#rushacey fic

[abovethemists]

The Worst That Could Happen - Chapter 5

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Summary: Nicholas Rush has been told to lighten up or face repercussions in his professional career. Lacey French is in desperate need of a wedding date. A blind date provides them both with an opportunity. From the prompt “Rushacey blind date”. 

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

In the end, Rush took a half-day on Thursday, heading north on the I-95 around two in the afternoon. It was just under a four hour drive to Storybrooke, most of the way straight highway. He only had to look at directions on his phone once he exited, taking a twisting forest path through dense green trees. After twenty minutes he was worried he was lost, certain there was no town up ahead, only more greenery. But, before he could fret too much, he saw a sign to the side of the road. “Welcome to Storybrooke”.  

The forest finally gave way to small wood framed houses, increasing in frequency as he approached the center of town. It was late afternoon and the sun was starting to set, casting white clapboard and red brick in shades of gold. The houses soon started to be joined by businesses, a fishing supply store here and a convenience store there. Soon he had turned on to Main Street, a quaint little downtown that looked plucked from another era entirely. Main Street seemed to lead down to a wide bay dotted by boats in the harbor, their colorful flags fluttering in the evening breeze.

It was a far cry from Boston, even further from Berkley, Glasgow, anywhere he’d ever lived. It was like something from a story where a plucky female detective investigated murders that rocked the small, closed community.

Rush shook his head. What was supposed to be so great about small towns anyway? No wonder Lacey hadn’t expanded her business. She needed to be somewhere with clients if she wanted to design clothing.

Lacey had given him an address for where to meet her and he’d assumed it was her home. That soon proved incorrect as he turned off Main Street to find 910 Maple.

He stopped the car, parking on the curb and climbing out to look around. Rather than the house or apartment building he’d been expecting, he was faced with a two-story shingle style cottage, its gray paint starting to fleck away in places. Hanging above the small porch was a wooden sign bearing the name Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. He’d noticed a Granny’s Diner on Main Street and the two businesses seemed to back into each other, connected by a late addition to the original buildings.

Rush sighed, walking around to the trunk of his car and pulling out his suitcase. Well, it was Gold’s, in actual fact. He hadn’t owned anything he could hang his borrowed suits in and Gold had insisted his beloved clothing make the trip in style. He hoisted the garment bag over his shoulder and slammed the trunk shut, shuffling up the cement steps that led from the curb up to the B&B.

So Lacey had booked him a room, he supposed. It was just as well, considering he and Lacey barely knew each other. She’d hardly want a strange man sleeping on her sofa no matter how harmless he seemed.

The entrance to the inn was small and slightly musty. He couldn’t imagine there was much use for a hotel in a town as small as Storybrooke, but he’d expect there to be other guests with a wedding in town. From what he’d gathered, the bride was far from local.  

There was a small desk nestled under the stairs, a row of recessed key cubbies set into the wall beside it, each bearing a key attached to a shiny brass fob. Rush wasn’t sure he’d ever stayed at a hotel with an actual key rather than a plastic card.

The desk was currently empty and the little bell set atop it made barely a sound when he tapped it, certainly not enough to summon anyone to his aid.

Rush stepped away from the desk, looking around and straining his ears for any sign of life. Perhaps the eponymous Granny was busy in her diner.  

He thought he could just make out a mumbling of voices proving he wasn’t alone in the inn when it was punctuated by a loud laugh, well a guffaw really, and he immediately recognized it as Lacey’s. He wasn’t sure how he could recognize the laugh of a woman he’d only known for two short weeks, but he could picture her accompanying smile, her head thrown back, eyes filled with mirth. Rush smiled in spite of himself, following the sound down the hall and into a cozy lounge.

Lacey was seated on a red damask sofa, sagging a little in the middle from use. She had a china tea cup balanced on her knee and a wide smile on her face. Across from her in a high wingback chair was a plump old woman with a graying bun piled up on her head. She had a pair of bifocals hanging around her neck and a thick khaki cardigan wrapped around herself for warmth.  Granny, he presumed.

“And speak of the devil, here he is!” Lacey cried, motioning at Rush with both arms spread wide, her tea nearly sloshing out of its cup. “You made it!”

“Uh, I did,” he said, dumbly, nervous as always when faced with Lacey’s full attention. She was smiling at him as if she was genuinely happy to see him and though he knew it was most likely an act, he couldn’t quite stop his own smile at the sight of her.

“So you’re the one who swept in and stole our Lacey,” the old woman said, leveling him with a hard look. Rush turned to face her.

“I haven’t stolen anything,” he returned. “I’m just here for as long as Lacey will have me.”

Granny regarded him for a long moment, before giving a curt nod and standing up.

“Let’s get you checked in, shall we?”

It was the work of moments to get Rush checked in, one of those shiny brass key fobs in hand, even with Granny leveling mild threats at him if he treated Lacey badly.

“She’s mildly terrifying,” Rush said once they were headed up the stairs and out of ear shot.

“Who, Granny?” Lacey asked. Without waiting for an answer she gave a flippant wave of her hand. “She’s harmless. Unless you insult her cooking, that is.”

“Is she your grandmother?”

“No,” Lacey said with a shrug. “Everyone just calls her that since she runs Granny’s Inn and Diner. I don’t think she was the original Granny though. It may have been her mother? Or grandmother? I don’t know. She’s my friend Ruby’s biological grandmother but she fills the role for most people in town. Ruby’s mum split when she was six and Granny raised her. Me and Belle’s mum died when we were 13 and she kind of took it upon herself to mother us too.”

“I didn’t realize you lost your mother so young,” he said. “That must have been difficult.”

“Oh,” Lacey said with a shrug. “I mean sure, it sucked, but it is what it is, right? And we still have dad.”

The last was said with a little eye roll that belied her words. Rush could well understand complicated feelings about fathers.  

“And here we are,” Lacey said once they’d reached the end of the upstairs hallway, motioning at the door with a brass number 3 on it. Rush used his key to unlock the door, having to force it slightly with the side of his foot.

The room was small but clean, a little too floral for his tastes. There was a double bed in the middle of the room, a small antique desk beneath the window that looked out toward the forest, and an armchair in the corner next to a lace doily covered rickety side table with a rotary phone on top.

But the thing that most arrested Rush’s attention was the presence of a small duffle bag sitting in the middle of the bed.

“I think Granny gave me the wrong room,” he said, turning to Lacey as she followed him inside.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, stepping around him to throw herself bodily onto the bed, the springs creaking loudly beneath even her slight weight.

He motioned to the suitcase next to where Lacey was sprawled across the bed.

Lacey followed his gaze.

“Oh, that’s mine.”

Rush blinked.

“What?”

Lacey pushed herself up on the heels of her hands, giving him a look like he was somehow stupid. Rush was not stupid.

“It’s our room,” she said slowly.

“Why are we sharing a room?” he returned, just as slowly.

Lacey shrugged. “Because we’re dating, silly. It’d be weird if we didn’t sleep together.”

“I apologize,” Rush said with a little shake of his head. “But I’m a little confused. I assumed I was staying here at the inn because having a strange man in your home was an issue. Why are we both staying here?”

“Oh!” Lacey exclaimed, sitting forward. “Sorry. I figured you didn’t want to stay at my dad’s place. That’d be…awkward.”

“You don’t have your own place?” he asked, before realizing how that sounded. “Sorry, no judgment. I’ve heard it’s hard out there for…millenials.”

Lacey snorted a laugh and Rush winced at how terribly old he must sound. 

“No, I had my own apartment,” Lacey said with a nod. “But I’m back with my dad for a bit. Once Will left town I couldn’t afford rent by myself so…” she trailed off.

“You lived together?” he asked. It seemed every time he got more of a glimpse of Lacey’s previous relationship, the more involved it was.

“Yeah, well we were together almost four years. At some point you move in together or you split up.”

“F--four years?” he stuttered out. “You never told me that.”

Lacey blinked.

“Look, Lacey, I need to know what I’m getting into here. You and Will were together for four years? You lived together for some of that time? What, were you ever engaged?”

“No!” Lacey exclaimed. “It was never that serious.”

“Four years and a shared apartment isn’t serious?”

“We were never gonna get married,” she countered. “It was fun and easy, but not earth shattering. We were…glorified roommates. With benefits. Not even great benefits, in case you were wondering.”

He wasn’t.  

“Regardless,” Rush continued. “You were together a long time and now, only a few months after your split, you’re attending his wedding. Have you thought this through?”

“Yes!” Lacey exclaimed, hopping up from the bed, the creaky springs bouncing wildly. “Yes, we were together for a while. Yes, he dumped me. Yes, he’s getting married to someone else in an infuriatingly short time span. But I don’t love the guy, okay? If I ever did, those feelings ended long ago, before the relationship did. Right now what I need is a nice, stable boyfriend so I don’t look pathetic and Ana doesn’t get weirdly jealous and decide not to wear my dress last minute. If you don’t feel comfortable with that, well, you can go.”

She pointed to the door of the room, her chest heaving and blue eyes flashing.

“I just want to know what I’m getting into,” he repeated.

Lacey took a deep breath, her arm dropping to her side.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a little nod. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just so fucking tired of people asking me if I’m okay. I’m great.”

“Okay,” he said, unconvinced. He crossed the room to where a small wardrobe stood, and hung up his garment bag inside. “What now?”

Lacey gave him a big smile. “Free booze and crab cakes, baby. Who doesn’t love a wedding? We’re gonna have a blast.”

Rush just grunted in response. He’d never been keen on weddings, but at least there’d be an open bar.

“Oh shit,” Lacey said, glancing down at her watch. “I need to get dressed for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” Rush asked.

Lacey’s eyes widened.

“Did I forget to tell you? There’s a little party at the diner for the out of town guests.”

“You told me about the rehearsal dinner and you told me about the wedding, that’s all I packed for. I didn’t bring any extra clothes,” Rush said, glancing down at his jeans.

“What you’re wearing is fine,” Lacey assured him. “It’s just Granny’s. It’s a diner.”

“Then why are you changing?” he asked with a pointed look at her leggings and sweater.

“Because I’m a fashion designer,” Lacey crooned. “And people expect me to make a spectacle of myself. I’ll just be a minute!”

She grabbed her bag off the bed, heading into the en suite bathroom and Rush sat back against the rickety bed, the mattress groaning beneath his weight. He tested it a bit, bouncing himself up and down.

It was a good thing he and Lacey weren’t an actual couple. If they tried to get up to anything on this bed, the whole bloody town would know.

It took Lacey twenty minutes in the bathroom with her makeup bag to be ready for the evening’s events. Her dress was store bought, but heavily altered. A fitted black mini dress, she’d opened up the back, using ribbon to criss cross across her back and ending in a bow right above her backside. Paired with her signature heels, it was, perhaps, a little dressy for the gathering at Granny’s. But then again, Lacey had never shied from attention of any sort. Everyone would be looking at the happy couple in any case. 

Her stomach churned at the thought, and Lacey squashed down the feeling, smiling at herself in the bathroom mirror instead. There, that was almost how she usually looked. 

When she came back out to the bedroom, Rush was seated on the bed, scrolling on his phone. He’d changed his shirt, she noticed. The rumpled blue one he’d been wearing was replaced with a crisp white button down that stood out beautifully against his tanned skin. He looked up at her as she entered, stuffing his phone into his jeans pocket. 

“Wow,” he said, his eyes widening slightly. Lacey smiled, pleased by his reaction. 

“Not too much?” she asked, twirling to show off the back of the dress she’d worked so hard on. 

Rush stood up from the bed, grabbing the brown suede blazer beside him and shrugging it on. 

“You, um,” he cleared his throat. “You look nice.” 

“Oh Nick, you’ll make me blush,” she said with a wink at him. He shuffled awkwardly, glancing away from her, and Lacey took pity on him. 

“Come on,” she said, grabbing him by the elbow and steering him out the door of their rented room. “Adventure awaits!” 

Granny’s Diner was, predictably, packed, and Lacey could feel Rush tense up beside her as she opened the door, laughter and the smell of sizzling meat spilling out into the chilly evening. She looped her arm through his, trying to feel confident enough for the both of them.

She whispered names and tidbits of information to Nick as they maneuvered their way through the crowd. 

“That tall one with the red streaks in her hair is Ruby,” she whispered into his ear while feigning a flirtatious moment. “Granny’s granddaughter and my oldest friend. The blonde next to her is Ashley. Don’t get stuck in a conversation with her unless you want to be bored to death.” 

“Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled back. 

“Oh, and here comes the bride,” she intoned, stepping back from Nick to welcome the approaching Anastasia. 

“Lacey!” Ana called, her voice a little too loud. There’d been a lot of that in the last week, smiles just a little too wide, excitement just a little on edge. Lacey could have excused it as pre wedding jitters if she didn’t know the truth. Ana was trying desperately to be okay with her presence.

“Hi, Ana,” she said, before being pulled into an awkward hug. She patted the taller woman’s back twice before stepping away. “You look beautiful, as always.”

Ana glanced down at her cream colored shift dress. It was chic and simple but rather than looking plain, Ana sparkled in comparison.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of Lacey’s hand. Her eyes slid across to Nick and she gave him one of those overly sincere smiles. “And you must be the professor!”

“And you’re Mary Anne?” he joked. Lacey snorted.

Ana looked confused. “No, I’m Anastasia,” she said, pumping Nick’s hand for all he was worth. “The bride. I’m marrying Will, I believe you’ve met.”

She gestured over her shoulder to where Will was chatting with a few of his mates.

“Of course,” Nick said smoothly. “My apologies.”

“Oh no,” Ana said with a wave of her hand. “I’m so glad you could make it. Please come in, eat something, have a drink. This weekend is all about me, but tonight is about you, the guests!”

“Oh, thank you,” Nick said, looking slightly startled, as though he was staring into the sun and having a hard time not looking away.  

“Ana!” someone called from behind them and she grabbed both their hands. “Excuse me,” she said with a brilliant smile and then swanned away with a slight wave in their direction.

“Wow, she is…”

“Gorgeous?” Lacey interrupted, interpreting Nick’s thoughts. Every head in the room swiveled to follow Anastasia. She didn’t have to dress in over the top frocks or towering heels to get attention. She was one of those rare creatures who entered a room and immediately commanded it. Of course Nick had noticed. He wasn’t blind. She wasn’t sure why it annoyed her so much. 

Nick looked down at her. “I was going to say chipper,” Rush said with a wry twist of his lips. “Do you think if she keeps smiling like that her face will get stuck?” 

Lacey let out a startled laugh, squeezing Rush’s arm before steering him toward a friendlier face. 

Ruby was leaning back against the diner counter with a glass of champagne in one hand and a bored expression on her face that split into a relieved smile when she spotted Lacey. 

“Oh thank God you’re finally here,” Ruby said, pulling Lacey into a side hug. “I’m supposed to be a guest at this thing but Granny keeps making me hand out hors d'oeuvres. Let’s grab a bottle of champagne and split.” 

“No can do,” Lacey said, grabbing Rush’s hand and pulling him to her side. 

“Nick, this is my friend Ruby, Rubes, this is Dr. Nicholas Rush. My boyfriend.”

“Pleasure,” Ruby said, holding a red nailed hand to shake his. Her eyes cut across at Lacey, her eyebrows raised in a question.

“Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Rush said, drawing her attention back to him. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting any of Lacey’s friends yet.”

“Oh really?” Ruby asked. “I didn’t even realize Lacey was dating anyone.”

“It’s still a new thing,” Rush said with a shrug. “And you know Lacey, doesn’t want to make a big thing of it.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said, unconvinced. “Lacey is so understated.” 

Lacey grinned widely, wrapping her arms around Rush and leaning her head against his shoulder. 

“I just wanted to keep him all to myself for a bit.” 

“Oh, hey, Lacey,” came a voice from beside them. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.” 

Lacey spun to see Ashley Boyd, holding a tray of beef and caramelized onion canapés. She grabbed one, stuffing it into her mouth and speaking around it. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Ashley’s eyes darted to where Will was standing and back to Lacey. 

“Well…” she began. 

“This is my boyfriend,” Lacey cut across her. “Nick Rush.” 

“Oh,” Ashley said, looking at Rush with startled blue eyes. “Hello.” 

Nick graciously shook her hand. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Ashley asked, setting the tray of canapés down on the counter next to Ruby.

“Nick works with Mr. Gold at the University,” Lacey supplied. “Gold and Belle set us up on a blind date about three months ago and, well, fireworks.” 

“Oh I don’t think there were any fireworks on your side, sweetheart,” Rush said self-deprecatingly. “But I was certainly awestruck to be on a date with you. Still not sure how I got so lucky.”

Lacey could feel herself blushing at the compliment and worked with it, giving him a soppy little smile.  

“That’s so sweet!” Ashley said, before Granny barked at her from behind the bar to pass the canapés again. 

“Excuse me, guys, work calls.” 

Ruby took a long sip of her champagne, her eyes never leaving Lacey as though she was trying to read her mind.  

“Hey, Lace, can I talk to you for a minute?” Ruby asked, her smile strained. “Alone? Excuse us, Dr. Nicholas Rush.” 

Ruby grabbed her hand, lugging her toward the back of the diner by the jukebox. 

 “What are you doing?” Lacey asked. 

“Who the hell is that guy?” Ruby returned, motioning toward Rush.

“Dr. Nicholas Rush,” Lacey said with a shrug. “My boyfriend.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes.

“You said you’ve been dating him for three months,” Ruby pointed out. “So how come I distinctly remember you telling me about a one night stand you had with some twenty-two year old three weeks ago?”

Lacey swallowed, buying herself a moment.

“We weren’t exclusive then,” she said.

“Oh bullshit,” Ruby cried. “Where did you find that guy?”

“I told you, he’s friends with Gold,” Lacey said truthfully. “Belle set us up.”

“You’ve never dated an older guy before.”

“Well I’m twenty-eight years old,” Lacey pointed out. “Maybe I’m sick of slumming it with pathetic boys. Maybe I want a real man for once. It seems to be working out for Belle.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “And the two of you have been known to want the same things,” she said, sarcastically.

At Lacey’s silence, Ruby gave an exaggerated huff.

“Fine. He’s your boyfriend,” she said, making air quotes around the word. “I’ll go along with it if it’s what you need right now. But you do owe me an explanation at some point.”  

“Can’t wait,” she deadpanned at Ruby’s retreating back. 

She stood there for a moment, feeling like she’d been knocked off her groove. She hadn’t expected anyone to see through her ruse quite so quickly. She knew Ruby wouldn’t tell anyone or try to embarrass her, but the more people who knew her secret, the higher the chance she’d end up looking like an idiot. 

At least Will and Ana didn’t seem to suspect anything. The bride-to-be was sipping a glass of white wine with a gaggle of adoring buffoons circled around her. Will was on the opposite side of the diner with his own crowd of well wishers. He looked happy. Happier than she’d seen him in a long time. 

She wished that didn’t make her want to shatter something. 

Instead she opted for a drink, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray at the bar and swallowing down half of it in one gulp. Then she stood up a little straighter and headed for Will's group. She needed to say hello at the very least. 

Rush was standing awkwardly next to Will, surrounded by a few of his friends. He had a beer clenched in his fist and looked at her rather hopelessly as she approached. 

"Lacey," he said, and she didn't think she imagined the relief in his voice. She wondered how he'd been drawn into conversation with Will in the first place. She could only hope he wasn't so annoyed with Will and his friends that he abandoned this whole scheme. 

“Dr. Rush was just telling us all about academic life,” Will said with a slight twist to his lips. “Never knew you to go for the brainy types, Lace.” 

“I didn’t go to college,” boomed Will’s friend John, a giant of a man they all had to crane their necks to see. “Yeah, just wasn’t for me.” 

“I think finishing high school is a prerequisite for getting into university, mate,” Will said, slapping his friend on the back. 

“Oh and where did you go to school?” Lacey cut across Will. “If I remember correctly, your Facebook profile says you attended the “School of Hard Knocks”. Where is that located? Seattle?”  

Will opened his mouth with an undoubtedly witless retort, but was saved the embarrassment by Rush. 

“Academia is just another job,” he said. “No better or worse than any other. My father was a dock worker in Glasgow and I did my fair share of manual labor in my youth. I’ve nothing but respect for honest work. Frequently it pays better than teaching too.” 

That earned a round of agreement from Will’s friends. 

“You know how much underwater welders rake in?” Will’s friend Robin asked. “A guy I used to work with went to diving school and now he’s making six figures.” 

The other men all gave suitably impressed grunts of approval and Lacey resisted rolling her eyes. 

“Thrilling conversation, lads,” she said, stifling a fake yawn. 

“Oh, I apologize,” Will said sarcastically. “Are we boring you?”

“You?” Lacey shot back. “Always.” 

Will snorted a laugh. “Well let's get some tequila in you and you can end the night giving half the diner a lap dance.” 

“That was one time, you asshole,” Lacey laughed, giving Will a playful shove at the memory of her 24th birthday. “And it wasn’t a lap dance, it was a table dance. Get it right. Granny had me banned for a full 6 weeks.”  

Will’s friends all laughed at the memory and for a split second, it felt like life had gone back to normal, to six months ago when everything still made sense. Until they were interrupted. 

“Hey, you, I thought I’d lost you,” Ana said, walking up and placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. 

“Never,” Will said with gusto, wrapping his arm around Ana’s slim waist and kissing her cheek.  

Lacey felt the smile on her face freezing like she was in rictus. 

“What’s so funny over here?” Ana asked, glancing around at them all. 

Will swallowed uncomfortably. “Oh nothing, just remembering a time Lacey made a fool of herself.”

Ana glanced at Lacey with raised eyebrows. 

“That’s me,” Lacey said, raising her champagne glass in salute. 

“Hmm,” Ana said, turning back to Will with a pretty little pout. “I’m heading back to the house. I have an early morning tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep.” 

“Aw, babe, it’s so early still,” Will groused. 

“I have yogalates at 6 and I will look dreadful if I don’t get seven hours sleep before then.” 

“Not possible for you to be anything but perfect,” Will said, nuzzling his nose against Ana’s. 

Lacey had to clamp her lips together to keep from chucking up her champagne and canapés. 

Ana let out a tinkling little laugh, pecking Will on the lips. 

“Oh, stop, darling,” she said, lightly slapping him on the chest. “You need to get your sleep too. The last thing we need is you showing up to the wedding completely sleep deprived because you’ve stayed up until the wee hours all weekend, you night owl. Lacey, I’m sure you remember what he’s like.”

Suddenly all eyes swiveled from the happy couple to Lacey. It was Ana’s first public acknowledgment of Lacey’s status as Will’s ex. 

“Um, yeah,” Lacey said, unsure of where the conversation was headed. 

“But of course that was ages ago. I’m sure his habits may have changed as he matured.” 

Next to Ana, Will’s eyes widened, his head dipping almost imperceptibly into a nod. A clear sign she was meant to agree with Ana’s misconception. 

“Ages,” she repeated flatly. 

Will gave her another little nod. 

So, he still wasn’t being honest with his fiance. Lacey felt a bubble of anger rising up in her stomach to be in this position yet again. But never mind all that. She just had to get through the next couple of days. Then she could never see Will or Ana again. Then she could forget this whole horrid thing and, hopefully, move on to bigger and better commissions. Enough to get her own place. Enough to leave Storybrooke entirely. 

“Not so sure about matured, though,” Lacey couldn’t help the barb. “There’s something to be said for experience, after all, and Will is certainly lacking in that regard.” 

She turned to Rush still standing silently at her side, cupping his cheek with her hand before pulling him down for a kiss. His beard was scratchy beneath her palm, his lips parting in shock as she dipped her tongue into his mouth. His hand came up to cradle her waist, giving her a firm squeeze that also served to push her away slightly. 

Lacey stepped back, breaking the kiss as the other assembled guests looked around awkwardly.

“Anyway,” Ana continued brightly, “beauty sleep and all that. I’ll see you tomorrow at the luncheon, Lacey?” 

“Of course,” Lacey said, still wrong-footed from Rush’s reaction to her kiss.

Ana gave them all one last brilliant smile as Will walked her to the door. 

“I think that’s our cue, too,” Lacey said, downing the remnants of her champagne. Rush was tense beside her, and she needed to free him from this charade as soon as possible before he blew their whole cover. “Goodnight, everyone.” 

Rush followed her silently out of the diner and back out into the chilly spring evening.  

Rush was quiet on the short walk back to the B&B and Lacey was desperate for something to say to break the tension. Rush had been selling their fake relationship so well up until the end when he’d almost physically recoiled from her. It couldn’t just be the kiss. She’d kissed him before and while surprised, he’d seemed to enjoy it. 

They trudged up the stairs and to their shared room at the inn and Lacey couldn’t stand the idea of spending the night with someone who wasn’t speaking to her. 

Rush’s shoulders were hunched, his hands buried in his jeans pockets, his face inscrutable. He looked like that miserable man she’d first met in the bar in Boston weeks ago. 

“What’s the matter?” she blurted out once they were in their room. “I get the feeling I did something to upset you and I’d rather just know what it is.” 

Rush half turned to glance at her, not giving her the benefit of looking her full in the face.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. 

“Please don’t do that,” Lacey said with a sigh. “Something you should know about me, I’m a frank person. I don’t play games and I don’t make you guess what I’m feeling. I’d prefer the same courtesy.” 

“Fine,” he said, spinning on his heel. “You made me uncomfortable tonight, are you happy?” 

Lacey just blinked. 

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. 

Rush shook his head. “Look, I know it’s technically what I’m here for, but having you stuff your tongue down my throat to upset your ex boyfriend’s new fiance at her wedding party felt ever so slightly morally reprehensible.” 

“So this is about Ana,” Lacey said, crossing her arms against her chest. “I suppose she’s got you in her thrall too already. And you’ve only just met her. I suppose it’s no surprise Will is ready to marry her after only a few months.” 

“This isn’t about Ana,” Rush countered. “Though she seems like a perfectly nice person and I'm unsure what she’s done to piss you off so badly.” 

Lacey didn’t have an answer for that. It wasn’t Ana’s fault. She hadn’t known of Lacey’s existence when she met and fell for Will. She hadn’t even known they’d ever dated until recently and she still didn’t know the extent of their past relationship. None of this was Ana’s fault. But she was just so bloody perfect. Lacey was used to being desired, to men finding her attractive. She’d never felt ugly until she stood next to Anastasia. She’d never been a jealous person until that striking blonde had showed up. She was wildly jealous of Anastasia, for everything she was and everything Lacey wasn’t. 

“I dated Will for four years,” she said. “And he broke out in hives at the hint of any sort of commitment whatsoever. He didn’t even go to Belle and Gold’s wedding with me because he was so freaked out by marriage as an institution. But he’s willing to marry her? Some girl he barely knows?” 

“You wanted to marry him,” Rush accused.

“No!” Lacey shot back. “I never even thought about it. If he’d ever asked I’d have laughed in his face. But having someone so soundly reject you stings. Forgive me if I think I’m owed the right to be a little salty about all this.”  

Rush took a deep breath before nodding. 

“Could you just not spring any more surprise kisses on me?” he asked, tentatively. “We can hold hands and dance and flirt, but no more of that. You made me feel…” he trailed off, seemingly unable to find an appropriate word.  

Lacey felt suddenly small, like the tiniest most insignificant person in the world. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “No more kissing. I’ve got it.” 

Rush gave her another stiff nod before going to the wardrobe and shrugging off his blazer to hang it there. 

That was the end of that, then. No kissing. No rubbing her “relationship” in Will’s face. Suddenly the weekend didn’t seem so fun. 

After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up and change into her pajamas, Lacey found herself lying in bed beside Rush, the awkwardness between them almost unbearable. She wasn’t sure how to approach him now. She’d played too fast and loose and made him uncomfortable. He was a good man doing her a massive favor and she’d alienated him after an afternoon. She was a completely shit person. 

“I’m sorry,” she said aloud, unsure if Rush was even still awake on the other side of the bed with his back to her. “I really am.”

“I know,” he returned, his voice sleepy. “It’s alright.”

It wasn’t though. And she didn’t know how to make it so. 

“You’re an excellent kisser, by the way,” he said into the darkened room. “That’s not what this is about.” 

She stared at his back in the gloom, wondering where he was going with this.

“Thanks?” she said, her statement sounding like a question. 

Rush snorted a laugh. 

“I just didn’t want you getting the wrong idea,” he continued. “Under other circumstances…” he trailed off, letting the statement hang in the air. 

“Yeah,” Lacey agreed. 

She rolled over on the creaky mattress, putting her back to Rush. Maybe if Gold had set them up when they’d had no ulterior motives. Maybe if she’d been a fully functioning adult. Maybe…

Lacey drifted off to sleep on the thoughts of what might have been. 

[ace-cf-cups]

Since my inbox is always open for prompts* ( seriously, send them in, as many and as often as you'd like - I love working with prompts! ), here's a handy list of all the ships you can send them for:

Rumbelle

Golden Lace (Mr Gold & Lacey)

Woven Lace (Weaver & Lacey)

Woven Beauty (Weaver & Belle)

Woven Kitten (Weaver & Hierophant from Operation Endgame)

Russelle (David Russell from The Last Enemy & Belle)

Russellacey (David Russell & Lacey)

David & Hiero

Rushbelle (Dr Nicholas Rush from Stargate: Universe & Belle)

Rushacey (Dr Nicholas Rush & Lacey)

Rush & Chloe

Hamelle? MacBelle? Bellish? (Hamish Macbeth from the eponymous tv show & Belle)

Hamacey? Lacish? (Hamish Macbeth & Lacey)

Sutherbeth? Macland? (Isobel Sutherland & Hamish Macbeth from the eponymous tv show)

Bellix / Felle (Felix DeSouza from Formula 51 & Belle)

Lacix / Fellacey (Felix DeSouza & Lacey)

Felix & Hiero

Develle (Danny Devine from Dead Fish & Belle)

Lacine? Devacey? (Danny Devine & Lacey)

Danny & Hiero

Rob and Sam Morrison from the Flood

Robelle? Morrelle? (Rob Morrison & Belle)

Wirrelle? Belleric? (Eric Wirral from There's Only One Jimmy Grimble & Belle)

Laceric? Wirralacey? (Eric Wirral & Lacey)

*prompts are welcome and encouraged for: ficlets (of course!), TMI Tuesday questions/IC questions (you can ask any couple in general or specifically from one of my fics any questions), moodboards/aesthetics, gifsets (you can also request a gifset related to one of the aforementioned characters - whether it be a moment from their show or aesthetic or compilation or lyrical gifset etc), edits/fanvideos

The list will be updated as I watch more of Bobby's and Em's filmography and/or grow more confident in writing other Anyelle couples.

[ifishouldvanish]

Shameless Happy Ending Awards Plug Post

My master list is up to date, and I'd be mighty flattered if y'all nominated me for stuff for @therumbellehappyendingawards !

If you're overwhelmed, might I suggest the following stories that I'm very proud of but I never won anything for? 💔

So A Lawyer Walks Into A Bar... | Golden Lace office smut with spanking, a butt plug, lots of feelings, and a touch of fluff at the end! 😈😚

I Must Be Warmer Now | A Golden Lace one night stand that blossoms into something more 🥃🌹

Let's Spend the Night Together | Rush/Lacey smut that's equal parts snarky and fluffy 👽👨‍🎤

A Dedicated Follower of Fashion | Rumbelle smut featuring a submissive Gold with a shoe fetish. Also, any of the other stories in its 'verse, Gold On the Soles of Her Shoes 😏👠

*Note that The Boston Hour and Alterations aren't eligible because they're TEA winners, (which??? Thank you???) though other fics in the Alterations 'verse might still be eligible? Not sure what the rule is there :x

[mariequitecontrarie]

Possibly random request here. Do you have any Rushelle/ RushxBelle fic recommendations?

Hi Anon. I don’t read a ton of Rushbelle/Rushacey so this list is by no means complete, but I can recommend a handful that I have read and that can be found on AO3. This list represents a fair range of styles and premises as well.Dr. Rush and the Space Dragon by @of-princes-and-savages as well as The Doctor’s Assistant

The Quest by @still-searching47 as well as Brighter Days and Swim to the StarsAnd Then You series by @rowofstars also Distractions

Amid the Stars by @worryinglyinnocent

One Million and One by @theladyofthedarkcastle

Another Chance at Love series by @charlotteashmore13

Infected by @gwenore

@emospritelet and @thatravenclawbitch have each written several.

Alternatively, go through the tag on AO3. Click the link for TONS of goodness.

Friends, please feel free to add on.

[emospritelet]

How are Tiger Lillies!Rush and Lacey getting on? I believe the last we heard of them Lacey jumped Rush in his car and then he took her back to his place for takeout.

Alas, I haven’t written any more in this verse yet, but I do want to!  I suspect that take-out will lead to make-out *wink wink*

[therumbellehappyendingaward-blog]

The Rumbelle Happy Ending Awards – Winners!

Thank you to everyone who voted and helped spread word about this event, the fandom surprised me again. Congratulations all winners, you are really loved! Here is the masterlist.

*Categories with two winners had the same number of votes.

FLUFF

Best Fix-It

The Life You Save May Be Your Own by @thatravenclawbitch

Best Comfort

The Gift of Magi by @findingtallahassee

Best Date

The Worst That Could Happen by @thatravenclawbitch

Best Happy Moment

Quia Parata Sunt Omnia by @thatvermillionflycatcher

 ANGST

Best Exes

Dark Heart by @emospritelet

Best Misunderstanding

Dripping in Gold by @maplesyrupao3

Best Post-Belle’s Death

Coming Home by @scribbles-by-kate

Best Love and Hate

Unfailing Faith by @mrs-stiltskin

Best Reencounter

The Bookshop Owner by @imgilmoregirl

 AO3 TRIGGER WARNINGS

Best Underage

Reckless Abandon by @rufeepeach

Best Rape/Non-Con

Old Habits Die Hard by @dowehaveadeal

Best Major Character Death

A Safe Place by @lotus0kid

Best Graphic Descriptions of Violence

Death Becomes Her by @crysania

 FAMILY

Best Gideon

The Bond Between Us by @sarashouldbestudying

Best Baelfire

Caged Love by @sarashouldbestudying

Best Belle/Rumple original child

Rose – The Dark Children by @imgilmoregirl

Best Family Long Fic

Heat of the Moment by @thescholarlystrumpet

Best Family One Shot

To Keep Out The Dark by @rufeepeach

Best Pregnancy

Heat of the Moment by @thescholarlystrumpet

 SMUT

Best First Time

Bravery Will Follow by @emospritelet

Best PWP

Off Duty by @emospritelet

Best Threesome

Love and Trust by @emospritelet

Best Romance

A Dozen Roses by @ladybookwormwithteeth

Best Hate-Sex

Dark Heart by @emospritelet

Best Kink

The Party by @worryinglyinnocent

 AU

Best Movie AU

The Parent Trap by @imgilmoregirl

Best TV Show AU

Home by @winterswanderlust

What Once Was… by @barpurplewrites

Best Modern AU

The Tie That Binds by @ishtarelisheba

Best Curse AU

Shape Of Love by @Rumpelstiltskin_wait

Best Creature AU

Heavenly Bodies by @maplesyrupao3

Best Historical AU

Dark Sight by @maplesyrupao3

 BEST OF THE BEST

Best Drama

Angel’s Unaware by @ethereal-wishes

Best Angst

Dark Heart by @emospritelet

Best Hurt/Comfort

I Must Be Warmer Now by @ifishouldvanish

Best Series

Reckless Abandon by @rufeepeach

Best Roleplay

The Fate of Pierrot by @thatvermillionflycatcher

 ART

Best Sketch

Sea wizard by @nia-sketches

Best Manip

Lust by @virgidearie

Best Digital Art

Precious Moments by @licieoic

Best Gif-Set

I miss you - we miss you too son by @virgidearie

Best Graphic Art

The Gold Family - King of Loopholes by @nropay-gallery

Best Cosplay

wizard world chicago - @klairabelle, @delintthedarkone, @druidkitty, @snafu-moofins

Best Fan Video

Rumbelle Forever / OUAT/ Belle & Rumplestiltskin by @spellbound

Once Upon A Time There Was a Beast by @allicamallison

Best Artist

@virgidearie

 SPECIAL MATCHING

Best RushBelle

Love and Trust by @emospritelet

Best WovenLace

Off Duty by @emospritelet

Best Rushacey

The Worst That Could Happen by @thatravenclawbitch

Best WovenBelle

Off Duty by @emospritelet

Best GoldenLace

Recovery by @justadearie

 BEST SIDE-PAIRING

Best Swanfire

Waiting Game by @emospritelet

Best CuriousArcher

Stolen Books and True Love by @imgilmoregirl

Best Gidrick

The Light That Waits by @likehandlingroses

 GOLDEN CATEGORIES

Best Author

@emospritelet

Best Rumbelle Fic

Dark Heart by @emospritelet

Best Anyelle Fic

Let’s Spend The Night Together by @ifishouldvanish

No Light Over London by @lotus0kid

Best Commenter

@ultimatefan

[rumbellewelcome]

The Rumbelle Glossary--add on, please!

@standbyyourmantis did a great job composing this--I have added a few S7-specific terms. Are there any other new terms that you think would confuse rookies?

~~~~~~~~

1x12: Season One, Episode 12. ie. Skin Deep, the first episode in which Belle appears.

A&E: Reference to Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, the creators and producers. See: Kitsowitz, Adam & Eddy.

Adam & Eddy: Reference to Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, the creators and producers. See: A&E, Kitsowitz.

Anyelle: Basically, a ship that is Robert Carlyle in another role and Belle.  There is a more in-depth definition and a full list of Anyelle ships as well as a links to fic about them provided here.

Anyem: A ship where any Robert Carlyle character is paired with any Emilie de Ravin character. Popular Anyem parings include Hiero & Ives and Rushacey (Rush and Lacey).

Beauties: Fans of Belle.

Dearies: Fans of Rumple.

 Detective Weaver: Rumple’s S7 cursed persona.

 DO: Dark One--usually Rumplestiltskin, usually set in the Enchanted Forest, but could also refer to other bearers of the Dark One Curse.

Dove: The bodyguard/hired muscle Rumplestiltskin-as-Mr. Gold has repossess Moe French’s van in Skin Deep. In fandom, a common assistant to Mr. Gold.

 February 12: The original air date of Skin Deep, considered a most sacred and holy day to Rumbellers, celebrated by the Fluffapalooza festival.

Floof Family: Belle, Rumplestiltskin, and Bae/Neal. Named for their shared floofy hair.

Fluff Family: Belle, Rumplestiltskin, and Gideon. So-called for the short hair.

 FTL: Shorthand for Fairy Tale Land, a fan-given name for the Enchanted Forest.

 FTL2: The second Fairy Tale Land, home of Cinderella Tremaine 2 and her family.

Golden Beauty: The specific pairing of Mr. Gold and Belle. See also: Golden Lace.

 Golden Lace: The specific pairing of Mr. Gold and Belle’s alter ego, Lacey. See also: Rumpled Lace, Woven Lace.

 Goldstiltskin: Rumplestiltskin in Neverland. Specifically, wearing black leather and the painted face.

Her Handsome Hero, H3: The title of Belle’s favorite book, and also of the season 5 Belle centric ep.

 Jane Espenson, JE: The writer of Skin Deep and founder of Rumbelle.

Kitsowitz: Reference to Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, the creators and producers. See: A&E, Adam & Eddy.

A Monthly Rumbelling: A Rumbelle prompt event taking place, well, monthly, and offering both smut and nonsmut prompts.

NTIC: Nick the Incorporeal Creeper. A specific fandom version of Nicholas Rush from a fic by user badfaerie. He helps various AU Anyelle Bobbys find true love.

 Papafire: The parental relationship between Rumplestiltskin and his son Baelfire.

 TMI Tuesday: A chance for fic authors and RPers to answer fan questions, sometimes in-character.

 RCIJ: Rumbelle Christmas in July. A version of Rumbelle Secret Santa running over the summer.

 RSS: Rumbelle Secret Santa. A gift exchange running over Christmas where volunteers create gifts for each other based on a short prompt by the giftee. See: RCIJ.

 Rumbelle Showdown: A yearly fic writing contest where fic writers write short stories under pseudonyms in a head-to-head tournament style competition.

 Rumblr: The Rumbelle fandom on Tumblr.

 Rumpled Lace: The specific pairing of Rumplestiltskin and Lacey.See also: Golden Lace, Woven Lace.

 Sir Rumple: Rumplestiltskin as the knight from the season 4 finale AU.

 Skin Deep: The first episode wherein Belle appears, the basis of the entire Rumbelle ship.

 Spinner Rumple: Rumplestiltskin as the spinner character from before taking on the curse. Usually, appears in alternate universes wherein Milah has left but Rumplestiltskin never takes on the curse.

 Storybrooke AU: Nonmagical alternate universe set in Storybrooke, usually set outside of the show’s canon.

 TEA: The Espenson Awards. A yearly award show for fanfiction and other creators. Named for Jane Espenson, writer of Skin Deep.

 The Thing: The official Rumbelle welcome wagon post. Introduce yourself and ask @thestraggletag for it.

 The War/The Rumbelle War: Several years ago, a group of fiction writers decided to try to kill each other with feels. We call this dark time The Rumbelle War or The War. It’s best not to speak of it.

 Woobie: Usually used in the context of Woobie!Rumple. Defined by TVTropes as:

 A “woobie” is a name for any type of character who makes you feel extremely sorry for them. Basically, the first thing you think to say when you see the woobie is: “Aw, poor baby!”

 Woven Lace: The specific pairing of Detective Weaver and Lacey in S7 AUs.

[loveisrumbelle-blog]

The Rumbelle Happy Ending Awards!

The Once Upon a Time series finale is coming and with that, some people will surely leave the fandom, so as our last chance of gathering everybody for an event we are creating The Rumbelle Happy Ending Awards as a way to celebrate this incredible couple and all the people who worked creating fanfictions and all kinds of art for them along these seven years. Our beloved TEA is over, but this is no excuse for us not to do other award to tell our artists and authors how much we love them.

The nominations will be happening between May 14 and May 21, with the voting period starting a week after it. So please, reblog this post to share it with the whole fandom. Let’s make this event as big as TEA once was. One last time.

For the Rumbelle authors and artists out there: make a “for your consideration” list. It will help divulge the event and it will also help people to know what to vote for.

Good luck everybody! Under the cut you’ll find the rules and the categories for this event.

RULES:

1.       ALL categories will have at least five nominees. The five people with most votes.

2.       TEA Winners are NOT eligible.

3.       Yes, you can nominee yourself.

4.       Yes, you can vote for yourself.

5.       Anonymous voting and nominee are not allowed.

6.       You can only vote once.

7.       The votes must be submitted.

 CATEGORIES

 Fluff

Best Fix-It

Best Comfort

Best Date

Best Laugh

Best Happy Moment

 Angst

Best Exes

Best Misunderstanding

Best Post-Belle’s Death

Best Love and Hate

Best Reencounter

 AO3 Trigger Warnings

Best Underage

Best Rape/Non-Con

Best Major Character Death

Best Graphic Descriptions of Violence

 Family

Best Gideon

Best Baelfire

Best Belle/Rumple original child

Best Family Long Fic

Best Family One Shot

Best Pregnancy

 Smut

Best First Time

Best PWP

Best Threesome

Best Romance

Best Hate-Sex

Best Kink

 AU

Best Movie AU

Best TV Show AU

Best Modern AU

Best Curse AU

Best Creature AU

Best Historical AU

 Best of the Best

Best Drama

Best Romance

Best Angst

Best Hurt/Comfort

Best Series

 Art

Best Sketch

Best Manip

Best Digital Art

Best Gift-Set

Best Graphic Art

Best Artist

 Special Matching

Best RushBelle

Best WovenLace

Best Rushacey

Best WovenBelle

 Best Side-Paring

Best Swanfire

Best Snowing

Best CuriousArcher

Best SwanQueen

Best Gidrick

Best OutlawQueen

 Golden Categories

Best Author

Best Rumbelle Fic

Best Anyelle Fic

[abovethemists]

I hope I won't regret this, but... Does the word 'regret' appear in any of your WIPs?

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. It wasn’t like their previous kisses that had all been for show. This time it was just the two of them, no one was watching.

“Lacey, wait,” he said, gripping her by the arms and pushing her away. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret come tomorrow.”

From "The Worst That Could Happen"

“I let him go,” Rumple said with a ragged gasp. “In a moment of cowardice, I let go of his hand. I watched my boy fall and I didn’t go with him. I’ve done many things wrong in my life, as you well know, but that, that will always be the thing I regret most.”

From Purgatory, chapter...whatever

[abovethemists]

"Bed?"

The room was small but clean, a little too floral for his tastes. There was a double bed in the middle of the room, a small antique desk beneath the window that looked out toward the forest, and an armchair in the corner next to a lace doily covered rickety side table with a rotary phone on top.

From "The Worst That Could Happen"

She grabbed her bag off the bed, heading into the en suite bathroom and Rush sat back against the rickety bed, the mattress groaning beneath his weight. He tested it a bit, bouncing himself up and down.

It was a good thing he and Lacey weren’t an actual couple. If they tried to get up to anything on this bed, the whole bloody town would know.

Also from "The Worst That Could Happen"

He’d told her he loved her, but he’d let her go. He’d made his choice, and she had to live with it. No matter how she wished their circumstances were different, she was well aware he was unavailable the night they’d fallen into bed together. She’d made a choice as well.

From Part 3 of "Brimstone and Mistletoe"

Sorry there wasn't anything more salacious!

[abovethemists]

have you used the word “sweetheart” in any of your WIPs :0?

She swung her champagne glass in an arc, a bit of the liquid spilling from her glass and speckling Rush’s borrowed suit pants.

“In all seriousness, I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. But for Ana’s sake, I hope Will’s gotten over his fear of orally pleasing a woman. I mean honestly, there’s no fucking teeth down there, sweetheart!”

“Alright,” Rush said, jumping up at the same time Will had. He reached for her, but Lacey sidestepped him, coming out from around their table.

From "The Worst That Could Happen", the Rushacey fake dating AU

[abovethemists]

The Worst That Could Happen is one of my favorites! Any news or snippets?

I have so much written for that one, I just need to organize it. It would be so easy to finish off if I just sat down with it for a couple days. The next chapter has been mostly finished for what, 2 years? But I suck. Here's a snippet.

*

“I apologize,” Rush said with a little shake of his head. “But I’m a little confused. I assumed I was staying here at the inn because having a strange man in your home was an issue. Why are we both staying here?”

“Oh!” Lacey exclaimed, sitting forward. “Sorry. I figured you didn’t want to stay at my dad’s place. That’d be…awkward.”

“You don’t have your own place?” he asked, before realizing how that sounded. “Sorry, no judgment. I’ve heard it’s hard out there for…millenials.”

Lacey snorted a laugh at how terribly old he must sound. 

“No, I had my own apartment,” Lacey said with a nod. “But I’m back with my dad for a bit. Once Will left town I couldn’t afford rent by myself so…” she trailed off.

“You lived together?” he asked. It seemed every time he got more of a glimpse of Lacey’s previous relationship, the more involved it was.

“Yeah, well we were together almost four years. At some point you move in together or you split up.”

“F--four years?” he stuttered out. “You never told me that.”

Lacey blinked.

“Look, Lacey, I need to know what I’m getting into here. You and Will were together for four years? You lived together for some of that time? What, were you ever engaged?”

“No!” Lacey exclaimed. “It was never that serious.”

“Four years and a shared apartment isn’t serious?”

“We were never gonna get married,” she countered. “It was fun and easy, but not earth shattering. We were…glorified roommates. With benefits. Not even great benefits, in case you were wondering.”

He wasn’t.  

“Regardless,” Rush continued. “You were together a long time and now, only a few months after your split, you’re attending his wedding. Have you thought this through?”

“Yes!” Lacey exclaimed, hopping up from the bed, the creaky springs bouncing wildly. “Yes, we were together for a while. Yes, he dumped me. Yes, he’s getting married to someone else in an infuriatingly short time span. But I don’t love the guy, okay? If I ever did, those feelings ended long ago, before the relationship did. Right now what I need is a nice, stable boyfriend so I don’t look pathetic and Ana doesn’t get weirdly jealous. If you don’t feel comfortable with that, well, you can go.”

[abovethemists]

hello, i was looking through your AO3 bc i'm nosy, and i'm just a big fan of your work ;o; i hope you're doing well and i'd love to see more rushacey someday

Aw, thank you! I'm sure I'll do more rushacey at some point. I've got to finish my fake dating at the wedding fic at some point.

[abovethemists]

TMI Tuesday?

I’ve been to a lot of weddings recently and it has me wanting to get back to my two wedding adjacent fics: The Worst That Could Happen (update almost done I just lost my will to write for a bit), and To Have and to Hold. I haven’t written much in the past several months, but feel free to ask about anything. 

[timelordthirteen]

And Then You

Nicholas Rush/Lacey French, Explicit

Summary: On a forced sabbatical from teaching, Nicholas Rush heads for the tiny town of Storybrooke, Maine, hoping for peace and quiet and the chance to work on his research. What he finds instead is Lacey French. Lacey's in a dead end job as a waitress with a abusive husband when Rush walks into her life. Over the course of his summer sabbatical the two become friends, and eventually lovers. There's more to their relationship than either of them want to admit, but Rush still has the specter of his late wife, Gloria, holding him back, and Lacey's way too good at lying to herself.

Notes:  This is for the lovely @anonymousnerdgirl, who prompted a Rushacey Waitress (the movie) AU. I didn't get to put in all the things I wanted, but I hope this still suffices. I am the worst Santa ever, in case you didn't know. I put in some timeline references since most of this story is flashback, but jumps to the present as well. This is only my second time writing Rush, so forgive my horrible characterization. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Posted in three chapters on AO3, but one big pile here. (11,752 words)

[AO3]

Late August

The duffel bag bounces unceremoniously onto the backseat of the rental car, the door shutting after it with a thud. It seems too loud and sharp for so early on a Sunday morning, and the lack of any passersby or any other sounds save for a few chirping birds and the wind has a strange finality to it.

He glances up at the pink Victorian house, with a small smile. Mal’s family home is definitely not his style, but he’d gotten rather comfortable there in such a short time. Crossing to the mailbox, he opens it and drops the keys inside, then turns back to the car and bends to climb into the driver’s seat.

There is no one to see Nicholas Rush off.

There is no one on the street, no other cars, and he doubts anything except Granny’s diner is even open down on Main Street. The house is clean and the few personal items he’d accumulated during his stay are in the trash bin in the kitchen. In a few minutes, it will be as if he’d never been here at all, as if he’d never disturbed the quiet little town of Storybrooke, Maine.

He knows it isn’t entirely true, at least one person is probably forever changed by his presence, and he is quite sure it isn’t for the better. Lacey French is never going to be the same again, not with her husband in jail and a local lawyer drafting divorce papers. Certainly not now that she is essentially homeless either. He made sure to leave his name and address for Midas, slipping a piece of paper under the door of his office before he packed up the car. Paying her legal bills and helping her leave her arsehole husband is the least he can do after upending her life.

Go home, Nick. It was fun, but it was never going to last.

Her words ring in his ears, making his neck burn and his chest ache. None of it was supposed to be permanent, and it’s probably a miracle it lasted more than a couple frenzied, adulterous nights. Inside he’s a jumble mess of feelings he doesn’t want to deal with, and knowing that he’s heading back home to California, having them at all feels like even more of a betrayal. A betrayal of whom though, he isn’t sure anymore. Both Lacey and Gloria have every right to hate him, he is an absolute bastard after all, and it’s a small favor that he’ll never have to look either of them in the eye again.

The discovery he made about his work, about what went wrong with Icarus has made him restless. It’s something that can’t wait, not if there’s a chance to resurrect the project and give it new direction. If the result of the university board’s inquiry is that he’s terminated, then so be it. He will still have a purpose in Icarus, and that’s what he needs now. Purpose and distraction.

Rush sits behind the steering wheel for a long moment, watching the first few drops of rain splatter and trickle down the windshield, before starting the car. The weather mirrors his dark mood. He keeps his eyes on the road, but as he passes the last shop on Main Street and heads out of town, his mind is elsewhere.

Late May

His so called sabbatical is probably just a formality on the way to firing him. While there are moments where he resents Mal for forcing him into it, it’s ultimately his own fucking fault. In hindsight, he hasn’t been handling things well since the abrupt termination of the Icarus project, but telling off the head of the department and then throwing a chair through a window is always a bad career move. He’s lucky Mallory stepped in and offered this chance for some time away, even if it was on the condition that he actually go away.

Once he is out on the road heading north, crossing from Massachusetts into New Hampshire, it starts to feel almost freeing. He doesn’t have to worry about preparing new syllabi or grading exams. There are no meetings, no office hours, and hopefully no distractions. He glances to the side at his satchel, the pile of papers and his laptop stretching the leather to its limit. If he’s very very lucky he might make headway on something, publish a paper in the spring, and be somewhat redeemed. At least academically. There are things he carries which cannot be forgiven.

The tall, dense trees loom over the sides of the road and cast strange shadows. It reminds him of the drive he and Gloria took up the coast to Washington one summer. It was the first trip they’d taken in years, and later would turn out to be their last. He hated everything about traveling in general, but something about his wife’s bright smile and her hair shining in the sunlight made it more than worthwhile.

A sign up ahead announces another S curve, and Rush squints. The setting sun piercing the windshield of his rental car as he rounds the first corner, hitting him right in the eyes. His head is starting to hurt, though he supposes that’s more from the hours of flying, driving, and lack of caffeine than the glare of the sun. He glances at the clock on the dashboard and sighs. It’s just after eight and he’s already knackered, but his destination is only a few more miles away.

Another green road sign welcomes him to the town of Storybrooke, and he slows the car as the highway gives way to a quaint, traditional Main Street, lined with storefronts. Ahead on the right is a glowing red sign that says Granny’s Diner, with an arrow pointing towards a light gray building. Diners always have coffee, and even bad coffee sounds like the best thing in the world right now.

The place is empty when he walks in and the interior looks like something right out of the 1950s, complete with a chrome soda fountain behind the counter. The white formica tables have a slight sparkle and the vinyl booths shine red in the bright fluorescent light. A woman comes out between two swinging doors with a stack of plates in her hands. Her uniform is comprised of a white button down shirt that’s tied off instead of tucked in, showing off her navel, and the shortest red shorts he’s ever seen. He can’t see her feet but the clicking against the tile floor suggests heels. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, the mass of brunette curls swaying as she walks along behind the counter.

Rush blinks. The whole thing is surreal. If it wasn’t for the scandalously short skirt, he would think he’s gone back in time.

The woman sets the plates down and shivers, her whole body shaking as she rubs her hands up and down her arms. “Hey there, welcome to Granny’s,” she says, stepping up to the counter. “Can I get you something?”

“Coffee?” he replies, his eyes widening as they meet hers. They’re very blue but tinged red at the edges with dark circles underneath. She looks like she’s been tired for a long time, a feeling Rush knows all too well.

“Sure thing.” She’s already turning around to the set of tall metal coffee urns behind her. A few seconds later she facing him again and setting down a plain white mug. “Milk, cream, sugar?”

She nudges a small dish of sugar and sweetener packets towards him. Next to them is a collection of half and half cups mixed with some kind of flavored creamer.

Rush glances up at her as he moves to sit on the nearest stool. “Nothing, thank you.”

He blows over the rim and takes a small, quick sip, biting back a groan at the sensation of the hot coffee gliding down his throat. It’s actually really good coffee, and he’s very thankful because there’s probably not a real barista for fifty miles.

A little while later, after she serves a few more late evening customers, workers from the local mine he overhears, she comes back to offer him a refill. He nods and doesn’t look up from the calculations he’s been using to distract himself from watching her walk around the place. The sway of her hips was becoming entirely too mesmerizing, and he’s not sure why. He chalks it up to feeling out of his element, and being so far away from home and anything remotely fucking familiar. His brain needs to focus on something, so it picked her. That’s all.

He notices her name tag says Lacey, which ends up drawing his attention to her chest. He lifts the mug and takes a small, cautious sip, trying to avoid any further realization about just how small her white blouse is and how few buttons are holding it closed. He can feel his face flush a bit, but silently insists it's the scalding hot coffee and not the fact that he’s actually noticing a woman for the first time in - well, a very long time, anyway.

Rush sighs and sits back, his spine pulling and popping in three different places as he stretches. He’s supposed to pick up the key to Mal’s place from a woman named Martha Lucas, but he was too tired to track down an old woman right now. His headache has mostly abated, but it’s left a lingering stiffness behind in his neck and shoulders. Caffeine had not been the answer. “Is there a place to stay the night?”

“Sure,” Lacey says, flatly. She jabs a thumb to the side as she straightens. “Right next door is Granny’s inn.”

“How convenient,” he mutters, flipping his notebook closed. He slides off the stool and pulls out his wallet, tossing a few bills on the counter. He’s sure that’s more than enough to cover his two cups of coffee, and he supposes that young women stuck in small towns, working at diners after nine o’clock at night should get decent tips. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Lacey snatches up the money, moving to the register to close his tab. She peels off the singles and tucks them in the pocket of her apron. “Yeah,” she says, giving him a small, tired wave. “See you around stranger.”

It’s three days before he sees her again, and by that time he’s already mostly settled into a pink Victorian that’s entirely too big for one person.

“Black, just like your soul?” she quips, the corner of her mouth curving as she sets a mug on the counter.

Rush picks it up, smirking. “Aye.”

Lacey leans forward on her elbows and watches as he scribbles some annotations in his little notebook.

“What’s that?” she asks, stretching her torso over the counter.

Rush looks to the side, spying her through a curtain of his shaggy hair. She’s wearing a wedding ring and he can’t recall if he noticed that first night or not. He pauses with the tip of his pencil touching the paper poised to draw another integral sign. “Math,” he says shortly.

She snorts and shakes her head. “Yeah, I can see that. Thanks, Einstein.”

She moves down the line to another customer, and he resumes working his way through his notes with a slight smile on his face.

The next day when he sees her there are marks on her right arm and a spot above her eye that appears swollen. His eyes keep darting to the ring on her finger, a small, round diamond solitaire with a plain band behind it, and he wonders what kind of arsehole she’s been saddled with and if that’s the reason why she hasn’t said more than four words to him.

Rush isn’t an idiot. He may not care for people in general, but he has no tolerance for men who would abuse a woman or a child. But he also knows it’s not his place.

He’s counting out money to leave on the table for her, when a man comes in. Lacey goes to him immediately, and though their voices are hushed, he can see they’re arguing. The man grabs her arm roughly, and Rush watches, digging his nails into his palm as he stares daggers at the back of the man’s head. Lacey catches his eye as he goes to leave, and he pauses with the door half open for a moment before stepping out into the summer heat.

The look in her eyes keeps him from falling asleep that night.

Early June

Granny’s becomes something of a routine for Rush. He’s been in Storybrooke for three weeks, and for most of it he’s kept to himself. There was a point last week where he was hit with another headache, and he realized that he’d been living off coffee and cigarettes for three days. He figured coming to the diner for lunch would ensure he ate at least one real meal a day, but staying until Lacey’s shift ends at three has become an inexplicable habit.

It’s not as if he gets a lot of work done, or that he likes to be around people. It just feels better being here than hanging out in a massive, old house all by himself. He thought it would be ideal, at first, but the place has started to feel oppressive and the strange creaks and noises keep distracting him. From the corner booth at Granny’s he can work on parts of his research, keep up a steady stream of very palatable coffee, and occasionally people watch.

Mostly, he just watches Lacey.

The man, who he assumes was her husband, hasn’t appeared again, and it seems that she’s just moved on as though nothing happened. Eventually the bruises fade, but her ring remains.

She likes to sit across from him sometimes, on her break just after lunch. She talks about nothing in particular, the weather, movies, or the small town rumormill. He chimes in now and then, if she pauses to pop another onion ring in her mouth, or if something completely ridiculous. Yesterday she went on about the purple elephant shitting on his car until he stopped and looked up. He knows she does it on purpose to see if he’s paying attention. If he ever says something incongruent she never mentions it, and the whole thing is strangely comfortable.

“So where’s your wife?” Lacey asks on a rainy Thursday.

Rush stops with his pencil halfway through drawing a sigma symbol. The tip breaks under the slight pressure and he swears. Her fork clatters to the plate, and he lets his head drop as he takes a steadying breath.

“She’s gone,” he manages.

He hopes she knows what that means, hopes it’s enough for her to drop it and never bring it up again. He imagines this is what she might feel like too. There’s a fresh bruise on her thigh, just at the edge of her skirt.

She doesn’t meet his eyes. “Oh.”

Mid-June

The Rabbit Hole is Storybrooke’s only bar.

Rush blinks and rubs his eyes as he steps inside. There’s a haze to the air in the place and a tinge of something burnt, despite there being no smoking allowed.

He has no idea why he’s here. He could just as easily buy a bottle of something passable at Clark’s drugstore or the grocer. It wouldn’t be the fine whiskey that Mal keeps in her office, or the expensive wine that still fills the nook in his kitchen at home, bottles that Gloria bought ages ago. But it would definitely get him drunk.

He spies Lacey bending over a pool table at the far end of the room. Her blue blouse gapes open as she lines up her shot, and a dribble of condensation runs over his thumb and drips to the floor. He watches her clear the table in ten minutes, her opponent never getting a chance to even touch the cue chalk. She laughs and looks around at the small crowd that’s gathered, then saunters to a nearby table to down a shot of something.

Lacey takes the money from Keith, making a point to snatch it from his fingers and count it in front of him. His glare is really all the payment she needs, but the extra cash is good for her emergency fund. She's got a decent amount in there now, but she knows leaving won't be easy. When she turns to head back to the bar, she spies Rush across the room. His eyes are fixed on her, and the corner of his mouth is curved slightly.

She licks her lips and gives him a wave, which he returns, surprisingly. He’s so hard to read sometimes that she can’t tell if he actually likes her, or if she could just as well be Leroy sitting there nattering on about whatever. There have been moments where she wondered, where she thought too long about his eyes, his hair, his mouth. There have been nights too, recently, but she isn’t ready to acknowledge that just yet, not even to herself.

They meet at the bar, and he smiles. “That was quite a show.”

“Thanks,” she says, feeling oddly elated that he was there to see the whole thing. “Not that Keith’s much competition, but he has a problem with his mouth writing checks the rest of him can’t begin to cash and I’m happy to teach him as many lessons as he’d like.”

Rush laughs. “What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey,” Lacey answers, and she realizes in the month he’s been here she’s never heard him laugh before.

He orders their drinks and they move to one of the tables against the wall. It’s a spot she likes because she can see most of the room and still be in the shadows. He’s talking about something, something about a friend and a billiards tournament in college, but her gaze is lingering on the open buttons of his shirt, distracting her. His voice is nice though, even if she only catches every third word, his accent thicker than usual. It might be the alcohol or he might just not care anymore if he sounds ridiculously Scottish.

She kisses him first.

He seems surprised when she pulls him against her in the short hallway leading to the men’s room. His hand fists in her hair as he presses her into the wall next to a poster for the library fundraiser. The floor’s dirty, the wall’s dirty, everything about this is dirty, but she likes it, likes how hard and wet his mouth is and the scrape of his teeth over her neck.

The vague sound of billiard balls clattering and the strained tones of Springsteen mix with the low rumbling of his voice in her ear, asking if she's sure she wants this. She hisses a yes against the skin of his throat, loving the way he gasps as she teases it with her tongue.

“Your place?” she asks, and the question lingers between them like their hot, panting breath.

He swallows, and knows this is it, one of those moments he can’t take back. “Yeah.”

He moves first, running a hand through his hair as he steps out of the shadows and walking over to the bar to close out their tab. She counts a full minute and then follows, striding quickly to the table where she left her purse.

Rush leaves the Rabbit Hole, his stomach in a knot. It was one thing to kiss her in the dark, in the back hallway of a bar, where they can both pretend that maybe it was just the alcohol. It’s entirely another to agree to take her back to his place. They’re both - well, he’s not married, not anymore, even if he sometimes feels like he is. But she definitely is, to a man who clearly mistreats her. Later he’ll wonder if that was it the whole time, if she latched on to him to get her out of a bad situation.

He’ll be wrong, of course.

She comes out a few minutes later, and they take his rental to the stately, pink house. The drive is quiet, but her hand doesn’t leave his thigh, the motion of her thumb burning through his jeans and making him half hard by the time they get there.

Rush shoves her against the wall inside the door, kissing her until she's practically climbing him, wrapping her legs around his waist while she claws at his shirt. They make it to the bedroom mostly clothed. Their shirts are lost somewhere between the top of the stairs and here, and they spend a few anxious, wordless minutes dispensing with the rest. She sits on the edge of the bed, watching him push his jeans down, and then his boxers, licking her lips at the sight of his cock. He steps forward to stand between her open legs and she looks up at him, waiting.

His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing her lips before he says. “Turn around.”

Lacey nips at the pad of his thumb and grins, then scoots back on the bed, turning over until she’s on all fours.

The tip of his cock pushes inside her and she wiggles her ass, begging for more with her forearms digging into the mattress. Rush groans and slips inside her in one smooth stroke. She gasps, and he presses his palm flat against her back, pushing her forward a little bit more so he can go even deeper.

She’s wet and sticky and tight, much too tight, and he can feel her stretch around him, little squeaks and gasps falling from her mouth when he starts to move. It’s slow and steady at first, but then she’s moving too, faster and harder, slamming her ass into his hips, showing him how she needs it, and Rush is happy to oblige. He needs it this way too, needs it to be rough and angry, nothing like it should be, or that she deserves. It has to be different so he can lock it away and keep it separate from how it was before.

Lacey bites her lip and digs at the sheets. Her ring feels tight on her finger, heavy, and she can’t look at it. She’ll be raw and sore in the morning, but then she’ll remember how he feels right now, touch herself and ache for him all over again.

His fingers are biting into her skin, holding on as tight as he can while they move at an almost violent pace. There will be bruises, on both of them tomorrow, evidence that this happened, that it was real. But they’ll fade, as these things do.

He leans over her; reaches around to rub her clit until she cries out and clenches around him. The sensation makes him come too, whispering sweetheart over and over against her sweaty skin.

It’s the first time he calls her that.

Early September

Lacey sighs and leans over the table to grab an errant fork, dropping it into the plastic bin with the other dishes. Then she frowns and folds her rag over the end of a finger to scrub angrily at a crusted splatter of ketchup that’s probably been there since last night. Ruby’s always a little sloppy with the last clean up when it’s near closing time. With a quiet grunt, she hefts the bin onto her hip and strides around the counter to head back to the kitchen.

The lunch rush is over and she has time to think again, time to replay things in her mind and wish the outcome were different. She sets the bin down in the big sink and squeezes the rag in her hand. Her nails dig it, squishing dirty water over her wrist before throwing it down on top of the dirty dishes. With another sigh, she turns on the water and washes her hands. Most of the bruises are gone, and in another month or so this chapter of her life will be behind her.

She’s not sure what she’s going to do after that, where she goes from failed marriage in a dead end town. There was a moment when she thought she knew, when she was laying in a soft bed with the sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains, his burr in her ear, soft and low as she orgasmed. But now -

Lacey huffs and pushes through the doors back into the dining room. Rush has been gone almost a month. He left her, and there’s nothing she can do about it, no matter how much it frustrates her. It’s not like she didn’t encourage him though. He showed up at her apartment, trying to apologize, and she didn’t want to listen. It had seemed so clear then, that it was all a sham, a way to pass the summer and fuck up her shitty life. Of course he was always going to leave, of course she’d always be stuck here. It had felt like anything else might unbalance the whole fucking universe or something.

She’s wiping down the counters and tables when she finds it. She had missed a couple dollars on one of the tables, left by Mr. Clark who owns the drug store. Her hand slid into the front pocket of her apron and there it was. The creases are worn from being opened and refolded a few times, and the paper has lost most of its crispness leaving it slightly yellowed and soft. She swallows and unfolds it carefully, laying it on the table and smoothing it flat with her palms. Her eyes close for a moment and she can’t help the smile as a memory comes flooding back.

Early July

Rush tears a sheet off her order pad and flips it over, his pencil moving quickly over it, letters and numbers and symbols. She understands little of it. His shirt is the same one he wore yesterday, and he looks like he hasn’t slept much.

“What are you doing?” she asks as he nears the bottom of the small piece of paper.

He sighs and frowns. “I thought I had something, but -”

“But?”

He crumples the page in his hand and makes a frustrated noise. Then he throws it towards the tray of coffee mugs. It bounces off the edge and lands in one of them, but he doesn’t notice.

“Nice shot,” she mutters. Then she fishes out the paper and unravels it, smoothing it against the counter.

Rush is nattering on about gravity fluctuations, and she has no idea what that has to do with his foul mood, but he’d been this way for the past week. They haven’t said anything about what is happening between them, and she’s not even sure what could be said. They meet up at the Rabbit Hole, they have a drink or two, they go back to his place and fuck. It’s simple.

They don’t call it what it is, an affair. Adultery. Cheating on a memory.

She looks down at the wrinkled paper and tilts her head. “Did you lose a y somewhere?”

Rush lifts his head and blinks. “What?”

Lacey pushes the paper towards him. “Look advanced calculus is obviously not my thing, but I did set the curve in my algebra class, and, well, you had a y here and then you just like lost it?”

He stares at the paper for a moment and then shakes his head. “Fuck,” he mutters as he leans back against the booth. “I’m a fucking idiot!”

His outburst draws a few stares, but luckily at two in the afternoon there’s hardly anyone around.

She shrugs. “You’re tired. You need to take a break.”

Rush rubs his eyes and then runs a hand down his face. His cheeks feel scruffier than usual, and he probably needs a shower, but he was on a roll last night and success has been hard to come by lately.

“Yeah,” he sighs. Then he scowls down at the paper and makes a note with his pencil. “You’re right though. I just lost the variable all together like some first year moron.”

Lacey laughs. “Well, I’ll try not to let it go to my head that I found a mistake in the great Dr. Nicholas Rush’s work.”

Rush gives her a look, and then glances around before reaching his hand across the table to touch hers. She turns her hand over and slides her fingers through his, giving him a squeeze before pulling away.

“Did you ever think about going to school?” he asks tentatively. He knows that she’s smarter than she lets on most of the time, keeping her wit to cutting sarcasm and billiards. She’s capable of so much more than this, and he hates to see good minds wasted.

She huffs and purses her lips, picking at the chipped blue polish on her nails. “I did,” she admits, “but, you know, school costs money.”

“I do know,” he says. It’s not like he could have afforded it either. “But there are scholarships. You’re smart, Lace, you could -”

“I did,” she interrupts. “I, um, I had a scholarship.”

Rush sits forward. “For what? Why didn't you go?”

“It was for dance.” She keeps her eyes on the table as she says it, glancing at him only briefly to see his reaction. His head tilts slightly, his brow knit. “I thought maybe - I don’t know.”

“Thought what?”

His voice is soft, and she bites her lip. When he sounds like that she wants to tell him everything.

“I thought I wanted to do something artistic,” she explains. “Like fashion or design. But the dancing, the performing, to keep my scholarship? It was all just too much. I didn’t love it anymore once it felt like a job, you know?” He was still looking at her, his dark eyes piercing through her, like he saw so much more than she wanted him to.

She rolls her eyes. “Besides, the world doesn’t need another art or music major, right?”

“Nonsense.” Rush frowns. “Everything has value. Every occupation. Not always in the same situations, you wouldn’t want a writer trying to redo your plumbing, but that doesn’t make what the writer writes worthless. And I happen to know there is a great deal of skill in dance, just like there is with music. Timing, counting. Harmonics as well. It’s all math, right?”

Lacey’s eyes are bright and there’s a lump in her throat blocking the words she wants to say. He shrugs, and she can’t help herself. She slides out of the booth and comes around to his side, pushing him towards the wall so she can sit. He’s staring back at her, wide eyed and surprised.

She kisses him and it’s different. The few times before has been hard, rough, all teeth and tongues and pushing each other against walls. This is soft and full of - something. Her mouth catches his bottom lip, pulling gently, her tongue brushes it once and then it’s gone. She’s gone. His eyes open and he is alone, the door behind the counter swinging back and forth on its hinges.

Early September

The paper crumples under Lacey’s hand, her nails digging in and tearing the middle. She doesn’t stop until it’s shredded all the way down, and then she balls it up in her hands, angrily squeezing it against her palm.

She throws it towards the trash can by the register, and misses.

“Fuck,” she breathes, leaning forward on the counter. Her breath is suddenly ragged, her heart slamming in her chest and grabs for the stack of napkins, wrinkling them as well and throwing them in the trash.

“Fucking fuck him!”

Granny ducks her head out through the order window. “You okay, Lacey?”

Lacey sighs and her shoulders sag. Granny’s face is nothing but kind concern, and for some reason that stings. She doesn’t want to feel this way about Rush at all. She doesn’t want to care, and she doesn’t want pity for it either.

A tear slips from the corner of her her but she wipes it away. “Fine,” she says, turning to Granny and forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

The old woman doesn’t look convinced, giving Lacey a small frown before she goes. Lacey sinks down to the floor and buries her face in her hands. There’s no one in the diner right now and if she pops up unexpectedly she’s sure she can play it off. Plenty of people in this town already have a low opinion of her anyway. Who cares if they think she was sitting on the floor crying.

Just like that the front door opens and she hears Leroy and Mike chatting as they come in from their swing shift at the mine. She smoothes her hair back and rubs her eyes. No one said anything about bruises on her arms and face for the last two years, what’s a little red eye?

Later, as she’s ringing up Leroy’s bill, her foot kicks the balled up paper sending it bouncing across the floor. Leroy frowns, then bends and picks it up.

Lacey’s left hand clenches into a fist while she holds out his change with the other.

What’s this?” he says unfolding the paper. It’s torn in several places and almost as wrinkled as his shirt, but it’s readable. He blows out a low whistle. “Damn, sister. This looks complicated.”

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

Mid July

“So, you’re married,” Rush says.

Finally, she thinks, giving her ring a cursory glance. Most days she doesn’t even notice it. Putting it on in the morning is habit. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just continues to work the numbers across the page. He’s got a bigger notebook now, three subject, having filled up and ruined the smaller one.

“And I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s a fucking asshole.” She twirls the straw in her glass of iced tea, watching the liquid swirl around in a little whirlpool.

Rush makes a half laugh, half grunting noise. “Then why are you with him?”

She sighs and sits back. “Same reason most women are, I suppose. He used to be sweet, I thought he was the one. Plus he owns our apartment and once my dad found out I wasn’t a pure little virgin perfect daughter anymore, he kicked me out. So I stayed with Garrett and just - never left I guess. He’s out of town a lot for work so it’s been easy to do whatever I want without him knowing. Neither of us have any friends in this town.”

He frowns. She knows as well as he does that none of those are good enough reasons, but he can see how a lot of people in Storybrooke just pass her over, look at her without really seeing. There’s a bruise by her eye again and he wonders how many of them have even noticed it.

“I’ve got a stash though,” Lacey says quietly. “I'm - I’m going to leave.”

Rush lifts his head and sets down his pencil. She’s staring at him, and he swallows. There’s an unspoken question between them.

She gasps when her back hits the wall just inside her apartment door.

It’s the first time she’s brought Rush or anyone other than Ruby here. It’s small but cozy, and she cleaned it that morning. Garrett’s in Florida for the week, and she wonders why she hasn’t done this before, why she hasn’t brought another lover home and fucked them in their bed. It feels like the ultimate fuck you, and she smiles.

Rush’s hands are in her hair, fingers curling in the strands and pulling just a little, and his body is pressed flush against hers. His lips drag over hers, open and hot, teasing a little before he kisses her properly, and she moans into his mouth, the lingering taste of coffee rolling over her tongue. When he pulls back, his teeth catch her bottom lip, scraping lightly, and he must like whatever noise she makes because he’s smirking down at her.

She raises an eyebrow. “So is this some like student teacher thing?” she asks, grinning. Her hips lift off the wall to push against his and she can feel his erection heavy against her thigh.

He laughs, low and a little dark. “You’ve never been my student,” he replies.

His hand moves to her thigh, lifting it until her leg is almost wrapped around his waist, and then he pushes hard, grinding the seam of his jeans against her and making her gasp with the friction.

“But I could be,” she says, smiling, her fingers pulling at his shirt. “I think I’d fucking kill it at physics.”

Rush presses a kiss to her cheek, then her jaw. “I’m sure you would.” He means it.

“Would you like that?” she asks, undoing the last button and running her hands up his bare chest. “Me sitting in the front row of your class every day? Short skirts, no panties?”

He groans and laughs at the thought because he knows what sweet torture that would be. “I do have some self control, you know.”

It’s her turn to laugh because they both know it’s a lie.

She remembers the last time at his place, just a couple of nights ago. She loved the sound he made when his cock slid in her mouth for the first time, the living room rug biting at her knees when she pushed herself forward. He swore when the tip hit the back of her throat, and she came hard to the movement of her own fingers when he pulled her hair.

Neither of them have any self control when it comes to each other and this. And that should scare the hell out of her.

He presses against her again and she bites her lip, letting out only the tiniest of gasps before he lets her leg drop. Then his hand is yanking the zipper on the side of her skirt down, and she sighs as he steps back, the cool air of the room hitting her fevered skin. He kneels, pulling down the red skirt and her panties with him, until she’s bare and her clothes are tossed over by her couch. He stops a moment, palms rubbing over her thighs, easing them apart as his thumbs touch the sticky wetness clinging to her folds.

They haven’t moved from the door yet, but he’s on his knees between her legs, tongue sliding over her clit. Her hand fists in his hair, her back arches, and she wonders what she tastes like to him that he likes doing this so much. He hums against her cunt, the vibrations shuddering over her sensitive skin as his tongue curls into her briefly, darting in and out a few times just to drive her mad with want. It makes her want him inside her again, spreading her open and seeing how deep he can go, but then there are his fingers, two of them, pushing into her.

Her hips roll against his mouth and hand, and he sucks on her clit, slipping a third finger inside, wanting to make her come. He loves that he can do this to her, and that she lets him, that all it takes is a lingering look for them to know what comes next.

Her hand tugs at his hair and he knows she’s close, slows his fingers and pulls his mouth away, licking the tangy sweetness of her off his lips.

“Fuck, Lacey, I love how you taste,” he says, working his fingers deep into her. “Love how wet you get for me.”

She cries out in frustration, loving and hating it when he keeps her on edge like this.

“Are you like this for him?” he wonders out loud.

It’s been bothering him all these weeks. If she’s seeking him out because her abusive arse of a husband can’t or won’t satisfy her, because she has no other options, or if there’s something more. He can’t decide which he’d rather it be, but there’s a tight, sick feeling in his gut that maybe this means nothing to her, even as he tells himself it’s nothing to him.

She bites her lip and wants to resist answering, doesn’t want him to know how badly she needs him, how no one else has ever made her this crazy. “No,” she gasps, “for you.”

He grins against her thigh and his hand speeds up again, thumb rubbing her clit until she comes. He laps at the moisture spread on the inside of her thighs, and then stands, offering her his fingers. She moans around them as she sucks them into her mouth, her hands already working at his belt.

Early September

Rush sighs and picks at the frayed patch of denim on his knee. He’s been replaying every conversation, every moment with Lacey in his mind since he got back to California. It's like a humming in his head, drowning out the gentle sounds of the breeze and the rustling leaves in the garden. He can tell it had taken a lot of courage for her to even ask, and he was a bit surprised it hadn’t already come up in all his time in Storybrooke. Of course he’d done the stupidest thing imaginable, the worst possible fucking thing he could have done because he was, basically, an arsehole who fucked up everything that wasn’t math.

Well, he fucked that up too sometimes, but this was worse.

Something had struck him in that moment, and it was like every word he ever knew, including all the curse words he so readily flung at his walls of calculations, fled his mind. He’d stammered and waved his hands, paced back and forth behind her sofa, and then he’d just - left. Like a coward. He went back the next day to try apologize, but she told him exactly what he needed to hear. It meant nothing. It wasn't going to last. So he packed everything up and left Storybrooke.

Now he's sitting on the back steps of the house he’d shared with Gloria for over a decade, staring out at the garden like he has almost every night since he arrived home. She had designed and taken care of it since shortly after they moved in, up until she’d been confined to the hospital. He's been paying a sizable monthly fee to a landscaping company to maintain it like some kind of memorial to the past. His head feels fuzzy, his mind unable to focus on anything but the scent of roses wafting on the breeze.

It’s been four years since Gloria died. Four years in which he’s gone from the depths of grief and depression, to nearly losing his job, to meeting Lacey and feeling like he was finally himself again. Maybe better. Maybe he’s actually come out of the other side of the worst day of his life a better person. Somehow. Or maybe he’d just finally given enough of a shit to try.

Rush snorts and kicked a smooth oval rock off the bottom step. It skitters across the paving stones and lands in the grass. He sighs again.

“Will you tell me about her?”

How are you supposed to describe the person you thought was your soulmate? How do you explain that they understood you better than you did yourself? How do you talk about the destruction they left behind by their leaving, the shards scattered around that used to be you?

And how the hell do you tell that to the person who wasn’t afraid to approach you, who accepted all your rough, angry edges, and who put you back together piece by piece without even knowing that’s what they were doing?

Some people live their whole lives and never find what we had.

He can hear Gloria’s voice like it was five minutes ago, like he’d just walked out of that hellish hospital room. He sniffs and swallows, swearing that he can still smell that noxious sterile scent. It smelled like people waiting to die, like hopelessness and loss.

Rush takes a deep breath and closed his eyes. Nothing about this summer was normal, and now he’s just supposed to go back to work on Monday, back to class and teaching and research. Back to his life, such as it is. He has to present his new findings on Icarus in a week, and he should be in his office going over every calculation for the tenth time. But he’s here, staring at some plants and trying to sort out his fucking life.

“She was -,” he says out loud. Then he frowns and looks around into the small yard thoughtfully. A crow cocks its head at him and then flies off. He sighs again. “She was a force.”

Rush smiles.

Yes, that was the best way to describe Gloria. They had enough similarities that they got on well, but to most they looked like complete opposites. He was - is - always a barely approachable misanthrope, while she was polite and thoughtful. They were both intense when it came to their work and very focused, but where he knows he can be too single minded when he gets into something, Gloria was more steady and even. She could obsess, certainly, but it was metered out over days and weeks of practice and contemplation instead of 36 hour binges with too much caffeine and no sleep.

Gloria was beautiful, smart, and funny. She was light and happiness in his otherwise dark, mundane world. The house still feels empty without her. It has become a place he existed, occasionally, and slept, sometimes. The couch in his office at the university probably gave him more good hours than his expensive memory foam mattress here. The house is just here, just a remnant, a memory best left in its fucking box.

The time he’d spent in that pink Victorian had started to feel comfortable. It was strange how in just four months he’d gotten so used to the trees and the clean air and the warm glow when the sun hit the windows in the study. If he closes his eyes he can see Lacey there on the sofa while he worked, her nose in a book, or sitting across from him at the diner, smirking about some joke she’d made at his expense and stealing fries off his plate. With Lacey everything had felt lighter and more vibrant again.

With Lacey, he felt - alive.

Just thinking about Gloria weighs him down and leaves a hollow ache in his chest. He’d gone to the cemetery yesterday morning after not having been there since the day of her funeral. He’d taken flowers and stood there staring at the headstone, not really knowing why. It seemed like the thing people did when they lost the love of their life, but it was an empty gesture. The walk back to the house was long and by the time he made it in the door his whole body hurt from trying hold in his tears.

The worst part is all he can think about was Lacey and how he’d left things. How he’d just plain left. She’d reached out to him, tried to understand him and the burdens he carried, and he’d just fucked off back to California, to the university and a job that his heart wasn’t in anymore. He rubs the back of his neck and tries not to think about that first time, how he’d pushed her against the wall, her smell, and the feeling of her legs wrapping around his waist.

The pain only seemed to dull when he was with Lacey. He had let the empty places full up for a while with her bright eyes, her laugh, and that endearing way she would bite her lip when she was thinking. She probably hates him, but he needs to talk to her, to explain if he can. He owes the truth to her, just as he’d owed it to Gloria when she lay there hooked up to so many machines. He hadn’t been brave enough to face things then, not really. Now maybe he can keep his shit together long enough to say what needs to be said.

Rush exhales and stands up, pulling open the back screen door and stepping inside. It snaps closed and he pushes the inside door shut as well, turning the deadbolt. He has come to some sort of conclusion sitting on the steps, like working back through the lines of an equation to find an error, and now he needs to get back to Lacey as soon as possible. It will mean flying across the country again, and driving up those winding roads to Storybrooke. It’s madness, but he has to try, he has to make things right. If she’ll let him.

Two Days Later

Lacey slumps against the couch and angrily jabs her thumb at the channel button on the remote. The paper she’d found in her apron pocket a couple weeks back is sitting on her coffee table next to a letter from her lawyer. A lawyer Nicholas Rush is apparently paying for. She pawned her ring yesterday for a lousy 500 bucks, and she has to be out of the apartment in a week. All part of the requirements for a quick divorce and a restraining order, but she has a voicemail from Mallory Vincent that a certain pink house is available if she needs it. Rush is responsible for that to, she assumes.

Fuck him, she thinks.

She sniffles and then swears, pushing up off the couch. She moves towards the kitchen to refill her wine glass, but stops when she hears a knock at her door. It comes again when she failed to move, but she stands there, staring.

“Lacey?” comes Rush’s voice.

She nearly drops her glass. She never thought she’d hear that sound again, and her feet take one, unconscious step towards the door before she stops. She closes her eyes and turns away.

No.

“Lacey!” he calls out again, thumping his fist against the door three more times. “Please open the door.”

She swallows and turns back, crossing the space and putting her hand on the deadbolt before she knows what she’s doing. Her forehead leans against the wall beside the door, but her hand doesn’t move. When he knocks again, she can feel the thudding vibrate through her palm.

“C’mon, Lace!” he pleads.

Then his voice drops. It was still louder than normal, but only so she could hear him through the door, like he knows she’s standing there undecided about opening it.

“I want to tell you about Gloria.”

His voice breaks a bit on her name, and Lacey feels her chest tighten again. She knows how hard it is to open up about these things. Sometimes she can barely say her mother’s name without wanting to cry, which is pretty unfortunate considering the new girl at the diner is named Collette.

“She was beautiful, and smart, and amazing,” he continues. “And I loved her, very much.”

Lacey squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to cy. She wants to scream at him to shut up and go home. It’s okay that he still loves his dead wife, she just doesn’t want to hear about it. She wishes Garrett was dead, that he was her great lost love so she can understand half of what Rush must feel. That might make it better, she thinks, it might make it hurt less.

She’s always been excellent at lying to herself.

“But she’s not you, Lacey,” Rush says, hoping his voice is making it through the gap in the door.

Hoping that the shadow he saw a few seconds ago is really Lacey and not the curtains fluttering or a trick of the light, hopes he isn’t talking to an empty room like a fucking idiot. Then there is a sharp click, and he steps back. The door swings open partway and Lacey moves into the space, looking like she’s barely holding things together.

Rush feels like shit. He wonders if he should have come at all and opened wounds that hadn’t even healed yet. “Hey.”

Lacey wraps her arms around herself, her hands pulling back into the oversized sweatshirt. “Hey.”

Rush looks her up and down. She looks so small and fragile, and all he wants is to hold her. “Can I come in?”

Against her better judgement, she nods and steps aside, and Rush follows after her, shutting the door behind him. She takes a seat at one end of the sofa and clicks off the TV before tossing the remote on the coffee table.

“So,” she snaps, “you’re in.”

Rush rubs his palms against his jeans, unsure if he is welcome to sit closer to her or not. He opts for the middle cushion, halfway between the other end of the sofa and her legs.

“Look, I’m a fucking asshole -”

Lacey snorts. “Yeah, that’s a word for it.”

His lips quirk and he nods. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry, alright? I should have brought it up sooner, but it’s -” He waves a hand and then ran it through his hair, falling back against the sofa.

“Hard,” she sighs, fiddling with the cuff of her shirt. He looks good in his white shirt and dark jeans, and that annoys her. “I know.” Then she shrugs and met his eyes. “My mom.”

He nods again. “Gloria was a force in my life. Like gravity. Steady, inevitable -,” he pause and huffs. “And fucking complicated.”

Lacey gives a short laugh and then wipes at her eyes. “I’m sure she was great.”

Rush smiles. “Yeah. But she’s not here anymore, and I - I didn’t even realize I’d come to terms with that until I left. I went home and - “ He shrugs. “It wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like it used to.”

He reaches out, hesitantly, and puts his hand over hers. After a few seconds, Lacey looks up and turns her hand over, letting him thread his fingers through hers.

“What did it feel like?” she asks.

Rush swallows hard and closes his eyes as his vision blurs. He feels himself squeeze Lacey’s hand and hers squeeze back. It grounds him in the moment and the lump in his throat eases.

“Nick?”

He opens his eyes and shakes his head. “Like a house,” he says simply. “Just - a house.” Lacey frowns at him. “I always used to think of it as home, our home. Mine and Gloria’s. Maybe even more hers than mine sometimes, but - it’s gone. She’s gone.”

Lacey squeezes his hand again. “It’s okay, Nick. I know you love her, and I’m - I’m not -”

“No,” he snaps, shifting abruptly so he is facing her, his leg pulled up on the cushion between them. “No it’s - it’s not that,” he tries to explain, his hands clenching and opening in the air between them as he fights to keep them and himself still. It won’t do to start pacing and waving his hands now.

He shuts his eyes and takes a breath, opening them again as he exhales between his lips. “I mean, yes, I love her, but - she’s not you.”

She feels like she’s sinking into the couch, like her very existence is unraveling because nothing matters. Next to the specter of Gloria she is nothing, she is not enough. Her bottom lip trembles and no sooner does she open her mouth to speak than Rush’s lips are on hers. He kisses her firmly, his hands cupping her face, and his lips opening just enough to catch hers. She feels the very tip of his tongue and shudders. When he pulls back his eyes are dark and wild, and she’s pretty sure she’s stopped breathing.

“And you’re not her,” he adds. “And you don’t have to be, so put that out of your head.”

Lacey scoffs. “Yeah, I’m not fucking gravity or whatever.”

Rush shakes his head again. “No, you’re - “ he pauses, his eyes staring into hers, like he wants to fall into them. “A supernova.”

She laughs, and Rush sits back, taking her hands in his as her body shakes slightly. “Right, okay,” she says. “I’m a catastrophic and destructive astronomical event. That sounds about right.”

Fuck if those words from her lips don’t do things to him, but somehow he doesn’t think she really understands. He’s shit at this. This is why he wasn’t able to face the hospital and the doctors and the inevitable. Sure there was Icarus to bury himself in, but that was always just an excuse.

“No that’s - that’s not - fuck.”

Lacey snorts. “I get it, Nick.”

“No,” he sighs. “You don’t. You’re -” His hands flail at bit as he struggles for words. “Unstoppable.”

Then he brings his fist down on his thigh and takes a breath. “And I love you.”

Her mouth gapes. “What -?”

He loves her. And he thinks she’s unstoppable. Nicholas Rush thinks she's un-fucking-stoppable, like an explosion from a collapsing star. And somehow that’s the best thing anyone had ever said to her or about her.

A lock of hair comes loose from her hair clip as she looks up. “Nick, I -”

He raises a hand and she stops. “You don’t have to say it. It’s - I just needed you to know, and if you don’t, that’s fine. But I went home, all the way back to fucking California, and - and it wasn’t anymore. It wasn’t home.”

He’s jumbling everything now, his brain rapidly trying to catch up to the fucking leap his heart had apparently made without permission. But he barely has a chance to say everything that’s trying to rush out of him before Lacey launches herself into his lap and kisses him, pushing her tongue in his mouth as her legs squeeze his sides. One hand goes in her hair, pulling the clip loose, while the other holds her face and tilts her head to a better angle.

When they finally came up for air, Lacey is grinning. “Shut up, Nick.”

Rush smiles. “You’re distracting me, sweetheart.”

She shrugs one shoulder and bites at his bottom lip, pulling a lovely feral sound from his throat. “Oops.”

He moves to kiss her again but she leans back, pressing one hand to his chest.

She closes her eyes, briefly, and takes a breath. It’s all so obvious now. “I love you too.”

The talking part of the evening is clearly over as Lacey starts unbuttoning his shirt, cursing as she goes.

“Why do you have to wear these fucking button down shirts all the time?”

“I’m a professor,” he snarks, slipping his hands under the hem of her sweatshirt. His fingers dance up her sides until his thumbs are brushing the underside of her bare breasts. No bra. “Fuck.”

She pauses, her fingers holding the second to the last button and gives him a look. “And here I thought it was because you looked so fucking sexy in them.”

He lips quirk and he cups her breasts, making her lose her grip on his shirt when he rubs the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. “I think you’re the only one with that opinion.”

“Mmm,” she hums and arches into his touch. “Does it matter - oh - if I am?”

Rush stops teasing her nipples, and brings his hands to her waist. “No,” he answers softly. “Yours is the only opinion I give a flying fuck about.”

Lacey grins and pulls the last two buttons of his shirt free before pushing it off his shoulders. “Damn straight, Nicky,” she says, smirking at the way he rolls his eyes.

“Hate it when you say that,” he replies, half smiling. Then he shifts and settles back against the couch, pulling her with him, and groaning as her hips roll into his.

“Obviously.”

She smiles at him, her heart soaring when he grins back, and leans in to kiss him, cupping his scruffy cheeks in her hands. His fingers curl around her hips and pull her closer, his mouth slowly slanting over hers. Her arms slide over his shoulders, one hand coming up to thread through his soft hair as she sink into the kiss. His tongue probes at her lips, seeking entrance, and she gladly opens, letting their tongues slide together.

After a moment, she moves one hand, skimming it down over his stomach and then the bulge in his pants. He moans in response, the sound reverberating straight through her. He pulls her to his chest as his mouth breaks away from hers to run his lips over her jawline. She lets out a small gasp and squeezes her knees on either side of him.

“Nick,” she breathes, and he hushes her gently.

Lacey is lost in the anticipation, heat burning between her thighs, screaming to be sated. They should go to her bed, she thinks, they should do this properly or something. It isn’t every day someone declares they loved her. In fact, it hasn’t ever been any day at all. Everything Garrett said was a lie to get into her pants or get her to stay with him. She can’t say that she’s ever really, truly been in love before right now. That should be sad, given that she’s about to turn twenty-six, that she’s been married. But she doesn’t feel anything except a stupid, flippy feeling in her stomach and an almost overwhelming desire to fuck Nicholas Rush into her lumpy, old couch.

She leans back and reaches down to pull up the hem of her shirt, twisting a bit to get it over her head. Her pelvis grinds against the hard ridge of his cock, her thin leggings no barrier to the wetness between her thighs. His breath hitches and he grunts out a little ‘fuck’ that makes her smile.

Rush’s fingers dip down to the waistband of her leggings, feeling her muscles tremble beneath his touch. Lacey French is fucking amazing, and he’s still reeling from the fact that she said she loved him too. Given how bleak everything has seemed for the last month, he hadn’t expected such an ending. Especially from himself. But the revelation of his feelings was too much to keep in, like when he knew without a doubt he had the right answer. Oddly, it feels just like it had when he realized he loved Gloria, and there is a strange comfort in that, a rightness in his mind and heart.

Lacey gasps out his name as his hand slips beneath the waistband of her pants and underwear in one deft move. Her fingers curl around his wrist, the other grabbing at his shoulder as his fingers slowly explored her. She can feel the callous on his thumb, created from the pressure of his pencil, as it rubs against her clit. There’s something so erotic about the little rough spots on his hands and fingers as they stroke her sensitive flesh. It reminds her of the scrape of his whiskers when he licks her to a frenzy. Rush has a lot of rough parts, but she loves every one of them. They made him feel so real, so human, like she’s really connected to someone.

“So wet,” Rush hisses close to her ear, his breath dancing over her as he circles her clit.

She cries out as he presses a single digit into her, hips moving earnestly in response to the mounting pleasure.

“Fuck,” she pants, letting her head fall against his shoulder. “Please, please, please!”

She’s close. Her pussy is already fluttering around his finger and then he adds a second, drawing a long moan from her.

“Oh -” Lacey bites down on her lip, her eyes closed tight as he thumbs at her clit just right and rocks his hand against her, fingers thrusting shallowly.

That is all it takes.

She cries out as her orgasm hits, her whole body tensing all at once as white dots flash behind her eyelids. It was always intense with Rush before, but this is different. They’re different. Everything is fucking different now that they are officially in love with each other. As the pleasure dulls to a quiet roar in her ears, Lacey smiles and kisses his bare shoulder. Rush is in love with her.

She’s going to have to repeat that to herself a lot.

After a long moment, Lacey lifts her head and looks down at him. “Hey.”

Rush smiles softly. “Hey.”

Then he pulls her down for a kiss that quickly turns desperate and needy. Her hips start moving against his, tormenting his aching cock as she moans against his lips. He feels her hands sliding over his arms and down his chest to fumble with his belt. Eventually she yanks it open, and starts tugging on his zipper.

He grunts and pulls back, lifting his hips so she can eased his jeans and underwear down, watching as she stands up to shuck her leggings. Then she straddles him again and takes his cock in her hand, stroking him firmly and tearing a long, low moan from his throat. The need he feels for her isn't new, but it is different. Before it seemed like only she could fill those hollow places he’d ignored for so long. Now he feels whole, renewed, and free. He feels like he can try giving back what she has given him, that he can let himself love her without reservation, and without the past holding him down.

His head lolls back against the sofa as she twists her hot little hand, smearing precum along his shaft. “Fucking hell, Lace.”

Lacey grins and then kisses him, desperate and messy. She raises up on her knees, breaking the kiss, and guiding his cock to her aching center. She lets the head slip back and forth between her folds until he keens. She gasps against his lips and he licks at her, flicking his tongue over hers, teasing as he lifted his hips. She lets her weight drop and they press together slowly, savoring the slow slide of his cock inside her, and moaning in each others mouths as skin meets skin with nothing between them.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asks, panting, and she nods

Lacey bites her lip and moves back just a little, feeling him shift against her slick pussy. He pulls on her hips and slides back in, and she whimpers. Oh, it feels just as good as she remembered.

Rush breaks away from her lips, and presses his forehead to hers. His eyes gaze into hers as he rolls his hips up, lifting her and letting gravity draw her back down. Everything hot and tight, wet and soft.

“More,” she begs, running her fingers through his long hair as she rocks into his movements. Her knees push into the sofa cushions, the textured fabric biting into her skin, but she ignores it and moves her hips as faster.

Rush picks up the pace of his thrusts, using his arms to lift her as best he can, drawing out and slamming into her over and over.

“So. Fucking. Good,” he gasps, dragging his lips along her collarbone.

Lacey’s hands scrape over his chest, and curl around the back of his neck to hold him close.

“Oh, Nick,” she moans, her head falling back. “Yes. Yes!”

She’s close again, teetering on the edge. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she holds onto him, biting down on her bottom lip. Then she feels his hand between them, his thumb seeking and finally pressing against her clit. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream, everything so intense she can’t make more than a squeaky little gasp. The pulsing of her cunt brings him over the edge just after, and the look on his face in that moment is enough to make her tremble all over again.

He looks relaxed for the first time since she met him. Not even a whole six pack of beer, or the exhaustion after 30 hours in his office scribbling on the whiteboard has made his jaw go slack like that. When he looks at her, his eyes are dark, but glowing in the low light, more open than she’s ever seen. In that moment, Nick Rush is an open book to her, and she feels tears well up in her eyes.

“So, you love me, huh?”

Rush nods. “Aye, I do.” Then he gives her a lopsided grin. “Maybe next time we’ll make it to the bed. Or even out of our clothes.”

Lacey laughs and kisses, her thumbs stroking the soft whiskers on his cheeks. “Maybe,” she says. Then she turns serious and sighs. “Where do we go from here?”

He brushes her hair back from her face, the corner of his mouth curving up. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’m not leaving again, without you.”

“Would you stay?” she asks. “Here?”

He shrugs, his thumb brushing lightly over her neck. “Yes. If you wanted.” Then he smirks. “But have you considered moving to California?”

Her head tilts as she considers his offer. “Is the weather nice?”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “It’s shite. In the winter it rains for five days at a time, there’s fog every other morning, and the summer’s too hot to breathe.”

She shakes her head. “Sounds lovely.”

“It is,” he says softly. “The people are nice too, sometimes they even remember to use their fucking blinker before they cut you off.” Then he sighs. “But I have to start class on Monday or Mal really will fire me. I have a return flight tomorrow morning, so if you’re serious -”

She giggles and wraps her arms around his neck, shutting him up as she presses her body against him in a tight hug. It’s a good thing she doesn't have much she cares about here, there will be less to pack. “Yes,” she whispers into his neck. “Fuck this place.”

His arms come up to hold her, marveling at how perfect everything feels. Gloria was right, some people never had what they’d had, but somehow Nicholas Rush has been lucky enough to find it twice. And he’s never letting it go again.

[abovethemists]

The Worst That Could Happen - Chapter 4

AO3 Link

Summary: Nicholas Rush has been told to lighten up or face repercussions in his professional career. Lacey French is in desperate need of a wedding date. A blind date provides them both with an opportunity. From the prompt “Rushacey blind date”. 

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

A/N: The last time I updated this fic, no one had ever heard of Covid-19. A simpler time. Anyway, here’s the next chapter of the Rushacey blind date/fake dating fic. 

*

“How did it go?”

Rush jumped at the voice that came from far too close behind him, nearly spilling his coffee down his front. He wheeled around to face a smirking and altogether too smug Gold, and leveled him with a glare.

“Fine,” he said, tersely, moving past the other man and out of the teacher’s lounge.

He was jumpy as all hell this morning and the worst part was he couldn’t blame it on anything other than himself. He’d been off all morning thanks to Lacey’s impassioned plea and his casual lie to Regina. He wasn’t sure his superior had been remotely convinced. He could feel her skeptical eye on his back as soon as he’d left her standing in the quad, but she hadn’t contradicted him. Regina was watching him though and that could only mean trouble.

“How did you like Lacey?” Gold asked, trailing after him down the hall, the scuff of his cane on the industrial linoleum floors keeping pace with Rush’s footsteps.

“She’s a nice enough girl,” Rush conceded. There was no point in telling Gold just how much he’d liked his sister-in-law. Nothing was going to come from this little farce of hers. He happened to be in the right place at the right time for Lacey’s use, nothing more.

“Nothing else to say?” Gold prompted, that interminable smirk still on his face. Rush had half a mind to punch him.

“No,” Rush groused, settling for being his usual sociable self. They’d arrived outside Rush’s office and he turned to face Gold without opening the door. He wasn’t about to invite the other man in to question him further.

“Lacey tells my wife everything,” Gold said, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a grin. “And my wife tells me everything.”

“What’s there to tell?” Rush asked defensively, crossing his arms against his chest. “I didn’t bloody sleep with her.”

“I wouldn’t want to hear about it if you did,” Gold fired back, his nose wrinkling. “She’s my wife’s sister, tantamount to being my sister.”

“She looks exactly like your wife,” Rush countered. “Failed to mention they were identical twins.”

Gold shrugged looking nonplussed.

“Lacey is half an inch taller,” he said, as though the physical differences between the sisters in any way outweighed the similarities. “But that’s beside the point. You’re going to that bloody wedding with Lacey.”

So Gold really did know everything about his non date with Lacey. He wondered if Lacey had told Belle about the kiss, or if she hadn’t given it another thought. Lacey probably kissed lots of people, all younger and better looking than himself. It certainly wasn’t haunting her every waking moment the way it was his.

“Oh am I?” Rush snapped. There was no need to tell Gold he’d already agreed to Lacey’s terms. “I must have missed when you took charge of my decision making.”

“Well someone has to,” Gold said, eyeing him critically and lingering far too long on the cuffs of his shirt. “What are you planning to wear?”

“What?” Rush returned with no small amount of annoyance.

“To the wedding,” Gold explained. “Do you even own a suit? I’ve never seen you wear one.”

“You wear enough of them for the both of us,” Rush snapped back.

“That’s a no then,” Gold said, still looking at Rush’s jeans and button down critically. “I’ll take you to my tailor, have something drawn up, but it’ll cost a fortune for a two week turnaround.”

“That’s completely unnecessary,” Rush said. “For your information I do own a suit.”

There was no need to tell Gold that it was a decade old and that he’d worn it exclusively to funerals and job interviews.

Gold winced nonetheless, as if he could picture the pitiful thing in his mind.

“Fine, perhaps you don’t need bespoke, can I at least take you shopping? Make sure you have something that fits?”

Rush scoffed. “Are you going to braid my hair afterwards too?”

Gold looked at him flatly.

“I thought we’d get mimosas and paint each others nails, but if you’d rather look like a slob and embarrass Lacey in front of all her friends, so be it.”

Rush sighed. He was supposed to be helping Lacey, ostensibly. She wanted to “win” her break up, whatever that meant. And her future career prospects were wrapped up in this too. If he showed up in his old suit, he’d hardly be an asset to any of that.

It was Rush’s turn to give Gold a once over.

“We’re about the same size, can’t I just borrow one from you? Surely you have a closet full.”

Gold looked mildly offended, taking a step back from Rush.

“I’ve got at least a stone on you. You’re emaciated.”

“You’re just as scrawny as I am.”

Gold sized him up critically.

“Fine, come over this weekend for dinner and you can shop my closet. You’ll need something for the rehearsal dinner as well.”

“You’re inviting me to your home?” Rush asked, surprised. So far his friendship with Gold had consisted of drinks in the office after hours. They’d never fraternized off school grounds.

Gold shrugged. “You’re dating my sister-in-law. You’re part of the family now. You should probably meet Belle.”

A week to the day after her date with Rush, Lacey found herself in a fabric store in Boston searching for the perfect lace for Ana’s veil. The dress itself was complete but for a few final alterations and Lacey thought she’d rather outdone herself. She’d taken inspiration from Ana’s grandmother’s original dress, updated it, and given it a spin she felt was unique to her aesthetic. Ana was in raptures over it and Lacey was already imagining a day when she could quit Granny’s for good and set up her own boutique.

“What about this one?” Belle asked, pointing to a bolt of ivory lace. She had Gideon strapped to her chest in a carrier, his little arms and legs flailing around as he reached for a rack of brightly colored silks.

Lacey pulled her sketchbook out of her purse, flipping open to the page that had her drawings for the veil and a scrap of the lace from Ana’s dress.

“Not quite,” she said, holding the sketchbook up to the lace. “But close.”

Belle hummed her disappointment and wandered further down the aisle.

“I can’t wait to see the finished product,” she said. “Send me so many pictures.”

“I wish you could see it for yourself,” Lacey said. “I can’t believe Will didn’t invite you.”

“Why would he invite his ex-girlfriend’s sister?” Belle said with a wave of her hand. “Or his ex-girlfriend for that matter.”

Lacey stopped to compare another bolt of lace to her sample, buying herself a moment.

“Because I made the dress,” she said finally, hating the excuse.

“Yeah, so what?” Belle said. “I didn’t invite Monique Lhuillier to my wedding.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Bells, I totally forgot you had a Monique Lhuillier gown. I’d never remember you were loaded if you didn’t mention it constantly.”

At Belle’s flat look, Lacey shook her head.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m a little on edge.”

Belle grabbed on to Gideon’s hand, saving a rack of colorful buttons from his sticky fingers as she turned to face Lacey.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said, with a knowing look.

“I’ve already done it,” Lacey countered. “The dress is nearly finished.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Lacey sighed, tucking her sketchbook back under her arm.

“He invited me,” she said, her voice hushed.

“So?” Belle said, managing to infuse the tiny word with so much sympathy it made Lacey want to cry.

“So if I don’t go it looks like I have a reason not to go.”

Belle reached for Lacey’s free hand squeezing it in hers.

“Why do you care what he thinks?”

“He’s my friend,” Lacey said with a shrug, pulling free from Belle’s grip.

“He dumped you!” Belle exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “You don’t owe him anything.”

Lacey shook her head.

“Our relationship had run its course. He’s still a good guy, just a little fucked up. We have that in common.”

“Fine,” Belle said, rubbing a finger across a stark white lace that absolutely didn’t match the dress at all. “If the relationship ran its course and there’s no hard feelings, then I’m happy for you. But there’s no rule that you have to stay friends with him.”

“Look just because you can’t be friends with your ex, doesn’t mean the same is true for the rest of us.”

Belle let out a hearty laugh at that.

“My only ex is Gaston and he was a Neanderthal. I don’t think friendship was ever in the cards.”

“If only you had one more in that column,” Lacey said reaching out to cup Belle’s cheek with her hand. “Remember when you and Gold broke up for like three weeks? Wish that would have taken.”

Belle’s mouth fell open in outrage as she covered Gideon’s ears.

“Take that back,” she whispered. “Or Gideon will think you regret him being born.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “He’s fifteen months old, Bells. He has no idea what I’m talking about. Do you Giddy Goo?” she directed at the baby, tickling him under the chin. “You have no clue what Aunt Lacey is saying do you? Silly little cutie booty!”

Gideon blew a raspberry at her.

“See?” Belle said. “He’s very smart. He understands condescension when he hears it.”

Lacey just rolled her eyes before spotting a lace option that might work and stooping down to get a better look.

“I know you’ll probably jump down my throat for even asking, but how are you feeling about your date with Dr. Rush?”

Lacey threw a glance over her shoulder at Belle.

“I feel fine,” she said. “We talked a bit on the phone earlier this week and I think we’ve got our story mostly straight. It’s best to stick close to the truth so we’re going with the story that you and Gold set us up and we’ve been dating for about three months. I doubt we’ll get much more scrutiny than that.”

“Uh huh,” Belle said noncommittally. “And how are you feeling about that kiss?”

“Well it didn’t suck, so if I have to do it again next weekend that’s just a little bonus isn’t it?”

“So you have a weekend long date with a nice guy with a stable job who is also a good kisser and you’ll be sharing a room at Granny’s B&B and you think absolutely nothing more will come from it?”

“I never said he was nice,” Lacey pointed out. “And as for job stability, that’s the whole reason he’s agreed to this.”

Lacey finally decided on the lace, jotting down the dimensions in her sketchbook before straightening back up.

“Well, I get to meet him at dinner tonight,” Belle said with a grin. “I guess I’ll get to judge for myself.

“Don’t get attached,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Belle. “It’s not real.”

“I know,” Belle said with a little frown. “But we’ve never been on a double date before. Can you let me have this?”

“Belle,” she said, her voice a warning.

“You know I never thought Will was right for you,” she said. “He took you for granted. Would it be so terrible to find someone who loves you like you deserve?”

“No,” Lacey said truthfully. “But Dr. Nicholas Rush isn’t it. The only reason he agreed to all this was because he needed something out of it as well. It’s a transaction, Belle. Not a relationship.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a smirk, turning back to the rows of lace. “Oooh, look at this one!”

“I already picked one,” Lacey said, holding up her sketchbook. “Let’s get Gideon home before he hurts himself.”

Belle glanced down at her baby who had somehow managed to find a skein of yarn and had it half unrolled. She sighed, extracting the yarn from around Gideon’s pudgy wrists.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” she said to the baby with a shake of her head.

Rush tugged at the lapels of his blazer as he mounted the front steps to Gold’s Victorian mansion that Saturday night. He’d never been to Gold’s house before, but if he’d tried to imagine the thing sight unseen, he’d have probably done a fair job. The house seemed to fit the man, luxurious but old fashioned. He could never envision Gold in a sleek, modern condo or a suburban McMansion. But the salmon colored Victorian with its decorative gables and wrap around porch over looking a wide green lawn was tasteful whilst undoubtedly expensive.

Just like Gold’s suits he was expected to peruse through this evening.

He tugged at his blazer once more, feeling a bit like he was going on an interview, or meeting the parents. It was a ridiculous thought. For one, he wasn’t actually dating Lacey. And second, he’d spent far more time with Gold than the one meal he’d shared with Lacey. Still, he would be meeting her sister and this whole fake relationship was seemingly becoming increasingly complicated.

He let out an unsteady breath, letting the nerves leave his system before he raised his hand to knock on the glass-paneled front door.

The door flew open a split second later, framing a diminutive brunette in a pleated skirt and white lace top. He rather sensed she’d been lying in wait for him.

“Hello!” she said brightly.

At first glance, he thought he was speaking to Lacey, but further scrutiny proved him wrong. Her large blue eyes were identical to Lacey’s, but her hair was a lighter shade of soft brown, lacking the reddish undertones of her sister’s and he wondered which of the twins bore their natural color.

Belle then.

“Hello,” he returned.

“You must be Nicholas!” she exclaimed, ushering him inside. “Or, I’m so sorry, do you prefer Dr. Rush?”

She looked up at him expectantly and Rush blinked.

“Nick is fine,” he said.

She beamed at him, taking his arm and leading him into the house.

“I’m Belle,” she explained, unnecessarily. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you,” he said, looking around the large foyer and taking in the large oak staircase to the right of the hall, the high stained glass window overlooking the stairwell and the plush Oushak runner in tones of muted red and gold. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you!” Belle returned. “Can I get you a drink? Roman is just upstairs getting Gideon down to sleep. I figured we could have a grown ups only dinner tonight. It’s a rare enough thing with a baby and he’s been going through a bit of a sleep regression.”

“Roman has?” Rush deadpanned, certainly the first time he’d ever used Gold’s first name.

Belle snorted, an inelegant little huff through her nose that reminded him of Lacey. Where was she anyway?

“Oh my husband has never been a good sleeper, but I was talking about the baby.”

Belle stretched an arm out toward a room off the main hall.

“Go ahead and get comfortable,” she said. “I’ll go pour us all a glass of wine. Is red alright with you?”

Rush nodded and Belle gave him another sunny smile before disappearing down the hall. With nothing else to do, Rush strode in to the room Belle had indicated, a lounge of sorts with a big fireplace set in the far wall flanked by large built ins. There were two overstuffed leather sofas set across from each other in front of the fireplace and Lacey was stretched out across one, her socked feet propped up on the arm.

“Nicky,” she said with a twist of her lips. His stomach lurched uncomfortably and he swallowed thickly.

“Lacey,” he returned.

She sat up, placing her feet on the plush rug and leaning her elbows on her knees. She looked comfortable this evening. Gone was the blue mini dress she’d worn on their date replaced by a pair of black skinny jeans with holes artfully ripped in the knees and an oversized black top that was slipping off one shoulder, showing a hint of a red lace bra. He averted his eyes, staring at the framed artwork above the fireplace. Or was it a TV with a screensaver? He couldn’t quite tell.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Lacey continued, calling his attention back to her. “I suppose one more night of getting to know each other is preferable before we convince Will and Ana we’re in love.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just nodded, standing awkwardly at the foot of the sofa.

Lacey stood up, stretching her arms up over her head and giving a tantalizing glimpse of her pale, flat stomach, before dropping her arms at her sides.

“So,” she said, “Are you ready to be the pretend man of my dreams?”

Rush nodded again. “I’ve already arranged for my teaching assistant to take my classes on Friday. I’ll drive up Thursday evening.”

Lacey raised her eyebrows. “Did you have to run that by your dean?”

“I did,” he said. “Told her I was attending an out of town wedding with my girlfriend. She choked on her coffee.”

Lacey smiled, a radiant thing that had him forgetting to breathe for a split second.

“Well I hope it’s gotten her off your back a bit.”

“My TA is absolutely brutal. Perhaps I’ll take Thursday off as well. They’ll be begging for my return.”

“Positively dastardly,” she said with an impressed nod.

“I was aiming for Machiavellian,” he said with a wink.

They smiled at each other, a comfortable silence filling the space, until the clack of high heels made them turn toward the doorway.

“Here we go,” Belle exclaimed, entering the room with a bottle of wine raised in one hand. Rush was no wine connoisseur, but he assumed anything to be found in Gold’s wine cellar had to be good.

Belle opened the wine, setting it on the coffee table to breathe as she retrieved 4 glasses from a butler’s pantry off the kitchen. By the time the wine was poured, they were all sitting comfortably, waiting for Gold to come down to eat.

“Don’t worry, Roman made the lasagna,” Belle said with a grin from behind her wineglass. “He did let me help with the salad though. I’m quite proficient at mise en place, but the actual art of cooking escapes me.”

“Aw, Belle, that’s not true,” Lacey chimed in. “Those sugar cookies you made last Christmas were bonkers.”

Belle scrunched up her nose. “Those were store bought. I just put them on a tray to look homemade. Thank you for thinking I was that capable though.”

Rush took a sip of his wine, enjoying the banter between the sisters. It had been long, too long, since he’d been around any sort of family. It was nice in a comforting sort of way to know such relationships still existed, despite his determined loneliness.

A moment later, Gold joined them, looking as casual as Rush had ever seen him sans jacket and waistcoat, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Gideon is finally down,” he announced, giving a nod of welcome to Rush.

“My handsome hero,” Belle said, standing from the couch and handing Gold a glass of wine. “Was he fussy?”

“Just a bit,” Gold said, planting a kiss to Belle’s forehead. “I think that back tooth is about to pop through and then we should all start getting a better night’s sleep.”

Gold took a sip of his wine before starting, staring down into the glass.

“Is this the 2013 Syrah?” he asked Belle.

She bit her lip. “Maybe.”

“We were saving that for a special occasion,” Gold groused.

“It is a special occasion,” she shot back. “We never entertain.”

“It’s your sister and my work colleague. Hardly a dinner party.”

“It’s my favorite,” Belle said, looking up at him with wide eyes. Gold seemed to melt, wrapping his free arm around Belle and smiling at her. Rush had no idea who this sap was, but he was a far cry from the man he saw at the university every day. Maybe a relationship would soften his edges, give him something more to live for than work. Perhaps, once this situation with Lacey was over and done with, he’d actually try going out on a real date.

It was probably a pipe dream.

“Ugh, get a room, would you?” Lacey groaned from beside him on the sofa.

Belle and Gold stepped apart, remembering there were other people in the room.

“We have a whole house,” Gold said. “And yet you seem to always be here.”

“I was invited,” Rush pointed out and Lacey shot him an exasperated look.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” Lacey said. “Belle and I found the perfect lace for the veil today and I’ll be headed back to Storybrooke tomorrow for the foreseeable future.”

“Doubtful,” Gold intoned, and Belle pinched his arm, nearly making him spill his precious Syrah.

“Alright,” he said motioning across the hall to the dining room with his wineglass. “Dinner is ready. That is why you two are here, right?”

“I thought I was here to borrow your clothes,” Rush pointed out. Lacey looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“My lack of wedding appropriate clothing has been noted,” he explained.

“Ah,” Lacey said, giving a once over to his blazer, button down, and jeans. “I think you look good.”

A nervous little butterfly seemed to take residence in Rush’s stomach, flapping against his ribcage.

“Well, thank you very much,” he replied.

“He can’t wear jeans to a wedding,” Gold said, affronted.

“It’s Storybrooke, not Manhattan society,” Lacey shot back.

“I thought you were an aspiring fashion designer,” Gold said. “Yet proper wedding attire is outside your wheelhouse?”

They bickered back and forth on the way to the dining room and halfway through dinner. Rush was under the impression it was par for the course for them and the apologetic look he got from Belle only solidified his opinion.

“Would you two stop already?” Belle said, exasperated. “What is Nick going to think of this family?”

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Gold deadpanned, taking a bite of the infuriatingly delicious lasagna. Rush was fairly certain Gold was proficient at absolutely everything despite being a miserable bastard. He could cook, had a beautiful wife, apparently a knack for antique restoration, and God knew what else. Rush was almost jealous.

“It’s refreshing,” Rush said, with a half smile at Belle. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a family dinner. Or a home cooked meal, honestly.”

“Oh, Nick,” Belle said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You’ll just have to come over more often. You’re Roman’s best friend, you know.”

Gold looked outraged.

“We’re hardly friends.”

“Work colleagues,” Rush added.

“Exactly.”

“Oh shut up and admit it,” Lacey said with a snort. “You’re friends and,” she cocked her head, looking back and forth between them. “Maybe cousins? The resemblance is there, right Belle?”

“I’m so glad you said something!” Belle exclaimed. “I thought the same thing.”

“Now that’s ridiculous, I’m far better looking,” Rush joked.

“I’ll agree with that,” Lacey said, and Rush felt his smile faltering, that stupid butterfly feeling erupting in his stomach once more. If she was going to keep complimenting him, he was definitely going to need more wine.

After dinner, Belle and Lacey cleared the table, heading in to the kitchen to clean up and Gold took Rush upstairs to rifle through his closet. The bedroom was massive, a king sized bed barely making a dent on the space. The walk in closet was half the size of the bedroom, one side filled with bright colors and fabrics and rows and rows of high heels. The other side was a wall of black, navy and very dark grey.

“Quite the range you have here,” Rush said, picking at the sleeve of the suit jacket closest to him.

“Pick one,” Gold growled.

Rush sighed, turning to the rows of finely made suits. He grabbed one at random.

“Not that one,” Gold said, his voice exasperated. “It’s entirely wrong for you. You need something European cut.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Rush admitted.

“Obviously.”

Gold brushed by him, pulling out two suits, one black and one navy.

“Here,” he said forcing the hangers into his hands. “Try those on in the hall bathroom.”

Rush did as directed, finding the guest bath and hanging the garments on the back of the door.

It felt a little strange, stripping down to his underwear in someone else’s house, but to his relief, the first suit seemed to fit. The pants were cut a little slimmer than he was used to, but it was undeniably well made. He buttoned the jacket, taking in what he could see of himself in the mirror above the bathroom sink. He was pretty sure he’d never worn anything this nice, not even to his own wedding.

With a sigh, he opened the bathroom door to go seek Gold’s approval when he was instead met with the sight of Lacey.

“Oh,” Lacey said, her eyes wide. She had a bowl of ice cream in one hand, a spoon hanging from between her pink lips. She pulled the spoon out of her mouth, letting it clatter in the bowl. “Wow.”

“Does this…” Rush glanced down at himself. “Does this work?”

“Ye—yeah,” Lacey said with a nod. “That’s…that’ll do.”

She licked her bottom lip as she watched him, and Rush suddenly remembered the feel of her lips against his last weekend. He was struck with the sudden urge to kiss her again.

“Lacey, I…”

“Will is going to look like an idiot,” Lacey said with a snort. “I see your hot English girlfriend and raise you an even hotter Scottish boyfriend.”

Rush clamped his mouth shut. That’s what this was about, showing up her ex. It was stupid to forget.

“Right,” he said with a nod. “Clothes make the man and all that. Hard to look bad in…” he checked the inside tag of his jacket “Dolce and Gabbana, apparently.”

Lacey shrugged her shoulder.

“I think you look good in just about anything,” she said with a wink. “Or nothing.”

He blinked, rendered speechless by Lacey for what felt like the millionth time.

She took a bite of ice cream, sucking on the spoon in a way that felt a little obscene. In spite of himself, Rush couldn’t help but watch, his mind conjuring all sorts of inappropriate images from what Lacey’s tongue was doing to the spoon.

“You want some?” she asked.

“What?” he asked, startled.

“Ice cream?” Lacey asked with a smirk. “Belle’s serving dessert, that’s why I came to look for you.”

“Oh, of course,” he said with a nod. “Sure. Let me change and I’ll be right down.”

“Alright,” Lacey said, still smiling at him dangerously.

Rush backed in to the hall bath, shutting the door on Lacey’s still smirking face.

This was fake, he thought, as he leaned against the bathroom door and shut his eyes. Despite her constant flirting, Lacey wasn’t interested in him. She was hung up on her ex-boyfriend and his only part to play in this little drama was as an outsider, someone who was around for a weekend and no more.

This wasn’t real.

He opened his eyes, catching his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he told himself.