#hope this set means SOMETHING to SOMEONE... if you sieved out the contents of my skull this is the pulpy mass you would find stewing inside

[joansblondells]

STRANGER THINGS 4's new character Chrissy Cunningham has a 'do that might look familiar. Her hair design was inspired by Olivia Newton-John’s character Sandy in GREASE—very American good girl and classic cheerleader—but with very ‘80s bangs. - NetflixFilm on twitter

Chrissy Cunningham in Netflix's Stranger Things S4 (2022) + Sandy Olsson in Grease (1978)

+BONUS

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 31 ~The Unravelling~

A phone rang sometime in the early hours of the morning. Claire knew it wasn't hers, and she remembered Jamie had turned his off. Thinking he must have a second phone she didn't know of, she didn't stir, too bone-tired after they'd made love twice more during the night. She felt Jamie get up, heard his footsteps as he switched it off, then he returned to bed, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her in. His chest against her back was warm and soothing, as Jamie softly kissed the nape of her neck. She smiled and snuggled closer, sleep pulling her back under once more.

When she woke, his arm was hot and heavy around her, and a hand possessively cupped her breast. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and she squinted at the bedside clock, to see the time. It was eight-fifteen, and in their books, they'd slept late. She carefully slipped out from underneath Jamie's hold and walked into the bathroom. 

After a quick shower and pulling on Jamie's shirt, she made her way to the kitchen, retrieving the ingredients for pancakes and hiding the pizza boxes left by Rabbie. She remembered Geillis' love for deep-fried leftover pizzas and shook her head in disgust. Her friend had told her once it was the ultimate Scottish hangover and booze food. Ugh! No thank you, she muttered to herself, thinking of the high-fat content, not to mention the calories. 

She was about to scoop some flour when Jamie hollered her name from the bedroom.

"What?" she shouted.

"Come back to bed!"

"No! I'm making breakfast!" she yelled out, tipping the flour into the sieve. 

He bellowed something incoherent, but she ignored him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. A few minutes later, his feet hit the floor, and she heard him trudge out of the bedroom. "Morning," he mumbled, his voice still laced with sleep. 

Holding a knife on the one hand, and an egg on the other, she turned around to face him. Her eyes did a full sweep of his body, and she grinned. He stood there naked, his right hand absentmindedly cupping his balls. Seeing Jamie with no clothes on and after the memorable encounter with Rabbie last night, Claire mused it must be a Fraser trait to walk bare around the house. Hair tousled and face all soft in the morning light, Jamie looked charmingly boyish, relaxed and free of the worries he'd harboured last night. "Morning sleepy head!"

"What are ye doing? I thought we were going to talk," he recalled, yawning loudly and clasping his hands behind his back to stretch. 

She winced when his joints began to pop and crack. God, I hate that sound! "Breakfast first and then we talk," she replied, her eyes purposely averting his impressive display of taut muscles and hard planes, and refocusing on the task at hand.

"Can't we do that in bed?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

As tempting as he and the suggestion were and so adorable looking he was right now, she steeled her resolve. "Nope," she answered, cracking an egg into the sifted flour.

He grunted in response as he brushed past her to grab a pair of cups and saucers from the cupboard and switch on the coffee machine.

She turned to look at him and pointed a wooden spoon in his direction. "Oh no, you don't, Fraser! You can't have breakfast if you don't put some clothes on."

Holding her gaze, a slow mischievous smile spread across his face as he wandered over to her spot and planted a kiss on the side of her neck. "Why is that?" he asked, his hands going under the shirt.

"It's bloody distracting," Claire mumbled, ignoring the hot breath on her skin and concentrating on pouring the milk and melted butter onto the flour.

"Mission accomplished then," he murmured, his hands sliding down and slipping under the waistband of her panties.

"Jamie, I'm serious!" she huffed, putting down the whisk and closing her eyes. She started this day vowing not to be sidetracked by their sexual chemistry since neither of them understood the definition of a quickie. Even though their lovemaking was their way of finding themselves back to each other and reconnecting, they still needed to talk to clear the air and get things off their chest. Well, at least that was the case with her. Addressing the elephant in the room was the way forward, and she needed to see this through. The few times they'd been together, Jamie had looked drawn, tired and maybe troubled and she'd put it down to her obvious disappointment whenever work got in-between them. They had enough distractions in their lives without putting her doubts into the melee, and she didn't know when they would have a chance to have a morning to themselves again, especially with the development of Jamie's rugby academy in full swing. It was imperative to keep Jamie at arm's length for now if she was to achieve her plan.

His chest rumbled against her back as he let out a chuckle and squeezed her hips. "Fine, I'll put some clothes on if that will make ye happy," he conceded, slapping her buttocks before backing away. "And meanwhile put that loaded sexy bum away. It's bloody distracting too."

Unbelievable!  She let out a sigh of relief and waited until his footfalls faded before continuing to make their breakfast. Setting the crêpe pan on medium heat, she allowed her thoughts to twist around themselves, and when the most pessimistic outcomes surfaced, she immediately dismissed them. She'd always reminded herself that she's a fiercely independent person, but when loving someone as much as she loved Jamie, a certain amount of doubt came with the territory. She'd never adequately dealt with her insecurities, and thoughts of her lacking kept prodding at old wounds, making them hurt.

After she'd stacked the pancakes and prepared the coconut yoghurt, granola and nectarine for toppings, she prepped the breakfast bar and quickly got dressed. She was just pouring some orange juice into their glasses when Jame came out of the bedroom freshly showered, shaven and dressed in a black long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. 

"Mmmm, my kind of breakfast," he smiled, plonking down on the stool and helping himself to the pancakes. 

She'd made enough portions to feed the whole street knowing Jamie had a beyond healthy appetite. And even before she sat down to eat, he already downed two glasses of orange juice and drank two-thirds of his coffee.

Minutes later, Jamie pushed his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He ended up eating everything whereas she settled for one pancake, a granola and coconut yoghurt. If she'd eaten as much as him, she knew for sure she wouldn't be able to move for a week. As it was, she barely made it through her portion of granola before she raised the white flag.

Jamie pointed to what's left on her plate. "Are ye done with that, Sassenach?"

She rolled her eyes and handed her plate to him, and then rolled them again when he finished it in one mouthful.

"Where the hell do you put all those calories?" she asked, incredulous. "Looking at you, I'd say you only have two per cent body fat."

He grinned. "I've got hollowed legs."

She crossed her arms and frowned. "I probably did too at one point, but now they're filled out, and I have a suspicious feeling they're still expanding."

"Dinnae do that, Sassenach. Ye're perfect."

She saluted him with her cup of coffee. "I'm not really fussed with my body. It's just that you're a walking, breathing wonder, that's all. Seriously, you have a metabolism of a hyperactive horse."

He laughed out loud. "Speaking of horses," he said, "One day I'll take ye horse riding and trekking through parts of the Highlands, and then we can stay a few nights in some remote bed and breakfast cottage. There are incredible views and locations near Tomich I ken ye'll love."

As he piled their plates and got up, she went to refill their coffee. "But that's not going to happen anytime soon, is it?" She placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of him as he loaded the dishwasher.

"I could disagree with ye, but it would be a lie. I ken we haven't been spending as much time together as I'd liked to. But that's all going to change very soon." He cleared his throat. "I just need a few weeks, Sassenach and then I can fully concentrate on the academy and on us. No more traipsing across the country." He paused for a bit and stared into space. "It's good Willie is in construction, and he's the one designing and refurbishing the complex, so it's been a great help he's overlooking things for me while I'm away."

She cleared the breakfast bar and wiped the top. "I didn't mean to sound like I'm complaining, Jamie. But I have to admit it's been hard not seeing you for long periods." Then she leaned back against the counter and watched him work, sipping her coffee. "I understand that us ...our relationship is new territory for you and I'm still grappling with the idea that you're idolised by a lot of women. Throw in long separation that sometimes lasts a week at a time, we have a recipe for disaster." She took a deep breath and put down her cup. "What I'm trying to say is, we need to find some semblance of balance. The last few times I've seen you, you look withdrawn, beat as if you're chasing something unattainable and I worry what it's doing to us."

He placed a detergent tablet in the dishwasher dispenser and loaded the cutleries into the cutlery rack, and when he's done, he shook his head. "I ken all that, and it's no' what I hoped for us either. I've been so focused trying to tie loose ends so that I could concentrate on the academy and us, but something pulls me the other way, and I get lost for a moment, and I forget everything. It's like I'm needed everywhere, and I'm running around in circles doing my bit to finish off something but never quite accomplishing anything."

Her heart sank. "Jamie, I'm sorry for pressuring you to take this morning off when you could be ..."

"No, Sassenach. No." He walked over to her and braced her face in his hands. "We both need this. And you're more important than any of the things happening right now, but there are things I need to do ...obligations if ye will. But I need you to trust me."

A thought started to niggle at her. "Jamie ...is it the funds for the complex that's bothering you? Have you taken on something more than you can handle?"

Jamie's face fell. "Christ, Sassenach ...no, not at all. It's just that I need time to sort things out ...endorsements that I have already signed a contract for and then that's it. Three weeks tops. And then we can put the celebrity world behind us." When he looked away for a brief second, she could tell he was holding something from her back.

She searched his face, wondering if she was missing something. "You know you can trust me too, don't you?" she asked gently, not wanting to push too hard.

He took both of her hands in his. "I trust ye with all of me. Ye're my world, and I ken it's hard, but I'm doing everything I can so we can be together. I've taken ye for granted, thinking everything will be fine while I focused on things that I thought are important. And then somehow yesterday I had some sort of epiphany that ye're slipping away." He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "That scared the shit out of me. I was arrogant, thinking I could have it all and that ye'll always be there. But I realised all I've worked for would mean nothing if ye're not by my side. Sometimes I feel like leaving everything behind and giving up on my dreams of the academy and taking ye somewhere where we can start all over again ..."

Claire shook her head. "No Jamie ...if you give up on your dreams, you'll only end up losing a part of yourself that makes you who you are. And I don't want you to do that. But I don't want you to lose yourself banging your head on a door that won't open. What I mean is you can't do everything and still come out whole. It's like you are spending so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, how much you have always loved to swim. You're starting an academy, and I understand all these self-promotions on the media is giving your project the much-needed exposure. But sometimes I can't help but wonder if ..." She glanced away for a few seconds before looking him straight in the eyes. "...if the celebrity status and the mass adulation is important to you too. I know you've already said you want to leave that part of your life for good but ..."

"No, God, no ...Sassenach. All that pap walk and media presence don't mean a thing. Sure, I'm grateful to all my fans. Without them, I'm just yer regular rugby bloke. But there are things I need to fix, and I've already agreed to do a few commercial shots and photocalls for men's magazine. All I'm asking for is three weeks, Sassenach. I promise after that we'll have more time for each other."

She tried to pull her hands away from his hold, but he did not let go. Instead, she unseeingly stared past his shoulder, forcing herself to look anywhere but at him. "It's difficult for me to say this, but I can't shake the fear that you'll break this promise. You've broken a total of five these last few weeks." She bowed her head feeling like an utter fool for sounding whiny, but she pressed on, this time looking at him squarely in the eyes. "I understand it's all very hectic at the moment, and the last thing you need is a girlfriend putting more pressure on you on top of all the work you're doing, but I need to understand what's going on. It's not your absence that was bothering me ...well, maybe a little. What's bothering me is, I feel like I can't see the whole picture and I feel left out. Perhaps it has to do with us not communicating, and I was left to wonder when I'll see you again." 

Jamie glanced down at their intertwined hands, his expression conflicted. His jaw was tensed, and when he looked like he's about to say something, he stopped himself.

She let out a humourless laugh. "God, I must sound pathetic."

He took a few cleansing deep breaths and looked at her. "No, ye're not! I've been so wrapped up with this project, having ye in my life, and the other obligations that come with it …I didn't even stop to think to ask ye what ye felt about the whole thing. Fuck I didn't think at all, period. I'm such a prick."

She was about to disagree when he stopped her, placing a finger against her lips. "Sassenach, whatever is happening right now ...this is on me. Not ye. I dinnae want ye to feel like ye're a burden. If anything, you are my rock, and you're the one that's keeping me together when there are days I feel like I'd disintegrate into pieces. My life has been one big mess ..." He shook his head like he's angry at himself and then her phone rang.

Ah, damn ...bad timing!  She hesitated for a bit and then stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. "I'm so sorry, but I have to take that. It's probably my uncle." When he nodded, she ran to the hallway to get her phone.

It was an unknown number; nevertheless, she answered it. "Hello?"

"Claire, dear? It's me, Ellen, Jamie's mother. I'm so sorry to bother ye, but I've been trying to call Jamie all morning, but I keep getting the unavailable voice message. Willie has given me yer phone number. I think Jamie turned off his phone. I ken he's a very busy lad but do ye ken by any chance where I could reach him? It sort of important."

"Oh!" Suddenly she felt guilty for being the reason Jamie had turned off his phone.  Oh, dear, God!  "Hang on a minute, Ellen. He's right here." She quickly rushed back to the kitchen and handed her phone to Jamie, mouthing it was his mother to him.

Jamie took the phone and walked over to the window. She watched from the corner of her eye the way he ran a hand through his hair, his back muscles bunching as if he was bracing for something. 

He glanced over to her. "It's alright ma, I will sort it out."

Claire looked away and focused on putting things back in the cupboard and rewiping the countertops. 

"Aye, dinnnae fash, I have everything under control," he said quietly as he arched his head back and stared at the ceiling. He kept his voice low, but she could hear the strain in his tone. "I love ye too, ma. Aye, I will do."

He hung up and allowed his head to drop before walking towards her.

She took a breath and summoned a smile. "Is everything alright?" she asked as Jamie handed back the phone to her.

"Aye," he sighed, taking her in his arms and planting a kiss on her forehead. When he drew away, his shoulders loosened up a bit but kept his hands on her hips. "My ma needs me to run a few errands for her. But I would like to continue this ...our talk. There are things I should have told ye, but I don't have time to get into it now. Want to sleep here tonight? Or if ye wish, I can come over at yer place."

"I have a late shift, remember?" she reminded him.

"Oh, aye that's right." He pressed a finger and thumb to his eye sockets. "How about I make ye breakfast tomorrow when ye're done with work? And then we'll talk some more."

She nodded and forced a smile. Something was troubling Jamie, and she wished they had more time. Tomorrow would have to do. "I'll come here tomorrow morning, right after my shift. It's nearer from the hospital, and your bed is snugglier than mine," she joshed, trying to lighten the mood.

He glanced at his watch and cursed under his breath. "Ah fuck, I have to go." He took her face in both hands and kissed her like he didn't want to let her go. And when he finally released her, he ran his thumb over her lower lip. "See you tomorrow morning?"

She sighed. "I'll be here."

"Good." He smiled before grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out. 

As soon as the door closed, her phone rang.  Geillis! A breath of fresh sarcasm!

Making her way to the bedroom, she shook off the tension on her shoulders and answered the call. "Hey, you!"

"Hiya chick!" Geillis greeted breathlessly. "First things first ...I ken ye dinnnae like fuss on yer birthday, but Lamby wants to break yer wee family tradition and proposed a surprise party. I ken that would do yer head in if ye were caught off guard; hence I'm giving ye a heads-up."

Claire stopped in her tracks and groaned. It was true she never celebrated her birthday ever since she found out, at the age of ten, her parents died on her fifth birthday. It never felt right to celebrate on her parents' death anniversary. "Good God, what is uncle Lamb thinking? He never liked parties or any form of celebration. What the hell, he doesn't even buy me a birthday or a Christmas card. Has he gone mad?"

"I ken. Lamby took me by surprise, too, when he called me up, trying to hook me into making yer surprise party. Maybe his wee jaunt at the hospital scared the hell out of him, and he thinks life is short and la-di-dah."

"Still, very odd and so unlike him to do that. Perhaps you're right. The trip to the hospital must have really frightened him."

"And ye ken what's odder still?"

"Spill."

"I just saw his neighbour, Mrs Crook at Tesco. Ye ken how she rabbits on about other people's business in Lamby's building ..."

"Yeah, she does like to gossip. I don't really take much notice of her. She's kind though to my uncle, always dropping off food at his apartment."

"Weel, she told me yer Jamie has visited Lamby a couple of times these past few weeks."

"Wot?" Claire's mind started to race in circles, going over through her memory bank, looking for an explanation as to why Jamie had spent time with her uncle despite his hectic schedule. Not that she had anything against it. In fact, she liked the idea of them bonding together. But how many times had Jamie said he missed her, but couldn't come over to spend a little time with her, citing the amount of work he was buried in?

"Apparently while ye've been hankering for some Jamie-love, yer boyfriend was busy having coffee and brandy with yer uncle."

"Coffee and brandy?"

"That's what Mrs Crook said. She walked in one day to drop off a Sheperd's pie and there they were in the kitchen having coffee and brandy. She thought it was sweet of yer boyfriend to come visiting when Frank had never stepped into Lamby's apartment when ye were together. And Mrs Crook told me it happened at least twice. What do ye suppose does that all mean?"

Claire could only shake her head, flabbergasted and at a loss for words.

"Chick, ye still there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm still here," she breathed. "I don't know what to think. Jamie never told me."

"I didnae think so." Geillis was silent for a long while before she spoke again. "I dinnae think it's a bad thing yer Jamie visiting yer uncle. Maybe they're colluding with one another about yer birthday."

"Oh for the love of God!"

"Dinnae fash, hen. I'm sure Jamie has something up his sleeves, and it's supposed to be a surprise. And I ken how much ye hate birthday parties. So when he does surprise ye, please look shocked!"

Claire laughed. "At the rate with all the things happening right now, I think I'll manage to look surprised on the day. Thanks for telling me."

"Weel, as I said dinnae fash. I'm quite sure it's all very innocent even if it seems like they're up to nae good. Anyway, I have to run. I'll see ye when I see ye.

After they signed off, she threw herself into chores around Jamie's apartment to keep her mind from over-thinking. She stripped off the bedsheets and loaded them into the washing machine, and while she was at it, she did the same for the guest bedroom. Even though she had a night shift coming up, she knew it was useless to attempt to take a nap. Her brain would simply go into over-drive thinking about her conversation with Jamie and Geillis. If she were going to have any chance of keeping herself sane, she would have to make sure she and Jamie continued their talk tomorrow morning.

Looking for fresh linens for the beds, she went through Jamie's wardrobe until she found what she was looking for. Everything was neat and tidy, and she wondered if Jamie did the laundry himself or if he hired someone to do it. She grabbed a pile of bedsheets, and as she drew it out, she managed to extract a heavy leather document envelope. Before she could catch it, it fell on the floor, spilling the contents everywhere.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!

She hunkered down to gather all the papers that had fallen out, carefully peeling them off the floor so as not to crease them. Before putting them back into the leather encasing, she checked first if they were supposed to be in a particular order. Seeing they were only random photocopies of documents and bank statements, she began to neatly stack them before putting them back where they belonged. As she gathered the last of the papers, she noticed one had Forbes' name scrawled with Jamie's handwriting. Intrigued, she took a closer look. It was a bank statement of money transferred to Forbes' bank account from Jamie, and it was a considerable amount. She checked the date and was surprised the payment was made three days ago.  What the hell?  Piqued, she examined the other papers, and there were two other payments conducted in the last few weeks.

When she was done looking over the statements, she just sat there on the floor, dazed and confused, trying to force her brains to make sense of what she had discovered.

She went several times more through the documents that had Forbes' name, and still, she couldn't come up with an explanation as to why Jamie was paying him money. The evil bastard was in jail, and if anything, it should be Forbes compensating Jamie.

She got up to grab her phone from the bedside table, hesitated for a few heartbeats, slapped her forehead a couple of times before she tapped the screen and called up the hospital. When she got through, she informed the person on the other line that she wasn't feeling well enough to come to work. It wasn't really a lie because all of a sudden she was feeling queasy and out of sorts.

..........

Claire padded over to the window and looked down at the street below. At the end of the road, partially hidden in the shadows of a huge oak tree was Jamie's car. He must have just parked as his headlights were still on.

She walked back to the living area and sat down on the recliner, her gaze dropping onto the bank statements on the coffee table. It had been a warm day for Autumn, but now that it was early evening, it was much colder. She hadn't bothered turning on the heating, too deep in her thoughts to notice the cold.

Moments later, she heard the door unlock, open and close. She stilled her heart, waiting for Jamie to come into the room. When he finally walked in and saw her, his posture immediately tensed, but worry immediately replaced the surprise on his expression. 

"Sassenach, ye're not working!" When his eyes landed on the papers on the coffee table, he stared at it for a few seconds. Then he walked over to where she was sitting and tried to reach for her, but she remained immobile.

"Please sit Jamie. We're going to talk." 

With a large intake of breath, he nodded in understanding and took a seat opposite her, his hands rubbing his face, looking exhausted and worn.

"I wasn't snooping into your things," she explained as if it mattered how she found the bank statements. "It fell out of your wardrobe as I was getting some fresh bedsheets."

"I was going to tell ye about it, I swear," he said, dropping his head. "We've had so little time and so many things going on."

He looked so beaten, she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and forget about those damn bank papers. Instead, she stayed put, the need to resolve the situation paramount. "What's happening, Jamie? Why are you paying Forbes such a substantial amount of money?"

He puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. "I've imagined having this conversation with ye a million times in my head, and whichever way I chose to word it, there didn't seem to be an easy way of telling ye. But I didn't anticipate I'd feel like throwing up." He ran a hand at the back of his neck and took deep breaths. "Everything I've ever told ye, about my past and what I feel for ye are all true. It was never my intention to lie, but I did. A lie is a lie even if it's by omission." He opened his hands as if by looking at it, he'd find the words he was looking for. "Those bank statements ye found, it is what it looks like. I am paying back every penny I owe Forbes."

She swallowed hard, keeping her emotions in check. "I've gathered that much."

"Christ, where do I start?"

"How about from the beginning?"

He stared at her, his eyes clouding as if he was going back in time to relive the past. And then he sighed. "When Forbes first approached me," he began, "I was a young lad, very naive in so many ways. I got caught up with fans' adulation and all the sensationalism after being awarded rookie of the year. My uncle Dougal, who's a former player himself, told me to grab my newfound fame by the balls and enjoy it. I felt like a fucking superstar, and I believed every hype that was written about me. Forbes took advantage of my youth and lack of experience and approached me and told me he could make me even bigger and better. He invited me to his office for a meeting, and with his promise in my head, I accepted."

She nodded as the memories of seeing him play rugby for the first time as a professional flooded her mind. Like all the supporters that had watched the game that day, she had been impressed with his performance. And when she'd seen his close-up photo in the social media, she'd fallen in love with the idea of him.

"So I went to his office where he had all sorts of cameras setup. He'd explained it was for my portfolio. They took a few headshots and plenty of body shots, making me pose in all sort of ways. And then he told me to take my shirt off." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I was confused as to why that was necessary, but nevertheless, I complied. When I couldnae execute the poses instructed by the cameraman, Forbes would come to me and show me how to angle my body, his hand often touching me in places where he shouldnae. And then he told me to undo my jeans' button. When I hesitated for a bit, he reassured me the pants werenae coming off, and that they just needed a shot with my boxer shorts on display to highlight my abs. I did what I was told as I've seen such poses for Calvin Klein campaigns. But when the cameraman requested to lower the zipper, Forbes was immediately there doing it for me. And that was when he fondled me down there."

Her heart faltered. "Oh, Jamie, he didn't..."

He shook his head and continued. "After that, nothing more happened. Even though I wanted to punch Forbes on the face and hated the way he touched me, I blocked the thoughts and presumed it was some sort of test. I went home and thought nothing more it, and five days later I had a call from an Irn Bru rep asking me to do a TV advert for them. I was so excited I immediately agreed, signed the contract with Forbes as my agent and before I knew it, I had a lump sum of a hundred grand, sitting in my bank account. It was easy money, and the shoot didn't last for more than a day."

Without warning, Jamie got up, walked to drinks' cabinet and poured them a whisky. Her eyes followed his every move and nuance in his expression. She could tell, he was trying to keep it together. When he handed her the drink, he returned to his seat.

"Over the next few months, more endorsements came. As Forbes had promised, I became even more well-known and a household name representing all sorts of consumer brands. Money started pouring in, which became quite handy as our family's distillery was still suffering from the brunt of the recession. The family business was heavily indebted then, so I poured my cash into it to save it from bankruptcy, but it wasn't enough. When Forbes found out about our family problem, he offered to help. I refused his offer at first because I still remembered the way he'd inappropriately touched me, and something told me, he would want something in return. As if he knew what I was thinking, he told me straight that his offer for help came with no hidden agenda." Jamie shrugged. "Forbes was a smooth talker ye ken, and I didnae have much experience with people like him. So I agreed to accept his help, and our distillery was saved in the nick of time."

Claire remembered reading about the Frasers' distillery's financial troubles, and the bidding war between Laphroaig and Lagavulin distillery to take over. But she never had a chance to find out what happened next as the story was buried not long after.

"I realised there, and then, I didnae want to be indebted to Forbes because I've always felt there was something dodgy about him even though he'd taken a shine to me. He didnae make any more moves after that fondling incident, but there were hints he wanted to get into my pants. He was careful though and wasn't overtly obvious about it, perhaps he was worried about sexual harassment lawsuits. So I started taking on more PR stunts for brands that returned bigger money so I could clear the loan quicker. It paid off, and little by little, I worked to pay Forbes back. With my parents' help, I made some wise investments on the side, and they kept me grounded for the most part, unfazed by the attention I was getting. I guess Forbes hadnae seen that coming. He thought I'd be out partying after my newfound fame and throwing my money left and right. But I didnae do that. I concentrated on being the best as I could in rugby, and after I became the youngest player to captain a team for Scotland, I received a pay rise. And that helped a lot in going towards what I owed."

Claire smiled at the thought of a younger Jamie, pouring everything into perfecting his craft. She'd always known of his dedication to the sports he loved so much, and over time he became well known for his work ethics, the one thing that stood out whenever she read articles of people talking fondly about him. 

Jamie downed his whisky before he continued, unintentionally slamming the glass on the coffee table. "I had a feeling Forbes was pissed off with me for not being more dependent on him and that I had my life all figured out. He apparently thought if I was reliant on his help, I'd be more receptive to his subtle seductions. Then one day, Forbes held a party in his mansion and invited all his talents and clients. I wasnae interested in going, but I went anyway ...maybe partly because I was grateful for the things he'd done for me despite his indiscretions. It ended up being a great party, and I met a lot of interesting people. I began to relax, and before I knew it, I was drunk as a skunk." He got up to get the bottle of whisky and refilled himself and her glass a healthy measure. When he sat back down, he leaned back on the sofa and squeezed his eyes shut. He stayed like that for a long while.

"Jamie, are you alright?" she asked quietly, watching his throat work.

"Sorry. Just tired." He straightened up and braced his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching the whisky tumbler. This time he stared into his drink as if he could see the memories unfolding there, the muscles on his shoulders and biceps more pronounced, unveiling a pent up tension waiting to unsnap. "I woke up the following morning, and I was in one of his guest bedrooms. I didnae have my clothes on, and I had nae idea how I became that way. Forbes walked in as I woke up, and had a bloody smug smile on him. My first thought immediately I'd been buggered."

Claire stifled a gasp, and her heart floundered. She was about to go to him, but he shook his head, his eyes telling her he needed to see this through on his own.

"I've heard a lot of stories about buggery in the men's locker room and one of the things I learned about it, yer arse would be sore, and ye wouldnae be able to sit on it for days if that happened. That wasnae the case in my state, but still, I wasnae too sure, and I was too angry and troubled to feel anything. Anway, Forbes sat by my bedside and showed me a printed photo, and in it, I was naked and lying on my stomach, and I had an arm across a naked man's body, but the identity of the man was not visible, but mine was. I had a strong feeling it had been staged. And if there's anything I've learned about Forbes beside his obsession for me, he was obsessed with money. I asked him what that was all about. He said it was just a little something to keep his investments in line, referring to me. I knew then if that photo ever got out to the media, I was done. And my sponsors and the brands I represented would drop me like a hot coal, disabling me to earn money to pay back Forbes, meaning I'd be more susceptible to his advances. I dinnae care about my reputation, but I was more worried about dragging my family's name through the mud. They would think I've hoored myself to save the distillery. That would have devasted my ma and da."

"Oh, God, Jamie ..."

"I was frightened, but I tried my best to keep my wits about me. So I did the first thing that came to my mind. I offered to buy the photo, and after a while, we agreed on a price. So I paid."

Claire descended into silence, feeling like they were a high-wired duo who'd just come plummeting down to earth. But she still had questions.

"Did you try to get help? Have you told anyone?"

Jamie shook his head. "After I left Forbes' house, I went to see Ned. I told him about my concern that I might have been taken advantage of without telling him where I'd been and about the bribe. I trusted Ned, but he's been a family friend for so long, and he's like a father to me, so I didnae mentioned Forbes' name knowing what he might do. I was already ashamed and embarrassed, having to tell him the predicament I was in and I didnae want him thinking I've sold my soul to Forbes. Ned knew the hospital was a no-go as there were that possibility stories would leak out. So he accompanied me to a discreet private clinic he knew of. I didnae care about the money, but the thought of Forbes doing things to me made my stomach turn inside out. As it turned out, I was untouched except for traces of semen on my back. Forbes probably wanked himself, while watching me knocked out cold. I guess he was smart enough not to touch me because of my family's connection to the best legal team in Scotland. And I dinnae think he would have jeopardised his name and his business for that as he'd often said enough I was too much of a loose cannon. Even though nothing really happened, I still felt violated, so later on that day, in the middle of the winter, I purged myself by jumping into a freezing loch."

Claire winced, thinking he could have suffered hypothermia with no one around to help him and died. "But why did you stay with him after all these years?"

"I was so young and naive back then. I stayed because I thought Forbes was my only means of a way out. I kept him sweet with all the commissions he was getting from me. He had connections to big brand names that would guarantee me lucrative bookings. All that time, my family and the distillery was at the forefront of my mind, and I still had a long way to go before I've paid off every penny I owed."

"He's in jail now, Jamie. You don't need to keep paying him," she reminded him. "Besides, you had those properties in London that could have easily wiped out the loan. Why didn't you use them?"

He let out a humourless laugh. "He doesnae ken about my investments. Only ye, my family and a handful of trusted friends know. If I'd paid him in all in one go, he would have gone snooping into my affairs, and that wasn't any of his business. It'll be a cold day in hell before he found out anything about my financial situation. I've already paid him for getting rid of the photo, but there is still a small amount I need to pay for the distillery's loan. The loan he gave to our family was no secret. A few days ago, I cleared the distillery's debt, that's why mother called earlier wondering if there was some mistake. So the only obligation left is my debt to Forbes. I will not have the rugby academy tainted with his money, that's why I'm returning the money he loaned me, and that's why I'd been taking on other works."

Staring out into space, he took a breather before he continued. "After I was forced to early retirement, I was devastated, not only because I wouldn't be able to play rugby anymore, but Forbes has been piling on bookings I wasnae interested in. It's not because of the money, but they were just any shite endorsements to keep the cash flowing. Thinking I'm nothing more than a cash cow for him, I fell into heavy depression and started drinking. Christ, there were days I wanted to end it all because I couldn't see any way out ..."

"Jamie ..."

"...and then ye came along. You were this light shining in every corner of my darkness." He gazed at her, his beautiful blue eyes filled with such sadness and sincerity, she had to swallow the lump forming in her throat. "And when ye offered yersel' to be my pretend girlfriend to change my image and get the network job, it was like the universe was giving me a second chance to redeem myself. I wanted to keep ye a secret from Forbes for as long as I could, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I could tell he saw ye as a threat when he began to see I was coming out of the hole I've dug myself into. "

Claire crossed over to his seat and knelt in front of him. She took his hands in hers and kissed his fingers. "Forbes got away with so many things, and God knows what those things were." She shuddered at the thought. "I still think Ned could have helped you if you've told him everything that happened."

"Aye. I thought that too. So I told Ned everything that happened all those years ago after Forbes was sent to jail," he admitted, brushing his lips across her cheek. "I ken Forbes could be vindictive, and I was afraid he might do something, knowing he's got loyal cronies working for him." He lifted her in one swift move and settled her on his lap, urging her to lay her head on his shoulder. "That's why I was so mad at ye for going after him. And so mad at myself for not telling ye everything that went on with Forbes. I did try many times, I swear to God, but I was too embarrassed because it would look like I didn't have the spine and courage to leave Forbes' clutches."

She slipped her arms around his neck, drawing him gently in. There's a twinge inside of her pushing against her rib cage - it was a mixture of sadness for the boy he once was and pride for the man he turned out to be. But there's also that spark of hope and promise that's been stifled by problems, trials and doubts, slowly stirring back to life as the picture began to form and make sense. "Jamie ...all these years you've carried all that burden on your own. You saved your family's business and still managed to come out on top of your game. Even after all of Forbes' attempt to break you, you remained steadfast and true to yourself. There is no shame in that, Jamie. I think you've done good and you are truly amazing. It's just a shame your parents will never know what you had to go through, but I'm quite sure they are very proud of you."

He turned her around on his lap, so she was straddling him. "I'm so sorry for not telling ye everything sooner," he whispered, his hands stroking her back and thighs. "With so many things happening, it was hard to think straight at times."

Putting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned down and kissed him, a small, gentle kiss. "And I'm so sorry for doubting you. I may not have voiced it loud, but it must have been quite apparent."

"I instilled those doubts, Sassenach. It was my fault. I promise I won't keep anything from ye ever again. I ken I'm piss-poor at being a boyfriend sometimes, but I'll work hard at being better at it. Just promise me ye willnae leave me," he said earnestly, his hands travelling up beneath her shirt.

She stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time and falling for him all over again. How could she not love a man who would work hard at being better at everything? 

"What? Why are ye looking at me like that for?" he asked, his hands moving everywhere, making it hard for her to concentrate on their conversation.

She laughed out loud. "Like what?"

He stilled his movements and just stared. "Like I just climbed Mount Everest when ye should be angry at me." 

She was having a little trouble holding his gaze. "Maybe because you do look like you just climbed Mount Everest and there's no reason for me to be angry at you. You've been through a lot, and I'm glad you told me everything. Because if I don't know what's going on, how am I supposed to help you?"

He moved her closer, his lips coasting along the hollow of her neck. "So ye'll keep me then? Geillis told me ye told her I'm quite a catch."

"Is that so? The little traitor!"

"Never mind the wee traitor. Ye havenae answered my question."

"What question?" With his lips creating havoc in her addled brain, she honestly forgot what he'd asked her

"I asked if ye'll keep me."

"Yes ...yes ...I guess you'll do!" she said in mock exasperation.

"Good, I can live with that," he murmured. "Now, enough talk and let's make up."

Before she could say anything, he kissed her hard and deep, like his life depended on it, standing up with his arms wrapped around her, he carried her to the bedroom in long, determined strides and kicked the door shut.

[floweryfandomnerd]

@thelazyfanartist look, look, I finally wrote that request (after two months, I can’t believe it took that long! Sorry about that. Thank you for being so patient) but in compensation this is 5k+ so another chapter in the modern school boy au 

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Baking was definitely not a skill of Daryun’s, so when Arslan posed him the question “Do you know how to make a cake?” he was inclined to say no. However, the pleading look on the kid’s face was one that could easily sway him. Daryun shook his head, rocking on his heels he hummed in thought, “We could probably look up a recipe. Although I have no idea why you don’t just buy a cake?”

Arslan shrugged at him “I want cake and something to do, two in one!”

Daryun nodded, tapping his chin “Alright then, can we make it caramel flavour?” Arslan instantly agreed. That settled it then, Daryun wandered into the kitchen as Arslan went typing into Google “How to make a caramel cake” and pulled up a recipe. Haphazardly stacking them on the bench, Daryun pulled random bags of ingredients out of the pantry; he had no idea how to make a cake. Flour, eggs, butter, sugar… that was it right? He set the open bag of flour down with a thump, recoiling as the white powder sprayed up into his face.  

Flour cloud still hanging in the air, Arslan walked into the room with the now printed recipe only to choke on it. Through his coughing fit, he made a face at Daryun - an expression of suffering and confusion. “Are you…” another cough “trying to…” a hefty pat to the chest “to kill me or something?”

Wry smile forming on his lips, Daryun pointed up at his flour-covered, white as a ghost face then at the bag “Yeah, I need someone to haunt this place with me - there’s your makeup”

Chuckling lightly, Arslan placed the recipe on the once sparkling black island. Beginning to read off what they needed, Arslan started to organise what was on the bench whilst Daryun stared at it quizzically. He wasn’t sure whether the vagueness of the instructions he was currently staring down was a good or bad thing; he wasn’t a baker.  “Sieve the flour into the bowl…” An indiscriminate amount went into the sieve which Daryun tapped at furiously to make it fall through faster. “Cream the butter and sugar together, oh, can I do this part?” Arslan carefully weighed the specified amounts then tipped them into the bowl, mashing at it to form a sweet paste. “Alright Daryun, you add the eggs and flour whilst I make the caramel”

Trusting him with this was, in fact, a mistake, he grabbed a random number of eggs to crack into the bowl. He mixed it together with any technique he might have possessed flying straight out the window. When everything had - sort of - come together he scrutinised it dubiously, waiting upon the caramel to finish whatever it was he’d made so far. After five minutes of boiling sugar and butter, Arslan poured the cream into the pan, caramel sputtering at him. Pouring it straight into the bowl, Daryun mixed it until it all seemed to form a batter. It went straight into the cake tin and then the oven.

They watched it intently, as it bubbled but didn’t rise in the slightest - slowly cooking. Caramelising sugar into a golden brown top. When 30 minutes had passed they skewered it with a knife that came back dry to indicate it was done. Taking it out, it was plain to see that the ‘cake’ was a mess. Flat, unrisen, dry. Arslan prodded it tentatively “Are you sure we didn’t make a rock instead?”

Truth be told, he wasn’t. To fully understand the extent of their failure, one of them would have to taste it. Neither wanted that honour. Sly smile curving at the corner of his lips, Daryun mused that they wouldn’t have to taste it at all. “Hey, what time is Narsus coming over? 4pm?”

Arslan nodded at him, looking at the clock “Yeah, and it’s 3:30 now so he should be here in about half an hour with Elam.”

Glancing down at the cake, Daryun grinned “Do you want to decorate it and feed it to him?”

Hesitant though he was, mulling it over Arslan did find that it seemed rather fun. Grabbing a little black wallet off the counter, he pushed it into his pocket and ran out the front door, forgetting to close it as he called “I’m buying marshmallows and sprinkles!”

Pushing it closed, Daryun gently shook his head. Then he wandered back into the kitchen to start on the buttercream. He pulled out a bowl, filled it and stirred furiously. Once it was made he spread it over the cake with a palette knife, grunting in frustration when it didn’t go as even as he wanted. Arslan walked back in to find he’d already given up and was now glaring angrily at the cake. Marshmallows suddenly being ripped from his hand, Arslan watched in amusement as Daryun tore open the bag and dumped the entire contents on top the iced cake. Grabbing the sprinkles next he poured almost half of the shaker on it. Stepping back to look at it, he regarded the cake with a wrathful pride until the doorbell rang.

Arslan answered, moving aside to let Elam and Narsus enter for their weekly games night. It was just the four of them, but even that was more than it used to be. Daryun cut the cake and handed two plates of it to their friends as Arslan set up the wii. Both viewed it with a degree of wariness. Arslan whispered into Elam’s ear not to eat it as Daryun urged Narsus to do the opposite, “Go on, we made it for you so you better damn well eat it.”

Hesitantly, Narsus cut away a piece with the fork handed to him, raising it to his mouth unsurely. Chewing a rock, he mused, might have actually been easier. He spat it back out immediately. Hating it the second it hit his taste buds, Narsus emptied his mouth leaving mush on the plate; he ignored the collective looks of disgust. “Maybe you guys should get cooking lessons… There’s a good place in the shopping centre - I’d offer my hotel’s chef to you but I think he’d cry if he saw your cooking!”

Even losing at Mario Kart didn’t leave such a bitter taste in his mouth…

Busy isn’t a strong enough word to describe the shopping centre, people squeeze past Arslan and Daryun inside of it; their scents of sweat and perfume mingling with chocolates, pastries and coffee from the nearby cafés, outside of one is a table full of samples and a lady brightly offering them to passersby. Arslan’s outstretched hand just misses the pastry he was aiming for as Daryun pulls him away, over the din of conversation, tapping of footsteps on the ground and music blaring on the overhead radio, Daryun’s voice is almost inaudible, “That’s not what we’re here for. Come on, we’ll be late.”

He reaches just a little bit further, snatching one off the table in triumph. He grins at the lady, shoving it in his mouth straight after. Daryun just shakes his head. As his head turns, out of the corner of his eye another shop catches his attention. He’d wanted to be early, that meant there was still twenty minutes to spare (punctuality is an important quality to have) - that means there’s time to go in the shop then. Unsurprisingly, Arslan glares just a little when he steps into the small shop. In contrast to the rest of the centre, inside is near enough empty and nowhere near as brightly lit. Soft lights reflect off glinting metal, jewels sparkling on the hilts of various swords.

The reasons for a (replica - or at least, he hoped they were replicas) weapons shop in the middle of a suburban shopping centre made no sense to Arslan, but the smile on Daryun’s face made him glad nonetheless. Making sure Daryun was still gazing fixedly at the sword first, he turned towards the girl behind the counter; there were lots of finely crafted bows and arrows, pretty swords and daggers to buy, none of them caught his eye. Still, she perked up at the potential customer rather than just someone browsing.

Looking at her face, there was something familiar about it. Arslan drummed his fingertips against his legs, trying to figure out just what it was. It took him a minute before he snapped his fingers together in remembrance. On her face sat an expression somewhere between a smile and a scowl, Arslan just laughed at her, “Dislike the other team that much, do you?”

She shook her head, “It’s not… I don’t dislike you guys that much - I just want to win the season,” Étoile let her chin land in her hand “Anyway, why are you here? You don’t exactly look the type who can use a sword or a bow.”

Arslan pointed over at his bodyguard - although he much preferred to call him a friend - “No, but he is.”

Étoile glanced over at Daryun, still lovingly admiring the sword - she thought he looked about ready to kiss it. “How much for it?”

For a moment she just stared unbelievingly at him, then slowly she blinked, “One hundred and fifty thousand yen.” Was he seriously planning on just buying that sword for the sake of it?

Letting out a low whistle, Arslan pulled out a card and nodded to himself, muttering, “I’m gonna be broke in a minute, but it is his birthday today.”

Étoile only just caught the words falling from his lips, she’d be close enough to broke buying something just a twelfth of the price. In his eyes though, she thought she saw genuine fondness and wondered maybe that would be worth it. “So, do you just get handed this on a silver plate or do you actually have to earn it?”

Arslan considered for a moment, “I guess you could say silver plate,” His father didn’t really care what he did as long as it didn’t cause him any hassle. So not exactly luxury, not so pampered as he could be - not a silver plate but he supposed that was the closer option. It wasn’t like he had a job or anything; his only responsibility was that of keeping up appearances.

“Rich boy,” she muttered underneath her breath.

He flashed her a fake smile in response and drummed his fingers on the counter again as he inserted his card. The transaction beeped in completion, he pulled the card out scanning the desk, eyes resting on a cup full of sharpened pencils and a pad of post-it notes. “Got a pen and paper?”  

She silently handed them over. Scribbling quickly on the paper, he tapped at it when he spoke “Could you get it delivered to this address? Also, if there are any problems just call this number.”

Glancing down at the information he had jotted down, Étoile nodded at him. “Any particular time you want it delivered? We do same day delivery as long as you buy before 5pm.”

“As soon as possible, there’ll be someone in to sign for it.” Spinning on his heel, he waved his thanks at her. Then he began to pull Daryun out of the shop, though he only moved an inch. “Thought you didn’t want to be late, Daryun.”

At that, he started moving again. Outside the shop, he kept heading towards their next disaster. The cooking class Narsus had recommended wasn’t so far away. More that Narsus had booked and paid for it without ever consulting him than recommended it. He was desperate never to be tortured like that again. They rounded the next corner and found themselves outside a fairly average looking building, a sign in a cursive font hung above the door saying “Shapur and Isfan’s Cooking School.”

A bell above the glass door chimed as they walked in, no one sat behind the desk to check comings and goings - it seemed you could just waltz in without paying if you really wanted. Following the directions of an arrow on another sign they found the kitchen easily. They each grabbed a black apron off the pegs at the back of the room. It looked rather simple, white cupboards beneath cream coloured countertops. Each countertop was a work station for two with one gleaming silver sink to share. The walls were a cool baby blue; Daryun thought maybe that was because people cooking get stressed and blue is supposed to be a relaxing colour - he wasn’t sure quite how effective it actually was though.

Aside from the two men wearing unnecessarily puffy hats, there weren’t very many people in the room. At least it meant their workspaces wouldn’t be crowded; despite not being a guarantee of the quality of the classes.

One of them clapped their hands, silencing the room. The man pointed to himself, “I’m Shapur,” then at the other, “this is my brother Isfan.”

“Alright, today we’re going to start off with something easy: chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.”

The class nodded in response, some beginning to reach for their recipe sheets. “So, the first step is making sure you weigh everything out carefully, this is important guys.”

Daryun sheepishly admitted to himself that he was perhaps the reason their cake had gone so wrong. He grabbed the scales, meticulously pouring flour into a bowl until he got to the exact measurement of grams. A duly noted improvement.   

Next to him, Arslan was doing the same; concentration painted clearly on his face. After weighing all their ingredients both looked to the front again. Isfan waited another moment for everyone to finish, “Moving on, put the butter and sugar into the bowl. Cream them together by mashing them with your spoon.”

Carefully following the instructions read to him, Daryun sieved flour and cracked eggs. Mixing and folding it as demonstrated by Shapur, he found that his cake batter didn’t look so bad. Shapur’s still seemed superior though.  

Isfan clapped his hands again, “Okay, now spread the batter in the tin, make sure it’s even!”

“Lastly, place in the oven and cook until risen and dry when poked with a knife. Don’t open the door too much though, if you do all the hot air will escape and they won’t cook. We most certainly don’t want poor quality cupcakes. Whilst you wait you should clean your dishes.”

Arslan and Daryun each slid their cakes into the oven they were sharing, one with a hopeful look directed at their cake; the other’s face held a grimace. Crouching for a moment more, Arslan stood up starting on the dishes, doing them in silence for a fair while.

“Hey. You know that sword earlier?” Daryun absently held up a plate to the light, disappointed that it didn’t shine the same way, “Wasn’t it so cool?”

Arslan nodded in affirmation, fond of Daryun’s excitement.

“I’d love to sword fight with something as finely made as that!” He flung out a hand enthusiastically, flicking suds into Arslan’s hair and eyes, “I mean, did you see how artfully the gems on the hilt were arranged. It was such an elegant sword…” Daryun sighed wistfully.

Wiping the suds from his eyes, Arslan flicked them back at Daryun. “You know how to sword fight?” His mouth curved open in surprise.

“Yep, I’d like to say I’m fairly good at it too,” Daryun grinned proudly at him - still scrubbing dishes.

Arslan’s eyebrows furrowed a little, “Did Vahriz teach you how? He teaches me fencing even though I’m no good at it.” He tossed more bubbles from his hair.

Grabbing a handful of suds in response, Daryun ruffled his hair with them, “Yep, taught me for a few years and the quit when I started beating him. Sore loser said that he had nothing left to teach me if he couldn’t win a fight against me anymore.”

Laughing quietly, Arslan took Daryun’s tea towel to dry his bubble-filled hair with. Daryun snatched it back from him after a moment, “Hey! That’s mine-” He paused for a moment, pouting at the wet, unusable towel in his hands and placing it down “-how am I supposed to dry my dishes now?”

Quickly hiding his own so that it couldn’t be stolen, Arslan shrugged at him, “I don’t know, how will you dry them?”

Daryun narrowed his eyes at him, silently reaching for it again. He jokingly whipped the towel at Arslan, spraying him with water. Hands raised above his head Arslan slowly backed away, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes. Stopping in his tracks, Arslan sniffed at the air, “Do you smell something burning?”

Sniffing as well, Daryun thought that he could, “Definitely, something’s burning. We should check our cupcakes.”

Both turned back towards the oven, eyes widening in concern at the little bit of black smoke wafting up from it. Hesitantly Daryun bent over to open the door, jumping back at the burst of heat from a fire that should not have been there. “Crap, crap, crap there’s a fire!” Panic-stricken he began swatting at it with the tea towel; the flames swelled, growing instead of diminishing in size. Daryun jerked away from it again.

Extra smoke setting them off, the fire alarm and sprinklers sprung to life. Water fell steadily, drenching them and the rest of the class as they all evacuated the room. The ringing was so loud that Daryun couldn’t hear what Isfan was saying, nor Shapur but he could tell that they were unimpressed. He wasn’t exactly impressed to be dripping wet either…

Isfan begun guiding the students out to the front of the building, “The sprinklers should take care of the fire but just in case can those responsible-” his head snapped in the direction of Arslan and Daryun, eyeing them with clear, exasperated annoyance “-please get the fire extinguisher and put it out?”

Reluctantly Daryun pulled the extinguisher off the wall; aiming at his oven he sprayed carbon foam all over without really looking, just trying to cover as large an area as possible. Before following he turned the dial of the oven to off.

Outside everyone was assembled in a line to make accounting for people’s whereabouts easy.  As soon as the stream of people exiting the building came to a halt, Isfan stood in front of them all pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. He began calling out names, ticking them off when people replied in the affirmative - it reminded Daryun of standing out in the cold for 20 minutes during a test when some idiot would set off the alarm. Back when he was in school, that is.

They stood sheepishly at the back of the line, avoiding any glares directed towards them.

“Daryun?”

“Here”

Isfan ticked his name off the list. “And finally, Arslan?”

“Present,” Arslan raised his hand in the air, waving it about a little until his name was ticked off too.

Isfan clicked his pen, folding up the paper “Okay, that’s everyone.”

Heads bowed low, the two of them trudged into the kitchen reluctantly. Whilst people filed back into the room, Arslan pulled the ruined cupcakes out of the oven. He smiled at them - just a little disappointed. The temperature of the oven had somehow ended up too high; he was certain that they’d have come out perfect if it hadn’t been. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten distracted either. He supposed charcoal cupcakes were better than becoming charcoal himself though. The charcoal went straight into the bin.

Isfan pointed towards Arslan and Daryun, “You two clean up your mess. As for everyone else I’m going to show you how to make the frosting.” Plugging in the mixer next to him, he began pouring cream cheese and icing sugar into the bowl along with a few other flavourings too. Then he pressed a button on it.

Simple enough to follow - even while Arslan unenthusiastically cleaned foam from his workbench, the oven, the floor and the cupboards; Daryun really had just sprayed wildly.  It didn’t really matter though, at the end of the day he still didn’t have a birthday cake for Daryun nor would he have time to make him one when they got home. Sighing, Arslan dropped the sponge into his sink. He studied the rest of the class finishing their cupcakes slightly jealously, drying and stacking the remaining dishes as he did.

“I’m done cleaning and drying.” Arslan tugged on Daryun’s sleeve, “Can we go home? It’s not like there’s anything more for us to do here anymore.”

Daryun nodded, everyone else was pretty much done frosting anyway. Taking off their aprons they hung them up as Shapur inspected their work station. He called them over after scrutinizing it for a moment, “Okay you two are fine to go since it’s all clean,” his voice hardened, “and if you plan on making another fire don’t come back next time. If you do you’ll be banned - got it?”

“Understood” they glumly replied in unison to his threat. With one last glance they walked out the door to go home.

Elam almost had the banner up in the window when the doorbell rang, startled he dropped the unpinned side to the ground. Muttering frustratedly, he ignored it in favour of answering the door to a house that wasn’t even his.

“If you’re looking for Arslan or his parents or whoever they’re not ho-” He stopped short at the long slender box labelled with a picture of his sword being offered to him. Looking up at the offeror’s face only added to his confusion. He pulled a face, “Uh, why are you giving me a sword?”

Étoile raised an eyebrow at him, “Delivery for Arslan Parsian, he said someone would be home to get it.” She dumped the sword box in his arms then thrust a touch screen pad and digital pen at him, “Just sign here alright?”

Impatiently tapping her foot, she waited for him to hand them back to her, it annoyed Étoile how he struggled to balance both the pen, pad and the sword. After a moment he’d scribbled his name down then handed it back to her. His brows furrowed a little before he grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving, “Wait, I don’t live here. I’m not sure I can actually sign for it…”

She scowls at him then, “If you don’t live here what the hell did you sign it for? This is my last delivery of the day,” she stomps her foot for emphasis, “I just want to go home.” Étoile snaps her fingers in his face when she notices that Elam is no longer looking at her, rather past her.

Coming through the gates of the house are Arslan and Daryun, he mutters quietly to himself, though Étoile still hears him, “Ohh, I bet he bought this for Daryun… I better go hide it then.”

Her annoyance grows when he walks away without a second thought. He’d made a fuss about not living there then just ignored her. Whatever. She just wanted to go home, and the way to getting there was cycling, because she wasn’t actually old enough to drive a car. If only her job actually had a delivery driver instead of making her deliver packages on a stupid bicycle.

A bicycle, which just happened to have a flat tire by the looks of it. Although she could scream in frustration she resigns herself to sighing miserably instead. How far would it be to just walk home?  Someone taps on her shoulder pulling her concentration away from how to get home. She whips around to face that kid again, Arslan, and he’s looking at her with some look shining in his eyes that she can’t quite place.

He points to her bike, “I can fix that flat tire for you, if you want?”

Étoile thinks she knows what was in his eyes and on his face now, it was just him being kind. She’s not sure why he would be, but he is and that’s all there really is to it.

“We have a spare in the shed so I’ll just change it for you…” He looks at her again, almost scrutinizingly this time then he nods in the direction of his house, “You can sit inside whilst you wait if you’d like to. I promise your bike won’t come to any harm.”

She bites back a small laugh when he crosses his heart like a child. She hesitates just a moment, not quite sure if she should take him up on that but she’s tired and her feet hurt and he’s offering. Pivoting towards it she heads inside the house, following after the guy who had been with Arslan when they first arrived. There’s a glimpse of a fond smile on his face as he watches them, she catches it just as he turns his back to them. Behind her she can hear the squeaking of the bike’s wheels as it’s dragged off towards the shed.

There are a couple things she notices about the hall when she walks inside; firstly it’s rather ornate - easily the fanciest house she’d ever seen - secondly it’s stark inside. A strange kind of coldness to it. That impression changes when she finds the living room, and it’s not that that room is any different - it’s much the same actually - but there’s people in this one. It doesn’t feel quite so lonely. What makes it feel warmer is the birthday banner up by the window and the stack of presents in the corner, it’s all the different birthday foods on the table. She sits down, waiting as suggested, an onlooker of warm scene.

“Hey, would you like to stay for the party? Since you’re here already.”

She’s surprised because she didn’t see him come in, she expected the invitation though, it seems just like him. To herself she quietly admits that joining in wouldn’t be so bad - especially since she at least recognises most of the people there. Arslan points them out for her again just in case, there’s Daryun’s uncle Vahriz, his friend Narsus, that boy called Elam and that’s it - just a small birthday party of five people, six including her.

Elam gestures towards the birthday cake on the the table, “Alright Daryun, I baked you a cake since I didn’t trust Arslan to actually make a decent one. Are you gonna blow out the candles now?”

Daryun steps towards the cake, sucking in a breath of air before he stops for a second, raising an eyebrow at Elam, “Wait, you sent me to those cooking classes too… Were you trying to get me to make my own birthday cake?”

Elam shakes his head, retorting “Nope. Just needed you not here. Now, blow out the candles so we can eat the cake and open the presents!”

Daryun complies, he blows out all twenty six candles in one breath but doesn’t bother making a wish. He doesn’t really need one. He just cuts the cake and hands out slices to everyone there before eating one himself. Étoile gingerly bites into hers, despite what she’d originally thought it would be, the cake is actually delicious. She finishes the rest in 2 minutes flat.

When everyone is finished Elam collects up the plates and takes them to the kitchen. As soon as he’s back they move onto opening presents. Mainly it’s just a bunch of normal presents - actions films and the like - but he grins delightedly at the new riding saddle Narsus buys for him. Jet black and cushioned for comfortable riding, it’s an elegant one for an elegant horse.

“Ah, Shabrang will love this! I can’t wait to ride him with it!”

He opens another one grimacing at the painting that it reveals. Narsus puffs his chest out proudly though, so he plasters on a less-horrified face and thanks him. Daryun sets it aside, taking the last present in his hands. He lifts the lid off the box to reveal the sword. He gazes at it awestruck, almost reverently removing it from the box. Gripping the hefty sword in both hands, Daryun swings it excitedly if a little carelessly.

“Hey! Be a little more careful with that, you’re gonna injure somebody!” Elam chastises him - he’d rather not have to take anyone to the hospital in ambulance.

Daryun looks somewhat apologetic, but ultimately enthusiasm still wins over. The sword arcs through the air again making a whooshing sound, more controlled this time. Running his finger over all the jewels, he grins “Thank you so much! I can’t believe you got this for me. Damn, how I’d love to fight someone with this beauty…”

Vahriz turns to Arslan, “I hope I’m getting a sword like that for my birthday. It might just make me fight him again.”

Arslan laughs quietly, “Only if you keep teaching me how to fence long enough that I become better than him,” he nods towards Daryun who is showing off the sword to Narsus. Like always, they start bickering about something - this time it’s about who the better fencer is - the tip of the sword ends up dangerously close to the painting Narsus painstakingly made. His alarm doesn’t go unnoticed. Daryun edges it closer. In response Narsus throws his hands up placatingly, conceding that Daryun is better. He still grumbles under his breath.

Arslan disappears for a moment, reappearing with his sword from fencing in hand. Challenging Daryun he adopts the en garde stance, “Fight me Daryun!”

Daryun just shakes his head, lightly parrying the clumsy swing thrown at him (of course there’s nothing to worry about, rapiers always have a rubber cap on during practice). “Don’t think you’ll win!” He doesn’t even get to pretend to swordfight with Arslan before Elam steps in sighing. He takes the swords away from each of them, replacing them with wooden swords called bokken; he had found them in one of Arslan’s supply closet a while ago one games night.

Elam sighs exasperated, “If you’re gonna fight for fun don’t use real swords!” He leaves a couple others just in case anyone else wants to join in too.

Narsus picks one up, thinking he can take on both Daryun and Arslan, “Prepare to see the most artistic sword fighting to exist!”

Elam flops down on the couch placing his head in his hand. He blows out another breath of air and just watches them.

In all honesty, Étoile thinks they look like idiots. She bites back another laugh, she’s quite glad that her bike had had a flat tire.

In which Elam is the only responsible character