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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

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"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

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achliegh · 3 years ago

Text

Mistletoe Madness: Day 1

Santa's Kinda Hot…

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

James was chasing everyone around the locker room wearing a headband with mistletoe dangling off a stick right in front of his forehead. He has already snatched a couple cheek kisses from Sirius and Dumo, he was currently working on Logan. He was collecting all the French-Canadians’ first for some reason.

Leo was watching, finding it absolutely hilarious when Logan gave James an extra sloppy smooch on the cheek when an arm is slapped around his shoulders.

“Hey Leo, I have a job for you.” Remus smiles at him and Leo knows exactly what he is going to ask.

“Nope, I won’t do it.”

“Everyone on the team has, except you.” Remus sings at him, reaching up and pinching his cheek moving his hand back and forth so Leo’s head shakes. Slapping his hand away and rubbing his cheek Leo reluctantly agrees but only if Remus promises not to take pictures.

The next week he found himself being giggled at by his boys, Remus and a bunch of kids' mothers as he pretended to be Santa for the baby team Remus still coaches even if he plays now. Kids hopped up in his lap and would always comment on how he didn’t have a beard but when Remus’ had him try it on a few days ago it gave him a terrible rash, so they decided to just say:

“I’m a Santa in training, I’m actually the big man's son and am practicing to take over for him.” All the kids seemed to accept this. Going about telling him their mile long lists of things they want all while he himself was thinking about what to make for a meal later.

He was thinking chicken and rice soup sounded amazing.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Leo asks a relatively large boy who sat on his knee after the fastest talking child he has ever heard ran back to his mom.

“I don’t know… What do you want for Christmas, Santa’s son?” Leo looked at him for a moment, he wasn’t really asking for anything this year. As he got older he realized making gift lists for holidays or even his birthday was getting harder and harder. He didn’t really want material things. His gaze wanders from the young kid on his knee to the two goofballs putting ripped pieces of paper in Remus’ hair hoping he doesn’t notice. He smiled a little at them, his heart thumped a little harder and he could feel his cheeks warming just a bit.

“I have everything I could ever want.” Looking back at the child who was fiddling with his thumb. “A new blender would be nice though.” The child's mom snorts in front of them and both he and the kid smile at each other.

“I think I want to be able to visit my grandma, I haven’t seen her in a long time and she lives very really far away. I miss her.” Leo ruffles the kids floppy blonde hair.

“That's a good gift, but a hard one to deliver.”

“A new remote control car would be nice too.” They laugh together as the kid hops off his lap and goes back with his mom. He was expecting another kid to sit on his sweaty knee but instead he got a Logan on one and a Finn on the other.

“That was the last sticky-fingered gremlin! Ready to go?” Finn kisses his cheek putting his arm around his shoulder.

“You know, this Santa costume makes you look very handsome.” Logan is fixing Leo’s fluffy white collar and cupping his neck once he is happy with the adjustment.

“I agree, Santa is kinda hot. In a weird mystical way. Also in Rise of The Guardians he was sexy as hell.” Finn stands up and snatches Leo’s hat, putting it on his head. “I think you look way better.” He winks before walking over to Remus to ask what they have to do next.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen Rise of the Guardians.”

“Me either, let's get you out of this costume and go home to make some soup or something.” Logan stands up helping Leo up and slapping his ass when he walks past towards the other two delinquents. Winking when Leo turns around to playfully glare at him.

He’d get him back.

#leo knut #finn o'hara #sweater weather #logan tremblay #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #coast to coast

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mikaelamichelle13 · 3 years ago

Text

Who Are You?

All she can remember was that she was chatting happily with Harry, Ron and Ginny when her phone rung. It was an unknown number. She excused herself to take the call, there was something about it that told her that she needed to answer it. However, the words she heard next made her bolt out of Harry’s house leaving behind her friends calling for her and apparated as soon as she could.

Now, she’s running through the crowd in muggle London after apparating in a secluded alley near the hospital, ignoring the faint fuzziness in her head. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard, it hurt. She could feel the sweat dripping down her back and her breathing became shallow.

She just got them back. Right after the war she looked for them and retrieved their memories but their relationship was not mended immediately. She spent more time with them, brunches every weekend and holidays. She did everything to gain their trust back and it slowly built up again. It’s been ten years but it felt new for her. But now, why did have to happen?

She rushed to the hospital and halted right in front of the receptionist. Panting and with her throat dry she gulped.

“E-excuse me,” she said and the receptionist looked up at her with a bored expression. And it took all her remaining strength not to smack that expression off the woman’s face. Her fingers were gathered in a tight fist, biting her skin on the process.

“Yes?” she drawled and Hermione took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

“I am here for Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” she said hurriedly.

“Please proceed to the waiting area near operating room number three, down the hall then right,” she said and Hermione barely mumbled her thanks as she ran through the hall and turned right. Her footing slowed as her vision swam and she swayed a little. Behind the double door was her parents. She stayed rooted in the middle of the corridor waiting. And she did not stop her tears from flowing.

“Miss?” someone asked, putting their hands on her shoulders and she jolted, whipping around to see a woman in white. She had kind dark brown eyes, black hair and there was a friendly smile on her face. She let go of her shoulder and clasped her hands in front of her.

“Y-yes?” she said wiping her tears away, sniffing.

“Would you like a drink? Or something to eat?”

She shook her head in response.

“Well, why don’t we sit down?” she suggested and Hermione agreed, finally feeling tired of standing. They sat on the nearest set of chairs.

The time was ticking and she pulled on the skin around her nails, looking over the doors once in a while. Her palms were getting clammier and her heart was still beating wildly inside her chest. The nurse placed her hand over Hermione’s hands that made her looked up at her.

“They’ll be fine. Two of our best surgeons were in and they were the ones taking care of them right now,” the nurse said, she squeezed her hands reassuringly and all she could do was nod at her then looking back at the doors.

The nurse stayed with her, holding her hands supportively while she stayed watching the doors. The time stretched further before they heard sets of footsteps rushing towards their place.

“Hermione!” she heard them call but she did not turn her attention to them.

“Hermione…” Harry called her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

The nurse patted her hands and stood up, “I’ll go ahead now.”

That’s when Hermione removed her attention from the doors, giving the nurse a small smile, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she muttered quietly and left the group.

Harry replaced the nurse beside her while Ron sat on her left while Ginny sat beside Harry. Harry placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in while Ron rubbed her back but she turned to watch the door again.

They stayed like that for few more moments when the door suddenly opened letting a man wearing a blue surgical gown exit. Hermione abruptly stood up and walked fast to the man.

He pulled the mask off and asked, “Are you a relative of the Grangers?”

“Yes, I am their daughter. How are they?”

He nodded, “We were able to successfully close up an open wound on her right upper arm and remove most debris that was stuck on her. Mrs. Granger is already in a stable condition. we will be moving her to the recovery room….”

“How about my father?”

“Dr. Malraux is still working with him; he was impacted severely.”

Hermione shuddered and her knees weakened but Harry caught her shoulders to keep her from falling. She leaned onto him, sobbing.

“Doctor…?” Harry trailed off and the doctor cleared his throat.

“I am sorry for the lack of my manners; I am Dr. Noah Boris.”

“Where will be the recovery room?”

“I wouldn’t know yet but an attending nurse will inform you.”

Harry nodded and Dr. Boris left them. Harry had to half-drag Hermione to sit on the chairs. Ron and Ginny remained standing while Harry stayed with Hermione, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

Her eyes already dried and her breathing was already steady when a different nurse came to tell them the room number of her mother but she did not want to leave just yet. She wanted to wait for her father.

Ron tried to talk to her but she did not want to talk and even when Ginny offered her a cup of tea, she did not drink it nonetheless, she held on to it, warming her cold hands.

It had been an hour after Dr. Boris left but no one had yet to come out from the operating room. She’s getting more anxious by the minute and the tea got colder, the warmth absorbed entirely by her hands.

Hermione already lost track of time as Harry was replaced by Ginny then Ron and then Harry’s back to her side. She decided to look at her wrist watch and it was already ten minutes past midnight. It had been five hours since she got the phone call and rushed to the hospital.

She stood up and started pacing while Ron started falling asleep while Harry and Ginny watched her carefully.

And by the fifth time she paced back to her left, the door opened and revealed a different man, he still had a blue surgical gown and Hermione rushed to him. Harry followed while Ginny woke up Ron before they followed suit.

“How’s my father?”

He removed his mask and they collectively gasped. It was clear with his sharp facial features, the platinum blond hair peaking from his cap and his grey eyes—there was no denying who was the man standing in front of them.

“Malfoy?!” Ron asked a little too loud for the silent corridor but instead of a sneer the man just furrowed his brows in question.

“I am sorry but I am Dr. Dominique Malraux,” he calmly said.

“Who are you trying to fool, Malfoy?! Huh! What are you doing here?!” Ron asked, charging forward, face redder than his hair and Ginny had to grip his right arm to stop him while Harry observed the man called Dr. Malraux stepped back tentatively, almost ready to flee if Ron got to him.

“Will you shut it!?” Ginny hissed but Ron was fuming, nostrils flaring as he looked straight to the man called Dr. Malraux.

“Again, I am Dr. Malraux not Malfoy.”

“Bull—”

“Ron! That’s not important now,” Hermione cried out, facing Ron. Her face as red as a beet and her fists trembling.

“Getting back to the matter at hand…” Dr. Malraux trailed off getting Hermione’s attention back.

When Hermione turned back to him, he continued, “He had experienced severe head trauma and is still unconscious but we were able to remove the debris of glasses that stuck on his body and fix the open fracture he had on his left leg and left arm. As of 12:20 midnight, his vitals are still not stable so we had to monitor him closely therefore, we decided to put him in ICU.”

“Can I see him now?” Hermione asked, her voice cracking.

“You can see him after we transfer him. His attending nurse will be the one to inform you of more information. I will also give her the list of medicines he needed.”

Harry noticed that this man lacked the cold stare that Malfoy always wore and his emotions were more open compared to Malfoy’s. He was starting to question if the man was really not Malfoy.

“…Dr. Boris will be their attending physician moving forward.”

Hermione nodded again, not trusting her voice at all. Dr. Malraux left them after providing the necessary information and when he’s out of earshot, there was silence among them before Ginny broke it.

“Do you think it was really Malfoy? Because he looked the same but how he talked was…different.”

“I don’t know…” Hermione whispered, slumping on the chair. She did not want to dwell too much about this Malfoy look alike. That’s irrelevant for now. She wanted to see both her parents at the same time but she needed to wait again. She sighed rubbing her face with both hands.

“I haven’t seen him for almost ten years since he was tasked to make amends to us,” Harry said still looking back to where the man went.

“It was him there was no mistaking those sharp features, blond hair and grey eyes,” Ron grumbled.

“But we did not even see him flinch when you called him Malfoy,” Harry said, trying to recall the previous conversation.

“Now that I am trying to remember him. I believe The Daily Prophet mentioned that he was busy managing the Malfoy Estate and that was a month ago…” Ginny said and Harry nodded.

“We need to find out what was his motive pretending to be Dr. Malraux,” Ron mumbled, clenching and unclenching his fists. Harry and Ginny agreed but Hermione remained aloof with the topic besides as he had said he was not attending her parents; it’d be Dr. Boris.

__________

Hermione was approved for a leave from her work in the Ministry and during those days, she stayed with her parents. Her mum woke up after twenty hours after her operation but her father remained unconscious. She would walk into his room and her heart would sink further. And, every time she’d walk out of the room her steps were heavy and her eyes stung.

This day was not different—or so, she thought. Hermione visited him after she had breakfast with her mum. She reached for the doorknob and paused to take a deep breath then exhaled shakily. She turned the knob and pushed the door open. The sound of monitors surrounded her and she stopped midway, feeling suffocated. She gripped the door knob tightly making it rattle a bit. He was lying still, his chest rising and falling steadily, he looked comfortable if not for the beeping monitor that went with his beating heart. The back of her eyes pricked and she tried to blink back her tears. Hermione tried to step further in but her feet were stuck in place. Sometimes, she thought she was not doing her best in being there with her father. She should be with him until he wakes up because her mum cannot be there. She should—

Hermione take a sharp breath in, she turned around and the door slammed shut behind her. Her chest constricted and her tears just flowed down from her eyes. She walked through the hall with quick steps, ignoring the looks she was getting and apologizing whenever she bumped someone on the shoulder. But then when she turned sharp to the left, she clashed roughly on a hard chest and stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet.

A hand shot out that steadied her on her feet, “Whoa there, be careful.”

He let go of her as soon as she was standing straight, she looked up and she stepped backwards instinctively, gasping, “Malfoy…?”

“It’s Malraux actually,” he corrected her softly, scratching the back of his head.

“I—I…”

“It’s fine,” he said dropping his hand from his head and waved it in front of her as if stopping her from completing her sentence. She closed her mouth and took the time to look at him. Hermione already forgot about him because she hadn’t seen him since the operation. He did look so much like Malfoy, hair, eyes and the sharp features of his face but he was a little filled out compared to the Malfoy she had seen before.

“Uhm, here…” he spoke, taking her out of her thoughts. She blinked up at him and he gave her a lopsided smile and the movement of his hand made her look down. He was holding a handkerchief to her.

“I cannot take that.”

“It’s alright.”

She shook her head, “I—I am f…”

“It’s okay not to be fine, you know,” he said taking her hand and putting the handkerchief. He gave her a small smile, “If you need someone else to talk to you can talk to the attending nurse, Dr. Boris or… yeah, me. Only if you want to. Sometimes, talking to someone helped. A lot.”

She nodded, gripping the handkerchief tight, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hermione did keep it in mind and now, she’s here sitting in a vacant waiting area with Dr. Malraux who already abandon the crisps he bought from the vending machine. He let her talk about how she felt whenever she walked into her father’s room. He just sat there, listening. And she did not know why or what made her confide to him so easily—why she trusted him. But she did.

“…. I feel bad. I-I should be there but I cannot bring myself to walk further inside without…”

“It’s not your fault. It’s difficult to see someone you love suffering and you felt helpless,” he cut her off gently.

She nodded her head, agreeing to him, “But I have to try…”

“Yes, but take your time. Do what you have to do but you have to take your time. Little steps. If you have to stay by the door way then be it until you can manage to stay inside.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a shout.

“Dominique!” Dr. Boris called and both Hermione and Dominique whipped their heads in his direction.

“Good day, Miss Granger,” he greeted with a nod as soon as he reached them, then he turned to Dominique.

“If we’re not going now, we will not be able to make it to the café and get those lemon raspberry tartlets that you are so in love with.”

Dominique abruptly stood up and turned to her, “Uh, Miss Granger we have to go.”

Excitement was evident in his eyes and Hermione found herself smiling at him as she nodded, “Sure go ahead.”

“I’ll see you around,” he said and tugged Boris with him.

“Ah, Dr. Malraux, your crisps!” Hermione called for him, picking up the crisps on the chair next to the one he sat earlier.

“It’s yours!” he exclaimed without looking back but Boris looked back and shook his head with a smile.

Watching him walk away, she recalled their conversation. He was very attentive and understanding. His emotions were open for her to read. Malfoy was never like that though they never talked like that, they cannot even last a minute speaking without insulting each other. Is it possible that this was a different person and not Malfoy—he was really Dominique Malraux?

__________

"Why can’t they grant our request to visit Malfoy?” Ron grumbled as soon as they were out of Robards’ office.

“You heard him, we have no probable cause,” Harry said scratching the back of his head.

“Him playing doctor as Dominique Malraux is enough reason to make it a probable cause,” Ron retorted and Harry nodded. He understood his friend’s sentiment but legally they cannot investigate Malfoy. Legally.

“I’ll see if there’s something we can do about this,” Harry mumbled as they headed back to their office but to their surprise, they saw the person they needed to talk to.

“Oi, Malfoy!” Ron called for him and he stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“Weasley,” he drawled and gave him a terse nod and when he noticed the black-haired man with his usual eyeglasses standing just a few steps behind him, he acknowledged him, “Potter.”

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked, stopping right in front of him and standing tall to meet him eye to eye. Malfoy looked bored as he looked back at Ron.

“If you really must know, Weasley, I am here to get clearance for the artefacts that I am about to import. Is that sufficient enough?”

“Was it from muggle London?” Ron asked, tilting his head on the side. Getting full Auror mode.

Malfoy sighed dramatically as he removed a non-existent lint from his robe and drawled, “No. They are not. They are from Scandinavia.”

“Really, where were you—”

“Weasley, I am not here for you to interrogate me. I am trying to be patient with your questions. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go ahead and do my business here which doesn’t involve you interrogating me,” he said before stepping aside to walk past Ron. Almost bumping his shoulder.

Ron grunted but Harry put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, gripping it tight, to stop him from following Malfoy.

“Ron,” he called his friend and when he turned around, Harry shook his head.

He continued, “Let’s go back to the office. We’ll think about this later.”

Ron reluctantly nodded and they headed back to their office but not without Harry checking the time on his wristwatch.

The work day dragged on and when it was time for their lunch they decided to meet up with Ginny in a café near the Ministry. Ginny was already sitting at one of the tables at the back when they entered the café.

“Hey,” Ron greeted Ginny as he slid on the seat in front of her.

“Hey,” she mumbled in reply.

“Hello, love,” Harry said, leaning in to press a kiss on her temple and she smiled widely. And Ron just watched them with an impassive look, over time he already got used to seeing the two being sweet with each other.

“Hello to you too,” she replied and Harry sat beside her.

“Did you already order anything?” Ron asked, interrupting the couple.

“No, not yet…” Ginny said then paused that made both men looked at her, waiting.

“What?” Ron asked impatiently.

“Have you got the approval to interrogate Malfoy?”

“No, we haven’t,” Ron muttered and his jaw clenched.

“But we saw Malfoy today,” Harry interjected and Ginny looked at him curiously.

“I saw Dr. Malraux today too…” Ginny said and that got Ron’s attention.

“What time?” Harry asked and Ginny’s brows furrowed as she recalled the time.

“Around…10:30.”

“10:30…” Harry mused and Ron looked at him, waiting. “We saw Malfoy around that time too.”

“Shite,” Ginny mumbled to herself, “Maybe they are really two different people?”

“That’s bullshite,” Ron grumbled, immediately dismissing the conclusion.

“Maybe, let’s not conclude first,” Harry said and they both agreed.

“How was Hermione, by the way?” Harry asked Ginny and she sighed.

“She’s not fine at all, her mum was already recovering but… her dad is still unconscious…”

“We have to visit her tomorrow,” Harry said and Ron nodded.

“But can we eat now? I am famished,” Ron said, already looking for a server. Harry and Ginny shared a look then just shrug.

While waiting for their food, Ron and Ginny went on talking about Quidditch but Harry cannot bring himself to join their conversation. He was thinking. If Malfoy was able to show up in the Ministry at the same time Ginny saw Dr. Malraux. Did he have an accomplice? Even he had, Polyjuice potion doesn’t work within the Ministry due to the wards. He cannot accept it as a fact that the two men were different.

__________

In the course of three months, Ron and Harry would pop in the hospital at random times to catch a certain blond guy aside from visiting their friend. And each attempt they find him in different situations. Malraux with a half-opened snicker bar in between his teeth while holding two cups of hot tea. Malraux drinking juice from a small tetra pack, unconsciously biting the straw while reading. Malraux eating lemon raspberry tartlets takeaway with Dr. Boris in the cafeteria. Malraux doing rounds. walking around with a mobile on his ear, talking (even Ron cannot believe his eyes). Malraux story-telling with Hermione in the paediatric ward for cancer patients. Malraux even gave Hermione a gift for her birthday (what was it, they don’t know. Will they ask Hermione and risk that she’d know that they spied at Malraux and saw the exchange? No. Almost but no.) And while these happened, one of them would find Malfoy in Diagon Alley, Leaky Cauldron or the Ministry at the same time.

“This is driving me insane. It cannot be different people!” Ron grumbled but Hermione just sighed.

“People can have doppelgangers, you know,” Hermione mumbled nonchalantly. She was getting tired of listening to her friends complain about Malfoy and Malraux or Malfoy/Malraux. It’s not her priority right now, she needs to rearrange her schedule to visit her father and she knew for sure she had a lot of work to catch up on when she got back to work. Besides, if Malfoy was playing as a muggle doctor, she did not care as long as he didn’t cause any harm. And in the duration that she’d been in the hospital with her parents, he didn’t.

“Doppel—what?”

“Doppelgangers, people who looked alike—twins from different parents. Maybe who we are seeing was Malfoy’s doppelganger,” Hermione explained as she folded her mother’s clothes and packing them.

“I don’t know, Mione but I don’t think he’s just a doppelganger,” Harry said, scratching the back of his head.

“If this Malfoy was really Dr. Malraux, the man already apologized to you lot, he was given the appropriate punishment for his actions and it had been ten years. If he chose to live as a different person in our world, don’t you think he deserved at least that kind of choice?” Hermione’s mother cut in as she stepped out of the loo, now wearing a knitted brown jumper, jeans and a pair of black flats. Almost all her wounds were already healed, most of her bruises had faded but her right upper arm was still bandaged. She placed her folded hospital gown on the bed.

“We just find it… odd,” Harry said.

“He was never a fan of the muggle world,” Ron spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“People are capable of change, dear,” she said gently.

“Maybe but—” Ron’s sentence was cut off with a knock then the door opened and a small boy with thinning black hair and big light green eyes peered in.

“Miss Her-may-ni?” he mumbled, walking in the room dragging his dextrose stand with him.

“Oh. Hi, Cory…” Hermione greeted, meeting the boy halfway and squatting down to his height, “Are you alone?”

He nodded then looked straight into her eyes, “You’re leaving?”

Hermione felt a lump lodge in her throat so she just nodded.

“Oh, no more story time with you?” he asked, pouting and that broke Hermione’s heart. Dr. Malraux once introduced her to the kids and watched him tell them stories and since then she spent her free time story-telling with the kids and they became close to her, especially Cory.

Hermione cleared her throat, “I-I…”

She was not able to continue her sentence because there was another knock on the door and because she did not know what she can say to him. After this, she wouldn’t be able to stay in the hospital longer than the visiting hours.

The door opened and a certain blond man poked his head in, Harry and Ron became alert instinctively but if the blond noticed it, he did not show it.

“Hey, sorry, did you see….,” he stopped when he saw the boy who ignored the knock on the door earlier. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, dear,” Hermione’s mum replied and he walked further in, closing the door behind him carefully.

“Cory?” he called and the kid turned to him, his eyes watery now.

He kneeled in front of him, “Hey, Cory, you’re here to say goodbye?”

“Not really… but maybe now,” he said quietly, his voice quivering. Dominique nodded.

“Alright. Say goodbye now and I’ll bring you back to your room,” Dominique said, rubbing the kid’s left arm. Cory then turned back around to Hermione and he let go of his arm.

“Bye-bye Miss Her-may-ni,” he said and Hermione smiled at him.

“Goodbye too, Cory. I will visit you if I have time, would that be fine?”

“Yes!” he replied with a smile and a sniffle. He closed the distance between the two of them and encircled her small arms around her neck and gently she wrapped her arms around his small body.

“I will miss you,” he whispered.

“I’ll miss you too,” Hermione replied, her eyes stung. Then Cory let go and looked back at Dominique.

“You ready to go?” he asked him and Cory nodded. Hermione let him go then.

“I am tired though,” he said and Dominique stood up then walked to Cory. He bent down and picked him up with one arm then took the dextrose stand with the other hand. Cory instinctively rested his head on the crook of Dominique’s neck. Hermione then stood up, watching them.

He looked straight to Hermione and mouthed a thank you. She nodded in response before he left the room.

“It will be difficult to believe that he is Malfoy,” Hermione said to no one in particular and went back to finish packing her mum’s things.

Before Hermione and her mum left the hospital, they visited her dad. It took two weeks for her to be able to walk further into her dad’s room and even stay beside him. All those times, Dr. Malraux was there if she needed to talk about her attempts each day. Now, she was saying goodbye and promised to visit him as often as possible.

As they exit the hospital, Harry caught Dr. Boris asking Dominique if he’s heading home already and the blond doctor told him that his shift would end by ten in the evening. By then, Harry already formulated a plan.

__________

Hermione was back at work and barely took any breaks to catch up with her workload that she was not able to work during the time she was in muggle London. When the clock struck five in the afternoon, her secretary had to knock on her door so she’d stop working for the day. She started fixing her things and prepared to visit her father before she went home. She made her way to the back of the Leaky Cauldron and as soon as she walked in the Leaky Cauldron, she saw a certain blond sitting with Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott. It was the first time that she saw the trio in Leaky since they rarely went out of public since they finished their eighth year.

“Hermione?” a melodic voice reached her ears and she turned around to be greeted by a smiling Luna Lovegood.

“Luna, hi.”

“Hello, do you want to join us?” she asked and Hermione tried to discreetly look around but she did not recognize any other mutual friends they had.

“I- I cannot, I am visiting my dad.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, next time then. I hope your father will recover very soon.”

“Thanks, Luna.”

“Here,” Luna took her hand and put something on the palm of her hand, “To keep the Nargles away.”

Luna let go of her hand and Hermione saw a butterbeer cork bracelet, “Oh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome! Take care, Hermione.”

“You too,” she replied looking up at the smiling blonde.

Hermione watched Luna walk away from her and her brows furrowed as she realized that Luna was heading to the table Nott, Zabini and Malfoy. She slid on the seat next to Nott who gave her a peck on the top of her head while she waved and greeted Malfoy and Zabini. Zabini smiling at the Ravenclaw was not much of a surprise but Malfoy actually smiling at her and was civil with Luna was the surprise. She filed that information for later and headed out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Once she was out to muggle London, Hermione took a taxi to the hospital. And once she arrived in the hospital, there was quite a commotion and she watched the doctors rushed to the emergency room. She was already near the ICU when she noticed Dr. Malraux running from the other hall zipping past her and in a second, she was able to see his face. His lips were set in a grim line, furrowed brows and focused eyebrows—just like Malfoy.

However, Malfoy was in Leaky Cauldron right this time. If there’s a possibility that they are the same person, how did he make it look like that he was in two different places at the same time? Polyjuice? But it won’t survive the wards in the Ministry. She needed to look into this now.

__________

“This cloak is too small for us already,” Ron complained when Harry accidentally elbowed him.

“No, you just cannot stop moving!” Harry whisper-shout back at him.

They were currently in the hospital watching a certain Dr. Malraux. When Harry shared with Ron what he had in mind, he did not hesitate and agreed to all of it. So, here they were, following the man until he’d finally go home.

“Luna told me earlier that she’s meeting with Nott, Zabini and Malfoy so this is—what—the tenth time that we knew Malfoy was out and about in the Wizarding world while this Malraux is here,” Harry relayed to his friend.

“Well, I still cannot believe that he’s not Malfoy. For all we know, he’s using dark magic to do this.”

“I don’t sense dark magic.”

“There must be something!” Ron grumbled a bit loud and Harry had to swat his shoulder before shushing him.

They’ve witnessed the determined face of Malraux and that cemented Ron’s belief that he was Malfoy—like it was not established yet that they both looked alike—or just one person. When Malraux finished attending the patients brought in the emergency room, he went straight to the nearest vending machine. He inserted a note then pressed the button for his favourite crisps—but then it got stuck and his face fell into a pout. Then out of nowhere (they were just not paying much attention to anything else), Hermione stepped to his side.

“What happened?”

Malraux looked up then returned his gaze to the machine before pointing at his stuck snack, “It’s stuck and I don’t want to kick it like what Noah does.”

“Noah?”

“Dr. Boris…” he replied with a smile.

“Oh yes. Well, we can ask someone from the maintenance to open it…”

“Or maybe I can reach for it,” he cut in and he dropped on his knees. The side of his face and the palm of his right hand were flat on the machine while he leaned sideways, his left hand reaching inside of the machine.

“We could really call the maintenance.”

“N-no, they are working… I don’t want to disturb them just for this…” he said reaching further in, the tips of his finger grazing the edge of the snack.

Harry and Ron quietly watched the interaction, waiting for any sign of magic that he’d cast so the snack would fall.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, use magic!” Ron said through gritted teeth while Harry ignored him and just kept watching, he wanted to see if this man would endure not using magic.

Hermione was watching him with an amused look on her face, she covered her mouth as she smiled broadly behind it. When he finally reached the snack and pulled it out of the machine, he got out of balance and fell flat on the floor. He grunted and his free hand automatically found its way on the back of his head. Hermione gasped and kneeled.

“Are you okay?”

“I…am fine…. I am not getting snacks here again.”

“You always say that,” Hermione commented and he chuckled.

“Dominique, what on earth are you doing on the floor?” a different female voice echoed and they all snapped their head in the direction of the voice (Ron and Harry included).

“Good evening, mum,” Dominique said, lifting himself while Hermione stood up.

“Good evening,” she said and tilted her head to the side so she’ll be able to look at Hermione.

“Oh, this is Miss Hermione Granger,” he stepped aside, gesturing at her as he introduced her.

“Hello, Miss Granger, I am Mrs. Adélie Malraux,” she said extending her hand and Hermione took it. Mrs. Malraux shook her hand delicately. She has long brown hair, light brown skin, a slender body and delicate fingers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Malraux.”

“Please, call me Adie and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh sure, please call me Hermione then,” she replied and they let go of each other’s hands then Adie turned to Dominique with an arched brow.

“I was on the floor because I fell on my back after getting this,” he explained, waving the pack of crisps.

She sighed with a single shake of her head, “Fine. Anyway, I am here to tell you that we had to move our dinner since your father was stuck in Japan. He won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“What happened?”

“Business happened, they wanted to talk more.”

“Oh. Alright, but you could have just messaged me or call me.”

“Well, I was already out shopping with the twins when he called,” she explained and Dominique nodded in understanding. Hermione cannot help herself from observing the two much like what her two friends were doing.

“The twins? Where are they now?”

“Knocked out. Trisha is with them in the car.”

“Oh, I’ll visit this weekend if I can. I miss my brother and sister,” he said and Adie nodded.

Brother and sister? As far as they knew Malfoy was an only child, they filed that information away for later.

“Anyhow, I’ll go now. Take care, dear,” she said with a smile and Dominique kissed her cheek.

“And Hermione, it would be nice to have dinner with you anytime soon,” she said with a glint in her eyes. Hermione cannot pinpoint what it was really when Malraux put his hands on Adie’s shoulders and turned her gently.

“Alright, Mum. Too much, go home. Bye, take care.”

She just chuckled and waved goodbye to her son and Hermione before walking away.

“I am sorry about that,” he said, turning to Hermione and she noticed the pink blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, it’s fine…. I guess,” she said with a small smile while he partly bit his lip and nodded.

“I-I…”

He was cut off with the tannoy calling his attention, he sighed and took her hand and placed the snack on her hand, “Here.”

She looked at him, confused. The tannoy repeated their call for him and he shrugged at her, “I cannot eat it now. Enjoy though.”

He smiled before he turned and sprinted through the hall almost bumping Ron and Harry. Hermione’s mouth opened and closed, she cannot think of anything to say. Then, she scoffed to herself and her lips tugged up in a smile.

Ron was momentarily planted in his place as he watched Hermione smile before Harry yanked him into motion and they followed the man again.

They were hungry and tired, following Dr. Malraux around until his end of shift, which they did not expect to be midnight. He was more exhausted than both of them combined. They watched him move from one operating room to another then to the emergency room again like the man never stopped moving and if he did, he just drank water. They hadn’t seen him eat anything yet.

Harry and Ron managed to get inside his car when Dr. Boris came and chatted with Dr. Malraux. While driving they observed everything inside if there were any signs of magical items or if his appearance would change but they had arrived at his residence without any of those. They noticed that he lived in a townhouse within a subdivision but there was not feeling of any wards within the area of the house. Right after he parked the car, they subtly moved out of the car while Dr. Malraux walked towards the door. They hastily followed him in his house.

Instead of the dark, foreboding and cold place that they had expected, they were welcomed with a warm, well-lit and homy feeling when Dr. Malraux flipped the switch to the lights. He prepared his late dinner just like a muggle should, he ate dinner in his living room with a television on—and seemed to know how to use muggle contraptions. Right after he ate, he washed his dishes just like Hermione and Harry did—the muggle way. They were about to follow him again and when he started to strip his scrubs, Harry told Ron that Malfoy had scars from the Sectumsempra that he cast to him back in the sixth year but when he entered the shower before he pulled off his undershirt. They looked at each other and shook their heads then apparated out of the house easily.

__________

Hermione found herself talking with Dominique every time she visited her father in the ICU. He was recovering, there were few minimal movements of his fingers that Dominique and Dr. Boris assured her were good signs that he’ll wake up soon.

Then, one day, Dr. Boris decided to not join Dominique in the café they frequented, instead, he insisted that Hermione can take his place before practically sprinting away from the two of them. He left them standing awkwardly side by side.

“Twat,” Dominique whispered, glaring at the back of his friend. However, Hermione heard him and she watched how he glared at the man. It reminded her of Malfoy. What if he was really Malfoy? What if not? What is it for her?

He sighed, scratching his temple and put his hand down before turning to her and she composed herself quickly, not wanting to be caught watching, “If you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to go with me.”

“It’s fine, I am quite intrigued with this café since I saw you so excited about their lemon raspberry tartlets.”

“I just hope they still have some, they sold out pretty fast.”

“I hope so.”

“Let’s go then,” he said and she nodded, they walked side by side as they exit the hospital. He shrugged off his white coat and slung it over his left arm. Hermione enjoyed the air and the noise of the bustling street that contrasted from the hospitals surrounding.

Their walk towards the café was quiet but not awkward—it felt strangely comfortable for Hermione. Dominque stopped in a quaint café that was decorated with different potted flowers and when she looked up, she saw the name of the café, Busy Bean Café. There were only a few people inside and then Dominique smiled.

“They still have the tartlets,” he said then he opened the door for her and she smiled as she walked in before him.

“Good evening, Dr. Malraux!” a young man greeted with a wide smile as soon as Dominque walked in.

“Good evening, Jay. You know why I am here but please double it, I have company,” he said and that was the time Jay noticed Hermione and if it is physically possible his smile widened further.

“Sure, Dr. Malraux, black coffee for you and for the lady?”

“A flat white, please.”

“Sure! We’ll serve it to your table but here are your tartlets,” he said bending down to get tartlets on two small plates.

Hermione was already pulling out her wallet to pay for her order when Dominique beat her to it.

“Oh, I can pay for my order…”

“My treat, Miss Granger. Let’s say a thank you for accompanying me.”

“Here are your tartlets, Dr. Malraux,” Jay said handing Dominique plates of tartlets.

“Thanks, Jay,” he replied, taking the two plates.

He led them to the table at the back near the windows. Dominique set the plates on the table and pulled the chair for her. She thanked him before sitting and he sat across her. She looked down at the lemon raspberry tartlets in front of her and she cannot help but admire how it looks, the top of the tartlets was covered with delectable raspberries. She took one in her hand and split it into two, the crust crumbled a little then she set down the other half and took a bite of the other half. She moaned quietly as the clash of sweetness and sour taste hit her mouth.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Dominique asked and she looked up at him.

He was smiling genuinely and she nodded, unable to speak yet. He started to eat his share of the tartlets and she watched as he smiled fondly as he chewed. If he was Malfoy, this would be an extraordinary scene before her. He was smiling genuinely and she had never seen him smile that way since the end of the war.

“Your drinks,” Jay came to their table and served their drink, halting their current discussion about how his brother and sister made a ruckus during one of their family trips.

“Thanks, Jay,” he said and Jay smiled at him then nodded before leaving.

“So where were we?”

“You were telling me about the prank Cyrille and Corinne did,” she reminded him and he smiled again.

“Ah yes, they hid in the attic and no one knew how they were able to get up there. We looked for them for nearly twenty-four hours! My dad was getting annoyed while my mum was getting exhausted and worried sick!”

“And, how did you find them?” she asked and she saw him double-take, his eyes widened then he averted his eyes from her then shook his head before looking back at her then smiled at her again as nothing happened.

“I brought out their favourite dessert and it turned out that they ran out of food so when I went around shouting about their favourite, they decided to go out,” he said and took a long sip of his coffee.

Hermione smiled at him pretending that she did not notice how he acted earlier. There must be something, an almost slip up?

“What was their favourite dessert?”

“Oh, chocolate mousse brownies,” he said and Hermione’s inner dentist cringed.

He laughed, it seemed that she physically cringed, “Don’t worry, mum made sure their intake of that dessert won’t rot their teeth.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she said. Dominique chuckled and she cannot help but chuckle too.

They stayed for a while in the café until they finished their drinks. Dominique stayed with her as she waited for a taxi and at that time, she learned that he might go home not later than midnight again since he had to take care of two more operations. When they were able to flag down a taxi, Dominique opened the car door for her in instinct and Hermione thanked him as she slid in the taxi.

“Take care, Miss Granger.”

“You too,” she said and he smiled before closing the door. The taxi drove off and Hermione was unaware of how the man stood on the spot and watched the taxi leave until it was engulfed in the traffic before he walked back to the hospital.

__________

Hermione was busily re-arranging her files and signing necessary papers when a knock disturbed her. She looked up and a smiling Luna walked in, looking around. She was wearing a cotton blue shirt under a knitted bubble gum coloured cardigan paired with a floral knee-length accordion style skirt, thick rainbow-coloured tights and green peep-toe heeled shoes. But of course, she did not miss her radish earrings and her dark green and blue beaded bracelet.

“Hello, Luna,” she said and Luna’s blue eyes found her then.

“Hi, Hermione. Are you free for lunch?” she asked with a smile and she looked down at her paperwork. Maybe she did need a break.

She looked back up at Luna, “I guess, I need an early lunch.”

Luna clapped and turned halfway, “She agreed!”

Hermione’s brows furrowed in confusion as she waited for whoever was outside her office to pop in.

A man with dark brown tousled hair and light green eyes walked in smiling and wearing a knitted bubble gum coloured jumper that paired Luna’s cardigan with black jeans and dragonhide boots but what caught her attention aside from their matching tops was the bracelet he was wearing—a dark green and blue beaded bracelet.

“Hi, Granger. Thanks for accepting our invitation for lunch.”

“Our invitation?”

“Well, Luna and I is a pair so if she asked you that means it’s Luna and I asked you,” he said with a grin as he put his arm around Luna’s middle from behind.

“I-I…”

“Nope, you’re not backing down now, Granger. You already agreed besides Blaise and a certain impatient friend of ours are also waiting…”

Hermione’s eyes widened when she realized that the certain impatient friend of theirs could mean Malfoy. She cannot think of a way to get out of this now.

“C’mon Granger, don’t think about it too much. We’ll make sure he will not harm you, let’s go now,” Nott urged.

“If something happens to me Nott, I swear to Merlin, I’ll kill you,” she grumbled as she arranged her papers with a quick flick of her wand but the pair just looked at each other before smiling at her.

The pair led her to a newly opened restaurant in Diagon Alley named The Italian Pantry. When they walked in, Hermione felt that she was underdressed with her Ministry robes but looking at Luna, she looked unbothered by how elegant the restaurant looks and then she remembered Theo was matching her as well. The restaurant had warm tones of brown and cream, decorated with expressive paintings and accentuated with indoor plants. The maître d' was an elderly man who smiled warmly at them.

“We’re here for a reservation. Theodore Nott,” he said and the man nodded.

“Two of your company are already inside sir, let me call your server to lead you to your room,” he said and tapped the small call bell.

Instantly, a woman with pony-tailed hair appeared in front of them smiling and wearing a white button-down shirt and black trousers paired with black flats. She led them through a hall of many doors, Hermione cannot help but watch her surroundings once more, anxious if people were looking but it seemed that everyone was minding their own business, no one even arched a brow at how the pair in front of her was dressed.

The woman stopped on the second to the last door on the right and knocked before opening the door. Luna and Theo walked in first.

“You two are late!” A woman exclaimed and despite not seeing this woman for so long, she recognised her so well. Pansy Parkinson.

“Sorry, we fetched someone from the Ministry,” Nott said as he guided Luna to their table and when they saw Hermione, Parkinson gasped.

“Granger, so kind of you to grace us of your presence,” Zabini said, standing up.

“Let’s say I was tricked into saying yes,” Hermione said and after Theo pulled a chair for Luna and let her sit, he pulled a chair for her too. She mumbled a thank you before sitting then Zabini sat back down (a pureblood etiquette for sure). Parkinson and Zabini sat together while Hermione sat on Luna’s left while Nott sat on Luna’s right. Then, there was a vacant seat right in front of her and she just knew who would be sitting there. Strangely, she felt anxious knowing so.

“It’s hardly like that, Hermione,” Luna said smilingly.

“Well, you invited me for lunch and I thought it was just you and me.��

“You did not ask, though,” Luna replied with a shrug and the rest of the group chuckled. Hermione’s face reddened then and she picked up the menu to cover her face.

“Ah, you are a fine Ravenclaw with a streak of Slytherin,” Parkinson said, flipping her, now longer, hair over her shoulder.

“That’s partly my doing,” Nott said smugly.

“Yes, love, it is,” Luna commented and Nott grinned as he looked down at Luna who was already reading the menu.

“Where’s Draco? He’s late,” Parkinson said as she looked down at her wristwatch.

“He’s been busy since you know, he might show up later than usual or just send you a message,” Luna said as she perused the menu. You know? What was Luna talking about? Does she know something that they did not know?

“Right, like he usually does,” Zabini said with a knowing look then turned to Hermione, “Granger, pray tell, why are Potter and Weasley keep close eyes on Draco?”

“I am not sure why Zabini. Is there something to worry about?” she asked and Zabini smiled.

“Nothing really but it irritates me because I see either Potter or Weasley every time Draco and I were out drinking. Draco may have grown patience and tolerance but not me.”

“Zabini…” Luna called his attention with a warning tone and to Hermione’s surprise, Zabini looked at Luna then sat back with a smirk.

“If Potter and Weasley have issues with Draco, they don’t need to spy around him, they just need to ask,” Nott said and Hermione caught his meaningful gaze then he smiled.

Hermione was about to speak when a knock interrupted her, the woman earlier opened the door and there, in his all-back attire, was Draco Malfoy. His eyes landed on Hermione and he stood frozen for a heartbeat before he managed to school his composure. His eyes were cold and face expressionless. He cannot be Malraux, can he? Hermione then realized that he did not expect her to be here—it was all his friends’ plan, Luna included.

“Hello, Draco. Come, we’re about to order,” Luna said with a friendly smile.

“Hi, Lulu. You could’ve just ordered while waiting,” he said with a smile at Luna, as he made his way to the vacant seat beside Parkinson. Lulu, when did he start calling Luna that? How long has Luna been hanging out with these Slytherins again?

“Nah, Luna and I were late and I don’t know why these two,” Nott said pointing at Parkinson and Zabini, “haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“Granger,” he drawled with a curt nod before he sat on the chair next to Parkinson. He looked at her with his stoic expression.

“Malfoy,” she replied then he picked up the menu and avoided her eyes.

“We would like to order when you lot are already here. I believe that is what we call social etiquette,” Zabini retorted and Nott just snorted. Parkinson then turned to Malfoy.

“How’s work?”

“Busy, Pansy. Why’d you ask?”

“Because you’re late…”

“I believed that I have established before that most of the time I will be late,” Draco said lifting his narrowed eyes at Parkinson.

“Alright, let’s call our server,” Nott interrupted and he snapped his fingers.

The woman appeared again and they gave their orders to her. When she left, Zabini and Nott started talking about their Apothecary business expansion that occasionally Malfoy comments with while Luna and Parkinson spoke about Luna’s discovery of new creatures while Parkinson tried to insert fashion ideas for her new line. They even tried to include Hermione who got stuck with one-word replies while she subtly watched Malfoy. He looked uneasy and strangely looking down his lap under the table once in a while.

Then, he finally caught her gaze and he gave her a bored look, “Stop looking, Granger. I know I look good but stop.”

Hermione’s eyes widened but quickly her brows furrowed, “I-I wasn’t looking!” she spluttered, feeling the heat crept from her neck up to her jaw.

“You are and you know it so stop,” he drawled.

“Don’t be full of yourself, it’s not always about you.”

“Sure, whatever you believe but really, you don’t have to deny anything.”

“I was not looking!”

He nodded, “Fine.”

Hermione caught Zabini listening and she avoided looking at him, instead tried to join more in Luna’s conversation with Parkinson.

The conversation mellowed down when the food was served however, as much as she wanted to stop, her curiosity got the better of her and as subtle as she can manage, she watched Malfoy looked down now and then through her peripheral. Hermione’s curiosity was beginning to get worse. She waited until their lunch was over, she can just come up with an excuse if anyone would ask why she was late coming back from her lunch. She needed to know what was he anxious about because something’s telling her that it answers the niggling question in her mind that she had pushed back long ago.

“See you this Friday?” Zabini asked Malfoy but Malfoy shook his head.

“We need to move it on Saturday.”

“That’s better, I can join you!” Nott chimed in.

“Luna, we should extend our girls’ night out to Saturday then,” Parkinson said then looked at Hermione, “You should join us, Granger.”

“Oh, I’ll think about it.”

“It will be fun Hermione; you can bring Ginny.”

“I am not sure about that Lulu,” Parkinson butted in but Luna smiled at her.

“You’ll be fine, Pansy,” Luna reassured, “I am sure Ginny and you will get along. Not immediately but eventually.”

“Alright, Friday to Saturday then, in my flat.”

“Wait, what are you saying extending girls’ night out?! You cannot get Luna away from me for an extended time!” Nott cut in and Parkinson looked turned to him with a raised perfectly shaped brow and her arms crossed over her chest.

“I can, Theo. Besides, you’re going with Draco and Blaise on Saturday so it means she’s free on Saturday too.”

“B-But… No, just no!”

“Hermione?” Luna called her and she turned away from the arguing Parkinson and Nott.

“Yes?”

“You’re attracting too many Nargles,” she said waving her hand around Hermione’s head.

“Oh, uhm. I…”

“If you have the answer to your question, what will you do then, Hermione?” she cut in and Hermione’s mouth hung open for a moment.

Luna closed her mouth gently and smiled, “I see, you haven’t figured it out yet. That’s fine. You will, soon.”

“Luna, what….”

Luna turned, sensing that Parkinson pulled out her wand and Nott too, leaving Hermione with her question unasked.

“Love, one day won’t hurt, don’t you think? If you’ll keep that temper, you’ll attract Wrackspurt…” she said, placing a hand on Nott’s forearm and his irritation slowly deflated.

“Fine. If you say so, Love…” Nott conceded, smiling at Luna then glared at Parkinson who was grinning.

“We should take Hermione back to the Ministry,” Luna said.

“Right. Let’s go, Granger,” Nott agreed and Hermione nodded but as she snuck a look where Malfoy was, she saw Malfoy walking away and pocketed something that quite looked familiar to her.

“Where’s Draco going, Blaise?” Parkinson asked, seeing that the blond was now walking away without saying goodbyes.

“Emergency. You’re all busy that he did not want to interrupt,” Zabini said with a shrug.

“Of course, he did that,” Parkinson said with a fleeting look at Hermione that quite confused her.

“Let’s go now, Hermione. You’ll be late,” Luna said.

“Uh, no…uhm, I need to drop by Flourish and Blotts… I reserved a book for pick up,” she lied, wishing that Malfoy haven’t apparated yet.

“She’ll be fine being late from lunch, she may have finished her work already,” Zabini commented. Nott and Luna looked at her expectantly.

“Y-yes, I am almost done for the day when you came in…” she said with a smile.

“Alright, if you say so. We’ll go ahead, Granger,” Nott said and Hermione nodded.

“Bye, Granger,” Parkinson said looping her arms with Zabini’s.

“See you around… soon,” he said with a wink and they walked away opposite to where Malfoy went.

As soon as they turned to the alley, she turned around and followed the path where Malfoy went. She almost sprinted. When she reached the point where Malfoy should have turned to apparate, no one was there. She put her hand on the wall and bent down, catching for her breath.

Shit. He’s already gone.

“So, you are also keeping an eye on me. What does the Golden Trio need from me?” a drawl came from in front of her. She lifted her gaze and saw Malfoy standing there, with arms crossed over his chest. He was not there earlier—of course, disillusionment charm.

She straightened up, jutted her chin and said, “I wasn’t watching you. I won’t deny about Harry and Ron, though.”

“If you’re not watching me then, why are you here?”

“What are you hiding, Malfoy?” she countered, completely ignoring his question.

“I am not hiding anything and if I am hiding anything, don’t you think the Ministry will allow me to walk around?”

Her eyes squinted at him and she internally growled, “Don’t play games with me Malfoy.”

“I am not. Now, if you don’t have anything else for me. I’ll go ahead,” he said dismissively.

Without thinking, Hermione ran to him and latched on his robes before he can disapparate. They re-appeared in a small room and it seemed to be all white but Hermione cannot discern anything. Her head was spinning and she collapsed forward, a pair of hands held her up and she heard a string of profanities but her nose was filled with a familiar expensive cologne. She felt two strong arms across her upper back and at the back of her knees then after floating for a few moments, she felt a cushion beneath her. She now felt her lunch rising and she leaned sideways to throw up.

“Damn it, Granger. You’re supposed to be smart but you do stupid things,” Malfoy mumbled but Hermione just grunted. Her head felt like splitting into two. She heard drawers closing and opening then bottles clinking with each other. Then, she heard footsteps rapidly approaching then a hand supported her head as he lifted her head.

“Drink this,” he said as he tipped a bottle or a vial into her mouth. It was quite bitter but it easily warmed up her body and her headache gradually ease up, her nausea vanishing and her energy returning. It was a potion. Then, she felt something soft, wiping across her mouth and chin before he let her head rest back down.

She carefully sat up and found a glaring Malfoy standing in front of her.

“What were you thinking?!” he asked then he put a hand up and shook his head, “No, you were not thinking at all! You could’ve splinched yourself, Granger!”

“I-I…”

“Don’t explain yourself. Apparate to the Ministry once you can. I have to work,” he said, turning around and closing the curtains around her.

Hermione was about to just leave him when she recognized her surroundings. Sterile white room, overwhelming disinfectant scent and the medically compatible bed. She’s in the hospital. She swung the curtain open and instead of seeing an all-black clothed Malfoy, she saw his naked back flexing as he wore his grey long sleeve undershirt. And she cannot help but notice how his scrub trousers hung dangerously low. His dragonhide boots were now slip-on trainers. Her mouth went dry for a second.

“Can you stop watching? It’s getting creepier. If you’re feeling fine, why don’t you go back to your Ministry work?” he said as he tucked in his undershirt, without turning around.

She snapped and walked around him, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips and subtly, she noticed him pull and tie the strings in his scrub trousers, “First things first, answer me, you said that you are not hiding anything then why are you hiding here in muggle London as Dr. Dominique Malraux? Second, how did you make it possible to look like you are in Muggle London while in Wizarding London at the same time?”

“Can you tone it down, Granger? Stop using the word muggle and wizarding,” he said, his voice low as his eyes fleet to the door and her.

“Why?”

“Why? And you’re supposed to be smart?” he spat and groaning in frustration then continued in a low tone through gritted teeth, “Because except for apparating, I don’t use magic here thus this room is not silenced. You’re just lucky most of the time people here are busy to notice.”

He put on his scrub shirt, messing with his hair that he had no right to look good with but Hermione, mentally shook her head. She cannot be distracted.

“Don’t you dare insult my intelligence. Now, answer me.”

“I have no time for this, Granger. Besides, I don’t owe you any explanation. I do my work in here, I do my work in there, abiding by the law. End of conversation,” he said with a clipped tone.

“But why did you deny being a Malfoy, when Ron called you out?”

He sighed, his breath that was supposed to smell like his lunch, actually smelled like mint, fanned her face, “Tell me, Granger, if you’re here in London and people only knew you as Jane and someone called you Hermione, will you deny it or not?”

“I-I will deny it but I will explain it to them after….”

“Well, news flash, Granger, I don’t need to explain anything to the Golden Trio,” he cut in.

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to explain to us. Whatever. Now, the second question,” she said, tapping her foot on the floor. He finger-combed his hair and walked around her to get his white coat.

“I am not here to do a question and answer with you, Granger. If you want to interrogate me, send me a formal request through the Ministry. I request for you to leave this room now,” he said, as he put on his coat.

Before Hermione can answer back, he was out of the room. She grunted in annoyance. As much as she wanted to go after him, this was not the right place to interrogate him. He was right, a formal interrogation request can be set up. Contented with her concluded action, she concentrated to apparate back but was distracted by the picture frames on the table near her. She then looked around this time, this was supposed to be his office. Like any other office in the hospital, most of it was white except for the mahogany table, black chairs and two potted plants but what was taking her attention were the picture frames.

Surrendering to her curiosity, she walked around the table and went still. Beside his computer, there was a picture of Lucius Malfoy, with shorter hair, on his wedding day with the woman she met that Malfoy called mum, Adélie. Another picture showed a family picture of Lucius, Adie, Draco and the twins, beside it was a picture of Draco and the twins only and then lastly, an old picture of him, Lucius and Narcissa. Stepping back from the table, she concentrated on apparating back to the Ministry.

__________

There were a number of things that Hermione learned when she got back to the Ministry. One, Harry and Ron went as far as following Malfoy to his house in muggle London and they heard an earful from her about privacy.

Two, Draco Lucius Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy were officially acknowledged by the Ministry to live as muggles in London under the names of Dominque Lucien Malraux and Lucien Malraux while they were there as part of their muggle living integration. They were permitted to continue to carry these identities under the supervision of the Ministry.

Three, an interrogation request cannot be permitted if the only reason was suspicion without evidence just like how Harry and Ron’s requests were denied before.

Four, since their last conversation, Malfoy or Malraux was doing a perfect job to avoid her. He stopped getting his favourite snack from the vending machine near the ICU, he would detour if she’s coming his way, and he even cut his conversation with Dr. Boris short when she’s around.

On the other hand, here she was distracted even at work. Hermione had been reading the same line twice from a report that was sent to her earlier that day because when she was supposed to be working her eyes would find a special pen lying on its box then a certain blond would pop into her mind. Her mind will be filled with the recollection of times when they used to talk when he comforted her… when he smiled seeing lemon raspberry tartlets, the way he laughed at Dr. Boris’ jokes or when he acted on some parts of the stories that he was telling to the kids…

Hermione grunted in frustration and lobbed the report down as she cradled her head with her hands.

“Is it bad timing?” Ginny’s voice floated in her office. She lifted her head and her face was now behind her eyes. She peeked through the gaps of her fingers. She let her hands slipped down from her face and placed them on the table.

Hermione smiled, “It’s not, Gin. Come in and have a seat, I could use a break.”

Ginny smiled and closed the door behind her. She then made her way to the chair in front of her desk.

“How are you?”

“I am fine. Mum’s already at home and she was advised to get rest still while Dad… Dad’s still unconscious but his vitals are getting better.”

“But why do I sense that you have an entirely different conundrum when I came here?”

Hermione looked at Ginny straight in the eyes far too long that Ginny’s eyebrow inched up questioningly. She was still having a staring contest with Ginny when she started nibbling her lower lip. Can she really say it to Ginny? Well, it wasn’t a secret—not really, it was in the Ministry records and was accessible. Accessible but was not public knowledge. How much can she tell? What is she supposed to say? Oh, Ginny, Dr. Malraux is Malfoy… and guess what, I miss him since he’d been avoiding when I learned about the truth… I was thinking about him when you walked in. I cannot even work!

“What is it, Hermione?!” Ginny snapped and Hermione snapped from her thoughts. She let her lower lip go and stood up. With a flick of her wand the room was silenced and was secured with privacy wards.

Ginny was flummoxed as she watched Hermione cast those spells and walked around her desk to sit on the other chair in front of her desk so she’d be closer with Ginny. Hermione grabbed both Ginny’s hands and the other witch was still looking confused at her.

“You need to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this…” Ginny’s mouth opened but Hermione added quickly, “even Harry or Ron.”

“What’s going on? Can you please tell me already?”

“Promise me first!” she said, squeezing her hands too hard but Ginny hardly flinched; she just rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I promise…” Ginny finally said but Hermione remained quiet. She groaned, “What? Do we need to do an Unbreakable Vow? Seriously? I am your best friend. Don’t you trust me en—”

“Dr. Malraux is Malfoy,” Hermione cut in and Ginny’s mouth remained open but her eyes blinked too many times.

She shut her mouth and cleared her throat before laughing, “Are you joking? I know Ron was overreacting and Harry was getting dragged with this but…”

Ginny trailed off when she noticed that Hermione was not smiling, her mouth hung agape for a moment then her brows furrowed, “Are you sure, Hermione?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“H-how? Every time we see him in muggle London, he was here too.”

“I know. I-I haven’t figured out that one yet but Malfoy is Malraux. Harry and Ron…or even I cannot request him for a formal interrogation about this because…”

“Because?”

“Because the Ministry knew about this… this was part of their muggle living integration during the first years after the war. The Ministry agreed that they continue carrying these identities.”

“Why would they agree?”

“I am not sure but based on what I read they had good standings during their time in the program. Well, as we can see Malfoy took up medicine and became a doctor there. Probably those are the reasons.”

“Okay. Uhm…” Ginny paused then tilted her head a little, “Wait, how does this have something to do with…” She paused again, then this time she took hold of Hermione’s hands, “Tell me what happened.”

Hermione inhaled deeply and exhaled quickly, “We kind of had a confrontation when I… I intentionally grab him so I can apparate with him and that’s how I initially knew about the truth…”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No… On the contrary, he gave me a potion that helped me get over my sickness after apparating. Good thing, I was able to bring my entire body when we apparated.”

“Oh, my Merlin, Hermione… what were you thinking?”

Hermione laughed but slowly it died down then she became sombre, “He asked that too…”

“Hermione?” Ginny asked then Hermione grabbed her hands from hers and covered her face with them.

“Oh Gin, h-he was successfully avoiding me ever since that confrontation a-and here I am… supposed to be working but I-I cannot stop thinking about him…. What’s happening to me?!” she mumbled behind her hands.

“Well, based on what you told me, he had been around whenever you needed someone to talk to in the hospital. You clearly miss him.”

“I think so…. No, I do.”

She paused, dropping her hands on her lap and looked at Ginny straight in the eyes.

“I miss him, Gin. I know he was the prat who called me names and bullied me for years but….”

She groaned in frustration, “He was there at the right time… I’ve seen how different he is now. I witnessed it first-hand.”

Ginny took her hands again in hers and squeezed them lightly, “Hermione Jean Granger, get yourself together!”

Hermione sat frozen and Ginny sighed, “Talk to him. You miss him? Tell him.”

“But he’s avoiding me…”

“The Hermione Granger I knew will not take that as an excuse,” Ginny cut her off with a stern voice that sounded like her mother, Molly.

“I think you’re right.”

“Of course, I am right!” Ginny exclaimed and Hermione grinned at her best friend.

“Yes. Thanks, Gin,” Hermione said, pulling Ginny into a hug.

__________

One late afternoon, Hermione and her mother were in the ICU to visit her father. She did not see Malfoy at all when they walked into the hospital which was quite good since she’s still working up the nerves on how to approach him. Hermione was reading her book when she saw her father’s fingers moved. Once. Twice then thrice. And then a grunt with a subtle movement of his hand. She lobbed her book on the bedside table and looked down at him closely.

“Hermione, what’s the matter?”

“H-he just moved his fingers then his hand,” Hermione said and just when she finished her sentence, her father’s head lolled to the side with a grunt. She promptly pressed the nurse call button. In a minute a nurse came in and Hermione’s father was already grunting continuously and slowly turning his head side by side.

“H-he’s waking up!” Hermione cried out.

“I’ll page Dr. Malraux since Dr. Boris is out,” the nurse blurted out and Hermione momentarily froze at his name but quickly snapped out of it when her father grunted again.

“Excuse me, Miss Granger kindly step aside, I need to check his vitals while waiting for Dr. Malraux,” she said and reluctantly, Hermione went to her mother and guided her to the far side of the room, watching.

Dr. Malraux walked in with long strides after two minutes, he immediately approached her father and while the nurse reported her findings Dr. Malraux checked on her father’s sight and other vitals. He started talking to him and held his hands, looking closely for other movements. Her father responded to Dr. Malraux with a grunt every time he asked a question.

When her father got tired and was sleeping again, Dr. Malraux asked Hermione and her mother to talk to them outside of the room.

“I can confidently say that he’s back to us however, it will take time for him to recover his motor skills. If his vitals remain stable within this week then we can move him out of ICU already. And I’ll assign therapists to help him. Now, I don’t want you to get your hopes up but please don’t expect that he will come out as nothing happened to him. Almost four months in a coma may have resulted in permanent damage that we’ll soon find out,” he said, all the while looking at Hermione and her mother with a professional gaze.

They both nodded in agreement, Hermione’s mother then spoke, “We understand that. We are just thankful that he’s awake now.”

“Thank you for understanding. I’ll leave you two, now,” he said and he turned his heels then walked away.

Hermione decided that she’d stay for the night for her father but brought her mother back to her flat beforehand so she could rest better. She was walking towards the hospital from a hidden alley where she apparated when she noticed a head of blond hair that will stand out anywhere in a crowded place like the café where he sat right now at the back near the windows—the same place where they sat. Her heart started hammering in her chest. She clenched her fists and walked straight to the café, luckily, his back was facing the entrance of the café. When Hermione reached the counter, Jay grinned at her.

“Miss Granger! What can I get for you today?”

“Do you still have the lemon raspberry tartlets?”

“Oh…. We just sold the last ones. Dr. Malraux was looking for them too but he got in a second too late.”

Hermione bit her lip and Jay looked at her with concern then a woman walked out from the back and witnessed the exchange.

“What’s happening here?” she asked authoritatively that made them both jolt.

“Uh… it’s just I told her that there are no lemon raspberry tartlets anymore,” Jay said and the woman looked at Hermione up and down then landed on her face like she was scrutinizing her. She let go of her lip and tentatively gave a small smile that was not returned at all.

“Stay there, order something to drink while waiting,” she said and Hermione nodded but she was confused.

Once the woman was out of earshot, she turned to Jay, “Who was that?”

“Aunt Florrie, she’s the one baking those lemon raspberry tartlets. Anyway, anything else I can get for you?”

“A latte in a takeaway cup, please,” she said and gazed sideways to see if Malfoy was still there. He is but she doesn’t have much time, he might go back anytime soon.

“Here,” the woman came back that made Hermione turn her attention back to the counter. There was a plate with two lemon raspberry tartlets.

“Oh, thank you.”

“I hope that will help you. It’s on me so don’t pay it.”

“B-but…”

The woman walked away, not bothering to hear Hermione.

“Here’s your latte,” Jay said and when Hermione was about to pay, he also insisted that it’s on him too.

“That’s bad for business…” Hermione argued.

“Nope. Just go there, he might leave anytime soon.”

She felt her neck and face flushed but Jay just gave him his most charming smile then muttered, “Go.”

“Thanks,” Hermione mumbled, then picked up her orders.

Each stride she took was purposeful and as the distance between them shortened her heart was beating faster and faster. Few strides behind him, she inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. She took measured steps towards him now and made sure she stopped in front of him, he whipped his head in her direction from the window on his right. She put down the plate of two lemon raspberry tartlets and he stared down at them.

“A peace offering,” she said, relieved that her voice wasn’t shaky with the way her heart was beating.

“More like bribery, I guess,” he said, eyes still on the plate but she can notice how the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

“I don’t bribe…not always,” she paused then cleared her throat, “May I take a seat?”

“Yes, only because you gave me these,” he said, picking one of the tartlets.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and sat on the chair in front of him. Malfoy ate quietly, savouring the pastry while her hands gathered warmth from her cup. They were silent for almost a minute when Hermione cast a muffliato non-verbally. She caught Malfoy looking at her, midchew with a raised eyebrow.

“Listen, Malfoy…” she started, paused, and inhaled then exhaled quickly, “I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but kind to me whenever I was in the hospital. I-It’s just the curiosity got the better of me… I wanted to know…” she trailed off and her eyes fell to the top of the cup in her hands.

Malfoy did not answer her. He just finished the tartlet he was eating while Hermione kept her eyes down. Then, the plate with on lemon raspberry tartlet was pushed to her. She looked up and found Malfoy drinking his coffee. She stared at him with furrowed brows.

He put his cup down and said, “Bribery.”

“Bribery?”

“Mum is throwing a party for the twins’ birthday party next month and she wanted you to be there. So, there’s my bribery for you to come,” he said with a smirk and Hermione laughed.

“Do I need to buy new robes then?”

He chuckled then he shook his head, “No. That’s totally unnecessary. Mum is different from my mother. She liked things simple. It’s just a small party—us, our friends which are just my friends, the twins’ nanny Trisha and you or you can bring your friends, she won’t mind at all. Just let me know beforehand.”

“Hmm, if I’ll attend the party, am I considered forgiven?” Hermione asked, tapping a finger on her cup.

“It shouldn’t have been a big deal so you don’t need to apologize. I overreacted. I could’ve just told you that you can inquire from the Ministry about my situation—or simply explain it myself but I had a scheduled operation that day. Basically, my excuse was I had no good sleep that day and I am busy.”

Hermione smiled, “You’ll always be dramatic.”

“Hey. I am not that dramatic,” he said and they both laughed.

Once they stopped laughing, he spoke, “Huh, I missed your laugh really.”

“That’s what you get from avoiding me,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes, taking a sip of her almost cold latte.

He put his hands up in mock surrender, “I already admitted that I overreacted.”

“Fine,” she replied with a smile. She watched as he put his hands down and looked at his wristwatch.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll go with you. Let me just get this…,” Hermione said taking a paper napkin from her shoulder bag and picked up the tartlet. Malfoy tapped the table and the spell was removed. Hermione’s brow arched but Malfoy rolled his eyes and she just chuckled.

As they exited the café, a grinning Jay said his goodbyes that they both returned and in Hermione’s peripheral, she saw Aunt Florrie smiling from the doorway to the back of the store.

They fell into a conversation about her father as they walked towards the hospital. He did not tell her that everything’s going to be normal again instead, he was telling him the truth of the situation which Hermione completely appreciated. She’d rather have honesty than expecting something impossible.

When they reached the hospital, he walked with her to her father’s room before leaving to prepare for a scheduled operation he was assigned with due to Dr. Boris’ absence—who was actually on leave for a very important date.

__________

Hermione and Draco went back from their routine like it was the most natural thing to do and started calling each other by their first names—Draco in the wizarding world and Dominique in the muggle world. Hermione’s father was moved to a private room and they’d arranged short and simple therapies for him to kick start his recovery on his motor skills.

Eventually, Hermione learned about an advanced Polyjuice potion that Draco learned to concoct that would last the typical one-hour duration and instead of hair, he used blood that’s enough to trick the wards in the Ministry because as he said to her, everything has a loophole. And when she asked him why he did that, he laughed before saying, just to mess with Potter and Weasley, besides I won five galleons from George. We have a bet you see; how long will they be fooled. He said a month and I said two. Guess what the 4th month is almost over. I don’t mind if you tell them though.

Harry and Ron only found out the truth when Hermione invited them to join her and Ginny in attending the twins’ birthday party. It took almost a whole day to explain it all (except about the Polyjuice potion and the bet—because they should hear it from George or Draco). Ron was hesitant to attend but Harry was obligated to attend since Ginny was bringing James with her who was a year younger than the twins.

Then one day during a recovery session, Hermione found herself watching Draco—or Dominique—talking to her father. He just had another breakdown and started arguing with everyone. Hermione wanted to intervene but she could see the tiredness in his eyes, the feeling of loss was not foreign to her. However, seeing it from her father, she cannot take it well. As much as she hated to admit it, she did not know what else she could do yet there was Draco, sitting with his father on the floor of the therapy room. Does he know that he was talking to Draco, the one who bullied her before? Yes. It was on the first breakdown, Draco happened to be there when it happened. He asked the staff to cancel the session for that day and asked to be left alone with him. And they sat on the floor just like right now. It was probably difficult for Draco but something happened within the hours of their conversation that made her father agree that he’d do the session again the next schedule.

After what seemed like an hour, Draco met her gaze and smiled before standing up and helped her father stand up. Then, he called for the staff to go back and continue the session.

“How did you convince him this time?” Hermione asked, her brow slightly inching up.

“I just promised him something. I cannot share though. Not yet,” he said as he left the therapy room and before she can even follow him, the tannoy called for him and he sprinted away.

She looked back at her father and how he strived to finish his session told her that whatever Draco promised him was good enough—for now.

Once her father’s session ended, they exited the hospital with him in a wheelchair. They were waiting for a taxi when Hermione’s father spoke.

“D-do you believe h-he had changed?”

Her brows furrowed and her father clarified with a whisper, “Draco.”

Looking back now, she counted the times that he should have been sneering at her, insulting her or laughing at her situation but didn’t instead, he sat down with her and talked to her. She recalled the day she found out that he was Dr. Malraux, she was not disappointed at all, intrigued mostly. She even found herself missing his presence around her. She cannot believe it but he had changed from the prat who bullied her then into the man he was now. Sure, he was still annoying at times but most of the time, she found herself admiring how he navigated within the world he used to hate with ease.

With a smile, Hermione answered, “Yes, he did.”

Her father gave him a lopsided smile, “Good.”

She smiled down at her father, a bit confused about what he answered but thought, yes it was good.

#dramoine #oneshot #dramione one shot #posted in other sites #ao3 #fanfiction.net #wattpad

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weasleyswizardpleases · 4 years ago

Text

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied.

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in.

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly.

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes.

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George.

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George.

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape.

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is.

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel.

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it.

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her.

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins.

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say.

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings.

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George.

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly.

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs.

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter.

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom.

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.”

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet.

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all.

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring.

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies.

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement.

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop.

“Alright Harry, your turn.”

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry.

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity.

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?”

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.”

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously.

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that.

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!”

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks.

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny.

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break.

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?”

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully.

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore.

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest.

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body.

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep.

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

Note

if you still wants prompts, how about 9 with red son after being taken in by tang and pigsy, seeing how they, mk, mei, and sandy all act around each other and being completely bewildered and out of his element around an actually affectionate family dynamic?

I had an idea a while ago about what might have happened if WBS had left one of those wisps that possessed the Bull Clones in DBK after episode 10, something she could use to try to manipulate him much more subtly and from a distance behind the scenes, so I'm gonna play around with a smidgen that here (so this ended up a little long... ok a lot long... SUPER LONG, 2K words). This is set between episode 10 and the Lunar New Year special, a little canon divergence.

How long have you been standing there?

The last few weeks hadn't been easy on anyone, but it hit Red Son harder than anyone else. Everyone had been hurt, physically at least, but Red’s hurt was on a deeper level... he'd thought everything was at least back to the status quo after Xiaotian had fought his possessed father.

He had no idea that the fight would be the catalyst for being forced into leaving his parents.

Oh, he had tried to stay. For a while everything had actually been pretty ok, his father was less cold and one minded on gaining power, but it quickly became apparent that something had gone wrong. He tried to talk reason into his father when he began to lash out at him, a little more every day, but after what had happened last time he couldn’t argue without his chest feeling tight and the words sputtering as they escaped his lips. His mother had tried as well, and she had managed to get through to him for a moment before that familiar blue light shone in his eyes and they realized exactly what had happened.

It was at her urging that he leave after that. For his own protection, she said, and Red didn’t know why that brought up so many conflicting emotions. DBK has fixated on him at the White Bone Spirit’s insistent manipulation, once again latching onto the notion of him being a traitor (and that hurt even more the second time around somehow) and she feared she would not be strong enough on her own to keep DBK from nearly succeeding in what he had failed to do last time. They had agreed on a plan, one that would have PIF playing along and pretending to banish her son so she could try to keep DBK under her watchful gaze while Red Son was at the very least out of harm’s reach.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that he wasn’t safe anywhere alone. His mother had kept in contact with him at first, back when he tried to stay in his old apartment. DBK had made short work of that plan and Red realized quickly that if his father considered him a traitor and his mother wanted his safety before anything else he would need to swallow his pride and do the one thing he hadn’t planned on trying.

He went to Pigsy’s Noodles and asked for shelter... After he was body slammed by Noodle Boy and his two companions there, naturally. He supposed now that the reaction was relatively warranted.

The first thing they asked him was “How long have you been standing there?” since he was completely soaked in the rain that was pouring outside.

It was the scholar, Tang, who had listened to him most out of anyone. He seemed to be well versed in the stories of the White Bone Spirit and knowing the fight Xiaotian had put up against his father (and seeing the news stories of DBK smashing a random apartment) he was more than willing to give him a chance. Xiaotian had seemed willing to help after a time and once his stomach started growling and he admitted he had not eaten a full meal in over a day (and had been eating the worst meals he had in a while due to always being on edge) while hiding Pigsy had scowled and told him to sit down and wait. It was an awkward silence that fell over everyone.

The bowl of soup the pig demon placed in front of him was the best looking and smelling thing he had seen in days and he could barely hold himself back from scarfing it down. It was delicious, not that he was ready to admit so out loud. “Perfectly adequate” was what he had said when asked, around a full mouthful of noodles no less. He doubted it fooled anyone.

Though he hadn’t known what to expect when he asked for help, where they would send him or if they would even say yes. He thought maybe he would be sent to stay with Sun Wukong, though that would have been the worst possible outcome given their less than stellar history, or been told to stay with Xiaotian in his cramped tiny apartment. What he hadn’t expected was Pigsy to lead him out by the shoulder with a firm grip toward his and Tang’s apartment.

They’d given him their spare room and an old mattress and a set of rules. No going off on his own for his own safety (though he had a sneaking suspicion they also didn’t fully trust him which was honestly fair). He would work with Xiaotian on his deliveries or in the Noodle Shop (the idea of driving with Noodle Boy all day made him shudder and he hoped he would be set to work in the kitchen instead most days, but he bit his tongue). He could leave only if he stayed with Xiaojiao or Sandy. No catching things on fire (again, fair). Try not to fight with Xiaotian and Xiaojiao too much.

They tried to work out some kind of payment but he knew his father had no idea how bank accounts worked so he assured them he would at least be financially stable.

And things just... fell together somehow.

In time he started calling Xiaotian and Xiaojiao by their names rather than the nicknames he has given them. He found he actually quite liked Xiaotian’s music and driving delivery routes was not as bad as he feared. Xiaojiao had shown him the wonders of street racing (in disguise and the less Pigsy and Tang knew the better) and they bonded over mechanics. He had met Sandy and his many cats and learned that he was both a cat magnet and, according to Sandy, needed anger management (and also bonded with him over mechanics). He’d seen Sun Wukong only once, very briefly and neither saying a word in awkward silence. But somehow he could tell the monkey looked sad as he flew off back to Mount Huaguo.

Soon enough Pigsy had allowed him to help making soup and as it turned out while his own preferences for spicy food weren’t exactly popular with most normal clientele it drew an entire new group of food challengers. Pigsy seemed more than appreciative of this.

Tang, meanwhile, was overjoyed to have someone to talk to about all his stories and scholarly pursuits that wasn’t just Xiaotian and an annoyed (if, Red eventually realized, affectionately so) Pigsy. It was honestly quite fun to discuss topics he knew about and learn things even he had not known, learn how humans had passed down stories of demons he knew long ago, and just enjoy mildly antagonizing Pigsy in good fun.

This was all stuff he almost could have anticipated given what he knew about them all already. What he hadn’t anticipated was how... affectionate they all were.

Oh, some things he expected. Pigsy and Tang constantly being together? That wasn’t much unlike his parents. Xiaojiao grabbing him in hugs and pulling him around? He had seen how she was with others, that seemed in her character. Xiaotian bumping shoulders with him all the time? Much the same. Granted, he flinched every time this happened out of reflex.

But his confusion had started when Pigsy had ruffled Xiaotian’s hair on the first day Red Son worked in the noodle shop. The action baffled him, especially when the other young man swatted away the chef’s hands in annoyance, but there was a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice that belayed that he hadn’t hated the action.

He saw how much Xiaotian and Xiaojiao hugged, threw their arms over their shoulders, playfully punched each other. How Tang would also ruffle their hair and how Pigsy would move Xiaotian with a firm hand to where he needed him to be walking to. How Sandy would just gather everyone up in massive group hugs out of the blue.

He saw how Pigsy sometimes, when no one else watched, gave Tang the free helping of noodles he hassled him for with a smile. How he frowned after Xiaotian as he walked up to his apartment on shaky legs that were tired from a day of work and fighting demons. How Tang and Pigsy would sometimes reach over the counter and hold hands for a second before going back to what they were doing. How one time he had seen Xiaotian and Xiaojiao sitting back to back on his bed when he was sent up to get them and just... enjoy each other’s company.

He heard the nicknames and saw the casual brushes of hands and bumps of shoulders and smiles and gazes and it...

It made him realize how alone he had been with his mother, before his father had returned. How he almost always had Bull Clones for companions as he worked on his machines, how she rarely gave him casual touches of affection. Even after his father had returned she had been somewhat cold to him. His father was far more concerned with opening the box that started all of this, though he did not know how much blame to place on his father’s neglect itself or the influence he was under.

He loved his parents and he was certain they loved him. He had to be certain of that. But he could no longer deny they were not... affectionate.

So when one day Tang had reached out to grab his shoulder he had panicked.

Luckily he hadn’t burned the man, he had jumped back when he felt his hair flaming up, and he apologized profusely (when had he started being apologetic for his actions? maybe he was just afraid they would second guess giving him a chance and kick him out) for almost harming him.

It surprised him even more when Tang apologized and asked if he was the one ok, saying he didn’t mean to startle him and he should have asked before touching him. He honestly didn’t know what to say, staring at the man before Pigsy had managed to get his attention. Again, he apologized, saying he just didn’t expect it and that it was alright. He didn’t care as long as he wasn’t surprised again.

Something changed after that. Every morning when he woke up Tang and Pigsy made it a point to just nudge him in some way after getting his attention. A grip on his shoulder, warm and firm. A nudge on his arm. At first he tensed or flinched just like when Xiaotian or Xiaojiao touched him, but after a while he just... got used to it. Soon their gentle affection didn’t elicit any reaction and after that he realized he was starved for this kind of attention. He wanted more, not much, maybe he could stand his hair being ruffled a bit now.

And so he started to return it. He grabbed Xiaotian’s arm one day to get his attention and the look of surprise and joy on his face told Red that Pigsy and Tang must have told him something. He started sitting closer to him in the tuk-tuk, no longer pushing away when a bump made their shoulders brush together. He sat closer to Xiaojiao when they played video games or worked on blueprints for their rides. He allowed Sandy’s cats to have free reign of him (within reason) and accepted the hugs and nudges the large man had clearly been holding back from him (he was never able to initiate contact first, the other man was too touchy for him to beat him to it).

He started tapping Pigsy on the shoulder at work for his attention. He didn’t sit two seats away from Tang anymore, instead sitting right beside him.

And a few weeks later when Tang reached up to ruffle his hair the same way he did with Xiaotian he paused, looking at Red Son for permission. He nodded his head yes.

He knew why his old rival seemed to like them so much now.

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sweet-as-battery · 4 years ago

Text

genuine reasons

Oh BOY! Here we are. This is my first foray into fanfic in over ten years. Please bear with me. Thanks to @twistedboxy and @jeffreycombseverything for encouraging me to post. This is super OOC for Herbert, but I like to hc that he avoids drinking because he gets soft. Also, even though Bride is one of my favorite movies, I won’t accept that Meg is dead. :) Anyways, I'm just gonna post this before I chicken out. Happy Holidays, y'all!

-----

Summary: Your date for your family holiday party drops out, so you ask Herbert to pretend to be your date for the night. After a couple drinks and some ego boosting, Herbert realizes there might be a reason the two of you are good at this game... 2.8k words (YIKES!)

You pulled your car up to the curb and turned off the ignition, glancing up at the house to your left which was decked out in lights. You snuggled into your scarf as you shifted your view to the other side of the car where Herbert silently seethed in the passenger’s seat. Fidgeting with the steering wheel for a moment, you offered him a small, “We don’t have to stay long.”

The man tutted and waved you off. Like that changed the fact that he had to be here at all. You had come to him two days ago, telling him how you’d told your family that you’d be bringing home a guy from class you’d been seeing. Then just days later, said guy decided that he’d rather go home to celebrate with the other girl he’d been seeing. When you didn’t have the heart to tell your family what had happened, you’d begged West to stand in for the dinner.

He’d initially scoffed and made a cold remark about you having excellent taste in men. The disheartened look on your face immediately told him he had made a mistake, but when you just nodded and walked away as opposed to starting one of your famous arguments, he began to feel a sense of guilt creep in.

As he vaguely recounted the incident to his other housemate, Dan didn’t hesitate in letting Herbert know just how much of an ass he was. It was after that stern push he got from Dan that had gotten him to give in and agree.

“Herbert, you need to go. She’s given you how much of her spare time since you took her on as your assistant? The least you could do for her is pretend to be her date for a couple hours.”

But, Herbert doesn’t do family, or more so, dating. What a trivial waste of time. Even during the holidays, Herbert really only had himself. Dan always goes to visit family with Meg, and this was his first year with you around. Dan would always invite Herbert to come home with the two of them, but he would just scoff and tell him that science never stops to celebrate the holidays.

Luckily for Herbert, your family only lived about a half hour outside of Arkham, but his overarching sense of dread at having to socialize increased ten-fold when you had parked in front of the brightest, most sickeningly decorated house on the street. You suddenly twisted and reached into the backseat before producing a bottle of wine and a cake.

“Could you carry these if I get the gifts?” you asked Herbert, and he hesitantly took the items from you.

You grabbed the bag of gifts from the backseat and the two of you walked together to the front door before you rapped against the wood with your free hand. After a moment of the two of you standing there in silence, Herbert could feel your eyes on him. He took a second to glance over and saw you smiling at him. He sent a small, false, fleeting grin back before the door swept open and your mom cried out your name lovingly.

She pulled you quickly into a hug and ushered the both of you in the door. She gestured to the table with other desserts and dishes on it and Herbert sat the items in his arms down as you made introductions. When he turned back, your mother wasted no time pulling him into a hug as well. He froze, absolutely taken aback by the contact.

You chuckled. “Mom I know you’re a hugger, but Herbert’s not.”

She pulled away and looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just lovely to meet you.”

“You as well, Mrs Y/L/N,” Herbert responded politely. As she insisted he call her by her first name, you heard two sets of sneakers padding closer against the hardwood floors. Your two nephews came into view and you pointed at them excitedly.

“Y/N!” The smaller of the two boys wailed out, running to you before you scooped him up into your arms and snuggled against him.

“Are you getting into trouble?” you asked him and he smirked, shaking his head. “That looks like a lie to me,” you told him before tickling him and getting a loud giggle in return.

“Y/N, who’s this?” the older brother asked, pointing at West.

“This is my friend, Herbert,” you told him as his little eyes connected with Herbert’s. The pre-teen boy waved and introduced himself.

Wonderful, Herbert thought, there’s children too.

—-

Dinner had gone better than you had expected, and most of your relatives seemed to be comfortable in Herbert’s presence, which shocked both of you. After your insistence, non-drinker Herbert had also indulged in a couple glasses of wine, and you found he had begun to soften ever so slightly. While you stood with your elder cousin against the kitchen island, drinking and snacking on desserts, your eyes were fixed on the sight going on in the living room.

Herbert sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, telling tales from his time in Switzerland (minus the illegal experimentation) to the kids, as well as your grandparents. Every so often, he’d gesture wildly and the children would break into fits of laughter. You felt your stomach do a flip at the sight, and while you told yourself over and over that it was the wine doing it to you, you knew it wasn’t.

He caught your eye, shooting you a very uncharacteristic smile, and that’s when you knew you were done in. An hour ago, you’d sat silently in the car with the classic neurotic and insensitive Dr. West, but after a few drinks, a meal, and some ego stroking by your relatives, he’d turned into smiley, Mr. Sociable Herbert. As he took a moment to excuse himself and stand from his criss-cross-applesauce position on the carpet, your cousin mused, “I wish I could find someone like him.”

You chuckled at her, and as Herbert walked toward where you were in the kitchen, eyes locked on each other, you replied, “Don’t let him fool you. He’s usually a prick.”

She raised her eyebrows and looked between the two of you as Herbert perched himself right next to you. “Ah,” he began to retort, “and I take it that’s why you’ve been ogling at me for the past fifteen minutes.”

You scoffed at him as he continued looking down on you with those condescending hazel eyes of his. Your aunt came barging into the room suddenly with your mother in tow, obviously having had a few more drinks than the three of you combined. She came to stand in front of you and Herbert and attempted to make a cutesy noise.

“So, how long have you two been together?” she asked, leaning back on the counter next to your cousin.

You hadn’t really thought over this answer, figuring you’d make something up on the spot, but as your brain blanked in the heat of the moment, Herbert simply answered, “It’ll be eight months on the third. Our mutual colleague introduced us when we all decided to become housemates.”

Your mother squealed. “Oh! How is Dan? Are he and Meg still together?”

You nodded, “They’re staying with his family for the holidays.”

“So the two of you get the whole house to yourselves for a couple of days,” your aunt slurred, wiggling her eyebrows at the two of you.

You could feel your face flush and Herbert shifted uncomfortably next to you. “Mom, don’t be like that,” your cousin scolded her, sensing the shift in the room.

Your own mother attempted to help as well, exclaiming that she needed a picture of the two of you. She fetched the camera from the closet in the hall and ran back in before gesturing for you and Herbert to move in closer to one another. You sighed and stepped, making it so your hands were now brushing against each other.

Herbert suddenly pulled his away and you felt a momentary bit of disappointment before his arm wound its way around your shoulders and pulled you in tighter. You took this as your initiative and if he was going to go all in, then so were you. You wrapped one arm around his lower back and brought the other to rest on his abdomen.

The sweater he was wearing over his normal white shirt and tie was soft, and you couldn’t help but nestle your face against it. You breathed in and noticed that his normal smell of chemicals and musty books had mixed with the warm cinnamon that filled the house. You sighed and the moment you looked up, you heard the click and flash of the camera, followed by a coo from your aunt, then another click and flash.

After a minute of pointlessly shaking the two photos, your mother looked over them and handed you one. “Remind me to thank Dan the next time I see him. I owe him at least a cake for getting you two together.”

You looked down at the photo and seeing the seeming warmth shared between the two of you made your heart yearn. You knew that after tonight, Herbert would burn the photo if given the opportunity, so you decided to tuck it in the pocket of your cardigan and never let him get the chance.

The two of you were skirting on the edge of something dangerous, and while you knew that Herbert was just playing the game, you were spiraling fast. What you hadn’t realized in that moment though, was just how tight Herbert was still holding you against himself.

—-

Once everyone had finished opening their gifts, and continued chitchatting, you figured you’d subjected the doctor to enough of the charade. As you began to say your goodbyes, Herbert went to retrieve your coats. On his way back, he was suddenly stopped by your cousin from earlier.

She pulled him aside before announcing, “I know this is weird and I’ve only observed you two for a few hours, but I want you to know that she’s crazy about you. She barely listened to five words I said earlier. It was 100% tunnel vision tonight. I just hope you feel the same because i've never seen her like this before.”

Herbert nodded in reply, too stunned by the words to find any of his own. He knew you weren’t an actor by any means. He felt your panic when your aunt began asking questions. Yet, the smiles and the touches felt genuine. As he continued mulling internally, your cousin smiled at him and walked past on her way to get her own coat.

“See you next year, Herbert.”

He found you in the foyer with your mother and handed you your jacket before slipping into his own. Your cousin’s words still bounced around in his head as he watched the two of you embrace goodbye. After pulling apart, she began to come in for a hug with him, but stopped when she remembered.

“Not a hugger. That’s right,” she reminded herself with a chuckle before joking, “Y/N’s the only one entitled to your hugs.”

While he could feel your almost worried gaze boring into the side of his head, he just smiled back at your mother before thanking her for having the two of you over. You really were bad at this when put on the spot. You opened the door and the two of you inched out into the cold as you shared goodbyes. Yet, as you were just about to turn and close the door behind the both of you, your mother gasped and pointed to the top of the doorframe. “I completely forgot!” She yelled out.

Both of your eyes met and traveled slowly up to find exactly what you’d expected and dreaded. Your eyes met again and you let out a nervous laugh that Herbert mimicked. He took in the look on your face and once again thought about what your cousin had said as well as the feeling he got when you’d embraced him for the photo earlier. He had too much important work going on to twiddle around with feelings. He was defeating death. Yet, as he peered down into your eyes, he found he couldn’t recall anything at the moment. None of the formulas or correct dosages or chemical components.

So he decided, to hell with it.

His hands came up to hold the sides of your face and he brought his lips down to meet yours fleetingly. When he pulled back, he could see a sparkle in your eye and looked away quickly. The two of you needed to leave before he let anything slip, so he quickly gave one more goodbye before ushering you out the door and to the car.

—-

The two of you sat in silence for most of the drive home, neither knowing the words to say. Both of you were thinking the same thing, but while Herbert had a sense of hopefulness, you were feeling the exact opposite. Yet, when you pulled into the driveway of your shared home and turned off the engine, neither of you made a move to get out. Looking at your lap, the only thing you could think up was a small, “Thank you. I know it was probably torture, but I really appreciated it.”

He made a hmm noise before announcing, “Actually, I’d be willing to do it again next year.”

You felt your chest flutter at his words and your eyes darted up to meet his. The same hazel eyes that looked upon you with contempt just hours ago now seemed softer, but on edge. Your gaze narrowed skeptically before asking, “Just how much did you drink, West?”

“Not nearly enough,” he answered and you studied his worried expression. “Let’s go inside.”

The two of you gathered the gifts and leftover cake and made your way into the house. As you tucked the cake in the fridge, you had expected Herbert to make a beeline to the basement just as he always did. To your surprise, the man was instead still in the living room, poking and prodding at the fire he’d just started.

You sat down onto the sofa, picking at the ragged arm. “Don't you have work to do?” You asked, the tension in the air becoming palpable.

He let out a curt sigh before coming over to sit next to you. “I don’t believe I would be able to focus after all of the distractions.” There was a beat of silence before he decided to go for it. “I would say your family believed our story. Your cousin definitely did, at least from what she told me. I believe she said you were ‘crazy for me’.”

You cringed inwardly and felt your pulse quicken before letting out a nervous chuckle. “I guess we’re just good actors.”

“See, that’s what I’ve been having trouble with.” He removed his glasses from his face and used them to gesture. “Because, you weren’t a great actor, by any means.”

You scoffed at him. “Thanks a lot. I suppose you’re gonna say you pulled the load with your magnificent performance.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I think what saved us were your genuine feelings for me. All those looks and smiles, very convincing because they were real.”

Your panic shot through the roof, but you attempted to play it off with a loud laugh. “Don't flatter yourself, West. I feel more for some of the things we create downstairs.”

“I think you’re lying,” he retorted, emphasizing the last word with a point of his glasses.

The dejection spread through you like a wave. You knew he’d be blunt if he ever found out how you felt, but now he was just taunting you. He shook his glasses, his lips pursed, before he sat back down next to you. He was much closer this time though, so much so that your knees kept brushing together.

With the proximity and without the glasses, you could see his eyes perfectly, the intense green-grey staring back at you and making your heart patter. He allowed his free hand to reach out and cup your face gently. You sighed and leaned into the touch, letting your eyes close. He murmured very quietly, “And as convincing as you were, I was on the same level. Equally good at pretending, for all the same genuine reasons.”

Hearing his admission caused a lump to form in your throat. You swallowed to try and push down the feelings, but it all flew out the window as soon as you felt his lips on yours for the second time that night. His lips were chapped and the kiss was awkward, but you had expected nothing less. He was a man of science, not romance, after all.

After eventually pulling apart for air, you rested your forehead against his and let out a small laugh. “I guess next year we don’t have to pretend,” you joked.

“I don’t even think we can consider this year as such.”

...and now I will spend forever cringing about actually posting this.

#herbert west x reader #oh god #someone help me

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loveyou-x3000 · 4 years ago

Note

Ohhhh thanks for the Toga and Izayoi as it is so cute!!, maybe you can do Moroha being awesome and tag team fight with mum or dad?

Ok so this one... well, it got way out of hand. This isn’t quite a tag team fic like you asked -- I’m learning I go pretty off course with prompts, guys, I’m sorry -- but it is an InuYasha-and-friends-reappear-in-the-midst-of-battle-fic. None of this really lines up with what’s currently happening in Yashahime, but whatever. Nothing in Yashahime makes sense anyway!

Tag List: @liz8080 @superpixie42 @dangerouspompadour @thebishopkate @lavendertwilight89 @sistasecbhere @thornedraven @ladycelestite @clementinesgulag @keichanz @zelink-inukag @heathersmusings @horriblehowl @animeandfilmotaku @bulba-baby @heavenin--hell @captainyukicho @rightoveryonder @hopidoodle @itsyogirlcaitlin @digital-art-monster @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons @cammysansstuff @glow–bunny @cyncyn981 @nellyvampdragon @sticky-llama-perfection @karina-inuphantom @neutronstarchild

Prompt me!

Riku had them cornered.

Of all the bastards Moroha had ever faced, he was perhaps the biggest bastard of them all, with his smug little smirk and his pompous way of speaking, acting every inch of a lord's son that he said he was. And Moroha had met a lot of that sort, too; stupid, scrawny little lordlings who pretended they were better than her because they had money and "better blood," whatever that meant, even when they were asking for her help against the demons that scared them half to death.

The only thing that made Riku any different from them was the fact that when he picked a fight, he at least had the balls to see it through to the end. Sure, the fight he’d picked this time was against them, and if they weren’t careful he was probably going to kill one of them before sunrise, but hey-- he wasn’t relying on anyone else to do his dirty work, and Moroha could respect that.

Jumping up and back to dodge a spearing attack of rock that he'd summoned from the ground, Moroha landed in the relative safety of the of the Tree of Ages, hidden amongst its branches. He controlled the elements, so far as they could tell: he could move the ground, shape water, spark fire, and guide the wind-- though the last of those abilities didn't seem to work well when he was around Setsuna. Towa had noticed that the last time they'd fought; he’d flung a cutting gale of wind at her when Setsuna, quiet as she was, had grit her teeth and swung her naginata so high and hard that she'd blown Riku straight off the edge of a mountain, redirecting his attack back onto him with twice the efficiency.

Setsuna had always been able to shape the air for her Cyclone Burst, but that? That she’d never done before.

But now they weren't on a mountain, Setsuna was injured, and Towa was trying to protect her sister from all the attacks Riku was launching at them. They’d both been robbed of their pearls not so long ago and without them, their strength was fading fast.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit—"

Moroha scrambled inside her pockets, withdrawing the little clamshell that held her pearl and her grandmother's lipstick. On her shoulder, Myoga jumped up and down, protesting— but she already knew everything he was saying. Yes, she wouldn't last long in a full demon state, but maybe it could give Towa the opening she needed to cut the pretty bastard down. All she had to do was distract him.

While droplets of blood dripped from her wrist and onto the tree, Moroha swiped her pinky across the red rouge. Readying herself, she took a deep breath, concentrating all her energy and—

Riku spun the wind and Setsuna spun it back, distracting her. Where one gale met the other, a glowing scar struck through the open air, and the tree beneath her feet gasped.

A tree couldn't gasp, of course, but it was trying very hard to, rocked with an energy that demanded everyone's attention. Energy pulsed beneath the pads of her bare feet and Moroha startled, clicking the clamshell shut as the Tree of Ages trembled. Myoga held on tight to her ear as she tried to steady herself, claws digging into the bark; and once she did that, the voice of the tree screamed in her ears.

"You won't be free!"

It was the Tree— that priestess, Kikyo, who apparently her mother was, or had been, or something; no one really seemed to agree on the difference and Moroha thought it was all stupid, anyway. How could someone be someone else? But Kikyo (who was not really Kikyo, and also not her mother) screamed and raged and tried with all her might to keep a seal from breaking. Someone was screaming back at her.

"You're not her, you wrinkled old bitch!"

The clamshell in her hand trembled and the well in the middle of the clearing pulsed with yoki once, then twice, reminding her of long summer days and thunderstorms. Red robes and white hair.

"LET ME GO!"

Moroha had never noticed the seal before, but she noticed it now: pink and black and sickly purple, like a bruise, pulsing from an old fletching notch in the tree. Towa screamed for her, but it was too late; the notch cracked, the seal broke, and a pulse of reiki shot through her so hard it made her teeth rattle and purified the rouge right off her pinky. Riku jumped back and his and Setsuna’s winds spun out, and Towa lurched aside, trying to avoid the pink-white light that was now spilling out of the mouth of the dusty old well in the middle of the clearing.

The hate that had been embedded in the Tree of Ages - the onyrō, if the echo of a dying priestess could be called that, left there in the power of her arrow - died an abrupt, sudden death, and all the sudden everything that ghost had been trying to hold in and destroy began to break free.

"What's happening?!"

It was a scream to no one as leaves began to rain down from the branches, even though Autumn was months away. There was a sudden burst of wind then, swirling of its own accord, unguided, and new scents came in an onslaught: reiki, yōki, and something in between; pain, anguish, hate, and unbridled sorrow; storms, iron, metal, tears, and flower blossoms. All of them were mixed and strange and rainbow-colored, until the first body came soaring out of the well.

A yōkai with brown furs, jet black hair, and piercing blue eyes shot straight out of the lancing light and into the night sky, seeming to hover in the air above them before he plummeted back towards the earth. Somewhere on Kirara's back, Kohaku called out a name:

"Koga!"

Once, there had been a battle in this clearing. Kohaku had told them as much. After all three of them had been spirited away to safety as infants, their parents and their friends had fought a strange enemy here. The only one to walk away unscathed from it had been that enemy— and Sesshomaru, whom no one had seen since.

Everyone else had disappeared from this very spot, leaving behind only a stunned monk and his family of demon slayers.

Koga - whoever he was - cracked the ground as he landed, and Riku cursed and cursed, flinging expletives in languages she didn't even know. He held up his hands and Moroha's stomach bottomed out, feeling that strange pull that only the rainbow portal had, but a gale of wind knocked him off his feet; again, sourceless, but it dispersed his strange powers.

"What the fuck happened?!"

Then there was another voice, another scent— and it nearly sent Moroha falling out of the tree.

"I saved your life, you mangy wolf!"

A man dressed in red climbed out of the well, shining silver against the moonlight. There was a woman unconscious on his back, chin pillowed against his shoulder; another girl lay sleeping in his arms.

Behind him, the Butterfly of Dreams fluttered up into the sky and all the light in the well faded to nothing.

"You sealed me in a tree, you flea-infested— shit!"

Koga bailed to the left to avoid a trail of fire that shot across the field and Towa slammed her sword in the ground to protect herself, letting it buffet against that wall of yoki until it extinguished itself. Setsuna's naginata fell to the ground beside her as her strength failed her, though she was far off from dying. There was something else on her face— exhaustion, maybe.

Hisui and Kohaku's voices were a mangled mess of names as Kirara brought them to the ground. Kohaku went first to the sleeping girl, taking her in his arms; Hisui went to the hanyō and the miko, wide-eyed and incredulous.

Moroha knew who they were. She couldn’t not know who they were.

“Shit,” InuYasha cursed, adjusting the unconscious Kagome on his back and drawing a sword that sang like a storm, streaking through the night like lightning. “How long has it been, Hisui?”

“InuYasha?”

Moroha was frozen, gone completely silent, watching the young demon slayer speak to her Father. Myoga was gone. Kohaku tried to shake the girl in his arms awake, softly calling her name.

“Rin?”

InuYasha waited impatiently for an answer. Eventually, Hisui found it.

“Fourteen years.”

“...fuck.”

And then there was no more time for talking as Riku attacked again, suddenly incensed, aiming the brunt of his attacks straight at Kohaku and Rin, flinging fire aside at the twins as he did. Moroha lurched when she saw Towa wasn’t going to be able to withstand the attack this time, but then the winds kicked up again, blowing the fire aside, and a scar blazed in its gale once again.

InuYasha swung Tessaiga and Riku disappeared in a burst of white light.

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thisbrokenmask · 4 years ago

Text

Drift Away

pairing: female reader x Park Jimin

genre: angst (prepare your heartstrings)

word count: 5,192

warnings: Jimin is sad, that’s all

summary: jimin is home for christmas. so are you. it’s been several months since you broke up with him but he’s still hurting. will you give him the closure he needs?

a/n: so I wanted to write something nice and fluffy for Jimin’s Christmas Love, but this sort of happened instead. Crystal Snow has been one of my favourites since I first heard it, there’s something about the longing and complex emotions in it that’s always appealed to me, so I’m glad I got ‘Crystal Snow’ on my @btsholidaybingo card! (Also, don’t mind me projecting my break up from earlier this year, I promise I’ll write something happier for ChimChim soon)

It’s only when conversation in the car dies down that Jimin begins to take notice of his surroundings. He’s been talking non-stop with his parents and his brother since they engulfed him in a big group hug at the train station, catching up with each other despite at least two calls a week to his parents and a text thread with his brother that rarely sits still for a full 24 hours.

Somehow, there is always something new to talk about, or something comfortingly familiar to talk about again, and he is thankful for that in the very moment he notices how close they are to home. Being close to home means being close to your parents’ house, and that means being close to you.

He stares out of the window as the houses roll past, various colours painting his skin from the different light displays and decorations hanging from their eaves. Jimin has no doubt you’ve come home for the winter holidays, just like he has. You always loved Christmas, always itching to get the Christmas decorations up as soon as you could. He remembers how you would start talking about Christmas as early as the week after Chuseok and how he’d been amazed that he’d found someone who loved Christmas more than he did. Even he could wait until after Hangul Day before he allowed himself to even think of ideas for Christmas, but you were always two steps ahead of him.

He wonders if you were as excited this year.

His parents definitely notice the sudden quiet in the back of the car and glance at each other, silently repeating the conversation they’ve had several times over the last few weeks, questioning whether they should ask or leave him be.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” his mother asks, long having decided that addressing the elephant in the room will help Jimin, rather than letting him wallow and fester in his own thoughts. He’s had long enough, she feels, and talking about you will only help him to move on. “Is she back for Christmas?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin answers truthfully, feeling an uncomfortable fullness in his chest that makes him feel a bit sick. His brother shifts in his seat across the car. “We haven’t spoken.”

“Oh,” his mother says lightly, faux nonchalant. Her barely-concealed acting would normally have irked him and he would have asked her to just be more direct, not tiptoe around him and treat him like a baby, but he’s tired. Tired of pretending not to care, tired of pretending he doesn’t still think about you. His mother quickly changes the subject anyway. “Well, Jungkook is home, isn’t he? Are you going to go and see him?”

“Yeah,” Jimin nods once, unable to tear his eyes away from the world outside. He knows your street is approaching and he doesn’t want to miss catching a glimpse of your house. He wonders if your parents have put up the same lights they always do: bright white and twinkling, following the slope of the roof and lighting up the biggest tree on the front lawn. “Yeah, I’ll go see Jungkook.”

Christmas music is playing in the store when Jimin enters. A mix of American and Korean music playing over the speakers, old enough to give the music that slight tinny sound only old, weary speakers can provide.

His mother has sent him armed with a list of things she deems absolutely essential, but he knows it’s just an excuse to get him out of the house, to get him to do something rather than pretending to watch TV while wrapped up on the sofa in his favourite blanket like he has been for the last two days. He knows, because he saw the full bag of flour in the pantry last night when he was quietly looking for a near-midnight snack. He knows, because there’s a carton of eggs in the kitchen that’s almost full and there’s enough sugar to sweeten the tea of the whole street at least two times over.

But she insisted, so here he is.

He has the eggs, flour, sugar and a few other things from the list when he sees them, having just turned down the aisle they’re standing in. Your relatives don’t spot him straight away, your mother talking a mile a minute as she lists the pros and cons of two different brands to your little sister who, as always, is simply nodding along. Your mother will make her own decision, probably already has, but your sister is there to be her sounding board. That used to be your job, he remembers you telling him, until you hit 16 and had the excuse of school exams to get you out of the weekly shopping trips.

He’s about to turn around and go down the next aisle, planning on circling back when he knows they’ve moved on, but then he hears his name being called. He looks up to see your little sister abandoning her post and running towards him. Your mother blinks as he gets closer, walking over to say hello as he’s too polite not to, and for the first time in his life he wishes he found it easier to be rude.

“Mrs Y/L/N,” he greets your mother with a bow low enough for his gaze to drop to the floor, his basket knocking against his calf before he’s straightening up again. “It’s nice to see you, I hope you and your family are well.” Jimin smiles at your sister, who smiles back and nods but moves back to stand by your mother. He can tell she’s holding back from hugging him and his arms ache.

“Jimin,” she smiles back, but her eyes are sad. “It’s nice to see you, too. I’m very well, thank you. I hope your family are, too?” Jimin nods with a smile. “You’re home for Christmas?” Another nod. “That’s wonderful. Y/N is, too-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening apologetically.

“It’s okay,” he assures her with a smile despite the constricting feeling in his throat. He holds back from asking about you despite the way his tongue itches to form the words. “I’m glad to be back home for a while. Speaking of which, I apologise but I must get back,” he holds up the slip of paper his mother pushed into his hand. “But it was lovely to see you both.” Jimin bows again to both your mother and sister, making sure to push his smile just that little bit wider to ensure they know there are no hard feelings.

“It’s lovely to see you, too, Jimin,” your mother smiles. “It’s been so long.”

He knows. He knows exactly how long it’s been since so many things: the last time he saw your parents, the last time he saw you, the last time you spoke to him.

“It has,” he agrees, and bows again before slipping past them. “Merry Christmas!”

He waves goodbye as he walks away, waiting until he’s down the next aisle before trying to read the rest of his list with stinging eyes.

He wonders if your mother will tell you that she saw him.

It’s only a few days before Christmas Eve when Jimin finally sees you. He’s walking back from Jungkook’s house, his younger friend’s parents insisting on feeding him before he was allowed to go home. He almost doesn’t notice you, so caught up in the same thoughts he’s been having for months to even register people around him.

But he hears your laugh and he can’t not look.

Jimin’s head snaps up so suddenly that he’s sure the movement alone catches your eye, but it could be the fact that he stops dead almost mid-stride. You’re on the other side of the street, walking towards the direction he’s coming away from, and you’re not alone.

He thinks he recognizes one of the girls by your side from high school, but the other is completely unknown to him. He barely grants either of them a second of his attention before focusing back on you. You’ve cut your hair and dyed it a lighter shade, but it’s still you in those jeans he always loved and the jacket you bought with the money you saved up from your first summer job.

He notices the exact second your eyes flit over to him, and the exact moment when they shoot back for a double take, a flash of recognition taking over your features. Meeting your gaze is like a pummel to the gut and the head at the same time; his brain feels dizzy and his knees waver like they might give out if a light breeze brushes past him.

You look away so quickly, so determined in the way you turn your head completely to look at your friend, that it takes him a few seconds to register the moment is gone. He feels empty, so empty, at how easily you ignore him. He feels empty, and then he feels so full of sadness and anger and hurt that he briefly convinces himself that he hates you as he turns to stomp back to his house.

“Who was that?” he hears one of your friends ask incredulously, but his feet beat a muffled pace against the snow too quickly for him to hear your answer.

Hey, how are you?

The text comes through hours later, lighting up his room as Jimin lays staring at the ceiling. Drying tracks itch his face from the silent tears he finally let fall once he knew his parents were in bed and most likely asleep. He couldn’t forget how easily you turned away from him, and from there his memories awoke to remind him of all the times you’d turned toward him, ran toward him, jumped into his arms and held on.

It was, he’d believed, yet another night of his chest slowly ripping itself open, only to leave it for him to try and fix before breakfast.

But you texted him, and he chewed his lip desperately as he considered what to do.

Hey. I’m alright thanks, you?

He had considered texting Hoseok to ask what he should do, but it was nearly midnight and he didn’t want to bother his friends any more than he felt he already had. This was his situation, anyway, and all the advice in the world to the contrary wouldn’t stop him from listening to the way his heart still called out for you.

I’m good, too. I just wanted to say sorry about earlier.

Earlier?

Don’t lie, Jimin. I know you saw me, and you know I saw you.

I’m sorry I ignored you.

Jimin scoffs into the darkness of his room, a flush of anger rushing through him at your words. He doesn’t know if he believes you, as much as he wants your words to be true. He wants you to want him still, even though he knows things would be different now. He likes to try and convince himself he could trust you to love him again, but then he remembers how easily you broke his heart and he just hurts all over again.

Are you?

Of course I am! I felt awful, I wanted to say hello to you so badly.

Then why didn’t you?

The question isn’t malicious or confrontational; he just needs to know how you think so he can figure out he feels.

I didn’t know how to, you finally reply.

Saying ‘hello’ is normally a good place to start?

I know, I know, I just

Jimin watches the bubble of ellipses come and go several times, waiting for you to get your words right. He always gave you that, even when the words would hurt him in the end.

I didn’t know how to explain to the girls who you were.

His heart feels like a cold lump of lead in his chest, almost too heavy to beat.

Didn’t want to have to explain what I did to you.

Despite everything, he still hates to hear/read/see you feel guilty over what happened between you, because it means you’re sad. He’s still got a bit of hardwiring in him that makes him want to cheer you up, to protect you from pain and sadness even when he’s drowning in his own.

I understand, he finally texts back, wishing he actually did. He doesn’t know how or why he’s the one comforting you when you were the one that broke up with him but here he is, lying in his childhood bedroom merely streets away from you, telling you he understands. Understands that you couldn’t tell your friends he was the guy you’d broken up with before you both left for college mere months ago. Understands that you dropped the bomb on him that you were pretty sure you weren’t in love with him anymore after two years of him devoting every atom of his being to your existence. Understands how you didn’t want to start college with a boyfriend you didn’t feel the same about anymore and might end up hurting in worse ways than just words.

Jimin blinks back the tears that well up in his eyes as the thoughts pass through his head, his phone locked and clutched to his chest like prayer beads. He wonders if you’re the same, if you’ve been umming and ahhing over whether you should text him or if you’re casually resting on your side with your duvet wrapped around your leg like you normally did before you slept. He wonders if you’re in bed at all, or if you’re sat up at your desk and are only texting him now as an afterthought to your busy day.

Strange shadows appear on his ceiling when his phone lights up under his fingers.

Thank you.

He bites his bottom lip before releasing it and pressing the back of his hand to it instead, knowing his mother will notice in the morning and ask him what he’s been worrying about. He knows you’d ask the same, knowing him just as well, if not better.

He figures this is his best chance to take his shot to ask.

Can I see you, at some point?

The bubble pops up then disappears again without returning, and he knows you’re trying to figure out how to say no to him nicely.

Just to talk. We could get coffee or something?

He doesn’t want to sound desperate, but he is, and he figures that you might give in if you realise.

No funny business, I promise. I just want to see you one last time, one last conversation and then I’ll leave you be. I just feel like I never really got closure and it would be nice to finally feel like I can move on. [Ever the people pleaser, he adds,] If that’s okay?

If you say no or you don’t reply, he’ll take that as closure and do his best to move on. It will hurt more, but he’ll know where he stands and then he can figure out where to step next. If you say yes, it’ll be awkward, but he’ll be able to figure out where his heart is much quicker by sitting across a table from you.

The last few months have been disorienting and confusing and painful, spent trying to clumsily mend his heart when he wasn’t quite sure of the extent of the damage. He’s convinced himself that if he sees you and speaks to you, he’ll know whether or not he still loves you.

If he doesn’t, he can finally put down the weight he’s been carrying and walk away lighter.

He doesn’t quite have a plan yet for if it turns out he does.

Of course. When are you free?

It’s bitingly cold on the 28th, the day you and Jimin agree to see each other. It was the one day you were both free that wasn’t too close to Christmas, New Year, or the day you were returning to college for the January term. It was the one day with the least potential for sentimentality.

He gets there five minutes late, hoping you’re already there and seated rather than him being first. It seems you had the same idea, though, as you walk towards him from the opposite end of the high street.

While he’s still far enough away to be sure you won’t be able to see it, a puff of white air escapes him as a laugh pushes his lips into a smile. He should have known you’d want to be the one who gets to walk in and withhold your gaze until you’re ready to look at him; you were always both so similar that way.

He sees you falter and guesses that to be the moment you realise he’s the person walking towards you. Your pace slows slightly, hesitant, before you pick up your speed again. You probably hope he didn’t notice, and he’ll pretend he didn’t.

You meet in the middle, outside the door to the cafe you used to come and sit in together all the time; impromptu dates, one of you wanting to be out of the house, the other jonesing for a hot chocolate like only Mrs Mae can make.

Jimin opens the door for you and ushers you inside, and you breathe a gasp of thanks as you hurry into the warmth. Mrs Mae is still pottering about behind the counter, wiping and drying between customers. She turns and smiles before either of you can say anything and her apparent sixth sense is oddly comforting.

Mrs Mae has always been observant, keeping an eye on everyone who comes into her shop yet somehow making them feel like they have all the privacy in the world in her plush seats. She still pertains that she knew you and Jimin were dating before even the two of you did, and she harbours the secret that she knew it was falling apart before you did, too.

Her smile is two parts happy and one part sad to see you and Jimin together: pleased to see another pair of town kids all grown up and still coming to her little shop, pleased to see the combination of one of the sweetest couples she’s ever witnessed back together again, but sad to know both of your hearts are broken beyond repair for each other. She knows you’ll never walk into her shop hand-in-hand again, but she’s pleased to see you together nonetheless.

The machine behind her is already steaming with two hot chocolates, mugs warming while they wait, and she waves you off to sit down before you can even order.

Muscle memory guides you back to the table you always used to share, tucked against the window in the corner furthest from the door, and Jimin wonders if you notice before you sit down. Whether you do or not, he can’t tell, because you now won’t look at him. Your eyes are turned to the floor as you shrug off your coat, tucking it over the back of the chair, and you stare at your fingers on the tabletop when you sit down.

Jimin sits across from you, sinking into his chair and slowly pulling off his gloves. His coat is over the back of his chair, too, but he can’t bring himself to pull off his matching scarf and beanie, the navy blue contrasting his blond hair in a way that you can’t help but find yourself admiring.

He doesn’t see how quickly you look away as his gaze drifts back towards you, but Mrs Mae does. She puts the cups of hot chocolate in front of you both, a third plate sliding onto the table between you. You both gape slightly at the two cookies shaped like Christmas trees, small ribbons of green icing criss-crossing over each other with little dabs of bright colours nestled between them.

“On the house,” she says simply without flourish, tucking her tray back under her arm as she walks away before either of you can protest.

You clear your throat as Jimin coughs gently into his fist and you finally look up at each other. Jimin feels a pang in his chest at how similar and how different this all is at the same time. The small hints of smiles on your faces are no longer coy and shy like they were when you came here together on your first ‘date’ as teenagers. Everyone insists you’re young adults now, and your lips are turned in an effort to alleviate the awkwardness between you.

It’s nearly been three months since he last heard your voice and he feels tummy swirl as you open your mouth to speak.

“Good Christmas?” you ask feebly, not sure where else to start but thankful the recent holiday gives you something to talk about.

“Yeah, it was good, thanks,” Jimin replies as he wraps his hands around his mug to keep them warm, wincing when the hot ceramic stings his palms slightly. “Yours?” You can see the genuine curiosity in his eyes and your heart pangs at the caring side of him that you miss.

“Yeah, thanks.” You pull your own hot chocolate towards you, looking up to Jimin to offer him a cookie. He insists you choose first with a wave of his hand and so you take the one closest to you between your fingers but you make no move to eat it yet. You hold the cookie delicately with your finger tips, as if it might break if you dare to hold it any tighter. Jimin has already taken a small bite from the top of the tree, careful to produce minimal crumbs, and you wonder if he even noticed the small star on top. You normally save that bit for last. “Why are we here, Jimin?”

He pauses briefly mid-chew, eyes darting to yours and cheeks flushing pink. He swallows and wordlessly pushes the empty plate towards you, positioning it under your hands that are already starting to break up the cookie into smaller chunks.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, looking down into the foam on his hot chocolate. The words are in his chest and it’s taking longer than he would like to get them to come out. It’s the closest experience he’s ever had to that awful limbo of waiting to be sick, although the cookie helps keep the nausea at bay. “The last few months have been… hard,” he finally admits, looking out of the window to the empty street. There’s snow on the pavement and only a few tracks of footprints have distrubed it. He can pick yours out easily. “I’ve gone back over everything you said and I know it’s over,” he says, giving you a pointed look that eases your fears that he was going to try and win you back somehow. “But I just feel like there was still something left to be said, somehow? Maybe I just needed to see you one last time to know how I felt about it all.”

He trails off, pensively drawing shapes into the tabletop with his fingertip. You use the moment of silence to take a sip of hot chocolate and hiss when it almost scolds your tongue, the sound snapping Jimin from his thoughts with a smirk aimed at the table.

“And?” you ask when he still doesn’t say anything. “How do you feel? Now that we’re here?”

He frowns, finger stilling, but takes a few more seconds to look up at you. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, and you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “I thought I’d be sad to see you, thought I wouldn’t be able to forget what happened and would want you back, but,” he shrugs with one shoulder, looking down to his cookie as he snaps off an outcrop of branches. “I dunno. I don’t want us to get back together, I know I can’t trust you not to hurt me again.” You swallow thickly, willing the tears away despite the pain in your chest. You deserve to no longer have his trust, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear him say it out loud. “I think, seeing you now, I’ve realised I just… miss you.” He still holds the smaller piece of cookie between his finger and thumb but his eyes are on you, and you aren’t so successful this time in keeping back your tears. You’ve missed him, too.

Jimin panics when the first tear rolls over the apple of your cheek, his earring shaking as he drops both pieces of his cookie on the table and reaches a hand out to wipe your cheek before hesitating midway over the table. You brush at your cheek with your own hand, offering him a watery smile as you pick up one of your own broken bits of biscuit.

“Sorry,” you breathe. “I’ve missed you, as well. It’s nice to know you’ve missed me, too, even though I don’t deserve it.” Jimin’s features soften and he goes to speak, but you cut him off, scared you won’t get your words out if you don’t do this now. “I know I was the one who ended it, I was the one who fell out of love with you and hurt you and broke up with you, but I still missed my friend,” you look up at him and see a soft smile on his lips, his cheek resting in his palm as he watches you.

You briefly wonder if he’s enjoying seeing you hurting, then you remember he isn’t like that at all. He’s just happy to see you letting out the emotions you’ve been holding in for weeks.

“I’ve missed my friend, too,” he says quietly as he reaches out to place his free hand over yours, stopping you from completely crumbling the biscuit in your hands. “That’s what I’ve realised. I think that’s why I’ve been struggling so much, because- yes, I was hurting and heartbroken and all that,” you almost laugh at how casually he says it now, a blase wave of his hand as if he’s talking about a minor inconvenience to his day. “But I didn’t realise how much I missed my friend. I think I made my peace with the break up a while ago,” he admits, his hand still on yours but you don’t shake him off, finding comfort in the weight of his palm over your fingers. “I could sort of accept that you didn’t love me anymore, because those things happen and you were honest about it. But I was still grieving, and it’s been so confusing trying to figure out why it wasn’t going away even when my head was telling me I understood it all.”

You brush your fingers together to rid them of crumbs before turning your hand to hold his, your fingers wrapping around his palm.

“I felt the same,” you say, Jimin’s gaze flicking up to yours from the vague spot in space he’s been staring at. “I thought I’d done the right thing; it was eating me up inside, knowing I didn’t feel the same anymore and I knew breaking up was the best thing to do. But then I went to college, and I met loads of new people and I thought, ‘This is great, I’ll be fine in no time.’ But I just couldn’t shake the feeling something was missing, something was wrong somehow, and I started thinking I’d made a mistake. Started thinking I shouldn’t have broken up with you, that I should have tried harder or something,” Jimin squeezes your hand gently, his skin still as soft as you always remembered it. You brace yourself for the words you know you have to say, for both of you. “I don’t love you anymore, and I know you’ll fall out of love with me soon, if you haven’t already. You’ll get over me and move on, and we’ll both be fine. I know we said goodbye months ago, but that was as partners; a boyfriend and a girlfriend saying goodbye. I think it’s time for us to say goodbye as friends, too.”

Jimin feels you pull your hand from his and he freezes, scared that you’ll get up and leave him here with two cooling hot chocolates and broken cookies, but you simply lift your cup to take a sip, needing the distraction. He considers your words as his hand slowly retreats back across the table, curling around his own cup but not lifting it.

“I don’t mean we can’t be friends,” you say, neither of you able to look at each other. “But I think we need to say goodbye to the friendship we’re both mourning. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to that, and I don’t want either of us to desperately hang onto it when we could be moving forward, figuring out a new friendship instead.”

Jimin catches the hopeful tone in your voice and finds his heart soothing itself from the gallop it was building up to. You don’t want to cut him out, thank God, but you’re right: he needs to let go of what you had before, so you can both make room for what you could have in the future.

Outside, it starts to snow, and he watches the first few snowflakes fall around each other in their flurries. He figures they’re very similar to you and him in the way they dance around each other in their own spirals. That’s how you will be from now on; the two of you will be following your own paths through life, and you may come close to one another or you both may drift away on different flows of the breeze.

Either way, he’s sure it will be beautiful.

“Thank you,” he says finally, biting back a laugh when he turns to see you with a mouthful of cookie and a half-empty mug. You never could sit still when he got lost in his daydreams.

You smile shyly, cheeks flushing, and for the first time Jimin feels just that little bit lighter when he lets himself laugh. He needed this conversation with you, needed to talk it through with the only person who would understand. Knowing that you can - and will - stay friends soothes him, dulling the ache in his chest to just a bit of discomfort, and he knows it’s now possible for it to go away completely with a bit more time.

He walks home an hour and another two hot chocolates later. You paid for your own, adamant he had to start treating you like Jungkook instead of his girlfriend, although you revoked this when he said he would have made Jungkook pay for his drinks, too. His chest is warmer now than it was earlier, although whether that’s from the lifted weight, the three hot chocolates or the hug you gave him before you parted ways, he’s not sure.

If you would like to read any of my other works, please follow me and head on over to my masterlist ♡

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laryna6 · 3 years ago

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One of those ‘A Christmas Carol’-based fics with Saotome Eiji.

Kyousuke’s dad appearing warning of the demons of the Sanzu river and the measuring of karma that awaits the dead, and Saotome going ‘I must have fallen asleep/that’s a foreign Buddhist thing’ because of the... heavy pushing of a... propagandized version of Shinto as part of Japanese nationalism building up to WWII.

Instead of Christmas it’s Obon (a festival of Buddist/Confucian origin) ofc.

To fit with ‘the idea that people have to earn the right to live is effed up’ from the original, perhaps as a child he was sent to an orphanage bc his family couldn’t feed him? The additional damage of not knowing who your ancestors were in a culture practicing ancestor worship.

Other students of psychic research inviting him to hang out at the university but he wanted to get an officer position in the army, so needing to avoid undesirable elements.

Saotome’s present day obon, Kyousuke who was raised in China being taught about Shinto because as a half-Chinese person on top of an esper in an era of nationalism... they worry about the kid and he might be safer if he do all the ‘I am a loyal subject of the emperor’ signaling. Two of the espers in the unit canonically come from traditional priesthood families and have OPINIONS about what these motherfucking nationalists are doing to corrupt and twist everyone’s spirituality and traditions and their sense of connection to their families and their people and the land. Making shinto priests government officials?!

Saotome going they’re not proper LoyalTM to the army and Japan

Spirit #2 going ‘was the army ever loyal to them?’

Fujiko and her father discussing how their family is nobility and the need for the nobiiity to give up power and instead bring about democracy if Japan was going to escape being conquered and exploited by imperialists like the countries around them.

Fujiko going ‘but the warrior classes all got positions in the military, and now we’re a military dictatorship and Japan has just become one more imperialist power, it’s disgusting and her father going absolutely, and discussion of duty to their ancestors and their country foreshadowing Fujiko making a choice that according to traditional morality and the noble code of conduct was ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLY HORRIBLY WRONG to the point of disgracing her entire family line because what kind of people could have produced a traitor like that... but because of it in the modern day Japan is the second least awful country in how it treats espers.

Then spirit #3, and Saotome going ‘I’ve seen the precogs, espers going to war with normals, Kyousuke betraying the country/me to serve a queen’

And then it’s the younger queen and two other girls going ‘Minamoto we want to go to a festival with you’ while a harried man basically shoos them out the door with a broom and goes ‘go! Your families want to see you! Here are your boxed lunches and snacks for the trip’ and the girls are espers who use their powers to get to their normal families. the queen and her big sister get in a wrestling match over the cookies and only belatedly realize their mom’s eaten them all while commentating while they dress for the festival. another girl and her normal father engage in some police brutality towards festival pickpockets as bonding. the third girl, at least, is traditional and proper even if she’s performing a ceremony that comes from non-Japanese origins (and yet... it’s still a tradition that ties them to their ancestors and the gods and who they are, and Shinto says that tradition is sacred, it doesn’t say that traditions that first came from outside aren’t sacred)

The man is following his mother around as she chatters with everyone and gets up to shenanigans at the festival. ‘Father couldn’t make it again’ mentioning a grandmother who used to stay with him at these. Looking up at the sparks rise above the fire to send the dead home, lonely even though he’s surrounded by people in his hometown... and then he gets tackled by the three girls demanding he take photos with them while they’re all in kimonos

And then it switches to someone announcing That Bastard is finally dead. Far from the land he was born, with no one in the country he served who cares to claim his body ‘so we should send someone to pretend to be a relative’ and someone declaring that this is now a formal meeting because while obviously they all want to desecrate his grave, they are going to do it in an organized fashion that reflects the gravity of his crimes and pays respects to his innocent victims and continuing victims of that bastard’s legacy of murder and hatred. Eggs and toilet paper are not up for discussion is said with a pointed look at another man, who whines ‘big bro!’

This is the most diverse group of people Saotome has ever seen, people from all over the world united in their hatred of someone who gets referred to with several different languages’ curse words.

And then someone walks in and goes ‘here you are, okay, what are you up to? I’ve been raising kids for half a century, I know that when you’re all quiet and busy somewhere you’re up to no good’ and it’s Kyousuke. The guy who went ‘big bro’ gets his ear twisted, and whines ‘dad!’

It’s revealed that ‘that bastard’ is someone who hurt Kyousuke, who they’re protective of like the unit is (he still looks so young...) but when he gets it out of them he’s no! and there is a whine of ‘dad! He shot you!’ ‘I know’ *bullet scar revealed* ‘I’m the one he shot, so I get to decide what to do with him’

Kyousuke lifting away a sheet to reveal a body old and twisted and crippled. And Saotome’s. Kyousuke is blank an solemn... and sad.

Going through the Shinsosai funeral rites, all foreign Buddhist influences removed as he would have wanted, and maybe there’s a reason the people of Japan for centuries were happy to have Buddhists to help them usher their families into the next world, because he can see the weight of the kegare on him, how Kyousuke mourns him, is the only one who mourns him. Eventually a woman who treats Kyousuke as both an embarrassing younger brother and as a respected father comes to help, to cheer him up, even though she despises Saotome too, for hurting him.

A picture of the unit, in Kyousuke’s family shrine. ‘Now everyone in this photograph but Fujiko is dead... He took my family from me, but he, too, was family.’

Then he grabbed the woman, teleported, and dragged her down with him into the ocean for purification.

...then Kyousuke goes to bully the man from before, who is arguing with the three girls about how yes, they are sleepy, Kaoru nearly flew them into the ground getting home, while making them all tea before he shoves them into their bedroom. When he turns around Kyousuke has stolen the cup that was supposed to be for him, and the man at first automatically raises his hackles, but then looks sympathetic.

Kyousuke looks away, annoyed and pouting, at sympathy from this person.

‘...If I try to comfort you you’re going to shove my head in the toilet again,’ the man says, getting himself another cup of tea.

‘Absolutely’ Kyousuke agrees.

Silence, and eventually Kyousuke says, ‘at first I thought you were his reincarnation, even though he would have been offended at the idea of him reincarnating. Then I found he was with the Comericans, had been since the war, and I thought, it would have been better if he was you. Not for the Queen. But for him. If I hadn’t failed to avenge my comrades back then, he could have moved on to a better life or the otherworld. Not been forced to live on a failure and a pawn in a foreign land, unable to return home. He was a proud man.’ Looking down at his tea, ‘when I met him again, he asked me to kill him.’

‘..in the precog, I know there’s a nuke on the way when I shoot Kaoru,’ the man says, and now Saotome knows where he’s seen him. ‘even though I want to kill her so she can’t leave again and I want it enough to kill her before she stops that nuke from destroying Tokyo, I still know that I have to die for this. I’m just getting the order wrong. I should die before I do that. Having to live with what I do in that precog would be a fate worse than death.’

‘That was why I erased his memories that day. He... there was no point in him continuing to suffer. None of us would have wanted that for him. I thought... didn’t he know our feelings? That we were loyal to him, that we didn’t mind dying for him? And then I saw that he truly didn’t recognize our feelings. Because he didn’t know what it looked like, to recognize when people truly cared for him. But he cared for us, and so when he thought that espers would turn against normals, that it was impossible for us to ever care for him... Those damn precogs. They broke his heart before he put a bullet through mine.’

‘Maybe... next obon?’

a shake of the head. ‘he thought it was too foreign. It’s fine, our comrades will beat sense into him in the afterlife.’ Kyousuke drank the rest of his tea.

‘..Some of the parts of the traditional ceremony... PANDRA loves you, but I think that would have made it hard to force them to cooperate,’ the man said. “I don’t want to hear words honoring him either, but you like to do things I don’t want.’

‘What, are you going to give me condolences for his loss?”

‘I can honestly say that I am very sorry he’s dead, because it means I will never get to strangle him,’ the man vigorously throttled the air, going from kind and patient to a man more than capable of shooting a young woman in love with him, and back, ‘from turning you from such a sweet, good little kid into the godawful brat I have had to deal with.’

Kyousuke snorted.

“Do you want another cup of tea, or a cup of milk?”

“Milk.” Kyousuke said, and when the man was on his way to open a white door, he began, “Utsumi-san said that he graduated first in his class, but he had no family and no background. The esper unit was his proposal, so when he told us that we could serve our country and be accepted, he wagered his own future on the chance that ours could be happy. Utsumi said later that he never trusted Saotome-Taicho, because he knew he didn’t truly care for us. I asked once why he didn’t warn us, if he knew that, but... Utsumi knew his heart, so he knew that Saotome-taicho also was different, was desperately wishing to prove he was valuable enough to accept. He knew what bait to dangle before us because it was the exact same lure that led him to the army. We all wanted him to have that happy future, along with us.’

#zettai karen children #hyoubu kyousuke #saotome eiji #minamoto kouichi #all of the bunnies #I want to turn this into fic but aargh so much work

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

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if love was a snake, it’d have bit you

Ao3

Summary: Remy, Patton, and Drew are dating. This is a fact. Remy, Patton, and Drew refuse to admit they are dating. This is also a fact. Guess it's up to Roman, Virgil, and Emile to force them to acknowledge the truth. Content: Some swearing, kissing (mostly face kisses, but some lip kisses too), nb!Patton + nb!Emile, genderfluid!Remy, oblivious gays, seriously guys, so much obliviousness, the obliviousness might kill you, gods know it killed me, Disneyland cast member AU Pairing: Romantic Mosleepceit Additional notes: So many additional notes -Big thanks to @emo-disaster for beta-ing for me and confirming the gays in this fic are wayyyyyy too oblivious -This fic is almost 11k words. it was meant to be around 3k. I’m so sorry. -Inspired by, but not actually based upon, this disneyland cast member au -This is probably hella inaccurate to real Disneyland but i don’t care alright -This fic is a (late) b-day gift for the one-and-only @notveryglittery !!! She’s an incredible person who I’m extremely happy to know, and I’m really hoping she even kinda likes this mess of a fic dsfbcdsjf

“-and if you’ll just sign here, I can finalize that upgrade for you.”

The woman smiled at Remy as she accepted the pen he offered her. She looked tired, her entire appearance screaming ‘overworked mom’ even without the literally screaming (playfully, but still screaming) kids behind her. She definitely needed the vacation.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” she said gratefully, quickly signing the paper Remy offered her.

“It’s no problem, ma’am,” Remy said, smiling politely as he took the paper and pen back, hitting a few keys on his computer as he did. “Just happy to make your stay as magical as possible. Here’s your keycard.”

The stressed mother accepted the keycard from Remy with another smile. “Thank you.” She reiterated the sentiment before convincing her children to give her their hands and heading off for the elevators, her wife following with the luggage. Remy smiled after them, briefly letting the last of the room change form sit unfinished on his screen.

“You’re going to get yourself fired for that eventually, you know.”

Remy’s smile only grew at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice. He turned back to his work then, enough of Roman in his peripheral for Remy to tell he was strutting his stuff as a friend of Flynn’s. “Ah, you know they love me too much for that.”

“More like they don’t look hard enough to catch all your illegal ‘on-the-mouse room upgrades.’” Roman corrected, leaning against the back of the receptionist desk. “Though if they ever do? You’re screwed.”

“Shush, I’mma be gay and doing crime til Disney falls.” Remy responded cheekily. “And speaking of people who are going to get themselves fired, shouldn’t you be over in the good ol’ Disneyland already?”

Roman shrugged. “Shift doesn’t start for another half an hour. I’ve got time.”

“Time for what, exactly?”

Roman grinned at that. “Gossip, of course!”

Remy grinned now, too. “Well, if you’re looking for tales, a little birdy’s been keeping me updated on a blossoming relationship between one of the friends of Rapunzel and one of the friends of Snow White-”

“Oh, not that kind of gossip.” Roman interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m talking the good gossip- preferably about you and your boos.”

Remy scoffed, shaking his head as he hit the enter key and finished out the form. “Hard to gossip about those which I do not have, hun.”

Roman groaned, slumping against the desk and throwing his head back. “Oh, please, Remy, don’t tell me you’re still in denial.”

“Denial about what?” Remy asked, finally turning his full attention to Roman. “The fact that I’m single?”

“The fact that you have not one but TWO partners!” Roman answered, dramatically holding up two fingers. “Not only are you being a proper partner HOG you are refusing to admit as such.”

“Well if you’re just looking for someone to be the soul to your mate, handsome, I think I can hook you up.” Remy said teasingly, briefly lowering his sunglasses to wink at Roman.

Roman met the wink with a deadpan stare. “You’re a taken man.”

“Only if you make it so.”

“You can’t keep pretending your partners don’t exist.”

“I can if I don’t have any partners.” Remy told him, finally pushing his shades back over his eyes and giving up at his mock attempts to seduce Roman. “Now, of course, I have two very close friends with whom I do many things with, but given I’m not dating either of them, calling them my ‘partners’ seems a little much, don’t you?”

“I get it, I get it, I have good friends too.” Roman said, as if he were going along with what Remy was saying until he quickly added, “Except I’m not obviously DATING them!”

“You’re hopeless, princey, truly hopeless.” Remy said in response, smirking as he patted Roman’s cheek. “Ya gotta stop finding romance where it simply ain’t.”

“The only thing I am finding is the truth behind all the bullsh-”

“Remy!”

Both Roman and Remy turned from each other, gazes moving to the entrance, where the voice had originated from. The owner of the voice was hurrying over to them, their blond curls pulled back into a loose ponytail, keeping their hair out of their face and allowing them to smile brightly at both Roman and Remy. They stopped in front of the receptionist's desk, taking a moment to catch their breath and straighten their relatively small red tie.

“Heya sunshine.” Remy greeted easily, smiling at Patton in a way that was a little too soft to be a proper smirk “May I ask what brings you here in the middle of your shift? You’re gonna get yourself fired.”

“‘Worth it for a chance to see you.” Patton told him sweetly, giggling just a bit and ignoring Roman’s expression of self-confirmation. “Buuuuuuuut I'm on lunch break. Just came over to ask what you wanted for dinner. I know the plan for tonight was take-out, but I just realized that we have all the ingredients to make lasagna- aside from the noodles, which we can pick up on our way home- so I thought it might be fun to make that tonight instead!”

“Sounds wonderful to me.” Remy answered. “We’re going to keep it a secret from Dee though, right?”

“Of course!” Patton agreed. He leaned over to stage whisper to Roman, “It’s his favorite.”

“Oh, you guys know each other’s favorite dinners, do you?” Roman asked, smiling in a knowing way and wiggling his eyebrows at Patton. Patton tilted their head to the side, clearly confused, while Remy answered casually,

“Of course! You can only live with someone for so long without picking up on what they like to eat. Dee’s favorite is lasagna. Patton’s favorite dinner- which is coincidentally their favorite breakfast, lunch, and dessert as well- is waffles. And mine, of course, is a nice big cup of espresso-”

“Don’t lie!” Patton cut him off, smiling as they leaned on the counter and ended up within an inch of Remy. “Your favorite dinner is chicken soup!”

“Remy hates soup.” Roman said, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Not chicken soup.” Patton confirmed, not looking away from Remy. “That’s his favorite, no matter what he says.”

“Mmm, nice try, Pat, but that’s not it.” Remy denied. Patton pouted at him then, and almost immediately Remy relented with, “My favorite dinner is your chicken soup. You’re the only one who knows how to make it right, hun.”

Patton giggled. “I make it just like anyone else would!” they insisted, though their smile brightened even as they spoke.

Remy’s smile grew as well as he leaned forwards just a bit, pressing his forehead against Patton’s. “Nah, honeypie, you got somethin’ all the other recipes don’t.”

“And what’s that?” Patton asked.

“Loooooooove.” Remy answered, grinning broadly, seemingly happy to ignore how cheesy his answer was.

Patton didn’t mind the cheesiness. “You’re too much,” they said, too playfully to be chastising.

“Better than being too little.”

Patton just grinned at that. “I have to go.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” Remy said, expression seemingly not changing, though a close observer (aka Roman) might have noticed his smile dip just the slightest. “See you at six?”

“Mhmm!” Patton confirmed with a hum. They pulled away from Remy, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before they ran off, waving one last goodbye as they reached the doors before disappearing outside. Remy lazily waved his fingers after Patton, watching the doors a moment after Patton was through them before turning back to his computer and his work.

“Ready to admit you’re definitely dating at least one of your partners?”

“Nope,” Remy replied without missing a beat. “Though if you really want me to have a partner, you’re single… I’m single…” Remy waggled his eyebrows at Roman.

Roman ignored his advances. “The chemistry between you and Patton is so strong I’m surprised nothing’s exploded yet.”

“That was weak.”

“Shush.” Roman waved his hand dismissively. “I mean, for the love of Apollo, they kissed you goodbye!”

Remy half-shrugged. “They do that with all their friends.”

“They didn’t give me a kiss.”

“They were in a rush.” Remy explained away. “But if you really want a kiss-”

“-I will get it from my darling friend of Rapunzel,” Roman finished for him, having leaned over to check the time on the bottom of Remy’s screen. “I got so distracted trying to get you to tell me the truth I lost track of time.”

“What truth?” Remy asked, tone light. “The one about us making a perfect couple?”

Roman smiled sweetly at him, as though Remy was naive. “Maybe in a universe where you didn’t literally live with your soulmates,” he said, patting Remy’s shoulder before he turned and headed towards the door. He raised his hand over his shoulder without turning back, half-waving at Remy as he added, “Call me when you’re done being in denial!”

Remy just let out a light huff of amusement, shaking his head and turning back to his work. Roman could say whatever he wanted, but the fact remained: Remy was (un)happily single and most certainly not dating his roommates.

Yeah, sure, maybe he could’ve mentioned that his ‘best friends’ were also his crushes, but, hey, it wasn’t like that was that important, right?

Patton was staring intently at the floor. Well, more technically, they were staring intently at the mess on the floor and trying to convince themself they were supposed to be cleaning up said mess and not doing anything else with it.

The bell near the front of the store rang as the door swung open, but Patton ignored it. Plenty of people filtered in and out of the store. They did, however, pay attention when the sound of approaching footsteps got closer than the signs should have allowed.

“I’m sorry, this aisle is currently closed, if you don’t mind-” Patton started immediately, tone polite as they looked up, fully expecting to find an angry customer who refused to go over one extra aisle for whatever sweet treat they were looking for. They stopped when they saw who it was, polite-but-fake smile being replaced by a genuine one. “Oh, Virgil, hello there!”

Virgil smiled back, half-waving before he turned his focus to the floor, careful to step around the mix of glass shards and chocolate-covered balls of something as he came up next to Patton. “Busy day?”

Patton shrugged. “It was fine until someone didn’t put the jar fully back on the shelf. I’m just glad no one got hurt.”

Virgil nodded. “That’s good,” he agreed. “Waste of some perfectly good candy though.”

“It is,” Patton bemoaned, looking sadly at the mess. Virgil side-eyed them.

“Pat, you haven’t been considering eating the fallen candy, have you?”

“Maybe?” Patton tried, looking at Virgil only to find his expression completely disbelieving. They sighed. “Yes. It just looks so yummy! Even mixed in with all the glass! Because the glass sparkles and makes it kinda magical looking and it couldn’t hurt to have just one-”

Virgil put a hand on Patton’s shoulder, stopping them from bending down and grabbing one of the candies before they could move an inch. “All the candy here’s magical. Eat some of the candies that aren’t also glassy.”

“Mhmm,” Patton hummed in sad annoyance. “But it’s such a waste… I can stop it from being waste…”

“You could, but should you?” Virgil asked.

Patton groaned. “I shouldn’t,” they said. “But I want to…” They sighed, turning their gaze from the tempting mess to Virgil. “Distract me. Why are you here?”

“Other than to stop you from making poor dietary choices?” Virgil asked rhetorically before going on, “I’m avoiding Roman.”

“Avoiding him?” Patton repeated. “I thought you two were getting along. Don’t tell me he started another prank war-”

“No, he’s just being annoying,” Virgil answered. “He wouldn’t stop bothering me while I worked, because Remy apparently hadn’t been in the mood to entertain his gossip, thereby making me the person stuck listening to it. Guess Kev’ decided letting me walk it off for half an hour was better than me tearing a costume in frustration.”

Patton nodded as they moved to once more hold their broom, beginning to sweep up the mess as they said, “What was the gossip?”

Virgil leaned back on the shelf behind him, waving his hand pointlessly. “Oh, same old same old. Just talking about you and your partners, mostly how oblivious Remy is- which, I get it, Remy can be obtuse, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about it all morning-”

“What?!” Patton cut him off, voice a higher pitch than they had intended, stopping halfway through a sweep to look at Virgil in disbelief and confusion. “My- what partners?!”

“...Remy and Drew. Duh,” Virgil said slowly, blinking at Patton as if they were missing something incredibly obvious. “You know. The people you live with. And are clearly dating. Those partners.”

Patton laughed, a weird hybrid sound of amusement and awkwardness. “I think you’re a little confused there, kiddo. I’m not dating Remy or Dee- they’re just my friends!”

“Yeah. Friends you’re dating,” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow at Patton. “Don’t tell me you thought I wouldn’t notice. It’s fairly obvious.”

“I don’t know how it can be obvious if it isn’t true.” Patton responded, going back to sweeping as they looked away from Virgil. “We’re just friends. At least I am, anyways.”

“What does that mean?”

Patton briefly looked up from their work to look at Virgil instead. “Aw, shucks, Virge, you’ve seen how Remy and Dee look at each other. If anyone’s dating, it’s them.”

“And you?” Virgil pressed, prompting Patton to look down again at their work. “I’ve seen how Remy and Drew look at each other, but I’ve also seen how you look at them. They’re pretty similar looks, my dude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Patton answered, even as their cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. They risked a glance at Virgil, only to find him looking at them disbelieving. “Okay, maybe I love them a little more than just as friends.” Continued disbelief. “A lot more! But that doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“And why does them looking sweet at each other make them dating, but you doing the same just makes you just friends?”

“Because I think I’d know if I was dating them, silly.” Patton responded simply.

Before Patton could continue, or Virgil could speak up, they were interrupted by the sound of quickly approaching footsteps and the slight crunch of glass as the newcomer misstepped and stepped on the mess. “Well this looks… delightful.”

“Dee!” Patton said, dropping their broom against the shelf as they carefully (but still hurriedly) stepped around the mess to approach their roommate. He was dressed as a friend of Aladdin’s, wearing baggy pants and a raggedy shirt-vest combo, his small red hat carefully hiding his bun, presenting the illusion of him having short hair. Slight touches of make-up highlighted the scar running from beneath his left eye to the bottom of his jaw, Drew always happy to tell the very dramatic tale of how he got it in a sword fight (when the truth of the matter involved a very long story having to do with toast, ferrets, and the reason why he wasn’t allowed to use the ice machine anymore). “What’re you doing here?”

“Why, unhappy to see me?” Drew asked sarcastically, though he was smiling at Patton.

“Never!” Patton responded resolutely. They wobbled a bit as they got closer to Drew, almost stepping on a particularly ugly shard of glass, but Drew reached out and grabbed one of their hands before they could fall, stabilizing them and helping to lead them right up in front of him. Patton giggled at his help, not releasing his hand even once they were done moving. “Just curious. Shouldn’t you be at the wishing well?”

“Oh, I was,” Drew told them, free hand rising up to tuck a stray curl behind Patton’s ear. “But then I wished to see the loveliest face in the world and found myself here with you.”

Patton giggled again. “The wishing well must be broken if it didn’t just provide you with a mirror.”

A touch of pink coloured Drew’s cheeks at Patton’s words, and in the background Virgil turned from watching the two of them to stare blankly at the shelf across from him, as though it was a camera and he was in The Office.

“Trust me, angel, it made no error,” he said, despite his minor blush. “But to better answer your question, have you noticed how bright it is outside?”

“Of course I have,” Patton answered. “It must be warm out there.”

“It is warm,” Drew confirmed, sounding as if there was more he wasn’t saying but wanted Patton to pick up on anyways. “Some might even say it’s hot.”

“Just like you?”

Drew’s blush grew. “I think you’re missing the point.”

Patton’s smile turned a shade mischievous. “I’m not. I’m just waiting for you to admit to it.”

“Cruel, sweetpea, cruel.”

“Just admit it already!”

Drew sighed dramatically. “Alright! I fold! I admit that hydration in the face of the harsh sun is important.”

“Andddddd?”

Another sigh. “I admit that I forgot my water bottle, which I likely wouldn’t have done if I had simply used one of your sticky notes.”

“I even doodled a snake on your reminder!” Patton said, lightly hitting Drew’s chest. “It was cute AND helpful.”

“Just like you,” Drew commented, moving his hand from Patton’s hair to cup their cheek as they flushed. “And I’m sorry, dear, I really didn’t think I’d need it.”

“And yet, you’re here,” Patton teased lightly before turning towards Virgil, extending a hand. “Virgil, there should be a water bottle behind you- think you can hand it to me?”

Virgil did as he was asked, glancing behind him and finding that, yes, perched on the shelf was a metal water bottle covered in snake stickers. He grabbed it and turned back towards Patton, passing them the bottle. Patton took it and turned back to Drew, offering it to him.

“Oh, must I take it?” Drew asked, looking reproachfully at the bottle. “You’re so much nicer to hold.”

“Mmm, you need to get back to work before they catch you slacking,” Patton told him. “I’ll still be around to hold later.”

“Is that a promise?” Drew asked, even as he let his hand fall from Patton’s cheek to take his water bottle.

“Even better,” Patton answered, letting go of Drew’s hand so that they could loop their pinkies together instead. They raised their now joined hands so that they were in easy sight of Drew. “It’s a pinky promise.”

Drew smiled. “Good,” he said, bending his pinky a bit to squeeze Patton’s. “I’m holding you to it,” he punned before reluctantly stepping away, letting his and Patton’s pinkies remain linked until he was forced by distance to let go.

“So,” Virgil spoke up, slightly startling Patton, who had been waving at Drew until he walked out of sight. “You’re not dating them, you lied?”

“I didn’t lie!” Patton defended, moving back towards the broom as they spoke, once more careful to avoid the glass as they stepped. “I’m not dating him! Or Remy!”

“Oh, yeah, because calling each other petnames and trading compliments til you’re both blushing and not wanting to let go of each other and looking at each other like you’re the other’s world is really just ‘best friend’ behaviour,” Virgil said, voice thick with sarcasm.

“We’ve lived in the same apartment for months, Virgil, we’re close!” Patton said as they went back to sweeping. “That doesn’t make us partners.”

Virgil let out a breath. “I know, Pat, but you really should see the way you two were looking at each other. It sure as hell wasn’t plain-ol’ friendly.”

“Language.”

“Stop dodging the point.”

Patton stopped their work, turning to look at Virgil as they rested their chin on the broom handle. “I don’t know what point you think I’m dodging, kiddo. Dee- and Remy- are my friends. They’re dating each other, but I’m not dating them. It’s not that hard to understand.”

Virgil didn’t respond to that at first, instead just blinking slowly at Patton a few times. “I’m starting to understand why Roman was in such a mood,” he finally said as he pushed himself away from the shelves. “If Remy’s half as oblivious as you are, I’d be complaining too.”

“Oblivious about what?” Patton asked, confused. “They know who they’re dating and who they’re not.”

Virgil didn’t answer, instead just chuckling and shaking his head. “I should get back before Kevin decides to be less lenient about my wandering time. See you later, pine-on.”

“Bye, Virge!” Patton said cheerily. “And good pun!”

Virgil responded with a half salute behind his head as he wandered off. Patton watched him off as they resumed their sweeping, focusing on their work and not any of the interactions that had just occurred. Say what he would, Virgil was wrong- Patton’s relationship with Drew and Remy was strictly platonic, and they had no plans to mess with what the three of them did have (an amazing friendship) anytime soon.

Drew dropped his bag before he collapsed against the wall, sliding down it halfway as he let out a huff. Though the day had been no longer than any other, the sun had been much more annoying than usual, and he was ready to be home and surrounded by not only air conditioning but also people he could stand. Absentmindedly he rubbed at the remains of make-up on his face, the only part of his costume he was still in since having changed out at the end of his shift.

“Are you suffering from heatstroke, or just bored?”

Drew looked up, finding Emile in front of him, smiling in amusement.

“A bit of both,” Drew answered truthfully. “Forgot my water bottle at home, though Pat had grabbed it for me at least. But neither their shift nor Remy’s is over for at least another fifteen minutes, so…”

“So I’m just someone to distract you until one of your partners can take over?” Emile asked, teasing.

“My partners in crimes, you mean?” Drew said. “Because I’ve told you before, Em, I really shouldn’t be talking about them here- you’re going to ruin our plan to invade ‘Beauty’s palace and get the treasure.”

“And what treasures are you going to find in there?”

“Hopefully, the key to a full hundred years of rest,” Drew told them before adding, “And gold. Mostly going for the gold.”

“Mhmm.” Emile hummed. “Happy to hear you’ve got your future set. Your criminal enterprises sound like they’re going to go over very smoothly. Now, as to your actual partners…”

“Do you think I’m cheating on my current criminal partners?” Drew asked, sounding offended. “With whom, another team? Emile, I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I think we both know I’m referring to your romantic partners.”

“Ah, yes.” Drew crossed his arms and leaned further back against the wall. “You’re referring to my roommates, who somewhere along the line you got confused as also being my romantic partners. They’re not very good at crime, you know.”

Emile grinned. “Not even good at stealing your heart?”

Drew just waved his hand dismissively. “Patton steals the heart of everyone they meet. Remy is not subtle at all when they go for the steal. Neither of them would make it a day in the world of crime.”

“But you admit that they’ve stolen your heart.”

“I admit they steal everybody’s heart.”

“But not like they’ve stolen yourssssss.”

Drew sighed, pulling his water bottle out of his bag and taking a sip of the water while he waited for Emile to stop. “Don’t be like Virgil and Roman, Emile. You’ve been given the precious gift of actually having a brain cell. Don’t waste it.”

“You can say whatever you want, Drew, but that doesn’t change the truth, even if you’d like to pretend it would,” Emile replied calmly, sounding smug. “We’ve all seen the way you three look at each other. You can’t lie your way out of love truer than that of Tiana, Naveen, and Charlotte’s.”

“Don’t have to lie to tell the truth,” Drew responded, returning his water bottle to its place in his bag. Before Emile could rebuke his words, the door that led outside of the first aid station opened, and two people walked in.

“Excuse me,” Emile said politely to Drew before they headed towards the people. After a brief moment of conversation, Emile walked further into the building with one of them while the other came over towards Drew.

Drew smiled when the newcomer was close enough for him to identify. “Hello, darling.”

Remy returned his smile, leaning against the wall and facing Drew. Remy was clearly off-shift, both costume and nametag removed, and was now sporting a sea-green bracelet. “Good evening, charming. Miss me?”

“Constantly,” Drew answered effortlessly. “I assume the same to be true of you?”

“I miss you every second you’re not in my presence more than the moon misses the sun,” Remy answered, maintaining veir composure for a moment before veir expression broke and ve laughed. “Like that one? I heard someone in the lobby tell it to their husband.”

“It is unbearably cheesy,” Drew told ver. “Though I’m sure also very sweet, if you mean it.”

“Good thing I mean it then,” Remy said jokingly. “People suck. I got yelled at twice today. I missed you and your not-yellingness.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” Drew asked, smile turning sly. “Because I know I miss you for more than just your sometimes-not-annoyingness…”

“Oh really?” Remy asked, shifting so that ve was facing Drew even more. “Well, I miss you for your not-yellingness, and for your looks- scar most certainly included, hun, it makes you look roguish- and for your mind, and your charisma, and, of course, your snark.”

“You flatter me.”

“Look in a mirror, sugar, you make it easy,” Remy told him. “Now I’m dying to know why you missed me.”

“Oh, how could I not?” Drew asked rhetorically. “There’s your charm, as sarcastic as it may be, your humor, your refusal to stand down against idiots, and your sense of fashion- though I must confess, I consider it a sin to hide such dazzling eyes.”

“Compliment my charm when you’re the real charmer ‘round here- I see how it is,” Remy said playfully, smiling.

Drew returned the smile. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“Mhmm,” Remy hummed non-committedly, though veir smile didn’t drop. Ve reached forward, brushing some of Drew’s hair behind his ear before moving to run veir fingers through it. Drew leaned his head closer, allowing ver easier access to his hair as ve pulled it over just one of his shoulders. “Your hair’s a mess.”

“It’s been in a bun all day.” Drew explained, closing his eyes and focusing on the soft and calming feel of Remy brushing through his hair, occasionally scratching at his scalp. “It got tangled.”

“Too lazy to fix that problem yourself, sweetheart?”

“I like it better when you do,” Drew admitted.

Remy chuckled as ve continued, veir attention turning more towards gentle touches against Drew’s skin as ve worked. “I should braid your hair tonight. Might not tangle as quickly that way.”

“If we do that, we’ll need to stop at the store on the way home,” Drew said. “Our beloved sunbeam will want to put flowers in my hair, and I do not believe we have any at home.”

“We already needed to stop for some dinner fixin’s anyways,” Remy told him. “We’ll just add ‘flowers prettier than your face’ to the list, though I’m afraid if we go looking for those we’ll never find them.”

Before Drew could return the compliment, the sound of approaching steps stopped him. He opened his eyes just enough to see that they belonged to Emile, who was smiling broadly and just a touch satisfiedly at them, before he closed his eyes once more.

“Hey there, babe,” Remy greeted. “How you?”

“I’m peachy keen!” Emile answered enthusiastically. “Yourself?”

Drew didn’t need to see Remy’s face to know that ve was smirking. “I’ve got the prettiest man in the world melting into my touch, so I’d say I’m doing pretty swell.”

“Bold words from the most gorgeous being to ever grace this planet’s surface,” Drew countered, opening his eyes so he could return Remy’s smirk. “And I’m not ‘melting into your touch,’ I’m giving you easier access to the hair you so wish to tame.”

“Whatever you say, sugar.” Remy responded casually, right before ve ran veir hand through his hair again, stopping halfway through to press veir fingers against the base of his neck, rubbing just the slightest of circles into his skin, which was cheating, because ve knew perfectly well that was one of his weak points. The motion alone had Drew leaning closer towards Remy, letting out a small sigh that morphed into a huff halfway through.

“That’s cheating,” Drew said, trying to sound accusing but only succeeding in sounding tired and slightly whiny.

Remy laughed. “Don’t care, darling, not even a little.”

Drew hissed at ver, only earning himself another laugh.

“Well you two certainly seem happy,” Emile pointed out, the slightest hint of trickery in their tone.

“I’d like to think we are, yes,” Remy said.

“Not that it’s surprising,” Emile continued, failing to sound very innocent. “I’m sure anyone’d be happy spending time with one of their partners.”

“I’m sure they would,” Remy said neutrally. “Not sure what that has to do with anything right now-”

“They’re talking about my partners in crime.” Drew interrupted. “I told them earlier about my plan to raid Sleeping Beauty’s class and steal her secrets to a hundred years of sleep.”

“I see. Well I do hope you plan on sharing those secrets because goodness knows I could do with a good century of napping.”

“Goodness and me,” Drew agreed, reaching forward and pushing Remy’s sunglasses up a bit, frowning at how dark the bags under veir eyes were. “Why else would I steal the secrets if not for you?”

“Awwww, you care,” Remy cooed, tone a mix of goodheartedly mocking and sincere. “And what do you mean, ‘goodness and me’? Hun, you are goodness.”

“You’re sweet, but we both know that’s Pat.”

“I don’t see why it can’t be both of you.”

“This is getting ridiculous!”

Drew and Remy turned towards Emile at their outburst, Remy tilting veir head to the side in confusion while Drew asked,

“What is?”

Emile waved their hands at the roommates. “You two! You three! This!”

Remy and Drew glanced at each other before looking back at Emile. “This?” Remy asked.

“You’re so oblivious it puts the Scooby Gang’s obliviousness to Shaggy’s godhood to shame!” Emile said, thoroughly exasperated.

“I’m sorry what was that-”

“I mean, look at you two!” Emile said, gesturing at where Remy’s hand was still running through Drew’s hair. “All you do is compliment each other and worry over each other and know exactly what to do to make the other melt into your touch!”

Drew shrugged. “So? We’re friends.”

“And we’ve lived together for months,” Remy added. “Kinda hard to not pick up stuff about each other.”

“This moved past friendship weeks ago,” Emile told them, crossing their arms. “You can pretend to be sly, but you aren’t.”

“We’re not pretending anything,” Drew replied, raising an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Em? No offense, you seem a little... agitated over this.”

Emile squinted at them. “You’d be agitated if you were me.”

“Huh. Vaguely ominous,” Remy commented idly, unperturbed by the conversation. “You should really talk to Roman though. He’s been having the same misconceptions about me and my roommates’ relationship. I’m sure you two lovelies can find the truth if you talk it out.”

“We’ve already found the truth,” Emile said confidently.

“If you say so,” Remy responded, reaching into veir pocket as ve spoke, pulling out veir phone and checking the time. “Patton’s shift should be over in a couple of minutes. Wanna go greet them?”

“The only sunshine I always want to see,” Drew answered. “Don’t tell them we’re going to braid my hair just yet, though, alright? I’d prefer to surprise them.”

Remy grinned. “Of course, hun.”

Drew returned the grin before shifting over so that he could pick his bag up, ignoring Remy’s protest at his hair moving out of playing-with range. “You do know that going to Patton requires moving, right?”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

Drew chuckled as he straightened up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You can play more with my hair when we get home, starlight, don’t worry. Come on, let’s go get Pat.”

Remy pouted, but ve still lifted veir arm and allowed Drew to slot himself in against veir side as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Remy’s arm wrapped around the top of Drew’s shoulders, holding him close as they headed towards the doors.

“Have a goodnight, Em,” Drew called over his shoulder right before they left, door lightly thudding as it fell shut behind them.

Emile let out a little huff. “Night-night lovebirds,” they said, even though they knew the couple in question couldn’t hear them. They waited a moment after they left before pulling out their phone, flicking to the group chat they, Roman, and Virgil had lovingly nicknamed ‘operation Get These Gays Together’ (originally known as ‘operation if they don’t get together I’m going to shoot them and then myself’ when Virgil named it) and sending a quick but vital text.

Usually, Emile preferred the passive route. They preferred to push people towards the solution, help them subtly, let them figure it out for themselves with only a bit of their help.

But that method was driving Emile (and Roman and Virgil) insane. They had tried the easy, passive way.

It was time to be aggressive.

The first thing Remy registered upon waking up was that they’d really rather not. The little bit of sun that made its way through their half-open eyelids was already too much and they were almost a hundred percent certain they still needed another five hours of sleep to be anything close to well-rested.

Therefore, immediately after opening their eyes, they shut them once more, rolling over and pushing their face into the surface beneath them to try and drown out all possible light. While this did solve the immediate problem of ‘too much light,’ it presented a new one for them to deal with- the fact that something close to him was warm and moving.

The discrepancy between where they remembered falling asleep last night- on the couch, alone- and where they must be now- somewhere big enough for more than one person to be sleeping, and apparently not alone anymore- was enough to convince Remy to open their eyes again. It was easier if only for the fact that the sun was now behind them, illuminating the sight in front of Remy instead of blinding them.

Remy was unsurprised to find the warm moving ‘thing’ was, in fact, their roommates- Drew curled up against Patton’s back, arms wrapped around their chest, one of Patton’s hands resting on top of Drew’s and their other sprawled out across the bed, almost touching Remy.

The sight made Remy smile. They reached out to lay one of their hands over Patton’s outstretched one, gently rubbing circles and nonsense patterns into their palm while they waited for them to wake up. While they would like to figure out how they ended up in bed instead of on the couch, and while they knew all three of them would eventually have to get up for work, they didn’t see the point in rushing anything. If they were already late for work, hurrying now wouldn’t change that, and Remy had decided long ago that there were few things in the world that mattered to them more than seeing both Drew and Patton rested, relaxed, and happy.

Slowly but surely, Patton began to wake up, shifting around in Drew’s grasp for a moment before their eyes fluttered open and they saw Remy. Upon seeing them, Patton smiled a sleepy but fond smile.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Patton greeted them, yawning partway through their sentence. They twisted their hand a bit so that they could hold Remy’s, beginning to rub circles into the back of Remy’s hand. “You look nice.”

Remy found it doubtful that they, in all their sweatpants, ratty t-shirt, and disheveled hair glory, were looking like anything more than a mess, but they were loath to reject any compliment that came from Patton.

“You look just as cute as always,” they returned, smile growing at Patton’s small giggle at their response. “I am, however, a little curious as to why I’m seeing your beauty right now.”

Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before smoothing out as they realized what Remy was asking. “You fell asleep on the couch last night, right?”

“Last I recall, yes, and I’m sorry to say I don’t remember coming to… wherever this is.”

“It’s my room,” Patton answered. “I was cold, and I had pinky-promised Dee we could cuddle. We were goin’ to ask you to join, but you fell asleep while we were putting away the lasagna and we decided we didn’t want to risk waking you to move you. You’re such a light sleeper… and Dee said you hadn’t been sleeping as much recently.”

As Patton finished speaking, they reached out to brush a thumb underneath one of Remy’s eyes, as if they could erase the bags that were there.

Remy reached up with their free hand to catch Patton’s, gently pulling it away from their face and intertwining their fingers instead. “Don’t worry about me, sunshine, I’m fine. Just a few more sleepless nights than usual.”

Patton hummed, clearly not satisfied, but they didn’t say anymore on the topic. “I know I didn’t bring you in here,” they said instead, looking forlornly at the space roughly a foot long between them and Remy. “I wouldn’t have brought you in here for cuddles and then not cuddled you,” Patton explained, sounding melancholy.

In an attempt to at least partially console them, Remy scooted closer to Patton, narrowing the gap to only a few inches. They kept themself from moving all the way against them only because they knew exactly what would happen, knew Patton’s arms would wrap around them and hold them close, trapping them in the cuddle pile they’d have no will nor want to escape, and, as nice as it sounded to let reality drift away as they sank back into sleep so close to their two favorite people in the world, Remy knew they couldn’t, knew they had to be at least a little bit responsible and wake up and go to work and do more than just waste the day away holding each other.

Though damn if that wasn’t a tempting thought.

“So does that mean Dee moved me?” Remy asked.

“He must’ve,” Patton answered before frowning. “Though I don’t ever remember him getting up… here, I’ll just ask him.”

Patton turned over slightly, letting go of one of Remy’s hands so that they could gently shake Drew’s shoulder. “Dee? Dee, honey, do you think you could wake up for me? Please?”

In response, Drew half-groaned, half-yawned, and shifted so that his head was pressed into the crook of Patton’s neck, effectively hiding him from both his roommates and the sun. Patton giggled quietly at his action before they titled their head around and pressed a slightly awkward kiss to the top of Drew’s head. “I know you don’t want to, love, but you’ve gotta get up.”

Drew didn’t respond for a moment, but eventually he sighed, lazily lifting his head away from Patton’s shoulder. He returned Patton’s kiss atop their head before shifting his attention to Remy, blinking blearily as he focused on the third person in the bed.

“Mornin’ darling dearest Dee,” Remy greeted. “Sleep well?”

“Mhmm,” Drew hummed noncommittally, but from the way his arms tightened around Patton, holding them closer, Remy could guess he had slept very well curled up with Patton. “What’re you doin’ here?” he slurred, awake enough to realize Remy should still be out on the couch if not awake enough to speak properly.

“We were kinda hoping you could answer that one, hun,” Remy said. “Because I don’t remember coming in here, and Patton doesn’t remember moving me.”

Drew frowned. “I didn’t move you. Wanted you to sleep.”

“So I’ve heard,” Remy commented, now frowning themself. “So. If none of us put me in the bed, and none of us have any sleep walking and/or possession problems we haven’t told the others about…”

“How did you end up here?” Patton finished for them, completing the trifecta of frowns.

The unanswered question finally convinced Remy to sit up, squinting as they looked around the room for some explanation. It did appear to be Patton’s room, from the animal posters hung on every wall to the rainbow they had painted onto the light switch cover with nail polish, so it was unlikely they had all been kidnapped, which Remy was going to consider a good thing. Something did stand out to Remy, however.

“Hey, Pat, you haven’t put any random notes on your door recently, have you?”

Patton shook their head in confusion. “No. Why do you ask?”

Remy didn’t answer them immediately, instead sliding out of the bed and heading towards the door. Tapped to it was a folded note, ‘to the oblivious gays’ scrawled on the front of it. Remy pulled it off the door, unfolding it and quickly scanning the message inside. When they finished, they groaned.

“I’m disowning all of our friends.” Remy said, tossing the note to the side in annoyance as they grabbed the door handle, trying (and failing) to turn it. They groaned again. “Fuck.”

“Language.” Patton said automatically as Drew pushed their glasses onto their face for them, Patton blinking a few times as they stopped needing to squint at everything. “What is it?”

Remy ran a hand through their hair as they moved to the only window in the room, attempting to open it for a moment before deeming it a lost cause. They sighed and turned back towards the bed. “We’ve been locked in.”

This got both Patton and Drew to sit up, both looking more awake as they frowned at them. “What do you mean, we’ve been locked in?”

“Exactly what I said,” Remy replied, leaning back against the wall behind them. “Our most lovely friends have locked us all in a room together and apparently won’t let us out until we ‘confess’ or some bullsh- bullcrap, because this is 2012 and we’re a story on fanfic-dot-net.”

“Confess?” Patton repeated before realization dawned on their face. “Oh. I- Virgil was talking about that yesterday, but I didn’t think he actually- well I didn’t think he really meant anything by it.”

“Same with Emile,” Drew said. “They talk about it so often I just figured it was some sort of joke for them.”

“Roman was talking about it too,” Remy added unhappily. “He pointedly ignored all my advances as well, which was rude. I like to think my distractions are at least worth one returned flirt.”

A moment of silence stretched out between them before Drew sighed and said, “So they did this, huh.”

“That’s why I’m disowning them, yeah,” Remy informed him. “Also on the list of disownments is my cousin, because apparently he’s the one who gave them the key they used to break in here and set this whole mess up.”

“Logan’s not usually the type to go for this sort of thing,” Drew pointed out.

“He isn’t, but I think he’s still annoyed about that one time I stole all his Crofter’s.” Remy said. “Though now he’s indirectly keeping me from my coffee, so who’s the real monster here?”

“At least you’ve got us,” Drew offered.

Remy smiled at that, annoyed expression softening. “Yeah, that I do,” they agreed, pushing off of the wall and padding back over to the bed, joining the semi-circle and leaning against Patton’s side. Drew wrapped an arm around both Patton’s and Remy’s backs as soon as they were settled, holding the three of them together.

“So now what?” Patton asked after a moment of comfortable silence. “Should we call in to work sick?”

“The note said they’d cover it,” Remy answered with a scoff. “No clue how they plan to do that, but they’ve made it into a them-problem.”

“And when are they going to let us out?” Drew followed up. “Because we’re going to have to eat soon.”

“I have a bag of emergency cookies in the closet, if worse comes to worst,” Patton added.

“Of course you do,” Drew said, though he sounded only fond.

“They said they’ll swing by around lunch to free us and, I quote, ‘congratulate us on the proposals,’” Remy laughed. “Roman’s words, if you couldn’t guess.”

Drew chuckled. “And if we try to break out of our makeshift prison?”

“They’ve stolen our phones and tapped them to the door, so if we break it down, we risk breaking our phones.” Remy explained. “Logan also reminded us that glass is sharp and dangerous when broken so we shouldn’t even think about shattering the window.”

“So no breaking out,” Drew summed up. “Guess we really are stuck here ‘til they return.”

“Yep,” Remy agreed. They turned their head so that they could plant a kiss against the side of Patton’s head. “At least I’m stuck with y’all. Better be trapped with angels than free with demons.” Remy smiled when Patton blushed a shade of red that Remy thought just made them look even prettier.

“Well someone’s getting awfully poetic,” Drew quipped, though he was also blushing.

“It’s what happens when I don’t have my coffee,” Remy said offhandedly. “Deal with it.”

“Only if you accept that you yourself are also an angel.”

“Oh, rude, babe, real rude to ‘u-too’ my own compliment back at me.”

“If you want to make this easier on yourself, just accept it, my dear,” Drew advised. “I can wax just as poetic as you can, and will if I think I must.”

Remy sighed, holding out the sound for a moment before they folded. “Fiiiine, I’m an angel.” They leaned around Patton, getting close enough that they could press a kiss to Drew’s forehead. “But you’re still the prettier one.”

Drew gasped dramatically at that, but before he could respond, Patton sighed, sounding fond and vaguely melancholy. Remy pulled back from Drew just enough to look at Patton.

“Aw, our sunshine feeling left out?” Remy asked teasingly, kissing Patton’s forehead as well and wrapping their arms around Patton’s waist. “Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re just as pretty as Dee.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that, I promise!” Patton reassured them with a laugh. “You two are just so cute together, that’s all.”

“We’re all cute together,” Remy said, pressing a quick peck of a kiss to Patton’s chin. “Helps that we’re all cute.”

Patton laughed again. “No, I mean- together-together, you know? You’re a good couple.”

Remy and Drew reacted to that, both glancing at each other in confusion and uncertainty. “Couple as in two people, or…?” Drew asked.

Patton raised an eyebrow, now looking confused themself. “I mean, I guess that too, but I mean- well, I mean romantically.”

Another uncertain glance between the supposed ‘couple.’ Remy laughed awkwardly. “Hate to break it to ya, hun, but I think I’d know if I was dating such a cutie.”

“Same here,” Dee echoed.

“Oh. Oh!” Patton said, blushing red now in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, you just- the way you act together, I- you’re so comfortable together-”

“We’re all comfortable together,” Drew pointed out, albeit quieter than he had been speaking a moment ago.

“I know, you just- I- oh, I’m so sorry!” Patton repeated, hiding their face in Drew’s shoulder. “I feel so silly,” they added, their voice now muffled.

Remy chuckled, reaching forward to card their fingers through Patton’s hair. They scooted a little closer to them as they scratched at their scalp as well. “Don’t worry about it, honey-love. Everybody makes mistakes.”

“No, it’s not that, I just…” Patton cut themself off before actually getting to their point, shaking their head a bit before they pressed their face even further into Drew’s shoulder.

“Oh, come now, beloved,” Drew coaxed, rolling his shoulders and trying to convince Patton to lift their head. “You don’t have to hide anything from us, much less your beautiful face or heavenly voice.”

“It’s silly,” Patton whined, just loud enough to be understood. Remy laughed gently, brushing their hair to the side so they could kiss the back of their neck.

“That’s okay. We’re not going to make fun of you or anything,” Remy assured them.

Drew leaned over and kissed the top of Patton’s head, pulling back only a little. “What’d you say, love? Can I see those pretty, pretty eyes?”

It took another moment of Remy playing with their hair and Drew sweet talking Patton before they were convinced, slowly lifting their head up just enough so that Drew could see their eyes. Drew smiled at them. “There you go. Isn’t this nicer?”

A little smile slipped onto Patton’s face. “Your eyes are much, much more gorgeous than the fabric of your shirt, yes.”

“I should hope so,” Drew replied, leaning his forehead against Patton’s. “Now, I’m sure both me and our lovely moonbeam are very curious as to what’s got you trying to hide from us.”

“Yeah, sugar, you’re not usually like this,” Remy added, though they didn’t sound worried, just sweet. “What’s got you feeling so silly and shy?”

Patton rested their cheek on Drew’s shoulder, looking between their roommates. “Promise you won’t hate me?”

“We could never,” Drew and Remy said at the same time.

Patton nodded, took a breath, squirmed a little in place, and finally said, “Y’know how I’ve never really said that you guys are together, even if I had no reason not to say it?”

“Uh… yes?” Remy answered, sounding slightly baffled by the question.

“Yeah, well… there was a reason for that.”

“...Okay?” Drew said, tone matching Remy’s.

“It’s because I didn’t really want to accept the fact that you two were together.”

Twin silence from Drew and Remy. Patton let out a little sigh, sounding more amused than annoyed.

“I didn’t like acknowledging the fact that you were both taken,” A pause to give their roommates a chance to finish for them; when neither of them spoke, Patton continued, “because I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you were both taken but neither of you were taken with me.”

Another pause, another stretch of silence as Drew and Remy each processed Patton’s words, the confessor themself once more hiding against Drew’s shoulder. Then- dawning understanding.

“Oh,” Remy said first, looking at Drew with wide eyes. “Oh. Patton, I-”

“It’s really okay if neither of you feel the same, really, I don’t even expect you too, we’re friends, and that’s what we’ve always said we were and always been, and that doesn’t need to change I just-” Patton laughed, slightly breathless as they tried to fit everything they wanted to say in only the space of a few seconds, “I just feel silly that I never even bothered to tell you guys because I thought you were dating, that’s all.”

It was quiet as Drew and Remy processed that, Drew looking at the bed as he thought while Remy looked off at the wall, clearly lost in their thoughts. It only took a moment for them to sort them, however.

“Hey, Patton?” Remy said, getting Patton to lift their head once more from Drew’s shoulder and look at them, Patton’s expression a mix of pained and hopeful. Remy reached forwards, cupping one of Patton’s cheeks with one of their hands, smiling a little stupidly as they did so. “Wanna hear a silly little secret of my own?”

Patton's eyes widened, suggesting that they knew exactly what the secret was, but they still said, in a quiet, almost awed voice, “What?”

Remy giggled, just a little, reaching out with their other hand as well and holding Patton’s face in both their hands as they answered, “I have a crush on both my roommates too,” they said in a mock-whisper, as if they were at a sleepover and they were all twelve. “I never told them because I thought they weren’t interested in me like that, but recently I’m starting to think I might be wro-”

Remy’s confession was cut off by Patton letting out a little squeal of excitement, pushing themself forward so that they could wrap their arms around Remy’s midsection, knocking them over and ending up with them both sprawled across the bed. Remy had just barely recovered from the action when Patton started peppering kisses across their face, going over their forehead and both their cheeks before they ended with a kiss on their lips, one that was brief but still sweet and loving and warm and undeniably Patton.

“You jerk.” Patton said, though there wasn’t a hint of heat in their tone as they laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me this three months ago?!”

“I had this whole friendship thing going on that I didn’t want to ruin!” Remy defended with a laugh of their own. “Though, if I had known that’d be your reaction, I’d have gone off and ruined our friendship long ago, sweetness.”

Patton’s smile broke into a grin and they kissed the tip of Remy’s nose, eliciting a quick but joyful giggle from them. “You’re forgiven for your slowness in telling me for how utterly perfect you are.”

“Why thank you, angel,” Remy said, pushing themself up just enough to give Patton a fast nose kiss as well. “But don’t you think we’re missing something- or, better put, someone- from this ‘perfect’?”

Patton’s eyes widened at the reminder. “Oh my gosh, you’re right!” they said before turning around to look at Drew. He was still sitting in the same spot he had been. It was clear he had been watching Patton and Remy, but upon them turning their attention to him, he seemed to suddenly find the entire rest of the room much more interesting to look at.

“Dee?” Patton said, forcing the aforementioned to turn his attention back to them or risk being rude to one of the people he was currently locked in a room with.

“Yes?” Drew asked, trying to sound aloof and neutral. He failed horribly, however, his voice coming out as something closer to mock-formal.

“Me and Remy have both made our confessions… do you have one of your own?” Patton asked, once more sounding hesitant.

When Drew didn’t respond instantly, Remy rushed to add, “It’s completely alright if you don’t, of course. No pressure whatsoever, we can still be friends, it’s just- well, not to sound like the people who locked us up in here in the first place, but I kinda feel like that’s not really what we should be.”

“I-” Drew started before cutting himself off, looking down as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I do love you guys, really; I mean, who couldn’t after living with you for so long, you’re too incredible not to love, but… I don’t know how I love you.”

“...Care to elaborate?” Remy pushed after a minute stretched in silence.

Drew shifted in place. “I guess… we’ve spent our entire friendship doing everything a couple might do- spending time together, learning each other’s favorite things, getting stupidly domestic, literally sleeping together, cuddling, sharing little kisses, and I just… don’t know if I love you romantically or not.”

“Alright,” Patton said slowly, nodding their head before frowning. “I’m… not sure how to figure that out.”

“Me neither,” Remy admitted. “There must be something romantic we haven’t done with you, right?

Drew shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve covered all of the bases, as far as I can tell. No wonder everyone thought we were dating…”

“Not all of them,” Patton said, pulling Drew out of his barely started musings. They smiled at him, softly and sweetly and just a bit shyly. “Dee?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you want to kiss us?”

“Kiss you- I already have kissed you, what do you…” Drew cut himself off as he realized what Patton meant, his cheeks quickly turning a crimson red.

Remy chuckled as they sat up, Patton shifting a bit to their side so that they could properly sit up. “Hate to put words in your mouth, sweetheart, but I’mma guess that means yes?”

“I… yeah, yeah it does,” Drew conceded, chuckling a little awkwardly. “That sounded awfully charming.”

“Everything you say is charming when you’re a charmer,” Patton responded, and Drew’s cheeks turned a shade darker as the awkwardness in his expression relaxed into something more akin to soft adoration.

Patton patted the bed directly in front of them and Remy. “Come over here, lovely.”

Drew did so willingly, pulling himself over so that he was once more part of the group. Patton smiled tenderly at him as he settled himself before reaching out and gently taking his face in their hands.

“Stop me if you need to, okay?” Patton said. Drew half-laughed, half-scoffed.

“I doubt I’ll want you to stop, much less need you to,” he told them, and Patton smiled wider at him before leaning in, their careful and loving hold on Drew’s face holding him still until their lips were connected.

The kiss was longer than Patton and Remy’s had been, more planned, but it was still just as welcoming and comfortable, as if this wasn’t their first kiss but instead their hundredth; somehow both oddly familiar and excitingly new.

Without even realizing it, Drew found himself leaning it, placing his hands on Patton’s waist to hold steady as he did so, more than happy to drown in the kiss as much as he could.

Patton pulled away when he was reaching the edge of breathlessness, smiling brightly at Drew even as they moved back, still holding his face. “How was that?”

“I love you,” Drew said as an answer, letting out a laugh in the form of a huff as he went on, “Oh, god be damned, Patton, I love you.”

“Language,” Patton chided lightly, though they both knew it meant nothing.

“Hey now,” Remy spoke up, drawing Drew and Patton’s attention. They were pouting, though amusement flashed in their eyes. “I’m feeling a little forgotten over here.”

“Forget you?” Drew asked, normally suave tone now simply breathless and incredulous. “I could never.”

“Then prove it,” Remy demanded, reaching out and making grabby hands at Drew despite the fact that he was barely two feet from them. Drew didn’t mind it, however, simply laughing at the display of affection. He gently took Patton’s hands off his cheeks, kissing the back of both of them (to the delight of Patton) before releasing them and closing the small gap between him and Remy.

“There you are,” Remy said, as if Drew had been hiding somewhere far off and not simply kissing their partner (their partner, not just his partner but Remy’s too) instead of Remy. “Do I get kisses now?”

Drew laughed. “Yes,” he said, not bothering to drag the moment out as he reached forwards, cupping one of Remy’s cheeks in his hand and pulling them closer. “You get kisses now.”

He kept to his promise as he kissed Remy, not holding it out for one long kiss like he and Patton had done but instead kissing them over and over and over again, quick little kisses that lasted seconds but still meant worlds to the both of them, that were still caring and inviting and loving even if they were brief. It worked better that way, Drew decided, especially when Remy evidently grew bored of just kissing his lips and moved on to covering the rest of his face with kisses instead.

“I’m starting to think I really am a jerk for not confessing anything sooner,” Remy said when they had, apparently, deemed Drew’s face properly kissed, now pulled back so that they could look Drew in the eyes as they grinned lopsidedly. “I’ve been severely neglecting giving you- and Patton- all the kisses you two deserve.”

“Not that that ever stopped you when we were friends,” Patton pointed out, leaning against Remy’s side and reaching out to hold one of Drew’s hands as well.

“That’s because even then I knew I was making a mistake,” Remy said, happily taking advantage of the fact that Patton was once more close to them to kiss their forehead.

“I just can’t believe the people who locked us up had it right,” Drew said, squeezing Patton’s hand as the hand he had been using to cup Remy’s cheek moved to hold one of Remy’s hands. “We really have been horribly oblivious, huh?”

Remy laughed. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate, yeah,” they agreed before smiling mischievously. “We’re not going to let them know that though, right?”

“Oh, goodness, of course not,” Drew responded. “Otherwise they might start thinking locking people up will always work, or, even worse, they might get an ego boost.”

“I think Roman will explode if that happens- his ego’s already big enough as is,” Patton added. Drew’s and Remy’s attention immediately turned to them, both looking shocked, to which Patton defended, “What? I can be petty towards our friends too!”

Drew chuckled as he quickly kissed Patton’s cheek. “That you can, dearheart, that you can.”

“It’s not like you’re wrong either,” Remy pointed out. “Really, letting Roman know this planned work might kill him. We’re just going to have to pretend it didn’t, for his sake.”

Patton and Drew both nodded as solemnly as they could given the circumstances. “I vote that we tell them this experience has really brought us closer together in our friendship instead,” Drew offered. “That way we can still be horribly obnoxious-” Drew paused to peck quick kisses to each of his partners’ noses to prove his point before continuing “-and also keep Roman and his ego safe.”

“A perfect plan,” Patton agreed. “Though… what do we do if they catch us calling each other partners?”

“We tell them how we decided we really felt like ‘friends’ no longer properly described how close our friendship was, so we decided to start using partners,” Remy answered immediately with a grin. “Really, we can turn anything into just another extent of our ‘friendship’ is we try hard enough. The real question is for how long do we do that? When do we give them their satisfaction?”

Drew hummed in thought for a moment before he said, a wicked smile racing his face as he spoke, “I’d say we’ll have to wait them out at least until we get married. We can tell them it’s for tax benefits.”

“We’re going to get married?!” Patton exclaimed, eyes shining at the thought.

“Well, I mean-” Drew floundered for a moment, clearly having gotten so caught up in how to best taunt their friends that he hadn’t even considered the implications of what he had said “-we’ve only just got together, but- if this lasts and we don’t regret anything, well-”

“We’re going to get married!” Patton repeated, this time with no question in their tone, tugging Drew closer to themself and pulling Remy closer as well so that they were all squished against each other. “We’re going to get married and we’re going to move out and find a better apartment with one huge bed- oh, or we could get a house with one big bed, and we’re going to adopt a dog- no, two dogs- no, ten dogs!- and-”

Drew gently stopped Patton’s rant by kissing them until they were breathless, resting his forehead against theirs when he finished. “And we’ll drive our friends absolutely insane with what a lovely life we’ll be living,” he added softly.

Remy moved to press their forehead against both of their partners’. “And we’ll be in love forever,” they added, which was an extraordinarily cheesy thing to say, but in the moment, it also felt like the right thing to say.

In fact, pressed against the two most important people in the world to them, still feeling giddy at everything that had happened in the span of barely fifteen minutes, Remy felt as if, for the first time in a long time, absolutely everything was just as it should be.

They were looking forward to getting used to that feeling.

#mosleepceit #ts patton #ts janus #ts remy #ts sleep #ts roman #ts virgil #emile picani #ts logan mentioned #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #dani #argo #this fic is a huge mess but hopefully it's a decent one sbdfcsdjf

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

Text

You’ve Set my Soul to Dreaming Pt. 2

Billy can’t believe he’s doing this.

Can’t believe that he’s pulled up outside of 8253 Loch Nora, a gift box in his passenger seat, unwrapped because that would look like he cared too much, a lit cigarette fogging up his windows, and a sense of dread settled heavy in his heart.

Just because Harrington bought him the fanciest thing he’d ever had the pleasure to own didn’t mean he had to return the favor, right?

Wrong. Because it wasn’t just your typical, ‘I’m loaded, and you’re dirt poor, so let me get you this novelty that costs more than you have in the bank because I'm better than you’ from Steve, but something more like a peace offering.

A peace offering from the loser of the fight, which made Billy look like even bigger an asshole than he already was.

Like, it was bad enough that he’d even beat Steve up in the first place, but then to just ignore his attempt at reconciliation and keep up the machismo shtick? Even he was better than that.

So he’d fretted for a week about what a rich boy would want, and shoveled sidewalks for old people and flirtatious mothers to be able to afford it. Not that the Hargroves didn’t have enough money for a dinky little gift, Billy just wasn’t allowed to spend his father’s wages on anything less than necessity.

Christmas presents for some boy definitely didn’t fall under that category.

In the end he decides on giving him a flask, decorated with similar filigree to that on the zippo, only it’s much more cheaply made. He hopes the sentiment is still there, because he knows Steve can put alcohol away faster than you can say chemically dependent teenaged washup. After all, just a few nights ago at Jenny’s Christmas Party, he saw him drink a whole bottle of vodka in under a minute.

Besides, regardless of whether or not it’s something he needs or cares about or is just going to throw away, it’s just to get even, this isn’t some life changing gift exchange. No sweat.

Maybe Billy has that all worked out in his head, but then he’s got another problem. He can’t decide on how the present is going to get to Steve.

If he should just leave it on the porch and bolt, if he was going to ring the doorbell and hand it right to him, or if he would just drive right on down back to Cherry Lane and keep the stupid hip flask for himself, and pretend the whole thing never happened so he could move on with his life.

He loses the chance to choose when the double doors to the house are pulled open, and the silhouette of the one and only Steve Harrington appears.

It would be more than weird to drive away now when he was obviously already parked outside, and even weirder to just sit in his car until Steve goes back inside, so he sucks it up, grabs the box off his passenger seat, and steps out of the Camaro.

Rounding the front of his car and taking a few steps toward the porch, Billy decides to toss Steve the box without so much as a muttered ‘heads up.’ They’ve been playing basketball together for two months now, and he knows from experience that Steve’s surprisingly good at dodging fists, so he’s pretty sure he’ll catch it.

And he does, if not a little clumsily, with a stupid, shocked look on his face. Billy might even say he almost looks as dumb as the sweater he was wearing, which had a Christmas tree crocheted into the center and was at least fifty percent tinsel.

If his head was screwed on straight, maybe Billy would’ve even said ‘Merry Christmas Steve, thanks for the beautiful fucking zippo I use it every day, sorry ‘bout the face’ but it wasn’t, so instead, what he said was actually more along the lines of,

“Save your donations for the red kettle Harrington.”

And then he thinks he’s out of the woods, thinks the lack of an answer is the symbol he needs to put this drama behind him and pick a new pretty boy to pick on, but just as he pops the Camaro’s door, Steve finally lets his response tumble out of his mouth.

“Why don’t you come in, Hargrove?” Steve turns the box over and over in his hands, nervous as he tries to get out what he’s going to say. “Nobody’s home, and I made a bunch of cookies. Got some spiked eggnog too.”

And, it wasn’t like Billy’d rather be back at his own house right now, that was actually the last place on earth he wanted to be, so he wasn’t beyond entertaining the notion.

He isn’t easy though, he’s not the type to just, waltz on in to some McMansion looming over him just because he’d been asked so politely. Especially not when the circumstances of this specific circumstance were the way they were.

“Whatd’ya put in it, the eggnog?” It’s a stupid question, just a way to stall until he can come up with an excuse to go in the mansion by his accord, but the answer, well, it’s not much better.

“Chicken Cock.” Steve says it with such an air of nonchalance that Billy isn’t sure he’s heard that right, but then again, the people down in the Midwest referred everything with weird nicknames that he’d never even heard of. What was puppy chow anyways?

He can tell there’s a bewildered look on his face, though it gets overtaken by a slightly humored smile as he asks. “‘Scuse me?”

Blame it on the bitter cold if you please, but a flush appears on Steve’s cheeks at the realization of what his words might sound like to somebody who had no idea what he’s talking about. “I-It’s a spirit, it’s really strong and- why don’t you just come try it, yeah?”

Its cute, but Billy needs one last attempt at casting out the line before he gives in and accepts Steve’s offer. “Real smooth, Harrington, but I gotta get back to the festivities at home.”

“Sure, ‘cause you're totally the type for that.” Steve rolls his eyes in a sort of false annoyance before he starts on his mockery. “Bet you sing carols, and bake cookies with your little sister and tell stories of your favorite Christmas memories around the Yule log and-“

“Alright, Harrington. Since you asked so nicely.” He couldn’t keep saying no with Steve practically begging him to come inside, so, stepping up onto the stoop, Billy scrapes his boots against the porch rug to knock off the snow so he can go inside. “But I’m outta here by midnight, alright?”

With a smile, Steve steps aside to let Billy through the door. “Deal.”

Ornate woodworking and fancy wallpaper goes unnoticed, because the first thing Billy notices about the Harrington mansion is that it is an absolute disaster. although he would expect a cleaning lady to have come through and kept the place all nice and pristine like you see in the magazines, there was shit everywhere.

Piles of bubble wrap and newspaper stuffed into plastic containers, wires and strings and tape all over, a power strips and thumbtacks, and suddenly Billy realizes something.

“This your attempt at Yuletide cheer, Harrington?”

For a moment he looks at Billy confused, but follows his line of sight to the heaping boxes of decorations scattered throughout his living space. “Oh, no, I just didn’t finish yet.”

Billy can’t help it when he blurts out, “It’s Christmas Eve.”

Steve nods dumbly, something that should at this point be his registered trademark. “Uh-huh.”

“And all your decorations are in a pile in your living room?” Even Billy knew better than to wait until the last minute to get things done, and Harrington always seemed so on top of everything, regardless of if he was doing it right, so it was kind of jarring to see him in such a disheveled mess the night of Christmas Eve.

Steve says, in a tone so casually condescending, “Seems that way, yeah.”

“Didn’t leave enough time between your panty raids to get it done?” Snark is met with snark, but, because of the circumstances, there’s not the typical edge to it that would be expected from the two of them.

“I manage my escapades perfectly fine, thank you.” Steve toes at a box heaping with ornaments and labeled with the words ‘to throw out’ written in cursive on the side. “My parents just think decorating is too undistinguished, so I’m only allowed to have them up for a few days.”

“Right.” Billy agrees like he understands, but he really doesn’t. How can sprucing up your house with a bunch of fancy and expensive trinkets and decorations be any worse than leaving it empty and barren? Rich people. “And how, exactly, would they know if you put them up early?”

Tossing a strand of garland that had previously been draped over the back of the chaise, because of course they have a chaise in their first living room, Steve says, “Shut up and help me put them up then.”

So he does. He untangles giant knots of tinsel, of lights and of icicles, and unwraps all of the Harringtons’ precious glass ornaments for Steve to put on the artificial trees (he’s allergic to pine) in the entrance hall and the dining room.

He puts up the glass stocking holder and hangs the silky, designer stockings, which, judging from the faded fabric and the peeling letters written in red glitter glue to spell out STEVEn, are from a time when Ruthie and Stephen Sr. still darkened these doors. Alongside them on the mantelpiece, he hangs a handful of Christmas cards from Steve’s random relatives up on a thin piece of ribbon.

The banister of the grand staircase is wrapped in miles of scratchy garland, enough that they can hardly see the wooden finish underneath, and matching wreaths are hung in the windows and on the doors.

Just to prove how rich they were, the Harringtons also have a rather extensive collection of those ceramic trees, not the type you make yourself, but the expensive ones you can order from Avon and other designers Billy can’t even pronounce the name of, and they’ve put one on just about every surface that is close enough to an outlet for a plug to reach.

There are so many extension cords run through every room, Billy’s worried that Steve might end up burning up in a house fire, but it’s worth it to see the twinkling lights reflecting on blank white walls, the soothing colors brightening up a space he could imagine was typically devoid of life.

And in the end, having wrestled with dusty old decorations to transform Steve’s house into something so, so pleasant? spirited? entirely unfamiliar to someone like him? he thinks he’s earned the hard whiskey he was promised at the door.

Hours go by, and the two of them are sitting in the center of the giant French Country rug, a cotton and silk substitute for the Persian Steve turned out to be allergic to, backs against the coffee table and more than a little tipsy.

Leaning back on his elbows, Billy lets his head fall back, his sprayed curls fanning out over the mahogany surface, where they have a bayberry candle burning out of the top of an empty bottle of Stephen Sr's liquor of choice.

Blinking slowly up at the ceiling, the blur of the colorful lights making him dizzy, he asks, “So, how does this work, without your parents here, d’ya just, buy your own presents and put ‘em under the tree yourself?”

“Nah. They mail them to Miss Hetty the help, and she brings ‘em to me in the mornin’. 7 a.m. sharp.” He pops the p on the “sharp” like he’s proud to admit he has a nanny at almost 19 years old.

“The help. Think that’s somehow more depressing.” Billy ignores the way Steve’s eyebrows furrow together and his quiet, mumbled out, “Rude.”

“Don’t think I have much room to talk though.” He sits up again so he can look at Steve. “Your zippo’s the only thing I’m gettin’ this year, ‘cept for maybe a-a good backhand or two after Susan gets her family photos.”

A smile cracks across the other boy's face as he lowers his voice, sounding all too excited to say, “Guess that makes us a couple-a misfits then, huh?”

And Billy can’t help the laugh he lets out at that god awful reference, true as it may be, and it's with a smile on his face that he says, “God, you are such a cheeseball, man.”

“Hey! I saw an opportunity, and I had to take it.” There’s a smile equal to his own on Steve’s face, as he laughs at what he said with Billy, and the moment passes.

In the silence that follows, they sit just like that, appreciating their moment of camaraderie that they know is going to come to an end soon, as the grandfather clock chimes for another hour gone by, the bayberry burns down another few centimeters, and the headachy feeling of too much alcohol starts to set in.

It was nice to not be surrounded by faux affection and suffocated by the fear of stepping out of line, but like all good things, Christmas Eve must come to an end at some point, and so it was that, around quarter to twelve, Billy makes his first attempt to stand on drunken feet.

Based on the fact that he doesn’t immediately fall on his ass, he’ll probably be alright to drive, not that he really has much of a choice, so he grabs his keys off the coffee table and announces his departure.

“It’s been real Harrington, but duty calls.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks man.” Steve waves Billy off and leans forward, letting his forehead come to rest against the surface of the laminated hardwood, obviously more affected by the whiskey than the other boy.

But Billy finds himself cemented to the spot, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his denim jacket as he tries to get together what he wants to say, because he still hasn’t properly apologized.

Not that it’s something he’d normally do, but some things can’t be fixed with Christmas Decorations and cinnamon spirits. “Look, I’m sorry, about the, the fight and everything Harrington, I just-“

“S’okay.” Steve tries to look at him, but he's barely able to sit up anymore. He’s got an arm slung over the top of the coffee table to keep himself upright, and his words slur to be almost unintelligible as he tells Billy, “Already forgave ya.”

“But, I don’t- you shouldn’t-“ Taking a deep breath through his nose to collect himself, Billy continues, “How did you know I deserved that?”

“Chalk it up to the Christmas spirit.” Accenting his words with the slightest shrug of his shoulders, Steve smiles a knowing little grin and says, “Go on home, Billy.”

“Right, I’ll, see ya round then.” He starts to walk away, taking steps made shaky from the alcohol in his system, but from behind him he hears Steve say softly, “Wait.”

Turning around, he raises his eyebrows to show Steve he’s at his attention, and Steve, eyes glossy and cheeks as red as the big man’s suit, looks him right in the eye (and the heart) to tell him. “Merry Christmas, Billy.”

“Yeah, you too, Harrington.” The softness in his tone feels like a betrayal to himself, and he thanks the lord above that Steve is too drunk to hold it against him.

One last look over his shoulder, and he sees Steve face down on the coffee table again. Chuckling to nobody but himself, he thinks that maybe the flask wasn’t such a bright idea after all.

Shutting those heavy double doors behind himself and getting back in the Camaro, while his hands shake and his heart races, is a strange feeling to say the least.

Just up and walking away from the most genuine expression of compassion he’d ever experienced, knowing that, with what’s waiting for him back at home, he’s not going to ever let something like this happen again, makes him feel like he should just go running back in there, forget about curfews and abusive fathers so he can pursue this, this whatever with Harrington, but he knows that isn’t really an option.

Knows he’ll get too attached if he doesn't leave now, that nipping that growing feeling of acceptance, of forgiveness, of warmth in his heart three sizes too small, right in the bud before it turns into something more wicked and ruins a perfectly good Christmas Eve, is the best possible thing for the both of them.

This was just an apology, righting the obvious wrongs that had taken place in November, and nothing more.

Because having Steve Harrington three sheets to the wind and showing him the slightest bit of compassion wouldn’t be enough to break him down, no sir. This was Billy Hargrove after all, he didn’t let trivial things like throwing away potential friendships bring tears to his eyes, not in a million years.

Or that’s at least what he’d like to think, but in all reality he does, shows up back at his own, completely average house back on Cherry with red rimmed eyes and it doesn’t go unnoticed when he walks through the front door.

So Billy spends the night just as he expected he would; a bruise forming on his cheek, wide awake in his bed, while visions of Steve Harrington danced in his head.