#the way ellen DELIVERED that line had me snorting

[ashjafari]

[winterscaptain]

a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone. 

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork. 

You snort. “So are you.” 

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.” 

“Get out of my office.” 

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile. 

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file. 

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes. 

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.  

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.” 

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work. 

“Jayje?” 

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?” 

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.” 

She squints. “Why d’you say that?” 

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.” 

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested. 

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.” 

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds. 

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today. 

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.” 

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?” 

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.” 

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself. 

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.” 

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.” 

Emily snorts. 

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.” 

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?” 

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.” 

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.” 

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.” 

There we go. 

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?” 

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers. 

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.” 

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch. 

He sounds weird without it. 

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.” 

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.” 

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask. 

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’” 

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker. 

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.” 

“Good luck.” 

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell. 

“Hey, Hotch.” 

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.” 

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” 

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene. 

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again. 

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers. 

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.” 

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?” 

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.” 

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God. 

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch. 

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?” 

Ugh. Good. 

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs. 

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.” 

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries. 

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.” 

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass. 

That’s a good bumper sticker. 

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side. 

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.” 

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh. 

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.  

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme. 

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?” 

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible. 

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes. 

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder. 

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.” 

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle. 

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks. 

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says. 

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.” 

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.” 

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice. 

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?” 

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh. 

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”  

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?” 

“Affirmative.” 

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...” 

It really takes everything in you not to laugh. 

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.” 

Emily pulls a face. 

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.  

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.” 

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?” 

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?” 

She nods in the affirmative. 

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.” 

Tell me about it, Pen. 

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?” 

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.” 

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one. 

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.” 

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.  

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?” 

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.” 

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer. 

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.” 

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing. 

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron. 

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?” 

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds. 

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.” 

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.” 

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.” 

“Why would they go for that?” You ask. 

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you. 

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.” 

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.” 

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside. 

“What’s up?” 

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.” 

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.” 

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns. 

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.” 

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers. 

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.” 

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender. 

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.” 

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs. 

“Yeah, right.” 

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling. 

 Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.” 

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work. 

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.” 

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?” 

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?” 

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?” 

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.” 

Just then, the apartment phone rings. 

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.” 

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.” 

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?” 

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.” 

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.” 

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone. 

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep. 

“...Aaron.” 

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice. 

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening. 

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button. 

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?” 

Nice start. 

The game has begun. 

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What? 

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?” 

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.  

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.” 

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...” 

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation. 

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.” 

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.” 

“Did you walk out on your family?” 

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.” 

“Do you have kids?” 

“I have a son.” 

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son. 

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time. 

“How often do you see him?” She asks. 

 “I try to see him every week.” 

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.  

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.” 

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side. 

She is a profiler. 

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours. 

Same skillset, very different application. 

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.” 

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically. 

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope. 

“How am I a whore?” He asks. 

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.” 

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.” 

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.” 

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going. 

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?” 

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.” 

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.” 

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.” 

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.” 

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending. 

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?” 

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.” 

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.” 

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon. 

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team. 

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father. 

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say. 

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.” 

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.” 

“What’s next?” 

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.” 

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.” 

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage. 

Focus. 

“No,” he says. “Think about it.” 

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.” 

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.” 

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough. 

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case. 

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door. 

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon. 

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.” 

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.” 

There’s a question in your eyes. 

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.” 

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it. 

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him. 

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.  

Stay here. It says. Stay close. 

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm. 

You feel for her. 

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay. 

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask. 

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now. 

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.” 

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her. 

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?” 

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.  

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer. 

It’s because he is good.

A good man. 

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace. 

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes. 

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever. 

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card. 

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. 

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe. 

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body. 

“I’m sorry, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.” 

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him. 

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away. 

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.” 

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder. 

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.” 

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television. 

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work. 

+++

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[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, After Goodbye, Chapter 10

Thank you to @balfeheughlywed the goodbye bit is thanks to her. @ladyviolethummingbird Thank you!

My mouth curled up in a self-conscious smile, suddenly shy to say my goodbyes with Jamie’s family looking on. I wondered if they noticed our bruised lips and bitten necks. I tugged a curl around my finger and glanced over at Ellen and Brian pointing out flowers to Willie, allowing us a tiny window to say our goodbyes. Jenny stood under Ian’s arm sniffing into a hanky.

 Jamie had embraced them all told them he ‘wasna dying’, but I could see his throat bob up and down furiously, as he strained to show a brave face. He had come to the end of the line where I was standing arms hung awkwardly at my sides, not knowing what to do with them. Jamie had pulled me by the waist and bent to kiss me; I kept my hand curled into balls at his chest not wanting to let go.

 When his mouth met mine, we forgot where we were and deepened the kiss, trying to say with our mouths what we were incapable of with our voices. When Jamie’s tongue gently slid over mine, I heard gravel munching underfoot as Ian and Jenny shuffled away awkwardly. For a moment I didn’t care, wanting to live in him and have no one take him from me. Eventually, I sighed and said, “your parents will think I’m a disgrace.”

 Jamie gave me the most boyish smile “Claire they see the way I look at you when you’re not looking; they wouldn’t expect anything less of a goodbye from me, aye?.”

 A sudden lump invaded my throat, and I pulled him to me again, breaking away when I heard Willie’s voice getting nearer. Jamie through him up on his shoulder “remember what I told ye my lad?” as he mounted several kisses over our sons head and cheeks. “I amember da, mind Donas and mama” I rolled my eyes “did he tell you in that order?” I snickered rubbing my hand through his hair. “I canna remember mama” Willie answered solemnly.

I looked back at Jamie and saw him hastily rub his sleeve over his eyes, a lone tear had escaped his efforts and rolled down his cheek. Willie rubbed a little hand through Jamie’s hair, “dinna cry Da, nobody will take mama or Donas, while yer gone, I pwomise.”

 Now tears were falling unbidden from my own eyes, and I wiped them away quickly, placing Willie on the ground for a minute. “You got to go,” I said firmly, “traffic will be heavy” we both knew I meant we would end as trembling wrecks if we didn’t make a move soon. “aye,” Jamie said hoarsely eyes stuck to the ground.

 I gave him a few minutes to breathe, his head rising eventually to meet my eye,

 “Claire Beauchamp” – his tone clear and confident –“I love ye” he bent nearer my ear – “I will love ye forever” – when he leaned back to look down in my eyes he mouthed “trust me mo chridhe”

 Brian’s hand on his shoulder and Willie shouting “I love ye Da” was the only fragments I remembered before a trail of dust blew along the road as his jeep drove away... 

___________

In the few weeks since Jamie had been gone, the lack of his presence was felt everywhere, I felt guilty adding to the sombre mood by showing how much I missed him; instead I tried to throw myself into helping out around the farm and making sure Willie enjoyed his last few weeks in Scotland. Jamie phoned every night, wanting to hear every small detail of our day. He was reluctant to say much about what was happening in Hellwater, and I didn’t press him.

 Mostly I was glad of Ellen Brian and Jenny’s presence, the moment Jamie kissed both Willie and me goodbye and left Lallybroch they stepped up. Never allowing us too much time in the cottage and insisting we ate with them every evening. I was pitifully glad of it. Every inch of the cottage was a reminder of Jamie and escaping it helped. 

 Our tranquil routine at Lallybroch was rudely broken by the return of Dougal Mc Kenzie. He turned up unannounced and uninvited. Ellen’s reluctance to even admit him went over his head as he claimed to have come from visiting Hellwater and Jamie and wanted to let us know how he was doing. His attempt at sincerity didn’t win over his sister but his promise of been gone by morning not to return again if she wished, did the trick.

 Dougal had, for the most part, ignored me on his last visit to Lallybroch. Throwing me one assessing glance and commenting on my boniness to Jamie. Other than that I was a non-event for him.

 But since the Dunsany’s had approached Jamie to work at Hellwater, it had become apparent to Dougal that I was more unwanted baggage that rooted Jamie to Lallybroch and had been the main reason he had dug his heels in about working at Hellwater. Dougal hadn’t counted on Willie and me living in Scotland, in Dougal’s, Jamie might have been more agreeable to Hellwater, and they would not have had to threaten him with the demise of Lallybroch.  But Jamie had been furious, and the Dunsany’s and Dougal had unleashed their outrageous tactics.  His relationship with his sister and brother in law was irreparably broken.

  _____________

 Dougal Mc Kenzie sat staring at me intently from across the dinner table, cutting through a story Jenny had been telling, he tilted his head in my direction and asked how I had been since Jamie’s departure.

 While he waited for a response he busied himself examining a morsel of food on his fork when my response was a nonverbal glare, he tried again.

  “Jamie seemed well fashed about leaving ye,” – I continued to stare back at him – “although” he added in a contemplative sigh “when I visited him last week, he seems to be settling nicely in at Hellwater.”

  Don’t take the bait.

  “We have been busy here”,  I replied evenly, keeping my gaze directed into the bottom of my wine glass, rolling the red liquid around in my hand.

 Dougal’s hand slapped against the table jubilantly. “I kent as much, I told Jamie so” he downed the remnants of his wine in one swallow and leaned across the table, his voice brightening considerably.

 “Ya ken Claire, while James may have reservations about the Dunsany’s, this is a good opportunity for him, he is overseeing the construction of one of the biggest equestrian centres in England, probably in Europe.” he smiled, flashing teeth and landing his elbows firmly back on the table.  “His name will carry with it.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink. 

 “With all due respect Dougal,” I said smiling sweetly, “Jamie doesn’t want his name associated with the Dunsany’s on account of how they recruit people, I doubt having his name attached to their equestrian centre will appeal to him much.”

 His eyes widened, and he leaned back in his chair slightly, “yer feisty wee thing or ye no?”

 “If you mean, I don’t tolerate bullshit, then yes that is correct.”

 Ian choked into his wine glass stifling a laugh and Jenny patted my hand proudly. “That ye don’t Claire” she agreed.

 Dougal’s widened eyes eventually fell back to his dinner plate, but he was not to be deterred. I had struck a sore point, and he would not relent in whatever message he seemed determined to deliver.

 His glance fell on Ellen and Brian as if trying to reason with them over my propensity to bite.

 “Aye, I am sure it wasna suitable to have Jamie move away so soon after ye moved here” his sweet smile made my stomach heave.

  “Claire and Jamie had no wish to live separately, Dougal, so let’s not pretend it was a choice, aye?” Brian replied gruffly, while Ellen just glared disbelievingly at her brother. The tension building over the dinner table was tangible, and I longed to rise from my seat and throw the entire uneaten contents of my dinner plate onto Dougal’s lap and leave the room.

 Dougal smiled sympathetically at Brian, “I said to Jamie that they’re two independent people, dinna need to be living in each other pockets, do they now?” his gaze returned to meet my eye, and I pressed my hand into the side of my chair to stop the fury building up in my stomach. Suddenly grateful that Willie was upstairs asleep in Brian and Ellen’s bed.

 I was no longer content to listen to this tripe and didn’t want Jamie’s parents feeling the need to defend me.

 “You seem to have a knack at colouring the truth Dougal” I popped a piece of meat into my mouth and allowed my lips to curl up mischievously as I chewed.

  “I ken the best of marriages start out with some separation Claire, why myself and my wife, Clara-“before he could continue, I sat forward placing fork down on my plate and resting my chin on my entwined hands calmly. “With all due respect Dougal-“ my tone light, mocking, “I’d rather not use your marriage as a blueprint”, the way his mouth dropped open and the stunned expression on his face, made me grow bold and I flashed him a dazzling smile.

 “From what I understand your wife lives in Spain most of the year?” a long pause as I took my time to refill my wine glass, Dougal observed me, mistakenly confident that I wouldn’t go there.

 “She has a very attentive live-in personal assistant doesn’t she?” – I strained my eyes in concentration and tapped my forefinger against my bottom lip contemplatively – “Manwell? Is that his name?”

Jenny snorted, and I threw my smug smile in her direction.

 Dougal was purple, a long finger pointed threateningly at me, “How dare ye –“

 I was unperturbed, “There must be a reason you are not needed in your wife’s house?” I asked lightly while popping a grape into my mouth from the cheeseboard in front of me. “after all I am sure”, even someone like you, must have a purpose?

 Dougal started to rise threateningly to his feet, “Do you visit much, I mean to give Manwell vacation time?”

 “Now ye listen hear ye little bitch-“

 “Ye will no speak to Claire like that at my table” Ellen’s voice interjected firmly.

  I flopped back in my chair happily, taking a long pull from my wine glass. 

 “Yer lucky I allowed ye over the threshold brother, dinna pretend you had no part to play in separating her and Jamie, so ye needn’t come here now telling her it's for the best.”

 Ellen stood and reached for the bottle of wine before pouring herself a large glass and sitting back down. She gave out an incredulous sigh, “in fact I dinna ken why yer here at all” she laughed incredulously and shook her head, “ye got Jamie to do yer bidding, what else do ye want?”

 “I only came to tell ye the lad is doing braw, he is really getting stuck in.” Dougal huffed defensively.

  I couldn’t help the drop in my heart, imagining Jamie giving any of his real attention to this project, but I mentally berated myself for already forgetting my promise.

 Brian narrowed his eyes, taking in his brother in law, “he is a gifted lad, there isna much he canna work at.”

 Dougal’s face lit up “Oh aye Lord Dunsany is delighted with him, he has the architects and engineers jumping in hoops at his whim, Miss Geneva thinks he will shave a million off the original estimate for the project, with some shrewd changes.”

 Now my heart was beating outside of my chest; naively as it sounded, I didn’t realise Geneva Dunsany had any role in the designing or building of the equestrian centre.

 The question was bubbling out of my mouth before I could stop it. “What role does Geneva have with the project?” I aimed for nonchalance, but I wasn’t sure I delivered as Dougal crooked one bushy grey eyebrow at me, his turn for revenge evident with the self-satisfied smirk spread across his face.

 “She is the financial controller” he replied evenly.  Straining to keep the gleeful tone from his voice he continued “Jamie has to keep her sweet to draw down the necessary funds for the project and to align his budget.”

 Brian leaned across the table about to say something, but I was determined not to show defeat. “Gosh I am surprised, I didn’t think she had a head for figures never mind the ability to control a multi-million-pound budget”.

 Dougal’s expression was impassive, but his eyes were practically dancing in mirth when he composed himself enough to answer me.

 “Jamie seems to think he can save her money and that speaks Geneva’s language, quite the bonnie team the two of them last I saw” the corners of his mouth quirked upward, a hint of victory in his smile.

 I knew that I could keep up this game and had many responses that would wipe the smile of Dougal’s face, but I had this niggling feeling that Dougal had information that would hurt me deeply if I continued and I didn’t think I could withstand it.  I dropped my gaze to my plate, not to avoid Dougal so much but to the sympathetic stares from the rest of the Frasers.

 ________________

  Much later that evening Jenny and Ian had managed to unwind me with too much wine, curled up in armchairs around a fire in the study. We chatted and teased and avoided all talk of what Dougal had said at dinner. I knew they were trying not to give it credence and I was trying not to let my insecurity show. I mostly was succeeding, and the wine was certainly a good anaesthetic, but now and again Dougal’s depiction of Jamie working closely with Geneva gave me angry hot flushes which I was, for the most part, disguising well.

 As midnight came and went and our chat quietened, Jenny who had been watching me intently narrowed her eyes . 

  “Claire” she slurred slightly, “I presume ye are not heeding anything that man says?”

 I gave a noncommittal smile, “I’m fine Jenny honestly, I – “

 She looked to Ian for support “Tell her Ian”.

 “Jenny – laughter lacing my tone to hide my embarrassment – “ will you stop, I am a big girl, and Jamie is – “

 “Dinna start pretending that yer fine with what he said either? She waved her hand around sloppily. “I’m not daft Claire.”

 Ian crooked one eye at me, “Claire, ya ken Jamie hates each and every one of them, there is a fox in him, if he is playing nice it is cunningly so.”

 I took another long pull on my wine glass and eyed them both sceptically and sighed.

 “I feel bad for even mistrusting him, it’s just Dougal gets under my skin with his smugness –“  my tone growing angrier the very mention of him, “he came here to wind me up.”

 “Aye,” Jenny said knowingly and “ye are falling for it.”

 “Hmm, I think you’re right, and I am being silly, let’s forget it ok?” I made to stand, but my legs wobbled briefly before I fell back down with a thud.

 “We will have one more dram Claire, and then Ian and I will walk ye back to the cottage, Mam has Willie so ye can have a nice lie in tomorrow.”

 My head bobbed agreeably, and I allowed the alcohols foggy haze to cloud my decision making, “Christ I miss Jamie to talk sense to ye now.” Ian chuckled.

Jenny was rooting in my purse beside her place at the fire.

  “I'm gonna call Jamie and tell him what Dougal is at, he told me to keep him informed” she pulled my phone from my bag with a tug and flopped back on the armchair, eyes squinting, dangerously near to closing to examine the screen on my phone.

Both mine and Ian’s mouths fell open “Jenny its almost 2 o clock in the morning, you are not ringing Jamie!” I said firmly. My head was light from wine and the idea of Jenny telling Jamie I was jealous of Geneva Dunsany.

 “Aye Jen, C’mon” Ian tried to reach to take the phone from her, but she snapped her hand back. Holding the phone above her head. “he is my brother, Ian and he told me to watch over Claire.” Ian sighed “Jen he told us all to watch over Claire, if she isna sick or deid, I don’t think ye should ring him in the middle of the night though.”

 Jenny let out an impatient puff of breath “tsk” she scolded. “Jamie willna think she is deid!”

I managed to stand on wobbly feet and grab the phone from Jenny’s hand while she was distracted. “Agh, I said triumphantly, “got it”. My smile quickly faded when I noticed Jenny had already hit the call button to dial Jamie, I was desperately trying to hit cancel when I heard a high feminine giggle coming from the receiver. Jenny and Ian’s faces watched on in dismay as I put the earpiece to my ear and stupidly said “Jamie?”

Silence on the other end and a familiar British accent answered clearly “sorry James can’t come to the phone just now” – another stifled giggle “he is busy”, and the phone went dead.

[neverneverlouisland]

surprise [louis tomlinson]

surprise

[fandom] one direction

[pairing] louis tomlinson x oc

[a/n] this was originally written over two years ago, so it takes place before the rest of the boys disbanded and also before Freddie was born. future writings and stories about Louis will definitely include his son

“Are you absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure you can’t make it?” A slightly nervous chuckle sounded from the other end of the line, ringing through the speaker of the phone. His voice carried from his end to mine. It was filled with guilt, but he tried making the tone of voice light as he mocked me.

“Yes I am absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure I won’t be able to make it.” I groaned, falling back on the mattress and facing the ceiling. 

“Alright. Have fun.” I sighed and leaned my head back against the headboard, glancing around the bed and toward the place that would remain empty until after break. 

“Don’t fret over it, you need to have fun.” He told me from the other side. He sounded so distant, being in another country and all. His voice sounded as if it was fading the longer our conversation ran on. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” I mumbled into the speaker, removing the phone from my ear and pressing the end button. 

—

A blanket was wrapped around me as I sat in an armchair beside the flat’s heater, curled up in a snug ball. The snow had begun to fall a few hours ago, and the lightweight was slowly turning the individual snowflakes into clumped bunches of ice. They got through the screens, sticking to the glass of the large windows and sliding down the panels. The clouds were a faded grey, and they just kept dropping flakes of frozen water from the top, acting as a barrier to the unaffected part of the sky. I could hear the cold wind howling outside as it whipped at the bare trees and moved snow around, covering the city in a blanket of white. 

I brought my gaze back toward the television, watching reruns of holiday movies that had been playing for the past month. Joyous songs were playing in the background, and I had yet to figure whether it was coming from the neighbors or behind the noise of the characters on screen. I reached over toward the coffee table, grabbing one of two mugs of hot tea before thinking and placing it back on the wooden surface. I stood, grabbing the second mug and heading toward the kitchen area. I sighed, placing the hot drink in the microwave to keep it warm and quickly going back into my earlier position, bringing my knees up onto the chair. 

He’d been gone a good week or two now, and even though we kept in touch every day, it still felt empty. Usually around this time, we would be having the dumbest argument over taking down the Christmas tree that still stood proudly in the corner. He always wanted to keep it up the whole winter to keep us in the spirit of the season. We would still be doing all the other classic holiday traditions because we enjoyed the films, music and treats. There would be flour, icing and sprinkles covering the countertops and our faces. He would stare at me oddly whenever I entered ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ into the DVD player before joining me on the couch, still never getting the point of the movie. I tried to explain to him every year on both Halloween and Christmas, but he would shrug it off and enjoy the songs and how weirdly scary the characters looked. 

A buzzing came from the table in front of me, and I looked away from the movie to see that my phone had received a message. I reached for it, grabbing the device and sliding in the passcode. I smiled a little at the incoming message, reading a short paragraph on how sorry he still was for not being able to make it home in time. I’ve had to shrug it all off for the past hour he’d been apologizing, finding it a bit silly for either of us to feel any sort of sadness. We were still able to talk today, and that was enough for me. 

He ended up calling, saying how he missed my voice after not hearing it for days. I agreed with it, even though most of me was still sucked into the wonder that was holiday films and the songs that came with it. I partially listened to his own voice as I kept my eyes on the moving pictures set above the fake fireplace. I glanced at the object before bringing my gaze back to the movie; it was fake because we were on the third floor and couldn’t possibly get a chimney, so he got a virtual fire that still radiated the warmth we wanted. 

We were still on the phone as I continued to watch and rewatch all the amazing films, not being able to look away when certain parts came into play. I could barely hear him calling me with how engrossed into the movies I'd become. 

“Babe.. Babe?” 

It took a few seconds to realize before I replied, “Yeah?” 

“Are you alright?” 

I let out a chuckle and brought part of my focus back on what was happening. “I’m alright, love. Just watching something.” There was silence on the other end for a short of a moment, and I somehow knew he was nodding his head as if we were right beside each other.

“Which one?” His tone was turning more cheery by the second, and I couldn’t help but smile more at the question.

 “The Santa Clause.” I stretched over for the remote on the other couch, and opened up the guide for the channel. “All of them - it’s a marathon.” 

He sighed on the other end of the line, and it made me giggle hearing him whine. “I’m missing The Santa Clause? Can you record it?”

“I would, but honestly Louis, I still have no clue how to handle this remote or the setbox aside from switching channels.” He laughed that childish, melodious laugh and I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t my fault he never let me near the thing when he was set on watching soccer, cartoons, or himself. (It was weirdly adorable. He just enjoyed watching the talk shows, like Ellen Degeneres, because the boys always did or said something stupid.)

“It isn’t funny!” 

“It’s a little funny, sweetheart.” I huffed a breath and curled up in the blanket even more, setting down the cup of tea that was still hot enough to keep me warm and grabbing for a pillow. 

“How is it that even when you’re thousands of miles away, you start bantering with me?” At first I thought I had done the wrong thing in mentioning how we weren’t even in the same country, but he sounded fine with it.

“I live to banter with you, sweetheart. It’s what drives me.” 

I let out an embarrassing snort, causing him to go into a fit of chuckles. “Of course it is. Nice to know you’re only keeping me around for laughs.”

“Oh, not only for the laughs, love. Also for the food and cuddles.” I laughed and shook my head. It was just like him to carry on more jokes from another. 

“Great.” I sarcastically snorted out, glancing at the clock on the wall. 6:28 PM. There was a still a ways to go until midnight, but he wouldn’t be here to really make the transition into the new year special. I threw my head back against the seat and groaned.

He responded instantly. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing. It isn’t like my boyfriend is across the ocean, a thousand miles away.” My eyes widened once I realized I switched the mood of the conversation completely. I wanted to apologize, but was there really a reason to? “I -”

He sighed, speaking into the microphone of his phone. He changed the subject. “What's happening?” It took a bit to realize he was talking about the movie, before I resisted the urge to sigh myself.

“He just found out the North Pole was real, and Charlie went off with Bernard while Scott took the chance to look around the place. So he's still having a hard time believing he's Santa Claus.” 

It was his turn to snort, which returned the mood to what it was before. I rolled my eyes but stayed silent. “Of course he is. Would you believe you were a jolly, old man with a white beard and flying reindeer who could deliver presents in one night?” 

I smiled a little. “Of course not - I'm a girl.” He laughed. “I would believe it if you were that jolly, old man and I was that man's wife.” 

I could feel him shaking his head and the smile on my face grew wider. “Well who else would you be, love?” I finally let the sigh out, but this time it was one of content. He sensed it, and let out a chuckle knowing he would get an earful about marriage when he returned. 

We spent the next couple of hours talking. I continued to narrate the movie for him, he would bring in his commentary, and it moved into the second film of the trilogy. I ended up taking the pillow and moving myself onto the elongated couch.  It was much more comfortable and my body could stretch out. As we talked, it sounded as if he was just getting further and further away. The character's voices and the music were fading, and the pictures on the screen were turning dark. 

—

I wasn’t sure how long it had been, but it occurred to me that at one point or another I fell asleep. I kept my eyes closed, still groggy, but listened in. My boyfriend had hung up on the other end after realizing I wasn’t awake anymore, there was now a stronger wind building up outside, and the film voices were nowhere to be heard. I felt something heavy against me; it was made out of some sort of cloth. That was when I opened my eyes. 

As I looked around, I slowly started piecing together what was different. A thick, patterned blanket was set on top of me. The television was shut off and the cup of tea that was set on the table was gone. My eyebrows furrowed as I took in the rest of the flat. Is he...? I shook my head lightly. There was no way he was home this early. Surely he would have called me. I decided to stay on the possible fact that maybe I was just too tired earlier to remember that I had turned everything off and finished my drink. 

Then I heard a voice. “I guess our song was right- you really can’t go to bed without a cup of tea, can you?”

My head whipped toward my left. In an instant and without warning, I threw the blanket off and jumped to my feet, tackling the figure in a hug that nearly toppled over the chair he was in. His harmonious laugh echoed throughout the flat as his arms wrapped around my waist and held me tight.

“What are you doing here?!” I let my arms loosen from around his neck and backed away to sit on the coffee table, giggling once he pulled me back and into his lap. 

“I couldn't possibly let you find another guy to kiss tonight.” 

“Right, because it wasn't like I stayed around the apartment all day.”

“You mean the flat?” He raised an eyebrow at me, shaking his head as he continued, "You Americans and your weird words.” He stated jokingly, a wide set grin on his face.

We stayed like that for the rest of the time - chatting about our holiday in both countries and what had been going on. He was on about how much him and the boys missed their friends, families and/or girlfriends. I rolled my eyes when he winked at the mention of the word. He said they all flew out early, which meant he had been in a wide visiting range the past few days.

I gaped before punching him in the shoulder. He flinched and immediately removed one arm from around me to hold it. “What was that for?”

“I thought you were in America this whole past week, you git!” I huffed, crossing my arms and looking at him. 

“Well I apologize for wanting to surprise my girlfriend. I promise not to do it again.” The corner of his lip twitched into a smirk, and mine cracked a smile. 

“I hope you realize that if my birthday surprise is anything but, I'll personally see to it that you sleep on the couch for the rest of that following week.”

“Oh well that just seems a bit cruel, doesn't it?” We both grinned at each other, spending the last few minutes of this year shoving and making jokes toward one another. It felt amazing to have him back for this holiday after having to spend the one before talking through a video screen. That year I had actually spent with the girlfriends of some of the other boys (my two favorable cousins and our mutual friend who they introduced me to). We made our boyfriends agree to a pact that if they were ever away, both groups would meet up and we'd video chat. It was actually more fun than it sounds. 

A song from the band's very first album sounded from the table. I looked over to see my cellphone bouncing about the polished wood and nearing the edge. I got out of Louis’ grasp, ignoring his whine as I reached over and checked the time before shutting off the alarm. 11:55 PM. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

I shrugged, “I just wanted to talk with you for a bit before midnight. We weren't together together last time so..” I trailed off, glancing toward the balcony window. 

I gasped in excitement and turned my whole body around to face it. I skipped over after realizing that the frost on the window had disappeared, allowing me to see through it. It meant the moon snuck it's way out of the clouds, and was shining bright as flakes still continued to fall. I didn't think or bother to grab a coat as I pulled open the sliding floor. I was near to stepping out when he grabbed my wrist.

“And where do you think you're going?”

I pointed lamely toward the snowy wonderland, “Outside.” 

He shook his head and took my hand, “It's nearly midnight. It might as well be below zero.” 

He intertwined our hands, lacing our fingers together and looking down at me with a sweet smile. I glanced up at him, a small grin settling on my face before fully acknowledging his concern and giving a firm nod. A chuckle escaped his through his parted lips and he leaned his head down, catching me in mid giggle and embracing my own mouth with a sweet kiss.