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frostsinth · 4 years

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Royal Flush - Pt. 13 (Final Chapter)

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - ... Art - Art - Art

To those of you who have made it this far through this story; congratulations. You literally just read a novel length romance about a Goblin King and a Human Prince. The final tally for this story? 149,053 Words. In my doc file, this totals to 239 pages (size 11/arial font) . I made a final art piece to commemorate this chapter, HERE.

This has been... Such a journey. Such an adventure. I have loved every last second of this and I hope you all did too. I don’t know how this chapter will be received, but for now, this will be the end for Nikostratus and Grier...

Thank you all so very much for your support, and please please PLEASE reblog/comment/ask/DM me with your thoughts or prompts or ideas or headcannons. I love these two and I can’t talk about them enough...

If you love this story, please also consider supporting me on BuyMeACoffee which you can access through my MasterList above. Want more of the boys? I’d willingly take commissions on them, or any of my other characters (or a new one, just for you!). Times are tough for everyone, and I hope I was able to bring a little light for a time with this story...

Much love, and thank you.

I skimmed the last line once more, then glanced over the entire document to be sure that everything else was properly in order before signing my name neatly at the bottom. I passed the page to Hibik and turned to the next. I felt the very tip of my eyebrow twitch as my eyes settled on it and I looked up at the goblin.

“Lord Hibik-”

“Apologies, My Prince,” He rushed to explain, “I know you do not usually sign anything that is in goblinese. However, this is simply a trade manifesto from one of the outlying cities. If you so wish, I can translate every word for you before you sign.”

I waited patiently for him to finish, but plucked up the parchment and held it out to him none-the-less. “While I appreciate your diligence, and certainly trust you in all manners of state, I simply cannot sign anything I cannot read for myself.” I told him, my voice formal and flat, but still with the lingering edges of my exhaustion in it. “I have no doubt it is exactly what you say it is, however should I choose to sign it and it is brought before me at some other time, I would be unable to distinguish it from anything else in goblinese.” I shook my head. “If I cannot understand something without a mediary, then I should not be trying to pass authority on it.”

Hibik nodded, dropping his gaze lightly. Seeming humbled. “Of course, My Prince. You have proven once more your unerring logic in such matters of state... My apologies to have questioned your wisdom at all.”

“Have it translated if it is urgent. Otherwise, it shall just have to wait until my goblinese has advanced or…” I dropped off, and felt my throat get tight.

The King’s secretary nodded again, and I could see the sad tinge around his eyes at my words. I started to search for some formal platitude. Some simple comfort to reassure him that everything would be fine… But I found the lie stuck to the roof of my mouth uncomfortably and I could not force it free. I looked down at the last document on the desk before me instead, pretending to read through it. My eyes ran over the first paragraph about four times before I was finally able to begin actually comprehending it. I tried not to think about the fact that the Master Healer was still visiting with the only other person with authority to sign such documents. And the painful knowledge that the individual was still in no state to do so. I tried to resist the urge to look over at the door to his chambers every few seconds. As if I would be able to discern what was happening or what fresh prognosis the Healer would bring. And I worked very hard to deny that I already knew what his conclusions would be.

It took me a little longer than usual to read the final document that required my signature, but finally it was done. Just as I was finishing with the usual dab of my quill at the end of my full name, there was a light knock on the door. I glanced up as Seoc opened it, and was mildly surprised to see the General standing beyond, his hands neatly tucked behind his back.

Hibik took the final page to sand as Seoc and Damjan spoke together softly. When Seoc glanced over at me, I gave him a small nod of approval, which he quickly relayed to the General. Damjan strode over slowly, a few crumpled pages in his own hands. I resisted the urge to sigh, and the prickling of hairs at the back of my neck as I longed to be done with all this official tedium. Longed to be back in the quiet solitude of the King’s sick room. I swallowed the lump in my throat as subtly as I was able, and moved to stand in order to greet the General.

He raised one large hand. “Perhaps it is best if you remain seated, My Prince.” He informed me as his own greeting, which splashed a cold chill down my spine.

Hibik lingered, signed documents in hand, glancing between myself and Damjan. I saw the pair exchange a brief glance, one which communicated far more than most, and saw the edges of the secretary’s lips twitch. Perhaps debating if he should stay. But when he glanced over to me again, I waved him away with a reassuring nod.

“Thank you for your time, My Prince.” he told me hesitantly, bowing low.

Damjan shifted as Hibik made his way out, and I turned my attention to him. “What brings you, General?”

The hesitation he presented me with had another icy breath running down my back. I watched the man shift again, clenching and unclenching his oversized hands around the papers within them. I glanced down at that, then back up to his face. I allowed one eyebrow to raise ever so slightly. Damjan cleared his throat.

“I have just received word from our… “contacts” in the Kingdom of Geriveria.” He told me, his voice thin with his persistent reluctance.

He dropped off, and I made a point not to let my eyes wander. Fixing him with a steadfast gaze. When he still had not spoken after a few moments, I tapped one finger lightly on the small table beside me where I had set my quill and inkwell.

“I assume you have some news which you deemed important enough to bring before me.” I concluded flatly, and was not reassured as the General winced. “Please, proceed.”

Damjan straightened, collecting himself. “... Our contacts have confirmed the information stating King Tibertius had fallen ill just after our visit to the castle…” He gritted his teeth, and dropped his eyes, “... And I have just received word… that last night he succumbed to his illness.”

The world around me seemed to shift at his words... I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Wasn’t sure what that news elicited in me. I froze for a moment, staring at him blankly. I felt my thumb roll thoughtlessly against the fabric of the armchair I was seated in.

“... The human King is dead?”

I watched his eyes flick up to me from the ground, equally uncertain what to make of my uncharacteristically callous and pointed remark. He nodded slowly. “Yes… It has not been formally announced yet, however I am confident in our sources who have reported it.”

I turned this over for a moment in the hollow echoing expanse of my mind. “Was it the Rotting Sickness?” My voice sounded distant, and I wasn’t entirely sure I had spoken at all.

“It is unclear at this time, though we do not believe it likely.” He responded softly. “Even given that he refused our protective Warding, there were other factors in place for his benefit.”

I nodded ever so slightly, running my whole hand slowly over the arm of my chair now. “Crown Prince Valerianus will send formal word to us soon.” I told him. “Be sure to have an appropriate response prepared. And tighten the patrols and guard at the border, in case there is any backlash from the announcement.”

I saw him hesitate again. “... My Prince-”

“Keep abreast of your ‘contacts’ as well.” I continued, pretending he hadn’t spoken. “I wish to know if Crown Prince Valerianus is officially coronated, or if he otherwise sets a date for it.” I glanced off to the side, hardly realizing I was no longer really seeing anything around myself anymore. “I will draft a letter for him, and a formal statement, in preparation for that news as well.”

Damjan nodded his affirmation. “As you wish, My Prince…” He chewed on his tongue only briefly before speaking again, “... And if you need someone to talk to… I wanted to let you know I am here for you. In whatever capacity you may have need of me.”

I stood, unhurried, and tugged my vest to straighten it as I did. “I do appreciate the offer, General, but there is no need.”

“Prince Nikostratus,” He followed quickly, before I could dismiss him, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, “Whatever else your relationship with that man was… he was still your father.” I stiffened slightly at the word. “This is not easy news to bear, in any situation.”

I returned my gaze to him, my expression still set in stone. “Thank you for your concern, General Damjan, however I can assure you, I am fine.” I paused briefly, glancing over towards the bedroom in a moment of weakness. “... I would request this information remains between us for now, though.” I almost winced, but squared my shoulders instead. Keeping my voice even, my features stony. “I believe it would be best for Princess Morgana to hear this news from me.”

He dipped his head respectfully. “Of course, My Prince.” I nearly jumped with surprise as his big hand fell on my shoulder. “Whatever you need. Do not hesitate to ask.”

I nodded to him curtly, and he withdrew his hand. Dropping into a polite bow before he took his leave. I turned my attention to the back room, making my way over with halting steps intermittently set amid my long stride. The Master Healer was just gathering up his things as I approached. He turned and bowed to me, his long beard brushing the floor.

“My Prince.” He intoned respectfully.

“How is the King?” I asked, my voice flat to withhold my impending dread of his answer.

The Master Healer flinched, unable to conceal his thoughts quite so easily. “He remains the same, My Prince.” He replied softly. “I have given him a tonic to ease his symptoms and perhaps allow for a more fitful rest… However there is not much more I can offer for him at this time.”

I nodded, burying the sorrow and disappointment at his words deep into my already hollowed out chest. “Thank you, Your Grace,” My eyes followed him as he slowly raised from his bow, “I appreciate your efforts greatly.”

“I only wish there was more I could do, My Prince.” He murmured.

Another curt nod. Which was the best I could manage. “Seoc will show you out.” I informed him numbly.

My attendant closed the bedroom door behind them, for which I was grateful. They had all stopped trying to convince me to retire to my own chambers a few days ago, as they had realized it would fall on ears both too stubborn and too deaf to their pleas. Even Morgana and ina Morag relented their persuasive efforts, instead focusing on bringing whatever they could to me here. I tried to pretend I stayed out of duty and responsibility. I tried to pass off my vigil as nothing more than what would be expected of any other individual so politically tied to the King as I was. It made it easier, in a way, than trying to accept my real reasons... It stung that I was apparently not hiding it well from the others; that they could see my vulnerability, and perhaps that they had some understanding of my decision that I could not grasp myself.

Slowly, I lowered myself into the armchair beside the bed, finally building the courage to look upon the King once more. I watched his labored breathing for a few long minutes, listening to the raspy rush of air in and out of his lungs. My palms came to my lap, and I thumbed at them absentmindedly as I felt the stone I had sheltered behind for the formal proceedings slowly cracking and crumbling away.

I glanced down at my hands, and found they were shaking. “.... King Tibertius is dead.” I informed him, my voice soft to preserve the hushed silence of the chamber. I hesitated, squeezing my thumb into my palm until it hurt. “... my… my father... is dead…” I finally released a heavy sigh, and felt my shoulders slump. “... I honestly don’t… I don’t know how to feel about it…”

My gaze lifted back to look over at him, and I shuddered at the sight. I didn’t like seeing him lay so still. I had spent days watching him, a statue on guard at his side. Silent and unmoving. I wasn’t sure I could do it for even a moment longer. I shifted, then stood again, reaching over to take up the cooling cloth from the water basin beside the bed. I settled on the edge of the mattress beside him. So that I could reach him better, I told myself. I brushed the wild bangs out of his face, then smoothed the damp cloth across his brow.

He seemed to sigh beneath my touch, and I bent over him to study his face. His skin was more grey than green now, and I could feel the heat rising off his body. I traced my eyes over the edge of his jaw, down to the point of his chin. I committed the shape of his nose to memory, and lingered on the curve of his lashes against his cheek. Before I had even realized I was doing it, I found my fingers skimming along the prominent ridge of his brow, and my thumbs smoothing down his slender eyebrows. He shifted beneath my touch, so slightly I thought perhaps I might have imagined it. I withdrew my hand, hesitating. Placing the cloth back in the basin on the bedside table. But I couldn’t help returning to cup his face, and run my thumb along the crest of his cheek. I felt the tiny beveling of his grey-green skin, taking a moment for it. I had never so carefully studied the quality of his flesh without some other thought or pressure weighing on me. I chose to do so now. To memorize everything I possibly could... His fever burned at the pads of my hand, but I ignored it.

The now familiar ache settled in my chest, throbbing with each pulse of my heart. I ran my hand down the side of his face, along the curve of his throat. My fingers cupped around the back of his neck, and I gave a gentle squeeze. I stared at his eyes, longing for them to open again. Longing to see those mischievous, sparkling red irises. It had been days since he had last opened his eyes… Not since he had begged me to lay alongside him…

With his last request heavy on my mind, I looked over my shoulder at the door, then back down at him. My numb fingers rose of their own accord, and fumbled with the buttons on my vest. Then tugged my tunic haphazardly from its tuck as I folded the vest to set on the cushion of the armchair beside us. Once my boots joined it, I took a steadying breath then carefully climbed into the bed next to him. Now I knew I wasn’t imagining it when his head turned weakly. As if he could sense me there… I knew I was fooling myself. I gently collected him into my arms, and nearly faltered for the limpness of his body. But there was a strange reassurance of feeling his raspy breath against my collarbone. I rested my chin on the top of his head, shivering slightly despite the hot body I had tucked against me.

“... I don’t know how to tell Morgana…” I breathed quietly, uncertain what else to do. My eyes squeezed shut. “Gods… I just… I-I can’t… With everything else…” I wrapped my arms a little further around him. “... Please... Grier…” The taste of his name stung my mouth. “I can’t do this by myself…” I swallowed hard. “Y-you always asked me what I wanted… a-and I never had an answer for you… Usually because I just.. I didn’t know… but…” I buried my face in his damp hair. “But I know I don’t want this… and I know I was… hesitant… A-and… maybe reluctant to… to let this relationship be anything more than political...” The words felt heavy and foreign in my mouth, yet as I spoke them, it seemed easier to voice the rest. I shook my head, still working to dam the pain starting to build in my throat and eyes. “But that doesn’t… that doesn’t mean that I…” I stopped again, swallowing hard and taking a deep steadying breath. “Please… I need… I n-need you to get better… I need you to come back… I-I don’t know what I’m doing anymore… I need you to tell me…” I closed my eyes, knowing I was gushing uselessly, but unable to help myself. “Y-you asked me… you asked me to be strong… to do the best for…” I hesitated. “For our people… I’m… I’m trying… but I-I’m… I’m not the best for them… You are… and I-I… I can’t… It’s… I-it sounds stupid but…” Again I stopped, and laid quietly beside him. Hearing his steady if ragged breathing against me. Feelin the heat of him burn through the fabric of my tunic. Trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and emotions rallying to burst from me. “... I never used to think of my future… I-I didn’t think I had much of one… but… b-but now I can’t think of a future for me… of a future without you in it…”

I held my breath for a long moment. As if waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him to fill the long silence as he always had before… Instead, I felt myself being blanketed by it. Felt it wriggle and stuff its way down my throat, until it threatened to choke the very air out of my lungs. I hated the silence, as I never had before. It burned and rang in my ears. It smothered me.

“W-what am I doing?” I mumbled to myself, trying to rid myself of the stillness and slowly starting to untangle my body from the goblin’s. “I’m losing my mind-”

I froze suddenly. Not daring to move. Not even daring to draw a breath. After a few shuttering beats of my heart, I slowly looked down to confirm what I thought I had felt… And found Grier’s hand latched weakly on my arm. As if he had heard me. As if he had felt me start to pull away from him.

I knew it was stupid. I was certain it was just some sort of… reflexive reaction. But then he shifted, burying his nose back against my shirt. And I decided I didn’t care. I latched onto the hope that maybe… just maybe… he had somehow heard me. He had sensed my body beside his.

I suddenly remembered the Dowager Queen Morag’s words again as clearly in my mind as if she had been standing over us at that moment. He has good reason to. Is this what she had meant? If Grier needed a reason to come back, to fight this… then perhaps I could remind him he had one… Hadn’t he once said he could listen to the sound of my voice all night? I wondered if he could hear it from wherever he was. If it could bring him back...

“... Hibik has been bringing me any matters of state that need approval.” I told him softly, hesitantly. “I swear… it seems endless… there’s always something else to sign, something else to review…” I sighed, shifting slightly, biting at my tongue for a long moment. “... At least right now, I can use the excuse of not knowing goblinese… that cuts the paperwork down some…” I swallowed, trying to think what else to say. Already feeling anxious that the silence was building too long. “A-all I know is the alphabet… and Korol… Ussta bez, eto chen… umm… Nazia which means ‘name’... a-ah, but you know that…” I flushed slightly. Then I felt him shift against me, felt his breath on my neck, and almost shivered. I hesitated, then ran my hand over the back of his head. “Wh-what else… umm.. Cara, and ina… shiba, onsa… your mother calls Morgana onsakin… th-they get along a little too well, I think…”

I struggled for a while, feeling foolish. But the softness of his breath against my skin, and his hand on my arm, gave me the confidence to continue. For whatever it was worth...

….

“When I was five or so, I got sick like this,” I told him, brushing my fingers through his hair, “High fever, raspy lungs. I remember my mother sat with me all night. Read me stories, and stroked my head until I fell asleep.” I paused, twirling one strand of his hair around my finger. “... We have portraits of her in the halls. Not many, but a few. So I’ll never forget her face… I’d like to send for one, I think… If that would be alright with you.” I put the strand back and delicately picked up another. “But I also remember how she smelled… strange isn’t it? That’s what I remember best about her. She smelled like lilies. I don’t know how, but she always smelled like fresh picked lilies… It hurts a little to think that Morgana smells a lily and doesn’t think of our mother like I do.” My lips twitched distractedly. “Now she thinks of me, because she knows how much I like them… She doesn’t understand quite why… I-I don’t know if I ever told her.”

Grier shifted, nuzzling himself against me and letting out a soft sigh. I released his hair to reach carefully across the bed. Plucking the cloth from the basin. I would need to get more soon; all the water was almost gone. I wrung out the excess, then gently smoothed it across his forehead. Then over his temples. I turned his head and traced it across his lips. His long tongue came out briefly to swipe the moisture that lingered there.

“I remember her voice, too… She had a delicate voice. I don’t think she ever raised it much above a whisper.” I shook my head. “She never yelled… Whenever I did something that perhaps I shouldn’t have, she never yelled at me… She would just get this look… like she was disappointed I hadn’t made a better choice…” I snorted. “I think that was worse somehow… Morgana looks a lot like her, I think. Though my mother had this beautifully rich dark skin… I was very jealous of it. I wanted to have the color of her skin for my own. And it was always very soft.”

I ran the cloth back and forth over his neck. Around the edge of his shoulder blades. Down his spine. Smoothing it across his muscles and grey-green skin.

“I think she would have liked you… I hope she would have… I-I’m not sure how she would have felt about… all this.” I glanced around the chambers, delicately lit by a few sparkling candelabras, strategically placed. I had tucked the rest into neat rows along the tops of the bookshelves. Looking less cluttered and more displayed. “Not the goblin part… I think she would’ve been ah… mostly ok with that…” I chuckled, returning the cloth to the basin and brushing my hand through his soft hair again. “... I don’t think I had really thought about it much back then… girls, I mean…” I swallowed hard, staring down at the foot of the bed while I stroked his hair. “O-or boys for that matter… I wonder if she would’ve been... s-surprised… Though she always seemed to know me better than I knew myself… Valerianus was very, ah... ‘serious’, so the court girls didn’t care for him much, save for the ambitious ones. But they were always fawning over me…” I frowned. “I-I didn’t like it. I hated going to balls and galas or formal dinners. My mother would just laugh and say that I would figure it out when I was a little older…” I sighed. “It sounds silly now, I’m sure… Then she….” I dropped off, taking a steadying breath. “A-and Morgana was the center of my world after that, so I never... I never really questioned it again… I was very good at being polite, at being gracious. But I never returned any… ah…” I shook my head again. “I think… I think I was a year or two shy of twenty when I saw… this man… he was… ah…” I cleared my throat lightly, “He was from another Kingdom… older, but only barely in his thirties if even that… I just remember being struck absolutely dumb by him… I could hardly breathe when I realized he was in the same room as me, and I kept staring… by the Gods it was so embarrassing… I didn’t know what to do with myself around him…”

I jumped at the light knock coming from beyond the bedchambers. Quickly, I looked down at Grier, but he was still in a deep sleep. He was tucked quite neatly against me, his arms wrapped around my middle, his ear against my sternum. He looked rather like he was smiling, I thought. It had been only a day or two since I had given up my post in the armchair beside the bed in favor of lying alongside him. And I hadn’t left since. We are married now after all, I reasoned with my guilt and self-consciousness. I should be allowed... I ran through all the different things I had started telling him since then. Arbitrary things at first. The way the mountains looked out my window. The odd items he had left about the room and where I had put them. Then I started opening up a little more. Telling him little snips of my memories. About the first horse I had ever ridden, and the first time I had held a sword. About Morgana’s first steps, and her first words.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed like his sleep was less listless when I was speaking. And I found I felt a little better talking to him, rather than lying quietly and simply worrying over the state of him. I constantly feared leaving the silence for too long, as if it were the only tether he had. Barely daring to sleep for fear of it… I wasn’t sure I had ever spoken as much as I had in the past two days.

I stroked his hair back a final time, then carefully untangled myself from his embrace. A soft groan petered from him, and his lips twitched. But I was able to free myself and lay him gently back into the bed.

By the second quiet knock, I was at the door in the foyer and tugging it open. Hibik and the Master Healer stood there, both looking appropriately serious. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t make an attempt to hide my bare torso or feet. Simply pulled the door open the rest of the way and let them in. Nodding to their gracious greetings and formal bows. I was far too exhausted to care about any of that, though I felt a familiar numbness falling about my shoulders like an old coat as I followed them into the bedroom. The Healer went straight to the King’s side, while Hibik moved to take the basin from the table and brought it off to the other room to fill. I saw the Healer’s hands glow, watched him shift them back and forth over Grier’s body, as he had many times before. For his part, the King rolled slightly, grumbling something softly. It made my heart leap lightly in denial of the numbness that had taken up residence in my chest. But I watched the Healer anxiously.

He lowered his hands as Hibik returned, and glanced over at the secretary. Then he shook his head and put his hands on his hips. My heart plummeted back down.

“Well, My Prince,” breathed the Healer, and I stiffened as he turned to me, “I am not sure what you have been doing… but I urge you to keep it up.”

I blinked at him slowly. “What?”

A wide smile suddenly split his lips, and his hands tapped eagerly on his hips. “He’s doing better… Much better really…” I nearly swooned at his words, and reached out to steady myself on the bedpost. “His fever is all but gone. His lungs are clearing… I might be able to do more for him now. A potion perhaps. To revive him more.”

Hibik could barely contain a gasp, and clapped his hands together, relief filling his face. “You mean, he’s going to be alright? He’ll pull through?”

The Healer scoffed. “It’s miraculous! Really it is!” He shifted his weight and looked over his shoulder. “Almost overnight, the King’s condition has improved drastically. I’ve never quite seen anything like it.” He nodded, smiling again. “... I do think the worst is now behind us.”

My head felt completely detached from my body, and I thought if I hadn’t been holding the bedpost I might have floated away. Hibik was dancing from foot to foot, making lengthy exclamations in goblinese. I didn’t need to know all the words to understand his excitement. To feel it palpably around us, though I dared not embrace it myself. The doctor patted the air.

“We still have some ways to go yet, My Prince, Lord Hibik.” He reminded us. “It’ll take time for the King to regain his strength. It may be a month or more before he fully returns to his old vigor.”

“But he will?” I asked, and was surprised at the softness of my voice.

The Healer gave a final nod. “I have little doubt anymore, My Prince. I shall prepare a draught for him. However, given his state... I would expect him to wake anytime now.”

Hibik squealed with delight, and I raised my hand to calm him. The goblin quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, and the Healer tutted him. I glanced at Grier, then back at the pair of goblins.

“Lord Hibik, would you let my sister know the good news, please?” I instructed, then nodded to the vase of wilting flowers on the small round table at the back of the couch. “Perhaps she would like to get a fresh bouquet for him. She can come visit when she’s able.”

“I am not certain our gardens can survive another visit from the Princess,” He mused with a chuckle, still shifting from foot to foot, “However, I am more than pleased to let her decimate the remaining for the sake of our King.”

“Have some hot broth ready for him, the kitchens can send it straight up,” I added, glancing at the Healer for confirmation of this choice, “And let the Dowager Queen know as well. Morgana may want to tell her herself however, so I would suggest she be the first you inform.”

“Excellent, My Prince,” Hibik bowed, “I am most eager to spread this joyous news.”

The Healer bowed deeply as well, then they both made their way out. I closed the door behind them, my entire body tingling. Now that they were gone, I pinched myself hard to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My feet carried me back to the bedroom of their own accord. And I climbed into the bed and slipped up alongside him. Almost as soon as I settled, Grier rolled into me, tucking himself into my chest once more. I felt his contented sigh against my breastbone, and nearly shivered from the sensation. I wrapped my arms gently around him, resting my chin on the top of his head once more.

“... I think Josep knew before I did.” I told him softly, running my hands up and down his back. “He was always lingering late into the night. Always refilling my wine as soon as it emptied… I’m not sure h-how he knew… I noticed the long glances, and couldn’t help a few of my own…” I sighed, burying my nose in his hair for a moment. “He was… cute… Just a little shorter than me, but thin as a bean pole… his hair was raven black, and his eyes were a soft stormy grey… But bright as the moon at midnight...”

….

A few hours later, I adjusted the flowers, plucking a few errant leaves and placing them in the waste bin. Morgana was an... ambitious picker. Sometimes the roots and half the rest of the plant came along with the bloom. But she always picked the best and most colorful flowers, and the bouquet she had brought was perhaps her largest and loveliest yet. Not for the least because of her enthusiasm presenting them. The room felt anxiously still in her absence and I brushed my fingers over the petals, drawing in a deep breath of their soft scent. Trying unsuccessfully to calm my racing heart now that I was alone again... Nearly alone.

“... Been making yourself at home, have you?”

I jumped about a foot in the air at the sound of the thin voice from over my shoulder. My heart leapt into my throat as I spun on my heel, and my eyes shot wide. A wry, tired smile greeted me, set below glittering scarlet eyes that shifted around the room only briefly before settling on me. I tried to remember the last time I had seen them... I didn’t realize how much I had missed them until that moment.

Grier.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I stared at him, my eyes, frozen in place. Not entirely convinced I wasn’t dreaming. Hardly able to believe what I was seeing as the goblin slowly eased himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. He cocked his head to the side, raising one slender brow at me.

“I come back from the dead, and this is the greeting I receive?” He pouted. “Honestly, I think I was hoping for a bit more-”

I was at the bed before he had even finished forming the words. I caught the back of his head in my hand, nearly falling over him as I kneeled on the side of the mattress in my desperation to reach him. Crashing our mouths together so suddenly it was almost painful. His words sputtered against my lips, but then I could taste his smile again and my heart ached. Gods, I had missed that too. The warmth of his kiss, the shape of his mouth. I didn’t want to leave it again. His own hand came up, cupping my jaw, returning my kiss with such enthusiasm I thought my lungs might just collapse. Which only served to remind me that I had forgotten how to breathe.

I pulled back, gasping for air for half a second. Then dove back in to kiss him again. Now I could feel his weak laughter bubbling against my lips. Gently he pulled himself away, stroking his hand along my cheek to still my pursuit, running his thumb under my eye.

“Now that’s more like it.” He murmured dreamily, his eyes looking carefully back and forth between mine.

I flushed deeply, feeling the heat sweep across my face with a fury to match how his own feverish skin had once been. I started to pull away bashfully. “I-I’m sorry-”

He pushed the words back into my mouth with another kiss, forcing them deep into my throat in denial of them. My heart thrummed with delight. I lost myself for a moment more, and our kiss deepened. But he felt weaker than I remembered, his press intense but not as strong. I reminded myself of the state of him, and did not fight to keep our mouths locked when he finally pulled back again. Even though I longed to do so...

“H-how are you feeling?” I asked breathlessly instead, lingering with the tips of our noses brushing together. I gripped the back of his neck firmly, as if afraid letting go would allow him to float off again, slowly easing to sit on the mattress beside him.

“Tired.” He admitted. “And by the Gods I can’t remember ever having been this hungry before in my life…” His smile returned, pointy teeth and all. “But better… much better.” His thumb traced the edge of my lashes. “... Now that I’ve seen you again.”

I couldn’t help laughing in relief, but it broke as it fell away from my lips, and I saw his brow furrow with concern. I shook my head and his hand at my cheek weakly moved to still me. He reached out with his free one, and I didn’t hesitate to meet it with mine between us. Intertwining our fingers together.

“I-I… I thought that… I thought…” I choked on the words, my lips trembling.

Grier kissed them gently. Stilling them with his own. He peeled back slowly, only to lean back in half a breath later to lightly kiss them again. I spun like a top, my heart racing so fast in my breast I wasn’t entirely sure it was beating at all.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, my young Prince” He assured me sweetly, and I stumbled over another laugh.

“I… I-I… I’ve been thinking… I’ve been thinking a lot…” I breathed, my voice still shaky.

“Uh-oh,” He mused, “That sounds ominous. Should I prepare myself?”

I sighed exasperatedly. “Would you sh-shut up for half a second?” I belittled the words with a light hearted tone, and punctuated it with a kiss of my own.

In truth, I was so happy to hear his voice again, I could have collapsed from relief. I wanted to hear it more. I wanted to listen to his voice for days, and to stare into those scarlet eyes, and feel the shape of his mouth against mine. But… He smiled against me, and tried to kiss me again as I pulled away. I shook my head. I had something to say, and I needed to say it, before I lost my nerve.

“I-I’ve been thinking… a-and... I’ve decided… I d-decided that… I-I…”

“I hope this isn’t a farewell speech.” He teased as I fumbled for the words again. I shot him a look, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut. But damn that his smirk wasn’t still there on those blasted lips of his.

I took a deep, steadying breath. Staring down at our laps to avoid the temptation of his mouth. The silence rang heavy for a second, and I felt him squeeze my hand encouragingly. I could’ve collapsed with the emotion that sent spinning through me. He had barely been up for five minutes and already he was seeking to give me whatever support he could... Reminding me exactly why I had so much to say… So I sucked in a full lungful of as much air as I could possibly manage.

“... I don’t want to move into your rooms. And I don’t want you to move into mine. I want to have new rooms. To be our rooms. Up in the tower, with a balcony. But the bedroom doesn’t need a window, that way it stays dark. So you can still sleep in. And I want a bed that’s so big I might sometimes lose you in it. A-and I want a room off to one side that we can use as a nursery… Painted yellow… and I want to adopt… but I also want a few kids of yours… I-I don’t think I could do mine, because I really don’t want to sleep with anyone else and if there’s a way that maybe you didn’t have to lay with anyone either I-I think that would be better. But there is absolutely NO way I’m doing th-the ‘magical route’ and… and I’m still not even sure you weren’t just messing with me. I want to bring one of the portraits of my mother, and put her in the sitting room. Over the fireplace. B-but that means no kissing there, because I don’t want her staring at us. Then I want thrones, for the throne room. Proper thrones, not just poofy chairs. Because I’m not sitting on the floor, and if we have audiences with anyone (which we should), we’ll need a proper throne room. And I want to go to the ocean, every few years at least. I want to sit on the beach with you and watch the sunset, preferably on our anniversary. And I want a dog. Not a small dog, a big dog. Like a hunting dog. I-I don’t know if you like dogs, but I’d like one. And if I get a dog, Morgana is going to want a dog too, so we’ll just have to have two big dogs and… and…”

I glanced up at this point amid my rush of words that spilled out unchecked. And dropped off at the sight of Grier’s face. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen his eyes so wide. I thought they might fall out of his head. I shifted nervously, glancing down at our hands then back up at him. Not sure what it was I saw on his features and suddenly feeling shy.

“O-or… or you know… we could talk about it more… i-if you wanted-”

Once again he cut off my words with a kiss. I started at first, then instantly melted against him. He weakly pulled me closer, and I obliged his whim, until he could wrap his arm around my neck. He fell sideways to the mattress and onto his back, pulling me with him, releasing my hand to grope up my side. Slipping beneath my loose tunic to skim over my bare skin. My heart leaped and thudded and I fed him a tiny gasp.

“W-wait, you’re still-” I tried to pull away, but the goblin stubbornly kept himself latched around me. I dared not pull too hard, as I didn’t want to hurt him. “Y-you’re still healing.” I managed to mumble out against his lips.

“I don’t care.” He growled, but dropped back, peering up at me draped over him. “I just… I don’t care… I’m so… I’m just so…” He pulled me down, kissing me again. It was softer this time, as tender as any first kiss. But so full to bursting of emotion that I felt like I could taste it in my heart. After a few hot breaths, he finally pulled back again. “... Exactly how long have I been out??” He teased.

A pained look swept across my face, and his hand quickly came around to cup my jaw again soothingly. “I-I thought… I thought you were going to die…” I whispered, my voice as weak as his touch, “I thought I was going to lose you… a-and then I realized… I realized I had been so s-scared of having something to lose… that I didn’t even realize I was already losing it… I didn’t…” I took a deep steadying breath. “I-I told myself that if you woke up… if you got better… I wouldn’t... I-I … I don’t want to spend the rest of my life w-wondering… wondering what I could have had… but was too afraid to want…”

“... And what do you want?” He asked quietly as my voice petered out, his scarlet eyes growing warm.

“... I want you, Grier…” I breathed, the air fluttering in my chest, and his grip tightened at the sound of his name falling from my lips, “I want you. I want all of you…”

When our mouths met again, it was not with heat. It was… soft… Like petals brushing together. As delicate as a champagne flute, and filled with that same bubbly sweetness… I sunk into his mouth, as deep as I could go. I never wanted to come up for air. I fell beneath the waves of his emotion and I was content to let myself drown that I could fill my lungs with it. The warmth I had been missing filled my chest; that warmth that only he could bring to me. And it spread out to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

I’m not sure how long we remained interlaced together, our mouths moving in unison. But finally, we pulled apart. Neither one initiating our separation, both simply feeling it was the right moment to. I felt his breath on my face and realized I had closed my eyes. I let them slowly flutter open, and when I looked down at those dazzlingly scarlet eyes… I smiled.

His hand came up, his thumb tracing across my lips. Marveling at the shape of them. Which only made my smile grow, though I flushed shyly at his attention and darted my eyes to the side. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smiled… A soft wonder filled those ruby reds of his, and I suddenly and desperately longed to kiss him again. To taste every inch of him that my mouth could reach. Instead I slowly started to sit up. Gently pulling him with me.

“Y-you need to eat.” I told him softly. “To build up your strength…” I caught his hand as he slowly let it slide down my cheek, and I pressed it against my chest above my heart. “You need to get better. All the way better.”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Good.” I said in a warning tone. “B-because I swear to the Gods and all that is holy, if you ever put me through that again, I will kill you.”

His boisterous laughter was drowned out by an eager knock at the door, quickly followed by said door opening. Hibik bustled in, near vibrating with delight. Tears in his eyes. I quickly adjusted myself to put a little space between us, my blush darkening.

“My King!” He cried, coming over, then bowing repeatedly. “Oh! Blesha’la ontow’a, you are awake!

“Ah, Hibik!” He grinned, reaching out to clasp the smaller goblin’s extended hand. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Likewise, my King.” He bowed repeatedly, shaking Grier’s hand vigorously. “Please, please tell me if I can be of any assistance! I have missed serving you with all my heart.”

“Well, my old friend,” He mused, “It seems I need to get back to full strength.” He brought his now freed hand up to stroke my cheek again, and I felt a fresh flush rising to my face at his touch. “After all, I have a Prince to marry!”

My eyes widened slightly at that. “... A-ah… O-oh…. Ummm…”

Hibik also fell silent, suddenly looking down at his feet and shuffling them. Grier looked back and forth between the two of us. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed.

“... Am I missing something here?”

“Well, my King, the thing… Per your wishes… ah.. The thing... the thing is… ah…” Hibik stammered, then glanced at me desperately.

I cleared my throat, hiding the twitching smile at the corners of my lips. “The thing is…technically…. technically… we’re already married.”

Grier stared at me for a long, long moment.

“... I beg your pardon?”

….

It took three days and many loud arguments to convince the goblin that he could not, in fact, nullify the marriage license just to ‘do it the right way’. And no, it didn’t matter that he was the King. It would in turn put our Treaty at risk, and would cause far too many ramifications, many that were possibly not even conceivable at that moment. It took a week for him to stop grumbling about it at every opportunity.

I stayed with him throughout that time. Making sure he ate. Watching him sleep. The first night I woke him up twice, just to be certain he could be roused. He was not a fan of that, but as I seemed insistent, he would merely blink at me a few times, give an exasperated sigh, then snuggle deeper into my arms. It delighted him endlessly that I had completely given up any semblance of pretending we should sleep separately. So he indulged my anxious checking and fussing to the best of his ability. As long as it meant I was never more than an arms length away.

Now I tried not to stare too much, tried to limit it to the occasional glance over at him. My nerves were shot, but despite the anxiousness swelling around me… Every time our eyes met, he smiled. And I felt my heart skip.

Morgana bounced eagerly, alternating between walking at our side and darting ahead. She circled around us, as we were moving far too slowly for her liking, checking and assessing each bobble and bit in the hall on the way to the gardens.

Grier stumbled weakly, and I jerked forward to catch him. He looked up at me, flashing his pearly whites. “I’m alright.” He assured me.

“Perhaps we should wait until you are a little stronger-”

He waved his free hand, using my offered arm to carefully straighten himself. “As you refuse to leave my side for more than a minute, and Morgana informed me you haven’t been outside since I fell ill,” he began, his voice breathy, “You leave me no choice but to forcibly escort you to the gardens, my young Prince.”

“I-I think you are… exaggerating a little to say that I r-refuse-” I stammered, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand.

The King chuckled. “Mmm. Alright then, have it your way.” He interrupted, casting me a sidelong glance. “As your proper etiquette and honor will not allow you to leave your King’s side when he is under duress, it is my responsibility to be certain that you see some sunlight now and again.” His smile grew as Morgana darted back over to us. “Besides, I am bored of my rooms. The fresh air will do me some good, I am sure.”

Morgana returned his grin, bouncing in place. “Just wait until you see the surprise we have planned for you!” She told us. “It’ll make you both feel all better.”

I sighed, relenting and pushing her hair back out of her face for perhaps the hundredth time since we had started our trek. “Chickadee, where do you keep all your energy?” She giggled. “I’m tired just watching you.”

She pushed my hand away and started to dart back up the hallway. “Well, maybe if you ever slept anymore, you wouldn’t be so tired, Niko!” She exclaimed.

I cleared my throat and avoided Grier’s scolding eye. I also pretended not to notice he kept his arm wrapped around mine as we continued down the hall. It was better, I told myself. I could offer him more support that way. He still wasn’t back to his full strength yet, and this walk would likely push him to the extremes of what he had. But we were almost there.

Morgana’s head disappeared around the corner, and I felt my brow scrunch slightly as I watched her. The goblin’s fingers squeezed my arm gently, and I glanced down at him.

“Everything alright?” He asked, his voice tender.

I sighed quietly. “... I-I’m not sure she…” I swallowed, looking down at our feet. “M-maybe I didn’t explain King Tibertius’ passing to her as well as I should have…” My brow furrowed a little more. “Perhaps I was… too cold… I don’t think she understands-”

“You were very gentle.” He assured me, giving my arm another gentle squeeze and falling silent for a moment as we rounded the same corner we had seen Morgana disappear past. But when he spotted her further up the hall, dancing from foot to foot until she saw us again then darting off once more, he continued softly. “She’s young. And I don’t think she was very close to your father. She may not have fully processed it yet, being here.”

“How…” I stopped, but he gave me an encouraging nod. “H-how were you told? About your father, I mean?”

Grier thought about that for a moment, and we walked arm in arm quietly down the hall.

“It was… sudden.” He replied after a time. “He was badly injured in a skirmish…. I’m sure future historians will cite that as the instigating incidence of the hostility between our people…” I winced, but he patted my arm reassuringly. “That morning he was fine, and we… I am sure we broke fast together, because we usually did, but I don’t remember that day specifically… Then by that evening, he had passed.”

I winced. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I apologize-”

“It’s ok.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember much at all from then. I don’t think I even knew he had been injured until both him and my mother missed dinner with me that evening. And I wasn’t brought to see him… not until after he had passed and they had… cleaned him up.” He tilted his head to the side, thinking for a long moment. “I remember being… sad, but more confused. I kept… forgetting, I guess. I would expect to see him places, and I think I asked about it once or twice before it really sank in that he was just… gone. And this is despite the fact that I saw his body.”

His steps had slowed, and I matched them carefully. After a moment, we had both come to a full stop, and he turned towards me, sliding his hands down to catch mine. I hesitated, trying to figure out what he needed in that moment. An apology? A story of my own? Perhaps he wanted space, or silence… or did he want some sort of embrace? I faltered, staring down at our hands and carefully running my thumbs over his. And feeling wholly inadequate not knowing how to comfort him. If that was even what he needed…

“... Morgana will be alright,” He told me after a few moments of silence, “She has you. And she is safe here.” Grier gave my hands a gentle squeeze, and I nodded timidly. The goblin shook himself, and I could hear his smile lacing his next words. “But come! Let’s not spoil our first outing in weeks.” I met his eyes, and felt a little more confident at the warmth in them. “We can talk more later, if you want to.”

I followed his lead as he turned to finish the last stretch before the main doors to the gardens. I didn’t even bother with an excuse, keeping his hand locked in my own and tucking it in my elbow. He moved a little closer, hooking his arm in mine until our thighs almost brushed as we walked.

Morgana had managed to push the massive door open on her own, and was waiting excitedly on the stairs before the gardens. She smiled at us as we approached then waved for us to follow her before taking off down the steps and onto the gravel. It crunched delightfully under her little feet, and I took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air as we made our way down the stairs as well, then out onto the path. The sun was bright and warm despite the chill, and I almost sighed as it splashed across my face. A few yards down, we rounded one of the hedges to find a thick blanket spread over the grass. There was a basket set there, and a few books, as well as some flowers tied in bundles that had Morgana’s signature roots and stems still attached. Safa and Seoc waited there, and they bowed to us as we approached. I felt a slight flush rise to my face, but tried not to let my step falter as I guided the King over.

My sister was already digging into the basket, pulling out dishes and bundles of food to pass to the other goblins, who helped her set the blanket. I couldn’t resist watching Safa with a rather critical eye, considering the way she interacted with my sister. I hadn’t had a chance to properly vet her before everything had happened, and found myself a little untrusting of her. After all, what did I know of this goblin? And she had been spending a lot of time with Morgana while I was tending the King. What if she was not the right influence for an impressionable young princess?

“Try not to scare the poor girl.” Came Grier’s quiet voice in my ear as I helped to carefully lower him to sit amid the pillows set on one side of the large blanket.

I looked at him in surprise, and his grin nearly split his face. I carefully fixed my expression, though I couldn’t completely hide the tightness in my voice as I replied. “I do not know what you mean, Your Majesty.”

Grier scoffed, tugging on my vest until I hesitantly settled onto the ground beside him. “Don’t start with that again.” He warned. Then he jerked his chin at the others a few feet away. “Your sister’s new Lady in Waiting. I saw that look.”

“What look?” I grumbled, my voice equally as soft as I watched Safa whisper something to Morgana. My sister laughed, glancing over at us. I felt my cheeks flush slightly.

The King’s chuckle answered me. “I had all of the ladies screened before I let them meet your sister.” He told me, shifting to sit a little closer to me. I stiffened at his proximity, feeling my face flush again. “Safa is from a good family, and she has a kind heart. Give her a chance, yes?”

I resisted the urge to scowl, considering the pair as they whispered and giggled to each other. Though I had to admit, Morgana did seem very pleased with her new Lady. Perhaps Safa felt my gaze on her, because her eyes darted up to me. I saw her shuffle nervously, offering me a slight bow. She glanced over at Morgana, then at Seoc, as if uncertain what to do with herself beneath my scrutiny.

Grier smacked my shoulder lightly. I started, turning my attention to him. “Leave the girl be.” He scolded good-naturedly. Then his smile tweaked at the corners. “Though I have to say, I like seeing this protectiveness of yours. Especially being on this side of it… Perhaps the father bear in you will be a boon to us in the near future.”

I didn’t get a chance to comment on that, as I had to suddenly struggle to keep myself upright as Morgana launched herself into me. My face instantly softened, and she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“This is lovely, Chickadee,” I told her, “Thank you for it.”

“It was Safa’s idea!” She replied, turning to settle properly on my lap and pulling a dish of finger foods over to us. “She said you and Grier deserved some quiet time together now that he was feeling better, and said since you have both been cooped up inside the fresh air would be good for you.”

I pretended not to notice Grier’s smug smirk, taking the offered nibble from her. “W-well… that was very thoughtful of her.”

“I did the flowers though!” She explained through a mouthful of food, sliding the tray over to Grier. “And I helped her cook!”

“Then we owe both of you our gratitude, little bird.” He mused, taking a piece of food and tossing it in the air to catch it in his mouth. She giggled, then promptly tried to do the same with far less success.

She babbled on about this and that for a while as we ate, then bounded out of my lap to sprint across the green. Safa turned from her conversation with Seoc a few yards away, and both beamed at the Princess who tugged lightly on the goblin’s colorful skirts. I watched quietly, taking a slow sip of the hot coffee my sister had sloppily poured us. I heard Grier’s relaxed sigh, turning my attention back to him.

“... How are you feeling?” I asked him nervously.

He groaned lightly, scooching a little closer and leaning his shoulder against my arm. “If one more person asks me that, I’m going to scream.”

I raised one brow, trying to pretend my heart wasn’t racing at his touch. “I suppose that would mean your lungs feel better then, yes?”

He laughed, settling himself somehow even closer to me. I swallowed nervously, glancing at him out the corner of my eye. “I’m tired.” He admitted, sluggishly pulling a tray of sugar powdered pastries closer. “But it’s nice to get out of that bed.”

“Perhaps we should head back.” I fretted, moving as if to call my sister over.

The goblin shook his head, popping one of the pastries in his mouth and resting his head on my shoulder. “Not yet.” He breathed. “I’m enjoying myself.”

I tried not to shift noticeably, but couldn’t help a tiny shuffle. I even cleared my throat, glancing back at my sister and the other goblins. But they were too far away to be properly bothersome to my discomfort.

“What about you?” I looked over at him at his voice, his scarlet eyes rolling up to meet mine. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not the one who was…” I stopped, dropping off. Feeling my throat close up at the reminder.

I jumped as his hand slid over my thigh, and my heart somehow raced even faster. I wasn’t sure what to do with my eyes. I was pretty sure I had stolen too many peeks at him for me to reasonably be allowed another. So I stared at the ground a few feet away, angled slightly so I could still see him out the corner of one.

“Nikostratus, you need to take care of yourself too.” He told me softly, and his hand ran soothingly back and forth on my leg. “... You can’t just… throw yourself aside for the sake of everyone else…”

I slowly put my cup down in its saucer, and dropping my gaze to stare at my palms. “... I’m fine.”

He gave a soft ‘hmmm’ at that, but didn’t push it further as Morgana darted back over and plopped back into my lap. I stiffened slightly, feeling my face burn hot realizing that Grier was still leaning heavily against my shoulder. But if she noticed, she didn’t seem to mind.

“Niko! Can you do my hair?” She asked. “I want to show Safa what it looks like when you braid it. I brought the oils and comb!”

I hesitated, glancing over at the young noble lady as she sheepishly shifted closer. She stood at the edge of the blanket, her head politely bowed. A few beads of nervous sweat burst out at the collar of my shirt. But… no one seemed to bat an eye at the King currently lazing on my arm. I supposed we were technically married now, after all. That must be why...

I tried to calm my nerves, nodding briskly. “A-alright… but why don’t you read to us while I do?”

Safa brought over a small basket and a book, offering both to me with a shy smile. I considered her for a moment before taking it with a polite thanks. Morgana snatched the book from my hands and flipped to what she described as her ‘favorite goblin story yet’. Seoc and Safa began cleaning up our meal as Morgana started, and I carefully kneaded the oils through her hair. Grier adjusted himself to free my arms, slowly laying down beside me with his head on my bent legs. I looked around nervously… but again, no one seemed to even notice his switch except for me. And I had to admit, having him so close let me relax a little. I didn’t have to check on him as much when I could feel his chest expand with each breath against the crook of my knees.

I forced myself to focus on my sister’s hair, and carefully outlined the tracks with the tip of the comb before I began to form the tight braids along her scalp. I had always loved how fluffy and soft my sister’s hair was; it reminded me of my mother’s. Though hers had been a deep raven black while Morgana’s was more like a dark auburn. It was just as thick, however, and I worked gently to loosen the individual curly strands from each other properly before I smoothed them into shape with the oil. The oil would also help to keep the moisture in the wiry strands, and would help protect her scalp as I tugged the braids firmly into place. I started from the center, working my way to nearly the back of her skull before smoothing out the natural poof at the end of the strands and moving back to her hairline to start again.

I was distinctly aware of Grier’s eyes watching my fingers nimbly braid her hair. Then Safa’s once she had finished clearing the picnic. She kneeled down a few feet away and watched with unconcealed curiosity. I felt a little stiff with the audience. But the King’s eyes drooped lazily as Morgana read on, and Safa proffered a tentative question here and there as I worked, spoken with such reverence I found myself slowly relaxing. I answered her as best I could, my voice low so as to not interrupt my sister’s avid reading. She still scolded us for interrupting, and I hid a smirk in the corners of my mouth. Seoc stood a few feet away, also listening quietly with his head cocked to the side but politely turned.

As the sunlight slowly drifted further away from our cozy little spot, I saw Morgana stifle her third yawn. A glance at Grier told me he was also drifting in and out of the waking world. I finished the last plait along the top of Morgana’s head and brushed the back out into a gentle cloud of natural curls. I worked some of the extra oil in with my palms and watched the curls tighten slightly with the added moisture.

“I believe the end times might be coming,” I mused, as she yawned again, and she and Grier both spun to look up at me, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you so tired. Especially both at once.”

“The Princess was up early with me this morning, My Prince,” Safa offered politely, her voice soft, “She was very eager to help prepare this meal for you and the King.”

“Perhaps then it’s an early night for us all.” I suggested, smoothing back her hair one last time. Grier stretched lightly and yawned, starting to ease himself up.

Morgana ran her own hands over the top of her head, feeling the braids and giving me a sleepy smile. “Thank you, Niko.”

I pinched her cheek. “Thank you, chickadee… And Lady Safa. For setting this up for us.”

“It was my pleasure, My Prince,” Safa bowed her head, then glanced at Morgana, “... Should I bring you back to your rooms Princess? Perhaps we can work on your goblinese for a while before bed.”

“Yeah, I like that idea.” Morgana nodded, turning and wrapping her arms around me. “Goodnight, Niko.” She peeked shyly at Grier from my neck as I returned her hug. “Goodnight, Grier.”

“Goodnight, little bird.” He replied with a smile. “And thank you, again. I look forward to returning the favor someday soon.”

We saw them off as I helped Grier to his feet. Seoc bowed deeply, offering his aid as well, but the King waved him away. Dismissing him for the rest of the evening for a deserved break. We walked with him to the entrance of the castle, then bid him a farewell as he scurried off with the blanket and baskets tucked under his arms.

We walked quietly down the hall, back towards Grier’s rooms. He managed on his own for a while, but by the time we had reached the bottom of the stairs, he started to lean against me heavily again.

“We shouldn’t have stayed out for so long.” I fussed as we rounded the final corner before his hallway. “You can barely stand.”

Grier scoffed away my concern. “It’s good for me. Besides, I enjoyed spending time with you and your sister.” His head cocked sluggishly to the side. “I think she’s a little jealous of me now.” A grin split his thin lips. “I seem to be hogging all your attention.”

I sputtered lightly, a flush coming to my cheeks as I tried unsuccessfully to provide a better conclusion for him. The goblin merely laughed at that, looping his arms around mine and resting his cheek against it. My heart skipped again, and I blinked a few times to try and clear the swirl in my head. I checked about, but we seemed to be alone in the last stretch to his rooms.

His chambers were blessedly dark and still, and I felt heavier as soon as the second door clunked closed behind us. Grier heaved a sigh, plopping down on the bed and kicking off his boots. I moved from where I had removed my vest as he pulled off his top too, going to pick his shoes to place with the rest. His hand caught the edge of my collar as I bent down, giving me a gentle yank.

“Leave them,” He silenced me as I began to protest, hooking his arm about my waist and persuading me over to him, “Your sister isn’t the only one who was working so selflessly all day.” A hot blush rushed my face as he tugged my tunic loose from my trousers and started undoing the ties. “You need to get some rest.”

“That’s my line.” I mumbled dryly, and he chuckled.

“I can’t even fathom the last time you got a good night’s sleep, Nikostratus,” He told me, slowly coming up to his knees, then his feet, standing on the mattress so he could roll my tunic up, “The day outside was a good start, but now we need to get you to bed.”

I nervously finished what he had started, pulling my shirt off. I started to fold it, but the King snatched it from my hands and tossed it to the side. I opened my mouth to stammer a protest again, and found his mouth there to silence it. He wrapped his arms slowly around my shoulders, his bare torso draped against mine. The goblin was taller than me, standing on the mattress as he was, and I had to drop my head back to comfortably return the kiss. I fed him a huffy breath as he coaxed my mouth open with his tongue, slipping past my defenses. Heat was already beginning to build in me at his touch, and I dared snake my own hands over his thighs. Then I hooked them up, catching his weight in my palms to pull his legs around me. I could taste his grin, and slid an arm under him as I carefully climbed onto the bed. Carrying him along with me.

We dropped together to the mattress, and I crouched over him timidly as our kiss broke momentarily. Grier brought his hand around, tracing the back of his knuckles along my jaw. My eyes darted back down to his lips, and before I could meet his gaze again he gently stretched up to sink into my own lips. I kissed him again, pressing his head down into the pillows, slowly lowering my body to be tucked alongside his. Dangling my torso over him with my weight on my elbows. He freed his other hand from around my neck to skim his fingers lightly up my side. I shivered at his touch, and he nipped my bottom lip lightly in response.

I drew back obediently, meeting his eyes shyly. His hand at my jaw turned, bringing his thumb to trace along my lips.

“... Have I mentioned how happy you make me?” He purred softly, a warm smile filling his face.

I blushed again, my eyes darting away. But he held me still with his hand, coming up to kiss me lightly once more. Just a quick peck before he dropped back into the pillows.

“How about how handsome you are?” He continued. “Or how lucky I am that I get to have you as my husband?” A small scowl came to his lips. “Are you certain we cannot simply null the license and do it properly this time?”

I stifled a laugh, my face blazing hot as I shyly rolled away. Dropping to the bed beside him. He quickly shifted and scuttled back into my arms, tucking his body against mine once more and bringing his hands to my face. His scarlet eyes bounced back and forth between mine.

“... You never told me how you feel about everything…”

I swallowed nervously. “E-everything?” I questioned in a soft stutter, timidly running my hand over the edge of his waist and letting my gaze fall to the side.

He nodded. “You’re my husband now…. And I’m yours…” His thumb skimmed along my cheek bone. “... Is that ok?”

I shivered again, then smoothed my hand into the small of his back. Nodding shyly. “Y-yeah. I’m… adjusting. B-but…” My tongue was a little too large for my mouth, and I tried to shift it uncomfortably. “I-I… I’m… I’m happy…” I felt my cheeks burn, and blinked fervently as if to fan them. “... I think…” I finished lamely.

Grier chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead against mine. “You seem… better. About talking,” He rubbed his thumb against my cheek again, “And touching.”

“I’m… I’m trying…” I swallowed again. “B-because… I… I m-missed this… I missed… you… ” I closed my eyes to hide from his. “I was… I was afraid I wouldn’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured me, leaning in until his breath splashed against my face. “Not without you.”

My lips twisted slightly at the corners. “So next time you’ll just be sure to take me with you when you visit death’s doorstep?” I asked dryly.

Another chuckle. “Mmm. No, not quite.” I felt him shift, then felt his lips against my cheek. “Not unless we are both very old and grey. And even then, I would rather not take you with me.”

“I would rather go first.” I mumbled, and felt his fingers tighten. I opened my eyes reflexively to see the worry in his. “... J-just one day… One hour maybe… So… So I don’t ever have to… t-to…” I blushed. “... to live without you.”

He brought our lips together for a feather light kiss, and I pressed my hand into the warm flesh of his lower back. Bringing my other hand up to bury in the wild hair at the base of his skull.

When he leaned back, we lay silently for a bit, staring at each other. Grier was the one to break the silence, a slight furrow forming between the ridges of his pronounced brow.

“Perhaps it was my imagination… But,” He tilted his head to the side, “I swear I… I was dreaming about you. But they felt real. Like memories?”

“I was… talking to you. While you slept…” I glanced away. “I thought maybe… maybe you would hear my voice and want to come back…”

“What did you tell me?” He asked curiously.

I blushed again. “A-ah… I… I told you about Morgana, when she was little…. A-and about Josep… and about my mother…” His hand gently guided me back to him, until I met his eyes once more.

“... Can you tell me again?” A small, sly smirk played across his lips. “I’ll be a better listener this time, I swear.”

I gave another timid nod. “O-ok…”

He smoothed his palm along my face. “But not tonight. You need to sleep.”

I frowned. “I’m fine-”

“You’re not fine.” He cut me off. “You spent the last two weeks watching me teeter on the edge of death. All the while ruling the Kingdom, and caring for Morgana, and anything else you could shoulder.” He ran his hand to the back of my head, gently squeezing my skull in his palm. “You married a dying man, your old guard tried to kill you, your father died... And those are just the things I know about...” I winced, and he brought his forehead back to mine. “Now it’s time to relax. Let someone else take the burden for a time while you rest.”

I started to shake my head. “Y-you’re still healing-”

“So are you.” He argued, squeezing me again as I winced once more. His fingers slowly loosened, then he traced them back and forth along the back of my head. “... Let me take care of you now, hm? I’m strong enough for that.”

I didn’t say anything, but met his eyes bashfully again. A sound warmth reached those dazzling scarlet reds of his. I sighed deeply, and he smirked with an almost irritating smugness in recognition of my defeat. Shifting to roll closer to me and wrap his arms about my shoulders. Tucking my head against his neck and resting his chin on the top of my head. One hand began to draw slow lines up and down between my shoulder blades, the other cupping the back of my head. I drew in a slow, deep breath, pulling the scent of him into my lungs. Feeling myself slowly relax as I lay there with him, my eyes getting heavier by the minute. I wove my own arms around him, encompassing him with my own body even as he buried my head in his.

It didn’t take much longer for me to fall into a deep, deep sleep. Securely and safely wrapped up in Grier’s arms...

....

“What could possibly have been going through his mind?” I scowled slightly, resisting the urge to let my nose scrunch up as well. “What possible thought could he have had to think that was even remotely acceptable to say?”

Grier smirked. “Well, I’m certain he had his reasons dear.”

“Impossible! It’s absolutely illogical, and hare brained at best.” I argued, then glanced at him sidelong. “... Don’t call me ‘dear’.”

The goblin grinned up at me. “How about ‘sweetheart’?” My small scowl twitched at the corners and he laughed. The sound echoed around us, bouncing off the stone walls. “I am just attempting to find the perfect pet name for you, love.”

I shook my head. “You’re ‘just attempting’ to change the subject. Are you afraid I’ll have that nobleman hoisted by the ankles for his blasphemy?” I returned. “.... D-don’t call me ‘love’.”

He drew in an excited breath. “Ah, excellent. You’re starting to get flustered.” He bared his pointy teeth at me. “That’s a good sign.”

I scoffed at him, feeling a slight flush pinch at the balls of my cheeks. “I-I am not!”

The King sidled up to me, snaking his arms around mine to match my long stride with a skipping step. “Everything is going perfectly to plan then.”

I chanced a quick peek around to be sure that we were alone in the halls. It had been nearly a month since the goblin King had first woken from his fever induced slumber, and every day a little more of his strength found its way back to him. And every day, he grew a little more bold. A little more affectionate.

I still didn’t care for over the top displays around others, even the attendants and guards posted strategically through the castles. Most especially around my sister. But found I didn’t mind so much the little ones… a pinky finger hooked around mine. A gentle hand on my shoulder in passing. A thigh tucked against my own when we were sitting. Not that anyone else seemed to mind. I just couldn’t seem to completely shake the uneasiness I felt at the idea of other eyes seeing his affections for me.

But Grier was nothing if not adaptable. He relished tugging me into a dark corner to steal a kiss when no one was around. Or palming my ass when we left a room. Once or twice he had even gotten a few buttons on my shirt undone in a stairwell before my shyness and good sense had gotten the better of me. He seemed to enjoy my flushed face, and I couldn’t help the way my heart skipped at his little smug smiles of accomplishment after each daring theft. And when we were alone? … Suffice it to say I was pretty sure I had taken more cold baths in the last month than the rest of my life combined. I also was pretty well versed in the goblinese alphabet in any order I may wish to recite it. Grier relished hearing me attempt to distract myself from his attentions; I was pretty sure he considered it a personal challenge to get me hot and bothered when I was trying very hard not to. And as his strength returned, it was getting harder and harder to remind him he was still healing and to take it slow.

This evening though, as we walked arm in arm, I felt a frown settle on my lips as I checked to be certain we were alone. I glanced around, a furrow digging into my brow.

“... W-where are we going?” I checked over my shoulder, my frown deepening. “I-I don’t… I don’t think this is the way to your rooms…”

The goblin chuckled, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. “You’re really quite hopeless aren’t you, my young Prince?” He mused. “We haven’t even been in the right wing for some time now. Didn’t you notice we went up a flight of stairs??”

I glanced around again, but despite the slight air of unfamiliarity, the hallway looked just like any other. I swallowed a sigh. I had gotten lost a fair few times in the last month. It was an informal royal decree from both Morgana and Grier that I was not allowed to wander the halls unaccompanied anymore. It seemed I had a knack for ending up in quite the opposite place of my intended destination.

“I-it did seem… a little longer of a walk than normal.” I mumbled sheepishly. I was lying, of course, as it hadn’t really. Then shot him a sidelong look. “... Ah… where are we going then?”

Grier’s grin turned sly, and he glanced at me out the corner of his eye. “It’s a surprise.”

“But… but i-it’s late. Y-you shouldn’t be-”

The King scoffed, waving one hand errantly. “I have been given a clean bill of health now, pet. I am free to surprise my husband to my heart’s content.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to sort out what he meant by that. “... D-don’t call me ‘pet’.” I hesitated, looking around again. “So w-where-”

“Still a surprise.” He interrupted me, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “But I promise we are almost there.”

I relented with a stifled huff, letting him lead me as he would. I couldn’t help looking around curiously, but simply had no head for the layout of the castle. It was far more complex than the one I had grown up in, and even there I had some trouble from time to time. It had taken me nearly my full 25 years to grow comfortable with it; I imagined it would take much longer than that for me to settle into familiar paths in this castle.

“Are you looking forward to your brother’s coronation?” Grier asked by way of distraction for my nerves.

I peeked at him, my frown returning slightly to the corners of my mouth. “... No.”

The goblin chuckled. “I would have thought you would be happy to have him on the throne. A much more level and reasonable head than your father, I am certain.”

I nodded my agreement, checking down one dark hallway we passed instinctively. “Of course. Crown Prince Valerianus will be an excellent ruler, a boon to his people.” My voice strayed into the old formal flatness from my youth. But then I stopped, staring down at our feet as we walked. “... I-I am not looking forward to the coronation itself.” I dropped off momentarily. “... Least of all because Morgana will be staying with m-my… my brother upon our return.” The word still tasted strange to me.

“Just for a few months.” He reminded me soothingly. “A season at each castle. I believe it is quite the fair arrangement.” He gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “It’ll go by faster than you think… What else worries you about the coronation?”

“... I don’t like parties.” I sighed. “I don’t like crowds of people… I-I prefer to be alone.”

“Except for me?” He offered.

I blushed, stammering for a moment. “Except f-for you...” I amended quietly.

His grin returned, and he tugged me to a halt. “Excellent. Because we are here.”

We stood beside a massive set of pine doors, inlaid with dark carved oak. A delicate but intricate pattern wove beautifully across each, and I considered that for a long moment. I looked around, then back at the doors, my head naturally tilting to the side as I tried to figure exactly where “here” was. Higher up, of course. Now that I was aware of it, we had climbed at least two sets of stairs to get here. But aside from the beautiful carved doors (which I was fairly certain I had never seen before) there was nothing overly distinct about our location, and nothing was familiar.

“Ah… sh-should I know where we are?” I asked timidly. Afraid he would be insulted that I did not, or disappointed his surprise was not completely evident to me.

The goblin was nearly dancing from foot to foot in his excitement. “Why don’t you open the doors and see?”

I hesitated, cocking one eyebrow at him. Then released his hand to push the left side door open. Grier pushed open the other, then stood with his hands behind his back while I assessed the room beyond.

It was a foyer. I knew that much. A grand fireplace to one side, a plush couch flanked by a pair of armchairs (matching, I was surprised to find) and a white marble table. To the other side, another pair of armchairs set on either side of a circular table set with a decadent chess set (those pieces didn’t quite seem to belong to each other though). I glanced over at Grier, and he nodded, encouraging me to go deeper with a large grin on his face. He jerked his head to the right, and I obediently went through the door there. A large reading room, with a tall window set into the length of one wall, a soft looking bench beside it. We were in the tower then, I surmised, craning my neck back to follow the floor to ceiling shelves with a thin ladder and narrow ledge at the middle to reach the second level of books. I could smell the old pages, and lingered for a moment. More plush furniture, cozy and soft looking. A few over the top decadent pillows, and a fair few knick-knacks, though they were neatly set about the room.

I turned back to Grier in the doorway, opening my mouth to speak. But he merely gestured for me to follow him back into the foyer, then across to the opposite door. This one was a closet, long and narrow, with a few cloth mannequins in between the shallow alcoves stuffed with vibrant colored clothes. At least on one side. On the other, my eyes widened slightly upon seeing dark, solid colors. Coats. Vests. White or cream shirts. Greys and blues mostly, with a few other colors smattered in between. Not stuffed, as the opposite side was, but neatly arranged and ordered by item types. Vests in one place. Coats in another. Tunics and shirts in the last. Boots and belts on hooks and shelves between. There were mirrors in the corner, each more decadent than the last and making the space seem even more full than it was.

Again I opened my mouth, the realization coming to me, but the goblin put his hands on my hips and started to push me towards the door in the back. I stammered a few useless sounds, but he persisted. Steering me through to the next room.

A bath. Large, with pearl and opal encrusted pools and delicate marble steps. I craned my neck back, finding a beautiful mosaic of colorful and sparkling tile in the ceiling. I marveled at it for a moment, breathing in the warm, steam filled air. Listening to the soothing sound of trickling water. A few raised basins lined the walls, with intricate stone carvings set into their backboards where water trickled into them before dripping off the sides and down to some unseen place in the ground beneath.

“There’s more.” He told me before I could speak. Catching my hand and tugging me through the door on the opposite side from where we had entered.

I followed behind, feeling in a daze. A bedroom this time, as evident by the bed large enough that I was certain a giant could comfortably lay sideways in it. It had tall, dark oak beams, and was filled with plush pillows along the headboard. Heavy curtains were neatly tied to the posters with golden rope, and there was another large fireplace off to one side. I recognized some of the bobbles and odds and ends from my time spent clearing his chambers. I dug my heels in, yanking Grier to a stop as I marveled at the room.

“A bed so big you could lose me in it.” He reminded me, his grin still ear to ear. “I hope this one with suffice. It was quite the commission.”

“... Th-this is… for us?” I mumbled timidly, and felt my face suddenly flush dark.

He laughed. “Well, as long as it matches what you wanted.” He tugged my hand a final time. “But there’s one last surprise here for you.”

I obediently followed after him, letting him lead the way to the back corner. There was an archway, with a small little room to one side and a spiral stairwell to the other. The room was rounded on one side, with beautiful colored glass windows. The walls were a soft yellow, and the furniture was decidedly small. A small bed, a soft looking armchair with a sheepskin draped over it. And a cradle, alongside the window. My blush went even darker.

“Is it how you imagined?” He asked, stepping to the side to give me a better view. “I’m not sure what human nurseries look like, so I am afraid it might lean a little more to the goblin side of things.” His own scarlet eyes appraised the room. “We can of course change anything you’d like.”

“It… i-it looks…” I stepped shyly into the center, slowly pivoting on one foot. The setting sun broke through the glass, bathing the room into an almost magical glow. “... It looks… perfect…”

I jumped as his hands slowly came around my middle, and I felt him bury his face in the slope of my back. My breath fluttered from my chest, and I hesitantly rested my hands on his arms at my waist. A thousand thoughts rushed through my head at that moment, so quickly it was soon throbbing. Especially as his hands began to slowly rub against my abdomen.

I glanced at the doorway, then blinked a few times. “Wh-where do the stairs go?” I asked tentatively. Eager to distract myself from the heat of him at my back.

He gave me a gentle squeeze, then slid around to stand in front of me once more. “I thought you’d never ask.” The goblin took up my hands again. “Come.”

The spiral stairs were narrow, but not uncomfortably so, and I had no trouble following behind him. Our boots clicked on the stone, and I could barely keep up with his eager pace. The stairs let up to a large circular room at the top, devoid of furniture. The walls were mostly all glass, save for the stone archways supporting it, with thick curtains bunched along their length ready to be drawn. A door opened opposite us, leading to a balcony around the outside edge. But it was the center of the room that drew my attention.

It was filled with blankets, rugs, and large pillows of varying colors and patterns. Creating a soft nest of sorts, and encircled with white candles that were somehow already lit. Their flames flickered on the surface of the polished glass, making it look like we were surrounded by soft faerie fire. The ceiling was domed, and also completely glass, and as I stepped closer, I dropped my head back to look up at the swirl of pastels dancing across the sky as the sun began to set. The room was filled with the soft smell of flowers, and I saw them hanging from planters along the top edge of the stone pillars, draping down delicately. There was also a strategically placed set of stout, square glasses, and a tray of amber filled decanters. I could see the mountains for miles in almost every direction, and again slowly turned in place as I took it all in.

I felt eyes on me, and dropped my own from the heavens to find Grier’s waiting. He smiled at me, a little shyly. Obviously waiting for my final reaction. I looked around again, feeling as if my breath had been stolen from my lungs. I realized my mouth had dropped open a little, and quickly deigned to close it.

“Perhaps not what you had in mind when you said ‘a balcony’.” He mused. “But I thought it might still impress...” He gestured to the blankets and pillows at the center. “Fancy a drink to top off the evening? Perhaps to celebrate our new abode?”

“Th-that…” I fumbled for the right words, still a little dumbstruck. I swallowed hard. “That sounds… It would be.. a-ah... P-perfect.”

He motioned for me to sit, then walked around and carefully closed the curtains of the windows, leaving just the domed ceiling overhead. I stopped at the edge of the nest, hesitating for a moment before removing my boots. It didn’t seem appropriate to tread over the fabrics with them. I noticed a few petals flittered among the pillows, and pondered at exactly how they had managed to get so far from their source. The sun had all but completely sunk below the horizon now, and the inky night sky was beginning to seep into the pastels left in its wake. Slowly, I sat amid the pillows, craning my neck back to watch the darkness’ progression.

I heard him come up behind me, as well as the shuffle of him removing his own boots. The hairs on the base of my neck rose as he sank down to his knees at my back, then I felt the heat of his body once again as he slowly wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I shivered as his hot lips suddenly pressed to the side of my neck.

“What do you think?” He asked me softly. His breath warm against my skin.

I felt my face flush, and looked down at my hands in my lap. “O-of the rooms? Or… Or of all this?”

He gave a soft ‘hmm’ at that, then kissed my neck again. “Both.”

I peeked over at the stairs, trying to ignore the way he moved his hands back and forth over my shoulders. “... I-I like them… You ah… Y-you definitely were listening…”

He chuckled, and my eyes drooped as he pressed his lips against my skin once more. “My sweet Prince, I’m always listening to you.” One of his hands rolled to trace slowly down my front. “... And this?”

I swallowed nervously, then pretended to be too preoccupied with considering the room to notice his nimble fingers undoing the buttons on my vest. “I-it reminds me of… o-of that… umm…” I flushed a little darker, distracted. “... That first dinner…”

He nodded, slipping in a little closer. “Our first ‘date’, so to speak.” I could hear his smile in his next words. “You remember.”

I nodded. “O-of course I do… it was…i-it was...“ I dropped off, struggling to find the right word.

“Special?” He offered, and goosebumps shot across my skin at the word. I nodded again, resisting another shiver. He hummed his approval softly. “That was the intent… though I have an entirely different goal for how I’d like this night to end… But I want to ask you something first.”

My breath caught in my throat at that, and I turned slightly to look at him out the corner of my eye. His fingers had halted, and I found an unfamiliar seriousness waiting for me when I met his gaze. It made my mouth twitch down, and I turned to face him a little more. Curious what he could possibly want to ask that had him so uncharacteristically somber. The goblin took a steadying breath, easing his hands slowly back to cup on his lap.

“Nikostratus…” He paused, drawing in a breath, “... Will you marry me?”

I blinked at him. “... We’re already married.”

Grier scoffed angrily, brushing his hand through the air. “Yes yes, technicalities and legalities and all that. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“But that’s… that’s what you just asked-”

“No! I mean, yes, that is, but that’s not what I meant.” He gave an exasperated sigh. I felt my mouth twitch at the corners as his tentative expression turned to a scowl. The goblin shook his head, then took up both of my hands in his. “What I meant was… will you, Prince Nikostratus… will you be mine? And will you take me as yours?” I started to open my mouth, but he squeezed my hands. “Not because of a treaty, or in case I die without an heir. Not because I’m a King, and you’re a Prince. Or for our people, or even for the sake of peace. Not to make anyone else happy… but because I asked you… because I love you…” His scarlet eyes dropped down to our hands. “... And because you want to-”

“Yes.”

He jerked sharply. “... What?”

I nodded. “Yes. I will. Because you asked. Because I want to.”

“... Just like that?”

I smiled shyly at him, and I saw his eyes sparkle at the sight. “Just like that.”

He released one of my hands from his and brought it up, turning my face towards him properly. I met his eager lips with mine, shifting to twist at my waist. Bringing my own hand up to tentatively trace along the edge of his sharp jaw. We held that kiss for a long breath, relishing in it together.

Then he moved, stretching and rolling himself around to come to my side. Easing my now unbuttoned vest off my shoulders and teasing his tongue between my lips. I shrugged the vest off, letting him toss it to the side without breaking our kiss. Feeling his hands return to begin untucking my tunic and undoing the strings to my trousers. My own hands reached for him, finding first his waist, then the hem of his pants. Gently tugging his own shirt loose, slipping my palms underneath to press against his warm, bare skin beneath. My heart leapt and thudded in my chest, and forgot how to breathe for a moment as he broke our kiss to roll my tunic up and over my head.

His hands came to my shoulders, pushing me firmly, until I fell onto my back amid the pillows. And he climbed on top, straddling me and planting his firm buttocks quite soundly on top of the swiftly growing bulge at my pelvis. I nearly groaned, and saw the same intense heat in his own eyes as I felt rippling through my body. I watched as he pulled off his own top, revealing his muscular torso and taut green skin to my hungry gaze. He tossed his shirt to the side as well and came back down, kissing first my mouth, then pushing my head to the side with his nose to begin slowly licking and sucking at the curve of my neck. My eyes rolled back and a shiver of delight rippled through me at the sensation.

“... A-are… Are you sure you’re… Y-you’re…” I stammered, unable to manage a complete sentence with his lips trailing across my skin.

I felt his hum against my throat, and gasped as he gently nipped at me. “Absolutely.”

Grier came back up to lean over me, his hair falling wildly about his shoulders as he bent down. Pressing our lips together again to reassure me of his words. His hands came to rest on either side of my head, and I let my own trace hesitantly up his bare arms. First to his shoulders, then slowly down his muscular back. I marveled again at the warmth and texture of his skin, and shivered as it seemed to remind me of my own exposed flesh. I heard his jaw click slightly as he opened it wide, sneaking his tongue back into my mouth. Winding it around mine. Another shiver passed through me, and I felt him shift. Rubbing against my cock through our pants and leaving my head spinning again. I fed him a shuddering breath as he ground his own member against me, sending a prickling heat racing through my body.

He unlocked our mouths, bringing one hand up to turn my face to the side before burying himself against the tender flesh beneath my ear. The sound of his tongue working against my skin coupled with his hot breath in my ear had my hands on his back looking for purchase to pull him closer. He trailed his sharp teeth across my skin, and I caught my hand in his hair as he worked his mouth slowly down my body. My fingers curled into those messy locks, and I started to prop myself up on one elbow as he moved lower and lower. Wondering where exactly he was going.

Scarlet eyes flicked up to me, and the heat there made my heart skip and sputter dangerously. “Lay back.” He breathed against my skin, his voice several octaves deeper with the husk of his arousal.

I did as I was told, settling into the pillows once more with my heart in my throat. Trusting him as the more seasoned player for exploiting our arousals. He had certainly proved himself quite skilled in such carnal desires over the past month. I felt his mouth trail kisses down my abdomen, felt his hands massage at my sides. My own hand was still buried in his hair, and it twitched as his fingers curled around the hem of my pants. Pulling them down and freeing my cock from their quickly shrinking confines. I tried to not think too much about how I was now laid bare before him, even as my heart thrummed. Luckily the blood was rushing through a fairly different head of mine at that moment, and my thoughts were congealed and fleeting at best. And as his hands slid up the back of my thighs to cup my buttocks, I lost even that.

I jerked as something firm and wet flicked at the head of my cock. Then gasped as the sensation returned. The pant of his hot breath against my pelvis brought the shocking clarity to my swirling brain that it was his tongue currently rolling over and licking at me with abandon. At first, I was so surprised my mouth dropped open. But as his long tongue wrapped and lapped at all my most sensitive parts, I decided I really didn’t care. More heat poured through my body, until I felt the tips of my fingers and toes go numb. I tightened my hand in his hair, and groaned loudly as his lips suddenly closed around my erection. Enveloping it in that hot, wet mouth of his. I thought I could feel the tantalizing brush of his sharp teeth along its length, and he began to rhythmically work his way up and down my shaft. I groaned again, trying not to writhe too much beneath his hot breath and lapping tongue. His hands massaged at my cheeks, slowly pushing them tightly together then spreading them apart.

I was glad for the soft pillows beneath me as I smashed my head back recklessly at the wave of pleasure that washed through me. My hand bobbed with his head, riding up and down the full length of me. I could feel his lips scrape the hair at my pelvis, and each deep thrust left me twitching more than the last. I curled one of my legs half around him, needing to touch him. To feel the heat of the rest of his body. His hands worked between my butt cheeks, and I felt the tip of one beginning to massage my hole.

Damnit. I thought to myself as a pulsing flash of light filled my vision. I started to try to pull away from him, feeling myself cresting on the edge of pleasure. But he stubbornly latched on, somehow managing to bury my cock deeper into his throat. I gasped, then moaned, my fingers in his hair spasming. I would have felt embarrassed by my sounds, had I the capacity for any thought other than that of the sensations of his mouth wrapped around me. His finger flicked inside me, and I smashed my head back again with that final straw.

I shuddered, crescendoing over the top and crashing back down on the other side in a hot, rippling mess. I felt my cock throb, pulsing my cum straight into Grier’s waiting mouth. I would have flushed in embarrassment, had my entire blood supply not been otherwise preoccupied at the moment. My body became in as much mush, my bones forgetting their solidity, my legs feeling numb. I blinked rapidly, trying to sort out exactly what had just happened, but my thoughts remained a hopeless swirling mess.

Before I could fully return to myself, Grier’s mouth found mine. My hand at the back of his head slipped to cup his neck, and with a weak grip I pulled him closer instinctively. He tasted salty, but not at all bad, and I welcomed his long tongue back into my mouth. Breathy with the lingering memory of its previous exploits. I felt myself slowly returning, and found his hands still massaging and playing with my ass. And was quite aware of his own cock rubbing against my pelvis eagerly.

I didn’t let myself pause to think, reaching down. Wrapping my hand around him. He fed me an equally breathy pant as I firmly gripped his manhood. I started to sit up, half on my side, adjusting to allow myself better purchase while his hands still worked at my backside. I used the moment to explore his cock in my palm, sliding up and down its length, with the pale tuft of wiry hair at its base and running partially up his abdomen. He hardened more at my touch, and I couldn’t help the little giddy glee in my stomach at the feeling.

I wasn’t sure if I was expecting it to be different from a human cock. A quick glance confirmed it was as green as the rest of him, though the head was darker. I thumbed the veins and ridges, running my palm appraisingly over it. Grier seemed eager to indulge my whims, and his pelvis jerked at my movement. I was surprised to find it was not smaller, as I would have expected it to be considering his proportions. Despite the goblin’s stature, I was pretty certain his appendage was very nearly the same size as mine. It certainly fit my palm similarly, and I enjoyed the familiarity of its shape. Feeling more and more confident as I rubbed at it firmly, confirming to myself this fact. Grier broke back from my mouth to lightly nip at my lip with his sharp teeth, seeming unable to fully handle the pleasure and desperate for an outlet.

He quivered as I continued to pump my palm up and down his shaft. I moved my other hand from the base of his skull to massage at his shoulders. He tucked his face against my neck, panting against me. Palming my ass and drifting his fingers ever closer to my anus. I encouraged him by picking up my pace, and felt him bite at my throat with a soft groan. He murmured something I didn’t understand, and suddenly his fingertips felt moist and tingly as he slid them in and around my hole.

“I want to know what it feels like to be inside you, Nikostratus.” He purred against my skin, and I quivered with anticipation. Gasping softly as he worked his fingers deeper. Carefully massaging and stretching me out.

I gripped him even more firmly now, rolling my hand down the length of his shaft, slowly pushing back his skin to fully expose his sensitive head to the night air. He groaned again, and I delighted in the feeling of the vibration of it at my throat. Whatever magic he had placed on his fingers was soothing and cool, and I felt myself relax at his touch.

His hands came around, pushing me down with his palms at my shoulders. I didn’t object, falling back willingly. Feeling my legs shaking with my growing anticipation. He coaxed me onto my stomach, and rolled his hands back and forth over my cheeks a few times. I felt his cock slide between them, and heard his breath hitch as he rubbed it there for a moment. Then aligned himself properly. I didn’t dare try to look over my shoulder at him, my face hot, my breath catching. I tried not to flinch as I felt his head graze the ring between my cheeks, but couldn’t help the shiver of excitement. His preparations allowed him to push easily inside me, though he did so slowly. Relishing each tantalizing inch. I curled my fingers into the blankets, my mouth dropping open as his head ground slowly against a particularly sensitive spot. He moved until he had buried himself to his pelvis, and bent slowly over me. His breath splashed against my spine, and I felt him carefully roll his hips.

I closed my eyes, letting loose something halfway between a moan and a gasp. It felt strange, but not unpleasant. He rolled again experimentally, then I felt him shudder against me. He bent further, curling over my ass and resting himself on his elbows. Until he could lap at the sweat now slowly dripping down my spine. I quivered at that, lost in a fresh wave of pleasure as he ground and rocked into me again. And again. His mouth came to my skin as he moved, and I could feel his breath panting against my sweat slicked shoulders. He alternated between kissing and licking, but as his pace picked up, I felt his teeth prick my skin in between groans pressed into my flesh.

I relished the sound of his hips smacking against my fleshy bottom. I enjoyed the feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside me. He moved gently at first, but gradually picked up speed and force as his excitement grew and my sounds spurred him on. Before long, he released a string of goblinese. I didn’t have to understand it at all to know it was probably not in any way ‘proper’ or ‘polished’ speech. It made my heartbeat even more erratic, and his thrusts seemed to match it. I felt him shudder again, and stifled a moan with my face buried in the blankets.

Suddenly, he jerked and spasmed, and a small part of me imagined I could feel him pulsing inside me as he reached his own climax. Logically I knew whatever magic he had used to relax my ring would likely prevent that, but I preferred to still imagine I could.

The goblin dropped onto my back with a hefty gasp, his smaller body quivering. My own body alternated between melting into a semi-solid state and tensing into a shiver. Each panting breath I drew, I could feel his weight rise and fall along with it. Our heat melded together, until I wasn’t entirely sure where his body ended and mine began... Eventually, he planted a final kiss between my shoulder blades, and slid off my back with a soft thump.

I found a bit of solidity to roll onto my side a few breaths later, and jumped slightly as Grier practically launched himself into my chest. I would have laughed at that, had I any semblance of where my lungs were at that moment. Instead, I sluggishly draped my arms around him, feeling his pleased sigh against my sternum as I did.

When several long minutes had passed without sound, I started to crane my neck down to check if the King was even still awake. I was certain he must be unconscious; he would never have been this quiet otherwise. Though over the last few weeks I had found there were nights when he talked even in his sleep! A pair of languid, hooded red eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I raised an eyebrow. I had fully expected when we got to this… ‘moment’, he would be full of teasing, boisterous words. Perhaps some musing on our varying physicality, or a comment on some quality of my body. Leaving me flustered, stammering, and proficiently bothered. His mouth twitched at the corners, but I was surprised to find him continuing his uncharacteristic silent streak.

As the heat and rush of excitement started to fade from my body, I found my anxiety waiting. Perhaps he had been disappointed? Or found my performance lacking in comparison to his other partners? Had he overexerted himself? A pang of guilt hit me hard in the chest. I shouldn’t have let it go so far. I had been too caught up in the desire, and turned selfish. He was still recovering; it had only been a month after all. I fretted over this, feeling my body stiffen around him.

Suddenly, Grier chuckled, and his lips pressed lightly to the hollow of my neck. “Over thinking things, are you?” He mumbled, as if his lips weren’t able to move properly to form the words.

I shifted nervously. “I-is it that obvious?”

Another soft laugh, and he snuggled deeper into me. But he didn’t answer right away, breathing another sigh into me. My heart skipped about in my chest, bouncing around the walls of my ribcage. His hand came up, sluggishly smoothing against my skin, rubbing the side of my neck and down my shoulder. I tried to take comfort in that, adjusting my suddenly oversized tongue in my mouth. Still, I lay stiff as a board beside him, and after a little while he brought his lips back to the same spot at the base of my neck.

“I’m not much of a talker.” He fumbled by way of explanation, his words slurred and slow.

That did make me laugh out loud. “Since when??”

He hummed a soft, amused note, and I felt his eyelashes brush against my skin as they fluttered. “After sex, I mean.”

Instantly my face flushed at the word. “A-ah,” I stammered, then shifted a little. “I-I… I didn’t know th-that.”

I could almost sense his languid grin, and he pressed his lips to my hot skin again. Then once more, though softer. His body relaxed, and he buried his face against me. His warm breath spinning down my sternum to be trapped between our entwined bodies. I swallowed once more, but adjusted, curling more completely around him. Cocooning him.

I rested my chin on the top of his head, and let a soft sigh escape as I forced my own body to relax. We lay quietly for a while. I knew he wasn’t asleep, as I felt his lashes run along my skin each time he blinked. I borrowed reassurance from the sensation, and my muscles loosened more. My eyes found the stars over our heads, and I watched them amid the reflection of the candlelight.

“I used to spend a lot of time staring up at the sky,” I breathed, “Wh-when I was younger… I found I could hide better in the dark, a-and no one ever thought to look for me outside for some reason…” I ran my hand along his spine, letting the words simply flow from me. Not really speaking to him, specifically. Just speaking... As I had when he was sick, and I had attempted to keep the habit up since. “I liked the night… Things were… quieter then… P-people didn’t bother me as much…” I considered the stars I could see from my position tucked against him. “We had a small collection of books on the constellations… I think I memorized most of them, I read them so much… I-I liked to… to read. Whenever I could manage to, I would go to the castle library…” My hand skimmed up to play with the long strands of his hair spilling over his back. “There was this… one spot… It was, ah… it was where the walkway of the second level stopped short… But there was just a little gap before the top of the next pillar and… a-and I found that I could s-step from the walkway to the pillar, then around to the next… then in the corner, one of the bookshelves was shorter to let in the light from the window…” I turned my head, burying my nose in his silky soft hair. Breathing in his spicy sweet scent. I knew now he liked to burn sage and myrrh in his rooms. He found the scents calming... “I would sit on top of that shelf for hours… No one could ever find me… I had a pillow set up there, and I would leave my favorite books…”

His soft chuckle vibrated against my chest. “I see Morgana wasn’t the only adventurous royal.” He murmured into my skin.

My lips twitched at the corners. “... I-I’m mostly of the literary sort… I would go there when I’d had enough of socializing and crowds. After all the galas, and balls and… ” I hesitated, my hand pausing with the long strands of his hair twirled around my fingers. Suddenly reminded of another such impending event. “I-I… I don’t want a big wedding…” I confessed suddenly, wincing.

Grier shifted, seeming to come to life at my words. I stiffened, worrying he would deign to leave my side if he was upset enough. I wasn’t sure what I would do if he did, and felt my heart ache with the fear. I felt his hand, previously forgotten in the knoll of my neck, slide over my muscles. Down my pectorals, then back up. His kiss was soft against me, and I shivered at it.

“Alright.” He agreed readily.

I blinked in surprise. “... Y-you… you don’t mind?” I felt him shake his head against me, and my fingers in his hair tightened. “I-I thought you wanted… I thought you would want a big… a-a very big ceremony, especially now that-”

“I’ve told you this before.” He interrupted me. His hand lingered at my throat, his thumb following the lump as I swallowed. “I don’t know why you never seem to believe me. I want you to be happy. That’s all I want.”

“... Even if it wasn’t with you?”

The goblin leaned in to nip at my soft flesh with his teeth at my tempered teasing. “Alright.” He amended. “I want you to be happy with me. But... if you couldn’t be-”

I shook my head, wrapping him up in my arms and pulling him close. “I-it doesn’t matter.” I told him in denial of that possibility as he slowly wound his hand to my back. Entangling himself around me. “I don’t… I-I don’t think I could… I don’t think I could be...h-happy… without you.” He nuzzled into the side of my neck, until I could feel his breath in my ear, and I took courage from that. “I-I don’t think I’ve… I’ve ever been…” I dropped off, then shook my head again. “N-not like this…”

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that…” He breathed, a happy relief in his voice. Then he paused, drawing small circles with his fingertips on my back. “I’ve been... obsessed with you… Ever since I first learned of you three years ago.” He confessed quietly, and I tried not to stiffen with his words. “I thought it was just some… strange fancy. One that would go away with time.” He smoothed his palm over my shoulders. “After I saw you… I just… always felt like something was missing. Though I couldn’t tell what it was… I certainly never put it together with you specifically.” He sighed. “Yet it was constantly driving me. Though I didn’t know it. It drove me to halt hostilities. Then to seek out the peace… and then… that drove you to me… and…”

He leaned back, pulling himself free from my embrace. I turned, looking down at him as his hands came about to cup my face. His long thumbs ran along my cheeks under my eyes, as his own seemed to study every pore. Our breath intermingled in what was left of the air between us, and electricity snapped in its wake. Slowly he stretched up, kissing me softly, gently. As if he were in a pleasant dream, and longed to do everything in his power to linger in it.

“And then I saw you again…” He murmured once he had finally leaned back. “I saw you in my castle, standing before me. Close enough to touch… and everything just… clicked. Everything became so obvious.”

“W-was it really so easy for you?”

“No.” He admitted. “I wasn’t lying back then, when I said you surprised me. I really never thought I would like you. I had never met a human before that I had found I could do much more than tolerate.” His head cocked to the side. “But I thought it would be... interesting, at least. And…” He grinned. “You are very handsome.”

My cheeks grew hot and I tried to flick my gaze to the side. He tightened his grip, tricking me into looking back at him in surprise. Just in time for him to kiss me again. I hummed a sigh against his mouth, my eyes fluttering.

“You are very handsome,” He declared, his voice soft, “And charming, and selfless, and sweet.” He kissed me again. “And I will keep telling you this until you believe me.” A final kiss, soft and tender upon my lips. “Now… how about that drink, hmm?”

The corners of my mouth twitched again as he untucked himself from against me and sat up. The goblin reached over, pulling the tray closer. There was a covered plate beside it I hadn’t noticed before, and felt a slight frown slip across my features as I considered it. Grier poured out a small dollop of brandy into each glass as I slowly sat up too. Pulling the loose end of a blanket modestly across my lap.

“What’s under there?” I asked, curious despite myself.

His grin grew, and he passed me a glass before using his now free hand to toss the silver cover off to the side with an unceremonious clatter. I jumped slightly at the sound, but didn’t have time to linger on it as the King proffered the now revealed plate of small misshapen yellow squares practically right under my nose. I raised an eyebrow at him, but carefully plucked one, hesitantly bringing it up for a precursory sniff. My eyes widened with delight as I recognized it, and I snapped up the entire treat in one quick bite. Letting the sweet but tart flavor roll over my tongue with a soft sigh.

Grier laughed, equally delighted, and picked up another after returning the plate to the tray. I met his eyes, suddenly a little embarrassed by my eagerness, my chewing slowing. But he held the fresh lemon cookie out to me, obviously pleased with the same behavior that embarrassed me. My lips twitched and I leaned in to take it directly from between his fingers with my mouth in a surprisingly bold whim. Which only made the delighted smile of his grow even more. Before I could pull completely away, he caught the back of my neck with one hand and stole a lemony kiss. I couldn’t help my own little chuckle deep in my throat and found myself a little surprised by it.

I washed the mouthful down with a sip of the brandy, watching him take one for himself and having an experimental nibble of it. “...You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, shooting me a coy look out the corner of his eye. “I do aim to please…. Is it everything you wanted for this night?” He scooched closer as I finished the last of the small serving of brandy in my glass. Climbing into my lap once I placed it to the side. “What else does your heart desire? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

I adjusted myself nervously, my heart skittering about in my chest as his warm skin brushed against mine. “I-I… What about you?” I mumbled shyly. “Surely you must-”

“I have everything I want,” He interrupted, reaching up and catching my face between his palms, “I have the man I love. My whole world. Right here.” He pulled me down gently to kiss me for several breaths. “So tell me, my sweet Prince, what do you want?”

I hesitated, my blush rising to my cheeks. He brushed it aside with his palms, and I peeked at him through my dark lashes. “I-I… I want… I just... want you…” I told him softly. “Just you…” I glanced to the side, taking a small breath, trying to let the words trapped in my chest flow out unchecked. “I-I want… I want to… to wake up next to you every morning, and I want to fall asleep with you every night...” I paused, peeking at him again, but when he didn’t interrupt, I added “...And I am fully aware that we will never wake up at the same time…” He laughed softly at that. Encouraged, I continued on, letting everything pour out in a rush. “I-I want… I want to see what ridiculous outfit you wear everyday, and I want to see you panic when your hair starts to turn white.” I reached up, thumbing his cheek. “I want to see what happens to green skin if you stay out in the sun too long, and I want to rule alongside you a-and leave this Kingdom to our children... I want kids with you… I want lots of kids with you... and I want to see you playing with all of them in the gardens. I want… I-I want to…” I swallowed hard, stammering and fumbling for the words momentarily. “I… I want to love you for the rest of our lives, Grier... and I want those lives to be very, very long…”

His hands slowly slid until he had fully wrapped his arms around me, surrounding me with his spicy sweet scent. Then he kissed me so deeply I thought perhaps the stars in the heavens had always been just a faded copy of the universe that flashed behind my eyes at that moment. The warmth, that lovely, wonderful warmth, started in my chest, and pulsed through me with each beat of my heart. Reaching out to every inch and molecule of my being. Until I couldn’t even remember what it was like to live and breathe without it. I didn’t even feel him lean back, but then suddenly his voice, bathed in tenderness, filled my ears. Blowing air across the smoldering coals burning hot in my chest until my whole body tingled with emotion.

“I see we are a perfect match then, my young Prince.”

...

The End...

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

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As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 17 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Chapter 15; Chapter 16)

Emily - September - October 1944 Emily’s mind was with Nixon as she quietly crept down towards the kitchen. He had looked so disheveled wandering the halls like a madman. Emily worried that he was struggling to sleep again. She flicked on a small lamp just inside the kitchen. It provided enough light to guide the kettle. Within a moment Emily stood beside the stove waiting for the water to boil. She wanted to be careful to pull it off the burner just before it whistled. The last thing she wanted was to wake the entire house of officers before they left England for good.

A slight draft blew through the window panes just above the sink and Emily was glad she had thought to bring the tartan blanket from the foot of her bed. As she waited, she peered out the window expecting to see nothing but black. Emily imagined all the creatures that may be roaming about in the night. She had seen plenty of deer, rabbits, and even a few foxes since coming to Aldbourne. Instead of woodland animals, Emily made out the faint silhouette of someone sitting on the bench only a few yards from the manor. She squinted through the pane wondering if it was one of the officers. A speck of orange illuminated the raven night and Emily recognized the posture of the man smoking. She knew that figure, she had sat beside him for hours. Emily pulled the kettle off of the stove and filled two mugs. Clutching her blanket with one hand, Emily balanced the steaming mugs against her chest. The ceramics weren’t hot through the wool blanket but she walked quickly outside anyways, afraid the tea would cool once it hit the night air. “Hey Joe,” Emily approached Joe Toye, adjusting her grip on the mugs. It was chilly outside, but not so cold that the blanket wouldn’t suffice for warmth. The bench Joe sat on was perfect for over looking the low swooping valley below. Emily could smell the smoke from his cigarette who’s tip glowed each time he sucked at it. “Am I disturbing you?” She asked. “Emily, hey,” Joe hardly turned to look over her shoulder, “nah, take a seat.” Emily circled the bench and sat down beside him gazing off into the darkness. She held out one of the hot mugs, “tea?” she asked. Joe grimaced, but accepted the cup, “I don’t know why the tom’s are so moony over this stuff,” he said taking a tentative drink. Emily chuckled, “you don’t have to drink it.” “Eh it’s okay, thanks,” Joe flicked his cigarette to the ground. “So what’re you doing out here?” Emily asked. “I don’t know, just couldn’t sleep.” “Feeling anxious about tomorrow?” Emily kept her voice gentle. Something about Joe allowed her to immediately let her guard down. She felt totally comfortable around him but that didn’t mean he was comfortable around her. “A little bit, I don’t know.” “That’s reasonable to feel that way,” Emily said. She didn’t want to push him. Joe exhaled deeply. They sat in companionable silence for a while. A breeze rattled the leaves in the trees as if warning them of their fate. Emily much preferred the cold to the heat. She was perfectly content cocooned in her blanket with the cool air turning her cheeks red. “Would you call me a coward if I told you I was scared?” Joe’s voice was husky. Emily looked at him in surprise. “Not at all Joe! Not one bit.” Even in the dark Emily could see Joe’s Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Is there something specific you’re worried about?” Emily asked gently. “I don’t wanna let anyone down,” Joe confessed into the night. “Joe, why would you say that? You’re not going to let anyone down. You’re one of the best soldiers in Easy Company.” Joe chuckled humorlessly, “I have a hard time believing that.” “It’s true,” Emily kept her voice low, “ask any guy here. You’re the one they want in their corner. You’re the one I want in my corner.” Emily wasn’t just saying that to make him feel better. She had gotten to know Joe well since Normandy and there were few people in the world she trusted more. Joe was the kind of guy who would be there for you without question. “Ugh,” Joe groaned. He ran a thick hand across his face. “Fuck. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing here, why I deserve to be with the best of the best.” Emily’s heart ached for him. She knew exactly how he was feeling. There were few feelings worse than doubting your own place. It was incredibly lonely. “Because you’re one of the best,” she said firmly. Joe laughed bitterly but otherwise accepted her compliment. “I honestly wonder what I’m doing here sometimes too,” Emily admitted. “Yeah?” Joe looked at her properly for the first time all night. “Yeah. I came over here a completely different person and now,” she shrugged, “now sometimes I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing.” “You’re the map girl,” Joe said matter-of-factly. Emily laughed, “oh is that what I am?” Joe allowed himself a little smile, “I mean that’s what we call you. That’s one of your nicknames at least.” Emily’s mouth dropped in mock shock, she was curious, “What? How did I not know I had nicknames! What else am I known by?” “You really wanna know?” “Yes!” “Mrs. Nixon.” A shiver ran through Emily’s body and her face grew hot. “Sorry if that embarrasses ya,” Joe said. “Why Mrs. Nixon?” Emily tried to keep her voice light. “You know there’s a real Mrs. Nixon right?” Joe shrugged, “yeah, but you’re like Captain Nixon’s work wife. You guys are always together workin’ on somethin’,” he said innocently. Emily’s muscles relaxed slightly at his explanation. “I prefer map girl,” she said. “Yeah me too, you got me all set up for Normandy.” “I’m glad you made it back,” Emily said sincerely. They exchanged a look that only two people who had been to hell and back could interpret. “Yeah,” he said. Emily inhaled deeply, pulling as much of the outside air into her lungs as she could. “I’m going to go back to bed. You should probably think about getting some sleep too.” “Yeah,” Joe said morosely. His thousand-yard stare was back, “yeah.” “Okay Joe,” Emily patted him tenderly on the shoulder, “good luck tomorrow.” “‘Night.” Emily made her way back to her bedroom where she fell into a restless sleep. The journey to Holland was much more grueling than the trip to France had been. The action was less concentrated and it took weeks for Emily to be reunited with her paratroopers. Operation Market Garden had gone poorly and her route was diverted towards Arnhem rather than the over-ambitious point across the Rhine. The 101st had managed to secure a few bridges and roadways but the initial encounter near Eindhoven had resulted in Easy Company’s retreat. When Emily finally reconnected with the 101st in Schoonderlogt she sought Nixon out for instructions. He and Winters were standing outside of the building where Easy’s second platoon was bunked up. She noticed the spot of raw red flesh on Nixon’s forehead as soon as she saw him. “What’s that?” she demanded, “wait and why do you smell like urine?”  Nixon shot Winters a dirty look but didn’t offer any explanation. Winters retold a rather jarring close call Nixon had outside Eindhoven. As Easy Company moved to retreat a bullet ricocheted off his helmet, leaving behind a burn at the top of his forehead. For all intents and purposes, Nixon was fine. He had only been left with the small red scar which was expected to fade away. Nixon thought so little of his brush with death that he had the gall to be annoyed with Winters for informing Emily about the incident. Winters, cool as ever, was uninhibited by Nixon’s attitude and explained matter of factly how shaken both he and Nixon had been in the moment. “I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s not some dramatic war story!” Nixon protested. “No,” Winters conceded, “I’m just telling her how it happened.” Emily tried to match the candid energy of the men but deep down something stirred in her: panic. She wanted to scold Nixon for not retreating quicker. She wanted to ask him so many questions like if the burn had caused him any pain. What would she have done if the bullet had penetrated the metal? She would’ve lost him. It was in that moment she realized she would not be able to cope if he had been killed. “I’m fine,” Nixon repeated firmly, looking directly in her eyes. Emily cleared her throat, “I know. You’re standing here aren’t you?” “Exactly. Plus, you’re lucky you didn’t make it here earlier. 2nd and 3rd Battalions’ C.P.s were hit in force. Major Horton was killed.” “What?” Emily asked in shock, her stomach rolled with fear. “Yeah, glad you weren’t working when the Germans hit,” Winters added. Emily had missed out on so much. Obviously, the army had gotten her over as quickly as they could but she wasn’t priority personnel and the roads were difficult to travel. She cursed her femininity. If she had been a soldier she would have been able to slip back to 2nd Battalion with greater ease. Every day throughout her journey she had encountered men who were AWOL from the hospital, trekking back to their companies, and it didn’t take them nearly a month. “By the way, Em, I think we’re gonna need you later. Dick and I have got to go meet Strayer and I’m sure he’ll have a project for me,” Nixon said. “I’ll be at HQ anyways,” Emily said, “I have some things to set up anyways.” Nixon nodded at her, “thanks.” He and Winters jumped in a jeep and drove off. Emily took the chance to take in her surroundings. Everywhere around her soldiers were bustling about unloading trucks and dodging jeeps. The dirt roads were sodden with mud. Emily looked down at her boots. This wasn’t the first time she was grateful that they were part of her uniform. She began to make her way down the road past thatched grooves and stone buildings. As she walked she made various plans in her mind for what she wanted to get done once she made it the Battalion HQ. It was difficult reconnecting with her team after so much time apart. There was no saying what they had started working on, and Emily had little clue as to the recent developments in their corner of the war. The first couple of hours would inevitably be spent playing catch up. It was an extra hurdle for her to overcome, all because she would never be authorized for jump training. Let’s keep the bitter thoughts to a minimum, she chided herself. There was no place for negative thinking in a war zone. She made it to the command post to find it bustling with officers. Colonel Sink was barking orders in the background. Emily slipped in as inconspicuously as possible and found her way to a side room where other intelligence staff members were working. “Hi Larkin,” she said to a young S-1 working over an open chest. He was pulling out stacks of papers and re-arranging them on a nearby desk. “Hi Miss Rooney,” he briefly looked up to greet her. “What’s the most recent status on things?” she asked him. “Um, we’ll be in this area for a while. Patrols are being sent out to monitor the area while we get situated. A few have already successfully taken some key crossroad points.” Emily nodded, “thanks.” Larkin was concise. It was enough information for Emily to begin to work off of. She located a map of the area and began to review the intersections surrounding Schoonderlogt and outside of Arnhem. “Has anyone been tracking what’s been secured?” Emily asked. Larkin handed her another version of the map she was looking at with few places marked in red ink. “Thanks!” Emily accepted the map. “Okay,” Nixon clapped his hands together sharply, announcing his entrance, “we’ve got some work to do. We’re assisting the British Lt. Colonel Dobie here with rescuing a bunch of his men.” Lt. Colonel Dobie stepped in behind Nixon. “Where are they?” Emily asked looking up from her map. “15 miles north of the river.” Emily tracked the map as he spoke, “Easy company will meet them on the riverbank with boats.” “What do you need from us?” Emily asked Nixon. “We need to pinpoint where exactly to place the boats. Also, we need to take a look at the enemy dispositions and area maps.” Larkin directed Nixon and Dobie to the dispositions as Emily sat by feeling somewhat useless. She hadn’t yet familiarized herself with this intelligence room and she couldn’t help but feel somewhat embarrassed that she wasn’t the one confidently assisting Nixon. She could not afford to slip, not now. The rescue mission, known as Operation Pegasus, was more than successful. It took three trips but Easy Company was able to get all of the Brits across the Rhine without incident. That night Emily could hear the men cheering from the long thatched building down the road. The allied men were celebrating another day of life in their godforsaken world and it made Emily smile to think of their joy, no matter how fleeting. But tragedy struck soon after. A jumpy private shot Moose Heyliger while on guard. Welsh had arrived at the scene. The day after the event Emily could tell Welsh was shaken. His face was gaunt with exhaustion and worry. Emily’s first instinct was to comfort him, at least in the way she would have before Normandy. But Nixon’s words from months ago rang in her head. Since then, Emily had become self-conscious of her friendship with Harry. Heading Nixon’s words she had distanced herself somewhat from the engaged man; not that he really seemed to notice. And to her surprise, she hadn’t really missed him. He was still a happy face to see around and she felt an obligation to be there for him in moments he was hurting. But she had realized that she didn’t crave his company, no more than she craved George’s or any of her other friends. Welsh was nice to have around but Emily didn’t pine for him like she thought she should’ve if she were truly in love. The weeks passed and the weather grew colder in Holland. One day Emily was reviewing the allies' advance deeper into Belgium when a quick question came up. She decided to seek out Nixon to see if he could help direct her. He wasn’t in his office so she walked down the hallway to Winters’ office which was her best guess as to where Nixon might be. The glass-paned door was open but she could hear voices conversing inside so she hung back. The office was occupied by more than just Nixon and Winters. A moment later, Bill Guarnere exited the office and Winters assistant closed the office door.   “Hiya sweetheart,” Bill said as he passed her. Emily smiled warmly at him then moved to approach the door. As she drew closer she could hear Nixon and Welsh conversing with Winters. “I’m outta here, I’m going to Rheims.” She heard Welsh’s voice through the thin door. “Strayer will be in London for at least another week for Lt. Colonel Dobie’s wedding.” Nixon was speaking now, “I personally am heading back to Aldbourne to look up a certain young lady.” Emily’s stomach sunk with Nixon’s words. She hadn’t realized he was still in touch with the woman he had been seeing in Aldbourne. There was no explanation for her feeling but the idea of Nixon traveling so far back to see his lover filled Emily with rage. What was he doing wasting his time on that woman? He was married for christ’s sake, why was this woman worth compromising that? “May I help you?” Winter’s assistant asked. Emily looked at him blankly, “uh, no, actually, never mind.” Clutching her pad folio closer to her chest she turned on her heel and marched back down the hallway.

#band of brothers #fanfiction #original character #as far as friends go #hbo band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #lewis nixon x original character #harry welsh #dick winters #crossroads #joe toye #joe toye x oc #women in ww2 #emily rooney

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athina-blaine · 4 years

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MoMM Chapter 3: The Empty Corridors (Preview #2)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

Chapter 3: The Empty Corridors (Preview #1)

Martin snapped up straight, the book nearly tumbling out of his hands, but Jon didn’t seem to notice him at all. His eyes were cast down on the dinner tray as he glided right past Martin and his spot on the lounger.

Bollocks. What did Martin do now? It was one thing for Jon to notice him as he came walking down the hallway and for Martin to strike up a conversation; it was another to shout at him, clamouring for his attention like a child.

Jon was almost out of the foyer. Now or never.

“Jon?”

Jon yelped, the tray jumping in his hands, and Martin covered his mouth, face warming. The cavernous space of the foyer made everything seem louder– his voice had sounded like a crack whip.

“Sorry, sorry, I just, um, uh …” Dammit, what should he say? Nearly two hours of fake-reading a book and he hadn’t thought up something clever and interesting to say in the meantime?

Recovering from his fright, Jon straightened. “Is there any particular reason you’re out here?”

It was so much harder to hear that chill in Jon’s voice when Martin knew what it sounded like soft and gently amused. “Just, you know–” he weakly held up his book “–getting some reading done.”

Jon’s eyes flicked from the book, then back to Martin. “I see. In any case, I have your meal prepared. Would you prefer to eat it here?”

“Oh, uh, yes. Thank you.”

Strolling over, Jon placed the tray on the small table. Martin waited for him to inquire about the book (“–I see you’re almost finished with Kinsey, what do you think?” “Oh! It’s really good, thank you so much for recommending it to me! Would you like to take a seat and maybe we could talk about it some more?” “Yes, Martin, that sounds lovely, tell me what you thought about chapter 3, personally I felt that–”)

But Jon straightened. Turned back towards the hallway. “I hope it’s to your–”

“Wait, wait.”

Jon paused, and Martin yanked back the hand he’d thrown out. Still too loud. He couldn’t just let Jon walk away, though, not without … something. “I-I was thinking, actually, that, uh,” he glanced down at the tray, “that you don’t have to keep bringing me food.”

“Pardon?”

“Yeah! I mean, well, I’m feeling much better. Definitely all patched up by now, and I know my way around the kitchen and everything. So, yeah, you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“I … see.” A soft flush dusted Jon’s face. “My apologies. I tried to make something more palatable–”

“Oh! No, no, it’s not that at all. I just …”

But Jon’s expression had cooled once more, and the words curdled in Martin’s throat. “I will of course abide by your preference. If you’ll excuse me …”

“Wait.”

Jon whirled around, eyebrows flying up, and Martin could have cried from the mortification of it all. How was he still so loud? “Do you want to read together, sometime? I-I started Kinsey and I think you’re right about his writing style and I was– I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it …”

He trailed off under Jon's unblinking stare and forced down the rest. Is this what an ant felt like trapped under a glass panel? But then, Jon's eyes, with a curious light, flitted to the stack of books. Martin's stomach lifted with hope–

But Jon held up a hand. “Please, you don’t need to worry about me. Carry on.”

He left the foyer, footsteps clicking on the tiled floors before fading.

Martin sighed, long and draining, his shoulders sagging. His eyes dropped to the dinner tray– a sauté today. Jon’s been getting really creative these last few days. The tea looked to be Earl Grey. The vibrant flavours tickled his nose, eliciting a low growl from the pits of his stomach.

He’d best savour it, he thought, taking a small sip of his tea.

Okay, so. Jon wanted to be alone. Martin had known that already; frankly, it was a little embarrassing he hadn't backed off before now. Jon didn't owe him his company just because he had no real choice but to board Martin in his home– not unless he wanted to throw Martin out into the blizzard. Besides, Martin had plenty to entertain himself, anyway, things that didn’t include bothering Jon.

It wasn’t long before it became obvious, though, that that wasn’t really true.

“You know, I think I’m really starting to miss working in the castle.”

Phillipa looked on from across the aisle as Martin speared a patch of clean hay into the trough. It had been such a relief when he’d learned that the feeding hay Jon had on reserve was normal and not some freaky collection of worms or something. Phillipa was much luckier than him in this regard.

“Yeah, working there was stressful,” he continued, wiping a hand across his sweaty face, “God knows with the way Griffiths shouted at us all the time. But at least I was doing something, you know? Keeping my hands busy.”

As Phillipa grazed, Martin leaned against the stall door, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, sure, it was mostly grunt work. Anyone could have done it, but I did it, you know? I was at least making someone’s day a little bit easier. I wasn’t …”

The words caught in his throat, and he swallowed them back down. Blast it. He really needed to move on, already.

“I just wish I knew if he was angry with me,” he murmured. “Then I could apologise, right? Make it up to him somehow?”

Phillipa butted his shoulder with the brunt of her nose, and he startled before settling back down. He reached up to pat her nose, running his thumb over the white strip pattern of her face.

"I suppose I can just make my own work. Roll up my sleeves, do a little dusting, maybe? Pluck some weeds? I mean, it's only fair. Not like I'm paying rent or anything. My mum always said idle hands were the devil's playground or something."

And then, maybe, Jon could see Martin could be helpful. Useful.

And then maybe they could talk again.

He just wished that they could talk …

He glanced over to Phillipa. “What do you think?”

She lipped at the wisps of his hair, and he sighed. He felt a bit better now, though. He had met few conversational partners as willing to put up with him as Phillipa. He should probably start getting inside now, though– didn’t want to risk an encounter with John, the dog.

A sudden, sharp pain exploded in his ear and he cried out, jumping back. Phillipa had nibbled on the soft bit of his ear.

“You-” he started, cradling his sore ear. Phillipa lifted her head with him, continuing to chew, content– probably on a bit of his ear. “You’re a very naughty horse, do you know that?”

She snorted in his face.

It was decided, then; he’d do a little tidying up in Jon’s greenhouse. Pluck some weeds, clear the pathways of debris, or however else he could make busy. It was certainly the easier task than dusting, anyway– his sinuses wouldn’t stand for it, not without any supplies.

Besides, Jon harvested the vegetables roughly every two or three days, so it might make for a nice surprise, coming in to see the space neat and orderly. After all, nothing cheered Martin up like a little spring cleaning.

He’d found an old cloth and broom in the kitchen cupboard and, after lunch, he ventured into the storm. The winds pummelled his side and he dug his feet into the cobblestone when a strong gust buffeted his side. He knew it’d be a trek, obviously, but he’d no idea it would be this brutal. The wind cut through the fabric of his cloak and, even though the walk was short, by the time he closed the panelled door behind him, his body shook with fierce tremors, his fingers and the tips of his ears burning.

Rubbing some warmth back into his extremities, he hung his cloak and took hold of the broom’s handle. May as well get the easy bit out of the way. He’d always liked sweeping– it was easier than polishing or mopping, at least. Less back strain.

Dirt and dead leaves littered the path, likely from the freaky vegetable patch, and he swept it all into a tight pile on the dustpan. Easy and quick to complete, yes, but, as Martin surveyed the clean floors, he let himself savour the pinprick of pride. It was nice to be working again. At least he was making a difference, even if it was a little one.

Now, the plots.

Rolling up his sleeves, he settled down by the plot closest to him, crouching on the cold floor. It had been ages since anything had been planted here, the dry and dusty soil crusting under his fingernails as he plucked out twigs and cracked roots. As he stood to move to the second plot, a jolt shot through his knees and weeks.

Two weeks of a comfortable bed and skipping out on proper hard work and he’d already gone soft. Not good. He’d need to build back up his stamina.

The second plot took even less time than the first. He settled back on his haunches, dusting off hands. This wasn’t taking as long as he thought it would, but that made sense. The only plot that needed any real tending to was the one with the dead rose bushes, but with the way Jon reacted when Martin had seen them, it didn’t seem right to weed them without his permission. Maybe Martin could ask–

A loud slam. Martin jumped, whirling around.

Jon leaned against the entryway door, eyes closed, letting out a slow, relieved breath. Snow clung to his cloak and dappled the curls of his hair. Martin's heart thrummed with anxiety– he didn't think Jon would come here now. It was supposed to be a surprise.

Before he could think of what to do, Jon opened his eyes, and they locked on Martin. Jon stiffened with surprise and Martin sat there, frozen.

He lifted a shaky hand. “H-hello.”

“What on earth are you doing out here?”

Martin took his hand back, nearly a flinch. Bad start. “I-I thought I could help tidy things up. Um, I was thinking about maybe dusting next. You know, make myself useful.”

Jon let out a long sigh through his nose, riddled with exasperation and impatience, and Martin just barely stopped himself from curling up with embarrassment. “Martin, please. Despite the circumstances, you are still my guest– there’s no need for this.”

“No, no, I really don’t mind–”

“I promise that the manor doesn’t need your attention.” Carving a path to the vegetable patch, Jon crouched down, reaching for the stem of one of the radishes. He hadn’t even turned around when he spoke to Martin. “Please, take this time for yourself.”

Martin wanted to say something– was desperate for it, actually. It’s really no trouble and I just need something to keep myself busy and please just let me do this, I need this.

But Jon made himself clear. He didn’t need, or want, Martin’s help.

Martin stood. Hesitated, just a moment. But Jon had moved on to the eggplants. He didn’t look back as Martin approached the greenhouse door, and closed it behind him.

END PREVIEW

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #long post #momm

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antihero-writings · 4 years

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Survey for Ch2 of What They Want to Believe! (Varian fic)

Hello! I’ve never done something like this before, but I thought I’d try it out!

I’m working on chapter 2 of my Varian fic “What They Want to Believe” (I’ll put a link to the first chapter in the replies or a reblog!). The first part of it is a memory scene of when Varian and the Saporians erased the king and queen’s memories. But I’m super torn on how that part of the memory scene should/would go. This fic is supposed to be as accurate to canon as I can make it.

I’ve written three options for the first few pages so far, and am trying to figure out which of them would be most accurate, if any. And, regardless of what’s most accurate/if they’re all accurate, I’d just love to know which one people generally like the most and would like to see in the final version of the fic.

If you have a moment, I’d really appreciate if you could read through the three options and give me feedback on which one you think is most accurate, and/or which one like the most, and why. Or if you have a totally different idea for how this scene should/would go, or you think I should add something specific to any of these, please don’t hesitate to say so!

Please also feel free to give me any other feedback, like on what smaller lines or phrases you liked, or didn’t like, or if there’s a line of dialogue you don’t think is accurate to how a character talks, or if you have ideas for the parts that I put in […]. (But please always try to be as kind as you can) <3

I wrote them in the order that you see them. Before re-watching S3 E1 I forgot that erasing their memories was Varian’s idea, so that’s why the first one is how it is. I think it’s actually my favorite of the three, but I’m not sure it’s accurate, as they make it seem like making everyone forget was Varian’s idea and the Saporians springboarded off of it (hence why I started writing other versions). I might be able to add to it to make it more accurate if you guys like it the most, I’ll just have to finagle it more. The last version is the one I’ve worked on the most, as I think it’s the most accurate. But I think its concept is probably my least favorite XD

Please note that all three of them are rough drafts and will be added to and polished before the final draft. I even left some of my notes to myself or blanks it [ ]. I’m super unsure how their dialogue would go in the second two.

Also please note that any/all of them would have the level of internal monologue closer to what’s in the third one in the final draft. And they would all have that last scene where Varian says he needs to go back to his house, but as that scene doesn’t change I only put it in the last one.

I could probably put these in a google doc if you'd like to comment more thourougly on them, but I thought I'd start with just posting them to tumblr and seeing what people liked more generally.

Thank you for your time!!

OPTION 1:

“What did you do to them?!” Varian tried and failed to keep his voice calm, his eyes ping ponging from the king to the queen.

Frederic and Arianna’s countenances were unchanging, their eyes hazy. He waved his hand in front of their faces and their expressions stayed the same [make this more descriptive]. Varian turned and looked at each of the Saporians in turn.

The girl with the white hair and gravelly voice gave a dark laugh. “Oh didn’t you know? I’m their fairy godmother!” She pulled a wand from her pocket with a flourish and twirled around. “Though, I’ll admit, I may have gone a teensy bit overboard,” she said like that was something to be proud of.

Varian’s eyes widened. He rushed up to her, examining the wand. “That’s a Saporian wand of Oblivium! You erased their memories?!”

“Relax Varian.” Andrew leaned against the wall. “It’s better this way. For us…” he lowered his gaze, “and for you.” He stepped forward and walked around Varian. “You think the King and Queen would be happy to see the kid who tried to overthrow their kingdom running free? I’m gonna save you the brainpower on this one; uh”—he leaned forward and poked Varian’s nose—“no, they wouldn’t. They’d throw you right back in jail, where you belong.”

“But…erasing their memories—” the alchemist jerked back to look at the vacant expressions of the once majesties. “I mean what if they can’t get them back?! What if—?”

Andrew gripped his arms, making Varian turn back to him. “Trust me, making them forget is the only way to accomplish our goals.” he lowered his head and voice, “The only way to fix what you’ve done.”

Varian bit his lip, glancing between them. [add internal monologue]

“But I…”

Andrew leaned back and folded his arms. “You don’t want to go back to prison, do you?”

“No! no! I just—!”

“Good.” Andrew began walking away with the other Saporians. Varian was about to follow them, when the king and queen stirred.

The alchemist froze, his eyes ticking up to the them, then to the Saporians, who were now all hidden in the wings, safe from view.

“Tell them you’re their most trusted advisor!” Clementine shout-whispered. The other Saporian’s sniggered like schoolchildren.

Varian turned again to the king and queen, who were opening their eyes.

He didn’t want to do this. It wasn’t his fault. [add more]

“Who…are you?” Frederic’s voice was distant.

Varian looked up at them, his eyes softening. They didn’t remember who he was. That had its benefits, to be sure. Still, he couldn’t help but feel bad, seeing his king and queen, Rapunzel’s parents, like this, so helpless. He cleared his throat.

“I-I’m Varian…your majesty.” He stepped closer. “You…really don’t remember me?”

He stirred, as if trying to dislodged the memory, then stilled. “I’m afraid not, young man.”

“‘Your most trusted advisor!’” Andrew mouthed.

The alchemist sighed. “I-I’m your most trusted advisor.”

Frederic stirred again, as if in a trance. “Yes…Varian…my most trusted…advisor…”

OPTION 2:

“Are you sure you can erase their memories?” Varian breathed.

The alchemist stared from the wing at the king and queen on their thrones, his heart hammering in his chest. What if they saw them? What if the spell didn’t work? What if they stopped them? Then their whole operation was over, he’d get thrown back in jail…

There was currently a long line of people preparing to make their requests to the king. If they failed, their whole plan fall apart, and everyone would see it crumble.

“Don’t tell me your wussing out on us now,” Andrew groaned.

“No, no! I’m just…I’m a scientist, its only natural that I’m skeptical.”

“You told me you were going to analyze that mineral. Our whole plan is kinda based on it.”

“Yeah but still, erasing people’s memories…”

“Relax, science boy,” Clementine stepped in front of him, walking backwards, “let ol’ [a name for her wand] here do the talking.”

She walked backwards into the throne room, then turned and marched straight up to the king and queen. Andrew put his hand over Varian’s mouth to keep him quiet, and against the wall.

Frederic looked perplexed by this visitor, and slightly affronted. “Excuse me, mam,” Frederic cleared his throat, “But I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait in line like the rest of these good people.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. No, you’ll be glad I didn’t wait, after you hear what I have to say.” She pulled out her wand.

“…What you have to say may be very pressing,” his eyes darted from her face to the wand, “but these good people have been waiting for a very long time, and have equally important requests. You must honor their—”

She rolled her eyes and flicked the wand. The gem at the base started to vibrate, pink smoke swirling in the air—the crowd was starting to mumble with unease, shout in warning and fear—then there was a flash of pink light.

Varian resisted against Andrew’s grip to get a better look at what was going on.

The king and queen blinked, and collapsed in their chairs. The crowd started to scream and run around through the haze, run for the doors.

Andrew let go of Varian and walked out into the room.

“People of Corona!” he bellowed, and people quieted. His cronies moved from the wings to support him. “There’s been a new edict! From now on this land shall be called New Saporia!” They all raised their weapons. “You will henceforth obey our orders!” [add more]

The screaming restarted, this time peppered with spitting and protest. [add more]

Varian looked at Andrew.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to do this anymore. [add more]

The king and queen stirred, then opened their eyes.

“Wh-What’s going on?” Frederic looked around, horrorstruck at all the screaming people. “What is this place? Where am I?” he paused blinked again, “Who am I?”

“Your majesties,” Clementine said with a certain mocking air, bowing low, “I am afraid to say you have suffered a recent incident that has cost you your memories.

“Nevertheless, Clementine here will explain everything. You are the king and queen of a quaint little kingdom called New Saporia. We are here to […]. The people of your kingdom are […] and we must ask you to stop all […] until we can get enough […]. These people just […]”

[“Funny, you’d think I’d remember ruling a kingdom,” Frederic chuckled at his wife.

Andrew stepped forward, putting his arm around Clementine. “Ehh, the memory can do funny things sometimes. Anyways], we are here to […]. Your kingdom [something about the minerals—you need to issue an order]. Your most trusted advisor...” he paused, glancing at Varian. When Varian didn’t come out he cleared his throat, loudly and fakely. “I said,” he enunciated like he was speaking to a five-year-old, “your most trusted advisor.”

Varian stepped back, a shadow coming across his face, his breath tempered.

He didn’t want to go out there. Yeah, he just had that epiphany. He didn’t want to do this. This wasn’t right. They shouldn’t—

Kai walked up and pulled him, stumbling into the room.

When he regained his balance he found said room was staring at him.

Some people were silently staring, others started to mumble to each other: “Isn’t that Varian?” “Yeah, the kid who kidnapped the queen!” “He’s a traitor!” [add more]

“R-Right!” he tried to ignore their mutterings and pushed his too-long hair out of his eyes, “Yes! I’m Varian, y-your majesties.” He bowed. “And… You see the people of Corona have been […] and […].”

“Your majesties,” he said darkly. “That’s right. My name is Varian, and I’m […]”

OPTION 3:

“Are you sure you can erase their memories?” Varian breathed.

The alchemist stared at the king and queen on their thrones from the wing, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Don’t tell me your chickening out on us now,” Andrew groaned.

“No, no! It’s just—I’m a man of science…I-I’m skeptical by nature.” Varian bit his lip.

“You told me you were gonna analyze that mineral.” He folded his arms over his chest, “We kinda based our whole plan on it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, I know, but still, erasing people’s memories…”

“Relax alchemy boy,” Clementine stepped in front of him, walking backwards, “let ol’ [a name for her wand]—” apparently that was her name for her wand…and not a good one—“here do the talking.”

She walked backwards into the throne room, then turned and marched straight up to the king and queen, holding the wand behind her back.

Frederic offered a very confused look, considering he didn’t recognize her, but spoke kindly all the same, “Excuse me, mam,” he cleared his throat, “But the time to make your requests has passed…I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow to—”

“Oh, I don’t think there’ll be any need for waiting after you hear what I have to say.”

He looked indignant at the fact that she had just interrupted him, but continued in the same genial tone, if a little sterner. “…I understand what you have to say may be very important, but you must—”

Clementine flourished out her wand, and the gem at the bottom of the wand vibrated, pink sparks flying off of it, pink smoke circling it ominously.

Varian stretched to get a better look.

“What’s going on?!” Frederic barked from the haze.

Its power burst across the room in a sphere. Varian shut his eyes against the blast, before looking up at Andrew, who gave him a smug, what-did-I-tell-you? look.

When he turned back, Clementine had seemingly materialized back in the wing. “You’re up, kid.”

“Wh-Me? Why me?”

“You’re the one who wanted to erase their memories aren’t you?” Andrew sneered.

“Yeah, I did but—”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Andrew shoved Varian into the room.

He stared incredulously at him from the room. “How do we know it even worked?”

Andrew made a go on motion.

As the pink mist cleared, the king and queen stirred, their brows furrowed, and opened their eyes.

They looked around the room, confusion lining their gazes.

“Wh-What’s going on?” Frederic looked around. “What is this place? Where am I?” he paused, blinked, “Who am I?”

Varian’s eyes widened.

So it had worked, after all. They weren’t crazy. That was…unexpected.

He’d love to figure out how it worked, but that was a question for later.

He looked up at the king and queen, whose eyes were unknowing and as they fell upon him.

They no longer knew who he was, or what he did, the fact that he had kidnapped the queen and tried to kill their daughter, nor that they had put him in prison for it all.

….or who they were, for that matter.

“Excuse me, young man, could you tell us what’s going on?” Frederic looked from him to the room, to his wife.

They weren’t going to throw him back in that dungeon. They weren’t going to scold him, or else try to save his soul. They didn’t even suspect something sinister was going on. It was freeing; he was untouchable. As long as the king and queen didn’t know who he was, no one else could throw him back in jail, right? He could start anew…

This was unsettling. Seeing his king and queen, no, Rapunzel’s parents like this made him feel guilty. Wasn’t he just committing more treason? A crime for a crime. They always say two wrongs don’t make a right. Even without taking the treason into account, he had already hurt these people enough a year previously. Ripping them apart just to put his own family back together. It didn’t have to be this way…did it?

Varian cleared his throat. “Your majesties. I’m afraid you’ve suffered a recent incident which has cost you your memories,” he walked in front of the throne. “You are King Frederic and Queen Arianna of—”

—Andrew waved vigorously at him to get his attention, and pointed emphatically at the medallion on his chest bearing the Saporian logo. Varian sighed.

—“New Saporia.

“My name is Varian and I am…your most trusted advisor.” He paused for a moment. They didn’t even question it. He continued, “You rule with kindness and fairness, and treat every citizen with respect and dignity.” He bit his lip and looked away, thinking of his own punishment, his own unkindness. “But you see, the people…they too are in dire straights. I think I may have found a mineral which can save your people, and return you your memories. I just need to analyze it. It resides in […] once I do analyze it I suggest that you stop all [trade/commerce/…] and gather/call everyone to mine it, until we have enough to solve the situation.” [this might change a lot]

The king looked at the queen, and for a second Varian feared they were only playing along until now, that he’d bellow for the guards to grab him and to send him back to prison.

“If it’s for the good of the people…I suppose I will…make a decree! That’s what kings do, right? I will make a decree right away.”

“…Thank you,” Varian bowed, folding his arms and walking back.

On his way back to the wing, memories floated up, pieced themselves together, and pierced through his brain.

“What?How?! How can I trust anything when my own father just lied to the king’s face!”

Varian grimaced at the memory.

What would Quirin think of him now? Varian had been appalled to know his own father would lie to the king back then…but what would Quirin think if he knew what Varian had done to the king? Last year, and now? Even if he’d lie—(which Varian had come to understand wasn’t actually a lie, but a code)—Quirin would never do anything like this. He’d never use science and magic on his king and queen just to get what he wanted. He’d never release monsters and automatons on the citizens. No, he’d help people. He’d admit where he was wrong and…He wouldn’t run. He’d try to fix what he’d broken…or better yet not break it in the first place.

“A little stale on the delivery but I give you a solid five.” Clementine commented as he returned.

“I give him ten outta ten” Kai said with his hands over his heart, looking up with tears in his eyes, “His performance was from the heart.”

“That all the proof you needed?” Andrew demanded, folding his arms. “You said you could synthesize the memory formula into a serum.”

“Yeah, I did, but…” Varian looked away.

Andrew folded his arms. “…What?”

“Well…in order to know what exactly we’re dealing with, and to actually make the serum…I kinda need my lab equipment.”

“They don’t have lab equipment here?”

“…Not unless you count cooking pans and […]”

Andrew groaned. “So we need to go all the way to your house in the boonies just to grab a couple of your stupid little science tools?”

Varian winced. “…Yees?” He paused. “I can go by myself—”

“I’m no [something that’s not a job—it’s basically “I’m no doctor” but he’s making up a word] but I don’t think someone of your…uhh…stature can carry a whole serum’s worth of lab equipment all the way from your house to the castle. I’ll go get a horse.” He waved him off, “Clementine, you keep an eye on the king and queen, fill them in on anything else they need to know, and make sure they don’t wander off.”

“With pleasure!” she said in a way that made Varian not want to hear the list of things she found pleasurable.

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archiveofidentityconstellations · 5 years

Text

birds all sing | part 2

part 1

and we’re back! chapter has been revised for the better! enjoy!

August

“That’s right, give it a good hard stare. Make that menu tell you all its secrets.”

Selina’s whisper tickled his ear, which would have been pleasant if Bruce wasn’t so infuriated. The past couple of weeks had not gone according to plan. For one thing, Tim had not quit. Rather, he had reached into his resources and manipulated multiple employees as well as members of the board. Bruce couldn’t count how many visits of “good will” he had received since last week, hoping to make him “aware” in subtle terms of their position. Bruce wasn’t surprised, per se, at the actions Tim had taken. He had been a resourceful boy and now was a rather ruthless…man. Bruce adjusted in his seat. That was a trait that he had cultivated in him, and now the tables had turned. He did not regret cultivating the trait, not for an instant. Tim was the most cerebral of his sons, the one he could rely on to do what must be done, even to his detriment.

Especially to his detriment.

“Have you even tried talking to him?”

Barbara’s voice had been snappish, dry, and derisive, though lacking any real bite. Bruce had stopped by the clocktower in lieu of Tim for the monthly check-in. Bruce, being an adult, had kept the details of the situation from the family.

Which meant that Barbara had interrogated him the minute he stepped into the clocktower.

“It’s not about that,” he had told her. At her look he explained, “Tim is young. He’s young and he’s never branched out. Besides that, he never proceeds with the expected. He didn’t throw a shampoo bottle at my head and move out like Dick did. He left home by time I returned, and his lifestyle hasn’t been investigated since then.”

“You really think getting married is his act of rebellion?”

Her tone was not flattering. Bruce bristled.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he said. “Children are—“

“I think you don’t understand, Bruce, I really think you don’t,” she interrupted. “This isn’t a catch-all situation, it never is. You always think there’s a formula to these things. Why, I don’t know, especially since the fall-out is always terrible. My ears are still ringing from Jason’s tantrum in the eighth grade. You wouldn’t let him know why he wasn’t allowed to go on that D. C. field trip, remember that?”

Bruce did.

“Look,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m not here to argue or to lecture or any of that. I don’t think you’d listen to me if I did, though I’d try my damndest to make you.”

He scoffed. She smirked.

“I just want you to consider that this isn’t about you.”

Bruce paused. “How could this not be about me?”

“You get wrapped up in yourself, Bruce.”

Bruce cleared his throat, ready to deny this, but then Barbara sighed in a knowing way, cutting him off.

"I'm not here to argue about semantics," she said, looking at him behind her glasses. "Just consider that people, your children, everyone around you—we all have our own melodrama,” she said. “And we’re the main character in it. You’re the sidekick in this scenario.”

He stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek, blinking mulishly.

Barbara sighed. “He’s not doing this to hurt you.”

“He put Bosch in the office,” Bruce protested.

A beat.

“He’s doing this to hurt you a little.”

Tim was sending a message, and it was personal. Besides all the office machinations and manipulations, he had taken to hiding out in Stephanie’s apartment, a place he knew Bruce wouldn’t visit. Not only that, but he went out of town for his birthday, decidedly not inviting the family or even letting Bruce know his plans.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel about that.

It wasn’t that either of them were especially attached to their birthdays, but ever since Tim had been adopted things had been—well. Different. Bruce had tried, put in more effort than he realized, in recognizing Tim’s birthday every year. He knew the boy’s parents hadn’t made it home more than not, and Tim had mentioned that through the years, a sure indication that it bothered him even if he didn’t admit to it. But Tim’s twentieth birthday had dawned bright and clear, and he had ensured that Bruce wouldn’t be part of it.

If Bruce was being honest, it hurt.

He had tried, damnit, and to have that effort thrown back in his face just because of a fight—Tim was supposed to be the good one. The understanding one, the easy one.

Bruce clenched his fists. Tim was supposed to be the reliable one.

“Maybe you should take that menu outside.”

Bruce looked at Selina. She quirked a brow at him.

“What, no come-ons? No sweet nothings about how good she looks?” She reached over and twisted the menu in Bruce’s hands, keen eyes surveying the width of the menu. She whistled. “I hear she also knows how to cook.”

Bruce didn’t smile, but it was a near thing. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Selina set her elbow on the table, leaning her head on her hand. “Oh?” She dragged a finger around his temple, long, scratching nail almost making him shiver. Almost. “You haven’t been paying attention to me either.” She pouted playfully, but her moue disappeared when Bruce only hummed. Her green eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce hesitated. But before he could answer a waiter was directing a friendly-looking couple to their table. Selina sent him a look and stood up; time to meet the in-laws. Selina and her sister Maggie had discovered each other years ago after losing contact for more than twenty years due to foster care. Maggie had been shipped off to California and adopted. It was only after she had married Simon that Selina had brokered contact, and now his fiancé was deadset on including Maggie in the wedding details. Which meant meeting the groom. Which meant Bruce.

He sighed around his water goblet, taking a swallow and pasting a smile on his face when he shook Simon’s hand.

The situation with Tim could wait. Bruce had made it this far, he could hold it together for another hour.

“So then she said, ‘I sent my draft over’ and I was like ‘bullshit’ and then he went ‘I think we can all understand that folks have been busy’ and I was like ‘BULLSHIT’ and then she said ‘It’s not my fault that you spent all night working on it’ and she knows the grade is based on a group effort, it’s not individual, so I was about to go all Solange Knowles in the elevator, and THEN--"

Tim set his head against the wheel.

Stephanie tapped her fingers against his skull. “Honey? I know that my dramatic retelling of my summer class might be boring but you need to keep your head up to see the traffic light.” She tapped again. “Chop chop, eyes on the road.”

Tim obliged. “I’m losing it, Steph,” he murmured. “I’m losing it.”

“I’ll help you find it,” she assured him. “In the meantime we can share mine. Don’t crash my car. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the elevator. So THEN—“

"It’s just,” he began, “he is up my ass—”

“Oh wow,” said Stephanie. “I have no idea what that feels like. I feel so sorry for you.”

Tim sent her an unimpressed look. She smiled beatifically at him. He reached over and pinched her thigh. Steph gave a shriek of laughter and drew her knees up to her chest. “Both hands on the wheel, Timothy Drake!”

He laughed and returned to the wheel, eyes scanning the road.

“But really,” she said, continuing their conversation. “He’s just in one of his Moods. You just have to ride it out.”

“Screw that,” Tim muttered.

“What is up with you two anyways? Normally you let him go crazy-anal and don’t get defensive about it at all.”

“Did you just call me a suck-up?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Seriously, though. You’re obviously unhappy. What happened?”

“He just…he’s too much. And I’m sick of it. You know he was trying to get me to go to college?”

“Yeah, I only heard about it twenty times.”

“Well,” he flicked on the signal, “he basically threatened to fire me if I don’t do what he wants.”

“No! Wait, this is Bruce we’re talking about. Yes!”

“So I’ve basically been getting back at him at the office. And on patrol. And at home.”

“Is this why you’ve been sleeping at my place?”

He didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. “Yes.”

“Okay, while I love that you’re using me as a tool to piss off your dad,” Steph took a sip from her water bottle, “what do I get from providing sanctuary?”

“I’m getting you a new car for your birthday,” Tim deadpanned.

“Volvo?”

“Lexus.”

She leaned over and smacked a resounding kiss on his cheek. “Mwah!”

He grinned.

“Has Bruce retaliated yet?”

“No,” he admitted, bitter and not sure of the reason why, “but then again I’ve tied his hands. I made Tam hold all my calls.”

Stephanie burst out laughing. “Oh Tim,” she gasped. “This is Mean Girls petty and I should say I’m disappointed in both of you but I’m also loving this?”

Tim gave a half-smile but didn’t respond. It had seemed fun, at first. Hitting Bruce where it hurt, like he had done to him. But after the third quasi-manic episode at the office (which had included balloons and Eiffel 65 blaring—he didn’t want to talk about it), it felt…empty. Like no matter what he did, Bruce was still going to think of him the same and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. There was no concept of a permanent sense of self, only a ‘Bruce sense of self.’ That didn’t mean he stopped the lying and manipulation; he just felt strange using Lucius for personal reasons. Like giving Bruce the finger.

Tim shifted in his seat, barely listening to Stephanie chatter. He thought about actual aggressive “negotiations” with the man. He visualized launching himself at Bruce and choking him out.

Tim hummed, considerate. He took a left, merging onto the highway.

Not that he could really do anything. He’d just hang there, like a Tim-sized necktie.

But it’s the thought that counts.

“—And so then I’m stuck between two seats, my tongue almost touching the—hey!” Stephanie took her feet off the dashboard in surprise. “Why did you go on the 95? You know it always gets backed up.”

“Does it matter? Do you have to pee?”

“No, that’s not it.” Her eyes narrowed at the traffic. “We talked about ordering in tonight, and China Panda closes at eight.”

“I’m sure we’ll get home by—”

“You KNOW the 95 takes hours ever since they closed Doyle Pike, it takes—”

“Shit,” Tim swore. “For god’s sake Stephanie, you couldn’t have warned me?”

“I did!” she said shrilly. “I literally got into the car and the first thing I did was remind you about Doyle Pike and Mallowan Road and asked you if you had stopped off because I had less than half a tank of—”

The car gave a sputter.

Tim’s heart went cold.

“No.”

It jerked.

“Nonononono—”

It stopped.

This was hell.

Bruce examined the cutlery for the twenty-fourth time (he had counted). Silver, same as last time. It wasn’t as if he disliked his future in-laws. They were very nice people. Very…nice.

“And just think,” Maggie was saying, “after the wedding you could come visit us in California!”

“Yeah,” said Selina, face lighting up when she spotted their waiter across the room.

“And you could meet Linus!”

“Our son,” Simon explained, smiling at Bruce.

“Maybe you could even bring a friend for him,” said Maggie. She raised her eyebrows, alluding to something Selina knew about, for her sister smiled testily at her.

“Our waiter is coming,” she snapped, pushing the appetizer plates out of the way.

Maggie unrolled her napkin. “And Linus could even meet all the other kids! You have six, don’t you?”

If Bruce was surprised at being addressed, he didn’t show it. “I do.”

“You adopted, right?”

“I did.”

“I’m part of a blended family too!” she exclaimed. “I mean, besides Selina. I was adopted into a family, there were four of us until mom had Constance. I was seventeen, but I loved having a baby around, I think it really shaped me as an individual. What do you think about large age gaps between siblings?”

“Look, bread,” Selina announced. “Bruce, eat the bread.”

Bruce ate it.

Maggie moved on from her question, listing off her siblings’ names and dipping her bread with gusto, but Bruce considered it. Had his children’s ages and life experiences influenced the younger ones’ decisions? He knew that Damian was far more tactile due to Dick’s impact, and he likely would not be that way had he only been involved with Bruce. Perhaps that was what was going on with Tim. Perhaps there was some outside influence at work here, something (or someone, he thought to himself bitterly), that made Tim so stubborn. He knew the boy didn’t used to be this bad. He used to be able to wait him out. He remembered a specific scenario, giving Tim a look and Tim had immediately come clean, sniffling all the while.

Granted, he had been twelve at the time, but still.

There was something to this situation, an aspect Bruce hadn’t considered.

“What date for the wedding were you thinking?” asked Simon, stepping in when his wife paused for breath. “Have you set one yet?”

“Not yet,” Selina replied. “Look, food.”

Their waiter set down their entrees. Bruce unrolled his napkin amidst Maggie’s excited report on flexible venues.

“—And after a year or two the booking is still good!” she exclaimed. “So if anything comes up—”

“Nothing will. Bruce, steak.”

Bruce obligingly cut up his steak.

Although, perhaps an outside influence wasn’t the answer. Perhaps the answer was that Timothy felt that lies and manipulations were a viable tool of communication. Perhaps Timothy believed that respect was not warranted, not to his family, and not to Bruce. Bruce, you know, the man otherwise known as his father? Perhaps Timothy felt as though he should be able to do things with zero consequences. Perhaps Timothy thought that Bruce was stupid. Perhaps Timothy thought that it was funny that Bruce cared about him, that he wanted to see him succeed. Perhaps Timothy should be forced to cooperate, should answer his questions that he hadn’t bothered to ask because Timothy would feed him lies, all that boy did was lie, he woke in the morning and thought “How can I lie to Bruce today?” because lying about sleeping and his caffeine intake and his plans for school and where he was going to live and whose ring was in his closet—

“Bruce, chew.”

Bruce chewed angrily, snapping his jaws together.

“It is a lot,” Maggie was saying. At that point Selina had decimated all the breadsticks, wheat corpses mangled across the tablecloth. “I mean, I’m exhausted,” she admitted. “I’ll never sleep the same again, I swear it. But Linus is just so amazing. I can hardly believe that God gave me a baby, and that I get to have such a wonderful one. Especially after we struggled so much.”

Simon met his wife’s eyes, smiling reassuringly at her.

Selina paused. Her face gentled. She set her hand on her sister’s arm. “I have no doubt that you are a great mom, Maggie.”

Maggie bit her lip to cover up its tremble. “Thank you,” she whispered. She then cleared her throat and picked up her wine glass. “All in all, children are such a blessing,” she concluded.

Selina returned her hands to the table, face pinched again. She took a sip of her water.

Bruce twisted the napkin in his hands.

“I mean, what could be better than children?”

Sip.

Twist.

“I mean, they really are such a blessing!”

Sip.

Twist.

“Don’t you think, Selina?”

“Unf,” agreed Selina around a huge gulp of water. It spilled out of her mouth.

Twist.

“Plus, Simon and I are enjoying all these firsts of parenthood,” Maggie continued. “First time they roll over, first time they coo—”

Twist.

“First time they smile,” Simon added. They smiled at each.

Twist. Twist. Twist twist twist twist twist—

“And we’re so excited for what comes next!” Maggie squealed. “The first time they crawl, the first step, the first word—”

“The first time they set up an elaborate lie and tell you that they’re going to live with an imaginary uncle.”

The table went silent.

“PUSH!”

“I am pushing!” he bellowed.

Stephanie stuck her head out the window, eyes fixed upon him and definitely not on the road. “Push harder!”

Tim rolled his eyes. He planted his hands against the back of Steph’s 2003 Toyota Corolla and pushed. His heels lifted from the exertion, but he kept going. Sweat dripped and fell on the black tarmac. Cars inched forward behind him, growing more and more discontent.

Step by arduous step, they crawled up the highway.

Of course this would happen on the hottest day in Gotham City since 1999.

Of course today, of all days, this would happen. The climax of the truly spectacularly shitty summer. The summer a la Bruce, with special appearances by judgement and paternal harassment. Of course Tim would forget to fill the car up with gas. Of course. Of course! OF FUCKING COURSE.

“Do you want me to push?”

Tim leaned to his left, meeting her eyes. “No. Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Are you sure?”

“Steph!” he shouted. “Keep your eyes on the goddamn road!”

“Okay fine!”

Her head disappeared inside. Tim hissed, hands slipping off the hot metal. “Shit,” he muttered, throwing his weight into the next push. The car behind him hovered, then quickly cut into the next lane. Horns immediately started blaring. “Let them in!” he shouted, in a rare show of traffic consideration. “We’re not going anywhere, let them in!”

Gotham’s heart must have grown three sizes since Tuesday, because, miraculously enough, the car in the next lane let them in. A line of cars merged over like a shiny caterpillar in the sun. Tim wiped his brow on his shoulder, arms straining with effort.

This was shit. Complete and utter shit. It wasn’t even funny in that cosmic, haha, look at this human fail, what does he know sort of way. It was shit. That’s all it was. There wasn’t a bright side or a “trial of soul” as Jason liked to say. It was just shit. His life was shit, his relationship with his dad was shit, his job was going down the tube, everything was shit.

Tim grit his teeth. The next lane’s goodwill had worn off, so cars were piling up behind him again. It really was a matter of time before he was run over, and at this point he would welcome it.

The driver door slammed open. He looked up.

“Switch!” Steph yelled, popping out of the car and racing around it, “Switch!”

Tim, without knowing he was doing it, dashed to the front seat. “This is a dumb idea!” he said. He adjusted the seat.

“Keep the windows rolled down!” was the reply. “Sometimes the wind picks up and you get a faint breeze!”

“Steph!”

The car suddenly heaved forward.

“What did you do?”

“I kicked it!”

“Don’t kick the car!”

“It’s my car!”

“I’m going to push again!”

“No!” Another heave. “It’s my turn! You rest!”

The car was moving faster than it was before. Tim tried not to let that rankle. Of course he would fail at pushing, he couldn’t do anything right nowadays. If he ever had. He groaned, slamming his head back against the headrest. It was bull self-pity, but at this point it was all he had. Bruce had basically already kicked him out of the family, and now was attempting to get him out of Gotham. Which, you know, pissed him off. Gotham was his home too, and he didn’t go around ordering people out of it. It was like Jason said, they all served the same mistress. Helluva lover, though. Tim brushed his knuckles over his jaw; he winced. Since fighting with Bruce he hadn’t bothered to check in, not even for patrol, which had resulted in no back up with some rather nasty bruises to show for it. Was it immature? Yes. Did Bruce absolutely deserve it? Yes. Tim couldn’t believe that he had had to hide at Stephanie’s apartment to escape him. He had been wearing the same business suits in rotation for a week, too scared to go back to his place and be immediately jumped and shipped off to Oxford. He imagined himself stuffed into a suitcase, strapped down to the luggage area of the batplane. Tim frowned.

And yet on the other hand, why was he fighting this at all? Bruce had made it clear, been explicit when he threatened to fire him, that he didn’t want Tim around anymore. Which, he’ll be honest, hurt his feelings. A lot. (He may have laid face-down on Steph’s couch and emitted dying squirrel noises at low moments, couldn’t be sure.) Why did Tim always do this? Why did he stick his nose into places where he was unwanted? Why did he slide into places with no room and insist he be allowed to stay?

This…wasn’t what he wanted. None of this was what he wanted. Maybe it was better he just take the hint and go. He wasn’t legally part of the family anyways, having been emancipated years ago. After Bruce got his way, there would be nothing holding him here.

“This sucks,” he whispered.

“HUH?”

“I said this SUCKS,” he shouted out the window.

“It’s all right!” she shouted back encouragingly. “It’s just like my eighth birthday! You get to live a day in the life, rich boy!”

Tim closed his eyes. Hot tears gathered around his eyelashes, but he didn’t let them fall.

Bruce always got his way. One way or another, Bruce always got his way. It was like the universe was curved to suit him and all the rest of the sorry bastards had to fight for the scraps. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Nothing was ever fair, and that sucked.

Life sucked, Bruce sucked, Tim sucked.

“Tim!” shouted Steph. “Hon, you’re veering!”

Quick as a jolt, Tim opened his eyes and righted the wheels in the nick of time. Stephanie crowed in delight and the car heaved forward again from her kick.

Everything sucked.

But Stephanie didn’t.

Stephanie had been great about everything, like she always was. She hadn’t pushed him to explain and she made him coffee in the mornings, even gave him that stupid red mug that was made more for soup than coffee. She dealt with his stupid crap and mood swings and insisted that they go buy more suits for him because he was “starting to look like a business gigolo making ends meet” and had even made him laugh when he was being fitted because that’s what Steph did, she made everything brighter and happier and made the world not seem so bad.

Everything sucked, but Stephanie Brown didn’t.

“Switch!” he yelled suddenly, hopping out of the car, foot caught beneath the seat. He stumbled. “Switch!”

“No!” Stephanie yelled, but she was already halfway there.

“My turn!” Tim insisted, hair flopping in his eyes. He rounded the trunk, skidding into position. “Don’t worry, it’s my turn!”

Bruce always got what he wanted, but not this time. It was his turn. He pushed the car, ignoring the blisters on his heels.

Tim was staying.

“And they think you don’t know, they think you’re over the hills and simply believe them when they say they’re not doing what you know they’re doing. They think you’re an idiot that goes, ‘huh, they must be telling the truth because in this family we honor our word and respect each other enough to be honest.’ HAH!”

Maggie dropped her silverware.

“And you wonder, how long has this been going on? How long have you been going behind my back and doing EXACTLY what I told you not do!”

The couple at the next table looked over. Bruce didn’t notice.

“’Well, Dad, it’s been three weeks,” Bruce said, parroting a teenager’s voice. “And you haven’t confronted me so I’m going to assume that you’re alright with me lying to your face! Ha ha!’”

“This is really good,” Selina commented, taking another bite of her food.

“’Ha ha’?” Bruce repeated incredulously. “‘Ha ha’? How about I ground you for two months, that’s a ‘ha ha’ for me!”

“It’s got like this…” Selina quirked a brow in thought. “Lemony texture? It’s really fresh.”

“But you can’t do that, because while you were living your life, trying to ensure that everyone is doing alright because you can’t just let things go—”

“No kidding,” muttered someone behind them.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” said another.

“—like others do! You know what happens when other people let things go?” He waved his hands. “Nothing! You know what happens when I let things go? Cataclysm!”

“What?” asked Maggie, puzzled. She leaned closer to Simon. He took her hand under the table.

“So while you were trying to prevent another cataclysm, they go off and grow up! So you can’t ground them, you just have to look them in the eyes while they smile and wreak havoc and tell you everything is fine.”

“So good. I’m definitely getting dessert.”

“And you just want to…” Bruce mimed closing his hands around a neck, “wring them by their skinny little neck and say ‘I know you’re LYING to me, you little SHIT!’”

The couple jerked.

“‘I know you’ve been lying to me,’” Bruce continued, caught up in his fantasy. “‘I know allllll your lies! But I pretended not to notice, because I wanted you to be comfortable! Well, fat lot of good that did!” He slammed his hands on the table. The glasses chinked. Selina chewed on her calamari. “’Because now, NOW? You’re screwing up your own life!’” He yanked the wine glass and downed the contents.

The room was silent. Simon cleared his throat while Maggie shifted in her seat. Selina waved their waiter over and asked for another entrée to go.

Bruce closed his eyes, letting the wine fill his senses as a reprieve. “But yeah,” he said after a moment, “Other than that. Kids are great.”

Was the I-95 made out of fucking lava? He could hardly feel his feet, they felt like they had been freezer-burned like old strawberries.

“Switch!” shouted Stephanie. Tim gratefully sprang forward and dashed into the front seat. He would feel bad, would feel like he was slacking, but he knew his turn would come again. He and Steph had managed the time required to catch a breath before switching. Tim had expected to do it all by himself but Stephanie hadn’t let him. And he was glad of it.

Steph was just…wonderful. In good times and in bad, Steph supported him. Even when he was being an idiot.

He was…glad to be taking this next step with her. Taking the plunge. After all, if not now, then when?

The feelings bunched up in his chest, shooting down his veins, so he stuck his head out the window. “Steph!” he shouted. He sat up further, tucking a knee on the seat. “STEPH! Steph, I love you!”

“Thank you!” she shouted back. “And here I thought you were only with me for my ass!”

Tim shook his head. “No listen,” he instructed, leaning out as far as possible, “I love you! I really, really do!”

The car stopped.

“Really?!”

“Yes!”

The car began moving again.

“I love you too!”

Tim grinned. “I think this is going to work!” he shouted again. “What we’re doing, I think it’s going to work this time!”

“Us or the car?” she shouted.

“BOTH!” he hollered. “SWITCH!”

Tim hopped out and Stephanie ran forward. Instead of going around the front, Tim circled back and almost smashed into her. They both laughed, breathless and exhausted.

“September,” she reminded him, shaking her hair off her face, halfway in the car.

“September,” he repeated, already making his way to the back.

They smiled.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

A beat.

“Is this guy seriously honking?!”

“So when I said, ‘Let’s have lunch with my sister and her husband, tell ‘em about the engagement, really let them get to know you,’ you heard ‘have an absolute meltdown at the table; just fuck with them,’” Selina said, laughing. She swiped at her smeared lipstick and shut the sun visor mirror, leaning back and scrunching her hair in one hand. Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “I really screwed that up, huh?”

“Nah.” She popped one of the complimentary mints in her mouth. “I told them you thought you were Christian Bale, today is your method acting day.”

He looked up. “You did not.”

“Nope.”

“Selina.”

She giggled, leaning over to massage his shoulders. “What’s the deal with you today? You’re so tense,” she complained, fingers digging at a muscle knot.

He sighed, but not in pleasure. Selina frowned. She pinched him.

“Ow,” he said dully, yet didn’t bother to push her away. She sat back anyway.

Selina huffed. “Really, what’s going on?” she asked, crossing her arms. Bruce didn’t respond. “Don’t make me pinch you again,” she threatened, holding her fingers like pincers.

Her fiancé turned on the car, grumbling, “What do you think is going on? I just told every staff member of Vivace about my problems, not to mention my new family members.”

“Tim? Still?”

He frowned at her incredulity. “Yes, Tim, still,” he said, taking a sharp turn into traffic. A horn blared behind them.

“Aw, baby.”

“He’s just,” Bruce sighed. “I can’t…”

“I know,” she murmured. “Have you tried talking to him?”

He frowned.

“Bruce?”

No response.

“Bruce.”

“He won’t answer any of my calls,” he admitted irritably. That fact stuck like a thorn. Worse than a thorn. More like a two-by-four. And he had been hit by them before, he knew what it felt like. “He told me to stay away from him.”

“Did you?”

He didn’t reply.

Tim didn’t want to be around him. Every instance of Tim’s new life, every personal decision, from age seventeen onward, had created distance. At this point, Bruce would believe that it was purposeful. But just what had he done so wrong? What had made Tim wake up one day and decide to schedule Bruce out from Monday to eternity?

Had Bruce failed? Worse yet, had Tim realized that and moved on?

Bruce wasn’t a proponent on fairness, but he did believe in justice. And justice was fair. And that meant that Bruce would get another chance, would get to see his son succeed and not be stuck choosing something he thought was right, something he had trained for. Something he thought was meant for, something that had made sense at a young age but wisdom and experience and death had tempered. Something that broke him, warped him, made him unable to recognize himself through the bruises. Something that was a lifelong mission and that sounded so grand at twenty-two, but at thirty-two it stings and at forty-two it aches. Something that made him less than what he was, what he should have been, if he only had just…taken a moment.

“Are you sure it’s the ring you’re worried about?”

Bruce blinked. “Pardon?”

“Is it marriage that concerns you?” Selina asked, peering at him with keen green eyes. She then smirked. “Should I be worried about that?”

“I just…don’t want him to do something he’ll regret,” he said, throat tight. Tim was still young. Too young. Tim was his, and Bruce had barely had him. To lose him to marriage, to adulthood? After everything? He didn’t think he could bear it.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Selina teased. “You haven’t heard from him. He could already be married. Then you have nothing more to worry about.”

Something caught his eye.

Tim’s location blinked on his phone. Bruce looked at it. He twisted the wheel.

“I’m going to confront him.”

“Okay, babe. I support you. Now, can you drop me off first before you—”

Bruce drove past her apartment.

“–okay.”

“Merge onto I-95,” instructed the GPS. Bruce flicked on his turn signal.

“You do realize I was just kidding about them eloping, right?”

Bruce didn’t reply.

Selina sighed, slipping on her sunglasses

“Here we go…”

#Batman #batman fanfiction #batfam #batfam fanfiction #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne #birds all sing

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kdlovehg · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 - Twelve times the season - a festive everlark fic.

Oh look, I’ve finished another chapter. Enjoy. XO

Click for links to chapter 1 and summary - tumblr

Fanfiction

AO3

*****************************************

Chapter 2

First thing the next morning, Peeta received his first envelope from the letter carrier. After finishing his draft the night before, Peeta had made sure to write the post in his best handwriting and had then faxed it over to the head office, eager for them to have it published in time for the next morning. Now Peeta wasn't a fool, he'd made sure to add a footnote so that the publishers were aware of the situation and thus wouldn't put a copy of his column in any of the papers in his apartment building, except for his. Unfair? Perhaps. But it was better than risking Katniss nicking someone's paper and seeing it. This simply avoided the problem altogether.

He tore open the envelope and pulled out a single scoresheet. Now as this was a sponsorship, the company had made sure that there would be a way to track the number of papers being read from page one until the final word in the column. One common way was to check for any fingerprints on discarded papers, that way they'd know if the reader had flicked through the pages or not. They would also send out workers to see if people had chosen not to grab their paper at all as this was all important information in finding out how many people were reading it.

Two, was written in bold in the centre of the paper. Fifty views. No recommendations as of yet.

It wasn't the best start, because no recommendations meant that nobody in the town or wider part of Panem was talking about it but it was fine. He'd only just started. He turned over the page to see a few comments printed on the back, all of which must have been submitted back to the head office.

Mockygirl: Good luck! Can't wait to see where this goes.

Atrinketonthetree: Fabulous idea! Spread that cheer all through the year.

Unfortunately the last comment wasn't as promising as the first ones.

SwiftG: Just leave it. A Grinch ain't gonna change for you so don't bother.

Despite what the third reader had suggested, Peeta had already planned his first move to woo the little Grinch into the festive spirit. He washed, dressed and left just early enough to grab both Katniss' and his newspapers.

Once he'd collected them, he rode the elevator back up to their floor, checking the time as he went. She hadn't left yet so his plan should be perfect. He knocked on her door and listened for her voice, yet he was only greeted by a loud bark.

After waiting for a few moments he knocked again only to receive a muffled "What?".

"Its your neighbour" Peeta said, doing his best to sound perky. "Mellark. Peeta Mellark".

Silence.

Realising that he wasn't going away Katniss replied "Am I supposed to care?".

Peeta ignored her comment. "I brought gifts". That would work. It always did with the children, besides who didn't love free stuff.

"Don't need em".

"Should I leave it against your door?".

A pause.

"Leave what?".

Gotcha.

"Its a surprise. Don't you like surprises? I sure do. Puts you in a great mood for the day".

The door flew open and she stood in front of him, her skirt failing to conceal a layer of shaving cream that was painted across her leg. Katniss held the razor in her hand tightly as if it were a weapon she might strike him with. Her other arm was holding onto doorframe, creating a blockage for Mutty so that he couldn't escape. Regardless the dog peered over as if he too were curious about the surprise.

The familiar scowl settled back on her face. "I hate surprises".

"Here's your paper", he said, thrusting it towards her.

She grabbed it and tossed it over her shoulder, someone managing to make it land on her table. The accuracy was honestly quite impressive.

"You're welcome", he added, both of them knowing that she didn't appreciate the help. Before she could start mumbling under her breath he turned around and left with a "Have a good morning!".

"Whatever".

"You say that a lot don't you Everdeen?", he commented with a grin. For someone who he assumed was smart, she wasn't very creative with her responses.

"Do you mind? I'd like to finish what I started". Peeta tries not to think about her getting out of the shower when he knocked. Imagine if he made her open the door in a towel. Just for a paper she could've gotten herself. Goodness. It'd be hard to talk his way out of that.

"Go for it", he added, refusing to turn around. Granted it was a little rude but if she could do it then so could he. His nice deed had been done so he didn't owe her anything.

At least she hadn't slammed the door on him.

There was progress at least.

He returned to his room and waited for the familiar sound of her opening and closing her door as she left for work. Then seconds later he left to accompany her at the elevator.

Couldn't break tradition.

"What a coincidence", he lied as they entered and she pressed the button for the bottom floor. Katniss glared at him, clearly not believing a word he said.

He glanced over, seeing the familiar paper tucked under her arm. Perfect. Unintentionally, his gaze dropped back to her legs to see a small piece of paper peeking out from beneath her skirt.

She must have cut herself. Odd. Katniss didn't seem like the type to be distracted easily, but mistakes happen, he supposed.

"I hope that wasn't my fault" Peeta said, gesturing towards the injury.

Katniss huffed and tugged her skirt lower slightly so that he could no longer see it. "Course not".

It totally was.

She'd never admit it though.

"The little cuts are the worst kind".

She shrugged, avoiding conversation, but he heard the quiet "So are happy neighbours".

Well she thought he was the worst kind of neighbour? Perfect. The feeling was mutual.

"Forgive me, I was just trying to be helpful. Next time I'll knock and leave it at your door for when you leave".

"Don't".

"Don't what? Its too big to slide under your door".

"Don't be helpful" she insisted. Katniss didn't need anybody's help. The only thing she needed was for this elevator to hurry up. His voice was getting on her nerves.

"Its really not any trouble".

"I said don't".

"Alright", Peeta said, backing off. "If that's what you want".

"That's what I want" she said, finishing the conversation. Gosh he was annoying.

As soon as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, Katniss flew out of there, eager to get away from her neighbour. Peeta found it amusing to say the least. He'd never made someone run from him before.

"Enjoy your day", he called out after her, if only to wind her up more.

Finnick was right. Being nice wasn't half bad. It was the most entertainment he'd got in weeks.

As a treat, Peeta decided he'd go to a local store, 'The Hob', as it was the closest place to get produce. Inside it they also had a small counter of freshly baked goods, mainly breakfast items, and hot drinks which likely earned them all of their customers. As luck would have it, he noticed that Everdeen was four people ahead of him. Odd since he'd never seen her in the store before.

Despite knowing that he shouldn't, Peeta shouted out to her, his voice quickly getting the attention of the other patrons. "Katniss I didn't know you came here! You should of told me, I could've came earlier to grab you something".

Katniss tensed up, swallowing back a curse at the familiar voice. Of course she couldn't escape him. She knew she should've went straight to work. She just can't catch a break.

Sae, Peeta's favourite barista and the owner of the store, gave him a toothless grin. "Morning Peeta".

"And a good morning to you, lovely", he said with his typical charm. He gestured towards Katniss. "She's my neighbour. I'd like to buy her a hot chocolate".

Everdeen spins around, hand on hip and leans to the side so that she can see around the other people in line. "No. I can buy my own hot chocolate - and cheese buns", she added. "I'm very capable". She didn't want his money. She didn't want his help. Gosh she hoped he'd miss his train so that his day could be as annoying as hers .

"Consider it an apology", Peeta explained as Sae bagged the fresh, gooey buns. She handed it to Katniss along with her drink and waited for the outcome. Peeta knew the older woman must be confused, why would anyone refuse an act of kindness?

"No", Katniss stated and slapped the money down on the counter, capturing Sae's attention.

"Well if you insist", Peeta said as the queue moved towards the counter, every other barista completing their order quickly and with a smile. "I really am sorry. I'll be quieter next time. You won't hear a single Christmas noise from me" he lied. Rather than acknowledge his insincere apology, Katniss grabbed her goods and left the store, not even saying a goodbye to the woman who'd served her.

Peeta considered if Sae knew anything about the woman. Surely she's visited before, just at a different time perhaps? When it was his turn to order he asked, "That girl" and leaned slightly across the counter. He rubbed his face, playing up the curiosity as if the thought just happened to cross his mind. "She come here often?".

"Aw yeah all the time. She orders the same thing, never talks really but what can you do".

"I figured", he said politely. What did he expect? She was an older woman, hardly one to gossip. He asked for the usual hot chocolate and paid, and then gave Sae extra money with the memo that it was to pay for his neighbours order the following morning. "Tell her its from me". Katniss would have to accept his generosity one way or another.

"Well if you're sure boy. She seemed a bit mad about you trynna do it today though".

"She's like that. Talking ain't really her thing", he said as if he was actually friends with Everdeen. Sae handed him his coco.

"I noticed. I'll make sure to serve her tomorrow, just for you Peeta", she added with another grin. There's the community spirit he missed.

"Perfect. Thankyou Sae".

He turned to leave with his drink and added, "Just a shame I won't see her reaction".

Peeta hurried out the store and rushed to the platform, just in time as the train had already arrived. He slid through the doors as they closed and sipped his hot chocolate. What would Katniss do?

///////////////////////////////////

The man was driving Katniss crazy. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? He was obviously just doing it for the attention. No-one was that happy in general let alone in the morning, yet every day its the same smile that he greets everybody with. Katniss knew he was playing a game with her and she didn't like it one bit. So she decided she'd do what she did best - ignore him. Unfortunately he'd already managed to get her to talk on two separate occasions so far but that was a mistake. She knew better now. Walking quickly, Katniss headed towards the Justice building. Being late was never an option. She had bills to pay and a cut in her salary wouldn't help. Besides she had a schedule: work in the morning and then for lunch she would go home, grab a snack, get changed and take Mutty out. Then once the dog was all tired out - which seemed to be never the older that he got - she would quickly wash and change back into her work uniform. Then she'd leave just as he'd settle down for his nap. It wasn't always that way, but Haymitch's building didn't allow dogs so she had to take him in. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. Katniss loved her Uncle - even though he was a pain - and she was grateful for all that he did in raising her. Luckily he seemed to adjust well to the new place, and by that she meant, she had yet to receive a complaint from the complex.

Even when she was young, Katniss knew she wasn't a people person. Her father had tried many times to help her make friends but she hated everything about it. She'd much rather sit alone in the woods and study the animals. That's why her job in agriculture suited her. She could spend time away from people as often as she wanted to. People were dangerous. Animals were smart. They knew to be careful with their trust and she'd been fooled before. She didn't even want to think of Gale's betrayal. No - it was over. Her mind had moved on.

"Morning Miss Everdeen!", the receptionist said in greeting. She was unusual as the place was known to be quite cold and workers were stoic, but Katniss didn't mind as the girl was never mad at a lack of a reply. On her counter sat a small Christmas tree with ribbons wrapped around it and trinkets hung from the branches. It did nothing for Katniss' mood but she supposed some of her colleagues might like seeing the sight.

With a nod in her direction, Katniss moved on. She didn't remember the young girl's name, or perhaps she hadn't bothered to ask. It didn't matter she supposed. The less familiar she was with people the better. She closed the door behind her, glad to be back in her office. Silent. Alone. Perfect. It gave her time to ponder her odd neighbour. He was a nice guy. That wasn't unusual, but why now was he trying so hard to get her attention? And why did she care?

////////////////////

After work, Peeta headed down to 'Monsieur Cornucopia', a building full of different clubs for young children, so that he could help them with their holiday program and then he travelled to the orphanage. He'd had a good day - better than yesterday at least. The shoppers seemed more patient and they sold out of a lot of fish. He liked to think that it was some type of good karma, for trying to be nice to Everdeen. Sure she rebuffed it, but these things take time.

The kids in the orphanage enjoyed the singing and loved the chance to sing to those in their community that were often forgotten; the elderly, the homeless, even some of the new mothers. The previous week they'd sung at the local hospital, for the new parents, most of whom were underage and thus looked down on. The children didn't judge them though. Maybe that's why he liked them so much. They were just jolly, none of them needed a reason for it, unlike some people.

This week the children were heading down to The Seam. The small living-complex located on the outskirts of twelve, didn't always sound like the ideal place to take children but they wouldn't mind it. He knew how excited they were. Some even hoped to see their old relatives, after being separated from them for good reason. They wouldn't understand that though. They didn't care.

By nine-thirty, Peeta made it back to the lobby, he was exhausted, but still in a good mood. He headed towards the lockers to check for any mail - if it was a special delivery letter then the carrier would take it straight to the room but anything else was just stored in the designated box. As he unlocked, the locker, he grabbed his mail and began flicking through the envelopes. Bills. Gas. Water. No Christmas cards yet but there was still a chance for those that could afford to send them, to do so this year. In his peripheral vision he caught sight of a familiar brunette. Everdeen. He wondered were she'd been as she was dressed in the same clothes that she would wear when taking her dog out but he was sure she must have done so already, and the little fella wasn't with her so she must have been somewhere else. The faint smell of sweat tickles his nose but he doesn't comment on it. She'd probably take it as an insult anyway. Although, he glanced her way, she did seem to be pretty athletic. That was a nice surprise. Not that he should be looking. It was her body, who cared what he thought of it. He looked away before she could catch him. Maybe she'd cuss him out, out loud this time. He didn't want that, it could ruin her mood for tomorrow and then she'd never appreciate his gift.

Katniss kept quiet. Of course she'd seen him, subtlety wasn't his forte, but she chose not to comment. She'd had enough interaction with him for one day. A week even. She just wanted to relax so she watched as he shut his locker closed. She checked her locker quickly, and seeing that it was empty, she closed it again and as had become the custom, the two of them rode the elevator together in blissful silence. Katniss made a point to stand in the corner so that she could have as much space away from him as possible. She needed time to breathe. There were too many people around at this time of year. Peeta chose not to acknowledge the distance between them and when they finally reached their floor, they separated and headed for their own apartment. For some odd reason, Peeta felt as if she was watching him - just staring at his back because he wouldn't see her. Rather than turn around he glanced over his shoulder at her to see the usual scowl on her face. Lovely.

Katniss couldn't figure out why he still hadn't spoken to her. She liked it obviously but it didn't seem right. Just hours ago he was bugging her and now he was content with silence?

Peeta forced a smile in her direction, "Have a good evening, Katniss".

"You don't look good".

His eyebrows jumped up. No way.

She spoke. Goodness had he broken her already?

"Its been a long day" he said, testing the waters. He wouldn't draw this conversation out, that was up to her.

Unfortunately for him, that answer seemed to satisfy her enough and she spun on her heel and disappeared into her apartment.

Accepting defeat, Peeta entered his own apartment and collapsed onto the chair. He wasn't making a lot of progress. But it was only day one. At least he knew there was promise there. Yet before he drifted off to sleep, he remembered that the day was over and thus it was time to start his second column entry. With a huff he hauled himself off of the chair and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. He wondered what the commenters would think of it this time.

Twelve times the season - Entry 2

December 15th

A letter and a lady

Operation Grinch to little elf is officially underway, ladies and gentlemen. Have I granted her a cheerful smile today? Oh yes. Did I give her the gift of a surprise? Why certainly! She just hasn't warmed up to the idea yet. Since seeing me this morning, I'm fairly certain she now wishes she'd succumbed to the festivity weeks ago but alas it is too late and thus my presence is here to help.

What wonderful thing did I do you ask? I woke up early - gave up a full ten minutes of sleep for this woman - and trekked downstairs to retrieve her newspaper so that the Lady wouldn't have to even spare a second to locate it. Not only that, but I offered to buy her breakfast. She refused of course, but at least I've set the tone for the next few days. And not only that twelve but I've bought her breakfast for tomorrow. How convenient is that? A lovely way to start her morning I'd say. I can't wait to here about how she reacts to that.

However something occurred once nightfall hit. A strange encounter one might say. I was merely collecting my mail in the lobby when she appeared. Odd but not unusual. Coincidences happen. From previous experience I knew how these encounters would go. If I were to strike up conversation, especially when she is at the end of her day, then I was sure to be ignored, and I didn't feel like finishing my night on a sour note. Now granted I know I'm not her favourite person, but I don't believe I'm the only one. It seems the one with the problem is her.

Now I like to believe that my newfound fascination with her is unsettling. How do I know? Well I changed tactics for a moment. I was tired and thus gave her the cold shoulder. And did she like that twelve? Oh no.

She cracked.

It was small. An ever so small dent in her façade as she asked me how I was. Were I not so exhausted I would have revelled in her words. Am I getting to her? Who knows. Its still early but I'm optimistic people.

I'll end it here for now until I can figure out a new way to... sweeten her up. In fact, I think I might have just found one.

#everlark #chapter 2 #twelve times the season #festivefic #myfics #kdlovehg #fanfiction #ao3 #christmasfic #links #thg

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tasharii · 6 years

Text

Your Colors: Ch.1.

A/N: I was hoping for this to be a oneshot, but it got out of hand very quickly, and became a full, multi-chapter fic. This is for @writingcroissant ‘s 2k challenge. I picked the Artist AU, and ran with it.

I also couldn’t help but create the mood board that you see. Gotta love visual inspiration! I might make one themed for every chapter, not sure yet. This is my first fanfiction ever, so please let me know what you think. I’ll update the warnings with every chapter if something changes.

Summary: Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 11.5K

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, violence, attempted assault

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

****

A cool draft of air pricked goosebumps up across her skin, and she suppressed the urge to shiver. One wrong movement would break her pose. The floral duvet under her was soft, but her knees were starting to ache from holding the position for so long. Her hands were curled against the tops of her thighs, as if she just rose up to kneel on her bed. Y/N’s head was tilted just a little, her hair pulled over one shoulder, facial expression calm. It was hard to stay that way, though. She could feel his eyes on her like blinding sunshine.

The lighting was controlled by mismatched lamps, keeping it consistent and gentle, almost intimate. Three lights were situated around her bed. One by the headboard behind her, another standalone closer, above her head to the left, and the last was further away on a chair in front of her. All the ceiling lights were switched off, and the windows were covered. It was just enough light to keep her bedroom area illuminated, but the rest of the apartment was coated in inky shadows.

Even with the heat on high, the loose, sheer long sleeve blouse she wore wasn’t quite warm enough. Goosebumps crawled up her bare thighs, disappearing underneath her jean shorts. Y/N’s studio apartment always ran on the edge of nippy. The stained tan carpet couldn’t block out the chill. The mass of tall windows on her back wall, across from the door, loved to let the fall air creep in. At least the windows gave a beautiful view of New York’s sparkling skyline. Being on the 14th floor did have some perks.

“You’re frowning again.” His voice broke through her train of thought. It made her shoulders tense up to her ears before she forced them back down. Subtly she flexed her fingers in and out of fists, trying to shake the anxiety. “Do you need a break?”

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding “No, I’m alright.” She peaked at him from just within her peripheral vision. He was drawing her from a 3-quarter view, a little lower rather than straight on. A chair had been pulled over from her living-room area, and he lounged back in it. One foot propped up on a stool; other on his knee. His large sketchpad rested on his lap, and tucked up close to his face. Pale blue eyes focused on her with such intensity she felt another flush crawl from her chest down to her toes and up to her ears. This was one part of life drawing that she could never quite get used to.

His eyes drifted over her body, taking in every single detail. First trailing across the waves in her hair, then he paused on her lips, passed down to her torso, arms, legs, and lastly he focused on the paper. Bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth, he scraped against the page in small fluid strokes. The rasping of charcoal eased some of the heat that sparked across her skin. Then he looked up again, loose strands of hair falling across his forehead.

Bucky met her eyes for a couple seconds. Her heartbeat picked up again at being caught staring. Then he dropped his charcoal back down into its open case on the end table beside his chair. He let his socked feet down. Placed his sketchpad on the stool and rubbed at the black smudges on his fingers “I think I’m done anyway. I wanna get a drink real quick, then I’ll pose for you.” He wiped the smudges on his jeans as he stood up.

‘Oh thank god’ Y/N thought, then fell back onto her butt, rolling into a sitting position. Stretching her arms above her head, she cracked her back. As she rolled her stiff joints, she listened for Bucky’s footsteps. The light flicked on for her corned off kitchen area. It was all the way on the other side of the apartment, but she heard the fridge door open without one single footstep. He was so damn quiet. Like a ghost. Maybe it was just because of the carpet.

“Can you get me a coke?” She called, scooting to sit on the edge of the bed and then standing. Tingles trailed down her legs, feet asleep, and she awkwardly shook them off. With a couple bouncing steps she went over to the stool. Y/N didn’t dare touch it, didn’t want to smear any of his strokes. Instead, she just moved over so she could peer down at his latest masterpiece.

It had taken him a little over 30 minutes to draw her. Bucky always, somehow, made her look far more beautiful than any mirror had ever done for her. Her hair looked wavy and graceful as it framed her face, and she appeared to be deep in thought. As if she was captured in the moment between deciding to do something and moving into action. Y/N wished she could say that he drew her wrong, made her look like someone else. A girl far more elegant and pretty than her, but it would be an insult to his skill. Bucky captured her truer to herself than anyone else in the world. It was like he saw inside of her. Saw what she was made of and brought it to the surface.

Somehow, he did it every single time.

This was the fourth time he had been over for an art homework session. Probably drawn her upwards of thirty times now between all the impression sketches, and various timed drawings. Always in charcoal. Always with beautiful accuracy.

“What do you think?” Y/N felt something cold and damp brush her arm. She jumped a little bit and whipped around to glare at Bucky for spooking her. He was standing a good foot away, but his arm had stretched out to offer her the canned soda.

Snatching the drink from him, she took a couple calming breaths, and ignored his small smirk “I think this one’s your best so far. You’re getting better with the lighting.”

Now that she was aware of him, he took another step closer. Unconsciously, his right arm brushed hers as he tilted his head, eyeing the drawing critically “Still can’t get your damn nose right.”

“Got a problem with it?” She teased, sipping on her drink and studying the illustration. Honestly, she didn’t notice anything wrong with it. Her 2D nose looked about as accurate as the rest of her. Curling her bare toes into the carpet, she noticed the feeling had finally come back to them.

Bucky glanced up at her and scowled accusingly “Ya, it’s disproportionate to your face.” The light from the lamp on the chair accented his pout, deepening the dimple under his lip.

Y/N couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that came out of her. It was such an absurd, random comment. Still, she pressed her lips and eyebrows down. Tried to be offended. After all, he was insulting her “Excuse me. I think my nose is the best part of my face! You’re the one with a butt chin!” Her voice trembled over her own words. Then she giggled a little harder as his sulking deepened and he rubbed at his chin, shaking his head.

“Now who’s being rude?” His pout finally lifted to a small smile, and he brought his coke to his mouth, swallowing. “I think next time I want you laying on the bed. Think you can let your head hang upside down for 30 minutes?” He caught her gaze, eyebrows raised. She tried to ignore him saying anything about laying on a bed. There was a mischievous spark in his eye that made her stomach flip.

“If I pass out it’s your fault.” She warned, jabbing a finger at him threateningly. He smiled a smidge more at her before backing up and going to sit his drink down on her desk. Every smile he gave her felt like a surprise, and she couldn’t quite believe how much had changed in such a short period of time.

Things were getting easier with him. It had taken a good two weeks, seeing each other twice a week in their mutual art class, and then twice outside of class to work on the homework. Y/N knew he would be tough. She could tell that from ‘Hello’. Just hadn’t properly estimated how difficult.

In the beginning, he barely talked beyond adjustments to her pose, and comments on her anatomical errors. Never rudely. Definitely blunt, but his voice was soft, and he helped her after critiquing her. She had thought he was irritated every time he came to her apartment to work. Thought she annoyed him whenever she sat next to him in class. It made her anxiety relentlessly torment her like the devil it was.

Last Friday, though, she finally started to pick up on his dry humor. It was only small comments here and there. Little quips about the poses she made him do, or her obnoxiously loud neighbors. When she fed into it, he made more. Now he was beginning to smile easier. She eventually asked him about his brooding, while sketching him sitting in a chair. Bucky had cracked up. A full body laugh that took up her entire apartment. Between snorts he explained that his friends said he had a ‘killer resting bitch face’. It was one of their inside jokes. He was sorry if he gave her the wrong idea. All his waving hands, gesturing as he spoke, completely ruined her sketch. There was no getting him back into the same position. It was worth it.

These days, she wondered why she ever thought he was scary.

“Got any plans for Halloween?” Y/N asked, turning her drink in her hands. The holiday fell on a Wednesday this year, so most parties were scheduled the Saturday after. That was only a week away.

Bucky smeared the condensation of his can across his right fingers, rubbing at the leftover charcoal dust. The small of his back leaned against her desk as he thought about it. Charcoal had managed to get all the way down to his wrist. His thumb brushed over his fingertips and then he rubbed them again on his jeans. There were smudged stains on the faded blue now, next to his side pocket. He didn’t seem to care.

She tried to stop staring, looking back down at his drawing right as he glanced back up to answer. “Probably gonna go to my friend’s party. Maybe scare the kids that dare ring his doorbell.” He gave a wicked smirk. Then clapped his hands together, rubbing them conspiratorially. The sound was muted by his glove and had a dull ring from the metal underneath.

“Like you need to give more poor people nightmares from your ugly mug.” She teased. Well that answered her question. She thought maybe she could invite him to go with her and her friends to club Hydra. Obviously, he would be spending time with his friends. Friends she didn’t have any idea about.

“Oh ha ha.” Bucky rolled his eyes with exaggerated, sarcastic laughter. “So! Where do you want me and my ugly mug?” He asked, arms spread wide in mock invitation.

“Don’t pout. At least you don’t have to buy a costume.” Y/N continued. He didn’t even bless her with a response. Just pinned his grey eyes at her a bit more.

Slowly, she walked over to sit her own drink down beside his, lips pressed together. Peering around the room, she crossed her arms in thought. Finally, she nodded her chin towards the window sill. It was her middle, largest window. The one that opened to her fire escape. The sill doubled as a seat and had a couple cushions already laid out on it.

“Open the blinds and lean against it.” It was getting to be later afternoon, so the light should be pouring in the window without the blinds blocking it. As he pushed off from the desk, Bucky knocked his shoulder playfully against hers. She hesitated back for just a second, watching him stroll easily across her apartment. Honestly, she hadn’t realized that he never touched her before until he started to. It wasn’t like he touched her all the time now, but something told her it was significant that he did at all.

With a shake of her head, Y/N followed Bucky over to the window and let him push aside the pale blue curtains. Then he tugged the blinds up, turned and rested back against the window, arms crossed. He didn’t completely sit down onto the sill. Instead he sat on the very edge, using his legs to support him. It wasn’t a very comfortable position, but it was visually dynamic.

“This good?” He tilted his head and studied her curiously. He was wearing a black hoodie, left hand covered with a glove. His hair was easily brushed back from his face, shorter on the sides. Stubble covered his cheeks, but he still had a boyish charm to him, even with the small smudges of rings under his stark blue eyes.

She knew what was under his glove. It wasn’t like Bucky insisted on hiding his metal arm, but he did go out of his way to keep it covered as much as possible. Sometimes in class he would shed his jacket, long sleeves underneath it, but then he would roll up the sleeves to wash his right hand. He would remove the glove to keep it from getting wet. Didn’t usually even flinch whenever anyone looked, surprised, but no one asked. Prosthetics were rare, but not unheard of considering the war. Metal prosthetics were rarer, only Stark Industries made them, and they were ungodly expensive.

However, in all the sessions they had drawing each other, she hadn’t drawn him without his arm covered in some way. He had drawn her in various stages of undress: dresses, skirts, shorts, jackets, and even a sports bra once. Y/N had a feeling that this would be what she would use for her final Figure Drawing project. If he just didn’t have his jacket on. Maybe she could finally capture the essence of him that she had missed every time.

“One second.” She stated quickly, stepping back and flitting around her apartment. First, she turned off all the lamps over near her bed. Then she walked around the wide bookshelf that separated her bed from the living-room area and turned off the kitchen light beyond that. There was enough light pouring in from the window for her to draw by. Plus, having only one light source made the shadows he created deeper.

Having all that done, she steeled herself, debating a moment longer. It wouldn’t hurt to ask would it? She picked at the edges of her sheer sleeves, they covered down to her fingers. Bucky tracked the movement with his eyes. He really did have artist habits. Sometimes she wondered if he ever missed anything. Any small detail.

“Do you think you could take off your hoodie?” She quickly asked, a little hesitantly. Just throw it out there. Despite the anxiety, she tried to be as casual about it as she could.

Bucky’s eyes widened just a fraction before he gave a smooth smile and furrowed his eyebrows “You trying to defile my honor?” He chuckled teasingly, giving her an obvious once-over, then tutted with a click of his tongue “I didn’t take you for that kinda girl!” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and reclined back a bit more. The light made pieces of his hair shine copper.

She scoffed “Oh you wish Barnes.” Then she shook her head, staring up at the high vaulted ceiling. Why did this difficult man had to be her muse?

“I just think the lighting and pose would look better without your dark ass jacket casting one big mass of shadows.” She jabbed a finger at it and stared at him stubbornly. She didn’t mention that his metallic arm would also look beautiful in the golden light of the sunset, but she figured he would come to that conclusion on his own.

“I’m wearing a tank top underneath this.” He stated, joking demeanor becoming subdued with his statement, voice softening. Bucky didn’t turn his gaze away from her. Slouched down like he was, she managed to stand at his height. Her bare toes were nearly touching his. The length of his stretched legs kept her a good arm’s length away. Bucky always seemed to have a bubble that he rarely let anyone in. People walked around him with a wide breadth. Y/N supposed he could be intimidating. Especially in moments like this. Where his eyes unwaveringly bore into hers, and he dropped his charming, dry humor. A joke wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“That’s fine by me.” She finally replied, clearing her throat from where it had become filled with sand. Honestly, she didn’t know Bucky all that well. They spent upwards of 10 hours a week together, working on the same class, bonding over art, but she still didn’t really know him. She knew he was a veteran, he was casually vague about that if the arm didn’t tip anyone off. Their art teacher, Ramsey, was also a veteran, and liked to talk about it with Bucky. Probably a sense of comradery. She knew his favorite medium was acrylic, and he worked at The Rosalie Bakery. That was about it, though, and all that stuff was pretty damn superficial.

As he kept his stare locked with hers for a few heartbeats longer than comfortable, she began to wonder if maybe she pushed too far. It was obvious he was a private guy. Maybe he was embarrassed about it. Maybe he didn’t want it captured forever down on paper. She was just about to back off when his right hand moved up to the zipper of his hoodie. Her eyes immediately tracked the movement. It rested below his chest, already partially down. The sound of the zipper broke the silence, louder than the clunking of her apartments central air.

“Alright, but good fucking luck drawing this hunk of metal. I swear shading it is gonna be a bitch for you.” Bucky groused, and she took a soft breath before smiling encouragingly with a flash of teeth.

“I think I can handle it.”

He tossed the jacket to the floor, and then rolled his shoulder a little. The wife beater didn’t hide much of anything. Y/N could see the thick jagged scars from where the metal ended, and his skin began. There was intricate paneling and the plates hissed a little as they shifted in response to him moving. His flesh fingers plucked the ends of the glove off, and then dropped it down on top of his jacket.

It only took two seconds for her trained eyes to devour every detail before she hurried to grab her sketchpad and standing easel. She wanted to draw him at eye level, just from the side closer to his metal arm. The light refracted, multicolored, across the silver. It was just as stunning as she thought it would be. “Can you just prop your left elbow up above your head? Ya like that. Now tilt your head towards me. Good. And relax.” She spoke quickly, already starting to block in shapes.

“Whatever you say Picasso.” Bucky rolled his eyes before relaxing his face, and he watched her draw.

Normally, she would tell him to look somewhere else. Maybe down, or up above her, but not this time. This time it was perfect that he was challenging her. Challenging the viewer. Daring them to look at him. Daring them to stare.

Y/N felt her heartbeat pick up, and she brushed the charcoal across her page, suddenly caught in a drawing fever. She could feel excitement sparking her fingers as she drew him. This was why she wanted him to be her partner.

When Ramsey told them that they would have a partner for the length of their class, she had panicked at first. Their partner was supposed to critic them, help them, and work their projects together. It was a lot to ask from someone, especially when most people in the class didn’t have a degree hanging on their performance. This was an extracurricular class for her, outside of her college, hosted by the Brooklyn Museum. It was meant for wanna-be-artists, but most of them weren’t being graded like her. At the end of the class their work would be hosted in an exhibit at the museum.

All her teachers would be coming to that show, and Ramsey was supposed to write weekly updates about her. Y/N didn’t like group projects to begin with. Most people just didn’t work well together, and she had high standards for herself. Besides, she only recognized a couple other people in the class from her college, but she didn’t truly know anyone.

As everyone started to pair off, being smart and probably taking the class with a friend, she glanced around the room. Twisted in her chair, observing as people laughed and started mulling over the syllabus together. She finally spotted him. He hadn’t moved from his drafting desk, hadn’t even looked up from his worn sketchbook. She noticed how people glanced at him, but then kept moving, looking for other options. He was beautiful. Intimidating. She wanted to draw him right then and there. It wasn’t anything new. Sometimes people just inspired her. Something about them made her itch to draw them. To capture their being onto a page.

So, she approached him. He slowly glanced up at her. Took in her position beside his desk with nothing else than a glare. Stubbornly not letting that deter her, she gave a small wave and the best smile she could muster under such uncomfortable circumstances “Hey I’m Y/N.”

“James.”

“You still have 20 minutes left. You can take your time.” Bucky chuckled, watching as her hand slowed for the first time since she started “I’m not going anywhere Y/N.”

It had taken the entire first week for her to make him laugh. Another week after that before the smiles came easier. The sad part was she had actively been trying. Of course, when he did laugh, she hadn’t tried. In the middle of rearranging the still life they were working with, she fumbled. She accidentally knocked her hip into the edge of her cheap end table when turning away. Managed to catch the flower vase, but at the cost of it spilling down the front of her shirt. At least it was on her, and not her camera. That same day, he had told her to call him Bucky instead of James.

He laughed a lot more since then.

Hearing her name made her fully give him her attention. Cars honked from far down below, and the shuffle of New York played like subdued background music. “You’ve got charcoal on your face.” He informed her. A smirk curled up one side of his lips, and his eyes danced in the fading auburn light behind him.

She wiped at her forehead, brushing back her hair. From the grin on his face, she probably only made it worse. She sent eye daggers at him “Shut up and get back to brooding.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to contain his smile. “Yes ma’am.” After that, she noticed that his shoulders were a little more relaxed. His breathing was deeper, and his gaze had softened. However, his eyes never stopped daring her to look.

****

Halloween was one of her favorite holidays. It was thrilling to get to pretend to be someone else. To have the opportunity to dress in whatever made her feel good without getting slut shamed for it. She had very few chances to act like a kid anymore, being in college, and having the adult responsibilities of a young woman living on her own. So, when her friends invited her to a Halloween party at the club Hydra she didn’t hesitate to agree. It wasn’t often that she drank, even less often that she partied.

The press of bodies made it difficult to get off the dance floor. She slowly weaved her way, slipping under arms and sliding through all the usual grinding. Her hair stuck to the nap of her neck, and she felt damp sweat on the small of her back. Leather was not a breathable fabric. It clung like a second jet black skin down her limbs and stretched across her breasts. As she stumbled, at last, out of the crowd, near the bar, she took in a muggy breath. The air tasted like various perfumes, and sweet smoke. Fog machines curled smoke around her feet and made the air hazy. Desperate, she unzipped her clingy jacket down a bit. Now she was showing an indecent amount of cleavage, only a pushup bra under the jacket, but at least it was cooler.

Time was drifting past 1 a.m., and she wanted to try to be home by 3. That way she could still be coherent when Bucky came over to work at 11. Multicolored strobe lights flashed overhead, giving everything a heady, surreal atmosphere. The music was so loud that she could feel it vibrating in her bones, across her heart. It mixed well with the slight buzz of alcohol making her skin tingle, and muscles loose. Her feet hurt from dancing so much, and she still had a throbbing bite mark on her neck. A gift from a guy dressed as a vampire who got a little too in character.

Finally, she made it into the bathroom, there wasn’t a line. The club was huge, and expensive. It managed to surprisingly be equipped with enough bathrooms to serve all its drunk, debauched guests. She leaned heavily against the porcelain sink, splashing some cool water onto the back of her neck. After a couple of calm breaths, she felt the last of the artificial fog leave her lungs. Peering up she stretched her neck to the side, checking to see if the vampire managed to bruise her. Thank god he didn’t.

Y/N’s makeup was smudged, making her sharp Black Widow look a little dirty. Her lipstick smeared around her mouth, and her smoky eyeliner ringed her bright eyes. Somehow, she got glitter across her cheekbones and chest. She hadn’t even worn glitter. Still, it managed to work with the leather, so she didn’t mind too much. Standing up straight, she dampened a paper towel and dabbed it under her eyes. Wanted to clean herself up just a little bit before she faced anyone again. Grabbing her lipstick from one of her many pockets she reapplied the scarlet, and then, satisfied, pulled out her phone.

Back facing the mirror, she leaned against the sink. Focused on her phone, she enjoyed the slight draft of cool air that dried the sweat on her chest. The music still crept in from outside, but it was the first minute in a solid 5 hours that she could hear her own thoughts.

First, she tried to call Gabby, who had drove them there. Gabby was always nailed to her phone and very reliable. It rang a few times, but eventually went to voicemail. Y/N left a quick message. Let her know that she wanted to head out soon, and to get back to her. They had agreed that they would stay no later than 1:30 a.m. at most. It was creeping towards that time.

Then she called Whitney, but the call was instantly rejected. She raised her eyebrows and hung up without leaving a message. Instead she went to text her. The buzzing of the florescent lights was starting to give her a headache. She jumped a little when a group of girls came into the bathroom, talking way too loudly. Probably still deaf from the base. The music followed in after them until the door swung closed again. Some remix of This Is Halloween. They barely glanced at her as they went about doing their business, checking their makeup and going into the stalls.

Y/N stepped back and out of the way of the sinks. She leaned against the other wall beside the trashcan. Her feet were starting to ache in her knee-high boots; so, she shifted her weight from one to the other, easing some of the pressure.

Y/N: Hey! Just wanted to knw if you’ve seen Gabs?

It took Whitney a couple minutes to text back. Minutes that went by gruelingly slow. The girls had all left by the time her phone vibrated in her hands.

Whitney: No idea! Srry about the call. I met a guy! She followed that up with several winky faces and hearts.

Whitney: Let her know I don’t need a ride tho. Probably won’t make it home. Thnx!

That one was emphasized with some kisses and winky faces.

Y/N could tell when a conversation was over, so she tried to call Gabby again. It ended with the same result. She sent her a couple texts, but to no avail. Just more radio silence.

Buzz sufficiently tampered, she let Gabby know she was getting a cab. She stared up at the glass dome light about her head and groaned loudly in frustration. Then she pocketed her phone back in the pouch attached to her utility belt. She patted at her thigh pocket where she had her wallet, only to come up with nothing. Y/N patted down her hip pockets, and then back pockets. A bubble of panic started to rise from her stomach. She frowned, going for her bra, and then rechecking every single pocket she had.

Twice.

Then a third time.

No wallet. No goddamn wallet. She tried to think of where she could have left it, but it had been an hour since her last drink. There was no way she had left it at the bar.

Then she had gone to dance some more, and finally ended up here in the bathroom.

Somewhere between then and now her wallet had escaped.

Son of a bitch. She raked a rough hand through her hair. It probably looked wild in a crazy witch sort of way now. The mirror across from her confirmed her theory. Wild hair aside; ok, she could handle this. Maybe they had it at the bar. Maybe she dropped it, and someone gave it to the bartender. People were still nice like that.

With a rush of adrenaline fueling her steps, she shoved out of the bathroom and hurried to the bar. This couldn’t be happening.

It wasn’t at the bar.

The bartender helpfully informed her that they had been having a pick-pocket problem. Followed that up with a shrug and infuriating expression of pity.

Gave her a free shot of vodka for her troubles.

Dejected, it took her another 10 minutes to wind her way through the crowd. 10 long minutes to make it out of the maze of the outrageously huge club. She couldn’t help but feel pissed. All around abandoned by her friends. Robbed. She just wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and then collapse into her warm bed.

The frigid November wind only aided in agitating her more. The club was on a corner lot, and she walked a few paces away from the entrance. There were throngs of people still going into the club, and then stumbling masses making their way out of it. She waited on the edge of the sidewalk, watching as the headlights of the cars flashed by in blurs of color. She could see her breath in the wind and cursed her skin-tight leather jacket for not being warmer. The heat from the club abandoned her more every single time a gust of air pushed her to the side.

Luckily, she could feel the vodka coiling in her stomach, spreading numb warmth through her veins. It also managed to calm her down, guiding her from the edge of crying. She bit her lip and slumped against a lamp post.

A taxi started to pull over for her, and she let out a groan of frustration as she waved them on. No point in wasting the poor guy’s time. Renewed tears of frustration pricked her eyes as she tried to figure out who she could call. Her two best friends with cars had already outright deserted her ass. She pulled out her phone and started clicking through all her contacts. Rubbing at her fingers against the phone as she went. The light of her phone made her wince, and the harsh street light reflected white off her leather sleeves. No one else she knew drove.

No one except…

She hovered her thumb over Bucky’s name. He was probably still at his friend’s right now. If not there, likely passed out in some corner. They weren’t that close, and this would seriously be putting him out.

But she was desperate.

Y/N pressed the phone to her ear as it started to ring. Again, and again… and oh god he wouldn’t answer and he was going to wake up to a random call from an indecent hour and no explanation…

“Hello?”

“Bucky!” She uttered his name with an embarrassing amount of relief. Immediately she took a step away from the post, too nervous to stand still.

“Hey uh… are you alright?” He asked slowly, voice deeper over the phone. At least he sounded like he hadn’t been sleeping, or drunk. What if he was actually busy? What if he was _busy _with someone? She could just make out the sound of music over the line, and laughter.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” She ignored his question in favor of asking one of her own. What if she just interrupted a hookup? Accidentally cock blocked him? The thought made her a little queasy, and her free arm crossed protectively over herself.

“Oh no, um just at Steve’s party.” She pursed her lips, looking up at the sky. Couldn’t make out any of the stars thanks to the city that never sleeps. Steve. He had never mentioned Steve before. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She didn’t even know the names of his real friends.

He seemed hesitant when she didn’t say anything right away. Vodka was making its way through her. Her brain felt a bit slow “Is there anything that I can do for ya? Not that I don’t appreciate random calls or anything, but…” Bucky trailed off, waiting for her to finish the sentence for him.

The question made her straighten back up and scrub a hand over her face, suddenly remembering her awkward situation “I don’t want to put you out but… Well I’m kinda stuck at club Hydra. Without money, or a ride. Do ya think maybe you could give me a lift home? If you can’t it’s ok I can figure something else out. Promise I’ll pay you back though!” Her lipstick had smeared over her palm. She wiped it off on her thigh distractedly.

There were a few long beats of silence. The only way she knew he was still on the line was by the intermittent bursts of background laughter. Finally, she heard Bucky let out a sigh that made the speaker crackle “I’m not even going to ask. I can be there in 10 if you don’t mind riding on my bike.”

“No that’s fine!” No, she didn’t mind the idea of riding on the back of his bike at all. It sounded like the best thing ever. A great way to pick up her shitty night. “Are you sure though? I don’t want to make you leave your party.”

She could hear some shuffling, and it sounded like Bucky was talking to someone, but she couldn’t make out any of his words. When his voice came back he was a bit louder “Nah it’s alright. Starting to die out anyway.”

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Y/N suddenly asked, a bit concerned. Mostly not even for herself.

Bucky snorted a laugh “No I’m not drunk. Would never dream of risking my bike like that.” A screen door slammed over the phone, and he cursed. Something about stupid weather and stupid damsels in distress. She opted to ignore him.

“I was more worried about you than the bike, but I’ll take what I can get.” She paced around her small bit of sidewalk. It felt like there might be snow in the air. Above the buildings she wondered if the clouds were gearing up for it, thick and heavy.

“Shouldn’t worry ‘bout me, but thanks anyway.” There was a jingling of keys, and then a roaring crackle over the speaker that made her jerk the phone away from her ear. He must have started his bike.

To compensate she spoke up a bit louder “Thank you so much. I’m already outside. Can’t miss me. I’m in all leather.”

Bucky laughed a little, but it was distorted from the motorcycle “It’s Halloween weekend. I don’t think you’re the only girl out there sportin’ all leather.” Before she could defend her entirely unique leather get-up, he finished “But I’m sure you’ll stand out anyway. See ya in a bit.” Then he hung up.

The next 5 minutes passed agonizingly slow. She huddled herself up against a rough brick wall, thankful that she was wearing pants. Even if the leather was thin. She didn’t want to go back into the club, and chance missing Bucky. Besides, it was only 10 minutes. She could handle that. Her phone stayed pressed close to her face as she flipped through Tumblr, attempting to keep her mind off the howling wind. It bit at her fingers, and pink nose.

At first, she didn’t notice. There was always a background rush of voices on the streets, along with cars, and horns. City noises. A lot of the louder voices were guys, shouting obscenities at no one in particular. Even when she had been cat called a few times, it never amounted to anything. Usually she just kept walking or flipped them off, then kept walking.

“Hey sweetheart why you all by yourself?” She glanced up from her phone, wondering what poor girl was getting harassed and if maybe she should do something.

Then she realized that poor girl was her.

Too stunned to say anything, she kept quiet. The guys were leering at her from down the sidewalk. Probably coming from the club. There were five, all in various costumes, and all likely in various states of intoxication. The ringleader stood in the front, backed up by two other big guys, the fatter one was in a basketball jersey, the other a pirate’s hat with a ruby feather. They were all tall, but not quite as tall as Bucky. Not many guys were.

When she didn’t respond, the ringleader stepped closer to her little ball of light. She stood underneath a streetlamp light. The post was positioned on the other side of the sidewalk, next to the street, but its illumination reached her against the wall. It felt like the safest place. Not that Hydra was located on a shady street, but it was late at night, or early in the morning. She was a girl. It was also Halloween. Now she was starting to wonder if the light was more like a beacon for all the goddamn scumbags of the world.

“Wanna keep us company?” He continued, a wide smirk making his teeth flash in the headlights of a car “We can warm you up real nice.”

Discount Jack Sparrow chuckled from beside him “You make one damn hot Black Widow. I’d love to see what’s under your leather.” She felt his eyes on her cleavage even if she couldn’t see him clearly in the shadows. Suddenly she wanted to zip her top back up, but she didn’t dare give him the goddamn satisfaction of appearing embarrassed.

Up to this point she was far too amazed at the blatant sexual harassment heading her way to say anything. That comment jarred her into standing up straighter, trying to appear bigger than she was. Then she glared at them “Fat chance asshole. Leave me alone.” She bristled more when they just laughed at her and felt her stomach drop. This wasn’t good.

If she screamed it wouldn’t do much. It was Halloween. People were screaming everywhere. Plus, in a city, one scream just disappeared like smoke among all the other noises. There wasn’t anyone around paying any attention. The main bustle was over at the club, but she was far away from it now. Went to wait next to a parking garage a distance away so Bucky would have an easier time spotting her. A huge building filled with cars, not people. Sure, there were cars going by, but no one gave a shit what happened outside the nice tinted glass of their ride.

To her left, yards away, the fluorescent lights of Hydra’s sign flashed mockingly at her. To her right the street was deserted, the parking garage was huge enough that it took up the sidewalk till it hooked around the other corner several yards away. In front of her the street flowed like an impassable, steady river of cars. The neanderthals blocked her from heading back to the safety of Hydra.

It would be a lucky day if anyone paid her any attention at all.

“Aw you even talk like her. Why don’t we play a little?” The ringleader stepped into her circle of light now. Contaminating it. She pressed further back against the brick behind her “I’ll be the Hulk, and you can be my little Widow.” He had greasy dark hair, pushed back from his long pale face, the brim of a scuffed top hat hooded his dark eyes. He was toned underneath his circus coat, she could tell by the way it hugged his chest. A literal evil ringmaster. How ironic. Probably not even all that ugly when that sneer didn’t stretch his face. Probably one of those guys that didn’t take no for an answer, even in a setting much nicer than this.

As they crowded closer in, she could smell the alcohol on them. Alcohol, and pot. Not that substances are any excuse, but it made her spine tingle with adrenaline. Substances just made people get angrier faster and hit harder.

Without even responding, she bolted, or tried. Lunged to the right. Maybe if she made it to the end of the block she could go across the crosswalk. Across the street there were restaurants, and people. She made it all of five steps before a hand caught her wrist and wrenched her back. Involuntarily, she stumbled into Ringleader’s chest. His other arm snaked around her waist, crushing her there as she tried to wiggle away.

She screamed then.

Whether she believed it would help or not. It was just a natural damn response. Fear sliced down her spine and beat the wail out of her.

His hand left her wrist and covered her mouth. Circus Freak’s palm tasted dirty when she tried to bite, but he just pressed harder. His thumb wrapped over her nose. She could barely breathe.

“Shut the fuck up.” He tugged her back, making her stumble with him, and then took her out of the light all together. The lamp flickered and hummed, above her head. She watched it get smaller. He dragged her over towards the opening of the car garage. It gaped at her like the ominous jaws of a monster. If she went in there, she might never come out.

Even if she did, she might not be able to put herself back together. Not for a second time.

Y/N tried letting herself go dead weight, but he just grunted and pulled her harder. Ringleader’s arm was an iron bar. It dug into and bruised her ribs. Her jacket hiked up from the squirming, and suddenly his grimy hand was squeezing her bare side. Heartbeat spiking, she scratched at his arms, kicked at his legs, started to buck back. Her feet didn’t connect with more than his shins, but at least he cursed. Blood welled up under her nails, and as she squirmed his hand started to slip. She fought with everything she had in her. Finally, he let go of her mouth to contain her arms.

“Grab the goddamn slut’s legs!” He demanded, voice rough from too many smokes. Hands caught her wrists in a bruising vice. He tugged them up above her head.

Fatty in the ball jersey did as ordered. He bent over and grabbed her thighs, lifting them off the ground. Couldn’t get a solid hold with her bucking. He managed to keep her calves lifted, and she used his support to push off. With all her strength, she brought up one foot when he pushed closer to her. She got in one good, hard kick into his snarling face. The heel of her boot cracked him right in the nose. Snapped his head back and he let out a surprised wail. A wave of gratification swept her chest. She even smiled a little, past the tears that smeared her mascara.

It didn’t last long. Jersey held his flooding nose with his left hand and stammered “You bitch!” The rage in his voice tremored through his muscles. He brought back his big meaty hand and landed a stinging backhand across her face. Bastard had a hulking ring on his finger. The jewel caught on her cheekbone and tore into her skin. Her ears started to ring, and glowing halos of light danced in her eyes when she blinked. The force split her lip and she tasted blood.

At least his nose looked broken, blood splattering across his stupid purple jersey. She hoped the stain never came out.

In slapping her, he let go of her feet, so she started trying to kick again. She kicked despite the throbbing through her skull. Kicked despite the ringing in her ears. Despite the hands that constricted her. Bruised her.

Still, it wasn’t really going anywhere. She pegged another guy with devil horns in the middle of his chest. He caught her feet, wrapped them under one of his arms, and constrained her. They started shuffling closer to the entrance, and she started to scream again. Her shoulders ached from bearing all her weight, and she stared up at Ringleader. His breath stank of alcohol when he stared down at her with a chilling grin.

That was when she heard a distinctive skid of tires on the sidewalk.

“What the fuck?” One of the others, he had on a very ironic Superman getup, muttered as headlights blinded her. The guys were circled around the front of her, Ringleader binding her arms above her head from behind, Devil Horns holding her feet in front of her. Dirty Superman and Pirate Hat flanked her sides. All of them turned to gape as the lights turned off, and the sound of boots against sidewalk stalked towards them.

Somehow, Y/N knew who it was before she even heard him speak or saw his face. Her entire body sagged in relief, and she strained her neck to try and see.

“Bucky!” She screamed, but then Ringleader cut her off. He jostled her to hold her wrists in one hand, covering her mouth with the other. Devil horns dropped her feet, and she barely kept from falling like a stone. Ringleader tugged her up and back against him.

The others huddled away from Bucky when he got closer. She could just make out his face in the street lights, and his expression made her freeze. His eyes were as cold as winter. Face stony to match. He stood up at all his height, more menacing than ever before, and had yet to utter a single word.

Didn’t really have to. His body language said it all.

Ringleader must have been too stupid to listen “Hey buddy. I suggest you move along. Nothin’ to see here. Our friend was just about to show us a good time. Weren’t ya?” He spoke down to her, shaking her a little. Y/N let out a shriek of rage, clawing at his arm, ripping up more skin beneath his sleeve. He squeezed her mouth tighter, cutting off her air all together. Tears blurred her vision, streaks already staining her cheeks. She couldn’t remember when exactly she started crying. Her lungs burned as she fought to breathe through his skin.

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, one covered by a glove. Sporting a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans, and heavy boots he looked almost like John Travolta from Grease. Styled hair and everything. Would have made her weak in the knees in any other situation. Currently, she was struggling to breathe for entirely different reasons.

When he took a threatening step forward, her band of assholes stepped back. A gust of wind ruffled everyone’s hair, and she noticed little white flakes reflecting in the street lamp behind Bucky. Crystals caught in his hair, and she wondered why the universe made tonight the first snow fall.

A heavy silence hung thick in the air. She slapped progressively harder at Ringleader’s hand until he let her breathe again. By then her head was getting light. He still insisted on keeping his hand over her mouth. She sucked air in through her nose. The smell of cigarettes encased her, clogging the air.

Bucky’s eyes met hers across the tense darkness, and she could feel his worry without any words. It reflected in his blue eyes. Spoke through the small crease in his brow, and tense set of his mouth. Finally, though, he did speak up. His words dominated over the cars in the street and boomed across the sidewalk. Slowly, he stared down every single person with a deadly sort of calm.

“I suggest you douchebags let her go. Right now. If you want to walk away from here tonight.” His voice wavered just a bit in pent up rage. She tracked that rage across the stiffness of his shoulders and the clenching of his fists. Distantly she wondered how much damage he could do with a metal fist helping him. How many people had he made bleed with it during the war.

She watched a shudder pass through the spines of everyone standing there. The frost coming off him even made the tips of her fingers prickle. She squeezed her captor’s hand tighter, trying to pry it back off her mouth. He didn’t budge.

Stupidity, and pride always prevail. Ringleader laughed, and the movement jostled her. Her shoes scraped against the side walk as he tugged her up, making her stand on her tiptoes. The position strained her neck, and made her thighs burn. She arched her back to keep from pressing against him more than he made her. “Again, you should really leave before you piss me off. It’s five against one pal, can’t you count?”

Bucky smirked, but it was a bitter, piercing expression “I think you should count again.” Confusion passed through her for only a half of a second.

Then he charged. So fast she almost missed it. Pulling back his flesh hand he decked the nearest guy straight in the nose. It was Ironic Superman. The blow was so vicious she heard the crack from where she was a yard away. Superman’s head violently snapped to the left. His body followed it all the way to the ground. He didn’t move.

“Four.” It made her heart jump in her throat when Bucky’s voice rang over the scuffle.

Bucky didn’t stop there. He spun just in time for Pirate to throw a wide fist towards his head. It was like he knew the blow was coming. Bucky ducked down. Dipped to the left. Then he stood straight, so damn light on his feet. Pirate stumbled past him, having displaced too much of his weight. Then he sloppily caught himself and faced Bucky angrily. Didn’t waste a second to attack again. Bucky was waiting. He slid just far enough to the right to let the blow go over his shoulder.

Pirate fell against his chest, and Bucky used the momentum to his favor. He caught his shoulders. Then used the downward momentum to drive his knee straight up into the guy’s chest. The feather fell from his hat as he let out all the air in his lungs. Bucky then drove his elbow into the back of his head before dropping him like a stone. The pirate hat landed in the gutter off the sidewalk.

“Three.”

Y/N held her breath. All of Bucky’s movements were so precise. No energy was wasted. He was proficient in every step. It was terrifying. He was beautifully deadly.

Devil Horns charged at Bucky with a roar. He was shorter, but stout as a rock. His fists flew fast enough that Bucky had to block them with his arms. One of the punches thrust straight for Bucky’s nose. He caught the blow with his left hand. Devil Horns tried to yank back and grunted at the strain. She thought she saw Bucky smirk, but then he blurred again. With a wide swing, he spun Devil and drove him face first into the awaiting concrete. The man’s forehead hit it with a hard thud. He stumbled back three steps. Bucky grabbed the back of his head and smacked it against the brick wall a second time.

He slumped to the ground after that. Horns all askew. Blood dripped down from his hairline, mouth slack.

“Two.”

Bucky turned on fatty, who already had a shirt soaked in blood from her. He was holding onto his nose and panting loudly through his mouth in terror. All Buck had to do was take one challenging step forward. Jersey immediately booked it. He passed Bucky and ran straight into traffic. Seemed like he would much rather be hit by a car. Cars honked at him and skidded to a stop to keep from killing his ass. He just kept going. Skipped past the cars, and then disappeared around a corner across the street.

“One.”

She could feel the rage trembling through Circus Freak. A span of silence stretched between them as her captor debated on what to do.

With a whip, he flung her to the side, making fall hard onto the sidewalk. Her elbow smarted when it caught her deadweight, making her cry out in pain. Then she scuffled up as quick as she could, scooting back and out of the way. Y/N felt small down on the side walk, pressed back against the wall. Two goliaths fought it out in front of her.

Bucky dodged back as her attacker threw a fist. He dipped to the left. Weaved out of the way to the right. He narrowly avoided Ringleader’s punches. She wondered why he was being on the defensive more now. At least, she wondered until she caught the glint of the butterfly knife in Ringleader’s hand.

He knocked the knife out of the way and landed a solid punch on the guy’s jaw. It didn’t stop him, though. He just swung harder, faster. Fueled by rage and hurt pride. He crowded Bucky back until he was a step from the street. Cars whizzed by, and it seemed Ringleader wanted to shove Bucky under one of them. A semi-truck barreled down towards them, and she saw the heel of his shoe slip.

“Bucky!” She screamed in warning and his head whipped towards her. He stepped forward, towards her and away from the street. Distracted, she saw the flash of the blade before he did. Ringleader finally landed a sharp slice across his chest. She let out a sharp scream. Blood stained his white shirt. Bucky didn’t even wince. In fact, he didn’t react at all.

As Ringleader swung for a second swipe, he caught the guy’s arm in his left hand. His face carefully blank. Like he hadn’t been cut at all. He forced Ringleader back two steps and loomed over him. His mouth was set hard, and his silver eyes were the embodiment of winter.

Ringleader tugged, trying to get free. He swung loosely with his non-dominant hand, but Bucky caught that fist too. Then he squeezed. Only with his left hand. She watched at the man’s knees started to wobble under him. He dropped the blade with a clatter. Then he screamed.

“What the fuck?! Let me go you psycho! You’re gonna break—” She luckily didn’t hear the crack of his bones. It was obvious in his wail, though. He kept going down until he was on his knees. Bucky let go of his non-dominant hand. Still kept his agonizing hold with his left.

Ringleader clawed at Bucky’s gloved hand with his free one. He tried to get free like a fox caught in a bear trap. Yanked so hard that she was surprised he didn’t dislocate his shoulder. The snow came down harder now. It caught on the brim of his top hat where it had fallen near his legs, making it almost grey. Bucky’s hair had come free from its pomade. It fell in his face as he stooped down to glare at the squirming man.

He wasn’t speaking. Wasn’t flinching when the man tried to pry the metal fingers off him. It was like he wasn’t there at all. Like his mind had checked out, and left behind a ghost.

“I’m sorry! Please man! Let me go!” His voice broke as he started to sob.

Y/N scrambled to her feet. Bucky wasn’t stopping. He already broke the guy’s hand. Yet he kept squeezing. The man was howling now, begging. Seemed like he might have even pissed himself. She took a couple steps towards them, hesitant at first. Bucky didn’t even seem to notice her anymore. He scared her like this. Terrified her to her very bones. She reached out a hand, but her feet were lead. Then Bucky brought back his flesh hand, ready to punch Ringleader again.

“Bucky!” She shouted, forcing herself to move. It took her just three easy steps to get beside him. She grabbed his fist in the air. Wasn’t strong enough to make it come down from its position, but she tugged anyway. Practically draped herself against him, holding his arm where it hung in the air next to her head “Stop! Stop it.” She spoke louder at first, but then softened her tone when she felt him freeze. He didn’t look at her. Just glared down at her attacker. “I’m ok. I’m alright now. Let him go. Please.” The muscles in his arm eased up just enough. She gently guided his flesh hand down, uncurling his fist. She pried at his fingers until his fist relaxed minutely.

“Y-ya man. L-listen to your girl you should j-just- Fuck!!” Bucky had started releasing his grip on the guy’s wrist, but the moment he started blabbering he squeezed again. A growl rumbled in his throat, like the guy personally offended him by breathing.

“Buck!” Y/N chastised him, reaching over and touching his metal hand. Probably for the very first time if she thought about it. She could feel it underneath the glove, harder than bone, and cold even through the material. “Please, let’s just go. He can’t hurt me anymore.” Probably wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore for a long time.

Bucky finally let go at her touch. He shoved Ringleader’s arm away like it disgusted him. Didn’t stop glowering at him, though. Still wouldn’t look at her. The man collapsed into a heap onto the sidewalk. His broken wrist was already blue, swollen, and bent wrong. It made her nauseous, so she stared back at Bucky’s face instead.

Ringleader scraped himself up after a minute and started to run away. Scrambled past the parking garage, down the snow dusted sidewalk. Shoes skidded a couple times, and his pants leg did have a noticeable damp spot. His arm was cradled to his chest. Only a yard away, he turned his head, coat bustling in the wind “Your dog’s a fucking psycho! Should keep him on a goddamn leash!” Then he jogged faster, letting his words disappear behind him. Like the coward he was.

Bucky tried to lunge after him. His muscles bunched under her hand as he snarled. She stepped in front of him just a second before he could start the chase. Y/N pressed herself to him, hands flat on his chest. The blood from his wound was hot against her hands, but she barely noticed. Too focused on blocking his path. Peering up at him, she realized that her eye had started to swell shut. He didn’t shove her out of the way. In fact, he finally looked down at her. It was like her action had finally broken him out of the fog he was in.

As they stared at each other for several long minutes, the defeated attackers slowly roused. One by one the other members of the group scraped themselves off the sidewalk. None of them were dead thank god. They quickly fled too. Silently, though. She barely paid them any attention. It was still snowing hard, and she watched as flakes caught in his eyelashes. Headlights cast shifting shadows around them. Wrestling like demons at their feet. She couldn’t help but question what demons Bucky kept locked inside of his head. Only demons could make someone fight as desperately as he just did.

Slowly, afraid of startling him, she reached up and touched his cheek. She cupped his face in her hands and studied him seriously “Are you alright?” Her thumb brushed over his bruised jaw. It did dawn on her that it was ironic for her to be asking him if he was alright. After everything that had happened. She did it anyway. He seemed to have lost himself during the fight. His eyes were focusing from somewhere far away. She couldn’t believe she just watched him break someone’s hand without flinching. With the adrenaline wearing off, she wanted to cry all over again.

Bucky blinked once. Then twice. He swallowed and grimaced. His flesh hand gently touched her left. His longer fingers cupped over hers. It was so warm. She could feel the calluses on his palms as he slowly guided her hand away. He didn’t touch her with his metal one, but she dropped her hand anyway. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with her touching him like that. She left small smudges of blood on his cheek.

“I’m fine. Are you ok?” He brought his right hand up and touched the side of her face. She winced, realizing that her cheek was still on fire. Her lip felt tender too when her tongue tested the dried blood.

“Why do guys always managed to hit a girl right across the cheekbone?” She asked, trying to make a joke but it landed flat. He didn’t even try to smile. His thumb brushed across her lip, and she grimaced, looking away. Ringleader’s hat was still on the ground right by her foot. She stepped on it, grinding it into the snow. When she moved her foot away, it inflated like a crumbled accordion. She thought maybe Bucky did snort at that. It was too quiet for her to be sure.

“God I’m a mess.” The words babbled out of her past the buzzing in her ears. She glanced down at herself. One knee was ripped open and so was her elbow, both were bleeding. Her jacket had come unzipped down to her ribs, leaving everything showing. Y/N brought her hand up to zip it back, but her fingers were shaking too much to get a good grip. Her breaths started to come in faster as she got more, and more frustrated. Her fingers were numb and clumsy.

Bucky’s hand came up and he covered her own, taking the damned thing. He slowly closed her jacket back up to her collarbones. She had never in her life been more grateful for such a simple action. His thumb stroked her collar just once, leaving a hot trail behind. Then his hands fell away.

Before she could find the words to thank him, her eyes caught the sheen of red on his chest “Y-You’re hurt, and b-bleeding a lot and you’re asking me if I’m ok?” She gave a hysterical laugh, tears already escaping her eyes again. They stung the cut the guy left on her cheekbone. Her hands shook as she brought them up. She wanted to get a better look at the cut. What if he needed stitches? What if he got a scar cause of her? Cause she distracted him like an idiot?

“I-I’m so sorry. I sh-shouldn’t have yelled. I was just so scared and—"

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he quickly brought up his arms. The motion cut off her babbling, uncontrollable apology. He tugged her into an enveloping, hard hug. She tried to protest as he pressed her against his wound, but then his chest rumbled as he started to talk. Her ear was trapped against his collarbone above the wound. It was the most comforting sound she had ever heard “I’m ok doll. Promise. It doesn’t hurt that much. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He shushed her when she tried to speak “Believe me. Much worse.” Then he squeezed her shoulder lightly and rubbed. The metal hand he just used to crush someone’s arm rubbed hers with more tenderness than she had experienced in a very long time.

Somehow, it didn’t bother her at all.

Finally, once her shoulders stopped shaking and her gross sniffling died down, he pulled back. Bucky held her just a bit away, his hands still rubbing her shoulders. He reached up and wiped at her chin, grimacing. He gave a very weak, sheepish smile “Sorry, I got blood on your…” He trailed off, gesturing to her face. She just shrugged, too tired to care. There were a lot of things smeared on her face. Besides, she got blood on his too. Just didn’t even have the energy to tell him. When he noticed his left hand was still touching her, he dropped it down.

Y/N sniffed, trying to clear her nose. The cold snowy air hurt her lungs. Then she rubbed at her face as much as she could stand. Her eye felt tender and wouldn’t stop blurring. Probably smudging tears, blood, and makeup all together. Then she spoke up, voice a bit rough “I don’t mind it.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head a little. Confused. She shivered as a gust of wind caught her. Now that the adrenaline had passed, she was so frosty her teeth were starting to chatter. Still, she tried to elaborate “Y-Your metal arm doesn’t bother me.”

Bucky stared at her critically and then shook his head, as if she were ridiculous “Let’s get you home.” He sighed, wrapping an arm over her shoulders, his right one. The snow had covered any traces of a fight taking place at all. It was already sticking to the street, forming muddy tracks from the tires. He tucked her into his side where it was warm, under his jacket. Now that she had a calm minute, she enjoyed the way his smell enveloped her.

“I’m s-serious!” She still couldn’t stop shivering “It’s just another p-part of you. A-And I like y-you.” She glared up at him, trying to drill in her honesty with her eyes.

Bucky only stopped to consider at her after they reached his bike. He let her go and dusted the snow off the seat. Then he grabbed a helmet, offering it to her quietly. She was just about to speak up again when he finally whispered, “Thank you.” If she hadn’t been looking at him, she thought the words might have been stolen by the loud gust of wind.

There wasn’t much else she could say to that. So, she put on her silver helmet, and climbed onto the bike behind him. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, revealing a black unzipped hoodie underneath. He shoved his jacket into her hands, and she shrugged it on quietly, grateful. Everything ached too much for her to argue.

Bucky clasped on his own helmet and revved up the bike. When it jumped to life underneath her, she quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, stuffing them into the pockets of his jacket when the wind bit at her fingers. At least the helmet kept her ears warm. She thought she felt Bucky chuckle underneath her when she gripped tighter. He pulled on a second glove, zipped up his jacket, and then smoothly merged into the nighttime traffic.

The drive home wasn’t as wonderful as she thought it would be. Not after everything that just happened. Still, it was beautiful. He weaved through the cars with a precise control, that was definitely dangerous. It reminded her a little of how he fought. Daring, and proficient.

At lot of the time he passed cars without any legal right-of-way at all. Bucky went as fast as he could, and she wondered if he was running from something. Running from the demons she couldn’t see that nipped at his heels. Y/N never felt in harms way, though. If anything, he made her feel like they were flying. Like the bike was gliding up off the ground whenever she wasn’t looking. Colors blurred past her. Paint smudges on a canvas, outlined in charcoal. She bunched the fabric of Bucky’s jacket in her hands and turned her forehead to press against the broad of his back.

He covered her hand with his right one. Slipped it into the pocket and laced them together. His skin was warm on top of hers. Wistfully, she imagined he still had charcoal on his fingers. That the charcoal would smudged across her skin and stain it forever. Leaving a mark that would remind her he was there. Even when he wasn’t.

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