wordcount: 2k
content/warnings: fluff, botanist!reader (power over plants), reader being a little slow, Ajax being an awkward cutie, kisses, mentions of smoking weed.
an: I have wanted to revist the botanical reader dyamic ever since I wrote my little 2-parter for them and Ajax, so here we are! this disregards the last fics, so you don't need to read them, but I, of course, reccomend | ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕔 𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕦 | 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥
The halls of Nevermore always felt strangely comforting – the close stone walls, old tapestries, and picture lined display cases made what otherwise could have been a rather cold structure feel that little bit more lived in. Every corridor felt like a nostalgia trip, like some strangely extended family home.
Now, with the zigzagged fairy lights crossing the hallway ceilings and the garlands, slightly crushed from years of intermittent storage, draped around the doorways and high arches, it was the epitome of cosy.
Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your dress clothes, slightly clammy from the heat of being packed into the main hall with your classmates and the daft dancing that had left you breathless and slightly achy. Your gaze lingered on the large tree that graced the front of the hall, the small lights blurring together a little through the haze of rented fog machines, only making the room more claustrophobic as your friends shouted and sang badly along with the music.
You weren’t sure what was louder – the music, the laughter, or the thump of your own pulse – but you felt suspended for a moment, caught somewhere between joy and overwhelm, breath catching as the world blurred slightly around the edges.
“You look like you need a drink.”
Your mind snapped too again, a plastic cup appearing in your periphery. It took a moment to realise the voice, and lingering hand, belonged to Ajax. You reached for the drink with a grateful smile, nudging his shoulder with yours as a way of silent thank you, taking an opportunity to sip the steadily warming punch.
The slightly fizzy liquid soothed your scratchy throat blissfully. “I don’t know how she does it,” you nodded vaguely towards where Enid’s head bobbed up and down in the crowd, maintaining the same energy she had when she had walked in hours before. You huffed a laugh into your cup, “I feel like I am about to collapse.”
Ajax only laughed beside you, tilting his head to watch her for a long moment before glancing back at you. “I’m pretty sure she siphons energy from the rest of us.”
You nodded in bemused agreement, swallowing thickly. “You could’ve danced with us,” you teased, raising a brow as you turned to him again. Your gaze lingered for a moment, catching the way the warm lighting softened his jaw and made his eyes seem impossibly deeper. You took another slow sip of your drink.
“Oh, sure,” he said, straightening with an exaggerated roll of his shoulders. “Because me flailing like a malfunctioning inflatable tube man is exactly what this dance needed.”
Your laugh bubbled with the splutter of your drink, your fist pressing to your lips to hold the liquid behind your teeth. You nudged him again, more firmly this time, the facsimile of forced irritation at his self depreciation creasing your brow. He only steadied you with a hand hovering near your back, and for a moment, you swore his smile softened.
“Do you wanna escape?” he asked quietly, nearly lost under the thrum of bass.
You glanced toward the crowd, at the tangle of swaying bodies and the heat and noise that had long since stopped feeling fun. It took barely a second for your shoulders to drop, for that small, relieved smile to tug at your lips. You nodded.
He tipped his head toward the hallway, a silent come on, and you followed without hesitation. The music thinned as you slipped through the door, catching the bemused half-smile of Bianca as you passed, thinking nothing off the way her eyes seemed to follow you as Ajax pressed the door closed behind you both.
The corridor was more brightly lit than the hall, but not by much, lit by small sconces that cast warm patches of light along the walls, casting small shadows off the old hanging garlands and newer paper chains, looked to be put together by some of the first years.
“My mum asked about you again,” you broke the comfortable silence with a lopsided smile.
“You had nothing good to report, I’m sure,” he smirked playfully. He walked with his hands in his pockets, shoulder brushing yours every few steps. In the half-light, his eyes looked almost kaleidoscopic, catching the glow of the Christmas decorations draped along the walls. That mischievous glint was even harder to look away from than usual.
You shook your head, tearing your gaze away with a soft laugh. “Oh yeah, I told her all about our late-night mocktail parties and getting stoned on school nights.”
He laughed, the sound resounding from deep in his chest as his elbow nudged yours seemingly accidentally. “I take it that is my outstanding dinner invite revoked, then?”
“I think she loves you more than me, it would be you having to sneak me leftovers through the back door.”
He huffed a breath through his nose, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as he eyed the garlands dangling from the ceiling. “How is she, anyway?”
“She’s good – more excited about me going home for break than I am, I think.” Your fingers brushed a paper snowflake taped to the wall as you passed, letting the edge catch lightly on your skin.
“You’re not looking forward to it?”
You hesitated, shifting your hands into your sleeves for warmth. “I am, it’s just… family is a lot sometimes, you know? I often wonder if it would be easier to stick around here.”
He slowed his steps. “Well, I’m gonna miss you over the break,” he muttered, almost too quiet for the echoing hallway. His fingers twitched at his side, brushing against yours for the briefest second before they were buried again in his suit trouser pockets.
You covered the sudden burn in your chest with a soft scoff. “Well, of course. I’m your best friend. Everything will be boring without me around to brighten it up,” you teased.
Your eyes flicked over his Adam's apple as it bobbled with a laugh, biting your lip to suppress your grin as you watched his eyes light up again. You traced each of the small crinkles around them, committing each one to memory.
Your steps faltered slightly as you kicked your feet along the old flagstones, the quiet that settled between you comforting, and much needed with the way your ears seemed to ache from the dance.
You glanced up with a roll of your shoulders, a poor attempt at pressing the tension from your muscles. A proposal to sneak out for a smoke hesitated on your tongue as you caught sight of it – it was cliche, yes, but the white berries caught your eye, hanging in a neat sprig, tied with a deep green bow that hung limply from the apex of the archway. “Viscum album!”
Ajax stopped, nearly tumbling into your back, brows pulling together. “What?”
You pointed upwards, suddenly aware of the heat in your cheeks. “Mistletoe.”
His shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly as he looked up. His hands stayed buried deep in his pockets.
“Did you know it is actually a parasitic plant?” His eyebrows raised, lips parting as if to say something, but silence followed. “It draws nutrients from the tree it grows on.”
You didn’t think twice as you raised your hand again, twisting your wrist carefully beside your head. From your periphery, you caught the way Ajax’s lips twitched – just barely – into a smile. It was the kind he always tried to hide, the one that crept in without his permission whenever you did something that fascinated him. Your fingers moved in small, practiced gestures, and above the two of you, the plant responded. The sprig swelled, white berries budding and blooming until the mistletoe hung fuller, heavier. “That’s better,” you murmured, lowering your hand.
Ajax shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve never really understood the mistletoe thing.”
“It only became a Christmas thing in, like, the 1700s,” you mused, eyes flicking between the floating greenery and his quietly mesmerized expression. “The idea is that the berries symbolize love, or something close to it. It probably comes from an old Norse myth.”
“Yeah?” he asked, voice light but a little breathless.
“Yeah.” You let your hand fall back to your side, warmth blooming in your chest. “It’s sweet, don’t you think? Turning something otherwise so harmful into something beautiful. Like… choosing to see the good in everything.”
The silence that sat between you seemed heavier for a moment. Ajax looked up at the now-lush mistletoe, then back at you, the weight shifting between his feet again uneasily.
“(Y/n)?”
“Yeah?” Your stomach dropped with your head, your eyes refocusing from the lights to his face. The weight of uneasiness settled in the gaps around your lungs. There was something in the depth of his expression that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. “‘Jax, what—“
He wet his lips cautiously, “it is tradition…”
Swallowing felt oppressive, your lips pressing together around half-formed thoughts. “You can’t be serious?”
“I have been following you around like a lost puppy since day one, and you haven’t put it together?” His head tilted, the crease between his brow feigning mock confusion, but the uneasy flick of his eyes gave his anxiety away. You knew him too well.
You weren’t sure why your mind wanted to fight against the prospect that the boy in front of you wanted more than linked pinky fingers and the occasional top-and-tail sleep over. Especially as the anticipation forced the contraction of your throat, a harsh swallow batting down your shaky inhale.
The tension trapped in your chest lightened as his fingers brushed yours. You hadn’t even noticed him draw his palm from the safety of his pocket, but as it pressed to yours, warm and slightly clammy, your slackening fingers allowed his to curl between them, tightening the still unsure grip.
Heat crawled across your chest as he stepped forward cautiously, just half a step, barely a shift. You had been close before, the fan of his breath on your cheeks hardly alien, although usually accompanied by a huff of smoke, huddled behind the greenhouses with a joint between you. This was different, somehow, it felt riskier.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, “please?”
You could do little else but nod, the barest inclination of your head as your gaze fixed on his lips, dazed, almost.
The hand not holding yours cupped your cheek, breaking the daze to draw your gaze to his again, and pulled you into him, your eyes closing as he pressed into you. It took mere seconds for you to become completely lost in the feeling of his lips as they grinned against yours, his tongue taking advantage of your gentle laugh to push past them, rolling against yours as you pressed your body further into his to ward off the chill of the empty corridor.
His nose bumped against yours as you pressed up on your toes to be closer to him, his hand lifting, settling against the curve of your waist and tightening as he smirked against your lips.
It was only the rude demands of your lungs that forced you back, breathless.
“I love hearing you talk about the stuff you love.” It was muttered softly, his lips brushing yours as if to draw any further distance between you would condemn the moment. You barely registered the soft thrum of his thumb as it traced a small, absent-minded arc at your waist.
“Ajax?” You breathed his name quietly, your fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulder as you steadied yourself, still catching the last remnants of air.
“Yeah?” He leaned back just enough to search your face, eyes soft and attentive, the corners crinkling with the beginnings of a smile.
“Can you do that again?” Your voice came out barely above a whisper, your fingertips drifting down to his chest where his heart thudded just a little too quickly beneath your palm.
“Absolutely.” And he dipped his head toward you again, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw as he guided you gently back into him.
