Better or Worse {9}
Nessian. Angst. Modern au.
@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab
Better or Worse Masterlist
Warnings: language.
“Shit, bud. Calm down.”
Nyx is flailing around recklessly in his booster seat, his seatbelt stuck. As soon as the words leave my mouth, he gasps.
“That’s naughty, uncle Cass,” he says, as I lean over him and rattle the seatbelt for a second, getting it unstuck and breaking him free. He hops out of the truck and I grab his backpack.
“What’s naughty?”
“Bad words.” He leads us into the kitchen from the garage and Greg instantly greets him. Nyx is the only human that Greg truly likes. “Hi, Greggy.”
“They’re only naughty if you say them,” I assure him, dropping his backpack onto the kitchen table.
“Aunt Nesta!” Nyx’s little voice rings through the house.
“She’s not home, buddy,” I say, throwing him over my shoulder and carrying him into the living room.
He repeatedly hits me in the back as he giggles. “Where is she?”
“Yoga,” I say, and Nyx repeats the word with confusion. “Exercising,” I simplify. “Aunt Elain dragged her to a yoga class to help her with her body aches from carrying your new cousin.”
“Does having a baby hurt, uncle Cass?”
“I don’t think it feels too good, bud.”
“How did Aunt Lainy get a baby in her belly?”
I drop Nyx on the couch and cross my arms, trying not to laugh at his curiosity. Answering that question is beyond my pay grade. “Ask your dad.”
“But—”
“Ask your dad.”
He sighs. “Fine. I’m hungry.”
Of course he is. He’s always hungry. “Chicken nuggets or mac and cheese?”
He frowns. “Why can’t I have both?”
Both it is.
I may be a critically acclaimed chef, but even I can’t help but heed the call of Kraft macaroni and cheese.
“Uncle Cass?” Nyx asks, while I’m walking toward the kitchen.
“Hmm?”
“Why is your pillow on the couch?” His question makes me stop to look back at him. Sure enough, he has my pillow on his lap and is beating the shit out of it. “That’s a bed pillow. It goes on your bed.”
It should be on my bed.
For the last few nights, since our date, I’ve debated on going up to bed. Every night, I’m tempted, and every night I think that it’s the night I’m finally going to take that step, but Nesta has never mentioned it and she’s the one that said one of us should be sleeping on the couch once I came back home.
Things have been going so well between us that I’m scared I’m going to do something to ruin it, like climb into bed with her in the middle of the night when she doesn’t want me there.
“I slept on the couch last night,” I say, slowly, “because aunt Nesta was snoring too loud.”
Nyx giggles and starts fake snoring loudly and obnoxiously. “Like that?”
“Exactly. She was keeping me awake.”
As I walk into the kitchen and get a pot out the cupboard, Nyx says, “Is sleeping on the couch comfy? You’re too big to sleep on the couch.”
I snort and the pain in my lower back seems to be agreeing with my nephew. I remember being twenty and able to sleep in whatever position, wherever, and not feeling a damn thing. Now, after sleeping on the narrow as fuck couch, I wake up every morning with aches and pains I didn’t think were possible after an eight hour sleep.
Half an hour later, Nesta walks through the door as me and Nyx are downing chicken nuggets and macaroni, and she barely says hi before Nyx says, “Uncle Cass is too old and big to be sleeping on the couch, Aunt Nesta, so you need to stop snoring.”
Her eyes go wide and she looks from him to me and I hope she can still read my face as well as she used to.
She turns back to our nephew, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and asks, “Is that why he said he was sleeping on the couch?”
“Yeah,” he replies, nodding animatedly. I’m fairly sure that the last bite he had was more ketchup than it was nugget, based on the amount on his face. “He said it was cause you were snoring like this.”
He then replicates his fake snore from earlier, embellishing his snorts just as well as he had before.
Her eyebrows raise and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Her jaw clenches and I think every bit of progress we’ve made is about to be gone in an instant.
But then her lips twitch.
I exhale, the relieved breath I’ve been holding whooshing out quietly as Nesta hums. “That’s funny, because I recall making him sleep on the couch because he was the one snoring.”
With the most dramatic of gasps, Nyx turns to face me. “You were the one snoring, Uncle Cass?”
My wince is fake, but he can’t tell that. “Only a little bit. Hers were louder.”
Scooping up a bite of macaroni, he says, “Mama snores, but daddy said I’m not allowed to say anything about it.”
I watch in wonderment as Nesta throws her head back and laughs. “Your mama does snore, and your daddy is very smart for keeping that to himself.”
Nyx grins as if he had just said the world’s best joke.
Nesta catches me watching her and her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink.
“How was yoga?”
“Good,” she says, setting her back down next to the island. “I haven’t done it in so long, but I feel amazing.”
I’m about to say good, that I’m glad she had such a nice time, but then she reaches down to my plate and grabs a chicken nugget before popping it into her mouth. I gasp and turn to the toddler stuffing his face beside me. “Did she just steal one of my nuggets?”
Nyx shakes his head and says, “You better get her, Uncle Cass.” He shoves a spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “She needs to go to timeout.”
“Yeah,” I say, looking up at Nesta, who is smiling as she chews, looking ridiculously gorgeous and humored. “You. Time out. Now. Nose in the corner for five minutes.”
That brow lifts, once more. “Is that a demand?”
Her voice has a sultry quality I haven’t heard in months.
“Hell yeah it is,” I murmur, and Nesta’s eyes brighten. Nyx is too busy stuffing his face to call me out for my curse or notice what’s happening. At least until I say my next words. “Unless you want to take us for ice cream instead.”
Nyx’s spoon clatters onto his plate as he drops it to clap. “Ice cream! Ice cream!”
Nesta pretends to think on it for a minute. “Finish everything on your plate, then I guess we can get ice cream.”
Nyx jumps up in his chair with a celebratory screech before sitting back down to finish his dinner in record time.
True to her word, after going to change out of her yoga clothes, Nesta returns a few minutes later, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a cardigan, with her hair pulled back off of her face. She grabs her purse off the counter and asks, “Ready to go?”
Nyx is up and heading for the garage before I can react, but even so, I’m glued in place.
She is so, so beautiful.
Turning for the back door, Nesta notices I haven’t moved. She glances back at me. “What?”
Shaking myself out of my stupor, I approach her, pausing in front of her. “Nothing, just…” I reach out and run my hand down the length of her sleek ponytail, tugging lightly when I reach the end. I don’t let myself notice the slight catch in her breath as I do so. “Appreciating how gorgeous you are.”
Her eyes, so often full of storms, are calm today and they soften, as she looks at me.
“Can I kiss you?” I whisper, still not wanting to push her past her comfort zone yet.
She nods, rising up on her toes and closes the distance between us before I even have the chance.
My hands cup her face, tilting her head just right so I can slant my mouth over hers. Her fingers are clinging to my shirt and I break the kiss before it can become anything our nephew shouldn’t see.
“Come on,” I say, lacing her fingers in mine and heading for the back door. “You promised ice cream and you’re going to have to deliver.”
One of my favorite things about having a nephew is having the ability to load him up on sugar and then give him back to my brother.
By the time we’re pulling into Rhys and Feyre’s driveway, Nyx is bouncing in his carseat, singing the national anthem of Velaris at the top of his lungs for the fifth time. Apparently he’s been practicing it at school, and I’m impressed considering he only messes up about half the words.
Nesta finds it hilarious.
I keep sneaking glances over at her as she laughs in the passenger seat.
Rhys opens the door when I ring the doorbell and Nyx runs past him, into the house, giggling as he continues singing. He doesn’t even move, my brother, as his toddler runs through the house. He just sighs and looks at me. “Ice cream?”
“Blame Nesta.”
I think he’s about to scold me, but then he cocks his head. “You seem happy. Doing good?”
I nod, slowly. “Yeah. I am. We are, I think.”
Even through his exhaustion, he smiles. “Good.” From somewhere in the distance, there’s a crash.
Then, Nyx yelling, “Daddy? Uh… I tried to get juice.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I have to mop up some juice,” Rhys says, clapping me on the shoulder before telling me he’ll call me later.
When I make it back to the truck, Nesta’s watching me. “That’s going to be fun putting to bed.”
“Considering it’s already ten minutes past bedtime? Yeah, Rhys is going to be thanking us.”
She chuckles and gets comfortable as I back out of the driveway. The ride is quiet for a moment, nothing uncomfortable, but as I stop at a redlight I can feel her watching me. I turn to meet her gaze as the truck comes to a stop. “You alright?” She nods, but she’s sucking on her bottom lip. I frown. “Nes, we have to be honest with each other, if you’re not alright—”
“I’m fine,” she says, quietly. The light turns green. “I’ve just been thinking.”
The words leave her slowly and an uneasy feeling creeps into the pit of my stomach. “Okay. About what?”
“You,” she says, quietly. “Sleeping on the couch.”
I shrug, doing my best not get my hopes up. “Not a big deal.”
“I disagree,” she says, turning in her seat to face me.
This is something I’ve noticed her doing for the past few weeks. She’s giving me her full attention, letting me know that I’m her priority right now.
“Nyx won’t say anything to Rhys and Feyre,” I promise her, assuming she’s worried about what her sister will say. “And even if he does, I’m sure they could guess I’ve been sleeping on the couch—”
“I don’t care what Rhys and Feyre think.” She cuts me off and I let her, snapping my mouth shut. “I don’t care what anyone else, save for Gwyn, thinks about what takes place in our marriage. I… I’ve been thinking you should come back to bed.”
“Tonight?” I ask, turning onto our street, glancing over at her. I want to make sure she’s serious, that she’s not just saying this because she thinks it’s what she should do since Nyx found out.
“Tonight,” she agrees, then adds, “and tomorrow night, and the night after that, depending how things go.”
I pull into our driveway and into the garage, parking next to her car, but neither of us make a move to get out. My next question could damn me, but I can’t stop myself from asking. “And how do you want things to go?” Immediately, Nesta’s back goes rigid and I reach out, taking her hand and smoothing my thumb over the back of it. “I’m not asking to have sex, Nes, I just want to know what exactly you’re expecting.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m… I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not yet.” Opening her eyes, she gives me a soft smile. “But I miss having you sleeping next to me. I miss falling asleep in your arms and waking up with you curled around me. I even miss your snoring.”
I feign being appalled. “My snoring?”
“Yeah, contrary to what you told our nephew, you’re the only one that snores in this relationship,” she says, laughing quietly.
“What can I say?” I ask, quietly, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between us and kiss her. “I’m not perfect.”
She rolls her eyes and tells me to get out of the truck. We go inside and I grab my pillow off the couch after I lock up and make my way upstairs.
When I enter, Nesta’s standing in her bra, pulling an old t-shirt out of her drawer. It takes me a second to realize I’m staring, then I look away, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry.”
She laughs, quietly. “It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before, Cass.”
Taking that as permission, I look back up, but she’s pulled the t-shirt on. It’s one of mine, one I haven’t worn in years, one that she had claimed long ago. It’s long enough on her that when she starts shimmying out of her jeans, I don’t see anything, it’s all hidden.
“True,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say. To confess that it’s different now, that everything is different now, probably wouldn’t help the situation. I don’t want to start a fight right when I’m about to climb into my own damn bed for the first time in over a month.
Her smile doesn’t fade as she goes into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. I pull off my shirt and search through my drawers for a clean pair of sweatpants, which I kick off my jeans to pull on.
Greg hops onto the bed, the bell on his collar jingling merrily as he makes himself comfortable on Nesta’s pillow. As much as I love our cat, I’m not interested in having him squeezed between us like the furry toddler he is the first night I’m allowed back in my own bed.
Without a word, I round to her side of the bed, picking Greg up. He gives me an inquisitive trill as I carry him towards the bedroom door, which turns into a noise of outrage as I chuck him out into the hall and pull the door shut as he lands on his feet.
Nesta comes out of the bathroom, chuckling. “What was that?”
I turn around to make a snarky remark about Greg’s sass, but I come up short.
In nothing but that damn old shirt, Nesta’s pulling her hair back into a ponytail. With her arms raised, the hem of the shirt slides up her thighs. I can’t help my eyes as they graze her body, can’t help how slowly they trail from her bare legs, to the curves of her breasts that I can make out through the thin fabric now that her bra has been long forgotten, up to her cleansed face, which I admire in all her natural beauty.
Needing to get under a blanket before she sees just how much the sight of her is affecting me, I round to my side of the bed, my arm brushing hers as I pass her, and get beneath the comforter.
I watch her still as she goes to turn off the light, then she makes her way to her side of the bed and gets in.
There.
We’ve done it.
Hurdle crossed.
Except now I want to throw my body on top of hers and rip off that t-shirt. But I don’t, because she told me she wasn’t ready, and I respect that.
But she did say that she wants to be held.
When I turn to her, she’s already facing me, already watching me.
“This is nice,” she whispers.
“I feel like you’re too far away,” I whisper back.
She huffs a laugh as she comes closer to me, until her forehead is against my chest and her arm is sliding around my waist.
“Better?”
I pull her on top of me, and she melts right into me as she always had, her body knowing exactly where to go to get comfortable. Her cheek is against my shoulder and my arms stay around her, tightly, protectively. Her knee is just above my cock, which is too hard for me to be thinking straight, but I like that her leg is slung over me, so I close my eyes and think of sick puppies and death.
“Better now,” I say, quietly, and her hand, which is lying on my bare chest, starts moving, her fingers moving in lazy circles across my skin, tracing the ink there.
“Better now,” she agrees, and kisses the base of my neck.
The simple touch has my skin feeling like it’s on fire, and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.
This feels good.
Right.
Torturous.
But right.
My arm is wrapped around her, tucking her against me, my hand pressed against her lower back. I can feel the heat of her skin through the thin t-shirt and I let my fingers move as indolently as hers do.
I don’t mean to, but before I know it, my fingers are skimming over the bare skin of her back, the thin fabric of the shirt bunched up.
“Sorry,” I mutter into the darkness, trying to smooth her shirt back down. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay, Cass,” she whispers, breath skating over my skin. “Gwyn said physical touch was good.”
Yeah, she did, but my dick is so hard and I’m wound so tight that if Nesta all but touches it, I’m going to blow.
Dead puppies. Well done steak. Naked grandmothers.
I repeat the mantra in my head until all the blood in my body isn’t being redirected south and I can breathe without feeling like my skin is stretched too tight.
When I glance down at Nesta, I find that she’s already looking at me, a smirk on her beautiful face. “You good?”
That smirk makes me want to roll on top of her, claim that wicked mouth in a kiss that I’d trail down her body until I reached the hem of my old shirt, tugging it up to reveal—
Closing my eyes, I drag my free hand down my face. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Her soft laughter ruffles my hair and she presses another kiss to my skin, just above my collarbone. “Go to sleep.”
With another deep breath, I pull her closer against me and settle into the pillows, listening as her breathing evens out.
When I’m sure she’s well and truly asleep, I press my lips to her forehead, breathing in her honey and lilac scent, and whisper, “Goodnight, Nesta. I love you.”
I swear her body relaxes further in my arms.
