#slight correction. i don’t care about being on low hp. but i do care that the low hp music is playing

[goldensunset]

i gotta say haxorus has been op on my team. even when like the same level as everyone else. all i have to do is set up a single dragon dance and suddenly it can sweep through entire teams that previously had defeated me with ease. all it has to do is survive whatever attack it gets hit with turn one and then the entire rest of the fight the low hp music is playing and i don’t care in the slightest bc no one is touching that thing

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Side Effects ch.5 (baon)

Summary: Edge has had time to think while he’s convalescencing, but the real struggle is not going out of his mind. Lucky him, Stretch is there to help.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Collars

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was weary of television.

He didn’t mind it in general as entertainment. He watched it often enough curled up with Stretch in the evenings and occasionally let it play in the background as he did chores. Like anything, it was perfectly acceptable, within reason.

That was before television became his main source of entertainment.

Sitting more or less trapped on their sofa by the weaknesses of his own body, his casted foot still settled into its pillow nest, his options were frustratingly limited. He was thoroughly sick of news that he couldn’t really affect, frustrated at watching cooking shows demonstrating recipes that he couldn’t currently experiment with and likely wouldn’t have the time once he returned to a full day’s work.

(and he could barely stand the kitchen right now, still spattered with faded red paint that couldn’t be completely scrubbed away, his sanctuary tainted by the memory of kneeling on the floor with his unconscious brother in his arms)

What he wanted was a sense of normalcy. He wanted back into his carefully created routines, their designated route interrupted only by Stretch barreling into them and often through them with his cheery enthusiasm for the new.

He wanted to be back at work, confidently handling the Embassy’s affairs rather than being forced to trust it was being appropriately managed without him.

That was all bad enough, but being forced to email the director of his YMCA program that he wouldn’t be available for this week, possibly the next, was a straw very close to breaking his back along with his leg. He already gave his group less attention than he had in the past, taking on fewer duties as he spent more time with Stretch.

Something was going to have to change and he was still coming up with a decision on what.

The door opening interrupted his thoughts and Edge glanced up with shameful eagerness, his ready greeting dying on his lips as Stretch stalked in wearing an entirely different outfit than he’d left in that morning. Well, he had been grumbling about boredom, hadn’t he. He could hardly complain when the Universe chose to dump a mystery into his lap. “What happened to you?”

Stretch glared at him, the tint of orange to his gaze both a warning and an intrigue. “bruno happened to me. you’re gonna have to send someone else next time you need a special order. look at me!”

Yes, yes, Edge was definitely looking and what he saw was only a confirmation of what he already knew: Bruno was an excellent tailor.

How and why could wait, for now Edge only wanted to appreciate the view. Stretch’s new khaki trousers were fitted, the snug line falling neatly from hip to ankle and far more appealing than the track pants he normally wore. His button-up shirt hugged his ribcage, emphasizing his slimness, and exchanged his usual bright orange with a deeper shade pinstriped with brown. Even though it was untucked, instead of messy it only seemed casual, particularly with the hint of white t-shirt peeking through the opened collar, teasing at a normal concealed collarbone. His jacket was unbuttoned, acting as a frame for the scenery. Even his shoes were different, loafers instead of untied sneakers. All in all, it gave Stretch’s lanky frame an air of compact litheness that was overwhelmingly appealing.

Edge honestly didn’t care how Stretch dressed, his love for him wasn’t conditional on his fashion sense. That certainly didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a feast when one was laid out for him.

Saliva welled in his mouth and Edge swallowed hard, ignoring the huskiness in his voice as he asked, “I take it Bruno convinced you to try on something new?”

“convinced me?” Stretch scoffed. “more like strong-armed, bribed, and blackmailed! it was either this or take the bus naked. i didn’t even have a sheet this time.”

Curiouser and curiouser. “Why would you be naked?”

“that would be because bruno stole my clothes.”

A beat passed. “I’m sorry, he what?”

“he stole them!” Stretch snarled. Sparks of fiery orange magic spangled from his fingertips and Edge struggled to keep his expression placid despite how utterly delectable Stretch looked in his temper. One broken leg was enough. “look, i don’t want to relive the experience, i’m gonna go change.”

Edge was quite sure he didn’t say anything. He was positive his expression didn’t so much as flicker, no indication whatsoever of how much he desperately wanted to protest.

But Stretch stopped halfway to the stairs, his sockets narrowing. “you want me to leave this on.”

“I’m sorry?” Edge tried for confusion, already knowing he was failing and miserably at that.

“you like it!” Stretch said accusingly.

There was a distinct possibility that his answer was going to dictate the course of the evening. Edge chose his words with the care of a one trying to decide which wire to cut on a particularly volatile bomb. “I always like you, no matter what you’re wearing...but you did already endure his tactics. It might be worth wearing a little longer, if only to see if it’s truly comfortable.”

That pointed gaze sharpened, eye lights once merely tinged orange brightening like a flame. Edge was reminded of a nature documentary, a warning that looking away from a lion might invite an attack.

Suddenly, one side of Stretch’s mouth quirked up in a languid smile, his tongue gliding briefly across his teeth. “you like it.”

That easy drawl sent a tantalizing shiver up Edge’s spine. “I do,” he confessed.

His risk proved worth it as Stretch almost prowled over to him, that rare gracefulness usually only seen when he was dancing and enhanced by those clothes as he said, husky low, “baby love, if you want me to play dress up, you only ever have to ask.”

He settled into Edge’s lap, winding long arms around him. Edge hissed through his teeth at the teasing wriggle, catching his hips to still him. Uselessly, Stretch’s smirk widened, his sockets hooded as he leaned in to brush their mouths together, pulling back before Edge could deepen it.

“oohh, what’s that i feel?” Stretch crooned. That squirm bordered on cruel, his tailbone grinding into Edge’s shorts. “i’m thinking you actually want to play undress, dontcha?”

Words escaped him. Edge was never as clever at verbal sparring as his husband was, anyway. All he could manage was a low growl, reverberating in his chest as he cupped Stretch’s chin in a rough hand, holding him still as he leaned in to take that perfectly mocking mouth.

A knock at the door stopped him a bare inch away, close enough for their breath to meet.

Stretch groaned, his head drooped. “seriously?”

“Ignore it,” Edge suggested breathlessly. He caught hold of Stretch’s hips in both hands, raising his own slightly as he lightly ground Stretch’s pelvis down against him. A low gasp came as his first answer but his second was disappointment as Stretch squirmed away, sliding to his feet.

“wow, really? who are you and what did you do with my husband,” Stretch said dryly. “sorry, babe, we ain’t hanging from the chandeliers yet.”

Edge could only watch the sway of Stretch’s hips sadly as they walked away from him, shifting his own in a vain attempt to stifle the heat settling there. His desire cooled considerably as Stretch’s voice floated from the opened door.

“hey, sans.” Stretch held an equal measure of surprise and wariness. Not entirely untoward, Sans wasn’t one to simply stop by for a visit. Whenever Sans showed up, he tended to bring along a gift of ulterior motives.

“heya, stretch,” Sans said, easily. “edge home?”

As if he didn’t already know.

Stretch snorted. “not by choice, come on in.” He held open the door and Sans strolled in, pausing to kick off his shoes at the door before Edge could loudly remind him. Stretch’s sockets widened, his gaze catching somewhere around the height of Sans’s chest. “hey, nice bling! getting some new decorations for the old place, huh?”

To Edge’s surprise, Sans’s eye lights slid towards him, almost warily. “thanks.”

Then he turned Edge’s direction and he was forced to catch his breath.

Sans was wearing a betrothal collar.

Collars served many purposes in Underfell, blatantly identifiable and allowing for little leeway when their warnings were ignored.

They were used to quantify familial relationships, status; a collar acted as a declaration. When Edge was Captain of the Snowdin guard, Red wore his collar, a statement of warning that any aggression directed at Red would be met and returned tenfold by not only Edge, but every guard in his command. Not that it had been entirely necessary, issues of HP aside, Red was more than capable of handling himself, but the statement was important.

A betrothal collar, in Red’s colors no less. Now this was an interesting development.

He did not mistake the wariness in Sans’s expression, the caution as he shuffled closer. Edge was years away from Underfell, but he doubted he would ever forget proper etiquette, not after having Red ramming it into his skull for most of his lifetime. In this case, the correct response was to ignore it. “What can I do for you?”

He didn’t think he imagined the slight tension easing in Sans’s shoulders. It was very nearly insulting; what was it he was expecting Edge to do? Challenge him to a duel? Demand to know Sans’s intentions towards his older brother’s virtue? Because that was a barn door long since opened and whatever horses left inside to run away were likely escaping into a different idiom.

Certainly Sans had issues of his own, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t appropriate for Red. Frankly, it was probably the only way a person would be appropriate for him. What Sans could give his brother was what Edge always wanted for him: a companion to keep him from being alone.

From seemingly nowhere, Sans pulled out a thick folder, offering it to Edge. “red asked me to give you this.”

“how is red doing, anyway?” Stretch shut the door, hands that were feeling for his hoodie pocket grudgingly sliding down to his trouser pockets instead.

“eh, you know red,” Sans said and there was a certain weariness in his grin that Edge understood all too well. “hangover won’t keep him down. between him and paps, i’m kinda hoping they both keep away from any whiskey behavior.”

To his credit, Stretch only nodded, offering no indication of the scene in their kitchen last night. “yeah, maybe they’ll let you call the shots for a while.”

“that’d sure lift my spirits.”

Edge only took the folder wordlessly, ignoring their version of coded speak. He was already aware Red was well. Alongside a reassuring message from Sans, he’d gotten a text from his brother in the wee hours of nothing more than a picture of a traffic light, shining green. Red indulging his sense of humor was nearly as reassuring as any message, as was this folder. Edge knew without looking what it was, flipping it open to the first page to see his brother’s incident report, written by hand in an obscure language from the Underground, the same one he forced Edge to learn as a child. “Did you read this?”

Sans scratched at the back of one leg with a sock-covered foot. “you asking if i did or if i can? cause the answer is yes.”

At his other side, Stretch leaned over his shoulder, peering down. “is that written in wingdings? holy shit, i haven’t seen that in years!”

Edge didn’t have a single qualm in flipping it closed to shield it from Stretch’s gaze. “i’m sorry, love, it’s a security briefing.”

That scowl said the state of his evening was teetering into dangerous territory again and Edge wondered sourly if he had Red to thank for it. He wouldn’t put it past him to send Sans over at right this moment simply to amuse himself.

“is it about the california?” Stretch asked, coolly. “cause, red said he’d let me know what happened.”

“he didn’t forget, either, honey bun. he did promise.” Sans plucked another report out of the air, holding it out in offering. “i won’t lie, it’s a little redacted, but he said you deserved to know what happened.”

“thanks,” Stretch said, the tightness around his mouth easing. Protest rose to Edge’s mouth as Stretch took the slimmer folder that Sans offered, left unspoken. If Red thought Stretch needed to know, then he would and nothing Edge said would change a damned thing. Especially if there were promises involved. “and don’t you start calling me that, it’s bad enough when the gremlin does.”

Sans shrugged. “can’t promise, but i’ll try. red kinda rubs off on ya, ya know?”

“yeah, no, i don’t wanna hear about you rubbing off. that why you’ve got the new accessory?”

Sans only tapped the folder with one finger. “don’t think i need to tell you that’s top secret. don’t get red into any shit blabbing, okay? not even your therapist, pretty.”

“yeah, yeah, i got it, no twitter announcements...wait, did you just call me pretty?” Stretch’s head jerked up indignantly, mouth dropping open in his outrage.

Very carefully, Edge didn’t react; he knew a distraction when he heard one.

Sans’s grin widened. “dressed like that, yeah. better’n honey bun. see you later, alligator.”

He didn’t wait for the return sentiment of the crocodile, wandering over to slide his feet into his shoes before shortcutting out.

Stretch only set aside his folder, muttering beneath his breath about gremlins and their cohorts. It turned back into a smile quickly enough as he turned to Edge, his voice a throaty purr as he said, “speaking of pretty things, think we were in the middle of something, pretty.”

And oh, it was tempting. But there was something Edge needed to do first and that report was a pointed reminder. He held up a hand as Stretch leaned in, halting him, “Wait. I’ve been thinking today. We need to talk.”

Stretch reared back, all that seduction collapsing into a lopsided smile, “welp, no good thing ever started with that. what are you cooking up and can’t it sit on a back burner for a while?”

Much as he mourned to see that desire dwindle away, Edge shook his head. “It’s important.”

Stretch’s smile wavered, fading. To Edge’s shocked horror, tears rose in the corner of his sockets and Stretch promptly came up with the very last thing Edge expected him to ever blurt out, desperately, “please don’t leave me!”

Edge only looked at him in flabbergasted surprise, watching as those tears spilled over, falling droplets dampening that new shirt. “What? Of course I’m not, why would you even think…we’re married! I promised you forever, I still have some time to give it!"

“well, don't start off with ‘we need to talk!’” Stretch snapped. “everyone knows what that means!” The flow of those tears didn’t ease and Edge took hold of him by the shoulders, giving him a gentle shake.

“I am not everyone. And nothing means more to me than you, do you understand me? Not my job, not any security reports, not even my damned kitchen. You. All right?” He couldn’t say his brother, but that was all right. Stretch would never ask for it. He pulled Stretch into a hard embrace, holding him tightly as if his arms could force away the tremor running through his husband. His husband. His.

Stretch nodded, his chin digging into Edge’s shoulder as he sniffled. “sorry, babe. i just...sorry. i know all that, i just panicked. so what…?”

“What I wanted to tell you was I scheduled a meeting with Asgore to be taken off the security roster permanently.” Stretch shifted in his arms and Edge let him go, allowing him to draw back to meet Edge’s gaze. Gently, he cupped Stretch’s face in his gloved hands, smoothing his thumbs over those angular cheekbones, wiping away dampness. “Truth be told, I should have done it a long time ago. You were right, I can’t handle being on two teams and the Embassy needs to train more Monsters to take care of security.”

“so...no more trips without me?” Stretch asked slowly.

Edge hesitated. “Love, I want to be able to promise you that, I do. But--”

“no, don’t.” Slim fingers settled over his mouth, silencing him. “it’s okay, babe. i get it.”

“Do you?” Edge couldn’t help asking. Listening to Stretch begging him not to leave had left him shaken. He couldn’t doubt Edge’s love for him, he couldn’t--

A warm mouth replaced those fingers, gently coaxing and Edge couldn’t help sighing into that soft touch. Stretch’s hand dropped to his, drawing it up, settling it over his sternum where his soul pulsed softly, its warmth seeping through.

“yeah, i do,” Stretch murmured, “wanna let me prove it?”

Some hours later, Edge was more than convinced of not only his husband’s belief in his love, but also that his new wardrobe was even better when tossed carelessly to the floor.

They were still on the sofa, Stretch sprawled out sleeping across his chest while Edge drowsily stroked the delicate place where his ribs attached to his spine when his phone caught his eye, sitting innocently on the coffee table. Reaching out, he could barely touch it with his fingertips, dragging it closer until he could pick it up.

The contact he wanted to message was the second on his list.

congratulations on your liability

For long moments there was no reply and Edge started to set his phone aside, debating on whether he wanted to sleep or persuade Stretch to wake up again when his phone lit up with an incoming message.

just jealous cause mine is in a collar

It was followed by a complicated array of punctuation that formed a picture of a middle finger.

Edge held back his smile, having no doubt that Red would be able to see it if he didn’t, and offered a middle finger of his own to whatever hidden cameras were surely in their living room. If his brother was perverse enough to be watching, that was, and there was a thought to haunt his nightmares.

His brother’s little dig wasn’t true and even if it was, Stretch’s comfort zone was the important thing. He could respect Red clinging to Underfell’s ways when it came to Sans. He didn’t need the same.

He didn’t.

Gently, he slipped a knuckle beneath Stretch’s chin, lifting it enough to steal a sleepy kiss that slowly warmed, deepening. Without looking, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table to join the unused television remotes. Tonight, he was hoping for a different kind of entertainment.

-finis-

@constantly-tired-reader made art of Stretch in his new duds! Look at him in all his sulky glory!!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Better Days

Summary:  Some days are better than others. Edge would know.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Notes: Been missing some of the side characters, seemed like a good time to pay them a visit!

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

At the exact time Edge always got up in the morning, his alarm went off. It barely sounded before he turned it off, scrubbing a gloved hand over his face as he sat up.

Next to him, Stretch stirred, his sockets barely opening. He caught sight of Edge and offered a sleepy smile before drifting back off, snuggling deeper in the warmth of the comforter. Edge’s soul cramped pleasantly at the sweet affection in that brief glance and he rested a hand lightly on Stretch’s back overtop the blanket, a silent return of that caring, before getting up.

By the time he stepped outside in his running clothes, the horizon was starting to lighten with burgeoning sunlight. The roads and sidewalks were clear for all that the temperature was below freezing, his route taking him past the school and the shops that were still closed. To him the cold was more bracing than uncomfortable, and he was sweating by the time he got back to their home.

Before he could go inside, he heard his name called behind him. Edge turned to see Jeff walking up the sidewalk. He was bundled up against the cold in an absurdly fluffy coat and mittens, only his eyes visible over the top of his scarf.

“Good morning,” Edge said, a touch warily, as he approached. “You’re here in town bright and early.”

“Yeah, Sans actually asked me to stop by,” Jeff’s breath froze in a cloud even through the scarf. “Said since his normal lab partner was taking a few days off, he needed a hand. I caught an early bus, though, so I thought I’d see if Stretch was awake.”

“Not in the slightest,” Edge assured him.

“Figured it was a long shot.” His grin was audible even as his teeth started chattering. He was visibly shivering even as bundled up as he was. Edge was better equipped to handle the low temperature with his HP. He didn’t doubt Stretch would shortcut directly into the chicken coop to feed their brood rather than step one foot out in it.

“That being said, you don’t need to spend the morning roaming the streets in this weather,” Edge told him crisply. “Come inside for coffee.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

In the time it took Jeff to strip off all his outdoor gear, Edge had a pot of coffee already brewing. Along with the cups, he set a plate of freshly made muffins on the table. Jeff plucked one up eagerly, tearing off the top and eating it with enough enthusiasm that Edge forgave him his messy habits.

“These are great,” Jeff said enthusiastically, hesitating as he reached for another, his fingers hovering uncertainly. Impatiently, Edge nudged the plate towards him, sipping his own coffee while Jeff liberated another muffin.

“I’m glad you like them,” Edge said. He grimaced as he watched Jeff pour cream and sugar into his own cup. No wonder he and Stretch got along so well, they probably had the same level of sucrose and caffeine in their bloodstreams. “What is it that Sans is going to have you working on?”

Jeff shrugged. “Beats me, but I thought it would be cool.”

Last week, that scenario wouldn’t have seemed ominous. But now…“I don’t believe I have to tell you to be careful and follow his direction?”

“Nope, but since you already did, I promise I will.” Jeff glanced at the ceiling, tilting his head towards the upstairs. “How is Stretch doing anyway?”

Edge didn’t care to discuss him with others, particularly his friend, despite knowing Jeff was coming from a place of concern. Instead, he said, “I believe he’d enjoy a visit from a friend, if you’re available after your finished with whatever Sans is subjecting you to.”

“I can probably manage that.” His enthusiastic tone belied the careless words.

A quick glance at the clock made Edge grimace. “I need to get going. You can stay here where it’s warm until you need to meet Sans, if you like.”

When they’d first met, if Edge had offered such a thing, he had no doubt Jeff would have awkwardly refused, perhaps even walked around outside shivering his way to illness until the allotted time.

Now he only hummed in agreement, reaching for another muffin. It gave Edge a feeling of satisfaction, to know Jeff was comfortable in his home. With a nod, he left Jeff to his coffee and went upstairs to quickly shower and change.

He had a stop to make before he went in to work.

~~*~~

The front walkway of his brother’s house was not shoveled, the snow damping Edge’s trouser legs as he waded through it. Not entirely a surprise; Red hardly needed to use the sidewalk and he was about as likely to make arrangements for someone to clear the snow as he was to do it himself.

The porch itself was swept mostly clear, the remaining snow tamped down, and Edge knocked firmly on the door, already making plans to contact one of the local teenagers about shoveling while Red was at work. He made another mental note to warn them not to step on the deceptively innocent porch. Not that his brother would set any fatal traps, but still…

When his brother didn’t answer the door, Edge knocked harder, impatiently, and he was about to try for a third when it finally opened, red eye lights peering at him through a narrow crack.

“boss?” Red asked, warily. He opened the door another bare inch, enough for Edge to discreetly push his foot through the opening.

“Not in a long time,” Edge corrected, and when his brother only stared at him, “Are you going to let me in?”

“think we can talk at work,” Red yawned, hugely and irritatingly fake.

“I am here now, and we will talk now.” He didn’t flinch as Red attempted to close the door on his foot, not even when he pushed harder, the bones threatening to crack. He only waiting patiently until Red gave in and opened the door, muttering vulgarities under his breath.

Edge pointedly ignored that there were two pairs of shoes on the mat, both distinct to their owners.

“all right, you’re in,” Red said impatiently. He was fidgeting oddly, picking at his gold tooth for a second before he caught himself, visibly forcing his hand down. That was a rare tell of nervousness; Red normally kept himself well under control.

“Sans…” Edge began, and he could only blink, nonplussed, as his brother abruptly let out what could only be called a verbal explosion.

“i’m not fucking talking to you about sans!” he snarled. “i don’t know what your pretty little goddamn liability has been telling you or what fucking business it is of his anyway, but he can wire his trap shut before i do it for him because—

Tempting as it was to let Red ramble on, if only to see what he would reveal in his careless anger, Edge was on a schedule. He was going to ignore the implied threat to his husband. This time.

“Brother,” Edge interrupted patiently. “I was referring to YOU. You may recall that I did call you Sans for most of my lifetime?”

To see his swaggering, overconfident brother deflate like a punctured birthday balloon was bordering on comical. Even his eye lights flickered, dimming as his temper cooled. “oh.”

“Oh, indeed. I only came over to return this.” He held out the e-cigarette he’d switched out yesterday. It hung in the air between them, Red staring at it with wide-eyed confusion that was no more convincing that his earlier yawn.

“what? why?” Red protested. “that was a gift! you can’t be pissy he’s vaping, it’s better than cigarettes. tell him to do it outside if it’s bugging you.”

He didn’t know whether it was more irritating that his brother was lying to him or that he wasn’t bothering to do it well.

“It’s not a matter of the vaping disturbing me. Your gifts come with strings. Or more likely wires,” Edge said dryly.

Red didn’t have the grace to bother with a sham of embarrassment. He only grinned as he finally took back the juul. “how’d you even know i gave it to him?”

“Simple. You just admitted it.”

“ah, fuck,” Red snickered. “never could fool you on everything.”

“You fool me on enough,” Edge shook his head. “I need to get to work. I suppose it would be useless to ask for a promise that you’ll stop trying to run surveillance on my husband?”

Red shrugged. “you can ask.”

“I’ll save my breath.” He debated on calling upstairs to Sans to let him know Jeff was waiting and decided against it. It was glaringly obviously Red didn’t want to talk about it with him and Edge wasn’t going to force the issue. Red was an adult, he could make his own choices, self-destructive as they probably were.

When he got back to his car, Edge took the time to knock any snow or wetness from his shoes and trouser legs before he climbed in. On the last harried drive to the hospital, they’d all tracked in dirty slush to stain the mats and upholstery. It hadn’t been a concern at the time, but he’d taken his car in to have it detailed over the weekend.

Normally he preferred to do his own cleaning, for their house and his office both. With a car, he’d deemed it best left to the professionals. The inside was like new, a cheery tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror.

He turned the radio station to an NPR station and drove to work.

~~*~~

The sense of relief that came over him to see Janice at her desk was indescribable. She looked a touch thinner and he could see the slight bulk beneath her jacket where he knew there was a bandage covering her stitches. But she gave him her normal smile when she looked up, professional and welcoming.

“Good morning,” Edge nodded at her.

“Good morning. I see you missed me,” Janice said wryly, gesturing to the neat but tall piles of folders and paperwork lined up on the end of her desk.

“Desperately,” he said honestly.

She looked startled but pleased. It turned into good-natured dismay when he set a paper bag on her desk and she groaned, “Did you bring in more muffins? I’ve already put on five pounds from what you’ve been sending to the house, you know.”

“Cranberry orange,” Edge told her and what was obviously only a thin hold on her control promptly broke.

“I’m going to ask for a raise for a new wardrobe,” she warned, fishing one out of the bag.

“You’d deserve a raise for your hard work.” He left her with that, her mouthful of muffin preventing any retort as he went into his office.

On his desk were neat stacks of papers, to sign, to review, to reject. Before he could do more than pull a stack towards him, his phone pinged and Edge picked it up with a frown, checking the message.

so if i come 2 meet u 4 lunch, can i borrow a kiss from u?

Amused, Edge sent back, You want to borrow a kiss?

yeah. promise 2 give it back

It was followed by a clutter of emoticons in various stages of kissing and heart eyes.

Edge could only shake his head, texting him back a time, then turned his attention to the stack of papers and got to work with an intensity, relaxing into the rhythm of it all.

Today was definitely a better day.

-finis-