#i flop at being succinct ah oh well

[greywindys]

Ficpost!

Okay…this STARTED as a drabble. I wanted to play around with some ideas I had expressed in some text posts awhile back but since I’m incapable of writing anything short it mutated into this big thing. This takes place during phase four, starting in the weeks leading up to the live interview on April 20th and then goes beyond that. I also went with the assumption that they’re currently living in the Spirit House in Detroit.

Genre: Slice-of-life? Maybe fluff? Definitely kinda cheesy. No ships, though there *is* tentative 2Doc friendship which I’ll warn for to be safe.

Rating: PG for language

Summary/preview: After everything he’d been through, Murdoc had come to expect a certain level of unpredictability in his daily routine. What he didn’t count on, however, was that it would come in the form of 2D casually deciding to use his phone to record videos of him while he was rummaging through the refrigerator.

Word count: around 7700

Having made his way from the most sordid of neighborhoods in Stoke-on-Trent to the haunted halls of Kong Studios, and finally to the even more haunted Detroit “fixer-upper” the band had so wisely purchased for “inspiration” (Or, as Russel had described,“returning to their roots”), Murdoc had come to expect a certain level of unpredictability in his daily routine. What he didn’t count on, however, was that it would come in the form of 2D casually deciding to use his phone to record videos of him while he was rummaging through the refrigerator.

At first, he blamed his hangover. He knew he shouldn’t have accepted that bottle from that overly friendly homeless man he had met behind the bar last night. There was no telling what that potent concoction had been spiked with - no one was that happy. And now he was paying the price. Hallucinations. Great. It wasn’t until he purposefully decided to leave the refrigerator door open to watch 2D, far too focused on his phone screen, walk directly into it that he realized that everything that he witnessed so far was indeed real.

“Oh, uh, hi, Murdoc.” 2D said as he struggled to regain his balance. He looked at the refrigerator door and then back at Murdoc. “Be careful you don’t walk into the door here. Looks like someone left it open.”

“You want to to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

“Well, if you could just kindly, um, go back to what you were doing so I could finish the video I think you would understand…”

For a moment, they stood silently. 2D seemed content completely ignore Murdoc’s initial question and wait patiently for him comply while Murdoc continued to stare at the singer as if he had just grown a second head.

2D was the one to act first. Slowly, he held up his phone again and cleared his throat. “So it seems we’ve caught Murdoc at a bad time. You see, he may put on this big, tough act in public, but actually startles very easily. The next appropriate step to take here is to put on a calming metal record…but not Mudvayne. Murdoc once tried to learn one of bass lines off of their first record and it was too difficult for him. Anything but Mudvayne.”

That did it.

“You idiot! Give me that!” Murdoc lunged. He didn’t know if it was more towards the phone or 2D but in any case, he had had enough of whatever 2D was doing.

Surprisingly, 2D made use of the refrigerator door and kicked it so that it was wide open again. This time, it was Murdoc’s turn to collide with the door.

“He’s very angry right now. Sounds might not work,” 2D said to the phone as he began a clumsy retreat back to his room. He continued to aim the camera in Murdoc’s direction as he walked backwards. Looking up from the screen at Murdoc, he pleaded, “Murdoc, this is all one shot and if you keep making me break character it’s going to be ruined.”

“What’s going to be ruined?!” Murdoc was fuming.

“He’s talking about the Youtube channel.”

Murdoc turned in the direction of the couch and saw Russel lounging on the couch, idly flipping through the latest issue of National Geographic. How long had he been sitting there?

“Oh please. You’ve all gone completely mental if you think I’m going to let 2D upload any of his home video projects onto my playlist.”

“Not your Youtube channel. 2D’s Youtube channel,” Russel said, not even bothering to look up.

Murdoc blinked. “2D’s what?”

“You know that journal I’ve been keeping for my therapist?” 2D explained. “Well, she’s been reading it and saying, ‘2D, you’re really funny,’ and so I started thinking, yeah, you know, I am really funny. And so I start thinking, why not instead of journal journal, I uh, keep a sort of video journal? And she says, ‘that’s a great idea, 2D, a great way to be the captain of your own boat; have a project that emphasizes your strengths and helps you focus on yourself just like we’ve been working on.”

“And you’re going to achieve that by filming me?”Murdoc replied sarcastically.

“It won’t be just you,” Russel added. “We thought it might make a good addition to the app if it included some more personal accounts from the band, like a video blog. And 2d’s a funny guy, y’know? He always keeps it positive and has a…unique perspective on us, so we thought he might be a good choice to narrate. He would be filming segments on Noodle and I as well.”

“We haven’t quite settled on a name yet. Management seems to like ‘2D’s Guide to Gorillaz’ but I like something a little more personal like, ‘2Day with 2D,’” 2D said with the same, obliviously cheerful expression on his face that he always had whenever he thought he had a great idea. “And I’ll finally be able to have my own catch phrase. It could be something like a pun, like, ‘it’s another great day 2D with you.’ Heh. Get it?”

Murdoc shot him a scathing glare in response. “And who’s ‘we’? The last meeting I attended we decided that Noodle would get the Instagram, you, Russ, would get a radio show, 2D would go on Dancing with the Stars to help us broaden out audience and I would get the Youtube channel. ME.” He motioned towards himself. “Are you trying to say you lot had a meeting behind my back?”

Russel sighed. “Of course we were gonna run it by you before anything was made official but we thought you would be more receptive if we had some actual samples for you to watch rather than just ideas. And besides, think about it, Muds. You have a grand total of one video up for what’s going on a month now, and the only reason that one’s up is because Noodle helped you.”

“For the record, I added that video myself,” Murdoc retorted. “And the fans loved it. It ignite an unprecedented level of intellectual discussion and speculation we only could’ve dreamed about one our last two albums. And there’s a lot more where that came from, too. But you can’t rush genius, Russ.”

In reality, he hated the Youtube channel. Initially he had volunteered for it because of a complaint he heard from Russel about how the site had devolved into a cesspool of people who were obsessed with themselves. It sounded perfect for him! But soon he found himself hating it too. He hated how they tracked his searches, he hated confusing the layout was (to him,at least) and he hated how, yes, Noodle had to help him sometimes. But he would be damned if he let 2D usurp him like this.

“And I was also thinking, Murdoc, that I could structure your segments like a sort of mini-documentary.” 2D said.  Clearly, he had remained checked out of whatever Murdoc and Russel were talking about and remained in planning mode. “I was talking to Jim in advertising and he said I knew so much about you that I sounded like some sort of Murdoc whisperer, you know, like Cesar Milan? And then I thought, yeah, we could call it something like that, or like…Murdocumentary. Ha ha. Get it?”

Unluckily for him, all it did was remind Murdoc that he was still in the room.

“This was all your idea wasn’t it?” Murdoc said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. He had always had difficulty telling whether 2D said things because he genuinely thought they were helpful additions or because he deliberately wanted pick at him. Today, he wasn’t going to take any chances. “If I see even one second of any that video uploaded anywhere you can-”

“Hey, Murdoc,” Russel said, his tone warning Murdoc to back off. “Chill. If you’re feeling some type of way about it we can think of something else.”

“Yeah,” 2D said. “If you’re worried my playlist might be more popular or something I can think of something else.”

“You damn well better.” Murdoc crossed his arms and continued to glare in the singer’s direction.

But it wasn’t just that. What was bothering Murdoc more than he wanted to admit to himself was being left out. Murdoc didn’t like being left out of plans that related to the band. He was the leader! And on top of that was the persistent suspicion that 2D was trying to push him into a situation where strangers would be laughing at him. Maybe his band mates didn’t know everything about him but he thought they at least understood that he hated being the butt of a joke. The fact that the project was even being considered and 2D had apparently masterminded it all was too much.

“This week in the life of Gorillaz: Two grown men can’t share a Youtube channel,” Russel said sarcastically.

2D chuckled.

“You know what? If that’s how you’re going to be about it then I’m not even going to bother,” Murdoc grumbled. Understanding that there wasn’t much he could to exact his revenge in the moment he turned to leave, pausing only to send one final death glare in 2D’s direction. “And you! Don’t think for a second that this is over.”

And with that, he stormed off.

Moving on to a new idea turned out to be very easy for 2D. The next day he approached Murdoc to tell him that instead, he was going to put all his focus into developing his own business producing luxury friendship bracelets, and maybe one could be included in every pre-order of the new album. Murdoc had answered with a “whatever” and given him a thumbs up, 2D had grinned and to any outside observer it looked like their conflict from earlier in the week had been resolved.

However, when Murdoc declared something to be “not over,” he tended to make good on that promise. Being part of a famous band helped as the amount of excess income at his disposal provided him with few limits on just how elaborate a particular scheme could become.

By typical Murdoc standards, this scheme in particular was relatively cheap. All he had needed was a spare phone, some spare time and some good, old-fashioned story-telling.

Never before had be been so thankful that witnessing a robot decapitation in real time would be so difficult for 2D to accept as a believable cause of death for a robot. Now, Murdoc could gleefully use that weakness against him. That ought to show him. Maybe next time he would think twice before plotting behind Murdoc’s back. If all went well, Murdoc anticipated that he would get to laugh about this in interviews for years to come.

Not wanting to wait a second longer, Murdoc grabbed the spare phone, and, with a maniacal grin entered 2D’s number and started a message. He could hardly contain his laughter as he typed.  Hello, 2D. It is me. Cyborg Noodle.

Then he hit send and set the phone aside, cackling loudly (being the one with the only bedroom on the top floor had its perks.) No sooner had he reached for the bottle of vodka on his nightstand than the phone pinged again. And again. And again. And again.

Eager to read the singer’s reaction, Murdoc grabbed the phone again and read through the messages. They were all questions. 2D wanted to know how he could be sure it was really Cyborg Noodle, how she had escaped Plastic Beach, where she was now, how she was doing and if they could meet up sometime to catch up.

Bingo.

Now he needed additional “evidence” to back up his claim. Pulling his laptop from under his bed, he opened up Instragram. He had watched Noodle use the band account enough to know how to upload a picture. He named the new account “CyborgNoodle123.” Next, he opened MS Paint and cut and paste a picture of Cyborg Noodle onto a picture of the Lincolnshire Christmas market which he had found through a Google image search.

Turning his attention back to the phone, he entered the URL and typed. This is me spreading Christmas cheer at the Lincoln Christmas market. I live a quiet life…Murdoc paused, thinking about how he would proceed. And then it came to him. I live a quiet life in Lincolnshire with an elderly sheep farmer in the Carrs. I have taken up cycling.  I ride my bicycle to the local bakery every morning. It makes me feel alive.

He reached for a half empty bottle of vodka that sat on his nightstand and took a long drink, a smug grin on his face. 2D was falling for it hook, line and sinker. He was a genius. This would be a good way to end the night.

Murdoc was still in the midst of mentally patting himself on the back and admiring his handiwork when suddenly, 2D burst through his door.

“Murdoc! Murdoc you’ve got to look at this!” 2D was waving his phone frantically as he ran towards him, a wide smile on his face. Seeing Murdoc jump in surprise and nearly fall off the bed didn’t phase him in the slightest. “It’s…it’s her! It’s really her.”

“The fuck are you doing?!? What did I tell you about barging into my room without knocking on the bloody door first?!?” Murdoc yelled as he slammed his laptop shut and promptly concealed it under as many blankets as he could.

“You won’t believe this but your robot, Cyborg Noodle…”

“I know, I know. The robot I built that Noodle decapitated.”

“Yes! I mean…no! No she’s not decapitated, she’s alive! And I’ve been texting with her.” 2D thrust his phone screen Murdoc’s face. “This is her spreading, uh, Christmas cheer at a market in Lincolnshire.”

Murdoc could feel himself shaking from excitement and half-hearted attempts to appear genuinely surprised. How could it be so easy? Even as he did his best to feign surprise his words came out intermittently between sniggers. “Is that….so?…Um…no…way! Didn’t…see..that one…coming.”

“Yeah,” 2D said as turned the screen back towards himself. He stared at it lovingly, oblivious to Murdoc’s near hysterics. “And..isn’t it kinda funny how she chose to contact me before you? Probably did because I was the only one who still believed she was alive.” He laughed lightly and the paused, clearly rethinking his previous jab. “But I wouldn’t think anything of it. She said her microcontroller was damaged by seawater so I’m sure she just forgot - let’s, uh, let’s send her something right now. I’m sure you have so many questions.”

That made Murdoc pull himself together. He had forgotten that the phone was still sitting on his bed. Immediately he laid down on top of it. “Actually, mate, let’s…let’s not. All the promotional tweets I sent today have left me completely knackered. So I’m just going to go to sleep now. Okay?” And without waiting for 2D’s response, he pulled the cover over his head. “Goodnight.”

“But..But, Murdoc,” 2D’s voice pleaded. “It’s Cyborg Noodle. She was your creation? Don’t you want to ask her how she’s been?”

“Of course, of course! Um…how about..tell her I said hi. Yeah. Sound good? Now get out.”

“We should see if she wants to get to-”

“Out!”

“Okay, okay!” 2D sounded slightly dejected. “‘Night, Murdoc.”

Murdoc waited until he heard his door closed before he opened the phone again and changed the setting to silent. Then he settled into bed and continued to plot.

Murdoc did not expect 2D to be such an avid texter. Not being much of a phone person himself, it wasn’t something he engaged the singer in very often. However, as Cyborg Noodle, Murdoc found himself chatting with 2D every few hours. In some ways it was mildly annoying- for example, 2D would send texts in the middle of the night asking about non urgent things like which pair of socks he should wear the next day- but it also enabled Murdoc to develop his story.

In a short time, Murdoc, as Cyborg Noodle, was able to convince 2D to keep their correspondence a secret lest he wanted the real Noodle to hunt her down and destroy her for real this time. He also established what he thought was a riveting backstory- that Cyborg had joined up with a pirate crew before getting capsized by cyclone in the Bermuda Triangle leaving her stranded in Puerto Rico for a few years where she worked briefly at a wildlife sanctuary for cave rats.

But as funny as 2D simply believing that he was talking to the real Cyborg Noodle was, Murdoc was incapable of not taking things at least three times as far and the needed to go. If 2D had been plotting to make a laughing stock of him, then Murdoc was going to get back at him twofold. The singer had been asking to visit with Cyborg, and if that’s what he wanted, that’s what he would get. It was time for them to “meet up.”

“I don’t quite get it,” 2D said, squinting at his phone screen as they sat at the kitchen table one afternoon. “I entered what she said in google maps and it looks like it’s in the middle of an empty parking lot.”

“Hmm.” Murdoc leisurely held the newspaper up so that it would cover his face. “I don’t know, mate. Maybe she wants to, uh, show you some of the sick cycling tricks she’s learned in Lincolnshire.”

“But then why is telling me to show up dressed like I’m going to a pool party? She’s also saying that in order for her to know that it’s safe to come out, I have to do the hokey pokey three times, or until I figure out what it’s really all about, and then howl at the moon until I see her.”

Murdoc snorted, doubling over as he tried to maintain the appearance of calmly reading.

“Are you alright there, Murdoc?”

Murdoc straightened his back and cleared his throat  in an attempt to compose himself. “Who, me? Never been better”

“You sure you don’t want to come with?”

“I thought we already went over this. My schedule’s booked up indefinitely while we get everything in place for that live interview they’ve got scheduled for us later this week. Then I have a busy night a reading my fanmail after that. It’s just not going to work out.”

2D persisted, “But I know she would be happy to see you again, and you wouldn’t believe what she’s been up to.”

“So you’ve told me.”

“She gives really great advice, too.”

That comment made Murdoc grin a self-satisfied grin. He had always considered himself to be the wisest in the band but was always met with scoffs and sarcasm. Now that he was applying his talents as Cyborg Noodle, however, he was finally getting the recognition he deserved. Murdoc had discussed variety of topics with 2D as Cyborg Noodle including philosophy, where they saw the world going in the next twenty years, the purpose of humanity and more. 2D has also confided in Cyborg about his feelings about being in the band and even Murdoc himself, which he would try to sidestep as gracefully as possible.

“And we could pick some Belgian crepes from that ice water place on the way.” 2D still hadn’t given up.

“Look, I’m glad you’ve found yourself a great pen pal and all, but I’ve got better things to do. You better get going though, I’d wager Noodle’s set to be getting home from zumba any minute now.”

2D’s eyes widened and he quickly began to gather his things. “You’re right- I almost lost track of the time.”

“Tell me how it goes,” Murdoc called after him as he headed for the door.

After he was sure 2D was completely off the premises and that he was completely alone, he allowed himself some time for another round fully uninhibited laughter.

Murdoc spent the next few days having the time of his life. In addition to the parking lot, he also sent 2D to meet Cyborg Noodle in a sewer for a “drum circle” and on the roof of their neighbor’s house which nearly got him arrested. Of course, Cyborg Noodle never actually showed up and Murdoc would then text 2D as her later providing a vague explanation of why she could be there. And 2D fell for it every time.

What Murdoc didn’t keep track of, however, was just how much 2D actually believed he was talking to Cyborg Noodle.

“We have to help her, Murdoc. I think there’s something terribly wrong. She must be in some kind of trouble,” 2D said as he got his mic hooked up. “I waited in the parking lot for six hours on the roof last night and all she told me was that she was okay. But I don’t think she is. Something keeps stopping her from coming out of hiding. You didn’t program her to be this unreliable.”

“She’s told you she was coming to the states for vacation, maybe she wants you to leave her alone. She doesn’t have time for whatever inane prattle you were sending her.” It was true. Murdoc had already answered around twenty messages that morning. Some of them were spent reiterating to 2D that Cyborg Noodle had a busy vacation schedule and but the rest were just one word responses to 2D as he talked about a new brand of hummus he had tried the other day. “Besides, we’re on for this interview in ten, so all this rescue mission talk  is going to have to wait.”

“That’s it, Murdoc!” 2D turned to him suddenly, excited. “The interview! I know we already picked out questions but we could slip in a question about her during the interview!”

Murdoc froze. “Ummm, 2D,” he stammered out nervously, “Remember what she told you about sharing this with others…”

Suddenly it dawned on him that he had never established a set timeline to determine when the joke was supposed to end. Was the ultimate goal to tell 2D on live television and laugh at him for being so gullible? Murdoc wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. But why not? He thought to himself. What did he care if 2D learned his new best friend wasn’t actually real in front of hundreds of thousands of fans?

“No, no, it’ll be okay. We can use, the, uh, the bystander effect. You know, the thing where the more people know something’s wrong, the more likely it is that someone will help!”

“Actually, it’s the other way aroun-”

2D was out of his chair and talking to the producer before Murdoc could finish his sentence.

Immediately, Murdoc made a frantic attempt to run over there himself but was quickly intercepted and ushered towards the interview room. From across the room,  2D gave him a thumbs up, mouthing to him that “it was all going to be alright now.” Murdoc responded by motioning frenetically with his hands to him to stop, but by that time, 2D was no longer paying attention to him. Well, Muds, he thought to himself, looks like you really fucked this one up.

Needless to say, the car ride home did not go well.

“I can’t believe you’d still call yourself her friend,” Murdoc snapped. “Now everyone in the whole bloody world knows where she lives including Noodle. A lot of good that will do!”

In reality, he was more angry at himself for not putting an end to the whole joke sooner. Now, he would be stuck not only having to explain himself to the rest of his band, but to fans as well. Murdoc did not like having his pranks known about as they were happening because now, the spin was out of his control. All he had wanted was a good laugh that he could then use as a fun party story where he dictated the narrative. 2D had unknowingly thwarted that.

“It’s going to do a lot of good!” 2D countered. “I’ve already gotten some messages from people who want to actually want help, unlike you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Murdoc grumbled back as he parked the car.

“It means that you’ve known about her since she started talking to me and anytime I invite you to talk to her or come with me to meet her, you always have something better to do as if she didn’t spend years working for you and helping you work on the last album.”

“She’s a robot, 2D.”

“No, Murdoc, she’s your robot. And she’s in trouble. She helped you when you were in trouble. So why are you acting like she never existed? You can’t just forget about her like that.”

Murdoc sighed. Maybe now was the time to tell him.

“You know, D, there’s actually a reason for that…” He trailed off, picking at his keys. This was harder than he thought. When he had started texting him, he remembered looking forward to the day he revealed himself. In the current moment, however, it didn’t feel so good and Murdoc was frustrated in searching for why exactly that was. He usually prioritized his feeling’s over 2D’s, and this reveal was supposed to be funny. So what was holding him back?

“See here,” 2D had moved on to the messages in his inbox. “There these two blokes from MTV who specialize in helping people who have online friendships. The show is called Catfish and they’re saying they can find out where she is with no problem.” He held up his phone and tapped on the screen where the message began “And we were thinking of partnering with MTV anyway, right? I think this could be good. We could use our episode to show Noodle that there can be room for more that one guitarist.”

“NO!”

“No?”

“Yes, no. I mean, 2D, mate, I think, you’re getting a little ahead of yourself here.” Internally Murdoc was berating himself relentlessly for everything he did, or in this case, didn’t do up until the interview, as well what a pathetic job he was doing at masking the uncertainty in his voice. “We don’t need MTV, in fact, we don’t need anybody because this is just some stupid-”

He was interrupted by a tap on the window behind him. It was Russel. He was gesturing enthusiastically towards what looked to be some takeout bags that he was holding up to the window.

“Picked up some Thai from the new place downtown,” he said. “Wanna bite? Consider this my way of saying that everything’s cool and sorry about interrupting your interview.”

“Oh look, Murdoc, Russel bought us dinner.”

This was too out of control.

“Oh, fuck it!” Murdoc explained as he got out of the car and slammed the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try some of the food Russ has got us? Murdoc?”

“What’s gotten into him?” He heard Russel ask 2D as he walked away.

“I dunno. Maybe he’s allergic…”

Without looking back Murdoc flipped both of them off and retreated to his room. He could only hope that 2D wouldn’t do anything more to publicize the story and that he had been distracting enough during the live interview that maybe the fanbase would forget Cyborg Noodle was even mentioned.

He devoted part of the evening to reviewing his options. It was either come tell 2D the truth in private or allow 2D to find out the truth on national television. As he polished off his first bottle of rum Murdoc frowned. Both options involved telling 2D and that was what he wanted to avoid. Why? He asked himself again. The whole point of the prank in the first place was to tell 2D but now all he got was a nauseous feeling in his stomach when he thought about it.

In the meantime his spare phone had been lighting up with messages from 2D asking a long line of questions.

I’m okay. He typed back, not bothering to read them all. I’m okay, he thought in his head, trying to convince himself. I’m okay, I’m okay. It wasn’t working.

Then it came to him. He would have just have to prepare. 2D could get them an episode of Catfish if he wanted to, Murdoc could fake his way through that easily. Then, he would have Cyborg Noodle go on a pilgrimage to some rural village in India and then she would disappear. All he needed were some more pictures for her Instragram.

The rest of the night found him in a frenzied cycle of editing pictures, drinking and texting with 2D as the singer wondered to Cyborg why Murdoc had been acting so strange. Murdoc hardly remembered his replies.

He hadn’t even noticed that he had fallen asleep until he felt the hand on his shoulder shaking him awake.

“Thought I told you not t’come in my room without knocking…” He slurred.

“Well we have a meeting with the team in less than an hour and you were nowhere to be found,” came the exasperated reply. “What were you doing all night with all these old picture of Cyborg Noodle up in MS Paint?”

It was Noodle.

Murdoc shot up and reached for his laptop. He instantly regretted that decision as his headache set in. Still, he would have to try to explain himself. “S’not what it looks like! I was, um, I was making, um, flyers?”

Noodle was looking at the screen with an amused look on her face as she sat down next to him. “So this is why 2D has been glaring at me every night at dinner. Murdoc, what exactly were you trying to accomplish with this?”

“He started it with his stupid video blog idea! But now he’s gone and got us an episode of Catfish and I’m going to be found out on national television!”

Noodle chuckled. “Well, you should probably tell him then.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

Murdoc thought. He thought back to some of their exchanges where 2D had expressed how he happy he was to have someone to talk to and how much he appreciated the advice Cyborg Noodle gave. He thought back to the long conversation they had about him, and how 2D had seemed genuinely interested in learning what he could do to make Murdoc feel better.

“It’s just….” Murdoc didn’t know how to finish. “It’s just…” There was no way he was actually feeling this way. “It’s just that he’s so connected. He really believes it’s her and talks to her every day, she’s…she’s like his best mate!”

Noodle shook her head, smiling. “All he was doing was talking to you, Murdoc. You’re his best mate. Or, you were his best mate, at some point.”

Murdoc felt his heart start to race. “Nuh uh, no. That’s completely mental.”

“I know, right?” Noodle looked at him knowingly. “You’ve certainly done a pretty poor job of that. But this crisis you’re having right now? That’s a good sign.”

“How could any of this be a good sign?”

“Well, what are you feeling right now?”

“Like it’s time for a pint.” Murdoc looked around the room. He knew there had to be another bottle of something around somewhere. “And like there’s a little man with a hammer trying to bulldoze his way out my skull.”

“You know what I mean,” Noodle said as she gently pulled the laptop into her lap and began to scroll. “Last time you went to a therapy appointment with 2D she told you that you need to start expanding your feeling word vocabulary so you can verbalize your emotions more easily. Like ‘happy’ or ‘sad.’” She studied the screen intently before chuckling again. “I don’t even understand how you fooled him. These pictures aren’t even fully transparent.”

“Beats me.”

Closing the laptop, Noodle turned to him. “Well whatever the case, you need to sort out what it is that your feeling and make a decision about what you want to do.”

Murdoc groaned in response.

“I’ll leave you with two things. One, you know that if Russel and I had our way, we wouldn’t be a band anymore, but we’re respecting the fact that you and 2D still have issues you need to work through so we’re giving this another shot.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Murdoc rubbed his temple as he thought. “I feel…I feel…”

“Upset because 2D will be upset when he finds out?”

“No!…I mean…I don’t know. I feel. That’s all. I just feel.” And so far, he didn’t like the sensation one bit.

“And that’s not a bad thing. It’s not bad to feel, Murdoc. I think sharing that with him would actually mean a lot.”

“But…”

Thoughts race through Murdoc’s head. But what if he never wanted to talk to him again? What if he fell into a depressive episode? But none of that felt safe to say. Noodle would probably think he was being stupid or she would go and tell everyone.

“But what if he’s gets so peeved he doesn’t want to be in the band anymore?” Yeah, he would go with that.

“Well, I can’t answer that for him. It’s something you’re just going to have to accept as a possible outcome…if you decide to tell him,” Noodle said as she got up to leave. “But anyways, the second thing was that our meeting is in fifteen minutes so unless you want to be left out of planning again you ought to get yourself up.”

She left Murdoc still buried in blankets to stew over his options. He surveyed his bed, eyes scanning over the phone, the laptop, the empty bottle of liquor. Slowly he sat up and exhaled sharply. It was all a huge mess. All of it. And now he was the one who was going to have to fix it.

A few days later, Murdoc found 2D in the backyard disassembling one of his keyboards. Stopping just short of where the singer sat he sat, not appreciating the how anxious their impending interaction was making him. Usually, Murdoc tried to avoid these types of situations whenever possible because the way they made his thoughts race and his heart pound made it nearly impossible to get a word out. He was in the process of trying to string together a simple greeting but then settled on clearing his throat awkwardly.

2D turned.

“Oh, um, hey, Murdoc,” 2D said. The expression on his face was warm, but the intensity of his gaze was another story.

Murdoc instantly regretted seeking him out while he was working. 2D on a day-to-day basis was always a little bit spaced out, lacked an adequate fight or flight response and was all around pleasant. 2D in work mode was an entirely different animal. When 2D was fully concentrating, his sense of observation was, as far as Murdoc knew, unrivaled and he could pick out any tiny detail or idiosyncrasy in whatever person or object was the target of his focus. It worked well for when Murdoc wanted him to customize an instrument, pick out what a new song they were working on was missing or woo fans, but when Murdoc himself was the subject it did nothing but make him feel…Makes me feel? He searched for the “feeling word.” Vulnerable. Yeah, that sounded right.

“Are you alright?” 2D’s voice ushered him back to the moment. “You look like you’re going to be ill.”He paused tapping the screwdriver he was using idly against the keyboard. “But that would make sense. That chicken Russel made for dinner looked well, you know, a little, uh, under-cooked which…isn’t quite like him to overlook but we can’t all be perfect…”

“It’s not that,”Murdoc blurted out. “We, uh….we need to talk.”

He was too nervous to look 2D right in the eye and instead focused on badly drawn graffiti that decorated the side of the house.

“You want to, um, oh I don’t know…swing downtown for some crepes?”

2D pondered the request briefly before replying, “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The car ride over contained little conversation. It mostly consisted of 2D flipping through the radio to find different songs to sing along to and Murdoc staring straight ahead at the road, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so hard in an attempt to maintain his composure.

When they arrived, Murdoc was relieved to find the shop relatively empty. 2D capitalized on the short line by ordering not one but three crepes with every topping available. Murdoc opted for one. He wasn’t even sure he could trust himself to eat that.

“So, uh, 2D, mate, um,” he said as he watched the singer shovel scoop after scoop of the pastry into his mouth. “You know how you’ve been talking to Cyborg Noodle lately?”

“Oh yeah, Cyborg. She was telling me she flew back to Lincolnshire and may not be in touch for awhile.”

Murdoc stared down at his plate, moving it around with his fork as he continued, “Yeah. About that. Um, how would you feel if she was, um….not who you thought she was.”

2D looked puzzled. “What do you mean? Why would she be anyone other than herself?”

“Because….” Just spit it out you spineless coward, he internally berated himself. “Because…”

“Because?”

“Becauseitwasallme.Iwasheranditwasallsupposedtobeajoke. There!” Murdoc then scooped as much of his crepe off the plate as his fork would allow and shoved it into his mouth; anything to avoid being completely still.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw 2D’s face slowly go from inquisitive to shocked. This was soon followed  by a loud clang of his fork hitting the table as it fell from his hand.

“You mean…it was all a lie? You were lying to me?” 2D’s tone was heavy with hurt and betrayal. Murdoc could see the crestfallen expression on his face as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

Murdoc gulped, suddenly feeling like everyone in the shop was watching him, accusing him. He was angry at himself, too, for choosing to eat some of his crepe because now he was feeling even more nauseous than before.

“It’s not, no, I didn’t meant, well…” He threw his hands out in exasperation. “How was I supposed to know you were going to believe it THAT much? And it’s not like it would have even happened in the first place if you hadn’t-“ He stopped.

Murdoc hadn’t looked directly over to 2D in a few minutes, and initially he thought the singer was crying. Or maybe he had gone into shock. Or maybe he had his fork and was going to jump across the table to attack him.

As he placed his full attention on him, he was slightly disturbed to realize that it was actually the opposite. 2D was laughing.

“Wait, what?”

2D didn’t answer him at first. Instead, he went through multiple cycles which consisted of laughing and eating his ice cream, regaining his composure and losing it again when he tried to look at Murdoc.

“What the hell has gotten into you? Have you lost your bloody mind?” Murdoc asked again, now slightly annoyed. “You have one minute to answer me before I call in an emergency hospital petition and-”

“Oh, Murdoc.” 2D shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. “I’ve know it was you for some time now.”

“You what?” Murdoc was flabbergasted. “You…you knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

2D snorted. “You really thought I was crying didn’t you?”

“When did you find out? How?”

“Well, I guess, officially the last day or so. The last long conversation I had with Cyborg Noodle, where I was telling her I was worried about you, she replied ‘I’m okay,’ and I thought, ‘that’s weird, I was just talking about Murdoc not her.’ Then whenever I opened family sharing I could see that all Cyborg Noodle was actually at our house…all the time.”

Murdoc looked at him, perplexed. How drunk had he been that night? How did 2D know what family sharing was? What was family sharing?

“I’m on my phone a lot, you see,” 2D answered, as if reading his mind. “But then again I feel like I always knew in some sort of way. That one night we were talking about horror movies and she sent me a thirty text long tirade about The Wicker Man remake kinda tipped me off too.”

“So wait, you…?” Murdoc pointed at him. Once again, his thought were flowing by faster than he could locate the words. “You knew? But then you didn’t…? And then you…?” Finally he arrived at what he had been building up to saying, sort of. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s okay.” There was warmth in 2D’s voice. “And I, uh, I hope you don’t mind how I had some fun with it at the end; thought you could use a taste of your own medicine. Was my acting convincing?”

“Did I mind?” Murdoc was struggling to compute what exactly was happening. As it stood, 2D had skipped ahead at least two steps of their usual fight and make up cycle. “What..what about you? Aren’t you mad at me for being a unrepentant arse who borders on sociopathy or something?”

“I was a little peeved at first. Do you know how long I waited on the roof that one day? But then I went back and re-read the conversation we had the night of the interview, that one exchange where I talked about how Gorillaz was all you had because whenever we’re not together you end up in jail or about to be murdered or something and you agreed instead of trying praise yourself, and it all made sense…”

“You felt bad for me.” That’s what it sounded like. It made Murdoc feel even more pathetic.

“No, not exactly. It was more like…” 2D looked at him closely, as if he was search for the right word to suddenly manifest on Murdoc’s forehead. “It was more like, surprised, pleasantly surprised…pleasantly surprised that you were the one feeling bad. You were regretting something. ”

“Well, I don’t know if I would go that far.”

“It isn’t anything to ashamed of, Murdoc. I don’t know why you’re treating it that way.”

“I guess…I well…I don’t know. Er, regretting things isn’t exactly my modus operandi, if you, heh, know what I mean.”

Second guessing, self-doubt, regret; they were all emotions that he had been trying to evade or repress since childhood because otherwise, he was sure they would have destroyed him.

“I do.”

Murdoc was not used to hearing the level of empathy that was present in 2D’s voice from anyone. The singer still didn’t know everything about his background, no one did really, yet he found himself completely believing him.

“And if it makes you feel any better,” 2D went on, “I enjoyed talking to Cyborg. You do quite well playing as a dead robot modeled after Noodle. And those photos you put on that fake Instragram of hers were bang on. Yet you still can’t figure out how to upload a video to your Youtube channel…” He grinned a crooked grin, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Once again, Murdoc was left wondering whether 2D was joking with him or insulting him. This time, however, he was grateful for how it helped to alleviate the weight he felt like he had been carrying around for days.

“Oh, ouch, and here I thought we were just starting to be friends again.”

Though he continued to smile, 2D shook his head. “I think we’ve still got some ways to go before that…”

It stung, but it was true.

“But,” 2D said, motioning towards the table and Murdoc. “I think all of this went well. I’m being serious now, Murdoc, you didn’t have to talk to me one on one like this but you did. We’re taking it one day at time like we agreed on when we got back together, and if you asked me now, I’d say it’s going, um,  pretty well. I think if we were to think of it in friendship bracelets terms, we’d be at half a bracelet.”

Half a bracelet. Murdoc could work with that.

“Yeah, and if that plot twist you pulled at the end here is any indication it looks like I might even have some competition.”

2D smirked. “Yeah, you might be surprised about that.”

Murdoc took another bite of his crepe. He hadn’t felt hungry in a few days now, and he welcomed the feeling.

“So, uh, not that that’s settled, what are we going to do about Cyborg? In case you forgot, you only announced her existence to our entire fanbase…”

2D shrugged, “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

“Nothing?”

“Well, yeah. Let’s just let her be out there. Y’know…I guess she’ll always be there in some sort of way…even though she’s gone. It wouldn’t be that weird would it? A lot of things do that anyway- staying with us, I mean, even after they’re gone or we’ve moved on. But we can still exist anyways.”

It was dark by the time they walked out to the car. The night sky seemed clearer that it usually was, the artificial light from the city doing little to obscure the stars as they so often did. As he took in the sight, Murdoc mulled over what 2D had said back at the shop. 2D said a lot things that straddled the line between wise and nonsensical, and Murdoc liked to make fun of him for it. This time, however, the singer’s words followed him all the way to the car and lingered in his mind as he sat in the driver’s seat. There was still a lot he was grappling with internally, but he could exist. Sure, there were thoughts, emotions and behaviors involved in existing as a human being that still absolutely terrified him. But the day had proven to him that, even after fifty years of only embracing the parts of himself that he deemed safe, it wasn’t too late. He could still exist,  and exist fully, in spite of it all.

And he was feeling the effects of this new attitude as he started up the engine. For example, he no longer felt like he needed to grip the steering wheel in a death grip, and as 2D flipped the radio on, he felt inclined to sing along.

“And, Murdoc…Um, if you don’t want me to tell the others about this, I understand,” 2D said.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t ever had meaningful conversations like the one they had that night. In the past, Murdoc wouldn’t always want the others to know because, well, he was Murdoc and 2D was 2D, and that wasn’t how they were supposed to settle things, or at least that was how Murdoc had reasoned it out in his mind.

Taking in a deep breath, Murdoc shook his head and answered, “I wouldn’t say it matters much either way.” It felt unusually liberating to say that. “But…what you can do is crank that volume up because that song right there happens to be a classic and it would a certified ethics violation to experience it at the volume you’ve got it on now.”

“You got it, mate.”

Then 2D turned the dial up so loud that Murdoc swore he could feel the car shaking. Perfect.

“That’s more like it!” Murdoc yelled as he pulled onto the main road. 2D nodded in response, a wide grin on his face.

It was unclear whether or not he actually understood a word of what Murdoc had said, but in the moment, his nod of encouragement was more than enough. I’m okay, Murdoc thought to himself but now it no longer felt like something was trying to convince himself to believe. Then he placed his foot on the gas and drove.

End.

[moonflowerlesbians]

I wrote the 10 year anniversary fic

She's short but she’s sweet. Please enjoy.

to be loved a whole life long

Rated T, ~2.6k.

~~~

What is an anniversary, really, if not merely a ploy to indulge in all of the little pleasures one denies on any other day? Saying, “oh, well, we ought to save it for a special occasion.”

And, what, Jamie thinks, is an occasion more special than the day marking the tenth year since she began this beautiful, insane journey with the love of her life. A woman so remarkable that Jamie almost can’t believe she’s real. Almost can’t believe that she can wake up beside the same person every morning, smelling the same fruity shampoo, spend the day working side by side, and still, every night, fall into bed, eager to pull Dani close. Then wake up the following day and do it all again.

It’s a stability Jamie never thought she would have. After years of bouncing from foster family to foster family, Bly was the closest thing to home she’d ever had. Until, that is, these ten, wonderful years with Dani in the flat they share above the little shop that they built from the ground up.

She thinks as much as beams of cozy sunlight filter through the gossamer curtains Dani picked out for their bedroom. She has an arm draped over Dani’s middle, her front to Dani’s back, her hand tracing idle circles on the plane of Dani’s stomach beneath her sleep shirt. Jamie can hear the quiet exhalations puffing against Dani’s wrist, which she’s managed to trap against her cheek. Jamie is certain she’ll be graced with complaints of pins and needles when Dani wakes. Jamie will laugh and offer to massage the numbness away, and Dani will roll her eyes but allow her limb to flop inelegantly into Jamie’s lap.

Jamie props herself up on one elbow, her fingers trailing a path from Dani’s midriff, up her arm, to brush a wayward strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Dani begins to stir as Jamie presses slow lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder, moves to the shell of her ear, her temple, the slender curve of her jaw.

Dani makes a noise low in her throat.

“Ah, there she is,” Jamie hums, her voice, though quiet, still too loud in the morning stillness.

“Thought we w’re gonna sleep in t’day,” Dani sighs, already preparing to nestle deeper into the blankets.

Jamie runs a playful finger down the bridge of Dani’s nose. “Already did that, love. ‘S nearly half nine.”

“F’rgot you get up ‘fore the early birds,” Dani grumbles, “An’thing past six ‘s late for you.”

“The plants wait for no one.”

“They’re plants. ‘S not like they have anywhere to be.”

“You don’t know that. Could have important plant business to attend to.”

Dani, at last, rolls over incredulously. “Like what?”

“Dunno,” Jamie shrugs, “but you’re awake now.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Mhm,” Jamie chuckles, “happy anniversary, baby.” Their kiss is languid, sleep-heavy. When they break apart, their foreheads still touch.

“Happy anniversary,” Dani whispers, thumb absently caressing Jamie’s cheekbone. Her eyes glimmer with mischief when she meets Jamie’s gaze. “Wouldn’t be opposed to staying in bed all day, though...”

“Need food first.”

Dani huffs. “Fine.”

“Thought we might try the new cafe on the corner of Leeland and Huntley for brunch. Apparently, they’ve got terrific blueberry muffins.”

“And you know this how?”

“Kid and her mum came through the shop the other day. Wee gremlin wouldn’t put the damn thing down,” Jamie gripes. “Got crumbs all over my daffodils.”

“She sounds cute.” Dani sounds almost wistful.

“‘Course you’d think so. Once a teacher, always a teacher.” She waves dismissively. “Or something like that.” Jamie rubs her palms together. “Right, then, up and at ‘em. Those muffins won’t eat themselves.”

“Didn’t realize you were so excited by baked goods.”

“Not the baked goods I’m excited for. I seem to recall mentions of returning to bed after food.”

+++

They are dressed and out the door in record time.

+++

They’ve closed the shop for the day, allowing themselves a brief reprieve from the discord of the wedding season. Every other day, it seems, a new blushing bride parades through their doors, followed by a mother or mother-in-law with a thousand questions and a dozen requests per minute. Jamie enjoys the work, truly. Seeing the delighted relief wash over the room as the arrangement designs are finalized is immensely gratifying. Almost as gratifying as watching her flowers, her precious creations, adorn ballrooms and churches, surrounded by people celebrating life. The joy of being alive.

She feels it now, she thinks, the sheer euphoria of existing. Here, walking down the street, a take-away cup of tea in her hand, with Dani’s arm roped through hers.

They are living on borrowed time, she knows, stark reminders of blue and brown present in every reflection. Every so often, Jamie catches herself longing, pleading for more time. She should be grateful for what the universe has gifted her. But, on days like these, days where the air is right and the sun is warm on her skin, she finds herself wishing for a forever that she cannot have. A forever unpromised to a monster that lurks beneath the most beautiful smile in the world.

She pushes the thought aside. Tomorrow is never promised. All she has is today. And she’ll be damned before she lets it slip away.

+++

They feed the waterfowl in the park with muffin crumbs. There are ducklings this time of year, and Dani’s gleeful cooing, high-pitched and elated, travels across the pond. Dappled shadows drape across her shoulders. Tree branches sway in a gentle breeze, casting a spotted cloak across the scene. Jamie feels the tension drain from her neck.

They sit, side by side, on the swingset, watching the joggers run past, waving at their neighbors and their golden retriever, the couple whose engagement party The Leafling decorated last month. Dani exchanges pleasantries with them all. It’s the Midwesterner in her, she likes to say, amicability is in her blood. Jamie does not understand, but she does her best to nod less than awkwardly while her partner makes smalltalk.

They stop for ice cream on the way home. It is a special occasion, after all, and the balmy June weather provides the perfect excuse to indulge in seldom-savored decadence. One, Jamie decides, they should absolutely partake in more often, if the child-like giddiness Dani expresses over cake batter ice cream is any indication. The crows feet at the corners of her eyes crinkle as she grins, and Jamie thinks she has never looked more lovely.

+++

A trans-Atlantic call to Owen foils their initial plans of baking their own lasagna after Dani lets slip that they weren’t planning to boil the noodles before layering in the sauces.

“For the love of God, please order in. The both of you are im-pasta-ble. It’s like I’ve taught you nothing.”

“That pun was weak, even for you.”

“This is what you’ve reduced me to.”

So, they call in a delivery order to the Italian place down the road. Jamie chivalrously offers to pick it up, and Dani ushers her out of the flat with a vigor that has Jamie raising an eyebrow. But, she simply shrugs and slides into the drivers’ seat of their second-hand pickup. The familiar rumble of the engine is comforting, the crooning of some jazz singer on the radio soothing background noise. Crickets chirp in the early summer evening.

She swings through the grocer to pick up champagne on her way home and juggles the bottle and the takeaway bag of food as she fumbles her key into the lock. Dani opens the door just as she’s about to turn the knob, and Jamie falls forward, Dani catching her by the arm.

“You alright?” Dani asks, but there’s an amused lilt to her voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. If you could just take…” Jamie’s mouth goes dry. Her face is level with Dani’s hips, which she has come to realize are covered in a velvety fabric she does not recognize. Her eyes flick up, coming to rest on Dani’s collarbones, the exposed skin of her arms, the accentuated curve of her waist. “You… I… uh….”

“You could’ve knocked, you know. I would’ve let you in.”

“I… yeah, could’ve… knocked.” Jamie realizes she is frozen in the entryway, jaw on the floor, and, in all honesty, cannot bring herself to care. Not when Dani is standing in front of her, clad in a gorgeous purple dress Jamie’s never seen before, her bangs styled to frame her face, while the remainder of her hair is pulled back. Jamie clears her throat. “You, ah, you changed.”

“I did.”

“You, you look…” Jamie searches for the right word, but none seem to encapsulate the overwhelming rush of emotion she feels, looking at the love of her life in the dim light from the bulb in the hallway outside their flat, on the tenth anniversary of the start of life she never thought she would have.

Damn the limitations of this bloody language. She can say “I got absolutely goddamn shitfaced last night” in a hundred different ways, but there is no succinct way to phrase, “I love you so fucking much and you are the most incredible person in the world and I don’t know how I got lucky enough to know you and I could spend the rest of my life holding your hand.”

It seems, at least to Jamie, a grievous failure of linguistic evolution.

“Beautiful,” she settles on, at last. “You’re so beautiful.” It’s not enough. But it will suffice.

“Come on, loverboy,” Dani says, tapping the bottom of Jamie’s chin with a slender index finger before giving a tug on her sleeve. “Food’s getting cold.” She’s blushing, though, a faint tint coloring her chest as she takes one of the plastic bags from Jamie. Jamie, who merely stares at Dani’s retreating silhouette before remembering she’s supposed to follow. She shuts the front door behind her and stumbles into the kitchen, setting the bottle and second bag on the countertop next to the stove.

When she turns around, Dani is in the living room holding a match to two candles set on a ceramic dish on their kitchen island. She’s laid out their nice dinnerware, which, really, consists of the four gold-encircled plates and matching napkin rings they’d found at an antique store in Milwaukee, back when they had been exploring the country Dani called home. A vase of roses is positioned on the coffee table, and it’s evident that Dani arranged them herself, and oh, oh, how Jamie loves her for it.

“Surprise?” Dani says shyly.

Jamie blinks at her. It’s all she can do not to break down. Instead, she settles for taking two bold steps to Dani's side of the counter and kissing her senseless. Dani lets out a squeak of surprise, but quickly relaxes into Jamie’s touch. She’s biting her lip when they separate, Jamie’s twirling the fine hairs at the nape of her neck as she presses their foreheads together.

“Let me change, and we’ll eat, yeah?”

“Sounds good.” Dani’s breathing is an ounce heavier than normal.

Jamie winks slyly, wanders to their bedroom and opens the closet, pulling out the first acceptable outfit she sees. She doesn’t have to change, she knows. Dani could care less whether she’s wearing a three-piece suit or sweatpants. (Though she suspects the suit might have the edge.) She dons a white, three-quarter zip and black slacks, pausing briefly to add a pair of black leather suspenders she knows Dani likes. Something about being easy to grab and pull.

Dani is struggling to uncork the champagne when Jamie returns to the kitchen. Her tongue pokes adorably out of the corner of her mouth, and her soft grunts of frustration are surprisingly endearing.

“Hand it over. Come on, now. Before you put your eye out.”

“I can do it,” Dani protests. “Just. Need to tweak it. A little.”

Jamie takes the opportunity to press against Dani’s back, her arms wrapping around to cover Dani’s hands where they fiddle with the bottle. For a moment, Dani forgets to be cross and reclines her head, resting it on Jamie’s shoulder. She sighs, relinquishing control, and Jamie huffs out a quick laugh. She holds the champagne over the sink to catch the overflow when the bottle pops.

Dani mumbles something about “having loosened it,” which Jamie meets with resolute agreement and a, “‘course you did, baby.”

The lasagne, an Owen-approved non-abomination, has been plated, Dani having evidently done so while Jamie was shucking her dayclothes. She pours them each a healthy flute of champagne and seats herself beside Dani, raising her glass.

She hesitates.

“Wait,” Dani exclaims, hurrying to the hall closet. She rummages for a second, bringing back the Polaroid camera Jamie had given her their first Christmas together. She checks the film, appears satisfied, and balances the device on an upturned colander to set up her shot. She sets the timer and sidles under Jamie’s arm, picking up her champagne flute. “Smile!” Dani beams.

When the image prints, the picture reveals Dani, with the biggest grin Jamie swears she’s ever seen, and Jamie at her side, looking positively smitten. The flash has illuminated the silver streaks in her hair, the lines embedded in her skin. Time has been kind to her, she reminds herself, others are not so lucky. And, in any case, when she looks at this photograph, she will not be looking at herself.

Dani kisses her cheek and moves her keepsake to the coffee table for safety. Too many important documents ruined by spills for her to risk it. She props it gently against the roses. It’s perfect.

Again, Jamie raises her glass. She inspects the contents.

Again, she hesitates. Then, a toast:

“To another ten.”

Silence.

Dani stills, looks at her.

Jamie can see the beginning of an argument forming on the tip of Dani’s tongue, and Jamie holds her stare. It’s a challenge. A dare, even.

They do not often speak of the distant future. Only when it is absolutely necessary do they broach the sensitive topic.

A world-weary smile paints Dani’s lips. Her eyes are burdened, the vivacity present mere seconds ago seemingly having vanished. She is tired. It shows in the slump of her shoulders, the crease of her brow, the way the giddiness of earlier has slunk away, leaving Dani bare-boned and fatigued.

She lifts her glass.

She says nothing.

“I love you,” Jamie murmurs after the faint clink of glass on glass. “So much.”

“Always,” Dani finishes. And Jamie knows she means it.

+++

They embrace beneath the sheets that night, sweat cooling in the dry air. Jamie’s fingers are tangled in blonde waves highlighted with grey. Dani’s breathing has evened out, short puffs tickling Jamie’s sternum, as Jamie contemplates the window over her head.

She has found someone to love, and someone to love her in return. Someone who will stay, even on the bad days. Someone who expects nothing and deserves everything.

Dani is everything Jamie thought she never deserved. Dani is good. Dani is good and exquisite and utterly unbelievable and, god, how Jamie loves her.

She loves waking up beside her every morning, and she loves smelling the same fruity shampoo on the pillow. She loves spending the day working together on the business they built from the dirt up. She loves falling into bed every night and pulling Dani close. Every minute they have together is a gift that Jamie refuses to take for granted.

To another ten years, she thinks, and allows her eyes to close. Dani sighs against her.

[ooobirdy]

Let go (A hurt/Comfort Hamilfam one-shot)

He was in shock.

Hamilton didn’t get fired. Hamilton got other people fired with his big mouth, but had never had it happen to himself.

The kicker? He not only got fired, he was unhirable from his less than satisfactory exit.

Don’t punch your boss square in the face, kids. It doesn’t bode well for anyone at all.

Words: 2,411 Tags: Hamilfam (including all the kids. all of them), swearing, inappropriate conversations, mentions of being fired, emotional distress at being fired, and comfort from multiple sources, John Adams is a dick, and Burr is here too Pairing: Eliza Schuyler/Alexander Hamilton (they’re married, it’s an established relationship) Alternate Universe: Modern era, the government branch officials and politicians work at a banking firm

The door shut with a resounding click. It was too quiet. All the kids were at school, and his Dearest Eliza was working. Heh, working.

Alexander ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily as he set down his briefcase on the table, shuffling from the room. It’d be hours before his family came home. It gave him time to think, to try to gather his bearings and understand what he had truly done.

He was in shock.

Hamilton didn’t get fired. Hamilton got other people fired with his big mouth, but had never had it happen to himself.

The kicker? He not only got fired, he was unhirable from his less than satisfactory exit.

Don’t punch your boss square in the face, kids. It doesn’t bode well for anyone at all.

His metaphorical pink slip weighed heavy on his mind. Maybe fast food was hiring… He needed a job to support his family. What he really needed was something that matched his banking finance, but that wasn’t coming his way anytime soon, his former employer would make damned sure of it.

Alexander flopped down at the breakfast bar, hiding his face in his hands as he shook with barely contained rage and grief at his stupid decision. It wasn’t just him he was hurting with that stupid move. It was his family. They could still live on a budget with his wife’s paycheck, but that just wouldn’t be fair to his family, especially said wife.

He had made a mistake, but was too stubborn, too prideful to admit it to anyone but himself.

The Caribbean man slid his face from his hands, sighing again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

How would Eliza even react to this news? He’d had it where they could live and still splurge if they wanted to… Would his wife even want to remain with him?

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Alexander froze, blood turning to ice, breath hitching. He stayed like that for the full minute his phone went off before finally fishing the object out of his pocket and checking who had been calling.

Aaron Burr?

Alexander called him back.

“Alexander?”

“Aaron Burr, sir?”

“I...I heard what happened. If it’s of any consolation, you have my condolences.”

Alexander scoffed, laughing mirthlessly.

“It’s just a job.”

“Which you’re probably beating yourself up about.”

“...”

“Your silence says all I need to know.”

Alexander sighed, running a hand down his face.

“You’ve only called to express pity, and as much as I appreciate it, I don’t rightly need it. I do, however, need to figure out what the hell i’m going to do to support my family..”

“Jobs aren’t that easy to find, Alexander.”

“Gee, Burr, it’s like I didn’t know that already.”

“Hey, I’m not here to be mocked, I’m just being honest.”

“Be honest elsewhere, sir.”

“Your pride is gonna be the death of us all.”

And with that, the line clicked to a close, static playing over the phone. Hamilton frowned.

“Ah, jeez…”

Setting his phone aside, Alexander paced the hallway of his empty foyer. What was he going to do? Should he apologize? Get on his knees and beg Adams, the bastard, for forgiveness? Should he shut up and let the man scorned become him? Should he immediately go a print a new resume and hope for the best? Jeez, what if he ended up a cashier again? He hadn’t been in retail work in almost ten years, he doubted he’d be able to do it flawlessly if it came to that.

That’s when it hit him.

Law school.

He had never finished being a lawyer!

Would they still take him?

Would Burr recommend him?

Hamilton thought quietly, stopping his pacing before running to his phone and dialing.

Surprisingly, Aaron picked up.

“If you’re calling to yell at me-”

“No, no, quite the contrary, sir!”

Aaron was taken aback by the suddenly chipper man. He had just gotten fired, what the hell had him so excited?

“Your mood flipped pretty easily.”

“Do you still have your lawyer buddies?”

“...Did you do something illegal?”

“No, no, I didn’t do anything like that….Yet.”

“Think of a plausible alibi if you’re gonna do something stupid.”

Alexander laughed.

“You’ve got a dry sense of humor, but it’s definitely still there after all these years.”

“Aging me up, aren’t you?”

“Face it, Burr, you’re old.”

“I’m only a year older than you.”

“I never said I wasn’t getting old. Which, for the record, I’m not.”

It was Aaron’s turn to laugh.

“Why’d you need my lawyer friends?”

Alexander smiled sheepishly on the other side of the phonecall.

“Well, you and I used to work together on cases, and I wasn’t too bad at it. I think it might help? I mean, sure, it isn’t a bank, but I can live with righting injustice and putting wrong doers in their place again.”

Aaron paused, absorbing the information.

“You know this means you can’t blow everything out of proportion, right? You have to redo your training and do as they tell you to do.”

Alexander blew a raspberry into the receiver.

“And not do childish stuff like this.”

“I’m fiiiiiiiiiine. Can they help me, or not?”

“You’re a grown ass man, Hamilton.”

“Are you saying that to my ‘fine,’ or to me asking if they can help, because either way, it works, and it’s disturbing how accurate that is.”

Aaron stifled a laugh on the other side of the phone conversation.

“You’re such a kid, remind me again how you kept the bank afloat in Washington’s wake?”

“Because I’m a fucking badass, and I knew what I was doing. Watch, it’s gonna close under Jefferson and Adams’ thumbs.”

Burr chuckled.

“Your confidence is astounding, Hamilton.”

“Hah, you say that like it hasn’t always been.”

“Just minutes prior, you were a shell of this exuberant facade.”

Alexander rolled his eyes, hmmphing.

Aaron paused.

“I’ll talk to them. I know that’s what you’ve wanted to hear, not to me rambling.”

“You weren’t rambling, Mr. Burr, sir. We were bantering.”

“Still, I apologize. I’ll talk to William, but you should get a hold of Pendleton if you want to see if he still needs a partner.”

“Oh-! I had forgotten all about poor Pendleton!”

“Isn’t he one of your best friends?”

“Yes.”

Aaron facepalmed.

“It’s a wonder you have any friends.”

Hamilton laughed.

“Hey, Aaron?”

Burr blinked.

How...Informal.

“Yes, Alexander?”

“Thank you. For everything. You’re always so succinct and persuasive. I’d botch it somehow, and I appreciate you picking up the phone even after I made it seem like I didn’t need your help. Well, i mean, i didn’t at the time, but still.”

Aaron chuckled.

“I knew you’d come back, either to yell at me, or ask for help, so I kept my phone nearby.”

“Wait- Aren’t you still at work?”

“Lunch break.”

“And you’re spending it talking to me? Geez, Aaron, go feed yourself.”

It was Aaron’s turn to scoff.

“You’re not allowed to lecture me about not eating when you probably haven’t eaten today at all.”

Alexander snickered.

“No need to get so peeved, sir.”

Aaron sighed.

“Just go call Nathaniel. I’ll get with Van Ness, and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“ No problem, Alexander.”

Burr ended the call.

Hamilton felt a little bit more at ease now that he had a plan. All that was left was to tell his wife. But first, time to binge Hell’s Kitchen now that he had free time.

---

Alexander was about ten episodes into Hell’s kitchen when his kids and wife walked through the door, confused to see him there, dressed up in his sweats and with his hair in a messy bun, not in his normal business attire, eyeing his briefcase on the table near the front door wearily.

“You’re home early, pops,” Philip said, flopping down on the couch next to his father.

Alex paused the tv, smiling, albeit strained.

“Heya, Pip, how was school?”

“It went alright. I passed a test with really high marks.”

“ Nice!”

Hamilton’s second oldest child peeked her head around the corner before taking a running start and leaping onto both her father’s, and her brother’s lap, wedging herself into a comfortable position that left both men cringing in pain.

“ANGIE, WHAT THE SHIT!”

“Language,” Alexander laughed.

“She’s squishing my dick.”

“Your dick is too tiny for me to squish, it’s practically concaved.”

Philip shoved her off his lap and onto the floor, fuming.

Alexander Jr. blinked, raising a brow at the display before asking the obvious question looming in the air.

“Dad, how was work? You’re usually not home until a couple hours after us.”

Alexander Jr’s father sighed heavily, curling in on himself.

“Go get your mother and sister, I have an announcement.”

Alex left to go get both Eliza’s, John Church wandering into the room, sipping on a caprisun that were for the younger children, but not really giving a shit otherwise.

“Sup, pops.”

John raised a brow at where Philip and Angelica were bitching at each other, pushing each other in a makeshift wrestling match. Alexander was just watching his children with a far-off look on his face. John could tell something was wrong.

Both Elizas wandered into the room, the eldest one holding her daughter’s hand.

She eyed where her two eldest children were fighting with displeasure before letting her daughter’s hand go and going over, pulling Angelica from Philip, and vice versa.

“Can you two not stop fighting for even five minutes?”

“He’s insulted cause i said he has a little dick.”

Eliza blushed deeply, covering her mouth.

“Angelica!”

Angelica laughed and Philip blushed, looking off to the side angrily.

For once, Hamilton was glad the spotlight wasn’t on him. This was far more amusing.

But it could only last for so long when his little prodigy came back into the room, toting James along with him.

The only one missing was William, but he was probably down for a nap. He was too young to understand ‘fired’ anyway.

Hamilton cleared his throat.

Everyone paused and turned to face the man, and Alexander felt hot under the scrutinizing gazes.

“I’ve called you all here for a reason...”

“Mhmm, yup, we’ve all heard this one before,” Philip said offhandedly, flinching when his father turned and glared coldly at him, actually recoiling to the other side of the couch.

“You asshole,” Angelica said sternly.

Alexander took a breath, running a hand down his face, careful of his glasses.

“As I was saying...There’s no easy way to say this, but it has to be said. I got let go from my job.”

There was a lot of collective gasps, and a sputter of disbelief from Philip, who was spewing apologies for his comment earlier, having thought his father was just going to tell a terrible dad pun.

Little Eliza crawled up into her father’s lap, staring him in the eyes.

“What are you gonna do now, daddy?”

Alexander smiled sadly.

“Daddy’s gonna go and try lawyering again.”

His youngest daughter lit up.

“Lawyering? Daddy’s gonna be a law man?”

Alexander laughed, ruffling his daughter’s dark hair.

“A lawyer, sweetheart.”

“Ooooooh.”

He chuckled, lifting his daughter up and setting her more comfortably on his lap, playing with her hair. He looked up at the rest of his family carefully, trying to gauge their reactions.

“Any questions?”

His wife raised her hand and he couldn’t help but feel more in love. That was such an innocent, dorky thing to do. He loved his teacher wife.

“Yes, love?”

“Why were you let go?”

“I, uh- They didn’t need me at the firm anymore…”

The eldest Eliza looked upset.

“They just let you go out of the blue? That’s horrible!”

Alexander felt a sharp stinging in his chest and sighed, setting his daughter down before getting up and kissing his wife’s cheek, whispering in her ear.

“I’ll explain more tonight, love.”

Philip raised a brow.

“Please don’t use dad getting fired as foreplay.”

His mother balked.

“Philip James Hamilton!”

Alexander was bright red at this point, praying to anybody who would listen that his younger kids didn’t ask what foreplay was.

He considered himself lucky when they brushed to a new topic completely.

---

As they were getting ready for bed, Eliza and Alexander fluffed the pillows and made the duvet, talking aimlessly, just trying to get things about their day out in the open. Eliza’s students had painted flowers.

“They were so lovely, too. They’re very talented kids.”

“I bet,” Alexander replied, changing into his sleep clothes, tossing his others in the hamper and letting his hair down from its messy bun.

Eliza shimmied out of her dress and slipped on her nightgown, trying her hair up and stretching, walking over to the light and flipping it off before walking back to the bed and slipping in. She snuggled into the covers as she waited for her husband to do the same.

He didn’t.

She frowned and sat back up, raising a brow at him in the dark room as her eyes adjusted and she spotted him waiting on the end of the bed, lost in thought.

“Alexander?”

He jolted from his thoughts.

“S-Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About what, love?”

Alexander sighed, turning to face his wife in the dark room.

“I ran that firm under Washington for years..But then Adams takes over, calls me undeserving, and with the help of Jefferson, the fucker, dethrones me completely..”

Eliza frowned, crawling back out from under the covers and padding over to her husband, sitting beside him and running a hand soothingly over his back.

“Come to bed, sleep it off, love.”

“I punched him.”

Eliza paused.

“What?”

“He called me a creole bastard. So I socked the bastard in the fucking face.”

Eliza sighed, leaning over and kissing her husband.

“Defend your honor in a way that doesn’t hurt someone.”

“He had it coming!”

"You're strong and capable of picking yourself back up even after this, and that's what really matters. They lost a valuable person at the firm today."

Alexander took his wife’s hand.

“And I’d do it again if I could.”

Eliza rolled her eyes, but smiled and kissed Alexander’s forehead.

“Come back to bed, that would be enough.”

And for once, Alexander indulged her.

They’d work through this later, but for now it was time to sleep.

[cviperfan]

Soiran fic, 2/?

Title: The Second Time Around Series: Bleach Pairings: Soifon/Rangiku Matsumoto, Yoruichi Shihouin/Kuukaku Shiba, hints of Rangiku/Gin, Yoruichi/Soifon, Nanao/Lisa Rating: M Chapter Warning(s): n/a Summary: Eleven years after the final battle, a well-timed getaway brings two perfect strangers together, and as time passes, attraction might become something more.  Sometimes, people can surprise you. Post-series, canon ending compliant.

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Chapter 2: Tension

"Wow," Rangiku whistled as she and Soifon hit a break in the long, winding stone path.  "I've gotta say, the brochure didn't do this place any justice."

As her experience went, there wasn't much in the human world that impressed Soifon, but the resort, nestled deep in the forest hillside of Fukuoka, certainly came close.

Set in a vast clearing dotted with maple trees, the hotel had been built into a rocky outcropping, rooms and levels peeking out from a rather imposing central building with high arches and a shingled roof.  A waterfall running parallel to the hotel flowed into an impossibly clear blue river that pooled at the foot of the building's rock facade before continuing on down the mountain, the cloud of mist and spray framing the hotel beautifully in the early morning light, and as the pair made their way up the stairs to the main lobby they passed a meticulously maintained flower garden that seemed to possess every hue imaginable.

After the long trip from Karakura by train (preceded by picking up their gigai, and both of them changing into casual clothes) and the following hike, Soifon was almost ready to actually consider this a real vacation.

---

The contrast between the Second Division Captain and the Tenth Division Lieutenant's enthusiasm couldn't have been clearer as they checked in and were promptly given a succinct tour of the property by the concierge.  After being shown through the spacious, elegant main hall to the in-house restaurant and the extensive treatments and services available in the spa, they were taken to their room on the third floor, and with a terse nod from Soifon the receptionist gave the pair an opportunity to get settled in.

Rangiku, for her part, was already beaming at the thought of exploring the range of food options on the extensive menu, and getting in a massage before bed, the hard details of which Soifon was barely paying attention to as she turned the lock and opened the door to Suite 305.

Passing through the threshold, Rangiku gave a delighted gasp, and even Soifon was, ironically, rendered speechless.  Even with the gleaming, cherry-wood floors and a pair of spacious beds and the large flatscreen, the immediate draw of the room was the onsen immediately outside of the glass balcony door, overlooking a stunning view of the city skyline bordered by the surrounding trees that was nothing short of postcard perfect.

"Unbelievable!  I really didn't think each room had its own private bath," Rangiku smiled as she haphazardly threw her bags to the floor and flopped onto the far bed. "This is going to be incredible after spending a day in the city, right Soifon?"

At that Soifon quirked an eyebrow in Rangiku's direction, but the blonde woman seemed unfazed.

"Come on, we're on vacation, remember?  Let's set formality aside and enjoy ourselves!"

"If you say so, Lieutenant," Soifon replied curtly.  After setting her bag on the bed, Soifon removed the second room key from her pocket and handed it to Rangiku.

"Ah, thanks!  Anyway, ready to go?"

"I'm sorry?" Soifon wondered, finally turning to look at her companion.

"Well, it's still pretty early in the day, right?  We have plenty of time to start sightseeing!  I think we can get to Fukuoka Castle from the bus stop if we leave now."

"Lieutenant, you're free to do as you wish, but I have no plans to leave.  If I'm going to be obligated into a 'vacation' I'm at least going to make sure it's a quiet one."

"Oh no," Rangiku declared firmly, and Soifon was taken aback by her boldness (though if what she'd heard about the leeway she could manage with Captain Hitsugaya was true, it should have been natural to expect).  "This is an amazing place to visit and I'm not about to let you miss out on it by being all gloomy in the room all day... even if, well, you do outrank me.  But we're off-duty, remember?  Little things like rank don't matter today!"

Soifon raised a finger and opened her mouth to protest, but Rangiku used the opportunity to grab her by her raised arm and pull her out the door.

"Don't worry, I've got everything figured out!  I have a whole plan for this week!"

Relenting to the much taller woman's almost manic pace, Soifon only grumbled.

---

The trip back into the sleepy town the hotel was part of was much faster coming downhill, and from the bus stop it was only a half-hour or so to the ruins of Fukuoka Castle, already full of tourists like themselves.

"Isn't this great?" Rangiku declared, already furiously snapping pictures with a disposable camera.  "Ahh, this place would look amazing in spring!  Hey Soifon!"

"Wh--" The captain managed, shaken out of her blank stare as Rangiku stooped slightly down to her height, aimed the camera around at them, and quickly took a picture.  Caught mid-motion and with her face scrunched up from the flash, Soifon silently vowed to destroy the film before Rangiku had a chance to get it developed.

"Oh, there's a tour group leaving!  Quick, let's tag along!"

Resigned to the situation, Soifon followed at a much slower pace, arms crossed and expression disdainful.

---

An hour later, weighed down with souvenirs (Rangiku insisted on bringing back something for everyone, as she tended to on her human world excursions), Rangiku unfolded a map she'd kept in the back pocket of her jeans, struggling to hold out the large sheet while Soifon adjusted the bags Rangiku had summarily hoisted off onto her.  She hadn't said a word since they'd left the hotel, but the dead-eyed glare still fixed on her face said volumes.

"I think we should have enough time to hit Ohtori Park, make our way to the open-air market and grab something to eat before we head back, sound good?  There's an amazing little okonomiyaki place in there you just have to try."

As she folded the map back up, Soifon moved to hand one of the large bags back to Rangiku, who apparently didn't notice the gesture as she waved the smaller woman forward.

Biting her tongue, Soifon followed.

---

When they finally came back to Suite 305, Rangiku stretched and yawned, tossing her small shopping bag onto the bed as Soifon collapsed on the floor just over the threshold, panting as the mountain of souvenirs and candies and clothes she'd been precariously balancing tumbled to the ground.

"Ah!  Now that was a great first day, wasn't it?  I feel like we got a lot done!"

Soifon was still glaring daggers in Rangiku's back as the blonde took off her windbreaker and tossed it onto a nearby chair, then passed to grab a set of plush towels from the closet.

"C'mon, let's check out the onsen!  I bet it feels great at night, and there's plenty of room!"

"You go ahead," Soifon replied, speaking for the first time in hours and trying, despite her impatience, to keep the irritation out of her voice. "...I'm going to use the shower and then go to sleep."

"Really?  It's no trouble!  Ooh, I can call room service and see if they can bring up some drinks--"

"I wasn't aware we were required to spend every second of this trip around each other, Matsumoto."  Despite her certainty that she'd maintained control of her emotions, there was just enough of an edge to her tone that Rangiku's seemingly permanent smile faltered, just for a moment.

"W-well, no, of course not," Rangiku managed, her cheerfulness returning, "I just thought that you might want to--"

"I'll see you in the morning," Soifon cut her off.  "Just shut the blinds when you go out there.  I don't need the lights keeping me awake."

"Uh... sure!  Better to turn in early I guess, I've got even more planned for tomorrow!"

The bathroom door shutting behind Soifon, hard enough to qualify as a slam, eloquently conveyed the Captain's response.

---

The next morning at breakfast, Rangiku was still enthusiastic, and had outlined a few destinations for them in the city, mostly exploring the shopping center and visiting a few nearby shrines for pictures.

By the time they'd returned, Soifon's sullen mood had caught up with her.

The pair didn't speak as they entered the room and added Rangiku's new set of bags to the already impressive pile, the tense silence finally broken as Soifon headed toward the bathroom and spoke.

"I'm showering and going to bed.  Keep the lights off if you're going to be out there again."

"Are you really going to be like this the whole week?"

Soifon paused at the sudden question from Rangiku, her brow furrowed and voice laced with a rare anger as she looked at the back of the Captain's head.  When Soifon said nothing, she continued, tossing her hands up in irritation.

"Maybe if you... I don't know, actually tried to relax, for once, you'd have fun here.  If you just make an effort to--"

"Oh, did you want me to have fun, Lieutenant?" Soifon interrupted, her eyes flashing dangerously as she practically spat the title like it was an insult.  "...or was that something Ise-san and the rest of the Women's Association asked you to make sure of?"

At the accusation, Rangiku didn't respond, but firmly stood her ground.  Taking her silence as an admission of guilt, Soifon pressed on.

"You think I don't know what I'm actually doing here?  That the overlap with the wedding was some coincidence?  Let me guess-- everyone was worried that the stupid little girl following Yoruichi-sama around with the stupid crush was going to make a mess of the whole ceremony somehow, and it was better for everyone to send me out of the way, is that about right?!"

When Rangiku still didn't answer her, Soifon took a long, shaky breath, her fists balled up and trembling.  She could feel bitter tears of humiliation fighting their way up, but the sheer force of her indignity kept them down.

"If my being there is enough to ruin it for everyone else, then who am I to show up?  As though I don't know where I'm not wanted.  Well, let me tell you, Lieutenant, I certainly don't need to be watched like a child, so if this 'vacation' is so important to you, you certainly have my permission to do what you want, but you can leave me out of it.  You don't have to do me any favors by acting like you and the rest of Soul Society aren't laughing at me behind my back."

"I'm not here for them."

"Is that so?  Then why are you here?  What could have possessed you to decide to come?!"  

I'm here because... well, I was worried about you."

Rangiku's reply was so quiet, so harsh, that Soifon thought for a moment she must have misheard the blonde woman.  After a long moment, Rangiku sighed, meeting Soifon's gaze with a rare, measured patience she normally didn't exercise.

"Look, I won't pretend the trip didn't catch my eye, but I never once thought your feelings for Yoruichi-san were stupid, or that you were making a fool out of yourself.  To be completely honest, I... well, I always sort of hoped you two would end up together."

At her admission, Soifon blinked, the red hot fury she'd felt only moments ago evaporating as uncertainty took root.  Exhaling, Rangiku managed a sad half-smile at her companion, her eyes distant and soft.

"I...I know what it's like when you're left behind with no answers, and how easy it is to just fall into a loop of blaming and hating yourself when you're all alone.  I know what it's like when it seems like it was just you who cared, and there was never anything there except what you imagined up for yourself.  I know how much that hurts and I just... I thought you might want someone to help take your mind off it.  That's all."

"Look," Rangiku continued after another uncomfortable stretch of silence, "...If you want to spend the rest of this trip cooped up here, that's your business and I won't bother you anymore.  But I'm not leaving either.  Enjoy your shower, Captain."

With that, Rangiku grabbed another set of towels, turned around and left out the balcony door, closing the blinds as she did so, leaving Soifon standing in place with nothing to say.  When she came back in, she passed the apparently sleeping Captain as she prepared for bed, unaware that she was lying awake, staring at nothing in the dark.

---

Rangiku sat in the restaurant the next morning, absentmindedly eating her fried egg and rice, quietly annoyed that even hours after 'talking' to Soifon she could barely taste it.  

Honestly, she was at a loss for a plan now; everything had been set up around getting Soifon out of the hotel, but it certainly looked like she was planning to sleep in and ignore her for the rest of the trip, so a backup was necessary.  There was still plenty to do in the city, she supposed, and they'd only hit a few of the really good stores at the shopping center yesterday...

"Good morning, Matsumoto."

Shaken out of her thoughts by a familiar voice, Rangiku looked up from her table to find Soifon standing up next to her, dressed in the matching hotel-provided yukata that she herself was wearing, her slightly damp black hair indicating that she'd recently come out of the onsen.  There was something different in her demeanor, almost remorseful, but there was a bit of coldness in Rangiku's tone as she acknowledged the Captain.

"Morning."

"...Is it all right if I sit with you?"

Rangiku shrugged, suddenly interested in her fruit salad, and Soifon took that as permission to sit on the corner beside her.  A waiter quickly acknowledged her, and after placing a simple order (boiled fish and miso soup), the pair were left alone, an awkward silence hanging even surrounded as they were by other patrons and guests.

"Every time you went to the human world... well, every time you came 'here,'" Soifon began, "...you always brought something back with you for everyone.  And each time you did so for me, it was always had to do with cats.  Black cats."

There was something so different about her tone-- something uncertain, vulnerable-- that despite herself, Rangiku found herself listening intently, even as she continued to focus on her food.

"I never thought much about it before, but... it wasn't a coincidence.  It was about Yoruichi-sama, wasn't it?  Was it... some kind of sign of support?"

Rangiku said nothing, only continued to steadily eat, and finally Soifon took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

"I'm... sorry for my behavior the last few days.  And for what I said to you yesterday. I know Gin Ichimaru was... very important to you and I didn't intend to remind you of--"

"Don't talk about him."

It was firm and direct and the look on Rangiku's face was so strikingly cold that Soifon recoiled instinctively, and catching herself, Rangiku sighed and turned back to her food.  It took Soifon a moment before she dared break the silence again.

"The point is... you're right.  I... I've had a terrible attitude toward you this whole time, and the reason you're here is to help me.  So... i-if you're still willing to help me have... 'fun' on this vacation... I'm willing to trust your judgment. I'm... going to try to be more open-minded and accept your advice."

For the first time since the conversation began, Rangiku stopped what she was doing and looked over at Soifon.  Aside from the rare moments her crush on Yoruichi had been readily apparent, she was so used to the stone-faced, austere, authoritative facade of the Second Division Captain that seeing her uncertain and making a sincere apology was beyond unexpected.  There was a softness about her at this very moment that made it difficult to keep giving her the cold shoulder.

"So," Rangiku spoke up eventually, "...You're willing to commit to whatever I decide to do?  No more grumbling?"

"...Yes.  I promise."

She stared at Soifon for a long moment before finally breaking into a smile, and the tension in Soifon's shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.

"Glad to hear it, Soifon."