#it is a solid wall of teenage mutual pining

[mattatouile]

Here, from the first part of the now-expanding hairbraiding ‘verse. 

--

Jaime loves Brienne.

Jaime thinks he’s probably in love with Brienne, but he’s only seventeen and in love sounds like something that should come after at least a first date. It doesn’t feel right to say he’s in love with her when he can’t muster up the courage to do more than ask her to play with his hair. 

It’s just that he’s known her for nine years. For nine years, she’s been his best and truest friend. She’s the nicest person he’s ever known, not to even mention that she’s really interesting and cool and all of these things she would never believe if he said them to her, so he keeps them all bottled up inside. 

He’s kind of worried he’s going to explode someday and all of these embarrassing, intense feelings are just going to vomit out of him and get all over her and she’ll pity him. Poor Jaime; so needy; so desperate; so many feelings; too many feelings. All those things that Cersei’s said to him since they could talk, all of the snide asides that Tyrion skewers him with when he’s mad. Tyrion may only be ten, but he’s got the same sharp-edged, cutting tongue as their father. 

That Jaime is a disappointment to his father goes without saying. 

Everyone and everything disappoints Tywin, and Jaime would rather let his freak flag fly than spend his life trying and failing to please him. 

Brienne probably thinks the same things about him, deep down. Sometimes she rolls her eyes, or sighs, and says his name in a way that sounds worried or confused, but she never seems angry at him for it. Every now and then he annoys her enough, but only when he’s trying and not just because he cries at a movie or needs a hug. She’s always there, solid and warm and caring and sweet. 

And she knows him.

[crimson-dxwn]

At Odds: Chapter 3

Summary: Hey all, so I decided to change this from a Reader Insert fic into third person (?). Tbh I hate this chapter but it sets up some necessary things. Decided to just bite the bullet and just post since I’m probably gonna die in a snowy ditch in MT tomorrow.

Kal thinks about some things, Laseema gets the deets, and doc comes back to Kyrimorut

Warnings: Sexual harassment? idk there’s not much to warn for here. Slight mutual pining

Words: 4040

Kyrimorut, Northern Mandalore

Spring

Kal suspected the situation with Parja had been a lot hairier than the doc had let on; it was just a feeling really, he didn’t have any knowledge about anatomy or birth or babies. But he did have a keen eye for how people worked under pressure, and that woman had nerves of steel. Like he told her before, she was mandokarla, she had that rare combination of daring and compassion that he’d once seen in Etain. The right stuff. People didn’t realize that the right stuff was different in everyone. Besany had proven it when she chose to commit espionage against her own government, Parja had showed it every tough day with Fi when he couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone walk. Laseema raised Kad without even a question, because she loved the boy and Atin.

She had raged at him, managing to hit him in that well of self-loathing that he usually kept carefully covered with his hatred for the Empire. Etain and Darman, the men and boys he’d lost, being disowned by his own sons, all of it he could bear, but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - seem to forgive himself for anything. He felt like a failure in every way that mattered. He wondered when it would break him.

If he dwelled on his failures too long, he would drown in their sheer volume, and he realized that when Kal watched the doc work, he simply couldn’t recall any of them, or at least they didn’t weigh so heavy. And then somehow they’d fallen into bed together like two teenagers, practically ripping each other’s clothes off. It turned out that her sharp mind and nimble hands were good for more than just delivering babies. He didn’t think he could recall the last time he’d gotten that hard that fast - definitely before Kamino. A mistake, she called it. Maybe it was, but he couldn’t deny that there was an undeniable attraction between them. 

“Buir?” Ordo’s voice rings out behind him and Kal turns to meet his eyes, finding concern there. Ordo had always been protective of him, more so the older they both got. His mind had a hard time reconciling how fast his boys grew up with how much time had actually passed. 

“What is it, son?

“I...uh,” he says, “wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Fine, Ordo. Just seeing the doc out. Let’s get back to breakfast before it’s gone.”

They walk in companionable silence down the hall, though Kal can tell that something is bothering Ordo. By now, he knew all of his sons’ anxious tics and twitches as if they were his own.

“Something on your mind?”

Kal wasn’t able to wheedle it out of him, as they’d reached the door to the karyai and the chaos that made up breakfast time in the huge household. Ordo made his way back to Besany’s side, where Mird was still chirping and wagging his tail furiously and Walon was considering the scene with a shit eating grin on his face. Oh. 

Guess he’d get to see the doc again after all. 

Laseema, sitting with Kad on her lap, just rolled her eyes knowingly and shoveled a bite of food into her mouth. The blue twi’lek seemed to know everything before the rest of them, as if all the news and gossip of the family flowed through her first and then filtered out to the rest. Kal decides he can’t bother to try and comprehend women. It isn’t a new feeling for him. 

He thinks on the hurry that the doc left in and what she’d said when he caught up with her. Kal was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to upset her, after all she was just fine when he left her in his room. No, it must have been something else. 

Walon Vau finally breaks the awkward silence. 

“Mird seems to think you two have something to announce,” he says, an amused look still on his patrician face. Vau sips his strig as if he has all the time in the world and Kal half expects the man to rest his boots on the table, only his manners are too good. 

Ordo looks at his wife with a bewildered expression - he’s at a loss as to what to say, that much is obvious. The null is trying in vain to shoo Mird back to where Walon is sitting. 

Laseema raises a tattooed eyebrow, still bouncing a silent Kad. Scorch and Sev are at the table in their shorts and undershirts, and they glance between their buir and the null ARC expectantly like two vultures. They’re ready for a fight. 

“Spit it out, Ordo,” teases Scorch, oblivious.

“I’m pregnant,” Besany blurts out tearfully, and stands so fast her chair tips over behind her. Mird scrabbles backwards as she storms past it and out of the room. 

If there wasn’t going to be a fight before, there certainly was now. Ordo, unable to stand seeing Besany upset in any way, rounds on Scorch. Kal does see a flare of contrition on his face, but Ordo’s imminent anger flips a switch in the commando and he clamps down, readying himself for what comes next. Vau’s boys always did have skewed self-preservation instincts. They were all feeling cooped up lately, and it was obviously making tensions run high. 

“Enough,” he says, from the vantage point of his appointed chair. A harsh word from Kal is typically enough to make just about anyone who lived in the vicinity stop what they were doing, even two oversized grown men fighting over nothing. Ordo and Scorch remain standing, but their postures have relaxed, if only marginally. 

“She wanted to wait to tell people,” Ordo growls, looking from Vau to Scorch to Mird and back. 

“Ordo, son, why don’t you go make sure Bes is okay.” Maybe he wasn’t the best with emotion, but Kal could infer that she probably didn’t want to be alone right now. And it had the added benefit of keeping at least a few solid stone walls between Ordo and Scorch until the tension simmered down. 

They ate in silence until Sev and Scorch traipsed off to get ready for the day and Walon decided to open his mouth again. 

“Men need a good fight,” he says, staring into his strig, “been cooped up too long.”

 “I think for once, you and I agree,” answers Kal. 

“You may get what you wish for,” Laseema pipes up. Her mouth is set in a grim line. Never one to underestimate, Vau considers her with another vaguely amused look. “When I was in Keldabe, there was talk of an Imperial garrison being set up there.”

Vau’s amused look is gone. It was a surprise to both of them. Imperial transports had been making their way in and out of the system for a while, that they already knew. Mereel had been monitoring transmissions, but an occupation of the Mandalorian capital hadn’t been in the list of encrypted messages they’d managed to decipher. The Empire had been smart enough to ditch the dead Republic’s encryption after Order 66. Smart, he thought, but really kriffing inconvenient for them. Jaing and Mereel were only able to make out a word or two, rarely full sentences from the transmissions they were able to intercept. Nothing about a garrison.

He kicks himself for not utilizing Laseema’s skills earlier. Women could go where soldiers, even ones trained to infiltrate, could not. Twi’leks especially. As unfortunate as it was, the fact that her species was an oft-chosen one for slaves and servants had a sort of advantage. And something about Laseema made people want to tell her things. It might do for her to make another trip into Keldabe soon. Atin wouldn’t love the idea, but Kal had a feeling that Laseema would be on board.

“I believe it’s time for a proper recon mission.” Vau stares intently at Laseema, who returns his sharp gaze. She’s come a long way from Qibbu’s. 

The mood on the planet, or at least what Kal had gathered from their excursions to Enceri, was becoming increasingly grim. Even more unsettling was the news trickling in from the core and the inner rim as Palpatine’s new Empire gradually tightened its hold. And to top it all off, the last time Kal had seen Mij Gilamar his old friend hadn’t cracked a smile the entire time. There was an outbreak in Sundari, something like Candorian Plague, sweeping through the shelters of people left unhoused after the Republic had taken back the city from Maul. It was the first time Kal had seen the man look his age. It was just another worry to stack on top of all the others. 

----

Two weeks later, Keldabe, Mandalore

Spring 

Keldabe is a mash of buildings and dwellings of various ages. Pale brick, duracrete, steel, even wood and thatch mix together on the blocks. It makes for good hidey-holes, places to meet in secret, in the shadows thrown by the rooms stacked on top of one another lining narrow alleys. Keldabe is the unofficial capital of the planet, and the oldest city, older than Sundari by far and located in a much more hospitable location. 

Laseema is on Baker street, one of the oldest in the city, pretending to be just another citizen doing their shopping for the day, comparing prices and quality. It’s Keldabe’s market day, and the crowds make for good cover and good listening; the vendors are always eager to trade gossip for business. She even buys a pan of the sweet rolls that she knew Atin likes. Baker street, near the outskirts of the city, is one of the most popular and packed avenues, and every so often Laseema can see the gleam of a pure white helmet over hair and beskar-clad heads.

She still finds it hard to call them stormtroopers. They’re clone troopers, her brain tells her, you’re safe, it’s Atin’s brothers under there. But she is wrong, and these stormtroopers would haul her off to goddess knows where if they knew who she was connected to. A rush of cold comes over her and she burrows back into the crowd, away from the nearest white helmet. There are more this trip, almost twice as many as her last time in the city, some on patrols and others on leave, weaving through the throng of people with their helmets off, chatting with their buddies. Some are nat-borns, as Atin called them, and others are clones. You can tell the difference by the way they carried themselves. The nat-borns are sloppy, slouching, the ones who joke with their friends and flirt with pretty girls whether they were on leave or on duty, and more often wearing officer uniforms. The former clone troopers walk in solemn silence, forever in sync, without even their painted armor to distinguish them. 

She has a mission here. She’d offered because she wanted to help and because Kal had asked, though he’d never make her do anything she didn’t want to do. But Laseema wanted to feel useful outside of making food and taking care of Kad. It felt like everyone else was in danger constantly and she felt horribly guilty being the one who got to stay safe at home.

She can handle playing the dumb twi’lek role. At Qibbu’s it had always been the most reliable way to get the best tips, and she played it well, even now, years after she’d danced around a pole. The downside was that it made her seem like an easy target, which is why she always approached the slimiest, fattest, slowest-looking officer she could manage. Laseema wasn’t big, but she was fast and now she had her knife hidden on her person for anyone who decided to try something. She hoped it didn’t come to that.

She already has good intel from the merchants she’s seen so far. But she wants more; to get it she’ll have to take on a proportional amount of risk. She is on Baker Street for its popularity, but also for its proximity to the bathhouse positioned on the corner at the end of the street. She has...unpleasant memories associated with such establishments that try to bubble up, despite knowing that this wasn’t that sort of place. 

It’s old, made of cracked creamy yellow brick, with a domed top and big wooden doors. Surreptitiously, she brushes her hand up against the credits Kal had given her in an inside pocket of her tunic, and makes her way up the stairs and through the great doors. The old woman at the desk smiles warmly at her.

“Su cuy’gar,” the woman greets.

“Su cuy’gar,” replies Laseema. She can tell they are alone in the atrium out of the corner of her eyes, but gets up close to her nonetheless. With any luck, Kal had been able to contact her and smooth things along. If not, she’s prepared. Fortunately, few Mandalorians in the North, including Keldabe, were sympathetic to the Empire. Yet. 

“A towel for you,” the owner says, handing the article to Laseema. 

“Thank you.” She moves to press the credits into the older woman’s hand, but the woman pushes her fist back. 

“There’s no need. Tell our friend Ayati says hello.” Ayati jerks her head towards the locker room on her right. “You’ll be working steam room two today.”

Laseema only nods and heads to the changing room, and quick peek reveals a worker’s uniform hidden within the folds of the towel. She stashes her old clothes and quickly dons the new tunic and cropped flowy trousers that were unisex and ubiquitous throughout the facility. Steam room two, she reminds herself. That must be where the good pickings are. It would be officers, preferably; the grunts never got the full scope of information, let alone plans for the future. 

Grabbing a stack of towels, she exits the locker room and heads past the pools and baths, down a long hallway at the back of the complex that houses the private steam rooms. Numbered doors are cut out of the paneled wood wall. Laseema is alone in the hallway, standing outside steam room two, towels in hand. She positions her ear cone close to the crack between the door and its frame, listening. 

Four voices, maybe five come from inside. Her heart beating is making her blood rush in her ears and she wills it to slow, unable to hear much over the sound of her anxiety. Finally, she can hear more of the conversation from inside. 

“- not the worst place I’ve been stationed.” 

“Me either.” 

“You never know what you’ll get with these Mando girls with their helmets and armor on though”

“Just keep the helmet on!” 

They laugh.

“- more troopers coming in a month,” one says, “Should add a little variety that won’t stab you in the back when you’re taking your pants off.” 

More laughter. A bench creaks and Laseema holds her breath. 

“New barracks better have nice beds than what they’ve got us in now-“

“Beds on the floor, what kind of savages-“

“It’s 1500. Better get back, boys.” 

“Aye, captain,” come echoed voices

Laseema makes for a quick exit and then changes her mind. She can handle a little risk, after all, this wasn’t the worst situation she’d been in. And if it helped Atin and their family, the risk was worth it. A hand rattles on the doorknob as it opens and Laseema scampers to position herself where they’ll see her, a little down the hall, holding fresh towels in outstretched arms. 

Four men exit the room and she keeps her eyes down, praying they’ll ignore her and keep talking. She thanks the goddess they’re in shorts and not naked. Atin had been...less than keen of this plan for multiple reasons, this being one of them. 

Three take a towel without a word or second glance. Laseema is not so lucky with the fourth, who takes a towel and pauses to look her up and down. He’s one of the younger ones, tall with a forgettable pinched face. 

“Now here’s something you don’t see every day.” She dares look him in the eye, remembering the knife in its sheath around her waist, hidden by her tunic. 

“A Mandalorian tailhead?” The man’s lips twist into a smirk and he directs his attention back down towards her, amused by his own cleverness. “How much?”

“How much what?” Laseema knows what. She’s been asked before, many times. It’s a phrase men like him keep at the tip of their tongues, because in their minds anything can be bought, including - especially - people. 

“For you.” He looms over her as the other men watch from a distance. 

“I’m not for sale,” she spits out, barely containing herself. If she starts something here, she won’t be able to finish it, not four against one.

The man runs his knuckle down one of her lekku and she yanks it away, scandalized, and shudders. The man laughs under his breath. Laseema lets her eyes focus on a bandage that hangs half off his upper arm instead of on his face. 

“I have to get back to work,” she says, still avoiding his eyes, “please excuse me.” And she walks away, slowly and calmly, barely able to restrain herself from breaking into a run. Atin would’ve broken his fingers one by one, she thinks, and I would help. It was probably best her husband didn’t know about her run-in with the tall imperial.  

It was worth it, even for the small amount of information she’d gleaned. New barracks. More troopers. One month.

Back at the compound, Kal, Walon, Ordo and Laseema digest the information. 

“Sounds like an invasion,” says Ordo, his mouth full of food. 

Kal knew Laseema would pull through for them. Initially Atin had seemed a little put out by the notion but had said nothing, only shooting Kal an angry glance when she came home in one piece, if not a little shaken up.

“We knew it was only a matter of time.” Walon Vau somehow looks even more grim than usual. He runs a hand through his grey hair, thinking. “A month…”

“You know there aren’t enough of us,” Kal says, and Vau nods in agreement.

“I know,” he replies. 

“Then we’ll just have to get creative.” 

———

The long speeder ride from Keldabe to Kyrimorut gives her time to think. 

She’d been lonely for a long time, at least as long as she can remember, the short sorry course of her dating life culminating in a few brief relationships that ended sourly. Long, punishing hours were usually the answer to any painful thoughts, and it had worked well for her, at least until Kyrimorut, where every emotion she’d worked so hard to ignore had threatened to spill over and drown her.

And there was Kal. At first she was sure he hated her guts, but the way he watched her work during Parja’s delivery and the absolute awe in his voice and on his features was as sincere as she’d ever seen. It touched a part of her that she’d thought was long gone, deadened by years of loss and rejection. Somehow she feels they had forged a small connection, that he understood in some small way that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. 

She’d left the foolish hope of her twenties behind, and with it the illusion of finding someone who would and could keep up with her long hours and nights away. So far she’d been disappointed, but not surprised. 

Kyrimorut was remote and well hidden, though not too far from Enceri, the nearest trading post, by speeder. She’ll have to face Kal again, but any apprehension would be easy enough to hide behind the real reason she were at the compound. 

It feels like almost no time has gone by since she’d stormed out two weeks ago. Gently, she reminds herself that she is here for business and not to fall back into bed with the patriarch of Clan Skirata. 

A familiar face answers the door when she knocks. Fi stands in the open doorway, looking much too chipper for a new parent.

“Sorry, baby factory’s closed.”

“Feels like I never left,” she replies, wishing she hadn’t. 

“Come on in. You should stay for dinner, Atin and Laseema are cooking tonight and it’s bound to be something good. If you want your tastebuds burned off, that is.”

She laughs. “I’m Mando, how could I not?” Loving spicy food was practically a cultural requirement. 

Fi leads her through the halls and they chat about he and Parja’s little one. Lael was a quiet little thing, much to the chagrin of his talkative father. They reach Ordo and Besany’s pod of rooms and Fi takes his leave, giving her a little hug and a peck on the cheek as he goes. 

The couple is sitting inside, Ordo looking both elated and horrendously nervous at the same time. She wonders if he needs a garbage can nearby and make a mental note to have him sit in the delivery room when the time comes. Fainting husbands were a very unwelcome addition to the stress of a birth. 

The appointment goes well, with the exception of Ordo’s constant questioning and Besany’s futile attempts to calm him down. She suspects some of his anxiety is compensation for the guilt of putting her in this situation. She’s been sick, and these soldiers aren’t suited to sitting around and watching people they love suffer. 

“Only a few more weeks to go and you’ll probably be feeling better, cyar’ika.” Besany smiles weakly back at her, unconvinced. 

A normal sonogram later, they’re both happy and relieved, fawning over the sono printout and she leaves them to it. 

Much to her displeasure, Kal is waiting outside Besany and Ordo’s door. He’s wearing his armor, the gold of the beskar gleaming subtly in the morning light. Her stomachs drops into her feet at the sight of him, having to face him again. 

“We’d feel better if you were here instead of alone in Keldabe,” he says. Kal’s hand is wrapped around her upper arm, gently pulling her back towards him. She can feel her heart pick up at his hand on her bare skin. “There’s some osik going on with the Empire and we’re not sure what it is yet.”

“I can take care of myself, Kal. Kyrimorut is too far from my patients and the hospital to make it work.” Never one to take no for an answer, he tries again. 

“I don’t think you understand. They’re planning something big.”

“Why me?”

“What?” He stares at her, annoyance plain on his face. It’s always easy to get Kal riled up, but today it takes no effort at all. He must truly be concerned about what’s going on with the Empire; it gives her pause for the first time that day. 

“Why do you want me to stay?” 

“Bes is going to need you,” he replies. 

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re gathering up all your tools and closing up shop? Besany isn’t the only person who needs me, Kal. I can’t just quit my job and come live here, as attractive as that might sound right now.” 

She can tell his frustration is mounting as his expression sets on his lined face. A tired, lonely part of her brain is begging her to just say yes, to let someone else take care of her for once instead of the other way around. She wants to stay with him, wants to feel protected, wanted, valued outside of her work.

What if the Empire did dare invade Mandalore? For some reason it seemed unfathomable until this point, having lived on the planet her whole life with the exception of medical school, she’s used to being surrounded by warriors; the idea of occupation has never even crossed her mind. 

She’s seen the stormtroopers in Keldabe, but so far nothing has transpired. Talks with the Empire’s representatives were going well according to the Mand’alor - Fenn Shysa still believed that Mandalore could avoid occupation. 

Taglist: 

@clonewarslover55 @leias-left-hair-bun @cherry-cokes-world @wolfangelwings

@nelba @passionofthesith @808tsuika 

[alloveroliver]

Victor x MC “Snowfall”

Rating: Ch 1 is Fluff

Summary:  On a fateful business trip, Victor takes a chance during a snowstorm to pick MC up, when taxies won’t brave the storm any longer, to take her to the airport. They both try to make it back to Loveland before new years, but the weather only gets worse, forcing them to make a stop at his old family cabin in the middle of nowhere. The two, hardly acquaintances, are shoved together under one roof for a long weekend. They slowly get to know one another, and Victor begins to unravel his tightly bound knots and shows her who really is hiding behind his stern mask.

A|N: Slow Burn~  Getting to know each other, mutual pining.

WC: 7,800~

Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice Fanfic

Chapter 1

Snow fell in thick clumps all around the vehicle as they shot past another blurry exit sign. She adjusted her legs, crossing and recrossing them over the heated leather seat. Her thick stockings slid over the fabric while she positioned herself. They were stylish but proved to have a hard time insulating heat against her chilly skin. After being cooped up in a car for so long with Victor, it was hard to remain still like he asked. She grew antsier as the road stretched on, but Victor seemed to become the opposite.

“I think that sign said ‘Exit 41’” She tapped the cold glass in the direction of the road. Even in the heated car, a hint of fog filled the air from her breath. 

The air outside was relentless as the snow fell in thick sheets. The weather gave no heed to the two traveling though it and continued its assault upon the landscape. Not a house, gas station, or any sign of life was around for miles. The only proof they were still in civilization was the four-lane paved road they carefully traveled upon. They hadn’t even seen another car in hours, assuming the weatherman put out a warning for all that lived in this area to stay home. 

Victor took in a steady breath and drove just as calm as if he were simply driving to the grocery store for some milk. “Two more exits to go then.” His velvety voice soothed her tightening chest. His words, when not being used for scolding, were like warm cashmere smoothing over her skin.

His voice felt even more comforting after the long silence that stretched out between them. She held that warmth close to her heart, tucking away that emotion for later when it was more appropriate to explore. Diagnosing the reason her heart raced and cheeks heated when he was near would inevitably lead to disappointment and, most certainly, embarrassment. 

He was an impenetrable wall made of solid steel. She didn’t have the tools to chip away at that, nor the time or patience with her own life swirling around her as it did. Work was a huge part of her life, and becoming close to Victor, her boss, would undoubtedly complicate her daily ritual. She couldn’t see what he hid underneath his facade, just those small glimpses of kindness and selflessness that he quickly tucked away from the world the second they were exposed. 

Shifting her weight toward the door, she eyed the handle as if to tempt herself to use it as a means of escape. She pictured herself dramatically tossing her body out the car and comically rolling away from Victor’s pristine Rolls Royce. Shoes flying and scarf flapping, she was sure she could get away in time to be lost to the storm. He’d never be able to find her under the inches of snow on the side of the road. She could take what she had with her and find a new town to move to. Change her name, color of her hair, and find a new profession. Surely Victor would never find her then. She’d never have to confess her feelings to him or hold them inside any longer. The emotions swirled in her chest like a category five hurricane on a good day. She could hold her tongue, for now at least, until she found a more reasonable way to rid herself of these complicated feelings.

Her mind swirled with other stories of escape thanks to the silence, one even more absurd than the last. The drive hadn’t been without its own entertainment, though. Piano music that gently carried around the car faded within the first hour after Victor’s phone died. After two more hours, it was her phone’s turn to go out. They had gotten good use out of it in that time, though. They used the device for its GPS to direct them to civilization, even if the weather made it mildly inaccurate at times. 

The blizzard had unintentionally turned them around and gotten them lost along the countryside. They’d lost their way for too long to make it back to the airport in time. Even if they did make it back to the airport, who’s to say the flights weren’t already delayed for days at this point. 

She took in a deep breath and let her chest fall quietly. It seemed hopeless and dangerous they were cut off from the world like this. If the car broke down, their very lives could be at risk. She shook her head to stave off the grim thoughts that easily budded in her bored mind. 

“Why the heavy sigh? We are close to the cabin now.” Victor spoke without looking over at her, though he could have done that very easily. “One more exit.” 

She wondered why he was acting so calm. And, why was his voice not laced with his usual toxicity? Where were Victor’s quips and typical underhanded insult-compliment hybrids?

Earlier, Victor had turned around on the freeway after the GPS died. They were headed to the airport, but the blizzard only got worse the closer they got, making the way to civilization treacherous. He set his course on the familiar cabin stating it would be their only viable option due to the circumstances. When they’d passed it before, he recounted how there would be heat and food for a long weekend if they needed it. Now, they were headed straight to it. The cabin was a beacon of hope, literally becoming their reality for survival. 

She shrugged his question off and looked over at his hands, squeezing the wheel. Victor’s knuckles were pale, and she stared at his hands for far longer than what was socially acceptable to do. “It’s hopeless that we would be able to make it back to Loveland in time for New Years.” 

Victor’s knuckles turned white, gripping the wheel hard as they veered off the highway onto the exit ramp. His face was calm and cool, but the thick veins popping out of the back of his hand as he drove gave her a sense of the anxiety he was feeling. 

“Nothing we can do about it now.” Victor shrugged lackadaisically.

Did he really not care whether they made it back in time to Loveland or not? Why was he so content with the situation they were stuck in? You could have told him the cabin was full of angry bees, and he wouldn’t even change his calm tone of voice. Why wasn’t he freaking out?

“Does this cabin have chargers? People are going to think we died if we don’t contact someone soon.” She rubbed her hands together and blew into her palms fruitlessly. Victor’s suit jacket was in her lap, covering her knees like a blanket. It did little to help keep her warm, but the gesture was kind, and his scent engulfed her, making it impossible for her to turn down his gentlemanly act. 

He bit his lip thoughtfully and slowed down to turn onto a long winding road. She didn’t even realize a street was there in the dense snowfall, making her hands grip the seat to steady herself at the shock of the turn. 

“Truthfully, I haven’t been here since I was a teenager. I don’t know how recently my father has been here, though. We have staff that upkeep our vacation homes. So, the house will be clean and stocked with some non-perishable food, plain clothes, and other items of necessity. Maybe even phone chargers.” 

She hadn’t fully realized it until now, but they would be staying together alone in this cabin for one, maybe even two nights together. They would be stuck in close proximity for far longer than she ever considered. 

“How many rooms are there?” She blurted out, louder and more rapidly than her usual speech pattern, making Victor turn to look at her with a start. 

His right brow perked up. It was the most emotion she had seen him express openly since they got into the car. “How many rooms, specifically, are in the entire house? Is that what you are asking?” His deep voice boomed.

“Like, bedrooms, where will we- I be sleeping? I can sleep on the couch if there is only one room. I don’t mind.” She rambled, twisting a piece of hair into a tight coil around her finger. 

Victor finally cracked a smile sending a wave of what felt like relief over her. However, that didn’t seem to make sense. Had she been tense this whole time while he remained straight-faced? He looked younger, brighter even as a cut-off chuckle escaped his lips. 

“Three bedrooms, two baths. Happy?” His shift in demeanor suddenly reminded her of a cat toying confidently with its prey.

Her shoulders fell, but her face heated with embarrassment from her little outburst. “Ecstatic,” She murmured toward the passenger side window. 

She physically relaxed, knowing there would be a separate space for her to die of embarrassment in peace. Victor’s presence in the car was looming enough to make her feel as if she needed to hunch over. Even when quiet, Victor knew how to command a room with body language alone. The little she knew about him, the more she wanted to build her own wall up. She didn’t know what he was like and wasn’t sure if it would be safe to know. Despite his large and in charge presence, she sat straight as a board. Chin up and gaze high, she felt as if she beat her own nerves in a battle of strength.  

She pondered on how, as one of the most powerful men in the world, Victor could be one of so many things. Some of those things could be highly unpleasant, but he hardly seemed the type to be truly villainous. Victor drove her with him to the airport when all the taxis refused to go due to the blizzard. Why was that? What did the CEO of LFG want with one of its lowly employees? They weren’t even in the same league, hell they weren’t even on the same planet in her mind.  

She had to admit it, though, he piqued her curiosity on a regular basis. What if she just got to know a small bit of what he was about? She could ask questions later when they had nothing to do but sit around waiting for their phones to charge. Maybe she would find out something she hated about him and use that as fuel to end this hold he had on her. 

“How long is this road…” She questioned, exasperated by the unseen bumpiness of the trail. The white powder blanketed the gravel, making the seemingly smooth ride extra jumpy. She tried not to sound like a spoiled child, but the hours in the car had drained her entirely.

“It’s about a mile. The lake is a mile and a half from the main road.” He answered calmly, keeping his alert eyes glued on the road. 

“A lake? So this is a lake house? How cool! I wonder if we can see any fishes!” She clasped her hands together in excitement. The only memory she had of a lake was when she was a child, and her father took her fishing with tiny weenie pieces. It worked, reeling in some massive catfish and a few other varieties. She was too young to remember where this lake was located, but the memory of her dad tossing her fish back after they were caught was burned into her mind. 

“I doubt we would be able to see them this time of year. If I recall correctly, the lake should be frozen over by now. The fish will be deep down, most likely hibernating.” He adjusted his seating and clicked the windshield wipers on full blast. He peered over the dash, looking out the window as they slowly descended the road. “Also, It wouldn’t be smart taking a stroll outside in this weather.” She noticed the quick glance he made in her direction as she rubbed her hands together. The heater blew full blast, but it was fighting an unwinnable battle. The cold air outside was indeed bone-chilling and unbeatable in its frigidness. The heater helped little if any at all. 

“Fair enough.” She sunk back into the chair, dejected. She wanted to add that he would have to bring her here in the summer when the fish were lively, and the weather was more pleasant, but that felt inappropriate to ask that of someone she hardly knew.

This little detour seemed bleak compared to her prior plans. A fun New Year party was to be held at her studio apartment, full of her close friends and plenty of champagne. They even decorated her house before her trip because they were so excited. Instead, she will be cracking open a water bottle with the CEO of being bossy and going to bed early since there was absolutely nothing to do without her laptop. The temperature is most definitely going to drop at night, and being huddled in many blankets seemed more appealing than staying up without one.

She hadn’t noticed the corner of the house come into view due to the thick snowfall. Slivers of red-painted exterior began to peak out from a white curtain once Victor drew the car closer. She couldn’t see how big the place was, or what its orientation was to the lakeside, but knew there was definitely an abode there for them to seek shelter. 

Once parked, the two quickly gathered their things before Victor turned off the vehicle. They donned their scarfs and gloves in order to make the small trek. He directed her towards the front down through the heavy snow with a loud shout. Thanks to the storm, the car was out of view by the time they made it to the porch. Victor used his foot to sweep off the three steps to the door before she made the small journey herself. 

“Thanks,” She mumbled, looking away from him.

“I just don’t want you to fall. The last thing we need is a medical emergency in this weather.” He assured her, flipping open the box the handle and using the number pad on the doorknob to unlock it. “Or you sitting around here with a black eye, wearing the badge of your clumsiness for all to see.” 

“Gee, thanks,” She puffed sarcastically, holding the corners of her lips in place. It was difficult to stave off her emotions, and her face muscles twitched against her will. In the end, a small smile splayed on her face. It didn’t seem as if he were treating her like a child, only that of a women he looked after. Maybe for someone he hated he wouldn’t have wiped the snow away, maybe. 

Both of them poured inside, and Victor quickly shut the door behind them. Sprinkles of snow scattered around them on the navy carpet. They both caught their breath, finally in stagnant air. Somehow the inside of the house felt colder than the outside, and soon she was chilled to the bone.

“I’m uh,” Victor quickly rubbed his gloved hands together and looked around the unfamiliar space. He brushed the snow off his shoulders and thick coat. Taking one glove off, he ran his fingers through his hair and dislodged puffs of ice. “I’m going to turn on the heater and start a fire in the living room. Pick whatever bedroom you want and settle in. It should be getting warmer in here soon.”

He slowly nodded to her, silently asking if she understood. He huffed air as his lungs struggled to process the chilly air into usable oxygen. His cheeks were flushed several shades of pink from the temperature as he continued to suck in deep breaths. 

“Sounds good to me, thank you.” She pulled the handle of her bag and rolled it through the living room. She tried to keep the shivering to a minimum, not wanting to worry Victor. A single crease appeared on his forehead that she’d yet to see before. It seemed to be the first sign of worry, the first one she’d noticed at least. 

The smell of the old cabin began to replace the scent of Victor’s cologne that had permeated the car for the past several hours. She was almost sad to be rid of that unique smell but tried to put that ridiculous thought out of her mind. She was free to put a door between herself and her boss, the barrier she imagined the whole car ride. Willing herself to be happy about that, she pushed her heels to move faster toward the row of bedrooms. 

Victor left his luggage at the front door and bolted to the den. She presumed the heater dial was in that room. He’d been here before many many years ago, but evidently still remembered the basic layout of the place. She also trusted him, whether she admitted it or not, to be able to figure it out on his own. 

She pushed open a door, hearing the hinges squeak as she revealed the space. A large bed fully stocked with tons of decorative pillows, plush blankets, and a sizable frilly canopy came into view. The moment struck her as creepy since the room occupied no one for who knows how long. When was the last time this bed was properly slept in? Months? Years even? She looked around the hallway but decided she would take the first room she saw. Most of the other rooms were sure to feel just as stark as this one despite the furnishings. It wasn’t dusty either, which added to the strange vibe.

Remembering her circumstances, she quickly shut the door behind her. Her heart raced as she put her back against the solid wood. It was true, she was alone with Victor in this small cabin for the night. His proximity in the car had been bearable, but his closeness in this cabin seems far more intimate. 

She took off her boots and exchanged them for an extra pair of fuzzy socks. Her fashion-forward coat was swapped for a more comfortable plush hoodie. She took down her hair and brushed out the curls, letting her soft strands frame her face. 

She sat her luggage on the bed and placed her items around it to find what she needed easily. She lit a large candle that was atop the vanity with a lighter located in the drawer below. The label said it was supposed to be vanilla, but it was so old it didn’t seem to have a fragrance anymore. It was no matter to her. The gentle warm flame gave the room a breath of life. The longer the candle burned, and her stuff filled the room, the less odd the space felt. The vibe became that of a luxury hotel room, one that she wouldn’t be able to afford in a million years. 

Soon, a hum came over the space, and the scent of burning dust began to fill the room from the overhead vents. Victor finally got the heater to work in the cabin. It brought about memories of the first cold snap every year, always after what seemed to be a long grueling summer. Turning on the heater for the first time still induced a harsh smell at first, but soon the heat would encompass the house and make the space more bearable and relaxing.

In the mirror, she touched her finger to her lips and felt how dry they were. The tip of her nose and cheeks were also a deep shade of red. She hurriedly took out her chapstick and lotion from her bag, then smoothed it over her parched skin. She hoped Victor didn’t think anything of it when she saw him. She wasn’t trying to dress up for him, just making sure her dry skin was quenched. Her racing heart distracted her momentarily. It was hard to tell who she was trying to convince with that notion. 

A knock on the door made her jump. She became so comfortable with her new warmer surroundings that she forgot she wasn’t truly alone. 

“Yes?” She called out while she sat at the vanity, holding her plush sweater closed over her chest. 

“The fireplace is lit.” His voice began, muffled from the thick wood. “I’m going to start making food in a bit. It’s almost eight. We can eat and try to get some sleep-” Victor stopped speaking when she opened the door.

She looked up at him as he stood straighter. Clearing his throat, he took a step back from her and continued in a quieter voice. “Once we wake up in the morning, I will check the weather and make sure the roads are cleared, and flights are back on so we can leave.” 

“Sounds like a good plan. Are there any chargers in this place? My phone is as good as a brick.” She pulled the device out of her pocket and clicked the power button. Nothing happened, and she sighed longingly. 

“There are some chargers in the bedside table. Feel free to… make yourself at home.” They exchanged a silent look before he turned around to walk away. “Dinner will be ready soon. Settle in but meet me in the kitchen at eight sharp. All we have are things in cans, so no complaining.” 

Once he was out of view, she rushed back into the room to the bedside table. The drawer was full of different items, an eye mask, earplugs, tissues, old-style headphones, and a small black charger. “Ah, ha!” She exclaimed, pulling the cord out of the drawer. She found a nearby plug and pushed it into the wall. She then pulled the other end to her and stopped dead in her tracks. “Uh oh…” 

The charger was the old model style. Their phones had been upgraded many times over the years, and this charger was obsolete. She dropped the cord and left the bedroom with haste. 

“Victor!” She shouted into the unfamiliar house. Her chest began to tighten as her feet moved through the house without much thought. 

She heard a clunk coming from the kitchen area and rushed into the room. 

“Yes?” His urgent voice was laced with a hint of annoyance as if he didn’t want to sound too invested in whatever she was panicking about. 

“The chargers are duds! They don’t work with our newer phones!” She could feel panic begin to rise in her chest. “Are there any more? Should I check the other rooms?!” Words spilled out past her lips with rapid speed.

“Relax. Everything is going to be fine as long as you don’t freak out unnecessarily.” He set down the bowl he was messing with and walked to her. He took a pointed pause and looked down at her hand, where she held the dead phone. “We will think of something, okay? Once the storm passes, we have a means to get out of here. We’re not stuck.” 

“We’re not stuck.” She repeated, counting her breaths. “We’re not stuck.”

“We are not stuck,” Victor added matter-of-factly in a deeper tone. 

“We are definitely not stuck here.” She stated again, counting to 10 on her next breath. 

“Go sit in front of the fireplace for a while; it feels nice.” Victor gestured toward the den. “Pull a book off the shelf and see if you can distract yourself for a while.” He didn’t come off as rude or commanding, only cool-headed. He sounded like the only sane person for miles. 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” 

Books never failed to calm her, no matter the context. If it were a boring book, it would bore her to sleep, and she would have no worries for a time. If it had action, it would keep her glued to the pages to see what happened next, keeping her mind from thinking about her current struggles. Books were always a win. 

Walking to the living room in a daze, she heard Victor opening and closing drawers once more. She planted her feet, one after another toward the living area. It took all her resolve to not take off in a full sprint out the front door. She wanted to get away, get far far away from this crazy scenario. The familiar mild scent of singed dust that accompanied the heater became even more faint as she entered the living room. 

The fire gently crackled and popped, illuminating the space around it with a gentle glow. The scent of cinder hit her nose, and her shoulders immediately relaxed. A smile touched her lips when she saw the massive bookshelf. The sight of the variety alone put her at ease. Fiction, non-fiction, even an arts and craft book poked out among the leather-bound classics.

She tried to think of this as an impromptu vacation and not an emergency stay. They were in no immediate danger, and she could rest easy knowing she had food and a place to sleep tonight. 

Several minutes went by as she sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket over her legs, and a book in her lap. The light smell of chicken mixed with the charred embers in the room made her stomach let out a tiny cry. The clock on the mantel showed it wasn’t quite eight yet, so she settled back against the couch and engrossed herself once more in the action book. 

Several moments passed as she became invested in her storybook before she heard footsteps. 

“Come to the kitchen.” Victor walked into the room and looked at the state she was in. 

She was slumped against the armrest while pillows surrounded her legs. She felt for a moment as if she were caught red-handed doing something she wasn’t supposed to. However, she chalked the feeling up to being in only professional settings with Victor all this time until now. He’d never seen her properly sprawled out in full-on relax mode. 

“Is the food ready?” She asked, slowly slipping her feet to the plush carpet below. Her socks kept her toes warm outside of the throw blanket. 

“Yes.” Was all he said. Victor looked her over thoughtfully before tearing his eyes away and leaving the room.

She padded after him towards the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Her vision filled with a fully stocked plate in front of her. Many different types of sides arranged meticulously in a circle atop very old glass plates surprised her. Almost none of the items went together, chicken salad, stewed carrots, and cranberry sauce littered the plate with other various creations.

“Are you hungry?” He tapped his fingers on the table, teasing that he was not amused with her just standing there. “Sit,” He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Eat up. The food will get cold.” 

Her eyes stayed on the plate as she circled the kitchen and made her way to the table. 

“I’m curious,” She stared, chair legs scraping the floor. “How did you manage something so delicious looking with only having non-perishables at your disposal?” 

“Does it matter?” His forehead pinched. “It’s a warm meal. Eat up, and don’t complain how it got here.” 

“I wasn’t complaining. I-”

“You haven’t eaten since breakfast. You need the nutrients and fuel. Plus, you can sleep easier tonight with a full stomach.”

This was true. She hadn’t eaten since she left for the airport. She figured once she got to her gate, she would grab a burrito and smoothie from the nearest restaurant and pack it away with her on the plane. However, she never made it to the airport and missed lunch entirely. 

“Well, Thank you.” She spoke before stuffing a fork full of food into her mouth. 

Victor met her eyes and nodded slightly. They ate their meal in silence until the very last bite. The only sounds for minutes were silverware hitting the plate and the wind outside gushing past the window in spurts. He looked amused as she tried to scrape the last little bit of sauce off the plate with her fork. 

“Why don’t you just lick the plate already?” He smiled smugly and took his plate to the sink. 

“I almost want to.” She teased back. “This was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” 

He looked out the window at the night sky while flurries of snow lazily fell to the ground. “Don’t mention it. Now go to bed.”  

“Already?!” She protested. “I just ate, I need a second to process it before I lay down. I-I could get heartburn!”

He cut his eyes at her as he left the room. He turned his head away the second before She thought she could see a smile. “Have it your way. It’s late, and I have nothing to do. I will tend to the fireplace then I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” 

“Oh… goodnight.” She murmured as he left the threshold. 

The door at the far end of the hall clicked shut, and she sat in silence for a long moment. The heater hummed warm air into the room while she sat with her own thoughts. She didn’t know how late it was since her phone was dead and the clock on the wall’s batteries died long ago. The hands were stuck at 12:06 for who knows how long. She’d have to check the clock in the living room if she cared to know. 

She sighed and took her plate to the sink. She washed both dishes and watched out the kitchen window. It sure was boring without anything to catch up on or watch. A yawn grew on her lips, and she decided that sleep was probably the best option. Once she awoke, it would be a new day, and they could get out of here. 

Switching off the lights in the kitchen and living room, she made her way to the bedroom. Her mind moved to the fabulous meal Victor had made and wondered what else he was good at. He seemed to be the best at anything he tried, and it made her slightly impressed but also mildly annoyed. She thought that no one should have that much power, to be good at all things they put their mind too. 

As she shut the heavy oak door, the pipes in the walls whistled and hissed, indicating the use of running water. The realization he was taking a shower dawned on her. The thought alone caused heat to touch the tips of her cheeks. It was a stark contrast to the cold sensation she’d been feeling all day, almost like a relief from the cold. The awareness only grew as she changed into her nightclothes and realized she ought to shower too. He was probably using up all the hot water, but a bath might actually be just the stuff to help ease her chilled bones to sleep. 

She gathered her soaps and nightclothes and entered the bathroom that was joined to the bedroom. The small room quickly populated with swirly steam as she filled the large garden tub with piping hot water. The lavender bubble bath she found beneath the sink proved to make the most enormous bath bubbles she had ever seen.

Foam rose over the surface of the water while she immersed her body beneath the heat. Her muscles quickly released tension with every inch she slipped beneath the silky smooth water. The ends of her hair dipped in the lavender-scented liquid while fizzing bubbles formed promptly at her feet. 

She used her big toe to turn off the running water when the tub was filled to the brim. She then sat there motionless, listening to the bubbles fizz and pop as they died out one by one. As she closed her eyes, her mind immediately went to Victor’s face. She opened her lids to see a blank wall and to shake her head of his image. 

The last thing she needed was to read into this situation with him and hope for an outcome that would never happen. After all these months of working directly for him, Victor never once dropped a bone for her to pick up. He was a busy man, too busy for anything frivolous like dating. Especially busy for any mindless chatter. Today was the most she’d ever spoken to him about things that didn’t concern work. It was slightly refreshing to hear his words not carry so much weight. However, she did miss the routine of their conversations. 

He would present her with a problem and ask her to take it to her department. She would then hold a meeting to brainstorm the issue and find a solution. After that, her next words to him were in another meeting. She’d stand in front of all the other leaders and recall their solution via PowerPoint or bar graph. Victor would have some questions and always seemed invested in her work, but not too much where she thought he might actually care about her specifically. No, he cared about how the department was flourishing and how it benefited his company. 

She sighed, and the bubbles on her chest went flying with the gust. Foam coated the wall and slid down the edge of the tub to the floor. As she sat silently, she heard the pipes shut off. Victor had turned off the water to his shower. 

Gulping, she looked away from the wall, trying not to think of his current state. While working so hard not to think of it, the curiosity only grew. What did his broad shoulders look like below that tailored suit? Was his black hair somehow darker while soaking wet? Was Victor the kind of guy to dry his body first or his hair? 

Her foot slipped off the edge of the tub and splashed water all over the bathroom floor. Her face was hot, and warm water helped droplets of sweat start to bead along her forehead. This was the first time she’d felt truly warm in weeks thanks to the relentless snow in the forecast. 

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she decidedly ignored the inner heat blooming. In another life, so many possibilities could happen here in the cabin alone with Victor. So many things that were beyond the realm of what she knew to be possible in her life. He wasn’t the type to go against his own rules and date someone from work. And he definitely wasn’t the type to go after someone with a low status such as herself. 

She was sure Victor had his pick of any model or actress that strutted the earth. He was on the tip of everyone’s tongue year-round when the tabloids spoke of eligible bachelors. It’s not like she ever read any of them, but they were always there next to the checkout lanes at her local grocery store. Curiosity sometimes got the better of her, and she would take a peek, but only a quick one. 

She twisted in the tub, realizing the water was cooling at an increasingly rapid rate thanks to the dropping temperatures outside. In a flash, she washed up quickly and hopped out to cover her chilled skin with a soft towel. She wiped her face dry and stared at her silhouette in the fogged mirror. What if Victor was staring at his mirror just the same? What if they were looking right at one another from separate rooms? What if a man like that craved a woman like her…? What if…

Annoyed by her crush and ridiculous fantasies, she left for her room. She layered a fresh set of pajamas with an extra sweatshirt and two pairs of thick socks. She lay in the darkroom, staring up at the canopy that covered the bed, and sighed. She was hopelessly into Victor, and she wished with all her heart she wouldn’t be.

They both went on a group business trip to the same city, taking a four-hour plane ride to get here. However, the group that went with them were smart and ended up leaving early before the storm hit. Victor had to stay due to a few extra meetings his secretary set up for him on short notice. She stayed for the meetings pertaining to LFG itself to be up to date on the latest information. Ah, what was she kidding? She remained so she could stare at Victor from the corner of her eye for just a few more hours. She had no idea what the meetings were about even. All her notes were scribbles, making it look like she was paying attention. That plan to watch him just a tad longer had either severely backfired, or went better than she could have ever imagined. 

Unable to sleep, she kept her eyes upward while her mind roamed wildly. Se soon noticed that she could suddenly see her own breath in the room. The old heater couldn’t keep up with the outsides dropping temperature. Thick clothes and two plush comforters still left her shivering, cold to the bone. She wondered if she should lay her head away from the window and try to sleep that way, but then her feet would be the ones freezing. 

She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to sleep due to the intense cold. She shivered until her teeth chattering made her jaw sore. It was a moot point to try to get any kind of sleep like this. It was decided that she would hunt for more blankets, maybe even see if they had any electric blankets stowed away somewhere. 

With her hood up, she marched down the dark hall with a blanket over her shoulders. She padded atop the carpet toward the end of the hall. There was a skinnier door, and she assumed the owners might have stored extra items in there. 

As soon as she opened the door, a pillow leaped off the shelf. “Ah!” She moved to the side and let it fall while ruffling through the shelves. Sheet, sheet, pillowcase… she pushed items aside. The closet was overstuffed with linens of all types. She jumped toward the top shelf and yanked down on the article above. 

Another couple of pillows toppled over and landed on her head. “Oof!” She exclaimed, voice muffled by the dense feather pillow. 

“It’s two am.” She heard a sudden voice boom from the other side of the hall. 

“Oh!” She yelped, losing her balance. She hadn’t even heard his door open in all the commotion. “Ah-ha… I was just looking…” She tried to stuff the half pulled out blanket back into the storage closet and put her hands behind her back. “Sorry if I was loud.” She looked down at her feet briefly.

“What are you doing out here?” He walked toward the mess of bedding littered around her. 

His night outfit made her gawk. She’d never seen Victor wearing such a casual outfit. An over-sized dark blue sweater with black sweatpants and bright white socks. He ruffled his fluffier than usual hair. It looked soft but not as sleek as his conventional hair products made it seem. He almost looked boyish and the adventurous type. Victor resembled the guy next door that would come over to fix your sink when it broke or ask for a cup of milk he’d forgotten he’d needed in a recipe he was making. Almost. Despite his modern casual look, she knew better. She was more familiar with what power he held than most of the public. 

“I was trying to get another blanket. It’s so cold I can’t even fall asleep…” She pushed up on her tippy toes and put her foot flat back on the ground, rocking on her heels. “So uh, the solution was to look in this hall closet.” 

Victor nodded slowly. Soft, weary eyes assessing the situation. “I see.” 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She looked at the mess on the floor. “And I’ll clean this up.” 

With pinched lips, Victor walked over to her. Abruptly looming in her space, she held her breath. Victor reached up above her and pulled the blanket she’d already dislodged down with ease. He handed it to her and placed his hand on his hip. 

“You didn’t wake me. I am also having trouble sleeping in the cold. I have the heater going as high as it’ll go.” He looked off toward a nearby window and then back to her. “It seems to be dropping well below the negatives outside.” He scratched his head thoughtfully.

“I did hear the weatherman say that was a possibility.” She balled the blanket up in her arms and stepped out of the mess she made.

“Well-

“If-”

They spoke at the same time, then swiftly stopped simultaneously. She chewed her bottom lip with watchful eyes, and Victor knitted his brows and crossed his arms. 

“Go ahead,” 

“No, you, uh, go first…” She took a deep breath of the chilled air around her. The house was quiet despite their audible breathing and the sound of the heater blowing above them in vain.  

“Dummy, ladies first.” He quipped, taking a more dominating stance before her.

Breathing in a sharp inhale, she put her foot down. “I was just going to say, goodnight? Uh, see you tomorrow.” 

“You think adding one more measly blanket is going to keep you warm enough to sleep?” He sounded indignant, giving her a side-eye with a hint attitude. 

“I was hoping it would.” 

He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Okay,” She pressed on. “Do you have another solution?”

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, tasting them thoroughly on his tongue before he laced them together into a verbal thought. Victor looked her in the eye for a long consuming moment. She was captivated by his intensity, keeping her lungs from filling completely with each cool gasp. 

His gaze abruptly moved away, almost bashfully she noted, and she was finally able to breathe easy again. She thanked her lucky stars he broke eye contact first. It was like staring down a wild dog, and the first one to move was the weakest link. She had no fear of Victor, only immense curiosity and respect for what he did. 

He clicked his tongue, and his velvety voice broke the silence. “I can stoke the fireplace and get it going again.”

“Okay? And then what? Toss ourselves into it to stay warm?” 

“Don’t try to be funny.” He narrowed his steely eyes. It seemed difficult for him to articulate what he wanted outright. 

“So we warm-up and then try to go back to bed?” She wove the blanket around her arms tighter. She wondered, idly, why she felt so incredibly small at that moment. 

Victor perked up like he had it all planned out suddenly. “Grab as many blankets as you can, and I will do the same. We will take them to the living room and see if that is any warmer.”

She gulped audibly. “Alright, I will grab my pillows too. If this is the only way to get warm, then it’s what we have to do.” 

“It is. Now go get your stuff and hurry to the living room.”

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! This was supposed to be a oneshot but I kept sitting on it and adding to it and... well now its over 10k words long. So I had to split it up into a few chapters. I hope you enjoyed this! 

Rating notice, based on how the story unfolds I may up the rating. Not sure how the story will go entirely yet but I will let it flow naturally and not force anything <3

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~

[jeff-stillcoolasazombie]

The Waiter and the Hotel Heiress -- Chapter 4

Rating: K+

Length: 3276 words

Also read on AO3

A/N: Lucky for y’all this is the last chapter with clear-cut flashbacks. And there’s no Eloise at the beginning either. In fact, this whole chapter is basically from Kristoff’s third-person perspective. Honestly, I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for a while, even though it’s a little heartbreaking.

Chapter 4: What Her Father Wants

Along with bringing room service meals, it was also part of Kristoff’s job to pick up the used trays and silverware guests left outside their door. Kristoff had gotten pretty good at making the rounds on his regular floors to take away the dirty plates, to uphold the Plaza’s neat and tidy standards.

It was lunchtime now, and while he was usually discrete when he picked up the dishes, he tried to be especially quick when he did this room.

He knew which guest was currently staying in this room. And he had both every and no desire to see her.

She must have been waiting for him on the inside of her door, because Anna opened it as soon as she spotted him.

Kristoff looked up at Anna from the floor. He had seen her from almost every angle, but this one was always his favorite. She looked like a red-haired angel, gentle and kind.

No, Kristoff, he thought.

“Sorry,” he finally said, still hunched over the dirty plates on the floor. “I’ll have these out of your way in a second.”

“Kristoff,” Anna started, but dared not finish. He waited for her to speak, but they both knew there was nothing else she could say.

Just like she had said nothing all those years ago. Back when she would normally go behind her father’s back and stand up for herself. She knew what to say in nearly every situation. Her words were always carefully selected, to retain diplomacy even in her suggestive comments. Never one to rebel, but always one to speak.

Except back then she hadn’t said anything, and neither had Kristoff. It was not saying anything to each other four years ago that had kept him in this same predicament with Anna now.

Well, now Kristoff was four years older and wiser and braver. Now he would say something.

“Is he really what you wanted, or is he what your father wanted for you?” he asked suddenly as he got up from the ground. He knew that by asking such a personal and straightforward question, he would be risking unemployment. If Anna found him bothersome or nosy, she could always report Kristoff to the manager and have him fired immediately. But the Anna he knew—the compassionate, fiery, genuine, caring friend—would never do that to a Plaza employee. Especially to one she was so fond of, or used to be. He could trust that she wouldn’t get him into trouble, even now.

He needed to know how much of her leaving, her relationship, her life was her idea.

However, when Anna remained speechless, Kristoff regretted asking her about it in such a blunt, accusing way.

He sighed. “Just tell me it’s for real,” he started, “and I’ll never say anything—”

“The ice machine on my floor is broken,” said Hans from behind Kristoff, interrupting his thought. Hans was walking towards Anna’s door with a knowing grin, an empty ice bucket and unopened bottle of champagne in either hand. Kristoff knew Hans was staying in a different area of the hotel, but hearing mention of it directly made his ears perk up. Then again, maybe the ice machine was fine, and he was just making up an excuse to get into Anna’s room. Maybe he could sense whenever Kristoff was near Anna by herself.

Hans sidled next to his fiancée before he acknowledged the waiter’s presence. “Hey, Christopher, nice to see you again,” he said in a smarmy tone.

“Kristoff,” the waiter corrected quietly.

“Right,” Hans responded carelessly. “Hey, listen, would you be a sport and fill this up for us?” He held the empty ice bucket out to Kristoff. “I’ve got some champagne that needs chilling.”

Kristoff took the bucket. Returning with ice would mean another guaranteed interaction with the couple. He didn’t know which was worse, seeing Anna or seeing Anna with this guy.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Hans asked him.

Kristoff shook his head and gave the same polite smile he gave all annoying guests. “No, of course not.” He really tried to not think poorly of any guests, and he knew it was unfair to dislike this man only because he was engaged to Anna.

Hans nodded. “Great. Thank you.” He headed into Anna’s room while she remained standing at the door. Anna stared back at Kristoff, sad discontent in her eyes.

“Just call me the ice deliverer,” Kristoff joked, and then said, “it’s my job, right?” His eyes remained on hers, as if focusing on her face would somehow connect him to her thoughts. Why wasn’t she saying anything? He just wanted her to talk to him.

Noticing their mutual too-long lingering, Hans stepped back to the doorway and gave Anna a long soft kiss on the lips. Kristoff felt a pang in his chest. Hans was very clearly marking his territory again. He guided Anna into the room as he closed the door.

Kristoff stared at the closed door for a moment longer. He was disappointed in Anna, but then again what could she even say?

----

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

After an entire year of working at the Plaza, it seemed like Kristoff was an old pro. He had gotten into a solid routine that usually began or ended with Anna. Either he brought her breakfast and they’d try to exchange as many coded messages as possible in less than five minutes, or, if he was working an evening shift, they would sing and talk into the night during their piano sessions. Kristoff had learned so many of her favorite songs by heart.

But now they were back to December, Anna’s favorite time of year. And while December meant long work days for Kristoff, it also meant even more time he would be at the Plaza seeing Anna filled with joy.

The two teenagers had really grown close over the last year. But it was more than that, Kristoff realized. Before he met Anna, Kristoff had been a quiet loner, completely satisfied with peaceful solidarity. He had had friends back home in the mountains, specifically Sven, a full-time resident of one of the campgrounds who talked to himself and often ventured into town for a drink. But even then, it was Sven who did most of the talking, usually rambling off whatever thoughts he felt like sharing aloud with Kristoff. Other than that, Kristoff was used to keeping his head down, participating only when needed, and maintaining acquaintances.

And yes, working in a heavily populated environment and being required to politely interact with plenty of people had modified Kristoff’s social skills. But really, Anna had changed him for the better, made him more patient, confident, friendlier, happier.

He was happier now. Thanks to Anna.

Because of Anna.

With Anna.

The highest points of any day were the moments he got to spend with her. He looked forward to reading her written wonderings after he dropped off her meals. He smiled whenever he saw her fix something with all her care and concentration. He got excited whenever she was excited about musical theatre and history. He loved her rose-scented strawberry blonde hair and her robin’s egg blue eyes and her freckle-sprinkled face.

Kristoff was not at all an expert on emotions, but he was pretty sure all these feelings added up to more than just friendship.

In fact, rumor had spread—rumors he had tried very hard to quash—that he and Anna were in love.

A week after Kristoff’s nineteenth birthday, just after his one-year anniversary at the Plaza, he was called into the owner’s office. Not the manager’s office—Mr. Salamone, as stern as he was, Kristoff could handle. But the owner. Anna’s father’s office.

It was the very thing he had been dreading since the day he was hired.

Robert tried to reassure him. “Calm down,” he said, patting Kristoff on the back. “Usually if someone’s about to get fired, they’re sent to Salamone so Arendelle doesn’t have to do the dirty work.”

“Why do people get sent to the owner’s office then?” Kristoff asked. What could be worse than getting fired? Killed?

Robert shrugged. “Maybe it isn’t a bad thing. Maybe he knows how close you are with Anna and he’s going to promote you to her bodyguard.”

For as much comfort as his waiter friend tried to provide, nothing could prepare Kristoff for his short elevator ride to the owner’s office. He could feel all the confidence he had accrued over the last year waning.

The elevator doors opened and Mr. Arendelle’s secretary, Cornelia, greeted him. She stayed behind her large desk, her face giving absolutely no indication if what was awaiting Kristoff was positive or negative. She told Kristoff to go inside.

Kristoff—thankfully, up until this point—had never seen Mr. Arendelle’s office. The large room was more like a suave den, with wood-paneled walls and crown molding and well-kept potted plants in the corners. Standing in front of a large, intricately designed pine desk was Mr. Arendelle. His gray streaked blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, his charcoal suit exquisitely tailored, and his slightly aged face completely serious.

“Uh, sir,” Kristoff spoke clearly, “you wanted to see me?” He was trying very hard to stomp the anxiety out of his voice.

“Ah, Kristoff Bjorgman,” Mr. Arendelle said, and he reached out his hand to shake Kristoff’s. “So, you’re the waiter my daughter has talked so much about.”

“Anna has told you about me, sir?” Kristoff asked, and then he wondered if he had made a mistake. He knew that despite Anna’s insistent informality, most of the other employees still called her Miss Anna or Miss Arendelle. Perhaps he should have hid how comfortable he’d gotten around her by doing the same.

Mr. Arendelle raised an eyebrow. “Anna has not told me about you herself,” he said, “I hear things. I know how fond she is of you.” He ended the handshake and went back around his desk.

“Um, thank you, sir,” Kristoff said, standing at attention. “She has been a tremendous help and friend during my first year here at the Plaza.”

“You consider Anna a friend?” the hotel owner asked. Kristoff was reminded of his first encounter with Anna, how he was unsure if her leading questions were meant to mess him up or help him. Was her father giving him trick questions now?

“Yes, sir,” Kristoff answered honestly, “but I would think it is important and necessary for there to be a comfortable rapport between an employer and his staff.”

“That may well be,” Mr. Arendelle started, “but Anna is not your employer. And it has come to my attention that Anna is friendlier and closer with you than with any other employee here at the Plaza Hotel.”

“Sure, we’re close friends,” Kristoff answered, “but I don’t think—”

“Let me rephrase,” the owner interrupted, his voice slightly louder than before, “Anna is closer with you than any other person in her life.” He paused and stared at the waiter.

Kristoff dared not speak. He felt his whole body stiffen.

“I am certain that you are a fine young man. You have proven yourself respectable and hardworking over the past year.” Mr. Arendelle came back to the front of his desk, his hands folded up neatly in front of his stomach. “But there is cause for concern in regards to the closeness of your relationship with my daughter, due to your position.”

Kristoff thought his lungs were about to fall into his stomach. This was it. While he had been so careful about not overstepping his boundaries, he was about to be let go.

“Let me assure you, Mr. Bjorgman,” the owner began. Kristoff shuddered at hearing his last name so formally. “You are not being fired.”

Kristoff exhaled, and he forced a blink. “Thank you, sir,” was all he could manage. It was great news that he wasn’t about to lose his job, but still this conversation did not seem a happy one.

“However, your intimacy, for lack of a better term, with my daughter is worrisome,” Mr. Arendelle continued. “Anna, as kind and well-meaning as she is, should not be flirting with people of your status. She stands to inherit the Plaza Hotel. And you . . . well.”

Mr. Arendelle’s point had come across clear as crystal: Anna, because of her fortune and upbringing, should not consort with room service waiters. Her father would disapprove of anything less than the absolute best. “I understand, sir,” Kristoff agreed sadly.

Mr. Arendelle stood right in front of Kristoff and reached his hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “As I said, I have heard nothing but tremendous things about your character and work ethic. You seem a good, upstanding young man. But I must ask you to no longer associate with Anna, for her sake.”

And for mine, Kristoff thought. If I don’t listen, I risk losing this job, and this job is all that I have right now.

But Kristoff also knew that no matter how hard he could try to stay away from Anna, she would be determined to come back to him. The longer he stayed away, the more furious she might become.

“I understand, sir, but,” Kristoff started, “I cannot stop Anna from looking for me. If I were to cut her off, without any warning, I would think that would upset her deeply.” It would upset Kristoff deeply too, but he was smart enough to not admit it.

Mr. Arendelle moved back to behind his desk again and sat down, looking over some papers in front of him. “I assure you, that won’t be a problem for much longer. I have already spoken with her, and the situation has been handled.” He looked back up at Kristoff. “I just needed to talk to you and make you aware of our concerns.” He gave a firm nod and said, “You may get back to work now, Mr. Bjorgman.”

Kristoff gave a small thank you, and returned to the kitchen quarters, trying to hide his low-hanging head. Robert was waiting for him, and before Kristoff could relay any details of his meeting, Robert shook his head. He guided Kristoff over to a broom closet and pushed him inside.

“Um, Robert?” he called confused, but then a light above him clicked on, and Kristoff saw a tearful Anna huddled beside him.

“Kristoff,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him as tight as she could. He could do nothing but hold her too as shock and sorrow swept over him.

“What are you doing in here?” he quietly screamed back. “I just got scolded by your father. We can’t hang out anymore.”

“That’s why I’m here,” she said through silent sobs. “He’s sending me off to stay with some relative in Germany for the holidays, and then I’m set to start school in Paris after the new year. Sorbonne or some university like that. But he’s sending me away so we can’t see each other!” Her tears were flowing more heavily now as she leaned her head on his chest, heaving.

Kristoff could tell Anna was thoroughly distraught. Christmastime in New York, at the Plaza, was Anna’s favorite thing in the world, and she was going to miss it this year, perhaps every year for the foreseeable future, all because of him. He was unhappy because she was unhappy. But he was unhappy that he’d be losing her.

“It’ll be alright, Anna,” he said, trying his best to stay calm and comfort her. “I’m sure you’ll love the holidays in Germany just as much as here. The Germans practically invented Christmas.”

“This isn’t just about Christmas,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “I may never see you again. I can’t do it! I love” --she gasped for air and paused a bit too long-- “seeing you every day. You’re my best and only friend in the world. I can’t do it! I’m staying right here!”

Water welled up behind Kristoff’s eyes, but he sucked it up. This was exactly why she needed to leave, why he needed to let her go. Anna was the heiress to a grand fortune; she was destined for better things, greater things. If she stayed here, she would remain by Kristoff’s side forever. And what would happen if she and Kristoff ended up together? They would live in a small walk-up apartment in a grimy part of the city because her father had disowned her for running off with a waiter? That wasn’t the kind of life she deserved. She deserved the moon and sun and all the stars in the Andromeda constellation.

But Kristoff couldn’t give that life to her. He loved her, but he had to let her go.

He sighed. “Don’t do that,” he said to her. “Go. You’re always telling me about European history and languages and culture. This is your chance to finally live it.” It destroyed him to say these words, but he knew the only way to cheer her up was with the promise of something exciting, something worth experiencing.

Her tears had subsided a little now, but her eyes were still puffy and red from crying. She was gorgeous even now, as always. He stroked a strand of fallen hair behind her ear.

“Your father wants the best for you,” he whispered.

“But what if I don’t want that? What if I want you?” Her voice was shaking again.

“I’ll be right here whenever you come back,” he said with a sad smile, and she hugged him tightly again. He knew his heart was racing, but he could faintly feel her strong beat too, thrumming against his chest.

And then Anna did what Kristoff had never expected but had been thinking about for quite some time.

She kissed him. Quick and gentle, right on the lips, but it was soft and delicate, like her.

“Meet me in the Terrace room tonight, one last time,” Kristoff said without thinking. “I can give you an early Christmas present.”

Anna held his hand loosely, lightly rubbing each of his fingers. She still looked sad and worried, but finally breathed out, “Okay.”

He kissed her the top of her head before slipping out of the closet. He figured he should go out first since he had been seen going in more recently, as well as having duties to do. And while he tried to maintain a cheerful demeanor all throughout the work day, he felt nauseous until that evening, when they would meet for their final private performance. He could talk and sing to her, and maybe tell her how he really felt. Tell her that she would always be his, promise to be there for her, no matter what. It was bittersweet; it was the last time they would see each other, but at least he could see her once more.

Except he didn’t.

He sat at the piano bench in the Terrace room until midnight, well after their late-night lessons typically ended, but Anna never came. Instead of being with the woman he loved one last time, he was alone again.

It was for the best. It was what her father would’ve wanted.

The staff found out the next morning that Miss Arendelle had gone abroad, and Kristoff had received no word from her since the broom closet the morning before.

So that was it. Anna would just go to Europe and live her life, and Kristoff would serve the guests of the Plaza and make them comfortable.

It was his job, right?