#matthew squinting at the field yeah same

[ratatatastic]

hi maffhew and ellie watching the game together!

los angeles dodgers @ st louis cardinals | 8.18.24

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

reputations

summary: you’re criminally good, and Matt can’t help but fall in love with you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.7k

note from the writer: I really wrote this in one night, immediately after posting my last Matt fic. I might have a problem. lmk what you think!

part two

Matthew knew he was no angel. If it wasn’t the opposing players he pested on a daily basis, it was the media that told him so. Most of the time, he didn’t mind. Fights, penalties, and suspensions—he couldn’t help but agree that he was a pest on the ice. He knew he deserved some of the shit he got, but he was getting better and growing as a player.

But sometimes he wished he had a better reputation.

“Matt, your girlfriend is outside.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Matt hated that he knew who Brady was talking about. Despite the fact that it had been seemingly forever since he was in an actual relationship, Brady’s tease made perfect sense to the entire Tkachuk family.

“Shut up.” Matt shot back, because he couldn’t argue, and he was too busy getting up off the couch and heading outside to listen to the jabs his brother was throwing at him. He was too far gone and had long since admitted that to himself.

The summer sun beat down on him the moment he stepped into the backyard, and he took a moment to squint his eyes to adjust before heading over to the fence separating his backyard from the one next door. Brady had been telling the truth, the one girl he couldn’t get off his mind since middle school was outside and the wide smile that grew on his face was one he couldn’t help.

You were as good as they came. Weekends spent volunteering at animal shelters, tutoring, helping the older couples in the neighborhood with yard work and other chores. He was pretty sure the moment he decided he wanted to marry you was when you had shown up to Taryn’s first varsity field hockey game with a giant sign saying something about how she would kill it just because you knew it would make her laugh.

Matt nearly tripped when he spotted you on the other side of the fence. You were suntanning in nothing more than a bikini, laying on a towel in the grass in your own backyard. For what seemed like the millionth time in his lifetime, Matt thanked whatever higher power that was up there that his family moved into the house next to yours all those years ago.

For a second, he stayed quiet, just admiring how good you looked. Sunglasses were perched on your nose as you laid on your back, arms tucked behind your head. Your music was playing softly from the speaker laying in the grass a few feet away and you were humming along quietly. He couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face as he studied you, resting his forearms along the top of the fence with his chin tucked on top of his hands. He knew he needed to make his presence known, figuring he wouldn’t be able to explain why he kept quiet and watched you tan without sounding like a creep.

“I’ve been home for two days and you haven’t come see me yet?” He teased, his grin growing two sizes when he spotted how you lit up at the sound of his voice. Your smile was infectious, and it was the only thing keeping his gaze north of your chest as you sat up on the towel.

“Matty!” You cheered, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. You were the only person that Matt allowed to call him that, and he was certain that if his teammates ever found that out they would never let him hear the end of it. You stood up, making your way towards Matt and he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest as you got closer. It was a miracle you hadn’t managed to kill him yet.

“How’ve you been?” Matt found himself asking, though the question felt a little pointless. He knew how you had been, you texted daily and even the stuff you didn’t tell him—which was a rare occurrence—he found out from his siblings.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You said boredly, waving a hand dismissively. Matt knew that wasn’t true, he could see the smile you were suppressing. Plus, all of his conversations with you as of late had been about one thing.

“Congrats on graduating, by the way.” Matt wasn’t sure it was possible, but your smile widened as he spoke. You looked happy, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt that was bubbling inside him. “Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You squeezed his forearm from where it was resting on the fence, and it took all of Matt’s willpower to not melt under your touch. “You were busy chasing the cup, and I know for a fact that you’ll win it for me next time.”

And then you jokingly winked at him, and suddenly Matt forgot how to breathe. He knew you were teasing, but the fact of the matter was that he knew if he was going to win the cup for anyone besides his parents, it was you.

“And besides, you’re coming to my grad party, right? I need someone there to save me from my relatives asking about where I’m working in the fall.” You continued, and for the second time in ten minutes Matt had been interrupted from his thoughts.

“You don’t already have seven jobs lined up?” Matt teased you. For as long as he could remember, you were always ten steps ahead of everyone. He distinctly remembers you stressing out at eleven years old because you got a seventy-five on a test and thought it would go on your permanent record and you wouldn’t get accepted into college.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm playfully as the both of you chuckled. Matt felt a bit repetitive, thinking about how beautiful you were. He was sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. His self-control was low to begin with, but throw you into the mix and he was absolutely done for. “I’ve applied to a few places, interviewed at some. I’ve got my eye on one place, though.”

“Any places I know?” Matt was a little caught off guard since he hadn’t heard about you applying. He knew you were looking into some places, some in St. Louis and some out of state, but he didn’t realize you started taking the next step. A nervous look flashed in your eyes, and Matt wondered what could have prompted it, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, and you were back to smiling brightly at him.

“And ruin the surprise when I finally land one of the jobs? Not a chance, Hotshot.” You teased with a shake of your head. Matt knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how you liked your coffee and that you hated when he got into fights. He knew that you were a romantic and that you were a little self conscious about your laugh because when you were fifteen and Danny Baker from three streets up told you he thought it was weird. That was the closest he ever got to punching someone off of the ice—and sometimes he still thought about giving the guy a piece of his mind.

And he knew that the nickname ‘Hotshot’ was your way of trying to deflect, and he knew enough to drop the subject. Not that he had a choice, really, because your phone started buzzing from where you left it on your towel. When you bent down to pick it up, he busied himself by admiring the flowers he knew you helped your mom plant instead of blatantly checking out your ass.

“Hey. Matty, I’ve got to go. Mrs. Henderson asked if I could help her with the bake sale for her son’s soccer team.” You spoke up after checking your phone. Matt couldn’t help the way his heart flipped at the fact that you were still volunteering for families around the neighborhood. The only time he could remember actually volunteering, not including Flames events, was when he needed to fill his high school requirement to graduate.

God, you were too good for him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” He waved as you retreated into your house. He watched as you left, only pushing off the fence and heading back into his own once you shut your back door. He made his way into the kitchen, finding his whole family already in there and looking at him with smug grins. Matt just knew they had been watching his entire interaction with you out of the kitchen window.

Brady was the first to speak up, making obnoxious kissing noises while Taryn started saying your name in increasingly higher pitched voices trying to mock how gone he was for you. He rolled his eyes at his sister, but that didn’t stop him from putting Brady into a headlock.

“If you boys break something…” His mom trailed off, giving her boys a pointed look over the glass of water she was sipping on. The empty threat was enough to get Matt to let go of his brother, but not before messing up his hair for that extra bit of pettiness.

“Leave Matt alone, he’s in love.” His dad teased, looking much too proud of himself at his comment for Matt’s liking. He groaned, dropping his back to further prove his annoyance before he grabbed a drink out of the fridge and left the room.

He still couldn’t argue his family’s comments.

Matt didn’t see you again until it was time to head over for your graduation party, and it took everything in him to not stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you across the yard. You were talking to a few of your extended family members, he was sure he had met them once or twice over the years, and you looked effortlessly stunning. You were wearing a new sundress, he was certain of that because if you had worn it before he would have remembered, what with the way it made your legs look, especially paired with what he knew were your favorite pair of wedges.

Brady knocked into his shoulder, sending him a smirk before slipping off to find a drink. Matt rolled his eyes at his brother, letting his attention fall back to you. His breath hitched as you turned to face him, and he wondered if you felt the weight of his stare. He didn’t have much time to ponder, though, because he recognized the look in your eyes. It was the one that told him those were the family members you told him you’d need rescuing from.

He crossed the lawn quickly, smiling warmly at your mom when she called his name and waved. He’d greet her properly later, you were his current priority. You were his priority all the time, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey, Matty.” You smiled and as soon as he got close enough your arm slid around his back. He copied your action, his hand settling a respectable distance up on your waist. Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, even though he probably shouldn’t be so blatant in his affection in front of distant family.

“Is this a boyfriend?” Your—great aunt?—questioned. Matt felt his face flush at the idea, he spent the better part of his adolescence imagining what it would be like to call you his. But he never could get himself to make a move. Too nervous to lose you and too worried about what moving away would do to your relationship—if it even got that far.

And then there was the problem of his reputation.

He had grown up watching you do all these amazing things for your education and to help other people. You always had a smile on your face and cried for an hour at the ending of Marley and Me. You even volunteered to help move Brady to Boston when he left to go play hockey there.

He pushed around six ounces of vulcanized rubber on ice. In his mind, he didn’t measure up to you in the slightest. As much as he wanted you, he felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

“No, this is just Matt, he lives next door.” You explained sweetly and Matt forced a smile on his face as he shook hands with your relatives. He hated how terrible your words sounded to his ears, how he was ‘Just Matt’ to you.

“Hey, Taryn said she needs to talk to you, it’s urgent.” Matt lied after a few moments of watching you squirm under the interrogation your relatives were putting you through. From the mischievous look in your eyes he could tell you knew what he was doing. You politely told your relatives that you would see them later, and Matt’s heart jumped in his chest as you slipped your hand into his to pull him away.

“Thank you.” You said to him under your breath, giving his hand a squeeze before dropping it as you reached the drink coolers. Matt grinned at you, watching as you pulled out two beers for the both of you. “They hit me with questions about my love life, job prospects, and whether or not I’ll be moving out of my parent’s house before you arrived.”

“Sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Matt teased, taking a sip out of his bottle while watching you shudder playfully. He tried to ignore the green monster that settled in his stomach at the thought of you having a love life, no matter how selfish it sounded. Instead, he focused on the way you smiled at him, and how warmly you interacted with his mom when she came over to give you a celebratory hug.

Seeing you laughing with his mom was doing nothing for the feelings he had harboured for you.

By the time darkness started to settle on the party, the majority of the guests had left. Besides your parents, him and his siblings, and a few of your cousins that were spending the night, your backyard was empty. Your dad had started a campfire so everyone could make s’mores, and you seemed to think it was the best part of the day. You were probably feeling the effects of the beers you had been sipping on, though you only had one or two, and tried to feed Matt a s’more, giggling uncontrollably when you got marshmallow in the scruff of his beard.  

He just about died when you flicked your finger across his chin to collect the marshmallow, absentmindedly licking it off as you laughed at something Taryn said. His gaze zeroed in on your finger, and the fact that you had no idea the effect that you had on him was dizzying.

“Get a room.” Brady groaned, though he had been sitting next to Matt and spoke low enough that the parents sitting on the opposite side of the fire didn’t hear. Matt was also lucky that you didn’t hear, distracted by your phone ringing. He glanced at the screen out of habit and a little bit of nosiness, seeing that it was a number you didn’t have saved to your contacts before you jumped to your feet and retreated inside to take the call.

If he had been looking a little closer, he would have recognized that the number had an area code for Calgary.

You had been gone for a few minutes and Matt was starting to get restless. Your mom came out of the house and handed him two popsicles, one for him and one for you, so he figured you were coming back soon.

You did, and you were wearing a wide grin that made him curious. You didn’t say anything, instead you took one of the popsicles and slipped your hand into his now free one, tugging lightly to signal for him to stand up. Once more, you led him across the lawn, only this time you went around the house to the front yard, away from the prying eyes of both your families.

“What’s up?” Matt questioned as soon as you came to a stop in front of him. You were grinning up at him, and he could tell from the look in your eyes that you had news to share.

“I got a job. My top choice one, actually.” You stated as if it was something boring, like the weather. Matt beamed at you, the feeling of pride he had in you coming to the surface the same way it did whenever you accomplished something you wanted.

He wrapped you in his arms almost instantly, careful not to knock your popsicle out of your hand or get his in your hair. He held you tight to his chest, never wanting to let you go.

“Where is it?” He asked after letting you go. Your smile grew wider as he looked at you, and he raised a brow as you hesitated. The longer you stayed quiet, the more he started to panic. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want you to leave St. Louis. The best part of coming home during breaks or playing the Blues on their ice was the fact that he would get to see you.

“Calgary. Surprise?” You chuckled nervously, but Matt felt like he had just been told the best news. After years apart for college and hockey, you finally would be close to him again. He was ecstatic, and couldn’t help himself before pulling you into another hug,

“Surprise is right.” He teased as soon as he moved back, though he couldn’t get himself to go far. He was practically buzzing with excitement and the closer he was to you the better he felt. You were grinning, shifting from foot to foot and that simple action told Matt that you were anxious about something.

“But I have one more thing to share.” You said, and that worried Matt once more because he could hear the nervousness in your tone. Matt nodded, unable to get himself to form words in response and instead let his mind run wild with all the ideas about what it could be. “Matt, I, uh, well, I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I think you feel the same, well at least I hope you do, and I was kind of hoping that we could start something now that we’ll be living in the same place.”

Matt felt like passing out. Out of all the dozens of things you could have said, that was not one of them. He watched, wordlessly, as you licked the popsicle out of nerves and the need to busy yourself somehow while he stayed quiet after your confession. That seemed to spur him on, though, because he used his free hand to cup your jaw as his lips landed on yours.

You tasted like grape popsicle and chocolate, and though it was an odd combination he decided it was the best thing he’d ever had. He briefly registered that the popsicles slipped from both your hands as you gripped each other, and he knew that he’d have to pick them up after because you had drilled into him the importance of keeping the Earth clean when you were in eighth grade and went through a sustainability kick.

It was that thought that had him stilling. He couldn’t do this to you, not when you were so good and not when he was in the press every other week for being the very opposite. You deserved better than him, a philanthropist that donated all their time and money to children’s hospitals—the charity he knew you volunteered at, at least three times a year.

You were too good for him.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned him, dropping from your tip-toes back to your flat feet, putting some distance between you and him. It wasn’t enough to defog Matt’s head but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen for weeks, not with the way his entire body felt on fire from just your one kiss.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this to you.” Matt settled, though he hated the way he sounded so unsure of himself and he hated the very fact that he even had to say it. He hated that you felt the same way he did but he couldn’t do a thing about it because he had always put you before himself. But most of all, he hated how your face fell and your eyes started to get glassy.

“Do you not like me?” You questioned and if Matt wasn’t so defeated by the whole situation he would have laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like you, you plagued his thoughts on a daily basis and he had a framed photo of you and him from his first game in Calgary in his apartment that earned him so many chirps from his teammates. But you looked so proud of him, and you were wearing his jersey, so no matter what the boys said he kept it up—the photo was his most prized possession.

“No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He told you, and somehow your face fell even more. Even when you were so clearly upset, the way your brows tugged together in confusion and the slight pout to your lips was devastatingly attractive to Matt.

“Then what is it?” Your question sounded so tired, so weak, that Matt wished he had never followed you out front and never put your friendship in the position it was. But it was too late now, he couldn’t back out now and he had to stick to his guns. He took in a shuddering breath, one hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before he said what he felt he had to.

“I want you to be happy, and you can’t be happy with me. I’m not good for you.”

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

How Kurt Cobain

PART TWENTY-SEVEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references, this is the product of intense writer’s block so who knows its quality honestly 

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Ella takes a morning walk through Philly. Then, she takes Jess to Lane’s wedding.

Tangled beneath the sheets, Ella awoke with the sunlight streaming through Jess’s window and into her closed eyes. She squinted as she cleared her throat and shifted to find Jess’s side of the bed empty. Furrowing her brows, she raked a hand through her messy hair and sat up against the green wall, Nietzche’s eyes looking over her almost comically. Still, she found no Jess in the room, though the door was slightly ajar. The smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. She worried frantically if she had missed her interview with the Dean.

“Jess?” she called.

After only a moment, he waltzed in with the paper in one hand and a mug in the other. He smirked when he saw the scowl on her face. Yet another thing he could count on never changing. Ella Stevens was not a morning person. “Yeah?”

“What the hell? Why didn’t you wake me?” she demanded, rubbing at her eyes with both hands.

Jess snickered. “Like it’s so easy. I tried. You told me to fuck off.”

“I did not.”

“Oh, but you did. Twice.”

Groaning slightly, she shook her head at herself. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I’m used to the colorful vocabulary by now,” he shrugged, taking a long sip of his black coffee.

She rushed over to her bag, convinced of her tardiness.

“Woah, where’s the fire?” Jess asked.

“What time is it?”

“Relax. It’s only nine. Your interview isn’t until eleven, right?’ he asked, smug smirk ever-present.

Blowing out a small breath, she nodded. “Yeah. Jesus. I thought it was noon.”

“Why?”

“That’s usually how late I sleep when I forget to set an alarm,” she said, running her fingers through her hair again.

He chuckled. “Well, you’ve got a while. I had to get up to let the poet guy in. There’s donuts in the kitchen. Campus is only a few blocks away. I can walk you there later, if you want.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to fight the smile which threatened to cross her face. “I don’t need an escort, Mariano.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you know exactly how to get there from here,” he said, feigning understanding.

She rolled her eyes. “I brought a map.”

“That’s cute,” he teased.

“Fuck you.”

“It’s not the twentieth century anymore. Just let me walk you, Stevens.”

“Okay, fine,” she conceded, finally letting herself break into a little grin.

.   .   .

Cloudy light shone through the overcast sky in gray tones, but the air was light. Philadelphia was not due for rain. Ella breathed in the city as they strolled down the sidewalk. It was a little grimy, but so alive. The pulse of the noise and the people made her feel excited, inspired. She would have to draw something of it as soon as she got a moment. Jess had his hands shoved in his pockets, stealing occasional glances at Ella. He saw the same wonder in her eyes that he had when she’d come to visit him in New York all those years ago. A pleasant warmth radiated throughout him, and for just a little while he stopped wondering where they stood with each other, what would happen, about the words they still needed to speak.

She fiddled with the thin strap of her watch as she walked along. “Do you like Philly better than New York?”

He perked his head up as she suddenly broke the silence between them. “Oh yeah. Less people. Better art scene.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. And it also helps that my mom doesn’t live here.”

“Ah,” Ella replied knowingly, nodding slightly. “So, you guys haven’t talked much since the wedding, I take it?”

“Every now and again,” he shrugged.

They turned down a road lined with coffee shops and bookstores. Ella could tell it was a backwards way of getting to campus, but expected nothing less of Jess. It made her want to smile. The more she saw of the city, the more she could tell he belonged. Finally, he had a place where he fit.

“She did call me when April showed up, though,” Jess continued casually.

Ella uttered a small laugh. “Yeah. That was...straight outta left field. She’s a good kid, though. Can recite the whole periodic table in like sixty seconds. She kinda reminds me of my brother.”

“Adam?” Jess asked.

Ella nodded, the warm breeze blowing her bangs back from her face. Her hair was in a low bun, and she was dressed in the same clothes as the day before. Most of her wardrobe wasn’t the most professional. And straight-laced clothes, she thought, were an important balance for her visible tattoos.

“How’s he doin’?”

She shrugged, smiling lightly. “He’s good. Almost done with his junior year. He’s applying to all those big schools. MIT is his top choice, I think.”

“Jeez. Another valedictorian in the family?”

“Maybe. He might get a full ride, especially since…” she paused, biting at the inside of her cheek. Looking over at Jess, she saw his curious expression. He seemed more open than he ever had, comfortable in his own skin. When she continued, her tone was firmer, more direct. “Well, my dad left to live with my uncle in Baltimore a few months ago. It’s just Adam and Fiona back in the house. He’ll get lots of financial aid points for having a single step-parent.”

“Oh, that’s…”

“Yeah. But, I think everyone’s better off,” she said, averting her gaze from him. Again, Jess thought he saw her try and grab for a necklace, but instead she reached up to tug gently at one of her small earrings. “Once the baby thing didn’t work out with Fiona, my dad started drinking more and...I think he realized he’d never...losing my mom. He’s never gonna be the same. Adam’s doing well, though. And Fiona’s doing better. It’s better.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, appraising her with a careful eye. “I’m glad, then.”

“Me too.” She cast him a tiny, reassured smile. “Sorry. That’s heavy stuff and it’s not even afternoon.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry over,” he replied.

Rushing over a crowded crosswalk as the seconds blinked off the timer, Jess took her hand to lead her. She wouldn’t be late, but he could tell she was anxious to get where she needed to be. “We’re almost there.”

He thought for a moment about disentangling their fingers, but she gave his hand a squeeze instead. His heart glowed with nostalgia and hope. The noise around them seemed like music. Cherry trees, which dotted campus, were blooming and they stepped over the petals beneath their feet. Hardly thinking, Jess ran a thumb over the smooth skin of the back of her hand. Her smile grew.

They were approaching the brick building which held the dean of the art school’s office. Students whizzed past them with backpacks and frantic looks. A sense of surrealism dawned on Ella. She was going to end up at an Ivy League, after all. Just a little later than she had once hoped she would. The air smelled clean and damp with spring.

“So,” Jess began, coming to a stop a few feet from the walkway which led to the double doors, “after this, you’re all set?”

“Guess so,” she said, slightly breathless with the moment.

He hummed, looking around him. “Y’know, this morning, I was thinking-”

“That’s a bad sign,” Ella interjected.

Jess rolled his eyes. “Age has not helped your stand-up material, Stevens.”

“I disagree,” she said shortly. “Please, continue.”

He sighed heavily, separating their fingers and running a hand over his mouth. “Well, you don’t have a place to live here yet, right?”

“Not yet.”

“I was thinking maybe you’d want to come live with us. Above Truncheon,” he said, spitting out the words as fast as he could.

Ella’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

Jess nodded shyly. “My bed’s big enough. And I don’t have that much stuff; there’s room for you. Chris already loves you. I’m sure Matthew wouldn’t mind either. And your sketches are down in the main room anyway. We could put a price on them and...only if you want to. I know it’s a lot to process, so you don’t need to answer right now or anything.”

Her eyes were calculating as she gathered her thoughts. “Just so I’m clear...you want us to get back together. And you want us to live together in your apartment. With Matthew and Chris. Above Truncheon.”

“Yes,” Jess confirmed, tone growing more confident, though his heart was beating painfully against his ribs.

“Are you sure? I mean...we haven’t seen each other in two years. Maybe time has corrupted me,” she said, voice serious despite her weak joke.

Again, he sighed. “I think we were both pretty corrupted to begin with-”

“How Kurt Cobain of you.”

“And I don’t care how long it’s been. We’ve got a lot to make up for. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you forever. And I’m tired of waiting. I’m ready to try again. Really try, this time. But only if you are. Only if you want this too,” he said.

A familiar nausea rose in his throat, and his hands began to shake. The only other time he’d taken such a leap of faith, it hadn’t gone over well. But everything was different. He was settled, with a steady income. She had graduated, and was finally embracing her dreams. His foolish hope persisted, even still. When he’d woken up next to her again, in a bed which he’d bought himself, and eaten breakfast with her, read morning papers with her, he could think of nothing he wanted more. Communication, he reminded himself. Open and honest communication. Even if he still wanted to roll his eyes at just the thought of Luke’s self-help nonsense.

“And,” he continued, when she hadn’t said a word, was only turning thoughts over in her head silently, “you don’t have to say anything now. I...dammit. I should’ve done this after your interview. I just got caught up after yesterday and this morning. I wasn’t sure if I’d see you later and...I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m sorry. Really, you don’t have to say anything-”

“Jess,” she interrupted, finally locking eyes with him again. “Just shut up for a second.”

“Okay.”

After chewing on her thumb nail for a moment, she blew a breath out through her nose with finality. “Can I get cactuses again? There was no place for them at Lane’s. And, Jesus, you guys have got to organize your living room. I mean, the kitchen and your bedroom are okay. But I have no idea how you guys even find anything. The piles of paperwork on the table are, like, seven feet high.”

A slow grin formed on Jess’s face, and the worry began to clear from his brown eyes. “You can do whatever you want, Stevens.”

“Truer words never spoken,” she agreed earnestly. “You better make room for my fucking records then, too. They’ve been living in my car for way too long.”

Jess chuckled, nodding slightly. His eyes lingered on her lips. “I was thinking about kissing you, just now. Is that okay?”

Ella thought her heart would melt at his words. “Go for it, Mariano.”

Jess brought his hands to her waist and kissed her. For the first time in years. Ella smiled into it, pressed against him. It tasted sugary-sweet, from the donuts they’d eaten. Her fingers tangled into his hair, longer and less greasy than she remembered. But it felt much the same. A tingly joy began in her stomach and then spread throughout her body, new and old and welcome and perfect.

.   .   .

Of all the people not to be at Lane’s wedding, Ella did not expect Luke to miss it. For some reason, he was still out of town for April’s field trip. Not that it was any of her business, but she couldn’t help be slightly irritated at his absence. However, she wasn’t entirely alone. Though Lane and the other people in her life weren’t exactly sold on him, Ella had taken a shot in the dark and invited Jess. At Mrs. Kim’s millionth reference to her loneliness, her lack of a date, Ella had finally let it slip to Lane. She had seen Jess again. They were talking on the phone every single night. She was set to move in with him in a week. And, soon, she was calling him up. Hearing the surprised tone of his voice, his apprehension to come back to town. But, honestly, he’d caved a little quicker than she thought he would. All it had taken was her offering to try Hemingway again. And Kerouac. She knew she was going to absolutely loathe the latter, but it would be worth it.

As the ceremony ended, most of Lane’s family, including her mother, left the gathering in town square. None of them were eager to party with the townies. Kirk revealed the white food truck parked on the street opposite the gazebo to actually be the bar. He was exploring business ownership, and Yummy Bartenders was his most recent endeavor. Lorelai, without Luke and somehow having ended up with Rory’s father, Christopher, as her date, flocked straight to the alcohol. It made Ella snort a laugh, but inside, it made her heart ache. Luke and Lorelai had taken so long to get together. And now, things were headed nowhere good. A hot, dry sunlight shone down on them in yellow tones, and soon the sky would darken. Everyone’s mood had changed as soon as they left the church. Lorelai ripped off the bottom half of Lane’s dress, revealing her calves joyfully. Standing beside Ella, Rory let out a hoot of excitement and rushed over to the new bride. Snickering, Ella took the long pin from her low bun and let her blonde waves loose down her back.

Jess tucked her hair behind her ear gently as they both took a moment to breathe. The church had been stuffy and hot, filled to the brim with people. The air was no cooler, but at least there was a wide open space to mingle in. Grabbing his hand, Ella ventured a glance at Jess. As soon as his rusty Ambassador had rolled into town three hours earlier, she could sense how anxious he was. Maybe just being in Stars Hollow made him uncomfortable, or maybe it gave him too many flashbacks to his own mother’s wedding.

“You okay? I have the key to the diner, if you wanna go. I called Luke earlier and he said we could stay in the apartment. I’ll be up there later,” she said, tone apologetic.

Jess shook his head. “No. I’m fine. Just don’t know where we should sit.”

“Next to Miss Patty?” she asked. The dance teacher had noticed her across the way, and Ella waved back at her.

“She’ll eat me alive,” Jess sighed. “What about with Rory and Lorelai?”

Narrowing her eyes, Ella considered it. Then, she bit the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I don’t know. I haven’t been so close with them recently. And I don’t know if I wanna get in the middle of the happy family back together.”

“Fair enough,” Jess agreed. “Alright. Miss Patty and Babette, then. But I’m counting on your protection.”

Her grin grew wicked. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m your knight in shining polyester.”

.   .   .

Hep Alien was on fire, despite the wasted state of every single band member. Balmy breezes blew and Ella’s flushed skin was finally beginning to cool down. The night was dark and the sky clear. Every so often, her eyes flicked to Rory, Lorelai, and Christopher’s table. Sookie and Jackson had been sitting with them, but they had long since left. Without Ella to babysit the kids, they’d had to hire a new girl. Jackson could barely handle the nerves at a random high-schooler watching his babies. Ella twirled her rings nervously on her fingers, while Patty, Babette, and Maury chain-smoked across the centerpiece floral arrangement. Jess, at her side, had his arm around her shoulder. He stroked her upper arm absently.

He raised an eyebrow and followed her gaze to Rory. “What’s with you?”

“Hm?” she asked, blinking the reverie from her eyes. Facing him again, Ella was struck by how much more mature he looked. Back in Stars Hollow, but as a man with a publishing business and a decently neat bedroom of his own. Despite the uneasiness brewing in her stomach, she also felt pride appear. It didn’t shock her where he ended up. But it still made her feel such joy to see him successful and content.

Jess nodded in the direction of the Gilmores, three tables over. “Did something happen between you guys? Is it why you weren’t a bridesmaid?”

Ella shook her head. “No. I wasn’t a bridesmaid because Mrs. Kim hates me with the fire of a thousand suns. I mean, my outfit alone is probably enough for her to condemn me.”

Giving Ella a once-over, Jess smirked wider. Her camisole dress was black, with small pink flowers embroidered on it. It had thin spaghetti straps and fell above her knees. Of course, there were no heels on her shoes, black leather ballet flats. The ensemble was so very Ella, along with her dark eye makeup. And, it was true, Mrs. Kim was not a fan of anything which could be described as ‘so very Ella.’

“It does give off a certain Beetlejuice vibe,” Jess agreed.

“The best compliment you’ve ever given me,” she said lightly, then turned back to the crowd of wedding-goers. “But...I don’t know. Rory slept with Dean when he was married and then took a year off from Yale and stole a boat.”

“What?” Jess chirped, almost choking on the watery soda he sipped. He’d debated going to the bar, but decided against it. Best not to get drunk in the town where everyone hated you. Especially when your long lost girlfriend didn’t drink anyway.

A certain sadness came to Ella’s smile, shrinking slightly. She tugged at her earring. “Yeah. And she was fighting with Lorelai forever. They weren’t talking. I’m also pretty sure the guy Rory’s dating now is some trust fund kid from Yale with a porsche.”

“Ugh,” Jess grimaced, unable to hold back his distaste.

“We’re just...different. We grew up. Went in different directions. I mean...Lane and Rory are still best friends. I was friendly with her at a bachelorette party last night. But it’s weird now. I can’t...I don’t really know her anymore, I guess.”

Jess nodded.

She shrugged again, deflective. “I still love Lorelai. But I haven’t seen her much lately, since Luke didn’t want her to meet April, which is a whole different beast. Things...changed. But, hey, maybe I changed too.”

“You did,” Jess said. “But not in a bad way.”

She scoffed, gently plucking at the collar of his white button-up. He wore with it black pants, completing their gothic look when they stood together. Ella knew, though, that both of their outfits came cheap and basic. That’s why they had them. Of course, he still refused to wear a tie of any kind. “You too. Still a jackass, though.”

“Glad you see me in such a positive light.”

“But, in an arguing-with-me-about-Kerouac kind of way. Not in a gnome-stealing, running-off-to-California kind of way,” she explained, feeling goosebumps rise on her pale skin where his fingertips still brushed against her arm.

As much as Jess lived in his words, touch had always been such a major form of communication with him. Older and able to judge it more easily, Ella could see it. It calmed him down, made him feel safe. She could understand that. It was what happened when someone grew up in a place where they were often touched in anger.

“Well, the Kerouac defense will never change. He’s a genius,” Jess insisted mockingly.

Ella rolled her eyes, leaning back against him. “You’re impossible.”

“Right back at ya.”

The band began one of their familiar White Stripes covers. Ella couldn’t count how many times she’d heard it over the years, during nightly practice. It was so odd to see Lane in a wedding dress, all grown up. A nostalgic smile ghosted over her lips and she sighed. Neither she nor Jess said a word for a long while, comfortable in each other’s grasp. June crickets and cicadas sung, mixing with the sound of Zach’s vocals. Patty and Babette laughed heartily at something across the table. The air smelled of cigarettes and beer and summer-cut grass. Soon, the song faded away and Zach played the opening chords to something different, something Ella hadn’t heard him play in a long time. “Sweet Thing” by Van Morrison, a cover they’d attempted after Ella moved in, when she’d let Lane hear one of her Jeff Buckley live albums, on which he did his own cover of the song. She broke into a full grin. It was the perfect song for a late-night wedding reception, romantic and long and calm.

Jess seemed to notice her brightening up at the tune, as he sat up and faced her with a mysterious smile. “You wanna dance?”

She snorted a disbelieving chuckle. “Excuse me?”

“Do you wanna dance? I know you like this song.”

Ella raised her eyebrows. “Liking the song is one thing. Subjecting everyone to the horrifying visual of my dance moves is another.”

He rolled his eyes, standing up and extending a hand to her. “So dramatic. It’s a slow song. And we didn’t dance at Liz and TJ’s wedding. Making up for lost time.”

“Fine,” she sighed, taking his hand, and letting him pull her up. “But it’s your funeral.”

“I like to live dangerously,” Jess said, leading her to the dance floor.

“Whatever, James Dean.”

Before they were out of range, Miss Patty blew a stream of bluish smoke in their direction and gave a bark of haughty laughter. “I’d watch out for her, young man. Have you heard about the domino incident of 1992? Ella made the Gazette. Her talents run more towards the musical.”

His smirk grew. “I’ve been warned.”

They passed Lorelai on the way, lingering by the bar and sipping her Manhattan. Tumbler filled with cherries, sugar on the rim. The sight almost made Ella want to chuckle, almost grimace. The drink looked as sweet as cotton candy, but she would expect nothing less of a Gilmore woman. More than half of the sleepovers she’d had with Rory involved a midnight raid of the kitchen. S’mores pop tarts were one of Ella’s personal favorites. Lorelai reached out an arm to stop them, wavering drunkenly on her feet.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Sid Vicious is back,” she slurred to Ella, pointing at Jess angrily.

With Lorelai so close to her face, Ella could smell the tequila on her breath. “I told you before. He’s got more of a Richard Hell vibe, in my opinion.”

Jess blushed, but said nothing. He only tightened his grip on Ella’s hand.

“Your uncle is out of town,” Lorelai continued, facing Jess.

“That he is,” Jess said shortly. Time had passed, but it was clear Lorelai still wasn’t quite over her contempt for him. Though, he could definitely recognize what an asshole he’d been as a teenager.

Lorelai laughed bitterly. “He’s with his daughter. Who Ella’s met and you’ve met and Rory’s met. And I haven’t met!”

Searching her head for a careful response, Ella was utterly relieved when Rory came up from behind her mother.

“Hey, mom, let’s get some coffee for you, why don’t we?” Rory asked, voice bouncy and nervous.

“You got her?” Ella raised her eyebrows at Rory as she took her mother by the shoulders and began steering her away.

“Oh, I guess we’re going over here now,” Lorelai muttered in drunken surprise.

“Yeah, go have fun,” Rory answered with a little wink, disappearing into the crowd with her mother, headed for the table where her father and some steaming coffee sat.

Blowing out a long breath, Jess shook his head. “I take it that she and Luke aren’t seeing eye to eye.”

“Understatement of the year,” Ella scoffed. “No matter where she and Luke are though, I think you’ll always be a portrait of Sid Vicious to her.”

“Not even with the haircut?” he asked as they made it to the edge of the wooden dance floor.

“Not even with the haircut,” she replied with a smug smirk.

With a heavy breath, Ella placed her hands on the back of Jess’s neck as he brought his hands to her waist. She felt glad Hep Alien’s version of the song was nearly ten minutes long; it would have nearly been over after Patty’s warning and Lorelai’s ramblings if not.

“Don’t worry, Elle. Just follow my lead,” Jess said quietly, beginning to sway side to side, taking small steps.

“Shut up, I’m focusing,” she hissed, watching her feet.

He chuckled slightly. “Relax. Just look at me.”

Sighing again, Ella managed to drag her gaze away from her shoes and up to Jess’s big brown eyes.

“Hi,” he whispered, smiling fondly.

“Hi,” she replied, feeling the anxiety in her stomach lessen slightly. “Deja-vu, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” he said, shrugging. “But I’d say things are looking a little sunnier now.”

“Still finding those silver linings.” Ella gave him an affectionate peck on the lips.

Why was she nervous?, she asked herself. She didn’t need to be. Maybe it was the future creeping up on her, or her exit from the only place she had ever lived only a week away. But, as she looked at Jess, she felt her heartbeat slow. And her lips even turned up a touch at the corners. Where she was going, he’d be.

[ericsonclan]

Double the Bites, Double the Heroes

Summary: Sophie and Minnie go on a field trip to a spider exhibit that changes their lives forever...

Word Count: 2425

Read on AO3:

“Oh!” Sophie’s mouth fell open as she looked around the room with wide eyes. “I didn’t know there were so many different spiders!”

“It’s crazy,” Minnie pulled Sophie back to make sure she didn’t get sidetracked and fall behind their class. Minnie couldn’t blame her sister though; Sophie just wanted to explore all the different exhibits. For their twelve year old minds, this was just about the coolest thing. The twins’ eyes kept wandering all around the room while the tour guide continued to talk about the Jumping spider.

“The Jumping spiders are in the family Salticidae. They have some of the best vision out of all spiders,” The tour guide moved aside so the kids could gather around and check out the spider. Some of them oohed and aahhed, clearly impressed by the spiders while some were more uncomfortable by the spiders and their multiple eyes. “They use their jumps for hunting, navigation and even courtship.” Some of the boys laughed at the last part. The twins tried to push forward to get a better look at the spider. It was a cool spider: light brown, it looked super fuzzy while its beady black eyes looked around at the onlookers. The tour guide moved onward to continue to the next spiders. The teacher pushed forward some of the kids that lingered to ensure they wouldn’t get left behind. “Next we have the Cellar spider, but they are better known as Daddy Long Legs,”

Justin, a boy with dark brown hair let out a snort and whispered to the boy next to him, Steve, though he made it loud enough for the twins to hear.

“I bet Minerva and Sophie would be those spiders cause of their long legs... and they’re totally lame,”

Minnie and Sophie glared at him when he looked back at them with a smirk. Both of them stuck their tongues out. After a while the teacher stepped forward and let the class know that they could wander this one room and take a look around at the many different spiders. Sophie immediately grabbed Minnie’s hand and the pair went off to explore. There were so many different types of spiders. Large, hairy spiders like tarantulas seemed to be active in their habitats, scurrying around while some others like Wolf and Recluse spiders seemed perfectly content chilling and waiting for the people to leave.

“Whoa!” Sophie pressed her face close to the glass. “This one looks cool!”

Minnie walked over, curious what spider had piqued her sister’s interest.

The spider was not super big but not too tiny either. Its black and white legs moved around with a mesmerizing movement while it made a brand new web. It had a dark brown back with different shapes and sizes of white splotches on its back.

“It looks like a mushroom,” Sophie turned to look over at Minnie when suddenly her stomach gurgled. Sophie clutched it with embarrassment. “Man, I can’t wait for lunch. It’s pizza day!” Sophie’s mouth was practically drooling at the thought.

Minnie walked over to the plaque in front of the exhibit that gave a short explanation of the spider. “It says here that the Shamrock spider makes a new web each day and that sometimes it hides in leaves and waits for the web thread they made to move to signal if an insect is nearby. Sophie looked impressed by that. “That’s amazing!” Sophie turned back just in time to see the spider patter over to its leaf hideout.

“Come on Soph, I wanna see some more spiders,” Minnie pulled on Sophie’s arm who reluctantly left her new mushroom spider friend. After a few more exhibits where neither twin seemed intrigued, they stopped by the Lynx spider.

Minnie’s eyes danced with excitement for this particular arachnid. She liked the way its legs looked super prickly with defined black lines on the inner parts. Its eyes almost seemed to blend into its face. The tiny, dark beads stared at Minnie with the same curiosity that she did when she looked at it.

“You like this one, Minnie?” Sophie’s voice drew Minnie’s focus away for a second.

“Yeah, it looks cool. Also...” Minnie pointed to the spider, “It looks like it has little boxer gloves,” Sophie squinted to where her sister had pointed. Her eyes grew large when she saw them.“Whoa!”

Minnie moved over to read some more about it. “It uses silk to protect its eggs and it says it attacks like a cat and pounces on its prey and stalks them.” Each fact made Minnie like the spider even more. The twins were going to go back to the Shamrock Spider one more time before returning to the Lynx spider, but the teacher was calling for them to join the others. Reluctantly the twins started to walk over.

“Who knew spiders were this awesome?” Sophie looked over at Minnie with a huge smile that disappeared when she saw the scared look in Minnie’s eyes. “What?”

“Don’t freak out, but there’s a spider on your nose,” Minnie whispered, inching towards her sister.

“What? How-” Sophie was lifting her hand to check, freezing when she saw a spider on Minnie’s neck. “Minnie, there’s one on your neck too!”

Minnie’s eyes widened as she froze. “Ok, let’s hit the spiders on each other’s face on the count of three.”

“Yeah, to sneak attack them before they bite us,” Sophie slowly nodded.

“Exactly,” Minnie gave a shaky smile. “Ok, one….” she lifted up her hand, carefully positioning it to strike her twin’s nose.

“Two…” Sophie inched her hand towards the right spot.

“Three!” The twins shouted in unison and swung out their hands to hit the spiders. Their moves landed, squashing the spiders but not before each could let out one final bite in retaliation. Both twins swayed back, from the bite or hit they weren’t sure.

Justin snorted as he watched the scene play out. “Man, those twins are such freaks,” He motioned over to the sisters who were not reacting very well to their less than thorough plan.

“Owwww,” Sophie clutched her nose, flailing about with one of her arms. Her legs were failing her. Minnie let out a grunt while she held the side of her neck, rotating it to try and get the pain to stop.

“You two,” The teacher huffed while she made her way over. “Just what is going on?”

The twins looked up. Before they could respond they fell over unconscious, their bodies hitting the floor.

------

Minnie felt her head pounding. It felt like needles pricking the inside of her head. “Ugggh,” she slowly sat up when she remembered something. “Sophie!” The memories were starting to catch up with her. Sophie had looked like she was in a lot of pain when Minnie’s hand whacked her nose.

“Minnie!?!” Sophie looked up from her spot in the room. Where were they? It looked like a nurse’s office. Sophie let out a sigh of relief when she saw that Minnie was okay. “I thought my hit knocked you out or worse. Y’know there’s some point in the neck that can really hurt someone if you hit it, right?”

“I’m fine,” Minnie lifted her hand to feel her neck. The spider bite was now covered with a piece of white gauze. She looked over and saw a large piece of gauze over Sophie’s nose. Minnie started to chuckle, causing her twin to look confused before she picked up on why she was laughing.

“Hey, my nose doesn’t look that stupid,” Sophie crossed her arms but soon started to chuckle as well. “Your neck looks funny too,”

The twins continued to laugh until the door creaked open revealing their parents who had been called in. Matthew and Walter looked absolutely terrified for their daughters’ health, their hands intertwined as their eyes searched the room before they found Minnie and Sophie, safe and sound. Both of them let out deep sighs of relief before wrapping the twins in their arms.

“When I got the call I was worried, but it seems like the spiders that bit you weren’t poisonous,” Walter whispered, thankful for that fact.

“That sure was lucky. But we’re still gonna take you home for now. The field trip ended a while ago.” Matthew added, pulling back and giving Minnie and Sophie a warm smile.

Sophie and Minnie’s faces fell. They were really enjoying that field trip. Plus Sophie was excited for the cheesy deliciousness that was pizza. But there was nothing that they could do. So they went home for the day and immediately fell asleep, counting their blessings that tomorrow was a Saturday.

-----

As soon as Sophie woke up, her nose was super itchy. She tried to resist the urge to scratch it, but it was so overwhelming. It was only when she suddenly felt extremely twitchy that she was able to distract herself, but that wasn’t great either. It really messed with her art time. Her sketches were constantly getting messed up when her hands began to twitch. Letting out a frustrated groan, she closed her eyes and fell backwards onto the couch only for her senses to feel like they were overloading. Every sense felt like it was trying to dominate her body for control. Every sound became louder. Whenever her parents strolled in she would flinch and spin around. Why is this happening? Maybe the spider was poisonous!!! Sophie snuck onto the computer to look up the Shamrock spider since that was the one that they said they found splattered across her nose. After a few minutes of research it was obvious that they weren’t poisonous to humans. Sophie groaned and shook her hand angrily at the overwhelming sensation that was plaguing her body. Suddenly a white, sticky substance shot out of her wrist and onto the computer screen. Sophie held back a surprised yelp as she struggled to get the sticky web off. Why is this happening? Sophie tried to fling off the web from her hand, but it refused. I gotta find Minnie!

-----

Minnie felt like she was sore all over but it felt strongest in her neck. She tried to roll her head cause she heard that that sometimes helped her mom when she felt stressed. When she placed her hand on her neck though she flinched in pain. Pulling back her hand, she looked closely at it. There on her fingers were tiny, minuscule bristles. They looked like what was on that Lynx spider. Minnie felt herself shake; her body felt like it was overheating. Rubbing her fingers together, she felt the bristles scratch against each other. I have to find Sophie!

-----

Sophie found Minnie in their room on top of her bunk bed. Her eyes widened when she saw her twin.

“Soph,” Minnie tried to move her hands that were on the metal safety railing but whenever she tried they refused to budge. “I think that spider bite did something to me,” Minnie looked terrified; it was obvious that her nerves were overwhelming her.

“I think my spider bite did something too! I’ve been twitchy and not the math type of twitchy before a test!” Sophie rubbed her hands together to try and calm herself down. She let out a surprised gasp when her hands became filled with sticky white spider webs. They were practically oozing from her fingertips. “Aaaah!” Sophie shook her hands to try and get the substance off but only ended up shooting a web out and knocking over her superhero figurine. “No!” Sophie cried.

Minnie attempted to release her grip and grab the figurine but it was too late. With a crash the figurine’s head flew off. Hurried footsteps and a quick knock on the door drew the twins’ attention.

“Are you two alright in there?” Walter called out from behind the door.

“I was just overly excited and knocked over one of my toys,” Sophie hoped her voice didn’t sound as scared as she did.

Luckily it seemed to have calmed down Walter and after some more reassurance he left to finish the movie he was watching with Matthew. Sophie ran over to wipe her hands and help Minnie only for the weblike matter to stick to her pants. Her hands were firmly placed on her hips now.

The twins shared a concerned look.

“It’s okay, we just have to calm down,” Minnie started to take a slow, steady breath which her sister followed. Suddenly Minnie’s hands were free from the railing. She looked at her hands gleefully before jumping down with ease onto the floor.

Sophie was surprised by that. “How did that not hurt you?”

Minnie looked just as confused and surprised . “I don’t know, but for now let’s get you free,”

It took nearly an hour to get Sophie’s hands free from her hips. The twins sat on the floor, feeling absolutely exhausted and overwhelmed by what had just happened.

-----

A few days passed and the twins had been extremely cautious with whatever they did. But even with their caution it seemed they only partially tempered the mistakes from their newfound spider powers. Their bodies were still way too worn out from whatever had entered their bloodstreams so on Monday their parents had called the school to let them know that they wouldn’t make it to class.

Minnie stood by the wall, her hand stuck to the doorway. Sophie walked forward with a plate with a sandwich on it. Her hands were glued to the plate.

“This sucks,” Minnie grumbled. She knew she needed to calm down, but how was she supposed to when whatever had happened to them would change everything about their daily lives?

“Yeah, it does,” Sophie lifted up the plate and tried her best to bite down at the sandwich. “Maybe it could be good though,”

Minnie quirked an eyebrow “How?”

Sophie had spoken before she had even really come up with an answer. “Ummm, well….” Sophie’s eyes wandered the room until they landed on the cracked superhero figurine. In an instant Sophie was struck with inspiration. “Heroes! We’ll become superheroes!”

Minnie looked shocked but her eyes soon danced with excitement.

Sophie’s eyes matched hers. “We’ll be like the Spidertwins or something! We can use this for good!”

Minnie beamed. “Yeah, this is going to be so cool!” She threw her arms out with excitement only for silky webs to cover both doorways. The twins shared a concerned look. They still had a long way to go before they were going to anything close to heroes.

[whumpookies]

Merlin one shot, bit of humour can be found here

"No boat huh?"  Matthew muttered, scratching his head in slight confusion 

It was one thousand years later, and what would have been water was now fields, yet the Isle of the Blessed still sat on a hill in all its glory- the same hill that Talia and Matt stood facing. 

"No boat. That’s global warming for you," Talia shrugged easily as she placed down her longbow, making Matthew roll his eyes 

"So, what are we doing here?" Matthew asked as he sat on the hill looking down to the isle.

"Remember the last time we were here?" She asked, joining him sitting on the hill, their knees touching as they leaned back.

"Screaming vale, Doracha, cranky old woman, scarification of a soul to close the vail, Lancelot being an idiot, you warning the old hag..sure hard to forget, really. Why?" Matthew grinned cheekily. 

"Well, time for..revenge," she smirked. 

Matthew blinked..and blinked. "We're what?"

"Going to get revenge, well we ain't but..you’ll see," she half shrugged, laying back into the grass enjoying the rays from the warm sun.

"How? Or should I say why?" Matthew asked, looking over to her.

"Because I promised Lancelot I wouldn't get revenge...back then...didn't say anything about helping get revenge." Her eyes closed, unable to see the disbelieving look Matthew gave her. "You know he's gonna have kittens knowing what we're doing." She shrugged again, standing brushing the grass off her shoulders, Matthew following her actions. 

"That's why we'll tell him after we deal with the old crone," she grinned before grabbing Matthew's collar, dragging him down the hill towards the island.

"Just how are we doing this?" Matthew muttered climbing down the embankment.

"With a dragon." She answered, following him down the silence followed as Matthew stared at his best friend in shock. "A...dragon?"

"Yes, Merlin let me...borrow Kilgharrah"

"Borrow?" His eyebrows rose skywards, scepticism gracing his features. 

"Okay, not borrow...more like the dragon has it in for the hag, so we made a deal." Talia rolled her eyes before continuing along the field as Matthew huffed, "I don't want to know do I?"

"Nope." She answered, snickering. They carried on towards the Isle of the Blessed with a sense of mischief in their hearts.

"Just how did you get our swords and the longbow past the airport checkpoint?"

"You're really asking that now, Matt?"

"I'm curious, it’s not like you can say 'Hey officer, don't worry, just going to get revenge on Cailleach the old hag, then call a dragon, watch him eat her. Just ignore the swords, oh please don't check the blade, it's sharp. Oh look there goes your finger, don't matter if you hurry, it can be sewn on again!" Matthew counted off on his fingers, sarcasm dripping off his words.

"You finished?" She asked, rolling her eyes, once again asking herself why to the heavens. Surely deities were listening.

"Oh no, I've just started!" she sighed before clambering up the steps of the dry dock. "I actually said we're part of a cosplay team…"

"You what?!" 

"Now I bet you wished you never asked!" She cackled, walking down the dock, leaving a groaning Matthew. 

"You have no idea," he sighed.

It was as if time had stopped. The walls were damp, cobwebs spread in abundance, corridors dark until they spotted the light at the end of the tunnel leading to the altar. "How are we getting the old crone to come here? Not like we're sacrificing anyone...why are you looking at me like that?" Talia grinned at a very worried looking Matthew. "Don't worry, no scarification needed. Luckily Merlin knows a few tricks nowadays."

"Yeah, well he could at least get a haircut and a shave!"

"I think he's got the wizard look right down" she glanced over at him. 

"I still think Tolkien met him."

"What, to get the whole Gandalf look down?" She asked slightly confused

"Hell yes! Come on, both Merlin and Tolkien's characters have the beard and long hair… plus look what happened when you asked him to dress up at Samhain!" Matthew grinned, shaking his head. 

"Yeah..that was interesting," she agreed, her forehead creasing slightly.

"Tal, he declared Gandalf as a half-baked wannabe with a guilt complex the size of Albion."

"Point taken," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Then Lancelot laughed that much he nearly passed out."

"Wait till this year at Halloween you'll love it…"

"If you say Merlin and Lancelot as themselves, I'm so going to be there to watch," Matthew said. 

"Nah, I gave up on that, thinking Harry Potter and Dumbledore." 

The laughter echoed down the empty passageway as they broke into the altar area; it was still large and lush with green grass swaying with the wind.

"You know Talia if this place wasn't linked to the old religion it would be perfect"

"I've nothing against the old religion, just the old hag with a god complex."

"Well let's do this, it's gonna be a long drive back."

Walking around the altar, Talia's hand running along the cool stone as Matthew stood leaning against the wall watching her. 

"How are we doing this?" He asked. 

"Easily, Cailleach is listening to the old hag and is too nosy not to! You ain't getting a sacrifice to some old hag. So come on let's have this out!" She yelled the last part, her voice echoing around the walls as she jumped up on the altar, sitting on the edge. 

"Are we really pissing her off?" Matthew asked.

"I don't get pissed off," the voice croaked behind him. 

"Bloody hell, you old cron don't do that!" Screeched Matthew in a high pitch voice that would make an opera singer jealous as Talia doubled over laughing. Cailleach stood behind the young man all in her dark glory. 

"What do you want, guardian?" She said.

"Oh come on, Cailleach. No hello? It's been, what, one thousand five hundred years, give or take a year...or ten," Talia shrugged, grinning ear to ear as she crossed her legs on the altar."The last I saw of you guardian...you threatened me, and I don't take well to threats," Cailleach accused, her eyes squinting at her.

"I don't take well to you trying to kill Arthur, Merlin or Lancelot," Talia shrugged easily, surprised  by her anger

"It is not killing.."

"Really? A sacrifice to close the veil isn't killing?. Don’t you have enough souls in the underworld?"

"Not yet," she grinned, looking to Matthew 

"Dream on hag, we're taken," Matthew muttered, walking over to Talia by the alter, sword in hand. 

"So it seems that you are, child." Cailleach mourned at the loss of another soul joining her.

"See, I promised someone I wouldn't get revenge on someone else." Talia brought the conversation back on track. "Lancelot." 

"Yes Cailleach, Lancelot, but I spent the day with a very large green-scaled dragon and it seems he still holds a grudge," she smirked, evilly sitting forward. 

"Oh look, Talia, I think it just dawned on her?!" Matthew laughed as Cailleach searched the skies above her as the wind picked up.

"So it seems Matt. Heads up hag, we've got a visitor!" Jumping down, Talia grabbed Matthew, dragging her friend towards the wall as wings came into view. 

"Done my part. Good luck Cailleach," Talia yelled over Kilgharrah's arrival.

"Amazing how hard it is to get a dragon to meet the gatekeeper," Talia muttered as she pulled Matthew into the gatehouse. 

"We are not gonna watch?" Matthew asked.

"Have you ever seen a gatekeeper and dragon go at it?"

"Well...no."

"Me neither, but Kilgharrah said to stay out of the…" A crash and crackle of magic hitting something stopped them.

Both looked to the door. 

"I think I get why now." Said Matthew worriedly looking over at her before a crash followed as rocks flew past the doorway. 

"Oh, that's one pissed off dragon." 

Talia nodded, sitting on an abandoned table. "Wouldn't you be? That old hag nearly killed Merlin, tried to stop the path of Arthur."

"Let's not forget the whole vail crap." 

Sparks struck the door frame as Matthew jumped back. "Oh, the whole Veil needs a blood sacrifice and all that crap. She has real issues with wanting blood." 

Fire bombarded the area passing the door; the heat could be felt with ease. 

"Damn, should have bought marshmallows," Said Matthew bemoaning the loss of a good crispy marshmallow.

"Next time."

"I'm bringing the sausages as well then!" She shook her head as Matthew watched the show as close to the door as possible.

"Well, the old hag needs a peg knocking out of her." 

"Duck!" Matt yelled, boards, bursting, showering bits of wood in all directions.

Talia ran to the door shouting around it. "Kilgharrah get a move on you overgrown lizard! That almost killed us!" 

Matt stood brushing debris off his coat moving away. 

"Bit close," he sighed. 

"Just a bit." 

With the table upturned, they sat behind it, flashes of lightning and flames, crashes and bashes, debris flew past the door frame or closer allowing them to duck, roars covered ears and magic was yelled as it all continued...

"How long?" Talia groaned heavily.

"Three hours and five minutes, in other words, five minutes from the last time you asked." 

"Damn"

"Tal, tell them to quit," Matt moaned whilst cleaning his nails with his sword.

"And get my head blown off?"

"Come on, it's getting late, Merlin can only keep him busy so long!"

"Your point?"

"I'm bored, hungry and they’re being.." he pointed to the door as a lightning bolt struck close by, "...idiots, and they’re going to get us killed!"

Sighing heavily Talia stood, brushing herself off and stormed to the door. "If I die, I'm haunting you!" She muttered before diving out the door quickly as a whip.

Matthew listened intently to the point of straining his ears above the yells of casting, roars and the odd flame until…."THAT WAS MY CLAW!" A deep booming voice Kilgharrah echoed.

"Well if you weren't such an arse, I wouldn't have to stab it, you stubborn bloody dragon! And don't you start either you old hag!"

Matthew snickered, leaning against the wall, shaking his head as laughter rippled through him, whilst trying to listen as Talia continued to rant.

"...yes, I know! Get over yourself, Cailleach or I'll run you through old woman…."

Matthew shook his head, wiping the tears away "...oh trust me, I go to that underworld and I'll haunt you so much that you'll be begging to kick me out.."

He had to agree, she probably would. Talia could be annoying as hell, that was for sure.

"..Yea you're pissed at each other, I get that but come on! When Arthur gets released from Avalon you both need him, so give it a bloody rest! Don't start, you overgrown chicken...and don't you start you wrinkled old pug!"

The second bout of hysterical laughter struck the young man bracing himself against the wall, only Talia would insult a dragon and the gatekeeper of the underworld.

"...Right, that's it!!! I'm calling a truce till next Samhain. You, Kilgharrah, home till Merlin wants you, and Cailleach back till the underworld…no, not Halloween, that my bloody time you get Samhain the eve of Halloween!"

Attempting to catch his breath, Matthew began gathering his and Talia's things.

"Yes, I promise I'll call upon you next bloody Samhain...just...behave till then!"

Matthew cleared the doorway as Kilgharrah flew off, no sign of Cailleach could be seen.

"Finished venting?"

"They are like bloody kids I tell you! I ain't cleaning this mess!" She vented, walking over to her friend gathering her stuff from him. 

"meh, we’ll just call Merlin on the way back; he can clean it up," Matthew reassured as the two made their way back out of the old palace.

"Next year we'll bring Lancelot and Merlin. It'll be fun," Talie said. 

"Only if we bring camp stuff and food," he replied. 

"Deal"

"Cool. Hey, can we stop by McDonald's on the way back? I'm starving," Matthew asked as Talia rolled her eyes. 

"Sure, Merlin wants a happy meal anyway"

[tenaciousarcadeexpert]

Criminal Minds-The Good Ol’ Days

Chapter 4-The First Case

@marvelfanlife, @itsmeedee, @stunudo, @veroinnumera​, @derekmorgansoffice, @dontshootmespence, @cynbx, @jaqren, @literallyprentissstwin, @gabriellewritermua, @blitzz11, @beenthroughalot, @princesswagger14​

Special Thanks for @princesswagger14 for helping me

The twelve students and Rossi all got on to a van where they would head to the airport. However, rather than stop at the front, the teens were rather surprised when the van stops at a special hangar. Once everyone got out, they look to see a very beautiful jet.

“Wow, this pretty.” Says Garcia as she practically squeals.

“Thank you.” Rossi responds. He then noticed Emily with her arms crossed as she scoffs at the jet, though he didn’t mind it, seeing that she had a hell of a long day. Then again, Emily was use to traveling on private jets, so this was nothing new. She couldn’t help but watch everyone being all dumbfounded by the jet.

     “Well if everyone can just pick up their jaws on the way in the jet please.” Rossi laughed as he walked in.

Everyone soon hurried in as they sat down and buckled up with their seatbelts. Ashley seemed to feel a little anxious as she looks out the window and heard the engine start up. Matt took a deep breath once he heard the engines start up and rest his head against the seat. He then saw Luke offer him a piece of gum.

“Uh thanks.” Matt replies as he grabs the gum.

“You’re welcome. My dad said that it helps.”

“Really? How?”

Luke points to his head. “It stops your ears from popping due to difference in air pressure.”

“Wow.” “I know. I didn’t think it actually work, till I tried it.”

“Cool.” “Yeah.” Matt smiled back at Luke and the two along with everyone else settled down as the plane starts to move and take off. Garcia couldn’t help but clench onto Derek’s arm just as the jet takes off.

Once the plane was still and steady, Rossi then called everyone over to a table.

“Gentlemen, ladies. Will you all gather around at the table?” The teens got up and gather around Rossi as he passed out a couple of folders to them.

“What’s this?” Kate asked. “This looks so…...real.” “Because it is real.” He then stares to the twelve different faces. “Listen, the truth is…….about this trip, we’re going to a crime scene.” “A crime scene, like a real, crime scene with an actual murder?” Ashley asked.

Rossi nods. “Mm hmph.” “B-but why? What does this have to do with us, let alone only 12 of us?” Reid asked.

“Yeah, shouldn’t the entire class join us?” Ashley adds.

“Maybe he wouldn’t be able to fit everyone on this jet if he did.” Elle sassed, only to get a gentle slap on the arm by JJ.

“Well, to answer your question, the whole class isn’t with us because half of the class doesn’t want to be in the damn class to begin with and even have the grades to prove it.” “Well, how do you know that we do care about the class and that we are trying at all?” Derek asked. He gave a wry smirk and pulls out a pile of paper, spreading them out on the table.

“What the hell are those?”

“You remember the questions I gave you during the first day of class?” “Yes….and?”

“All of your answers were different, yes. But, there was something special they all have in common. Deep down, I knew that based on your responses, you all have an interesting sense of character in you. It’s not about picking the right or wrong answer, but finding an answer that suits you. That’s why I chose all twelve of you, cause you all bring out something different, and who knows, maybe you can all combine your skills and help solve this case, this one case. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir. Sorry.” Elle apologized.

He then turns to everyone else, who nodded in agreement, though they were still confused to why Rossi picked them. Nevertheless, they decided to go over the case Rossi has given them.

“So professor Rossi?” Tara asked. “What kind of case do you have for us?”

“Well, if you open the folder, you’ll know what’s there.” The teens open up their folders as they saw a worded document and a photo of a dead man, which grossed out a couple of people, especially Garcia.

“25 year old Riley Clark and 24 John Hail were both murdered on Wednesday 17th and Wednesday 24th at approximately 7:00 pm. They were both strangled to death with a leather belt. They were also both restrained, and tortured. Both families reported them missing after they didn’t come home two nights in a row.” Rossi explained as the rest of the students looked on in horror and confusion.

“They look like they took one hell of a beating.” Emily said as she looked at the file.

Hotch looked down on the photos and squint his eyes, while everyone else discuss over the case.

“So based the cuts and beating, I’d say our suspect is a man.” Derek pitched in.

“Looks like it.” Luke adds.

“Or possibly a woman.” Elle responds. “I mean look at where they were. It looks like both of them were killed in an alley, each lying near a dumpster.” She scratched her head. “This could be me, but it’s possible that this suspect is leaving out a message of some sort.” “What, like in ‘All men are trash’ or something like that?” Kate adds.

“Something like that, but it’s just an assumption, it’s not really correct or anything like that.”

“Well, I think that was a really good assumption, Elle.” “Thank you, professor.”

“You’re welcome, and this goes out to all of you. This is what criminal profiling is, you analyze and make assumptions on what goes on in a crime scene.”

“So now we’re about to land so the first place we go is Clark’s crime scene. They’re we’ll find out a bit more about the situation. See how this unsub lured these men in the allies.” Everyone head back to their seats as the plane lands. Not long after, they were all driving to the scene with half of everyone in two SUV’s. Rossi had called the rest of the team in the SUV behind him.

“Now please everyone remember, please, don’t touch anything at the scene without gloves, listen to whoever is supervising you, and most importantly, don’t and I repeat, don’t separate from the group. I don’t have to remind you that like a parent lecturing a 13 year old, but god forbid that something happens to one of you. I don’t want us to head back and leave someone behind, do you?”

“No sir.”

“Good. Now does anyone have any questions?”

Rossi saw as Reid raised his hand, only to pick on Garcia, who nervously lift her hand up.

“Yes Garcia?” “Uh…..professor? I don’t know how to put this but blood and guts and gore isn’t really my cup of decaf tea. Do you catch my drift?”

‘“I do.” “Oh okay, does tha-” “I still can’t let you sit this one out.”

“Oh, okay.” “But, I can assign you somewhere where you won’t have to analyze corpses.”

“That works for me.” “Good, anyone else?”

“No sir.”

“Alright is everyone ready? We’re almost there.”

The two vans drive off as they head to the police station. Once inside, they saw several policemen, along with a couple of men and women in business attire. Garcia cringed as she saw all the boring colors, hoping to god she didn’t have stuff like that while in the field. Everyone else, felt intimidated by the presence of business-looking like people approach them.

“They all look so serious.” Emily whispered to JJ and Elle.

Reid whispered to Hotch “Who are these guys?”

“I have no idea, but they mean business.” “You don’t think they’re lawyers or anything?” Matt asked.

“It’s possible.”

They froze as the same people approach them, only for them to smile and welcome the students with open arms.

“Hello students.” One of the men said. “Uh…...hi.” The teens reluctantly wave.

“Um, who are you, if I may ask?” Ashley asked.

“I’m Agent Phillip Branch, this is Agent Mark Powell and Agent Kiera Skye.”

“Ooo Agents. Are you guys from the FBI?”

“Yes miss we are. We’re here to help you guys and keep an eye you.” Agent Skye said.

“Is it just the three of you?” Matt asked.

“It’s been like this for three years.” Agent Powell laughed.

“Oh.” “Anyway, it’s nice to see you all. Though I’m sorry but we haven’t gotten any of your names.”

“Shouldn’t you guys already know who we are since you’re from the FBI?” Emily snarked, only to get elbowed by JJ and a couple of angry murmurs from the others, only for the three agents to chuckle in amusement.

“Oh no, but do you mind telling us your names please?” Asked Agent Branch.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll go first. I’m Emily……..Prentiss.” “I see. Well, it’s nice to know you, Miss Prentiss.” Branch then turned to the other students. “What about the rest of you?”

“I’m Jennifer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”

“Um, I’m Matthew Simmons. But you can just call me Matt.”

“Will do, Matt.” Branch responds.

“Hi, I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

“I’m uh Elle, Greenaway.” “Ashley…..Seaver.” “I’m a...a...Luke Alvez.”

“Tara Lewis.”

“Kate Callahan.”

“Hi there! I’m Penelope Garcia! Aka your bottle of constant sunshine!”

“Oh wow!” Branch and the other agents smiled as he turns to Rossi. “Quite the girl I see!”

“She is.” Rossi responds.

Branch then turns to Derek.

“I’m uh Derek Morgan.” “Nice to meet you Morgan.” “Thanks.” He then turns to Reid, who was rubbing his hands. “And you are?” “Oh, I-I’m, uh, Spencer Reid. But you can call me Reid.”

“Will do.”

“Okay, is that everyone?” Brach asked after he and his peers exchange greetings and handshakes to the teens.

“It looks like it.” Rossi responds.

“Alrighty then, down to business.”

The agents then escort the teens to a large room while Rossi chats with the Police chief.

The teens were surprised to see a large board filled with different writings, and photos, whom some resemble just like the ones Rossi gave them.

“I see that your professor gave you an insight on the case we’re currently working on.”

“Yes he has, we have theories.”

“Oh really? Tell us. It’s better than anything we have now.”

Just then, Kate elbows Elle in the back, knowing that she has a theory. When she turns, all Kate did was smile.

“Greenaway, it seems like you have something. Do you want to share it?” She chuckled lightly. “I don’t know.” “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll take any answer, there is no wrong or right in this.” Skye responds.

“Well, I did say that the suspect could possibly be a woman, given how the bodies were left.”

“So based on how the bodies were left and where they were left, what’s she saying?” Skye asked.

“Uh….” Elle rubbed her head. “I guess, that men were trash? It seems a bit too much, but that’s all I could think of.”

“Like Skye said they’re no right or wrongs in this. But that is good. So if this is a woman, who’s the man who hurt her?” Agent Branch asked facing the board.

“Maybe an ex of some sort? Like a jilted lover?” Tara asked.

“Or maybe a father figure or brother?” Reid asked.

“We should write this down.” Branch said

Emily goes for her notepad and pen and starts making notes.

If this woman is trying to get revenge on the man that hurt her, why hasn’t she gone after him?” Tara asked.

“Well Tara, if we go by Elle’s theory, we can assume that these two men are simply surrogates.” Skye responds.

“Surrogates?” “In some crimes, victims are not usually killed randomly. The suspect would use them a surrogates, to prepare for his or her endgame, the real target.”

“Is it too typical to say she’s a victim of sexual assault?” Asked Luke.

“No, not typical. It’s fine if you assume the obvious.”

“So these guys are pretty young.” Emily says.

“Yeah, what’s your point?” Asked Elle.

“Well wouldn’t that be a little to young for a father figure? My gut is saying that this her brother.”

“Well, there’s always the ex-lover.” Tara adds.

 Just then, an officer enters the room, whom Powell exits out just to speak to him. Not long after, he re enters the room.

“What is it Powell?” “Clark’s parents and Hail’s fiancee are here.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Oh goodness.” Matt says staring at Clark’s family.

“Uh, who’s going to talk to them?”

“Well, fortunately, your professor gave us this chart. Seeing that there’s twelve of you, and only three of us, that means we each get four of you.”

“So…..how does this work?” Ashley ask. “Which one of us gets to work with either of you?” “Hmm, let’s see….” Branch said, looking at the students. “Aaron, Emily, Matt and Luke. You’re with me. We’ll go to the first crime scene.” The four nod as Branch turns to the others.

“Derek, Elle, Kate and Ashley. You’re with Powell. You’ll head to the second crime scene.” “Which means, the rest of you, stay with me.” Agent Skye adds. “You all will be talking to the victims’ loved ones.”

“What do we say to his family?” Reid asked.

“I guess we’ll figure it out once we meet with them.”

“Okay.” “Well, that seems about it, any questions?” Branch asked, only to see no response. He then clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s roll out.”

[showingthroughtome]

Lemon Meringue

a story about pastries, panini’s, pasta, pie, and the boy who knew how to cook them.

a oneshot i wrote for allison for last years summer fic exchange that i dont have on my tumblr 

read below

Cooking was hard. So. Damn. Hard. A complex art only few could master.

Or at least that’s how Pearl saw it. At the age of 26, the only “meals” she could successfully make were a bowl of cereal, a warmed up pop tart, or a mixed salad with a generous amount of ranch dressing. Nearly every dish she tried to make that needed a fire to cook ended up charred black. She didn’t really mind it though. The General Tso’s chicken from Double Dragon was magnificent, and they delivered, eliminating the need to leave her one bedroom apartment and face the shame of entering the same establishment 3-6 nights a week.

Plus, being able to cook sounded scary - being able to function like a real-life grown-up sounded boring. And Pearl prided herself on not being boring. Sure she was nearing thirty and lived alone with her two puppies, but she also had a kick ass job, a job that left her with stories to tell at every party and jokes to make with every new encounter.

Five days a week, Pearl had the luxury of working at a flower shop. Maybe to some that didn’t seem like the most exciting thing in the world, but the particular flower shop she was head florist at was in the heart of London. Every kind of person imaginable walked through those doors requesting an arrangement to be made - ex lovers, adulterous husbands, secret admires, widows, widowers, proud parents, even the occasional love sick spouse. She saw them all, and knew all their little anecdotes.

Still, she had to admit that even though she could pair the perfect group of flowers to make a beautiful bouquet, she could never cook an egg just right - she’d either cook it too long and burn it to a crisp, or pull it off the heat too early and have it runnier than anyone would like. It was her biggest weakness - not being able to cook for herself.

And her family didn’t let her forget it. At every family gathering, when it was time to make their dinner, nearly everyone joined in at poking fun - her parents, her brothers and sisters, her aunts and uncles. All of a sudden, the family jokes centered on Pearl and her inadequacy.

“Oh no! Keep Pearl away from the stove! She might accidentally turn the burners on and get everything extra crispy.” They’d mock.

“Don’t let Pearl handle the ladle. I don’t know how, but I’m sure she’d ruin the entire meal.” They’d laugh.

It didn’t bother her much, not after it started happening at every holiday since she first attempted to make a meal. It was old news to her. No surprise rushed through her at the joking.

But what did shock Pearl was the gift her twin sister gave her that year for her birthday. Instead of the simple Complete Collection of Films starring Julia Roberts she so nicely requested, she got a plain envelope containing a slip of paper, on it held the details for a four session cooking class. At first glance, Pearl laughed and tried pushing the paper back into her sister’s hand. Her sister wasn’t having that, standing up and moving away, staring her down with a playful smirk. Pearl could just tell by the look in her eyes that it wasn’t a joke, that maybe her sister had expected her to “grow up” a little. Somehow, Pearl just knew she’d be going.

Every phone call they had for the three weeks leading up to the beginning of the Saturday cooking classes, Pearl tried to get her sister to say it was okay if she didn’t go. Her pleading only lead to a stronger case for the opposing argument.

That’s why, in the middle of July, Pearl was clutching a coffee in one hand and a rumpled envelope in another, pacing outside of a bakery. She didn’t think she needed the classes. She didn’t think she needed to put on an apron and learn how to make pasta or casseroles or bread. The only reason she was there was because her sister had paid for them, they were non-refundable, and maybe if she learned how to make a pie she wouldn’t have to spend so much money at restaurants for dessert.

—

It made sense that she was the last one to walk in. Why wouldn’t she be? She was the one who took time contemplating if she should even enter the building, looking in the glass door to see the people gathering, making her seven minutes late.

“Oh, hello!” A man with brown curly hair and wearing a red apron greeted as Pearl finally opened the door and a bell chimed. “Are you here for the class?”

“Ummm,” Pearl knew there was no going back after her answer. If she said yes, the next two hours of her life would be consumed by measurements and chopping and simmering and listening to some teacher tell her how to combine all of that to make a dish. But she didn’t know how to explain away her presence so she nodded, “Yeah.”

“Sick!” The man exclaimed. “Just find an empty counter and we’ll start.”

Pearl took note of the fellow students - three older ladies, probably in their late thirties/early forties, and two men, both well over fifty. Even in this company, they left one of the two front counters empty, leaving Pearl with no option other than to sit directly in front of the instructor and beside one of the ladies.

“Sorry I’m late.” She apologised to everyone while sliding onto the stool.

“No worries. I just finished in the back myself. I had a run in with a pesky soufflé that just wouldn’t go right.” The man, the instructor it seemed, patted down his apron and took a place at the front counter, the one facing the others.

From her spot, she finally had the chance to observe the man without having her staring seem weird. He looked young - younger than her for sure. As he organised his things, he almost looked nervous but at the same time he looked right, covered in flour and hair pulled up into a messy bun, clearly telling the truth about the cooking incident.

“Alright.” He clapped his hands, more to gather his thoughts than to grab everyone’s attention. “First I guess I’ll introduce myself and tell you a little about me.” He said, then looked around to make sure everyone was okay with that. Pearl saw a few nods out of her peripheral vision. “Okay then. I’m Harry Styles. I’ve just recently graduated culinary school and began working as assistant head baker here at Lilly’s Bakery. Lilly is a real nice lady.” Harry smiled, and Pearl couldn’t help but notice how nice it looked. It was the kind of genuine expression of feelings that not even a grump like her could pretend wasn’t special. And dammit if it didn’t have her feeling a little bit less hesitant. “I don’t know if we should go around and introduce ourselves one by one or just get right into the cooking. This is my first class so-”

“Normally that’s how it goes.” A lady from the back interrupted. “It’s polite to learn everyone’s name in the kitchen.”

“We’ll start with you at the front then.” Harry gestured to Pearl. Something about him was so carefree. Pearl had been around him for less than five minutes but still, some lady cut him off mid sentence and his beaming happiness stayed clear on his every feature the entire time.

“Hi. I’m Pearl.” She tried to sound excited. But, truth be told, she just wasn’t like Harry. She wasn’t unhappy per se, or had any problems with the people around her. She was simply at her baseline where friendliness was never her strongest skill.

“What do you do?” Harry was quick to ask, taking her blank gaze as a sign that he’d have to question her if he wanted to know more.

And because her job was where her pride resided, she had no problem lighting up. “I’m a florist.”

“That so cool.” He instantly responded. “I’ve never met a florist before.”

“Must not have been a very good boyfriend then.” She jokingly suggested, watching his eye squint a little at her insinuation. It was just a proven fact that good boyfriends or girlfriends get their loved ones flowers. It made the relationship that much sweeter.

He was opening his mouth to come back at her when Pearl’s neighbor spoke up. “Aw, he looks like quite the lovely young man.”

“I very much am.” Harry’s chest puffed out underneath the apron he wore like a badge of honor, like a Superman emblem was sewn front and center. “No one’s ever complained about my desserts before. They make excellent gifts.”

“Mhmm. Sure they do.” Pearl was sure. But not really. Because flowers trumped whatever kind of cake he could make any day, and she was willing to bet money. The emotion behind a well crafted bouquet held so much more than a few sugary treats.

After a small stare down, Pearl ended up cracking a smile, turning her gaze to look at the lady next to her so everyone would just move on.

Her name was Jill. She was a housewife who wanted to learn to be more technical in her cooking, to impress her family just that little bit more.

Maxine was a doctor who was nearly as quiet as Pearl.

Kathy was the one who had interrupted Harry earlier, but it turned out that she was also in the medical field, a first responder who loved to take classes when she had time off just for some normalcy. During Kathy’s introduction, Pearl couldn’t keep herself from turning her head in Harry’s direction, especially since she felt like she could feel his eyes on the back of her head. Though, she turned around to find him paying all his attention to Kathy.

Pearl played it cool, and didn’t look away from neither William nor Matthew as both men introduced themselves. They were actually good friends that were sent there by their wives so the ladies could have some alone time with the men out of their hair.

“I’ve kind of laid these classes out so that they are set up by the sequence of meals in a day.” Harry drawed everyone’s attention back to the front of the class, back to what they came to do. “As it goes, we’ll start with a breakfast favorite - croissants! And we’ll make them from scratch.”

The idea of learning how to make a light fluffy pastry that Pearl often loved to slather in butter didn’t sound too bad to her. Maybe even convenient. And Harry was already talking a mile a minute about the layers of dough and butter they’d be making and kneading then rolling out before she could even shrug in acceptance. Before she knew it, ingredients were being handed out and all six students were following along to Harry’s simple instructions.

First they were activating yeast with warm water, then adding just one cup of flour to that. All the science that Harry was explaining about what they were doing and what they would do, went right over Pearl’s head, probably everyone else’s too. But whenever he looked up from his mixing bowl, she smiled and nodded like she knew what was happening to the gluten.

Harry pulled out six pre made mixtures he had left sitting so they wouldn’t have to wait for the dough to rise in class, cutting down waiting time. Next they got to do the “fun stuff” - kneading the dough with their hands. Which probably would be a lot more fun if Pearl had remembered to take off her mood ring and kept it from getting embarrassingly covered in dough. Everyone around commented on her rookie mistake, even good ol’ Matthew in the back, who had probably never seen a ball of sticky dough before either laughed about what an “amateur move” it was. Harry reassured her it would all come out of the nooks and crannies of the flower design once it properly dried, holding back his smug grin at Pearl’s genuine frown.

Moving on to the next step of incorporating the big block of butter while rolling the dough in a square-folding method, Harry walked around to each person to offer up assurance. Apparently this was the most important step so that the croissants would end up having millions of layers and that distinctive lightness.

It had Pearl completely stumped. Every time she rolled out her dough, it just came rebounding back, not all the way but enough to aggravate her. And even more so that she had to keep doing it wrong since Harry came to her last.

“Why do you look so defeated?” Harry noted, approaching her counter and seeing her nearly slumping in her stool, half attempting to get the dough to stay.

“It won’t go right.” She dropped the rolling pin and huffed an exaggerated breath.

“That’s because you’re not putting in any effort.” Harry rounded her counter and stood by her side, grabbing her rolling pin and with one strong motion, the dough stuck - or more than it did for her. “You have to put a little muscle behind it.” He rolled again, elongating the dough before finally folding it over and turning it to start again, just like the recipe required. “Here! Try it with more force.” He handed her back the pin and encouraged her to stand up.

Pearl sighed and went for another go, using a little more of the strength she knew she had. Still it rolled back more than it was supposed to.

“Like this.” Harry spoke, and next thing she knew, he had both hands over hers, hip to hip with her, and rolling at her dough together. From an outsider’s perspective, she knew they looked like damn fools - straight out of a cheesy movie where the guy used this moment to lay a smooth pick up line on the leading female character. Something slightly off putting, but not so much that it kept the shiver from running up their spines.

The generic moment they were sharing didn’t stop her from letting him help her, and once she got it and the dough had clearly been rolled enough and Harry didn’t let up his grip, she had to turn away to hide her face because somehow she felt like she was blushing.

To redeem herself, she had to say something, anything to distract Harry from her quickened breath. “I didn’t see you doing this with Jill.”

“Jill is better at this than you.” Harry spoke evenly, right into her ear. It wasn’t a whisper but rather a mumble, smooth and confident. “They kind of all are.” He held on for a second more, then stepped away to catch her scorned expression.

“Hey!” She whined. “That’s not conducive to a learning environment.”

“Sorry, new teacher.” He placed a hand over his chest indicating he was talking about himself, leaving yet another flour handprint when he moved it away.

—

She couldn’t or wouldn’t dare tell her sister that she didn’t hate the class. It would give her too much satisfaction. So when her sister called that night, she shrugged and said, “I didn’t burn the croissants.”

—

That whole not-burning-things didn’t last long, not even through the very next class. In her defense, Pearl got all the way to the end before she completely and utterly turned her panini into a lump of charcoal. She wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the text message she got from her sister, or maybe it was the distracting force that was Harry chopping vegetables up with the other ladies. They were all going for healthy while Pearl threw some chicken she successfully cooked and a handful of shredded cheese on two slices of bread.

Harry was being charming, shamelessly flirting with the ladies, making them laugh and gleam with a certain aura older women always got around young men. Anyone would’ve been distracted by the scene… Well, apparently not Matthew or William, because while they produced two beautiful, edible dishes, a stench wafted through the room. Pearl automatically knew the burnt smell was her doing without even lifting the press. She unplugged it and gave up.

“Awww, honey.” Kathy sympathised, placing her knife down and walking over to Pearl. “Come join us.” She grabbed for her wrist. “We’ll start over.”

Pearl shuffled to the guidance of the wise woman and avoided eye contact with everyone.

“I personally hate these presses.” Harry randomly spoke up without moving from his task at hand. “They’re a bit temperamental so they can really mess you up.”

The ladies nodded, probably also trying to make Pearl feel alright about what happened, and began discussing how all these new appliances were trying to out do a simple pot and pan - the backbone to cooking in their opinion. Harry agreed wholeheartedly. Pearl slowly began to help put her second attempt together.

And that one turned out better, completely edible. Though, that was probably due to Harry’s constant vigilance that he tried to hide from across the counter. Pearl didn’t fail to notice how he was the one to lift it at just the right moment, prompting Pearl to turn it off and scrape the panini from the hot plate.

“You need some help cleaning that one up?” Kathy offered her assistance to Pearl as everyone was filing out of the small bakery, motioning towards the poor, burnt panini press.

“No, thanks.” Pearl stood up and slide her phone into her back pocket. “I was just waiting for everyone else to finish up since I figured it would take a little extra elbow grease.”

Kathy nodded. “I spotted a Brillo pad back there. Take that to the burnt cheese and it’ll lift right off.”

Pearl took that in as she finally peeled the press open to see it completely covered in blackened cheese. She smiled and began her walk to the sink, waving goodbye to the last lady.

She was elbow deep in soapy water, scrubbing the metal, cursing the world when she heard someone approaching. She knew who it was just by the chuckle she heard.

“Ha ha ha. Pearl can’t cook. I get it.” She knew she was being self deprecating. She knew she was feeling sorry for herself. But it was better she got it out so Harry’s teasing would just seem redundant.

“You just lose attention easily, I think.” Harry made his way next to her, leaning a hip on the counter and staring her down. The stare wasn’t intimidating, or creepy, but there was something behind it. Like he was studying her, perhaps.

And since Pearl wasn’t one to turn away from anything, hence the cooking class she was attending even though she hated the art, she stared back and slowly replied, “Ya think?”

Harry’s eyes dropped a little to her lips, lingering for a second too long, watching the smirk slide onto them.

“Need help?” He coughed, and looked away to the soapy water.

“Wouldn’t want you to work too hard.” She teased, turning away from him. Pearl was proud of herself for the obvious effect she had on the young man. She knew she was beautiful - not in a cocky way or in a way that left her using it as a weapon, but in a way that allowed her to run around this world confidently and with a poise attitude. And if that let her trip up a cute boy or two, she didn’t mind, not really.

“Okay.” Harry sounded taken aback, as if the fact that she stared at him in that way and then didn’t fall weak at the knees was completely bizarre. He hopped on the counter next to her, and even though it was a little clumsy, he spoke with a smirk in his voice. “I’ll stay right here and admire the view then.”

Pearl rolled her eyes and kept scrapping at the pan with her metal sponge, blowing at her wispy hair when it fell in her way.

Slowly she was getting it clean. After about 10 minutes, and minimal comments from Harry, she was drying it off and wishing to never see it again.

“But you’re learning a lot from my class, right?” Harry concluded as he followed Pearl to the exit, needing to close up shop once everyone was gone.

“Oh tons.” Pearl stopped near the register so she could face him. One thing about Pearl was that if she was going to take a jab at someone, she preferred it said to their face. “Like how to burn something like a panini in a panini press. Or how to clean said press after.”

Harry shook his head. “Again, it’s your attention span, not my lessons.”

“Maybe I’m just in a distracting environment.”

Pearl raised her hands to gesture towards the bright pink walls with tiny little cupcakes on them, or the displays of cakes towards the storefront. Harry got another idea though, puffing his chest out just that much more, biting his bottom lip to suppress (or possibly highlight) his grin.

“I do look good in an apron, don’t I?” He patted down his body, covered by the red, messy apron, so sure in his flirtation that Pearl almost felt herself enjoy it. She definitely liked flirting, that wasn’t in the question. She just didn’t like to be the one to get flustered first and grin like an idiot.

“Eh, I don’t think it was the apron.” Pearl contested.

“Yeah, but it was me so it’s still a win on my part.”

Pearl rolled her eyes while shaking her head, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“How could I not be flattered when someone like you almost destroys an appliance because of my apron?”

Pearl didn’t know much about Harry, but she was starting to grasp bits and pieces of who he was.

“You’re a dick, you know that?” Pearl was tempted to crush his foot with the heel of her boot for insinuating such false things.

“Next class I’ll make it up to you.” Harry leaned in closer and attempted to charm, seeing himself as being on a roll. “I won’t give the other ladies any attention just so you won’t overcook your spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti?” Pearl perked up. Halfway because she loves pasta. Halfway because of the change of topic.

“We’re doing a classic spaghetti and meatball.”

“I don’t hate the idea.” She stepped one step closer to the door.

“Yes! Point for Harry!” He exclaimed, fist in the air.

And with that, she’s out the door, trying to shake the flutters the dorky, cocky, flirty boy gave her.

—

At work that following Monday, she arranged six bouquets for varying funerals, three to be sent off to a hospital, and one with a note that said “if you could just love me again, everything else would fall into place”.

The only saving grace of such a sullen work day was the fact she had packed her own lunch - a panini with chicken and tomato.

—

The spaghetti was boiling, and everything was going fine. For once, Pearl didn’t feel on constant high alert near a pot of roaring water. She was able to be like everyone else and listen to Harry’s instructions on how to shape the meatballs just right without having to keep one eye on the pasta.

She was feeling confident. All she had to do was cook the meatballs - making sure they weren’t too raw, or too well-done. Then she’d place them on top of the noodles she strained, and cover it all with the sauce she had already made. She wasn’t sure, because maybe it was all a fluke, but she figured it didn’t taste too bad.

So the pressure was really on to cook the meatballs just right. She was just staring at them - or through them into another realm where cooking wasn’t like learning trigonometry - when Harry approached her.

“You ready to cook those or are you still trying to win this staring contest?” He grinned when Pearl broke her concentration to glare daggers at him. “Op, you lose!”

Add that to the list of things Pearl was discovering Harry was: goofy, always trying to get a laugh, cheeky more often than not.

She rolled her eyes, because what else could she do at the boys brightness, and tried a pleading smile of her own.“Ehhhh, see, I’m thinking maybe you can cook them for me?”

“And why would I do that?” Harry looked shocked at her offer, as if it wasn’t obvious that she killed all the food she touched, as if he couldn’t see the hesitance in her eyes.

“Um, maybe so I won’t burn them and ruin all the hard work I’ve put in for the day?” The slip of that honest question made Pearl realised her front - the one that said I don’t give a fuck about this class - was actually just a front. Somewhere along the way, she started to care if she could actually be able to replicate any of this in the real world, away from all the other students and the young teacher who was better than his years should’ve allowed.

Harry kind of seemed fed up with her self deprecating ways. He was there to see her burn a glorified cheese toastie, but that didn’t cause him to lose faith in her, causing him to sigh and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That’s not going to happen, Pearl.”

“How do you know?” She genuinely wanted to know.

“Because you’re going to focus on what you’re doing.” He let his hand drop from her. “And if not, I’ll be here to turn the fryer off before they crisp up.”

Pearl exhaled a large breath, then turned the pan on, waiting for the oil to heat up just enough. It started to hardly crackle, and one look at Harry assured her it was time to place the meat in the pan. She watched diligently, not looking away when she wanted to, when Maxine and Jill were making jokes or when Matthew and Kathy complimented each other’s dishes. She stood and watched, turning the meatballs when the underside browned.

About five minutes later, she pulled them off the fire. They looked done, though she could cut into them and find the insides still raw and be completely disappointed in herself.

“What do you think?” She held the pan out to Harry. He kept his hands still behind his back, not saying a word but giving a reassuring head nod. “Alright? Cat got your tongue?” Pearl teased as she turned back to the noodles.

With great finesse, she placed a tongs-worth of pasta onto the plate, then the meatballs, then a generous ladle full of robust tomato sauce. Finally, now that she could, she looked around the room to see everyone else done and enjoying their food. It felt good to be done too, even if she took longer than everyone else. This crowd didn’t really care about that kind of thing anyway, too busy talking about the 80’s or like, the Great Depression or something.

“Well then?” Harry nudged her elbow with his own, gesturing with his eyes to the spaghetti and meatballs.

“Alright, alright.” She picked up the fork, going straight in, cutting a meatball in half to find the inside wasn’t still pink, but browned all the way through. Placing a bite inside her mouth, with equal parts of all the components, it wasn’t an unenjoyable experience. Dare she say, it was even good.

“Shit.” Pearl let out once her mouth was no longer full. “That isn’t half bad. Taste it?” With excitement, she handed off her fork to Harry.

He took no pause in eating some, nodding along as he chewed. “Not half bad at all, Pearl.”

At that point she just couldn’t help it, too giggly and impressed with herself to hold in the squeal that was destined to be released. And then, out of fucking nowhere, she was wrapping her arms around Harry’s shoulders for a celebratory hug. Harry was quick to respond, laughing so pleasantly and holding her middle tight, barely lifting her feet from the ground.

Off to the side, where the other students sat, loud clapping and whistling sounded. Pearl backed out of Harry’s arms, her grin not leaving even if she felt like it should’ve. Pearl wasn’t one to feel shame - not for successfully cooking something and definitely not for hugging someone when she wanted to.

And if the rosey cheeks and dimples Harry was sporting was any indication, he wasn’t one to feel it either.

—

“Where is everyone?” Pearl questioned, entering the bakery that was completely empty except for Harry, who was sitting on his stool, going through what looked to be a recipe book.

He looked up and smiled. “The guys rescheduled for next weekend, Maxine got called in for work, Jill had to take her son somewhere, and Kathy got sick. They’ve been calling throughout the week and dropping like flies.” Something about his face read disappointment, but then a shrug of the shoulders washed that away.

“Aw, that’s sad.” Pearl puffed her lip out, thinking about the four older, lovely people she had grown a distant but unique bond with over the last month. “I won’t see them again.”

“I’m sure you will. The next time you take one of my classes will be a perfect time.” Harry closed his book and rounded the counter, standing next to Pearl.

Pearl shook her head. “I’m not so sure there will be a next time.”

“Is that right?” Harry faked offense, to which Pearl nodded with a straight face. “Well I think you’ll change your mind after today.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Pie.” He said, lifting up a pie pan in one hand and a rolling pin in the other.

And that was something she could get behind, definitely one of the main reasons she convinced herself to go to this class in the first place. She couldn’t keep a bland expression at the concept of her being able to make her favorite kind of dessert. When he told her what kind they’d be making, she tried to pretend she wasn’t jumping for joy on the inside.

Side by side, Harry talked her through each step of the pie making process. They started with a crust, mixing the ingredients slowly as to not make it too crumbly. Once it was just combined, Harry urged her to use her hands to flatten the dough before rolling it out. This time she didn’t need Harry to cheekily wrap his arms around her so it would go right, it just did on it’s own. With much care, she carefully put the pie crust into the pan and into the oven to bake it while they made the filling.

That part was a little more complicated. It required heating lemon juice, zest, dry ingredients, and water in a saucepan until it boiled. Once it did, she had to “temper” the eggs and pour them into the mixture. After a little bit, it thickened and Harry made sure she pulled it off of the heat. She poured that into the crust Harry had removed from the oven, and then all that was left was making the meringue.

That required whipping four eggs until they became foamy. Harry kept warning her to get the “peaks” just right so they would brown in the oven. She kept telling him to do it himself if peaks were so important to him. He didn’t, and shut up as she kept whipping.

Before she even realised it, Pearl’s first pie was browning in the oven and they were cleaning up the mess. Together, it didn’t take too long.

The pie was done quicker than she had assumed it would take. And Harry was cutting slices out of her first lemon meringue.

Again, that anxiety of it tasting awful washed over her, but after one bite, she had to pat herself on the back. Sure it wasn’t the best pie this world had ever seen, but she was impressed. And just like before, Harry did a slow nod after taking a bite, probably something he learned from his teachers at culinary school.

“Well, the meringue could’ve been stiffer.” Harry judged through his bite of pie. “Other than that, not bad.”

Pearl caught the innuendo, even if it wasn’t meant to be one.

“Oh, the peaks weren’t stiff enough for you?” Pearl questioned from the other side of the counter, watching the boys eyes lower to pie that sat between them.

“Not quite.” He barely moved his head left to right.

“Do you flirt with everyone you teach?” She let her hips rest against the bench of the counter, not being able to resist the look in her cooking instructors eyes - something that said he couldn’t resist the look in hers.

“I try, but the other ladies weren’t as receptive.”

“I’m not receptive.”

“Then why are you leaning in?” He moved his eyes down her body, her body that was nearly bent over to be closer to him even though the counter was in the way.

Pearl coughed and backed off, noticing that maybe she was being a little too forward, that maybe she wasn’t thinking everything through. “You’re a little too young for me, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Harry backed up too, but just to walk around the counter and get even closer than before, and with nothing obstructing his path this time. “There is no way you’re that much older.”

Pearl rested her hand on one hip. She wasn’t for sure they had a huge age difference, but she knew she had a few years on him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.” He said without taking a beat.

“I’m an entire high school experience older than you.” Pearl exclaimed. Four years didn’t seem so much to her, not really, but normally boys younger than her didn’t even appear on her radar and here she was fixated on the rough red lips of this one.

“Oh god, four years.” Harry placed one hand over his mouth, acting like he said a curse of some sort and regretted it dearly. “Should I call life alert now?”

And then Pearl was laughing, fed up with his smart mouth, but simultaneously enjoying the way it looked when he cracked some dumb joke.

“Shut up.” She demanded, pushing him away by the shoulder.

“No seriously, I wouldn’t want you to break a hip and not be able to get help.” He recovered lost ground, inching closer and joking all the while. “Maybe we should look up those automatic chairs that can ride you up a flight of stairs. Do you have stairs in your flat?” Pearl wouldn’t dignify that with a response. “But seriously, Pearl.” Harry shook his curls. “Four years is nothing at our age.”

“I don’t know.” Pearl pretended to think it over. Really, she kind of made her mind up when he started bringing up her hips. “I’m quite the cougar, aren’t I?”

“I’m not opposed.” Harry took a step.

Pearl grabbed at the sides of his apron, holding them just to have something in her hands. “I bet you are, culinary master.”

“I’m glad Jill isn’t here to hear you talk so dirty.” He murmured with a playful grin.

“The sad thing is, that probably is dirty talk to you.” Pearl kept her volume low, matching his as they moved just that much closer, now so close they could almost taste the pie on each other’s lips.

Harry shrugged, unashamed for who he was, licking his lips like a tease. Pearl couldn’t hold it back any longer, the curiosity too intense to play this game. She slotted their lips together in one quick movement.

Harry tasted just like she imagined - sugary and tangy, equaling out to be just right. It was intoxicating in every sense of the word, making her feel so high she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Good for her, Harry didn’t seem to want to slow down any more than she did, sliding his tongue slowly into her mouth when she let her lips part invitingly, sliding his hands underneath the bottom of her shirt to better grip her hips.

Pearl took that as a sign for wanted closeness so she pushed her body flush against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. A moan escaped her involuntarily when Harry hooked her knee around his body and sat her on the flour covered bench. That action alone was enough to drive her crazy, making her yearn for a taste of every part of Harry’s skin.

She was nipping at his collarbone, untying his apron - the damned thing that could only look so good on a beautiful boy like him, when Harry stopped her hands. “Maybe we should… cool it?”

“Cool it?” She whispered out between warm bites.

“Yeah. Sex at the place that I work and the counter I make cupcakes on isn’t quite up to health code.” That fact looked physically painful leaving Harry’s reddened mouth.

As much Pearl didn’t really want to stop, she knew they had to, or at least for now.

“So then where would it be acceptable, culinary master?” Pearl smirked, hopping off the counter and skimming her hands up his torso, then around his waist, retying his apron so he could retain that last little bit of professionalism.

He tangled their fingers together and whispered, “Follow me.”