#i think i might ust stop answering them

[leafstem]

i opened my asks again less than 24hrs ago

[rose-icosahedron]

I posted 6,027 times in 2022

493 posts created (8%)

5,534 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@milfmcyt

@theminecraftbee

@yourfriendphoenix

@violetta-mondarev

@notinterger

I tagged 542 of my posts in 2022

#bbau - 38 posts

#hermitcraft - 34 posts

#emerald does crime - 30 posts

#mcyt - 24 posts

#imbr au - 20 posts

#minecraft - 17 posts

#technoblade - 16 posts

#hermit shipping - 14 posts

#rose's minecraft lore - 14 posts

#mcytstuck - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i like read and being red icosahedorn didnt sound very intresting and i couldnt be ruby cause i usted to have a freind with that name so ros

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I would like to talk to you all about a specific interpretation of a mcyt character. Or well multiple, but let's not get into that yet.

This character, and let's call them character X for simplicity, has one interpretation of them that I have seen a few times and I'm going to go over it.

This person is an enby canonical, which is very fun. X has a brother, who they used to be close to, but due to fate they have been estranged to a point of hostility. What is this fate you may ask? Getting mind controlled by an evil entity who forces them to go around trying to destroy shit, ruining people's lives, and generally sabotaging their relationship with everyone. People don't question if they are not in control because of some circumstance of their existence that marks them as destined to be evil in the knowledge of everyone around them, and especially their brother. Character X has a black and red color scheme. They probably need a hug. Thinking about it, calling them “X” could technically work off of their name, although it might get kind of confusing.

Now the fun thing is, depending of who you are you either have one of two characters in mind now, either that or you are a very confused dsmp fan and if you are im sorry, but to everyone else:

Were you thinking about Xornoth or Ex, I wanna know.

More than that, I'm kind of thinking about these two in parallel like that now. Ngl i want them to meet.

156 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

#4

as someone who keeps doing lore stuff for minecrfat like the food post and stuff i have been forced to conclude that spiders would be used as common farm animals in minecraft

214 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#3

See the full post

438 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

#2

is this something?

636 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I have seen some people saying that they think people should stop, or will stop, creating art and stories about Technoblade because he died, and I am glad that is not the majority idea, but I have a story I wanted to tell because of this to explain where my philosophy on this comes from. A story about, surprisingly, Joe hills and a much younger Rose.

Once, about two years ago I was writing my first fanfiction and I asked Joe if he had anything to say to the Hermitcraft fanfiction writers. I think that I would not ask such a thing now, the line between what area of fan content and thoughts should be shared with the content creators is a blurred and moving line and I know for certain that that question sits on the blur, but I am nonetheless glad for the answer Joe gave me.

I don’t remember what he said exactly, and I would never be able to phrase it as well as Joe phrased it, but in summary his response, mixed with how I internalized, was basically this: The hermits are essentially folk heroes, that the fact we live in a time where folk heroes can be talked to is remarkable, but that does not change this fact: folk heroes have not control over the stories people tell about them.

In conclusion, Technoblade is a folk hero, not was, is. The man who inspired the stories is gone, but the stories will not change, nor should they. People will continue to tell stories about the same hero, whether or not he is alive because the stories are about folk heroes and folk heroes live till they are forgotten.

4,901 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ragingpancake]

Another alien planet, another "ceremonial" wedding. Only they want Rodney to marry Ronon. Rodney's resigned to it (maybe even thinks it is a little funny). Ronin's rolling with it too. John isn't jealous. No siree! Not at all.

Sorry this took me so long to write! Thank you so much for sending in the prompt! <3 @exuberantocean

He’s not jealous. He’s not. What’s it to him if the Bheirats have decided that this is the perfect time and place to celebrate a marriage, just because, you know, they came through the ‘Gate and Ronon immediately scruffed Rodney to keep him from tripping over that stupid root.

And just because Rodney couldn’t stay on his own two feet, they’ve clearly decided that the reason they’ve come is to take part in their very secret ceremony and that Rodney has to be Ronon’s intended because, you know, Ronon kept him from chipping a tooth or spraining an ankle. John doesn’t care, no matter what Teyla keeps trying to communicate with her expressive eyebrows. But if he’s a little sullen as the Bheirats lead them into their village… well, that’s nobody’s business but his own. ---

“So, I think next time, we should probably, you know, weed out the planets with super secret wedding ceremonies,” Rodney says because this is their what, seventh one this year? He looks annoyed, though vaguely amused as a Bheirati woman tries (and miserably fails) to thread flowers through his hair. It’s their seventh one, but the first time Rodney’s been married to anyone but John. John’s not keeping count or anything like that, but it does think it says something that four out of those seven marriage ceremonies had Rodney marrying him, so suck it, Dex. Not that John cares. “You know, we could just… not go along with it,” he suggests and he mentally high fives himself for how not jealous he sounds, like he hasn’t got a care in the world. “You know we must take part in the ritual if we wish to trade with them, Colonel,” Teyla admonishes gently and John’s face screws up in a look of annoyance. “I just don’t think we should force Ronon to do anything he doesn’t want to do, that’s all,” John says and Ronon shrugs. “’m good with it,” he says and there’s a smirk that makes John think that maybe Ronon knows he’s not good with it, the traitorous bastard. “Hey,” Rodney says, hands flailing as the Bheirati woman finally gives up and instead plops a flower crown on Rodney’s head. “What do you mean if he doesn’t want to do it?! I’ll have you know, I’d make an excellent husband!” No one in the room agrees with that, but John grimaces. “Look, I’m just saying that we don’t have to get married on every damn planet with a ritual! That’s all.” “Uh huh,” Ronon says and he raises his eyebrow in what almost looks like a challenge. John absolutely does not like that look. “What did you tell me about weddings on your world? Someone has a chance to stand up and challenge the marriage, right? You wanna challenge?” “I didn’t say that. He’s all yours,” John retorts, because he has some dignity and is he imagining it or does Rodney’s face fall just a little? “Good,” Ronon answers and that smirk is back. He claps McKay roughly on the shoulder, enough to nearly knock him out of his seat before he squeezes gently. “Guess we’re doin’ this then.” “I guess we are.” --- It reminds him very much of this Catholic wedding he’d been forced to go to once, in that it drags on forever. John stands stoically beside Ronon, some version of a best man, while Teyla stands beside Rodney, hand never leaving his shoulder as if trying to soothe him. John, for his part, tries (and mostly fails) to keep his eyes ahead and not look at Rodney, but every so often, he glances over and meets Rodney’s eyes for a split second before the other glances away again. John wonders if maybe he has something on his face. That’s the only reason Rodney would keep looking at him like that. Right? --- “You know,” Teyla says much later that night while they’re all celebrating the marriage, “these things would go much more smoothly if you would just talk to Doctor McKay about your feelings.” John glances at her, eyebrow raised. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She hums and John gets the distinct impression that if she had her bantos sticks, she’d beat the shit out of him for that. “Do you remember M3-X456?” “Yeah, the place that made you marry me. I remember.” “Mmhm,” Teyla responds, glancing over at where Rodney and Ronon are sitting, flower crown sitting atop of Ronon’s heavily dreaded hair where he’d plopped it earlier that night. “Rodney was very put out that the Drivots chose me to partake in the ceremony in place of him.” “What are you--…?” “I am simply saying that I do not think you are the only one who would’ve preferred to take Ronon’s place tonight.” She pats him gently on the shoulder. “I shall leave you to think on that one, Colonel.” But there’s nothing to think about, because clearly Teyla is mistaken. Rodney doesn’t--. That thought dies as he lifts his gaze and finds Rodney glancing over at him again. Huh. --- They make it back home without incident, save for Ronon’s major hangover that had him

puking up his guts in the gate room, but John thinks that it’s probably serves him right. An uncharitable thought, but a thought anyway. And it has nothing to do with jealousy! Nothing at all. Except maybe it does, just a little, and that can be the only explanation for why John calls Rodney to his office later that afternoon, looking supremely uncomfortable when the other arrives. “Listen,” he says, slouching against his desk, but he doesn’t get a chance for anything else before Rodney’s cutting him off. “No! You listen, Colonel! Just because I might not be your cup of tea doesn’t mean that others are incapable of noticing my charm and, and, and the fact that I might have more to offer than just my brain! Frankly, I’m offended that you think Conon wouldn’t want to marry me! What, do you think he’s too good for me?!” “What? Rodney, no, that’s--.” “Well! I’ll have you know that you were wrong! If anyone didn’t want to partake in that stupid ceremony, it was me! If these people are going to continue to force us into these damn things, we should at least get to choose who we marry!” And John stops short at that. “… who would you choose?” Rodney goes red at that. “No one. Absolutely no one. I have to go.” He turns and palms the door open but John stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Who would you choose, Rodney?” “… if you have to ask more than once, then you already know.” “Yeah,” John says and he tugs Rodney back to him, a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. “I’d choose you too, McKay.” John’s imagined before what it would be like to kiss Rodney, but never had he expected the butterflies and for a moment, it leaves him breathless. “Would you really?” Rodney asks when they finally break apart, blue eyes meeting hazel. “Absolutely,” John says, voice raspy, breathless even. “I mean, I’ve already married you on like, what, four other planets? I call dibs.” “You—what?” John kisses him again. “Dibs,” he murmurs against Rodney’s mouth. “But seriously, you think we can go back and get them to annul your marriage?” “You’re an idiot,” Rodney says, but there’s a fondness there. “Yeah,” John agrees. “Doesn’t hurt to check though, you know?” “Shut up and kiss me again, Sheppard.” John doesn’t need to be told twice.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi lovely 💖 I have a request for some reca for the community. I have no idea how to search for it but I have a burning need for fics involving John being a confident flirt or coming on to Sherlock and S being a blushing disaster. I know I’ve read some before (like the one where John is a wereslut lmao) but I can’t think of anymore. Anyone in the remaining hive mind got ideas? 💖💖💖 thank you for doing god’s work in these trying times and always being wonderful.

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhh I think the fics on my John Centric Fics / Sex God John masterpost might be good! 

Here’s some flirting fics, so thank you for the excuse to start a new list!! <3 Of course, if anyone has any suggestions, please add your own! <3

FLIRTING

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

The Effect of Memory by testosterone_tea (E, 6,430 w., 1 Ch. || Praise Kink, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Smut, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Confused Sherlock) – John has temporary amnesia coming off of anaesthesia after an operation and not only does he not recognize Sherlock, he starts flirting with him! After John recovers, he doesn’t remember the incident at all. But Sherlock does. Confusion ensues.

To Quote Malcolm Tucker; or, Get The Fuck In or Fuck The Fuck Off by kim47 (T, 8,484 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous Sherlock, Flirting, Cockblocking) – Sherlock is cockblocker and a prick tease and John is not amused.

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

Second Chance by SilentAuror (E, 15,816 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Post-Divorce, Friends to Lovers, UST, Romance) – Now that John's divorce has gone through and the dust is settling, Sherlock thinks that he would very much like to see if there is any possibility of moving their friendship in another direction. The only thing is, he has no idea how to go about doing that...

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Post-TRF, Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasm Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Prostate Massage, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging, Internalized Homophobia, Case as Foreplay, Anal Beads, Tickling, Dancing, Dry Coming, Romance) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

[iphoenixrising]

DickTimWeek2021 Day 2

** Day 2: Time Loop | Jealousy | Stray AU

Welp. Time to break some hearts.

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

“Did you see that thug punch himself in the face?”

“That’s the right way to get out of an ass beating by the Batman.”

Tim, still in Red Robin, doesn’t even bother, just lets his knees buckle so he can slide down to the floor and laugh until tears are rolling down the dominio still plastered on his face.

He’s riding the concussion train with 

(J)

Josephine and she’s not as bad as some of them are. 

Dick at least tosses the gloves and gauntlets before hauling Timmy’s bruised ass up off the floor, throwing the arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, you butt. Really Timmy, just laying here in your suit? Alfred would be appalled.”

“S’why I don’t go to the Manor much anymore.”

“Ooh, I’m telling. You’re going to be in so much trouble,” as he gets Tim down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Y-You can’t! You’re the oldest! Dami’s supposed to be the tattle-tale!”

“Nu-uh. As the oldest, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

And does he tell on Timmy? You bet your ass he does.

It’s nice when Alfred can look at someone else in the family with extreme disappointment.

Tim comes by the Manor the day Alfred video chats him, shuffles down to the Cave behind the butler and absolutely sticks his tongue out at Dick’s smarmy grin.

**

His apartment is a literal mess and Dick can’t be bothered to do much more than flop on the overstuffed couch with a groan. 

Still in his uni from the day shift, he’s too bruised and battered and tired to even think of suiting up for the night. He’s been running himself ragged for two months, the day and night shifts blending together along with the usual bullshit of daily human life, and he desperately needs a night of terrible television, junk food, and snuggles.

Like he’d been reading the room, Timmy walks out of his bathroom, towel around his shoulder and hair just this side of damp.

“Hey, you made it home in one piece.” Tim’s long fingers in his hair literally pulls a noise out of Dick he can’t ever remember making.

“Yeah, I drove down because you looked like death warmed over when we talked last weekend. Luckily for you I went grocery shopping, did a few loads of your laundry, and cleaned up a little so you don’t have to worry about housework.”

“I love you. Have I told you that recently? Like, so, so much–” is muffled by the couch cushions, but he thinks Tim can probably still make it all out.

“Mmhm, I know,” and the gentle scratching against his scalp doesn’t stop, and Dick goes a little boneless with it. “I even brought my Roku so we can binge watch terrible television while you eat something more substantial than cereal. Alfred is going to be so proud of you.”

A pat to his head and Timmy is off, slinging his towel on the rack, turning on the shower again to make sure it’s nice and hot for all those bruises and contusions.

He’s no-nonsense about picking up his previous mentor and best friend, literally stripping him down and manhandling him in the shower after a low whistle at the span of blue/black across Dick’s chest and ribs, the scrapes across his back and shoulders. 

The first aid kit tackle box makes an appearance because Tim plans for literally everything ever, and Dick finds himself sitting on his sink wearily while his injuries are meticulously treated.

He knows he eats something super tasty with meat and vegetables, his belly full, before Tim pulls him down on the couch and lets Dick lay against his chest, between his legs to sleepily float while watching God-awful B-movies.

It’s the most relaxing weekend he’s had in a while.

**

Dami sneers at Tim, arms crossed over his chest, the expression on his face begging Tim to try to deny it.

The third Robin however, is looking over at Dick with horror that the big secret is finally out in the open.

“Th-that isn’t– it’s not–” Tim fumbles desperately, “he’s been my big brother forever, that’s it!”

“Tt. Grayson may be painfully oblivious, Drake, but the rest of us are detectives. Even Todd knows of your feelings and he rarely even comes to the Manor!”

Tim’s soul literally leaves his body.

Dick blinks, completely taken back, mouth open without anything coming out.

Damian raises his eyes skyward and prays for patients dealing with these two. “What I am saying,” he tries, he really is trying here, “is that you two must cease and desist this pointless–” vague hand wave– “pining for one another. It is getting to the point of absurdity. I demand you two either discuss your need for one another or take this ridiculous mooning elsewhere. The rooftops of Gotham is no place for this,” another hand wave, “utter nonsense.”

Tim’s mouth goes dry, subtly backing away to be closer to the Ducati’s waiting for tonight’s ride. He’s pretty sure he has enough energy left in his shaky knees to hop on one and be the fuck out of the Cave before his face literally bursts into flames.

But, well. Dick was Batman.

His strategic retreat is stomped into the ground by acrobatic leaps and a very well done joint lock to keep him from immediately taking off.

Dami scoffs at them on his way up the winding staircase. He stops Pennyworth on the way and turns the butler to return back into the Manor proper, citing those two needed time to figure themselves out.

**

After several weeks under deep cover, Nightwing wearily hacks into Titan’s Tower and makes his way through the maze of hallways until he hits a hidden panel. 

Tim is sleeping on his desk, only one empty coffee mug at his workstation. Even dead in his boots, Nightwing can take a second just to look, just to sigh, just to enjoy how much every inch of this boy is his.

He journeys down the hall, flips the bed covers up, carries his sleeping partner in and tucks the blankets around him, a quickly there kiss to the top of messy, too-long hair. A shower in Tim’s perch literally makes everything in life a little less awful and exhausting, not enough for him to do much more than crawl in bed against Tim’s warm body and snuggle up close.

He gets breakfast in bed and blue-violet eyes looking at him with fondness rather than awe, gets coffee flavored kisses and a slow-paced back rub that continues down to his thighs and calves and feet. Later, he gets a date night in a nice restaurant and a sweet San Fran club scene for dessert. He gets to let loose and hold Tim’s body against him, to play them both until the gazes are intense and the low key UST between them makes other people on the dance floor give them space.

**

Witty banter is a primary weapon against megalomaniacal bad guys of any flavor. For some former Robins, it’s an art form.

Over the years, they’ve cultivated their dip and distraction to bounce off one another like a well-oiled vigilante machine. 

It should have been a standard take-down because it’s not one of their more dangerous, deadly villains. It’s not one of the Rogue Gallery baddies. It’s not one of the mobster families, not one of the super powered groups come to call. It’s not someone with hordes of thugs and deadly science waiting to take them down.

It’s a simple B&E, just Nightwing talking it up to draw gunfire while Red Robin is creeping up from behind to get the last laugh.

It’s one of a thousand times they’ve done this. 

It’s a guaranteed win.

It’s the last hour of patrol before they get to go back to Red’s penthouse and snuggle together, eat and show, probably have some fantastic sex before passing out.

The .45 shell, however, cuts through the suit, between armored plates. 

Going after the running baddies is automatic, taking them down, zip ties, and viola. They’re ready for GCPD to pick-up, all kinds of gift-wrapped.

When N finally realizes Red isn’t with him, isn’t answering comms, isn’t waiting for him on the roof, he goes back inside. He hits up B for a ride in the big car in case he missed –

– anything.

The pool of blood around Red Robin is more than he can afford to lose, and Nightwing has been in the vigilante life for over twenty years, has been official with Red Robin for a little over two, has personal experience on how his Baby Bird can take a mostly-fatal beating and still keep moving. He’s seen Tim come close with the Clench, with horrifying injuries, with any of the many bad guys they fight holding him hostage.

Nightwing has seen him perform literal miracles.

And tells him so the entire time he’s got Red Robin up in his arms, carrying him through Gotham’s skyline to the waiting car, falling in with Red on his lap when the familiar hatch slides back, the tourniquet already applied before he even shot a grapple. The struggling pulse is enough of a concern to get it together.

And even if they all gather to strip off the suit, and now it’s on to get vitals back to an acceptable range. Even if the Bats cry overhead, even if the equipment is top notch in the Cave, even if Dick is still talking the whole time, and Alfred is keeping a cool head and Bruce is gripping a hand and Damian is standing at the ready to hand implements and Cass is biting her thumbnail while she hovers and Steph is moving from empty space to empty space around the gurney –

The consistent beep of the flatline cuts through it all.

**

The Titans make it for the service. 

Each of them make a point to hug Dick for as long as possible, holding on tightly.

Bruce is silent and stoic, a little boy again when he has to watch someone else he loves being lowered into the cold, unforgiving ground. Another Robin taking a piece of his heart to the afterlife. 

Steph is red-eyed, a ghost moving around to individual circles, listening to stories she might not have known. 

Cass grips the coffin with bruised knuckles, her whole body wound tight as a string ready to snap. She doesn’t move the entire service, is already convinced leaving him to his own devices caused this whole thing. She doesn’t blame the thugs or Dick or Bruce. She blames the boy that never understood how much it all means.

Duke Thomas is back in Gotham, taking leave from the Outsiders to be here for the family that took him in after the Joker drove his parents insane. He hovers in the doorway to welcome mourners, direct them toward the book to sign-in, talks about Tim Drake with regular humans and other metas in disguise, accepts condolences with his throat tight and his eyes watery. He makes sure Dick has a bottle of water after the first hour, pats Damian’s shoulder, grips Bruce’s arm, weaves an arm around Cassandra’s back to give her a squeeze, obediently looks at the old pictures of Tim on Steph’s photo roll when she’s overcome and has to see that smile again.

In the back, Jason Todd wears dark shades and a clean black suit. Roy Harper is beside him, a hand on the broad back to keep him grounded, to keep the Pit rage at bay. If anyone knows how far Tim and Jason had come over the years, it’s the former Red Arrow. If anyone knows how much agony Jason is in at this moment, at another fallen brother, another Robin gone, if anyone had held the Red Hood while he screamed and cried and broke the utter fuck down, it’s Roy Harper.

Damian Wayne hovers right by Grayson’s side, silently supporting his first Batman, his first brother. Whenever Dick’s eyes start going hazy, glazing over, Damian gently grips a wrist to bring him back, allows fingers to lace through his own and tolerates the tight squeeze that obviously assists in grounding the oldest Robin. 

(Later when the night is crowding grief-stricken Wayne Manor, Damian will be the one to open Grayson’s bedroom door, lift the covers to crawl in behind him, to wind both arms tightly. He will be the one to take the onslaught of grief, to be soaked in tears and snot, to listen to the broken, hoarse voice, to make soothing hums that ultimately mean nothing.)

Alfred Pennyworth quietly talks with the funeral director about the arrangements. Of course Master Timothy would want to be laid to rest with his parents, and the family appreciates all the support and ease of process as the deceased was an important part of the Wayne family. 

When he gets a phone call, he firmly verifies the name on the tombstone is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne Grayson.

**

Exactly four days after the service, the Flash is staring at him helplessly, gripping Nightwing’s arm tight, “please, please, Dick, don’t do this. You can’t think this is the answer!”

He can barely hear Wally with the absolute destruction going on around them, the machine they’d inadvertently stumbled upon (which is a lie, Nightwing had been looking for it and the Flash basically caught him red handed). 

“You know you aren’t going to be able to stop me.” Standing between the glowing portal and Wally, debris from overhead crashing down on them at intervals, Nightwing is at his peak stubborn, “no matter how fast you are.”

“You don’t understand what’s going to happen,” Wally yells desperately as the vacuum starts pulling at Nightwing’s other arm, pulling him into–

–the Speed Force.

“You don’t have the lightning, Dick, you won’t be able to get yourself out, and I won’t have any way of tracking you!”

The small smirk as the machine’s panel starts going haywire, lights blinking and readings off the charts, makes Wally’s heart clench hard in his chest, makes him try to dig in his heels, makes his stomach tremble.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve already done this, Wally. And I’ll do it as many times as it takes until I change everything.”

The pellet Nightwing palmed before the Flash grabbed his hand goes off the same time the machine hits the highest ratings and a low boom is followed up with an intense swirling suction, pulling the heroes closer to the portal’s surface.

The light grenade goes off without a hitch and the Flash has no choice but to let Nightwing go.

**

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

[thestraggletag]

Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight​, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions. 

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

 The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd. 

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation. 

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress. 

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced. 

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief. 

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

 “A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him. 

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness. 

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her. 

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

[delicioussshame]

Socialite AU, last part! I finished a thing! Also posted on AO3 now that it’s done.

Shen Yuan had expected that the beginning of the school year would have kept Luo Binghe too busy for them to see each other more than, oh, about once a month, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Luo Binghe is obviously very smart, so maybe that’s why he can keep up so easily. His studies sure don’t seem to stop him from having Shen Yuan over at least once a week.

Luo Binghe says it’s because he cannot trust Shen Yuan to feed himself properly, something Shen Yuan himself has profusely denied. First, he’s a fully grown adult, he can cook! Second, if he doesn’t feel like it, he can order in, or pay someone to cook for him. There are no issues there! He doesn’t need to be minded.

Not that he minds being minded. Shen Yuan has eaten more than his share of delicious food, and Luo Binghe’s stands above the rest. There are worst things than travelling to Luo Binghe’s apartment and eating a freshly cooked meal.

They don’t talk about novels as much though. This is an area where Luo Binghe had to step back in favor of reading assigned manuals. Shen Yuan has spent more than one evening reading trash by himself while Luo Binghe sat nearby, throwing the occasional question his way as he studied. Not that it seemed like he needed the help.

When does he see his college friends, Shen Yuan has no idea. Luo Binghe always waves away any concern of his on this matter. Seriously, Shen Yuan is a bit worried. Does he not fit in? It seems impossible that someone as charming, not to mention as affluent, as him would be ostracised. Even Shen Yuan had managed to gather a small group of friends during his college years. Luo Binghe must have done the same, no?

If he hasn’t, his fellow students are missing out.

In that case, Shen Yuan will take him out it their place. It wouldn’t do for Binghe to be lonely.

Not that that’s likely, considering how popular he is in their circle. As far as his female compatriots are concerned, Luo Binghe is now Beijing’s most eligible bachelor.

It’s a role that suits Luo Binghe’s public persona to a tee. He flutters between ladies as if he were born into in, flirting with one and laughing with another one with an ease Shen Yuan cannot help but envy, considering his own limited contacts with the other sex.

If those interactions often ended with a pretend fight between them, neither of them would complain about it. It was fun. Much better than insulting real people and wondering later if he’d gone too far, if he’d seriously hurt someone whose crime had only been to be born in a shitty family and raised in a similarly shitty fashion. He and Binghe sometimes rehearsed lines late into the night before a party, sentences that were meant to be biting insults turning into uncontrollable laughter.

Everything was going well. Shen Yuan’s reputation was becoming so toxic it had been weeks since the last time one of his fellow socialites had dared to speak to him, which is how Shen Yuan liked it. As for Luo Binghe, he was both admired for standing up to mean Shen Yuan, and pitied for always being the receptor of his ire. Binghe was more than talented enough to use all of it to his advantage.

All in all, everything was going perfectly.

Until now. “Excuse me?” says Shen Yuan with the coldest, most disparaging tone he has managed yet.

Sha Hualing, sadly, doesn’t seem impressed. “You can deny it all you want. It’s obvious. It must drive you crazy, seeing him with us and knowing you’ll never have a chance. He’s so good, too. Made me scream so loud I’m sure the neighbors heard. Not that you’ll ever find out yourself. Keep pulling his pigtails. He knows, he’s just too nice to tell how pathetic you are.”

Shen Yuan cannot convey to Sha Hualing how utterly from left field her theory is, and how completely baffled he is, without breaking his carefully maintained aura of disgusted condescension, but he really wishes he could. “You’re insane. How could I be attracted to… that.” He winces in his head. Too much? There are probably zero people that don’t feel at least a little attracted to Luo Binghe in this room.

But if there was one, it would be him. Luo Binghe is his cute disciple and friend, not his meal ticket. Leave that to Sha Hualing and her posse.

Her answering laugh is haughty. “Not even you believe that. Anyway, I just wanted to rub it in, but now that that’s done, I got better things to do than talking to you, like him. Fuck off.”

He flips her off as she leaves. Not his most elegant moment, but not the most elegant situation.

How the fuck did she get into her sick mind that he was into Luo Binghe. She should have thought they hated each other! That they wanted to tear each other’s throats open, not tear each other’s clothes off!

… Holy fuck their characters have ust, haven’t they? Danmei isn’t his playing field, but some things are universal across gender. There is an undeniable pull to seeing two hot people seeming like they’re two seconds away from punching each other when it also seems like they might be two seconds away from… something else.

It’s the only possible interpretation. They haven’t been careful enough, and now their roles are tainted by bad tropes!

Shen Yuan is going to have to adapt his persona a bit. Let himself run even colder. Less hate, more indifference, maybe? Or maybe he could just leave Luo Binghe alone for a few parties.

It wouldn’t work! It would seem like he chickened out after Sha Hualing confronted him! It would make it appear weak!

Could he make up a girlfriend?

Nah, no one would believe it.

Fuck, he’s going to need Luo Binghe’s help on this one.

_________________

“She what!?”

“Thinks I keep picking fights with you because I’m trying to get your attention and that I’d really like for you to bend me over something, probably.”

Luo Binghe blushes bright red.

Shen Yuan restrains his mirth. Nice to see he’s not the only one terribly embarrassed by the situation!

Yes, pinching those red cheeks would only make things worse, but he’s still very tempted.

Shen Yuan soldiers on. “Binghe shouldn’t worry about things too much. His reputation is safe. Considering how well he gets on with the fairer sex,” and yes, now Shen Yuan knows way more than he ever wanted to know about Sha Hualing’s sex life, but that’s life,” no one will doubt him. If he has no idea, I’ll think of something. It’s not his problem.”

“Shizun’s problems are my problems! He wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me!”

Aww, Binghe, why is your indignation so cute!” Don’t blame yourself. We both agreed to the plan. It’s no one’s fault.”

Luo Binghe looks down, obviously still embarrassed. “I really have no idea where she got that. Shizun never appears to be attracted to me.”

“Who knows how Sha Hualing thinks. She probably watches too much porn.” He wouldn’t be surprised, considering how low-class she acted.

A second later, he catches his mistake. If Luo Binghe is… seeing her, he shouldn’t be that mean to her in his presence. “Sorry for insulting your… friend.” He doesn’t think they’re officially dating? Sha Hualing would never shut up about it, and anyway Luo Binghe wouldn’t have as much time for Shen Yuan if he was serious about someone. It’s probably just hormones raging.

Luo Binghe shakes his head. “Shizun shouldn’t apologise! She’s the one who was this rude! Implying Shizun doesn’t know how to court someone, or that he’d need such a ridiculous approach when a few words would be enough for him to have anyone! What a stupid woman.”

It’s Shen Yuan’s turn to be embarrassed. Luo Binghe is pushing the hero worship a little too far here. He’s got way more experience in that department than Shen Yuan will ever get, probably. “Well, if you don’t like her, maybe choose someone better as a partner? You could have anyone. I know it’s none of my business, and I guess she’s attractive, but really, so are many others who don’t share her… fiery temperament.”

If he were honest, he’d just tell Binghe he deserves better.

Much, much better. Didn’t he see her chatting with Liu Mingyan the other day? Now that’s a woman worthy of his Binghe, almost his equal in all fields.

Not that he needs to find someone just yet. He should take his time, and find someone he likes.

Luo Binghe snorts. “I would never choose her.”

Shen Yuan blinks. “Didn’t you?”

Luo Binghe looks wounded. “Why would you think that? I would never be with someone this cruel to Shizun!”

“But she said… oh.” Shen Yuan is an idiot. Why, why did he, even for a second, believe what that snake said? “Binghe must let me apologise. I’ve been stupid and have believed her when she said you and her were… involved.”

“Shizun mustn’t believe her! She lies!”

Shen Yuan pats Luo Binghe’s back gently. “I don’t! I don’t. She lied. I don’t believe her anymore. Of course Binghe has better tastes than this. I should have known.”

Luo Binghe raises his chin. “I do. I have the best tastes.”

Shen Yuan lets a smile appears on his face. “You do. After all, you have chosen me to guide you.”

Luo Binghe nods with almost comical vigour. “Yes!”

So! Cute! Shen Yuan wants to give him a hug!

He won’t, because he’s the dignified older friend.

Who reads bad online novels, but let’s not linger on that. “So, what do we do about her imagination? Because she cannot keep a secret to save her life, so I expect people will talk about it the next time we attend the same event.”

“…Does Shizun want… a girlfriend?”

What does that have to do with anything. “If I meet the right person, sure. Why?”

“Does it matter what they think? They never cared about Shizun to begin with. Who cares if they think he’s attracted to me. It doesn’t change a thing.”

Well, yes, but. “It makes me look pretty pathetic. It’s not exactly a fun reputation to have.”

“What does?”

“That I want someone and the best thing I can do about it is insulting them? It does make me look like a kindergartener.”

An unholy light appears in Luo Binghe’s eyes. “So what if that wasn’t the best thing you had done?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Shizun feels pathetic because he doesn’t like the idea that people think he wants someone and he doesn’t know how to get them, right? But what if he did?”

Shen Yuan is very confused right now. “Binghe?”

“We knew each other before that first party, right? So I let them know that. We could be bitter exes!”

Shen Yuan looks at him, completely frozen. “Binghe, no.” That is 100% a terrible idea.

“Why not? It would explain everything! Why we’re so mean to each other while I’m nice to everyone else, why you’re worst to me, and why there’s tension between us!”

There is no tension between them! They’re playing characters! “People would think you’re gay!”

“I’ve been flirting with women all the time. People would think I’m bi.”

“You’ve just told me you haven’t been dating! What if they think you’re hung up on me, who, by the way, is a man!”

“Is it that bad? I wouldn’t mind. Shizun is someone I would certainly be hung on if he had left me.”

“So I’m the one who left you now? That makes even less sense! Why would someone like me leave someone like you! Of course Binghe is the one who left!”

“If I were dating Shizun, I would never leave him! He has to be the one who left me!”

Shen Yuan rubs his temples. He knew the conversation wouldn’t be simple, but it has reached unprecedented levels of nonsense. “Let’s forget who left who. We’re not doing that. Binghe would ruin his reputation to only slightly better mine. That makes no sense.”

Luo Binghe pouts. “It would have worked. I would have made a very good ex-boyfriend.”

Shen Yuan pats his back again. “I’m sure you would have. I, on the other hand, would probably have been terrible at it.”

“Why?”

“How could I have pretended to not only have dated Binghe, but to have separated from him? No one would believe it. My talents aren’t up to the task. I can’t make myself look like a plausible boyfriend to Binghe.”

Luo Binghe sighs. “That’s stupid. Shizun might as well have been my boyfriend lately.”

Shen Yuan feels a headache coming. He can barely follow the logic of this conversation. “Binghe, I don’t understand.”

“Shen Yuan spends most of his evenings with me. I cook for him. He takes me out. We’ve been writing to each other for months. He’s been carefully curating my reading lists for most of those months. He has plenty of reasons why I would be dating him.”

Okay, let’s just ignore most of that. “Nothing you listed has anything to do with the character we play for those society functions? High society Shen Yuan probably only reads classic literature, when he’s not working his high-power job and, I don’t know, checking stocks or playing the guqin. Nothing appealing there. How would we have even met?”

“Via work? Maybe you had a meeting with some executive of my father. Considering my reputation, we probably just had sex and ended up dating later on.”

Shen Yuan tries to imagine being the kind of person who would see Luo Binghe and think he could just hit that.

Impossible. Does not compute. “Look, I’m just going to ignore it. It’s always worked before. We probably shouldn’t change it.”

“But things always staying the same is bad! They must evolve!”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Not necessarily. My life has mostly remained the same since I’ve graduated, and it’s perfectly fine.”

Luo Binghe flinches like a kicked puppy. “Is my arrival so unimportant to Shizun?”

Fuck. “No! That’s not what I meant! I mostly meant my romantic life!” Not really, he meant his life his general, but it is quite insulting to Binghe to imply he had no impact on his life, not to mention just an outright lie.

“That, too, should change.”

“It sure won’t if everyone thinks I’m gay.”

Under Luo Binghe’s breath, barely audible to Shen Yuan, “It’s not exactly an impediment.” Then, louder. “Let’s tell them the truth, then.”

Shen Yuan instantly panics. “Binghe, they can’t know the truth, it’ll fuck everythin-“

And that’s when Luo Binghe’s tongue finds its way into Shen Yuan’s mouth.

Shen Yuan’s mind freezes completely.

Luo Binghe keeps on kissing him.

Shen Yuan’s mind keeps trying to reboot.

Luo Binghe pushes back and sighs. “Does Shizun understand now?”

Nope. “…We can’t be exes if we’re kissing?”

“Forget the exes. Let’s just tell them we’re having sex. That’ll be the true part. We’ll just tell them it’s hate sex. I’ll tell them you’re just that good and I can’t resist you. That way, you won’t be pathetic, right?”

Shen Yuan’s slowly rebooting mind cannot decide if the “reputation for being gay” part would outweigh the “reputation for having seduced Luo Binghe” part.

Wait. “We’re having sex?”

Luo Binghe falters. “If you want to? Because I want to. A lot. But we’re pretty much dating and Shen Yuan didn’t seem to realise, so I thought maybe he’s not attracted to me, but you keep acting like I’m the best thing that ever happened to you when really, the reverse is true, and can we date already? Please?”

Shen Yuan opens his mouth.

Shen Yuan closes his mouth.

Shen Yuan tries to understand that, apparently, Luo Binghe has been trying to date him? Him? Luo Binghe? And him? As a couple? That is a thing that is apparently on the table?

Wait, Shen Yuan actually is a person who could have looked and Luo Binghe and have hit that!?

Woah.

“I…”

Luo Binghe’s eyes grow even wider as he waits for Shen Yuan’s response.

As if Shen Yuan ever had the capacity to tell Binghe no.

As if he ever wanted to. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

A second later, he gets an armful of overenthusiastic Binghe trying to choke him with too much tongue.

“But we’re not playing bitter exes.” Shen Yuan really has no belief in his ability to pretend he left Luo Binghe.

That he had him and is devastated he doesn’t anymore, sure. But that he’d manage to be cruel to Luo Binghe about it? There’s no way.

“That’s fine. I like the one with the hate sex much better anyway.”

To be honest, so does Shen Yuan.

_________________

Shen Yuan positions himself in such a way that he can track Luo Binghe’s movements across the room without looking like he’s doing more than reading on his phone.

He can tell from Sha Hualing’s particularly vicious grin that she’s about to deliver what she considers to be a crippling blow to his reputation.

He thrills when the expression melts, replaced by horror as Luo Binghe’s face turn sheepish. He can almost hear his embarrassed tone as he admits to the moral failing that is sleeping with Shen Yuan, universal pariah.

He can distinctly hear the cries of dismay and what he knows are roars of utter jealousy.

None of it shows on his face, but Shen Yuan grins.

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (7/10)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 36,959

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

Author notes: listen....we really meant it when we tagged this as comphet

read it below or read it on AO3 here

The desk did not fit. At least, not the way it should have. The first floor guest bedroom had the space, but everything about the desk's presence there felt off. It was the wrong colour, too golden-hued. It was the wrong shape. A corner desk would have suited better. It was the wrong size. Slightly too large, crowding the bed and the chest of drawers. In fact, the only thing that seemed right about it at all was the way Dani felt when she sat at it, when she sprawled her things atop it. When she sank down into the mismatched wooden chair with a sigh at the end of a long day. When she placed her bag on the ground, leaning against one of its legs. There was, finally, enough space for her to spread out, to do her work, to feel unimpeded by utensils or plates.

There was a knock at the open door behind her, and Dani turned around to see Eddie standing in the doorway, knuckles resting against the white-painted wooden surface. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she said, just as she'd told him time and time again over the last few weeks. "Of course. You don't need to keep asking me."

Even with permission, he lingered on the threshold, as though his shoulders were too broad to pass through the door frame. "Just feels weird," he said. "You being in here."

It should have felt considerate, but somehow all Dani could feel was a prickle of annoyance. She pushed it aside, swallowing down the unflagging suspicion that this was just some passive aggressive tactic aimed at her. Sometimes she wondered if that was all she ever saw because that was all she had ever been trained to see. Her mother's hand reaching through space and time to ring a bell in place of food.

Dani turned back around and straightened a few stacks of papers for wont of something to do with her hands rather than delve too deeply into that rabbit hole. "Did you need something?"

Behind her Eddie sounded puzzled. "Why? Do I have to need something to talk to you?"

J ust a question, she told herself, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Just an honest question.

"No, of course not. I was just -" Dani gave a helpless little wave of one hand, then set down the papers with a sigh. She forced a bright smile onto her face and aimed it over her shoulder towards him. "What can I do for you?"

He stepped forward, finally crossing into her space, and it were as though the entire room shrank down around him until he seemed too large. The spare bed and the drawers and the desk and the chair and Dani — always Dani — dwindled into fixtures for dollhouses. "I just wanted to know if you needed some help packing," Eddie said. "I saw your bags out in the foyer, and I thought you might want a hand. So," he gestured to himself, "here I am."

Her smile relaxed somewhat. "Thank you, but I think I have everything."

"You sure? I think we have a spare tent in the garage, if you want me to check?"

"It's fine," Dani told him, and she took a step forward to place a grateful hand on his arm. "Really. Thank you."

His answering smile was fleeting. There and gone again in an instant. "So, you're gone the whole three days?"

Dani nodded and let her hand drop back to her side. "Yeah. It's just a quick camp a few hours north and then we're back on Monday afternoon. I've set aside some leftovers in the fridge for tonight, but you might want to go over to your mom's house for the other day. Or maybe you and Carson can go out."

At this, Eddie rolled his eyes. "I can feed myself, Danielle."

"I know that," she said.

His expression was thoughtful and then he asked, "Which leftovers?"

"Pot roast."

"You really do love me," he quipped, grinning.

Dani laughed. "Of course, I do." She turned back to her desk. "I just need to finish up some parent/guardian forms, and then I'm off."

It felt odd moving about this room with Eddie here. She could feel eyes following her every motion. The tuck of hair behind her ear. The opening of a drawer to fish for spare pens.

Eddie sat on the edge of the guest bed and the mattress creaked beneath his weight, sagging slightly. "Is Hannah still scratching around for volunteers?"

"Oh, you know her," Dani said in a distracted manner as she leaned over and jotted a few notes down on a form. "She's always looking for volunteers for these things."

"Why didn't you ask me?"

Blinking, Dani paused. She leaned her weight upon one hand, palm splayed out across the desk, and frowned over her shoulder. "What?"

"Why didn't you ask if I wanted to come help?"

"Well, I -" Dani fumbled for an answer. She fiddled with the pen in her spare hand, tried to write something, then gave up and said,  "I think there were limited spaces on the camp grounds this time around. And, besides, it's usually for parents or guardians. Which - you know - you're not."

"Maybe not now," Eddie said, shrugging. "But I'd like to be soon."

She froze, going stock still, forgetting to breathe. The mattress gave a creak of complaint behind her as Eddie shifted his weight and for a brief wild moment Dani was afraid he had risen to his feet and was going to approach her, touch her gently on the bowed line of her back. She gripped the pen so tightly in her hand she could see the sharp outline of her knuckles beneath skin. Setting the pen down, Dani straightened, back ramrod straight and turned around. She did not consciously move back — away from the bed, away from him — but she could feel the edge of the desk pressing into the jut of her hip as she faced him.

"You know I'm not -" Dani cleared her throat, looking anywhere but directly at him, focusing instead on the pattern of the duvet cover. "It's not a good time."

"Don't you want kids?" he asked, and his voice was softly curious. Somehow that was worse than yelling.

Dani's mouth worked but no sound came out. "I want -" she said, "- to want them."

"What does that mean?"

"It - well, I mean - I -" It was a struggle to take a deep breath, as though the passageways of her lungs were tight and constricted. "I think we should wait. Until we're married at least. Before we have this conversation."

She could see him nodding from the edge of her vision, a slightly blurred figure with dark hair and glasses that were streaks of reflected morning sunlight that streamed through the windows. "Yeah. Of course," Eddie said. "Whenever you're ready. It doesn't have to be now."

She did not reply. Her hands were twisting themselves together behind her back. She could feel her palms sweating, going cold.

Eddie stood, taking a hesitant step closer. "Did I upset you?"

With a nervous breathy laugh, Dani shook her head. "No," she lied. "No, of course not. I just wasn't expecting it. That's all."

"All right," he said, stopping less than a pace away so he could place his broad hands gently on her shoulders. "I'm sorry if this was - if I blindsided you, or something. I thought I'd signposted it pretty early, to be honest."

"You did."

And he had. Eddie's wants and desires were always clear. He did not employ the oblique tactics that Dani was so accustomed to. The social contract he offered had always been upfront. Like a hand reaching out. An offering. A choice. One she could have disregarded from the very beginning.

If only it were that simple.

Dani touched his elbows and tried her best to smile. "I might head off a bit early. I need to go over the schedule with Hannah. You know. Make sure everything's okay before we leave."

"Yeah, sure." Eddie lowered his hands but only after he had leaned forward for a quick peck to her forehead. "And remember to have fun too, all right?"

"I will."

Ducking her head, Dani slipped from the room. She did not stop walking until she had put on her shoes in the entryway and picked up her packed bags. She did not remember to breathe properly until she was fumbling for her keys and jamming everything into the trunk of her station wagon, until she was sitting in the driver's seat and gripping the steering wheel. Eddie had trailed behind her through the house and now stood at the front door. He squinted in the early morning sunlight, lifting his hand to give her a wave.

Dani exhaled the breath she had been holding in one long thread expelled from her lungs. She turned the key in the ignition and was relieved when the engine in her dying old car actually coughed to life without coaxing. Putting it into reverse, she pulled back from the house and drove away.

Faintly, she recalled that she'd told Eddie she would meet with Hannah, but at the first stop sign Dani's hand automatically drifted towards the indicator, pushing up to the right instead of pulling down to the left. The car seemed to drive itself, requiring no input from her, until it had carried her across town, away from the school, and onto the street where Jamie lived. When she parked and turned off the engine, Dani did not immediately open the door and instead stayed put, staring through the windows at the house. The front lawn was tidy. New rose bushes had been planted all along the walkway just a week prior. By some miracle, Jamie had found the time to replace the faded old numbers on the side of the house with shiny bronze ones that gleamed.

Just a house on a street, Dani thought. Like any house on any street.

Dani left her bags in the car. She didn't even bother locking it — North Liberty hadn't seen a robbery in seven years, and the last time the perpetrator was a student who'd been caught and reprimanded within a day. Striding up to the front door, Dani hesitated there. She tried to convince herself that this was stupid. That she should just leave, go talk to Hannah like she'd said, not be a liar. At one point she turned around, took a step towards her car, then shook her head and stormed back towards the front door and knocked on it.

Footsteps down the hall, and then Jamie was standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a ratty old band t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a hole at one knee. Over the course of the last few weeks since the library visit, Dani had hoped beyond measure that she would grow accustomed to the idea of being attracted to Jamie. That the notion would lose its polish the longer she mulled over it. Instead, it seemed to buff into a mirror shine. Until even the sight of Jamie's hair pulled hastily back from her face, stray curl over the arc of her ear, was enough to distract Dani utterly.

Jamie smiled, puzzled. "Hey," she said. "Didn't expect you at - what time even is it?"

Dani's arms were wrapped tightly around her midsection. She peeled one of them back to check her wristwatch. "Um -? Seven thirty?"

"Are we late?" Jamie asked, sending a puzzled glance over Dani's shoulder, as though there might be a bus waiting for them on the street.

Dani shook her head. "No. Everyone's still meeting at the school at nine. I just -" she tried to think of some excuse — what was it she'd told Eddie? something about schedules — but all that came out was, "- wanted to be here."

Apparently that was enough. Jamie stood back already waving her inside. "Come on in, then. We'll have time for breakfast before we bail."

"Thanks," Dani said and she stepped inside.

It wasn't the first time she had been in Jamie's house since the library, but the weekly visits had slowed somewhat. Dani had actually found herself at church for the first time in what felt like months since Jamie's arrival back in town. Certainly people expressed their surprise upon seeing her there. But always inevitably she would seem to wend her way back here at the end of the day. Food in tremulous hand. Waiting to be invited in like a lost traveler seeking shelter from the elements.

The hinges creaked as Jamie closed the door behind them. Jamie frowned at the door frame. "Thought I'd fixed that bit of rust a few weeks ago. Bloody thing. Mikey!" she raised her voice and made her way further inside. "Put on the kettle!"

Footsteps down the stairs and Mikey rounded the corner into view. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "Stop yelling - Oh. Hi, Dani."

Dani waved, short and quick. "Good morning."

"Are we late?" he asked.

"No," said Jamie. "Now, go on and put on the kettle."

He rolled his eyes and wandered off towards the kitchen. "God, you're grumpy before you've eaten."

"Then put on some toast while you’re at it!" she called after him.

"All right. All right. Geeze."

Nothing had changed. Dani glanced around, took quick inventory of the space. Everything was exactly as it had been before. The faded blue sofa. The freshly painted walls. The carpet in need of replacement. And yet -

"Everything all right, Poppins?"

Dani jerked at the sound of Jamie's voice suddenly nearer to her than before. She turned to find Jamie watching her closely, a slight furrow to her brow. "Yeah," said Dani, trying to force a chipper note into her words. "Everything's great. Why?"

"Well," Jamie scratched at the back of her neck, "You look like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I'm wondering what's caused it."

Dani tried to smile, to laugh it off, but the laugh came out in a single breathy exhalation that quickly faded on the air. "There's nothing. I'm fine."

Jamie lifted an incredulous eyebrow. "Karen giving you trouble again?"

"No. No, she's behaving."

"Doesn't sound like her," Jamie muttered.

It would have been easy to throw her mother under the bus. Jamie would have believed it — and with just cause. Instead Dani's eyes darted towards the kitchen, and she lowered her voice slightly. "It's just," she cleared her throat. "People on Sunday morning asking me and Eddie all sorts of questions about - you know -"

"Getting hitched," Jamie supplied helpfully.

"Yeah. And -" She trailed off, teeth clamping shut around the words.

"And?" Jamie said slowly, encouragingly.

Shifting her weight and studying her feet, Dani said, "Kids."

Jamie made an understanding noise. "People are nosy fuckers round here, aren't they?"

That made Dani laugh. She looked up, biting her lower lip to keep a fully-fledged smile at bay. Jamie was grinning at her, but her expression softened when she said, "Listen. Fuck 'em. What goes on between you and yours is none of anyone else's business. You don't owe anyone anything. Especially not answers to questions about when you're going to be pushing out a few bairns."

Dani nodded along, but replied, "It's not that I don't like kids, or anything."

“Didn’t say otherwise. And if you didn't, then you'd be in the wrong profession."

"Probably," Dani said dryly. "It's easier, is all. When they're not yours. And every time I think about being alone in a house with a newborn baby, I just -" She trailed off, making a helpless gesture with one hand.

"Have you spoken to Ed about this?"

"Yeah."

"And?" Jamie repeated.

Dani gave a shrug.

"Shouldn't he be running interference for you? Telling people to piss off and mind their own business?"

"He does. In his own way. But it’s all - it’s very -" Dani swallowed past a burr in her throat, holding the words back. How could she say it aloud? That having a child was just another bar on the cage? People like her didn’t say that. People like her were supposed to be gushing over florals and dresses for the big day. She should have picked a venue by now. She should have made a guest list by now. She should have felt something by now. 

"Hey."

She tensed when she felt Jamie's hand on her arm, but did not move away. It shouldn't have been possible for Jamie to be half as kind, when Dani had done nothing but barge into her house unannounced at an ungodly hour, when Dani had done nothing but complain in her foyer before they could even make it to polite talk over cups of tea and slices of toast. Yet here she stood, gently grasping Dani's arm with warm fingers, looking at her as if Dani'd hung the moon on a chain.

"We honestly don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," said Jamie. "But trust me: having a kid? Completely overrated."

In spite of herself, Dani smiled, shaking her head.

"No, I mean it," Jamie continued. "They're noisy. They're smelly. They're annoying. They make a hell of a mess. And — fuck me — they're expensive."

"That's different. Mikey's different."

"Don't see how. But, hey -" Jamie winked and indicated back towards the kitchen with a jerk of her head. "If it's easier when they're not yours, then you're welcome to come boss this one around whenever you like. Better yet, get good old Ed to come 'round. He won't be making noise about having kids after a weekend of that."

"How very thoughtful of you," Dani said.

"I'm serious. Get this kid out of my hair. Please. I'm begging of you."

Jamie had taken both her hands now, imploring. Dani chuckled, twining their fingers together. They stood close enough that she could clearly see the scar at Jamie's lip even in the indirect light of the entryway. The callouses on Jamie's hands were rough, but her grin was soft. Dani tried to remember to breathe, but found she couldn't when faced with the graze of Jamie's fingertips at the undersides of her wrists.

"Are you two going to hold hands all morning, or do you actually want tea?"

Dani jerked her hands away. Mikey was standing in the door leading to the kitchen, looking exasperated. 

Jamie turned around with a roll of her eyes. "I don't smell burnt toast," she said. "So either you finally figured out what setting to put the toaster at, or you haven't made any."

"I worked out that setting weeks ago."

"Sure you did, Einstein."

Indignant, Mikey stomped back into the kitchen and re-emerged with a plate of toast piled up high as proof.

Jamie reached out, grabbed a piece of toast and stuck one of the corners into her mouth for a bite. "Cheers, mate," she said around a mouthful.

Dani watched the slow realization dawn on Mikey's face that he'd been tricked into bringing out breakfast. His face crumpled up in sheer annoyance.

"God, you're so -!" he started to say, but stopped.

Jamie waited for him to finish his sentence. When he didn't, she gestured with the toast and looked disappointed. "What? That's it? Weak."

"You can pour your own tea," he grumbled and then slouched right back into the kitchen.

"At least leave the plate!" Jamie called out but even as she spoke she trailed after him, pausing to glance over her shoulder at Dani. "You hungry?"

Dani's stomach was still roiling, but she nodded and forced a smile into place. "I could eat."

"Well, c'mon then. You know where everything is."

Straightening her shoulders, Dani followed. She could do this, she told herself. It was just a weekend. It was just Jamie. And the kids would be there. She would have work; she would be too busy to think about — anything silly. It would be over before she even realised it, and she would return wondering why she had even spent the last few weeks panicking.

She could handle this.

--

She could not handle this.

"I'm sorry," said Dani, blinking rapidly and lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of sunlight. "Can you repeat that? I don't think I heard you properly."

The air was muggy and thick with the buzzing of flies. Late afternoon sunlight streamed over the tops of an endless canopy of pine trees, slanting shadows across the large clearing in which the camp grounds and their assorted buildings were situated. The faded school buses had long since unloaded and were now pulling away with a tell-tale gasp of the doors sliding shut. Kids milled about, overly excited to be free after four hours of being cooped up in buses.

It was loud. And warm. And in her haste to leave the house this morning Dani had forgotten her hat.

"Well, the bunks are all full," Hannah said, pointing towards a few of the timber buildings with her clipboard. "And it appears that we forgot to load all the tents into the buses this morning. Though, I was sure I'd counted them twice." Hannah frowned down at the clipboard, lifting a page delicately to see the checklist.

Dani nodded, trying to get a better look at the clipboard's notes. "No, I got that. But - you said something about sharing? You mean one of the rooms, right?"

Hannah let the page drift back down and clasped the clipboard to her chest. She aimed an apologetic grimace at Dani. "I'm afraid the bunks are for the children, and the rooms are for camp staff. Teachers, parents, and guardians were supposed to each have their own tent, but -" she shrugged helplessly. "- needs must."

"Right," Dani said, faintly. "You - uh - you also mentioned -" She slapped absently at a mosquito that landed on her arm. "- Jamie?"

"I had assumed that because you and Miss Taylor are friends, you wouldn't mind doubling up. Most of the adults seem to have paired off already. Although," Hannah glanced around, looking thoughtful. "I do believe Mrs. Pullman's tent is still available, if you'd like me to ask her?"

Dani made an abortive motion to stop Hannah and said quickly, "No! I mean -" she cleared her throat and continued in a lower tone, "I wouldn't want to put Jackie out."

Indeed, the only thing worse than sharing a tent with Jamie would be having to share a tent with Jackie Pullman. And Hell would freeze over before Jackie let Jamie share a tent with her.

Briefly, Dani entertained the idea of high-tailing it all the way back to civilization by herself and hitch-hiking to North Liberty. Blisters on her feet and the possibility of poor conversation with her future axe murderer would be a low price to pay in exchange. She had started chewing on the skin of her thumb before she could even realize it, and only stopped when she felt a gentle hand on her elbow.

"I do apologize for the oversight," Hannah said. "If it makes you feel any better, it appears I will be the one saddled with Mrs. Pullman."

"Oh, Hannah. You really are a martyr."

"Don't let my suffering be in vain," Hannah said under her breath, sharing a wicked little smile with her. Her eyes drifted to a spot over Dani's shoulder, and her expression hardened. "No, Mr. Loving! We discussed this! The bonfire isn't starting until sunset!"

And with one last harried look shared with Dani, Hannah was striding off, chastening a small group of kids who had gathered around the unlit fire pit in the hope that they might be able to indulge in some early afternoon arson.

Dani stood there, unsure of what to do with herself. All her bags were still at her feet. She chewed at her lower lip and wished she had let Eddie dig out that old tent from the garage earlier this morning. Then, she sighed and picked up her things. Slinging a bag over her shoulder, she put her rolled up sleeping bag and mat beneath her arms.  

It did not take long to find the nearby tent grounds. A flat space had been cleared of rocks and branches by staff, and was now filled with pairs of adults bickering over how best to erect a tent. Some recognized her as she passed, lifting their hands for a wave of acknowledgement before returning to their tasks. Most were  too wrapped up in their efforts to take any notice of her presence. And one or two had already succeeded, and were chatting amiably with their neighbors.

Dani drifted between the rows until she saw a familiar figure bent over double. Jamie was squatting down on her haunches, neatly arraying a deflated tent along the ground as though it were a sheet. Long thin poles had already been assembled and were awaiting further use.

Dani's steps had slowed as she approached. Jamie's head was bowed as she worked; she hadn't noticed Dani yet. A flannel shirt had been rolled up Jamie's forearms. The hem of the shirt draped along Jamie's bare legs, and Dani found herself tracing the length of Jamie's bare thighs with her eyes — surely those shorts weren't suitable for hiking or whatever activities usually happened at camp grounds; far too short, far far too short — until she swallowed and jerked her gaze up sharply towards the distant treeline.

Steeling herself with a shake of her head, Dani stopped behind her and said, "It looks like you have everything all under control over here."

Jamie put a few finishing touches on the tent as she answered, "Could still use a hand, if you're offering."

Dani nodded before she realized that Jamie couldn't see it. Then she set down her bags. "Where do you want me?"

Jamie waved towards the corner of the tent angled directly across from her. "On that side? I'm going to thread this thing through to you."

It was a relief, having something to do other than stand idly by. Something she could concentrate on besides the distracting strands of hair that had escaped the bandana tied around Jamie's head. Together they had the tent up in no time. No bickering necessary. Though Jamie did wince in sympathy when Dani accidentally whacked her own finger with a small mallet while ramming pegs into the ground to hold the tent down.

"You all right, there?" Jamie reached for Dani's hand.

Jerking her hand back, Dani stuck her injured finger into her mouth. "Fine," she mumbled around it.

Because of course she had looked up mid swing right when Jamie was standing to stretch, hands on her lower back, eyes closed and groaning faintly from crouching over for so long.

"Pass that over, then," Jamie said with a gesture towards the mallet.

Dani did so, careful so that their hands did not brush. Jamie made quick work of the last tent peg and soon she was unzipping the entrance and pushing the flap aside.

"Right or left?"

Clutching her bags to her chest, Dani said, "Uh - left?"

They set up their sleeping bags side by side. Dani was quietly horrified at just how close. There was barely enough room in the tent for their bags to line the base along the flimsy plastic canvas walls. At most they had a fistful of space between their sleeping arrangements, and she watched Jamie kneel on her sleeping bag and fluff up a pillow with a warm sinking feeling in her gut.

"You were just saying you missed sleep overs," Jamie said, grinning impishly over her shoulder. "This counts, doesn't it?"

"Mmm," Dani said with a wordless nod, chewing at her lower lip.

"Don't suppose you brought a saucy book? For old time's sake."

"I can't say I have," Dani said.

Jamie tutted. "Shame."

Dani was staring now. She was staring and Jamie was flopping down atop her sleeping bag, sprawled and spread-eagled with a sigh towards the arched ceiling of their tent. Swallowing thickly, Dani gave her head a little shake and tried to stand too quickly. Her head hit the top of the tent. Immediately she ducked back down, shoulders hunched, hands restless, trying to look everywhere but at Jamie, who was staring up at her in confusion.

"Excuse me," said Dani, settling her hands at her hips only to clench them at her sides. "I'm going to check in with Hannah and see if she needs any help."

Without waiting for a reply, she clambered gracelessly from the tent. As Dani fumbled to put her shoes back on outside, she heard Jamie's voice call after her, "See you at the bonfire, yeah?"

"Yeah! See you!" Dani replied, hoping beyond hope that her voice didn't carry a forced cheer and wincing when it inevitably did.

She strode off without a backward glance, eyes glued to the ground until she had passed the line of tents adjoining the main clearing. There, the small handful of camp counselors had begun wrangling kids into group activities. Several parents, too, had been roped into coming along to ensure that no one counselor was left with too many children to handle.

Hannah stood out like a rose amongst thorns, dressed all in regal reds and browns. She directed events around her as easily as a stone directed the flow of water. When Dani approached, she lit up with a warm smile. "All settled?"

"Yeah. All -" Dani waved back the way she'd come without looking around. "All good. What can I do to help?"

"Always eager. That's one of the things I like about you." Hannah said, then addressed her omnipresent clipboard. "There's a painting group just 'round the tables there, if you're keen. Otherwise, I have Mr. Dudley taking the kids on a small trek to the lake and back."

"The lake," said Dani quickly. "I'll go on the hike."

Anything to get away. Just for a while. Just to clear her head.

Hannah cast a quick glance down at her tennis shoes. "Are you going to be all right in those, dear?"

"Why? Are there many hills?"

"We are still in Iowa," Hannah said dryly. "So, no. And fair point. I believe you can catch the group at that old stump. The one at the front of the property? We would've driven by it on the way in."

Already nodding and starting to walk away, Dani assured her, "I know it. Thank you!"

"Take some sunscreen!" Hannah called after her, using the side of the clipboard by her mouth like a megaphone. "And a hat!"

But Dani was already trotting along, eager to be away. She barely managed to catch Mr. Dudley and the counselor leading the group of kids away like Pied Pipers through the trees. She had to jog to catch up to the tail end of the group and introduce herself to the counselor with a shake of her hand and a too-broad smile. Behind her the campgrounds dwindled behind the ever thickening boughs of trees closing in around them, until the world narrowed down to a warren of pine needles and dappled sunlight.

The lake was not far and it was far smaller than Dani had anticipated. When they arrived, several kids went sprinting ahead. Dani and the counselor had to dart forward and grab a few to keep them from splashing headlong off the small dock and into the water. Arms full of squirming eight year old, Dani swung the kid around by his torso until he laughed. She placed him back on the dock and off he went, dashing back to the others. The counselor hadn't been so lucky and was busy fishing another boy from the water with stern words.

"Swimming is tomorrow! Please! Out of the water!"

"Matthew!" Dani said, her tone warning. "Don't make me get your mother!"

The threat of parental involvement was enough and Matthew scrambled back onto the dock, dripping wet. The counselor mouthed a silent 'thank you' at Dani, who shrugged.

By the time they returned, dusk was washing lavender across the land. Several bonfires had been lit around the main campgrounds, casting their sparks into the sky as camp staff and teachers alike hauled spare wood and supplies closer to hand. Most of the parents were keeping kids occupied until the fires were ready for them. Dani's eyes cast about in search of a familiar head of dark curls, but instead she found Hannah sitting at a table full of camping equipment.

"I told you to wear sunscreen," Hannah sighed and shook her head with exasperation. "Honestly."

Dani lifted a hand to her cheek, pressing warm fingers to the skin there. "Oh, no. Is it really bad?"

Hannah grimaced. "I've seen worse. Luckily, we did not leave aloe vera behind. You'll need it."

"Sorry." Dani lowered her hand. "Anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Hannah gave a huff of laughter. "You're almost as bad as that new baker in town." Then she nodded towards one of the buildings. "Can you help bring in some of the ingredients for s'mores from the kitchens? I've no idea what those are, but I've been told they involve a great deal of sugar, so at least the kids will crash later."

"You've never had s'mores?"

"Very American."

"Huh," Dani said. "All right. I'll be back."

She turned to leave, but paused when she heard Hannah say, "Miss Clayton. A moment." And when she glanced back around Hannah was holding out a broad-brimmed straw hat towards her.

"Here."

"Oh," Dani hesitated to take it. "Is this yours?"

"One of the counselor's," Hannah explained and she shook it gently. "Don't worry. It's a spare. You're not putting anybody out."

Dani took it and tugged it over her head. "Thank you."

Hannah smiled. "Off you hop, now."

Tucking a few flyaways beneath the brim, Dani started towards the kitchens. As she rounded the corner, she nearly ran flat out into Jackie Pullman. The two of them repelled from each other like a pair of magnets. Jackie barely spared her a glance and a murmured, "Danielle," before she was striding briskly towards one of the campfires. Dani frowned after her in puzzlement. Then, shaking her head, she continued on, pulling open the creaking back door to the kitchens.

She was greeted with the sound of clanging pots and pans, cupboards being rapidly opened and shut. Slowly, Dani let the door close behind her. She stared at Jamie's back as Jamie, shoulders tense, slammed a lid down on a pot larger than her torso.

"Fucking hell, Jackie, give it up. I told you: I won't -" Jamie turned around and froze in place. "Oh. It's you."

Lifting her hand in a small wave, Dani said, "Hi. You - uh - looking for something?"

Jamie cleared her throat. "Yeah. A key. For -" She pointed towards a set of stainless steel doors that were locked with a chain and led to a walk-in refrigerator that could have fit a small slaughterhouse. "Some moron thought it was a great idea to put all the chocolate in there so it wouldn't melt, but failed to put the key back on its ring."

There were a series of hooks on the wall near the door, from which all manner of keys dangled. "Have you tried all of these?" Dani asked.

"Yup," said Jamie. She crouched down, returning to her search by way of opening a set of cupboards beneath a workstation. "None of them work."

"Okay," Dani murmured thoughtfully. Hands on her hips, she glanced around and began to join the search. She was patting down the top of a high shelf by the door, stretching up on her toes to reach, when she asked, "What did Jackie want?"

Behind her she could hear Jamie slam the cupboards shut. "Who cares?"

"Is she still bothering you?" Dani asked incredulously. "It's been years. I'm surprised she even remembers your name."

For some reason that was funny for Jamie let loose a bark of laughter. "No. She's not bothering me. Just wanting to buy my silence."

Brow furrowing, Dani's hand curled around something small and metallic. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say I know some unflattering things from our high school days, and leave it at that."

"So much for there being no secrets in this town," Dani said. She sank back down to her heels. "I found the key, by the way."

Jamie whirled around. "What? Bullshit. Already?"

Dani held up the key as proof.

"Fuck's sake," Jamie grumbled. "I've been looking for ages, and of course you just waltz in and stumble across it. Where was it?"

Dani gestured towards the high shelf nearest the exit. "I figured maybe someone tall might have left it somewhere on their way out. And, well, that seemed like the logical place."

"How?" Jamie asked, looking flabbergasted. "How is that logical?"

Dani shrugged. "I've lived with tall guys for a long time, I guess."

Slowly Jamie deflated. She raked a hand through her hair, taking off her bandana as she went and stuffing it into her pocket. "Aye. Fair enough. Let's get this thing open, then. Shall we?"

A few steps. A turn of the key in the lock. The chain fell away like a serpent wrapped around the barred handles, and Dani pulled the doors open. They were greeted with a wall of cool air. Among the stockpiles of food for the weekend were stacks of chocolate bars in their tell-tale brown wrapping. Dani grabbed as much as she could, piling up with chocolate and bags of marshmallows until they were perched precariously in her arms.

"All right," she said, starting towards the exit. "If you grab the boxes of graham crackers, can you get the doors for me?"

"On it."

True to her word, Jamie did exactly that. This time when they left, Jamie put the refrigerator key back on its proper hook, pointed at it sternly as though it might go running off, then grabbed the door with her free hand. Dani walked through, peering carefully around the items in her arms so that she didn't trip. And though there was nothing in her path, she felt something tug hard at one ankle and she stopped before she could trip.

"What -?" She tried to get a decent look at her feet, but couldn't see properly.

"Untied shoelace," Jamie said, coming up alongside her. "Here. I'll get it."

"It's fine. You don't have to -"

But Jamie was already setting down her haul of graham crackers. When Jamie knelt at her feet, Dani went rigid, her spine stiff and straight. Eyes wide, she looked down. From this angle she could just make out the bob of Jamie's head as Jamie tied her shoe. Dani held her breath and tried not to imagine threading her fingers through dark curls as Jamie glanced up at her with a crooked smirk and a dangerous glint in her gaze.

"All done." Jamie gathered everything off the ground and rose to her feet. "That should tide you over."

"Mmm," Dani hummed and gave a wordless nod. She looked anywhere but at Jamie, shifting her grip upon the items in her arms. "The - The kids are probably going nuts without this stuff. Did they even have time for dinner?"

"Late lunch seemed to tide them over. They'll have a big breakfast tomorrow as well, I imagine."

They walked and soon they were distributing various items out to all the groups, each campfire sequestered off like chambers of an organ. The sky still held a tell-tale hint of dusk, but it was swiftly fading upon the horizon. Soon only fire pits and handheld flashlights and a crescent moon parted the gloom.

Jamie joined her in monitoring a group of kids around one of the fires. She kept them amused while Dani spent her time quelling mischief and keeping an eight year old from singing his jeans in the fire when he knelt down to try and rescue a marshmallow lost to the embers. Hannah watched this with an air of quiet amusement, seated on a log beside Jamie, slowly roasting a marshmallow a golden hue.

"Did you know," one of the camp counselors said in a hushed voice, "that these very grounds are haunted?"

That caused an immediate hush to fall and a group of breathlessly curious young faces turned to look at him.

"Ghosts aren't real," said one girl.

The counselor chuckled darkly. "Is that so? Then you won't mind if I tell you all the story?"

It was, by and large, a silly story. Dani found herself rolling her eyes more than once as he hammed it up for the children, making them gasp and recoil and even laugh. By the end he was feeding them some nonsense about how this was a cautionary tale and to always keep one eye open at night. Dani and Hannah clapped politely when he had finished, and he stood to give a theatrical bow, ignoring the bits of marshmallow thrown at him by the kids with their chorus of giggles.

"Another!" one of the kids yelled.

"Yeah! Another!"

"All right. That's enough, now," Hannah admonished calmly. "Let the man enjoy his s'mores as well."

"I have a story."

The words were quiet, but everyone stopped to listen, turning towards Jamie, who had remained removed from the general kerfuffle at Hannah's side.

"Only," she continued, her voice soft and grave. "It's not my story. And it's quite long."

A questioning look towards Hannah, who shrugged and made an expansive gesture for Jamie to take the stage. Jamie stayed put. She idly rubbed a stick between her palms, something she had picked up off the floor earlier and had been using as a skewer. Elbows on her knees, her face was illuminated by the flickering glow of the fire, her eyes bright and dark all at once in the night.

Dani sat on an adjacent log, utterly entranced by the movement of light across Jamie's face. And she was not the only one, it seemed. All eyes were upon Jamie as she spun up her tale. Her accent was as brisk as the crackle and pop of the flames, branches of blackened wood slipping against one another and slumping in a cascade of sparks at just the right moment. There was no laughter in Jamie's ghost story. Only a breathless anticipation for the end. Until, at last, it was time for the students to go to bed.

"Isn't she going to finish it?" one of them asked. None of the kids had moved from their spots. They hung off Jamie's every word, wide-eyed.

Jamie winked. "Maybe tomorrow, if you're very good, I'll tell you more."

Another piped up, "But what's the ending? Can you just skip the scary stuff and give us the ending?"

Jamie leaned back, casting the stick into the fire. "Can't. There isn't one. She's still beneath those waters, you see. And every night, she wakes. She walks. She sleeps."

A profound silence followed this statement, broken only by the dying crackle of the fire and the footsteps of the other groups of kids making their way towards their cabins.

"Let's get you all to bed," Dani interrupted. She stood and clapped her hands together, making her voice as cheery as possible, "Let's go, everyone! Follow your counselor! Don't wander off!"

"You're going to give them nightmares," Hannah chided under her breath as the kids all grumbled and went off into the night.

"Ah, they'll be fine," Jamie said. "You give them too little credit."

"Miss Clayton. Weigh in. Too scary? Or not?"

Blinking, Dani turned to find them both watching her over the fire. Their figures were blurred slightly through smoke and spark and heat haze. "Well," she said. "I think kids are more resilient than we sometimes expect."

Jamie looked at Hannah and pointed triumphantly in Dani's direction.

"But -" Dani continued sternly. "I also think some of them aren't going to want to swim in the lake tomorrow after hearing that story."

With a sigh, Jamie dug around in one of the deep pockets of her flannel. "Fine. I concede. Will this get you two off my back?"

When she produced a hip flask that glinted in the light, Hannah gave a scoff of laughter. "It's a start. Hand it over, Miss Taylor."

Jamie made a face. "Please. Just Jamie."

"I'll consider it," Hannah held out her hand. "If you help Miss Clayton and I clean up before going to bed."

Jamie passed over the flask with a grin. "Didn't realize that wasn't an option." Then she glanced towards Dani, who was still standing, and patted the space on the log beside her.

Dani hesitated a moment. She wrapped her hands around her middle as she circled the fire to take a seat at Jamie's side, careful to keep a hand's distance between them. Jamie gave her an odd look for her discretion, but did not mention it. Just a crinkle in her brow that was gone as swiftly as it had arrived.

When the flask made the rounds and ended up in Dani's hand, she tipped her head back for a swig. The alcohol burned all the way down. "Jesus, what is this?" she mumbled, lifting the flask to her nose for a quick sniff. "Aftershave?"

"Rye whiskey," Jamie answered.

Dani crinkled her nose.

Jamie laughed and knocked their shoulders together, then held out her hand to make a grab for the flask. "Well, if you don't want it -"

"I didn't say that." Dani took another heady swallow before passing it back.

"Feels like I'm sixteen again and sneaking booze into school," Jamie said, shaking her head with a chuckle.

"Sanctioned booze this time," Hannah replied.

Jamie raised the flask in her direction. "Cheers."

There was conversation and there was the snap of the fire and the exchange of the flask until it was drained dry. And then there was the clean up, their good nights, and Dani and Jamie stumbling their way through the dark towards their tent. The alcohol was a warm pool in Dani's stomach that flushed out all the way to her fingertips. Not enough to stagger or slur — not nearly enough — but enough to make her hyper aware of her surroundings. It was a crawling buzz beneath her skin. She focused on the uneven ground beneath her shoes instead of on the woman walking along beside her.

"Wish we'd gotten a torch," Jamie grumbled when their shoulders bumped together accidentally and Dani leapt apart as though scalded. "Fuck, but it's dark out."

"I'll grab one for us tomorrow."

They kept their voices down as they wove their way through the miasma of pitched tents. Most of the others had gone to sleep long before them. And only God knew when Hannah would finally allow herself to rest. Last they'd seen of her, she had been checking in with a few staff members in the kitchen to ensure the rest of the weekend went as smoothly.

"Do you remember what it looks like?" Dani asked. They had paused yet again in front of a tent, squinting through the night air to determine if this one belonged to them.

"Think it was red?" Jamie supplied helpfully. "Or maybe green?"

"Those are literally opposite colors."

"Well, it's not my bloody tent. How am I supposed to know?"

"Would you two keep it down out there?" a voice from inside the tent they were hovering outside of grumbled.

Both Dani and Jamie grimaced at one another in shared embarrassment. "Sorry!" Dani said as they scurried along to the next tent.

Jamie bit back a laugh, her eyes glittering through the dark. Dani elbowed her lightly in the ribs and whispered, "Stop that. You're going to make me laugh."

"Fuck. I think that was Jackie."

"Shh!"

"What? You don't want to mess with her? Not even a little?"

"Oh, my god. Just go. Go go!"

In the end their eyes adjusted and the tent was blue.

"I'm blind," Jamie said, hopping up and down as she tugged at one of her boots. "Blind as a bat. I'm going to need glasses like Nan. This is a disaster."

Dani fumbled with the front panel of the tent, trying to find the zipper. She already stood on her own removed shoes in a futile attempt to keep her socks clean. When she found it and tugged, the zipper made a noise like ripping canvas that in the dead quiet of the camp grounds might as well have been a growl of thunder.

"Shh," Jamie shushed her, laughing softly.

"I'm trying!" Dani hissed, but going slower only seemed to make it worse.

The moment the flap was open enough, they tumbled inside and Dani pulled the zipper back in place as quickly as possible. Like pulling off a band-aid. Crouched over, Dani took another step and immediately bumped into Jamie. In here there was no space to get away, nowhere to put distance between them, and Dani's attempts to shrink back were met with her elbow bulging out the side of the tent until she was forced to retreat towards the center once more.

"Hold on a minute," Jamie mumbled.

When she dropped to her hands and knees, Dani had to grit her teeth and remind herself to breathe. Jamie was patting around the ground by Dani's feet. One of her arms brushed against Dani's bare calf and Dani could make out the bowed shape of her, the silhouette of her clothes and the warmth of her shadow.

"Found it." There was a click, and a column of light pierced through the dark, illuminating the bottom of Jamie's face. "It's not much, but we can at least get into pajamas without tripping over each other."

Mouth dry, Dani nodded. "Right."

Jamie didn't bother standing upright. Instead, she scooted towards her bag and began looting around through it for clothes. As she discarded her flannel and began pulling her shirt over her head, Dani turned abruptly around.

Just two nights, Dani told herself. Just two. She could do this. She could -

She really shouldn't have allowed herself to indulge in even a few swigs of whiskey. It led far too easily to other indulgences. Thoughts of warm skin and warm smiles to ward off the cold of the star-riddled night. Shaking her head, Dani began unbuttoning her own shirt.

Jamie was already fussing with the angle of her pillow just so when Dani slipped into her own sleeping bag. She waited until Dani had settled in then flicked off the flashlight, plunging them into darkness once more. Flat on her back, Dani lifted the edge of the sleeping bag to her chin and stared up at the arched canvas ceiling.

"Nice nightgown, granny."

Dani tensed at the sound of Jamie's voice, soft and so close through the darkness. When the teasing words finally registered, she exhaled a laugh. She rolled onto her side, only to find Jamie already facing her. 

“It’s comfortable,” Dani insisted.

“Looks cold.”

“I can pull on a sweater over it, if I need to.”

“What if you have to jump up in the middle of the night and all you’re wearing is a skimpy dress?”

“It goes down almost to my ankles, Jamie. And why would I go running around in the night?”

“I dunno. Kids are mental.” 

Jamie’s grin glinted through the shadows. Dani swatted at the nearby edge of Jamie’s sleeping bag and said pointedly, “Good night.”

As she rolled onto her back once more, she could hear Jamie chuckling and shifting around. There followed a soft reply, “Night,” and Jamie was silent.

Dani shut her eyes. She tried not to focus on noises in the dark, but the uncertainty of a new place did not lend itself to sleep. She was far-flung. The longer she lay there, the more it felt that the bands of metal keeping their tent upright were a set of ribs and the wind shuddered the canvas around them. 

By the next morning she’d gotten not a whit of shut-eye. There were gaps in the night, gaps in which she surely must have slept but which she remembered nothing of. There was only the lingering tension of straining for Jamie’s every errant movement, the sound of her breathing, the rustle of her sleeping bag. Knowing she was close enough to touch, but far enough that Dani could not reach out. Knowing that as children they would have zipped their two sleeping bags together and talked in hushed whispers through the night, chased the coming dawn with muffled laughter.

Except now Dani was furtively pulling on a fresh set of clothes before Jamie could wake up and look at her, and dawn was a saffron colored suggestion peeking through a pinhole gap in the tent’s zipper. She didn’t need a mirror to know that there would be dark circles beneath her eyes and that the hair pulled into a braid over one shoulder was a mess. 

Jamie began to shift awake, her ribs expanding and shrinking under her t-shirt in a deep breath. “Morning,” Dani murmured as Jamie rolled onto her back and rubbed at her face. 

“Morning,” Jamie grunted in her hand, her voice rough from sleep, her hair a disheveled mess. 

When she removed her hand, stretching out against the sleeping mat, she blinked up at Dani with a slow lethargic smile that made Dani pause. “Reckon this place has proper tea and a kettle lying around somewhere?” Jamie asked. 

Smothering down the urge to bolt from this display of a half-awake Jamie, unguarded and unkempt in a way that was far too familiar and intimate, Dani said, “You didn’t think to bring your own?”

Jamie groaned, “Fuck,” and turned to bury her head back into her sleeping bag. 

Chuckling lightly, Dani took her morning dose of her inhaler and stuffed it back into her bag. She slipped out of the tent, valiantly pretending she wasn’t running away from the confined space that felt as though it was getting smaller by the second in the encroaching daylight where she could see clearly just how close Jamie lay next to her. She zipped the tent back up and departed towards the mess hall that even so early in the day was occupied by a few camp staff and teachers and parents looking for breakfast to fuel their morning. Dani helped herself to a pre-wrapped sandwich and coffee that may as well have been tar, but didn’t stop Dani from two helpings of it. Anything to get her through the day. 

By the time she was walking back towards the tent, she carried with her another sandwich and a cup of tea that she had indeed procured from a fold out table that held a basket of teabags and an electric kettle. When the blue tent came in sight, Jamie was pushing out of the entrance in jeans ripped open at the knees and a t-shirt and flannel, shoving her feet into heavy outdoor boots.

When Jamie spotted her, her expression brightened into a grin. “Is that what I think it is?” she said, grabbing for the plastic cup of tea. “Oh, you’re a star.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Dani said, wincing lightly. “If the coffee was any indication, then I’m pretty sure this is barely up to even my standards.”

Jamie made a face of distaste, but still braved a small sip. Her expression gave nothing away for a long moment until she met Dani’s eyes with a piercing, dry stare. 

“It wasn’t me this time, I swear,” Dani said.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“I did warn you it was bad.”

Jamie chuckled and nodded concedingly. “You did. Nothing quite like being poisoned first thing in the morning,” she said, and pressed the cup back into Dani’s hand, “Now, please. Chuck it down the sink where it belongs.”

When Dani handed Jamie her sandwich however, the corner of Jamie’s mouth quirked into a crooked grin as her eyes flitted over Dani’s face. “Y’know,” she started, and pulled out a familiar white bottle from her back pocket, “A little birdie told me that you forgot to put on sunscreen yesterday.”

Feeling her cheeks warm, Dani took the bottle of sunscreen that was handed to her. “I was managing just fine,” she said.

Jamie snorted. “So you’re turning into a tomato for absolutely no reason in particular then?”

In response, Dani glared as Jamie began opening her sandwich wrapping with a look of innocent curiosity. “I was going to put aloe vera on it tonight,” Dani muttered, handing the cup of tea back to pop open the bottle. Jamie just nodded indulgently as she ate. 

Rolling her eyes, Dani began smoothing sunscreen across her exposed skin, warm under Jamie’s amused stare, the smell of sunscreen sharp and familiar. When she was done, her skin feeling far more greasy than it had before, she gestured weakly to Jamie with the bottle, trying not to stare at the smooth skin of Jamie’s neck. “Did you -?”

Jamie hummed and nodded. “Just before you got back,” she said, and then twirled a finger, “Spin around. Let’s see if you managed to get all of you covered before you wither away before the day’s over.”

Huffing and giving Jamie a look, Dani obediently turned around, pulling her braid over her shoulder. She heard Jamie hiss softly behind her in sympathy. “Does it look bad?” Dani asked. 

“Not terribly,” Jamie said unconvincingly, “Got your bases covered, though it does look a bit painful.”

It did feel tender and hot to the touch when Dani had smoothed a hand over the back of her neck and exposed sections of her shoulders, but not so much as to be exceedingly distracting or painful. Before Dani could even say as much, she felt a soft cool breeze being blown against her heated neck, fluttering fair wisps of her hair and spreading goosebumps along her skin. Dani sucked in a low breath and froze, her spine stiff. 

“Better?” Jamie said. 

Swallowing hard, Dani nodded, managing to choke out, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Jamie said, and without warning, she tapped her hand hard on the sensitive skin of her neck.

With a yelp, Dani jerked around to glare witheringly at Jamie, brandishing the bottle of sunscreen like a weapon. Jamie laughed and bounced away, biting into her sandwich with a bright glint in her eyes as she started towards the mess hall at a brisk pace, no doubt reading the threat of retribution in Dani’s expression. 

With a roll of her eyes, the camp slowly coming to life around her, Dani delved back into the tent to toss aside the sunscreen bottle and to retrieve the straw hat she had forgotten in her haste. Retribution would have to wait, knowing she had a full day ahead of herding dozens of kids through activities she was less than fully equipped to handle. Not like Jamie, who managed to surge in popularity over the course of the night since her story. When Dani found her again later, she had been assigned duty along with Dani to accompany two groups through a morning scavenger hunt, and kids were already arguing on who got to be on Jamie’s team. 

When their eyes met over the cluster of kids heatedly debating around them, Jamie gave Dani a look of exasperation. Dani stepped next to her and said with a small smirk, “Should I be jealous?”

“Don’t see what the fuss is about,” Jamie muttered, somewhat nonplussed, “Was just a scary story.”

“They like you,” Dani said, “Kids have always liked you.”

Jamie gave her a look. “You sure that sunburn didn’t mess with your head a bit?” she said, “The hat is cute and all, but I think the damage is already done.”

Dani rolled her eyes at the teasing curl of Jamie’s grin, but before she could respond, Jamie turned towards the kids and barked, “All right, you lot listen up or I take away your s’mores privileges.”

“You can’t do that,” said one boy, “You’re not even a teacher.”

Jamie arched an eyebrow. “Try me and see what happens,” she said, looking and sounding so much like Nan that Dani had to fold her arms and duck her head to hide her smile. 

The kids began to settle down and listen as Jamie directed their attention back to the grateful pair of camp counselors to split them into proper teams. When Dani nudged her in the arm with a smug grin, Jamie huffed but couldn’t hide her faint smile. 

Even before they could start, Dani knew just by looking down at the list in her hand that her team didn’t really stand a chance in winning the race. Not with Jamie’s love of nature, and certainly not with her impish and competitive goading to turn the scavenger hunt into a race in the first place. Dani put on an encouraging smile, even as Jamie and the gaggle of students behind her raced off into the woods.  

It was helpful to have something to focus on. To keep a watchful eye and prevent the kids from climbing dangerous logs or running too far off in between searching for a certain kind of mushroom and butterfly, and not on the way Jamie’s hair flew behind her as she sped by, looking as wild and boisterous as Dani fondly remembered her to be when they were children. Dani’s team might have eventually lost the scavenger hunt race, but Dani couldn’t complain. Not when it kept her busy from staring at the way the sun dappled across Jamie’s hair and skin through the rustling trees.

The day wore on. Accompanying a group back to the lake to take advantage of the unseasonably warm afternoon sun, Jamie had made herself scarce from the jaunt, claiming to have promised Hannah in assisting with an obstacle race. Dani had shot her a knowing look, but Jamie gave a salute with two fingers before hustling away with a smirk and shrug, leaving Dani to her fate where indeed a handful of kids only went so far as to dip their toes in the water, jostling each other with the teasing intent of pushing each other in. 

Dani bit back a sigh and called out, “Abigail, what did we discuss about pushing?”

The distance from Jamie made it easier to breathe. Easier to convince herself that she could do this, she could manage for just one more night. Easier to believe she wasn’t clawing herself inside out every time Jamie so much as looked her way, memories of soft breaths and warm skin just inches from her own. By evening, she was helping to escort the kids back to the mess hall for dinner when she came across Jamie and Hannah standing on the sidelines of an obstacle course that was being slowly vacated. 

Hannah was the first to spot her as she made her way over, letting the counselors escort the kids the rest of the way. Following Hannah’s eyeline, Jamie turned and caught her eyes, her expression brightening. 

Hannah smiled and said, “There you are. We were beginning to wonder where you were.”

“Kids didn’t want to leave the water.”

“So, no sightings of mysterious ladies in the lake, then?” Jamie asked, a teasing glint in her eyes. 

Dani gave her another look. “Not this time,” she said dryly, “What about you two?  How’d the kids do?”

“No missing limbs or cracked skulls to speak of,” Hannah said, and shrugged, “All and all, I’d say a success for the books. Though that’s more than I can say for this one, however.” 

Appearing far too amused, Hannah gestured towards Jamie who grumbled under her breath and folded her arms. Dani looked her up and down. She appeared more disheveled than usual, having stripped off her flannel to tie around her waist, leaving her in just a dirt stained white t-shirt. Strands of hair dangled out of her hastily tied bun, grass stains ran up her jeans, and her exposed arms were streaked with dirt. Dani lingered on the lines of lean muscle of her folded arms a second too long before she had to blink away when Jamie spoke.

“It was the boots, all right?” Jamie grumbled, “Not meant for climbing rope walls are they.”

Dani laughed. “Wasn’t there some racing courses? You would’ve crushed that,” she said, and turned to Hannah to say with a proud grin, “Jamie’s an insanely good runner.”

Jamie snorted and said, “Tell that to my knees.”

Hannah tisked and tapped Jamie in the arm with a pen, “Why didn’t you say so? It’s not uncommon for parent volunteers and teachers to participate in one race or another,” she said, and blithely added, “I wouldn’t have minded seeing Mr. Shields taken down a peg or two after a three year win streak.”

“M’afraid those days a far behind me,” Jamie said with a huff of laughter, a pink flush to her cheeks. “Wasn’t terribly good at it, to be honest.”

Giving Jamie a long look of mild exasperation, Dani said, “You held the record for the fastest four hundred meter sprint for almost five years at school.”

“Figures. Not a lick of talent in that town, I swear.”

“No, you took it all with you,” Dani said with a fond grin, and froze when Jamie blinked at her. Swallowing thickly, crossing her arms tight, Dani turned to Hannah who didn’t seem to catch on to the far too familiar comment, and asked, “Anything else lined up for the rest of the day?”

There was a hike after sunset. A long trek through the dark shadows of the woods in a venture to appreciate the night wildlife. Hannah had begged off, having had enough excitement for the day and far too busy making sure things were set for the night. But after dinner was had, Jamie bounded up next to Dani with a flashlight and such an eager infectious smile, that Dani felt her hands twitch in an urge to link their fingers. She smothered it down with a smile, grateful for the company and dreading Jamie’s close proximity all at once. 

It was almost peaceful, following the long line of kids on the thin path through the trees, counsellors with flashlights leading the way. In between murmured conversations with Jamie along the trek, her breath catching in her chest every time their hands and shoulders would brush when they leaned close to murmur to each other, as though unwilling to disturb the stillness around them, Dani kept a firm grip on her sanity by keeping most of her attention on the kids. There was a boy in particular who began to stray further behind, breathing heavier by the minute in a way that was all too familiar. Leaving Jamie’s side with an apologetic grin over her shoulder, Dani attended to him and made a mental note to talk to his parents. 

When they reached the end of the hike, they passed through a treeline to find they had hiked all the way around to the opposite side of the lake. The water rippled under a slight breeze, the scarce moonlight dancing through clouds and across the waves in shimmering striations. The group rested near the shoreline where a counsellor was drawing their attention to the visible stars and reciting the mythical tales of the constellations to the tired, but enraptured group. 

Dani sat on a rock, feeling out of breath in more ways than one when Jamie budged up next to her, close enough that their thighs and shoulders pressed together. When Jamie leaned even closer, Dani went still as Jamie murmured, “Did you know there are certain kinds of flowers that only bloom at night?”

Turning her head just enough to catch Jamie’s eyes, she instead found Jamie looking up at the small sliver of moon that was fast disappearing behind thick clouds. Dani stared at the lines of her profile, down to the soft curve of her mouth, feeling as though something in her chest was blooming in the dark of its own. Dani shook her head and murmured, “No. I didn’t.”

The trek back went by much of the same. Dani stumbled through the dark, an ache in her legs and feet, winded and unmoored at every graze of Jamie’s skin against her own beside her. She hardly realized they were back at camp until she was sitting by the bonfire, so focused on steadying her breathing and pumping heart. Jamie remained next to her, a persevering presence, her skin washed in the orange glow of the fire, her eyes alight as she spoke in a steady low tone of ghosts in mansion walls which lingered on in memory. 

Entranced within the beat and pauses of Jamie’s words, Dani almost didn’t feel it at first. The spatter of water on her head. The distant deep roll of thunder. Dani blinked and looked up towards the sky, seeing the roil of dark clouds and flash of lightning in the distance. 

Sitting adjacent to her, Hannah sighed and muttered under her breath, “This was not on the bloody itinerary.”

Dani laughed and stood, feeling the drizzle of rain on her skin. “All right, come on, guys,” she said to the kids as the rest of the camp around them jumped into action, “Time to head inside. Please find and follow your counsellor. And no running off!”

Still sitting before the fire flickering its last breath in the rain, Jamie sighed and said, “I suppose this doesn’t this mean we’ll be let off from cleaning up the grounds?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hannah said dryly, “Unless you want all the equipment and supplies to be washed away by morning.”

Jamie exhaled and shrugged with a good natured grin. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve suffered worse conditions,” she said and pushed to her feet where Dani stood with her arms folded, a pit of stone sinking to her stomach as she felt the rain seep into her clothes. Jamie nudged her in the arm and shot her a wink. “Come on then, Poppins. Dunno about you, but I don’t fancy turning into a pumpkin tonight.”

Dani chuckled breathlessly and nodded, setting to work. They made short work of it, packing away the remains of snacks and gear back in the kitchen and mess hall. Throwing away forgotten garbage and making sure there weren’t any stragglers looking to make a night of playing in the rain. When they made their goodbyes to Hannah and finally started towards their tent, the rain was coming down in sheets. Dani shivered as they walked, watching lightning streak across the sky and counted the seconds until thunder crashed and rolled. It was still far enough away to not cause too much of a worry, the camp caught right in the edges of it, but by the time they finally reached their tent, they were soaked to the bone. 

Just as Dani was pulling down the zipper in a rush to get inside, Jamie grabbed her arm, cursing under her breath. “Fuck, wait. Hold on, we’ll soak the sleeping bags,” she said, handing Dani the flashlight and pushed off her boots before tumbling inside, pushing the mud caked boots into a far corner. 

Dani aimed the flashlight inside the tent as Jamie shuffled around, rolling the sleeping bags up and pushing aside anything that might get wet until she was ushering Dani inside. “C’mon, get in before you melt,” she said. 

It was a struggle, pulling off her shoes while slipping inside at the same time. She crouched and nearly stumbled face down into Jamie’s side and the sleeping mat from the effort. They giggled breathlessly as Jamie helped pull the rest of her inside, her hands warm against her cold, wet skin. Out of breath and shivering, Jamie zipped closed the tent, a hiss of metal teeth sewing shut, until finally, they were shut away from the rest of the world. 

They breathed in the relieved silence, the sound of rain a steady constant thud against the canvas roof of the tent. Jamie huffed out a breath of laughter and sank on her knees. “Fuck,” she said, “That’s one way to wash off a day’s worth of grime.”

Dani chuckled and nodded in the dark, just barely managing to see Jamie’s outline, the flashlight discarded in some corner in the haste to get inside. The realization was slowly coming to her, just as it had when the storm started, a prickle of dread creeping down her spine. A walking furnace no matter the weather, Dani could feel more than see Jamie sitting close to her in the cramped space, her body warmth mere inches away from Dani’s skin. She was all too aware suddenly of her clothes, wet and heavy and sticking to her skin, her hair slick and dripping with rainwater.

Jamie reached for the flashlight, a beam of light flashing across the tent until she was aiming it in a corner of the tent, reaching for something. “Hold on, I’ve got something better,” she said, and revealed a clunky rustic lantern. Dani blinked in surprise and shuffled to her knees, her clothes squelching unpleasantly with every movement. 

“Where did you get that?”

“I have my ways,” Jamie said, and in the dark, Dani could barely manage to make out the outline of her smirk. 

Watching as Jamie switched on the lamp, Dani sucked in a low breath as a warm glow filled the interior and she was finally granted the sight of a rain-soaked Jamie kneeling before her. Dark hair slick and plastered to her face and neck, dripping water down her skin. A t-shirt that might as well be translucent with the way it stuck to her, revealing the outline of a toned stomach in shadow and light. Eyes dark and glinting in the low light with faint amusement and something else Dani couldn’t decipher. A slow roll of heat pooled down Dani’s spine, her breath shallow. 

“Christ, you look a mess,” Jamie said, her voice loud in the tent below the sound of rain and distant thunder. 

“Speak for yourself,” Dani managed to say through clenched teeth. Jamie laughed and a shiver went down Dani’s spine. 

“C’mon, we’ll freeze if we stay like this,” Jamie said, digging into her rucksack and pulling out a towel. 

Blinking out of her stupor, Dani nodded breathlessly, following Jamie’s lead. She carefully undid her braid, wincing lightly at every painful tug and squeezed the water from her hair with a towel, eyes glazed and pointed firmly at a dark corner. “Remember all those times we got caught up in storms as a kid?” Dani said, feeling as though a haze was settling over her, “Like that summer you were obsessed with the idea of being a storm chaser?”

Jamie scoffed out a laugh. “Fuckin’ idiot,” she muttered, “Could’ve gotten us accidentally killed one day.”

“But we lived,” Dani said, and at Jamie's dismissive grunt, she added with a grin, “And we got sick.”

At Jamie’s groan, Dani managed to laugh, massaging the towel against the roots of her hair. “Christ, that’s right,” Jamie said, “and Nan grounded us both.”

“I didn’t even know she could do that.”

“Nan’s house, Nan’s rules.”

A fond, wistful grin grew on Dani’s face, but it froze on her face at the sound of wet fabric being shifted around. Slowly peeking out from behind her towel, Dani saw as Jamie pulled her wet flannel from around her waist to toss in the corner beside her boots. The movement inadvertently shifted up the hem of Jamie’s t-shirt, revealing plentiful inches of firm abs as Jamie shifted around. She froze, her mouth dropping open until Jamie’s hands reached for the hem to begin removing the shirt. Dani sucked in another low breath and twisted around, her heart pounding against her ribs. 

“Fuck, this is gonna be a nightmare,” Jamie said, laughing and grunting as she audibly shifted around behind Dani. 

Dani pressed her eyes shut. Beyond the despairing wish to be sucked into the ground, Dani desperately tried to settle her heart, to settle her breathing. Swallowing thickly, Dani tossed aside her towel and began the slow arduous process of removing her rain-soaked clothes. It was no more obvious than it was now, how cramped they were. Their bare elbows kept bumping into one another, and Jamie swore and laughed in equal measure. Dani’s foot kept pressing against the side of the tent as she shifted and struggled, pulling her shirt over her head, feeling goosebumps spread across her skin in the cool night air and the warmth of Jamie’s back so near her own. 

When their backs accidentally touched, a graze of damp skin that sent an electric shock down Dani’s spine, she jerked away and laughed in a nervous high pitched tone. “Sorry,” she said, trying furiously not to look over her shoulder. 

“No worries,” Jamie said, chuckling lightly in the midst of her grunting. 

With her nightgown finally donned, sufficiently breathless and dimly relieved to be wearing dry clothes again, Dani finally began unrolling back her sleeping bag to slip inside when another roll of thunder crashed above them. Dani eyed the canvas with faint concern, the onslaught of rain against the tent unrelenting. 

“You don’t think the tent will flood, do you?”

“Reckon it’s a possibility,” Jamie said to the sound of rustling fabric and audibly exhaled, going still behind Dani. “Worst comes to worst, we can always make a break for it to one of the cabins. Kids will just have to deal with us bargin’ in on them.”

Dani chuckled and biting her lower lip, chanced a glance over her shoulder to find Jamie stretched out on her unzipped sleeping bag, donning a grey sweater and dark sweatpants, grinning up at her. 

“You gonna be warm in that?” Jamie asked, nodding her head towards Dani.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re shivering like a leaf.”

Heat spread across Dani’s cheeks, and she could only hope it wasn’t noticeable in the orange glow of the lantern light. 

“I’ve got an extra pair of trousers if you wanna borrow them,” Jamie offered. 

Dani gave her a curious look that bordered on teasing. “You packed an extra pair of sweatpants?”

“Dani, I live with a twelve year old boy. Of course I brought a spare,” Jamie said, and reached again into her rucksack, pulling out another pair of sweatpants and handed it to Dani. “In case we need to make a run for it and all.” 

Unable to help smiling fondly, Dani said, “I did say I have a sweater, you know.”

Jamie shrugged. “Then you’ll be extra warm then.”

Feeling another shiver run down her spine under Jamie’s gaze and from the cold night air seeping into her skin, Dani didn’t need much more persuading. She slipped on the sweatpants beneath her nightgown with the odd thrill of wearing Jamie’s clothes and shuffled inside her sleeping bag, pulling it up to her chin. Just like the night prior, Jamie waited until Dani was settled and comfortable before twisting a knob on the lantern, the warm glow inside the tent dimming until they were left in the darkness once again. 

It was quiet save for the rain and their soft breathing. It could almost be counted as peaceful if it weren't for the images of Jamie, dark-eyed and soaked to the bone as she knelt before her, lingering in the back of Dani’s mind. She shivered again and burrowed deeper into the sleeping bag. 

“Thank you for the pants,” Dani murmured. Beside her, Jamie snickered quietly with laughter, but didn’t say anything more. When Dani registered why a moment later, her cheeks burned hot. “You know what I meant.”

“You sure?” Jamie said, her voice both lethargic and far too amused for her own good, “Something you wanna share with the class?”

Dani huffed loudly and turned on her side to face the canvas wall. “Goodnight, Jamie,” Dani said. 

Jamie laughed softly, a low warm tone that she could almost feel directly against the back of her neck, sending a thrill down her spine. She pressed her eyes closed at the feeling, almost wishing to hear it again. 

“Night, Poppins,” Jamie murmured, and Dani’s ears strained to hear more. Hear the rustling of fabric as Jamie shifted, her soft breaths that gradually slowed and deepened. 

She was hyper aware of it. Every hitch of breath and whisper of skin against fabric. She sank further into her sleeping bag, her stiff spine relaxing to the sound on top of the white noise of rain, until the next time her eyes fluttered open the tent was lit with dim diffused light of early dawn and she was curled up facing Jamie. Dani blinked heavily, slowly, her eyes adjusting to the light as they fell upon Jamie’s sleeping form. She was on her stomach, facing away from Dani, her torso rising and falling with slow deep breaths. She had shed her sweater and pushed her sleeping bag down to her waist sometime in the middle of the night, leaving her in only a black tank top. 

Another lethargic blink. Her eyes drifted lazily across the exposed skin of Jamie’s shoulders, finding a beauty mark here and there, a smattering of freckles from hours spent in the sun, the flash of silver chain around her neck beneath strands of dark curls, until she eventually landed on the scar. Puckered skin draping across the back of Jamie’s right shoulder. Dani thought of stretching across the inches between them to press against the length of Jamie’s back, to run the pads of her fingers across the ruined skin before pressing her lips to it. 

Dani exhaled softly, shakily, and pressed her eyes shut again, her head feeling hazy and thick. Just a dream, she tried to convince herself, swallowing thickly. She breathed in and willed herself to wake up.

--

Some part of her thought this trip would last forever. The long days dwindling into longer nights. Even the bus ride back to the school campus felt endless, the road extending before them in a long line that seemed to narrow off the map and into the horizon. When they finally arrived back at campus and the children streamed from the bus, it was with an odd sense of detachment that Dani stepped onto the pavement and back onto familiar ground. Unreal town. Unreal streets. Sunlight arching its back against the shuttered windows and the lines of white picket fences.

Jamie had vanished from her side in search of Mikey, who had been avoiding them for the vast majority of the trip in favor of spending time with friends. Dani blinked as though waking from a dream when she heard Jamie calling her name and waving her over to the green truck parked on the street. Picking up her bags, Dani said her goodbyes to Hannah, received an absent wave in return — Hannah was busy directing the flow of events, clipboard in hand and an officious note to her voice — and made her way over.

"Figured you'd want a ride back to my place," Jamie said. She had already chucked her and Mikey's bags into the tray. "Unless Ed is picking you up here?"

Shaking her head, Dani tossed her bags into the back as well. "No. A ride would be great. Thanks."

Jamie patted the hood of the truck. "Hop in, then. Oi. You're in the middle, bawbag."

Mikey scowled at his sister but shuffled over into the center seat so Dani could sit beside him. Twin slamming of doors, and then Jamie was pushing in the clutch and rattling the gear stick back and forth to check for neutral. Mikey had to accommodate the gear stick between his knees, grumbling at Jamie when she knocked into him when the engine started and she shifted into first.

"Not my fault you're growing like a weed," Jamie countered as she pulled away from the curb. "Who's feeding you, anyway? Not me, certainly."

"Yeah, because your cooking sucks," said Mikey.

This time, Jamie purposefully hit his knee when she changed into third.

"Ow! You're doing that on purpose!"

"Prove it."

Dani smiled and shook her head as she listened to their familiar back and forth all the way to the opposite end of town. She gazed out the window at oft-traveled streets. Like being put back into a terrarium, she thought. Not a leaf out of place.

When they arrived, Mikey hopped out of the car after Jamie, shoving at her back to make her go faster so he could grab their bags and race into the house.

"Put the kettle on, while you're at it!" Jamie called after him. "Haven't had a proper cup in ages."

Dani stepped out of the car and shut the door behind her. "It's been less than three days."

"And I'm wasting away for lack." Jamie stepped onto one of the back wheels to fish out the rest of their things, either dropping her own bags onto the sidewalk or passing them to Dani. "Do you want to stay for lunch?"

Dani hugged one of her bags beneath one arm, while she grabbed her keys with her free hand. "I shouldn't," she said. "I think Eddie wanted to do something this afternoon."

"Fair enough." Jamie leapt down from the truck. "See you around, then."

Dani tried to make her smile seem natural, but nothing seemed to want to work properly when Jamie was watching her like that. As though she actually saw her, rather than gazed right through her at some imagined figure in the background. "Enjoy the rest of your weekend."

Their farewells were said too soon, for Dani slipped into the front seat of her own car and immediately found that it refused to start again. The engine ticked and ticked and never turned, and Dani was altogether too tired for this. She sighed, wishing something in her life could just go right for once.

"Sounds like a battery problem," Jamie mused from the sidewalk, arms crossed and brow thoughtfully furrowed. "Pop the bonnet."

It should have taken less time to jump start Dani's car, but Jamie kept pausing to explain everything she was doing and why. "You need to ground this one," she said, holding up one of the clamp things which must've had a name but which Dani couldn't remember for the life of her.

"Right," said Dani, not knowing at all what that entailed.

"Just stick it on some other bit of metal on the car. Like this. See?"

Dani nodded. "Okay."

"Now, you do it."

Eddie never would've explained it like this. He might if she asked, but all too clearly she could remember being scoffed at by him and the mechanic for not knowing some basic piece of knowledge or another. The two had engaged in some shop talk and proceeded to ignore her entirely for the remainder of the visit. She never asked anything about cars again after that.

"Great," said Jamie. "Now, go sit inside and turn the key when you hear me rev my engine."

Within moments the sound of the truck's engine whirring in neutral filled the air, interspersed with the coughing of Dani's car trying to wheeze its way to life once more. She murmured encouraging nonsense at the steering wheel and held the key firmly turned until at last it started. Through the glass she could see Jamie clapping one hand against the dash of her truck before turning it off and jumping out to put all the cables away.

"Feel like I'm Dr. Frankenstein," Jamie laughed as she wound red and black cabling around one elbow into a neat curl that she looped around her shoulder. She grinned and shut the hood of Dani's car with a clang. "This old girl really is giving up the ghost."

"Thank you," Dani said, sticking her head partially out the wound-down window. Jamie just waved her off without another word, already wandering back to her truck so she could put away the cables for safe use at some point in the future.

It was like driving a carcass through the streets, Dani thought as she pulled away from the curb. Like dragging a body through the dust around a city, unwilling or unable to cut it loose for fear of what letting it go might mean. With each passing day, holding onto the car just that little bit longer was an exercise in futility. Trying to assemble mismatched limbs into a whole that only pantomimed the real thing, and all the while the rope frayed.

Eddie's car wasn't in the driveway when Dani drove up and killed the engine. For a moment she simply gazed up at the house, hands gripping the steering wheel. Then, sucking in a deep breath, she stepped out. Bags in her arms. Car locked. Keys jangling from one hand. Turn of the key in the front door and she pushed, walking inside.

The house greeted her with absolute silence. The sound of her footsteps was too loud. They echoed across the floors polished to a mirror shine. If she looked down she could see a shadow of herself walking the halls like a specter. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bags atop them, wandering to the ensuite bathroom and turning on the shower.

Breathing a sigh, relieved to be alone for even a few moments, Dani rested her hands upon the sink as though it were a lifeline, gripped it for a long moment. She pulled out her limp ponytail and watched her reflection rake a hand through her hair, steam creeping in around the edges of the mirror while the water slowly heated up until she was a silhouette through the mist. It was the first decent shower in days, water hot enough to scald her back as she just stood beneath the spray and allowed herself to breathe, reluctant to leave. It was only when the water had gone lukewarm that she shut off the tap and tugged back the curtain to reach for a towel.

A clean set of clothes. A quick application of the hairdryer and hairspray. A fresh coat of makeup like a mask to hide the sleepless circles beneath her eyes. A few minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space, absolutely still, listening to the house breathe around her. Rattle of the pipes. Creak of the lintels. 

The abrupt ringing of the phone made her start. Clearing her throat, hand flat on her chest to calm the thrum of her heart, Dani walked briskly into the other room to pick up the receiver and hold it to her ear.

“Hello?” 

“Oh, good. You’re home,” Eddie’s voice said. “Mom and I are going to come around in five to pick you up. She wants to go to that new cafe again.”

“It’s a nice cafe,” Dani said lamely.

“And I’m pretty sure she’s tried everything on the menu.”

In the background she could hear Judy scold him gently, saying that his claims were false.

“Most things, then,” Eddie said, sounding amused. “Okay. See you soon. Bye.”

Her mouth was forming the word ‘Bye’ in return when he hung up and she was left speaking to the dial tone. She tightened her grip upon the plastic receiver, then set it down upon its cradle once more. Dani’s eyes strayed to the bags she had abandoned by the front door. She picked them up and put her laundry into the washing machine, setting a new load and unpacking the remainder of the items. 

The garage was as cold as the rest of the house when she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The only room with no insulation, yet the house always held a chill, so that she would meander through it in sweaters and socks, tugging down the sleeves to cover her wrists and shivering when sitting still for too long. She had to go up on her toes to pull on a string that hung from the ceiling. The false panel creaked and groaned when she yanked it down, and a ladder unfolded, its legs clattering against the concrete floor to reveal a crawlspace hanging overhead that was darker than the night sky. 

She climbed the stairs, eyes adjusting to the dark to see the various shapes loom out at her. Preeminent among them the tent Eddie had mentioned before she’d left on Friday. Her mouth thinned in annoyance and she hauled up the bags to put them away. When she shoved them into place, something from the crawlspace fell to the ground below her. Dani paused, gripping the sides of the folding step ladder, and frowned down at the floor. It appeared to be a book. An old paperback. With a glance towards the crawlspace, she climbed back down the ladder and bent down to pick up the book. 

Upon turning it over in her hand, she blinked in surprise. A battered and familiar old cover, pages torn out and dog-eared, and a cover bearing the image of a scantily clad woman whose dress was at risk of falling down to her waist. God only knew how it had ended up among all of their things. A stowaway from another lifetime, masquerading itself as just another innocent paperback among so many other innocent paperbacks. 

Dani twisted it around to read the blurb at the back. She got about two sentences in before she rolled her eyes at the lurid prose. Complete drivel, just as she had remembered from the snippets read aloud to her over a decade ago. With a scoff, she tossed the book aside — she did not care to look where — and heard it thump gently atop one of the many empty boxes still piled up in the garage. Dani grabbed the legs of the ladder and folded them back into place, rising up on her toes to push it up so that it was just a piece of string hanging from the ceiling.

There was the blare of a horn just outside the house. Dani’s head jerked around in the direction of the sound. She heard it again and she hurried into the main house, putting on her shoes and stumbling out the door. She was halfway down the walkway leading to the sidewalk, where Eddie and Judy waited in Eddie’s car, when she remembered her purse and had to turn back around for it. When she walked out of the house again, the horn honked as she was locking up, making her shoulders tense. 

"What took you so long?" Eddie asked when she yanked open the door and slid into the back seat directly behind him. He shot her a smile as he said it, but she still had to shrug away a prickle of irritation.

"Left my purse behind."

He made a sound in the back of his throat indicating he'd heard, and waited for her to buckle her seatbelt before putting the car into gear and driving away.

Judy twisted around in her seat to look at Dani. "How was your trip?" she asked. "I saw in the paper that the weather took a turn for the worse up there. Hopefully it wasn't too bad."

Dani's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch at the memory. The brush of Jamie's damp skin against her own. The way her eyes had seemed gray as the storm, as though she'd brought a piece of it inside the tent. The crinkle at their edges as she had laughed. The cling of wet clothes and the sound they made when Jamie peeled them off.

Nothing had happened, she reassured herself. Nothing had even happened. Just the wild fantasy in her head where she was brave enough to reach out and touch her, brave enough to act, brave enough to speak.

Dani clutched her purse in her lap and smiled. "It wasn't that bad. And it was only on the last day, so it was fine."

Judy made pleasant work of their conversation, wanting to know every detail, every adventure, the kids who had behaved and those that hadn't. Dutiful to a fault, Dani answered in full, letting — as always — someone else steer the conversation as surely as Eddie steered the car into a parking spot just outside Owen's cafe.

It was almost normal. It should have been normal. Nothing about this scene had changed in nearly a decade. Chatting with Judy. Thanking Eddie when he opened the door for her and accepting a peck to the cheek for his trouble. Letting herself be steered into a seat inside, a menu propped into her hands, sandwiched on either side by a mother and son who might as well have been her own family even before any legal documents were signed. This time however, Dani kept having to swallow down an acrid taste in her mouth, the sort of fluttering anxious precursor to losing her breakfast into a porcelain bowl, as though she had sprinted around and around a track — red pavement pounding beneath her feet — until she panted for breath, until she felt sick. 

“What can I get for you today?”

Staring down at the menu, biting the edge of her thumb ragged, Dani dimly heard Owen’s voice. Judy and Eddie ordered, buying her more time to make a selection.

“And she’ll have the Caesar salad,” Eddie said, already handing both his menu and his mother’s over to Owen, who took them.

Owen glanced at Dani for silent confirmation, his eyebrows raised over the tops of his round spectacles. For a moment, she nearly picked something else, something random — it didn’t matter what choice so long as it was hers — but the urge was throttled away in her chest. She nodded, handed her menu over as well with a murmur of thanks. His moustache twitched in a tell-tale smile and he parted with an inclination of his head towards her.

The conversation had moved on since Dani had last kept track, the seconds slipping away like so many grains of sand while she struggled to be here and now instead of back in a dark tent listening to the sound of Jamie breathing. 

“We can do something in spring,” Eddie said. “You like flowers. We can make a whole floral theme around it.”

The wedding. Of course, they were talking about the wedding.

“Spring’s not good for me,” Dani said and she tapped lightly at her chest.

Eddie’s eyebrows rose over the rims of his spectacles. “Ah. Right. Stupid of me.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Summer? A June wedding.”

Dani grimaced. “Too muggy. You’re going to be in a three piece, remember?”

He hummed in agreement, then grinned. “Guess we could always do a shotgun wedding before Christmas.”

She tried to laugh the idea off, but he was leaning forward, clearly taken with the idea. Swallowing past the panic rising in her throat, Dani cast about for some rebuttal.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Judy said from the side, giving Eddie’s shoulder an admonishing pat. “These things take time, and you and Danielle deserve a proper wedding.”

Lifting his hands in surrender, Eddie settled back in his seat. “All right. All right. I get the picture. Autumn. When the leaves are changing color and everything’s, you know -” he said. “- Pretty.” 

Dani could feel the knot unclench somewhat in her stomach. She nodded and smiled as brightly as she knew how. “That sounds wonderful.”

Another year. Always another year. She wondered how long she could spin this out, carry this song and dance until they began to notice that something wasn’t quite right. That she wasn’t quite right. She couldn’t think of which was more terrifying: that they would finally see her for what she was, or that they never would.

Their food arrived. Dani straightened in her seat and murmured a grateful, “Thank you,” to Owen, who gave her a wink in return. She picked up her fork and knife.

“Do you have any plans for Saturday?” Judy asked as she cut into her open-faced sandwich. “I thought we might have a girl’s night.”

Dani paused, mid-chew. She finished her bite before replying, “Actually Carson invited me to see another one of his shows, so I thought I’d take Jamie.”

She snuck a surreptitious glance towards Eddie. He had already been informed of these plans, but still he lifted the glass to his mouth for a sip and pointedly did not meet Dani’s eye. 

“Oh, that’s great!” Judy said and she set down her cutlery with a clatter against the edge of her earthenware dish. “You two are going to have so much fun. I mean — I don’t personally ‘get’ Carson’s music, but it makes him happy. So -” she gave a lackadaisical wave of one hand as she reached for the salt. “- to each their own. Make sure to buy one of those t-shirts for me. He told me something about selling some at his last gig, and I want to hang one on the wall.”

“Mom,” Eddie said. “Really?”

“Be nice to your brother, Edmund,” Judy said in a warning tone, pointing her knife at him.

Smiling, Dani said, “I’ll bring something back. Don’t worry.”

--

“Coldest evening of the month, and you’re wearing a dress?” was how Jamie greeted Dani when she slipped inside Jamie’s blissfully warm truck. 

Dani rolled her eyes and pulled on her seatbelt. “Hi, Jamie, how was your day?” Dani said, “Mine was great, thanks for asking.”

“Grand, thanks,” Jamie replied with a cheeky grin under Dani’s glare, “Though, I’m a bit concerned you might freeze to death before we ever make it to Des Moines.”

“I’m a big girl, I think I can handle the cold.”

“In that?” Jamie said, arching an eyebrow, running her eyes over Dani’s dress. 

Dani froze, her breath caught in her chest under Jamie’s stare. The dress in question was nothing to write home about, a dark purple number that reached just below her knees and covered her arms and chest up to her neck with sheer fabric. It had been hung up in the back of her closet for what felt like years, never having the opportunity or need to wear it until tonight.  

“First with the nightgown, now this.” Jamie’s gaze flitted up to meet hers again and said with an admonishing grin, “You’ve gone mad.”

Dani shrugged, hands nervously smoothing over and picking at the fabric of her dress, “What? I just felt like dressing nice.” 

“Well, I can’t say you didn’t succeed,” Jamie said and before Dani could even process the words, she continued, “And, lucky for you — ” Jamie reached behind the seats into a storage compartment “ — you and the kid are a lot alike: always cold no matter the weather.” She pulled out a dark green woolen blanket and tossed it onto Dani’s lap with a fond grin. “If you need it.”

“Thanks,” Dani murmured, spreading the blanket out on her legs for reasons beyond just being cold. 

“Not at all,” Jamie said, cranking the heat higher and finally eased the truck back on the street. “Though at this rate, I’m seriously considering investing in some heat lamps for the both of you.”

Dani laughed, a breathy nervous thing that sounded thin even to her own ears, and sank further into the worn leather seat. A week away should have made things easier, should have alleviated the pounding of her heart and the goosebumps along her skin. But Dani was starting to see a pattern now. A few days without Jamie and she could convince herself it wasn’t real. She could shut down and lock away any lingering attraction. Then the moment Jamie was in her line of sight, the coiling heat at the base of her spine returned in full force.  

As they pulled onto the highway, Dani chanced a glance to her out of the corner of her eyes. Jamie looked no different from her normal day to day wear. Band t-shirt tucked into dark jeans rolled up at the hem above a pair of Docs. Brown suede jacket draped over her shoulders. It was nothing Dani hadn’t seen before, but her eyes lingered at a glimpse of bare skin at Jamie’s collar, silver chain snaking beneath her shirt. Dani swallowed heavily, and looked out the window with a slow exhale, shutting it all away. 

“So, you’ve been to this place before?” Jamie asked. 

Dani hummed affirmatively. “Twice,” she said. She paused, hesitating before adding, “Carson and I may have impulsively drove all the way up ourselves to see one of his favorite bands once.”

Taking her eyes off the road briefly to shoot her a smirk, Jamie said, “You tell anyone you were going?”

“No,” Dani replied with a sheepish grin. 

“What band inspired you to risk the wrath of Karen Clayton?”

Dani paused and admitted with a wince, “I don’t remember, actually.”

Jamie laughed. “I see they made a good impression.”

Shrugging, Dani chuckled. “It was worth it to see him so happy,” she murmured, recollecting the loneliness Carson failed to hide after being left behind as the only one left in high school, and again at the house after she and Eddie had gone off to university. Accompanying him with her own car to Des Moines was the least she could’ve done for him. “He lost his voice after singing along for the whole night, and slept most of the way home.”

“So what does his band sound like anyways?” Jamie asked, “I asked him if they had a demo tape, and he told me he wanted it to be a surprise. Should I be expecting to scream my voice hoarse too?”

“They sound like the kind of music you love, I guess.”

“Oh sure, that narrows it down loads.”

Huffing lightly, Dani muttered, “So high maintenance.” 

Smirking at Jamie’s scoff, Dani reached for the radio and switched it on. Ignoring Jamie’s grumbling under her breath, Dani turned the dial, flickering through stations until she landed on one she knew Jamie favored, the sounds of heavy drums and synth keyboards filling the cabin. 

“Something like this,” Dani said with a short gesture to the radio.

“Knew he wouldn’t let me down,” Jamie said, fingers tapping to the beat on the steering wheel. 

“He gets it from you.”

Jamie chuckled but didn’t respond. Without taking her eyes off the road, she turned the volume up, and her tapping on the wheel turned to light drumming. Dani watched her with a fond grin, taking in the line of her jaw and the curve of her mouth. Biting her lower lip, Dani turned to watch the evening sun streak golden light across corn fields and farm houses. Beneath the scent of the air freshener dangling from the rear view mirror, there was the ever present smell of corn. 

“Did you ever miss it?” Dani said, “The fields?”

“What? The smell of cowshit?” Jamie shrugged noncommittally. “Not much to miss really, besides hiding out in the corn and scaring the shite out of people when we were bored as fuck.” 

Dani laughed and Jamie smiled wide at her. “I think you scared Mr. Horne for life,” Dani said. 

“You were there, too. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the manic glee in your eyes when he ran screaming for the hills.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” Jamie drawled, “Must’ve imagined it then.”

“Yep.”

Jamie snorted. “Tit.”

As Dani giggled softly, they fell silent again, listening to the radio blare an eclectic noise of music Dani never had the opportunity to really listen to. She had never really taken to it, not the way Jamie and Carson had, but she didn’t hate it. Not the way Eddie did, always grinding his teeth and twisting his mouth. 

After a moment Dani said, “Thanks for coming with me, by the way.”

“‘Course,” Jamie said, “Carson’s been bugging me about it too, so y’know, your neck isn’t the only one on the line here.”

“Either way, I’ve been meaning to go for a long time, so - thanks.”

“Good ol’ Ed still too busy to come along, then?”

Dani shook her head, her chest pinching at Eddie’s staunch refusal again to accompany her when she’d asked earlier that week. Swallowing down a spark of belligerence, Dani said, “It’s not really his kind of scene.”

“Not really yours either, but here you are,” Jamie said, and though her voice was as calm as ever, the taut line of her mouth said otherwise. Then she offered Dani another smile, the tension gone. “How ‘bout we crank up the volume some more? Get ourselves amped up for Carson and the show, yeah? Unless you want to change it to something more of your liking.”

In response, Dani leaned forward to turn the dial up herself. Jamie laughed, and though Dani could barely hear it over the clamor of music, she was entranced at the crinkle of Jamie’s eyes and her wide smile. Her heart thudding hard against her ribs, Dani inhaled slowly and sank back into the leather bench, smiling as she watched Jamie enjoy herself. 

The drive to Des Moines wasn’t short. Just a little under two hours together in Jamie’s truck, the time filled with music, conversation, and snacking on Jamie’s stash of trail mix she kept around for Mikey. By the hour mark, they switched through various stations looking for music they both enjoyed. 

Dani had prepared for this. As much as one could after realizing she’d once again have to spend many hours alone confined in a small space with Jamie for the second time in a week. It was easier in the daylight at least, with music to keep them company. Unlike when they lay next to each other in a cramped tent, trying to sleep when all she could hear was every single soft breath Jamie took and the whisper of fabric against skin, feeling as though she was slowly going insane as the seconds ticked by. Here in the brightness of Jamie’s truck, ankle boots tapping to some Depeche Mode song, it was all she could do to just pretend. 

When they finally neared the city, the sun was nearly set. Dani eagerly leaned forward in her seat, watching it grow closer in the horizon with an anticipation she didn’t expect. It’d been a long while since she went anywhere exciting that wasn’t the local bar in North Liberty. Compared to pictures she’d seen of big cities like New York and Chicago, Des Moines was simple with its scant skyscrapers and many historical buildings. 

Beside her, Jamie breathed out a soft laugh. “You’d think we’re heading to Disney World.”

Dani felt her cheeks warm as she leaned back into her seat. “I just haven’t been in here in a long time, is all. Not really used to going anywhere exciting.”

“I see,” Jamie said, nodding with a considering frown, ”Who knew Des Moines was more exciting than Disney World.”

Rolling her eyes, Dani swatted at Jamie’s arm. “And what would you know?” Dani said with a teasing grin, “When was the last time you were here if you’re such an expert?”

Jamie paused and shot Dani a weak grin. “Not since - ” her voice trailed off, gesturing haphazardly towards the city as though it held all the answers she couldn’t say. “After,” she finished with a murmur.

Dani’s smile slowly fell. “Oh,” she murmured, her stomach sinking as she watched Jamie silently steer them closer to the city, her expression carefully blank.

They didn’t speak another word until Jamie broke the weighted silence and asked, “Now where’s this place again?”

The abrupt suppressive air in the cabin felt lighter again when they somehow missed the exit they were supposed to take according to Carson’s messy directions. Dani laughed at Jamie’s attempts to swipe the sheet of directions from Dani’s hands, grumbling good naturedly every time Dani slapped her hand away and pulled the sheet out of reach. When they finally exited out into the city, Dani guided them back in the direction they came from towards the East Village, passing over the Des Moines River until they could see the towering shadow of the Iowa State Capitol building in the distance.

The bar itself was situated on a block corner, two stories with red bricks, big front windows, and a sign in blocky letters that said ‘Slaughterhouse.’ There was a small closed off patio in the front where a few people were braving the chill weather, talking and laughing.

“Quite a name,” Jamie said after they had parked the truck and walked the block towards the venue, dryly adding, “Can’t imagine why they’d name it that in Iowa of all places.”

“Think we’ll find some pigs in there?”

“I’ve already had my fill of the swineherd, thanks.”

Dani chuckled, wrapping her arms loosely around her stomach to ward off a chill breeze. Jamie rushed forward to swing open the entrance with a smile and a wink. Even as Dani chuckled, she ducked her head and sped past Jamie. It was deceptively large inside, warm and already packed with concert revelers and people just enjoying an evening drink. The bar was jammed with people waiting for drinks, tables and booths filled with others eating or conversing, and a pool table off in one corner. Graffiti, art, and a plethora of black and white photos lined the walls, leaving no space untouched, accentuated under warm lights. 

Music played over the bustle until every noise seemed to blend together. Dani tensed and sucked in a soft breath when she felt Jamie press a hand to her back and lean close to speak in her ear, “Drinks first?”

Keeping her eyes forward, Dani nodded. 

Jamie gave her a curious look, “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed, her skin under Jamie’s palm burning, “Just excited to be here.”

“Sure.”

Grinning, utterly oblivious, Jamie finally dropped her hand and started towards the bar. Dani exhaled slowly and followed behind, trying desperately to not let her eyes stray lower than the center of Jamie’s back. Jamie pushed her way to the front of the bar, ignoring the discontent in her wake with practised disaffected ease. 

“Want anything special?” Jamie asked.

“Just whatever’s on tap for now.”

A familiar voice behind them called out her name, “Dani!”

Dani turned and smiled wide at Carson making his way towards them. “Hey!”

He pulled her into a hug so tight that he nearly lifted her off her feet. She laughed, her arms around his shoulders squeezing tight to keep balance. 

When he let her go, he smirked at them, “Well, well, well. Look what the cat finally dragged in.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re here. Happy now?” Jamie grumbled, though her expression was warm as she handed Dani a glass of beer. 

“Very,” Carson said, and looked very much like it. 

His eyes were bright under the low lights, no doubt already a drink or two in for the night. He wore his ever present studded leather jacket over a tight white undershirt tucked into form fitting jeans. Styled dark hair, a thick belt, and combat boots completed the look, but it was a small silver earring shaped in a cross dangling from his left ear that was new and intriguing. He all together looked like some heartthrob she’d find on the cover of a Tiger Beat magazine. 

She laughed, her hand on his shoulder. “Look at you,” she said, daring to sweep a hand over his quiffed hair with a teasing smile that he batted away with a scowl. “Girls must be all over you.”

Jamie coughed into her glass. 

“Um — “ Carson started, mid-laugh, his cheeks pink and not meeting Dani’s eyes “ — something like that.”

Jamie pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress her coughs and what also seemed to be laughter. Carson snorted beside Dani as she patted Jamie’s back gently, but Jamie waved her off, sucking in a deep breath and gulping down more beer. 

“All good,” Jamie said in a ragged breath. 

“Are you sure?” Dani asked, slowly removing her hand. 

“Positive,” Jamie said, and took another sip to prove her point, “See?”

Carson rolled his eyes. “Well, before you accidentally kill yourself, I want you to meet the rest of the band,” he said, nodding his head towards the other side of the bar, “C’mon.”

He led them through the room towards the pool table in the corner commandeered by four individuals dressed in an array of alternative and grunge fashion. Dani only vaguely recognized them. They were gathered around the felted table, slouching against the wall or hovering close, watching intently as another leaned low over the table, cue stick positioned to strike. 

“Look who I found!” Carson said, gesturing wide towards Dani and Jamie. 

“Busy!” said the one at play, dozens of small braids dangling over her shoulder. 

“Too busy for my guests of honor?”

The woman looked up just as the others finally came to attention, their heads swiveling towards Dani and Jamie at once. Dani smiled faintly, raising her hand in a small awkward wave. 

“Well, shit, Carson,” said another, “They’re real afterall.”

Introductions were short. They waved and nodded politely at Dani in recognition, but seemed to eye Jamie with keen interest as they shook her hand. 

“This is Troy, our lead singer and guitarist,” Carson said, waving towards a man with shoulder length hair, and then towards the woman with braids who now stood next to a man with flat top hair, “The siblings, Lawrence and Charlene. They play guitar and keyboards. And this is — “

“Robin,” said a tall woman with long feathered black hair and dark eyes. She held out a hand to Jamie, eyes darting up and down Jamie, “But you can call me Bobby.”

If Jamie noticed the wandering eyes, she never showed it. She merely chuckled and shook Robin’s hand. “Sure.”

Troy, who stood nearest Dani, muttered into his beer, “Here we go.”

Dani blinked, but then Robin turned towards her with a friendly smile, and said, “Nice to meet you again, Dani.”

“You too,” Dani managed to politely reply, oddly feeling that the suggested nickname towards Jamie didn’t extend towards her. 

They gathered around a large table afterwards, where Dani found herself situated between Jamie and Troy as drinks and appetizers were ordered from a passing waitress. 

“So, Jamie,” started Robin, leaning forward on her elbows across from Dani and Jamie, “Carson talks about you all the time, but we were starting to think you didn’t exist.”

“That right?” Jamie said, lounging back comfortably in her seat, giving Carson a look. 

He shrugged sheepishly. “What?”

Jamie grinned fondly. “Sap.”

The others started ribbing him, talking over one another with the ease of those who’ve known each other for years. Carson took it like a champ, laughing and swearing at them in kind. Dani smiled with Jamie at the antics, wishing they’d done this sooner. 

“All right, all right, look,” Carson said, waving off their teasing, “They’re practically my sisters. What do you expect me to do?”

Dani laughed, an affectionate warmth spreading through her, but Jamie went stiff next to her. Taking a peak at Jamie out of the corner of her eyes, Jamie’s expression gave nothing away, an ambiguous and warm smile on her face, but she was as still as stone. Dani took a sip of her beer and surreptitiously pressed her elbow into Jamie’s arm. And as though it never happened, Jamie blinked once and brought her glass to her mouth, taking a slow sip. 

“What about you, Dani?” asked Troy, bringing Dani’s attention back to the group, “What have you been up to?”

Dani kept her elbow pressed against Jamie, somehow sitting closer than she was before when they sat down, and answered their questions. They were as friendly and animated as Dani remembered them to be. Curious over her teaching profession and congratulatory over the news of her recent engagement that she took in stride, but to no fault of their own, they were exceedingly curious about Jamie more than anything.

“What’s a Brit even doing in Iowa?”

“I didn’t even realize Iowa had British people.”

“There’s at least two more, believe it or not,” Dani added, laughing at their balked reactions. 

“Grew up here for a couple years,” Jamie answered, “Left for a bit. Went back to London, traveled around. Came back. And, well - rest is history, as they say.”

It was the most succinct and restrained answer Jamie’s given to the question to date. 

“Somehow, I have more questions than answers,” said Charlene, resting her chin on her fist with a perplexed expression, “Why would anyone come back to Iowa?”

“I have my reasons,” Jamie replied with a mischievous grin. 

“Fascinating,” Lawrence said with the same expression as his sister, “And mysterious!”

Dani and Carson snickered. Jamie huffed and kicked at Dani’s boot with her own under the table. Dani laughed, but it trailed off when Jamie’s foot remained nudged against Dani’s, the length of their calves pressed together. She nearly choked on a sip of her beer. 

“No, no, I think he’s right,” Robin spoke up, who’d been quiet for the most part, sipping at some dark drink in a tumbler glass. She looked Jamie up and down, and made a short gesture towards her, “That scar certainly adds to it.”

Jamie frowned and said, “Scar?” Robin tapped a finger on her own chin, just below the curve of her mouth. “Ah, noticed that, have you?”

“Hard not to,” Robin said, “How does one even get a scar like that?”

Jamie thumbed at her lower lip. “Got in a bar tussle years ago. Nothing to write home about, really.” Somehow, Dani managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at the lie, but just barely. When Jamie reached up to her left eyebrow, running a finger along the hair there, she frowned. “Got one here too. This one’s covered up for the most part, thankfully. Only so many scars one can have before it takes away from everything else.”

“Quite the opposite, I’d say” Robin replied, smirking over the lip of her glass, eyes intent on Jamie. 

Dani froze. Jamie arched an eyebrow and huffed out a laugh, but didn’t deign to reply. Simply leaned back further in her chair, drinking slowly. Over the din of the others at the table conversing, the nail of her thumb digging into the corner edge of the table, Dani could hear a rhythmic rush in her ears and she swallowed another heady sip of her beer to the sound, draining the glass. 

Next to her, Jamie leaned close to murmur, “Want another?”

Dani turned her head just enough to meet Jamie’s eyes and nodded with a faint smile. 

“Want something to eat, too?” Jamie asked, tilting her head in a way that shouldn’t be so endearing, “Might not get the chance for a few hours.”

“Sure.”

“Anything in mind?”

“Surprise me?”

Jamie grinned. “You’re going to regret that,” she said, and with a wink she lifted her glass to drain her own beer. Eyes drawn to the skin of Jamie’s throat as it worked, pale expanse of skin and corded tendon and muscle, Dani almost didn’t register Jamie grabbing Dani’s glass when she was done and starting towards the bar. 

Dani watched her traverse through tables and patrons until she reached the bar, calling for the bartender. The distance allowed Dani the opportunity to breathe properly again, but as she was slowly leaning back against her chair, relaxing her shoulders, Robin drained her own glass and followed Jamie. Dani’s stomach twisted in a way that was wholly unfamiliar to her as she watched Robin slide next to Jamie at the bar. 

It was strange, seeing a woman openly flirt with another and nobody so much as batted an eye. It was worse, seeing a woman openly flirt with Jamie. It hadn’t truly occurred to her whether or not Jamie dated. If she spent the night in another woman’s bed and left before the sun could rise. It wasn't as if there were a lot of options or opportunities in North Liberty as far as Dani knew. She hadn’t seen someone interested in Jamie since high school.

When Robin’s hand dropped to Jamie’s forearm, letting out a light laugh that Dani couldn’t hear from this distance, Dani looked away to the swirling grain of the wooden table, jaw clenched painfully tight, her fingers wringing together in her lap. Dani raised her head and found that from across the table, Carson was already watching her. When she smiled faintly at him, he leaned forward with his elbows on the table. 

“We’re gonna have to head upstairs soon to finish getting ready for the show,” Carson said, “You guys are welcome to come up with us to the green room if you want. We have t-shirts, and I promise to get you two in the first row.”

Dani perked up at the reminder. “How much are those t-shirts, by the way? I wanted to grab a few.”

“Dani, I’m not letting you pay for my band t-shirts.”

“Carson,” Dani said, in a warning tone, “You already gave us free tickets. I’m not letting you give me stuff for free when I could support your band.”

He laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll just have to sneak a few extra bits of merchandise in there while I’m at it,” he said with a wink and laughed again at Dani’s admonishing stare, innocently adding, “So, green room?”

Dani chanced another glance at the bar, not seeing Jamie or Robin in sight. She swallowed hard. “I’m - I’m not sure, but I’ll ask Jamie when she gets back.”

“No problem,” Carson said easily.

“When does the show start again?”

“In just a little over an hour,” Carson said, and glanced up to the side, his expression brightening as he gestured towards an approaching Jamie, “Enough time to eat.”

“What I miss?” Jamie said, dropping two glasses of beer on the table. She returned to her seat and nudged Dani’s elbow, “Tracked down the waitress for you. Food should be here in ten.”

“Thanks,” Dani murmured, and before she realized what she was doing, she rested the side of her boot against Jamie’s, the bare skin of Dani’s calves pressing against Jamie’s jeans. Jamie quirked an eyebrow at her, but nudged her in return.

When Carson brought up the green room again, Jamie caught her eyes with a silent question. At Dani’s noncommittal shrug, Jamie grinned indulgently, leaning back with an elbow resting on the back of her own chair, her hand dangling dangerously close to Dani’s shoulder, and said, “Think we’ll be fine down here. Cheers.”

Carson’s eyes flickered between them for a moment and he chuckled. “Another time, then,” he said. 

Soon after, the waitress arrived with food in hand. A basket of nachos and a stand with a pan of veggie pizza resting atop. She gave Jamie an appreciative glance, but Jamie was already busy devouring her basket of nachos. As though feeling eyes on her, Jamie’s eyes flitted up to meet Dani’s mid-chew, and at Dani’s smile, she shrugged nonchalantly as though it had been the plan all along to request Dani’s favorite pizza. 

Dani gave one last nudge of her foot to Jamie’s and dug in. As they ate, just before Carson’s bandmates began to depart upstairs where the venue and green room resided, they demanded the table do a round of shots. Dani, unused to alcohol stronger than beer or wine, winced at the idea. As she downed her shot with the others, Jamie and Carson cheered her on. Carson smacked her on the back when she made a face and pushed the now empty shot glass away.

“Twice in a week,” Jamie said teasingly, “Who are you and what have you done with Dani Clayton?”

Dani poked her in the ribs in retaliation. The group departed soon after, leaving with waves and well wishes to enjoy the show until it was only Carson left at the table with Dani and Jamie. 

“I really hope you guys enjoy the show,” he said, appearing nervous for the first time tonight, “We’ve been working on a bunch of new songs recently, and we think they’re pretty good.”

“From what I remember, you guys are amazing,” Dani assured, “We’re going to love it.”

He smiled, but his eyes flitted anxiously to Jamie who shrugged, still nursing her nachos. “Don’t look at me,” she said, her expression just short of teasing, “Last I remember, you were banging on buckets in the garage with wooden spoons, so jury’s still out.”

Carson rolled his eyes and snatched up a tortilla chip before Jamie could react. 

“Oi!” Jamie barked, shoving away his arm, “I paid for that.”

He stood, moving out of reach as he chewed on his ill-begotten goods. “And that’s my cue!”

“Break a leg!” Dani said, laughing. 

“Enjoy your date!” he called back.

Jamie grabbed a balled up napkin and flung it at his head. It went flying just a foot away from Carson’s face, falling somewhere beneath a table. He laughed and rushed further away until he disappeared up a stairwell near the back of the bar. 

“Wanker,” Jamie muttered. 

“So, they seemed nice,” Dani said. 

Jamie nodded, grunting in response as she ate. Rolling her eyes, Dani reached over and snagged her own tortilla chip with a healthy dose of toppings and ate it before Jamie could even react. Jamie shot her a scowl so petulant that Dani just laughed. In retaliation, Jamie reached over to the scant remains of her pizza and plucked out a bell pepper to pop in her mouth. 

“Very mature,” Dani said dryly. 

“Do my best,” Jamie said, smirking and reaching for another loaded tortilla chip. 

Jamie cursed under her breath as hot sauce dripped down the crux of fingers. Feeling as though she was watching a car crash happen in slow motion, terrible and enthralling all at once, Dani watched Jamie run her tongue along the length of her fingers in one long swipe. Her breath shallow, Dani faintly pushed a paper napkin towards Jamie and looked away, her cheeks hot. 

“Cheers,” Jamie said. 

Dani only hummed in response, trying desperately to settle her racing heart. There was some distant part of her — the part that wasn’t addled by alcohol or Jamie’s mere presence — that still couldn’t believe this was happening. It should’ve felt strange. The pull. The coil of her stomach. The straying of her eyes. But nothing with Jamie ever felt strange. It was like unlocking a heart-hued door. A door that had always been there, chained up without a key, beating and thundering to be opened this entire time. And all it took was the curve of Jamie’s smile and the warm graze of their hands to find the key. 

Before she could do something foolish, Dani busied herself with finishing her pizza. When Jamie spoke, something about the food being far too good for a bar as grungy as this one, Dani laughed, grateful and relieved for something else to focus on as their talk of bars strayed from one topic to another. 

The bar began to gradually empty as people began to make their way upstairs for the show. Jamie urged them to follow, eager and not wanting to be too far back from the stage. Dani guided them up the stairs, graffiti and art painted along the walls, and gave their tickets to a man standing guard at the entrance to the room. It was already dark when they entered, blue show lights cascading on a small crowd already waiting near the stage, but still bright enough that Dani could make out the plethora of graffiti on the dark walls as though concert goers had been given free reign with markers and stickers. While the room was large enough to fit at least two hundred people, the stage was no taller than their waists, small enough that if Dani were right up against the stage, she could stretch far enough across to graze her fingers against Carson’s drum kit. 

“Bit cozy, inn’it?” Jamie said, head twisting around as she took in the space. 

“It’s a really popular venue, believe it or not,” Dani said, valiantly ignoring the stretch of Jamie’s neck. 

The venue alone wasn’t the only thing just as popular. Carson’s band appeared to have gained a larger following since she’d last seen them. Dani had to murmur an apology to someone next to her as their shoulders jostled, stepping closer to Jamie as she did so. 

“You going to be all right?” Jamie asked over the din of conversation around them. 

Dani had to refrain from jumping away at Jamie’s voice so nearby, their shoulders grazing. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s pretty crowded,” Jamie said, with a cursory glance around them, and shot Dani a look of faint concern, gesturing with an encompassing wave in her direction, “Y’know, with your - ”

“Oh,” Dani murmured, softening under Jamie’s concern, “I’ll be okay. It’s different in crowds. Not like — “ she made a weak gesture, but Jamie nodded all the same in understanding “ — besides, not my first rodeo.”

Jamie laughed. “That’s right, you’re the expert,” she said, and nudged Dani’s arm. “Just let me know if you need me to toss a couple elbows. I’ll be happy to do so.”

“Sure,” Dani drawled, “And not just so you can have an excuse to start a mosh pit, right?”

“Surprised you even know what that is.” At Dani’s glare, Jamie gave her a look that was somehow both impish and innocent. “Just an offer, is all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dani said dryly. 

They didn’t have to wait much longer after the room filled, music playing low on the sound system to keep the crowd’s energy going. When Carson and his bandmates spilled out from a side door, Dani and Jamie cheered along with the crowd at their appearance as they waved and settled themselves at their respective instruments. Carson himself had shed his leather jacket, leaving him in only his white undershirt as he scanned the crowd, waving furiously when he spotted them. Jamie whistled loudly in between two fingers in a way that Dani had always failed at replicating, and Carson sent a sharp salute their way with a broad smile before settling behind his drum kit, amped up and bouncing in his seat. 

“Hey, long time no see, Des Moines,” Troy said into the microphone, grinning at the crowd, “Thank you for coming to our show. We are The Greasers and the Gaggers.”

Dani bit her lip to contain a snicker as Jamie snorted a loud laugh, the sound smothered by another cheer from the crowd. 

“It’s a work in progress,” Charlene deadpanned into her own mic, smirking when the rest of the band and crowd laughed as though it were a long running joke.

“We’re gonna start with a fan favorite,” Troy continued his introductions, strumming notes on his guitar, “Enjoy the show — ” he paused to smirk and wink “ — but not too much.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Dani said, grinning when Jamie laughed again. 

The song started slow, building gradually with guitars and the heavy bass of Carson’s drums leading the way until eventually exploding into a bright sound Dani was all too familiar with from Carson and Jamie’s favorite radio stations. The sound reverberated in Dani’s chest, loud and booming like an echo chamber, and by halfway through the song, she was already bobbing her head to the beat. 

Jamie leaned close to speak directly in her ear over the sound of drums and synth, “Is it just me, or are they actually good?”

Dani laughed breathlessly, barely suppressing a shiver from the warmth of Jamie’s breath against her skin. “I really wouldn’t know,” Dani admitted, swaying to Troy’s baritone voice as he sang. 

It was genuinely catchy in truth, the sound a mixture of the rough grind of guitars she was used to hearing from Jamie’s old transistor radio growing up, and bright synth and hard drums of the more recent electronic sounds. Troy shared vocals with both Robin and Lawrence, but Carson was the most fun to watch. Surge of pride and enjoyment spread through her as she watched him drum under the bright colorful lights, endless energy and concentration. He had at one point broken a stick mid-song and grabbed another one from a stand next to him without missing a beat. She only managed to catch the moment due to sheer determination to not let her eyes stray to Jamie next to her. 

It was getting increasingly hard not to let her gaze linger. She had taken a peek or two since the show started, more to see if Jamie was enjoying herself, and happily found her bobbing her head to the beat and swaying with a broad grin under blue lights. But the pull was still there, inevitable as gravity. The music washed over her and the call and response of the crowd. At the start of a new song, more rough and fast paced than the ones previous, Dani looked up to the stage just in time to catch Robin sending a wink in their direction, taking the lead vocals of the song as she strummed her bass, enticing and dark eyed in a way that not even Dani could deny. A clench of discomfort that was growing more familiar by the hour pressed against her chest, but before Dani could even begin processing that, the crowd behind them cheered and surged forward.

Stumbling slightly forward, she felt more than heard Jamie laugh next to her, their shoulders pressed together. Dani inhaled sharply. A hand rested low on her waist near the dip of her spine as Jamie slipped slightly behind her until she could feel the press of their shoulders together. Her breath caught in her chest, feeling the heat of Jamie’s hand even through the fabric of her dress. She held herself absolutely still when Jamie leaned in close to say, “Again, just say the word.”

It took Dani an embarrassingly long time to remember what Jamie was referring to, but she nodded faintly. Feeling Jamie laugh again, her shoulder jostling with the movement, Jamie’s hand dropped from her back. For a brief wild moment, Dani thought about grabbing her hand and pulling so that Jamie was flush against her back. 

It was hard to concentrate on the rest of the show afterwards, with Jamie keeping valiant watch from more jostling. Dani kept her eye glued to Carson instead, nodding to the beat and not the way her heart crashed against her ribs with every movement Jamie made just behind her. And when the show came to its inevitable end, closing out with another slow build of a song that had everyone cheering and yelling wildly, Jamie finally slipped back beside her to properly cheer. When Jamie caught her eyes, bright even under the dim lights, her smile broad and electric, Dani couldn’t hope but to mirror it, feeling her hand mindlessly grasp Jamie’s, tangling their fingers together. 

They cheered as the band waved and bowed, making their exit from the stage. Carson found them again in the crowd, his hair a sweaty floppy mess, his shirt and skin damp, blowing a kiss that Jamie playfully waved away as Dani laughed. When the crowd slowly began to disperse, Jamie kept a firm hold of Dani’s hand as she guided them through the crowd. 

Dani leaned close to say, “You think the bathrooms aren’t too crazy right now?” 

Jamie snorted and replied, “You’d be better off running down the street to McDonalds.”

But even before she finished speaking, Jamie was already pushing faster through the crowd, again ignoring the disgruntled looks and muttering. Restless energy still buzzing beneath her skin, Dani followed as they wedged their way through, feeling Jamie’s hand squeeze hers until Jamie was pressing them both towards the bathrooms.

While the bathroom was busy with the coming and going of other women, the stall Dani shut herself in, graffitied and marked over like the rest of the bar, was a blessing in disguise. She pressed her back against the door as soon it was locked, her eyes shut as she exhaled shakily, slowly, her fists clenched at her sides. Over the sound of conversation and water running, the bass of music coming from the bar, there was the ever present rush of blood in her ears. An overwhelming vertigo pulsing under her skin. 

Banging the back of her head lightly against the door, she muttered, “Get it together, Dani.”

She pushed it away. Pressed it down until she could no longer feel the ghost of the warmth of Jamie’s hand in her own. Until she could stand on her own two legs without feeling rooted to the spot under Jamie’s smile. 

Jamie was already waiting for her when she exited, leaning on the dark wall across the bathroom entrance, her hands in her jean pockets and her eyes dark under the dim lights of the hallway. Dani’s stomach sank when the feeling of being unmoored returned, crashing through her scant defenses as Jamie spotted her, eyes lighting up. 

“Took you bloody long enough,” Jamie said. She jerked her head towards the bar, “One more for the road?”

All Dani could do was smile faintly and nod, following Jamie back towards the bar where she got them one more beer to share between them and a glass of water for herself.

“I think you’ve spent a crazy amount of money on me tonight,” Dani finally managed to say after they found an empty table to wait for Carson’s return. 

Jamie just grinned and shrugged. “You can pay next time.”

The fact that Dani had managed to come out to Carson’s show tonight was a miracle in of itself, the idea of a next time with Jamie left her buzzing in both anticipation and dread of having to go through all of this all over again. She nodded eagerly all the same, nursing her beer, buzzed and hapless to her fate. 

A commotion behind them caught their attention, and they both turned to find Carson and his bandmates surrounded by a group of fans clamoring for autographs and photographs. Carson had changed into a clean shirt, his hair damp and slicked back as though he had splashed water all over it. And if his broad smile and laugh was any indication, he was used to the kind of attention he was receiving. Jamie snickered, stealing a sip from their beer as they watched. 

When Carson finally slipped away and spotted them, he made a beeline straight towards their table, his hands full with what looked like a pile of folded t-shirts. Dani shot up to hug him before he could say a word. 

“You were amazing!” she said. He laughed, returning the hug until she stepped away to rest her hands on his shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.”

He smiled and ducked his head. “Thanks,” he said, and held out the t-shirts, “For you, just as promised.”

“Thank you.” She ran a hand over the soft fabric and embossed design of the band’s name in bold letters over a black and white photo of the group in front of a brick wall. Before she could stop herself, she unfolded one of the shirts and slipped it on over her dress, pulling her hair out from under the collar and smoothing over the fabric before cheerfully hugging Carson again. 

“Let the man breathe,” Jamie said, laughing as Dani returned to her seat, “Don’t you know rockstars like their personal space?”

“Shut up,” Carson muttered, sitting opposite them. 

“Really? You can do better than that.”

“You’re ruining the moment, asshole,” he countered.

“Better,” Jamie chuckled, but there was a great deal of pride of her own in her eyes as she regarded him, gesturing towards him with the beer they shared, “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Told you it’d be worth it.” 

“You did,” Jamie said, nodding concedingly, “Tell me again why you lot aren’t signed with someone or out touring the country?”

“Because — “ said the voice of Troy as he appeared behind Carson, slapping a hand down on Carson’s shoulder to lightly jostle it “ — we’re all too busy with other things.”

Troy was the only one to return, sitting beside Carson as the rest of the band had dispersed across the bar doing their own thing. 

“Some of us are still in school, so we’re not that crazy over the idea of making it big yet,” Troy added, and nudged Carson’s arm, “Besides, this one wants to be a star chef.”

“Reckon you can manage both,” Jamie said with such fixed certainty that Carson straightened upright. 

Before Carson could get the chance to respond, Troy nudged him again with a teasing grin, “Max is here by the way. He was looking for you.”

Carson blinked, his eyes just slightly wide. 

Jamie noticed, arching an eyebrow. “Max?”

“A friend,” Carson replied quickly.

“That right?” Jamie said, smirking over the rim of the glass.

Carson shot Jamie a dirty look, curiously avoiding Dani’s gaze. 

Just then, Robin sauntered towards the table. “You guys enjoy the show?”

Even as a rigid tension seeped into Dani’s shoulders, the ingrained sense of politeness drilled into Dani since birth won out. She nodded and said, “You were amazing.”

“Certainly better than I was ever expecting,” Jamie said, shooting Carson a wink. 

Troy laughed goodnaturedly, “Well, thanks for your honesty.”

“Ignore her. She’s being a dick,” Carson grumbled, but smiled all the same. 

Robin turned to Jamie with a tilt of her head. “Can I get you a drink?”

Dani felt like she was watching it happen in slow motion, stuck inside a water tank, hand pressed on the glass as Robin smirked and once again ran a not so subtle eye over Jamie. But Jamie reclined further back in her chair.

“Cheers, but we’ve got a long drive home,” Jamie said with a polite smile. 

Robin shrugged. “A smoke then.”

Jamie seemed to hesitate at that, her fingers tapping restlessly against the table, and turned to Dani with a questioning look. 

Dani nudged her foot under the table and said, “It’s all right.”

“You sure?”

Nodding, Dani gestured towards Carson. “We’ll meet you outside.”

Jamie stared for just a moment longer, as though waiting for Dani to say something more. When Dani said nothing – just smiled and deftly ignored the growing discomfort in her stomach – Jamie nodded and shot her a quick grin. Sliding the half empty glass towards Dani, Jamie rose to her feet and gestured for Robin to lead the way, already digging in her pocket for her pack of cigarettes as they retreated outside. Dani worried her lower lip with her teeth as she watched them go, slowly returning her gaze to the table with a faint frown when they slipped out the door. 

When she looked up, she caught Carson’s gaze. Unlike last time, his smile shot a course of fear through her, of being looked through and seen in a way she was wholly unready for. Carson had always been good at it, second to Jamie. Of seeing the fine lines of Dani’s expressions and lending a shoulder when she needed it. Most times she welcomed his quiet comfort. Tonight, she wanted nothing more than to slip away into the shadows, casting away this version of herself like an old dress.

“I’m really happy you guys came,” he finally said after Troy made his leave to the bar, earnest in a way he only seemed to ever reveal around her or Judy. “It means a lot to me.”

“I know,” Dani said, “I’m really happy we did too. I had so much fun. More than I had in a long time, I think.”

“That’s all I wanted.” He paused, then added, “Too bad Ed couldn’t come along too, huh? Show up and have fun for once.”

Even the mention of Eddie’s name made her freeze. She hadn’t thought of him once all night, too caught up in the show, too caught up in Jamie. Ignoring the weight of guilt in her chest – heavy as riverstones that would surely sink her to the bottom – Dani leaned forward to grasp his hand. 

“You know how he is. He’s busy with work, he - he wants to make a good impression,” Dani said, gripping his hand harder, urging him to look at her. When he finally did, she softly added, “I’m sorry he couldn’t come.”

“Having you and Jamie here is enough,” he said, and shrugged. “Just figures that it would be you two to make the effort and not — “

He didn’t finish his sentence, making a short sharp gesture. Dani offered him a faint smile that he slowly mirrored, gripping his hand again and feeling the pressure returned. He exhaled slowly, tension slipping away from his shoulders as he looked away and cast his eyes around the bar. 

“I’m gonna go say hi to Max,” Carson said, turning back to her, “Is that all right? I’ll be back soon.”

Dani nodded, still faintly concerned, but he seemed anxious to see his friend, his eyes darting back to the bar every few seconds, his knee bouncing. So Dani smiled, releasing his hand and watching him march over the bar, disappearing into the throng of people crowding around. She sat alone for a moment, nursing her beer. When a few of Carson’s bandmates returned to the table, Robin, Jamie, and Carson were still nowhere in sight. They kept her company for a minute, and she praised them for the show. Promising to return again when she could, and happily taking a zine that was handed to her by Lawrence where there was a whole full page spread promoting the band with photos and blurbs of each member. Dani had them all sign it for her, planning to get Carson and Robin to complete the collection. 

“Have you guys seen Carson?” she asked, holding a spare pen in one hand and the zine in the other. 

Lawrence motioned towards the stairwell. “Think he was that way?”

She left them with handshakes and waves, making her way through the crowd towards the stairs. Instead of dizzying blue lights, the second floor venue was lit like a gas station forecourt. Every nook and cranny unveiled, but the room was mostly empty save for a few groups of people talking in corners with drinks in hand. A quick glance around, standing on her toes, proved that Carson was nowhere in sight. Dani made for the side door and tested the handle, relieved to find it unlocked. 

The hallway inside was just as brightly lit. The sound of the music and conversation downstairs was muffled, but as she turned a corner, the unmistakable sound of a moan jerked her to a stop. Her eyes widened.

That was definitely Carson pressing another man against the wall, the pair kissing hungrily as their hands wandered. Dani was frozen to the spot, feeling as though she just crashed through an entirely different reality. At the sound of another moan from the man melting under Carson’s attention, Dani’s whole body flinched, and feeling more idiotic and voyeuristic by the second, she slipped back around the corner and out the side door as quietly as possible. 

Her hands had gripped the zine into fists, she realized with faint shock, staring blankly at the door as she shut it. She cleared her throat and tried to smooth it out as best she could before folding it away. Dani slowly made her way back downstairs to the bathroom that was blissfully empty, and splashed her cheeks with water cold enough to sting, to jar her back to earth. She swallowed hard and smoothed down her hair before slowly making her way out the bathroom, through the bar, and stepping outside into the brisk night. 

It had gotten colder after the evening waned into night. The air stung her exposed skin in a way that was both refreshing and uncomfortable, a bleak reminder she was only wearing a thin dress and a t-shirt. Immediately wrapping her arms around herself, the extra t-shirts and zine tucked under her arm, her breath misted into white vapor with every exhale as she cast her eyes around for Jamie. When she spotted her nearby, leaning against the wall with Robin beside her, wearing a stony but polite expression as they chatted quietly with a cigarette dangling between two fingers, Dani’s shoulders bunched up incremenantly. She eased closer, her boots clacking against the pavement. At the sound, Jamie looked over and her expression brightened. 

“You regretting that dress now?” Jamie said, chuckling as Dani stepped next to her, shivering but stubbornly ignoring the fact, “Poppins, it’s freezing. You should wait inside.”

Dani shrugged and said, “Was getting too warm inside.”

Arching a disbelieving eyebrow at her, Jamie shook her head. “Here,” she said, and placed her cigarette between her lips before shrugging off her jacket, leaving her in only a t-shirt.

“It’s fine. I’m - “

“Just take it,” Jamie said, the cigarette bobbing as she spoke, holding out the jacket for Dani to slip into, “The t-shirt over a dress is a fashion statement for sure, but you and I both know it’s doing shitall at keeping you warm.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, both square jawed and stubborn, but at another wintry breeze Dani relented with a sigh. Jamie grinned and Dani shot her a look, turning to let Jamie help her into the jacket. She regretted it immediately. The jacket was already warm from Jamie’s body heat, and she had to squash the urge to pull up the collar and press her nose to the smell of smoke and sandalwood. Instead, she carefully schooled her expression as she turned back around. Jamie rubbed her hands up and down Dani’s arms in a valiant effort to warm her up, doing nothing to help Dani’s racing heart. 

Dani gestured weakly to the cigarette. “Can I -?”

Without hesitation, Jamie took one last drag and handed the burning cigarette to her. For a long moment, Dani stared down at the faint lipstick residue left on the filter. Of all the cigarettes shared between them over the years — a handful at best — reaching for this one felt like sinking right through the ground. Slowly, she placed it between her lips, feeling a thrill race down her spine as she took a drag, liquid hot and electrifying. 

Her lungs burning, her eyes flitted up and caught Jamie’s, already watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Blowing out the smoke with pursed lips up into the air, she handed the cigarette back, clenching her teeth at the graze of their hands. Frowning down at the cigarette, Jamie flicked off the ashes and shook her head. It was a small movement. Dani might have missed it if she weren’t already looking so closely.

“You want more?” Jamie asked.

“No,” Dani murmured.

“Shit habit anyways,” Jamie muttered, and without another word, she stubbed out the cigarette against the wall and tossed it into a nearby trash can. She cleared her throat and frowned over Dani’s shoulder. “Where’s Carson?”

“Uh — ” Dani cleared her throat. “Busy. He’s busy. We should - we should just go.”

Jamie hummed and nodded, giving her a small smile. 

Still leaning on the wall nearby, Robin smoked quietly, her eyes drifting between Dani and Jamie with a look that wasn’t so much displeased as it was inquisitive. Dani wrapped her arms tighter around herself, scanning the street lit by lamp posts and store signs and the passing of cars to avoid looking either of them in the eye. 

“That’s it, huh?” Robin said, her voice raspy from smoke and a night of raucous singing. It was irritatingly alluring. 

“'Fraid so,” Jamie said with a shrug. 

“Carson’s gonna be staying over at mine and Troy’s place for the night once we’re done packing up,” Robin said, taking another long drag and slowly blowing it out, white smoke framing her dark hair, “You two are always welcome to stay over if you’ve got such a long drive.”

“We’ll manage,” Jamie said, a coiled tension in her jaw, placing a hand on Dani’s back, gently guiding her towards the truck down the street. 

“Sure,” Robin said, chuckling, though there was little amusement to it. Dani’s shoulders bunched up further at the sound. “See you two around, then. Thanks for coming.”

Polite to a fault, Dani smiled and nodded as they turned away. “You too. Have a good night.”

“Bye,” Robin said. 

Jamie gave a short, jerky wave behind her. “See you.”

When they were back in the truck, Jamie started the engine and immediately cranked the heat up to high. “Christ, it’s cold,” she muttered with an exaggerated shiver.

“You want your jacket back?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jamie shook her head, shooting her a grin. “Looks better on you anyways.” 

Any snarky retort Dani could’ve had died in her throat. She said lamely, “News said it should get warmer over the next few weeks. Just in time for Halloween.”

“Ah, so you do check the weather,” Jamie said, checking both ways down the street before easing the truck into the nighttime traffic. 

Still flustered, not knowing what else to say, Dani just rolled her eyes and groaned, “Shut up.”

Jamie laughed but didn’t say anything more. They fell silent as Jamie drove, street lights streaking slow patterns across them in the dark cabin.

At a stoplight, Jamie dug in her pocket and pulled out her rumpled carton of cigarettes. “You mind if I -?”

Dani shook her head and watched as Jamie rolled down her window a few inches. She pulled out a cheap plastic lighter and placed a cigarette in her mouth, raising a protective hand around it. A practised flick of the lighter and an inhale. Jamie’s face was illuminated in an orange glow that was reminiscent of sitting before a bonfire. Shadows and light danced across Jamie’s sharp features, and then it was gone and she was blowing smoke out the window. Dani exhaled slowly, quietly, and looked away out the windshield. 

When the truck sped up on the offramp and onto the highway, Dani felt herself shiver again. She adjusted the green blanket back over her legs. As she rested her collection of t-shirts and the zine back on her lap, she was suddenly reminded that in her haste to leave, she had not only forgotten to get both Carson and Robin’s signature for the zine, but she didn’t even get the opportunity to pay for the t-shirts. 

It seemed so inconsequential now, after the display she had accidentally stumbled into in the hallway towards the green room. Like a blindfold had been ripped off her eyes, and she could finally see every moment with Carson in the past two decades all at once. 

“Did you know?” she asked suddenly over the rumble of the wheels and the faint strains of music from the stereo. “That Carson liked -? That he was -?”

“Queer as a three dollar bank note?” Jamie finished for her dryly. She drew at the cigarette and blew smoke out the open window. “Yeah. Why? That bother you?”

Dani shook her head. “No. Why would it bother me?”

“Seem surprised is all.”

“No, it just - it never really occurred to me,” Dani said, “I feel kind of like an idiot for not seeing it before.”

Jamie offered her a kind smile and said, “Don’t be. Really. Can’t exactly see something if you’re not looking in the first place, yeah?”

“Right,” Dani murmured, her brow furrowed, not fully convinced. Not with how easy it was to see other people’s intentions over the course of the evening. She glanced at Jamie. "Robin seemed nice."

Jamie snorted. "Yeah. I don't think so."

"I mean - she was -" Dani fumbled "- good looking. I guess."

Jamie shot her a look that silently said 'Really?' and Dani could feel the flush in her cheeks. 

Shaking her head, Jamie took another long drag of her cigarette, blew the smoke out the window, and said, “She’s all right. Friendly. Talented — “ Jamie made a sharp gesture with her hand “ — whatever. Just doesn’t fuckin’ know how to take a no for an answer. Told her I had a kid waiting at home and a long drive at that, and still kept offerin’ me drinks. Last thing I bloody need is wrapping the truck around a tree ‘cause some girl can’t take a hint.”

There was a taut line to Jamie’s jaw, like she wanted nothing more than to gnash her teeth on a steel bar. Instead, she took another agitated draw of her cigarette, the smoke billowing from her nose like a red-eyed bull. 

Dani slowly asked, “Does that happen a lot?”

Jamie snorted again but was silent for a long moment, her fingers tapping almost restlessly against the steering wheel, not looking anywhere in Dani’s direction. “Not anymore,” she said. “Not when I’m working near twelve hour days in the middle of bloody nowhere with a kid to take care of.”

“So, you’re saying that girls used to be all over you?” Dani cautioned to ask, unexpectedly enjoying Jamie’s flustered huff.

“Guess you can say that,” Jamie muttered, still pointedly not looking at Dani. 

“So, there’s no one special then?” Dani said, a finger picking at a hangnail. “In your life?”

Jamie took a long drag, keeping the smoke trapped in her lungs. Her knuckles went white against the steering wheel, until she exhaled sharply into the night air, wind from the open window ruffling her hair. 

“Nope,” Jamie said, shaking her head, “No one special.”

“But there were still girls,” Dani said, not entirely sure what was possessing her to keep questioning further. 

Shooting her a curious look, Jamie shrugged. “Sure. A few, yeah,” she said, her throat working, her eyes turning back to the road. She shifted in her seat and cleared her throat before sheepishly admitting with a mutter, “More than a few, I guess.”

Jamie fell quiet, which was more than fine with Dani. Thoughts appeared in her mind, unbidden and unexpected. Images of a younger Jamie, more wild and reckless and less steady as she was now. Eyes dark under seedy bar lights, pressed against a faceless woman in a secluded corner. Lips dragging across a pale throat, a hand inching up a thigh towards less than appropriate places, the other burying and pulling at long blonde hair. 

Dani gripped the blanket atop her lap, grateful for the dark cabin to conceal her flush. Jamie took another drag of her cigarette, and Dani silently cursed her for it, her eyes straying to Jamie’s lips pursed around the filter as she inhaled and billowed smoke. Sinking further into the seat, the worn leather creaking and crackling under her shifting weight, Dani rested her head back against it, blinking slowly, feeling the alcohol course its way through her. 

She wondered, with the faint daze of someone standing on the precipice of a crumbling cliff, just how soft Jamie’s lips were. If women threw themselves at her because they understood just by a glance that Jamie knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how to press and drag and leave marks to remind them of a night in rumpled sheets. 

Dani blinked the thought away, swallowing hard. She cautioned a glance at Jamie who appeared none the wiser. She had finished her cigarette by now, the window rolled back up, fingers tapping to the beat of the radio on low, her other hand gripping the head of the gear stick. 

For one dizzying moment, Dani imagined lifting that hand and slipping it beneath the green woolen blanket, sliding it under her dress to place against the soft skin of her inner thighs, just to see her forearm work and feel the press of her calloused hands against heated, soft skin. Pressing her hand higher still, dragging it until it was where Dani never would have imagined needing it most, just to see what Jamie would do. 

Dani exhaled a slow, quiet breath that rattled in her chest, rolling her head away to face the passenger window, pressing her legs together against the heat and clench at the crux of her thighs. Gritting her teeth hard enough to send a dull ache rolling down her jaw and up her temple, Dani cranked down the window just enough to let the cold breeze whip at her face and hair, cooling her burning skin. 

She pressed her eyes shut, welcoming the sting, letting it shunt her back to earth to convince herself it was just the alcohol and the dark. That’s all it was. This wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. She was engaged. She was going to marry Eddie, her oldest friend who had never been anything but loving and kind, even through his faults and imperfections. Indentured to the mask and noose made for her by her own hands through encouragement and expectations from a society and family who wanted to see her as nothing more than the perfect, golden girl. Always eager to please and obey under the promise of being loved without second guessing it for once.

“You all right?” Jamie suddenly asked, broaching the long quiet that had settled comfortably between them. 

“What do you mean?” Dani asked, her voice miraculously steady, rolling the window back up. 

Jamie shrugged, shooting her a searching look. “Had that look about you,” she said, “Felt like I could hear that brain of yours firing away at light speed.”

Chuckling breathlessly with the faint realization how dry her mouth had gotten, Dani shook her head. “I’m fine,” she lied, “Just tired.”

With nothing but the stretch of a long, straight road ahead of them, Jamie shot her another look, arching an eyebrow. Dani gave her a weak smile, and whatever Jamie found in the corners of it, in the real tired lines of her face, seemed to assuage her worries. 

“Long day,” Jamie murmured. 

Dani hummed and said, “Long week.”

Turning back to the road, Jamie said, “Got a bit of a drive ahead of us.” She gave Dani another soft grin. “You’re welcome to rest for a bit until we get home.”

Dani frowned and stared down the dark road ahead of them, lit only by the occasional streetlight and the red and white lights of passing cars. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” Dani said, turning back to Jamie.

It took Jamie a long moment to respond to that, catching Dani’s eyes, her expression soft and warm. “Nothing I’m not used to,” Jamie murmured, “I’ve had my fair share of long drives by myself. The kid and I even drove all the way to North Liberty from the coast when we moved here.”

Dani smiled at that. “You two must’ve driven each other crazy.”

Jamie laughed and groaned. “It wasn’t pretty half the time, believe me,” she said, though her voice was fond, “Almost drove us off the road at one point.”

As Jamie regalled the story of a long running argument between the siblings during the journey across half the country, an argument centered around the food stash and who ate what and when, Dani laughed, wishing more than anything that she’d been there to see it. 

“And the other half?” Dani asked, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“No,” Jamie murmured, a small curl to her mouth, “He’s a good kid. Quiet and smart. Don’t know where he gets it from really.”

“I do,” Dani said, staring directly at Jamie’s profile. The crinkle of her eyes, the slant of her charmed smile. 

Jamie shot her another look, a gentle admonishment and shake of her head before she turned back to the road. “You must be tired if you’re going on and saying things like that,” she said. Her voice softened, “Rest. We’ll be home soon.”

But Dani couldn’t. Not now. Not when there were still vestiges of heat lingering on her skin. Her eyes drifted back down to Jamie’s shoulder, wanting to slide across the bench seat and rest her head there in the crook of Jamie’s neck. Wanted to breathe in that sandalwood cologne that had haunted her for a decade. Wanted to grab her hand and link their fingers in Dani’s lap, her thumb gently stroking Jamie’s knuckles. Wanted to drive until they reached a place beyond Iowa, beyond the Midwest, where they were nobody but themselves. 

Instead she curled her hands in the blanket, leaned back with a sigh, and listened to the white noise of the tires carrying them home.

--

It was well after midnight when Jamie finally dropped her home. The alcohol had run its course during the rest of the ride, leaving her sluggish and heavy-eyed, only managing a small smile and a murmured goodbye to Jamie who waited with a look of quiet affection until she stumbled through the front door before driving away. Dani watched her go, taillights disappearing in the distance, red eyes in the dark, before retreating into the house. Jamie’s departing look lingered over her as she set aside the t-shirts and zine on the side table, pushing out of her boots, sitting with her like a heavy woolen blanket across her shoulders.

The house was dark and quiet in a way that Dani was loath to disturb with stumbling in the dark, as though in fear of awakening a slumbering beast with her presence. But as she was stepping quietly towards the kitchen in search of a glass of water, light from the living room gave her pause. Blue light bounced and danced along the walls and she stepped towards it, padding onto the living room carpet to find the television on, and Eddie, stretched out along the couch, fast asleep. Something heavy sank in her chest as she stepped closer, casting her eyes over the room. A can of beer sat on the coffee table as highlight clips of the Minnesota Twins winning the World Series ran on mute on tv. And Eddie, glasses still on, pajamas already donned, breathing deeply on the soft cushions of their couch.

Dani slowly sat beside him on the edge of the couch, her shoulders stiff as she reached out a hand to sweep a dark curl off his forehead, her fingers grazing his skin. He twitched at the contact and Dani held her breath, her hand frozen. His eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking slowly up at her, shifting slightly on his back as a lethargic smile grew on his face. 

“Hey, you,” he murmured, a hand moving to rest against her waist. 

“Hey,” she replied softly, “What are you still doing down here?”

“Was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured. 

He gave her a shrug. “Wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he said, “Did you have fun?” When Dani nodded, he glanced down at the t-shirt she still wore and he plucked at the fabric with a grin. “Hopefully not too much fun.”

Dani tensed, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue. She fought it down and tucked it away. Just teasing, she tried to convince herself. Only teasing. 

Before Dani could say anything further, Eddie’s eyes lingered over her torso for a moment longer. “This is new,” he said, running a hand down her arm. 

Frowning, Dani looked down in bewilderment and inhaled a quiet breath at Jamie’s jacket still draped over her. “Oh,” Dani choked out and gave a nervous, small laugh. “It’s - um. It was cold out.”

If Eddie recognized the jacket at all, he gave no indication of it. He simply nodded. Nothing happened, she told herself again, and repeated it like a mantra when it did nothing to help that coil of guilt twisting tighter around her chest. 

Inhaling a steady breath, Dani ran her hand through Eddie’s hair, pulling her mouth into a smile that ached at her cheeks. “Why don’t you go upstairs to bed and I’ll lock up the house,” she told him softly, pushing up his glasses, “I’ll be there soon.”

Eddie gave her an affectionate smile, his eyes heavy with sleep, and murmured, “Promise?”

She blinked at him and slowly nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered. 

He left easily, leaving her with a kiss to her forehead and ascending the stairs with slow steps. Exhaling shakily, running a hand with trembling fingers through her hair, Dani turned off the tv and brought the empty beer can to the kitchen to be shoved under the sink where it would wait to be collected for recycling another day. After gulping down almost an entire glass of water, only then did Dani finally allow herself to register the suede jacket she still wore, to run her hands over the fabric and shut her eyes in the dim kitchen lights, inhaling the lingering smell of woodsmoke and sandalwood. She had to lean back against the counter, pressing the glass of water to her forehead. 

Dani left the glass on the counter and pushed off it, starting towards the garage where her car was parked. It was cold inside, the concrete glacial beneath her feet. She unlocked her car and peeled off Jamie’s jacket, smothering the urge to press the collar against her nose with a hard bite to her lip and folded it neatly before resting it on the passenger seat for the next time she saw Jamie. Shivering, Dani shut the car door shut and felt the coiling tension in her shoulders ease just enough to feel normal again. But when she turned around, her eyes landed on the piles of boxes in the corner and subsequently, the old dirty paperback that she had carelessly tossed aside a week ago. 

She froze and stared at it for a long moment. Her fists pressed tight to her thighs, she made an abortive step forward before realizing what she was doing. For all its terrible prose, there was something there in those yellowed pages that had drawn Jamie to it as a teenager, unlike Dani who shied away from it as though it would bite her hand. She wanted to know what the big deal was. What about it did Jamie like. But still, even just looking at it, Dani felt foolish. Felt like she was sticking her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. 

She wrapped her arms loosely around her stomach, warding off the chill of the garage even as her cheeks warmed, and without another glance, she marched back inside of the house.

--

She tried to forget. For the rest of the week, she tried. But it still lingered there in the back of her mind as she went about her days. In the quiet mornings when she woke, during the hours in between class, the evenings spent with Eddie, the nights restless and too quiet all at once — Jamie. Always Jamie. And that stupid book. 

By Friday evening, driving home after school with Jamie’s jacket still folded next to her in the passenger seat, Dani was at her wits end and determined to just get it over with. Even though she had been expecting it, when Dani pulled up to the house, she was still relieved to find that Eddie wasn’t home yet. When she parked the car in the garage, cutting off the engine and leaving her in the silence, she felt foolish again, as though she was about to commit a crime in her own house by reading a book. She glanced at the jacket beside her, still here even after opportunities arose over the week to return it through Mikey or just waiting long enough for Jamie to pull up at the school. Dani’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. 

Huffing loudly and rolling her eyes at herself, Dani stepped out of the car and started towards the book. It’s just curiosity, she told herself, nothing to make a big deal out of. She picked it up with an irritated sigh, leaned back against the piles of boxes, and without any fanfare flipped it open to a random page. Somehow, she landed on a page without the obscenity she had been expecting. Boring drivel of a man ardently longing for a woman he couldn't have in prose so outdated she snickered. She flipped to another random page where the woman herself finally made an appearance, but beyond detailed descriptions of her looks, there was still nothing.

Pressing her mouth into a thin line, Dani flipped further along and paused. “Oh,” she murmured, raising an eyebrow at an elaborate description of the pair passionately going at it in the back of a car. 

Dani leaned further against the boxes, tilting her head as she read, feeling her cheeks heat up. As terrible as it was, the prose was detailed and intense and focused intently on the woman involved — how she looked, how she felt, the noises she made, the way her body moved. Dani swallowed thickly as she read a passage of the woman pulling hard on the protagonist's hair that bobbed between her legs. Blinking down at the words, her breath stuttering, Dani skipped to another page, finding another passage of wine-drunk lovemaking on rumpled sheets. It was almost dizzying how many scenes there were. How intent the author was in placing the reader in the shoes of this faceless male protagonist. She felt breathless the more she read, her skin warm, her heart pounding steadily against her chest. 

Flipping to another page, she found another, this time of the woman pressing the man against a wall and dropping to her knees, pulling open his belt with a rakish grin and wanton intent. Dani sucked in a low breath. Jamie on her knees, looking up at her with a smirk and that dangerous glint in her darkened eyes, pliant and eager as Dani, raking a hand through her curls and gripping tight. Jamie moaning as Dani arched her head back by the hair, exposing the long lines of her neck. Jamie’s hands dragging up her legs, her thumbs skimming the soft skin of her inner thighs as Dani pulled her closer and closer to wet heat. 

Dani slammed the book shut. Her breath shallow and unsteady, she tossed it back on the box as though it had scalded her. Her fingers trembling, she pressed a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to cast the images away as well to very little effect. Jamie on her knees. Dark curls tangled between Dani’s knuckles. Tongue licking at a scarred mouth. A spool of heat threaded its way between her legs, a dizzying ache that felt as though she was being torn at the seams. 

Exhaling shakily, Dani smoothed down the lines of her skirt as though she could smooth away the jagged edges of this person she didn’t recognize. This person who walked through her house to her bedroom in a faint daze with the sole intent of washing away the guilt and want with water cold enough to hurt until she could pick up the pieces of herself again for when Eddie got home.

She was used to it by now. Picking up the pieces. But as cold water washed down her shoulders and down her back, staring at the tiles with glazed eyes, biting into the skin of her thumb, she felt no different. Just a futile desire to be rid of the feeling, the scattered remains of her sinking down the drain. And when Eddie finally returned home later, finding her in the kitchen chopping vegetables for dinner and stepping behind her to wrap his arms around her waist in greeting, she let herself sink into it. Letting the comforting warmth of Eddie block away everything else. 

This could be her, she told herself again as she let him kiss her before he pulled up his sleeves to help with dinner. This had to be her. She just wasn’t sure how anymore.

--

Lips pressed against her neck in a lingering kiss, warm and soft against her skin, her eyes fluttering open to the feeling. They slowly made their way down her throat to her shoulders, leaving a trail of hot skin. Her breath caught, feeling as though she was waking up from a deep haze, the world came into sharp focus as a hand skimmed over her ribs down to her hip and thigh.

Dani had been here before. A familiar haunting that came and went through the years. A ghost that shadowed her dreams, unbidden and anticipated in equal measure.

Inhaling another stuttering breath as that warm mouth trailed down her chest, she looked down to find a head of dark curls obscuring the face of the figure pressing into her. A shock of liquid heat coursed down her spine as those lips lavished attention to her breasts, and she couldn’t help the soft moan escaping her. Dani buried a hand into those dark curls, letting her nails drag gently across their scalp. 

“Look at me,” she said, her stomach coiling, her hips twitching as their mouth worked on her. 

But the figure never did. In all the times Dani has been here, the figure never looked up, never caught her eyes and showed their face. They were an amorphous silhouette, submerged in shadow. An outline lit by a familiar dim lamp. An old acquaintance to warm her bed and light a match within her chest. One that descended lower, kissing and biting gently at her ribs and stomach, spreading goosebumps along her skin.  

She was trembling, an ache building between her legs until she felt slick with it. Hands, strong and steady, pressed into her thighs, silently urging her to spread them open. Dani eagerly complied, her breath shallow. “Look at me,” she repeated, her hand tugging at that dark hair, but just as she expected, the shadow ignored her in favor of pressing hot kisses across her hips and down her thighs, biting at soft skin and smoothing it over with their tongue. 

She bit back a moan, pulling harder. The figure groaned low, sending another shock between her legs, clenching at nothing as she strained her ears to the sound. She couldn’t place it. She never could. Her eyes skimmed over shoulders and a lean back that was shrouded in shadow, and for the first time in years knew exactly who she desired this person to be. 

Kisses traveled back up her inner thighs, a slow trail that was steadily driving Dani mad with anticipation as those calloused hands pulled her legs over their shoulders. Heated breath spread over her until finally, a hot tongue ran up the length of her in one long, torturous swipe. She moaned in relief, in the hot press of that mouth working against her and casting a fire under her skin, swirling and sucking with single minded intent. She felt dizzy with it, like she could unfurl and blow away in a derecho gust. 

A hand moved between her legs to slowly press into her, a finger curling and thrusting and pulling sounds from her that left her flushing scarlet. It was almost too much, the sensation tightening the coil at the base of her spine. She fought to keep her eyes open, groaning at the sight of a head of dark curls bobbing between her legs. 

She pulled the hair hard enough to hurt. “Look at me,” she breathed, insistent and urgent as the coil grew tighter. “Jamie, look at me. ”

That face tilted up, eyes dark as a sea at storm, and Dani awoke with a jerk.

There was a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. Blinking, she squinted up at Eddie, who was leaning up on one elbow beside her.

“You okay?” he asked, rubbing at a patch of bare skin at her shoulder, his thumb brushing against the lace of her pink nightgown. “You were making little noises in your sleep. I thought it might be one of those nightmares again.”

She shook her head and pushed the bangs from her eyes. “Sorry. I uh –” Lowering her hand to peer up at him, Dani knew he couldn’t see her clearly even this close without his glasses, couldn’t see the flush across her face or the way she clamped her teeth tightly together. “What time is it?” she asked.

“About –” He rolled onto his back so he could check the clock on his bedside table. “– Six? Just after. Plenty of time if you wanted to catch some more shut eye before we have to get up.”

Dani wasn’t tired. Dani’s heart was still racing from the dream. There was a fire dragging its way beneath her skin. She might have been tempted to retreat to the ensuite under the pretence of an early shower, giving herself enough time to work out her current predicament on her own, but that had never worked for her in the past – she had tried several times – and she couldn’t imagine it working now.

Tossing back the duvet, she clambered astride Eddie, shifting so that she wasn’t kneeling on her nightgown, so that the fabric was rucked up around her thighs. “Can we -?”

His expression was startled but he nodded. “Yeah. Sure,” he said, sounding slightly breathless. “I just didn’t think –”

But her hands were already moving to tug him free of his boxer briefs. It wasn’t often she took any sort of initiative in this. It wasn't ever, if she was being honest. The abrupt shift left Eddie looking baffled but excited, his gaze darting from her face to her hands. Dani’s breathing had quickened in anticipation – not of feeling him, but of feeling something – and when she sank down onto him she had to bite back a deep-seated groan. His hands grasped at her waist, but she pushed them aside so that he could only grab the sheets and watch. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Dani tried to keep quiet, tried to lock away every gasp and sharp inhalation, tried to keep the bed springs from creaking or the headboard from nudging the wall with every hard rock of her hips. She chased after the memory of the dream, swiftly fading, conjuring up the stroke of a tongue and the curl of fingers. She could hear Eddie make a desperate little noise beneath her when she leaned down to fix her teeth into his shoulder. When he tried to lift his head to kiss at her neck, to reciprocate in some way, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him away.

It was a terrifyingly bad decision, grinding down against Eddie while thinking of someone else. Tremendously wrong to buck her hips, panting into the hollow of his throat, while thinking of Jamie. But her thighs were slick and trembling, and there was a thrill spooling tight as a spring at the base of her spine, and she was close — she was so close —

Dani muffled a noise by biting down, feeling him wince beneath her with a hiss. She shuddered to a halt, forehead pressed against the pillow over Eddie’s shoulder, the cotton fabric of her nightgown sticking slightly to her back. She was still trying to even out her breathing when Eddie carded his hands through her hair to get it out of his face.

“Sorry,” she gasped, slipping free and shifting onto her side so she could roll onto her back beside him. She did not remain there long, breathing heavily towards the ceiling, feeling spent, feeling hollow. She cleared her throat and sat up, raking her hair back with both hands, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She tensed when she felt a broad hand on her back. 

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Gripping the hem of her nightgown, the cloth bunching up between her fingers, Dani chewed at her lower lip and nodded. The thrum beneath her skin had dwindled to a distant murmur, but in its wake her stomach lurched into her throat. She stood abruptly and announced, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Eddie said something in return, but it did not register. Blindly Dani pushed her way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, hand trembling against the cool metal of the handle. She flinched away from the sight of her own reflection in the mirror; she didn’t want to see the mussed quality of her hair or the high color in her cheeks. Instead, she set the shower to heat up while she pulled off her nightgown and used the toilet. When she tugged the shower curtain shut and stepped beneath the water, it was hot enough to scald. 

Steam clogged up the air. It felt like she was drowning in a fog. The spray and the heat should have been soothing, but Dani pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and had to remind herself that crying in the shower when Eddie could come into the bathroom at any moment was a bad idea. Not nearly as bad an idea as having sex with him while wishing it had been with her best friend instead, but still. Unwise. 

It wasn’t cheating, she told herself. And nothing had happened with Jamie. Nor would it. She wouldn’t. 

She reached for the soap anyway and with shaking hands scrubbed herself clean.

There was a tap at the bathroom door, and then the telltale flux of warm air rushing out as the door opened and Eddie stepped inside. “Mind if I come in?”

For a brief panicked moment Dani thought he meant into the shower , but then there followed the sound of him lifting up the toilet seat and she relaxed. If she washed her hair and pretended the last quarter hour or so hadn’t happened, she could almost fool herself into believing it was a morning like any other morning. Just their normal routine. Sharing a bathroom. Trading off who got to use the shower and who got to brush their teeth. Arguing affably over whose turn it was to make coffee. 

Shutting off the tap, Dani pulled back the shower curtain to find Eddie standing before the sink and inspecting his neck in the mirror.

“You certainly had your way with me,” he said, touching the darkening bruise with his fingertips, head tilted back.

Face flushed scarlet, stomach seething unpleasantly, Dani mumbled, “Sorry.”

He grinned at her askance. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all. It isn’t your usual style.”

No. Her usual style involved actively avoiding the act all together, and then, when she ran out of excuses, passively lying back and hoping he finished quickly. 

She made a motion towards the towel rack and Eddie handed her a fresh towel. After drying herself off, she stepped from the shower and wrapped the towel tightly around herself. He wore only a shirt, which he was now pulling over his head so he could slip by her to take his turn in the shower. Dani ducked to avoid a sharp elbow.

“Whoops,” Eddie grimaced apologetically, tucking his elbows back into his torso. “Close one.”

She tried to laugh, sounding breathless. 

He grinned, and as he stepped by her he placed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks for leaving some hot water for me.”

“Yeah,” she said, gripping the towel more tightly around herself. “Of course. I’ll - I’ll go make coffee.”

--

The school had banded together with the neighboring high school and had chosen the theme for this year's Halloween event, which was how Dani found herself allocated a costume for Dorothy. The red sequined shoes barely fit and the dress was too short for her liking. It was only an hour or so into the day's festivities, and already Dani found herself tugging time and time again at the hem in the vain hope that it might somehow stretch the blue and white gingham further towards her knees.

It was a brisk October afternoon and kids — already on a sugar high — were racing about in costume. A large section of the school grounds had been transformed overnight into a maze quadrantid off by bales of hay stacked high, while the back half of the school building itself was now a haunted house. All brick facade and creeping ivy and false cobwebs and fog machines pumping out a soupy mist across the grounds. It seemed that every group of children that passed through the fog was compelled to frolic in it, kicking up swirling clouds and swishing their red and black capes with great delight as the fog curled through the air. One child came scampering up to her, asking for a bottle of water, and she promptly pulled a mini bottle from the basket hung at the crook of her elbow for just that purpose.

"Thanks, Miss Clayton!" he said before racing off into the haunted house section with his friends. Dani waved after him with a distracted smile, her eyes scanning the grounds.

Eddie was manning a booth that gave out candy to students who had finished a series of easter egg hunts throughout the school grounds. He was dressed as a scarecrow, a ruff of straw wreathing his neck, wrists and ankles. As kids rallied to him, waving their slips of paper upon which they had marked off all the items they'd discovered, Eddie pretended to scratch his head over each one, pushing back his wide-brimmed straw hat and feigning stupidity as he attempted to read their lists upside down to a chorus of laughter and chiding from the students.

"He's good with them," said a voice beside her.

Dani started, turning around to find that Hannah had approached her from the main building. "What?" Dani asked dumbly.

Hannah, resplendent in a sparkling pink gown and tiara, gestured with her long star-pointed wand towards Eddie. "With the kids, I mean."

"Oh." Dani glanced back towards Eddie, who was good-naturedly fending off a group of kids from the enormous bag of chocolates and foil-wrapped sweets. He handed them out with a laugh in equal measure, small greedy hands reaching out to swipe them up the moment they were offered. Dani forced on a smile so broad it made her cheeks hurt. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, he's - he's great. He'd make a good dad."

"Can't say that for many people," Hannah replied dryly.

Dani's laugh was strained. "No, I guess not. Definitely not sure if I'd make as good a mom."

Hannah gave her an odd look. "You're wonderful with kids, dear."

Dani opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak another student ran up to her and asked if he could still use the bathrooms in the building or if there were portable units on the grounds somewhere. She crouched down to talk to him, sending him off towards the restrooms in the building. When she pushed herself upright once more, Dani turned to Hannah and asked, "Have you seen Jamie anywhere? It's just - I thought she said she was going to volunteer again."

Both dress and tiara sparkled whenever Hannah moved, the bright fabric a lush stark contrast to her dark skin. She tilted her head towards the maze and said, "Miss Taylor was adamant she be allowed to put her hands to work, so I set her to task in there. Last I saw, she was helping a few brawny gentlemen arrange some hay bales around the place."

"That sounds like her," Dani said. Then, seeing just how large the bales of hay were, she frowned and muttered, "She's going to throw her back out one of these days."

Hannah's smile was knowing. "Shall you go check and make sure she's still fit for purpose? Only, I'd hate for our newest and most ardent volunteer to be taken from the line of duty by hay. Bailed up, as it were."

Hannah said it with such a straight face that it took a moment for the pun to register. Dani scrunched up her nose. "Oh, Hannah,” she said somberly. “That was terrible."

Hannah laughed, then tapped Dani's elbow with the end of her wand. "Go on, then. I'll cover for you here."

Shooting her a grateful grin, Dani handed her the woven basket full of water bottles, keeping one for herself as she made her way across the field. Kids streamed around her in flocks. She cast a furtive glance towards Eddie to check if he'd noticed her movements, but he was too busy at his candy booth to take much notice beyond the children demanding his attention. With a tug at the hem of her skirt, Dani ducked her head and continued on.

Even with the sun overhead, the air was cool. Dani wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had grabbed some sort of shawl to go with the outfit. The white stockings reaching her knees were a saving grace, but the back of her neck was exposed to the autumn air due to the pigtails she had pulled over her shoulders. Fog curled around her ankles as she strode through the entrance of the maze. Towering stacks of hay had been erected on either side like columns to which life-sized plastic skeletons had been hung. Uncarved pumpkins littered the ground at the corners, piled up here and there. 

Without any hesitation, Dani turned down the first fork. Glimmer of red through the mist as her feet carried her unerringly onward. The sounds of the outside world seemed to fade away in here, replaced instead by pre-recorded groans and wails, rattle of chains and spooky laughter fed through strategically located speakers that she spied nestled between pumpkins or ghosts strung from bits of wire. Dani met a dead end and had to turn around to backtrack. At one point she passed by a small group of kids, who shrieked in fearful delight and sprinted past without a word. She watched them go with a slight smile and found that they had been frightened off by a foam gargoyle painted to look like stone that snarled as she drew close, its eyes glowing red. Dani paused to inspect how it worked, poking around the back of the contraption to find the wires and clever sensors.

Hand slipping from the gargoyle's head, she continued on her way. She could hear the sounds of students talking loudly amongst themselves in a row over. Their voices faded when their paths branched apart, until it almost seemed Dani was alone in this place, adrift from space and time with pale walls standing stiffly upright, barricading her in with no exit in sight.

A low growl rumbled up ahead and Dani's footsteps slowed. Frowning, she stepped forward, leaning to one side to peer around a corner. She blinked in surprise when a person in a werewolf costume leapt out from behind a wall of hay, hands covered in rubber-tipped talons, face completely obscured behind a mask that had a ruff of black fur so wild it might have been a lion at one point. An old theatre prop, perhaps. Something recycled from the school's limited budget.

The werewolf lowered their claws and said, "What brings you round these parts, Poppins?"

Dani squinted, seeing a glint of familiar eyes through the holes in the mask. "Is that you, Jamie?"

Jamie's voice was muffled behind layers of rubber and faux fur. "Unfortunately. You would not believe how hot this thing is."

Dani bit her lower lip against a smile. "I was told you were building the maze not terrorizing it."

"None of those blokes could fit in here," said Jamie, gesturing with her paws to the wolf suit. "One too many pies."

Dani pointed with the water bottle. "I hate to break it to you, but I think it’s actually because the outfit was made for kids to wear on stage."

Jamie's head jerked back. "What exactly are you getting at?" she said, a low growl entering her voice.

"Well," said Dani, and she held out a hand to indicate Jamie's height. "If the shoe fits -"

"Finish that sentence. I dare you." Jamie tried to point a threatening finger at her, but the rubber gloves didn't have individual articulated fingers so it just looked like she was waving her hand through the air.

Dani laughed, but they both went silent and turned when they heard approaching footsteps and youthful voices.

"Here," hissed Jamie, waving Dani around the corner. "C'mon! Quickly now!"

"What?" Dani said, but followed her along until they were crowded into another dead end, surrounded by walls on three sides.  

“Gotta do the gig, Poppins. What do you take me for?”

“I hardly think Dorothy is cause for terror, Jamie.”

“Shh. They’re coming.”

Rolling her eyes, Dani went quiet nonetheless. A rubber claw was on her arm, holding her back, but Jamie's wolf mask was pointed in the direction of the voices coming their way, waiting for some unfortunate students to round the corner.

"Ready?" Jamie whispered. "On three. One. Two. Th -"

A shoe stepped into view and Jamie leapt forward with a theatrical snarl, hands raised about her ears to show off the rubber tipped claws. Two students — a boy and a girl, both far too old to be in any of Dani's classes — jumped back a step in surprise. The boy screamed, his voice high pitched, lifting his arms to cover his face, but the girl beside him recovered quickly. Her initial fright fell from her face, and she sighed.

"Calm down, Spence," she said, smacking his stomach lightly with the back of her hand. "It's only Dorothy and Toto."

At that, Jamie gave a very convincing growl from beneath the wolf mask, but the girl only scowled and pointed at Jamie. "Bad dog!" she scolded.

Jamie lowered her arms, and even though Dani couldn't see her face she appeared thoroughly put out. Meanwhile the girl turned to the boy and said, "I told you we should've just gone to the bleachers. Come on."

And without further ado, she grabbed his arm and hauled him back down the way they had come. Dani cleared her throat to disguise the laugh that threatened to escape, covering her mouth with her hand. Jamie turned, lifting her mask away and grumbling, "Well, that was embarrassing."

Beneath the mask, Jamie's cheeks were pink and bright. Dani shrugged and said, "I thought you were very scary."

"Yeah, well, I do my best." Peeling the mask completely free, Jamie chucked it to the ground before working on ridding herself of the paws. "Poor sod," she muttered. "Thought he was going to get lucky, but instead he ran into us."

Dani frowned. "What do you mean?"

Casting the paws atop the mask, Jamie jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Didn't you hear that bit about the bleachers? Bet those two were aiming to have a good time, if you know what I mean."

Dani made a face. The last thing she liked thinking about was students engaging in those sorts of extracurricular activities. "You'd think they'd be more creative than the bleachers. I can't imagine you get much privacy there."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Jamie said dryly. Her hair was plastered to her sweaty neck and forehead, and it was utterly distracting. Dani had lifted her hand to her mouth before she could realize what she was doing, teeth setting into the skin of her thumb. With a frown, she yanked her hand back down, crossing her arms.

"The bleachers?" Dani said, crinkling her nose. "Really?"

Jamie hummed around a crooked smile. "Best place, though?" she said and lowered her voice, glancing around covertly as though they might be overheard. "Definitely the old art room on the third floor. Always empty on Wednesdays and Fridays. You can get away with murder in there."

Dani’s mouth worked, but no noise came out; she struggled to imagine how Jamie could have known this information. And then she could imagine it. All too clearly. Jamie pressing her back against the wall of a darkened room surrounded by art supplies. Jamie ducking her head to mouth against her neck. Jamie's hands and Jamie's eyes and Jamie grinding up against her with heady reckless abandon. Stolen moments between classes. Fingers drifting beneath her skirt, rucking the fabric up her thighs.

"God, get me out of this bloody thing," Jamie grumbled, trying to reach for the zipper over her shoulder.

Dani started. She felt flushed and flustered. "Oh, uh -" she stammered.

Jamie had already turned around, groping around her back and looking thoroughly pathetic while doing so. "Bit of help here?" she asked.

Clearing her throat, Dani swallowed down the rise of heat in her stomach. She stepped forward and reached for the zipper that was caught midway between Jamie's shoulder blades. For a moment she hesitated to touch her — touching Jamie was dangerous, touching Jamie was incendiary and she was a box of tinder ready to go up in smoke — but then Dani gently nudged Jamie's hands aside so she could reach the zipper. She tugged it down. The teeth caught in clumps of faux fur that she had to brush aside in order to continue, and she revealed Jamie beneath, inch by inch.

Dani's mouth went dry. Beneath the suit, Jamie was wearing a white tank top and jean shorts that should have been criminalized. The peaks and troughs of Jamie's spine faintly gleamed with sweat in the low light, and Dani had to swallow back the image of licking a stripe along it to the base of her neck. Her hands were trembling by the time she dragged the zipper all the way down. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she stepped away and inhaled deeply, feeling faintly dizzy.

"Thanks," Jamie said, pushing the suit off her shoulders and lumbering free.

"Mmm," was the only response Dani could muster.

It should have helped. Earlier that morning. With Eddie. It was supposed to have helped. Taken off the edge. Looking at Jamie now felt like handling the wrong side of a knife. Dani had to skirt her eyes delicately around glimpses of Jamie for fear of being cut — the sweat-slicked curl of her hair, the tip of her throat back as she raked her hands through it, the cling of white fabric to her ribs, the sliver of skin revealed above her waistband, the ragged line of her too short jeans high against her thighs.

Dani was gripping the water bottle so tightly, it was a miracle the top didn't go flying off into the grass. Jamie turned, free of the suit and looking utterly divine in a slant of afternoon light; she pointed towards the bottle in Dani's hands and asked, "Don't suppose you can spare a drop for me?"

Flustered, Dani shoved the bottle of water into Jamie's hands. The brisk October air had been too cold not long ago, but now Dani shrugged against a prickle of heat between her shoulder blades, desperately wishing she had worn something lighter. 

Jamie had unscrewed the water bottle and tipped it back, throat working as she drank. Dani watched the line of her neck, lips parted, until Jamie lowered the water bottle with a gasp of relief and a murmured, “Cheers.”

When she tried to hand the half-finished bottle back to her, Dani held up her hands. “Oh, no. It’s all yours.” 

She didn’t screw the top back on, and instead fiddled with it in her free hand. Jamie’s cheeks were still flushed, though whether it was from the chill in the air or the lingering heat of the costume, Dani could not tell. Jamie’s gaze roved over her as though she were getting a proper look at her for the first time without the mask. 

“That’s quite a dress,” said Jamie with a long fading wolf-whistle. 

Dani grimaced and tugged at the hem again. “Yeah. The outfit only came in one size.”

“Who picked the theme this year?” 

“One of the parents, I think?” Dani said. “It went to a vote, or something. I don’t know, exactly. Hannah’s the one who handles all that kind of thing, bless her heart.”

“Well,” Jamie eyed the length of Dani’s skirt or rather lack thereof, “Can’t complain.”

At a loss for words, Dani gave the hem one final tug, then curled her hands into fists to keep herself from fidgeting. Lifting the bottle to her mouth once more for a sip, Jamie smirked around it at her. Mouth full of water, Jamie gestured to her with the bottle, swallowing before she asked, “So, what brings you to my corner of the world?”

“Just,” Dani laughed briefly, nervously, “Just wanted to make sure everything was all right. And to thank you for volunteering. Again.”

“Not a problem,” said Jamie. “Feel like I should do my guardian duty, or whatever. And if that involves me dressing up as a wolf man and playing tiddlywinks, then -” she shrugged, grinning, “- so be it.”

“Well, if you need another player, then -” 

“I’ll be sure to give you a ring,” Jamie said dryly.

“I can’t promise it’ll be more fun than the third floor art room. Or the bleachers, apparently,” Dani said and she hoped her smile appeared genuine and not as jittery as she felt.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “You and Ed really never went around campus and -?” her voice trailed off suggestively and she made an explicit motion with the water bottle.

Dani shook her head, ears burning. “God, no.”

“Not an adventurous bone in your body. The lot of you,” Jamie sighed, sounding vaguely disappointed. “C’mon, then. Let’s go.” She gestured for Dani to follow her and as she turned away she lifted the water bottle to her lips for another sip.

“To the third floor art room?” Dani blurted out incredulously.

Jamie choked. She lowered the bottle and had a coughing fit into her hand. By the time she had finished, she was red in the face and screwing the cap back onto the bottle. “I meant -” she said, wheezing slightly. She thumped her chest, then spoke more clearly, “I meant just - out there. In general.”

“Oh. Right,” Dani said. “Right. Of course. Do we go -?” 

She made a motion to back track the way she had come, but Jamie shook her head. “No need for that. This way.” 

Climbing halfway up the wall, Jamie fished around the top until she found a pair of wooden handled bale hooks. After dropping back down to the ground, she hefted the hooks in both hands and began swiftly dismantling a section of the wall, dragging bales down one by one until there was a gap wide enough for them to comfortably walk through. Jamie bent over to pick up the discarded costume, suit dangling from one of the hooks over one shoulder, she jerked her head towards the exit. “You coming?”

Dani tugged at the hem of her skirt. Every step seemed to make the fabric ride higher up her thighs until she gripped the cloth between both hands to keep it in place as she walked. “Really wish I’d had enough time to lengthen this,” she muttered under her breath. Her sewing skills weren’t anything to call home about, but she’d had enough practise to not be completely terrible — darning Eddie’s clothes, adding patches to the faded elbows of his favourite sweaters. 

Jamie laughed. “It does look like you’re trying to scandalize a few parents.”

“Is it working?” 

Jamie’s answering grin was slow, her eyes measuring the distance between Dani’s hem and Dani’s knees. “Wouldn’t know,” she said finally. “I’m not a parent.”

Dani had to swallow back an answering tightness in her throat. She glanced towards the partially dismantled wall of the maze behind them and said, “Do we need to put it back?”

Jamie made a considering noise before replying, “Fuck it. Let one of the others worry about that. Left me here to fend off a pack of savage teenagers by myself, the gutless bastards."

Dani's laugh was startled but real. "They can be quite a handful when they're older, it's true."

Jamie watched her with a warm gaze, looking pleased with herself for making her laugh. "They can. I remember those days myself. Very well, in fact."

"Not sure if any of these cases are quite so dire," Dani said. She jogged forward a few steps to catch up to Jamie so that the two of them walked side by side. "Can you imagine if Mikey snuck off in the middle of the night to throw toilet paper rolls over the neighbor's house?"

"That was one time," Jamie grumbled.

"Or what about stealing Nan’s truck to sneak into a bar in Des Moines with a fake ID?"

"All right, all right. You've made your point. I was a bad kid."

Jamie was smiling but it did not reach her eyes. Dani reached out, curling her fingers around Jamie's narrow wrist to bring her to a halt. Jamie stopped, looking at her in confusion. They had been walking along the outer perimeter of the maze, and the walls of straw and hay still shielded them from the rest of the grounds. Jamie's skin was warm to the touch — she had always run to the warm side, hot-blooded as they come. Dani should have let her go, should not have tempted herself so, but she traced her thumb over the tendons of Jamie's inner wrist and thought — hoped — that she felt the leap of a pulse beneath. Or perhaps that was just her own heartbeat, a rapid bruit in her chest.

"No," Dani said softly. "You were a wonderful kid. I was just - I was only teasing."

For a moment Jamie seemed at a loss for words. Then, she shook her head with a wry grin. "I know," she said, but it sounded like a lie. "It's fine. I know."

Dani retracted her hand too quickly, snatching it back to grip the hem of her gingham skirt. Jamie's eyes followed the movement, and Dani could see her chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then, Jamie cocked her head and took a step in the direction they had been walking. "Shall we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

They continued along, rounding the final stretch of the maze's perimeter until they reached the front entrance. Kids were still trickling inside in packs, but most roved the lawn or otherwise made their way through the school turned haunted mansion. Some were getting their faces painted by the school's only art teacher, who had a line of students waiting by her booth. Eddie stood before his own booth, shrugging apologetically at a group of kids and bouncing the empty sack of candy up and down in his hand.

His head lifted, scanned the area, and even from this distance Dani could see the way his face lit up when he caught sight of them. Dani steeled herself upon his approach, straightening her shoulders and tugging at the hem of her skirt. 

Leaning closer, Jamie said under her breath, “You dress him in that?”

Dani blinked at her, then looked at Eddie’s scarecrow outfit. “Yes. Why?”

Jamie shook her head but she looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh. “No reason. Just very fitting, isn’t it?”

“Be nice,” Dani murmured.

“I’m always nice.”

Dani was about to call her out for being a liar, but Eddie’s stride was long-legged and swift and he stood before them with a broad smile. “Hey, you two. Having a good time?”

“As much as I can,” Jamie answered. “Never really understood Halloween, myself. Very American holiday. Good honest folk should be burning effigies of Catholics this time of year instead. But the kid loves it, so -” she broke off with a shrug. “Needs must.”

“Where is Mikey? I haven’t seen him all day.” Dani asked.

“Dunno. Cut out some eyeholes in a sheet for his ghost costume this morning, and haven’t seen him since.”

Dani gave her a look. “Jamie.”

Rolling her eyes, Jamie said, “I’m sure he’s having a good time with friends and not with his big sister sticking her nose into his business every five seconds.”

“Please tell me you got him a better costume than that.”

Jamie looked sheepish as she scratched at the back of her head. 

“Oh, no,” Dani murmured. She turned to Eddie. “Does your mom still have some of your old costumes at her place?”

Eddie frowned. “Probably? She tends to keep that kind of stuff in the basement. Always gives me the creeps going down there and seeing our old action figures and costume masks and stuff all piled up in the corner.” 

“Perfect.” Dani said, pointing at Jamie. “You can go around to Judy’s and have Mikey pick out a decent costume for trick or treating tonight.”

Jamie stared at her. “Seriously? Do you want to give the kid a costume or nightmares?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Piles of costume masks and action figures?” Jamie repeated, incredulous. “Might as well have said there’s haunted Victorian dolls down there. Christ.”

“Yeah, I’m with her on this one,” Eddie said, jerking his thumb towards Jamie, who made a gesture as if to say ‘thank you.’

“Cowards,” Dani said, shaking her head. “The both of you.”

Jamie appeared utterly unruffled by this accusation. On the other hand, Eddie gave a bashful laugh and ducked his head. He scratched at the ruff of straw at his neck, pulling it away slightly to reveal the hickey bright and broad and bold against his skin. 

“Good night?” Jamie asked, grinning and pointing at his neck with the now empty water bottle.

Beside her Dani went bright red and found the grass beneath their feet endlessly interesting. 

“Uh -” said Eddie.

Clearing her throat, Dani crossed her arms and said pointedly to him, “You - uh - Did you run out of candy?”

She ignored the way Jamie was watching them. She didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see the expression on Jamie’s face, didn’t want to know what she was thinking. 

“Yeah,” said Eddie. He made a motion over his shoulder back towards the booth he had been manning all afternoon. “The kids cleaned me out. Do you know if I need to get more, or -?”

Dani nodded. “I’ll go find Hannah and talk to her.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Despite her words, Dani did not move. She felt rooted in place, as though the earth had risen up and grasped her by the ankles, holding her fast. A heavy awkward silence had settled over them, disturbed only by the sounds of gaggles of students passing around them and the pre-recorded screams and moans from the nearby maze. 

“Right. Well,” Jamie finally said, knocking the water bottle against her own thigh. “I’ll be off, then. Got a costume I need to pick up, apparently.”

“Right,” Dani repeated, relieved, already taking a halting step towards the building and away from them. “Yeah. I’ll - uh -”

Jamie was backing away, bringing the bottle up to her brow in a mocking sort of salute. “Yeah. ‘Course. Catch you both later.” 

Dani didn’t wait to see her go. With one last parting wave in Eddie and Jamie’s general direction, she headed off towards the main school building. The flush had spread along her neck and ears, and she gripped the edges of the skirt so tightly between her fists she could feel the material crumple between her fingers. She couldn’t think of a time she walked so fast in her life.

She found Hannah speaking with one of the contractors out by the parking lot. The man was nodding thoughtfully, listening to her speak. When Hannah saw Dani walking towards her, she gave the man a gentle pat on the arm, and he inclined his head before rounding the back of his truck for more supplies.

Dani waited a few polite paces away until they’d finished their conversation, during which time her stomach twisted itself into knots. It felt as though it was trying to eat itself like a live snake.

“Everything all right, dear?” Hannah asked, brow furrowed in faint concern.

“Yeah,” Dani choked out. “Yeah. Everything’s - Everything’s great.” 

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Wednesday 5 March 1840

..

9 40/..

Brought over from p. 56 . . 266 ½ + 26

Volga a.m. 12 38/.. to 3 10/.. Sanodnoy to Dubowka [Dubovka] gorod 24

ditto .. .. 4 to 6 33/60 D- to Pitschouga [Pichuga] 20 ½

breakfast ditto 6 57/.. to 9 35/.. P- to Tzarizine gorod 28 ½

ditto .. .. 11 20/.. to 1 55/.. p.m. T- to Sarepta 28

367 ½

26

393 ½

Dubowka [Dubovka] a little gorod good station house, but too late to stop now – slumbering and asleep till roused by a stoppage about (before) 5 as I felt by my watch, for our wax light too long – the lantern a pother for fixing a light in – the light had jolted out – put my head out to ask if it was the station – nobody answered – all flat and snow, no house – but soon the plunging of the horses in water and the noise of the men, and the cracking of ice shewed that our station was on the bursting ice of the Volga – Luckily A- was not apparently aware of danger – the servants kibitka (always following) had avoided the bad place and were on galce fermes 20 or 30 yards to the right and ahead of us – they said our man did not know the road but their man did know of this place – no danger because plenty of thickness of ice beneath! – I doubt this – we were luckily sufficiently near to the right bank to be not over deep water – one of the horses sunk almost overhead – I think his feet were on the ground – luckily the ice on which the carriage rested did not give way so as to let the water get inside – Gross came to us and advised our not getting out as he had got up to the knees in water – we took their horses and were at last after 10 minutes or more skewed round on to firme ice, and pursued our way without further désagrément to Pitschouga [Pichuga] good station house and, at a little distance, the village and neat little white church steep ravine-pitch again down upon our Volga – I desired we might not go na Boka (na Volga, on the Volga) again in the night, but nothing against it, supposing they could see their way, in the day time – alight at Tzarizine at 9 35/.. – 3 good neat white churches in a line on the height above the Volga – largeish gastinoi [Gostiny] Dvor and square full of drovni and hay and stuff and people (drovni is I suppose plural and only employed in the plural vid. Heards’ Grammar p. 66 at the top [Caxen], one of the large sledges , and drovi the smaller sledges) one or 2 goodish looking largeish houses (offices or inhabited by government employers) and all the rest log or board houses – Largeish shabbyish looking villagy town – 28v. to Sarepta .:. stop to breakfast – a little room to ourselves more than we had at the large good station house (private house – no Eagle – not belonging to government) vid. p. 56 at Ust Salah vid. p. 56 – But still our Station house here (Tzariztine) is not a very spruce looking place – no Semovar – glad of our own – “what, said A-, a fortified town and no Semovar!” off at 11 20/.., and in going down the steep ravine to the Volga, pass (right) part of a thick pierre de taille (calcareous sandstone?) low wall, cracked and probably

partly let down by the washing over the water – a small remain of the old fortress or fortification – no appearance of fortifications nor need for them now – all along, on, the Volga, apparently about midway the river – the effect of the sun on the snow in many places, was singularly beautiful – it looked like fine white glistening speen glass, or mother of pearl – nothing seen of Sarepta from the river except 2 or 3 common cottages and a few trees – could not believe we were so near the place – no church dome or clocher – no picturesque line of houses stretching along the higher ground – drove up steepish pitch (but the ravine less deep and picturesque than on the opposite bank) and soon in the neat, little comfortable, well built, partly stone, partly board, town of Sarepta – our comfortable auberge in a large square into which several little streets open – the very neat clean church is on the opposite side the square – its small clocher with one little bell rising too little from the centre of the ridged roof to be seen at any great distance – alight at 1 55/.. having entered the town under a Schlagbaum barrier a relic as our Cicerone afterwards told us of the cholera-time – this terrible scourge did not come here and many families came and staid here during the time and .:. the barriers were put up to keep people away who had not permission to come – Dissatisfied at paying 15/. a day (as at Saratoff [Saratov]) came myself about rooms – only 3 for us – the girl said 1/. per day  each but did not know – the master said 5/. a day! for the 3 – took them and soon settled and comfortable – taking the best room for ourselves and leaving the 2 others for the servants (both good – one of them nearly if not quite as large as ours but looking to the courtyard full of people and cattle and drovins etc. like a fair)  - a civil respectable looking man a tradesman here offered or consented to go about with us – and he came to us out at 2 55/.. direct to the church after we had been in the church (door open) – beautiful neat and clean – benches some with backs some without – table covered with a black cloth and chair for the clergyman – no appearance of pulpit – an oblong quadrangular room – organ and loft at one end, and a little corresponding gallery at the other the boarded floor clean enough to eat off – 1 of the largest and best buildings in the town, and near the church the house of the brothers, and the town-house burnt down and only 2 stories of the blueish green coloured, irregular shaped stone, plastered-over walls standing – want help and money from the head of the Moravian community at........ near Erfurth [Erfurt] in Germany before they can rebuild these houses – probably not rich here, but live very well – have no taxes to pay – are free of everything – the 2 singular looking goat-sheep-like white animals we had seen in a little wattled off court, are 2 Caucasian wild goats that were taken here last winter having come so far in search of something to eat – the animals have a very singular head – the male has 2 fluted sharp pointed rather spiral horns about 12in.+? long – the female none – but the face of each is broad with large fat chops and broad flesh muzzle – like a broad flabby sheeps’ face – the countenance grave and very striking – the animals about the size of a fine 4 or 5 months old calf – our friend took us 1st to

SH:7/ML/E/24/00033

to a nice woman, 2 years since from Magdebourg, head of 36 sisters, who knit, and wind silks, (a few mulberry trees and silk-worms here) and work little things which are sent to Moscow Kazan Saratoff [Saratov] Astrakhan so that little to be seen here – A- bought a little knitted waist for an infant = 5/. the nicest thing she shewed us was a brown cloth worsted-worked table cover 45/. probably would be quite as cheap at Moscow etc. as here – saw over the house – sufficiently good and comfortable – good comfortable kitchen   large raised square of boilers perhaps 6 large iron boilers (of 18 or 20 gallons?) in 2 rows, heated by fires underneath like our set-pots – dine at 12. supper at 6 – large room upstairs where the lady reads family prayers night and morning – some of the silk a good red or crimson colour – they dye it themselves – there were some girls at the end of this long pile of building knitting – then across the court and past the back of the church to a stocking weaver, a very civil man – only himself and a boy there for sometime when one or 2 more men came – perhaps ½ dozen stocking looms in the room – all woollen socks or womens cotton stockings the latter much too small and short in the leg for any but those who garter below the knee and do not wear natural or cork calves – asked for nightcaps – A- bought 1 for Captain Sutherland white with red horizontal stripes 2/20 and I black with ditto ditto 2/50 both cotton – here we staid perhaps near an hour I asking a multiplicity of questions Gross with us en qualité de dragoman allemande – my own German is not yet beyond a few words of speaking and about twice as many of understanding –

Herschen a little round grain, like a large [musted] seed – Gross has sought in vain for it in the dictionary – knows not what to call it in English – when the chaff or outside of the grain is taken off, and the little largeish-pin-head-sized yellowish boule de farine is left, it is then used to make Kasha – vid. Káwa, gruau cuit, mille-fuille (herbe). a mass = 48 to 50 Russians lbs. and Herschen per mass sells for

1/. per mass

wheat = 1/80 . .

Rye = 1/80 to 1/20.

oats or barley = 1/. to 1/10  

the rotation of crops is Herschen

wheat

Rye

oats or barley

and the land is left to rest 4 or 5 and then the same rotation as above – the Germans use their manure but the Russians let the river wash it away because they are too idle to put it on the land – and as the land will produce the 4 crops as above after 4 or 5 years, and there is plenty of land to allow of this system, there is no absolute need of a better system –

In very good years 10 mass yield 123 mass or 123/10 = 12 3/10 say at worst 12 ½ to 13 fold

In middling years ------------------- 40 to 50 mass = 4 or 5 fold

In very bad years ------- will not yield itself again = sometimes nothing –

the best cows, from Odessa

1 good, the best, from 120/. to 150/.

1 ditto of this country (hereabouts) 40/. to 50/.

good fresh butter per lb. ./50 to ./60

Beef --- ./14

mutton --- ./14

Bacon --- ./15

Cheese made by a German farmer near Saratoff [Saratov] ./50 to ./60 per lb.

new milk per Stoff = 1 English quart? ./5

cream .. .. ----------------------------- ./50

the baths which nobody knew anything about at Saratoff [Saratov] or Ust Salah (or Tzaritzine, nothing to be learnt there at the Station house) are 7v. from here on the road to Tzarizine and one verst from the highroad – our Cicerone did not know of their having any name – never heard them called d’Ecatherine vid. Dict. geography vol. 2 article Saratoff [Saratov] p. 187. “Eaux minérales d’Ecatherine, qui se trouvent près de Tzaritzine” – but our Magdebourg lady said they were called Gesundt brun (health spring) and that several people still go there in the summer – there is one house there – a great many people used to go there formerly – when I 1st mentioned baths our Cicerone immediately said they were in the Cavcase – Stavropol – Pettigorsk – these and the bains de boue in the Crimea seem to be all the baths of any present name in Russia – on inquiring for the great salt lake, and if there was a road from here to it (Lake Elton) 300v. from here – Calmucks here – 50 Kibitkas – 50 families – a priest Gillon (Ghillon) and more of these people (pagans) 60 or 70v. from here – the great encampment about 100v. from Astrakhan, north east – had best to go to it from A- the Calmucks pay no taxes except to their own prince – the kibitkas just out of the town here – near to the river, northwards – all near together – we went into 2 of them – a man and his wife and daughter and little boy in one, and a couple of women in the other – but each had a little wood (board) door painted green beside the felt curtain that hung over the little entrance thro’ which we crept – about 3ft. high by 2ft.? wide – literally a ground floor – the man was lying on his bed opposite the door – the little fire in the centre, the small escaping thro’ the circular opening of perhaps 2ft. diameter – all the tents those of the lower order and apparently of the same size about 5 yards or something more? diameter – would take down in ½ hour – good strong felt – 1st I ever saw – the main story of the tent seems to be the diamond trellis about 3ft. high – of sticks about an inch in diameter – that forms as it were the skirting board, and to which all the rafter-sticks (thick and not more than 1 ½ in. diameter) are tied – and tied likewise to a hoop at the top which forms the chimney – all the sticks of the trellis I am not certain that there were any uprights the people in dirty shubes women too the latter only distinguishable by their gold Ear-rings and long black in  2 long tresses reaching down to the hip, and the top ½ in a sort of case, or like dark dirty cotton velvet long narrow bag – a little queer

SH:7/ML/E/24/00034

something or the hair itself towards the bottom made a little thin round queue, with a few think thin longer than their rest hairs finishing the whole in a point – the faces of the people resembling all the types I have seen of the Mongole – small dark rather sunk eyes highish cheekbones and rather tapering chins – smoke brown complexions – good white teeth – I thought the people dirty as they were, so much less ugly than I expected, that I asked our Cicerone to tell one the woman I thought her handsome – she grinned her satisfaction – the urchin of a boy (aet. 4 to 6) was sitting over the fire with his face bloated and smoke red and his eyes almost buried, but said to be quite well – from the kibitkas (yourtes?) to the cattle shed – a long, good, wattled, straw-thatched shed, full of Calmuch sheep, some dark brown some white, with a tail the whole breadth of the 2 buttocks (whole breadth of the seat) and about 6in. long a soft, squeezable, moveable, cuhiony mass of fat – the sheep as large as a large southdown – a tallish, large, well made large thick nosed sheep – these are the sheep which furnish the famous shubes which when really black (not dyed like ours) are very excellent things – the wooll is rather of a hairy nature – the animals are thus kept up and fed on hay from the steppes (looked nice and fresh coloured, but coarseish) during the severe cold – they all looked healthy – It began to snow a little before we went to the kibitkas – (yourtes) – then passed the good house of the horloger [?] clock-maker with neat little garden before it – and the coppersmiths’ close upon the street – all the houses tidy – then to the bread bakers’ – bought some nice little ring-cakes, and another sort of spiced slice hard of little cake with almonds in it – he had no white bread left – the clock and watchmaker here gains a very good living – the coppersmith, the baker, than everybody – plenty of work – 400 inhabitants – It seems they do not farm – the Russians grow the corn of which we got samples yesterday – but some of the farmers make butter .:. they keep cows – and everybody seems to have a sort of farm courtyard as in general in Russia – came in at 5 ¾ - dinner ordered at 5 – sat down to it at 6 20/.. – very good dinner and enjoyed it – good cinnamoned soup with white tender chicken in i t- pigeons? cut in 2 and nicely done (baked?) they passed for game with A- and good potatoes cut into 2 and browned and in the dish with the birds – and a salad very pretty and good dressed with vinegar and sugar  Red and white cabbage cut into very fine shreds and well mixed ½ and ½ - think of this for a pretty salad for home – and an excellent little dish of rice browned and cinnamoned over – and preserved plums and apples on our little dish to eat with the birds of which we had 3 ate 2 and put one away in our casserole – no tea – fine day but cold wind – snowing a little between 4 and 5 p.m. and George said snowing this evening

R12 ¾° now at 9 35/.. on our dinner table

[mfingenius]

The soulmate trope reversed Accidentally activating a soul bond Harry and Draco must maintain a certain proximity for most of the hours of the day (can spend as much as 5 hours apart a day before needing continuous closeness for awhile.) and the bond will end in 1 year, UST happens but if they do the deed the bond becomes unbreakable.

“A what?” Draco asks. His voice comes out more shrill than he means it to, but he thinks that, considering the situation, it’s not his biggest problem.

“A soulmate bond,” McGonagall says, matter-of-fact. Draco honestly doesn’t understand how the fuck she can be so calm, because he’s honestly freaking the fuck out.

“But we’re not,” Potter says, blinking. He pushes his glasses up his nose - his stupid round glasses that make Draco want to kiss his stupid handsome face - and makes a face that Draco hates because it makes him notice Potter’s jaw. Potter’s very, very attractive jaw. “Soulmates. Right?”

McGonagall’s lips tighten. “The bond has to have a certain - chemistry. Very intense feelings, from both parties. It wouldn’t have worked otherwise. It’s why it bonded you to Mr. Malfoy, instead of anyone else in the room.”

The stupid spell had been triggered by accident; they’d been studying cursed objects and identifying the curses - without getting cursed - in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, until Potter - the bloody unbelievable moron - had had to touch one of them. 

“Right,” Potter says, unbelievably calm about the whole thing. “Alright. So, whatever, right? Nothing changes.”

“Not quite,” Professor Lupin says. Draco won’t quite say it, but he’s glad Lupin’s returned for eighth year. He’s one of the best professors they’ve ever had. “It’s a very particular spell, Harry. If you spend too much time apart, one of you will begin to hurt.”

“Which one of us?” Draco asks, because he can somehow tell this isn’t going to go well for him.

“The one who didn’t trigger the curse,” Lupin says, looking at Draco apologetically. “Historically, it’s been used to keep unhappy spouses from leaving, so the ones who triggered the curse didn’t have any consequences for themselves.”

Obviously, Draco thinks sarcastically. 

“Right,” Potter says, and Draco’s beginning to hate that word. “Alright. How much time?”

“We can’t know.” McGonagall tells them. “I’d suggest you don’t try to figure it out.”

“How far apart?” Draco asks. “Is this a ‘we have to be in the same house’ type of situation, or ‘we have to be in the chair’ type of situation?”

He’d been about to say ‘in the same bed’, but he can’t imagine him and Potter in the same bed without going red, so he avoids it at all costs. He’s already a little worried about how often he thinks of Potter - and okay, they’re not enemies anymore, but they’re not really friends either and Draco shouldn’t be fantasizing so often about anyone, much less about Potter - and he doesn’t want Potter to find out. He’s been keeping it a very carefully guarded secret.

“Closer to the second one.” Lupin says. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to be a couple meters from each other without any trouble. Being in the same room should do it, but some of these involve physical touch, and we can’t really know until you’ve experienced it.”

“You’re already dorm mates, so we won’t have to move your sleeping arrangements.” McGonagall says. “But you’ll have to spend all your time together, even outside of classes. We won’t take more than a few weeks to figure out how to disarm the curse, hopefully, but we’ll need to call in Curse-Breakers.”

Draco sinks back on the chair, trying to figure out how the fuck he’s going to get through two weeks of constantly being with Potter, when he can’t be around him for more than a few minutes at a time without feeling like he might make a fool of himself.

*

Draco wakes up with a gasp of pain.

“Fuck,” he chokes out. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. It hurts, so much, a knot of pure pain deep in his bones, feeling like it’s stabbing its way outwards, and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t-

He reaches out for something, anything, and hears the clatter when he knocks something over. He doesn’t care, he needs the pain to stop, anything to make it stop-

“Draco?” Potter is turning the lamp on. “Shit,”

He stands from his bed quickly, putting on his glasses, and crosses the room, kneeling by Draco’s bed. The moment he grabs Draco’s face, the pain begins to subside. 

It’s a few minutes until Draco feels like he can breathe again, and another few until he can move.

“Fuck,” He says.

Potter is frowning worriedly down at him, one hand still cupping his face, and Draco - if it were any other moment - is sure he’d be bright red. As it is, his bones still feel like they’d been crushed, so he doesn’t have the ability to be quite embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” Potter asks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t - I thought it’d be fine, sleeping in the same room.”

“It’s not,” Draco says. His voice sounds hoarse and his throat is way too dry. He feels like he’s been run over. He closes his eyes. “I - fuck.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Potter asks, “Which bed do you want to sleep in?”

Draco opens one eye. “What?”

“We’re going to have to sleep in the same bed,” Potter points out. “So which bed do you want to share, yours or mine?”

This cannot be happening.

“Yours.” He says, because Potter looks like he’s expecting an answer.

“Alright, Draco.” He says, softly, and helps him stand up.

That’s changed. A lot of things have changed in eighth year - especially about Potter - and they’re all important. Potter’s newfound height and muscles - because of appropriate nutrition, probably - his newly irresistible face and hair, his eyes. Maybe his face and hair haven’t changed, but Draco’s feelings for them certainly have changed, because he cannot look away, more often than not.

But what has changed, definitely changed, is that Potter calls him Draco. All the time. In front of everyone. It’s... a little confusing, if Draco’s honest.

They get into Potter’s bed - Potter’s bed - and Draco’s body seems to remember that it has the ability to react to embarrassment, because his cheeks and ears are suddenly burning. He’s glad Potter’s turned out the light, though he wouldn’t be surprised if his face were glowing enough for Potter to see it anyway.

“Good night,” Potter says, and then he’s asleep, just like that! That’s another thing that’s changed. Potter seems to care about absolutely nothing. No embarrassment, no apologies, nothing. He’s flirting with everyone, left and right, snogging people - girls and boys - generally enjoying his life, wherever it goes, and Draco was not raised to handle that, alright? He was raised by two stuffy, uptight purebloods - and, arguably, turned into a stuffy, uptight pureblood himself - and he doesn’t know how to react when people or things aren’t proper, which this situation isn’t.

Sharing a bed with someone he’s not married to is not proper, even if it were just a friend - and Potter’s not even a friend, he’s someone Draco has feelings about. Feelings about, not feelings for, thank you very much, because he doesn’t like Potter that way. 

He just - feels funny, sometimes, when he thinks about him. And yes, Potter’s incredibly handsome, but Draco’s most definitely not the only one who thinks that. That’s just - him having eyes. And if sometimes, very late at night, Draco thinks about what it could be like if Potter looked at him lovingly, and held him in his arms, and let him sit in his lap and kiss his cheek and share chocolate by the fireplace, well. That means nothing at all.

“Don’t think too much,” Potter tells him. Not asleep then. And then - and then - he throws a hand over Draco’s waist.

Draco definitely won’t make it through two weeks.

*

They figure out that, unless they’re touching, it doesn’t matter how close or far they are, Draco ends up hurting. They take to walking the halls holding pinkies - which is not something Draco ever thought he’d do - and when they sleep together at night, Draco usually has an arm around Draco’s waist, or their legs end up tangled together, or - somehow - they end up spooning, Harry’s hard chest against Draco’s back.

Draco’s spent the entire time red in the face - Potter actually asked him if he had a fever once - and he thinks that, the more time he spends with Potter, the harder it is to convince himself that he’s not in love with the prat.

“Will you quit it?” Potter murmurs one night, when Draco had been watching him, because he thought he’d been asleep.

“Quit what?” Draco asks, looking away.

“Thinking so much,” Potter opens his eyes and looks down at Draco with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you tire yourself out?”

“Evidently you don’t,” Draco says, cheeks heating. “Seeing as you hardly think at all.”

Potter’s lips quirk - and Draco doesn’t know why he amuses Potter instead of annoying him - and he shakes his head in a way that, if Draco didn’t know any better, he’d call fondly.

“I do think,” Potter informs him. “I’ve just stopped caring about things that don’t matter.”

“Who you snog doesn’t matter?” Draco asks, and then immediately regrets it.

Potter laughs, the bastard. “No, it doesn’t.”

Draco gives him a look that Harry can practically hear.

“Does it?” He asks in return. “The second we’re out of Hogwarts you think it’ll matter who we snogged, who we didn’t?”

Draco, at a loss of anything better to say, says, “It’s not - proper.”

“Proper?” Harry sounds amused. “Is this proper?”

And he puts a hand on Draco’s thigh. 

Draco’s brain might’ve stopped working.

“Or this?” His hand runs higher, to Draco’s hip, squeezes lightly. He presses a kiss to Draco’s forehead, then to his cheek, to his nose, to his chin.

“Tell me I can kiss you.” he murmurs.

Draco swallows. He can’t look away from Harry’s mouth. “I don’t - want to be another one of your conquests, Harry. I’m not - I don’t do that.”

“You’re not.” Harry says, and it’s honest. “I want you to be more.”

Draco thinks he might not be breathing then.

He isn’t sure he cares.

“Kiss me, then.” He breathes.

There’s a hand on the back of his neck, gentle, and then Harry brings their lips together.

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

UUuuf that came out way longer than expected and also gay disaster Draco omg!!!

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[thetierdslytherin]

The Avatar’s sister

Bolin x reader(korra’s sister)

2k words and it’s kinda poorly edited 

a/n there’s some cuss words and some violence?

“We were just looking for the bathroom and we got lost!”

“Ah the old I had to pee excuse you know i'm sick and tired…” I don’t catch the rest of what he's saying because I see a teenage boy dressed in pro bending gear or as I like to call him our way out of this situation. I motion for him to come over praying to the spirits that he can read the room.

          “There you two are, I've been looking everywhere for you two! It's alright Toza there with me” Up close I can see that it's actually Bolin the earth bender for the fire ferrets. Spirits can my day get any better. I've seen a few pro bending matches before and listened to even more. One of the few perks of being the avatar’s sister. While she spends her days training on air temple island I spend my days wandering the city my favorite pastime being watching pro bending matches.Spirits he looks even better up close 

          “Yeah were with him” I say flashing the man a million watt smile and he responds with 

           “so you see we’re together” Oh I like where this is going. Before I can respond Korra replies

            “well not together together” speak for yourself Korra. I'm more than happy to be together together with him. He starts to stammer embarrassed by Korra words so I try to save all of us 

            “You see Toza Bolin and I are together and my sister was just tagging along with us.” Please let this work, if not Tenzin is going to kill me for letting korra go out with me.

           “Ah I don't care I got work to do” the man begins to walk away and I pull the stammering duo out of the room before either of them could blow our cover. I turn around to see a blushing Bolin and a confused looking Korra, I really need to teach her how to pick up on social cues 

           “I’m y/n, a big fan of yours, so Bolin why don't you show the two of us around” I say while grabbing his bicep motioning for him to lead. Bolin showed us around for a while before leading us into an area overlooking the arena “So what do you think best seats in the house huh?” It really is you can see the whole arena from up here and it's much less crowded than the seats in the stadium plus there isn't a guy as easy on the eyes as Bolin down there. 

           “Oh absolutely the view just keeps getting better and better” it's not often that I get to meet people as just y/n, not the avatar's sister, or korra's younger sister. It's nice to be myself around someone knowing that they're not using me to get to the avatar. Besides from what I've seen Bolin is too sweet and innocent to do that anyways.

          “Unbelievable this place is even more amazing than I imagined” I let out a small chuckle at Korra's words. It's nice to see her getting excited at the smallest things, it shows me that she can still be a kid and not burdened by the weight of the world. It makes sneaking out and a possible chewing out from Tenzin worth it “Names Bolin by the way”

“Korra” “I know” they both look at me waiting for an explanation “well i'm just a huge fan of yours” I pause “well the fire ferrets in general” 

“Psst Bolin”

“Yeah” 

“I told you you have to stop bringing your crazy fangirls in here before the matches get them out of here” His older brother Mako whispers this to him Korra and I both hear due to the fact that they suck at whispering. It almost hurts my feelings that we aren't the only ones he brought back here but then again he's not the first guy i've flirted with here. Though he is the first guy i've flirted with that seems so...innocent.

          “Aw c'mon Mako I kinda promised them that they could stay but I got a good feeling about them there's something special about the two of them. I know it” Well he's half right there. I wonder why he lied to his brother so we could stay. He never promised us we could stay back here. Some part of me hopes it's because he's interested in me too. “Come here I want you to meet my brother Mako” he says eagerly pulling me towards him 

          “Mako! Wow I heard you play on the radio” oh boy she's totally fangirling. I personally don’t see what's so interesting about Mako or his brooding douchebag act “cmon Bolin we’re up” Mako says completely ignoring Korra walking past her, see brooding douchebag. Korra not taking the hint turns to Bolin “or I could meet him later”

           “yeah he gets real focused before a match anyways wish me luck” his comment makes me laugh. Something about the positive energy he radiates is infectious. He jogs away, I yell “good luck Bolin” followed by “good luck knock em out” from Korra 

         “So do i have to be the one to say mako is bad news or i have to let you figure it out yourself” I cross my arms giving her my best ‘i know better than you’ look. While Korra may be the older sister, only by 11 months might I add, she doesn't act it. I blame all of her teachers and instructors for never letting her live when she was younger. Now that she's basically an adult seeing the world for the first time she's very sheltered.

          “He is not bad news y/n you heard bolin he was just focused for the match! Besides, did you see him?” let her figure it out for herself it is.

          “Yes and i also saw you drooling at him” I tease 

          “Oh please like you were any better with Bolin you were practically throwing yourself at him” these are the best moments when we can just goof off.

“First off I do not throw myself at anyone, he's just sweet and insanely hot. Secondly which one of us actually has experience with boys” she opens her mouth to defend herself before quickly shutting it. Got her there. “Exactly now pay attention the match is starting” We both turn and lean on the balcony watching the start of the match.

           “The rookie ferrets came out of nowhere and made it further than anyone expected this season but tonight they face their toughest test yet folks” we watch the two teams trading back and forth blows until the fire ferrets ultimately win with Mako knocking all 3 members of the opposing team into the water. I turn to Korra to ask how her first ever pro bending match was but stopping when I see her and Mako holding each other's gazes.

          “Yes! Whoo did you see that one more win and were in the championship tournament!” Bolin yells running into the room skidding to a halt in front of me “so what'd you think y/n?” he looks down at me trying to conceal his excitement waiting for me to answer him looking happier than i've ever seen him-if that's possible. 

           “You guys were amazing Bolin!” I practically yell pulling him into a quick hug.

           “Bolins got some moves huh?” 

          “You could say that again” Before Bolin can say that again Korra grabs him by his shirt pulling him towards her 

          “That was amazing” then korra promlety pushed him away as Mako and Hasook approach arguing about the last match

          “You did more harm than good out there, you almost cost us the match!”

          “We won didn't we?”

          “Barely” 

          “Get off my case pal” Hasook yells before storming out of the room.This doesn't put a damper on korra's mood though as she addresses Mako “You guys were amazing out there especially you mr hat trick” Mako yet again walks right past her him barely paying her any attention to her half heartly saying “oh your still here”

          “What gives you the right to be such an ass mr hat trick?” I say coming to my sister's defence. Pro bender or not it doesn't give him the right to be a jerk. I even bet I could beat him sparring. He's not even good enough to be this much of a jerk.

          “Your good do you think you could show me some tricks?” no no no korra that wasn't the deal I sneak you out we watch one pro bending match and we go back to air temple island.

          “Yeah sure absolutely i'm just not sure how my earth bending might translate to your water bending but we'll figure it out” This cant get any worse if she lets them know she's the avatar we're toast. No ones supposed to know the avatars in republic city

          “Won't be a problem-”

          “korra's right it won't be a problem because we really have to go-” 

           “because i'm an earth bender” great this is j ust great.

          “Im sorry no no i didn't mean to assume ya know cause i was just figuring since well with your water tribe getup that you two were well water bender” 

          “Korras just messing with you of course were both water-” 

          “You're right, I'm a water bender too and fire bender” social. Cues. Korra. 

         “Hmm hmm i'm very confused right now” Bolin 

         “Your the avatar and i'm an idiot” Mako 

         “Both are true” Korra. I throw myself into the nearest chair running my hands through my y/h/c hair.I wonder if I beg for forgiveness if Tenzin will still ground us for the rest of forever 

          “I need a drink” I say, completely ignoring Bolin’s freak out about Korra being the avatar I've heard it all before. Just like that my chances with Bolin have gone out the window no one has ever liked me more than my sister she's the avatar I can't compete with that .I never will be able to. 

          Nonetheless I follow the brothers into the training room and sit on the stairs looking as happy to be there as Mako does. I don't pay much attention to Bolin and Korra training “so mr hat trick is there any reason why you're so prickly or are you always like this?”

          He scoffs “no i just don’t appreciate the two of you showing up like that besides your sister is a piece of work”           “No kidding hat trick don't you know being the avatar comes with a hero complex?” Okay so he's not as bad as I thought.

          “Well it's getting late so i'm going to turn in but you kids have fun”

          “Speaking of Korra we really do need to be going” I speak in a tone to let her know it wasn't an option.I stand up brushing my water tribe robes off “it really was great seeing you Bolin but we have to go”

          “Sorry my sister is being such a wet blanke-” “now Korra” 

          “Hey um y/n could you hang back for a second” here it goes. Is your sister single? Can you set me up? 

          “What do you need Bolin?” 

         “You mean other than you in my life” we both cringe after he says that.

          “That has to be the worst pick up line i've ever heard” 

         He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly “heh yeah it wasn't really my A material but the real reason i wanted to talk to you was well i was mostly just wondering well we have a match next”

          “Bolin spit it out i'm sure it isn't that bad”

          “Do you want to come to our match tomorrow then get some food after” he looks at the ground playing with his fingers. Where was the confident Bolin I met earlier? 

          “Yes”

          “Well it was a stupid idea anyways I shoul- wait yes? Really! I uh I mean of course you would want to get food with me” maybe he's more insecure than I initially thought. But then again people do have layers.

       I kiss him on the cheek turning away from him and walking to the door so he couldn't see the blush on my face “I'll see you tomorrow Bolin”

[dreamingofscully]

Stolen Time: Quarantine

Rated: E / Scully-wasn't-abducted AU / Post-ep: Firewalker / UST to RST / Words: 2862

Summary: Scully struggles with unpartnerly thoughts during quarantine with a bored Mulder.

Read the FICLET (thanks @leiascully) of the alternate ending that I wrote to Ascension here.

Thank you to @skumflowerskullz and @ceruleanmilieu for the betas

*** Mulder is splayed out on the floor near her, flipping idly through a magazine. His hair is sticking up every which way—restless hands constantly running through them. Her fingers twitch, she longs to run them through the soft strands—just to tame it, she tells herself.

Heat rises from the base of her spine and her chest flushes at the lie. She focuses back on the book—flips to the cover to remind herself of the title. Her eyes glaze over as she attempts to concentrate. 

Nothing to do but talk or read, for an entire month. Three more weeks left, and they’ve chatted about every insignificant thing they can imagine. The sparse books and magazines—in quantity as well as content, makes her cringe when she tries to find something to distract herself from her distracting partner.

My partner, she reminds herself.

The first and last time they’d been quarantined, she’d been bed-bound most of the time. Extremely dehydrated and uncomfortable, she would have loved, back then, to have the ability to read through a boring stack of books. Anything besides the beeping of the monitors, the headache that wouldn’t go away, and the guilty look in Mulder’s eyes when she caught him glancing in her direction.

Right now, she'd give anything to be bed-ridden, to have an excuse to close her eyes and shut away the world, pretend her stomach wasn't doing somersaults when he inevitably crept close, peered over her shoulder, and whispered sly comments in her ear.

The guilt is there now, but more well-hidden. His rage has a target, but he directs some of it towards her, unintentionally she hopes. When he's not teasing or poking at her with increasingly paranoid theories, an awkward silence hangs between them like a curtain. She feels him watching her, though. The warmth of his closer-than-usual presence. It was their first field case since Duane Barry, and he feels responsible; he drew her close to death, once again.

She understands, but they don’t talk about it.

Instead, Mulder rants about the injustice of their discovery being burned by those who don’t care or understand, or who don’t care to understand. Punctuates his words with disparaging comments on the ads and articles in the magazine. Complains about the bland food that arrives punctually at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Lashes out at the technicians that come take their samples. The space is filled with his words about nothing, and an occasional rebuttal from herself, but she likes to listen to him. She usually finds the endless monotone a comfort, but at the moment his voice does things to her that she certainly shouldn’t be thinking about.

Scully sighs, for the thousandth time today it seems, and is suddenly just as frustrated as him.

“Mulder, we can’t do anything about the spore. It was dangerous, they had to contain it. That's all. Would you please, please, please stop ranting about it.”

Her words are harsher than she intended. Everything in this past week has been irritating, for some reason or another.

He twists around to stare at her, mouth agape. She’s been quiet, a lot more than usual. Patient and tolerant, as if controlling the time took all of her mental effort and she could spare none for their usual back-and-forth.

So he switches from speaking to staring, which is worse. He examines her face, eyes travelling from her eyes and downwards, her lips, she thinks. She folds her fingers into fists when he lowers his gaze, hiding her torn cuticles.

“Mulder?”

“What should we talk about then. The weather? Sports? Our fine accommodations?” His eyes flash at her.

“We’ve got three more weeks. You just need some patience.”

Mulder scoffs, turns to face her, his forearm pressing against her thigh.

“You seem to have that covered enough for the both of us.”

Scully lets out yet another sigh and moves her book to the table beside her. “Look, I’m finding this difficult as well, I just…”

“Don’t want to talk about it.” 

Their eyes lock. And there it is. 

Since Duane Barry, she’s done her usual thing - straightened her back, ploughed forward, focused on the work. She did her mandated counselling, replaced her broken windows with reinforced glass, took the stairs instead of the elevators, and started a new self-defense class at the gym. All very practical, very smart things to do. But she didn’t talk.

To the counsellor: she pretended she was fine. Needed to lie to get back to work so she could be.

To Mulder: she wouldn't let him see weakness, wouldn’t let him down, that she couldn’t be anything less than a partner who could back him up no matter the situation.

And he followed her lead, but she could see the yearning in his eyes, the unspoken words that he wanted to know what she was going through. Who was she to add to the mountain of guilt that he piled on his shoulders?

They look at each other for what feels like an eternity. The frustration he’s been lashing out at her with has been replaced with something else, something that makes her cheeks burn, her palms sweaty. Her chin set stubbornly forward, mouth in a line, she dares him to speak first.

Neither of them back down, and before she realized he’d moved, his lips are on hers.

She's too shocked to pull away, to stiffen and protest. She’d imagined this moment many times over, especially this past week, and she responds automatically, pressing her own lips against him, pulling him closer and threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.

When he pulls away and she opens her eyes he's only a few inches away, his warm, sweet breath puffing against her mouth. The dim light from the cheap lamp behind her washes him in a soft glow, shadows hiding him from her.

“That’s… one way to deal with boredom.” Scully finds her voice, somehow, but it sounds like she’s dragged it over asphalt. She clears her throat, certain that, opposite his inscrutable expression she's completely revealed to him.

“Your turn to make jokes, Scully?”

“Is that what this is?” 

Mulder pulls back slightly, his arms bracing her torso. His hands fidget with the cotton of her shirtsleeves, thumbs brushing against her shoulders, but he's staring at her with laser focus.

“Never,” he says, waiting. 

A stab of panic pierces her chest. She needs to know. Needs answers before she jumps off this cliff. Or was it too late already?

“Do you think I’ll talk if you kiss me?” 

Mulder smiles, shakes his head. “I think if you won’t talk I might as well kiss you anyway.”

As she licks her lips, Mulder’s eyes stray downwards, his hands moving up to cup her face, tangle in her hair. He leans down and kisses her again, and she takes a leap.

All of the uncertainty she'd felt vanished at the touch of his lips against hers: the embarrassment at his rejection during the Tooms case, the hurt at his indifference when the X-Files were shut down.

Thank God.

He’s above her, but hesitant. She invades his mouth with her tongue while he feathers the lightest of touches through her hair and safely along her arms. 

Wrapping a leg around his waist and pulling him closer, she revels in the taste of him, the feel of his soft lips sliding against hers. An unmistakable bulge presses against her hip. When she grinds into him, Mulder moans into her mouth. His hands slide down her side and tease the skin at the hem of her shirt.

When he pulls away again and rests his forehead on hers, they're both breathing heavily, chests touching with each inhalation. He's wedged atop her, half off of the small couch that barely fits her small frame.

"Mulder, let's move somewhere more comfortable." Scully meets his gaze with steely determination; she wants this, and she knows he does too. She's not about to wait any longer.

"Your place or mine?" Mulder waggles his eyebrows, but his eyes search hers questioningly, carefully. You sure?

Scully nods at his unspoken question, pushing him away so she can move out from underneath him. Pausing before standing up, she grasps the collar of his shirt, pulls him towards her and nips at his plush lower lip.

"Mine," she says.

Mulder's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a smile. When she stands and holds her hand out, he takes it and follows her.

In her bedroom, Scully whips her shirt over her head and eyes Mulder over her shoulder while she undoes the zipper on her pants. He’s standing there with a dazed expression, like he hadn’t just initiated all of this a few minutes earlier. Coming back to himself, he removes everything but his boxers and joins her on the bed.

She trails a hand along his bicep, the strong muscles of his forearm, mouthing their names under her breath. Her gaze sweeps over the defined musculature of his chest and abdomen. 

“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, hiding behind a sweep of her hair as a moment of self-consciousness washes over her. She feels out-of-place; a plain fern among the rose bushes. 

Looking back at him she sees nothing but reverence in his gaze. He brushes his thumb over her cheek. “You’re perfect, Scully.”

She huffs in disbelief, but there’s truth in his eyes.

When they kiss once more, Scully maneuvers on top. His hands are everywhere, but still gentle and hesitant. She leans into his touch for more, but his hands ghost away, trembling and unsure. 

“I won’t break, Mulder.”

He blinks slowly, once, twice. Traces his finger along the curve of her nose, her swollen lips.

“I’m afraid I’m going to wake up.”

Scully bites her lip and smiles widely. Laughter bubbles up, overflows, and he’s caught up in it too. His hesitance turns to giddiness as they laugh together.

“What kind of fantasies are you having?” she says. “Thin mattress, sparse furnishings, nurses and technicians on the other side of the wall just waiting for us to sprout something so they can whisk us away.”

“In my dreams, they’re in the room,” Mulder deadpans.

Scully shakes her head and arches an eyebrow at him. She sits up, straddling his waist, and deftly unclasps her bra and shrugs out of it.

Peering at him beneath her lashes, Mulder’s cocky smile fades. His eyes are dilated, hungry. His hands twitch but he still waits.

“You can touch me.”

His eyes connect to hers and he nods.

At her encouragement, his touch matches the intensity of his gaze. Over her ribcage, along her breasts, flicking her nipples with his thumbs. Scully leans downwards and kisses him sloppily. She can’t process anything except the sensation of his hands, the warmth and smell of his skin next to hers.

“More,” she demands, arching into his touch.

He leans upward, kissing her breasts, tonguing her nipples. One of his hands slides downwards, to the apex of her thighs. His fingers brush over her through the thin cotton of her panties and she gasps and grabs his shoulders.

When he pushes the garment aside, slicks his fingers along her folds, teases her clit, she sees stars and bats him away before she loses herself too quickly. The thought that this is him, that this is them, sends her spiralling upwards far faster than she's ever experienced, and it alternately thrills and terrifies her.

“For me?” he whispers into her skin. 

“Take your shorts off," she says. Her voice is breathy and soft, her hands tugging impatiently at the hem of his boxers. 

Seconds later, their underwear lies twisted in some corner of the small room, and they're finally together, nothing between them except ragged breaths and unspoken words.

The inevitable glimpses of his bulge during the time they worked together didn’t prepare her for his size. He’s much larger than any partner she’s had so far and her heart speeds up thinking about him inside of her. Biting her lip to stifle a nervous giggle, she peers at him out of the corner of her eyes. 

“For me?” she repeats, smiling coyly.

“All yours, Scully.”

“How generous.” 

She pats him on the chest, and reaches for him, sliding her hand around his girth. Watching his face, eyes squeezed shut and lips twisted, he mutters something unintelligible, reaches for her blindly.

“Scully…” he moans. Opening his eyes, he almost seems shocked to see her there. 

“I’m here, Mulder. I’m real. This isn’t a dream.”

He shakes his head, smiles and pulls her to him, his mouth devouring hers hungrily. She feels like she's finally the hot focus of his obsessiveness, his mouth sliding across her skin, down to her collarbones, over her breasts. Hands on her hips, he draws circles with his thumbs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks.

She grinds against him, scratching her short nails through the hair on his chest, over his nipples, finding the places that make him squirm and gasp. Before Mulder thinks again of stopping, of hesitating, of claiming that this is all a dream, she adjusts herself over him and sinks downwards, taking him inside of her.

When she's finally surrounding him completely, she feels full, pain-adjacent, but oh, it’s wonderful. Her heart races, thrumming wildly as she struggles to regain control. Their eyes connect, and she sees the same wonder there that she feels. So she exhales, lets go. 

“Dana, this…” he starts, capturing one of her hands and kissing her palm. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. Still not sure with what, not sure but taking a chance that this could be something more than raw physical desire.

Her fumbling hands grasp at his shoulders as she starts to move above him, his hands at her hips. Sighs and moans punctuate their lovemaking, so soft and quiet, holding onto each other as if it could shatter with a word or a breath. Their sweat-slicked bodies come together, their eyes lock, reassuring each other of the reality of this moment.

She can't stop running her hands over his shoulders, through his soft hair. Digging her nails into his chest as she rocks above him in an increasingly erratic rhythm.

His deft hands roam her body, no longer hesitant. Learning what she likes, noticing her response to his touch, filing it away in his labyrinthine mind. It feels good to be the subject of his powerful intellect, his intense devotion. She's electric under his touch, wanton and unashamed.

Soon she's at the edge, and a flick of his fingers at her clit has her tumbling over. He catches her, holds her tightly as she comes back to herself. Whispering her name, soothing her inflamed skin with his touch and voice. 

Her first thought, damning her: she loves him, fiercely. No matter what the future holds, what this means to him, she'll hold onto that thought. It would have to be enough.

He's above her, then, shadowing her body with his own, caressing the slope of her shoulder. His lips trace a hot trail from her jaw to her neck, and he brushes his thumb along her cheek, peppering her with increasingly feverish kisses.

Her hands wander along his back, counting the vertebrae. The soft curtain of her fading orgasm lifts slightly, and she reaches lower, lower, stroking his erection and shifting herself so he's at her entrance. 

This time, with him in control, he's careful, watching her. Her eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of him within her, the emotions welling up despite herself, feeling whole. When he looks at her, she can pretend he feels the same. As long as she says nothing, as long as they just touch.

So close to her first climax, Scully finds herself climbing again when he begins to thrust within her. Softer this time, less desperately. She waits for him, and as his rhythm falters and he shouts her name into the silence of this temporary home, she follows him into the oblivion of pleasure.

Afterwards, she's curled up against his side, mouth puffing into the dip between his shoulder and pectoral. Her hands play with the soft hairs on his chest, her toes glide along his calf. 

"Three more weeks, huh?" Mulder kisses the top of her head, runs his hand along the arm draped across his chest. "I don't know if I can manage."

Scully leans up on an elbow and quirks an eyebrow at him. Unable to keep a straight face, Mulder grins foolishly, taps a finger along the bridge of her nose. 

"I haven't seen you smile like that for a while," Scully says, watching him carefully, a pane of imperfect glass separating her from him. The words don't come easy, and she's not sure she wants them to.

"Not much to smile about lately." Mulder takes her hands and kisses her knuckles. "Dana, I—"

Her hands flexes, covers his mouth. She shakes her head. Mulder simply nods and she settles back onto him, clutching him tightly.

There's plenty of time for words and excuses later.

[seanfalco]

What a Christmas, huh? | Duncan Taylor x Reader

Word count: 2.8k Prompt: thigh riding Requested by: @gurlimtired​ a/n: Direct continuation of Where’s Your Holiday Spirit?  I just really wanted to write that smutty conclusion, but a little angst snuck in there.

(gif credit)

You had no self respect.

Or at least, that’s what you kept bitterly telling yourself as you made your way down the corridor toward the main lounge.  At this hour on Christmas eve, most of the crew were asleep, taking advantage of the extra time off, and that suited you just fine, not exactly wanting an audience to your shame.

As you turned the corner to the lounge, the Christmas tree the only thing lighting the dark room, disappointment filled you as you found the space empty, the one person you’d been looking for not to be found.

No, this is good, you told yourself.  This gave you an out.  Just because you hadn’t been able to get Duncan and that stupid kiss beneath the mistletoe… or his proposition shortly thereafter off your mind didn’t mean you had to act on it.  Like you had before...

Taking a deep breath, you gave the soft lights of the tree one last wistful look before resigning yourself to heading back to your bunk for the remainder of the evening when you turned, coming face to face with none other than the man you certainly weren’t looking for.

“Duncan!” you gasped.

“[y/n]!” he practically yelped in return, surprise getting the better of him for once, before he quickly regained his composure, fixing his usual shit-eating grin back into place, but for a brief moment you’d seen it -- that flash of genuine surprise and… hope?  Hope that you might have been looking for him as it seemed he was for you.

“What’re you doing out and about on a night such as tonight, when not even a creature was stirring, or however it goes,” he asked, cocking a smug eyebrow at you.

“I could ask the same of you,” you pointed out with a shrug, dancing around the real reason you both knew you were out here.

“It wouldn’t have anythin’ to do with sneaking out to give me an early Christmas present, would it?” he asked, studying you with amusement.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Duncan,” you scoffed, “I was just going for a-a walk, since I couldn’t sleep,” you lied almost smoothly, bracing for the snarky innuendo he no doubt had ready and waiting on his tongue.

Instead, he shrugged.  “Fancy a nightcap, then?” he asked, pulling a small bottle of liquor from his back pocket to slosh enticingly in your face.

Chewing your lip you thought it over.  Though his offer didn’t come with an obvious disgusting proposition like usual, you knew how this was going to end if you said yes; you knew what this entailed.

But wasn’t that what you wanted?  Wasn’t that why you’d been searching for him in the first place?

“Yeah, alright,” you said, carefully keeping your expression neutral.

“Lovely,” he smirked, “I know just the place for it too,” he murmured and you gestured for him to lead the way.

“Where exactly are we headed?” you asked as you walked and Duncan glanced over at you with a cheeky grin.

“Someplace quiet, where we won’t be interrupted�� unless you’re into that?” he teased when you frowned.

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’tcha think?” you pointed out, “who said I’m planning on shaggin’ you tonight?”

Duncan shrugged, “I guess we’ll see, won’t we,” he mused, stopping in front of a seldom used supply closet and sliding the door open.  “After you, luv,” he said, stepping aside to let you pass.

“I can’t see a bloody thing,” you grumbled, banging your shin on a storage container at your feet.

“There should be a lantern nearby,” Duncan exclaimed, huffing a laugh at your pain.

Reaching out blindly, you found it and switched it on to the dimmest setting, still grumbling to yourself.

“Ah, perfect,” Duncan announced, jumping up to sit on a large crate at the back of the room, patting the spot next to him invitingly and you reluctantly sat.

Twisting the cap off the bottle of whiskey, he took a swig before handing it to you and you followed suit, letting the alcohol warm you as it burned its way down your throat.

“So,” Duncan prompted and you glanced at him warily, his fingers brushing yours as he took the bottle back.

“So?” you asked, tilting your head toward him.

“So, what made you join up?” he asked, the question taking you off guard, not expecting him to actually care about your personal life.  “Let me guess,” he mused, tapping his lip thoughtfully, drawing your eyes there.  “Some noble calling to protect our failing planet?” he asked, his voice thick with sarcasm before he took another drink,” or was it like me, for that sweet sweet paycheck?”

“Is that the only reason?” you asked instead and Duncan shrugged, leaning back against the wall as he offered you the bottle.

“Let’s just say, if I could find anything planetside that paid better than this, then I wouldn’t be here,” he answered.

You nodded.  “Yeah, I guess it's pretty much the same for me,” you mused, “guess we’re stuck in this together, then,” you pointed out wryly, the whiskey in the bottle sloshing as you took another drink, the bottle nearly half empty now.

“Suppose there’s worse places one could be,” Duncan murmured, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, making you pause, you didn’t think he’d meant you to hear that.  “Maybe we’re not so different after all,” he said, louder, smirking as he took the bottle back.

Any other time and you probably would’ve bristled at that remark, but maybe it was just the alcohol… or maybe it was something else, but you merely nodded in silent agreement.

“So… you, uhm, got anyone back home waiting for you?” you found yourself asking, unsure what had prompted all this curiosity in you.

Duncan snorted, “y’mean, like a girl or somethin’?” he asked and your face heated.

“No, I meant, like family,” you clarified, not caring for the skeptical look he threw you.

“Uh huh,” he murmured, his lips twisting into a grin.

“Ah, no.  No, not really,” he answered after a moment.  “And no, I don’t have a girl, or anyone else planetside waitin’ for me, just in case you’re curious,” he added coyly.

“That’s not what I meant,” you repeated, “though that’s not hard to believe,” you muttered, snatching the whiskey back, “I don’t see how anyone could stand to date you.”

“Wow,” Duncan scoffed, covering his heart with his hand.  “Tell me how you really feel about me, why don’tcha?  No, no, don’t hold back on my account,” he insisted wryly.

Sighing, you tilted your head to look at him, a long suffering expression on your face, though you almost felt bad… almost.  “Oh, c’mon Duncan, you know I can’t stand you.”

His thick eyebrows rose nearly to his curls.  “Oh?  Could’ve fooled me,” he replied lightly, amusement dancing in his eyes.  “If that’s the case, then why do we keep finding ourselves in this situation, then?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“What situation?” you asked, as if you didn’t know, freezing as he leaned in, his lips pressing to yours in answer, your breath catching in your throat as you found yourself kissing him back, slowly at first, though growing in fervor.

Before you knew it, you’d climbed into his lap, straddling him as his arms snaked around your waist, trapping you against him, his tongue warring with yours.  He tasted strongly of whiskey, but you realized you probably did as well, your head swimming slightly, and not just from the booze.

“This situation,” Duncan murmured as you caught your breath, his mossy eyes boring into yours.  “See, I can’t help but notice I’m getting some mixed signals here.”

Opening your mouth to ready a comeback, it died on your tongue as Duncan shifted his hips beneath you, the bulge in his pants pressing against your core and you barely bit back the moan that bubbled out of your chest, Duncan’s cheeky grin flashing in the dimly lit room.

“Just admit you might not hate me as much as you let on, huh,” he pressed and you bit your lip.

“Are we gunna shag, or what?” you asked instead, a flustered huff entering your voice and Duncan barked a laugh.

“Oh, believe me darling, we’ll get to that, but first I wanna unwrap my Christmas present and play with it a little first,” he drawled, his hands lingering at your waist by the hem of your shirt.

Begrudgingly, you lifted your arms, letting him peel it up over your head before he reached behind you, unclasping your bra to bare your tits, his hands immediately covering them, kneading and pinching, rolling your pert nipples between his fingers as he watched your face.

“That feel good, princess?” he asked and you let out a shaky breath, the aching thrum between your legs unable to be ignored any longer, your arousal reflected in your eyes, your pupils dilating with want.

“Duncan,” you whined, a petulant edge to your voice that only made his grin grow.

“Oh, don’t worry, luv, you’ll be bouncin’ on my cock soon enough, but first--”  His hands left your chest to circle your waist, shifting you so you were now only straddling one of his thin thighs.  “If you wanna get off on my cock, you’re gunna have to get off on my thigh first,” he drawled and your mouth fell open.  

“I wanna see how desperate you are for it, how much you want me, to be filled by me.  How does that sound, pet?” he taunted, his expression darkening with lust as his eyes bored into yours, the new pet name sending a shiver through you.

You could just get up and leave, you know, a tiny voice in the back of your head whispered, and you hesitated, considering it.  But you don’t want to, do you?  Maybe Duncan’s right--

No, you replied, cutting the voice off.  All you wanted was to get off, that’s it.  There was no other reason it had to be with Duncan other than he was willing.

“I’m waiting, sweetheart,” he taunted, giving your nipple a tweak and you jumped, refocusing, your lips twitching into a frown.  

Rolling your hips, you ground slowly against his leg, snaking your arms over his shoulders to stabilize yourself, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.  Trying to ignore the pleased smirk he wore, you chased your pleasure, grinding harder against him, your breathing growing heavy, but damn did the friction feel good against your aching cunt.

“That’s right, such a needy thing, can’t get enough of me,” Duncan murmured in your ear, his lips brushing your jaw as his curls brushed your cheek and you gasped as he bit down on the sensitive flesh at the nape of your neck.  You could feel his tongue move against you before he planted his lips to suck, the sensation driving you mad as you writhed against his leg, your soaking panties starting to rub you raw, but you didn’t stop.

“God, I can feel how wet you are through the leg of my trousers, you’re gunna leave a wet spot, how lewd,” he purred, delighted, his hands at your waist helping you.  “Hurry up then, the sooner you cum, the sooner I can ruin that tight little twat of yours.  So, come on, luv, cum for me,” he encouraged and with a shudder, you did, the friction too much, pushing you over the edge and you rode through it, Duncan capturing your lips as you finished.

“There, now,” he drawled as you gasped, catching your breath.  “That was fuckin’ hot,” he said, pride filling you at his praise, followed by disdain that he’d made you feel that way.  

Slipping off his lap you shimmied your pants and ruined knickers down as he freed his cock and you let your gaze fall to it as you wet your lips, the idea of seeing him squirm for once, highly appealing, til you realized what you were thinking, snapping yourself out of it.

“C’mon, sit on ol’ Saint Nicky’s lap,” he teased, patting his lap and you shot him a disgusted frown.

“Do not put it like that,” you exclaimed as he laughed, catching your arm and pulling you closer til you were straddling him once more, hovering over him, the tip of his cock brushing against you temptingly.

“Come here, luv,” he murmured, the strain in his voice belying how much he wanted this, wanted you, and as you eased yourself onto him, wriggling your hips slightly, wanting to tease him back a little, the pleased sigh that left his lips made your stomach flip and you bit your lip as you watched his face, the way his mouth fell open and his long eyelashes fluttered.

“Oh, fuck, you feel bloody amazing.”  When he opened his eyes once more, however, the dominant Duncan was back, his predatory grin returning.  

Smirking, he thrust up into you suddenly, pulling a surprised gasp from your lips as he pushed deeper into you and you moaned brokenly as you rolled your hips, grinding against him, writhing in his lap, focusing on your pleasure.  

“Oh, Duncan,” you whispered breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut, and he lifted you, urging you to bounce on him, his fingers biting into your hips as he guided you, your tits bouncing as he fucked you.  

“Ahh--!” you cried, Duncan’s lips crashing into yours muffling you and you kissed him back sloppily, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth to bite roughly, drawing a hiss from him.

“Oh, you bitch,” he gasped, his hooded eyes catching yours as you continued to bounce, pleasure coursing through you with each rough thrust.  “Do that again,” he demanded and you obeyed, relishing in the guttural groan that left him as he forced you closer, holding you tightly as you nipped at him, a gasped giggle leaving your lips.

“Oh, God, what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice strained and you wondered if he was as close as you were, that hovering white hot pleasure just waiting for you around the corner.

“Duncan, I’m gunna-gunna cum,” you keened with a gasp, plateauing almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth, tensing in his embrace, your muscles going rigid even as you continued to ride him, and though you’d not wanted him to cum inside before, you were past caring at this point, a choked whimper nearly leaving your lips before you clamped your mouth shut as Duncan gave one last deep jerking thrust, crushing you against him with a grunt, his face buried in your chest as he came inside you.

For a long moment neither of you moved, focusing on catching your breath and you realized you were holding Duncan against you just as fiercely as he held you, your hand tangled in his mussed curls and finally you felt him loosen his hold on you, tilting his chin up to look at you, a strange expression on his face you weren’t used to and it seemed as though he were readying himself to say something that might complicate your already complicated feelings further.

Suddenly afraid, you cleared your throat, quickly extricating yourself from his arms and slipping out of his lap, hastily reaching for your discarded clothes and dressing, trying hard not to think about how much you’d wanted to kiss him instead of running back to your bunk.

“Well, Happy Christmas to me,” Duncan chuckled, tucking himself back into his pants before looking up, a confused frown twisting his features as he watched you.  “What’s the rush, luv?” he asked.

“I, uh, this was a mistake,” you stuttered.

“Whoa, whoa,” he exclaimed, catching your arm before you could hurry for the door.  “What’s gotten into you?”

“This, what we’re doing here,” you said, gesturing between the two of you, “it’s wrong.  If anyone finds out about this, we’re both--”

“Hey, no one’s gunna find out,” Duncan exclaimed sharply, not letting you go, though you feebly struggled to pull away, shaking your head fiercely. 

“We can’t do this again, Duncan,” you insisted, silently pleading with him to let you go.  “I don’t even know why I’m shacking up with a guy who’s clearly only in it for the sex.”

Duncan scoffed, his grip on your arm finally loosening.  “You’re the one who’s always saying how much you can’t stand me.  If anyone’s only in it for the sex, sweetheart, it’s clearly you.”

Huffing incredulously, you turned on your heel and stalked to the door before he could follow.

“[y/n]!  [y/n], hey!” he called after you, but you didn’t stop, unsure exactly where you were going, just that you couldn’t be around him a moment longer, a flurry of emotions urging you on.

What a Christmas, huh?

------------------------ Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @midnightseance​ @gurlimtired​ @super-unpredictable98​ @iamsexytrash​ @misskittysmagicportal​ @robertsheehanownsmyass​

[nemesis729]

I would love, love, love to read your full thoughts ❤

Okay, *cracks fingers*, sit tight because this may be a beast to type out and it may take a few more rereads and some block quotes for me to do a full in-depth analysis. Translation: I’m going to try to do a full-on essay with this because there’s a lot to unpack.

Really, it all boils down to one thing. Billy has a lot to learn. That’s basically been my thought since Reader called it quits at the gala. 

Since the inception of the arrangement, Billy kept the reader at arms’ length. The Reader was aware enough (due to her childhood, most likely) that Billy would run for the hills if anything resembling emotions and relationships were to enter the equation. So, of course, she decided to settle for what he could give her. Okay, yeah, it’s amazing sex but, after a while, it can leave a person cold if there’s little to no emotion involved. In any case, after the wake-up call, Reader decides that she wants more than the scraps and isn’t willing to settle for what he’s giving her. When she ends it with Billy, he’s completely blind-sided because, all of a sudden, without him noticing, Reader is showing that she isn’t as biddable as he expected her to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if, at the gala, he expected her to fall in line when he had her up against a column. 

Anyway, I digress. If anything, because Reader was easy-going in his eyes and he didn’t care enough to observe her during the almost-year of their arrangement, I shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t understand why she ended things. Seriously, you can’t just pay attention to what’s being said. You also have to pay attention to what’s not being said. 

That’s kind of what I wanted to rant about for chapters 1 through 3. This essentially sums up Billy’s thoughts on the reader:

Up until last Saturday, you had barely been a blip on his radar. Sure you guys were fuck buddies and he liked your easygoing personality, but the thing he appreciated most about you was that you were low maintenance. You didn’t demand anything from him emotionally and that meant he didn’t have to put in any effort into the relationship.

This, in itself, is very telling. For me, it brings home the idea that the arrangement mostly benefitted Billy. Since we, as the audience, know that Reader felt more for Billy than he did for her, we’re left thinking, “wow, what a douchebag,” about him. Like, seriously, during those months they were together, he didn’t make little observations about the reader? No filing away about what her preferences are? Her tics? 

If you were someone he cared about he may have gone over to check on you or made more of an effort to get in touch but, really, he couldn’t be bothered.

That basically summed up the first arc of Reader and Billy’s relationship, such as it was. And, when she decided that enough was enough and she deserved something more substantial, all of a sudden, she’s interesting and now he wants her. 

At this point, I want to say that the tables have turned. Except, I can’t. Maybe. Possibly. Before, Reader suffered in silence about her feelings where she stood in Billy’s life because she was self-aware and able to read the room with regards to Billy. She knew him enough that any discussion about the future and commitments were a no-go for him. Now, when Reader doesn’t want anything to do with him, Billy wants her. As I previously pointed out in my last reply, does he want her for her or is it a point of pride because she was the one that ended it first and not him?

It’s, as the kids say, pretty sus.

Anyhoo, the latest installment of “A Woman Scorned.” What a doozy. The chapter had everything from tension, UST, and protective best friends. 

Davina is the best friend we all wish we had and what we aspire to be. I love how protective she is over the reader. I also enjoyed how judgmental she was at Billy’s lack of knowledge about reader. Here are my favorite scenes:

“Billy Russo.”

Davina ignored his hand, lifting her eyebrow. “I don’t like you.”

“Clearly.”

“And I don’t like that you’re messing around with my friend.”

Billy stood up straight, concerned. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. She texted me and told me she couldn’t make it. If I didn’t have to host this thing, I’d be at her place right now. I think she’s a bit freaked out.”

He placed his drink back on the bar. “I’ll go over and see her.”

“What do you want with her?”

This time he couldn’t hide his annoyance. “Enough with the third degree. I’m just going to check up on her. Unless you want her to be alone right now?”

Davina’s eyes narrowed. She was gauging him carefully to see whether he could be trusted or not. At first he had no idea which decision she landed on, but the eventual resignation gave her away. “Let her know I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Y/N’s not the type to admit when something’s wrong. With her, it’s like pulling teeth.”

“But she has a tell. When she’s upset, she buys shoes.”

“You’ve been sleeping with her for months and you don’t know what she likes?”

As much as Davina would love to keep Billy from Reader, she knows something happened and she knows a familiar face might help Reader in some way or another. Judging by the resignation, she probably wouldn’t be surprised if reader fell into bed with Billy while she’s vulnerable.

Anyhoo, I said it once and I’ll say it again. Billy has a lot to learn.

It was obvious Davina hated him, which made him wonder if that’s why you’d decided to cut him off so suddenly. He filed the question away in his brain, making a mental note to find out the answer from you at some point.

Read the room, Billy! For someone so smart, he has the emotional awareness of a rock. Maybe he’s thinking with the wrong head? That’s something to consider.

During that time when Billy visited reader, his takeaway should be paying attention to what the reader isn’t saying as well as what she is. At the gala, he pointed out that the reader is closed off. That should’ve given him some sign that there’s something more going on.  

He cocked his eyebrow. “Maybe it’s just you I need to learn more about.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

Right now, if we’re heading towards the official end of the relationship (and, in the reader’s eyes, we are), this is the epitome of “too little, too late”.

“It’s never too late.” His eyes were suddenly intense, in a way you were only used to seeing when he was angry or turned on. “Maybe you can show up at my place one night, wearing that robe, your favourite heels and nothing else.”

Billy is pretty optimistic that they will still be together. Enough said.

“No. You don’t know what I like.”

He leaned forward, eyes seductively drifting down to your lips. “I have a pretty good idea of what gets you off.”

“Yeah, but what gets me off and what I like might be two different things.”

Billy, I like you but you really need to pay attention and take notes! Of course he would be observant on what gets reader off but has he ever observed her in a non-sexual but intimate way? Somehow, I doubt it. 

“You grew up rich, didn’t you?” he taunted, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because only someone who has money would say it doesn’t matter.”

You laughed, chugging the remainder of your wine. If he only knew. “Sure, Billy.”

The fact that she doesn’t say anything more about her family should speak volumes. See the other receipts:

“You have a lot of pictures up,” he remarked. “But there isn’t a single one of you with your family. There’s no sign of them in your apartment.”

“I’m not close to my family.”

“So you and the fam don’t get along?” he probed.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Billy,” you whined, taking a sip of your drink. “I don’t want to talk about my family.”

The reader’s childhood is next-level levels of messed up. If her father was like that, I can only imagine how her mother is. And since she doesn’t have pictures of any of her family, I can say that her mother wasn’t Mrs. Brady. 

One thing I can say about Billy is that at least he didn’t take advantage of reader while she was vulnerable. 

Billy’s jaw was clenched with anger but you told yourself it wasn’t because of you. He was simply pissed Anvil’s competitor was still more successful despite their negligence.

Whether he knows it or not, he cares about her. Knowing the reader, she thinks that he’s more upset on behalf of Anvil as a form of self-preservation. If she were more secure about what they are to each other, she would know that he’s angry because she was in danger. Unfortunately, because she realized that she probably won’t be more to Billy than a bedwarmer, it’s dangerous for her to think that way. 

Still, I have to admit that I liked how he just hugged her. Whether it was in comfort or to lead to something more...that’s going to be a problem in the next chapter. But, in that moment, he sensed Reader needing comfort and did something about it. That might be a smidgeon of growth right there.

Okay, wow, that was way longer than I thought. So, here are my final thoughts:

Billy’s an asshole but he’s our asshole and we love him. Even when he’s earnestly pursuing Reader, he’s still an ass. Reader is more guarded than ever because of the suppressed feelings she had for Billy combined with seeing him with Madani and her insecurities. It’s a horrible trifecta. 

It doesn’t help that Billy’s pursuing her and attempting to woo her when all she wants is distance. He definitely has his work cut out for him because Reader isn’t going to make this easy. Aside from her childhood, she already had a sample of “fuckboy” Billy. She’s familiar with that version of him. And she wants more than a fuckboy. She wants more than that and she knows that Billy can’t give her that more. Naturally, she’s going to keep him at arms and legs length.  

This constant push and pull is highly entertaining and I can’t wait to read more. I’m sorry this review was way too long and rambling but I couldn’t stop once I got going. I hope I wasn’t being too hard on Billy. I feel like I am. (I probably am.)

Love! 

[mulderist]

DEVIL AT MY DOORSTEP

Post-Orison Hurt/comfort || MSR, UST || Scully POV || Moderate violence || AO3 link

A/N: This fic was originally written way back in 2001 when I was in college. It was my first post-episode fic and I posted it to FF.net back in the day. I unearthed it 3 years ago and gave it some extremely heavy edits because it’s that ridiculous and dramatic (lol). I then nervously posted the revised version to AO3.

@today-in-fic

"If you want to pack some things we can get outta here," Mulder said as he walked into my bedroom. I pulled open a dresser drawer revealing my copy of the Holy Bible. I felt the strong weight of guilt in my hand as I lifted it out. Mulder noticed the book. "You can't judge yourself," he tried to reassure me. I walked over to my bed and carefully sat my beaten body down.

"Maybe I don't have to." I told him.

"The Bible allows for vengeance."

"But the law doesn't."

"The way I see it," Mulder began as he leaned toward me, "he didn't give you a choice. And my report will reflect that, in case you're worried. Donnie Pfaster would have surely killed again if given the chance."

"He was evil Mulder. I'm sure about that without a doubt. But there's one thing that I'm not sure of," I said softly.

"What's that?"

"Who was at work in me? Or what? What made me - what made me pull the trigger?"

"You mean if it was God?"

"I mean - what if it wasn't?" There was a beat of silence and I could sense that Mulder wanted to say something. Instead I felt his hand gently slide across my upper back. I looked up at him and could see the concern written on his face.

"I'll finish up out there," he said. Then he moved past me and back towards the bedroom door, pulling it behind him.

I slowly stood and went to my dresser to find some clothes. I tossed an outfit on the bed and stripped off my pajamas leaving them in a heap on the floor. As I absentmindedly packed an overnight bag I took a look around my bedroom. The bookcase I had pulled over on Pfaster to slow him down resulted in a disjointed cascade of books and broken trinkets. There were stains of crimson blood, more than likely my own, which dotted the once clean carpet. The thought that blood was shed in my bedroom made me swallow hard. I scanned over my bed to the wall where my mirror once hung. All that remained were jagged pieces of glass and the remnants of the frame. More pieces scattered the floor. I closed my eyes briefly attempting to block out the events that had occurred. Then a shudder shook me back into reality and I turned to leave my room.

The police had finally cleared out leaving an unsettling calm in the apartment. I was grateful Mulder took it upon himself to answer their questions. As I walked to the living room I could still smell a faint scent of lit matches combined with the dying fragrance of my candles, though they had been extinguished for some time now. I stopped after I crossed the thresh hold and looked down at the large burgundy stain on the rug. Very faint markings of a chalk outline could still be seen on the floor. I saw Mulder sitting on the end of my couch with his elbows on his knees, hands folded. He rose when he realized I was in the room. I said softly,

"Let's go."

Mulder nodded and followed me out the door, locking it behind us. Once we got outside he took my bag and popped the trunk to place it inside. I took my place in the passenger seat and winced slightly as I reached across to grab the seat belt. My eyelids felt like lead weights and I couldn't help but let them close as I leaned my head back against the headrest. I heard Mulder get in the car and start the engine. He tried to make conversation on the ride to his apartment but I think after a short while he realized I didn't want to talk just yet. He knew me well. The remainder of the drive was in silence. Even after Mulder parked the car we still said nothing. It wasn't until we had stepped inside his apartment that he uttered,

"I can put some coffee on." I glanced up at him and nodded with a heavy sigh.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Sure," he replied, sounding slightly wounded, "It'll be ready once you're done."

Jesus, why are we doing this awkward small talk? He handed me my overnight bag and before I went down the hall I squeezed his hand. After I closed the bathroom door behind me I put my bag on the floor then turned on the water for the shower. As it warmed up I slowly shed my clothes and inspected myself to see if there were any injuries I might have missed. I turned slightly and saw the initial stages of bruising setting in on my upper back. My naked figure in the mirror was unsettling. I had never seen myself look so vulnerable. I turned away from the defeated reflection and pulled aside the shower curtain, stepping into the warm waterfall.

Steam began to swirl around in the tiny room, creating an eerie fog. The slight burn of the water began to relax me as it massaged my tired frame. I self-consciously crossed my arms over my breasts and placed my hands on my shoulders. I then ran a hand over my wet hair. "Ah, dammit," I hissed. My index finger found a remaining chip of glass hiding at the back of my head. A speck of blood oozed from where I was pricked. That's when I noticed my fingernails. There was a fine line of scarlet caked under them.

Blood.

Blood that was not mine. My hands showed traces of the struggle in my apartment. I flexed and tightened my right hand noticing how awkward and stiff the movement was. Sprain, edema, contusion, hematoma: bland clinical terms I knew all too well. I took the bar of soap off its dish and began working it into a lather. As the suds formed on my arms, I tried to wash away the gritty feeling, the sense of guilt, and the memory of Donnie Pfaster.

Pfaster. His cryptic face clawed its way to the surface though I tried desperately to suppress it. His was the face of pure evil, a vision of a demon that shook me to my core. When I took the case I tried to prove to myself that it didn't bother me. I had gone through the counseling sessions during and after Minneapolis. Bouts of anxiety would return every once and a while, flashes of terrible things usually triggered after a particularly difficult assignment. Subconsciously I knew I was kidding myself when I thought I had overcome what happened.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to melt away as I stood there breathing in the heavy steam. Water pushed the soapy residue from my body and I saw a light red trail spiral down the drain. I closed my eyes for a moment but couldn't shake the chaos that happened in my apartment. Pfaster was in my home - the devil at my doorstep. I angrily grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squeezed some of it into my hand. As I massaged the gel into my hair the familiar scent wound around in the air and my mood softened. Then my thoughts turned to Mulder. He told me not to look any further and I followed his advice. I don't know how he ended up in my living room with his gun drawn, ready to do what I was shockingly more capable of doing. He always managed to find me – to save me. I was still in shock when he rushed over and held me close. I just stood there, motionless, letting my weapon slip from my fingers. Every time I ended up in his arms I had this overwhelming feeling that I'm safe and it's a sensation I never want to lose. As I rinsed my hair I did what I feared most.

I lost control.

The water felt tepid as it mixed with the scalding tears in my eyes. I brought my hands to my face as if to conceal the pain and anger from myself. Oh God I thought. Everything was rushing at me too fast; horrible sounds and smells returned shocking my senses. I lost the comforting warmth that had enveloped me. Stability failed and I placed my left hand against the cool tile wall. My knees softened and with a hand over my mouth, I tried to muffle my crying. My shoulders lurched as I sobbed and I moved my hip closer to the wall for support. Water raced down my bruised back. My arms slid across my stomach and I held on, trying to shield myself from the terrible thoughts flashing in my mind. I leaned a shoulder into the wall almost as if I expected it to open up and embrace me.

"Mulder…"

I didn't realize I had said it aloud. It's not the first time I've called out to him but it felt different as I stood in his shower. I needed to say his name. I needed to know he was on the other side of that door. I needed to allow myself this one fleeting moment of vulnerability and begin to accept the unacceptable. As my sobs slowed one was caught in my throat. I hated how I sounded when I was upset and more often than not tried desperately to express sorrow in silence. Over the roar of the water I exhaled deeply and wiped my eyes. My hands found their way to my shoulders once again and I breathed in the last few clouds of steam. Then I turned off the faucet, pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped out onto the waiting bathmat. I pulled a towel off the hook and gently dried off, finding comfort in that familiar scent once again.

I got dressed and combed my hair then walked out to Mulder's living room. There was a lone mug on the coffee table. I happened upon him lying down on the couch, eyes closed. I moved closer and noticed that his brow was furrowed. I touched his shoulder causing him to stir.

"Mmm, sorry I must have dozed off. Did the shower help? " he said while he sat upright and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I think so. I feel a little more human." I joined him in the space he had cleared. He stretched then reached for the mug and took a long swallow. I leaned back against the couch.

"I can pour you a cup if you'd like," I heard him say. My fingers began to fiddle with a tender spot on my left hand.

"No thanks." I know Mulder could tell I had been crying, puffiness under the eyes was not easy to conceal. I could feel my cheeks flush and I licked my lips as I searched for something to say.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm still having difficulty finding the words right now and I can't stand this awkward small talk."

He shook his head after swallowing a sip of coffee. "You know I can see it on your face. And this awkward small talk wouldn't be so awkward if you would just let me in. It's like I told you earlier, I've never seen something give you this much of a head trip before."

"I have to be able to accept this on my own terms, Mulder." That tasted bitter. "I've been trying to forget for five years. I just can't do this right now." I got off the couch and started to head for his bedroom. After pushing the door slightly behind me, I turned down the sheets and slowly crawled into the large bed. I gingerly placed my head upon Mulder's pillow and felt the smoothness against my skin. Every muscle in my body struggled to unwind. Before I closed my eyes I noticed a shadow move in front of the door.

"I'll be fine." I muttered under my breath.

The last thing I heard was the click from the door being closed.

I awoke in the dark to a stinging sensation in the side of my head. My mouth was sore and I could taste blood. There was a taunt strip of cloth tied tightly around my head causing my cheeks to hurt. My hands were bound behind my back and my bare feet were tied together. I weakly struggled to shift positions, fighting the pain in my temple. Once my eyes focused I slowly maneuvered myself near the light source coming from the crack underneath the door. Where the hell am I? I couldn't see anything in the room aside from the hardwood floor. I attempted to sit back up and tried to figure out how I got here. Adrenaline had kicked in now and I started thinking of a way to escape. Then I saw a shadow sweep across the floor. Suddenly the door pulled open. I shot back against a nearby wall in a lame attempt to protect myself. I looked at the figure in the doorway and it didn't look human. The figure bent down, grabbed my ankles, and dragged me on the floor out of the closet into the empty room. I writhed and twisted in its grip. A dim light from somewhere else in the dilapidated house illuminated the figure just enough so I could distinguish human hands as they removed the tie from my ankles. The man reached over and forcefully pulled me up by my shoulders to my feet. Our eyes met for a split second as I stood and in that moment I felt malevolence swarm over my body. His pushed me in front of him and a smile snaked across his lips.

His hand roughly clung to my bare shoulder as he shoved me down a hallway. Everything in the sparsely lit house looked the same, bare and unremarkable. There was a warm glow coming from one of the rooms on the left and he led me in that direction. It was a master bedroom. Once inside I was shoved towards the bathroom. I saw an oversized bathtub nestled in the back under a window. There was a double sink to the right and the white porcelain toilet resided next to it with a towel bar hanging low over the tank. Candles covered just about every surface to provide mood lighting for whatever diabolical plans he had in mind. He moved me over to the sink and untied my hands for a moment, only to tie them to the towel bar. I saw the horrible smirk form on his face as he stepped back to look at his work.

"It'll all be over soon." And with that he left the bathroom. My mind yelled at me to escape. I pulled violently at the bar, foolishly hoping that I could pull it off the wall and run. Then I leaned my head down to meet my hands and try to loosen the gag. As I feverishly worked I heard a thud from the other room. I stopped for just a second and listened and to my horror I saw the man pull Mulder's body into the doorway and toss him on the floor.

No!

"Mulder! What have you done to him?!" I yelled against the gag. The man lunged at me and struck me across the face. Then he snatched my jaw and pressed the flat side of a knife against my cheek.

"Don't worry Girly-Girl. I have plans for him too." I fought the tears welling in my eyes. He moved away from me and went toward the bathtub, reaching for the faucet to turn on the water. I tried to free my hands from the towel bar while he was distracted. My fingers squeezed together and with a tug I was loose then I quickly removed the cloth from around my mouth. I looked out into the other room and saw Mulder stir but just as I did Pfaster noticed I had gotten one step closer to escape and took measures to slow me down. With a flash of metal his knife came quickly across my right hand. I tried to grab it; tried to disarm him for even a moment. He caught my arm and plunged the blade in-between my ribs. I screamed. He attacked me again, this time hitting my upper arm. I took all the strength I could muster and kicked Pfaster in the gut sending him back towards the bathtub. I cried out over the roar of the water and fell to the floor just missing the edge of the sink. I started to crawl in a prone position to the door and out into the bedroom, blood soaking rapidly through my tank top. I had to get to Mulder. He was lying face down on the floor and I could tell he was injured or God knows what else.

"S-Scully.." he muttered as he lifted his head revealing a gash on his cheek. My injured hand reached out for his, finding his fingertips and holding as tight as I could.

"Mulder, please…" I pleaded. "I need you to get up. I can't –" Pfaster was on his feet now. He turned around sharply and quickly ran out to seize my leg. I kicked him in the shin but he still managed to pull me in his direction. I cried out for Mulder as I was dragged back into the bathroom. Pfaster brought my arms above my head and held them together while straddling me. My right arm went numb from the stab wounds and blood started to seep into the bathmat as my body was pressed onto the tile. I winced as he tightened his hold on me, pulling my injured arm more than needed.

"You know," he began once he caught his breath, "I didn't think I'd finally catch the one that got away. That red hair never left my mind. I wasn't going to stop until I found you." My lips moved as I tried to form words, but no sound escaped. He stood and yanked me up off the floor. I could barely fight against him and that's what frightened me the most. I was running out of time. Still with a grip on my shoulders he turned off the water to the bathtub.

"Let her go, Pfaster," said Mulder from the doorway, his voice sounded dark. Pfaster pressed a hand over my mouth before I could put a voice to my suffering. The taste on my lips was nauseating.

"You're not going to take her from me. Not again," said Pfaster. Then he brought his face close to me and smelt my hair making my skin crawl. Then he dropped me in the tub, holding me under. I kicked and thrashed as hard as I could but I was growing weaker. I heard Mulder yell.

Two shots rang out.

The frigid cold water sent a shockwave through my body and stung my wounds. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. I could feel my body shutting down. All of my energy started to fade and I physically couldn't struggle anymore. I couldn't move. My breath slowed as I stared at the ceiling. The lights from the remaining candles flickered back and forth across the walls.

My life started to slip away.

Then I saw Mulder's face above me as he climbed into the tub. He reached in and quickly picked me up from under my arms then shifted my weight so he could slide his right arm under my knees. As he lifted my limp wounded body out of the bathtub I closed my eyes and heard him say "I'm sorry, Scully. God I'm so sorry." He carried me out of the bathroom, leaving the body of Donnie Pfaster behind.

Mulder knelt down with me on the floor of the barren bedroom, holding me tight in his arms. I coughed and sputtered, expelling the bathwater. He pulled out his cell phone and I knew he was calling for an ambulance. "Yes this Agent Mulder with the FBI, I have an agent down!" He gave some more information then tossed the phone aside. One hand pressed firmly on my side, adding compression to the oozing stab wound. "Help is on the way. Just hang on." My eyelids fluttered and I said his name.

"Scully, talk to me. Come on."

"What happened to you?" I asked weakly.

"That bastard cold-cocked me once I made it upstairs. He must have already had you tied-up in the bathroom. God, I should have shot him as soon as I saw him."

"I can't Mulder…" I said with a shiver.

"No. No. You have to stay with me, Scully" he said with a wavering voice.

"I can't feel …I don't…I'm sorry," My words were nonsensical as I tried to focus on him. My fingers grazed his shirt before I lost consciousness.

Mulder began CPR.

His lips felt so warm against mine as he forced air into my mouth. I felt the wetness of his cheek as he leaned in to deliver each breath. I was so numb I barely felt the chest compressions. His hands were soaked in my blood. Desperation crossed Mulder's face after he gave two more sets of compressions and saw no change.

"Dammit Scully, come on! You can't leave me!" I heard him say as he pressed on my chest. His composure was gone as he tried frantically to revive me. Mulder choked out a sob as he clutched me to his chest. He rocked back and forth then let out a primal, gut-wrenching scream.

A siren was heard howling down the street. Red lights flashed in through the window and danced along the ceiling as the ambulance pulled up. The paramedics flung open the door to the house and called in inside. It didn't take them long to find us. They rushed in and took me from Mulder so they could begin their work. He slid back a little and sat with his head in his hands. The EMTs readied the defibrillator to restart my heart. One of the medics cut open my shirt and stuck pads on my bare chest to prepare me before using the paddles. Then a paramedic called,

"Clear!"

I cried out and woke with a start; my hands pushed me into an awkward upright position on the bed. Disoriented at first and head spinning, I started to piece together where I was. The layout of the room became more familiar as my senses came into focus with the morning light. My weight shifted to my left elbow and as I rubbed my eyes I heard the bedroom door open, Mulder said my name as he entered. I sat up and he joined me on the bed. The wave of tension broke and quickly I leaned forward to wrap my arms tightly around his neck.

"I had a bad dream," I said softly, feeling my lip start to tremble as I pulled him closer. I felt like a child that needed to be consoled.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"I was in a house, like when I was taken before." My throat felt dry causing my voice to falter. "Pfaster dragged me into a room lined with candles and was intent on finishing what he started. You were there too but you couldn't - There was so much blood, Mulder," I pulled away from him and drew in a breath to try and regain some sense of composure. "It all just felt so real. " I shook my head and ran a hand over my hair leaving it to rest behind my neck. We sat there for a moment, no words between us. At one point he tenderly kissed the top of my head. Finally he said,

"I was hesitant to tell you, but I heard that song as I was getting ready for bed last night."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he looked down and motioned to take my hand, "I tried to call you but you didn't pick up. I guess you could call it divine intervention."

"That was playing in my apartment. He was playing that damn song…" Mulder leaned in and embraced me.

This time I buried my head in his chest and unwillingly started to hear the opening notes of the song fade in once again. My eyes closed and my hands pressed harder against Mulder's back, pulling him closer.

With those phantom tones I was replaying what had happened mere hours ago. The panic of knowing Pfaster was in my home, the anger that drove each blow I threw at him, the fear when he had me pinned down and screaming out for help.

Don't let go.

The tempo sent me reeling back to Minneapolis. That house. That closet. The feel of the rope around my wrists. Falling down those stairs and feeling paralyzed by fear. What was going to happen to me? Would I ever see Mulder again?

Hold on to me.

The rhythm began to fade and I felt the mist in my eyes. I pushed back for a brief moment and looked at Mulder as he brushed away tear that found its way to my cheek.

"Stay with me," I whispered. He nodded and I moved over, allowing him to slip into bed alongside me.

"It's alright. I'm here." He kissed the nape of my neck knowing there wasn't much else he could do but hold me. And that's all I really wanted him to do. At that point I didn't care that I had broken down. I had never wanted him closer to me than in that moment.

I was so tired. My body ached and eventually my sobs began to subside. The air was no longer caught in my throat. I began to listen to the cadence of Mulder's breath and I wasn't sure if he was still awake. My inhale met with his. Once he noticed my breathing began to slow he slid his hand from under mine. Fingertips found a strand of hair and placed it behind my ear. I could feel the sunlight coming through the bedroom window.

"Thank you," I uttered, my voice raspy and heavy with exhaustion.

"Rest. I'm not going anywhere." I struggled to shift positions and turned over to face him. My hand found his cheek and I moved closer, sharing his breath. The hint of smile tugged at his mouth. Ever so slightly my lips parted and I felt warmth as his lips met mine. Soft and tender.

At last I was able to begin to forget.

[volahre]

babe for the weekend - chapter 4

read on ao3 | 1805 words | rated Teen and up audiences for later chapters | Fox Mulder/Dana Scully | Weddings | set in late season 6 | UST | eventual resolved romantic tension

When an old friend from high school invites her to her wedding and she brings Mulder along as her plus one, Scully reflects on her life, her place in the world, how much she has changed and what she really wants.

I originally started this to explore the topic of growing up, aging and feeling like you are missing out within the character of Dana Scully, but it has become so much more than that - but read for yourself!

chapter four

Between the vineyards lay a small cottage with a large meadow which Dorothy and Robert had chosen to be the location for their celebration. The ceremony had gone smoothly, a teenage girl who turned out to be not only Robert’s niece but also a piano virtuoso contributed to the celebratory atmosphere with pieces by Handel and Bach.

“Champagne, juice, or mixed?”, one of the waitresses asked Scully once she had gotten up from her chair and straightened her dress. Smiling, she thanked the waitress and took one of the champagne glasses while waiting for Mulder to follow her. “To the newlyweds?” she asked once they stood facing each other. “And to love”, Mulder answered, looking straight into her eyes with an expression she could not quite read. It was new, something she had only seen appearing on his face recently.

“And how do you know Dorothy and Robert?”, an old familiar voice appeared behind Scully as she was waiting for the buffet. She turned around and saw Marcus speaking to Mulder. Great. She took a deep breath. “He’s with me”, she said and put on a smile, looking at the face of the man she once, though much younger, more inexperienced, and certainly more naïve had called the love of her life.

“Oh, Dana!” Marcus laughed. “It’s good to see you”.

She kept on the smile. “It’s good to see you too.” This really was strange, to say the least. What was she even supposed to say? Gesturing behind Marcus, she cleared her throat. “Have you…come here with anybody?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, a particular glow appeared on his face. “Wife and two kids, they’re waiting at our table. I can introduce you later if you want”.

She nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find each other again.”

“But tell me about your company, Dana”, Marcus said before looking at Mulder. “Marcus Watson”

Mulder took Marcus’ extended hand. “Fox Mulder. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Fox”, Marcus said. “I see you guys are not married yet?”

“No!”, Scully said, way too abruptly. Trying to conceal it with a laugh, she continued, ignoring the look Mulder gave her. “No, we’re not married.”

“I see”, Marcus smiled. “Where did you guys meet, if I may ask?”

“Oh, we met- “, Mulder started, but Scully interrupted him. “We work together at the FBI”.

“The FBI?”, Marcus appeared a little startled. “Last time I checked, I heard you went off to med school.”

Scully let out a small sigh. “I did, but I ended up in forensic science. But he,” she gestured at Mulder, “has a degree in psychology. Didn’t you do that too, Marcus? How’s it going with that?”

“Well, it’s going amazing, if you ask me! Got myself a practice set up and together with a few colleagues we’re focusing on dysfunctional families. But you, FBI, huh?”, Marcus looked at Mulder, who shrugged with one hand in his pocket.

“Well, I just hope I can help people find closure. And some minds are hard to get into, frankly. And sometimes it’s not even the minds as much as something greater than what could be limited to just one person.”

Scully looked at Mulder, surprised he had not brought up the specifics of what they did. “Mulder and I, we work together on a division called the X-Files.”, she said. “Cases that have been deemed unsolvable.”

“And you solve them?”, Marcus asked.

“Well, I’d like to think so”, Scully said, looking at the floor.

“Often times it’s about perspective,” Mulder said. “Some might appear unsolvable if you look at them from a traditional standpoint, but I like to think that if you go a little outside the box and look at them with an open mind you might actually find out the truth.”

“Ah, I get you, buddy”, Marcus said. “I have to deal with some real monsters as well, if you know what I mean!”, he laughed.

Scully frowned as Mulder laughed, though appearing highly uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose that’s different…”

“Come on, Mulder.”, she said, pulling him by his arm. “Buffet’s ready.”

They were seated across from each other at the end of a table full of people she didn’t know, which didn’t bother her much as she hoped it would spare her of more awkward conversations.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he would be like this”, Scully said later as they were eating their dessert.

“Hey it’s fine, Scully”, he said, grinning. “Sometimes your adolescent crushes grow up to become real monsters”.

She chuckled at his attempt to imitate Marcus. “Shut up, Mulder.”

“No”, he said, causing her to throw a confusing grin at him.

“You’ve got pudding on your face, wait”, he grabbed his napkin, and before she could say anything, he leaned over the table and carefully cleaned up the edge of her mouth. Remembering that she had to breathe, she took in a sharp inhale and felt a blush appearing on her face again. In the spot where his fingers had almost touched her, so close to her mouth, she felt a slight tingle.

“Thank you”, she said, hoping he would not question her blushing after him touching her. He had been invading her personal space for years and she had gotten away with barely blushing at most. So why was this happening now?

“I need to get some air”, she said quietly after finishing her dessert and got up, grabbing her purse.

“You okay?”, Mulder had gotten up almost as fast, his eyes filled with concern as they found hers.

“Yeah, I just need to get away from all the people for a bit”, she said, quickly looking away.

Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she walked down the little street that had led them to the location. After about two minutes, she found a bench with a view overlooking the hills. If she stayed for a few hours, she might be able to watch the sun go down from here, judging by the way it stood now.

Taking a deep breath, she took off her shoes and relaxed her back against the wood. The whole idea seemed like a mistake. Coming here after years of barely keeping in contact and therefore not knowing how to talk to anybody, bringing Mulder and putting him in an even more awkward situation than hers, it was like she had wanted to please people but had ended up just being selfish. Selfish, Dana. Her entire life, her entire career she had tried not to be selfish, always acted in the favour of others. But now her feelings, her fear had gotten in the way. Selfish.

She worried about Mulder. What was she even going to tell him? Sorry I’m behaving so weirdly; I just saw a guy I had a crush on almost 20 years ago and it made me realize that – but what had it made her realize? She had not come to any conclusion as to why the situation had felt so incredibly awkward, not just because of Marcus, but because of the combination of Marcus and Mulder. Apart from….no, definitely not. And this was certainly the worst place to consider the matters of her own heart. This was a celebration of love, but not hers.

Love. She recalled that moment in the hospital a few months earlier, when they were working in interior terrorism and Mulder had gone on a reckless spree diving right into the Atlantic Ocean, ending up drugged and exhausted. He had told her he loved her then, and she had brushed it off as a side effect of the drugs. But later, on her way home, she had recalled the moment with a particular sting in her stomach.

“Here you are”.

She looked up and saw the man in question standing there, his eyes – what colour were they now? – glistening in the light of the warm Californian sun.

“Oh hey”, she said quietly.

“The seat next to you taken?”, he said in his usual sarcastic tone but she couldn’t help noticing that there was also an obvious softness to his voice.

She chuckled. “Sit down if you want to,” she said, taking her purse so he had the space to sit.

“You wanna talk?”, he asked once he had sat down, putting his arm across the backrest behind her.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s just all so much…so much more than I expected. All the old feelings that never really went anywhere, so much left unresolved, washed out by years of growing apart.”

He nodded, that unreadable expression on his face again. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but do you still like him?”

“No!”, she said just as quickly as she had earlier, almost as if she was speaking out of reflex. She despised herself. “No”, she said again, with a slight smile. “I think we really have grown into two completely different people with completely different lives. Plus, he seems happily married and has kids”, she sighed, realizing that this was another aspect in which she could never be quite like those people.

“Hey, shhh, it’s alright,” Mulder said, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in small motions. As if her brain didn’t already feel like it had melted all sense of rational thought away, the electric signals he was sending through her body with his touch was doing the rest. Slowly, she leaned into his embrace and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry, Mulder.”

“For what?”, he said quietly. His arm had followed her and was now gently stroking her upper arm.

“For making you go through this crap”, she laughed. “You don’t know anybody, which arguably puts you in an even more awkward situation than me, and now I’m running away, and it just feels like I am making this whole thing about myself.”

“Now I’m gonna have to stop you right there, Scully,” he said, “you are not making this about yourself. In fact, I don’t think that many people even noticed you leaving. And even if they did, they probably think you just got a phone call or something. And hey,” he continued after a little pause, “I really don’t mind being here with you. Trust me. I’d rather do this with you than have you go through this on your own.”

“Mulder” she said and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I hope I can take this as a compliment?”, he said, and she could feel him smile against her hair.

“Anyways, what I wanted to say…” he continued, “Weddings don’t have to be perfect, Scully, and it’s okay if you need some air sometimes. But as I was leaving, they were setting up the dancefloor, so I thought I’d let you know.”

She sat up and smiled at him. “Thank you.”