Between Eric and Verda, who's the "I told my dad I liked this one thing once and now he comes back with 10 packs of it everytime he goes to the store" dad? (I guess you could apply this to ub buying something the detective likes for them too if you want)
Verda for sure, lol! But I think that's partly because he feels guilty at working such long hours away from his kids that he makes it up for getting them things they like, no matter how much Eric tell him that he doesn't need to feel guilty about anything!
The sight she found was unsurprising. Tina slowly surveyed the structured chaos that spread across every nook and cranny of the small yet well-designed kitchen. Packages of mostly opened fruit settled near the sink, separated from the cooling fruit tarts by a pipe bag that looked like it had been squeezed within an inch of its life … in the proverbial sense – since pipe bags were inanimate objects.
The finished baskets for the summer fair were – well-wrapped and looking pretty – piled up in the corner, as if they were planning to stage a mutiny, and the unopened ones were stacked haphazardly, like unused chairs in an auditorium. She made sure to carefully track the variety of colorful and nicely scented details. If she was going to convince Kendis to let her help, she would have to at least show she wouldn't get in the way.
Kendis didn't take too kindly to surprise meddling in her kitchen. Or to meddling, period. Or, most times, to anyone but themselves in any kitchen they were in charge of.
"Did Nate let you in?"
Tina barely resisted flinching. She had been so busy surveying that she had missed the slight shift in her friend's posture. Kendis was now eyeing her from the corner of their eye. Tina rushed to deny the claim, wanting to spare her reluctant co-conspirator any trouble (or else he might not be any type of co-conspirator in the future) and dim the severe frown that marred the face of her typically mischievously grinning friend, as she bit the bullet to dare enter Kendis' domain, "No. I slipped inside when he was leaving."
Kendis stared at Tina for what felt like an unnaturally long moment. She met Kendis's gaze head-on, only releasing a breath when a smile twitched at the corner of the taller person's lips, and they rolled their eyes. "Ugh," they scoffed. Dramatically, Tina thought. Not that she'd say it … in this moment, "he should've kicked you out. What a wimp."
"Oh, yeah, your super tall secret agent vampire not-a-boyfriend is totally a wimp. And not at all because he's polite and nice and takes pity on your worried best friend."
Kendis set down what they were doing to properly scowl down at Tina. "You know I don't got no problem with throwin' you out."
"I know that's why I'm going to very quickly make you an offer you can't refuse. Let me be your taste tester." She rushed in that last sentence before Kendis could power up with a scoff or a 'psshaw' and, without a doubt, another eye-rolling.
Instead, blinked once. Then thrice. Then Kendis tilted their head as if they were a dog trying to suss out an unknown scent.
"And it's not because I don't think that you can't handle the doubled order. It's just … come on. We both know that Friedman is throwing a tantrum. He's pissed off about Douglas and won't admit it."
Kendis's nose wrinkled, head still tilted slightly to the right, "Or doesn't even realize that he is."
It was Tina's turn to roll her eyes. "I don't care. I just know he's taking it out on you, and it isn't fair. You'll get it done, and it'll be perfect. But with the new job, this, volunteering at summer camp, and –"
"Okay."
"-- and pet sitting for your downstairs neighbor, you won't have time to enjoy the fair because you're worrying about taking care of all the extr –"
"Tina. I said okay."
"Okay, what." Tina startled. Now it was her turn to blink. She had been full train ahead. She had come in ready to fight, so she was feeling a bit discombobulated.
Kendis let out a soft snort as they straightened their posture. "You can be my taste tester. And my basket deliverer. And … whatever else you wanna .. hel – do." They both pretended not to hear how Kendis stumbled over the word 'help'."
"What. Why."
"I mean you can still lea –"
"No! No take backsies. I said I was here to taste test, and I'm here to taste test. Use me however you want. Don't smirk."
"Don't tell me what to do. Here. Try this peach tart." Kendis had the decency to bite back a grin as Tina's nose automatically wrinkled. For a sweets goblin, Tina was surprisingly really against baked fruits. If she was volunteering to be an (not entirely) impartial taste tester – thus saving Kendis what would probably be ours of nitpicking at their own product – then it meant their friend was genuinely concerned about them overworking themselves.
They weren't jerkish enough to slam the door on that kind of sacrifice. …. And – and it really would be great to have the time to enjoy the fair.
—-
william bouguereau, les oranges
Iced fruits were one of the best parts of summer. From literal frozen fruits, to ice pops, to slushies that were often more artificial flavor than anything natural — it didn't really matter, there was something doubly refreshing about gorging on them on a cloudless, unbearably bright, and dry day.
This is how Kendis found themselves holding onto two stacked coolers as they used their elbow to ring the Verdas' doorbell.
They shifted from foot to foot in order to help alleviate the ache of her heavy packages. The sounds of feet stampeding in unison and screaming children, followed by what sounded like Sol's firm yet patient chastising, helped in ways hopping about didn't. A wide, amused grin almost took over Kendis' entire face by the time Verda opened the door for her.
"Darling, did you order –" He paused when he noticed one of the hands holding the two coolers upright wriggle at him in some sort of wave, "Who – Kendis? Kendis! Oh, my." He immediately reached to take one of the coolers from her but she shooed him away with a nudge of her foot against his calf. (Thinking on it later, he would consider she probably meant to poke at his ankle.) He was too bewildered by their presence to even note the streak of dust and dirt left on his pants.
"Yes, well. Very well. I assume you want the kitchen?"
"Yeah. Thanks! That'd be great."
It surprisingly didn't take long for him to direct Kendis—and the coolers—into his kitchen; likely, it was because the former detective wasn't an infrequent visitor to their home.
"There!" They huffed when she placed the coolers onto a clear counter.
"Yes, they certainly are. Now –"
Perhaps the correct adverb should've been 'why' instead of 'how'. Why had Kendis found themselves, at first on the Verdas' doorstop and now in their kitchen when they clearly hadn't been expecting her? Perhaps, hopefully, the question would be answered soon to help ease Solomon's already preoccupied mind.
"Fruit!" They interrupted abruptly with a proud beam.
"Fruit?"
"Mmhm." They punctuated as they began opening one of the coolers without even a 'how do you do'. (And certainly, still, without a 'why do I do')
Wisely, Sol decided it would be better – despite the sudden alarming screeching coming from his living room – to see than to ask further. And see, he quickly did.
"Kendis! Is all of this for the girls' party? There was no need for you to do that!"
"Of course, there's a need. I'm like your daughters' honorary godparent and, also, I'm awesome. There's no way I'd let my nieces not have a party filled with cool yet healthy food."
"It isn't as if the party was their idea." He chuckled. He couldn't help but point it out, even though he had a feeling it would go through one of Kendis' ears and promptly out the other. He and Eric had drawn the short straw during the last Parent Association Meeting. Though comparatively, hosting a BBQ for under-sixes was infinitely better than getting Halloween duty. Once the day was over, they would be clear from hosting for the rest of the year.
He was proven right by their airy wave, "Idea schmydears. Oh, and I hid a gin and raspberry tart for you and Eric like waaaay, at the bottom. You're totally welcome."
Verda bit back a smile, "Yes, yes. Thank you very much."
"Perfect! By the way they've been screaming, I'd say start with the slushies, do food, and finally treat them with the ice pops. All organic, I promise."
He couldn't help but be amazed by the sheer number of snacks. They would have to send some of the kids home with whatever the girls didn't want to keep for themselves.
—-
Umbrellas were one of the best inventions known to man.
Kendis and Farah ended up finding themselves caught in a downpour. The fall of rain was not overbearing but still heavy enough for Kendis to worry about it ruining her recently done-up hair. They pulled their bikes to a nearby stand – or, more accurately, both bikes belonged to Kendis, but Farah was borrowing one. They were teaching the vampire how to ride.
It had been a subject that had popped up randomly and the two of them, being the two of them, decided to chase that rabbit down the hole. Now here they were, bikes leaning against the broad wooden post of the stand, wet (the umbrella-less Farah more than Kendis) yet giggling.
"Hey, would you look at that?" Farah jabbed Kendis' side with her elbow, causing Kendis to flick Farah's arm in retaliation, "Didn't you need more oranges?" She returned as she smirked, unbothered, up at Kendis.
"Did I – Yeah! Yeah, I did. I definitely didn't tell you that."
"Didn't you?" She teased as she perused the large crates filled with different sorts of fruit. She didn't have to look behind her to know that her friend was rolling their eyes, she could hear it in Kendis' dramatic huff, "Fine. Fine. Fiiiiine! I saw it on Nate's grocery list."
Nate had taken to stocking the Warehouse with Kendis' favorite foods. He, at times, also made the effort to collect things Tina and the Verdas liked — but they came around much less frequently. Farah was often the one who was 'stuck' doing grocery shopping with him if he needed an extra pair of hands (that 'stuck' being a teasing exaggeration or close to an actual death sentence, depending on where they were going). She preferred food shopping to utensil shopping. The colors were pretty and Nate sometimes didn't scold her when she tried to touch them; unlike the way he acted at the home decor store. Accidentally break one or four bowls, and there would be a lecture every time they headed there.
Farah picked up a prickly fruit she'd never seen before. She was pretty sure it might be a pineapple. It looked like Spongebob's house. However, she'd never realized how pointy those things were.
Anyway, she picked up the fruit to ask Kendis a question when she caught the tail end of Kendis' pleased smile. It only took Farah a second to recall what might have prompted it.
"He's such a busybody." They mumbled under their breath.
The young vampire shot her friend a knowing smirk, "I thought you liked it when he acts like he knows your b –"
"That's a pineapple. And shut up, Farah."
Golden eyes twinkled with mirth before she let out an unrepentant cackle. They spent the next hour or so playing, "What fruit is this?" vs "I could make a really good [human food] with this". The rain had slowed into a drizzle fifteen minutes in, but the two of them ended up having such a good time in each other's company. And in the company of the oranges.
–
"Reasons why you just stuffed a peeled apple in my hands … Go!"
"Don't want it, don't eat it." Morgan scoffed as she began to walk away, "Don't care. You can throw it away. Just make sure that Nate doesn't come crying to me the next time." Muttered loudly by someone who supposedly didn't care.
Kendis considered lobbing the apple at the back of Morgan's head or chasing her down for an answer, but following through on either action was immediately halted. As Kendis had been putting their unappled hand into their purse to retrieve their keys they were met with something wet and sticky.
Slowly, they pulled it out and found it was a grapefruit. It was a grapefruit with a note pinned on it. The note was mostly indecipherable, but Kendis recognized the stationery they'd gotten for Farah, so that she'd stop using Kendis' good stuff for paper planes. If she squinted, she could almost make out parts that looked like Farah's scrawl. Not all of the letters melted into each other.
They could make out a 'get be' and 'eat' and 'well'. Or was that 'will'?
"Anyone wanna tell me what the fuck is goin' on??"
It had all started with an overgrown fruit basket Nate had delivered at her house. Then it had been Adam handing her slices of clementines during their meeting — he had actually stopped the start of it when he'd heard Kendis hadn't had a chance to grab breakfast beyond some grapes, from the aforementioned fruit basket that morning, to get it for them. They had been too startled to be … well much of anything.
Why were they all obsessing over fruit? Was this a reaction to the fruit-related products Kendis had created through the summer? Did they think she was on a fruit diet? That they could only survive on fruit or they would get sick and die –
Kendis stilled their stomping toward their car (obviously not awaiting the answer to their question; they had a busy day ahead and had no time to wait for more of UB's weirdness) as realization hit them like lightning striking a bare tree during a thunderstorm.
Awareness nearly split them in half as they spun suddenly to march back toward the Warehouse, but then spun again back toward their care, because they really did have things to do — for example, they had a follow-up appointment with their GP.
A follow-up to the bad flu Kendis had caught …
See, Kendis wasn't one to get sick and they weren't the best at taking care of themselves when they were ill. However, their packed summer schedule ended up catching up with them. It forced them to take the rest they'd been cutting off and Tina had parked herself on Kendis' couch to ensure Kendis took that rest. And Tina was as fierce as a pitbull when she wanted to be. No one had been allowed to disturb her rest.
It had just been a few days since their fever had cleared and only two days ago that they had been up and about.
They had been giving her fruit all day.
They had been giving her fruit all day!
How had it not clicked? 'Get be'… Get … be – Maybe 'get better'? Was that what Farah had been trying to say?
'Get be', 'eat', 'well'. The spare words Kendis had been able to read from the note attached to the grapefruit rattled in her mind as she drove down to the town square. The clementine. "Just make sure that Nate doesn't come crying to me the next time." The next time … the next time they were sick?
Their mind turned over the clues like they were testing the ripeness of mangos at the grocery store.
She suddenly wondered what the note on the fruit basket Nate had sent had said. She hadn't had time to read it before heading out the door.
They should be mortified that they hadn't noticed. Maybe even frustrated at the really weird and unexplained coddling. But … but, despite themself, all Kendis could do was feel warm.
–
"Food in the basket an' coolers?"
"Check."
"Okaaaay … we got the umbrella for Morgan?"
"Check! Verda said he found the old one in his attic, so he's bringing it just in case. And I got the earplugs, earmuffs, and walkman like you asked. I don't know why you had me buy all of this. It's not like she's going to stay the whole time."
"You talkin' like it came out your wallet," Kendis snorted as Tina rolled her eyes, " She should be comfy while she's there, yeah?"
"The only time I've seen Specialist Agent Morgan 'comfy' is when she's smoking like a chimney and making fun of people. She's so lucky that she's hot," Tina muttered under her breath.
"You're just still mad'bout what she said last month 'bout your –"
"Check!"
Kendis chuckled, "Okay. Sure, sure, sure. Umbrellas down. What about extra sunglasses and towels?"
"Check and check! And Farah said she'd handle the picnic blankets, and yes, I got one extra large one just in case … I think we're set to go now."
"You say that, but whose's the one who's gonna have to come back around if you forget something?"
"Adam?"
"Shut up."
Tina giggled, "You need to relax. Everything's going to be fiiiiine!"
"I'm relaxed an' everything's gotta be perfect."
"And it will be! Everyone's going to have a good time. We'll eat together and become closer. Just like you've always wanted!"
"I haven't always," Kendis scoffs, "You make me sound like some … some … like someone's grandparent. It's just a get-together idea I came up with, 'cause I thought it'd be fun. No big deal."
"Uh….. huh. If you say so. You can also finally say thank you to the agents for trying to boost your immune system with random acts of fruit." Tina smirked like she was funny.
"Thank them for what? No one told them to be weird about it, yeah?"
"Okay. Sure, sure, sure," Tina quipped, echoing Kendis' previous dismissal almost perfectly. "Not like you were touched or anything."
"Not like you're not touched in the head."
"Well, that's not nice."
"Yeah, whatever." Kendis huffed. "Apology accepted," Tina grinned, "You sure your car will be able to make it to the beach with all this in it?"
"Do you wanna walk there or do you wanna get in the car?"
Pairing: Gen, with a side of Verda/Eric bein cute and married
Words: 1782
Summary: Verda catches wind of Bobby sniffing around the detective again, and, because he cares about his friend, he stages something of an intervention.
Don’t think too hard about timelines. I started this when I first started playing twc. Takes place in early book one. I also gave Wayhaven two more bars. Title from “Bulletproof” by La Roux
The Haven, Wayhaven’s premier bar (one of three in the entire town, to be quite fair) is surprisingly busy for a Tuesday night, but it’s still easy enough to find Verda and his husband tucked away in a booth in the corner. Busy or no, there’s plenty of room to make his way over, and he slides into opposite them and leans his elbows on the faintly sticky tabletop.
“Did you really have to bring Eric to read me the riot act, Verda?” he asks, giving the gently smiling blonde a weary look.
“Yes,” Verda responds simply. He steeples his fingers and levels Chase with a steady gaze. “The only reason I didn’t bring Tina as well is because I know you’d see us all, figure it was an intervention, and bolt.”
Chase groans up at the dark ceiling. “I don’t need an intervention! It’s just sex.”
“It’s not just sex!” Verda counters. “It’s never been just sex with Bobby! I’ve known you for too long to swallow that excuse, and honestly I refuse to believe you believe it yourself!”
Thankfully, Chase ordered a drink before he sought them out, and he takes a long, long pull. “I didn’t even do anything this time. He managed to make himself exceptionally repulsive, and I didn’t even talk to him. He just… It was a voicemail. That’s all.” He rubs his eyes. “I already have the mayor riding my ass, I don’t need Bobby grunting and slobbering on the back of my neck too.”
Verda’s face scrunches in disgust, and, adorably, his husband mimics his expression without even looking at him. Unluckily for Chase, Verda’s distaste with his crudeness doesn’t stop him from sighing, “It’s never just a voicemail. Or just a text. Or just a phone interview. That’s how Bobby works. His modus fucking operandi! He senses when you’re at your most vulnerable and he uses it to get a leg over. And if he can snoop for information for his tabloid nonsense, all the better!”
“That’s why I only go to his place now,” Chase mumbles, mostly to himself.
Verda gives him a sharp glare. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” the detective says, sitting up straighter and rolling his shoulders.
“When did you go to his place?” Verda asks, dangerously soft.
He knocks back another half of his drink, because god does he need it, and rubs his face. “It was weeks ago, Verda, please--”
“I’m sorry, weeks?” Verda’s voice hitches up a few octaves, and Chase only just realizes that there’s a tall, nearly-empty glass of something that was once brightly colored and likely full of several types of rather strong liquor on the table in front of Verda, and that he is very much in over his head. Verda’s normally a very sedate, put-together man, though he’s never been afraid to speak his mind, but when he’s had a few drinks…
Maybe Chase should have bolted after all.
“CHASE RAPHAEL KINGSTON, DID YOU SAY WEEKS?” Verda stands up, and his husband hurries to stand as well and push him gently back down into his seat. He goes without a fight, but he is still clearly fuming.
“Quiet down, would you?” the detective hisses. “You know how this town talks!” He glowers at a familiar face gawking a bit at their table (Frankie McGinnis, the groundskeeper at the local park and also one of Chase’s own graduating class) who clams up quickly, turns, and hurries off.
“Weeks, Detective? Weeks?” Verda all but snarls at him. Chase raises his eyebrows and looks to Eric, who just raises his hands and shakes his head.
“It’s not a big deal,” Chase defends weakly.
“When?” Bitten out through gritted teeth. Verda’s glaring daggers at him.
Chase rubs at his jaw, scratching his stubble and avoiding his friend’s eyes. “The night the Chief announced Liddel’s retirement. I knew I was being promoted. I told him I didn’t want it and he told me tough shit. I was tired, I was pissed, and Bobby heard through the grapevine and decided to have me over to congratulate me.”
Eric snorts at the choice of words. Verda just looks... Incensed. “Chase! You have to see that this is not healthy!”
"It doesn't matter if it's healthy or not!" he fires back, and he can't help but get worked up himself, with his coworker all but shouting him down like he's an unruly teenager. "It's not your decision! I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions about who I fuck! Christ, d'you think you automatically get a say just 'cause I let you have at me too?"
Verda looks as if he's going to say something, but he snaps his mouth shut, his face scrunching, then collapsing. "Is that really what you think of me?" he asks softly.
Chase deflates very suddenly, spine bending, and rubs his face. "Fuck. No, Verda, of course not. I just… I'm sorry, that was awful of me to say. I just…"
"You're not used to people worrying about you," Eric offers, smiling a bit. "It can be overwhelming, right?"
Chase nods weakly. "I'm sorry," he says again. He finishes his drink in one good gulp, and it burns, but he needs the bolstering right now.
Of course, Eric knows he and Verda had their own little fling when they first met, just a sort of stress relief between friends and coworkers, that never progressed beyond that. They're good as friends, aces in bed together, but never really felt the need to take things to a level beyond that. It has, unfortunately, given Verda, and by extension Eric, far too much insight into Chase's habits, but sometimes it's... nice to be known.
At least he's got someone to tell him when he's being a tit.
"I need another drink," Chase groans.
Eric smiles and stands up, kissing the top of his husband's head. "I'll grab the next round. You lads behave."
Chase sighs. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "I… I know you're just worried. But I can take care of myself, Sol." He lifts his head and smiles crookedly. "Been doing it all my life, right?"
"Chase, you have so many tattoos our boss makes you wear turtlenecks in August, you had a criminal record before you turned 18, and you were bullied into the police academy immediately upon graduating college to avoid going to prison."
"Hey," Chase snaps defensively, "don't bring the tattoos into this. Everyone and their mum knows I'm covered in more ink than skin at this point, it's not my fault the chief clutches his pearls every time he sees them."
"My point is," Verda interrupts, "is that, perhaps, your life may have gone a bit more smoothly if you'd had someone to rely on other than yourself." He holds up his hand when Chase tries to protest, and presses on, "I'm in no way insulting you as you are now. You are an incredible man, Chase. Sharp as a tack, dedicated and proud, stubborn as all get out, but that's helped far more than it's hindered you. Wayhaven wouldn't be the same without you."
Chase squirms in his seat and looks away, "Verda…"
"I mean it, Chase. This town and the people in it owe you so much, and you deserve to be recognized for that. And you deserve to recognize it in yourself." He leans forward, bright-eyed and intense, "You deserve to feel like you matter to someone other Bobby Fucking Marks simply because he has an uncanny, sharklike ability to figure out exactly when you're at your lowest."
Eric chooses that moment to return with drinks, something fruity and ridiculous for his husband, and a simple rum and Coke for Chase. He sits down next to Verda and snuggles close. "So? How's it going?"
"Fine," Chase mutters. And he sighs gustily. "Verda's right, as usual. I just… Bobby's a prick, but we have history, and as much as I hate to admit it, he knows me too fucking well by now. I know better than to let him into my flat, of all things, but apparently not between my legs."
Verda splutters on his drink and laughs, Eric blushes a bit at the crudness, and just like that, the heaviness of the moment is gone. Verda fumbles for a napkin to wipe his nose, and Chase chuckles.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ve got more than enough to worry about right now with two murders and this Agency nonsense,” Chase mutters around the edge of his glass. “If Bobby decides to make more of a nuisance of himself than usual, I’m very likely to hogtie him and lock him in my trunk for a few hours.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to read his story about that,” Verda snickers. He’s begun to list heavily against Eric’s side, and the big blonde softens visibly.
“I think it’s time to get both of you home,” he says, smiling gently. “Chase, if you drove, I can bring you by in the morning to grab your car.”
Chase sighs and taps his knuckles against the table, but he smiles nonetheless, even if he can’t quite make eye contact. “That’d be aces, Eric. Thanks.”
Eric’s smile widens, warm and pleased, and he nods towards the door and helps his husband to his feet. Chase doesn’t move for a moment, just watching the two of them, Eric with his gentle fussing and Verda weakly protesting the attention, but at the same time visibly preening underneath it like it. Turning towards it like a flower towards the sun. Something in Chase’s gut twists.
He shakes his head, slams the dregs of his drink back, and climbs to his feet, slinging his jacket over his shoulders and following the happy couple to the door. He’s still a bit wrong-footed after their talk, but he stifles it down easily under three decades of practice repressing things like impulse control and feelings. If nothing else, he’s glad to have friends like Eric and Verda to look out for him, as much as he’ll let them.
“Hey, Verda?” he calls, his voice coming out a bit rough, softer than he intends.
Verda turns to look at him, wrapped around his husband’s arm and glasses a bit smudged. “Hm?”
Chase blows out a heavy breath that fogs in the air. “Don’t tell Tina about this, would you? I really don’t need another murder case once she decides to go after Bobby herself.”
Verda’s laugh is loud and delighted, echoing out into the otherwise quiet night. Chase stuffs his hands into his pockets and smiles to himself, allowing himself, for once, to take some quiet pleasure in what he’s got.
hello! hope you're having a good day :) two B3-related Qs:
1) we know Eric's supernatural. is he veiled, or is the form we see his actual appearance?
2) in the dinner party scene, the MC notices an...unusual number of mirrors in Eric + Verda's dining room. Is this purely an aesthetic choice or somehow related to Eric's supernatural race? (and/or a hint about future dealings with the actual loml, Falk??)
Eric's appearance is his actually appearance. No veil needed.
2. It's purely aesthetic :D When I was looking up inspiration for their house, I noticed that a lot of the 'posh' houses interiors had SO many mirrors. Plus it was a nod to Verda's cleanliness streak that even though they have kids, they still manage to keep the mirrors clean and free of smears, hehe!
Thank you so much for the asks! Hope you're have an amazing day too <3
#the amazing digital circus
#heated rivalry
#aromantic
