#drabble ask meme

[snowflake-of-destruction]

72 and 96 >:)

Have some Grass is Greener. First one in the current timeline and the second flashback to the past. Sorry I didn’t do these yesterday.

 72.

“Are you really taking his side right now?” Roxas glared up at Axel through his bangs and his grip on the landscaper's freckled thighs tightened.

Axel was not chastened in the slightest. Roxas had asked for his opinion--maybe not in so many words, but the implication had been there. Roxas didn't often just talk to hear himself speak, especially when it came to complaining about his husband. He usually wanted compassion or a proposed solution. The redhead lifted his head from the bed and met Roxas's stormy stare with a heated look of his own, pulling a bit on the bonds that secured his wrists to the headboard as he tried to leverage himself.  "You were the one that started talking about how you're trying to talk Isa into marriage counseling, right now!" He mirrored Roxas's indignant tone, punctuating the stressed words with a small thrust up of his hips that only caused short, blunt nails to be dug into his flesh harshly in response. Maybe he shouldn't be so upset Roxas was forgetting he might have an emotional stake in the situation or at least an emotional reaction, and, more definitely, he probably should have tried to help Roxas think of a way to convince Isa to see things his way. After all, if Roxas and Isa started going to a real marriage counselor, Axel wouldn't be called on to make it the third (fourth?) job he did for the couple after all. Like every part of whatever this situation was however, it wasn't that easy.

He must have done a bad job merely sounding annoyed instead of truly upset. Roxas ducked his head, but he wasn't quick enough to break eye contact. Axel saw the realization and regret, and it cut to his heart. How did it feel like he was the bad guy? 

"I'm sorry," their voices overlapped each other, both men meaning the words but for reasons larger than this one conversation.

Roxas crawled off the bed and walked around to untie Axel's hands without another word. Axel slipped his left hand out the knots that didn't actually hold it securely while Roxas worked on his right side, but he didn't try to speak either or reach out toward his lover. 

"Do you really want to work out your problems with Isa?" Axel asked the ceiling.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Roxas picked up his robe from where it had been discarded and put it on.

"I know something other than a marriage counselor that would also go a long way as a gesture." Axel wondered if the air conditioning had clicked on. It was so cold in the bedroom all of a sudden.

"Why don't we drive out of town and go out to eat somewhere where we won't run into anyone we know? I'll send Isa a text I'm hanging out with my brother."

"I can't." Axel wondered if he would ever muster up the will to add more to the sentiment, and what it would take to make him stick to it if he did.

96.

"Remember, we have to get up early tomorrow, and we want to look good in pictures" Naminé was probably the only one that could have spoken at a volume that shouldn't have even carried over the multiple boisterous conversations being held in the room and instantly halted them all, made the gentle urging not sound like nagging, and caused the entire twenty-top table to bend to her will and almost immediately stand, individuals and couples circulating their own excuses and goodbyes. 

Naminé herself hung back until nearly everyone had left, dishing out largely redundant reminders of different rough edges the rehearsal had shown needed to be worked out before the ceremony tomorrow. The amount of alcohol consumed by the wedding party at dinner after the rehearsal made it somewhat of a good idea however.

"Nam, you are an angel," Roxas declared, throwing an arm around her shoulders, magnanimous and red-faced, though in his case it was more rising nervous excitement than drunkenness.  

"I'll take that title," Naminé declared, leaning her head briefly on his shoulder. "I have to have some role, since you wouldn't let me be wedding planner when it mattered and I'm not in the party."

"You have the very important role of girlfriend of the maid of honor," Roxas countered.

"And if I help you keep your and Isa's friends in line, then you won't say no to that either, will you?" 

"You caught me."

"Hey, stop snuggling and whispering over there. I'll get jealous," Xion called, making an "I'm watching you" gesture from where she was lingering talking to Isa at the other end of the room. 

Naminé made a show of stepping away and Roxas held up both hands, smiling widely. "Can you blame me on my last night of freedom? You have to keep on your toes and hold onto this one." He looked over his shoulder to make sure Ventus had left the restaurant and not just the back room they'd reserved, before he tacked on. "Best thing that ever happened to you. If you mess this up, you're going to doom the rest of us"

"I take exception with that," Isa interjected.

Xion looked at him gratefully. "Thank you. I don't want the pressure."

"Fine," Roxas rolled his eyes. "Isa and I will ruin our marriage without blaming you."

"Hey!" Everyone left in the room snapped varying versions of the same sharp look at him, but Isa was the one to put in the words. "Don't jinx us before we're even married."

"Ha, and you were going to object to me being superstitious. Relax. I'd say both of the relationships in this room are pretty safe."

[culinary-saiyan]

♂

♂ - … My muse’s father

The cradled child within the older Saiyan’s arms shifts slightly within the blue cloth that it has snugly bundled around it too keep it warm on the cold night upon Planet Vegeta.

Doubt fills Suncho’s mind, whether or not this decision would spell the end of his career as a Saiyan Elite, will it put in jeopardy his title he held onto oh so dearly.. Or does his duty as a father come before all that?

His plan was simple to say the very least… and far less nefarious than what his now ex-mate had proposed to do with the weak, young, child. To simply give him to a Saiyan that was going off world to another Colony seemed to hold his attention for the fate of his son.. his only child, his failed offspring.

With hesitation he looks down to the sleeping child, unaware of the decision that was being made without their knowledge… without their input, simple plans of how life will be already made by two parents who simply couldn’t bare the mark of having such a weakling from their blood.

However now he didn’t feel such disappointment, maybe only regret… that he cannot be the father that his son needed, that his own pride as a Saiyan came first, honor to be used as a sheet to hide this believed to be mistake.. To feel anything like this towards his son, to feel so soft and tender to someone who is deemed unworthy of attention.. shame washes over Suncho.

Now nearing the end of his time with his son, the Saiyan hands him over to the woman that had met him in secret, little words exchanged due to differing ideologies and lack of respect for one another.. however during this final farewell with his flesh and blood, his supposed ‘failure’, their is comfort in knowing he is in safe hands..

Comfort in knowing his will be likely inherited through his son.

[sunken-standard]

20 & 21 please, if you are still taking drabble prompts? No pressure,I can wait if it's *years* (which i actually did after i read the "road...") Also, i have difficulty deciding which of your story is my fav. The road, of course, but the recent drabble fest is giving me a tough time! Thank you for sharing your work. :)

Thank you <3  

“D..did you just make that noise?”/ “He’s a bad kisser.”

“He’s a bad kisser.”

Molly made a face over her mug.

“Just repeating what she said,”Mary said, sipping her own (decaffeinated) tea.

“She really said that, aftereverything she told the tabloids and whoever else would listen?” The that slag was heavily implied.

“Who said what about what?” Sherlock asked, shuffling down the stairs.

Mary looked startled, probably more bySherlock’s presence than the guilt of being overheard talking abouthim.  She recovered quickly; blunt as always, she asked, “Whyare you here?  And why do you look like you just rolled out of bed?”

“Because I just rolled out of bed? Your husband’s brooding was too loud, couldn’t sleep.  I need sleep,I’m still recovering from being shot,” he said, grabbing a mugand fixing himself a coffee.

Mary made a face that said yeah,okay, that makes sense mixed with a little bit of contrition,then looked between the two of them, not-so-subtly trying to figureout if sleeping together meant sleeping together, or if it wasjust like Molly having a twelve stone Irish Setter curled up on thebed with her.

“Janine phoned me last night,saying goodbye and good riddance before she left London for good,”she said.  "She blames me for getting mixed up with you and, byextension, getting knocked out in her boss’s office the night you gotshot.“

“You actually were the onewho knocked her out,” Sherlock reminded her, wincing when hesipped his still-too-hot coffee.  Probably the second smartest man inLondon and he never learned.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that,”Mary said.

“So what was it she said that borerepeating to Molly?  I can only assume it was about me, judging bythe guilty look on her face.  Molly, never play poker, you can’t hideanything.

Oh really? she said with a look.

His face did a complicated series ofexpressions that translated to okay, well, yes, the whole me notactually being dead thing, but other than that you’re completelytransparent.

She did have to concede that point,which got her a smug look over the rim of his mug before he burnedhis mouth again.

"She said you were a bad kisser.”

“I am not,” he said,affronted.

“It’s what she said,” Marysaid, enjoying herself too much.

“Well obviously she’s stillbitter.  Hardly an objective opinion.  Molly,” he said, settingdown his mug and moving to loom over her.

Oh, this isn’t going to end well,she thought.

“You’ve shagged your way throughhalf of London.  Scale of one to ten.”  It was all the warningshe got before he had her face cupped gently in his hands and hislips were on hers, starting with a soft pressure before quicklyprogressing to the kind of lip-sucking, breath-stealing kiss thatmade her glad she was already sitting down, as her legs had turned tojelly.

Realizing this was probably going to beher only chance ever to snog the life out of the man she was still inlove with despite really not wanting to be, she seized heropportunity and kissed back, burying one hand in his hair and restingthe other on the side of his neck.  She swiped her thumb along thestubble on his jaw and he made the most delicious, helpless littlesound she’d ever heard.

“Did you just make that noise?”Mary asked, breaking whatever spell they’d fallen under.  

Sherlock pulled back quickly (thoughgently), his eyes heavy-lidded for a split second before flying wide. He cleared his throat and turned away, darting over to the otherside of the kitchen to make himself look busy.

“Just my phone,” he lied,slamming open the cutlery drawer and grabbing a spoon.

“Uh huh,” Mary said, eyestwinkling.  God she was evil.  "So?  Scale of one to ten?“

Molly couldn’t let Mary have all thefun.  "Like a six, maybe,” she said, proud of howcompletely unaffected she sounded.

“A six?” Sherlock saidindignantly, dressing gown swirling as he whirled to face them. “Maybe on a logarithmic scale.  That had to be at least aneight.  Closer to a nine.”

“I think you could use a littlepractice,” she said, scrunching her nose and curling her lips ina kind of passive-aggressive patronizing way.

“Pfft, you evidently don’t knowwhat constitutes a proper snog,” he said, taking the half-fulljar of Nutella with him to the sofa to sulk.

“I’ve got a sample size of half ofLondon, so I mean…”

“Yes, and it’s clearly theterrible half.”

“Sixtieth percentile isn’t thatbad,” she said, enjoying twisting the knife just the littlestbit.  He’d kept her up half the night with his snoring and cold feet,anyway; she was entitled to a little fun at his expense.  Mary wasreally a bad influence, she thought.  

Said bad influence was trying to keep astraight face and failing miserably, smiling around the lip of hermug until she dribbled on herself.  

Sherlock made an annoyed little gruntand stuffed a spoonful of Nutella in his mouth.

*

“So you think I need practice,”Sherlock said, looming over the back of the sofa. 

Mary had left an hour before to go andget her shopping done; she’d only stopped by for a cuppa and a bit ofa chin, anyway.

“Even Olympic Athletes need topractice,” Molly deflected, pretending to be absorbed in hermagazine.  Without Mary around, it was all a bit less of a laugh. She’d really been trying to not think about the implications of whathad started as just some silly little piss-taking.

“Ha!  So it was a nine,”he crowed.

Actually more like an eleven.  "Seven,maybe, if I’m rounding up.“

"I want a do-over.”

“Wh— a do-over,” she said,trying to be sure she was hearing him correctly.

“Yes.  That was a warm-up.  I wasstill half-asleep.  Do-over.”

Yeah, definitely not going to endwell.

“Fine,” she said, acting likeshe was giving in while she set her magazine aside.

[snowflake-of-destruction]

85

"If you die, I’m going to kill you," Roxas hissed, teeth gritted to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. Royalty did not cry. It showed weakness. King Mickey and Queen Minnie would have told him otherwise, and Prince Sora broke that rule of decorum almost as often as he broke ones pertaining to courtly conduct and fraternization with the musketeers, but Roxas held onto to the idea of unbreakable stoicism when people were watching. He had little else to hold onto since Axel had left. 

He had wanted him back more desperately than he had ever wished for something in his life, but not like this, limp body carried in by three soldiers, smelling of blood but also sulfur, pale as death with only the wetly rasping noise of gasped breath hard fought for to show he still clung to life.

"Let me," the duke commanded, pulling away from Aqua's attempt to put a hand on his shoulder as a precursor to suggesting he give Axel's premature pallbearers fellows some room to allow them to navigate to the court physician--or, more likely, Donald for a higher chance of miraculous healing. Roxas closed his eyes and formed a prayer that was more a pact. If Chernabog wanted one of them, Roxas would offer himself. He knew it wasn't what Axel would have wanted or he wouldn't have left in the first place, but he was soon to be beyond wanting. It was Roxas's decision now that mattered for them both.

[snowflake-of-destruction]

71

More GiG. I’m sure everyone is shocked.

"We’re not ‘fine,'" Aqua mimicked Terra's reluctant, sadness tinged, bitter confession from that morning, before snapping back to a half-frantic huff that was all her own. "Out of nowhere. Six in the morning. Sun's not even up.  I'm getting dressed in the master bath because I don't want to turn on the bedroom light because I think he's sleeping. I want to crawl back into bed-with him-but I'm getting ready, to be the responsible adult in the family like I always am, and he lays that on me before I even have breakfast." She glared at a spot of empty air as she fell silent and shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. 

Xemnas held up a half filled wine glass in front of her until she took it. There was a fair chance it would be more comforting than him. He wasn't a bad listener, and maybe that was all his stepsister wanted, and he could  parse the problem, if she'd let him, but he favored a more clinical, logical (and biased when it came to his sister's husband whom he'd never liked) standpoint, as Aqua did herself, but he lacked the nurturing nature that balanced his sister out and often was not able to muster anything beyond the starkest assessment.  "So what did you say?"

"I panicked. I just told him he was wrong and left the room," Aqua shrugged her shoulders in a rather robotic up and down and frowned at the glass in her hands like she wasn't sure how it had gotten there.

Xemnas couldn't help it. He let out a full-bodied laugh. That was Aqua. He could just imagine the tone she'd said it in too, like she was correcting one of her students. "I would have loved to have seen his face."

"I'm glad I was able to amuse you," the dry response came, though the corner of Aqua's mouth twitched like the humor of the situation wasn't entirely lost on her.

"What happened then?" Xemnas urged. He watched his sister's hand, or, more accurately, the wine she hadn't bothered to take even a polite initial sip of, more closely than he watched her face.

"Nothing. He didn't follow me. I ducked my head back into the bedroom before I left for work and he had fallen back asleep. He was home when I came home and...nothing. He's probably waiting for me to bring it up." The question of whether she should bring it up and have the conversation out, or walk on eggshells for awhile hoping Terra didn't dive back into the topic at an awkward time was implied, though she didn't bother to actually voice it. The answer was more questions she was positive, and ones she didn't know the answer to. How do you feel about it? Do you think he's right? It might be just a phase (and that was the answer she wanted "It's just a phase. All marriages go through dark and light patches" like Daddy would say), but do you think it would pass more quickly if you talk it through or if you don't pick at it?

"God, don't do that," Xemnas surprised her, draining half his own glass of wine after. "Not until after Saturday," he amended. "Did you forget Annie's little dinner party? It's going to be bad enough without the possibility of you and Terra sniping at each other under your breaths all night." Or Terra refusing to show up and Aqua clinging to his side all night so he could fend off questions for her, but Xemnas wasn't unkind enough to voice that worry. 

"Ansem hates it when you call him Annie." Aqua finally took a sip of her wine, and Xemnas couldn't help but be reassured.

"I have to have some fun left in my life."

"You have me. I'm fun." 

Xemnas stayed pointedly silent until Aqua shoved his shoulder. He'd coaxed a smile out of her. That had to be mission accomplished of the day.

[snowflake-of-destruction]

91

Subverting expectation, this has caused me to whip up a preview of Lost Masters Canon Divergence AU. 

Xehanort grabbed Eraqus's sleeve, bunching the thin, damp, brightly patterned material of his gold, green, and pink fish haori in his grip. "We have to be mindful of the World Order," he warned his husband. There was little chance he wouldn't remember, some lessons were  reinforced so deeply they never left, but decades had softened both of their instincts. Standing under a flickering streetlamp on a corner between foreign neon lit shops and breathing in air that was heavy and damp but without the salt of the seashore, felt like a bad dream. What he wouldn't give to hear the cry of a gull.

Eraqus reached up a hand to pat the one on his shoulder reassuringly and then tugged into better arrangement the bucket fishing hat he'd badgered Xehanort into starting to wear as soon as his hairline had started to retreat the smallest bit. "Don't worry, love. It's going to be alright."

Only Eraqus could smile with optimism after watching his adopted home planet fall to darkness. Well, only him and one other.

"Hurry up!" Sora's impatient voice drifted from....honestly Xehanort couldn't see him, and that made the words more urgent. He'd need to have a talk with the boy about bounding ahead.

Eraqus bounced his eyebrows and tightened the leather tie holding his salt and pepper hair back. "You heard him. Let's catch up, slowpoke. Last one to the Third District is a rotten egg."

"Don't throw out your hip, old man," Xehanort threw back the words still somewhat weary but trying to join his husband in keeping the mood light. They'd find a way to save Destiny Islands yet. They'd seen worlds respawn and come back from Darkness before. The universe was giving them one last adventure to shake them up before they gave into old age.

If they could find Riku, he'd feel much better though.

Even being given warning that Eraqus was about to take off running like their teenage ward, he wasn't quite ready for it and found himself left in the dust. He made up the distance, but when he turned the corner he found Era skidded to a stop, introducing himself to a redheaded girl about Sora and Riku's age in a long lavender dress.

"I'm Tardy McFleetfoot and this handsome gentleman is my husband Grumplepuss McFleetfoot. We looking for our grandson, Riku." He hadn't changed a whit in half a century. Xehanort thanked his lucky stars.

The girl shot him a skeptical look. Tough audience, she didn't even crack a smile at the cover names. She tilted her head toward Sora, causing one of the flowers woven in her braid to knock loose and fall to the ground. "Found him."

Eraqus played offended. "That's our grandson's friend, Smiley St. Coconuthead. We're not that farsighted.

Sora snickered and the frosty girl turned and started to walk off, but waved to be followed. "You can check the fourth district. That's where a lot of the refugees end up." She didn't ask if they were new to town or about their world.

Eraqus caught Xehanort's eye and mouthed the words, "You" and "Scala."

Xehanort frowned and shook his head. He knew what his husband was getting at but he hadn't given out that aura of superiority and jadedness, had he?  Out loud he answered, "Yes," for them all.

"My name is Kairi. Kairi the Just, Princess of Hollow Bastion. It's a meaningless title. My home no...Heartless!"

Twitching, bright-eyed, clawed creatures the size of large dogs on their hind legs with insect heads rose out of the ground on all sides. The princess pressed her hands over her heart and closed her eyes, a cocoon of pure light forming around her and shooting out projectile pearls of holy magic moments after, though, by that time the numbers were diminished. The quickest reaction in the group, beating out both their aloof tour guide and Xehanort's priority of shoving Sora behind him was Eraqus, keyblade an extension of his arm like it had never left, carving through the enemy as he dove in front of them all. Taking the lead to cover just as running ahead and even the upbeat attitude that cut down despair before it could grow was designed to do.

"Sorry I’m protective over the things I love."

[snowflake-of-destruction]

53 and 64

More Grass is Greener. VanVen and Kaixi interaction but, really, showing why GiG Vanikai is a couple that works.

53.

"Take off your shirt," Vanitas demanded without preamble, shutting the office door behind him.

Ventus barely glanced up from his computer screen, and his fingers kept typing, finishing the e-mail to his students that the syllabus was being adjusted. "You know, usually you at least say hello."

"Shut up and do it," the raven haired man snapped, tossing a plastic grocery bag mostly filled with a blue lump onto the desk. "You took one of my shirts this morning. By the time I finished shaving and went to get dressed myself it was too late for me to catch you."

Ventus didn't look like a man who had risked getting caught in an affair because he couldn't tell red and blue apart. He beamed the same enthusiastic and vaguely clueless smile he always did, the one that disarmed everyone, including Vanitas himself, and made them underestimate him. He probably would have gotten away with showing up at home in a shirt that wasn't part of his wardrobe just on the merits of that smile alone. Vanitas didn't know where Ventus had told Xion he was last night and he didn't care. "Good catch. Shouldn't I change at the end of the day though? Wouldn't want to tip off the whole philosophy department."

"I'll spill something on my shirt for you."

"Don't you dare!" Ventus shrunk back in his chair. "I like this shirt. It's one of my favorites. It makes your features pop."

"Bullshit. You didn't even realize it was mine."

"It makes my features pop too." The smile intensified.

"Did you take it on purpose?" It seemed like it was all a game to Ventus. It was to Vanitas too, but sometimes he felt like Ventus was playing hopscotch while he was playing chess.

"No," Ventus scoffed and Vanitas wasn't sure he believed him. "I can't believe you talked me into doing that again," the blonde muttered, smile wilting without warning as he changed the subject and abdicated his own responsibility.

"It was one last time for nostalgia's sake," Vanitas dismissed the topic airily. 

"Just promise you won't break up this wedding too." Ventus continued to darken.

"I didn't break up the last one." That was the truth in Vanitas's eyes. He hadn't planted any doubts in Xion that hadn't been there in the first place, and if their relationship had been that strong he wouldn't have been able to fan them either. He hadn't even introduced Naminé and Xion, so clearly he hadn't been the mastermind of every factor that has led to Xion running off. Ventus still stared him down like he'd planned every catastrophe in the universe. "So, Xion told you I had a little talk with her before the ceremony. How long after?"

"After I proposed this time. Do you think I would have...that we would have happened if I knew you'd chased off Xion?" Ventus stayed the course on the accusatory track.

"I don't see how it would have mattered. If anything, it was romantic." Vanitas refused to be the villain Ventus needed, though he didn't mind being cast as one in general. "Anyway, you don't need to worry. I'm happily married myself this time."

"Happily?" That scoff actually cut. Ventus had to be more careful.

"It's a rough patch," Vanitas defended, crossing his arms.

Ventus instantaneously made Vanitas wish for the blame game or the superior looks to return when his face and voice both softened to the gentle demeanor befitting breaking bad news to a volatile personality. "Xion told me Kairi's planning on serving you divorce papers."

"Ah, well if the rumor mill declares it, it must be so," Vanitas spat venom, reaching for the door.

"For what it's worth, I hope you two work it out." Ventus wielded pity like a weapon, knowingly or not. 

The words made Vanitas pause, but it wasn't in order to deliver a thank you. "One of us should have a healthy relationship. Have you talked to her about getting the tattoo removed?" Ventus had to know it would be used against him one day when he'd told Vanitas how much the starfish Xion had gotten when she was with Naminé bothered him.

"She loves that tattoo." Not said was that Naminé had a matching one. Never mentioned was that the only reason Xion had been single again at the same time Ventus had found himself in the same position was that Naminé had been the one to leave her. The first time Ventus had suggested he and Xion just pick up where they left off rather than starting over she'd refused. She'd said they were both rebounding back into each other. He'd re-proposed every date. He'd wore her down. What a love story. 

"I'm sure that's all there is to it." When Vanitas smiled he looked like the devil himself. 

"Don't do that," Ventus admonished, more wearily disappointed than inclined to snap. 

 "I was just asking a question. I say let people have their nostalgic artifacts."

"As long as it works out for you." Ventus turned his attention back to his computer. He had forgotten to send the e-mail after all.

"It always works out for me."

64.

"Are you even human?"  Xion gaped at Kairi, all wounded animal eyes.

Kairi pouted at her reflection in the mirror while fixing her hair. "What? I said it was romantic. I believe my exact words were that it was 'so romantic' that you and Ventus just got swept away. That you know, for a fact, that it only didn't work out last time because it wasn't the right time. Who cares if you've only been back together for a short time. You've been in love for years!"

Xion could only be grateful she hadn't told Kairi about Naminé. The redhead was fairly transparent, but it didn't stop the catty words disguised as support less likely to burrow under skin. 

"I'm sure none of the problems from before will come back. You're both different people now, and you've both learned and matured. And you've talked things over, right?" Kairi didn't wait for an answer. "It's all in the past....and I'm sure Ventus feels that way too and doesn't resent you one bit." Satisfied with her hair, she started working on makeup.

"You're evil. Actually evil," Xion marveled, wondering what she'd gotten herself into. 

"Thank you." Kairi flashed a smile in the mirror during a brief pause between eyes, applying eyeliner. "If you think it's playing more fair, honey, I could play it a bit more straight and point out that my whole marriage is built on the fact that, at least initially, Vanitas wanted to make someone jealous and took a joke too far, and it seems to me your man's doing the same with you, but I think that lacks nuance enough to make it fun."

[sunken-standard]

#142 "Hold my hand so he gets jealous"

“Oh fuck.”

“Are you alright?” Sherlockasked, looking up from his phone to see that Molly had gone pale,looking past his shoulder to the front of the cafe.

“It’s Tom,” she said.

“Oh.”  He thought for amoment it was something interesting, like a group of Russian mobsterswith automatic weapons or maybe a rampaging lion escaped from thezoo.  "Is he with anyone?“

“Some bloke in a business suit,probably a client or a new employee or something,” she said,sliding down in her seat as much as she could.  

“Molly, you’re not a heroine in arom-com, you’re going to slide off the chair and end up flat on yourarse on the floor.  Here, hold my hand so he gets jealous.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?”she hissed, straightening and lacing her fingers with his over thetable.

He let his expression soften intosomething affectionate, besotted; it was the way he felt around hermost of the time anyway, so it wasn’t hard to fake.  "There’s afine line between cliche and classic,“ he flirted.  "Youcould make a bit more of an effort.”

Molly gave him a flat look that spoketo just how unimpressed she was, which actually worked rather well inits own way because it’s a look he’d seen her direct at The Ex ratherfrequently.

“So we’re actually doing this? You know this is exactly why he and I split in the first place.”

“No, you split because he was aninsufferable dullard and quantity didn’t make up for quality in thebedroom.”  At her incredulous look, he added, “Your words,not mine.”

“My words to Mary Watson,”she gritted out.  "Fuck-fuck-fuck, here he comes.“

"That’s what she sai—” Molly kicked him under the table.  Hard.

“Molly, hi,” Tom enthused,loping over to the table like a poodle on stilts.  "Sherlock,“he smiled, sticking out his hand.

Nothing for it, he supposed, slippinghis hand from Molly’s (rather conspicuously) and standing to shakeTom’s hand and be introduced to his very dull, boring,non-Russian-mafia-or-zookeeper shadow.  Molly got a very quick,polite hug and a handshake from the [something finance, banker’shours, has a car, boring boring boring] probably-school-friend.

Introductions; oh, your name is Tomtoo, oh Thom with an ‘h’, haha; small talk small talk; yes, we werejust at the British Museum, Molly was looking over some bones with acolleague, even ancient murders can shed light on modern forensics;The Work is always interesting, always something new; oh, you’ve beenkeeping up with the blog, John does so love to exaggerate, hahaha;yes yes, good to see you again.  His face felt like it was going tofall off from all the plastic smiles.  Tom and other-Thom moved tofind themselves a table and Molly almost collapsed with the relief ofit.

"You could have put your armaround me or something,” Molly said after they were safely outof earshot.

“That would oversell it, make melook insecure.  Obviously I have nothing to be insecure about,considering I won.  I’m a gracious winner.”

“Right, because you never gloatabout anything.  Like the time you won Uno.  Or Snakes and Ladders. Or Battleship, which you only won because you cheated.”

“Everyone cheats at Battleship. It’s like poker, it’s all about the bluff.”

She gave him another Look, so he tookher hand again.  He was keeping an eye on the Toms-squared just tomake sure they were watching.  They weren’t.  The Ex didn’t reallyeven seem to care, too absorbed in his old school friend to noticemuch of anything.

She didn’t need to know that.  Shecouldn’t see them, after all.  "You could fawn over me a bit,“he said.

"What about not overselling it?”

“Well I couldn’t oversellit, but it’s almost expected of you.  You want to show you’ve movedon so you’ll overcompensate to prove it.  It’s what you do.”

“Do I?” she asked, cockingher head an raising her eyebrows in a way that said he was skating onthin ice.

“'Jim wasn’t my boyfriend, we onlywent out three times, I ended it,’” he said, doing his bestimpersonation of her.  It was actually rather good, he thought,almost as good as his John.  Always harder to nail a falsetto,though.

“You can’t remember GregLestrade’s name, but you can quote something I said three years agoverbatim.”

Bollocks.  He only remembered becausehis comeback had been particularly witty.  And because he’dinadvertently committed as much of that day to memory as possible andreplayed it in the two years he was away, as it was a turning pointof sorts.  Not that he was in any way sentimental about that kind ofthing.

“It was about Moriarty, Iremembered everything about Moriarty in case it was useful.” Decent save.

“Uh huh.”  She stared at him.

“He keeps glancing over here—”it was a lie “—you should do something.”

“Like what?  I’m already holdingyour hand.  Shall I come sit in your lap?”

Oh God yes please.  "Idon’t know, laugh or something.  Look happy.  Like you actually wantto be here with me.  Or maybe just like you don’t want to reachacross the table and strangle me.“

"Those three things aren’tmutually exclusive.  It’s pretty much its own state of being, theGermans probably have a word for it.”  

Molly’s thumb brushed over his, sendinga shiver down his spine that wasn’t just from the too-light touch. He chewed the corner of his lip, thinking that now would be eitherthe best or the worst time for The Ex to actually look over at them.

“Have we sat here long enough forit not to be weird if we left?” Molly asked.  

“You haven’t finished yoursandwich,” he pointed out.  Really, now that he had the chance,he was going to make the most of it.

“Kinda not hungry any longer. I’ll just take it home and finish it later,” she said, slidingher hand free from his to get her handbag.  She produced an evidencebag and stuffed the rest of her sandwich and chips into it, then tookthe chips he had left on his plate.  

He was pretty sure she wouldn’t do thaton an actual date, but she would in a long-term relationship.  Heshot a smug look to Tom-and-Tomtoo, but they still weren’t payingattention.  

After they stood, he held out his handfor her to take while Molly twisted and gave The Ex one last littledorky-polite wave (God she was so cute he couldn’t stand itsometimes, he just wanted to chew on her head like a lion,which—oddly—seemed to be the theme of the day for him, maybe he’dask her to go to the zoo sometime).  Molly interlaced her fingerswith his and he led her from the cafe with his own parting look toThe Ex; the thinned lips and narrowed eyes were every bit assatisfying as he thought they’d be.

They didn’t get a cab right away; itwas a bit overcast but not too hot for the height of summer andwalking seemed like the thing to do.  He didn’t let her hand drop andMolly didn’t pull away; he wasn’t going to let himself read too muchinto it.  They’d both pretend they’d forgot or that it hadn’thappened at all.  That was alright, though; little victories.