iluvroadrunner6 | plurk meme } { kissy faces ii: more smooching

Entry tags:

plurk meme } { kissy faces ii: more smooching

Fill Count: 28/28
Word Count: 19,303

After their karaoke adventure – and what an adventure it was – Barry and Caitlin make a pact of sorts. They would plan outings to get themselves out of the house and interacting with the rest of the world on a regular basis, just as friends, mostly. Barry is quick to make conditions that they’re to contain significantly less drinking than their previous outing and maybe a smidge less karaoke, in a lot of ways that works for both of them. They both want to devour the world in a way that means they don’t want to do the same thing twice. Why play it safe when you can experience something new – even if their “something new” is fairly tame in comparison.

After they’ve exhausted pretty much every outlet possible in Central City, Barry suggests that they go on a different kind of adventure. Caitlin’s only been to Star City once or twice, and she deserves a trip outside of superhero business.

“We could make a weekend of it,” he says, and he can tell by the way she holds herself that she’s hesitant, but in the end, she agrees. She could honestly use the distraction from everything that’s been going on, and any excuse to see Team Arrow is a good one.

They have dinner with Felicity and drinks with Oliver and Thea. Barry drags her to all the various attractions of the city, rambling about the structural engineering of one or the history of the other. When he’s rambling about anything, factually speaking, he’s usually in his element, but he can still tell that Caitlin’s heart isn’t in it – at least, not until they land at one of the local art galleries.

He catches up with her in one of the Featured Artist galleries, looking at a piece by an artist he isn’t familiar with, but Caitlin is more focused on the art than the name attached to it. “I like this one,” she says with a small smile. “It reminds me of Ronnie.”

It’s a simple statement, but it’s not laden with as much pain as it used to be. Losing Ronnie for a second time has been hard on her, but there’s always a resilience to Caitlin he’s never been able to understand. If he had lost everything she’s lost at this point, he would have snapped a long time ago.

“Yeah?” It’s more of a prompt for her to explain than anything else, and she glances back at him, before gesturing with her hand.

“I mean, with the fire elements, it’s kind of obvious, but this part, here.” She gestures to a void in the flames. “Even though he had the potential to hurt me the most, I always felt far safer when I was with him than without him.”

Barry smiles softly, before nodding. “Yeah, I get that.” There’s another pause, before glancing over to her. “You must miss him.”

“I do, but it’s getting easier.” She rubs her arm gently for a moment. “Is it bad if I say losing him the second time wasn’t as hard?”

“I don’t think so,” he shakes his head. “I mean, you had already done it once?” It sounds cold, but he doesn’t really understand it. Watching his mother die a second time was just as hard as doing it the first time around, but Caitlin has never been as outwardly emotional as he was.

She smirks a bit. “It’s not like that.” She takes a beat as she plays with her necklace. “The first time I lost him, there wasn’t a reason for it. It was just an accident, and then later, when we found out Evil Wells did it intentionally – it was like he was stolen from me.” She pauses again, before turning to face Barry with a small smile. “The second time, he was trying to save Central City. He made a choice. I know he wasn’t choosing to die, but … at least I know he’s at peace this time.”

That Barry can understand. He nods in return, before the lights flicker above them, signaling it’s time to leave. He reaches for her hand and Caitlin takes it, letting him lead her through the crowds of people to the door. Once they’re out on the stairs, she gives his hand a small squeeze, drawing his attention back to her again.

“Thank you for this, Barry,” she says softly, before pushing up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek softly. “You were right. I needed this.”

Barry smiles softly in return, before leaning forward as well, brushing a kiss to her temple as he slides his arm around her shoulders. “Anytime, Cait.”

Edited 2016-05-23 14:06 (UTC)

Bela Talbot has sand in places where sand should never go.

The normally composed woman is covered head to toe in wet, clumping sand, thanks to a poorly timed swell of the Nile, and she doesn’t need to see Dean to picture the smug look on his face at her current position. Having just returned to Teleios after her latest mission, she had hoped that she would be able to make her way home and clean up before she managed to run into Dean, but as is par for the course with her and the Winchesters, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Dean crosses his arms in front his chest as he looks her up and down, the amusement clear in his eyes, but she should at least be grateful that he isn’t laughing. Then again, he probably knows well enough right now that it’s for the benefit of his own preservation. She’s less likely to shoot him if he doesn’t actually laugh at her.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he grins as he makes his way closer to her. “Have fun on you trip?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, giving him a look that is intended to push the amusement from his face and not betray the discomfort at the scratchy, sandy feeling she’s currently having to contend with, but it doesn’t come off as well as she hopes. “How long have I been gone?”

“About two weeks?” he says with a small shrug. “You work fast.”

“I know how to get things done, at any rate.” She pauses before shaking out her arms and sending dried sand flying everywhere. “Why? Did you miss me?”

“You? Never.” His tone is gentler than it would have been once upon a time, whatever understanding they’ve managed to find in the city coloring his answer just enough to make it almost friendly. “Just was taking bets on whether or not you were going to get eaten by an alligator. Guess I owe Duke a beer.”

“A beer was all you wagered on me getting eaten by an alligator?” she smirks as she makes her way closer to him. “You must have more faith in me than I thought.”

“What can I say?” he grins as he goes to lean back against the table as she walks past. “If nothing else, I know you’re damn good at surviving, even when you probably shouldn’t.”

“Fair enough.” She sighs, before looking down at herself. “I am going to go clean up. After that, do you want to head over to the Gull? You should probably settle up with Duke as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure?” He makes a face. “Not that I don’t like the guy, but he’s kind of a terrible winner.”

“I think it’s best you settle it now, rather than later.” She leans in closer, pausing just for a moment to leave a sandy, but affectionate kiss on his cheek. “Dragging it out will likely only make things worse.”

He makes a bigger face. “You’re probably right.” Then he glances over to her and waggles his eyebrows. “Want me to come with? Make sure you don’t miss any spots?”

She laughs, before tipping her head to the side. “I think you’ll be more of a distraction than an asset in that particular department.”

“Guess we’ll have to see then,” he grins, before turning to follow after her.

Edited 2016-09-25 20:32 (UTC)

The bass thumps loudly around them as they move through the crowd at the show, moving easily into the front row seats that they “convinced” their previous owners to trade them for. It isn’t that their seats were bad necessarily, but they weren’t these seats.

That’s the important thing, really.

To say that Tamsin and Rebekah are a bad influence on each other is probably true. Dark Fae plus Original vampire is likely going to lead to people getting hurt regardless of what happens, but Tamsin doesn’t particularly care at the moment. It’s not like Bo or Dyson are here to judge her at the moment. In fact, Rebekah’s opinion is the only opinion that matters to her at the moment. And as far as she’s concerned, they’re in a pretty awesome place. There are reasons why Rebekah’s opinion is the only one that matters. She’s known Tamsin longer than any of her current friends have. They’ve been dancing in and out of each other’s lives for centuries now, and she’s never been given any reason to question Rebekah’s friendship or her loyalty. It seems that with Bo and Kenzi, that’s all she ever seems to do.

Her body moves slowly in time with the music, taking the opportunity to dance in their seats while the band is playing above them. Rebekah hates dance music, she knows that much, but there’s something appealing to the grunge sound, something raw and emotional that resonates with anyone, no matter how outdated their musical tastes may be. All that’s needed is a beat and something to drown out the thoughts in your head and you’re left free to react more on what you feel than anything else.

As the concert comes to an end, Tamsin finds Rebekah’s hand as they wander through the press of the crowd, looking to escape back into the world and all the real world troubles they have to go back to. It isn’t a bubble that Tamsin is prepared to escape just yet, her fingers tightening their grip on Rebekah’s until she decides against it, breaking away to the side and pulling the other blond with her, not stopping until they find a small alcove that would hide them from the view of the rest of the concert goers.

There is one thing that Tamsin is unsure about with Rebekah, despite all the times they’ve danced in and out of each other’s lives, and it’s the question of whether or not they are remaining where they are as friends, or are taking that step into something more. Tamsin’s been guilty of misreading this in the past, and while she doesn’t know what she would do if she misread this wrong, again, but this time she feels like she couldn’t have.

Rebekah isn’t a succubus who needs that kind of affection to survive. She wouldn’t send her mixed signals. (She hopes.)

“Where are we – ”

Rebekah’s question is cut off as she’s pushed against the wall, Tamsin getting in close and able to really feel the press of the other woman up against her. She’s quiet for a moment, trying to focus on keeping her breathing calm and measured, before she leans in and kisses her soundly, wanting to end the uncertainty more than anything else.

It takes a moment for the surprise to pass but once it does, Rebekah relaxes against her, one hand coming up to steady herself against the other woman’s shoulder. The kiss deepens and it’s almost as though they never were apart. Tamsin isn’t sure how much time passes between when the kiss starts and ends, but when she finally does break to breathe, she huffs out with a laugh.

“We should get out of here.”

Rebekah smirks, before teasingly taking her hand and pulling her towards the door again. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

Edited 2016-08-07 17:41 (UTC)

“So why don’t you go home?” Allison asks just before Christmas break sophomore year, and Sam blinks in surprise at the question. It’s not as though someone hasn’t asked him that question before, but they’re in the middle of studying for finals, and it takes a minute for his mind to catch up and figure out the context.

“What?”

“For Christmas,” she clarifies, an apologetic look crossing her face. “Why aren’t you going home for Christmas? Does your family not celebrate or something?”

“Not really.” She gives him an easy out to get around explaining, more or less, but there’s something about Allison already knowing the real truth about his past that makes it a little less convenient to leave it as a lie of omission. She already knows about hunting. Why shouldn’t she know about everything else? “My dad was never really around for Christmas, and Dean tried, but … it just never really worked the way it was supposed to.”

“You’re not even going to just go see them for break?”

“Nah.” There’s a small huff of a laugh, before shaking his head. “My dad probably doesn’t want to see me anyway, and Dean … Dean’s probably preoccupied.”

“With something more important than seeing his brother?”

“There’s usually some kind of crude comment about banging Santa’s elves before he disappears for three days.” He rolls his eyes as a way of pushing it off. It isn’t that he doesn’t think Dean would drop everything if Sam called and drive out to California to hang out with him. His brother being so far away is still strange ,even two years later, but things are just easier this way. “I haven’t seen them since I came out here for freshman orientation, so … I’m not expecting miracles.”

There’s something on Allison’s face that says she doesn’t understand that kind of estrangement, of being so separated from such integral parts of her life. He knows that she’s been through a lot with what goes down regularly in Beacon Hills, but she and her dad are still fairly close. She considers him for a moment, before setting her textbook and laptop to the side, before inching closer and reaching to pull his away from him.

“Well,” she says softly, as she wraps her arms around his neck. “You can spend Christmas with me instead.”

A small smile crosses his face as his arm sneaks out to wrap around her waist and pull her closer. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she teases with a small smile. “In fact, I have a lot of mistletoe.”

“Do you?” he laughs, before leaning in to kiss her softly. “In my experience, we’ve never really needed that.”

“No, that’s true.” She pauses as she leans in to kiss him again. “But that doesn’t means it hurts to have some … incentive.”

There’s a soft hum of agreement against his lips as he leans in to keep kissing her, shifting on the couch as studying is very much forgotten in favor of more pleasurable pursuits, but before they can get too far, there’s a soft banging sound against the glass window near the front of the apartment, and Sam frowns as he pulls back, Allison matching the look on his face.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

“Nope.”

The problem with both of them having been hunters is that this sends them both into high alert, reaching for weapons of convenience and making their way towards the front of the apartment. Sam eases up to the front window, before gently easing back one of the curtains to see his brother’s dumbass smiling face.

“Hey, Sammy!”

Sam is completely bewildered. “Dean?”

“Open up, dude. It’s Christmas.”

Allison raises her eyebrows for a moment, amused, and Sam shakes his head as he goes to open the door. “This is going to be a long week.”

Edited 2017-12-27 03:15 (UTC)

There’s probably an unwritten rule of being vampires that you’re not supposed to leave your mark on the world so long after you’ve supposedly left it. At least, not unless you’re a Mikaelson and have had a thousand years to develop the ability not to care. Elena does not have the ability not to care, but after a couple hundred years down the road and having exhausted a few different careers, she gets bit by the writing bug again and thinks it might be worth a shot.

Talking Tyler into doing it with her is more exhaustive, really, than talking herself into it, but somehow, she manages to appeal to the very, very hidden part of him that is just as much of a nerd as the rest of them and they pull together a story worth telling. A lot of it winds up being more truth than fiction, and in many ways it’s almost cathartic, to turn their story into a story of heroes, even though the truth is a much greyer area. Maybe someone can learn from their mistakes, see the things they should have done and emulate them if they happen to stumble onto the fact that the person they’ve fallen in love with has had many, many lifetimes to learn how to get it right.

There’s a kind of excitement that comes with getting to see the fruits of your labor, especially the ones that you’ve put a particular amount of heart into, and it’s that excitement that’s driving Elena forward, hand tight in Tyler’s as she drags him along after her. The further they go, however, the more and more he starts to feel like dead weight, until eventually his patience has run a bit too thin.

“Elena.”

“Just one more store,” she says, still charging forward until he speaks again with a little more insistence, forcing her to turn around.

“Elena,” he sighs. “They probably haven’t gotten it yet.”

“You don’t know that. Today was the release day.”

He sighs again, before stepping forward and placing his hands on her shoulders gently. “I love you. And I love your enthusiasm. But my feet hurt and we’ve been running all over town all day.”

She huffs in return. “You can’t even do one more store?”

“Why don’t you go check the store, and I’ll go over to that café to grab a cup of coffee?” He turns and points to the café he means and waits, trying to determine if that is an acceptable compromise. She follows the line of his hand for a moment, before exhaling and nodding her agreement.

“Fine. I’ll meet up with you after I check the store.”

“Good.” He smiles softly as he leans in to kiss her, one hand moving to the small of her back to keep her close in the way he knows makes her smile, before pulling back and heading across the street. “See you in a bit.”

She nods, watching to make sure he crosses safely, before turning and heading into the comics shop, scanning over the stacks as she goes. The place is a little musty, but it’s not as obviously superhero-oriented as the previous shops have been. Her fingers run over the tops of the plastic packaging as she makes her way through to the graphic novels, stopping with a small smile when she catches a glimpse of something familiar on the cover. It doesn’t take her long to sift through the titles to find the one she’s looking for and as she pulls it out, she can’t help but stare at it for a moment, taking it all in.

They did it, the perfect marriage of both their loves, and they did it together. She can’t think of anyone she would have had the opportunity to do something like this with without something else getting in the way, and she’s glad that Tyler took the time to do it with her.

After quickly purchasing two copies, one for each of them, she heads out of the comic shop, tucking the bag behind her back as she makes her way closer to the café. As she walks inside, she can see his back facing away from the door and she grins as she sneaks up behind him, kissing him softly on the cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he grins as he glances over his shoulder at her. “Did you find it?”

She can tell from his tone that he wasn’t expecting her to. Almost immediately she pulls out the graphic novel, placing it in his hands so that he can see the cover and take it all in. His eyes widen briefly, almost as though he isn’t sure that this is truly real, before he glances back at her with a bit of a stunned expression.

“We actually did it, huh?”

She grins again, before nodding her agreement. “Yeah, we did. Is that cool or what?”

Edited 2016-06-02 21:54 (UTC)

Business meetings are incredibly distracting.

They shouldn’t be. She scolds herself for it in the moment, being distracted by the lines of Lilah’s suit or the curve of her neck, but she can’t help herself. Tess Mercer has always been a woman who goes after what she wants. While unlike most people, she can maintain a professional decorum in the face of it, it doesn’t stop her mind from wandering to the ways her tongue can trace that curve, or the softness of the skin that lies underneath.

So yes, business meetings are distracting. People scold men for always having it on the brain, but that doesn’t mean women are incapable of being equally single minded. What makes it worse is that Lilah is aware of it. In fact, she possibly enjoys it a little too much, completely aware of when Tess is watching her and teasing her in all the ways she hates (loves) at the same time. Part of her wonders if they’re really being as discreet as they could be. Is Tess Mercer’s love affair with her attorney the loudest unspoken secret of Luthor Corp? Is Wolfram and Hart aware? Do any of them actually care beyond whether or not the work actually gets done?

Probably not.

This meeting has been particularly long, on a particularly warm day. Lilah’s suit jacket has been abandoned on one of the nearby chairs, showing off her toned arms as she writes on the dry erase board, and the melodic sound of her voice is drawing Tess’ attention back to things they had been doing earlier that morning. She’s so distracted by her own daydreams, that she almost doesn’t recognize her own name being spoken.

“Ms. Mercer?”

The elderly head of accounting meets her eyes and she snaps herself out of it. His gaze on her is too intent and innocent to have an idea what she was actually thinking about, unlike the head of marketing who is smirking off to the side, where he thinks she can’t see him.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, congenially. “I think the heat is getting to me.”

“Ah. We were wondering if we should break for lunch.”

“Yes!” Her response sounds too hurried in her mind, too eager to get out of this work situation and into something more leisurely, but her sitting through another hour being distracted by the heat isn’t going to actually be productive. “Why don’t we take a break and reconvene after lunch?” The board seems to be pleased with that compromise, and Tess waits until most of them are free of the room before she adds a secondary request. “Miss Morgan?”

Lilah turns and raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Would you mind coming back to my office for a few minutes to discuss some of the earlier presentation? There are a few points I need … clarification on.”

The smirk on her face is something wicked, something that teases at her and makes her feel fortunate that most of the board has passed them by and isn’t privy to this display. “Of course.”

The walk back to Tess’ office is both quiet and short, waiting until they are safely behind closed doors, before Tess turns and makes her advance, pressing up against the other woman until she’s leaning back against the locked door. The second she’s close enough, she leans in to kiss her eagerly, one hand coming up to rest against the side of her neck to keep her close.

Lilah laughs as the kiss breaks, pulling back to look at her. “Impatient, are we?”

Tess doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response, just leans in to kiss her again until she’s breathless and a small part of that need to touch has been sated. “You were being incredibly distracting.”

“Mmm,” Lilah smirks, before leaning in, brushing Tess’ red hair back over her shoulder so that she can have better access to the other woman’s neck. “Perhaps I should distract you more here, so that you pay attention during the meeting.” There’s a long drawn out pause as Lilah’s teeth drag against Tess’ pulse point, drawing a sharp breath from her prey. “Or maybe I should just make you suffer.”

Tess tips her head back as Lilah swaps places with her, pushing her against the door and she laughs to pull back with a smile. “That depends. What are you in the mood for?”

Lilah smirks a bit in return, before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I gues you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

Edited 2017-12-27 04:23 (UTC)

There are things that Bela loves about Sam. More than things, really, she loves Sam possibly more than she’s ever loved anything else. However, there are some things – habits really – that he has that she will never understand, nor adopt for herself. She can deal with the healthy eating and caring about his well-being. It’s just the hour he chooses to do it that causes her to protest.

When the chirp-chirp-chirp of Sam’s alarm breaks through the quiet peace of her sleep, Bela groans, shifting so that she’s starting to lean over her still sleeping husband to end the offending sound before it can disturb her sleep any further. It takes a few fumbling gestures before she manages to find his phone and swipes her finger across it, dropping the room back into morning quiet again. As she shifts back to her side of the bed, Sam mumbles beneath her, shifting ono his side so that he’s curled into her more.

“That was my alarm.”

“It’s too early,” she asserts as she settles comfortably. “You should stay in bed.”

“I like working out in the morning,” he replies, but he doesn’t make any effort to defy her beyond his words. “Gets it out of the way.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But you’re allowed to make exceptions every once in a while, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” He blinks one eye open to look at her, and smirks. “What would the reason be for this exception?”

“Your wife wants you to stay in bed.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

Sam laughs as he slides an arm around her, pulling her in closer. “That’s not very persuasive.”

“Who said I had to be persuasive?”

“Isn’t that your specialty? Making people an offer they can’t refuse?”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have to persuade you. Love, honor and obey, yeah? That’s how the vows go?” She’s not entirely serious about the implications, and she knows he can tell, but in this particular instance, she’d prefer he’d do as he was told. He laughs, before shaking his head.

“Those go both ways,” he sighs. “Honor means honoring the fact that your husband likes to do certain things to feel healthy and that involves getting up very early to exercise.”

“Mmmm,” she nods slowly, as though she’s considering the weight of his argument, though she really wasn’t putting that much thought into it. She already knows how she’s going to convince him to stay in bed with her, she just wants to make sure he truly wants to be “persuaded.” “So you’re saying I’m going to have to make it worth your while.”

“Something like that.” There’s a teasing look in his eyes as he lets one hand rest against her side gently. “So as I said – I may have to be persuaded.”

Bela nods once, pausing for a moment, before leaning in to kiss him gently, brushing her thumb against the side of his face. Sam lean into the kiss eagerly, his free hand sliding around to support her back and keep her close for a long as the kiss lasts. After a moment, she pulls back slowly, and smiles softly.

“Is it working?”

Sam hums softly, before he grins. “I think you might need to elaborate on a few points.”

“In that case,” she laughs, before leaning in to kiss him again, this time more soundly. Sam leans into it eagerly, before starting to roll them both so that he was settling over her, ready to spend some quality time with his wife.

She always does love when he decides he has better things to do with his morning.

Edited 2016-09-27 17:46 (UTC)

The tang of the citrus-flavored drink she’s been favoring lingers in her mouth as she turns on the barstool, letting her eyes roam out to survey the crowd for a moment. The mission that they’re on was supposed to be low-key, going undercover in a London club to see if there’s anything suspicious lurking under the surface. This isn’t the first time she’s made her way into a club setting, though this one was considerably easier to get into than the club in Manchester. So far, however, there also doesn’t seem to be any sign of trouble, and that’s probably for the best.

It can’t be entirely far-fetched that some of these missions come back with nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, she hasn’t been on a mission yet so far that hasn’t.

“Perhaps we should try dancing,” Baal suggests from his place at her side, and she glances over with a curious smirk.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to draw attention to ourselves.”

Baal eyes her curiously for a moment, before he smirks again. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a slight or a compliment for my skills as a dancer.”

“It could be either,” she replies. “I’ve never seen you dance.”

“Then perhaps this is the perfect opportunity for me to show off my skills.” He slides off his stool and extends a hand to her, wiggling his fingers in a show of temptation. “I don’t think one dance will give us away, Kate.”

It’s not necessarily the community at large she’s afraid of giving herself away to. It’s more him than anything else, not wanting him to see that his flirting is having more of an effect on her than she’s previously indicated. She’s protective of herself for a reason, and she doesn’t want him thinking that she might have feelings that are more complicated than friendship. At the same time, she can’t say that kind of assumption wouldn’t be the truth, either.

The song changes to something slower, and he glances back over his shoulder with a nod. “See? A nice slow song. I’m sure we can dance and perform reconnaissance at the same time.”

She sighs, making a show of being reluctant about it as she reaches for his hand. “Fine. But don’t step on my feet.”

He laughs as he turns to lead the way onto the dance floor. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He is right about the song. From the position he chooses on the dancefloor, she can have a fairly wide view of the rest of the club around them, and it’s patrons. They go through the motions, swaying in time to the rhythm of the music and she lets Baal lead for the most part, with his hand at the small of her back.

“I’m not seeing anything,” she whispers after a few long moments as she finally pulls back to look at him. Most of the dance so far has been spent looking over his shoulder, but when their eyes meet it’s all too clear the tension that is sitting between them. Part of her just wants to break it, cross that threshold once and for all and see what comes out on the other side, but at the same time, she knows it would be unprofessional, considering they’re supposed to be working and not exploring whatever it is that is sitting between them.

“Neither do I. Perhaps it was a false alarm?”

“Maybe.” She starts to try and take a step back, placing some distance between them, but Baal doesn’t let her get far. In one smooth motion, he pulls her back in again, slipping one arm around her waist and kissing her soundly. She barely even tries to resist, both out of surprise, and not particularly wanting to all at the same time.

A second later, she pulls back, the surprise clear on her features, but before she can say anything, the sound of screams echoes through the crowd, followed by the thunderous roar of God only knows what. She slips back into a more professional mask almost immediately as she goes to reach for the Excalibur she has hidden under her dress.

“Guess not.”

She starts to move without looking back, still kicking herself for giving in so easily, and over her shoulder she hears him shout.

“We’ll discuss this later then.”

She really, really hopes not.

Edited 2016-10-04 18:17 (UTC)

The lights from the photographers flash brightly in the front of the studio as the professional dancers line up in costume to take their promotional shots for the season. Landon has been watching carefully for a while, waiting for his turn in line, tentatively adjusting his costume as needed and making sure that he looks right and isn’t planning on mimicking any of the poses already used by the other dancers. He shifts on the balls of his feet when he hears Liam coming up behind him and gives him a small smile.

“Hey. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know,” he replies quickly. “I just wanted to see what all the racket was about.”

“Not really much to see,” Landon says simply with a small shrug. He can feel Liam watching him out of the corner of his eye and he tries not to acknowledge it

“Are you nervous?”

The smile is gone in an instant, and Landon looks over at Liam like he’s been slapped, almost as though the implication that he may not be completely prepared for this turn of events is an affront to his very being. Landon is a ballroom champion. He’s been on stage since he knew how to walk. The “n-word” is not a word that is ever present in his vocabulary and he resents his boyfriend for implying such a thing.

“What? No. Of course not.” Liam studies him carefully for a moment, knowing that it really comes down to the curse of being known too well, and Landon tries his best to keep his composure, but after a moment he exhales with a loud huff and shakes his head. “Shut up.”

Liam flashes him a shit eating grin, before moving closer and sliding his arms around Landon’s waist from behind. “They’re just pictures.”

“They’re pictures for what is potentially the biggest gig of my career. I get this job and ... I’ll be getting gigs for the rest of my life.”

“You really don’t need those, you know.” Liam smirks. “I’m your sugar daddy, remember?”

“I remember. That doesn’t mean I want you to be.” Landon sighs as he turns around, before shaking his head. “I have to do my own thing. You know that.”

“I do.” Liam sighs as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry. You’re going to do great.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.”

Landon takes the quiet moment to lean back against his boyfriend’s chest, relishing the support there even though he knows he doesn’t actually need it. Marianna is doing this with him, and Landon knows that no matter what happens, Liam isn’t going anywhere. It’s those things that are keeping him grounded in the fact that he is getting all he’s ever wanted, and that there’s a reason not to turn tail and run.

Even if every instinct in his body is screaming to.

Liam tightens his grip on him when he senses that anxiety and he leans in to brush a kiss to his cheek gently. “You’ll be great. I know it.”

Landon smiles softly at the gesture before he notices the production assistant staring them down as though she’s trying to figure out if Liam is actually supposed to be there. Landon sighs, before nudging him away from him. “You better get out of here, or they’re going to haul you out.”

Liam sighs before pulling away to sneak towards the exit. “I’ll see you back at home?”

Landon grins as he turns to meet him with a kiss. “See you then.”

Edited 2016-08-12 22:41 (UTC)

The quiet of the woods surrounds her as she raises the bow in her hand, knocking the arrow and keeping her sights on the fox in front of her. As far as she can tell with her human ears, the hunting party actually looking for the fox is far away, with the clomping hooves and blowing horns. They probably are in this hunt more for the drinking and the revelry more than they actually are the prize at hand, but Kate knows at least one of the pack is more of a shrewd hunter than he lets on, and just one of them is good enough for her.

“You’ll have to adjust for the wind.”

Her husband’s voice in her ear startles her, and his hands find her hips to keep her from jostling too much and scaring the fox off again. She calms as soon as she realizes it’s Peter, before taking a deep breath and glancing back at him over her shoulder.

“My arrow almost wound up in your gut.”

“Almost being the key word in that sentence.” He smirks at her in return. “But you seem to have recovered well.”

She makes a face at him in return, before turning her attention back to her quarry again. “What are you doing here? The fox is going to smell wolf and run the opposite way. Or someone will see you and claim I’m cheating.”

“Surely you think I’m a slyer wolf than that,” he teases, before taking a step to the side so that he’s standing next to her. “I learned how to hide my scent a long time ago. And your opponents are about a mile in the wrong direction.”

“Good.” She takes a deep breath to steady herself again, bow taught with the tension and strength she pulled it back with, before she carefully releases into the arrow and it flies straight to its target, landing right in the heart of the marked fox. As the creature falls dead, she lets out a happy yelp, before turning her husband with a grin. “I think that’s a winning shot, don’t you?”

“You do realize we don’t need the money,” he points out with a smile as she slings her bow over her shoulder.

“Perhaps we do not,” she laughs, before leaning in to kiss him softly. “But I will never say no to the notoriety.” He kisses her back, one hand sliding across her waist, but before he can get too close, she pushes him away, nudging for him to head back into the trees and towards the crowds. “Now, go. We can celebrate properly later.”

Peter smirks in return, before nodding and disappearing quietly into the trees. With a smile, Kate lunges forward across the roots and branches to collect her prize and head back towards the judging booth.

* * * * *

Three hours later, the horns are called for the end of the hunt and the rest of the hunters ride back in to disappointment and confusion. Kate, on the other hand, is already at the finish line, leaning casually on the trophy as though it was a rather decorative armrest rather than the sign of victory that it truly was. Most men are not pleased to be shown up by a woman, but there’s only one man’s opinion that she actually cares about, and he joins her on the field not long after they return and have given her their half-hearted congratulations.

“Did you take the long way home?” she teases, one hand coming up to rest against his chest. He smiles at her in return before moving closer, pulling his wife against him more.

“I want to make sure no one doubts your prowess,” he sighs, before looking down at her. “Though I do remember you saying something about celebrating.” He leans in to kiss her, and she hums for a moment, before she holds up a finger in protest.

“I did,” she nods. “But there’s going to be a feast in my honor in a few hours.”

“I think we can get a little celebrating in before then, don’t you?”

She smirks some in return, before nodding and reaching behind her to grab her trophy. “I will yield to you judgement, my lord.”

Edited 2016-08-20 20:03 (UTC)

Winters in Mystic Falls had become a convenient way of circumventing the brutal Norwegian winters – or at least brutal as far as Elena is concerned. France is far less cold and has far less snow, leaving them to escape the French heat to summer in Norway, where the climate was more temperate. Elena is a warm blooded woman, more than she’d care to admit, and while she wouldn’t have complained if they hadn’t been able to reach a compromise, she is a bit relieved when the bundle the girls up every fall in order to head south.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s always nice to go home.

However, one winter, Talia comes down with a rather violent illness and they’re forced to remain at Hale Manor. Deaton is sure it’s some kind of respiratory infection, and with the proper treatment it will pass, but it doesn’t stop Elena from spending as much time as she can with her little girl, her fingers carding through her hair gently as she reads her a story or walks her through a coughing fit.

“You’re going to make yourself sick as well, you know.” Derek’s voice is calm as he watched her from the door.

“I’ll be fine,” she replies, swallowing hard as Talia finally drifts off. “I don’t like that she’s so sick.”

“Children get sick, my love.” He makes his way closer, curling his fingers around her shoulders as he pulls her up and back against him. “It’s how their bodies learn to protect themselves.”

“What if it’s the kind of sickness she can’t protect herself from?”

Derek takes a deep breath as he keeps her close, rubbing her sides gently. She leans back into him to soak up the warmth of his embrace, a warm oasis in the all too prevalent chill of the manor. She knows she’s worrying too much over things she can’t control, but there’s only so much she can do where she is. She doesn’t have the power to heal her daughter’s illness. All she can do is comfort her and hope for the best, and it has a way of making her feel all too powerless.

“I wish her room wasn’t so cold.”

He glances back over his shoulder, before turning to face her again. “Why don’t we take her to our chambers for the night? It’s usually warmer with the fireplace, and the dry air will be good for her.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, before leaning in to kiss her softly. “You gather what she needs, and I’ll go arrange the chaise so it’s closer to the fire.”

She smiles softly before leaning in to the kiss, and doing as requested. A few minutes later, she returns to their room, carrying their daughter, wrapped in a bundle of blankets, and Derek has rearranged the room to accommodate one of their middle daughters. She smiles softly, before moving to rest her on the chaise lounge, letting her curl up close to the fire.

“There,” he nods, reaching for Elena’s hand again. “She’ll be just fine.”

“I hope so,” she turned to face him with a small smile as her arms slid around him. “Thank you, for humoring me.”

“Your happiness is all that matters,” he murmurs as he keeps her close. “If having her here makes you happy, then I am happy.”

“Good,” she sighs, leaning in to rest her head against his shoulder. “Because I’m fairly certain if the other girls ever find out about this, Miranda will start faking a cough herself.”

He laughs, before shaking his head and going to close the door. “The clearly they must never know.” The door clicked shut, and he turned back to her to pull her towards the bed. “For my wife needs her rest.”

She sighs, before shaking her head as she lets him pull her back to bed. “As my husband commands.”

Edited 2017-12-16 02:31 (UTC)

The flowers outside the architecture building are almost overwhelming in terms of smell, fragrant to the point of giving him a headache as Ryan paces outside the door. It’s not helping the nerves tangling in the pit of his stomach and he looks down at the portfolio in his hand.

This is a bad idea.

This is a really bad idea.

“Maybe we should just – ”

Before he could finish the sentence Dina’s hand flies out and smacks him upside the head with a surprising amount of force and accuracy. A burst of pain is left in it’s wake, and while it fades just as soon as it starts, his eyes widen as he turns to face her. “Ow.”

“You’re wimping out.” Dina crosses her arms in front of her chest as she stares him down. “You’re not wimping out on this.”

“Dina … ”

“This program is you future on a plate. You’re already here, you’re not going to give up now.”

Ryan glances back at the building that holds that very future and he’s not entirely convinced. This isn’t like him back in his room screwing around with Legos or scribbling in his spare time. This is real, where he’d be building actual buildings. Buildings that people would live in or work in and would be responsible for not only keeping them safe but becoming a long-term fixture in any skyline. It’s not just his future, it’s his legacy on a plate, and he isn’t entirely sure he’s ready for all of that pressure.

“What if I’m not good enough?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I’m serious, Dina. What if I don’t get it?”

“If you don’t try, you’ll definitely never get it. And that isn’t a reason not to at least do that.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, blond curls spiraling around her shoulders. She never felt the need to tame it from the mane she had as a child when he first met her, she just stylized it a bit more so that it looked out of control by choice, rather than it just being a fact of nature. “And I think you will get it.”

“This program only accepts ten people out of hundreds of applicants.”

“And you are easily top ten, but you’re not going to get it unless you go in there with a little more confidence.” Dina takes a step forward and rests her hands on his shoulders firmly. “Why do you want to do this? Why architecture?”

Ryan shrugs. He doesn’t really have a ready made answer for that question, but he knows that Dina isn’t going to back off without a really good reason, so he huffs and tries to come up with one. “I’m good at it?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

He glares at her, before closing his eyes and trying to find a real answer underneath all the uncertainties. “I … I just want to build things. I’ve been building things since I was three. It’s as natural as breathing, and I know it’s something I could do for the rest of my life.”

“And why should they care?”

That’s the harder question. There really isn’t any reason why they should care about his wanting to build things. But it’s an important one, because they have to care if they’re going to let him into the program. “Because I’m good. I have a portfolio to prove it. And if they want to add another great architect to their legacy, then they should pick me.”

“Good. Now just keep that in mind when you go in there, and you’ll be fine.”

Ryan is about to respond when one of the administrators pokes his head out of the door and glances around the area.

“McCall, Ryan?”

Ryan takes a deep breath before looking over at his best friend again. “That’s me.”

Dina leans in and kisses him on the cheek before turning him around and smacking him on the ass to get him started for the door. “Knock ‘em dead.”

There’s a small yelp from Ryan as he starts to make his way forward, clutching his portfolio in his hands as he makes his way to the door. “Here goes nothing.”

Edited 2016-10-06 15:01 (UTC)

They wait until Lydia gets a position teaching at Colombia while she works on her dissertation, and Sam gets a promotion to actually start looking in earnest for a place just for them. It isn’t like they weren’t practically living together prior to that, but securing a little more money between them to make sure they could afford something nice isn’t a bad thing – at least not in Lydia’s mind. Then again, no one should really be surprised in that respect, considering everything Lydia wears is nice and high quality.

It’s an exterior image she’s perfected well and has done her best to maintain. Insecurities were something for Sam or Stiles to see, and Sam or Stiles alone. She knows that she can’t bottle everything up, always, but she doesn’t have to be an outpouring of emotions all over the world at large – that’s the happy medium she’s managed to compromise with herself.

The brownstone they’re currently looking at his small, and fallen into a bit of disrepair, but not terrible looking. While not initially looking for a fixer upper, Lydia also has always had an eye for potential, and she recognizes a deal when she sees one. She’s silent as they all move inside, Sam asking a litany of questions through the realtor’s speech to try and cover all the legal loopholes that the realtor or the seller might try to hop through, but Lydia also knows that he wouldn’t ask that many questions if he wasn’t at least interested. Lydia just lets him ask, while she looks through the rooms, trying to ignore the smell of dust and dampness and picture what could be.

Sam eventually comes up behind her, placing one hand on the small of her back gently. “What do you think?”

“This could be a nice living room.” She lets her eyes roam down again, looking over the floors and then back to the walls. “Fresh coat of paint, refinish the floors, some nice furniture.” She then pauses and turns towards the kitchen. “There’s a nice sunroom off the kitchen that I can use for an office, and upstairs next to the master there’s one you can use for yours.”

“Already stealing the sun room from me?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

She smirks as she turns to face him. “You use a laptop. Most of the time I don’t. I figured you’d appreciate less glare.”

Sam considers for a moment, before nodding. “Fair enough.” There’s another beat as he pulls her closer gently, letting his eyes really take it in. “It’s also going to be a lot of work.”

“Maybe,” Lydia says with a small nod. “But I think it could be good work. And with the price they listed as a starting price, if we negotiate properly – ” Which they should, because lawyer. “ – then we should be able to get the money in the mortgage to cover the repairs.” Not to say that she wouldn’t be watching whoever they happen to hire like a hawk, but the point still stands. “Besides, some of it I’m sure we could do ourselves.”

“Also fair. Dean would probably help too.”

“He should, if he’s going to be sleeping in our guest room.”

He laughs a bit before shifting so that he was facing her more. Her hands come up to rest on his chest gently, and she waits for the inevitable question that is going to follow. It’s probably going to be a more pertinent question than the logistics of buying a fixer upper, but more with what this means for their relationship.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Because this is a little more than mutually renting an apartment. This is buying a house.”

“I know. And there’s a lot more security in that than renting. We went over the numbers.” That was her contribution to the apartment-shopping experience. He did the arguing, she did the math.

“This isn’t about the math. This is about us.” He looks down to meet her eyes, his thumb brushing against the small of her back. “Buying a house means you’re intending on sticking with me for a really long time. Are you sure about this?”

It’s a tentative question, but it’s a good one. At this point in their relationship, there’s no ring on her finger, and as far as she’s aware there isn’t looking to be for a while, but buying this house is just as surely a sign of commitment as getting engaged is.

“Yes,” she says with a nod, the usual Lydia Martin certainty that goes with it. “I know there are reasons why we’re waiting and things we’re still figuring out, but I kind of like the idea of figuring us out while we figure this out.” The house could be a metaphor for what they were already doing. “And if it doesn’t work, then we can always sell it. But I want to see if this works.”

Sam watches her, smiling softly for a moment, before nodding and reaching for her hand. “Then let’s go make an offer.”

She smiles in return, before nodding and turning to follow him. “Good.”

Edited 2016-10-10 18:51 (UTC)

Returning to France this time around is only strange because she isn’t returning alone.

It feels like it had taken years of convincing for her father to let her marry Isaac – more importantly, to allow her to marry because it was her choice – and while she’s certain that they’ve come out of this mostly unscathed, it’s still strange to consider the fact that she actually won. She’s still Lady Allison Argent, but she has a husband now and a ring on her finger, and while she had always thought that marriage was oppressive, she can’t help but feel that marrying Isaac was a victory.

After a lovely honeymoon, they manage to make their way back to the Argent Estate, which Isaac has never visited before. The wedding itself took place on Hale lands and they left for their honeymoon shortly after, and her father had never let Isaac visit her on the family lands. It was mostly for Isaac’s own good, as Daniel had still been living at the manor at the time, but now that control of the manor was being passed to Allison, things should be much more receptive. Regardless, she can still see the anticipatory look on Isaac’s face as the carriage rolled up to the front door.

“It’s very … gothic.”

She smirks a bit at the response, before looking at him curiously. “Is that a good or bad thing?”

“Not bad,” he says hesitantly, looking over the exterior of the building. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

“I hope not, as this is your home now.”

“That might be where the strangeness is coming in,” he admits as he moves to climb out of the carriage, before extending a hand to her. “I’m used to simply being a knight of the guard. I’m not sure how well I’ll take to being a lord of the manor.”

“I think you’ll do just fine,” she says, taking his hand and stepping down to the ground. “It will just take some getting used to, that’s all.”

“A lot of things are going to take some getting used to. Your father is still living on the grounds, is he not?”

“He is, but it’s to teach you. If he was going to harm you, he would have done it long before our wedding day.” She smirks a bit as she pulls him towards the front doors and into the house itself, pausing in the open entryway hall. “He’ll pass down what he knows about the people of the town and introduce you to important members of our town to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“And he’s not going to shoot me with an arrow if I get something wrong, is he?”

She pauses before looking at him slowly. “Not … that I’m aware of.”

“He seems like the type who would.”

Allison rolls her eyes a bit, before reaching up and taking her husband by the collar and pulling him in. One hand lingered against the back of his neck to keep him close as they kissed, and it doesn’t take him long to respond, his hands lingering at her waist to keep her close as he returns the kiss deeply. She holds the kiss for as long as it takes to be sure that she has his attention, and then pulls back with a small smile.

“Don’t worry about my father. You will be fine.”

“I’ll do my best,” he replies softly. ”He’s just very intimidating.”

“I know,” she nods. “But I’d much rather you focus on being my husband than his target practice.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed.” She pauses, before pushing up on her toes and leaning to whisper in his ear. “Especially considering he won’t be returning to the manor for a few days.”

His eyebrows arched curiously at that, before a slow smirk slid across his face. “In that case, we best take advantage of our time alone while we still can.” And with that, he scoops her up off the ground and begins to stalk towards the interior rooms of the house, leaving his bride laughing as he did. They make it a good distance to the main hallway, before he stops and looks around for a moment.

“What is it?”

He glances down at her sheepishly, before tipping his head to the side a bit. “You have yet to reveal where our bedroom is.”

Allison grins wickedly for a moment, before leaning in to kiss him again softly. “Well, you are a werewolf. Use nose and figure it out.”

His grin matches hers in short order as he takes a breath and begins to move again, his eyes briefly glowing gold. “Challenge accepted, milady.”

Edited 2017-12-19 01:23 (UTC)

She should have seen Isaac coming, but she doesn’t.

It’s the sort of thing that sneaks up on her. While yes, he needed saving, and yes, she tried to use the Bite to help give him control over his life (a move that Peter wasn’t particularly fond of and said was “her choice” in a way that usually means he thinks it’s something she’s going to regret, but he’s not going to tell her not to), she didn’t do it out of some grand romantic gesture. She just thought she was being nice, and in being nice, she saved her friend.

He’s only her second beta after Scott. Scott was her best friend before he was her beta, so the bond there makes sense, and she understands it. The bond with Isaac is something different, something she’s still trying to explore and figure out and hope that she doesn’t get in over her head. Still Isaac is fiercely loyal, protective, and obedient, everything you would want in a beta, so she opts not to dwell on it too much and simply continue as normal.

They’re sitting on the couch in Melissa’s house one night, watching a movie when everything changes. She’s been focused on the task at hand, not how close he happens to be sitting, not the way his arm is resting around her shoulders, so when he squeezes her shoulders a bit, it draws her attention away from the movie just enough.

“Something – ”

He cuts her off before she can finish, leaning in and kissing her before she can get another word out. The gesture catches her by surprise more than anything, a surprised gasp as one hand comes up to rest against his chest, push him back a little. Not hard, and not violent, just enough so that she can breathe and process what’s going on.

“Did I do something wrong?”

She’s not surprised when that’s the first question, because for Isaac rejection usually comes hand in hand with something being twisted into his fault and she’s quick to shake her head, because no. What happened wasn’t … wrong, exactly. (Though it’s possible that there’s something not quite right, either.)

“No, no, you didn’t. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” There’s still a bit of hesitation and hesitance there, as he’s not particularly used to or being in the habit of asserting himself, and she wants him to try to be. He’s eventually going to have to make decisions for himself, not hide behind her forever.

“Neither?” Cora’s eyes close for a minute as she quietly runs a hand through her hair. “I’ve just … no one’s ever done that before? To me.”

The fact that Isaac seems surprised by all of that only makes her more uncomfortable. “I thought … in high school … ”

“In high school I was still figuring out how to be an alpha? Or a person for that matter. Plus there was no one that interested in me.” At least, not one that ever made himself that obviously known, as she’d later learn. “It just didn’t happen.”

“Oh.”

There’s a quiet that permeates the room for a moment, and she’s suddenly worried that she got this wrong. That maybe she shouldn’t have told him the truth and made it seem like she had more experience than she did, but given how much time they’ve spent together as of late, she has a feeling that that is a lie he’ll see through sooner, rather than later. After a moment, she takes a breath and shifts to face him more.

“Can we just … try again?” She looks up hopefully, because she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings more than anything else. “This time when I’m a little more prepared for it?”

Isaac watches her for a moment, before nodding and leaning in to kiss her again. He probably could have said something about her needing to be “prepared” to kiss him, and what that said about how she actually felt, but he doesn’t simply leaning in and kissing her again, and this time she kisses him back.

It’s not good. It’s not bad either. But maybe, with a little bit of practice, it could get better.

After all, first kisses are just that.

Edited 2017-01-09 17:58 (UTC)

He still remembers the first time she kissed him, the moment where he did everything right. He told her the truth and she said the words he’d been waiting to hear since he was eleven years-old, and he ruined it by taking a great big sledgehammer to the timeline and rewriting history.

(He thought that he had learned his lesson then. No moment is ever perfect, no chance you’ll ever get twice. Everything comes with a price, even things that shouldn’t.)

He doesn’t want to think that a part of him has been waiting since that moment for her to come to the same realization she did that day on the waterfront. He wants to believe that he buried it down, dismissed it as never going to happen. She’s needed him more to be her friend lately than being something more and he accepted that. But the moment she confesses that there may be something more there, that maybe they’re meant to be, everything comes rushing back to the surface again, all the hope, all the anticipation, everything he’s always wanted all wrapped up in a big shiny bow.

But it’s never the right time, is it?

He isn’t entirely sure what Iris is trying to convince him to do but for the moment he is very tempted to listen to her. Part of him would throw away the Flash entirely for just a second of the thing he’s been waiting for since he was eleven. Part of him wants to run to her and kiss the hell out of her and make her promises that he will always come home to her, no matter what.

(A promise he could never keep, but he would try.)

Barry Allen, perpetually late. Watching moments pass him by no matter how hard he tries to cling to them, keep them where he can hold on to them forever. He seizes the day five seconds too late, reacts instead of acts and even when the world is back to moving in slow motion, he still can’t be the guy that sticks the landing.

As Wells straps him into the apparatus and Iris is telling him that this won’t change anything (this will change everything), and he knows that he really should have kissed her. He swears to himself that it will be the first thing he does once things are back to normal and he’s the Flash again.

The problem is, things are never really normal, and Barry shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep, even to himself.

Edited 2016-05-06 20:03 (UTC)

Every time Bo kisses Tamsin she knows that this isn’t the right thing.

It’s a sinking feeling that rests in the pit of her stomach, but only for a moment. It doesn’t happen when Bo asks to feed, when she needs to heal and Tamsin acts put upon at the suggestion – like Bo could go somewhere else and get what she needed. That feels like their old relationship where Tamsin could barely stand her but still needed to keep her alive at the end of the day. It’s when Tamsin offers that Bo feels that twist of guilt, that idea that maybe Tamsin might be expecting more of this than she should.

Still, that never stops Bo. It should, but it doesn’t.

“Here,” Tamsin says softly, before crawling across the covers to her, leaning in and kissing her soundly.

There’s about a second where Bo thinks she should push away, but it’s only a second before instinct takes over and she leans into it, pulling at skin, pulling at clothing, and soaking up every moment of it, because while her love life is the epitome of complicated, this is simple and straightforward. The tangy taste of Tamsin’s chi overwhelms her and she sinks into the warmth of it all because this is just about making herself whole again. All she needs to do is heal. Once that’s taken care of, things can go back to the way they were before. Only problem is, they never really do. They only sink more and more into the realm of “complicated” and that’s not something Bo ever really manages to come back from.

She blames the taste of her, somewhere in her mind. If she wasn’t this irresistible, Bo wouldn’t be so tempted. She wants to lay the blame anywhere but on herself, but that doesn’t always work out the way she’s hoped. All she can do is hope that somewhere along the way, Tamsin understands, and doesn’t feel used for it.

She lies in bed with her after, Tamsin asleep on her side, and Bo tracing small shapes against her back. Part of her wants to believe that at the end of the day, Tamsin knows that this isn’t real unless they talk about it first, but she knows that feelings are more complicated than that. She knows that if they all go too long without saying anything, assumptions will be made – assumptions that will only hurt her in the end.

She doesn’t want to hurt her. She never wanted to hurt anyone. But in a lot of ways, that’s all that Bo ever does is hurt people, and most of the time, it’s things that can never successfully be fixed. Not in ways that are particularly lasting. Bo takes a deep breath, before leaning in to press a kiss to her shoulder, only pausing for a moment to make sure she’s still asleep.

“Please forgive me when this is over,” she says softly, running her fingers along her shoulder. “I’m sorry in advance.”

It won’t be enough, but maybe it’s a start.

Edited 2016-09-23 20:48 (UTC)

“Maybe we should get away for a while.”

It’s an idle thought that occurs to her as she’s standing at the kitchen counter, fixing her coffee to go with her morning breakfast. Lana is sitting at the table not too far from her, reading the paper and sipping at her coffee, and she looks up in surprise at the suggestion.

“Like a vacation?”

“If you want to call it that,” Tess responds as she turns to cross towards the table and sliding into the seat across from her, separating out the business section of the newspaper while Lana goes through the current events. “I do have a lot of vacation time I never actually use. Maybe it would be nice.”

“Do you think you could actually stay out of company business long enough for it to qualify as a vacation?”

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want to go?”

“Don’t deflect.”

“You deflected first.” Tess crosses her legs in front of her, smirking over the edge of the coffee cup.

“I wasn’t deflecting. I was making a very valid point that you, Tess Mercer, are a workaholic. I’m not sure you’re capable of taking a vacation.”

“You never know. I may just surprise you.”

Lana doesn’t seem convinced, and she smirks a bit as she gets to her feet. “If you can prove that you can handle turning off your phone and letting your email fill up over the course of a weekend, even, then I will consider going away with you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“If you want to look at it that way,” Lana smirks, making her way around the table, leaning in to face her. “I just don’t think that getting away will be the romantic encounter you endeavor it to be.”

Tess knows, to an extent, that she’s right. She’s too much of a workaholic to leave her company unattended for too long. But there is a part of her that wants to be anywhere but Smallville with Lana sometimes. Somewhere where they’re unknown entities with little baggage and no one to judge them. Plus, there’s the fact that Lana just made it a challenge, and she smirks a bit in return.

“You know I can never resist a challenge.” She leans in to kiss Lana softly, before pulling back with a nod. “I look forward to proving you wrong.”

Lana shakes her head as starts to walk away and load her dishes into the sink. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Edited 2017-12-29 22:43 (UTC)

The small of mothballs and dust meet them as they force open the door to the Lockwood archives and Carol gives a small cough, before wrinkling her nose in disgust. She probably should get in here more often and clean things up, but since it’s not a part of the house that’s normally shown to guests it isn’t as much of a priority as the rest of the house. Instead, she just flashes Liz an apologetic look before stepping further inside.

“Sorry for the mess,” she sighs softly. “We haven’t really needed to come in here in years.”

“I know,” Liz says as she follows behind her. “I was hoping we wouldn’t but those bodies aren’t exactly something we can easily ignore. Not as the Council.”

“I know.” They pick their way through the boxes, looking for something in particular rather than just pulling out the entirety of the archives at once. It’s a few silent minutes later that she looks up again, making a face as she brushes away the dust. “You ever regret marrying into all of this?”

Liz blinks at her in confusion, before tipping her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know.” Carol waves her hand as though that explains it all. “The vampires, the town history – all of that.”

“I knew before I married Bill.” Liz pauses for a moment, looking back down at the files she is sorting through. “The entire sheriff’s department knew. It was part of our training.”

Carol flips open another box when she doesn’t find what she is looking for, and turns that over in her head for a moment. “So am I the only current member of the Council who spent most of my life completely oblivious to vampires being in our midst?”

“Well, you didn’t just marry in, Carol. You were from out of town too.”

The gentle reminder is all she needs to nod and get back to work, brushing away more dust and opening more boxes. There are a few sudden sneezes from both women, and after the second round, she shakes her head.

“Okay, I really need to get rid of all this dust up here. If we’re going to be coming up here often, this is unsanitary.”

“I don’t disagree there.” Liz looks up with a small smirk before she flips open the next box in her stack. “But I also have my fingers crossed that we don’t wind up here all that often. After Grayson and Miranda’s death, the last thing we need is an invasion of vampires.”

“Regardless of however often we come up here, I’m sure my allergies will thank me.” There’s a beat as she looks down at the book in her hands, before flipping it open. “Oh! I think I found it.”

“Is the location of the Gilbert watch in there?”

“I don’t see why we don’t just ask John. I’m sure he’ll be back in town soon.”

“John never really showed that much interest in the family archives. Even if he knew the family had it, it’s doubtful he knows where it is, or that Miranda would share it with him.” Liz makes her way closer, looking over her friend’s shoulder before running her finger down the page. “There it is. The Gilberts have it in their safety deposit box. We should get it back.”

“Miranda said she was going to lend me some pieces for the Founder’s events coming up. Elena has access, maybe I can get her to fish it out for me.”

“Works for me.” And with that, they close things up and make their way back down to the door. Liz turns back to Carol with a small smile, before leaning in for a friendly mutual kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again for the help, Carol.”

“Anytime,” she nods with a small smile. “It’s my town too.”

Edited 2016-09-28 16:15 (UTC)

Buffy and Chloe aren’t the closest.

Buffy gets why of course. She gets that it’s because Buffy is the new blond in Jimmy’s life and Jimmy is Chloe’s ex and there is History and Complications and that all makes sense. But Chloe is still an important part of her life here, because Chloe is dating Sam and best friends with Lana who is dating Dean and her life is basically going to be entangled in Smallville for a very long time.

Particularly if things with her and Jimmy keep going the way they’re going.

She wants them to keep going the way they’re going, for the record. She is feeling very good about all things Jimmy, all things cute and sweet and normal which is something she’s been sorely lacking in her life ever since she’s become the Slayer. So making friends with Chloe Sullivan, as awkward as it is when you are Buffy and fail at friendship in general is harder than it looks, but at the same time, Buffy does know how to be someone’s friend.

Sometimes.

Regardless, her attempt to be Chloe’s friend ended in the two of them getting into some metahuman trouble, and while in the end, they manage to make it out together, when they’re collapsing back at the Talon, dirty and disheveled, Chloe turns back to her with a bit of a look.

“Real talk?”

Buffy looks uncertain, but nods. “Sure.”

“What the hell was today all about? Before the whole metahuman thing, I mean.”

Buffy hesitates for a moment, before shifting into more of a sitting positon. “You’re the glue.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Smallville glue. You’re connected to everyone and keep everyone connected together, and believe me, I am well aware that I am in the weird awkward position of the ex-husband’s new honey and that is not the place where you want to hang you friendship hat, but it’s about more than just Jimmy.”

“You don’t want to turn our thing into the awkward hold out in every social event ever.”

“Exactly. And I really do think you’re cool. And I don’t want us to turn into that whole movie cliché. I would rather it be ‘and’ instead of ‘versus.’ … Does that make any sense?”

Chloe watches her for a moment, surprised, before nodding a bit seeming as though she’s recognizing the effort that Buffy is trying to make. “It does, in a weird way. And it’s sweet.” On further contemplation, it seems like she gains a second wind. “But you’re right. Jimmy and I are on good terms now, why can’t we be?”

Buffy’s smile brightens in response, before reaching over and covering Chloe’s hand with her own, giving it a small squeeze. “Good. I’m glad. And I’m glad we … got this out.”

“Me too. But unfortunately, since we were interrupted, I better get home and change before I go and meet Sam.” She pushes to her feet, finishing off her coffee before leaning in and giving Buffy a kiss on the cheek goodbye. “Maybe next time we should just do mani-pedis?”

“Deal.”

Edited 2018-01-01 02:13 (UTC)

Kate knows better. It’s what she tells herself as she starts to reach for the bit of New Year’s dinner sitting in front of her. Piper has been prepping for hours, and Kate has been smelling it for just as long, and as the seconds tick away, so does her will power. She begins to inch forward, her hand slowly moving towards the bit of carrot that is resting on the edge of the cutting board. She is almost there, almost reaching that piece of sweet, crunchy carroty goodness when –

Smack!

Piper’s hand comes down on top of hers like a force of nature and she recoils in pain for a moment, because even if she’s expecting it, Piper always hits harder than she remembers. “Ow.”

“You brought that on yourself,” Piper replies, not even skipping a beat in her meal preparations, and Kate sighs a bit before bringing her non-injured hand up to nurse the first one. “You know better than to mess with me when I’m in the zone.”

“Well, it’s not my fault it smells so damn good,” Kate points out, slowly pushing herself to her feet as she makes her way around the counter to take a deep breath in. “I am very hungry and you are teasing me.”

“Is this the good or bad kind of teasing?”

“Which kind of teasing lets me have a taste?”

“Neither.”

“Then it’s the bad kind,” Kate says with a bit of a smirk as she leans against the sink. “The good kind would have at least worked out well for the both of us.”

Piper gives her a small look at that. “You know, you could go do something useful and let me cook in peace.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

There’s another small look as Piper turns, before taking a few steps closer, pushing up on her heels and leaning in to kiss Kate deeply. When she finally pulls back, she gives her a small smile. “Please go set the table. I will join you when I’m finished cooking, and you can consider that a bit of a taste for later.”

Kate pauses, considers for a moment, before she smirks and leans in to kiss her girlfriend again. “Deal.”

“Good.” Piper pulls back to resume cooking and Kate moves to one of the cabinets to get the plates. But that doesn’t stop her, as she moves past the kitchen counter again, from reaching out and snatching one of the carrots she tried to grab earlier and dashing out the door before Piper can exact her wrath.

All that could be heard over the sound of her escaping laughter is Piper’s exasperated tone. “Seriously?”

Edited 2017-12-31 22:55 (UTC)

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Sara doesn’t look at Peter as she asks the question, keeping her eyes schooled straight ahead as listening to the roar of the crowd for any sign of trouble, but she knows that her voice makes clear the faith she has in this particular plan of Neal’s. She knows that his record with pulling plans out of his ass is an impressive one, but it’s still Neal, and she’s still waiting for things to go spectacularly wrong in one way or another. These things usually do.

“Am I ever sure any of Neal’s plans are going to work?” Peter replies as he leads her into the room, retrieving their invitation from the inside pocket of his jacket. “At this point, we’ve been through enough together that I trust him enough not to watch his every move.”

“Yeah, but you’re also not usually the one running point.” Not that she doesn’t have Faith in Peter’s ability to be a good front man, but this plan is being set up completely differently from their usual routine. There’s a formula that works, and this one isn’t one that’s been proven yet.

“I think I can handle it. Neal’s the one doing all the heavy lifting behind the scenes.”

Sara takes a deep breath and nods, before making her way forward into the room once they had passed through the initial entry. A quick scan of the room locates their mark, and she smirks back at him. “Guess we better get to work then.”

“Guess we should.”

It doesn’t take long for things to get complicated. As Neal and Diana make their breach down below, things slowly begin to escalate above and while they complete the mission as directed and an arrest is made, the rest of them meet up back at June’s for wine and relaxation. Sara makes her way out to the balcony after a while for some air, and while she’s alone for a little while, eventually Peter will come out to join her while Neal and Diana are conveying the adventure for Mozzie.

“Wouldn’t have been able to have done it without you.”

“Yes, you would.” Sara smirks a bit. “Neal would have charmed Alex and El into helping out and you would have been fine.”

“True, but I would have had to either worry about trusting Alex or worry about my wife’s safety – all things that are far more distracting.”

“Are you saying you don’t worry about my safety, Peter?”

He gives her a look at that, as though to say you know what I mean, before continuing. “I know that you can take care of yourself. You chose this as your job – Elizabeth didn’t.”

“Fair.” And it is. Sara chose to go after dangerous people for a living, and she got damn good at it. It’s the reason why she’s taking a job in London in a few weeks, and will be leaving to move on to bigger and better things. “Still, I’m happy to help. Have to get a few more exciting cases in before I have to delegate.”

“We’re going to miss you around here, you know.”

“You mean Neal is going to miss my equipment.”

“I think we both know that Neal is going to miss more than that.” It’s no secret the emotions that lay in between Neal and Sara, and her eyes dart back to the city, not wanting to deal with them at the moment, especially since she knows it isn’t going to last between them. “And so am I, for that matter.”

She glances over with a small smile, before pushing up and brushing a kiss against his cheek. “It’s been a pleasure, Agent Burke. It really has.”

“Likewise, Ms. Ellis. London is lucky to have you.” He smirks again. “Promise you’ll give Scotland Yard at least half as much hell as you did us.”

“Please,” she says with a laugh. “I am going there to get my job done. I’m going to give them twice as much.”

Peter laughs, before raising his beer to her in return. “That’s my girl.” He pauses, before glancing back over his shoulder to where Neal and Mozzie are sitting. “Have you told him yet?”

“Working my way up to it,” she says with a soft sigh, turning so that she’s also facing the same direction. “I’m going to miss him too, you know.”

“I know,” he says with a small nod, before glancing over with a small smile. “But you never know where the future is going to take you. And Neal isn’t going to be on the FBI’s leash forever.”

There’s a pause for a moment, before she nods and pushes away from the balcony. “But I can’t keep waiting for a maybe either. It’s not fair to either of us.” She gives him a small smile, before taking her now empty glass an moving into the loft again. “I need some more wine. See you inside?”

“Yeah,” Peter replies with a small smile. “See you inside.”

Edited 2016-09-23 20:56 (UTC)

There is one rule when it comes to Sarah Zellaby – don’t touch her skin.

It’s a standard rule for all cuckoos really – don’t allow skin-to-skin contact. With most cuckoos, it’s a means of self-preservation, but in terms of Sarah, it’s just a matter of personal safety. She can’t control what she takes, what she changes and what she leaves behind. If they aren’t careful, Sarah could scramble their brains just by sitting next to them. So when Sarah spends time with the Price clan, she wears her anti-telepathy charms, keeps her distance, and does her best not to interfere with whatever Sarah is doing. Her own bias about cuckoos notwithstanding, this promise isn’t an easy one to keep.

At least until they’re in the middle of a deep Indiana winter, the heat is out in the house because of some creature feature or another, and she and Sarah are alone, and doing their best to keep warm. Cuckoos are cold-blooded as a rule, so Shelby is the only one bringing any body heat here, but there is a fire in the fireplace and the clanking and cursing of Alex trying to fix the heater from below.

“You don’t have to stay.”

Sarah’s voice is small and timid, having gotten better at sentences in general but still not quite confident yet. But also, there’s an awareness to it, like she’s aware of the discomfort of being in close proximity to a cuckoo as a rule, and how she’d probably be rather helping Alex fix things then helping keep Sarah warm. For the most part, she isn’t really all that wrong. But at the same time, she’s not completely unsympathetic to the other girl’s situation. From what she understands, Sarah broke herself trying to save someone she loves – that’s not typical cuckoo behavior, which means that Sarah is not the typical cuckoo. Shelby’s doing the best to try and show her that she knows that, even if her body language doesn’t always agree.

She takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the flames in front of her.

“Yes I do, love. Wouldn’t do any good to let you freeze.”

“Sometimes being cold is better. Slows down the brain, makes things race not quite so fast.”

Shelby tips her head to the side, because she never considered that. It’s hard to think of things from a cold blooded perspective when you aren’t one. But still, an extra source of warmth can’t hurt. “If the brain gets too cold, you may lose things you’ll never get back.”

Sarah blinks at her, confused for a moment, before she inches a bit closer, and rests her head gently against Shelby’s clothed shoulder. It’s an unexpectedly gentle and comfortable gesture, and Shelby doesn’t know what to do with it at first. Still, she doesn’t pull away, just stays relaxed where she is, and in a brief moment of sentimentality that she will deny to Alex later she turns and presses a soft kiss to the other girl’s hat covered head.

“I like you.”

It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot in the grand scheme of things. There was probably a point in time where she wouldn’t have cared if a cuckoo liked her or not, but in a lot of ways, it’s funny how things can change.

“I like you too,” Shelby says softly, before closing her eyes and settling in to stay warm in front of the fire.

Edited 2017-12-31 20:43 (UTC)

To the surprise of almost everyone, Eliot and Sophie actually make a rather competent leadership team.

It’s not that they didn’t appreciate Nate calling the shots – they were incredibly effective with him at the helm, that much is true. But when Nate is in jail and his subordinates are on their own, Sophie and Eliot both manage to step up and get things done. Hardison and Parker don’t particularly care – as long as they have a leader to follow and it’s someone they trust, they’ll fall in line. Hardison perks up to remind them what happened the last time Sophie was in charge (“See, me? I’m remembering whole lot of betrayal.”), but that’s where Eliot comes in. With Sophie planning the angle and reading people, and Eliot reading her, they all know that they can work hard and make sure they’re still helping people the way they’re supposed to.a

And plotting to get Nate out of prison at the same time, but really, that was a given.

Sophie also isn’t blind to the way that Hardison and Parker are starting to explore each other, making tentative, delicate steps in a dance that anyone can recognize a mile away. It’s starting to be more than just Hardison placing advances out there for her to see and Parker being oblivious to them – Parker is starting to reciprocate. It doesn’t mean much at this point – Parker is still Parker – but at the same time, there’s something blossoming, and what used to be Eliot cooking dinner for four is turning into a much quieter dinner for two.

“It’s a bad idea.”

Sophie reaches for one of the carrot slices he’s chopped and holds it in her hand, watching as the door closes behind the two of them as they head towards their entertainment for the evening. “Why is that?”

“You shouldn’t date within a crew.”

“I’ve dated in crews before, I’ve never had a problem.”

He gives her a look at that, one of the ones that say do you hear yourself when you speak?, but she ignore it as she snaps off the top of the carrot and continues to hold eye contact. “You and Nate I think is an excellent example of why not.”

“Well, Hardison and Parker aren’t me and Nate,” Sophie points out, very astutely. “They don’t have fifteen years of baggage and missed opportunities.”

“Fair. But this ain’t the kind of thing I can protect them from. And this works. I’m not looking to get a new job anytime soon.”

“And I think they’re aware of that.” She makes her way around the counter to face him more, leaning against the counter suggestively. “And sometimes relationships can make a crew work better. There’s … a deeper sense of trust.”

“And when that trust is broken?”

“You really are such a cynic, aren’t you?” Sophie teases, as she leans in closer. “What did love ever do to you, Eliot?”

What follows the question is the kind of silence that usually comes with a part of his past that Eliot doesn’t want to talk about. It’s not as though Sophie doesn’t know that he’s been in love before. Eliot loves often, though not always well, and his transient pass from bed to bed is a way to meet his own needs and protect himself in the process, but there’s always something more there. Sophie’s seen it in the way he looks at other women.

And occasionally in the way he looks at her.

“Love is meant to hurt,” she says briefly, placing her carrot to the side as she turns him to face her with a small smile. “It’s how you know it’s real. It wouldn’t be important if there wasn’t a risk we could lose it.”

“And what makes you think I don’t think it’s important?” He turns to face her again, and there’s always an intensity when it comes to Eliot that’s hard to resist, especially when it’s turned on you full force. “I know it’s important. But I also know it doesn’t work out for everyone.”

“No, it doesn’t.” One hand comes up slowly, and she brushes her fingers against the curve of his jaw, the soft pads of her manicured fingers coming roughly against the stubble there. “But it’s fun. And it teaches you more about yourself every time.” She smirks. “I’ve always found that the people who are scared to fall in love are scared to look within.”

She can feel the way his hand is snaking against the small of her back, pulling her in closer. It’s almost a dare in it’s own way, testing to see if she’ll break contact first, or if she’ll let him pull her in all the way. “Why do you have to make everything so philosophical?”

“I’m an actress,” she replies teasingly, fingers moving from his jaw to the back of his neck as she gets closer. “It’s my job.”

“Mmmm.” There’s another moment of palpable silence between the two of them as Sophie maintains that contact, not letting him win this particular round of wills. “I saw Nate kiss you on the pier, right before he got arrested.”

There’s a noncommittal sound in return, before she shrugs in response. “Did you see me slap him as well?”

“I did.”

That intensity is back in his eyes again, the kind where he’s looking for the truth and doesn’t entirely know where to find it. She doesn’t blame him there – Sophie doesn’t exactly make it easy to know where the line is when it comes to her real emotions – but she’s not intending to toy with him here. There’s always been something sitting in the silence between them, and given that chasing after Nate has essentially gotten her nowhere, she’s more than ready to try something new.

“Still doesn’t tell me if you kissed him back.”

“What does it matter if I did?” Sophie replies pointedly. “I’ve spent enough time being toyed around by Nathan Ford. I think I’m ready to … break free.”

“And what am I to you, exactly?”

“A curiosity worth indulging,” she replies simply at first, and when he’s about to look offended at that she fills in the gaps. “Someone I know. Someone I trust, and can be myself with. And I don’t like to waste my time wondering what if.”

Eliot nods briefly, before the hand at the small of her back tightens as he pulls her in closer, his lips a hair’s breath from hers for a moment, just letting it linger there enough to tease. There’s a soft exhale before he leans in to kiss her, deep and warm, just enough to test the waters and see what’s there. Sophie melts into him almost immediately, one hand reaching up to grip his shoulder as she stays close, kissing him back for all it’s worth.

When the sting of her palm doesn’t immediately follow, he pulls back and meets her gaze again, tipping his head to the side curiously. “Still interested in exploring?”

“Always,” she says with a small smirk, before she takes a step back, reaching up to pull the stick from her hair and letting it fall around her shoulders. “How long is that going to take to roast?”

He glances back to the meal he was about to put in the oven, before raising an eyebrow in her direction. “About an hour. Why?”

“I was thinking about taking a bath.” She raises an eyebrow with a bit of a smirk. “Care to join me?”

There’s a small, knowing smirk, before he manages to tear his eyes away from her and back towards the food. “Give me ten minutes.” She nods as she starts to make her way towards the stairs again, and Eliot’s voice makes her pause as she reaches the base of them. “Might need more than an hour.”

She smirks a bit, before taking the first step. “We can always pick up after dinner.”

Edited 2016-07-13 22:46 (UTC)

“Mr. Stark, how many times have I told you that your feet do not belong on a table.”

Tony doesn’t move at first, almost a defiant silence that she had seen him pull with his father too many times before. It usually doesn’t last long with her, however, and today is no exception, with the silence and stillness being broken by the scuffing sound of his dress shoes against the wooden table in the library, and the creak of the leather of the couch as he moves to sit up straight. His dark hair is a mess, sticking up in various directions and he has a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes, possibly to alleviate the hangover from the night before. She can smell the bourbon on him from here, but it’s stale and sour, which means he’s likely sober now.

That much is a relief at least.

“Do I have to do this?” The question is soft and pleading, and she can almost see the desperation in his eyes with the way he holds her gaze, even if the sunglasses are obscuring his features. She’s been around Tony his whole life, held him the day he was born, and she knows all too well the ache he’s feeling.

In a lot of ways, she’s feeling it too.

“I don’t think we want it to make the papers that Howard Stark’s only living heir couldn’t attend his own father’s viewing.” She makes her way slowly around the bookcase to where the Stark Industries heir was sitting, holding her hands out to him so that she can pull him to his feet. “That would make quite the scandal. And scandal is the last thing you need right now if you are looking to have time to grieve.”

Tony rises at her request, stands still as she goes through a process she’s repeated many times before, both with his father and with Tony himself. Her fingers go to the lapels of his jacket first, tugging slightly so that it sits properly on his shoulders, followed by buttoning the top buttons of his shirt. “And what am I grieving, exactly?” he asks, standing still, but the ire in his voice is clear, even if it isn’t present in his posture. “A man who couldn’t give me the time of day on a good day?”

“And what about your mother?” His gaze flickers away as Peggy reaches for the tie resting on the arms of the couch and turns up his collar before placing it around his neck. “Howard may not have been the father you hoped for, Tony, but he loved you, and I believe you loved him. Otherwise you may not have been as successful as you are.”

There’s clear pride in her tone, and that draws his eyes back to her again. “But is this really grieving, though? This whole wake is going to be a spectacle of people who knew my dad, and wanted to be in his orbit. The only people who actually gave a shit – ”

“Language.”

“ – gave a damn – ” He pauses, looking to her for her approval and she can’t say she hasn’t used the phrase herself time and again. When she doesn’t correct him, he continues. “ – are you, Jarvis and Obidiah.” Peggy’s distaste for Obidiah Stane is palatable, and Tony’s mouth quirks up in a smirk in response. “He’s not that bad.”

“I’ve known many men like him who were ‘not that bad,’” she sighs as she goes back to tying his tie. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t bad in there.”

Tony shrugs. “Just … none of this really feels real. No one here feels like they’re actually grieving. Not even you.”

“I happen to be British,” she sighs as she adjusts the knot so that it rests properly but comfortably, then turning down the collar, then moving to button his jacket and smoothing it down.

“Right. Emotions are for wimps.”

She smirks. “I was going to say, we don’t grieve in public. We don’t do it for other people. But that doesn’t mean we don’t grieve.”

Tony pauses, staring at some vacant point over her shoulder, before he finally speaks. “I don’t want my grief to be for them.”

Peggy pauses as she looks him over, moving up next to try and smooth his mess of a mop of hair. “Then don’t do it for them. You are who you present to the world, Tony. Be what you want them to see now, and grieve on you own, later.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.” Tony sighs as he pulls off his sunglasses, and there’s a bit of weight to it, as Peggy can now see the dark circles under red eyes and the heavy frown that gives away how tired and heavy everything is, especially with how young he is. Twenty-one is too young to have your entire world torn out from under you – then again, Peggy wasn’t much older than him when it happened to her. “Think you can help me be British for the day?”

His tone is teasing, almost as though jokes are easier to bear right now, but she can hear the seriousness in the question all the same. His father is – was – the same way.

“I certainly think we can manage.” She leans in to give him a small kiss on the cheek before taking his hand and tucking her arm in his. “You’re not alone in this, Tony. You never were.”

She knows that doesn’t ease how very alone he feels at the moment, the only child of two very public figures and the weight of an oncoming empire on his shoulders, but for now she would be at his side, just as Howard was at hers in 1945.

They use sunglasses like shields and silence as their armor, two silent and stoic forms next to two headstones that are gone all too soon. And when they return to the limo and the door closes, the ritual of it all complete, Tony’s still silent, but the armor begins to crack, fingers tightening around Peggy’s as the tears finally begin to fall.

Edited 2016-05-02 15:41 (UTC)

“I really was not made for this kind of climate.”

Ashley shakes her head as she and Henry continue to trudge through the snow of the artic, bags of equipment strapped to their backs. Ashley is in the lead, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of danger while Henry is close at her back in his oversized parka and clearly showing his inner nerd. Not that that’s something she ever really minded about her brother – she was more than willing to take several levels in badassery so long as he was willing to make her new toys to play with – but on the off chance when the toys are a little too complex for her to be able to work on her own, and the team needs to split up to cover more ground, that’s when she needs his expertise in the field.

Henry? Not exactly the best in the field.

“I think you’re doing just fine,” she teases as she continues to keep her eyes pointed forward, not necessarily paying attention to Henry’s status behind her. She’s ready for bad guys that are going to come at her head on, always. “It’s not that far to the caves – we can set up shop there.”

“How far is not that far? Because in my experience, your definition of ‘not that far’ never really manages to match up with mine.”

“It’s right there.” She turns and points to the caves ahead of them, the dark cavern obvious despite the wind whipping the snow ahead of them. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there before you turn into a protean popsicle.”

She can almost feel the glare at her back without having to turn around and she smirks in triumph, continuing to make her way through the snow and clear a path for Henry. It isn’t until they get to a steeper side of the hills that she realizes that this might not be as clear cut as she thought.

Ever since she decided that she wanted to do field work, her mother always impressed upon her that she take care when entering an unfamiliar place and to always be mindful of her surroundings. They came here looking for some kind of ancient abnormal to begin with, an there were no indications of the size or habitat beyond “snow and ice.” The whole reason for the expedition out here was to find out more. But now that Ashley is thinking about it, the Artic isn’t really made of mostly snow.

It’s made of mostly ice.

“Don’t move.”

Henry’s trudging comes to a sudden stop behind her. “What? I thought we were heading for the caves.” Ashley draws her gun, and it’s almost as though she can hear his heartbeat kick up into overdrive. “What’s going on? Did you see something?”

“Shhh.”

At first there’s nothing but the wind whipping around them, and the silence that follows. A second later, she can hear the faint sound of cracking, like small fragments of glass breaking up all at once, and she gasps before turning and lunging for her brother’s hand. “Henry!”

It’s almost as though the world just falls away behind him. The tech he was dragging is caught in the gaping mouth of what she assumes to be what her mother called an “akhult” and the ice that they’re standing on falls away with it. Ashley catches Henry’s hand before he can fall too far, dropping onto her stomach on the ledge so that she can haul him up, but he still has one hand wrapped around the strap of the gear.

“Let it go!”

“Do you know how much time I spent on this?”

“Then you can make it again! You can’t make it again if that thing tears off your arm with it’s teeth.”

That seems to get the point across well enough, and he lets go of the strap quickly enough. Without the extra weight, Ashley can haul him up easily, and with a mouth full of Henry’s technology, that whale-like abnormal won’t be surfacing for seconds anytime soon. They sit on the edge of the cliff for a moment, trying to catch their breath, before Henry sighs and looks over at her gratefully.

“You really are good at saving my ass.”

Ashley laughs, before turning towards him and pressing kiss to his cheek, before pulling his hood back up into place.

“Anytime, Henry. Anytime.”

Edited 2016-08-28 21:21 (UTC)

Love this!

Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.

Snow is starting to fall lightly on the streets of Star City, a gentle white dusting starting to coat the ground and the roof around them. While the cold doesn’t normally bother Laurel, she tends to stay inside once the snow starts falling and watch the beauty of the city covered in white through the windows. It makes it harder to see the flaws, to watch the snow mix with the dirt and grime below to become gray and brown, and for a moment, Star City actually seems like a peaceful place, rather than a taught wire of tension teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous.

Tonight, however, she finds herself venturing out onto the rooftop of her building, looking for the masked heroine with long dark hair, white snowflakes sprinkling over her back. It’s almost an idyllic kind of image, and Laurel smiles as she makes her way closer.

“You know, I think it’s safe to come inside.”

“Crime is kind of like the post office,” Helena teases, glancing over her shoulder as Laurel makes her way closer. “In rain, snow, sleet or hail …”

“Oddly enough, the post office doesn’t hold to that promise as well as you think,” Laurel teases in return, her hands slipping into her pockets as she makes her way closer, shifting to look out over the city as snow starts to catch in her own eyelashes. “Even postal workers get days off.” There’s a small pause as she tips her head to the side for a moment. “So is it that you really think you should be up here fighting crime right now, or you just don’t want to be alone in an apartment with me.”

Helena scoffs at the insinuation. “Why would you think that?”

“Because we kissed, and we haven’t talked about it, and so the idea of being stuck in closed quarters with me where you actually might have to talk about it sounds like the absolute worst thing in the world?”

The silence follows is a little too telling on how accurate that statement is, and Laurel knows that Helena can tell she knows. Laurel can also tell it’s still a thing she’s not quite ready to talk about either. Which is fair – she’s not intending to force the other woman into doing anything she doesn’t want to do. So she just steps up, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek softly, before stepping back again.

“When you’re ready to come back in, I’ve got some hot chocolate to warm up.”

She starts to walk back towards the door, the crunch of the boots against the snow being the only sound in the silence of a city covered in snow, before she hears the soft swish of Helena turning behind her.

“Laurel – ”

Laurel turns to face her, and it takes a few steps of Helena striding towards her, before she leans in cupping Laurel’s face in her hands and leaning in to kiss her softly. It’s different from the first time, where they both were taken by surprise by the suddenness of it. Instead it’s softer and sweeter, a bit of longing mixed in, and Laurel returns it in kind, holding it just as long as Helena wants to, before the other woman pulls back with a soft smile.

“Hot chocolate would be great.”

Laurel smiles a bit in return, before nodding and taking the other woman by the hand to pull her back down the fire escape. “I’ll put on the water.”

Edited 2017-12-30 19:12 (UTC)

“Have I been here before?”

It’s become quite a common question on their trip through Europe, though it’s much more of a leisurely stroll than the last time Steve was here. They are traveling to see an expert in amnesia and memory recovery, and occasionally they will see a flash of countryside or city scape that will trigger something in his memory – not concrete details, exactly, but a sense of familiarity that makes him ask about whether or not it’s something he should be remembering.

She leans across him as the train passes across the gorge, a yellow stone bridge stretching across to lead to a beautiful city on a hill and she doesn’t recognize it right off the bat, but there is something familiar about it. “Not that I recall,” she says simply as she leans back into her seat. “But occasionally your missions would run into small towns like this, so I can’t say for sure.”

He nods in response as he turns his eyes back to the countryside again, letting his eyes roam over things as he searches for what he should remember and what he can’t seem to find. Peggy watches him for a moment, before reaching over and taking his hand gently, giving it a small squeeze.

“I wouldn’t think too hard about your memories here.”

He glances back to her, but he doesn’t let go of her hand, preferring the contact for reasons he doesn’t fully understand, and she’s always happy to indulge him, if only to remind her that he’s actually here and not wasting away in the Artic somewhere.

“That bad?”

She gives a small shrug. “Not bad necessarily. You were very fond of the men you served with, but there is a lot of pain that comes with those memories as well.”

“You think if I ever actually remember Duggan, he’ll start making sense?”

“The day Dum-Dum Duggan starts operating logically is a day we should all be very concerned,” she says quickly, clearly trying to hide the smile in her tone. “But I think he would be happy if you remembered him again.”

“I think a lot of people would.” He’s pointedly not looking at her for that last statement, feeling whatever it is that is missing between them and unable to quite put it into words. She sighs softly, before squeezing his hand again and drawing his attention back to her. He doesn’t let her, at first, eyes fixed pointedly on the window.

“Steve.”

He sighs before he turns to face her again. “I want to remember. All of it. Good and bad.”

“I know you do.”

“It feels sometimes like people are waiting for this … switch to flip and for me to be that Steve again. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“Nor should you be.” It’s a hard thing for her to understand, but it’s become clearer in recent months that this Steve isn’t quite the same Steve she fell in love with it. “You’ve been through something that would change anyone. They will adjust. You simply need to give them time.”

Steve nods again for moment, studying her face carefully. “What if I’m feeling something that I want to express but I’m not sure how?”

“Then I would go with your gut. You were always rather good at that.”

She barely finishes the statement before he’s leaning across the seat to meet her, one hand coming up to cup her face gently. This is different than the last time she and Steve kissed, rushed in the heat of the moment with the chance that they may never see each other again hanging between them. This is more tentative, a kind of curiosity that should come in a first kiss between two people, and after a moment he pulls back, almost as though he’s preparing to be slapped.

“Sorry.” His tone is a bit sheepish. “I was going with my gut.”

She laughs softly as she turns away from him, before shaking her head slightly. “I’m sure you were.”

Edited 2016-08-13 23:19 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

plurk meme } { kissy faces ii: more smooching

Fill Count: 28/28
Word Count: 19,303

sheena }

barry/caitlin | the flash | 779 words

jesse }

bela/dean | teleios | 567 words

katie }

rebekah/tamsin | lost girl/tvdverse | 643 words

allison/sam | supernatural/teen wolf | 641 words

elena/tyler | the vampire diaries | 821 words

lilah/tess | buffyverse/smallville | 760 words

alison }

bela/sam | canon au | 608 words

baal/beckett | knights of legend | 734 words

landon/liam | spamalot | 591 words

kate/peter | regency au | 713 words

as long as you love me so | regency au | 651 words

dina & ryan | spamalot | 708 words

lydia/sam | new york wolves | 860 words

you're just a small town boy in a small town world | regency au | 781 words

cora/issac | peter & cora | 719 words

ella }

barry/iris | the flash | 423 words

el }

bo/tamsin | lost girl | 511 words

lana/tess | smallville | 418 words

carol & liz | the vampire diaries | 647 words

buffy & chloe | a short trip to hell | 515 words

beckett/piper | castle/charmed | 446 words

august }

sara & peter | white collar | 839 words

sarah & shelby | incryptid | 575 words

eliot/sophie | leverage | 1,326 words

peggy & tony | marvel cinematic universe | 1,029 words

ashley & henry | sanctuary | 735 words

Re: ashley & henry | sanctuary | 735 words

no subject

rose }

helena/laurel | dc comics/dctv | 588 words

peggy/steve | marvel cinematic universe | 675 words

plurk meme } { kissy faces ii: more smooching

Fill Count: 28/28Word Count: 19,303

sheena }

barry/caitlin | the flash | 779 words

jesse }

bela/dean | teleios | 567 words

katie }

rebekah/tamsin | lost girl/tvdverse | 643 words

allison/sam | supernatural/teen wolf | 641 words

elena/tyler | the vampire diaries | 821 words

lilah/tess | buffyverse/smallville | 760 words

alison }

bela/sam | canon au | 608 words

baal/beckett | knights of legend | 734 words

landon/liam | spamalot | 591 words

kate/peter | regency au | 713 words

as long as you love me so | regency au | 651 words

dina & ryan | spamalot | 708 words

lydia/sam | new york wolves | 860 words

you're just a small town boy in a small town world | regency au | 781 words

cora/issac | peter & cora | 719 words

ella }

barry/iris | the flash | 423 words

el }

bo/tamsin | lost girl | 511 words

lana/tess | smallville | 418 words

carol & liz | the vampire diaries | 647 words

buffy & chloe | a short trip to hell | 515 words

beckett/piper | castle/charmed | 446 words

august }

sara & peter | white collar | 839 words

sarah & shelby | incryptid | 575 words

eliot/sophie | leverage | 1,326 words

peggy & tony | marvel cinematic universe | 1,029 words

ashley & henry | sanctuary | 735 words

Re: ashley & henry | sanctuary | 735 words

no subject

rose }

helena/laurel | dc comics/dctv | 588 words

peggy/steve | marvel cinematic universe | 675 words

Fill Count: 28/28
Word Count: 19,303