#sorry i wish i could share more unfortunately i visit ao3 once every three months at best
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fic recs!!!! fic recs!!!!!
honestly i don't read many fics, and if i do they're typically oneshots, but anywhooo anything by legacymj is incredible !!!!!!!!!
#asks#sorry i wish i could share more unfortunately i visit ao3 once every three months at best#im always open to fic recs as well btw if u see a banger slide it over to me
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but all love is uneven
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia
Character: Todoroki Shoto
Pairings: Todoroki Shoto x reader
Tags: Angst with a happy ending
Warnings: implied/referenced suicide
Word Count: 3024
Good intentions, bad decision. You have the ability to reset time by dying, unfortunately, the consequences start catching up to you, and your husband is in the crossfires.
(Title from Anne Carson's Town of Uneven Love (But All Love Is Uneven))
Read on AO3 or keep reading:
“I’m sorry. This isn't how I wanted to tell you.” You can’t look him in the eye, so you fiddle with the results of the MRIs and x-rays and other medical exams. You shuffle through the papers in the folder that all say the same thing. For no reason any doctor can explain, your body is suddenly riddled with the remnants of several impossible injuries. You touch your head on the spot where they found the tumor - the thing that would kill you before any of the other injuries could. The tumor was your most recent injury, if you could call it that.
“I don’t understand.” Shoto says quietly. You think about how you never really planned on telling him anyway. All this time, you let him - everyone - think you didn’t have a quirk. The truth was too complicated.
“I can...rewind...time,” you start explaining again, “by dying.” You sneak a glance at his face, searching for any clues about how he’s feeling.
“I get that part. What I don’t understand...is why you wouldn’t tell me.” Shoto fiddles with the ring on his finger that matches your own. It was a new enough accessory that he didn’t have a permanent tan line on his ring finger yet.
“I didn’t want you to worry, Shoto.” He looks at you sharply as you speak.
“How many times?” You tilt the test results so he can see every unusual injury on you. “Did you save them?” You smile at the question. You knew that part he would understand.
“Every time.” You said. You can see he’s thinking it over, and you know him well enough to dread the next question.
“Have you ever saved me?” You nod, because your throat is suddenly too thick for words. “How many times?”
“Just once,” you manage to whisper. His fists clench.
“Which one?” He asks, gesturing to the body scan showing your injuries. You wish you could lie to him now, but it’s a little too late, perhaps.
“This one,” you point to a shadow over your chest, “and this,” your hands are shaking as you point to the tumor in the picture of your brain. His head whips from the images to your sorry face.
“What happened?”
“You died,” you choke, “so I...jumped off a building-”, you point at the shadow on your chest, “-and went back to the day of the incident. I was too late that time, and the villain, he…” Shoto took your hand and squeezed. “He shot me-” you pointed at the tumor again, “and the time reset again. I went back a week earlier, this time, and gathered enough evidence to get him arrested before he could try anything.”
“So, this is my fault,” he says, utterly serious, as he traces the shadow of the tumor growing in your brain. He couldn’t believe how oblivious he was. How could he not notice that you’d spent a whole week gathering evidence against a potential villain? Getting the evidence to stick so the villain went to prison? Saving lives?
“No!” This is precisely why you hadn’t wanted to tell him about your quirk. “This was my decision, Shoto. I wanted to save you. I couldn’t live with myself if I just let you go like that!” He suddenly takes you in his arms, holding you tight.
“I’m so sorry.” He tucks his face in the crook of your neck. His voice is serious, but you can tell he’s holding back tears. You bring your arms around him.
“I’m not sorry.” You say, rubbing circles on his back the way you know he likes. “If I hadn’t done that, then I wouldn’t be holding you like this now. I wouldn’t be hearing your voice. I wouldn’t be sharing my life with you.”
“But...what am I supposed to do now? I can’t save you from this.” This is a side of him you’ve never seen. Shoto never gave up, never backed down. You never wanted to see him hopeless, yet here you both were.
“You don’t have to save me, Shoto. Being here with you is more than enough.” As you speak, you think about how you’d trade your life for Shoto’s any day. “Maybe I’ll come back again. Maybe I’ll rewind again.” You’re crying now, because deep inside you know this might be it. The injuries of every reset are catching up to you, and this might be the final death. This time, it’s not your choice. You’re not throwing yourself off a building, or slitting your wrists, or any of the other things you’ve inflicted upon yourself. This time, your own body is saying enough is enough. There was no way you could save yourself - you had 5 years left - but maybe you could save him just one more time.
*~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~*
You’ve been thinking about this for a month now, which to you seems like a long time if you want your plan to work out. After all, you wanted to see at least a small glimpse of his future before your time was up. Shoto had no idea you were planning anything, of course. After all this time, after all the resets, you’ve gotten very good at keeping things from him.
Shoto has been the perfect husband. He went to treatments with you, sometimes even forcing you to go, even though the prognosis wasn’t good. He took care of you the best he could, even though you could tell it was breaking his heart. You couldn’t do this to him any longer. That’s how you found yourself lying in the tub full of sleeping pills and alcohol.
*~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~*
It’s four years ago, on the day you and Shoto would’ve met for the first time. You wake up in your old apartment, and you feel a pang of nostalgia. You haven't travelled back this far since you first realized you were in love with Shoto. You hadn’t wanted to risk messing anything up.
The first thing you do is write down every incident you’d ever stopped, every life you’d ever saved, that was about to happen all over again in the next four years. You plot the dates and times, and write every last detail you could remember, including detailed plans to prevent them from happening.
Only when you’re finished do you sit back and think about what you’ve done. You glance up at the clock. You met Shoto after your friend and his friend set the two of you up on a blind date. You figure standing him up would be the best way to ruin everything right now. The clock ticks to 3:30PM, which was when you left your apartment the first time around.
You feel your throat tighten as tears roll down your cheeks, but you continue watching the clock, thinking about everything you’re giving up. The clock keeps moving until it’s 4PM, the appointed meeting time. Your phone buzzes. As expected, your friend has sent a good luck text.
4:15PM and your phone buzzes again and the name that appears makes your chest feel tight. “Hi, this is Todoroki Shoto. Our friends set us up for a blind date today.”
“Sorry! Can’t make it.” You send back, trying to sound rude enough to hate, but not too rude that it’s unbelievable. You can imagine the cute flustered look on Shoto’s face. You can’t seem to stop crying.
“I’m sorry for the trouble. Would you like to reschedule?” His familiar politeness in spite of it all makes you laugh through the tears and you’re feeling a little crazy. You leave him on read and hope he doesn’t try to contact you again.
*~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~*
You’re at the hospital again, and receiving the same “shocking” results. It’s a different doctor, but she still isn’t able to explain your strange residual injuries. She can, however, tell you that the injuries aren’t what you should be worried about. Even though you’ve reset to four years ago (not that the doctor knows this), the tumor in your brain will still kill you in five years or less. You’d already guessed this before resetting. You were just biding your time.
You had the uncanny ability to remember everything when you reset. You spend the familiar four years with your friends and family, and you avoid Shoto, but that’s easier said than done when he’s always saving the day on the news. You save the same lives you’ve saved before, but you manage to fly under the radar. You don’t tell anyone about your quirk, but of course you can’t lie about your diagnosis. Everyone is loving and supportive, but you miss him.
*~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~*
The hardest thing in the world happens three years after you travelled back in time. You’re in the hospital again, sitting in a wheelchair, because treatments leave you feeling weak. You’re supposed to be resting, but you find yourself people-watching in the cafeteria, unread novel abandoned because you’re a little too dizzy to read right now.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Your heart clenches at the familiar voice. You shake your head without looking up. He slides into the seat next to you, because the cafeteria is a little full. You know you should leave or pretend you’re reading, but the temptation is too strong. Against your will, you turn to face Shoto.
“Who are you visiting?” You smile, even as you curse yourself for giving in. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You tried to take him in subtly, every feature live-in-living-color in front of you, so close.
“How did you know I was visiting someone?” He asks, then takes a bite from his sandwich.
“You don’t look like a patient.” Of course, you could guess who he was visiting. You flashed back to the memory of another timeline, when you’d visited an injured friend with him. In that memory, you were holding a “Get well soon” balloon, but the Shoto in this timeline hadn’t brought anything. “Are you bringing them something?”
Shoto looks surprised for a second. “Should I?”
“Most people here seem to like it, even if it’s usually useless stuff. It’s just a nice gesture, I think.” Just a little more. You’ve missed him so much, it was unbearable, but the next two years might be a little easier if you could see him and talk to him just a little bit more.
“What do you suggest?” He asks.
“The gift shop is near here. You could pick something you think they’d like.” When you finish speaking, Shoto balls up the sandwich wrapper and you think the conversation is over.
“Could you show me?” You’re surprised when he asks, and he’s looking at you so earnestly. You see the tips of his ears are flushed pink, and your heart stutters.
“Of course!” You want to kick yourself. You need to back off now. Instead, you let him wheel you to the gift shop.
“I’m Todoroki Shoto, by the way.” He says as you inspect the chocolates in the gift shop. You panic. What are you supposed to do? Tell him your name? Give him an entirely fake name?
“You should get this!” You quickly hand him a random bar of chocolate large enough to surprise him. “I have to go now. Bye!” You wheel yourself out of there as fast as you can, and hope Shoto forgets about you.
About an hour later, a friend comes to pick you up. As you get inside the car, you see your favorite nurse jogging towards you, giant chocolate bar in her arms. She yells your name and your heart sinks.
“Todoroki Shoto was asking around about you. He said to give you this.” The nurse says as she hands you the chocolate bar. She looks incredibly impressed that a pro-hero, the Todoroki Shoto, would be looking for you, let alone giving you chocolate. You see that it’s not the exact one you pushed into Shoto’s arms, so maybe he gave that one to his friend. The card attached has “Thank you” scribbled in a familiar scrawl. Underneath the scrawl, the words “Get well soon” are printed in a bubbly font. Your friend and the nurse eye each other awkwardly.
“Thanks!” Your friend says to the nurse. “We better get going now.”
*~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~*
It’s your final mission. You have submitted your evidence against the villain who, if not stopped, would end up killing Shoto and several others. Except, you’ve run into an unexpected hitch. This time, you’re not married to a pro-hero. The police are insisting you need a personal guard, just until the villain is put away for good.
You end up under the careful protection of Uraraka Ochako. That was one of the worst things about resetting the timeline. You also lost half of your friends: the friends you and Shoto shared. You wonder if maybe it would be okay to be friends with Uraraka again. You’ve missed her a lot too.
You’re thinking some more about befriending Ochako again on the way home from yet another treatment at the hospital. Another friend is driving you home and it’s a little awkward because Ochako insisted you sit beside her in the backseat just in case. Ochako was right. Just a few minutes into the drive home, a much larger vehicle slams into your friend’s car. It takes you a moment to recognize the SUV as belonging to the villain you were currently prosecuting, and another moment to realize that Ochako has your friend’s car suspended mid-air, mid-tumble. But it’s too late. The SUV slammed into your side of the car. It was a purposeful and targeted attack, and the impact alone has you slipping into unconsciousness.
*~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~* *~*~*~*
You’re floating in and out of sleep, and everything is hazy and confusing. When you’re awake, you have the sense of being in a very busy place, lots of people, lots of noise. When you’re asleep, you feel a thread in the middle of your chest tugging and tugging, threatening to unravel you. Something in your brain is telling you to hold on to that thread; don’t let it unravel. But you’re so tired, and so weak.
You hear your name, suddenly, loud and clear, even though Shoto isn’t shouting it. You crash into wakefulness. Shoto? It takes longer for your eyes to open, and you find yourself in a hospital room. You hear your name again, and this time you’re sure it’s him.
“Hi.” You manage to say, though your throat is dry and scratchy and the word comes out in a breathy rasp.
“Do you remember me?” Shoto frowns, and you recognize him both as your Shoto and the Shoto of this other timeline where you were never supposed to meet him.
“Yeah…” You say again, because trying to nod hurts too much.
“I...remember you.” Shoto says carefully. You don’t know what to say, so you stay silent. He continues, “We all...remember you.”
“What?” Is all you can say, sounding dumb even to yourself.
“You were in a car crash.” He gestures to your body, which must be lying injured in bed, though you can hardly see. “And after that, we all started getting these dreams...almost like weird memories...of things that never happened, or things that did happen but different.”
“Oh…” You suddenly remember the feeling of unraveling in your dreams. You remember your subconscious screaming at you to hold on, to keep those strings to yourself. You realize now that what you were holding on to were the timelines and memories, and clearly you hadn’t managed to hold on to them.
You notice Shoto is nervously fiddling with his empty ring finger, right where his wedding ring was supposed to be. He notices you looking and stops. “I died.” He says this in a matter-of-fact voice. “I was supposed to die.”
“God, I messed up.” You start to tear up. “You weren’t supposed to know. No one was supposed to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I love you...a lot. I know that sounds crazy coming from someone you don’t even know,” you’re full-on crying now, “but it doesn’t matter now, and I’m going to die, for real this time, and I just didn’t want you to feel bad.”
Shoto looks perplexed. It was his job to be the hero, to save people, and here you were resetting timelines to keep him from being upset. A long silence passed as he thought about what to say to you.
“We were married, in the dreams. I remember that. We were supposed to go on a blind date, and it was really fun, and you were so easy to talk to. But it didn’t happen like that.” Shoto’s still confused.
“Sorry,” you say on reflex, then you correct yourself, “Actually, no, I’m not. I’m sorry you’re confused now, but it beats seeing you miserable because you had to watch me dying slowly. So, I’m not sorry.”
“I’m still miserable. I’m still watching you.” Shoto grips your hand fiercely. He wipes your tears away without thinking and you miss him so much. God, he’s right there, but it’s different, and you miss him so much. “I may not remember everything, and the memories - the dreams - aren’t always clear, but I remember loving you.”
“One year left. At the most, I have one year left.”
“Then we’ll just have to make the most of it.”
“You just said you barely remember me.”
“I remember what it’s like to love you, and the me that loved you that much was the happiest version of myself. I was happy just dreaming, remembering, the life we shared. If we have one year left to try again, then I’ll take it.”
“I feel so stupid trying to reset the timeline. It was never going to be anything but you and me, huh?” Shoto smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back. You don’t know what’s going to happen now, and you no longer want to know. You’ll do the best you can with whatever time you have left, because that’s all you can really do.
#bnha fanfiction#bnha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#mha#bnha x reader#mha x reader#todoroki x reader#todoroki shoto x reader#todoroki shoto#todoroki shouto#todoroki shouto x reader
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My contribution for @jancyweek2019, which is, fair warning: absolute nonsense. Entirely inspired by this post made by @metropoliskid, which is based on this tweet.
Once again, I know my blog text is tiny, so go find this guy on AO3 if you wish.
Nancy Wheeler was twelve years old when she started dating Jonathan Byers.
She thinks.
She isn’t sure. (Not about Jonathan Byers, she’s sure about him; she’d always found him endlessly intriguing, even in elementary school, when he sat at the picnic tables with Barb while Nancy played horses at recess, surrounded by girls who had names like hers—Stacy, Ally. Long e sounds. Names that rhymed.)
What she isn’t sure about is if they ever really started dating.
And if they did, they certainly never stopped.
If it did happen, it is, technically, the longest relationship she’s ever been in. If she’s counting.
She doesn’t know what that says about her.
She was twelve years old, sitting on a bench inside Hawkins Middle, reading A Tree Grows In Brooklyn for English, waiting for her mother to pick her up and bring her to ballet. (Nancy never considered it, in her youth, how much of her mother’s life revolved around ferrying her and her siblings across Hawkins, from one activity to another. She must have been so grateful when Mike declared his independence from the automobile and insisted on riding his bike everywhere.)
She’d glanced up to see the Wheeler family station wagon coasting to a stop just outside the front doors, just as Jonathan Byers coasted to a stop in front of her.
“Nancy,” he’d said, breathless.
And that’s when it got complicated.
In the rush of juggling her school bag, her dance bag, and the blare of her mother’s horn, she didn’t quite catch the words that followed her name.
Her eyes had flicked to the car outside, then back to him. She’d thought about asking him to repeat himself, but his face had been open, expectant, nervous. Hopeful.
She couldn’t deny that face.
“Oh, um. Yes,” she’d said, in response to what she’d been pretty sure was a question.
He’d grinned at her. Held up his hand.
She’d high fived him, and rushed out to her waiting mother.
It was only as the car door slammed shut that she processed the question he’d asked her.
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
It’s only later—years later—that Nancy realizes that she’d have said yes even if she had heard him clearly.
As it was, she only got to enjoy their relationship—if it was a relationship (if seventh grade high fives could even be called a relationship)—for one day. Less than a day, even.
She’d glanced over at him shyly all through class, counting the minutes until lunch, when she would confirm if she’d heard him right. He’d returned her glances with equally shy smiles, putting her anxious mind slightly at ease.
And then the loudspeaker buzzed, Jonathan Byers was called to the office—and he was gone.
His whole family was.
Mike had pouted for weeks, his best friend vanished in an instant. “It’s not fair,” he’d moaned at dinner. “Why do they have to move just because of his stupid dad.”
The moaning continued over the phone, short long-distance calls that Nancy only ever worked up the nerve to intrude on once, picking up the receiver to mutter a quick “Tell-Jonathan-I-said-hi,” before hanging up with a clatter.
But the frequency of the phone calls trickled away as the school year went on, and by the time summer arrived, Mike had stopped insisting on being allowed to visit Will, and Nancy lost her only chance to confirm her relationship status.
She knows she could have called him herself. But that was, for her twelve year old self, too much to bear.
And plus, he’d never called her.
She misheard him, she told herself.
(She didn’t.)
He’d asked her another question, not girlfriend-related at all.
(He hadn’t.)
She’d told all her rhyming friends, giggles down the phone line later that night, and they’d waited alongside her with heavy anticipation for one of them to finally have a boyfriend, only to have their hopes dashed when it ended up being over before it really began. In the end she just felt foolish, for making such a thing over a boy.
“You know, you two never actually broke up,” Barb pointed out one day, once Nancy was able to think about it without wanting to bury her face in her hands, a matter of years later. As time goes on, it became almost a joke to her friends, a Schrödinger’s relationship that Nancy is both in and not in at the same time.
“Oh you can’t,” they said to James C, who asked her to prom as Nancy sat, blushing furiously, at her lunch table freshman year. “She’s dating Jonathan Byers.” (He’d been a senior, convinced she couldn’t turn him down, staggering away at Nancy’s faux-regretful confirmation of her relationship status.)
“So what’s this about you and some long distance guy?” Steve had asked, the first night she’d allowed herself to be inveigled into his back seat.
“Oh,” Nancy had said, already pulling her shirt over her head. “That’s . . . nothing. Middle school stuff.”
“Good,” Steve said, and Nancy forgot all about Jonathan Byers for the moment.
But she never truly forgets, not really.
Nancy moves to the city in one fell swoop.
She loads the U-Haul herself, only takes three wrong turns, and crams her entire life into the tiny studio that somehow costs more than the two-bedroom apartment she’d left Steve standing in, bereft.
She locates the nearest bodega, maps out her work commute on the subway, and prepares to begin her life anew.
It doesn’t quite work out like she plans.
She does manage to navigate the subway with relative ease, and she stops by the bodega almost every day, grabbing yet another item she’s realized she doesn’t own and cannot seem to live without.
The life anew part, however, eludes her.
She has a life, of course—drinks with college friends, lunches out with work colleagues. She tries new things, meets new people, goes on an endless parade of first dates. She even makes it to second and third dates for a few. But in the end, her days start to end up feeling enough like the inevitability she’d tried to escape that she wonders if it might make sense to head back to Indiana, see if Steve is still standing right where she left him.
It’s then that her thoughts turn to Jonathan.
Not in any kind of concrete sort of way—when she thinks of him it always feels hazy, somehow—but more idealistic; she imagines him living the life she wishes she could lead. He’d escaped Hawkins, in a way she somehow cannot, like the town is clinging to her, holding onto her fast even across state lines.
As a coping mechanism, it’s pretty fucked up, as Steve used to say, having the ghosts of her past haunt her present, but she’s working on it. She took the first step, at least.
She left.
“I wish you’d just come back,” her mother pleads, on the nights Nancy finds herself longing for the comforts of home, fingers grasped tight around the phone. What her mother doesn’t know is that she doesn’t call to be convinced to return.
She calls because it’s the one thing that strengthens her resolve to stay.
She only knows one person at the party.
Alice waves to her from across the apartment as Nancy navigates through the crowd, holding a six-pack in front of her like a peace offering, losing four along the way as she edges through and around clumps of people.
Nancy offers up the spare, taking the last beer for herself, and proceeds to endure the interminable agony that is entering a story halfway through and not knowing the teller well enough for them to recount the beginning. She likes Alice, she does, finding her Midwest sensibilities comfortingly refreshing after her months in the city, but theirs is a friendship of convenience, nothing deeper. Nancy wonders what Barb would say, if she were here.
Stop thinking about your dead friend and make some new ones, probably.
Nancy laughs to herself at the thought, and then starts at the unfortunate realization that someone is saying her name, and has been, for some time now.
“Sorry.” Her eyebrows raise, her eyes open wide, trying to make it seem like she was mostly listening this whole time. “I didn’t catch that.”
Alice gives her a look, but she’s smiling. “Sam was asking if you know the host.”
Sam ends up being a girl with black hair and even blacker eyeliner, who seems to be nursing Nancy’s other beer.
She shakes her head, shrugging a little. “Just Alice—”
“The only person that matters,” Alice interjects.
Nancy rolls her eyes a little. “I just moved here from Indiana,” she continues. “Alice is taking pity on me because I know no one in the city.”
Sam makes an ah yes face of benign interest, but then her eyebrows crinkle together. “Actually, my boyfriend grew up in Indiana, I think.” She turns her head, calls into the kitchen, but the actual name gets lost in the buzz of the crowd.
Sean, maybe.
Sam goes off in search of Sean (or was it John?) and Nancy takes a swig of beer as the conversation turns to the subway, as it is wont to do among people with only tenuous connections to each other but all with a singular hatred for their shared means of transportation.
Nancy’s just happy she has her own story—getting caught underground for half an hour, the windows steaming up as people shed clothes around her—and manages to coast on that contribution for the next twenty minutes, sipping the dregs of her bottle as the group grows and shrinks, and the stories go on and on.
She’s about to go in search of another drink (or if she’s being honest, maybe an Irish goodbye) when Alice begins recounting the story of her last date, a story Nancy knows from lunch last week, and realizes that she has one more story to contribute.
“—and when I told him I had to be up early the next morning, he rolls over, gives me a high five, says nothing else and strolls out the door. Haven’t seen him since.”
“I’ve got that beat,” says Nancy, and knocks back the rest of her beer. She takes a deep breath. “So I’m in seventh grade, and I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up after school. When—”
And then she sees him.
Coasting up to her just like he had eleven years ago.
“Oh my god,” she breathes.
She sees his hand reaching toward her, and for one absurd, heart-stopping moment, Nancy thinks he’s going to give her a high five. But the hand keeps going up, pulling her into a hug, and she actually cannot believe this is happening.
“Nancy Wheeler,” Jonathan Byers says, and she can feel her name vibrating through her, he’s holding her so tight. She wonders if that’s why she can’t catch her breath, but even after he releases her, she’s still got that feeling—like she’s missed a step, like the universe has been thrown out of alignment.
“Oh my god,” she says again, because that’s all she can do.
“I’m guessing you two know each other,” Alice remarks dryly.
He’s grinning, and his hair is shorter than it used to be (of course it would be, he’s not in seventh grade anymore), but he’s unmistakably Jonathan Byers, eleven years older. He spins to the side, wrapping his arm around Nancy, and she wonders if she’s dreaming, because this cannot actually be happening.
“Um, yeah,” she begins, but Jonathan cuts her off.
“Oh, we go way back,” he declares, and smiles fondly down at her. “Nancy’s my girlfriend.”
Nancy chokes on nothing, and changes her mind. She isn’t dreaming.
She has actually died.
It’s the only explanation. One last gasp of reality, chiding her for spending so much time thinking about a boy that she was never supposed to see again.
Death is cruel, though, because instead of the sweet bliss of nothingness, instead she has Jonathan Byers grinning at her, Alice looking at her, dumbstruck, and from behind her, a vaguely familiar voice saying, “I thought I was your girlfriend.”
Nancy turns to find Sam staring at her, a look of amused concern on her face.
“Um,” Nancy says.
#stranger things#jonathan byers#nancy wheeler#jancy#jancyweek2019#special thanks to tumblr user stoprobbers for creating the initial gdoc for this guy while i was computerless in santorini#is that a#humblebrag#?#maybe#whatever it is thanks friend#after last time i know better than to predict how many chapters so#more coming soon#fanfiction
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Heaven Scent Chapter Two
Heaven Scent | Dan Howell rarely leaves the house unless he has too, too socially awkward to function normally around other people, and generally making his only friends through Louise, a sweet beta who took him under her wing a few years back when they were both still in college. It’s no surprise, then, that the omega has yet to find a mate, despite craving one rather a lot. It’s not until he attends Louise’s birthday party and gets accidentally-on-purpose set up with an attractive alpha named Phil Lester who smells absolutely heavenly that Dan starts to fall into a proper romance, complete with courting and scenting and the like. | Phan | Mature | A/B/O dynamics (Omegaverse fic), Fluff, Getting Together, Eventual Smut, Courting | 4,523 Words this chapter
I’m so, so happy with the feedback on the last chapter and your guys excitement for more of this fic!!! I can’t wait to see what you guys think of all the things I have planned as I bring to life a more healthy version of a/b/o dynamics that still includes some of my favorites parts of the trope!! I also decided I’m a maniac so I’m going to post Wednesday and Friday instead of just Wednesday, so enjoy the next chapter ^.^
Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.
(Ao3) (Previous)
Chapter Two
Dan didn’t know how not to be late to most things. He was a procrastinator by nature, and generally sat around in his pj’s most days if he didn’t have any plans - which, less face it, Dan almost never had - which just meant that Dan was often unlikely to get dressed when he did need to go out until about ten minutes beforehand.
That was how he ended up twenty minutes late to his lunch date with Louise, the first of many of her birthday coupons she was likely to use on him in the next few months to ensure she got to see Dan a little more often than she usually did. On the upside, his friend was fairly used to Dan being chronically late anyway, so when Dan did finally show up, she wasn’t angry in the least bit.
Instead, she held a book in one hand, and a coffee in the other as she read with her long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She’d dyed the ends pink recently, and it looked gorgeous on the beta, something that Dan commented on the second he slid into the seat across from her.
Louise smiled instantly in response, closing her book and turning her full attention onto Dan.
“Thank you! I needed a change. You’re only twenty-five once, you know,” she explained.
Dan rolled his eyes, lips twitching as he replied, “Louise, you’re twenty-six.”
“Exactly why my hair is now pink, Daniel,” Louise quipped back easily enough, raising a hand and waving the waiter over now that Dan had finally joined her.
Dan didn’t waste another second arguing with her, merely laughing at her self assuredness and confidence that Dan wished he possessed.
Before Louise, Dan had never quite understood why anyone found him attractive until Louise had literally shoved the truth down his throat, but that didn’t change the fact that he still struggled with his own self image.
It was kind of funny, considering Dan had had more than his fair share of alpha’s, beta’s, and omega’s come onto him in the past, often complimenting his appearance because they couldn’t his scent, and reassuring him that he was a right good looking lad, but they’d never quite stuck around. Dan knew it was for the best every time, but he couldn’t help that it had left its fair share of strain on his personal self confidence.
Dan kind of sort of really just wanted a mate already, even though he wasn’t - or, hadn’t been - currently looking. In the past, it had just put a damper on him when he hadn’t been able to keep anyone around. Now, though… well, now Dan kind of just let others come to him, rather than seeking out a lover, and Louise’s birthday party had definitely brought along something that Dan really wanted.
The problem was, Dan was kind of shit at taking hold of what he wanted.
Their waiter arrived then, smiling as they greeted both Dan and Louise. The familiar scent of scent hiding shampoo wafted over Dan, comforting in the way it had always been for him. It wasn’t the same as the calming scent of an omega, but reassuring in that Dan didn’t feel so alone hiding his own scent.
“I’ll just have a coffee,” he ordered easily enough, sighing as the waiter bustled away and he was allowed to peruse the menu Louise had passed to him. She’d clearly already decided on what she wanted, as she was back to her reading her book, but that didn’t surprise Dan.
She’d arrived on time after all, but it helped that the cafe was a favorite place of both of theirs.
Morello’s was a small cafe within walking distance to both of their apartments, cozy and friendly enough that Dan even ventured out to have lunch on his own here from time to time. There was a lounge inside with a few booths and tables scattered about, but it was the outside patio that really drew the customers in.
It was beautifully decorated with flower beds and neatly crafted tables and chairs, three large trees shading the huge area with little glimpses of sky overhead. There was an awning that could be dragged out further on rainy days, as was per usual in London, but it was drawn back today, leaving a sense of calm hovering over the large space. It was the patio that had drawn Louise and Dan inside one cold winter day two years ago, and they’d been visiting ever since.
They both had their favorites, and while they always swore up and down to order something different from time to time, it was no surprise that most of the waiters here already knew their orders off the top of their head.
They usually teased Dan and Louise when they came in, but not today. Today, they had someone new.
As their waiter returned with Dan’s coffee and a notepad for their orders, Dan cast Louise a mischievous grin, and opened his mouth to order at the same time as her. Their words melded together as they both ordered the salmon over a bed of rice for Louise, and the fish and chips for Dan, Louise turning to stare in giddy humor at Dan as they spoke. Her eyes sparkled, and her throat burbled with suppressed laughter, setting Dan off as they spoke until the end of their sentence was nothing more than a garble of unrecognizable words.
Their waiter started between them with an awkward smile, confusion and terror at war on his face.
“I didn’t catch a word of that,” they joked, laughing forcefully, only for Dan and Louise to laugh even louder at the expression on their face. The noise was offensively loud, but so was the busy street of London around them, so neither tried to quiet themselves as they giggled over their own ridiculousness. The waiter, for their part, merely stared between the two of them with wide, confused eyes, as if they weren’t sure if they were missing a joke or not.
Taking pity on the poor soul, Louise pulled herself together first, flapping her hands aggressively at Dan to make him pipe down and shut up before clearing her throat and stifling her giggles as best as she could.
“Sorry, sorry! I said I’d have the salmon, and Dan over there’ll have the fish and chips,” Louise stated more clearly this time, her cheeks stained pink from their humor, and little tittering giggles still escaping past her lips.
Trying to salvage the situation even a little bit more, Dan cleared his own throat after he’d pulled himself together, and said, “Sorry we’re so awkward. Promise we aren’t laughing at you,” only for the waiter to smile even more nervously than before, and turn on his heel to walk away.
It was more than clear from that action alone that Dan’s words had been less than reassuring, and when Louise turned to look at Dan once again, the two of them burst into another bout of uncontrollable laughter.
“Dan!” Louise was gasping, grasping herself around the middle in a clear attempt to hold herself together, laughter like a hyena spilling from her lips as Dan tried to rein himself under control. He was sputtering and choking around his own ridiculous sounds, but it was difficult to stop when Louise’s face was so red and Dan could just about see their waiter speaking to someone else inside, who looked red in the face themselves as they held back giggles and explained to the new waiter just what exactly was going on.
Dan gasped as he curled in on himself, mouth aching from all the laughter and the smiling, and shook his head as best as he could.
“Stop - laughing!” he complained to Louise, who only laughed harder still at the sight of Dan.
They were a mess, but there was nothing new there, and Dan couldn’t even bring himself to mind that the other patrons were beginning to stare. So what if he made a fool out of himself? Louise loved him, and that was all that mattered in the end.
Eventually, the two of them managed to settle down, and Dan grabbed at his mug of coffee to calm himself down, inhaling the wonderful scent it produced before taking a quick sip. It was perfect, as always, and Dan flashed a smile through the glass door at the workers inside.
He had no clue if any of them would notice, but it was the sentiment that counted in his mind.
“So, anyway,” Louise piped up, finally. “Now that that’s over. How are you? You didn’t tell me how things went with that alpha at my birthday party,” she teased, looking giddy as she leaned in close over the table to get right up into Dan’s face. Always greedy for the details, she said, “Phil, right? He’s a great guy. Met him at work.”
Unfortunately for Dan, the question had been the one thing Dan had been hoping wouldn’t be brought up today, and he put down his mug of coffee with a little sigh as his cheeks went a blotchy red all over again.
“He is great,” Dan agreed easily enough, hesitating. “Thank you for uh - intervening and making me sit with him, it’s just…” Dan trailed off, not wanting to admit to Louise just how much of an idiot he was.
Louise being Louise, however, wasn’t one to let something like that go, and her eyes narrowed as she stared at Dan. Doing his best to avoid her sharp blue gaze, Dan took in the way her eye makeup made her face seem more surreal and echoed her new hair color.
“I like the pink on you,” he stated calmly.
Rolling her eyes at Dan’s attempt at a distraction, Louise shrugged the words off.
“Thanks. It’s just what, Daniel? Have you talked to him since my party?”
Dan bit his lip.
The thing was, he hadn’t, and that was kind of the whole problem right there. He was definitely interested in the alpha if his intoxicating scent and wonderful personality were anything to go by, but it had been an entire week and Dan - well, Dan had been too cowardly to text the poor guy.
After paying for Dan’s meal and beginning the courting process between the two of them, Phil had left Dan with his cell phone number and his express permission for Dan to text or call him any time. Since Phil had initiated the courtship, it was now Dan’s job to reciprocate the interest, only… only Dan had been too afraid.
Louise groaned as Dan’s face evidently twisted up in an echo of his shame, and reached across the table to flick Dan across the nose.
“You haven’t talked to him!?” she asked shrilly. “But he told me you accepted a courtship with him that night! He literally sent me a text five minutes after you guys left to tell me he’d left you with his number! Dan!” Louise moaned, closing her eyes and shaking her head again for good measure. “What are you doing!?”
Dan winced as Louise put his shame into words, and tried not to look at her again. The disapproval was practically radiating off of her in waves
“I just assumed he hadn’t texted me about you again because he was - busy with you,” Louise complained, sighing loudly as her hands hit the table with a light bang. “Daniel Howell, you are an idiot.”
“I know,” Dan agreed, ashamed. He didn’t even have an excuse, not really, he was just - being Dan. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just -” he began, fully intending to explain his own ridiculous fears when he clammed up on himself. It was just, he knew what he had to say sounded stupid, and Louise already seemed annoyed with him. “Sorry I screwed everything up with your friend.”
Suddenly, Louise placed her hand on top of Dan’s and squeezed gently, prompting him to finally look up and face her. Her expression was sympathetic, a small smile on her lips, eyes soft and caring.
“Dan,” she said, “You didn’t screw anything up.”
Her voice was gentle, far more understanding than Dan deserved, but he should have known it would be. Louise was strong willed and motherly, but that didn’t always result in her knocking sense into Dan by screaming at him for being an idiot. Sometimes, it meant just this.
Dan offered a small smile of his own in return.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I didn’t screw up anything for you, but -”
“Shush,” Louse said, cutting him off. “And start from the beginning. What’s going on? You just what?”
Dan closed his eyes, briefly, unsure where to start. He just had a lot of dumb fears in the back of his mind that were probably going to result in nothing, but he couldn’t just stop them. If he could, he would have texted Phil by now.
With another drawn out sigh, Dan pulled his hand out from under Louise’s, and shoved his fingers through his hair, pushing the bouncy curls back against the top of his head.
“It’s stupid,” he complained. “I just - well, he doesn’t exactly know what I am, does he?” he offered, avoiding Louise’s gaze all over again. “I hide my scent because I don’t want to be known as my instincts, and I know it doesn’t matter, I know that no one really cares, but, I just… I don’t know. Some alpha’s don’t even like omega’s, and what if he won’t continue to court me unless I tell him what my secondary sex is?”
The words came bursting out of Dan like word vomit once he started speaking, something he was unable to hold back any longer than he already had. It would have surprised him more if he wasn’t already used to blurting out all of his insecurities to Louise in the first place.
Still, he didn’t seem to be done, really. Before he could stop himself or Louise could interrupt and insert her two cents, Dan was opening his mouth to continue on his tirade.
“I just want to get to know him as Dan, first, and not an omega who sometimes has… uncontrollable urges,” he explained, now picking at his fingernails because he had nothing else to focus his attention on. His nail buds were bitten as far down as they could be, so Dan picked at his cuticles instead. “I mean… you’ve seen how I can be, Louise. I can get - kind of needy.”
Dan expected Louise to laugh, but she didn’t. Instead, she let out this soft sounding almost-purr that was a beta’s means of reassurance, and reached for Dan’s hands again. This time, she took both in hers, fingers gentle on his palms.
“Daniel, your sex doesn’t define you, you know that,” she told him quietly. “And anyone who gives a damn what your instincts cause from time to time doesn’t deserve you, considering we all have to put up with each others instincts from time to time,” she continued, a reassuring smile plastered across her face.
“But I know Phil. He’s probably one of the most genuine, nicest people I have ever known. He’s not going to care what your sex is, and he’s not going to ask, I promise. Phil… Phil probably just wants to get to know you too, regardless of what your sex is. So don’t be afraid, because I think - I think he’s really interested in you,” she continued. “In all the time that I’ve known him, he’s never courted someone before.”
That was enough to take Dan by surprise, who looked at Louise in wide-eyed astonishment. It was one thing to be told that Dan didn’t need to be afraid of Phil, but to hear that Phil rarely courted? That was both interesting and unbelievable. An alpha like Phil, who wore his scent with pride, and made everyone feel at peace around him? Impossible.
Louise giggled at the look on Dan’s face.
“Phil’s a hermit too, didn’t you know?” she teased, dropping Dan’s hands. “Text him. I’m sure he’d still really like to hear from you.”
Dan stared at Louise for another minute before he finally started to grin, something like excitement boiling in his stomach.
“Okay,” he finally agreed. “I will.”
Actually doing so was easier said than done. By the time Dan returned to his apartment after lunch with Louise, he was practically shaking with nerves. It had been a week since he’d seen Phil, after all. Despite Louise’s reassurances, Dan was terrified the alpha would have lost interest in him by now.
How shitty was it for the person you were trying to court to not reciprocate in an appropriate manner? Dan might be able to believe that Phil wouldn’t care about his sex, or ask, but that didn’t change the fact that Dan had yet to message him.
Would Phil even reply, once Dan finally reached out to him?
There was only one way to find out, and after collapsing on top of his bed with his phone in his hands, Dan finally brought up Phil’s number. The alpha had stuck a little heart emoji after it when he’d put it into Dan’s phone, and even now it made Dan’s heart flutter.
He’d never quite been this enamoured before.
Usually, when he got asked out, he was wined and dined and then taken home for a one night stand. Rarely had Dan ever been courted, and even when he had been in the past, never with as much seeming importance as Phil had put into this already. After all, Phil had left it to Dan to text him back, and hadn’t instantly set a date for their first date. There was no rush, no pressure, no clear attempts for a hook up and nothing more… this felt real.
Phil seemed intent on taking this far more seriously than anyone else Dan had ever dated, and that, if he was being honest, was part of why he was so afraid.
Dan licked his lips as he stared at the contact in his phone, and finally pressed the “message” button.
To: Phil Lester <3
hey its dan haha sorry for getting back to you so late i
Dan scrunched up his nose at the words, and didn’t even hesitate to erase them, backspacing with a sigh until he was back to a blank message with no idea how he was meant to start this conversation. It felt awkward to bring up how long it had been since Phil had given Dan his number, but rude not to apologize. Still, he really did just want to message the alpha already, wanted to make it clear that he was just as interested, but it was hard to figure out the right words to say.
Dan dropped his phone on his chest for a brief moment and closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he just messaged Phil sooner? Then, maybe they would have gone on their first date by now.
The very thought of it made Dan grin. He really did like the alpha, after all. They seemed like the kind of guy Dan could actually get along with, somehow nerdier than him, and, according to Louise, not only just as socially inept as Dan, but a house hermit too. He was attractive to boot, and he just smelled so good…
Dan picked up his phone and tried again.
To: Phil Lester <3
hey :) its dan <3
Dan hesitated again, thumb hovering over the “send” button, wondering if the heart was too much or not. He figured the simpler the better, and if Phil responded, he could apologize then for being a coward, but if he didn’t, no love no loss, right? But the heart, was that too much? Phil had left one under his contact name, but…
Before Dan could overthink it anymore, he pressed “send” and dropped his phone on his chest again with a little groan. Squeezing his eyes shut, terrified he wouldn’t get any response, Dan sat up and let his phone fall to the mattress below him.
Maybe he should just get away for a bit, do something to distract him, try to get his mind off the fact that the alpha very likely wasn’t going to respond for a while. Surely they were working or something, it was only - Dan checked the time - three in the afternoon. Not everyone worked from home like Dan, after all, and -
Dan’s phone chimed from next to him.
His eyes went wide, and his heart started to race like crazy in his chest. Surely, that wasn’t actually -
Desperately trying not to get his hopes up, Dan fumbled to pick his phone up from his covers, and turned on the screen.
Phil Lester’s name flashed across it, and Dan felt a giddy sort of excitement fill him. Phil hadn’t waited but a few seconds to reply to Dan’s text message, and somehow that filled Dan with hope. Surely, if he were being rejected, Phil would have taken far more time to reply. The fact that Phil wasn’t even trying to play at being uninterested excited Dan.
He pressed his thumb to his phone screen and unlocked it, Phil’s message popping up instantly.
From: Phil Lester <3
Hey dan! It’s good to hear from you ^____^ I thought I might have scared you away! :’(
Dan felt his heart flutter at the words, and clutched his phone close as he replied.
To: Phil Lester <3
haha of course not. i might be a little shy is all D:
From: Phil Lester <3
That’s okay :’D I can do all the talking for us if you like ;’)
*** :’)
Shoot, sorry. I swear i’m not trying to flirt with you already!
Okay maybe a little <3
is it working yet? :’D
To: Phil Lester <3
hmm, i dont think so maybe try a little harder?
From: Phil Lester <3
charizards are red squirtles are blue if you were a pokemon i’d chose you :’D
how bout now?
To: Phil Lester <3
i think youve won me over <3
From: Phil Lester <3
good cause i was really hoping to see you again ^____^ if thats alright with you?
Dan felt his heart flutter all over again. He hadn’t stopped grinning once since Phil had first texted him back, far faster than Dan had ever expected him too. He hadn’t put his phone down once in the last three minutes, and it seemed next to impossible that Phil could still want to talk to him after Dan’s lengthy silence, let alone see him again.
Dan definitely wanted to see Phil, though. There was no question about that.
To: Phil Lester
of course :D
From: Phil Lester
great! hows saturday at 7? i could pick you up at your place? ^_____^
To: Phil Lester
sounds great <3
Phil responded with a ton of happy faces after that, with Dan sending a quick text with his address in reply, but then the conversation stopped. Dan had no idea what to say in return, and it was honestly a little disappointing considering how much Dan had been enjoying himself talking to Phil, but it came as no real surprise. They’d kind of run out of things to say, and Dan was too nervous to try and start another conversation with Phil so soon after being asked out on a date.
Still, that didn’t change the fact that Dan wanted to be talking to Phil, and he sighed as he shut off his phone screen and laid back down in bed.
The conversation had gone far better than he’d expected. He’d honestly thought Phil would call him out on taking so long to text him after Louise’s birthday, perhaps yell at him for allowing Phil to pay for his dinner and then not bothering to repay him with something as simple as a thank you text, but he hadn’t, and Dan had the feeling Phil wouldn’t have even been mad if Dan hadn’t texted him back
The fact that someone like Phil could exist was actually amazing to Dan.
And the fact that his phone went off again a mere two minutes after that made his heart flutter all over again.
From: Phil Lester
sorry, didnt i hear you mention you watch game of thrones? cause uh, id love to talk about it if your up to it? :’)
this is totally not just an excuse to keep talking to you btw
just... curious is all :’D
Dan laughed, because even if it was just an excuse to keep talking, well. Dan wanted to, too.
To: Phil Lester
you heard correctly, although im not sure your ready for these ~opinions~ i get quite heated
From: Phil Lester
is that right? well now youve got me all excited!!! hope you can deliver dan ;’)
that one really was meant to be a winky face ^____^
give me your best shot!!
Covering his face as he turned red with glee, Dan chuckled into the palm of his hand, and settled back into his pillows with every intention of getting comfortable.
If Phil wanted to talk opinions, Dan could talk opinions. He just hoped Phil was ready to see just how passionate Dan could be.
They didn’t stop talking until three am. Dan had no idea whether or not Phil had a job, as they’d done nothing but argue and debate over the characters in their favorite tv shows and movies, ranging from Game of Thrones to Marvel in an obvious ploy to keep talking to each other, but he hoped he hadn’t ruined the rest of Phil’s day when they finally say goodnight.
Phil signed off with a ^____^ and couple xoxoxo’s that had honestly set Dan’s heart on fire, and by the time he himself climbed into bed after replying with a blushing emoji and a simple xo of his own, Dan had felt well and truly infatuated.
He’d never gotten along with someone so quickly before, nor had he ever been able to text with such ease. It had felt so natural arguing with Phil, and even when they’d gotten heated, there’d been a sense of lighthearted humor to everything they said. Dan never got along with people so easily, let alone one’s who didn’t quite share the same opinions as he when it came to his favorite media, and yet… here he was, sat purring away in the comfort of his duvet, practically dreaming of Phil already.
Purring. Content. Pleased. Something that Dan had so rarely done in his life up until this point, an instinct so primal and rare that Dan hadn’t quite expected the sound to erupt from his throat of it’s own accord.
His heart was still racing in his chest, and he could practically feel it making his nerves sing. All he wanted, as he thought about how many times he and Phil had actually agreed and shouted exclamations over their favorite things, was for it to just be Saturday already.
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Every Breath You Take
I wrote a little something out of nowhere, and not only did I write it, but I also posted it on AO3. Whaaaaat?
In which Harry Potter falls victim to a 80s hit from the muggle sensation The Police or "Hermione Granger needs to stop meddling before something terrible happens". You choose.
Please note: This is not a songfic, I promise. I'm not cheesy. I swear I'm better than this... *sobbing in shame*. Don't judge me, world. Sometimes you just have to.
You can also read it on AO3.
The year was 2001. A group of friends was enjoying a night out, when a famous song from the 80s came on and everyone was excited. The group, mind you, was not exactly the people you have in mind. It was a surprise to everyone, I swear.
Anyway, the song came up and one of the friends, the most intelligent woman you'll ever meet, started giggling. After a few seconds, she was laughing so bad they stopped dancing with the slow rhythm of the song and started looking at her as if she was going mad. Maybe she was.
Amid worrying looks, she said "Oh Merlin, Harry. This song always reminded me of you in school. In fact, I can't listen to it without laughing. So sorry!" and started having another fit. She even had to sit down, if you'll believe me.
Every breath you take Every move you make Every bond you break Every step you take I'll be watching you
"Why would that song remind you of me?" asked Harry. He was very puzzled about the whole thing, but his sixth sense new it would not end well. Unfortunately, he never listened to it.
Hermione Granger, the girl previously having a metaphorical seizure, suddenly lost any sign of good humour, and looked around anxiously. "You know what? Forget it. It's stupid anyway..."
"I'm curious too", said the person you'd never expect to see spending time with that group. I told you it was surprising. A true shock when it happened, first slowly and then all at once. The weirdest friendship you'll imagine: a muggleborn and the purest pureblood you'll ever see.
In fact, let's go back in time a bit.
Two years after The War (yes, in capitals for dramatics), Hermione Granger was starting her first class as a Healer-in-Training, when she bumped into someone. That someone was none other than Draco Malfoy, and she couldn't help the expression of pure confusion she made at that moment.
Malfoy was, as always, cold. But he was also polite. They got the how-have-you-beens out of the way and realised they were in the same class. Nothing new, since they shared classes for most of their lives and Hermione's life would never be that easy. What was new (but not really), was the next question he made: "How is Potter?"
Hermione, honest to God, wanted to laugh. Very loudly. You know those people who think of horrifying things to do in certain moments, like scream bloody murder in the middle of someone else's speech? That was her at that moment. She wanted to jump up and down, just for the sake of it. It was just hilarious and she had to use all the manners she possessed to keep her face straight.
"He's fine", she said. Which was a sort-of-true fact. He wasn't happy, per se, since he didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, and had recently broken up with Ginny Weasley, a fact Hermione knew would be well received by Malfoy. But she told him none of it, even though she wanted to so badly.
From that moment on, the two became reluctant friends. Those who see each other everyday, but try not to get too close. Well, life was taking none of it, and soon she started telling him things about her life. How she and Ron got together, what he did, where they lived—"With Harry... we share a flat", she said, looking him in the eyes, waiting for the casual eyebrow raise. She was very pleased when it came, combined with an almost invisible blush.
After three whole months, Draco told her, like someone who's removing a heavy book from the highest shelf at the library, "I'm gay". Well, she thought, like that's news. But she didn't say that. In fact, she acted like it was a surprise, but you could see he was relieved. Relieved that didn't change anything.
I mean, she already knew he was part of a cult for blood purity in the past, so not much else would change her mind about him. He tried to hide, but she could see how he had changed. She liked him.
That is why, after debating with herself if she wanted to be the responsible for changing two people's lives, she told Harry almost everything. Not the gay part, of course. She wish you could all witness his reaction. A lot of sputtering in indignation, and more confusion than she expected. But the same blushing was there, and she knew it was the right decision.
It wasn't long before Harry started finding a lot of reasons to visit her at school, something he didn't care to do before. She made sure he never met the person he really wanted to see, just to be contrary, because, honestly, she was feeling a bit used!
After a few days, she felt bad about the whole ordeal and finally invited Harry for lunch, knowing Draco would be there. Best to get it over with, if you know what I mean. Hermione Granger had loads of qualities, except patience.
It was an interesting day. They were very cold, but you could smell the excitement from miles away. It was as if they were both in a coma, not really alive, but still breathing, until they saw each other once more. Suddenly they could experience the world again. It was the sappiest thought to ever cross her mind and she made sure never to repeat such atrocity.
That's what she saw. They didn't see such thing, and kept the same behaviour as usual. The malice was gone, of course, but their stupidity was still there and she decided it was their problem. She already had exams to study for and other friends to worry about. One quality Hermione Granger had was being a no-nonsense person.
And that brings us to that night out. The song playing was Every Breath You Take, by The Police. I know, a muggle song. Shocking! Well, in fact, not anymore.
After The War (oh the drama!), the Wizarding World decided it was time to incorporate muggle culture into their world. I know, about fucking time! Well, the young generation was entranced not long after—to say wizards didn't have a vast variety of music was an understatement. That weird mix of pictures and sound called "the movies" was quickly the most important thing to discuss at parties, and after a while it was almost as if they were all living in the same world, except for the wands and magical creatures and, well, you know what I mean.
And that's why they all knew the song when it came up. They were a bit behind with the hits, so while the muggle world enjoyed Britney Spears, they were still blasting to Black Sabbath and Michael Jackson. It was hilarious to the muggleborns that were considered trendsetters now, simply because they knew way more about all of it than any pureblood ever would.
Anyway, that's why everyone was curious about Hermione's comment. They didn't have a clue what she was talking about. She was sweating, because it was the most stupid thing to say, and honestly, wasn't it just like her to ruin something that was slowly happening with her giggling?
Besides Harry and Draco, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Luna and even Pansy Parkinson were also looking in expectation. There was no escaping, so she took a deep breath and said: "Well, in school, sometimes, I would sing it to myself whenever you mentioned Malfoy. It's probably not even funny, but sometimes you were a bit… obsessed. So it was sort of funny?"
Every single day Every word you say Every game you play Every night you stay I'll be watching you
She tried to cover up the awkwardness by laughing once more. After what felt like the longest moment of her life, they were laughing too. It was, indeed, funny as hell. It was all in what the called The Past (yep, get used to the bloody capitals!). They were all friends now, right? Pansy even said that if she knew the song, she would probably sing it too, because Draco was always a bit on the cuckoo side.
The only two people not seeing the humour in it were, well, Harry and Draco. What horrible friends they had, to push something like that out in the open without even realising? Well, Hermione probably knew what she had done, but the others were, honest to God, oblivious arseholes.
They were looking at each other as if meeting for the first time. The world seemed in slow motion, everyone laughing and singing, having a great time. The lights flickering, the darkness of the place making shadows dance on people's faces. It was their luck their friends had already changed subjects, because that moment would probably win the award for Weirdest Thing to Ever Happen.
Harry felt so sick of it all suddenly and he needed desperately to get away. I mean, he was on the brink of adulthood, give him a break. He can be dramatic, the guy died and all!
Without second thought, he walked in the direction of the door, and soon he couldn't see any faces he knew. It was a relief because fuck them. Why did no one tell him that when he was sixteen? It was fun and all to bring it up now, but he still felt the same way and the idiots didn't have a clue (except Hermione, and he thought that was even worse!).
Before he could get near the entrance, though, someone grabbed him by the upper arms and turned him so fast he was dizzy. Maybe drinking those wildfire mojitos was a terrible, terrible idea.
"Where are you going?" asked Malfoy, their faces so close Harry could see his gray eyes, shining in the dark. It was honestly a humbling experience. They never got physically close, and now he knew what he was avoiding. What a beautiful face Draco Malfoy had. He was always aware, but wasn't it just like Harry to write sonnets about that in the worst possible second? "What did she mean with that?"
"Who? Hermione or Parkinson?" Harry asked, humiliated by the question, somehow, but before Malfoy could respond, the instrumental gave way to the vocals again, and they were listening in such tension you could probably stumble on it on your way out of the club.
Oh can't you see You belong to me My poor heart aches With every step you take
Every move you make Every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you
Since you've gone I been lost without a trace I dream at night I can only see your face I look around but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold and I long for your embrace I keep crying baby, baby, please
That was it, then. Subtlety was not something The Police was very aware of, apparently. Both boys were paralyzed; not only they had to acknowledge their own feelings, which by coincidence both had done already, years earlier, but they now knew it wasn't crazy and impossible. It was, in fact, as reciprocated as it could be. It felt as if they had gone back in time and witnessed all their interactions with a different set of lens.
If you ask me, the narrator of this story, that song gives me the creeps. It's mostly about obsessive, unrequited love. But, just in that case, it was about something else completely. And I'm also a sucker for a good old love story, so there's that.
As abruptly as a heart attack, Draco brought Harry even closer to his own face and let their noses touch, both men trying to get their lips closer without actually kissing. Anyone looking would think they were terrified and, well, they were. There was no coming back from this and, like I mentioned before, they were barely adults and all that shite.
But Harry Potter, my friends, was impulsive and a Gryffindor to boot. He got sick of being held with force like an animal trying to flee, and got both his arms free. Before Malfoy could have stupid notions of him trying to get away, Harry enveloped both arms around his neck and got their lips together, finally.
Somewhere in the afterlife Severus Snape was weeping and Albus Dumbledore was caressing his back in a soothing way and saying, in a very sober manner, "We all knew it was coming".
In that moment, I swear to God, time stopped for a second. It's physically impossible and all, but well, so is apparition, so fight me. That kiss was like finding the last piece of a puzzle you spent days trying to get together. It was like finding your dog after thinking you lost it. It was water in a desert and they were very, very thirsty. Merlin, where did that last sappy metaphor came from? I'm so sorry about that. Anyway.
Harry's hands were tangled in the fine blonde hairs of Draco's head, and Draco was holding Harry's waist with so much force it was possible, even probable, it would leave marks. They were licking and biting each other's lips, and soon their tongues were dancing together. It was sweet, if not bloody hot.
They stayed like that, having the most intense experience of their lives (well, not really, but you know how boys have their minds in the gutter), until it all stopped when a mildly amused bouncer came to say they had to move away from the door. They did, without losing their embrace, and they stopped with Harry pushed against a wall in the dark.
Draco smiled and moved to kiss his neck. Meanwhile, Harry was still stuck in that smile, because it was honestly the first one he got from Draco that didn't hide anything. The experience floored him.
"It was always you." Draco said. "I tried to move on, but I never stopped thinking about you."
Harry groaned. That, my friends, was the best thing he had ever heard. Let me tell you something about Harry Potter: he doesn't like to be abnormal, and thinking your enemy was hot as fuck was, in a few words, as different from normality as humanly possible. So to know he wasn't mental meant the world to him. To know it was a human experience, that it was ok.
He held Draco's face with his hands and looked him in the eye. They smiled to each other.
Somewhere in the dark, Hermione Granger was thanking Merlin she didn't ruin this one. Finally, she thought to herself, and immediately afterwards started thinking of a plan to get Neville and Luna together.
God help us all.
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Waiting Game - chapter 4
People yelled at me after the last chapter, so here I am trying to fix things :)
Not saying I’m successful, but the point stands
AO3 link
Lacey got some raised eyebrows on the street outside, but she didn’t much care, taking the bus to the university campus and hurrying home to shower and change. The race to get to class on time was a pleasant distraction from the thoughts that kept slipping into her mind and digging their gleeful claws into her self-esteem.
Fuck him, she thought sourly, as she slid into a chair, the rest of the class taking their seats around her. Not like there aren’t a dozen like him around here.
The unfortunate thing, as she well knew, was that there was no one like Gold around there. There was no one that made her heart flutter and her belly clench, whose eyes would gleam with mischief and whose voice alone was a turn-on. There was no one who could make her come with a few sweeps of his fingers, whose tongue should have been made illegal, who smelled like wood and spice and musk and whose hair would brush her cheeks while he fucked her.
“Miss French?”
Lacey started, blushing. Her professor, Dr Heller, was waiting patiently, and she racked her brains trying to think of what he had asked her while she had been lost in her memories.
“Sorry?” she said apologetically, and he sighed.
“Your paper,” he repeated, and Lacey pulled a face.
“Oh. Right. Sorry, I had a bad night last night. Can I get it to you after lunch?”
Dr Heller rolled his eyes, looking pained.
“Very well,” he said levelly. “You can get it to me by the end of the day, but I expect nothing but the best, understand?”
She nodded, grateful both for the second chance and for the distraction that the work would give her. If nothing else, Gold turning out to be an utter prick would probably be good for her grades. Study was just what she needed to get the bastard out of her head.
Unfortunately, while study proved to be an excellent distraction when Lacey was up and dressed, every time she lay down to sleep she found herself running over the entire encounter in her head and wondering why she hadn’t picked up on his apparent disdain for her. She was usually adept at spotting arseholes; admittedly it never stopped her sleeping with them, but she could tell what they were and that they weren’t worth anything more than a one-nighter. Gold hadn’t been like that. He’d acted as though he actually liked her, trashy little dress and all. It was making her doubt her ability to read people.
Lacey sat at the bar of the Rabbit Hole, staring into the glass of whisky she had been nursing. She had managed to get through the past ten days by trying her best not to think about Gold, and by avoiding Neal and Emma. It had meant pretending to be out when they had knocked on her door on Friday night, but she wasn’t in the mood to socialise, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood to discuss what had happened with Neal’s dad. It was now Saturday, and she had come to the bar with the intention of getting well and truly hammered, but her stomach was acidic, no doubt from the stress, and when the whisky had been set in front of her, she decided that she would stick with one.
“Rough day?”
Keith Nott, the bartender, sent her what he no doubt thought was a disarming smile, and Lacey curled her lip. He was good-looking, and she’d slept with him once, when she’d been a little drunk and he’d been partly responsible for her inebriation. It had been unremarkable. Every guy was fucking unremarkable, if she was honest. Every guy but Gold, anyway. Fucking bastard with his stupid sexual prowess and his magic fingers!
“Yeah, it’s been pretty crappy,” she said, shoving the thoughts from her head, and took a sip of her whisky.
“Trouble with a guy?”
“No,” she lied.
“A girl, then? You know, if you want to tell me about your love life, I’m all ears.”
He was grinning at her, and she rolled her eyes.
“Piss off, Keith.”
“Oh, don’t be like that, Lace,” he wheedled. “Look, you want another? On the house.”
“I still have this one, asshole,” she pointed out. “And I’m going home when I’m done.”
“Wait until I get off and I’ll walk you,” he suggested, and she pulled a face.
“No thanks. Been there, done that.”
“Come on!” He looked put-upon. “It was a good time, right?”
“For you, maybe.” She took another sip of her drink. “I kind of levelled up on my standards for one-night stands recently. Call me when you can make me come three ways without taking off your pants. Otherwise you can fuck off.”
Keith scowled. “Don’t be a bitch, I was only being friendly.”
“Uh-huh.” She tried to ignore him, but it was difficult when he was standing there glowering at her.
“Hey, what’s up?” Emma slid onto a stool beside her, and Lacey was grateful for the distraction. Emma jerked her head at Keith. “He bothering you again?”
“I offered her a drink on the house,” said Keith, with a sulky expression. “She fucking bit my head off. How about I get you one instead?”
“Really not looking for a side of sleaze with my drink,” remarked Emma. “I’ll take a beer, but I’m paying.”
He curled his lip, then gave her a sly grin. “I.D?”
Emma leaned on the bar with an expression of disbelief.
“Come on, man! I’ve been coming here for months!” she objected.
“I.D.” he repeated.
“Forget it,” said Lacey, pushing away her drink. “Wanna go get a coffee, or something? This place reeks of testosterone and desperation.”
“Sure.”
Emma jumped off the stool with a toss of her blonde hair, and she and Lacey made their way outside, ignoring Keith’s shouted insult about them both being sluts. Lacey folded her arms as they walked, wishing she’d brought a jacket. The night air was cold.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” said Emma, her tone careful. “You okay?”
“Great!”
Her voice sounded overly bright, and she winced. Emma gave her a sidelong look.
“Been studying pretty hard,” Lacey confessed. “Trying to get my GPA up this year. I’ve been screwing around for too long.”
“Yeah, college is pretty full-on at the moment,” agreed Emma. “I have to hit the books pretty hard if I want to get some decent grades this year.”
“Same,” grumbled Lacey. “God, I can’t wait until after finals! I’m gonna get so drunk I fall over and sleep through summer.”
Emma snickered.
“Miss the summer? No thanks.”
“Maybe just a long weekend then,” Lacey amended. “Not like I have plans to go anywhere. I might just take some summer classes.”
Emma winced. “Seriously?”
“It’s either that or I spend like ten weeks watching my father drink too much and yell at Fox News,” said Lacey dryly. “Really looking forward to that, let me tell you.”
Emma chuckled.
“Did I tell you Neal’s taking me home with him for a couple of weeks in the summer?” she asked.
“Home?” asked Lacey. “Like - to Maine?”
“Yeah, the place is called Storybrooke.” Emma kicked at a loose stone on the path, sending it bouncing. “He says it’s pretty dull, but I guess it’ll be nice to see where he came from, you know?”
“Storybrooke, huh?” Lacey pursed her lips. “Cute name. You’ll probably have a better summer than me.”
Emma nudged her playfully.
“Want me to tell Neal’s dad you said hi?” she asked, grinning, and Lacey pulled a face.
“Yeah, somehow I don’t think he’d be interested,” she said dryly, and Emma looked puzzled.
“I thought you two seemed to get on pretty well,” she said. “What gives?”
“Nothing,” Lacey sighed. “But you know how I am. Bang ‘em and move on, right? Guys are all the same.”
“I heard you two,” Emma reminded her. “Sounded kind of different from where Neal and I were, believe me.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like it was ever gonna be anything serious,” said Lacey, feeling uncomfortable. “For me or for him.”
“How did you guys leave things?” asked Emma tentatively, and Lacey turned to walk backwards, scrunching her nose.
“Can we not talk about this?” she asked. “Honestly, I’m trying to forget the whole thing ever happened.”
“Oh. Sure, no problem.”
Lacey nodded, falling back into step again, and there was silence as they reached the coffee shop.
“Think I’m getting a large one,” she said then. “That Psych paper won’t write itself, the bastard.”
Emma chuckled, pushing open the door, and they stepped inside the warm, fragrant space, shutting out the cold night air.
Gold hadn’t taken Lacey’s number, and hadn’t felt comfortable asking Neal to get it for him, and so he spent every spare moment of the three weeks since their night together thinking about her and then telling himself to get a grip. He had no idea why she had run out on him first thing after they had shared a thoroughly enjoyable night, but her having alluded to their relative ages gave him some clue. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about their time together, and he would have liked to see her again, so he resolved to visit Neal the next time he was passing through. Perhaps she had changed her mind. Perhaps she thought about him, too.
It was a mild evening when he pulled the car into the university parking lot and made the long trek to the dorm buildings. He stopped at the bottom of the flight of stairs up to the floor on which Neal’s apartment was housed, and sighed heavily. The elevator was still out, then. Telling himself it was good for his legs, he made his way awkwardly upwards, and rapped on Neal’s apartment door. He couldn’t help casting a glance at Lacey’s door, but there was silence from within.
“Hey!” Neal opened the door, pulling him into a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I have business in New York,” said Gold, looking him over and smiling. “I thought I’d stop by on my way, buy you dinner, if you like.”
“Cool. Emma was coming over, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Gold looked around. “Um - should I ask Lacey, do you think?”
“You need my permission?” asked Neal wryly. “How old are you, Pops? Just go knock on her door, and don’t be such a wuss.”
Gold gave him a level look, but accepted that he had a point. He stepped out into the corridor for a moment, raising a hand, and hesitated only briefly before rapping on the door with his knuckles. There was silence. He knocked again, trying to ignore the heavy feeling of disappointment.
“Guess she’s out,” said Neal. “She’s been kind of hitting the books lately. Not even been going out that much.”
“Oh.” Gold’s fingers drummed on the handle of his cane. “Has she - talked about me at all?”
“Dad…” Neal covered his face with his hands, and Gold sighed.
“Forget it. Look, would you tell her I stopped by? If she wanted to call…”
His voice trailed off, and Neal groaned, peeking from between his fingers.
“Fine, I’ll give her your number. You want me to pass her a note in class or something?”
Gold frowned at him. “Hilarious.”
Neal gestured to his dorm room.
“Look, would you just get your ass in here and stop making an idiot of yourself?” he demanded. “She’s not there. You want a drink of something?”
Gold sighed inwardly, cursing himself for a besotted fool. She had made her feelings quite clear, it seemed. He turned on his heel, following Neal back inside, and shut the door behind him.
In the room next door, Lacey closed the book she held with hands that shook a little, glaring at the door. So, he thought he could just turn up and bang the ‘piece of trash’ whenever he was in town, did he? Well, he could go fuck himself! She was busy, anyhow. She opened her book again, knowing that she would be thinking of him when she closed her eyes that night, and furious with herself over it.
It was another three weeks before she realised that she had no choice: she would have to see him again.
She remembered that Neal’s hometown was called Storybrooke, and as luck would have it she could get a bus there, so she ended up skipping class on a Friday and studying for Monday’s Sociology class on the bus, the sunshine warm on her skin. She was nervous, her belly so tight with anxiety she felt nauseous, and so she tried to distract herself by reading her textbook and making notes.
It was just after two by the time she reached the town, and she looked out of the window with interest at the quaint little houses, perfect with their rose gardens and picket fences. It was hard to imagine Neal growing up here, and harder still to imagine Gold living here. Of course, she herself was so used to cities that she thought she’d go mad if she had to spend too long in a place that didn’t appear to have a cinema or any fast food restaurants. There was a diner, and a number of small stores, but little else.
The bus pulled to a stop, and she gathered her things, shoving the bulky textbook in her bag and stepping off, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the glare as she looked around. She had searched for Gold’s business online, noting that he was a landlord as well as an attorney, and it was a matter of minutes before she found his office, tucked onto the main street next an artisan bakery. She hesitated outside, her hand on the door handle, but then squared her jaw and pushed down, opening the door and walking inside.
There was a reception desk and comfortable-looking leather chairs beside a small table. A handwritten note tented on the desk said Back in 15 minutes! followed by a smiley face. Lacey highly doubted that Gold ever wrote smiley faces on anything other than eviction notices, and therefore assumed that he had a receptionist.
She drummed her fingers on the desk, looking around. A door was off to the left, and so she lifted her chin, stomping around the desk and pushing it open. A well-lit corridor housed three other doors, and she eyed the one at the end, frosted glass hiding what was within. She could almost feel his presence flowing out of it to wrap around her, and she clenched and unclenched her hands, chewing her lip, her nerves rising.
Fuck it, she thought, and took a deep breath, striding down the corridor and pushing open the door without knocking.
Gold looked up from behind a large desk of polished walnut, an expression of surprise on his face, and her belly clenched. He had cut his hair. It was short: silvery strands just brushing the tips of his ears and the nape of his neck. It made his face look a little fuller, his skin a little warmer above the midnight blue silk shirt, and she licked her lips. Why did he have to look so fucking good!
“Lacey,” he said, and a genuine smile spread across his face, his gold tooth glinting. He pushed himself to his feet, long fingers tightening on the handle of his cane.
“Hey,” she said, the word seeming to stick in her throat.
He was looking her over hungrily, and it made her want to go to him, to kiss him. To have him take her over that big-ass desk of his. She wondered if he was thinking it too, and shoved the thought away.
“You - er - you cut your hair,” she said, and could have kicked herself. Why the hell did it matter?
“Yes,” he said, and glanced away for a moment. “What - what are you doing here?”
“I took the bus,” she said. “Emma told me where you lived, and I don’t have class, so I thought - I thought it was probably a good opportunity to - well…”
She cut off, unsure how to continue, and he waited patiently for a long moment, but her throat had closed up. Gold rounded the edge of his desk, taking a step towards her before folding his hands over the handle of his cane.
“I thought you didn’t want to see me,” he said, his voice soft. “I left you a message, the last time I was in Boston, but you never called back. You were out, I understand.”
Lacey raised her chin.
“No, I was in,” she said. “I got the message. And no, I didn’t want to see you.”
His jaw worked a little.
“I see,” he said quietly. “So what’s changed?”
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, her heart racing.
“Nothing,” she muttered, turning away. “Nothing. This was a mistake.”
She took a step towards the door, wanting to cry, and furious with herself because of it.
“Lacey.”
His voice made her pause, and she heard him move, the tread of his shoes and the tap of his cane, and then the warmth of his hand on her arm.
“What is it?” he pressed. “I don’t believe you rode the bus for four hours just to walk out on me again.”
His words riled her. She walk out? She spun to face him, glaring.
“Walk out on you again?” she snapped. “What, you mean after the one night we spent together? After you called me a piece of trash?”
“I - what?” He looked astounded. “I never said that! I never would say that, that’s not what I think!”
“Oh, please!” She curled her lip at him. “I heard you! Calling me your fucking midlife crisis or something…”
“I - I never said that!” he protested.
“...well, fuck you, you arsehole!” she stormed. “I may not be everyone’s idea of a model fucking citizen, but I’m bloody well trying to make a future for myself and then you come along and fucking screw it up!”
Gold stood with his mouth slightly open as she ranted, looking ever more confused.
“Me?” he demanded. “What the hell did I do?”
“I’m pregnant, you dickhead!” she shouted.
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The Question Falls - Chapter 4
Fandom: OUAT
Pairing: Rumbelle
Rating: M (eventually)
Summary: Divorce attorney Gold knows better than to fall in love with a client. Really he does.
AO3
Chapter 4
Gold stared at his ringing phone, his brain whirling. He recognized the name and number, but why on Earth was she calling at seven o’clock on a Friday evening? Surely she had better things to do, better people to talk to? What could she want or need that wouldn’t wait until Monday?
The call went to voicemail and Gold breathed a little more easily. She’d had his personal number since early days in the case, when he’d needed to reach her one night and couldn’t be bothered to dig his business phone out of his briefcase. He waited for the notification of a voice message and then listened to it, feeling like a stupid teenager screening calls, hoping to hear from his crush.
“Hey, Gold, it’s Belle. I was just...calling to check in, I guess. See how you felt about getting that coffee we talked about?” There was a pause, and Gold took a moment to wonder if she really did sound as nervous as he thought she did, or if that was his besotted brain playing tricks on him. “Anyway, call me if you get a chance.”
He shook his head and tapped the screen to play the message again. Calling to check in ...check in about what? What business did they have that she would need to check on? She couldn’t mean to check on him personally, could she? how you felt about getting that coffee ...Had they actually talked about getting coffee? He remembered her saying something about it but he didn’t think any decisions had been made and he certainly didn’t remember agreeing. call me if you get a chance ...Well, he had a chance now, but it didn’t sound urgent, and if he called now she would know he’d screened her call. She’d want to know why he hadn’t answered immediately and even if she didn’t ask she would definitely wonder. But how long should he wait, then? An hour? Or perhaps a day? That would make more sense, wouldn’t it? But this wasn’t 2003, and no one really waited until the end of the day to listen to voicemails, did they? No, she’d certainly expect him to return her call sometime tonight.
And now he was breaking out in a cold sweat as he imagined her waiting for his call, and ye gods, what was he going to say?
He put the phone down and rubbed at his eyes, willing his anxiety to calm. Even if she was waiting for him to call, she could wait a little while longer while he corralled his thoughts. He would ask what she needed, talk her through whatever the problem was, and hang up. If she mentioned coffee, which he doubted, he would have to play it by ear. Name a day just so she could lament that she was busy, but some other time? Right.
He called her before he could second guess himself, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t expecting to get her voicemail.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hey!”
“Hello...Belle.” That part was still a little strange for him. “I got your message. What can I do for you?”
For several seconds she said nothing. “Um...I don’t really...I mean, I don’t need anything. I just wanted to…”
In all the months of their acquaintance he’d never heard her sound so uncertain. Oddly he found himself relaxing in response.
“How’ve you been?” he asked when her voice trailed off.
“Good! Busy, mostly, there’s a show at the gallery next week and we’ve had to do a bit of rearranging. The artist’s fairly picky about how his sculptures are displayed, so we’ve had to get creative with lighting and pedestals and all that. How about you?”
“The usual. Alimony, custody battles, division of assets. Sometimes I even get to practice a little law.” He smiled when she laughed.
“I hadn’t heard from you since you were over, and I realized we never did set a date for that coffee we talked about. What’s your day look like tomorrow?”
“Ah...lunch with a client and then dinner at a friend’s. Bit busy.” Perhaps whatever she wanted or needed was too delicate to discuss over the phone. That was the only explanation he had for her fixation on this coffee get-together.
“Okay. What about Sunday, then?”
Gold pretended to think about it while his mind was racing again. “That works for me.”
“Great! How about one o’clock? I’ll text you the name of the place.”
He agreed and they both hung up, his phone chiming a few seconds later with the name of a diner near her apartment. He was really rather proud of how well he’d handled the conversation. Face-to-face interaction might be a little more challenging, but Regina’s party on Saturday would give his interpersonal skills just the warmup they needed.
Gold knew something was wrong the moment Regina opened her door. Her expressive face was a picture of angry apology.
“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered, gripping his sleeve with her perfectly polished fingernails and hauling him inside. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” he demanded, wrenching out of her grasp.
“Darling!”
The crooning voice froze him in place. A red-haired woman was bearing down on him, her green eyes glittering and her smile stretched wide. In her heels she was two inches taller than him. Wrapping herself around his arm she smiled into his eyes.
“Zelena,” he growled, leaning away from her touch. “This is a surprise. Regina didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Oh, she didn’t know! I was in town for a conference and thought I’d just drop in,” Zelena laughed. “You should have seen her face!”
“Yes, you could have knocked me over with a feather,” Regina clipped.
Gold tugged experimentally at his arm, but Zelena gripped him more tightly. “Regina, tell me you have a full bottle of Johnnie Walker with my name on it.”
“Of course.”
“Oh! I’ll get it for you,” Zelena said eagerly. “Don’t budge!”
She swept away and Gold turned to Regina, who was red with embarrassment. “God, I’m so sorry,” she moaned, rubbing at her forehead. “She just showed up and you know how she gets...there was no getting rid of her, especially when she found out about the party.”
“I will not play nice with her, Regina, even for you.”
“I don’t expect you to. Maybe you’ll be rude enough to finally get rid of her.”
Gold raised his eyebrows. “The last time I saw her I threatened to toss water on her so she would melt. She giggled and said all I needed to do to make her melt was say her name. What exactly do you expect me to do, slap her?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out.”
“You owe me,” he sighed.
“Big time.”
“Here we are!” Zelena had reappeared with a generously filled tumbler in her hand. Gold nodded in acknowledgement, took a sip, and made a face.
“What is this?”
“Johnnie Walker, just like you asked for!”
“What label?”
“Red, I think.”
“I did say ‘with my name on it,’ didn’t I?” Gold snarled.
“I don’t...Oh! that’s so clever! You meant the Gold label of course! I’m so silly, why didn’t I think of that?”
“I believe you just answered your own question.” With a huff Gold stalked to the bar to pour his own drink. Of course she wouldn’t have understood his obscure hint; how irrational and ridiculous would he have to be before she would leave him the hell alone?
It was a very long night. Regina had enlisted David and his wife Mary Margaret into a line of defense, of sorts, and they did their best to keep him occupied, but Zelena was like a bad stench - ever-present and impossible to ignore. She hovered at his elbow, whispered in his ear, giggled at his surliest remarks, and even “accidentally” brushed her hand across his backside once. Regina forced her sister to sit across the table and two places down from him, or he would probably have had to endure even worse indignities.
When the night was winding down he had to shut down three attempts to share a cab, and when he finally admitted he was driving his own car it seemed as if he would actually be forced to take her to her hotel.
“You’re leaving?” Regina exclaimed when she realized Gold was cornered. “But Zee, I’ve barely talked to you! You said you were flying back to London tomorrow; I was sure you’d spend the night here.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose, Gina, dear.”
“Impose? Don’t be silly. It’s been so long since we had a real visit. I insist, Zee.”
Zelena glanced around at the very interested party guests and smiled brightly. “Well...of course, sis. That would be marvelous.”
“Wonderful. Lovely to see you, Gold!” Regina practically shoved him out the door with a wink and a smile, and he was free.
The night air was crisp and clear, and if he lived closer and had two working feet he’d have walked home and returned for his car in the morning. Unfortunately, his apartment was nowhere near Park Avenue, and he would have to settle for driving with the window down. It hadn’t exactly been the relaxing evening talking with people he didn’t loathe he’d expected, but at least he’d reminded himself that he could in fact hold up his end of a casual conversation. After a night fending off Zelena’s advances, the next day’s meeting with Belle would be a welcome reprieve.
Gold didn’t want to think about how long he’d stood in front of his bathroom mirror trying to convince himself that he didn’t look as old as he knew he did. He’d never thought much of his own looks, but meeting a lovely young woman for coffee had awakened old insecurities that he wished had remained buried.
He saw Belle before she saw him, seated near a window and reading a thick book. She kept looking up, however, her fingers drumming on the pages of the book. As he drew closer, he saw that she was biting her lower lip.
Was she nervous?
When Gold was just outside the window, she finally saw him and the brilliance of her smile nearly took his breath away. She waved him in and leapt to her feet when he approached her table.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Long time no see!”
He raised his eyebrows. “It’s only been three days.”
“Well it seems longer.” She poked his arm with her finger. “I did talk to you pretty much every day for a month, y’know.”
“Hm.”
They were interrupted by a gum-popping waiter who took their orders with studied nonchalance, and then Gold was left to wonder what the hell he was doing here. She had no files or envelopes with her, and there was absolutely nothing in her eyes or smile to suggest that she was in any sort of trouble. In fact, she looked positively cheerful, leaning back in her chair so that the sun gleamed in her auburn hair.
“You said you were at a dinner last night? Somewhere special?”
“An old friend’s - I’ve known her a long time.”
Her smile dimmed a bit. “Oh. Was it just the two of you?”
“David and his wife were there - you remember David Nolan - and a few more of her friends. And her sister.” He couldn’t quite keep the growl out of his voice.
“I take it you’re not a fan of her sister.”
Gold grimaced and shook his head. “Insufferable woman.”
“I hope you enjoyed yourself anyway.”
Shrugging, Gold reached for his drink and wondered what that searching look in her eyes meant. “It was alright. I’ve known Regina since she was a little girl and she’s pleasant company, and she’s always known how to entertain guests.”
Belle let out a little breath and sipped her own coffee.
“How was your weekend?” Gold wasn’t sure what had caused the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, but his question appeared to be the right one.
“Work stuff, mostly. When we have a show coming up I spend a lot of time at the gallery. And that’s fine, because it’s just me at home. Maybe I should’ve had a dinner party too; that apartment gets pretty lonely.” She ran her finger around the brim of her coffee cup and glanced up at him. “I’m, uh...actually thinking of selling it.”
“What?” Gold froze with his cup in the air. “After everything you went through to keep it?”
“It’s just such a big apartment, y’know?” Belle fidgeted a little in her seat. “I never really envisioned living in it alone, and I’m such a shrimp. I feel like I’m rattling around in all that empty space and...well, I think I could do with a change.”
“You won’t always be alone,” he said before he could think it through.
“You think so?” Her eyes were glowing suddenly and she smiled brilliantly.
“Of course I do.”
“Why?”
“You’re…” How had he got roped into this conversation? “Well, I mean you’re…”
She propped her chin on her hands and grinned even more widely. “I’m?”
Gorgeous. Incredible. Breathtaking. Perfect.
“Nice.”
For a moment she looked taken aback, but she recovered quickly. “Really? Nice?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes bore into his for a moment more. Whatever she found there must have satisfied her, because she leaned back in her chair again and smirked at him. “Hm. Well, for the record, I think you’re... nice ...too.”
“Um. Thank you.”
Belle tilted her head. “You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor, would you? Since I’m thinking of selling, I’m kind of looking for a new apartment. Not, like, actively searching, but I have a few feelers out. If I go see a place, would you mind coming with me?”
“I...Well, I suppose not. Don’t you have someone else you’d rather take?”
She hummed and scrunched her face up in thought. “Nope.” Her eyes swept over him in a way that made him feel a little overwarm. “I’ve been in your office and you obviously have very good taste, and I trust your judgment.” When he didn’t answer, some of the light went out of her eyes. “Of course, if it’s too much trouble…”
“No, no,” he said hastily. “I’d need a day’s notice in case I need to reschedule something, but…”
“Great!” She snatched up the check the waiter had brought over before he could reach it and winked at him. “You can buy next time.”
Next time? Next time?
Before he could formulate a response, her phone rang. Belle cursed, fishing it out of her bag. “Sorry, I’ll just...Hello? What?” Her voice lowered in pitch. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought...no, no of course you’re right, there’s no way...we’ll make it right, I pro-- yes, I’ll make it right. I’m on my way right now.” She stuck her tongue out at the phone and dropped it back in her purse. “I’m so sorry, Gold, that was Jeff Bucket, the artist for the show I told you about. He’s a little unhhppy with our setup and we open tomorrow, so…”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m really sorry. Things should calm down after this show, though. I’ll talk to you later?”
He nodded and rose, scarcely surprised when she pressed yet another kiss to his cheek. He even briefly considered returning the gesture, but she was out the door before he’d decided.
Just as well.
#rumbelle#rumbelle fic#aka the fic that will pop my smut cherry#i can't believe i actually updated this#maybe i'm getting my groove back#that would be nice
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A Night to Forget -- Rumbelle AU -- Chapter 8
Cover art by @midstorm
Summary: A hungover Mr. Gold awakens in a bedroom that he does not recognize. He begins to recall speaking to a beautiful girl at the bar the night prior, and as things progress he struggles with balancing his romantic life and his personal family drama. This is now officially a 'Professor Gold' fic of sorts, although he is not Belle's professor. Also lots of Papafire stuff. It’s also smut. Not even sorry.
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven
Read on ffnet
Read on AO3
No smut this time . . . and a teeny bit of angst . . . . . feedback appreciated, thank you for reading!
Chapter 8
Belle and Gold spent the evening together on Thursday at his place; he graded papers while she did some reading. They ate pizza, drank tea, and made small talk as Gold took a break from his work. For most couples, this would have been a normal weekday evening. But not for them – a week prior to that day, the two of them had never met before. Now here they were, acting like they had known one another for months – years, even.
And it didn't even seem odd, or wrong. It just seemed right in every way. Belle looked up as Gold chuckled a bit from his desk. "Found a good one, did you?" Belle asked.
"Well, none of them are GOOD, at least per my standard. But this one is – interesting." Gold began reading from the paper. "While I understand that, in today's society, parameters put upon people in regard to their relationships are frowned upon, I am certain that some people are simply deluding themselves when they think that a person who should, by all rights, be out of their league as the saying goes, could even possibly be a fit for them in a long-term relationship."
"Ruby wrote that one, didn't she?" Belle replied.
"Yes, this is your friend Miss Lucas' handiwork. She could use some tutoring, that's one of the worst run-on sentences I've seen."
"She works and goes to school; she does her best. Writing isn't her strong suit."
"Obviously not," Gold said, and he was writing on the paper as she got up and moved to stand behind him.
"You're giving her a C minus?" Belle asked.
"She should be glad I'm giving her a passing grade at all."
"Why? Because of her writing style, or because you didn't like what she said?" Belle asked.
"I have high expectations for my students. It's not my fault that they don't meet them."
"Well, maybe you need to lower them a bit. When I was getting my undergrad I was working two jobs AND going to school full time, not to mention helping my father out after my mother passed. If I'd had a professor like you I probably would have had a nervous breakdown."
"Something tells me you wouldn't have had any problems in my class at all." Gold spun around in his chair, grabbed Belle, and pulled her into his lap.
"Is that right?" Belle teased.
"I think I'd have been the one with the problem. The school frowns upon teachers dating their students."
"Well, how do you know I'd have wanted to date you?" Belle teased.
"I don't think we could have stayed away from one another if we wanted to," Gold said. Belle wrapped her arms around his neck, and they kissed for several minutes. "You want to go to bed?" Gold asked, finally coming up for breath.
"Are you done with grading papers?"
"Only have a few more – they can wait. I can't." Belle moved her hand toward his crotch and smiled.
"I guess not," she said, then giggled a bit. "Okay – let's go to bed then. Even though I'm not the least bit tired."
"You will be," Gold said playfully. Belle jumped out of his lap and darted toward the bedroom, and Gold followed behind as fast as he was able.
"You're not nervous, are you?" Belle asked as she straightened Gold's tie, helping him to get dressed for his court date that morning.
"Completely," he replied.
"It'll be fine. Bae loves you so much."
"Well, that's neither here nor there right now. Belle, what makes me the most angry is this whole thing isn't about Bae; it's about pettiness. Milah doesn't want me to have Bae because I WANT the lad, and her blasted attorney just wants to get revenge on me for something long in the past. I would gladly give Milah everything she wants if she would just let me have my boy. Even the house – my beautiful house that I had built from the ground up."
"I'm so sorry, Callum. I wish I could be there for support, but – I have to work."
"It's alright; probably wouldn't be a very good idea for you to be there right now anyway."
"You'll message me as soon as it's done, right? You promise me?"
"I promise," Gold replied, and he gave her a kiss.
"So, if um – if this works out in your favor – how are we going to work things out with Bae around?"
"Well, I don't see that it'll be too difficult. The lad already adores you. I'll just simply tell him that I took a liking to you after we met, went back to the library and asked you on a date, and you said yes. I promise you – he'll be nothing but happy about it. I know I am." Belle kissed him.
"Good luck, Callum. I'll be thinking of you."
"And I, you," Gold replied. They shared one more long, deep kiss before they departed.
It was nearing four in the afternoon, and still not a word from Gold. Belle kept looking at her phone, which she kept on silent but at her side, hoping to hear something – anything – from him. But there was nothing. The more she thought about it, the more nervous she got.
Another half an hour went by; the library was set to close in almost thirty minutes, and Belle didn't know what to do. Surely the court session was over by now. She texted Gold ten minutes prior, and received no response. Something was wrong, she just knew it. Belle looked at her phone once again, desperately willing it to give her some response. She looked up for a moment and saw a familiar face enter the library. It was the woman that came over to talk to them at the restaurant the other night. She was tall and dressed in fur and heels and looked completely out of place in a public library. The woman looked at Belle and walked straight over to her.
"Well, you DO work here – I thought Ursula was playing a trick on me."
"I – Miss Deville, right?" Belle asked nervously.
"Oh, please call me Carla, everyone does. It was lovely to meet you the other night. I have to say, I haven't seen Callum Gold with a smile that big on his face in ages, aside from the times he's with his son."
"We, um – we were just having dinner," Belle said.
"Oh, I know all about dinner, and popcorn and – well everything else. I mean, I don't KNOW know, but – it's not that difficult to figure out. Anyhow – that's why I'm here. Callum obviously cares about you a great deal, and – well he's going to need quite a bit of support from you. My wife works for the city, so I had her track you down and – here you are."
"Support? What happened?"
"Well, I was in court this afternoon – it was quite brutal. Now, I said I wouldn't take sides in this battle, Callum and Milah are both my friends, but that boy – I'm not a fool, I know who he belongs with, and it sure as hell isn't her. Unfortunately, the judge is an ass, he hates Callum, and he granted Milah temporary sole custody of the lad. He only has limited, supervised visitation for the next month, and his last chance is next month's court date. If he can't sway the judge, well – he could lose the boy forever."
"That – that's terrible! Callum is a wonderful father! Why hasn't he called me?"
"I don't think he's called anyone, dear. I'm not sure he even wants to. I know him all too well, and I know that his likely plans for this evening are to drown his sorrows in a bottle of Scotch. I'm sure he's well on his way through one as we speak."
"I – I need to go to him," Belle said.
"Yes, that would be a good idea. He needs someone right now, and – I think you're that person. I've been on him for months about finding an attorney, but the problem is, no one will take his case. No one will go up against Cora Mills. Well – that's not exactly true, there is ONE person who will, and has said so, but – Callum refuses to even consider the option. Perhaps you can convince him otherwise. Something tells me he'll listen to you more than he will to me."
"I'm going to go tell my boss I need to leave early. Thank you for letting me know."
"You might need this," Carla said. She reached into her purse, took out a key, and handed it to Belle. "Key to his apartment – I doubt he'd even answer the door right now."
"You – you have a key to his place?"
"I have a key to everyone's place. Might even have one to yours, you never know," she teased. "Just take care of him, alright? Poor thing has been through enough – it's about time he found someone that gives a damn about him."
"Thank you," Belle said.
"Ta-ta, darling," Carla said, and she left. Belle looked at the key and sighed.
"Oh, Callum – I'm so sorry," she whispered to herself.
Belle knocked on the apartment door. "Callum! Please let me in!" Belle called out, but there was no response. Not wanting to wait any longer, Belle took out the key that Carla had given her and opened the door. Gold was sitting on his sofa, in the dark, staring down at the half-empty bottle of scotch in front of him. "Hey," Belle said quietly as she sat down next to him and touched him gently.
"Go away," Gold grumbled, pulling away from her.
"Callum, I – I was worried about you, you never called me, or texted me or -"
"How did you even get in here?"
"Your friend Carla, she – she gave me your key."
"Carla. She needs to mind her own damn business, that's what she needs to do." Gold took a drink from the bottle and set it back down. "If I had wanted you here, Belle, I would have asked. Go. Away." Belle looked at him in disbelief for a moment, then spoke up.
"No," she replied.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I said no. I'm not going. This isn't how Bae would want you to deal with this."
"You don't know anything about my boy. You don't know anything about ME, Belle. This past week has been a mistake – I don't deserve nice things, I don't GET nice things, and I don't want one more mess in my life, and that is what this will end up being if it continues – a mess. Your little friend is right – I'm deluding myself if I think it will be anything else."
"You don't believe that and neither do I. If you want me to leave, you're going to have to throw me out physically because I'm not going anywhere. Given the fact that you've clearly had too much to drink already, I doubt that'll be an option for you." Gold looked up at her in disbelief.
"Why do you even care? What am I to you anyway? Some drunken fool that you met in a bar, felt sorry for, and decided to shag."
"I don't pick up men in bars and take them to bed, how dare you! And right now, Callum, pity is the LAST thing I feel for you!" Belle stood up and began to pace furiously. "And how dare you act like this past week has been nothing – how dare you presume it's been nothing to ME! It's been everything to me, Callum! You want to know something honest, Callum? You want some truth from me, well here's some bloody truth – I've thought there was something wrong with me my whole life, or at least past puberty. I've never felt – attracted to anyone. Male, female, nothing – and trust me I've been hit on by both, more times than I can count. Every encounter I've had just – there was nothing there. I was waiting to feel something – anything that resembled a feeling of intimacy – but it was just – I just didn't care one way or another. And then I met you. And I felt something. For the first time, ever – and yes, maybe we rushed into things but when you've waited your whole life for something and it finally appears you kind of want to get on with it, right?" Belle sat down next to him again. "I've never told anyone this before," she said quietly. Both were silent for a good amount of time.
"Why me?" Gold finally inquired.
"I don't know," Belle replied. "Was that a full bottle when you started drinking?" Gold nodded his head. "I'll get you some water." Belle left the room, and came back in with a bottle of water and a slice of leftover pizza from the night prior. "Here – you should probably eat something too." Gold took the bottled water from her and took a drink, then took a few bites of pizza. "Were you ever going to call me?" Belle asked after several minutes of silence between them.
"I don't know," Gold admitted. "Figured you were better off without me. You can do far better than me, Belle."
"You don't get to decide who I'm better off with. I decide that – nobody decides my fate but me."
"I'm sorry," he whimpered, then he took another drink of water.
"Apology accepted. Do you – do you want me to spend the night here then?"
"Yeah," Gold whispered.
"Okay. Let's get you sobered up, and I think it might be a good idea for you to just relax tonight. I'm not really up for talking and I don't think you are, either, and anything else this evening would be a mistake." Gold nodded in agreement.
"I don't deserve you," Gold said.
"Well, I disagree. Let's just leave it at that for now. We'll talk more later."
Gold awoke the next morning and stretched out on the bed. The night before was a bit of a blur to him. Actually, everything that happened as soon as he left the courtroom was a bit of a blur. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the mere shock of the events of the day prior, or a combination of both. But the one thing he did remember was Belle – she had been there for him, even when he didn't ask for her to be. She stayed, even after he made a complete ass of himself in front of her – again. Gold vaguely remembered falling asleep as she sat in bed with him, stroking his hair and assuring him that everything was going to be fine. It was enough to help him relax and rest for the evening. He rolled over to her side of the bed, which was empty and cold. Gold then sat up, wondering where she was. He didn't smell any food cooking, so she obviously wasn't making breakfast. "Belle!" he called out, but there was no response. He reached for his cane, got out of bed, and went out into the other room. The apartment was dark and silent. Gold sat down on the sofa and sighed. She was gone. He pushed her away, he behaved like a jackass, and now she was gone. He allowed a few tears to flow down his cheek as he sat in silence, filled with regret and self-pity, when the door to his apartment opened. Belle entered, carrying a large box that looked like it was from a pastry shop.
"Hey – good morning," Belle said happily, and she set the box down on the coffee table. "I wasn't sure if you liked bagels or donuts or what kind and I didn't want to wake you to ask, so – I just got half a dozen of each and figure we can finish them off over the weekend. I'm going to have to do yoga and brunch with Ruby tomorrow though, she'll kill me if I ditch her a second week in a row." Belle sat down and saw the look in his eyes, and realized that he had been crying. "Hey – what's the matter?" she asked, touching his cheek.
"I woke up and you were gone. I thought you'd left."
"I left you a note, I put it on my pillow," Belle said.
"A – a note?" Belle got up and went into the bedroom, then came back with a small piece of paper in her hand. She handed it to Gold.
"It was on the floor, you must have knocked it off the bed."
"Callum – going to get us some breakfast, be back in a bit. Belle," Gold read out loud, then he tossed the note onto the coffee table.
"Did you really think I'd just walk out on you?" Belle asked. "Do you remember anything I said last night?"
"A bit," he replied.
"I'm not going anywhere. I do think it might be a good idea for you to get out of this place for a bit, though. Why don't you plan to come and stay at my place this weekend, and – we'll go from there. So – bagels or donuts?" Gold smirked a bit.
"Did you get any jelly filled donuts?"
"Yes, I did," she replied. "Is that what you like?"
"Yeah."
"Well, good, because my favorite is glazed so we won't have to worry about fighting over that. See – learned another thing about each other."
"Belle, I need to get my boy back. I don't know what to do."
"You need to get an attorney, Callum. Your friend, Carla, she said that there's someone who is willing to take your case."
"I'm not that desperate," Gold grumbled.
"I think maybe you are," Belle replied. "Callum – I don't understand why you're so resistant to hiring this person. Maybe we can talk about it this weekend, if you want to. I suppose it's far too soon for this to be any of my business, but based on what little I do know, if you want to get custody of your son – I'm not sure what choice you have at this point." Belle took out a jelly donut and put it on a plate, then handed it to Gold.
"It's complicated," Gold said, and he took a bite of the donut.
"Is there anything about you that isn't complicated?" Belle asked. "Aside from your taste in donuts."
"Not particularly, no."
"Well – all the more interesting for me, then. I do enjoy uncovering a mystery."
"Why did you even come back, Belle? Most women would have bolted after last night."
"I'm not most women."
"No, you certainly are not," he agreed, and he leaned in to kiss her. "Thank you, Belle."
"For what?"
"Just – being you."
"Well – you're welcome. Come on – let's finish up our breakfast and get out of here, you need to be away from this place right now."
"Yeah – you're right. Have I told you lately that you are an absolute angel?"
"Not since yesterday."
"Well . . . you are. I didn't think angels fell for monsters."
"You're not a monster," Belle said, and she kissed him.
Gold and Belle spent the weekend together at her place. They talked and got to know one another better, and while they shared a bed, they refrained from any sexual activity aside from a few make out sessions. They both felt that if this relationship was going to move forward, they needed to have some lengthy conversations. They told one another some deeply private things, both of them surprised at how much they were willing to share given the short length of their budding relationship. But it just felt right – for both of them.
Early Monday morning, Gold made his way into town before his first class. He entered the office building and was greeted by a man sitting at the front desk; the name on his desk placard read 'Sidney Glass.'
"Can I help you?" Sidney asked, looking up at him.
"I have an appointment at eight this morning," Gold replied.
"Ah, Mr. Gold – she's been expecting you," Sidney said. "Go on in." Gold nervously made his way toward the closed door that Sidney pointed to. He took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and walked in. The chair behind the desk had its back turned to him, and as soon as Gold closed the door behind him, the chair turned around.
"Well – look who finally showed up. Took you long enough – have a seat," Regina Mills said with a wicked smirk on her face.
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