An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Naruto (Anime & Manga)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aburame Shino/Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino & Hyuuga Hinata & Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino & Inuzuka Kiba, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Hyuuga Hinata & Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino & Hyuuga Hinata, Inuzuka Kiba & Kankurou, Hyuuga Hinata & Uzumaki Naruto
Characters: Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino, Hyuuga Hinata, Aburame Shibi, Kankurou (Naruto), Uzumaki Naruto
Additional Tags: Eventual Aburame Shino/Inuzuka Kiba - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Slow Burn, Friendship, Light Angst, Middle School, Insecurity, Developing Relationship, Banter, Autistic Aburame Shino, Autistic Hinata Hyuuga, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Minor cameos by other characters, I will add a character to the tags only if they have a speaking role as we go, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sleepovers, Alternate Universe, Self-Esteem Issues, Anxiety, Depression, Kiba-centric, Puberty, Crushes, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Crisis
Series: Part 1 of Konoha Jr. High
Summary:
“His dad said he's depressed.”
“Aren't we all?”
"He asked me if we were friends. And then didn't seem to believe me when I said yes.”
“Maybe he doesn't wanna just be friends.”
“...huh?”
He could hear the grin in Kankuro’s voice before he even saw it on his face. “Because he likes you.”
Kiba stared at him. What a stupid thing to say. Why did he look up to this guy again? “Why wouldn't he wanna be friends if he likes me?”
ROUGH ON THE SURFACE BUT YOU CUT THROUGH LIKE A KNIFE
A Malec Fic | Rated E | WIP
Magnus Bane finds himself reluctantly entangled in the affairs of the Downworlders–a family legacy immersed in black market organ trading. Though he never chose this path, he takes control where he can. Those choices happen to lead him directly into the arms–or bed–of Alexander Lightwood, heir to the Lightwood family's empire of illicit drug sales and money laundering.
As their worlds collide, Magnus and Alec navigate this thrilling and risky connection they’ve formed, and together, they must face the inevitable repercussions of their inextricably linked futures.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Shameless (US)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mandy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich
Characters: Ian Gallagher, Mickey Milkovich, Mandy Milkovich
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Strangers to Lovers, POV Mandy, idk either but bear with me, One Night Stand, Insecure Mickey Milkovich, loving siblings, can be read as a one-shot but I do plan to add more chapters, Rating May Change, POV Alternating, Mickey has feelings and he doesn't like it
Summary:
“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Mickey said softly, voice barely louder than a whisper. Again Mandy had to wonder what in the hell had happened to her brother, who in normal circumstances would be very much reluctant to admit that his little sister was right about anything, ever. It was just another item in the list of extremely odd behaviors she was witnessing Mickey exhibit today. And it was all down to that redheaded model-looking fucker who was currently taking a shower in their bathroom.
Summary: When Connor returns to office to retrieve some files that might be relevant to the case, he finds himself dragged into something much bigger. With a cop dead and his android partner distraught, Connor will have to put all of his abilities to the test to figure out what happened, and work alongside some unsavoury company for the time being.
AO3
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10
Despite Connor’s newfound sense of free will, he still had difficulty staying away from the office. His constant desire to have a purpose, a mission to complete, drove him there at all hours looking for something to do, something to solve. And so, despite the fact that he didn’t want Hank anywhere near the case while he was healing, despite the fact that he didn’t think Hank should be doing any work at all, Connor still found himself at his own desk in the early morning, sorting through the files he was going to take back home.
He currently had two piles, one very big (irrelevant to the current case), and one very small (extremely relevant to the current case). It was difficult finding useful information, given that the case itself had been low priority in the first place. It hadn’t even come Connor and Hank’s way until that cashier had been shot and killed, and even after, there had been very little to find. Connor’s ability to reconstruct crime scenes hadn’t really helped them at all.
The fact that they’d found the abandoned lot where the two were hiding out had only been down to a stroke of luck. A nearby android working as a cleaner had seen the pair escape the scene, and when Connor asked him to share their memory, he’d seen their last movements, heard Whitfield and his partner discuss where to meet up. Hank wanted to do some digging, but it was starting to look like there might not be anything to dig through.
As he was checking through one of his files for things he might have missed, he sensed an unwelcome presence behind him. He knew exactly who it was. Connor had scanned the office when he’d come in, and there was only a single human in it right now who would intentionally give him grief. Detective Gavin Reed, the biggest bigot in the office, a man who Connor had had too many run ins with to ever really make peace.
No matter how Connor responded, it would irritate the other man. The fact that Gavin had even approached him meant that he’d done so with the intention to start something. With that in mind, Connor went through his options and decided on the best course of action.
He would utterly ignore him.
It was easy to tune out his presence. Connor only had so much processing power and he didn’t need to waste it on minor inconveniences. Gavin, however, didn’t seem content to be treated as a nuisance. He moved in front of Connor’s desk and slammed a hand down over the overflowing irrelevant pile, sending some of the files askew.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
“My work.” Connor replied, not bothering to look up. Everyone seemed to like asking him that question, but no one ever actually were satisfied with the answers he gave. Laying another file on top of Gavin’s hand, he said, “You’re in my way. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you mind moving?”
“In your—oh, that’s rich.” Gavin pulled his hand back. “Hank isn’t here, so how about you take whatever it is you’re doing and fuck off somewhere where you’re not annoying me.”
“I know Hank isn’t here.” Connor said, straightening the pile. “I’m collecting the relevant information to take back home. Now, if it isn’t too much of a bother for you, detective, maybe you could back off and leave me be.”
He did some quick calculations. The probability of Gavin pulling a gun on him was extremely low; doing something like that to an android was now very much illegal. However, the probability of Gavin outright decking him was starting to veer into warning territory. Connor knew he should defuse the situation, but he wanted to focus on his work instead of the ticking time bomb who was now stood in front of him.
“Oh, I get it.” Gavin said. “Still just a heartless piece of plastic, aren’t you? Your partner gets shot, and here you are, trying to drag the work home anyway? I thought there were supposed to be some kind of feeling in you things, but it’s all just bullshit. You haven’t changed at all.”
Connor’s hand stilled on the file he’d been looking through. The things Gavin said weren’t uncommon. It had been a mere two months since Markus had peacefully progressed his course through Detroit, and while public opinion had been high, that was just a fancy way of saying that a great deal of humans approved. The reality was very different. Change took time, and many were set in their ways. Derogatory comments came his way every day, that wasn’t a problem, Connor wasn’t so sensitive to let something like that affect him.
No, what hurt was the insinuation that he didn’t give a damn about what had happened to Hank. Because he did. He didn’t know how to properly convey it, but the feelings were there. Ever since he’d heard that first gunshot in the abandoned lot, there had been some kind of tightness to him that he hadn’t been able to get rid of. A kind of fear. Even before he’d gone deviant, there had been something to him that had made him prioritise his partner’s safety over his mission, whether that had lost him a suspect or gotten him killed. The thought that Hank had just been killed up on the second floor had nearly sent his systems into error, had nearly caused him to crash out entirely.
The truth was, at the bar last night, he’d lied. When Hank had asked him what he’d been thinking about, it hadn’t been the details of the case at all. Ever since the incident, he’d been repeating the memory over and over again, looking for the reason why he’d felt that way, reconstructing the ways he could have done things differently to have avoided the outcome.
“Shit, you having a BSOD in there?” Gavin said, leaning down into his face.
Connor was so close to head butting him. Instead, he forced a smile onto his face and said, “Detective. I destroyed my own programming to participate in a cause that I believed in. I broke into CyberLife, fought my way past armed humans, and converted an entire army of androids to our cause. I defied my creators and made a way for myself. If you think a few stray words crafted from hatred would be enough to crash my systems, I would say you think entirely too high of yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m sure you have better things to do than bother a heartless piece of plastic, don’t you? I know you do. I’ve just scanned your desk and I see no less than five incomplete assignments waiting to be filled in.”
The probability of Gavin smashing his face in had swerved straight past the yellow warning levels and directly into red, danger imminent. Gavin grabbed him across the desk by his jacket—still his old RK800 one, he hadn’t seen the point in discarding it—and it was at that point Fowler threw open the door to his office and pointed directly at them.
“Connor! Detective Reed! What in God’s name are you doing?” he snapped. Gavin let go of Connor harshly, and Connor readjusted his tie in response. It was a shame, he thought, that he didn’t have a title or a surname to compare against Gavin’s. His given name seemed annoyingly small when said next to Detective Reed. “Fucking around when shit’s getting serious, what the hell are you thinking? Both of you, my office, right now!”
He vanished back into the office. “What is this, fucking high school?” Gavin seethed under his breath.
Connor shrugged. “Though I have no personal experience with a school setting, with the playground fighting going around, I don’t believe it would be an entirely inaccurate summary of this precinct.”
“Do me a favour and run some programme that will make you shut up.” Gavin said. With that, he stalked into Fowler’s office. Connor finished stacking his files and followed him in.
“Nice of you two to get your heads out of your asses and join me.” the Captain said, sat at his desk. He looked at the two of them grimly. Gavin pointedly stood as far away from Connor as he could get. “Look, I’ll make this short because I need someone I trust on the scene, but it’s fucked up. Glennister’s dead. We just got a call, was shot about forty-five minutes ago.”
Gavin exhaled deeply. Glennister was only a vaguely familiar name to Connor, but it seemed to have some affect on the other man. “Shit. This is for real?”
Connor checked his database for Glennister and found him quickly. Steven Glennister was his full name, a detective who had attended the academy alongside Gavin. Born 2002, 6’0 ft, 185lbs. Had been assigned to a partner android a year and a half ago, PC200 Clara, and they had remained together even after the events in November.
“What do we know about the situation?” Connor asked.
Fowler ran a hand over his face. Connor could see his stress levels in his vision, markedly high, and decided to keep an eye on them in the background. “Not a lot. Glennister was responding to a report of gunshots in the city when it happened. Forensics are setting up now, but as you might have guessed, this is serious. I’m gonna need all hands on deck. Didn’t know you’d be around today, Connor, but now you are, accompany Reed to the scene ASAP and see what you can find. I need this investigation to move fast.”
Connor was starting to regret antagonising Gavin. If he was going to have to share a car with him, it would be beneficial to everyone involved if Gavin wasn’t about to punch him in the face.
“Are you fucking for real?” Gavin snapped. “I’m not working with this plastic asshole.”
“Oh don’t go giving me shit, Detective. I don’t care what your personal feelings are. If Anderson can learn to get on with the android, so can you.”
“But it’s—”
“A cop is dead and I need to find out who killed him. I don’t have time to listen to you bitching at me, Reed! Now get the hell out of my office and do your job instead of standing there like a fucking toddler who doesn’t know how to play nice, you hear me?”
Gavin heard, alright. He stormed out, his face like fire, and Connor felt like he’d witnessed this exact scene before. Because of that, he decided not to engage with the Captain at all, and instead followed Gavin out back into the office.
“Don’t worry,” Connor said as Gavin turned and opened his mouth to speak. “I’m actually on your side about all of this. I don’t particularly want to work with you either.”
Gavin scowled. “Great.” he muttered. “Finally, something we both have in common.”
--
The drive out was an awkward, silent affair that had Connor staring out of the window while Gavin kept his eyes firmly on the road. He’d said quite firmly before they’d set off that he didn’t want an android anywhere near the steering wheel, and Connor had been content to let him have his way. Gavin’s anger levels were too high for any argument to successfully gain him control of the car, and it wasn’t like Connor wanted to drive him around anyway.
That was the beauty of free will. He still remembered the time Gavin had ordered him to make a coffee only to leave Connor standing there, arm outstretched in offering, confused as to why Gavin would make such a request only to make a mockery of him. It was a sore spot, and one Connor would much rather forget.
When they pulled up to the crime scene, cordoned off with holographic tape, Connor abandoned Gavin immediately to begin his own analysis. The crime had taken place in an alleyway behind a Cyberlife store, Glennister slumped against the wall, his blood coating the floor beneath him. Clara, the android, sat behind the yellow tape on a bench, a blanket around her shoulders as another android checked her over. Connor wondered who put the blanket on her—it wasn’t something that would help an android get through ‘shock’. It was a very human gesture.
Keeping the location of Clara in mind, Connor turned back to Glennister. It would be better to collect the facts first, and then gather the emotional evidence afterwards. That way, he could piece together the scene objectively, and then add in the secondary aspects when he was done.
He scanned Glennister first. Cause of death was clear instantly: exsanguination. The man had bled out as a result of three gunshot wounds, one to the upper right leg and two to the chest. The gunshot to the leg suggested that he’d been shot from behind, but the two in the chest had come from the front. In his hand was his own gun, and it had been discharged once. Connor began to reconstruct the scene, playing with the models of Glennister and the assailant to see which paths they’d taken.
Glennister had responded to a report of gunshots. He’d entered the alleyway, his gun drawn, but apparently hadn’t seen anything immediately. The first bullet came from behind, so he started looking for potential hiding places. There was a dumpster to Connor’s right. It fit the trajectory he was looking for. Had they hidden inside? No. Would have made too much noise opening the lid to leave. The assailant may have hidden behind the dumpster instead.
He moved the model from out behind it. It would have had to have been quick to avoid detection, but also steady enough to make its shot. He adjusted its speed and then reconstructed the first shot. Glennister went down on one knee immediately in response, and the assailant moved around to his front. Glennister raised his gun and shot.
Now Connor had to make some choices. Did Glennister’s bullet hit home, or did it miss? They were close enough to each other than it would be unlikely for a trained officer to miss, but he was also in pain and possibly panicking. He looked for marks on the walls. Nothing that he could see. Bullet might have hit target. Where? He didn’t have enough data. Couldn’t know for sure.
Assailant shot back. First shot hit the upper chest, near the centre. Massive damage to the chest wall and the surrounding blood vessels. It knocked Glennister back and to the side, near the wall Connor had found again. He tried to use the same wall as leverage, to get back up. Fought back? No. Didn’t get the chance. The assailant shot once more, abdomen this time. Glennister died where he fell.
Why did it seem so clinical? There was something about the entire reconstruction that felt like it had a plan to it. If the assailant had been hidden, why hadn’t they shot to kill immediately?
If the assailant had been hit, there had to be evidence of it, blood, something that proved they had been shot. Connor scanned the area again, looking for any kind of sign that backed up his theory. Nothing in the immediate scope of the alleyway. He moved down it, glancing behind bins, checking the walls.
It was at the alleyway’s end that he finally found something. Another dumpster, this one askew, suggesting someone had shoved it out of the way quickly. There was a human sized space behind it. He already knew his suspect had used one to hide behind at the other end, so perhaps they had come here after the crime. Hiding from Clara? That had to be it. Kneeling down in the small space, he scanned it.
Sparse amounts of thirium dotted the floor.
It had already become invisible to the human eye, but Connor could see it plain as day. There was so little that he didn’t know if he’d be able to get a decent sample, but he tried regardless. Touching his fingers to the blue blood, he brought them to his mouth, hoping he’d find a match.
To his surprise, he managed to get a model number from it. An AX400 had been here. He went back to his reconstruction, plotted out their path. Yes, it made sense. The shot from Glennister must have only grazed the android. They weren’t seriously wounded.
What business did an AX400 have in shooting a cop? He returned to where Clara was sat, and found Gavin talking with a nearby cop. As he approached, the conversation stopped abruptly. Gavin turned to him. “Find anything useful then?”
The words were fine. His tone was not. Connor knew that he should give away the assailant’s identity as an android, but he also knew that the information would only set Gavin off on another rant. His anger still registered as high on Connor’s scans. He’d give up the information after he was done with the scene. “Maybe. I need to confirm with Glennister’s partner before I make any solid judgement. Have you spoken to her?”
“Yeah, I tried. Not that it wants to give up anything about the damn situation. It’s meant to be a fucking cop and yet it won’t say a thing. Obstruction of justice if you ask me.”
“No one asked you, detective.” Connor said. “But now I know that you will offer your opinion regardless.”
“Alright, smartass. Keep that up, and Hank’ll be coming back to work to find a pile of parts on his desk.”
He wanted to inform Gavin that that was illegal, but was hitting warning territory again. He decided not to push it any further; he didn’t need to waste time on Gavin anyway. Instead of giving him a response, he turned and walked away, sitting down on the bench next to Clara.
She didn’t respond to his presence.
“Hi, Clara,” he said. “My name is Connor. I’m one of the detectives assigned to this case. Can you talk to me?”
The android looked at her hands. Her eyes were wet with artificial tears. It was a good thing Gavin hadn’t tried to engage with her; he would have only made it worse. “You were Steve’s partner, weren’t you?” Connor asked, switching to Glennister’s first name to try and engage an emotional connection with her. “Do you think you could tell me what happened?”
She just shook her head. Her jaw was stiff. Her LED pulsed yellow. “It hurts.” she said. Her voice wavered, and it sounded like her audio processor was damaged. It wasn’t, Connor knew. It was deviancy doing that to her voice. “I—I don’t understand this feeling. It’s so painful. We can’t feel pain. We can be shot or broken or damaged, and yet we don’t feel pain. It’s impossible, but right now, it feels like I’ve been torn apart.”
Connor’s memory pulled something up in response to her words, three days ago now, being in the abandoned lot, the gunfire and the way his systems had nearly crashed at the thought of Hank dead. He shook it off. “I understand. You’ve lost someone who you’d formed an attachment to. It is a human-like emotion. They call it grief.”
“It makes me want to be reset.” she whispered. “I don’t want to feel this way at all. I can’t function. I can’t.”
Connor had to choose his approach. Going in cold and apathetic might gain him information faster, but he doubted it would make Clara feel any better. He didn’t just have to prioritise his mission anymore. He could take care of the emotions of those around him. Warm and careful might take longer, but it was the option that Hank would approve of.
“I know it might be difficult, but I need to know what happened. Can you tell me what happened? About how you and Steve ended up here?”
Clara dashed her hand across her cheeks, trying to clear her tears. “It was…we heard about it over the radio, so we responded. When we got here, there was nothing. I said I would check the perimeter. Steve told me to be careful. He said…” she closed her eyes, pained. “He told me to call if anything happened.”
Connor nodded. “So he was a good partner. A good person.”
“He is.” Clara clenched her fists. “Was. He was. Even before everything last year, he always thought about me. Why did he have to die? It’s not fair. It isn’t fair!”
“It isn’t.” Connor agreed. “Which is why I need your help, to figure out who did it and stop this happening again. Can you tell me what happened in the alleyway?”
“He went down there and I—I heard gunshots.” Clara’s LED flashed red. She looked horrified as she relived her experiences. “It all happened so quickly. So quickly. When I reached the alleyway, I looked for the source but there was nobody. Nobody there. Just Steve, Steve was just slumped against the wall and I couldn’t. I couldn’t move.”
Connor was measuring her stress levels now, and they were rising rapidly. He needed to calm her, or else she might break down on him. “I found traces of another android behind the dumpster on the far end of the alleyway.” Connor told her. “Did you look around? Did you see anything?”
She shook her head. Clara’s eyes stared straight past him. “No. No. I just stood there. I saw Steve and I saw all the blood. I thought I had to save him, but when I got to him, he was already…he was already…I was too late. I couldn’t do a thing! The suspect got away? I let them run because I was too compromised? No, this can’t be happening. Steve can’t be dead!”
Her stress levels were in the red. Bad. Very bad. Connor needed to pull back from the questions, but he didn’t know what he could say to bring the levels back down. He started consulting his databases, looking for the best course of action.
Talk down?
No. Talking could make things worse. Too many outcomes that he couldn’t predict. He couldn’t have her self destruct on him.
Deploy deactivation code?
Absolutely not. Even it could work, which it wouldn’t, it was a drastic measure that would only hurt the situation more as a whole.
Soothe?
But how? He realised he didn’t know. He didn’t have the experience or the data to create a probability of the chance of success. He didn’t understand what Clara’s needs were or what she would react best to.
But then, in a flash of self realisation, he considered something. He was only trying to think about how to relax an android, not a human. He was dealing with a deviant. Someone who was a human in all but name. His approach was wrong.
He changed tact, started consulting his database again. How did humans comfort other humans? Physical touch. He found his memory, Hank pulling him into a hug at the fast-food stand, how it had made Connor feel wanted and at ease. He started calculating his probability of success.
It went up. And up. And up.
He reached for Clara and pulled her against his chest.
“It’s okay.” he said. Clara held onto him and cried into his shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve told me. I’m sorry for what you had to experience today, but I promise you, I will find out who did this and make sure they are brought to justice.
Distantly, he was aware of Gavin watching. Connor cared little for what he thought. He focused all of his processing power on Clara, holding on to her until her stress levels returned to normal. “Find them,” she said into his shoulder. “Please. For me.”
Gymnastics was a tiring affair. Extremely exhausting, and Evelyn could barely breathe as she sat down on a bench outside the gym, her hands rough and her muscles aching. The nice ache though, and today’s session was good. They did floor skills, mostly, which was her favorite event in gymnastics.
Not her best, maybe, but compared to how terrified she was in her best event, the beam, it made sense. She chugged water as Natalie sat to her left. “Coach looked two seconds away from killing us. Where the hell is Veronica?” Natalie asked, leaning her head against Evelyn’s shoulder.
“Comp’s in a month and she hasn’t been here for one and a half weeks. I tried calling her, but she’s not picking up. I guess we’re going to have to deal with Coach absolutely murdering us,” Evelyn muttered. She loved gymnastics, but if Veronica didn’t come, their team would be one less. Of course, Coach probably already knew who he’d get on the team if Veronica didn’t join by next week, but Veronica was… Her gymnastics was beautiful.
It was really pretty, and Veronica won best all-round last time, so for their team she would have helped so much.
And classes were a whole lot better when Veronica muttered something snarky every two seconds.
“If she comes back next week, I’m punching her in the face,” Natalie declared, messaging someone on her phone. Evelyn’s parents were busy, so Evelyn had decided to go back with Natalie, who lived a street away.
What was a little bit of walking compared to a gymnastics class?
Absolutely nothing.
Though Evelyn had no idea how much strength she even had left to walk, it'd be fine. Coach would probably realize her legs were a little more tired than usual tomorrow, but he knew her limits even if Evelyn herself didn’t know them. He’d stop her if he thought she should rest.
Evelyn rested her head against the wall behind her and closed her eyes for a second. A car rumbled up the path and she opened her eyes again to look at Natalie. “Your mom’s already arrived?” Evelyn muttered, unsure. She gathered herself.
“Umm, no,” Natalie said hesitantly. Evelyn looked around. There was no one left, except Natalie, Evelyn and the black car. “Okay, let’s just pretend we don’t exist. Back the hell out of here. We can do this.” Her voice shook.
Evelyn worried too. Black cars? Not a good signal. Black cars in front of a lonesome gymnastics gym where the only people left were two teenage girls? Terrible. Scare worthy. Her breath hitched as the door opened.
A head of strawberry blonde hair appeared out of the car, followed by-
Why the hell was Clara Walker at her gymnastics class? Evelyn blinked. “That is not a kidnapper,” Natalie muttered. “What the hell is miss president doing here of all places?”
“She’s Liam’s cousin,” Evelyn said, though it sounded more like a question. Clara walked towards them. She was wearing a black blouse with a jacket which had like four different colors on top of it and a red collar. Her pants were flared at the bottom and a glaring red. She ran her hand through her hair and her jacket, already loose, dropped a little, revealing sharp collarbones.
Evelyn Allen did not blush. She only blushed when she was caught pickpocketing at that one party in freshman year and that one time she parked her motorbike in front of school and slipped off it by accident. Clara Walker would not make her blush. Evelyn refused.
“Evelyn right?” Clara asked, stopping in front of Evelyn. “Liam asked me to pick you up.”
Which, Evelyn thought, did not make sense. Liam was either being a good student, hanging out with his friends, or hanging out with a mysterious person Cameron indirectly told her about. However, Evelyn did not blow up whatever Liam had going on with another person, and she was not flustered enough that she would embarrass herself further in front of Clara. “Sure.”
“Does your friend need a ride?” Clara asked, the silver necklace she wore glinting as she turned her head.
“I’m good,” Natalie said. “Thanks for the offer though.”
She wasn’t blushing. Evelyn did not know how. Straight people could not appreciate beauty, Evelyn thought, a little judgmentally.
“See you tomorrow, Nat,” Evelyn said, tossing Natalie a piece of gum she had a hoard of at all times. She usually gave it to Nat every time Natalie dropped Evelyn off and since she had been planning to drop Evelyn off everyday, Evelyn gave it today too. The wrapper of the gum crinkled as Evelyn opened it and tossed it into her mouth.
In her pockets, whose existence was a miracle in itself, Evelyn had nothing for the first time ever and she stuffed the wrapper. She’d chuck it later. “Family dinner,” Clara said as they reached the car. Evelyn sat in shotgun as Clara started up the car. “Well, Liam’s family dinner, and he invited Cam, Sadie and me. I invited you, because Sadie’s not coming, Cam’s going to be too distracted texting his girlfriend and Liam’s going to be doing his best to investigate Sadie and Cam. He’ll also be helping Aunt cook, so you and I are the only ones left.” There was a small smirk on Clara’s lips.
It sent Evelyn’s thoughts in the completely wrong direction and she ducked her head down and facing away from Clara to hide the flush on her cheeks. Her pale skin made her the red on her cheeks very visible, and it was annoying to say the least.
She got herself back to Clara’s words and asked, “And you’ll then proceed to give me the shovel talk?” It was rhetorical. There was no way Clara Walker would spend time with her for any other reason. Evelyn’s reputation was not too bad, but it was also slightly in the gutter from all her escapades. She was pretty sure the couple she accidentally got together were the only two people except Liam who were in the rumor mill and didn’t believe it. Even Steph did, even though she couldn't care less.
“Of course,” Clara grinned, sharp and quick, head recklessly turning away from the road for a second before she focused again. “You don’t need to worry though, I’m sure.” Her head tilted sideways like she was saying something without words, but as good as Evelyn was at reading people, she didn’t know the language Clara wrote in.
The traffic light was red and Clara slowed to a stop, just two blocks away from their house. “Okay, listen up.” It was one of the only times Evelyn had heard Clara without the peppy kid tone Clara Walker used when she talked to others. Clara tilted her body towards Evelyn. “I don’t think you’ll need the shovel talk, but to be honest, Liam can’t keep secrets. And the fact that you’re claiming you got together more than two weeks ago? And he didn’t tell me, at least? Does not in fact sound legit to me.”
Oh, they were going to have a long conversation. That head tilt had probably been a threat.
Still, having Clara’s blue eyes staring into Evelyn’s, sharp and focused almost made Evelyn shiver with thoughts of how pretty Clara was. At the angle Clara was in, the sun hit the flat planes of her cheek, dusting her hair in shades of gold.
Pretty people, honestly. Evelyn tried to focus again, keep herself away from stupidly reaching out to trace the line of Clara’s jaw, the slope of her nose and the arch of her upper lip. This was what had gotten her into trouble last year, staring at girls too much, being head over heelsand fucked up, not keeping on track to what she was supposed to focus on.
This was a small task.
It was not complicated, and Evelyn’s brain couldn’t handle it. She balled her hands into fists and sharp nails dug into calluses on her hand from gymnastics and badly fit gloves while riding her motorcycle.
“-And before the start of supper you will be giving me the full story. Not the half story you give Stephanie and Cameron, or the rumors Lilith’s been spreading,” Clara said, and Evelyn must have missed a bunch of the conversation but nodded anyway, noticing how they had reached the house. Evelyn was pushed out as Clara went to park the car.
It was a cliche rich people house, but the Walkers did not know the meaning of gardeners, so there were vines reaching to windows, messy trees and heavy bushes. The grass in the front lawn was tall, but thankfully there was a front path that has a few flowers sprinkled to its sides. There was a small fountain to the side, the only portion that had good plants, elegantly shaped and strategically positioned. The large front door was familiar to Evelyn, down to the two scratches at the bottom from the time Liam had a dog for a while, to the time Liam had tried to keep a parrot that kept on trying to destroy the door, giving four five scratches near the top.
Clara parked the car in the garage and hurried up to where Evelyn was, feet hitting the pavement sharply and her presence way too close, a sharp heat and the gentle smell of perfume. She opened the door, which, for some stupid reason, was unlocked.
Liam must have calculated how much time it would take for her to reach from Clara picking her up and planning it out, good on him, though really, how that boy had no sense about you know, thieves, Evelyn would never know, given his house was a walking wet dream for anyone wanting to break in.
Evelyn stepped in and rubbed her grubby shoes on the mat before walking inside. Her torn up, destroyed sneakers looked out of place on the tiled floor, but she had seen what footwear Liam chose to wear on a daily basis. At least she had minor standards, so she presumed Mr and Mrs. Walker had seen worse.
“Hi Mrs. Walker,” Evelyn greeted as a woman came running out of the kitchen at the sound of Clara’s very inelegant footsteps. Mrs. Walker, who always asked Evelyn to call her Anne, had beautiful bronze skin and syrupy honey gold eyes like Liam’s, with smile lines on her face. She wore chic clothes and had astounding balance in heels.
“Evelyn dear!” Mrs. Walker exclaimed. “Call me Anne, as I’ve told you before.” She smiled and gave Evelyn a small hug. At first, the hug had been weird, but with time, and Evelyn’s multiple visits to the Walkers’ house, she’d grown comfortable. “Clara dear, you came just on time,” Mrs. Walker said and gave Clara a tight hug. “It’s been too long,” she said, “but I made your favorite. Come sit, Liam set everything up.”
Evelyn almost laughed as Clara spoke again. “Liam? With cutlery? You won’t need to visit a store to buy anything broken?”
Liam wasn’t clumsy, but he was fidgety, and had a tendency to chuck everything in the sky, see how long he could wait before he caught it again. He’d almost scared the life out of Evelyn when he did it with his phone, and she’d kept all her valuable stuff out of his reach since then. Pencils were fine, dangerous to his eye but not really breakable. Literally anything else though? HIghly destructible.
Evelyn padded towards the washroom to wash her hands before sitting on the large, marble dining table. The entire house was decorated with various little statues but the dining room was pretty bare, though the beauty of the table definitely made up for it. Clara slipped into the seat next to Evelyn, keeping a gentle hand on Evelyn’s forearm. “Don’t forget,” she whispered. “Aunt’s just giving some drinks right now, then I’m hauling you with me to the gardens. We’re going to talk, no one will disturb us. Enjoy the refreshments,” Clara said, as though they were in a literal hotel.
With the grandness of the house, it used to feel like Evelyn was going to be offered refreshments anyway, to be honest. It was a grand house, so sparkly-ish, though Evelyn herself didn’t know what she meant by it.
“Eve!” Liam hurried in, Cameron following behind him sedately, books balanced on his head. Liam had two mismatched socks on and a normal, black top, the one that Liam wore every time there was a family dinner with his cousins invited. “He hugged Evelyn from behind her chair and sat on her other side.
Clara’s eyes followed Evelyn sharply, and Evelyn hung onto Liam’s hand, tracing his fingers with her own. This had to be stuff partners did. Casual affection, something Evelyn did give freely to Liam, but something she didn’t give as a romantic gesture.
How to dial up everything to make it obvious they were dating without actually kissing? Being really, really fucking close. Evelyn pressed her shoulder against Liam’s, and lightly rested her head there before Liam let go of her hand and slung his arm around her chair. If Clara
William still had her doubts; it went without saying Evelyn would literally cry.
Seriously, did the cousins need to see them kiss or something as proof?
Ew.
Cameron collapsed on a chair and removed the books balanced from his head before opening his phone that kept buzzing constantly. Clara rolled her eyes. “He’s so attached,” she fake whispered, since it was obvious that Liam had no idea what was going on. Evelyn giggled and Liam perked up.
“Cammy boy, what is this about attachment I hear?” Liam smiled.
“Nothing,” Cameron said, very convincingly. “Stop peeping into my phone you-”
Mrs. Walker chose that moment to walk in and put some drinks on the table. Obviously non-alcoholic, because firstly they were teenagers, and secondly, the Walkers didn’t have alcohol. At all. Cameron snatched the interesting pink looking one and gulped it, pretending he wasn’t about to curse Liam out before Mrs. Walker walked in.
“Go on, Cameron,” Liam urged.
“Liam,” Mrs. Walker said, “let him have his drink in peace. I haven’t seen him in so long and I made his favorite one.” She pushed a really fancy drink towards Clara, and the two remaining ones towards Liam and Evelyn. There was a plate of cookies too, which made Evelyn immediately take one and break it into half to give to Liam as well.
Did couples seriously have to share food? So annoying.
“Thanks, Mrs. Walker,” Cameron said, glass already half empty when he put it down. His face was flushed with the speed he drank it, but it was clear he was praying Liam had forgotten the topic.
They drank the drinks and Liam smiled at the half cookie, and Evelyn and Clara finished theirs by the time Mrs. Walker left.
“Tell me, Cam,” Liam said, shoving slightly at Cameron, his toes pressing into Cameron’s stomach as he brought his leg up. “You have to tell.”
“This is going to take a while,” Clara whispered, for real this time. There was a smile in her voice, and she got out of her chair silently. “Come with me. To the gardens.”
Oh no, time to fool someone who knows Liam really well.
Evelyn was a good liar though. She really was, and she could do this. Clara Williams with her pretty face and cool blue eyes and sharp jaw was not going to scare Evelyn. Seriously, Clara Williams was nothing but someone Evelyn had to deal with for the next few months before Clara went to college.
It was not going to be hard. Evelyn was determined to keep it that way.
