled in.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and considered you for a moment.

“So how are you handling the whole organized crime thing? Gotta say, I didn’t peg you as his type but you guys are cute.”

You stopped yourself from spitting the wine in your mouth back into the glass.

“Um, thanks, I guess” You sputtered, “we uh, try to keep things separate. Figure it’s best for both of us.”

Natasha nodded, taking another drink herself.

“That’s probably best but I mean, how long can you keep that up, really?” She asked

You hated to admit it but she had a point. It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. You opened your mouth to answer her when a man walked into the room and called your name. You looked expectantly (and slightly gratefully) towards him.

“I believe your man has requested your presence at the table. Somethin’ about needing a cornflower? I don’t know he said you’d get it. What are you two gossipin’ about in here anyways?” He questioned.

Natasha spoke before you could “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Sam. We’re right behind you.” Sam nodded and retreated back to the doorway to wait for you.

Natasha touched your shoulder and you looked to her.

“Look, I didn’t mean to come off so brash, I guess I’m just trying to say, I know that being involved in this life isn’t easy. We’ll swap numbers later. Maybe we’ll go to lunch” She winked at you. You couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not but you nodded anyways.

“I-Thank you, I think I’d like that. I’d better go find Steve though” you excused yourself and made your way back to the table.

____

Steve Rogers was having a good night. He finally got to introduce his friends to his girl, she seemed to be relaxing a bit and having a better time, and he was well on his way to getting a straight flush this hand. The only thing that would seal the deal is his good luck charm by his side.

Steve called to Sam across the room and as soon as Sam walked over and bent Steve spoke.

“Sam, could you do me a solid and find my girl? Think she went to get a drink with Nat. Tell her I need cornflowers”

“Man if this is some weird sex thing I’m gonna be mad” Sam said with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“Oh, please. Nothin’ like that, promise. She’ll know what it means.” Steve pat his friend on the shoulder and paid attention as Thor dealt cards.

A minute later his girl was walking through the door with an uneasy smile on her face. Something is wrong but he can’t gauge how serious it is. Sam says something to make her laugh and he settles on asking her later. Natasha saunters out behind them looking almost amused but cautious. Like she was regretting something. She’d probably just tried to give his girl the third degree when Sam interrupted them. It’s for the best, that’s too much for one night.

His girl smiles as she approaches him, looking slightly more at ease when she takes another sip of her wine. Her smile was a little looser and she moved a bit more freely, definitely tipsy and completely adorable with that grin on her lips.

“How are things going over here for you boys?”

Gauging how tipsy she was, he patted his knee in offering and she took it with a shy smile. Only slightly. But enough not to worry so much.

“Well, sweetheart, I’m about to kick all their asses and I figured I could use a good luck charm to seal the deal.” He boasted.

“Oh,” she said in realization, “Then I’m all yours”. She settled into his lap and watched on.

Her face was nothing short of endearing as she tried to concentrate and take in the game. He remembered she said she hadn’t been good at poker but it was sweet she was trying to pay attention anyways and be there for him.

“What’s the pot?” She asked.

“Nothin’ serious, there’s a pretty nice box of cigars and a weekend at Buck’s place in the Hamptons in the mix but we don’t do cash at get togethers like this, that’s for boy’s nights only.” He explained as he rubbed her back with his free hand. “Tonight’s just about fun”

She nodded as she studied the table some more before resigning to laying her head against his and listening to whatever bullshit Clint was on about. Steve was focused on getting others at the table to fold, he knew he had a good hand and a good chance of winning, he just needed the others to back down to bring it home.

Thor placed the final community card face up and Steve set out a low whistle. Others at the table looked a little miffed but he just knew he was taking it all. He set down his cards to a chorus of groans as he raked all the chips towards himself. You placed a kiss to his temple and he returned one to your cheek.

“Just the good luck I needed” he said loud enough for the table to hear.

“Hey Steve you gotta come see this!”

Steve tsked in annoyance. “Can it wait? I’m up and we were gonna keep playing. I’ll be there after”

“No, you should go. Let her play a hand for you, we can get to know each other better” Bucky suggested.

“Oh, I don’t think you want me playing poker.” She laughed but nervousness was the only emotion he could see on your face. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off.

“She’ll be fine, we’ll go easy on her, I mean it. If it makes you feel better we’ll even hold the pot. This round is just for shits.” Bucky insisted.

Caught between wanting to ask how you felt about it and not wanting to get flak about being so sensitive Steve tilted his head in silent asking at you.

You gave him the same unsure smile you’d had all night and nodded up at him. “I’ll be fine, Stevie, promise.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and then turned his eye to Bucky who was all smiles. He knew exactly what Bucky was trying to do. Buck knows she doesn’t know anything but he’s gonna turn the screws on her just like he does with anyone new at the table. Steve gave him a stern expression in warning. Don’t scare her off.

____

You could hear your heart beating in your ears as you tried to decide what to do. Take it slow. You told yourself. You looked up to find all the eyes at the table on you and did your best to calm yourself.

“So who’s dealing?” A man you hadn’t previously met swiped the cards and began shuffling.

“Look, I know we said we’d put the pot on hold but Laura’s been bugging me about a vacation and I don’t know that I can pass up this opportunity to steal from Steve so easily, so” The man you’d come to know as Clint trailed off. You did your best not to be offended.

“Shut up, Barton. I promised Steve, we just wanna have a little fun, don’t we?” Bucky asked.

Is he asking me?

You decided to take a sip of your wine instead and he chuckled.

“So,” Bucky turned to you, “I know that you know about what we do, there’s no point in denying it. The question is are you going to be a problem for us or do you know how to keep things to yourself?”

Frozen in fear you could only manage to look at the rest of the table, hoping to find that this was all a joke. Instead, every face looking to you was stony and waiting on an answer. God, this man was made for Natasha, that much is clear. Your eyes darted around the room looking for an out. Where is Steve? Where the fuck is Steve?

You don’t find him, but you do find Natasha looking at you, she smiles and looks to her husband before she shakes her head. She makes her way over to her husband and lightly smacks him in the back of the head.

The look of surprise on his face ruins his silent and aggressive front as he winces in pain. He looks in slight annoyance at his wife as she tsks at him.

“Will you stop already? She’s a smart girl and you don’t need to go scaring her off. In fact, I hope she beats you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.” Natasha sounded so confident. You warmed to the fact that she was in your corner when you were practically a stranger in her home.

“Aw c’mon, Babe, I was only messin’ with her.” Bucky turned to Nat and she just challenged him with a smile.

You didn’t know why Natasha has suddenly become so supportive, maybe she felt bad about earlier but you were grateful to her. She pulled up a chair between the two of you to watch and motioned to the dealer to continue. You finished your second glass and prepared yourself for the night ahead. Any chance they had of you going easy on them went out the window.

____

You lost the first hand graciously, saying you hadn’t played poker since you were in college as an excuse for your loss. But when Steve was still busy and Bucky offered another round you accepted. You decided to put your full effort in this time.

Twenty minutes later everyone at the table was feeling confident in their hands, staring at each other like some sort of Mexican standoff, willing the others to fold. You could tell by the way Clint kept scratching the cut on his chin that he was screwed and he knew it. Thor couldn’t go more than 5 seconds without nervous laughing.

But Bucky? He was a tough read but about half way through the round his leg started bouncing. You knew this because he was bumping into Natasha, who’s wine was sloshing around in the glass despite her stillness. These clods didn’t stand a chance.

The dealer, Vision, you’d learned, called for everyone to show their cards. Here goes. One by one everyone set their cards down until finally it was your turn. You set them down but focused on your opponents faces. Everyone looked confused, shocked even. You had laid down a royal flush and handily smoked them all.

“Holy shit”

“Holy shit indeed”

“Told you so” Nat teased.

You smiled at all of them and drank from your newly topped off glass of wine - white this time. A warm pair of hands rested on your shoulders and you looked up to find Steve smiling down at you.

“What’s going on over here, gentlemen?”

“Well, Steve, I think your girl is hustlin’ us. Thought you said you hadn’t played since college?” Bucky turned to you. You couldn’t gauge how angry he was but you decided to be honest.

“I haven’t,” you began, “But when I did I was pretty damn good. You just assumed I didn’t know what I was doing.” You shrugged.

The room was tense, it felt like everyone was looking to Bucky to see what to do next. He broke out into a wide smile and a low chuckle turned into hearty laugh. Everyone visibly relaxed.

“I gotta say, Steve. She isn’t what I expected, but she’s sure somethin’”

“A girl after my own heart” Natasha added.

Steve bent down to kiss your head. You stood from the table and offered him your seat. Nat put a hand on your shoulder.

“Steve I’m going to steal her again, the girls will probably want to hear all about your little cardshark.”

____

He had to admit, he was completely blown away by your little stunt at the table. He thought back to earlier when you watched him play. You weren’t trying to desperately understand the game, you were studying your opponents. He couldn’t deny it was kinda hot. You were full of surprises.

He smiled thinking that you were no different than the day you met, timid but aggressive when you need to be. That’s my girl.

The rest of the night came and went without incident, Steve didn’t end up taking home the pot but he did have a conversation with Bucky.

“She and I don’t talk about work. She knows that what we do isn’t exactly reputable but let’s face it, anyone in Brooklyn would. She doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to.”

Bucky took a long drag from his glass of bourbon and nodded.

“But if she ever did I hope she’s smart enough to know she has to keep what she knows to herself. We can’t afford any slip ups.”

Steve’s fists clenched and he controlled his anger enough not to snap at Bucky. He was his best friend but Bucky was still the boss and Steve knew how much was at stake.

“Not that it’s any of my business but you love this girl, right?” Steve swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Then how the hell are you gonna manage that? Keepin’ your two worlds separate? I mean, you just gonna walk her down the aisle and live happily forever keeping half your life from her? I need to know that if push came to shove she wouldn’t sell us out. Things are fine for now but you know that you’re either in or you’re out. I care about you, Steve, you’re my best friend but you need to see straight.”

Steve looked away, his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. He knew Bucky was right. He loved you but he owed his life to Bucky, he was his brother. But he loved you. They were careful in their work and he knew any feds that tried to come after them wouldn’t find a thing. He could put this issue into a box and seal the lid tightly, at least for a while.

“I know you’re right. I love her and she’s a good woman. She wouldn’t say anything because she doesn’t know anything. And she never will.”

He left Bucky to stand on his own in search of you. He found you laughing with Laura, Wanda and Nat. He smiled at how welcomed you seemed to feel despite the rocky start.

“You ready to go, doll?”

You turned around and smiled at him. You looked back at the girls and then reluctantly back to him but nodded.

“Guess we’d better go, I’ve got to get down to the flower market at open tomorrow morning”

____

After a very long round of goodbyes you swapped numbers with Nat with promises of future lunch plans. The night had turned out worlds better than you thought that it would. You served a bunch of men their own egos on a silver platter and didn’t get murdered for it and you even made friends.

Still though Nat’s words echoed in your mind ‘how long can you keep that up, really?’ Little did you know but the same thoughts troubled Steve. You knew eventually you would have to make a choice if you ever wanted to get more serious than you were with each other, you just didn’t know what choice you’d make.

The ride home was quiet but not tense. He held your hand a little tighter than usual but you thought maybe he was just excited you had gotten on so well with your friends. He pulled up to your building and put the car in park.

“So do you think they liked me? I mean, other than hustling them at poker I’d say I made a pretty good impression”

Steve chuckled, “Yeah, doll. Gotta say, the whole cardshark thing? Kinda hot, didn’t know you had that in you, you little fiend.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and grinned at him. “I wasn’t gonna but Clint started talking shit.”

“Then he deserved his ass kicked” Steve joked. “I’d come up but I know you’ve got an early morning. Thank you for coming and meeting everyone tonight, I know that you want to keep things separate but these people are family to me, it means a lot that you met them”

You nodded and smiled. You told yourself you didn’t need to make the choice between getting involved with his work and keeping it apart from the other aspects of your life but it seems that by meeting them you had already made one.

Maybe you could talk more to Nat about this, she’d know what your situation is like more than anyone. For now though you decided to focus on the present reality, you had a good night and you had fun and now you’re about to kiss the man you love.

“Of course” you whispered. You kissed him slowly, trying to put off the sleepless night you were surely about to have.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you”

“I love you too, Stevie”

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Christmas Cookies

Day One: Snowflake

Part of @panicfob​ 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Angst, First attempt at writing child dialogue (be kind), Bucky and little kid (it’s a warning for your ovaries).

Word Count: 1789

Paring:  Bucky Barnes x Reader(First Person-nameless)

A/N: I’m so excited about this writing series. Christmas is my favorite time of year. This is my first attempt at a series, well anything beyond a one-shot. I will be adding a section to my Masterlist for this series.

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

Baking supplies were thrown about the kitchen counters, as I arranged all the cookie cutters for easy selection. The oven preheated while two batches of rolled out sugar cookie dough sat on the counter. I was excited to spend the afternoon with Morgan baking and decorating cookies, at first, I wasn’t sure how Pepper would respond when I asked to have her little girl over to bake for Christmas; surprisingly she was enthusiastic about the whole situation. Saying something about it’d be good for Morgan to spend time with the people she’d heard so many stories about.

“You’re gonna share, right?” Sam asked rounding the corner.

“If you wanna eat them, you’re gonna have to help decorate them,” I replied with a smile.

“I thought that was what the kid was for?” He pointed at Morgan.

“They call that child labor.” Bucky joked entering the room behind Sam. “And they passed laws banning that in 1938.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help?”  Sam glowered.

Bucky stole a spoon full of dough before smiling at Morgan.

“You’re not ‘posed to do that.” She smiled back at him.

A laugh escaped as I observed the sight in front of me. Oh lord was it a sight too. Both men dressed in sweats but looking like they are partaking in two different events; Sam looked as if he just got home from a run while Bucky looked like he no plans beyond laying on the couch for the day. I was convinced from the day I moved into the compound that Bucky was trying to kill me with just his looks; the way his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, dangerously low, and a black t-shirt clung to his chest in all the right places. Looks like that, no matter how much I tried to resist, it did things to me.

“How long have you been here munchkin?” Bucky asked kneeling down.

It warmed my heart to see this person the world knew as an elite assassin be pure putty in the hands of a six-year-old little girl.

Morgan shrugged, “Forever.”

Bucky smiled, “C’mere,”

Morgan wiggled her way into his arms as he scooped her up into a big bear hug and kissed her hair.

“I know when I’m not wanted,” Sam muttered opening the fridge.

“Sam, stay,” I called out, “Decorate cookies, eat frosting. It’s the holidays, it’s supposed to be fun.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll come steal them when they’re done.” He said disappearing with a water bottle.

Bucky sat Morgan on the counter to look at all the different cookie cutters.

“Unc Buck?” Morgan said look up at him.

I knew those eyes before she even spoke, she was going to ask him for something.

“Yeah, pumpkin?” He was looking at the cutters.

Morgan pulled on his shirt taking back his attention causing Bucky to laugh.

“Decorate cookies with us.” It sounded like a question but more of a demand.

Bucky looked between me and Morgan; we’ve lived under the same roof for three months now and were far from friends. He was polite when he was forced to interact with me; he didn’t run out of the room if I came in, but he never seemed to go out of his way to talk to me either.

“I don’t know baby, I think this was supposed to be a date with your Auntie,”

“Bucky, you are welcome to join.” I interjected, “Really, the more the merrier.”

“I hate to break it to both of you kids, but I’m a terrible baker.”

Morgan and I both laughed.

“How about you help us cut them out, then you can play with her while I bake them and then we can all decorate together?” I purposed.

“What do you think, munchkin?” Bucky asked tickling her sides.

She giggled nodding her head.

“I guess I’m helping with cookies then.”

I smiled at him and mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him; it was pretty clear that Morgan wasn’t about to let Bucky escape her grasp.

“Whatcha thinkin’ maybe some Santa and Snowmen?” I asked Morgan.

She shook her head no.

“No”

“How about candy canes?” Bucky asked picking up the cutter.

She shook her head again.

“But candy canes are the best.” I agreed.

Morgan picked up a cutter and showed it to us.

“Snowflake,” Bucky and I said in unison with smiles.

“Yeah,”

“Snowflakes and snowmen?” I asked.

She shook her head; she was definitely a Stark – bossy and knows exactly what she wants. “Just this.”

Bucky laughed at my pout. “But sugar bean you can have more than one shape.”

“I know.” She smiled.

“Maybe some people like snow,” Bucky said softly elbowing me.

I refrained from asking questions or making jokes about Bucky and snow; the only thing that came to mind was Siberia.

“Guess we’re making a snowstorm,” I said bumping Morgan’s nose with my finger. “I’ll grab the dough.”

The next half hour the three of us spent arranging snowflakes on the dough and moving them to the cookie sheets, Bucky was sure to show Morgan how to push the cutter just right so there would be little bits of cookie dough that couldn’t be used and would need to be eaten. I smiled each time she tried to do it on her own, I couldn’t help but wonder how this would play out if Tony and Steve were still around. No one in the house seemed to be in the Christmas spirit beside me, but Tony always knew how to throw a good party; maybe he could have gotten everyone else in the spirit?

“Wanna play a game?” Bucky asked Morgan as she put the last cookie on the tray.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

“You go hide and I’ll count to 100 and come find you.”

Her eyes lit up, “I can hide anywhere?”

Both of us smiled at her.

“Anywhere inside.” Bucky clarified.

Before we could blink, she was down from the chair and long out of sight. I picked up two of the tray’s and walked towards the oven; Bucky was close behind with the last two, he set them on the counter.

“Thank you,” I said as he set them down.

He smiled up at me, “Call us when they’re ready to frost?”

“Sure thing.”

With that he disappeared into the rest of the compound, undoubtedly, to exhaust Morgan with childhood games. Selfishly I wished to play with them and leave the cookies behind, but I knew it was best to stay away. I told myself repeatedly to not get too comfortable with this version of Bucky; I had seen glimpses of it before and it always disappeared when Morgan would go home. I wanted to believe it was just an act for her, but not a single Oscar award-winning actor could pull off this good of a show; it had to be authentic.  

When the cookies were baked and cooled, I called Morgan and Bucky back to the kitchen. The three of us frosted and decorated the snowflakes, it was easy to tell the difference between the cookies; excessive sprinkles were Morgan, the plain frosting was Bucky’s and mine were elaborately painted with a mix of colors and sprinkles.

Morgan held a cookie up that was covered in red white and blue sprinkles.

“It’s beautiful, baby girl.” I smiled.

“Uncle Steve would approve,” Bucky commented.

“Capsicle,” Morgan smiled.

Bucky and I both laughed.

“Knock, Knock,” Pepper said rounding the kitchen wall.

“Mommy!” Morgan shouted with a smile.

“Hey Pep,” I smiled.

“Hi, baby girl,” Pepper said coming to stand behind her daughter. “Did you have fun with your aunt and uncle?”

“Look wha' I made,” Morgan said holding up a cookie.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“Glad you think so, we’re sending them all with you for Happy and Peter.”

Pepper laughed, “Too much sugar for you?”

“They will go to waste here,” I replied.

“Won’t you eat any of them?” Pepper asked Bucky.

“One or two. I’m not a sugar cookie fan.” He replied honestly. “And Sam doesn’t deserve any.”

I laughed, “He was told he had to help if he wanted any.”

I got up to grab Tupperware for the cookies while Pepper and Bucky talked about the games he played with Morgan. She thanked him for always being so attentive to the little girl, explaining that the relationship between the two meant so much to her. I hated to interrupt with the cookies when I did.

“Let’s go, baby, we’re gonna go see Peter on the way home.”

“Yay!” Morgan exclaimed,

“Thanks for coming over today,” Bucky said leaning down to the girl.

She smiled up at him, “Love you.”

He kissed her cheek, “I love you too munchkin.”

“I’ll walk you guys out,” I said.

Morgan held my hand as we walked through the kitchen and down the hall to the double doors in the foyer. Pepper carried the container of cookies as we made our way out to the car, a driver I didn’t recognize opened the back door of the Escalade and took the cookies.

I bent down to Morgan, “I had a good day today, thank you for helping make it so special.”

“Me too,”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Morgan replied.

I kissed her cheek before the driver helped her up into the car.

“Thanks again for letting me take her for the afternoon,” I said hugging Pepper.

“It was a great idea, I’m glad she has you both.” She smiled, “Seems he’s pretty happy to have you too.”

“Pepper, no, nothing is going on there. The only time he’s around me willingly is when she’s around.” I nodded towards Morgan.

“If you want to tell yourself that be my guest, but I saw the way he looks at you.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile, “Give Peter a big hug for me, okay?”

She laughed, “I will, I’ll see you at the Christmas Party, right?” She asked climbing in the car.

“Of course. It’s the one day a year that I actually get to dress up.”

She closed the door with a smile and turned to go into the house. It was deathly quiet without Morgan. Smiling to myself I walked back to the kitchen to start to clean up. My mind wandered at the topic Pepper mentioned about Bucky and me, but that thought process was cut short when I found the kitchen empty. The dishes had been arranged nicely by the sink and the majority of the mess had been cleaned up, but Bucky was nowhere in sight. Guess it didn’t take him long to snap out of his mood.

It was going to be a long December.

[justjessame]

Diamonds Are A Boy’s Best Friend Chapter 13

I took my time choosing the outfit I would wear on my ‘date’ with Sol. I was in the silk dressing gown that matched my nightgown, my hair pinned the way I’d watched the stylist had to create the style a day earlier, searching for a dress I was certain I still had. I almost missed the knock, but called out just loud enough for Lily to hear. She came in giggling.

“What are you doing?” She draped herself across my bed and watched as I struggled to find the dress.

“Looking for one blasted-” I muttered several curse words and then gave a hoot of triumph. “THIS.” I pulled it from the closet and showed her the dress. “What do you think?”

“I think you stole that design from Elizabeth Taylor,” she answered with a smile. “Sol’s not going to stand a chance.”

I studied the dress, happy to see it wasn’t wrinkled or that the delicate overlay hadn’t ripped. “I think Sol will be fine.” I took a closer look at the lace covered bodice, making certain it was still perfect. “Now, shoes.” It was an easier task by far to choose the shoes. I took one look at the heels with straps slashed across them and smiled. “Just right.”

“You act like you’re preparing for war.” Lily offered, watching as I made sure the dress was hung flawlessly from the closet door.

I sat down at my vanity and began my evening makeup. A hint darker on my eyes, darker lips, heavier perfume. Required for dinner and dancing. “Isn’t it?” I was working on my eyeliner, one eye closed and I could see her studying me in the mirror with my open one. “Dating is like a battle. You have to have a plan. You need to wear the right uniform. And you definitely need to have a goal.”

“Sounds like too much work to me.” She sighed and I laughed as I moved on to my other eye.

“Depends on the end goal honestly.” I finished the eyeliner and checked to be certain my eyes were symmetrical. “If I was actually husband hunting, then I’d have picked a more modest dress. Less is more and why buy the cow and all that.” I filled in my brow, seeing that I had Lily captivated with my explanation.

“And if you aren’t husband hunting, you go full Liz Taylor?” She asked, on her stomach, but propped up on her elbows.

“If I’m not husband hunting, then I must be looking for a way to make sure that future husband never has a reason to think the grass is greener somewhere else.” I smiled at her wide eyes. “Practice makes perfect, Lily. And I DO know who Bettie Page is, after all.”

“Did they teach that at school?” I laughed, a real true laugh.

“Some things a girl has to find out on her own, Lily.” I lined my lips and leaned closer to the mirror to make sure none of the liner clumped in the corners. Satisfied, I chose the darkest lipstick I owned, a true deep Cabernet color. Once that was finished, I started unpinning my hair. “Finishing school teaches a lady which fork to use. You’re taught how to keep the maids on task, and how to NOT anger your cook so they’re tempted to ruin your meals. Oral sex doesn’t come up in the curriculum.”

Lily grinned at me. “Why did you take your education-”

“To the next level?” I sighed, my fingers working without thought. “I saw my classmates’ parents come to school looking as though they were strangers. I heard my classmates talk about affairs and divorces. Why bother with all of that if you can head it off from the first?” She nodded her understanding. “During summer breaks, when I was travelling with whichever chaperone Father hired for me, I’d go dancing and see the interest in men’s eyes. Finally I decided, what the hell, and gave in.”

“Was it terrible?” I considered it. “I mean, my first time was just-” she looked bored at the very idea of it.

“It wasn’t earth shattering, but Max was careful and he made sure the second time more than made up for it.” And the third, fourth, and fifth I added in my head.

“Max?” I chuckled. “Where would you meet a ‘Max’ in Europe?”

“France. His first name was Maxime.” I smiled at the memory of his dark hair and eyes. His broad shoulders and the way his hands could feel like they were branding my skin.

“Your first time was in France?” I nodded. “Guess that’s why Paris is the city of love.” I shook my head and my grin grew.

“I’m not sure about love, but he certainly gave me an introduction into making it.” I had moved on to putting my curls in place. Arranging them so they looked exactly how I wanted them to. “Then there was Jack in Edinburg, Liam in Dublin, and Edward in London.” A few one night stands on the coast of France, a fling or two here and there along the way. I met her eyes in the mirror and nearly bit my lip at her shock. “What?”

“Did you get souvenirs too, or just sex?” I gave in and laughed at that.

“Who needs a postcard when you can have an orgasm?” And that set her off on her own tide of giggles.

 I was putting the finishing touches when I heard the doorbell. Lily had left, saying she wanted to see the full effect when I walked downstairs. Almost like a real mother, I thought, if only she wasn’t three years younger than me.

Grabbing my clutch and taking a final look in the mirror I went downstairs to greet my date. Sol looked amazingly unconcerned about being in the foyer of Ben “The Butcher” Diamond’s house. That was a good sign. I took the stairs carefully, seeing Lily’s eyes light up when she saw the total package I’d put together.

“Sol,” I greeted as my feet touched the floor of the foyer. “You look very handsome tonight.” He’d worn his glasses, which had made seeing my entrance easier I hoped. He was smiling as he took in my dress and the rest of me.

“Miss Diamond,” I mouthed ‘Liz’ to him and I would swear he blushed. “Liz, you look stunning.”

“Doesn’t she though,” I stifled a scream at my father’s appearance. “You look absolutely breathtaking, sweetheart.” He kissed my temple and I forced a smile back on my face. “Take care of my girl, Mr. Drucker. Be sure to show her a good time.” If there were ever two statements that could be taken together in a very dirty way, he’d used them.

Sol held the door open for me, then the car door, and as we started down the drive, I asked where we’d be having our date. Another scream built when he said the Miramar.

 He’d reserved a table that was a little more private and for that I was grateful. Maybe in this out of the way spot, Ike wouldn’t see us and come over. After ordering, we settled in for small talk.

“Do you like working here?” I asked, curious about what Ike was like as a boss.

He was taking a drink from his glass when I posed my question, but after swallowing he nodded. “Yeah, it beats digging ditches.” I smiled at his little joke. “In all seriousness, working at the hotel is never dull.” I raised an eyebrow. “You never know who you’ll see or meet just crossing the lobby.”

“You flirt.” I sipped at my wine. “What exactly do you do here?”

And that gave him the room to go and expand, and keep going. Marketing wasn’t nearly as entertaining to me as it was to Sol, but I listened as close as I could even as I felt Ike’s gaze fall on me.

“I almost had to cancel tonight,” that brought me back to the conversation at hand. I must have looked shocked because he went on. “The boss wanted me to work over, we have so many events planned, he’s been high strung with making sure everything goes according to plan.”

“I’m glad you didn’t cancel.” I offered, thinking that Ike was taking the jealousy a tad too far for a married man.

“I promised to come in tomorrow.” He smiled. “Nothing would make me miss our date, Liz.”

I felt Ike’s gaze, burning as hot as the sun, and glanced to my left. He LOOKED like he was checking on a large party nearby, but his eyes kept flicking to our table. “Could you excuse me for a moment, Sol?” He nodded with a smile. “I need to powder my nose.”

I walked through the dining room, knowing I had two sets of eyes trained on me. I stepped into the lobby and took a deep breath. Then, a few heartbeats later, he was beside me. “Liz.”

“Ike.” I didn’t look at him, but when he started on the route to his office, I followed.

The door had barely closed behind me when his hands were pulling me to him. “This dress,” he breathed and then his mouth was on mine and words ceased to matter. His tongue danced with mine and I knew it beat whatever dance Sol had planned for after dinner. Ike had my back pressed against his desk and I wondered when we moved, but then his hands were at the hem of the skirt of my dress and I knew what he was planning.

“Ike,” I warned, pulling away from his kiss. “We can’t.”

“I think you’ll find that we CAN.” He was sliding the fabric up, his fingertips burning through the silk of my stockings. “I want you to go back to dinner, reeking of me.” I was gasping as his mouth found my neck. As he nipped, I nearly ordered him to be careful of leaving marks, but then his hands were lifting me onto the desk. “I want Sol to smell the sex on you, Liz.” His tongue was checking my pulse, and I knew he felt how fast it was pounding. “Sex and ME.” And then he pushed my underwear aside and I was left wondering when he had pulled himself free from his own pants because he was inside of me before I heard another noise. “You’re already soaked, Liz.” He wasn’t being gentle and I hoped he’d locked the door because he knew how loud I could get. “Is that because of Sol?” My fingernails were digging into the arms of his jacket. “Or me?”

“You,” I managed to moan. “Just you.”

It didn’t take long. We didn’t have the time, but we most certainly made the best of what little we had. I was panting into his jacket, as he slowly went limp and withdrew from me. “Liz?” I looked up my hands still clutching his lapels. “What is THIS?” I shook my head. “Is it just sex?” I couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “Liz, please.”

“What do you want me to say, Ike?” I finally met his eyes again. “That I love you?” His hands were cupping my face as he stared into my eyes. “Would it matter?”

I didn’t give him a chance to answer. I brushed his hands away and lowered myself from his desk. Putting myself back to rights with my back to him, I sighed. “Liz?”

“Goodnight, Ike.” I left, afraid to look back. Afraid of what I’d see.

 I begged off from drinks and dancing with Sol. A headache. Terrible pain. And he dropped me off barely two hours after he’d picked me up. No one greeted me, and I was grateful again. Because I wasn’t sure what expression I wore and until I could put myself back to true rights, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 45)

Description: With five Catalysts missing, the ones who remain have to band together to find their friends and protect the secrets of the Island.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @tigerbryn11

Chapter 45: On the Case

Varyyn

The silence that follows my announcement is heavy. I watch the faces of my beloved's parents, their clear distaste breaking through their concern for their son. Until Molly puts a hand on Ramona's shoulder.

“Not now,” she says softly. “Whatever you feel, now isn't the time for it. You know that by now.”

“He tells me he is married to my son,” Ramona hisses. “How can--”

“Ramona. Remember last time. Both of you need to think very carefully about anything you say. You say the wrong thing now, you may very well lose Diego, even if he comes safely home.”

A look passes between Ramona and Eduardo, but both stay silent. I fold my arms, scowling.

“We are going to be in very close quarters for the foreseeable future, at least until my husband and his friends are brought home safely.” Ramona visibly flinches at the word 'husband,' but I do not allow myself to be thrown by it. “We should try to get along. Can I offer anyone anything to eat or drink?”

“...I do not believe I have any appetite,” Eduardo replies flatly. “What about you, cariña?”

“I don't think I can eat, either. But...I think maybe I could use a cup of coffee.”

I nod slowly. “Then I will be happy to bring you a cup of coffee. If everyone would like to make themselves at home...?” I gesture in the direction of the front sitting room, and everyone shuffles out of the foyer as I escape to the kitchen. Raj, Rebecca, and Lila are all standing around the island counter, where a platter of finger sandwiches and appetizers has been artfully arranged. They looks up when I enter, their expressions reflecting discomfort and sympathy. Under the gentle touch of their kind collective gaze, I let myself feel the distress I was clamping down on a moment ago. I groan, covering my face as I let myself lean back against the wall.

“I'm sorry, Varyyn,” Raj says. “That wasn't cool of Alodia's aunt, to spring the in-laws on you like that.”

“Diego is their son,” I admit wearily. “It wouldn't have been right not to tell them he is missing, and I suppose I understand that Alodia's aunt and uncle might want their friends' support right now. No doubt they drew a great deal of strength from each other five years ago.”

“But to not even tell you that they were coming?” Lila points out. “That's just rude.”

“A time like this, people aren't at their best,” Rebecca says softly.

“Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to gather everyone here,” I murmur. “I don't want to weather this storm alone, but...it is going to be so much harder if I am battling Diego's parents at the same time.”

Raj picks up his platter of treats with a flourish. “Well, if I can't promise to totally keep the peace, I can at least remind you that I am usually very good at it. Come on, Varyyn. Help me get everyone nourished.”

Grayson

“When did you last speak to your father?”

Seated across from Officer Dawes in a quiet corner of the hospital lobby, I rub a clammy palm over my knee, hoping to blot some of the sweat off on the leg of my jeans. I try to focus on the officer and not keep glancing toward Rochelle and the others.

“A week or so ago? I...agreed to have dinner with him.”

“Would you say he was behaving normally?” “I suppose so. At least...as far as what normal has been since he came back.” I shake my head. “There was nothing about his behavior that stood out to me that night.”

Dax is on his phone over in the corner. His expression reads to me as exhausted desperation. Across from me, Officer Dawes' penetrating gaze draws my eyes back to her face.

“...Do you remember what you talked about that night?”

I can't hold back a sigh. “Not much. We don't have many safe topics between us these days.”

“And you didn't address any...unsafe topics?”

“...I wasn't in the mood for an argument.”

“What about his mood? Did he seem nervous or upset? Or unusually upbeat?”

I shake my head. “No. Like I said, nothing about his behavior seemed unusual. He was just...calm. But...” I trail off, frowning. Over in the corner, Dax has gotten off his phone and stood up. Poppy is standing, too, and Dax has her wrapped in a tight hug. They pull back reluctantly and Dax takes her face in his hands, kissing her gently. As my silence stretches on, Officer Dawes raises an eyebrow.

“...But?”

I look back at her. “I guess...there was something unusual. ...As I was leaving, Dad told me he loved me. ...That one day he would find a way to show me properly how much he loved me. ...I guess I didn't think much of it at the time, but...it has been a very long time since he said he loved me.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Might I ask...what does your father think of your girlfriend?”

I look sharply at her. “...My girlfriend? Tahira?”

“Yes. Does he approve of her?”

“I...I don't really know,” I answer honestly. As Dragonness, Tahira is Dad's enemy, but as far as I understand, he wants to use her, not simply destroy her. And as Tahira...I had always gotten the impression he approved of her for her business sense and work ethic and all that stuff that matters to him. But whether he considers my relationship with her a good thing or a bad thing in relation to his ultimate goal? I have no idea.

“Do you never talk about her?”

“Tahira...isn't a safe subject.”

“To me, that suggests he pretty clearly disapproves.”

“It's not Tahira herself that isn't the safe subject,” I lie. “It's...more her mother.”

“Her mother?”

“Rochelle.” I nod over in Rochelle's direction. I don't intend to say anything incriminating, and I expect Rochelle will gladly affirm my story if it means protecting her daughter. “Rochelle used to work for Dad. But just after Rochelle adopted Tahira, she and Dad had a falling out and Rochelle quit. I don't think Dad ever forgave her for it.”

“Do you know what the falling out was over?”

“Not really. It had to do with one of Dad's experiments. The most I can gather is that they disagreed over the direction he wanted to take with it. I guess it got pretty heated, and once Rochelle had her baby she decided to cut her losses and find another job.”

“I see. ...I only ask because your father went missing on the same day your girlfriend was attacked.”

“Are...you saying you think Dad had something to do with that?”

Her gaze grows impossibly more searching. “Do you believe that it's a possibility?”

I don't think so. I don't think Tahira is any use to him dead. “I don't believe he has any real motivation to harm her,” I say slowly. “However...after the events last summer, I guess I couldn't blame anyone for thinking it wouldn't be against his nature.”

She keeps her expression carefully neutral as she makes a note of my statement. “Can you tell us what you do know about the attack on your girlfriend?”

“I was at the office when I received a call from her cell phone. Except the call wasn't from her. Someone had found her bleeding, and she told him to call me.”

“So, she was conscious when she was found?”

“Yes. She managed to talk to me for just a minute before she passed out.”

“Did she say anything about who attacked her? Or who found her?”

I keep my expression steady as I lay out the story I have been rehearsing in my head since I agreed to stash Tahira's suit for her. “I don't think she knew the man who rescued her. Or the person who attacked her for that matter. She was mostly concerned about me making sure her mother could get to the hospital. ...She probably wasn't really thinking straight.”

“I'm told that her rescuer didn't call an ambulance.”

“No, he didn't. He brought her to the hospital himself and ducked out as soon as she was in hand. ...If you want my opinion, he is probably on the wrong side of the law himself.”

She nods, humming thoughtfully. Out of the corner of my eye, a bit of movement captures my attention. There's a surgeon coming out into the waiting room.

“Ms. Rogers?” Rochelle leaps to her feet, and the others follow. I look anxiously back at the officer, who follows my gaze and nods.

“Go ahead. I've got everything I need for now.”

I quickly join the others. The surgeon's expression is difficult to parce, but he doesn't seem too grim. I take Rochelle's hands, and she grips mine gratefully.

“She's stable,” the surgeon says, and I feel the relief ripple through us in a physical wave. “The internal damage was not as bad as it could have been, but there were some lacerations to the intestinal tract.”

“But...she'll be all right?” Rochelle asks weakly.

“As I said, she's stable. We'll have to keep a pretty close eye on her recovery for a few days at least. There's no way to be sure of anything at this point, but there's good reason to be optimistic.”

Rochelle sags against me, and I clutch her hard to keep her upright. There are tears on her cheeks, and I can't blame her. I can feel them leaking out of my eyes, too.

“C-can I see her?” she whispers.

“Of course. She's not awake yet, but she's in recovery now...” He trails off slightly, eyeing the rest of us uncertainly. “...Though...I can't allow more than two visitors at a time.”

“Go with Rochelle, Grayson,” Eva says before I can say anything. “The rest of us have something else to take care of. We'll check in later. ...Just let us know if anything changes.”

As it hits me that Dax has left the hospital, I realize that I have a hunch regarding the nature of their other business. I nod. “You, too.”

Aleister

I am glad that Grace and I were still in Northbridge when the news broke. I am glad that my sister had not yet flown back to San Trobida with Quinn. It means none of us are wasting hours traveling in order to do what must be done to see everyone through this crisis.

Quinn, Grace, and Craig have taken it on themselves to look after Reginald and Tricia Gayle while Estela and I meet with Zahra at Rourke International's Northbridge location. On the way, we attempt to contact Tahira, but reach Grayson Prescott instead, who informs us of her present situation. We gather in the office under a grim atmosphere, but there is also determination as Zahra links Iris's drone up to her computer and begins typing furiously. In the dimly lit office, the computer screen casts her face in an eerie blue light.

“So, what precisely do we know?” Estela asks.

“Well, the latest development appears to be that there is at least one Vaanti in Northbridge, and they were responsible for attacking Tahira. Not that we can tell the police that.”

“My money's on Anachronist,” Zahra murmurs, not taking her eyes off the screen. “They're the only tribe unaccounted for since the timelines merged.”

Estela and I exchange a glance. I certainly don't want to believe it. But truth does not care about what I want.

“...I had rather assumed them lost,” I say slowly. “But then, I thought the same of the Endless, and she reappeared after Alodia came back.”

“It seems Alodia's reappearance has definitely caused a few blips in the time-space continuum,” Zahra agrees grimly. “Her whole existence was always an anomaly. There were bound to be ripples. Maybe one of those ripples was an Anachronist with a grudge against the Endless.”

“Uqzhaal did manage to convince a number of them to follow him,” I concede. “...But then why would one of them attack Tahira? They would have to have known she is Alodia's cousin for the motivation to make any sense. And even then, wouldn't it have made more sense to attack Alodia directly?”

“I expect it is not as simple as a grudge,” Estela sighs. “Between Alodia and Diego, Jake and Sean and Michelle, and now Tahira...it's all too well-timed for me to believe it's a coincidence.”

“I'm inclined to agree. Zahra, what of the security data from La Huerta? Jake was sailing one of our vessels, was he not?”

“Yeah. I already sent the relevant security data over to the police. All above board and transparent so the cops know we're cooperating.”

I nod. Of course, we are cooperating. We want our friends back. But there are certain things we cannot share. The world has gotten larger since it was just the twelve of us trapped alone on an island. We do not have to search for our friends alone, but we also have to see that the Vaanti are protected.

“What information can we glean from the data?”

“No security breeches on La Huerta. Codes were reset the week of the wedding, and only Jake, Mike, Sean, and Michelle had the new codes. Jake punched them in at the checkpoints, and the last data from the yacht's tracker puts his coordinates at least an hour north of La Huerta. Whatever happened, it happened well out from the island.” Her phone buzzes on the desk beside her, the screen lighting up with a text alert. She glances down. “Finally. Will someone buzz Dax in?”

“Dax?”

“Yeah. Dax Darcisse. In case you didn't hear, Silas Prescott's broken his parole. I'm guessing Dax's intel is gonna be useful.”

I frown as Estela moves to enter the code into the electronic lock to open the front door. “I dislike this immensely. On top of everything else, Prescott chooses now to break his parole. I fear we are being toyed with.”      

“I'm sure there are red herrings all over this bitch,” Zahra mutters. “Another reason I want all the eyes possible on it.”

As if on cue, Dax pushes open the suite door. He looks expectedly haggard. I move to take his jacket. “Thank you for coming. Can I offer you some coffee? There's a kitchen just through there, and I could brew a pot.”

“No, thank you. I had a few cups at the hospital. I think if I have any more, I'm gonna take off.”

“Has there been any word on Tahira's condition?”

“Yeah, actually. Poppy called when Iwas on my way. She's out of surgery and stable. The damage wasn't as bad as they feared, but she still hasn't woken up. Her mom and Grayson are with her now. Poppy, Eva, and Kenji are on their way here. They want to help, too.”

“Where do we even start?” Estela wonders grimly, looking over at Zahra.

“I'm so glad you asked that, Estela. Because I know exactly where to begin.” Zahra stands, looking out over the computer monitor at the rest of us. “We know Alodia and Diego were taken off in ambulances. Possibly the same ambulance. We also know Fiddler was the one who snatched Alodia. ...So we're gonna find that ambulance. And we're gonna find Fiddler.”

Diego

I don't know how long Allie and I are trapped in the back of the ambulance for. A few hours, at least. Long enough for hunger to start biting in earnest, though I guess it would have been doing that already, since we were abducted right before we were going to go to lunch. Probably unsurprisingly, I'm more concerned about my pregnant friend than my own growling stomach.

“Are you okay, Allie? Relatively speaking?”

“...I don't have to pee at all. I'm nine months pregnant. I always have to pee every twenty minutes.”

There is so much to unpack in that statement, I doubt I could lay it all out in my mind. I gently press my free hand to her belly, where flutters of movement serve to reassure me somewhat. At least my little goddaughter is still kicking.

“They won't let anything happen to the baby, Allie.”

“Right, because kidnapping her mother and strapping her down in a speeding ambulance for hours without food or water is great for a fetus,” she grumbles.

I swallow, moving my hand to cover hers again. I don't know that I can say anything comforting. I've been trying to read street signs through the back window of the ambulance, but we've been moving along too quickly for me to catch a glimpse. And at this point, we're probably well outside familiar territory anyway. I also spent a few minutes scratching at my eyebrows and plucking out the hairs that came loose to drop them in the shadows on the floor as a DNA sample for any police who find the ambulance, since I assume it will have to be abandoned eventually. But I can't tell Allie that. The partition keeps us from seeing who's driving the ambulance, but it probably isn't soundproof.

The vehicle starts to slow down, and for several minutes, I feel the ground undulating beneath its tires as it navigates hilly terrain. Allie clutches my hand, her pale face slowly turning an unsettling shade of grayish-green beneath a coating of sweat. Oh, shit...

“Okay, deep breaths, Allie,” I murmur. “It's okay. If you gotta puke, just turn your head to the side.”

“I...d-don't think I...have...” She cuts herself off with a moan, pursing her lips and screwing her eyes shut. She holds that pose, breath hissing from her nose, squeezing my hand with an iron grip, until the ambulance slows further and finally stops. My heart and stomach lurch as the engine goes quiet and I hear the sound of the door opening.

I knew it was Fiddler who abducted Allie, so when she's the one who opens the ambulance doors, my shock is mitigated, but it's still surreal to see her face again after all these years. But even that moment of disorientation is soon swallowed up in anger and fear. I glare at her.

“Well. Look who clawed her way up from the pits of hell. It's a good mask you found. Very nearly hides where the maggots have eaten through your face.”

She smirks, scoffing. “Nice. Betcha spent the whole ride on that one. Okay, listen up, kiddos. You cooperate, and no one has to get hurt. You both know who's gonna get hurt if something goes wrong, so don't try any shit. We're stoppin' for a bit. Tonight at least, the accommodations will be quite cozy, so no bitching, and no squirming while we put the blindfolds on.”

Three more thugs in Arachnid gear show up on either side of her and start climbing into the ambulance. I grip Allie's hand in mine, but neither of us fight the blindfolds. And when they unlock our cuffs and get us on our feet to get us out of the ambulance, we go where they lead us. I do get the slight satisfaction of hearing Allie finally give in to her motion sickness, and one of the Arachnid mooks yelp in disgust, but that dissolves into worry when I feel the ground change under my feet. It's uneven. Rocky. The air that rustles the trees around us is chilly. Then as it turns warm and still, and the ground becomes the hard, even surface of a linoleum floor, we're immediately led to a set of creaky wooden stairs. How can they expect a pregnant woman to navigate rocky terrain blindfolded?! How can they expect her to walk up the stairs? What if she falls?!

But we both make it to the top of the stairs. They remove our blindfolds and we blink, looking around dazedly at our surroundings. We're in a room at the top of the stairs of what looks like some kind of country cabin. The floor is hardwood. There's a double bed in the corner, dressed with plain sheets and a simple comforter. In another corner, there's a wooden table and chairs, set with two bowls, two cups, two spoons. On a towel on the floor is a crockpot and two plastic jugs of water. There's a toilet en suite in a space the size of a closet. There is a single, porthole window in the wall, and it has bars over it in a criss-cross pattern. A sparse, comfortable prison.

One of the Arachnid goons takes out something that looks like a police scanner gun and aims it at Allie. A light flickers over her body and he checks a reading on the side.

“All looks good,” he informs Fiddler, who nods approvingly.

“There, you see? No need to whine. Mom and brat are in perfect health.” She points at the table. “Eat. Drink. There's good stuff for you in that crockpot there. Then sleep while you can. We won't be here long.”

She doesn't wait for our answer before turning and leaving with her goons, shutting and locking the door behind her. Allie shuffles over to the bed, sinking down onto the edge. I come to sit beside her, putting an arm over her shoulder. For a long moment, we both sit in silence.

“...You should eat something,” I murmur at last. “We both should. We need to keep our strength up.”

She nods, but she doesn't move toward the table. She doesn't even look at me. She is quiet long enough that I am starting to consider going over and dishing her out a bowl myself, but abruptly, she looks up.

“...What's in there?”

“I dunno. Wanna come find out with me?”

She nods, rising slowly and moving toward the table. She's walking kinda hunched over. Her movements are slow and deliberate and a little bit clumsy. I put out a hand to steady her.

“Are you okay there?”

She nods. “My pregnant body did not like being chained to a gurney for so long,” she mumbles.

I guide her to one of the chairs. “Sit down. I'll dish you up some of...whatever that stuff is.” I go to lift the cover off the crockpot and get hit with a warm cloud of meat-scented steam. “Some kind of stew. Looks like chicken. Plenty of vegetables.”

There's a ladle on the towel beside the pot. I fill her bowl up, and pour her a glass of water. Then I serve myself. We eat in silence, focused on the task at hand. I don't think either of us really want to eat. In spite of how hungry I know I am, fear is killing my appetite. But I don't really have the luxury of not eating, and neither does she. With grim determination, we scoop spoonful after spoonful of meat and vegetables soaked in warm, salty broth into our mouths. Finally, we both lower our spoons into empty bowls.

“...Do you remember the first time we went to summer camp?” Allie asks softly, staring at her empty bowl.

“You mean the only time we went to summer camp?” I ask with a wry smile. “At least, the only time I went to summer camp. You did those gymnastics and dance camps, but my folks could only afford that one summer. ...How old were we that summer?”

“Nine.” She raises her eyes to meet mine, smiling weakly. “We hated it, didn't we?”

“Yeah. Because we weren't allowed to be in the same cabin. And almost everything was done by cabins. Everyone ate at a table with their own cabins, two or three cabins did activities at one time...”

“But everyone went swimming together. And we had free time every day that we got to spend together. And whenever our two cabins were together for activities we were allowed to hang out together. ...Still the worst three weeks of that summer.”

“Without a doubt.”

“...Do you remember the game we played? To get ourselves through it?”

I nod. I had a feeling that I knew where she was going with this. “Yeah. We were super spies who had been captured by our enemies, and the camp was actually a prison camp. We were being kept apart because if we were together, we would come up with a plan to escape and stop their evil plans.”

“...Every time we met, we would speak in code to each other. Or...what we thought was code. We would check up on each other. Make sure the evil counselors weren't torturing us too badly, and we hadn't been poisoned by the food.”

“The food was actually pretty good, as I remember it. I don't think I've had chocolate milk that perfect since. But those activities could be pure torture. I mean, kickball and candle-making? Getting smacked in the face with a huge rubber ball...wearing shorts to make candles and dripping hot wax on bare legs...”

“...You went to that camp in the other timeline, too.”

I reach across the table, offering my hand. “Don't, Allie.”

“It's true. You were there alone, and I was the ghost you played with in your imagination...”

“Allie, don't do this to yourself.” She looks up at me with eyes shimmering, and I flick my fingers just slightly, reminding her of my hand waiting on the table. She hesitates a moment before placing her hand in mine. “...That timeline existed once. But it's not the one we're living in now. And there's no reason for you to feel bad about that other one existing.”

“...I don't feel bad as in...guilty. Not really. ...Maybe a little.”

“That timeline doesn't matter anymore, Allie. You're here. You exist. You have a husband. You're going to have a child. ...Right now, we really need to focus on dealing with what's in front of us.”

She nods, drawing in a shuddering breath. “...Captured by our enemies. ...I liked this game better when we were nine.”

“Yeah. ...So did I.”

Sean

We've mostly been quiet since the Arachnid soldier came in with her bottle of water, letting the drug cocktails work their way through our systems. There is a particularly awkward series of moments when we all collectively realize we need to pee, but our hands are still cuffed behind our backs. Michelle is the first to get over her embarassment and volunteer to help us get our pants down. Not surprising, I guess. She's a doctor, and she's seen it all in a clinical context before. I volunteer to return the favor. It takes a lot of maneuvering and wiggling, and there's still a lot of awkwardness, but we all manage to relieve ourselves in the airplane toilet. Honestly, I think the only reason we all got weird about it is because we needed to break the tension. What better than toilet humor to add a little absurdity to this horrible situation?

Once we've all got our pants back on, though, we settle into a tense silence for awhile. Jake is the one to finally break it.

“Maybelline, how long would whatever they drugged us with last for?”

“Six to eight hours,” Michelle replies. “Possibly longer, maybe a little less, depending on what all was in there, and how much of everything they used.”

Jake sighs. “...Damn. We could be anywhere. Don't know where the boat landed and this bird took off from. Don't know where it's going or how long we'll be flying...”

“How far could a plane this size get?” I ask.

“Hard to know for sure when I've just been inside the bathroom. But based on the sound of the engines, it's a sizeable jet. Could take us a damn good distance from the Caribbean. ...Would have to have hit a port somewhere. This bird seems way too big to fit on an aircraft carrier...”

He inhales sharply, sitting up straight, his eyes widening. Michelle and I react, mirroring his body language.

“What's wrong?” Michelle asks.

“...You feel that?”

I sit still for a moment, trying to tune my senses to pick up on whatever Jake feels. Then it hits me. The subtle dampening of sound as the changing air pressure blocks up my ears, a sensation that's become familiar after traveling with the team for so many years.

“...We're landing.”

[badchoosey]

Veil of Secrets, Chapter One: Missing Persons

You sit in a cold metal chair in a police interrogation room, watching the minutes tick by on the clock. 

Jean: (How much longer are they going to keep me here?)

As if answering your question, the door at the end of the room swings open, and a man in a sharp suit enters, flashing an FBI badge. 

Agent Michael Kim: Special Agent Michael Kim, FBI. And you are… Jean?

Jean: That’s right.

Agent Michael Kim: Well, Jean. I’m hoping you can answer some questions. 

He sits down, flipping open a heavy folder full of photos…

Agent Michael Kim: See, I’m just trying to make sense of what happened in this town. Looking at this report here, I’ve got a kidnapping, multiple break-ins, an arson, and at least four homicides… And you think you know who was behind it all.

Jean: What can I say? It’s been a wild month. 

Agent Michael Kim: Can you tell me what happened here? From the beginning?

Jean: Well… It all started with a wedding…

Letter:

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Katherine O’Malley and Tanner Charles Sterling, to be held at Sterling Manor in Birchport, Massachussetts.

Your taxi pulls up outside the imposing family estate in the village of Birchport, Massachussetts. 

Jean: Wow…

The doors swing open, and a handsome stranger walks out, smiling at you. 

???: Welcome to Sterling Manor! You’re here for the rehearsal dinner, I assume?

Jean: I’m Jean. A friend of Kate’s. Uh, Katherine’s. 

???: You can relax. She’s Kate to me too. Looks like you’ve never been here before. I’m Grant Emerson. I’d be happy to show you the way.

Jean: Shouldn’t I find Kate first?

Grant Emerson: Yeah… about that. Maybe not the best time. Mrs. Sterling is trying to rearrange all the seating charts again, and Kate’s not thrilled…

Jean: Oh! Trouble in paradise?

Grant Emerson: Just your typical wedding-planning drama, I’m sure. 

Grant leads you through the doors into an elegant foyer. 

Grant Emerson: So how do you know Kate?

Jean: We were best friends in college, but we kind of lost touch since. I was honestly surprised to get the invitation. 

Grant Emerson: She’s told me some stories about her college days. It sounded like the two of you were a force of nature back then. 

Jean: You could say that. Let me guess. You’re one of Kate’s exes. 

Grant Emerson: What? Me, date Kate?

Jean: Why do you sound so surprised?

Grant Emerson: She and I are just friends, that’s all. I’m here for Tanner, the groom. 

Jean: Are you two friends?

Grant Emerson: In a sense. Our families have… a long history. Both with Birchport, and with each other. Our families have been rivals for years. But Tanner and I are friendly. 

Jean: So do you live in a mansion too?

Grant Emerson: Define ‘mansion.’

Jean: If you need me to define mansion, you live in a mansion. 

Grant Emerson: Touche. 

You pass a massive spiral staircase and a door leading to a gallery of expensive art. You can help but gawk. 

Jean: Man. Kate always joked about marrying a rich guy, but I didn’t think she’d follow through. Especially not on this scale.

Grant Emerson: Believe me, you’re not the only one surprised. The town’s been buzzing for months. Let’s just say it’s not everyday the heir to the town’s richest family gets engaged to a dockworker’s daughter. 

Jean: Way to go, Kate. 

Grant Emerson: What about you? Anyone significant in your life?

Jean: Does my editor count? We spends nights and weekends together, she calls me all the time just to check in… on my deadlines. 

Grant Emerson: So you’re in publishing?

Jean: A journalist.

Grant Emerson: I’ve seen this movie. The hard-working journalist pounding coffee at her desk, no time for a personal life…

Jean: I am pretty focused on my career. 

Grant Emerson: I’m actually glad you said that. I’m the same way. It’s nice to meet someone else dedicated to burning the candle at both ends. 

Jean: Sleep when you’re dead, right?

Grant Emerson: Always been my motto. And now I’m gonna have even less time for that sleep nonsense, what with the new challenge you set me. 

Jean: Oh? What’s that?

Grant Emerson: The one where I find a way to distract you from your work. 

Jean: What about you, Grant? What do you do?

Grant Emerson: I’m a lawyer. Following in my father’s footsteps. 

Jean: Really? Let me guess, some kind of fancy corporate law?

Grant Emerson: Criminal defense, actually. 

Jean: So if I wake up tomorrow in the drunk tank after going full whirling dervish on Birchport’s streets…

Grant Emerson: I’m the guy to call. Listen, I’d love to have you all to myself for the rest of the afternoon, but we should probably join the party. 

Jean: Lead the way…

Grant escorts you to a dining hall full of wealthy East Coast socialites. As you enter, a young woman with a beaming smile rushes over and throws her arms around you. 

Kate O’Malley: Jean! You’re here! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!

Jean: It’s been so long.

Kate O’Malley: Ohmygod, ages! Like, way too long! We’ll have to make up for lost time this weekend. 

Jean: Won’t you be busy with, you know… getting married?

Kate O’Malley: Are you kidding? Tanner’s mother is a total control freak. But the upside is that she’s taking care of everything! Please, say you’ll help me make the most of my last day as a single lady?

Jean: I’ll give it my best shot. 

Kate O’Malley: Can you believe I’m getting married?

Jean: I honestly can’t believe it’s taken this long for someone to try to lock it down. 

Kate O’Malley: Who said no one else tried?

Jean: Well then, it must have taken a lot for this guy to succeed. 

Kate O’Malley: You could say that…

Kate shows you her engagement ring.. and its enormous diamond. 

Jean: Holy rock, Kate! Doesn’t that thing make your arm tired?

Kate O’Malley: That’s just an added bonus… Crossfit arms without even hitting the gym!

A handsome sharply-dressed man approaches. His bearing is aristocratic, and a little distant. 

Kate O’Malley: Oh, perfect, here’s my fiance, Tanner Sterling. Tanner, this is Jean. We were inseparable at Hartfeld!

Tanner Sterling: So lovely to meet you, Jean. Kate speaks well of you… and often. 

Jean: Thanks, Tanner. Kate, you didn’t tell me Tanner was so hot!

Kate O’Malley: I like to let his hotness speak for itself. 

Tanner Sterling: I, err… That is, thank you for the compliment, Jean. 

Kate O’Malley: I told you in college, anyone I married would have to be super-hot, look great in a tux, and play guitar. 

Tanner Sterling: … I don’t play guitar. 

Kate O’Malley: Always time to learn, babe. Always time to learn. 

An exceptionally well-dressed young woman squints at the three of you, assessing, then stalks over. 

Scarlett Emerson: Don’t Kate and Tanner make such a cute couple? At least now she’s dressing on the Sterling family’s dime….

Tanner Sterling: Scarlett…

Scarlett Emerson: I’m kidding, obviously! Kate knows how much I love her.

Kate O’Malley: Totally.

The woman glances your way.

Scarlett Emerson: Sorry, but if we’ve met, I’ve totally forgotten you.

Kate O’Malley: Scarlett, this is Jean, my best friend from college. Jean, meet Scarlett Emerson, my… maid of honor. 

Scarlett Emerson: Oh, of course, I should have known you were Kate’s college friend. You both have that same spit-shined blue collar thing going on. Such an adorable look, I’m almost jealous of how well you pull it off. You’re the journalist, right?

Jean: That’s me. 

Scarlett Emerson: I saw you talking with my brother before. Just a tip from a friend, flirt all you want, but don’t get your hopes up. Quaint’s not really his thing. 

Jean: Excuse me?

Scarlett Emerson: I mean, I know marrying down is the trend in Birchport these days, but I just don’t think that’s Grant’s style, you know? I’m sure he’s slummed it for fun, but he cares way too much about the family name to make that kind of mistake permanent!

Jean: Maybe I should show your face exactly how us girls from the slums do things. 

Scarlett Emerson: Huh. I would’ve thought you’d need at least two drinks before you started threatening assault. Aren’t people from your background supposed to be able to handle their liquor?

Kate O’Malley: Scarlett, I agreed to have you as my maid of honor because you promised to be nice. 

Scarlett Emerson: I am being nice. Jean’s still standing, isn’t she?

Jean: Give me a few more minutes and you won’t be. 

Tanner Sterling: Ahem. Could we not do this?

Jean: Right. Sorry. I just… she…

Scarlett Emerson: I think I’ve proven my point. Ta-ta!

Scarlett flutters off.

Jean: Sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to make a scene. 

Kate O’Malley: It’s not your fault. Scarlett’s just… like that. 

Jean: If you don’t mind me asking… why is she your maid of honor? You don’t even seem to get along…

Kate O’Malley: It’s complicated…

Tanner Sterling: The social circles of Birchport often are. Now come, darling. Mother wanted to talk to you about flower arrangements…

Jean: Find me when you’re free, Kate?

Kate O’Malley: Yes! God, yes. 

Kate hugs you and leaves with Tanner. You stand there, shaking your head…

Jean: (Kate O’Malley… what have you gotten yourself into?)

Guests start to move to their seats in the dining room. Feeling out of place, you slink to the back of the hall and find an empty seat next to a ruggedly handsome man. 

Jean: Is this seat taken?

???: I was hoping to put my feet up and take a little nap when things got boring, but sure. You just go ahead and take my footrest. 

Jean: What, you’re not absolutely riveted by rehearsal dinners?

???: Not when it’s my sister getting married to that… Never mind. 

Jean: Whoa. You’re Kate’s brother?

???: Yes? Have we met or something?

Jean: I’m her friend Jean. From Hartfeld?

???: Jean? She talked about you all the time. 

He offers his hand, and you shake it. 

Flynn O’Malley: Flynn.

Jean: Flynn, huh? Kate never mentioned you. 

Flynn O’Malley: I guess she was just as ashamed of me as the rest of the family. 

Jean: Kate would never be ashamed of her brother. 

Flynn O’Malley: If you say so. Then… maybe she figured I’m such a legend, I wouldn’t need to be explained?

Jean: That sounds more like the Kate I know. Or knew…. I’d never have thought she’d marry into a family like this. 

Flynn O’Malley: I’m as surprised as you are. Not that I’ve ever thought much of her taste in men… But I didn’t think she’d wind up with a walking sense of entitlement like Tanner.

Jean: He seems like a nice enough guy…

Flynn O’Malley: ‘Seems’ is definitely the operative word in that sentence. 

Your conversation is interrupted by the sound of a spoon tapping the side of a glass, signalling a toast. A stern older gentleman at the head table rises, a champagne glass in his hand. Diamond cuff links twinkle at his wrists. 

Pierce Sterling: For those of you I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, I’m Pierce Sterling, father to the young man whose nuptials we’ll be celebrating tomorrow. As most of you know, the Sterling legacy in Birchport goes back many generations. Tomorrow it continues onto the next. For any father, his eldest son’s wedding is fraught with emotion. Many of you know our Kate comes from a… different walk of life…

Attendees give each other uneasy glances…

Pierce Sterling: And yet, she possesses a purity of spirit that I can only describe as Sterling. Please, join me in welcoming Kate O’Malley to our family!

Before anyone has a chance to react, a huge, red-cheeked boor of a man stands up and scoffs!

???: Different walk of life? Come on!

Pierce Sterling: Bryce…

Bryce Sterling: Drop the euphemisms, Dad. Just say what we’re all thinking.

Pierce Sterling: I’m warning you…

Bryce Sterling: She’s a gold-digger!

You feel yourself tense with anger. You notice Flynn clenching his fists. 

Jean: Hey! Asshole! I don’t know who you are, besides a guy who’s hit the bar twenty times too many, but Kate’s a better person than you’ll ever be. 

The attendees react with surprise, and more than a little delight at the drama unfolding.

Bryce Sterling: You’re calling me out for drinking? How could I not be drinking at this farce? Some slut from the wrong side of the tracks waltzes in here and claims my family name, and I’m supposed to… what? Welcome her like a brother?

Pierce Sterling: Enough, Bryce.

Jean: Don’t you dare insult Kate. 

Bryce Sterling: Kate insults me with her presence. 

Pierce Sterling: Bryce, I said enough!

Pierce signals to his wait staff to intercept Bryce, who’s staggering toward you. 

Bryce Sterling: Hey! Get your hands off me!

Fortunately, he’s too inebriated to put up much of a fight, and they quickly whisk him from the room. Pierce shoots you an icy glare, then resumes. 

Pierce Sterling: Now let’s return to our dinner, shall we? I promise there will be no further interuptions. 

He snaps his fingers, and the wait staff begin dinner service. Across the room, Kate catches your eye. She looks grateful. 

Flynn O’Malley: Thanks for that. 

Jean: Sorry. I just… I couldn’t just sit here…

Flynn O’Malley: Trust me, I hear you. If I’d have heard one more word out of that prick’s mouth, they would’ve been scraping him off the floor.

Jean: I would’ve kept my mouth shut if I knew that was the alternative.

Flynn O’Malley: Seriously, though. Thanks. 

Jean: Is it always like this?

Flynn O’Malley: I wouldn’t know. This is the first even the Sterlings have deigned to invite me to. 

Jean: Kate always had a way of attracting drama, but… I don’t know. This seems like too much, even for her. 

Flynn breathes deeply. 

Flynn O’Malley: Look. She’s my little sister, and I want to protect her. But the truth is… Tanner makes her happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her. 

You look back to the center table, where Kate’s leaning on Tanner’s shoulder, looking up at him with a smile. 

Flynn O’Malley: Honestly? If we can just make it through this wedding… I think she’ll be all right. 

A few hours later, the dinner is winding down. You’re lingering in the parlor when Kate comes running over. 

Jean: Hey stranger.

Kate O’Malley: Oh, Jean… I’m so happy I found you. 

Jean: How’re you feeling?

Kate O’Malley: Excited? Overwhelmed? So happy I wanna scream and at the same time so nervous I wanna throw up?

Jean: So… normal night before your wedding stuff, then?

Kate O’Malley: Exactly!

She grins and wraps you in a massive hug. 

Kate O’Malley: I know we haven’t talked much the last couple years, but… I think about you all the time, you know. 

Jean: Me too. I’m glad we finally have a chance to catch up now, though. 

Kate O’Malley: Yeah, I--

But before she can finish, Grant and Scarlett walk over. 

Grant Emerson: Looks like you two are reconnecting.

Scarlett Emerson: Can I just say, I loved your little dinner show with Bryce! It was like one of those trashy reality shows where they’re always pulling each other’s hair!

Jean: Glad I entertained you. 

Grant Emerson: I’m just somebody said something. Not enough people are willing to put that asshole in his place. 

Jean: So you guys are Kate and Tanner’s crew, huh?

Scarlett Emerson: I suppose. 

Jean: Oh, that reminds me! How was your bachelorette party, Kate?

Kate O’Malley: I… never had one.

Jean: What? Scarlett, isn’t throwing Kate a party one of your duties as maid of honor?

Scarlett Emerson: Bachelorette parties are so tacky. 

Jean: They don’t have to be Besides, this is Kate’s wedding, right? And Kate’s always loved a good party. 

Kate O’Malley: ‘Love’ does not begin to describe my feelings about parties. 

Grant Emerson: Well, it’s still early. Anyone got plans tonight?

Kate O’Malley: Just beauty sleep.

Jean: You’re not going to be with your fiance?

Kate O’Malley: Tanner’s family is big on tradition. I’m not supposed to see him again until the wedding day… which means my plan for the night involved a couple glasses of wine to settle my nerves and a lot of Netflix. 

Grant Emerson: Well that clinches it. Nothing takes your mind off pre-wedding jitters like a night on the town. Kate, you up for a party?

Kate O’Malley: Yes! Yes! That sounds amazing! Fancy cocktails… college stories… dancing and laughing… Jean? Are you in? Not to be dramatic, but… I totally need this!

Jean: I think I’m too tired for that. I’m on deadline for an article.

Kate O’Malley: You’re working?! During my wedding?!

Jean: I really didn’t have a choice. It was the only way my editor would okay this trip. 

Grant Emerson: Let me guess, you pitched a story about ‘the charming seaside town of Birchport’?

Jean: Guilty as charged.

Kate O’Malley: Awwww… But it won’t be the same without you, Jean. I guess we’re both adulting now, huh?

Jean: I guess so. 

Kate envelops you in a long hug. You think you see tears in her eyes, but when she pulls back, they’ve already disappeared. 

Kate O’Malley: And Flynn’s vanished. Typical. I guess I’ll have to party without my bestie and without my brother. 

Kate grabs Grant in one arm and Scarlett in the other. 

Kate O’Malley: You Emersons better loosen up if we’re going to have any fun at all…

Grant Emerson: I’ll do my best, madame.

The trio walks out, and you head back to your B-and-B.

The innkeeper, Miss Harlenay, greets you in the lobby. 

Miss Harlenay: Welcome back, Jean. How was the rehearsal dinner?

Jean: It was… very elegant.

Miss Harlenay: Get a little drama with your dinner, did you?

Jean: How did you know?

Miss Harlenay: You were a guest of the Sterlings. With them, there’s bound to be drama. Not to mention skeletons, flying out of closets shrieking their damned skulls off. 

Jean: Luckily we managed to avoid those…

Miss Harlenay: For now…

She cackles loudly.

Miss Harlenay: Well, good night then, Jean. Tell your friend Kate to watch out for the bones!

Jean: (That was… beyond weird…)

You head upstairs and spend a couple of hours writing up your impressions of Birchport before dropping off to sleep. Later that night, you’re awakened by someone pounding on the front door to the B-and-B.

Jean: Huh?

You peer out the window and see Kate standing on the front step. You hurry down to let her into your room. 

Kate O’Malley: Oh, look at all the doilies! I love doilies!

She picks one up and sets it on top of her head like a hat, twirling around a little and giggling. She stumbles, and the doily drops to the floor.

Jean: Kate, you’re drunk!

Kate O’Malley: I stand… j’accused.

Jean: Let me get you some water.

Kate O’Malley: Water! Yes! I love water! But I’d also love… hic!... another drink…

Jean: From the looks of it, you’ve had enough of those already.

Kate O’Malley: Enough, enough. But it’s never enough, is it…

Jean: Is something wrong?

Kate O’Malley: You should move here, Jean. There’s a newspaper here you could write for… and I’d be here, it would be just like at Hartfeld!

Jean: Slow your roll there, Kate-bear.

Kate O’Malley: Sorry. Am I being clingy? I always get so clingy when I’m drunk…

Jean: Oh, believe me, I remember.

Kate O’Malley: It’s just… you know… I’m so lonely out here.

Jean: Really? What about your family?

Kate O’Malley: You know how it is. My mom’s out of town, and my dad… well, I don’t talk to my dad.

Jean: What about your brother?

Kate O’Malley: I love Flynn, and we still get beers sometimes, but… it’s just hard with me marrying Tanner. There’s a distance between us. I don’t know. I can’t explain. And Tanner’s family, they’re like ice, Jean. I can tell they don’t want me there. 

Jean: What about Tanner, though?

Kate O’Malley: I love Tanner. He’s a good guy, not like the rest. But… but…

You can tell she’s struggling, holding something back…

Jean: What is it?

Kate O’Malley: He’s… I think he’s…

Kate reaches forward and takes your hand, eyes wide, shimmering with unshed tears... Just then, the door flies open! It’s Tanner, and he’s fuming!

Tanner Sterling: Kate! What are you doing out so late? I heard you were drinking again -- the night before our wedding? Do you know how that makes me look?

Kate O’Malley: Tanner! Hi, sweetie! I just… Jean and I wanted to--

Tanner Sterling: Let me finish that for you. You saw no problem whatsoever with showing up to your own wedding hungover. Classy. 

Jean: Hey, lay off her. Kate’s just blowing off steam.

Tanner Sterling: Stay out of this, Jean, it’s none of your concern!

Tanner grabs Kate by the arm and drags her away. 

Jean: Tanner, wait!

But they’re already gone. 

Jean: (That was… disconcerting…)

You feel something in the hand Kate grabbed… you’d been too stunned before to notice. You glance down… and realized she handed you a note!

Jean: (Ulysses? What does that mean? What’s going on around here?)

You look around, but Kate and Tanner are gone. 

You wake up the next morning to a beautiful, sunny day. 

Jean: (I wonder if the Sterlings special-ordered this weather?)

You’re about to head out when Miss Harlenay stops you…

Miss Harlenay: Are you heading to the wedding in that?

Jean: Is there something wrong with it? The only rule I know is not to upstage the bridge…

Miss Harlenay: It’s just… this wedding is Birchport’s social event of the year! You’ll want to look good to fit in with that crowd… Especially if you want to impress that special someone!

Jean: Who are you… what?

Miss Harlenay: Wait here, I have just the thing!

She rushes to the back room, and returns with an outfit…

Miss Harlenay: Here! If you wear this, I guarantee you’ll catch the eye of everyone there!

Jean: Thanks, Miss Harlenay… but I’m going to stick to my outfit. 

Miss Harlenay: That’s… up to you, I suppose. Enjoy the wedding, dear. I’m sure it’ll be a delight. 

You take a taxi to Sterling Manor. You enter the hall, which has been decked out for the ceremony, and the usher asks you where you’d like to sit. You see one seat next to Grant, and choose to sit there. 

Grant Emerson: Jean. So nice to see you again. Ready to bawl your eyes out?

Jean: They all just grow up… so… fast…

The officiant and Tanner walk to the altar, signalling the start of the ceremony. The attendees turn in their chairs, anxious to see the bride walk down the aisle, but the doorway is empty. Everyone waits. And waits…. And waits. By the altar, the Sterlings look at each other uneasily…

Grant Emerson: I wonder what’s going on…

Jean: I… don’t know.

Another minute passes… then another, each one longer and more excruciating. The guests start to shuffle around in their chairs…

Jean: I should go check on her. Make sure she’s okay. 

Grant Emerson: Yeah. Good idea. 

You head to the dressing room where Kate’s supposed to be, a sinking feeling growing in your gut. The door is locked, and you tug on the handle…

Jean: Kate? Kate?

You jerk it hard, forcing it open… But the room is empty. 

Jean: … Kate?

There’s no sign of her. 

Jean: She’s gone. 

[thepilotanon]

springbeauty xi

{masterlist}

Just a few more chapters and we’re all done! Thank you to everyone who left sweet messages and liked/reblogged last chapter, and I hope you all know how much I really appreciate you guys. It really does mean a lot to me, so I hope you’ll let me know what you think of this chapter, too, that tells more of the character you get to play! Thank you and enjoy!

warning: none!

Five years prior...

The burial lasted for an hour and the sun was shining in the cemetery as she watched the casket being lowered to rest beside its match. It was warm and the breeze was cool, yet there was nothing but fog and rain clouds inside her heart and mind as she whispered one last goodbye to the man who raised her since the day she was born and left behind by both of her parents. Holding the small bundle of arranged flowers in her hands, she waited until the pastor gave her permission to toss it down the earthy chute to her grandfather’s casket.

Daisies that grew in the backyard and being taught by the same man how to make flower bracelets and flower crowns, she made sure to grab three to symbolize what spring and summer days where like with the three of them. Carnations for the symbolism of pride of having him as her caretaker and provider when no one else would, and daffodils to show how strong he was up until his last breath while holding her hand…

Now back in the large house that once filled with old rock and roll music, smelling like chocolate chip cookies and her grandfather singing off tune, Belle stood with a lost expression with her glass of her grandfather’s favorite whiskey in her hands as the wake reception continued on around her. People chatting and quietly enjoying the listed food left in the dead’s favor, Belle felt her heart sink low at the realization that the three-story, six bedroom and four baths house with a pool was going be very empty once everyone left.

It hurt.

“Hey, my lil Rosabelle,” a familiar voice emerged behind her, pulling out of her negative thoughts as she turned around. Joe Bang wore a black button up and his best dress pants, which she was more than grateful for when he got permission to visit from his parole officer to attend the funeral out of West Virginia for the funeral and wake. Having just been released from prison, part of it felt ironic to be invited to a funeral of someone he was somewhat adopted by and accepted to be a uncle-figure to his only granddaughter.

“Hi, Uncle Joe,” Belle said very softly, almost exhausted. Being brought into a famous Joe Bang hug and being rocked side-to-side, just like every time they reunited for holidays and birthdays, Belle let out a tired breath of relief. She didn’t hesitate to snuggle her face into his shoulder, uncaring of her carefully applied eye makeup. Belle hasn’t cried since the elderly man’s passing despite other people’s encouragement. “I’m really happy you could make it over in time, I don’t think I could have gone through it all without you coming…”

“Not even that fatass parole officer could keep me from seein’ my favorite girlie,” Joe scoffed as he rubbed his rough hands up and down her clothed back of her black dress and knitted sweater in attempted comfort. “Wish I could’a been here before he left, sweetie. M’sorry, baby, I really wish I was there for ya both.”

“It’s okay,” Belle sighed and Joe Bang pulled back to hold her face carefully. “You were doing your time and we both knew that. Grandpa was just glad that you weren’t causing any ruckus while in Monroe.”

Joe Bang shrugged and rolled his eyes, still waiting for the proper time to tell her what he really had been up to. For now, it was not the time. “I’d break out and run all the way here for ya, lil Rosabelle,” he told her seriously and she gave him a weak smile in return. Seeing her look lost for a moment, Joe frowned and patted her cheeks with his fingertips. “Hey, hey, baby, you alright? Do you wanna go sit down in your room for a bit?”

“No, I’m okay,” Belle sighed sadly. “I’m just not too sure what to do next, you know? With Grandpa gone now and all of this happening, with everyone asking what I’m going to do...is it bad for me to say I got nothing? I have nothing.”

Joe’s face scrunched a bit and held his niece-figure in his arms as she rest her head on his shoulder, almost like when she was a toddler again and Joe Bang used to carry her around this very extravagant house to get her to sleep in time for Santa to visit during Christmas. “If you’re worried about payin’ for all the expenses, I got no problem helpin’ ya pay for everythin’, lil Rosabelle. I got enough money tucked away, okay? I’ll give ya money, jus’ name the price...”

“It’s not that,” Belle whispered back so no one could hear. “They left their fortune to me, Uncle Joe. They took my mom off of it and put everything in my name. I just don’t know what to do here without them anymore…”

He knew what she was referring to about the fortune. As much as simple living her grandfather had lived back in Boone County, he made a name for himself after serving in Vietnam and getting married, it was no question that Belle’s grandparents were rich. Joe never bugged the old man for money, though, even when the news of his arrest and sentence to Monroe reached to Belle and the sickly old man. However, hearing that the now departed had left all the money and inheritance to his greatest treasure, Joe Bang felt a little bit at ease knowing that the sticky fingers of her mother won’t ever get ahold of it. Belle was taken cared of financially, then, and Joe would have one less thing to worry about her states away.

Although, now, seeing that Belle was going to be left alone, it broke Joe Bang’s stubborn heart.

Joe sighed and rubbed her back again. “It’s gonna be alright, lil baby. You know there’s always a place for ya back in your old man’s town, right?”

Belle blinked and looked up to him. “Boone County? In West Virginia?”

“That’s the place,” Joe nodded and stepped back. “If ya ever need a place, Boone County is always open for ya, lil Rosabelle. I know I ain’t the best uncle in the world -”

“You’re the best uncle I could ever ask for,” Belle corrected him sternly, a cute pout on her lips that made him grin and snicker before continuing.

“But I know your gramps would want ya to do whatever ya need to, jus’ remember that. I know ya grew up here in Colorado n’ all that fancy junk, but I remember ya tellin’ me and yer old gramps and his lady how you couldn’t wait to spend the summer in Boone County. It ain’t ever too late, honey,” Joe told her while looking into her eyes. “Remember that, sweetie.”

Belle took a deep breath. “I really wish they would let you stay longer, Uncle Joe. It’s not really fair that you have to head back home tonight…”

“Believe me, as much as I love using yer fancy toilet and jacuzzi tub, I don’t wanna spend any more time incarcerated than I already have done,” Joe shook his head before grabbing Belle’s head gently and giving the top of her head a firm kiss. “I’ll call ya when I get home to check up on ya, alright? Sam and Fish are available at any time, if ya need to chat with ‘em at all. Probably will fix ya a helpin’ of their weird prayin’ shit n’ how they’re with the Lord.”

Belle gave him a wet laugh and hugged him tight. “Please be careful, Uncle Joe. Don’t go trying to hit any deer on the way home…”

“No promises, kid!” Joe Bang cackled teasingly before giving Belle a kiss on the cheek to get her smiling. “There’s my lil Rosabelle. Love ya, sweetie. I’ll talk to ya soon!”

Bidding him a goodbye wave and watching him head towards the foyer of the front door, Belle felt herself feel numb on the inside once more. It felt like the last piece of her true happiness was leaving her life again and made her feel empty. Although she couldn’t do anything to prolong his stay - honestly, she had tried over the phone and with emails to extend Joe Bang’s stay at the house - it still didn’t help that he was so far away. Belle remembered how summer was so much fun with her grandfather and Joe Bang and the brothers, how she had a week of nothing but laughter, sunshine and freedom and now it was a memory. A memory fading.

Looking down to her glass of whiskey, Belle downed the drink with the way her grandfather showed her; unlady-like and confident as the burning liquid ran down her throat. Of course, it wasn’t going to even make her buzzed (unless she hogged at least half of the bottle to herself), but she didn’t seem to care.

Turning to the stairs, Belle was ignored and given space as she climbed up the pristine steps and gold railing as she slowly walked to her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, Belle sat of the edge of her dressed bed and fiddled with the glass in her hands as she looked around. Some of the drawers were half-open from her hurried packing for the hospital and her sneakers littered around the plushed rug, it looked lived in and Belle could recall growing up in this very room and changing over the years of her growth…

So why does it all seem to unfamiliar to her now?

Feeling something on her cheeks, Belle cursed under her breath as she used her wrist to wipe away the hot tears that never seem to stop. Her bottom lip quivering, Belle set her empty glass beside her as she let out a sob and kept trying to stop the tears.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Fucking shit…”

Hearing her door creak open, Belle didn’t bother to look as Dayton quietly entered the room and close the door carefully. She heard him approach the bed and sit down opposite to the glass as his cleaned and pressed suited arm wrapped around her back before she finally broke.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Dayton whispered gently as she turned his way to hide her face into his neck, bringing his other arm to hold her close as she cried. “Let it all out, Belle. It’s okay.”

Belle sobbed and clung to his expensive black suit, yet he didn’t fuss about it as he carefully pet her hair and rest his cheek on top of her head. She didn’t say anything as he kept doing this for who knows how long, letting her cry and stain his clothes and skin with her tears as she wailed against him and clung on to him like a helpless child. He was patient during all of this, keeping himself still and useful for her dispense in her time of mourning until it cooled down.

Her face feeling hot from crying so much, Belle sniffed through her nose and shook from her loss of energy being put through her meltdown. Dayton reached into his pocket and pulled out a few napkins he snagged from the buffet table to blot around her eyes, catching the smearing eyeshadow and mascara so it didn’t worsen from her constant rubbing. Belle let him treat her like this, let him dry her sore face and even wipe her nose as he blew a soft raspberry to trick out a weak laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood before crumbling the napkin to dispose of when he had the chance. Belle let out a long sigh, resting her head on her friend’s shoulder as she closed her eyes, she felt a bit calmer now after letting out all her pent up emotions.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Dayton asked quietly after a few moments of silence. When she shook her head, he sighed and gently patted her back. “You know you don’t need to wait until you’re hiding from everyone else to cry, Belle. People understand if you need to cry at all…”

“I don’t like crying infront of those who came for Grandpa. You would know that better than anybody here,” she told him with a sort of teasing tone, and he chuckled.

“Like the time you hit your elbow really hard on a brick wall, and you waited until you got into the bathroom at school to start screaming? That was what? A whole five minutes from the field to the bathroom?”

“And someone thought I was actually threatening someone in there,” Belle snorted when Dayton let out a silly, surprised laugh that lightened the mood a bit. “God, that was a terrible day at school.”

“You were cursing like nobody’s business and they could hear you from the hall,” Dayton reminded her and she mocked him, which earned a squeezing hug on her back. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you, Belle?”

Belle thought it over for a minute, staring off to the wall that held framed photos of her grandparents and her as a baby, one of her few beauty shows she attended with her grandmother as a judge and one of her grandparents in their younger years. Hearing the faint noises of the people downstairs - most who Belle had met a few times or stories told by her grandfather - she realized that she didn’t want that to end quite yet. At least, not completely…

“Can you just stay for a while, please?” she asked quietly. “My uncle had to head back already, and I just don’t want to be alone in the house until I can figure out what to do…”

“He left already?”

“It was hard enough for him to even make it for the funeral,” Belle explained plainly. He didn’t need to know about her uncle and his (hopefully) past experience with the law. “Just for a week at most, please? I just feel awful at the idea of being all alone here with no one. It doesn’t feel right just yet and I’m scared of being alone.”

“Yeah,” Dayton said with a slow nod. “Yeah, of course, Belle. I can stay here with you for a while, don’t worry about it. It’ll be like the old days when I slept in that guest room next to the guest bathroom, right? I’ll wake you up at three in the morning and make you throw your shoes at me again.”

Relief filled Belle’s sore stomach as she smiled up to him with wet eyes, and Dayton gave her his TV practiced grin. “That sounds about right.”

“Then it’s settled,” he told her, patting her back. “I’ll head back to the hotel after everyone leaves and cancel the rest of my stay to come camp out here with you. I’ll even make you breakfast.”

“You’re not going to feed me all those weird healthy junk. I better not wake up and find you doing those weird breathing exercises I saw you do on TV, because that was super uncomfortable seeing your stomach do that so unexpectedly,” Belle warned him.

Dayton shook his head. “Told everyone I’m taking a small vacation, they don’t need to keep tabs on my diet until I get back.”

“Promise you’ll stay here for a little bit longer with me, Dayton?” she asked him, suddenly serious as he looked him in the eye. “Don’t leave me in the dirt like you have in the past. I really need you here with me.”

Nodding, Dayton presented his pinky finger out to her and waited for her to return it by locking their fingers together. “I promise, I’m not leaving you here alone, Belle.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving already? It hasn’t even been two days, and you’re telling me now that you have a flight back to Daytona?”

Belle watched from the kitchen island as Dayton set the last packed bag on the other side of the counter. She was in the middle of making dinner when Dayton came downstairs with his suitcase in one hand and his duffle bag in the other, saying that he was called by his manager and instructed to come back on the next flight in first class. He was ready to go and leave by the time he told her what was going on and a cab already on its way to pick him up, leaving her absolutely baffled by it all.

“I know, I know,” Dayton hurriedly said as he approached her around the counter and placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her from getting riled up. “Listen, I tried telling them that I couldn’t leave you or anything, but they need me back as soon as possible for the upcoming race this Saturday and won’t wait on me. Belle, you got to understand that this is my job - my career we’re talking about.”

“What the hell could they possibly need you to do before a race that’s not even happening for another seven days?” she asked him with a frown.

“There’s checking on the car and my health, for starters, then they scheduled me to do some interviews and promos for the channel and getting more sponsors,” Dayton explained hurriedly. “You know what happened with Chillbain. He’s not getting a whole lot of support from his product, so I’m trying to get other companies to help fund the crew; they’re putting a lot on me and expecting me to get this all to work, otherwise I might not be able to finish the season.”

“No, I get it, but you promised me, Dayton,” Belle told him with a stern expression and he sighed as she crossed her arms. “Don’t do this right now, Dayton. I need you here with me!”

“I know, and I want more than anything to stay here and take care of you, you know that,” he responded slowly. “But my work has to come first, Belle. I worked so hard for this and I can’t just leave my whole team behind, they need me, too!”

Appalled by his words, Belle looked to the bags on the counter with absolute hatred for them. Dayton cupped her cheek and guided her to look back at him, seeing the tears starting to emerge in her tired eyes. Biting his lip, the NASCAR racer held her face with both hands and fondly stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, attempting to calm her from getting upset.

“I’m not leaving you, Belle, I just need to handle work first,” he told her. “I’ll call you every day and night to check on you. As soon as the season is done, I’ll come right back to you and stay as long as you want me to, okay? Please understand…”

Belle saw his cell phone light up to alert him that his cab was outside the large house, and all his attention left as soon as he turned his head from her. Taking his phone and putting it in his pocket, Dayton dared himself to kiss Belle’s head so casually before going to retrieve his bags from the counter and back into his arms.

“I’ll call you, okay? I promise, Belle, I’m not leaving you.”

Belle didn’t sleep that night, being left in the discomfort of the vast space and quietness the house had to offer with her being the only one to provide a soundtrack of soft, tired sobs.

“And the last signature here, and it’s all yours, Shannon,” Belle sang brightly as she stood back to give the woman space to sign the contract of handing over the whole house and property to her grandmother’s second cousin’s great-niece.

Shannon was a kind woman who was a mother of four darling little girls that Belle got to care for during the summers and celebrate birthdays and holidays with. Shannon attended the funeral and was the first one to visit the hospital to comfort Belle in the loss of her grandfather, despite being much closer to her grandma; she was sweet and patient with Belle, always considerate and complimenting her with how she handles her daughters and makes them feel special. Outside of her grandparents and her dear uncle, who isn’t even blood-related to her, Shannon probably had to be the next closest thing to a relative Belle would consider being part of her family. She had Belle’s grandmother’s curvy figure and almost had a similar smile, so when Belle got to see Shannon at the ceremony it really meant a lot to her to try and reach out to the single mother more.

Shannon had money, nearly as much as Belle’s grandparents would receive prior to their retirement, but she was struggling to support her daughters with their schooling and her work schedule. The struggle of her ex-husband’s sudden demand of divorce and refusing to see his own children have been hard on the whole family, and both Belle and her grandpa had helped in caring for the girls after school. Her previous house was a great distance from the girls’ school and lacked a big enough backyard for parties or for her children to have fun in the outdoors. All while Belle’s had a natural garden that grew numerous flowers, and the house was actually a couple blocks away from the school district that the daughters would attend until high school, Belle knew that Shannon somewhat envied the home and wished for a house nearby to go up for sale…

And so, when Belle called Shannon the next day after Dayton’s departure with the offer to give the house to Shannon’s name, the mother couldn’t help but feel like she was living a dream and broke down on the phone as Belle confirmed her seriousness.

Belle packed her personal belongings and important documents. Boxes filled with clothes and her favorite pictures and trinkets she couldn’t depart with and donating everything else to the historic society of the city she lived in and shelters. Giving up thousands of dollars-worth of clothes and toys and blankets that defined her previous life to others who would appreciate them so much more than she ever could, Belle had the back of her grandfather’s classic Boss 429 filled with what she needed and everything else to Shannon and her girls. All her important necessities and identifications were set for her journey and all she had left to do was sign away the house.

“Your bedroom will be open for you when you come to visit, sweetheart,” Shannon explained, her voice thick with happy emotions as she took the pen from Belle and approached the car with the document waiting for her. “The girls already picked out which rooms they wanted, but we will leave your bedroom the way it is for you. This is...God, Belle, this is so...this is amazing. A-are you sure you won’t stay with us? You know there’s so much room, and the kids just adore you so much.”

“I meant what I said, Shannon,” Belle grinned as she fixed her sunglasses onto the crown of her head and the other signed the last dotted line. “If the bank has any questions about the sudden arrangement, they have my cell number and all that junk. Bills are already paid for the next two months, so you can settle in and relax until then.”

“This is really amazing, Belle. I don’t know how to thank you,” the woman sighed as she clicked the pen shut and closed the documents into a yellow envelope Belle provided. Holding it out to her, Shannon was quick to pull Belle into a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you…”

“I’ll call to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to your youngest angel by next week, after school, is that okay?” Belle giggled sweetly as she returned the hug when Shannon nodded with a motherly whine.

“Please be careful on the road, it’s a long way to West Virginia, you understand?” Shannon sighed as she pulled back to wipe her eyes. “Your uncle knows you’re on your way, right? Wherever the hell he lives, or whatever? He’s got a place for you to stay and everything, so you’re not living in the streets. The countryside can be such a scary place, honey.”

“Grandpa didn’t raise a scaredy cat, Shannon,” Belle teased with a wink.

“And the letter to your friend...Dayton, right?”

Belle nodded confidently and twirled the keys on her finger with a rather sweet smile. “If he asks, just give him the letter and be honest.”

Entering the classic with a smile, Belle waved out the window as Shannon disappeared in the horizon. Once she got to the highway with her phone app directing her along the way with the portable charger, she turned up the radio when she heard the familiar voice of one of her favorite singers that she would shout with joy whenever her grandparents played music in the kitchen. Grinning even bigger, Belle rolled down the driver’s window to let the wind hit her face as she began singing at the top of her lungs. She didn’t care if anyone driving by her gave her odd looks at this point, she was feeling her heart grow three times with joy as she recalled wonderful memories and the idea of new ones to come.

“Yer gonna love my brothers, Belle, I promise ya. They’re hilarious when they get into arguments and act like those silly boys in the schoolyard,” Mellie said cheekily as she looped her arm with Belle. The both of them dressed for their night out to go to the bar that is said to be a hidden treasure, Mellie insisted that her new best friend got to meet her older brothers.

Only having moved to Boone County less than a month, finding the above space of the flower shop she worked at from an answered ad made moving in a whole lot easier and surprising Joe Bang with a bouquet of flowers, along with meeting the people who lived in town. Mellie was the first one who Belle became friends with, mostly because the hairdresser caught sights of Belle’s Boss 429 outside the gas station and wanted to find the “hunk” who owned it, only for the newcomer to exit the store with a slurpee and the sudden question if she wanted to buy it for.

‘Well, how much is it?’ Mellie had asked warily.

‘Mm...hundred,’ Belle answered with a shrug and Mellie’s brows raised in confusion.

‘A hundred thousand for a classic? That cheap?’

‘No, just a hundred bucks. The sooner I get this off my hands, the better. The inside is modernized to run better, and I think it’s about two years old now.’ Belle wasn’t really expecting the other woman to nearly faint at how nonchalant she was about the whole interaction, and thus a friendship blossomed right from there. Mellie had the car of her dreams and Belle had someone willing to show her around and get more into the community whenever they weren’t working.

Reading the sign of Duck Tape, Belle was impressed by how comfortable the inside atmosphere was; people playing pool or celebrating a hard day’s work with a cold beverage, others just hanging out and watching the overhead TV with great interest. The bar counter was already crowded in time for the race as Mellie guided her new friend to the farthest booth in the back of the whole establishment, where a man was already cradling his second bottle of beer when he noticed the familiar strawberry blonde woman.

“Hey, Mel! Thought you wouldn’t make it!” the man smiled as he yanked Belle’s friend into a bone-crushing hug. As soon as the man noticed the guest Mellie brought, a sudden change in his charm flipped as he leaned on the table and raised a brow. “And who is this lovely lady you got here, Mel?”

“Jimmy, this is my friend Belle. The one I’ve told you ‘bout, who sold me the car?” Mellie introduced politely as Belle held out a hand to shake with him. “Belle, sugar, this blockhead is my oldest brother, Jimmy Logan.”

Jimmy took Belle’s hand in a gentle hold and pressed a flirtatious kiss on her soft knuckles. “Any beautiful friend of my baby sister is certainly a sight for sore eyes. It’s ‘bout time we got some more classy ladies on this side of town.”

“Then, I suppose you’ll need to keep waiting for those ladies to come, or at least get your eyes checked,” Belle responded just as teasing as she took her hand back, taking a seat across as Mellie followed with a laugh. Jimmy look surprised by the response, leaning back in his seat as he looked at Belle with round eyes. “Believe me, if you really want to try flirting with me, I can promise you that I’ve pretty much heard everything in the book.”

“Now I see why Mel liked ya so quickly,” Jimmy let out a short laugh. “That normally works on all the ladies who walk in here. Could a couple drinks even loosen you up?”

“If you pay for a dozen and a half Snakebite shots, I might let you call me pretty,” Belle said and Jimmy clapped his hands with amusement. The table laughed at the sudden comfortable and relaxed composure the two Logans offered her, and she knew she was going to get along with Jimmy just fine.

“Lemme get Clyde to start ya off, Belle,” Jimmy offered with a cheeky grin before letting out a piercing whistle, a couple patrons shouting at him to knock it off, and the bartender looked up to see him being waved over. “Clyde’s the one who has the talent of makin’ drinks. If you don’t like anythin’ he makes, you better get out of town now.”

Mellie rolled her eyes and patted Belle’s hands. “Clyde’s the younger brother. He’s actually the owner of the place,” she explained with a smile and Belle became genuinely interested.

“He does? And he works here, too?”

“Best bartender around!” Jimmy exclaimed loudly at the approaching figure, throwing his hands up.

Turning to see the tall man approach, Belle smiled politely in greeting as she admired his pressed button up and carefully combed dark hair. He had freckles in comparison to both of his siblings and he came off instantly as someone who was shy to her, yet nowhere near rude or bitter in her eyes. He was much different than either Mellie or Jimmy, who both were loud and easily excitable, but there was something really special about him when he noticed her presence and he seem to freeze for a second when they made eye contact.

Smiling, Belle reached her hand out to him. “Hi there, my name is Belle. Mellie has told me a lot about you and Jimmy, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

She saw how his cheeks changed a bit under the dim light of happy-hour and she remained patient as he slowly raised his own hand up and reached out carefully hold on to her much smaller hand. His hand was very warm and comforting to her when he gave her a very small, shy and gently smile.

“It’s pleasure to meet ya, too, Belle.”

The way he said her name echoed over and over, up until it started to overwhelm her thoughts as she stared at the greenery ahead of her. Greenery was also to her left as well as to her right; also behind her and spanning for a good mile or so as she sat on the rustic wooden bench in the middle of the pathway. The heavy rain wasn’t able to completely soak her, though, since the trees and leaves provided a thick cover over her and only allowing her to feel a few drops or so. Her sweater was thoroughly damp and her feet inside her shoes made silly noises, not to mention her hair was starting to frizz from the humidity, but she didn’t mind. As long as she wasn’t drenched.

Belle sighed, unable to believe herself getting so deep on the walking trail by the restaurant Clyde would take her to on their anniversary, and all on foot. Sure, she didn’t like driving as much and probably could have stayed within the neighborhood with the knowledge of the rain heading her way, but she just felt so lost in thought that she just found herself in one of her favorite places to come and relax...

Still, the very memory of Clyde’s angry expression at her when he yelled made her feel like she needed to give him this distance.

Belle knew he didn’t mean to yell at her on purpose, no! She knew him better than that and understood that he was feeling overwhelmed to the point that the kettle was about to burst sooner or later. Whatever he was hiding from her must have caused him a lot of stress for who knows how long, and Belle wanted nothing more than to take it all away from him and let him feel better and relax. She shouldn’t have pushed him, but she was scared for him nonetheless - she just hope he knew that.

Recalling the memories that basically drove her to Boone County, Belle realized that she didn’t regret a single thing she did. She didn’t regret closing off from her old life and meeting Clyde. Hell, he made her life a thousand times better just by saying her name or even smiling at her. He was the light she needed in her life and only wants to take away any pain he felt from this secretive cauliflower plan he was in.

Hearing the distant rumble, Belle snapped out of her thoughts once more as she realized how severe the weather was going to be. Having forgot her own damn cell, Belle sighed and pinched between her eyes and tried to think of a plan.

She left Clyde at home alone, and a storm was coming. She didn’t know if he would have taken his medication to ease the experience of the thunder and lightning without her there, but she didn’t want him to think that he was abandoned. Oh, no, she would never do such a thing to him.

Remembering how he said her name, Belle told herself she was going to wait for another few moments for the rain to lighten up a bit before heading back to the restaurant. She will borrow their phone to call Clyde to let him know where she was and then call Jimmy or Mellie to ask for a ride so that he wouldn’t have to risk himself behind the wheel.

“Belle...”

Her eyes closed, Belle told herself that she was going to let him know that he didn’t need to tell her anything if he didn’t want to. He doesn’t need to tell her anything, so long as he can trust her.

“Belle.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Belle was going to make sure Clyde was in bed as soon as she got home. She would wrap him in all their blankets and hold him close throughout the rain, giving him kisses and whispers of her love for him until the meds took him to a peaceful sleep...

“Belle!”

Her eyes snapping open, Belle’s head twisted at the voice shouting her name in a desperate cry through the rain. 

“Clyde?!”

Fun fact: This chapter is actually three pages longer than my limited 10, because the last two chapters were short.

taglist: @ayatimascd @oh-adam @formerly-anonhamster @deliriumdoll @a-whole-damn-sackler @bourbonboredom

Remember, if you would like to be tagged for future chapters, please don’t hesitate to message me! I’d be more than happy to add you. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

[chooseywoozy]

Veil of Secrets, Book One: Chapter 1 - Missing Persons

(NOW PLAYING AS JUICY)

You sit in a cold metal chair in a police interrogation room, watching the minutes tick by on the clock.

Juicy: (How much longer are they going to keep me here?)

As if answering your question, the door at the end of the room swings open, and a man in a sharp suit enters, flashing an FBI badge.

Agent Michael Kim: Special Agent Michael Kim, FBI. And you are… Juicy?

Juicy: That’s right.

Agent Michael Kim: Well, Juicy. I’m hoping you can answer some questions.

He sits down, flipping open a heavy folder full of photos…

Agent Michael Kim: See, I’m just trying to make sense of what happened in this town. Looking at this report here, I’ve got a kidnapping, multiple break-ins, an arson, and at least four homicides… And you think you know who was behind it all.

Juicy: What can I say? It’s been a wild month.

Agent Michael Kim: Can you tell me what happened here? From the beginning?

Juicy: Well.. It all started with a wedding…

Letter: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Katherine O’Malley and Tanner Charles Sterling to be held at Sterling Manor in Birchport, Massachussetts.

Your taxi pulls up outside an imposing family estate in the village of Birchport, Massachussetts.

Juicy: Wow…

The doors swing open, and a handsome stranger walks out, smiling at you.

???: Welcome to Sterling Manor! You’re here for the rehearsal dinner, I assume?

Juicy: I’m Juicy. A friend of Kate’s. Uh, Katherine’s.

???: You can relax. She’s Kate to me too. Looks like you’ve never been here before. I’m Grant Emerson. I’d be happy to show you the way.

Juicy: You’re so kind to offer.

Grant Emerson: Really, it’s my pleasure.

Grant leads you through the doors into an elegant foyer.

Grant Emerson: So how do you know Kate?

Juicy: We were best friends in college, but we kind of lost touch since. I was honestly surprised to get the invitation.

Grant Emerson: She’s told me some stories about her college days. It sounded like the two of you were a force of nature back then.

Juicy: You could say that. Let me guess. You’re… best friends with the groom.

Grant Emerson: Best friends? I wouldn’t call us that. Our families have… a long history. Both with Birchport, and with each other. Our families have been rivals for years. But Tanner and I are friendly.

Juicy: So do you live in a mansion too?

Grant Emerson: Define ‘mansion.’

Juicy: If you need me to define mansion, you live in a mansion.

Grant Emerson: Touche.

You pass a massive spiral staircase and a door leading to a gallery of expensive art. You can’t help but gawk.

Juicy: Man. Kate always joked about marrying a rich guy, but I didn’t think she’d follow through. Especially not on this scale.

Grant Emerson: Believe me, you’re not the only one surprised. The town’s been buzzing for months. Let’s just say it’s not every day the heir to the town’s richest family gets engaged to a dockworker’s daughter.

Juicy: Way to go, Kate.

Grant Emerson: What about you? Anyone significant in your life?

Juicy: Does my editor count? We spend nights and weekends together, she calls me all the time just to check in… on my deadlines.

Grant Emerson: So you’re in publishing?

Juicy: A journalist.

Grant Emerson: I’ve seen this movie. The hard-working journalist pounding coffee at her desk, no time for a personal life…

Juicy: Well… I believe in work/life balance.

Grant Emerson: Me too. I work hard, don’t get me wrong… But I don’t want to end up like my father. The man’s taken two vacations in thirty years… And one of them was a day trip to the state clerk’s office to file some documents!

Juicy: Yeah, that’s never appealed to me. I like what I do, but I’m not married to my work.

Grant Emerson: Well that’s good. I’d be awful jealous of your work if you were.

Juicy: Very smooth. What about you, Grant? What do you do?

Grant Emerson: I’m a lawyer. Following in my father’s footsteps.

Juicy: Really? Let me guess, some kind of fancy corporate law?

Grant Emerson: Criminal defense, actually.

Juicy: So if I wake up tomorrow in the drunk tank after going full whirling dervish on Birchport’s streets…

Grant Emerson: I’m the guy to call. Listen, I’d love to have you all to myself for the rest of the afternoon, but we should probably join the party.

Juicy: Lead the way…

Grant escorts you to a dining hall full of wealthy East Coast socialites. As you enter, a young woman with a beaming smile rushes over and throws her arms around you.

Kate O’Malley: Juicy! You’re here! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!

Juicy: Kate! I’ve missed you too!

Kate O’Malley: Ahhhh! I’m so glad you came! It’ll be just like old times.

Juicy: … Except slightly less hungover, right?

Kate O’Malley: Not if I can help it! Can you believe I’m getting married?

Juicy: I honestly can’t believe it’s taken this long for someone to try to lock it down.

Kate O’Malley: Who said no one else tried?

Juicy: Well then, it must have taken a lot for this guy to succeed.

Kate O’Malley: You could say that…

Kate shows you her engagement ring… and its enormous diamond.

Juicy: Holy rock, Kate! Doesn’t that thing make your arm tired?

Kate O’Malley: That’s just an added bonus… Crossfit arms without even hitting the gym!

A handsome sharply-dressed man approaches. His bearing is aristocratic, and a little distant.

Kate O’Malley: Oh, perfect, here’s my fiance, Tanner Sterling. Tanner, this is Juicy. We were inseparable at Hartfeld!

Tanner Sterling: So lovely to meet you, Juicy. Kate speaks well of you… and often.

Juicy: Thanks, Tanner. It’s great to meet you.

Tanner Sterling: I hope the B-and-B is comfortable. We would have had you stay here at Sterling Manor, but it’s been a little chaotic with all the wedding prep.

Juicy: I only had time to drop my bags off and change, but it seems charming.

Tanner Sterling: Please let us know if you need anything. We’ll be happy to provide anything that might make your stay more comfortable.

Juicy: That’s so thoughtful, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.

An exceptionally well-dressed young woman squints at the three of you, assessing, then stalks over.

Scarlett Emerson: Don’t Kate and Tanner make such a cute couple? At least now that she’s dressing on the Sterling family’s dime…

Tanner Sterling: Scarlett…

Scarlett Emerson: I’m kidding, obviously! Kate knows how much I love her.

Kate O’Malley: Totally.

The woman glances your way.

Scarlett Emerson: Sorry, but if we’ve met, I’ve totally forgotten you.

Kate O’Malley: Scarlett, this is Juicy, my best friend from college. Juicy, meet Scarlett Emerson, my… maid of honor.

Scarlett Emerson: Oh, of course. I should have known you were Kate’s college friend. You both have that same spit-shined blue collar thing going on. Such an adorable look. I’m almost jealous of how well you pull it off. You’re the journalist, right?

Juicy: That’s me.

Scarlett Emerson: I saw you talking with my brother before. Just a tip from a friend, flirt all you want, but don’t get your hopes up. Quaint’s not really his thing.

Juicy: I’m sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can I just say you look stunning?

Scarlett Emerson: I… uh, thank you, I guess.

Juicy: And forget what everyone else is saying, okay? That outfit works. At least for you.

Scarlett Emerson: What everyone… is saying?

Juicy: If you ask me, your whole ‘no makeup, all my flaws out there for the world to see’ look is empowering. Keep rocking it just like you are, okay? No matter how much people whisper about it.

Scarlett Emerson: I… well… I mean, that…

She clears her throat.

Scarlett Emerson: Right. Well, I don’t know who you are, but… don’t try anything.

She walks off, shaking her head, vaguely confused.

Tanner Sterling: Huh. I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone handle Scarlett like that.

Kate O’Malley: It was incredible! Like some Jedi mind trick!

Juicy: I grew up in the Midwest, remember? Passive-aggressive is in our DNA.

Kate O’Malley: Still, that was amazing. She’s never that nice to anyone!

Juicy: If that’s Scarlett being nice, I’d hate to see her mean. Why is she your maid of honor? You don’t even seem to get along…

Kate O’Malley: It’s complicated…

Tanner Sterling: The social circles of Birchport often are. Now come, darling. Mother wanted to talk to you about flower arrangements…

Juicy: Find me when you’re free, Kate?

Kate O’Malley: Yes! God, yes.

Kate hugs you and leaves with Tanner. You stand there, shaking your head…

Juicy: (Kate O’Malley… what have you gotten yourself into?)

Guests start to move to their seats in the dining room. Feeling out of place, you slink to the back of the hall and find an empty seat next to a ruggedly handsome man.

Juicy: Is this seat taken?

???: I was hoping to put my feet up and take a little nap when things got boring, but sure. You just go ahead and take my footrest.

Juicy: What, you’re not absolutely riveted by rehearsal dinners?

???: Not when it’s my sister getting married to that… Never mind.

Juicy: Whoa. You’re Kate’s brother?

???: Yes? Have we met or something?

Juicy: I’m her friend Juicy. From Hartfeld?

???: Juicy? She talked about you all the time.

He offers his hand, and you shake it.

Flynn O’Malley: Flynn.

Juicy: Flynn, huh? I’d have never guessed you and Kate were related.

Flynn O’Malley: Not sure I know how to take that.

Juicy: I mean, you’re both attractive, obviously… Sorry, that wasn’t what I… It’s just that she’s so… and you’re so…

Flynn O’Malley: Yeah, yeah. She’s sunshine and pastel rainbows, and I’m…

Juicy: A midnight motorcycle ride?

Flynn O’Malley: I’ll take that.

Juicy: Has Kate changed much? I mean, I never would have pictured her marrying into a family like the Sterlings.

Flynn O’Malley: I’m as surprised as you are. Not that I’ve ever thought much of her taste in men… But I didn’t think she’d wind up with a walking sense of entitlement like Tanner.

Juicy: He seems like a nice enough guy…

Flynn O’Malley: ‘Seems’ is definitely the operative word in that sentence.

Your conversation is interrupted by the sound of a spoon tapping the side of a glass, signalling a toast. A stern older gentleman at the head table rises, a champagne glass in his hand. Diamond cuff links twinkle at his wrists.

Pierce Sterling: For those of you I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, I’m Pierce Sterling, father to the young man whose nuptials we’ll be celebrating tomorrow. As most of you know, the Sterling legacy in Birchport goes back many generations. Tomorrow it continues onto the next. For any father, his eldest son’s wedding is fraught with emotion. Many of you know our Kate comes from a … different walk of life…

Attendees give each other uneasy glances…

Pierce Sterling: And yet, she possesses a purity of spirit that I can only describe as Sterling. Please, join me in welcoming Kate O’Malley to our family!

Before anyone has a chance to react, a huge, red-cheeked boor of a man stands up and scoffs!

???: Different walk of life? Come on!

Pierce Sterling: Bryce…

Bryce Sterling: Drop the euphemisms, Dad. Just say what we’re all thinking.

Pierce Sterling: I’m warning you…

Bryce Sterling: She’s a gold-digger!

You feel yourself tense with anger. You notice Flynn clenching his fists. You dig your fingernails into the palms of your hands in your effort to hold your tongue.

Juicy: (Just keep your mouth shut. Saying something will only make this worse for Kate…)

Flynn looks like he’s about to burst when Tanner rises to his feet.

Tanner Sterling: My apologies, everyone. It appears my little brother has once again let the party atmosphere go to his head.

Tanner tries to escort Bryce out of the room, but Bryce shoves him away. Wait staff intervene, and Bryce is removed from the dining hall.

Pierce Sterling: I second Tanner’s apologies. Bryce has been under a lot of stress lately. I’m sure he didn’t mean to disrupt your dinner.

He motions for the wait staff to begin serving guests. Across the room, Kate catches your eye. You turn to Flynn.

Juicy: Is it always like this?

Flynn O’Malley: I wouldn’t know. This is the first event the Sterlings have deigned to invite me to.

Juicy: Kate always had a way of attracting drama, but… I don’t know. This seems like too much, even for her.

Flynn breathes deeply.

Flynn O’Malley: Look. She’s my little sister, and I want to protect her. But the truth is… Tanner makes her happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her.

You look back to the center table, where Kate’s leaning on Tanner’s shoulder, looking up at him with a smile.

Flynn O’Malley: Honestly? If we can just make it through this wedding… I think she’ll be all right.

A few hours later, the dinner is winding down. You’re lingering in the parlor when Kate comes running over.

Juicy: Hey stranger.

Kate O’Malley: Oh, Juicy… I’m so happy I found you.

Juicy: How’re you feeling?

Kate O’Malley: Excited? Overwhelmed? So happy I wanna scream and the same time so nervous I wanna throw up?

Juicy: So… normal night before your wedding stuff, then?

Kate O’Malley: Exactly!

She grins and wraps you in a massive hug.

Kate O’Malley: I know we haven’t talked much the last couple years, but… I think about you all the time, you know.

Juicy: Me too. I’m glad we finally have a chance to catch up now, though.

Kate O’Malley: Yeah, I--

But before she can finish, Grant and Scarlett walk over.

Grant Emerson: Looks like you two are reconnecting.

Juicy: So you guys are Kate and Tanner’s crew, huh?

Scarlett Emerson: I suppose.

Juicy: Oh, that reminds me! How was your bachelorette party, Kate?

Kate O’Malley: I… never had one.

Juicy: What? Scarlett, isn’t throwing Kate a party one of your duties as maid of honor?

Scarlett Emerson: Bachelorette parties are so tacky.

Juicy: They don’t have to be. Besides, this is Kate’s wedding, right? And Kate’s always loved a good party.

Kate O’Malley: ‘Love’ does not begin to describe my feelings about parties.

Grant Emerson: Well, it’s still early. Anyone got plans tonight?

Kate O’Malley: Just beauty sleep.

Juicy: You’re not going to be with your fiance?

Kate O’Malley: Tanner’s family is big on tradition. I’m not supposed to see him again until the wedding day… which means my plan for the night involved a couple glasses of wine to settle my nerves and a lot of Netflix.

Grant Emerson: Well that clinches it. Nothing takes your mind off pre-wedding jitters like a night on the town. Kate, you up for a party?

Kate O’Malley: Yes! Yes! That sounds amazing! Fancy cocktails… college stories… dancing and laughing…. Juicy? Are you in? Not to be dramatic, but… I totally need this!

Juicy: Yes! I’m totally in!

Kate O’Malley: Yay! Where should we go?

Grant Emerson: You’re the main event tonight. Your choice.

Kate O’Malley: Then… let’s head to The Red Grouse. They have a drink there that looks and tastes exactly like a unicorn.

Scarlett Emerson: Uggggggh.

Juicy: Feel free to take a rain check, Scarlett.

Scarlett Emerson: I’m the maid of honor. Besides, someone has to keep you from getting your grubby hooks into my brother.

Juicy: Just don’t rain on our parade.

You look around to invite Flynn… but there’s no sign of him.

Juicy: Huh…

Grant Emerson: What’s up?

Juicy: Nothing. Let’s get going.

A little while later, the four of you sit at a table at the Red Grouse, an upscale cliffside distillery on the edge of town. A waiter approaches…

Waiter: Can I start you off with something to drink?

Juicy: You can start us off with several! We’re having a spontaneous bachelorette party, and she’s our bride-to-be!

Kate beams, looking happier than you’ve seen her since you arrived in Birchport.

Waiter: But it appears you’ve brought a bachelor along with you.

Grant Emerson: Guilty as charged.

Juicy: Tonight he’s an honorary bachelorette.

Waiter: Works for me. What would you like to order?

Juicy: I’d like the ‘unicorn’ cocktail.

Kate O’Malley: Yes! Same! I swear, Juicy, it tastes like sparkles.

Juicy: So much better than those martinis we used to make in our dorm room…

Kate O’Malley: Oh my god, yes. We used that awful vodka that came in the plastic handles....

Juicy: And we didn’t know you needed vermouth, so it was basically just a couple of olives bobbing in a sea of cheap liquor!

Grant Emerson: Remind me never to let either of you make me a drink.

Scarlett Emerson: Right. Well the adult woman would like a pinot noir.

Grant Emerson: And I’ll have the house whiskey. Neat.

The waiter brings out the drinks, and Grant raises his.

Grant Emerson: A toast. To Kate. We should all be so lucky to find someone as amazing as you!

Kate O’Malley: Awwww! To all of you guys for taking me out before I get hitched!

Juicy: To reconnecting with old friends!

Scarlett Emerson: To wine, the only thing getting me through this.

You all toast and drink.

Juicy: Wow, it really does look like a magical creature.

Kate O’Malley: One that gets you drunk.

Juicy: Better yet!

Kate O’Malley: Soooo… who wants another?

Scarlett Emerson: You finished yours already? Are we in some kind of spring break hellscape?

Kate O’Malley: Bachelorette party! Whoooo!

She signals the waiter for another round. Soon, you all start to relax.

Juicy: So, Kate, how did you meet Tanner, anyway?

Grant Emerson: Now that’s a good story.

Juicy: Wait, let me guess. You parked in his VIP parking spot.

Grant Emerson: Kate would park in a VIP parking spot if we had them around here.

Kate O’Malley: I consider myself supremely important, thank you very much.

Scarlett Emerson: That’s probably why we don’t have any of those.

Juicy: Okay, so what’s the real story?

Kate O’Malley: You remember how I always said I’d open a bakery?

Juicy: Riiiight. What did you call it? ‘Tasty Pastry’?

Kate O’Malley: Exactly! And two years ago… well, I did it. I started my own business!

Juicy: Get it, girl! So what, you baked your way into Tanner’s heart? Because if so, I’m calling dibs on the movie rights to that story.

Kate O’Malley: Not exactly. One day we had this terrible storm. Right as I was closing up, this guy walked in just soaking wet. He was on his way to a meeting and he couldn’t go like that. So I went to the cleaners next door and borrowed a left-behind.

Scarlett Emerson: Hard to picture Tanner wearing another man’s suit.

Kate O’Malley: But the storm just got worse, and the power went out. We ate cupcakes and talked, and he blew off his meeting to stay with me. It was love at first sight. Seriously.

Scarlett Emerson: Come on. That’s not an actual thing.

Grant Emerson: I don’t know. I think it can happen. Juicy, what do you think?

Juicy: I agree with Grant. When you know, you know.

You and Grant share a meaningful look. The night goes on. You down more drinks and share more stories. Eventually, even Scarlett lightens up.

Scarlett Emerson: I couldn’t even speak! I just bolted!

Juicy: Pretty sure that’s the only reasonable response to spilling your red wine all over Elton John’s white suit.

At one point, Kate and Scarlett step away to the bathroom, and Grant smiles at you from across the table.

Juicy: What?

Grant Emerson: Well, I did promise to show you around earlier… and I’d be remiss in my duties if i didn’t offer you a chance to check out the best view in town.

Juicy: I swear, if you’re talking about yourself…

Grant Emerson: The balcony, actually. But I’ll take that as a compliment.

Juicy: ...Wow.

Grant Emerson: See? I never disappoint.

Juicy: Thanks for this, Grant.

Grant Emerson: My pleasure.

Juicy: Seriously. What an amazing view!

Grant Emerson: Birchport might be provincial in some ways, but it has a lot to offer.

Juicy: I can see that…

You take a step towards Grant, resting your head on his shoulder. He blinks, surprised… then leans into it.

Grant Emerson: You’re something else, Juicy.

Juicy: You’re not so bad yourself. You’ve really got it figured out, huh?

Grant Emerson: What do you mean?

Juicy: Back in the city, everyone’s always scrambling around, feeling overwhelmed… I can’t remember the last time I met someone as easy-going and relaxed as you. Someone who seems so comfortable in his own skin.

Grant Emerson: Money doesn’t buy you happiness, but it can give you a lot of options other people just don’t have. I… never want to forget how privileged I’ve been. Or how differently my life could have gone. But… I don’t know. I just feel like I ought to give back. Like I need to take the opportunities I’ve been given to do something meaningful with them.

Juicy: Is that why you’re a defense lawyer? Helping the innocent and the powerless?

Grant Emerson: Yeah, actually. Cheesy, right?

Juicy: I don’t think it’s cheesy. I think it’s sweet.

You turn to Grant, smiling softly… when Kate pops out the balcony doorway!

Kate O’Malley: Grant, are you trying to steal my best friend, or what?

Kate stumbles in her heels.

Kate O’Malley: Whoa. I think I had one too many… what are they called? Horn-horses?

Juicy: you should let Grant drive you home, party girl.

Kate O’Malley: Oh fiiiiine. Be boring.

She looks back and forth between the two of you, then grins widely.

Kate O’Malley: My friends are becoming friends! Juicy, maybe you can visit more often… or even move here! You can hang out with me and Tanner, and with Grant, and--

Juicy: Slow your roll there, Katie-bear.

Kate O’Malley: Why? Aren’t we friends anymore?

Grant Emerson: Um, I’m gonna let you two have some one-on-one time… I’m sure Scarlett is getting antsy, anyway.

Grant squeezes your hand and leaves.

Kate O’Malley: I’m sorry, Juicy. Am I being clingy? I always get so clingy when I’m drunk…

Juicy: Oh, believe me, I remember…

Kate O’Malley: It’s just… you know… I’m so lonely out here.

Juicy: Really? What about your family?

Kate O’Malley: You know how it is. My mom’s out of town, and my dad… well, I don’t talk to my dad.

Juicy: What about your brother?

Kate O’Malley: I love Flynn, and we still get beers sometimes, but.. It’s just hard with me marrying Tanner. There’s a distance between us. I don’t know. I can’t explain. And Tanner’s family, they’re like ice, Juicy. I can tell they don’t want me there.

Juicy: What about Tanner, though?

Kate O’Malley: I love Tanner. He’s a good guy, not like the rest. But… but…

You can tell she’s struggling, holding something back…

Juicy: What is it?

Kate O’Malley: He’s… I think he’s…

Kate reaches forward and takes your hand… Just then, the door behind you flies open! It’s Tanner, and he’s fuming!

Tanner Sterling: Kate! What are you doing out so late? The night before our wedding? Do you know how this looks for me?

Kate O’Malley: Tanner! I was.. It’s just I never had a bachelorette, and… Juicy is here now, and…

Tanner Sterling: Got it. So you thought you’d show up to your own wedding hungover. Classy.

Juicy: Tanner… Go easy on her… She just had a little too much to drink…

Tanner ignores you, focusing on his fiancee.

Tanner Sterling: I should’ve known you’d revert to your old patterns, Kate.

Kate O’Malley: My old-- what do you mean?

Tanner Sterling: You know what I mean. Now let’s go. I’m taking you home.

Tanner grabs Kate by the arm and drags her away.

Juicy: Tanner, wait!

… But they’re already gone.

Juicy: (Maybe the Sterlings were right about not seeing each other the night before the wedding…)

You feel something in the hand Kate grabbed… and realise she handed you a note!

Juicy: (Ulysses? What does that mean? What’s going on around here?)

You look around, but the restaurant’s mostly empty, except for one bored bartender. A cold wind blows over you. Shivering, you exit the restaurant and head back to your bed-and-breakfast.

You wake up the next morning to a beautiful, sunny day.

Juicy: (I wonder if the Sterlings special-ordered this weather?)

You’re about to head out, when the innkeeper stops you in the lobby…

???: Hello, dear!

Juicy: oh… hi!

Miss Harlenay: I’m Eleanor Harlenay, the keeper of this little lodge. I hope you’re liking your room!

Juicy: Oh, it’s great! Just heading out for the wedding now…

Miss Harlenay: … in that?

Juicy: I thought so… something wrong with it?

Miss Harlenay: Oh, no, it’s lovely… I just had something in the back I thought you might like more. Something that will be sure to help you impress that special someone!

Juicy: Who are you… what?

She rushes to the back room, and returns with an outfit.

Miss Harlenay: Here! If you wear this, I guarantee you’ll catch the eye of everyone there! Oooooh! You look absolutely stunning! Like Birchport royalty!

Juicy: Thanks, Miss Harlenay.

Miss Harlenay: Enjoy the wedding, dear. I’m sure it’ll be a delight.

You take a taxi to Sterling Manor. You enter the hall, which has been decked out for the ceremony, and the usher asks you where you’d like to sit. You see one seat next to Grant, and another next to Flynn. You take a seat next to Flynn.

Flynn O’Malley: Wow. Just wow.

Juicy: I take it you like my look?

Flynn O’Malley: Let’s just say it’s not every day I get to sit next to the prettiest girl in the room.

Behind you, someone gives a low wolf whistle. You turn around to see Bryce rudely looking you up and down.

Flynn O’Malley: Back off, rich boy. She’s too good for you.

You brace for a fight, but Bryce, who appears to be sober, shrugs as if he’s lost interest.

Juicy: You look pretty amazing yourself. I’ll be honest, I didn’t see you as the suit type.

Flynn O’Malley: I’m not. But it’s not every day you watch your little sister get married.

Juicy: You ready for it?

Flynn O’Malley: Not like I have a choice.

The officiant and Tanner walk to the alter, signaling the start of the ceremony. The attendees turn in their chairs to watch the bride walk down the aisle, but the doorway is empty. Everyone waits… and waits… and waits. By the alter, the Sterlings look at each other uneasily.

Flynn O’Malley: Something’s wrong. Where’s Kate?

Juicy: I… don’t know.

Another minute passes… then another, each one longer and more excruciating. The guests start to shuffle around in their chairs…

Juicy: I should go check on her. Make sure she’s okay.

Flynn O’Malley: Good call.

You head to the dressing room where Kate’s supposed to be, a sinking feeling growing in your gut. The door is locked, and you tug on the handle…

Juicy: Kate? Kate?

You jerk it hard, forcing it open…But the room is empty.

Juicy: ...Kate?

There’s no sign of her.

Juicy: She’s gone.

Thoughts on the episode…

Realistically, even if there wasn’t something suspicious going on and Tanner and Kate were actually ridiculously in love, there is no way this marriage would have worked. His family are awful to her, she doesn’t have any real friends - judging by the guest list the only people she invited were Flynn, her brother and Juicy, her college friend she hasn’t spoken to in years. Scarlett better have a good old reason for being that much of a bitch, too. Kate would be lonely and sad and squashed into this rigid way of living that doesn’t fit her at all, she’d definitely end up depressed and miserable and/or leaving him.

One bit I’m confused by is the ending. I know it was always going to happen that Kate goes missing on her wedding day but… where is Scarlett? Her maid of honor? Did Kate turn up to the venue? If she didn’t, surely Scarlett should have informed someone? If she did, where was Scarlett this whole time? Suspect.

The only two people who aren’t suspects in my book are Flynn and Grant and that’s only because they’re love interests - Pixelberry doesn’t usually include Love Interests in the guilty parties.

Fave Character of the Chapter: Grant

Least Fave Character of the Chapter: Scarlett

[themurphyzone]

A Tail of Impawsible Purrportions Ch 8

Let’s see how things are on the other side, shall we?

Ch 8: Dogs are a Girl’s Best Friend

The mansion wasn’t the same without the cats. Diogee even found himself missing Cavendish, who had always disdainfully watched him from a cushion on the large windowsill. It was strange to be allowed in the mansion for extended periods of time. 

Diogee had never minded the living arrangements before, since he’d always loved the outside. There was more to do, with howling at the butcher’s for a few bones, digging holes and covering them up before he could get caught, and playing with the kittens. 

Besides, he didn’t have to watch his step outdoors. Even if there was glass shattered from a bottle thanks to a careless human, it was fairly easy to avoid. And if he didn’t get something embedded in his paw, there was Elliot to contend with. 

But he couldn’t worry about the idiot butler who antagonized the kittens for no good reason at the moment. Checking on Martin, Brigitte, and Sara was far more important.

Before he could check on the Murphys, a jaunty whistle came from the foyer. Curious, Diogee turned to see Elliot hanging his coat on the rack. For someone who lived in a household where valued members of the family had gone missing, he seemed awfully chipper. Diogee bit back a growl. He didn’t like this at all. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Elliot sniffed. “Well, you’re just a dog so I guess there’s no harm in letting you bear witness to the first step of making the Murphy household a safe place to live.” 

Before Diogee could take offense at the ‘just a dog’ comment, Elliot unfolded the evening newspaper to the front page, which featured a large black and white splash of Orton Mahlson. 

“Oh, yeah. Think he’s in town right now,” Elliot remarked, frowning. “And I’m talking to a dog as if he can read. Wonderful. But I’m digressing. My point is, I made headlines! I know it says ‘Mysterious Catnapper Abducts Family of Cats’, which makes it sound kind of bad, but I guess you can’t win ‘em all. Anyway, tomorrow begins my first day of making the mansion a safe place to live! Starting with that chipped tile in the kitchen. Big tripping hazard.” 

He sauntered off to the kitchen, taking the newspaper with him. 

Diogee whined softly to himself. Alerting Martin of Elliot’s actions simply wouldn’t work. Brigitte and Sara would just call him adorable and not pay attention to the message he needed to convey. He huffed. As much as he loved his family, they suffered from an inability to comprehend a different species’ language like every other human on this planet. 

His only option was to find Cavendish and the kittens, bring them home, and drive Elliot out for good. But he could hardly leave now. Not when everyone was so emotionally vulnerable. 

He’d have to try going out when everyone was asleep, but even that was harder when Sara needed a companion at night. 

Frustrated at that selfish, incompetent butler for putting everyone into this mess, Diogee lifted his leg and relieved himself on Elliot’s shoes. Even he had to indulge in being a bad dog every once in a while. 

Upstairs, the master bedroom was eerily silent. Brigitte sat at her desk, a blueprint opened in front of her. She stared at the wall, a pencil hanging loosely from her hand. Martin rubbed circles into her back as he murmured soothing words to calm her. 

“They’re part of the family. How could they just suddenly be gone?” Brigitte asked. 

Martin shook his head gently. “Not gone. Sounds...permanent. You know how we went to that Beethoven concerto when Sara was six and we lost her while heading out? Then the conductor found her in the orchestra pit and helped her find us? It’s something like that. We’re here, the cats decided to check out the orchestra pit, and the conductor will bring them home.” 

Brigitte smiled. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love you and your analogies that make sense to no one but us?” 

“Maybe once or twice,” Martin chuckled, peppering her cheek with several kisses. 

Diogee nosed the door open enough for him to slip through, padding up to Martin and nudging his hand. He was rewarded with several absentminded pats to the head. 

“I know you miss them too, Diogee,” Brigitte said. “You were always so good with the kittens.” 

Diogee’s tail wagged at the praise, though it didn’t do much to alleviate the melancholy atmosphere. 

“Mom?” Sara called from the hallway. 

Brigitte stood up from her chair. “Yes, Sara?” she asked. Diogee followed her out of the bedroom. Sara stood at the top of the stairs with his leash in hand, fidgeting with the loop anxiously. 

“I can’t sleep, Mom,” Sara confessed. “Do you think I could just take Diogee out for an evening walk? He’s kinda been cooped up for a while. And I think I just need to tire myself out.” 

“Well, if Diogee wants to, then I have no problem with it,” Brigitte assured her. “But be sure to stay on the grounds.” 

Diogee offered no resistance when Sara hooked the leash to his collar. Then he led her down the stairs as Brigitte called out a few reminders. Sara frowned as she unlocked the door, glancing at the soaked brown shoes that were suspiciously laying far away from the rest of the family’s footwear. 

“So did Elliot’s idea of safetyproof include switching your favorite bowl with a boring plastic, white one?” Sara asked. 

Diogee snorted. He’d better not try it. 

As they passed by the stables, a sudden idea struck Diogee. He strained at his leash, barking up a frenzy as he rushed towards the area where Elliot kept his motorbike. 

It had always been in poor condition, but he definitely recalled seeing Elliot come back the other night with his clothes scuffed and the sidecar missing completely. And if he could just show Sara.... 

“Diogee! I wanted to go by the koi pond!” Sara scolded breathlessly. “You know, I’m supposed to be the one walking you!” Despite her protests, she didn’t seem to particularly care about where they headed. He took it as a good sign. 

Pawing at Elliot’s motorbike, he led Sara around so she could see the latch that used to contain the sidecar. She ran her hand over the latch, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “That’s odd,” she said. “Where’s the sidecar? And what’s with all these weird scratches?” She peered curiously at a tiny dent. 

Good. She was getting suspicious. 

Then a shriek came from outside. “That’s it!” a frantic voice muttered. “That’s the last time people leave bales of hay within five feet of the entrance!” 

Diogee and Sara wrinkled their noses at the smell emanating from Elliot’s shoes, which he strangely never noticed. 

“Hi, Elliot. You haven’t noticed anything...strange. Right?” Sara gagged. 

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Well, my socks feel soaked, so I should probably run back and change them before I get a fungal infection. But other than that, I haven’t seen anything strange. Why would you think anything’s strange? Cause your parents haven’t seemed to notice anything either so-” he chuckled nervously, his fingers twiddling together. 

Honestly, he’d seen better subtlety from the most inexperienced of shoplifters. 

“Oh. Well, I was just wondering what happened to your motorbike. It looks likes it’s seen better days. And by better days, I mean it was banged up but not as badly a week ago,” Sara said, folding her arms. She and Diogee glanced at each other as Elliot tugged the collar of his shirt, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck.

“I-uh, well you see, I was out doing a routine inspection of the city!” Elliot exclaimed. “Just because I wasn’t this town’s traffic cop anymore didn’t mean people could go breaking safety laws whenever they felt like it!”

Sara raised her eyebrow. “Any violations?”

“Three instances of improper horse to cart attachments, seven gentlemen dictating letters while driving, and there was one lady with a very long mink scarf. That thing was a choking hazard, lemme tell you,” Elliot replied.

“So if that’s all normal, then why’s your sidecar missing?” Sara asked.

“I was robbed!” Elliot cried. “They jumped me when I was off-guard, those scoundrels! They made off with my sidecar, and I’m glad that’s the only thing they-“ he broke off, a look of dawning realization crossing his face. “The sidecar…if they discover it….” he muttered frantically. “Um, I have places to be tonight. Safety czar stuff, 24/7 job. You know how it is.”

With that, he shoved Sara and Diogee out of the stables, slamming the door behind them.

Diogee pawed Sara’s leg, and she knelt down to stoke his back. “Thanks, boy. You were telling me something all along, weren’t you?” she asked. Diogee barked in affirmation. She smiled. “Thought so. Elliot’s definitely acting strange. And he’s obviously not good at lying.”

They sat in silence while Sara mulled over the recent events. “Diogee, I want you to be my co-investigator. We’ll keep a close eye on Elliot, but we won’t tell Mom and Dad yet. Not until we know for certain. Call it a hunch, but I think he knows something about the cats.”

Sara trusted him to help her solve the mystery. She was a lot more than the airheaded Orton fangirl most people seemed to regard her as. She loved Cavendish and the kittens too. He could tell there was nothing else she wanted except to see them safe and sound.

Diogee missed them so much. And even if he and Cavendish never saw eye to eye on most things, he trusted that he would protect them to the best of his ability. Cavendish had a duty to protect the kittens and bring them home safely.

Just as he had a duty to comfort the humans at home that the cats would come home.  

Elliot is really, really bad at villaining. 

This movie is like the epitome of the butler did it. 

[h-styles-babes]

No Control | Chapter Forty

Summary: 

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

Forty

“Mick, sit down. You shouldn’t be up so much,” Mum reprimands.

I roll my eyes as I plop down at the kitchen table, huffing so she knows I’m frustrated with her coddling. She smiles as she sees me sitting, going about making the tea, which I was doing before she made shooed me out of the kitchen.

“Do you like sugar in your tea, dear?” Anne asks, taking the tray from my mum. 

Harry rounds the corner into the kitchen just as his mum asks, hair wet from his shower. He places a kiss on her cheek before saying, “One sugar and a dash of milk.” He takes a plain cup of tea from the tray before flitting over to where my mum is making pancakes on the stove. He places a kiss on her cheek as well before pulling plates out of the cabinet.

I’m a little antsy from not being able to do much to contribute. Anne and Mum have been here for two days now, helping me out when Harry’s gone out to meetings and whatever else he’s doing. It’s the beginning of April, and while I know I’ll be good to deliver Waverly any time in the coming weeks, I still get a little panicky when I feel any sort of pain or discomfort that I know can be associated with my pregnancy. It’s really just a matter of time before I go into labour, but now that it’s such a real possibility, I’m getting nervous. 

“Got some errands to run today,” Harry tells me as he sets a plate of food in front of me. “Gonna go into Beverly Hills for a few hours. Then I’ve got a meeting with some studio execs, but that shouldn’t take too long.”

“Am I gonna find out where you’ve been sneaking off to, yet?” I ask, pouting at him. He still hasn’t told me about what this new, top secret project is that he’s been working on, but I’m trying to be patient.

“Yes, actually,” he answers, completely surprising me. Our mums are talking in the kitchen, so they’re not privy to this conversation, so I can’t gauge if he’s already told his mum or not, but I’m glad I’m finally going to be able to learn about what’s been going on. I hate being left out, even if I know he’s had to leave me out for legal reasons. “After this meeting, everything should be set in stone.”

“Seriously?” I ask, excited at the prospect. “You better tell me the instant you step into this house after the meeting, Styles.”

He chuckles and leans over to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Promise. Got a few things to talk to you about, so maybe we can get dinner tonight and spend some time together. Know you hate being holed up in the house and your flat all day. Might be one of the last chances we get before Waverly gets here.”

I nod. “Definitely. Dinner would be nice.”

“Wear a dress, yeah? Liked you in that one you wore to Trev’s party.” He winks at me and drops a chaste kiss to my shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can dig up,” I promise. 

After finishing breakfast, Harry kisses me soundly on the lips and gives a rub to the belly before departing. He says goodbye to our mothers and bids us all a good day before taking off. 

Mum and Anne clean up the kitchen as I go to have a shower. Trev’s coming by in a little bit, since he wants to go to the beach. It’s one of the last days of his Spring Break, and I promised him we’d spend time together while we still can. My living arrangements and basically my entire life for after Waverly is born is up in the air still, so I’m trying to fit in as much Trevor and Micky time as I can before everything gets crazy. I don’t know where my life will take me in the coming weeks, and I don’t want to neglect my best friend in the meantime. 

Mum plaits my hair as a way to help me get ready, and once she’s done, I go to the room Harry and I share to change into my swimsuit. It’s a pretty burnt orange color, and a two piece that I’m actually not hesitant to wear. Despite being nearly full-term with my pregnancy, I think I still look good, Harry’s encouragement and love over the past few weeks definitely boosting my self-image. I throw a pretty, white lace coverup over it, tying it closed in the front, and slip on some sandals. 

By the time I’ve put together a bag and grabbed the things I need, I hear the chime go through the house, indicating that someone’s just pulled through the gate. Trev’s in the foyer by the time I make it out into the main part of the house, dressed in a soft-looking t-shirt and bright pink board shorts. He’s already tan from our time in California, so the shorts look blinding against his sun kissed skin. He smiles when he sees me, kissing me on the cheek in greeting. 

With some goodbyes and kisses from both my mum and Anne, Trev and I are out the door, in the Impala, and on our way to the beach.

After a long day at the beach, all I want to do is shower and curl up in bed, but I promised Harry I’d go to dinner with him, which I’m also looking forward to. We haven’t had time for just the two of us since the day of my appointment, and I’m a little antsy to see him. Plus, he’s promised to tell me all that’s going on with his career, since he’s been keeping it all very hush up until this point. I’m excited to finally find out what all his meetings and flying back and forth have been about these past couple months. 

So, after Trev drops me off back at Harry’s—and sticks around to get acquainted with Anne and catch up with my mum—, I take a quick shower and get ready for our night together. I pick out a pretty floral dress that accommodates the bump and pair it with comfy sandals. I’m in no condition to be wearing heels anymore, which I’m not too sorry about. I do my makeup, keeping it minimal since it’s shaped up to be a particularly hot springtime here in Southern California, and emerge to ask my mum to fix up my hair again. She obliges and plaits the front, pulling to back into the bun she secures at the base of my neck. It’s cute and effortless and keeps my mass of hair off my neck and shoulders.

Harry arrives home as we’re all discussing what I want for my baby shower. I’m explaining that some of my coworkers would really like to be involved when he presses a kiss to all our heads and pats his hand on Trev’s shoulder in greeting. “Gonna shower right quick and then be down, alright?” he tells me. I nod at him with a small smile before he disappears into our room.

I give mum Joy’s phone number so they can get in touch. She wants to have the baby shower by next weekend, which I think is a bit ambitious, but both her and Anne assure that it can and will be done. Trevor points out that I don’t have a whole lot of people to accommodate for, since I’m only friends with a grip of people at work, and my family is still back in England. I suppose he’s right, so we can’t be having to provide space for more than fifteen or twenty people. 

I’ve just finished putting together a tentative guest list by the time Harry emerges, freshly showered, though his curls are dry and bouncy, so I assume he’s blow dried them. He’s dressed in a pretty blue sheer button up, the first few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s got his signature black jeans tugged on, brown boots slipped on his feet. He looks delicious, and I’m cursing the orders from Dr. Lorenz to avoid any activity that would elevate my heart rate significantly. Sex is definitely off the table.

“I meant to tell you this earlier, but you look beautiful,” he tells me, helping me off the couch.

I press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You look quite nice yourself, H.”

“Thank you, my love,” he hums, pecking chastely against my lips. “Ready to go?”

I nod my agreement and Mum and Anne wish us a goodbye and a goodnight as Harry ushers me out the door. There’s a car waiting for us outside the front door, and I raise an eyebrow at him. 

He shrugs. “Just in case, Mick. Henry is much better at maneuvering around paparazzi than I am.”

Henry is Harry’s driver, and I have to suppose he’s right. Harry gets too on edge when there’s paps to get around while we’re out on the streets. Henry’s one of the most calm driver’s I’ve ever met, letting every cut off by another car and honking horn roll right off his back like he doesn’t even see or hear it. It’s amazing, and I would only be so lucky to be that laid back about driving one day. I’ve got a bit of road rage, if I do say so myself. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get around that one. 

“Alright,” I sigh, letting him guide me into the car. Harry tends to keep one hand on my body at all times now that I’ve been put on bed rest. He’s terrified of something happening to me or the baby, and he figures his steady hands will somehow prevent my blood pressure from rising. While it’s a great practice, and I do quite enjoy Harry’s hands on me, I don’t think his hand on the low of my back is helping me much get into the car. 

Once we’re on our way, Harry grins at me, looking more excited than I’ve seen him in awhile. 

“What is it?” I ask, wondering what’s got him so giddy. He’s been so reserved lately, very obviously trying to keep in whatever big secret he’s got tumbling about in his mind. It’s been bugging me a bit, honestly, but as our mothers as distractions, I haven’t had much time to dwell on it. It’s only now, seeing his typical grin and cavern-like dimples that I realize it’s been a few days since I’ve seen them out. 

“I’m gonna tell you now, but you’ve got to promise to stay calm,” he bargains. “Don’t want either of you getting too riled up. Can’t risk that.”

“Harry, just get on with it,” I demand. “You hyping it up like this is just making me more giddy.”

His chest expands with a deep breath. “I’ve got a movie deal.”

My mouth pops open as I blink at him. I’m silent for a few beats, trying to formulate a response to his bomb as he just grins like that cat who ate the canary. The smug bastard.

“I’m sorry. You’ve what?”

“I’ve got a movie deal. Everything got finalized today. That’s what the meeting was about. Contract’s signed, schedule is decided. Production starts in May.”

“That soon? That’s barely any time between now and then.” Go on, Mick, keep pointing out the obvious. That will definitely move this conversation along. I think I’m still in a bit of shock. 

“Chris and Emma want a summer release next year, so we’ve got to get started now,” he shrugs, like this is completely casual.

Those names stick in my head, and I mull them over for a moment before I realize why they sound so familiar.

“Do you mean Chris Nolan and Emma Thomas? As in the director and producer of The Prestige, Momento, The Dark Knight Trilogy and the lot?”

He just nods, smirk still prominent.

“Bloody hell, H. You’re first fucking movie and you’re in a film directed by Christopher fucking Nolan and produced by Emma bleeding Thomas? Who are you?”

“Dunno, honestly. I’m just as surprised as everyone else that I actually got the part.”

“I’m not surprised! I’m sure you’re absolutely brilliant,” I assure. I have never seen Harry act, but I’s sure with the amount of talent he has, the fact that he’s good enough to land a role in a Nolan film is not surprising. “It’s just a bit shocking, is all.”

“I’m just glad I’m able to tell you, now,” he sighs, actually looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in recent days. 

“I’m glad you’ve told me. How exciting! Where do you start filming?”

“Don’t know,” he shrugs, like the next few months of his life have no bearing on him. He’s a very go with the flow sort of guy, which annoys me a bit sometimes. We’ve got a baby on the way, and I’ve got to have a more structured schedule than it looks like Harry’s got right now. “Chris said he’d let us know for sure in the next week.”

That assurance made me feel a little better. 

“Well, this should be exciting. Can’t wait to see you on the big screen.”

“I’ve got to cut all my hair off, as well,” he tosses in as casually as possible. “You’ve what?”

The next few days go by in a blur. Harry’s gone for a majority of the day with meetings and things, so I’m typically spending time with his and my mum, making last minute plans for the baby shower. We’re having it at mine and Trevor’s place, as to keep Harry’s privacy. They’ve been round the flat for a few days, tutting around with Trev in order to get the place in shape to hold the shower. Harry comes around after he’s finished at work in order to spend some time with us and bring around lunch or dinner. 

My back has been hurting so badly lately that I don’t really bother to get up and do much, though sitting or laying doesn’t seem to help any. Harry’s so kind as to rub my back whenever he’s over, doing it even subconsciously now as he sits ant talks with Trev or our mothers. Even in bed at night, he’ll rub my back for a few before we settle in and doze off. He’s being exceptionally sweet to me, even by Harry’s standards, and I’m somewhat suspicious of it.

We still haven’t properly spoken about the Kendall thing, and while my feelings about it have definitely dulled, I know it’s something that’s hanging over both of our heads. So, when we’re alone on one of his days of just a day before the shower, I finally bring it up.

We’re sat on the couch while Trev’s at a lecture, flicking through the channels on the TV. Harry tends to just flip the channel instead of pulling up the guide and searching through there, so we get a bit of every show on for a few seconds before he moves on to the next. Of course, once we stumble upon E!, the Kardashians are on, and Kendall just so happens to be taking up a majority of the screen. I feel him tense up beside me, already twitching to change the channel, but I speak before he can make a move.

“We never talked about what happened the other week.”

He mutes the telly as he sighs, reaching his fingers up to pinch at his nose. “I’ve been avoiding it.”

“I can tell.”

“I just don’t know what to say, Mick. That whole thing was a fucking mess. Nothing even happened, and you reacted badly.”

I scoff at what he’s calling ‘nothing.’ So maybe my emotions haven’t dulled all that much. “I’m pregnant, Harry. My emotions are heightened. Plus, you ex-girlfriend showed up at your house, looking for a shag, and then ran her mouth about how kinky you are in bed! You think I don’t deserve to be a bit hurt by that, Harry?”

He scrambles to sit up and face me. “No, of course you’re allowed. I know why you’re upset. And I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings. I just meant, at the time, you stormed off with no reason. I didn’t know you’d heard all the dumb shit she’d said while you were in the house. You just booked it out of there like the building was on fire.”

“I was upset, Harry. She’s so pretty and thin and a fucking model, for Christ’s sake! Who would ever choose me over her?”

Okay, so I was a lot more upset about it than I even let on to myself. I’d been pushing down all these feelings for far too long, even though it hadn’t been long at all. But it was too long when I was already in a fragile state. 

Harry got a perplexed look on his face. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“If I were you, I’d be into her, too! I’m fat and bed-ridden, Harry! What man wants a fat, bed-ridden woman?” I am completely aware of how ridiculous I’m being, but I can’t seem to help it. The words just seem to spew out of my mouth without my control. All my deepest insecurities and worries are just being laid out there like I’ve never wanted them to be before, and I can’t seem to stop it. It’s absolutely awful.

“First of all, you’re on bed rest; you’re not bedridden,” he corrects, a stern look on his face that only intensifies with his next statement. “And second of all, you’re pregnant, not fat. Please don’t make me go back over how absolutely, devastatingly gorgeous I find you while you’re carrying my child. I find you completely stunning anyway, and you’re pregnancy has only magnified it. There’s no competition between you and anyone else. You’re it for me, Micky Bennet. I’d marry you today if I could. This is it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I’ve never wanted anyone else the way I want you, and I will never want anyone like I want you ever again. I’m in love with you, you silly woman. You and Waverly are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’d be a damned fool to give that up for a model I had a fling with for a month.”

Harry looks about as surprised by his little rant as I do. We both sit stock still for a few moments just gazing at each other, digesting all that has been said in the past few minutes. 

Harry finally clears his throat. “I’m sorry, that was a little intense.”

His words seem to snap me out of my own surprised stupor. “You want to marry me?”

For some reason, this makes Harry giggle. “Out of all that, that’s what you focused on?” he asks with a small shake of his head.

I nudge at his hip with my foot, a little offended. “Well, obviously! I’ve never heard that before.”

“That’s because I’ve never said it before.”

“Then why have you said it now?”

“It slipped out,” he admits, his cheeks suddenly blooming a faint pink. “Think it a lot, just don’t ever say it.”

“You really want to marry me?” I ask, a bit stunned still by his confession. I’ve known for a while now that he loves me, but marriage? That’s a whole other ball game, as far as I’m concerned. 

“Why do you say that like it’s so shocking? Of course I want to marry you. Think I’ve known that for a lot longer than I’d care to admit.”

“Really?”

He grins a little. “Really.” 

There’s a small pause between us where a let a smile split across my face. Harry’s stretches to match it, both of us kind of giggling at the turn this conversation has taken.

“Just to be clear, that wasn’t a proposal.”

“I’d sure hope not. That was a lousy proposal if I’d ever heard one.”

“Oi! Rude.”

“You just said it wasn’t a proposal!”

“Yeah, but what if it had been? I’d be extremely offended.”

“Well, good thing it wasn’t.”

“True. Don’t even have a ring, either. Be a shit proposal.”

“Be a little more organized and prepared when you really do it, yeah?”

“I can guarantee that, pet.”

FORTY-ONE

[dust2dust34]

Pieces of Always: February 2026 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick​ and @alizziebyanyothername​ for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: I am taking more of a beta role for right now. The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

February 2026 - Love In Different Shades

Meetings running long aren’t exactly unusual in Felicity Queen’s line of work. As CEO of Queen Incorporated, someone always wants just a little more time, just a few more words. Her assistant normally keeps things running fairly smoothly. The older woman’s curt-but-polite manner has managed to reroute things back on track so easily and so frequently that Felicity had started taking it for granted… which is a thing that had become very readily apparent today, because her assistant is on a much-needed vacation.

“Okay!” Felicity says loudly with a somewhat manic laugh as she wills the arms on the clock adorning the wall to move slower please. The dozen men and two women in the meeting - progress in the business world is nowhere near as progressive as she’d like - fall silent and look to her. “So, what I’m getting from all of this is that we are absolutely not reaching an agreement on procuring so much as a bagel platter, much less a branch of NanoTechWerx today, am I right? …’NanoTechWerx,’ I honestly want to buy the entire company just to change the name. How much do you want for it?”

“Mrs. Queen, if you’ll permit me, our company name was vetted by no less than four marketing studies where-” one of the men at the table speaks up.

“I know,” she interrupts, holding up her hand with a sigh. “But it doesn’t make helping my seven year old study for her spelling tests any easier. Between Kool Aid and Krispy Kreme it’s a small miracle any of us can communicate without spell check anymore. But that’s beside the point at the moment. Right now, the point is that it is a full two hours past when this meeting was supposed to end and my schedule isn’t going to allow it to go much longer.”

Her ‘schedule’ actually involves a getaway with her husband to a private guest house at a top-rated vineyard for Valentine’s Day weekend. She’s been looking forward to it for months. They’re supposed to leave in just over an hour and she’s absolutely not going to let a business deal of any kind get in the way of some much needed alone time with Oliver.

Felicity loves her children. She loves her job… jobs, really - CEO, Team Arrow tech guru, Representative Queen’s wife. But it all leaves them so very busy. She needs this. She needs three whole days without Nate climbing into their bed, without campaign fundraising or business deals. She needs a clothing-optional weekend with her husband where they laugh over very good wine and make love on the kitchen counter at two in the afternoon just because they can.

God, her whole body is actually humming with anticipation.

So… yes, this meeting needs to end. Immediately.

“I… guess we can reconvene on Monday,” ventures one of the representatives from NanoTechWerx, looking uncertainly at his colleagues.

“Yeah, no,” Felicity says, standing and gathering up her papers. “Tuesday. On Monday, I’m…” licking chocolate off of my husband’s washboard abs “out of the office. And, frankly, I think we could all use the extra day to dig a little deeper for ideas to close this deal.” 

The confused glances between everyone at the meeting tell Felicity that maybe she took things a shade too far. There’s no lack of ideas on the table, quite the opposite really, but she’s pretty much willing to say anything at all to get herself out of this meeting and on her way to a much anticipated sexy-times getaway with her husband.

“It’s been a pleasure, but we’re calling it,” she says, grabbing her tablet and the papers someone from NanoTechWerx had handed out - honestly… they’re a tech firm using paper in this day and age? Felicity’s embarrassed on their behalf. “Have a wonderful weekend and… Mitch, you can take point setting up Tuesday’s meeting. Just contact my assistant Monday morning. Got it? Good.”

If she’s a bit terse, practically jogging out the room toward the elevator… oh well. She’ll have what she needs from NanoTechWerx in hand by next week - name change notwithstanding - and everyone else in that room reports to her. They can write her off as quirky or eccentric. She doesn’t care. What she does care about is getting home to her husband, changing into something other than work clothes, grabbing their bags, kissing the kids goodbye and setting off for their glorious weekend alone.

Alone.

She punches the ground floor button of the elevator hard enough and repeatedly enough that it’s really a minor miracle she doesn’t just break the damned thing. Most of her staff has thinned out for the evening and the lobby is all but empty, no one other than security in sight. The woman at the front desk nods at her as she passes briskly through the foyer and out the door, offering a quick smile in return. There’s a fresh spring to her step and she’s delighted to find that her car is waiting for her.

“Frank,” she greets with a giddy grin. “You wonderful, wonderful man, it is lovely to see you. Let’s get out of here.”

“It is most lovely to see you as well, Mrs. Queen,” he agrees, moving to open her door. “I should say I had been on the verge of growing concerned that every clock within the entirety of QI had malfunctioned.”

“You’re very cheeky, Frank,” she tells him, sliding into the seat. “It’s one of the things I like about you. Well… that and the A.R.G.U.S. training, but let’s put the pedal to the metal and leave the chit chat for later, shall we?”

“Of course, ma’am,” he says, dipping his head slightly before shutting her door and moving to take the driver’s seat. He only continues a moment later, after pulling out into sparse early-evening traffic. “Mr. Queen made much the same request when he called half an hour ago.”

Felicity pauses mid-shoe change - these heels are gorgeous but her toes hate them - looking up at Frank owlishly. “Oliver called?”

“He did at that,” Frank tells her. “His meeting ran late as well. Something regarding glad-handing union representatives.”

Felicity groans. “That’s about the campaign fundraising dinner next month. His campaign manager needs to take a metaphorical chill pill. Oliver can fill the seats. Has he left yet?”

“I received a text message from him ten minutes before you exited the building,” Frank informs her. He says the words ‘text message’ as though they leave a sour taste in his mouth. “He stated he was leaving then. We should arrive at your home approximately fifteen minutes before him, given traffic conditions.”

“Okay,” Felicity breathes out, recalculating their agenda. “Okay, that’s fine. I will get home and change. I can load up the car before he gets home and then spend a few minutes with the kids while he gets ready. We’ve lost a little time, but that’s okay.”

“Yes, I’m most certain that your vacation will be satisfactory in spite of beginning it an hour later than intended,” Frank deadpans.

“I take it back, Frank,” she tells him. “I’ve decided I dislike the cheekiness.”

“I shall endeavor to live with your disappointment,” he replies dryly.

Felicity just grins in reply and shakes her head, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her messages. There’s a handful from her mom, reassurances that everything is fine with the kids that are heavily peppered with emojis. One from Thea telling her to have a good time and reminding her that she wouldn’t mind another niece or nephew. Three from her assistant, who is supposed to be on vacation. And then there are the messages from Oliver.

“This is boring. I don’t care about the colors of flower arrangements at this dinner. All I can think about is what color lingerie you’re wearing.”

Red. It’s red. Scarlet, correcting-in-pen red. His very favorite and it’s new.

“Now she wants to know what wine we should serve. Is ‘Whatever I can drink out of my wife’s belly button’ an inappropriate answer or…?”

Felicity bites her lip and whimpers as she reads that one. To Frank’s everlasting credit, he pretends very convincingly not to hear her. There are a handful more texts from her husband, all with varying degrees of suggestiveness, but Felicity hones in on the belly-button-wine thing and she’s typing out a response to him before she even stops to think it through.

“Port.”

She gnaws on her lower lip as she stares at her phone. It takes a moment before those three little dots pop up, showing her husband typing out a response.

“Port? For the wine?” comes through a moment later.

“Yes. Definitely,” she responds right away. Her eyes shift to the rearview mirror, like she’s expecting Frank to know exactly what’s going through her mind. He’s not looking her way, but he’s Frank so he probably does know precisely how dirty her thoughts are at the moment. ARGUS training either gave him crazy amounts of perception or possibly mind-reading capabilities. She’s not wholly willing to rule either way, even if Oliver had laughed and told her Waller couldn’t read minds when she’d brought it up to him. But… whatever. She’s desperately looking forward to a sex-filled weekend getaway with her husband and she can’t actually bring herself to care who knows.

Her phone chirps in her hand and she looks down to find “Any particular reason, or just think I need something sweet?” staring back up at her.

Oh… she has a reason all right.

“Because you can do that to me on round two tonight after I’ve already licked chocolate off your stomach and ridden you for twenty minutes or so. Maybe some of the chocolate will have rubbed off. It goes so well with port.”

That little typing symbol appears a couple of times in the next few moments and she has the growing sense that he keeps drafting and deleting whatever it is he wants to say. What finally comes through slips a shiver of anticipation straight down her spine, though.

“Tell Frank to drive faster.”

It’s simple, but she can practically hear Oliver’s voice in her ear as she reads the words, all low and hungry. She replies with a kissing emoji and a short “see you soon” before slipping her phone back into her purse. It’s entirely unintentional when she shifts about in her seat, pressing her knees together in a subconscious effort to find some kind of relief because god is her head in overdrive right now, but it absolutely does her no favors. Just the suggestion of the weekend ahead, just the imagined sound of his voice in her ear has her whole body buzzing and she needs to be having her way with her husband immediately, please. Now. Right now.

“How much longer?” she calls out to Frank. There’s no missing the utter frustration in her voice.

“Astoundingly, the drive from your work to your home takes very nearly exactly the same amount of time as it has for the past decade or so,” he responds in his patently dry tone.

“Frank, we just talked about your sass,” she points out.

“Then I suppose you ought to have anticipated such a response, shouldn’t you?” he asks, taking a turn onto the main road that borders the outskirts of their neighborhood.

Five minutes. Five more minutes and she’ll be home. Not that Oliver will be yet. Even given proper motivation, he’s probably still at least ten minutes behind her. But, whatever, she’s made it through a day-long, mind-numbing meeting. She can make it another fifteen minutes.

Probably.

She spends the rest of the drive flipping through photos on her phone from Jules’ dance recital last weekend. It’s a great distraction and an even better memory. Her older daughter’s creative nature astounds her. The closest thing to artistic Felicity herself has ever managed is a particularly elegant line of code. It had felt like art to her at the time, anyhow. But Jules… she’s worlds apart from that, so expressive it takes Felicity’s breath away. For a girl who prefers to hold her tongue rather than say what she’s feeling, Jules works a tremendous amount of emotion into her dance as well as her painting and, as her mother, it’s an absolute joy to watch.

A pang of longing hits her when she gets to a shot of all four of the kids together after the recital. Seventeen-year-old Will is holding Nate in one arm while wrapping the other around his sisters. Ellie’s wearing an ear-to-ear smile while Jules holds onto the roses Oliver had brought, her cheeks flushed with happiness and a shy smile gracing her lips as she stares into the camera. There is no doubt that Felicity and Oliver need this little weekend getaway - especially campaign season ramping up soon - but she’s going to miss these kids so very fiercely for the next few days.

Making a sudden decision, Felicity drafts a quick email to her assistant to make sure that she’s out of the office by 2:30 on Tuesday. The meeting can be in the morning. She wants to spend time with the kids after they’re home from school, maybe take all three out for a really good hot cocoa or something.

By the time she’s sent the e-mail away to her assistant, Felicity finds the car has rolled to a stop in her driveway and Frank is already getting out to open her door.

Thank goodness.

“Will you be needing me for the drive to your love nest, ma’am?” Frank asks as she steps out of the car. And… damn it, even no longer wearing heels, she sort of trips at the question.

“Oliver’s driving us,” she informs him. Probably more accurately, Oliver will sit in the driver’s seat and hit the ‘self drive’ feature while he absolutely does not keep his hands on the wheel, but Frank doesn’t need to hear that said aloud.

“I am awash in a tsunami of relief,” Frank tells her, as straight-faced as she’s ever seen anyone.

“Honestly?” she asks, leaning in conspiratorially with a tremendous grin on her face. “I can’t even blame you. Have a nice weekend, Frank.”

“Not as nice as your’s, ma’am,” he returns with a thin smile before heading back to the driver’s seat.

Felicity doesn’t even bother to hide her laugh as she turns away and hurries into the house, taking the front steps two at a time.

Their home is very rarely quiet and that’s no different today. The raucous giggle of her little boy rings out from the kitchen and somewhere upstairs she can hear the thump of classic rock music that tells her Jules is in her room, probably painting.

“Hey!” she calls out, tossing her keys onto a side table near the front door. “I’m home.”

“Momma!!” Nate barrels out of the kitchen as fast as his feet can carry him, not slowing down in the least until he’s plastered against her leg. The three-and-a-half year old stares up at her like she hung the moon. “I missed you!”

Oh… this weekend is not going to be easy on her little boy.

“I was barely gone, little man,” she says, leaning down and scooping him up in her arms. Her mom leans against the doorway to the kitchen with a satisfied, cloudy kind of look in her eyes. She’s the same as ever, bubbly and effervescent, but ever since her battle with cancer when Nate was an infant, she’s prone to moments like this, times where she just stops and soaks it all in, where she savors the bits of life she could have so easily missed.

“He’s gonna miss you something fierce, baby,” she says, pushing off of the doorway and heading over to stroke the back of the little boy’s hair. “Somebody is a bit of a momma’s boy, isn’t he?”

“I’m momma’s good boy,” he insists, leaning his cheek against Felicity’s collar and nestling in.

“You are,” Donna smiles brightly at him. “But this weekend you get to be Grandma Donna’s good boy, okay? We are going to have so much fun together. Just you and me and your sisters.”

Nate looks extremely skeptical of this plan, his brow furrowing and eyes narrowing in suspicion. “If Momma’s there too, it’d be more funner. Momma should play, too.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she offers, bouncing Nate slightly. “Monday night when I get home, you can sleep with me and Daddy. And then Tuesday you can go to work with me and play with Miss Susan in daycare. I’ll leave just as soon as my meeting is over and you and I will spend the whole rest of the day together, okay?”

Indecision wars across her little boy’s face. The invitation to climb into his parents’ bed is no doubt tempting - he’d do it nightly if he could; but as lovely as their cocoon is, neither Felicity nor Oliver is willing to allow it to be a nightly event - but he’s also well aware that accepting this deal means he’s not getting what he wants now. That’s an awfully hard trade off for such a little guy.

“Is Monday the day after yesterday?” he asks warily.

Felicity bites back a smile. Time’s a rough concept at this age. “Baby, the day after yesterday would be today. You’re thinking of the day after tomorrow. And no, it’s the day after that.”

“That’s forever and ever,” Nate whines.

“I know, I know,” she soothes as tears well up in his eyes. “But I’ll bring you back a treat and you’ll have Grandma Donna with you the whole time.”

The waterworks let up the instant the word ‘treat’ leaves her lips. He’s so predictable sometimes. The way to her little boy’s heart is absolutely his sweet tooth.

“What kind of treat?” he asks.

“I was thinking the chocolate kind,” she offers, smiling at him as his eyes light up.

“The big chocolate kind?” he bargains, holding his hands as far apart as they’ll reach. “Like this big?”

“What would you do with a chocolate that big?” she asks, shaking her head at him.

“...Eat it?” he questions, looking at her like she’s crazy for not already reaching this conclusion.

“You’d give yourself a tummy ache,” she tells him, poking his belly so that he squirms.

“Nuh uh,” he protests through a giggle.

“Uh huh,” she counters. “How about instead I get you the very biggest chocolate bar they sell at the store, okay? They don’t even usually make them the size of your arms. I think.”

“That’s a mistake,” he tells her, with painful seriousness.

Donna makes grabby hands for her grandson. The little boy pauses just a moment before reaching back. He’s always hesitant to leave his mom. “Maybe when you grow up, you can run your own chocolate shop!” his grandmother suggests as he plays with the end of her pixie haircut. It’s grown so slowly since she finished her chemotherapy. “You can make the chocolate bars as big as you want, then.”

“Momma, does QI make chocolate?” he asks, looking back at her.

“Well… not yet, but I won’t be surprised if you diversify us one day,” she replies. Obviously, he has no clue what ‘diversify’ means but he nods along like he’s plotting his one-day chocolate company acquisition and it’s painfully cute. “The girls upstairs?” she asks her mom, nodding her head upward. The floor of Jules’ bedroom practically thumps with the beat of her music.

“Mmhm,” Donna agrees, rubbing Nate’s back gently. The little boy melts at the affection, leaning into his grandmother with an increasing levels of relaxation. He’s so very tactile. “Jules is painting and Ellie said she wanted to rest for a bit.”

“With this racket?” Felicity asks in surprise, glancing at her watch. “It’s barely after six.”

“I guess jump rope club wore her out after school,” Donna shrugs. “She looked like she could use to lie down for a bit, but she said Jules’ music wouldn’t bother her.”

That part is probably true. Between Nate’s cries and Jules’ music, Ellie’s learned to sleep through a lot over the years and the noise isn’t liable to pose much of a problem. But, still…

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” Felicity says, leaning in and kissing her mother’s cheek.

“Are you and Oliver going to join us for dinner before you head out?” she asks. “I know you’re getting a later start than you wanted.”

Felicity freezes. “You cooked?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Donna replies, tsking at her. “I ordered from that Indian place up the street.”

Oh… oh but that sounds good. They never had agreed on that bagel platter at the meeting and it suddenly strikes her that she’s actually pretty hungry. “Did you get the rogan josh?”

“Of course,” her mom scoffs, waving off the question like the answer is obvious. “Butter chicken for the kids. There’s plenty for everyone.”

Man, that’s tempting. Not as tempting as Oliver-with-chocolate, but she must be in need of food more than she’d realized, because it’s awfully close. “I’ll ask Oliver when he gets home. He should be here soon. So, I… will go check on the girls and get changed.” She pets the side of Nate’s head for a moment and he sighs happily. “Stay with grandma, Nater-Tater. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Kay,” he agrees, curling into his grandmother more and sucking on his thumb as she rocks him gently, humming to herself. Donna’s always had a soft spot for babies and Felicity knows without a doubt that she feels like she missed a lot of Nate’s babyhood because of her illness. So, it’s not surprising to see her coddling him a bit now.

With one last brush of her fingers against her little boy’s chubby cheek, Felicity turns and heads toward the stairs. The music from Jules’ room dulls some in the stairwell, but the base seems to resonate louder, thudding through the home’s old walls. Felicity pauses the moment she hits the landing and quirks her head to the side, soaking in the beat.

Is that God Save The Queen?

Is her eleven-year-old blasting Sex Pistols?

Where had she even… Roy. It had to be Roy, Felicity realizes, making her way toward her older daughter’s room. She had hung out with her uncle last week, the pair going to an actual music resale shop - something Felicity had not been previously aware still existed in 2026 - while Thea went through a check-up following her most recent round of treatments. It’s so routine for her sister- and brother-in-law at this point that Thea often tries to get her husband to find something else to occupy his time other than sitting in the waiting room while they run CAT scans and MRIs and blood work on her. Jules is usually happy to provide a distraction for her uncle.

Felicity raps on the door as loudly as she can, but if Jules responds, it’s lost to the cacophony of music. She tries again with the same lack of response before cracking open the door, still knocking as she peeks in.

Jules definitely hadn’t heard her, though. The eleven-year-old is positively rocking out to her music as she paints, her dark hair flying about with bits of drying paint coloring it in splotches. It’s all red and black and white and so, for that matter, is Jules’ bedroom floor. Splatters of color, both new and old are scattered all about. Felicity gave up a year or two ago on keeping Jules’ carpet paint-free and switched the flooring out for easily replaceable wood tiles instead. Jules had been pretty happy with the change because it meant she could do this - paint with complete abandon, create without regard to her surroundings. And, wow is she taking advantage of that at the moment.

She’s more or less dancing in front of her canvas, using her brush in long, bold swaths. She’s in an abstract mood, apparently, because it doesn’t look like anything to Felicity. At least, it doesn’t look like any kind of item or setting. It looks like emotion, if she had to put a word to it, loud and uneven with colors competing for space. But she might be off-base. It’s not like she’s ever known a thing about art.

There’s a barely discernible squeak when Jules turns and spots her. The girl is startled enough that she jumps and the paintbrush in her hand accidentally hits her in the face, leaving a streak of white across her jawline. She obviously doesn’t care about that, though, because she laughs as she puts a hand to her heart like she’s trying to calm herself.

Her dog, Buster, barely raises his head from where he’s napping just behind the easel, completely unconcerned as long as his girl is safe and happy right in front of him… even if there’s a splotch of red paint covering one of his ears.

“Can you turn it down?” Felicity shouts as she steps fully into the room. If Jules can actually hear her, it’d be something of a miracle, but the pre-teen nods and grabs a remote, clicking the music down to half-volume before hitting pause.

“Sorry,” she says, wincing sheepishly as she shrugs one shoulder and rests a hand on her hip. Her cheeks are bright pink and it’s not from the paint. It’s awfully damned adorable. “I guess I had it a bit loud.”

“It’s okay,” Felicity tells her. “I’m sure the ringing noise will go away eventually.”

Jules rolls her eyes at that and rinses off her paintbrush quickly before putting it down and turning to fully face her mom. “What time is it?” she asks, glancing toward the window. It’s nearly entirely dark out at this point. “Weren’t you and dad supposed to be home a while ago?”

“Yeah,” Felicity sighs. “We both got caught up in work.”

“Bummer,” Jules replies with a nod, but it’s obviously something she doesn’t get. That’s totally fine. She’ll relate a whole lot more when she’s older. For now, she’s just a kid. It’s a good thing that the frustration of hours-long meetings where nothing gets accomplished doesn’t have any meaning to her. “You’re still going, though. Right?”

“That’s the plan,” Felicity confirms. “Your dad’s not home yet. We might have a bite to eat with you guys before we go. It’s getting late.”

“Cool,” Jules nods. She’s all nonchalance, her hip jutting out to the side as she sighs and tosses her hair behind her shoulder. Jules tries so hard to be older than she is, sometimes. She’s eleven going on eighteen, equal parts little girl and young woman. She’s four years away from driving, seven from college, and just months away from middle school.

In part, that makes Felicity panic. Because how is her little girl this big? How is it that she needs a bra and wants to wear makeup and be dropped off at the mall with friends? It seems impossible. But Felicity also has a tremendous confidence in her oldest. Jules has such a strong sense of self, such a solid grip on who she is. And, she is so very independent. In spite of the problems they’ve faced together with her insecurities about being wanted and her place in their family, Jules has grown into a clever, beautiful, confident girl. There’s a vulnerability beneath all of that, a soft, affectionate and fiercely devoted core to her being. Felicity only sees that in glimpses, but when she does, when Jules lets herself be open… it’s breathtaking. Mostly, though, she’s just grateful to have a front seat to watch her daughter continue to blossom, to grow into an incredible young woman.

She’s going to do amazing things some day, her little Julie-bug. She just knows it.

“I like your painting,” Felicity tells her daughter, nodding toward the mostly-paint-covered canvas.

“Thanks!” Jules says, looking back at it. “I think it’s almost done. I’m doing it for Uncle Roy for his birthday. Think he’ll like it?” She turns as she asks the question and, even though she tries to mask it, Felicity can see the nervousness around the edges of her eyes. Putting herself out there, looking for approval, isn’t easy for Jules. It never has been. She’s fantastic at creating things, seems like she’s in a world all her own when she’s dancing or painting. But, after the fact, when she faces an audience, that’s when she gets anxious.

“I think he’ll love it,” Felicity tells her. Jules beams, a tight-lipped but clearly pleased smile. “Is that why you were listening to the music he got you?”

“Yeah!” Jules agrees. Her eyes light up with excitement that her mother got it. “It’s the album, just on a canvas, you know? ...You could tell?”

“I could,” Felicity agrees, mentally patting herself on the back for getting it right.

“Grandma couldn’t,” Jules tells her, rolling her eyes. “She said it needed more pink.”

“Your grandmother thinks Pepto Bismol needs more pink,” Felicity replies. “Don’t worry about it. I think it’s awesome the way it is and so will Uncle Roy. This is way more his style.”

“Yeah,” Jules agrees, looking back at the canvas. She chews on her lower lip as she stares at her work. There’s absolutely no missing the pride written across her face. And, for a moment, Felicity is content just to watch the girl in silence.

Jules nods at the painting like she’s deemed it meets her satisfaction before turning back to her mom. “So, where are you guys going again?”

“A little winery about two hours outside of town,” Felicity replies. If there’s a bit of longing in her voice, she can’t help it.

“You’re gonna… drink wine for three days?” Jules asks, raising an eyebrow as her face twists in disbelief.

“No,” Felicity tells her, laughing slightly as she tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “We’re going to tour the vineyards and… see how they make wine and enjoy the scenery and relax…”

And have sex… lots of sex… But she’s not saying this to her daughter.

“Mom… I think you need to learn how to take a vacation,” Jules tells her with clear distaste. Her nose is scrunched up like she smells something foul as she shakes her head.

Felicity smothers a laugh. “Well… let’s get election season over with and maybe we’ll take a family vacation all together.”

“Really?” Jules asks, perking up. “Nate’s never seen Hawai’i. Can we go back for Christmas? Can we bring Will?”

Her first request is doable. Her second is a bit of a stretch. Family vacations never feel right without her stepson, but Felicity’s pretty sure there’s no way Samantha is going to part with her son for a week at Christmastime. But… maybe for Hanukkah? It’s early this year, if she remembers correctly.

“I’ll talk to your dad about it this weekend,” Felicity promises.

“Yes,” Jules declares with a triumphant little dance. She only stops when Felicity laughs outright at the sight, grinning widely at the sight of her delighted preteen.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jules tells her, diving in for a quick hug. Felicity can’t even care that she undoubtedly has paint on her dress. Open affection initiated by Jules isn’t exactly a daily occurrence and Felicity knows to savor these moments when they happen. She holds on tightly, relishing the feeling of her daughter in her arms and pressing a kiss into her dark, paint-stained hair. But, as much as she’d like to keep holding on, she lets go the instant Jules starts to back off.

But the girl doesn’t go far, just easing back a step and looking a little bashful at her show of emotion.

“You’re welcome,” Felicity tells her. She can’t resist brushing some of the girl’s hair behind her ear. It’s unnecessary, really, but she craves that little bit of contact too much to deny it and Jules seems to accept it readily. “Will’s my son, too. Even if he’s not my son, he’s still my son. You know what I mean. Family trips aren’t the same without him.”

“He’ll be eighteen anyhow,” Jules points out. The reality of that makes Felicity’s eye twitch. And she’d thought Jules was getting old. How is that sweet little boy who’d been so shy about accepting a glove and ball from his dad turning eighteen? “He won’t need Samantha’s permission anymore.”

In truth, Will’s been distancing himself more and more from his mother since he was sixteen. Some of that is just the realities of growing up, but a bigger part is his mom’s marriage. Will hasn’t taken to the adjustments in his family life easily. Samantha wanting them to change their last name to David’s after the wedding had been the last straw for Will, who’d openly refused and declared his intent to take his father’s last name. He’d shown up on their doorstep more than once these last two years after fighting with his mom. To call it a stressful situation would be an understatement, but they’re managing and WIll is well aware that he’s always welcome at either of his homes.

“Permission is one thing,” Felicity tells her daughter slowly. “Consideration is another. Eighteen or not, she’s still his mom. I expect you to come home for Hanukkah when you’re eighteen, you know.”

“Maybe for the last night of it, anyhow,” Jules allows. “If I’m not away at college and still in class.”

Well, there’s a thought. She has no idea when Will’s semester will be over. But, at least he’s going to Starling City University. That makes things a bit easier.

“I can’t handle thinking about you and college right now,” Felicity tells her daughter. “You’re in elementary school.”

“For like… four more months,” Jules laughs.

“Oh, stop it,” Felicity tells her, rubbing at the worry line that’s quickly developing between her eyes. “You’re making me feel old.”

“I mean… if the shoe fits…” Jules grins smugly with a one-shouldered shrug.

“Are you saying I have old lady shoes?” Felicity asks, eyebrows shooting up.

Jules stares down at her mother’s feet for a moment before looking her in the face with grim disbelief. And… okay, so maybe her footwear is a bit more practical these days. Chasing after Nate in Louboutin tends to lead to red scuff marks across her wood floor and a twisted ankle. But she’d worn cute shoes to work, damn it!

“They’re not exactly runway ready, Mom,” Jules tells her dryly. She's clearly been hanging out with her Aunt Thea.

“Harsh,” Felicity replies. She’s not actually insulted, though, and Jules knows it.

“I tell it like it is,” Jules advises in a confidential tone.

“Yeah, that might be genetic,” Felicity admits. It’s not like either she or Thea are known for holding their tongue. “Speaking of family… is your sister really taking a nap?”

“That’s what she said,” Jules agrees. “I haven’t seen her since we got home.”

“Hm… okay,” Felicity agrees. “I’m gonna go check on her. You might want to clean up. I think Grandma is serving dinner soon.”

“Good! I’m starved,” Jules agrees, heading back over to her easel to close up her paints. “See ya down there!”

As if on cue, Felicity’s stomach rumbles. Yeah, they’re definitely staying for dinner at this point. “You’ve got it,” she agrees before heading out the door toward Ellie’s room.

Ellie and Jules’ rooms are almost directly across from each other, but it’s immediately obvious the younger girl isn’t in her room. In all likelihood, Jules’ music had driven her out. The girl can sleep through anything, but falling asleep is another story and it really had been absurdly noisy.

Felicity wanders up the stairs to the third flood, checking Will’s room, Nate’s room, and the guest room, and finding no one. But, she does hear a telltale squeak from the top floor which tells her two things. First of all, Ellie’s tossing about in her bed. Second of all, she needs to tighten the hinges in her bed or there’s likely to be a super embarrassing moment one of these days.

Abandoning the third floor, Felicity heads upstairs to her room, but the sight that greets her is a lot more heartbreaking than she expects.

Ellie’s in the middle of her parents’ bed, shivering under the thick blanket as she sniffles, her little body curling in on itself as she barks out a rattling cough. Her giant pumpkin cat is curled up atop her feet, glaring judgmentally at Felicity in the doorway.

You should have known, the cat is telling her. Fix this.

Nothing like being blamed by a vicious little beast named Mr. Bubbles.

But Ellie’s cat is far from the most important thing right now. “Momma,” Ellie whimpers. She goes to reach a hand out toward her mother, but another cough hits and her arm drops to cover her mouth instead.

“Oh, baby girl,” Felicity sighs, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed to rub a hand across Ellie’s back. “Ellie-bug, why didn’t you tell Grandma that you weren’t feeling well?”

“Jus’ wanna sleep,” Ellie replies with a desperate little sob. “But I can’t sleep ‘cause I keep coughing.”

Her eyes are all glassy and her nose bright red. The poor girl looks miserable and Felicity’s heart just breaks for her. She rubs her daughter’s back through another coughing fit before pressing her inner wrist to Ellie’s forehead and sighing tremendously. “Well, you’ve definitely got a fever.”

“Don’t wanna be sick,” Ellie bemoans. “S’posed to play with Sara tomorrow.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve all just had a change in plans,” Felicity replies, her heart sinking as she speaks. But it’s true. The vineyard with its guest house and jetted hot tub and all the vacation sex will be there later. Vacation or not, she can’t leave when one of her kids is sick. She won’t. “Let me get you some cough syrup and a little juice, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“The cherry kind?” Ellie asks, staring up at her with a sickly, dull-eyed gaze. As if the flavor mattered…

“I think so,” Felicity agrees, leaning down to kiss Ellie’s temple as she rubs a soothing circular pattern against the little girl’s back. “I’ll see what we have and be back in a jiffy.”

“‘Kay,” Ellie agrees as Felicity stands. The sick little girl reaches down and grabs her cat, pulling it up to cuddle like a stuffed animal. The beast is all too happy to comply, but it continues to glare at Felicity the entire time. Mr. Bubbles gives her the creeps, but the ridiculously named cat does absolutely adore Ellie, so Felicity puts up with her.

Felicity grabs a box of tissues and puts them next to Ellie before she heads down one floor to the walk-in linen closet that she also uses as a well-stocked medicine cabinet. Given the realities of their lives, there’s a whole lot more on hand than Advil and she’s just gotten through unlocking the child safety mechanisms when a pair of hands on her hips startles her.

“Hey,” her husband’s voice rumbles with a chuckle as he presses his lips to her neck and pulls her back against him. She jolts before melting a bit, his presence drawing her in as always. “Have I told you lately-” He pauses to kiss just behind her ear. It’s wet and hot, his breath cresting along the shell of her ear and sending a riot of shivers through her body. “...how much I love your mind?”

“Mmm,” she hums, pressing her body back against him as his scruff trails down the length of her neck until he’s kissing her shoulder. “Doesn’t seem like it’s my mind you’re appreciating at the moment.”

One of his hands slides across her pelvis, pulling her backside snugly against him. The needy little noise in the back of his throat is a half groan and half a whimper. It’s her favorite sound in the whole world.

“I’m excellent at multitasking,” he tells her, exhaling a shuddering breath across her collarbone. “For instance, I can drive while tracking down the best chocolate in town.”

“Wha… What?” she asks. For all his love of her mind, it’s not exactly running at full capacity at the moment. After all, how could it with the way he keeps pausing to lightly suck at the skin of her shoulder.

“You have the best ideas,” he replies.

Oh… OH… the abs thing. Oh, she’d had such plans.

She turns in his arms, which is no easy feat considering he’s not about to back off at all and she isn’t really keen on distance at the moment either. There’s a bag next to his feet from her favorite chocolate shop. Her mouth honestly waters just at the sight of it. Though, whether that’s at the idea of the sweet treats inside or the way she knows it tastes when it melts on her husband’s stomach is definitely up for debate.

“Hi,” he tells her again once they’re face-to-face. And, oh but he’s full of boyish glee. It’s so damned charming that she sort of thinks it has to be illegal. But, whatever. She’s always been a bit dubious about being law-abiding anyhow.

“Hey,” she tells him, reaching a hand up to touch the side of his face. Her other hand, however, holds a bottle of kids’ cough syrup. It takes him a moment to register that fact, which isn’t too surprising considering his hands are firmly gripping her ass and his mind is absolutely a few hours away in a beautiful little guest house they definitely won’t be seeing this weekend.

“What’s…” he starts, his voice trailing off as he spots the bottle of practically neon red syrup in her hand.

“I’m really sorry,” she says with a sigh. “Ellie’s sick.”

“She’s okay, though?” he asks, concern draping over his face immediately.

“Fever, chills, cough, stuffy nose,” Felicity sums up. “Probably a bad cold or maybe the flu.”

“Does she need to get to a doctor?” he asks. He’s all ‘dad mode’ on a dime, worried and wanting to make his little girl better. It’s sort of contrasted by the fact that his hands are still on her butt, though.

“I don’t think so,” Felicity tells him. “It would be emergency care this late on a Friday anyhow. We’ll push fluids, set up the humidifier and keep an eye on her fever. She’ll probably be fine on her own in a few days.”

“But we have to stay,” Oliver realizes, his shoulders drooping as he looks down to the bag at his feet.

“Yeah,” Felicity agrees. “We have to stay. I can’t leave her when she’s sick and neither could you.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I’d be a mess the whole time if we did get out the door. I just…” He breaks off with a sigh. She gets it. She’d really been looking forward to this weekend, too.

“There’ll be other weekends,” she points out. “And just as soon as she’s out of our bed - and I change the sheets, because germs - I will absolutely be trying that chocolate with you.”

He gives a half smile at that. “Looking forward to it. I’ll break out the good port.”

“You’d better, mister,” Felicity replies, poking his chest with one finger. “Having chocolate that good with mediocre port would be a sin.”

“If we’re sinning already, I have better things in mind,” Oliver grins. He releases her and takes a step back, his hands clenched tightly like he’s fighting to keep them to himself. “She’s in our bed?”

“Yeah,” Felicity agrees. “Why don’t you go see her? I’ll grab a dosing cup and be up in a second.”

“Okay,” he agrees, grabbing her free hand and kissing her fingers gently before turning to head upstairs to their room. She watches him go, peeking her head out the open linen closet door, sighing at the sight as he jogs up the stairs with a bag of chocolate in hand. It’s a damned fine view. His dress slacks are tailored incredibly well.

It only takes a moment to find the proper dosing cup for the cough syrup and then she’s following in her husband’s path up the stairs. She can hear Ellie’s cough before she’s even halfway up, but it’s the sight that greets her once she gets to her room that really hits her.

Poor Ellie is obviously miserable, but she’s tucked herself into her father’s arms. At seven-and-a-half, she might be a bit big to be cocooned, but that’s absolutely what’s happening anyhow. Oliver’s wrapped around her completely, running his hand up and down her arm as she whimpers and rubs her drippy nose against his sleeve. He doesn’t care in the least about that, though. He just keeps talking to her in a low, soothing voice that Felicity can’t quite hear the words of until his eyes meet hers.

“See? Mommy’s here with medicine.You’ll feel so much better soon,” he promises.

“It’s the cherry kind?” Ellie asks warily. She doesn’t sit up at all, instead wrapping her arms around one of her father’s to secure him close to her.

As if there was a chance of him leaving.  

“Cherry-flavored as ordered,” Felicity agrees, crossing over to her husband and daughter, perching on the side of the bed before uncapping the medicine and pouring Ellie’s dose. “You’re going to have to sit up to drink it though,” she advises.

Oliver scoots up to sitting and pulls Ellie onto his lap. She’s like a ragdoll, limp and exhausted. It feels like an arrow to the heart, seeing her like this, watching the normally bubbly girl completely drained of her usual joy and energy.

“Come on,” Felicity urges, handing her the medicine cup. “One gulp and it’ll be done. And when it kicks in, I bet you’ll sleep.”

It’s the promise of sleep that does it. Ellie takes the medicine and downs it in one gulp with a shudder before handing the plastic cup back to her mom. At the foot of the bed, Mr. Bubbles grumbles her displeasure. Why the cat always hones in on Felicity, she has no idea, but it does. It’s glaring. Cats glare. It’s a thing they do. If they’re Mr. Bubbles, anyhow.

“I’ll go grab you some juice,” Felicity announces, moving to stand. But Ellie’s hand shoots out with surprising speed, grabbing her wrist.

“No, Momma,” Ellie insists. Between the tone and the way the stuffy nose is messing with her pronunciation, she sounds all of two-years-old again and it makes Felicity’s heart ache. “I… I just want a mommy-cuddle.”

Surprise must show on Felicity’s face - Ellie usually turns to her father - because Ellie looks nervous all of a sudden, casting a quick glance at her dad. “I just want my mommy.” It comes out in a sob of emotion. Being sick is clearly messing with her, because Ellie is not usually clingy or prone to tears and it absolutely hits every maternal instinct Felicity has because she wants nothing more than to hold her daughter.

“I’m right here, Ellie-bug,” she promises, settling onto the bed and taking Ellie from Oliver’s arms. The little girl breathes out a shuddering sob of relief against the crook of her neck. Felicity’s shoulder is wet with Ellie’s tears, but the only reason she cares about that in the least is that it’s likely to make the poor girl’s nose more stuffed up. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you, baby girl.”

“Not gonna leave?” Ellie mutters out against her skin. She shivers, but her skin is warm to the touch, so Felicity draws a blanket around them both.

“Nothing in the world could make me leave you right now, Ellie-bug,” she promises. “Nothing at all.”

“Me either,” Oliver chimes in. His hand cups the entire back of Ellie’s head as his thumb strokes through her loose blonde curls.

“Oh,” Ellie says, looking back at her dad. “But… you could maybe go far enough to get me juice?” she suggests.

Oliver laughs at that, taking in the hopeful look on her face. “I won’t even water it down,” he vows.

“I’m seven,” Ellie reminds him. “I can handle my sugar now, Daddy.”

“Sure you can,” he chuckles, kissing her forehead before scooting off the bed. “I’ll be right back with some juice after I let your Grandma Donna know what’s going on. Did you two need anything else?”

“Mind grabbing me a plate of rogan josh and a glass of water?” Felicity asks. “And maybe some soup and crackers for Ellie, if she feels up to it.”

“Maybe a little,” Ellie allows. “If we have the good kind.”

“She means the club crackers,” Felicity clarifies as Ellie nods and wriggles herself closer. “Not the low sodium or low fat ones. She won’t eat those.”

“Got it,” Oliver confirms, leaning in to kiss his wife briefly over their daughter’s head. “Text me if you think of anything else.”

She smiles and nods, but her focus returns wholly to Ellie. The medicine hasn’t kicked in yet, but she’s relaxed more and that seems to have made a slight difference. Just being held by her mother is helping, if only a little bit.

Felicity starts humming something as she rocks Ellie gently. She’s not entirely sure what the song is at first, just a tune that comes to mind. But after a moment, she realizes it’s Sweet Baby James. An old song, now. Hell, it had been old when she was born, but she remembers her mother’s James Taylor records from her childhood. And, when she’d been at a loss for nursery songs after Jules was born, she’d found herself singing that in an attempt to calm her baby’s cries. It had carried through with Ellie and then with Nate. But she hasn’t sung it in more than a year now. Even Nate is too old for lullabies.

But the old song does the trick as well now as it had when her babies had been swaddled and rocked to soothe their wails. Ellie relaxes bonelessly against her, some part of her attuned to the role that song has played her whole life long.

“I don’t like being sick,” Ellie bemoans a moment later when the tune reaches its natural end. A cough hits her a moment later and she tenses up as it wracks her body.

“I don’t like you being sick either,” Felicity tells her, rubbing her tense back muscles. The poor girl is definitely going to be sore from all this coughing.

But the look Ellie gives her isn’t one of aches and pains; it’s one of pure guilt. And that throws Felicity a bit because she hadn’t expected it in the least.

“I’m really sorry,” Ellie tells her.

“For what?” Felicity asks, searching her face.

“For ruining your weekend,” Ellie says. Her eyes are watery again and her nose is painfully red.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Felicity tells her. “Not a bit of this is your fault, Ellie-bug.”

“But it’s Valentine’s Day!” Ellie protests with a wail. “That’s a special holiday. You’re supposed to spend it with the person you love the very most.”

“Oh, Ellie,” Felicity sighs, pulling her in for a tighter hug and rocking her slightly again. “There will be plenty of other times your dad and I can take a weekend away to ourselves. But I already am with the people I love most. I have you and Daddy and Jules and Nate and, when he undoubtedly sneaks over later this weekend - because we both know he will - I’ll have Will, too. I love all of you so much and nobody is someone I love ‘most.’ Love’s not the kind of thing you can measure. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Good,” Ellie says with tremendous relief. “‘Cause Jules said that I loved Daddy most and that got me really upset because I thought she meant I didn’t love you enough. But, I do! I promise!”

“I have never once doubted that, Ellie-bug,” Felicity promises her, stroking Ellie’s cheek. “Not once. You and Daddy have a special relationship, just like you and I do. It doesn’t have to be the same. It shouldn’t even be the same. That’s part of what makes it so special. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees. “Cause I do love you loads, Momma.”

“I love you loads, too,” Felicity assures her with a smile. “Is that why you wanted me instead of Daddy? You were worried about this?”

“No,” Ellie says with a sigh, tucking her legs up underneath herself on Felicity’s lap. The cat makes a grumble of displeasure and Felicity can’t resist the urge to stick her tongue out at the furry beast. Take that, Mr. Bubbles. You’ve been replaced. “I just wanted my mommy.”

“Well,” Felicity says, watching as the girl’s eyes droop shut. She’s just moments away from sleep. “You’re in luck, Ellie-bug, because you’ve got me.”

*

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