#rarepairproject

[lesbiansism]

i was paired with the amazing @agendercombeferre for the pjo rare pair project, this is my drawing inspired by their amazing fic that you can read here xx

[ccwriter1411]

Love Brings You Home

So, I came out of my shell to write a fic for the PJO Rare Pair Project @rarepairproject. Artwork has been created by @poeziru and I’ll share it as soon as it’s ready.

It’s a Peter Pan AU of sorts. I’m not finished yet but I figured I better post the first part some what near the post time. :D

Read it on Ao3

[pjoheadcannonsandaus]

Falling for Fire

I participated in the @rarepairproject so here is my entry! Ship: Leo/Hazel Words: 5024 (Longest single chapter thing I wrote) Artwork by @spooky-apollo

Ao3

Hazel looked at the elfish latino. Maybe in lush, maybe in admiration, maybe the fact that he was the one keeping this bronze death trap in the air. But she could not deny the fact that he looked exactly his grandfather. Maybe not as elfish, but the facial features were the same and his personality was close except the sarcasm and jokes are much higher.

She watched as he was fixing something, like always. Gods if it wasn’t for him they would have be backpacking all through Europe through Mother Earth’s territory.  But now they were going on a trip to Greece and Rome for fun. Everyone was on the trip to do some bonding and learning about their ancestors.

“Hey, can you pass me some water?” He sat up and wiped sweat off his brow. He’s been working on the main controls for about three hours now without a break.

She passed his bottle of water that he left there for him to drink. But for three hours, she watched him. Work and tinker with wires to make sure that they would stay in the sky. Three whole hours of debating if he was her Sammy reincarnated.

“Thanks Hazel. I thought I fixed all of the kinks, but I guess not.” Leo sighed after downing half of his bottle.

“At least you can figure out how to fix it. That’s a good thing.” Hazel told him.

“For now, yeah.” He replied, wiping his hands off on his pants. “I think next time I’m just going to rebuild his main controls again. It’s getting old.”

“Well, it’s working for now and that is all that matters.” Hazel sat down next to him.

Leo looked at her. His brown eyes were soft and warm like Sammy’s. But she had to stop comparing him to Sammy. He wasn’t Sammy. He was Leo, her friend.

“How’s Frank doing? You two still strong?” Leo asked before taking another sip of water. “Or has power went to his head?”

“Frank’s good. We’re just friends though. He’s so busy with his praetor duties that we barely had any time to spend. And being friends would be better than trying to force a relationship.” She told him.

“Are you okay, though?” Leo asked. Concern was filling his eyes and voice. She could have sworn that was coming from Sammy.

Stop thinking that. He isn’t Sammy. He’s Leo Valdez. She thought to herself.

“I’m fine. It felt more natural that way anyways.” She told him. “And the age gap, it was a bit weird. But then again I’m older and younger than everyone on here.”

“Oh right! I forgot about the whole dying and coming back to life thing. Have you been adapting well to modern technology?”

She smiled a bit thinking about what she had learned in the past few months: cellphones, iPads, laptops, tablets, and other electronics. Everything was so different than what she remembered. And the months it took for her to learn everything.

“It’s a struggle. I recently learned how to use an iPad that Annabeth built. How does the screen know where I’m touching? Is it magic?”

Leo chuckled, a familiar sound to her ears. “Motion sensors. Kind of like a mouse on a computer or laptop. But it might be more complicated for me to explain than just accepting the fact that you can use your fingers to click on stuff.”

“Thanks for saving me the trouble then.” She smiled.

Leo smiled back and looked up at the ceiling. “I wish cellphones and laptops weren’t monster magnets. I can probably learn how to fix things a lot faster than trial and error.”

“Kids of Hephaestus are like walking ‘Fix It’ manuals.” Hazel told him. “You can literally fix anything with no problem. You rebuilt and fixed a dragon for Jupiter’s sake! You can’t tell me that this would be on the World Wide Web.”

Leo slightly chuckled. “It’s called the Internet or Web. No one calls it by it’s full name, old lady.”

“I am not old!” She retorted. “I’m only thirteen.”

“And also eighty something.” Leo pointed out. “So, you’re old, technically.”

“I know how old I am. I’m not counting the years I missed when I died. There’s so many things I missed. Did you know Disney made a black princess? Her name is Tiana, I think, and that movie is amazing!”

“Never heard of it. I never had time to watch movies.” Leo told her before taking another sip of his water.

“We should have a movie night and watch it. It’s great!” She smiled.

“Sounds like a plan.” He finished off his water. “Well I better get back to work. You should go do something fun with the others. Watching me fix things isn’t that fun.”

She reluctantly got up and slightly smiled at him. “See ya around.” She left him alone before she walked to the deck where the others were chatting.

Hazel could see Percy and Annabeth chatting away about something which made Annabeth smile. Piper and Jason were whispering to each other, Jason was making Piper giggle. Then there was Frank. He was sipping a coke as he stared into the open sky.

She took a deep breath and went over to Frank. They haven’t talked much but she didn’t feel like third wheeling on anyone’s conversation.

“Hey.” Hazel greeted as she held on to the railing to the right of him. “How are you doing?”

Frank looked at her and smiled a tiny bit. “Hey. I’m doing well. I’m glad to go on this vacation. But I also feel bad that I left everything up to Reyna.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She can make the entire legion do the chicken dance if she wanted to.” Hazel told him. “She’ll make it through the week.”

He nodded and looked out to the open the sky. Hazel followed his gaze to look at the white clouds and blue skies. She thought she was on a plane, but if she reached out too far, she would plummet to her death. She took a step back.

“I miss hanging out with you.” Frank whispered so quietly she had to strain to hear it.

She looked at him. His head was down, his eyes were looking at the railing. He looked sad.

“I do too. But I think it’s better if we hang out as friends.” Hazel told him. “Like having dinner together with Reyna or train.”

Frank nodded. “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They got to Greece, Athens to be more exact. They were going to spend three days there before heading to Italy to go to Rome. Annabeth has planned out every place that they were going to go to.

Hazel hung back a bit and saw Leo going to the control room. He was going to work on Festus again. She followed him, knowing that he was going to work himself to death and miss on this opportunity.

“Leo, let’s go explore.” Hazel said, scaring him a bit. “You need to see the world and not the inside of Festus.”

He looked at her with a slight smile. “I’ll be there. I just need to fix one minor thing…” He went back to working on his dragon.

Hazel sat down. She wasn’t planning to leave. If she did, she knew he wouldn’t come along with them. He would miss out on seeing the amazing greek culture.

“You can go. You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Leo told her. “I promise I won’t miss out on this trip.”

“Then work o Festus tonight. We have the whole day to explore and you’re spending most of it working on a dragon. Let’s go have some fun.” Hazel got up and walked over to him. “Come on Leo.”

He got up and looked at her. His smile reminded her of Sammy. Her nice Sammy.

Stop it. He is not Sammy! He is only related to Sammy. They aren’t the same person! She reminded herself.

“Lead the way.” Leo told her.

Hazel started walking towards the ramp that was leading to the ground. Every step she took, she could hear Leo’s echo hers. They were alone before, but their friends were usually around to come in and distract them. But their friends were gone when they finally got off of the boat.

“Oh...I didn’t know they would disappear so fast.” Leo’s eyes brows scrunched up together. “Did they say where they were going?”

Hazel tried to rack her brain to think where Annabeth would go. Or say where they were planning to go. But her mind was blank.

“I don’t remember. But if we start walking around, maybe we’ll bump into them or something.” She replied.

Leo nodded in agreement and they started walking. The town was busy with people, tourist, people selling food on the street, residents walking through the crowds like they were headed off in a hurry, and the two of them, lost in Greek city.

Hazel looked around, trying to see a familiar face but she saw nothing. Their friends weren’t around unless they went inside a building. They looked through the windows of shops and restaurants to see if they were inside. But nothing.

“So, what do you want to see?” Leo asked her.

“Huh?”

“Well, we lost them and we will probably end up meeting up with them later on the boat. So, what do you want to do since we don’t have to follow Annabeth’s crazy planned out schedule.” Leo told her.

“Annabeth said something about there being a Temple of Hephaestus.” Hazel told him. “We can go check it out if you like.”

“You mean go visit my dad? I don’t know if he wants to see me.” Leo replied.

“I bet he does. All of our parents like to check in on us. Maybe your dad will be happy to see that you’re okay.”

“Alright.” He sighed.

The walk to the temple was pretty quiet, besides Leo pointing out which way to go. He could read the street signs better than she could. She guessed that the greek in him was able to read the language.

But she wanted to talk. She wanted to know more about Leo. They didn’t really click the last time they were on the Argo. She spent most of her time with the girls or Frank. The other guys...well, she knew Percy alright. Her whole quest with him and Frank was a great learning experience. Jason, she knew him from camp. He use to hang out with her and Frank a bit before he disappeared. But she wanted to know Leo. This guy that was in her life that was related to Sammy.

Sammy...she missed him. She missed the possible future that they could have had. Leo could have been her grandson.

Stop thinking like that! That future couldn’t happen. If I did marry Sammy, Leo wouldn’t have been born. I wouldn’t be in Greece.

As they got closer, they saw small shops for blacksmiths and potters. They were all there to probably honor the god. People were walking up to the temple and around to the different shops.

“Wow, I didn’t think people still honored my dad.” Leo told her, amazed by the different shops. “This is amazing!”

Hazel watched as the spark in his eyes came to life as he went to look at a blacksmith shop. He went to look at a blacksmith work on their most recent project. She smiled at his excitement. She followed him and watched the blacksmith work.

“I can’t believe people still do this as a living.” Leo smiled. “Working over a fire, bending metal into a new shape to make something new. It’s amazing.”

“You never tried being a blacksmith before?” Hazel asked. “With your fire, you should be able to bend metal into anything.”

Leo looked at her with a slight smile. His eyes sparkling, like he has tried it before. “I’ve tried. Keys are hard to make, but I can make good weaponry like my other siblings. But it takes years to master something like this.”

She nodded, looking as the craftsman worked. She wasn’t particularly into this like he was but it was something interesting to learn.

They took a walk around to the different shops. Leo was tempted to buy some of the tools he didn’t have in his magic belt, but Hazel reminded him that they had no money and they couldn’t waste their drachmas.

When they finally took their walk to the temple, Leo could feel the presence of his father. He felt stronger just being in the temple and around the shops that were yards away from it.

“I can’t believe people came here to worship my dad. To get a blessing to make weapons and tools and fire for warmth.”

“They did that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a history guy. But he’s the god of that stuff, so that’s what I’m guessing they came here for.” Leo replied.

She nodded and looked at him with a smile. “That would make a lot of sense. And this temple is huge.”

Leo nodded and started walking around the inside. He was silently praying to his dad for help on everything; fixing Festus, Calypso, and Hazel. Ever since Calypso left, Hazel has been around and making him feel, better about himself. She’s supportive, a good listener, and a friend he wanted but didn’t have. Which made Calypso uneasy when she found them hanging out all the time and left him.

But Hazel made him happy. A bit happier than Calypso did. And that scared him. Normally he wouldn’t mind flirting with girls and making a fool of himself, but he didn’t want to do that around her. He wanted to be the exact opposite, be a gentleman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Leo found himself tinkering. Nothing in particular. Maybe when he was done, it would be something to help Festus. That was the thought as his hands moved. Leo could swear that his hands have a mind of their own when his mind wanders to something else.

His mind was thinking about his day with Hazel. How his first day in Greece couldn’t be more amazing. He didn’t have to hear about the history about old temples or monuments. They spent as much or as little time as they wanted. Taking silly pictures was his favorite part. He never knew how much fun Hazel could be.

He looked down at his hands when they stopped moving. In his hands was a bronze flower bud. Looking at it, he had no idea why he made it or what it will do. He tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge.

Looking at it, maybe it was the first piece of junk he created. He wasn’t going to give Hazel a piece of junk. Putting it in his pocket, his hands started to focus on making something else for her. Something she would actually like. Maybe a horse that could run on it’s own would be better, since it would remind her or Arion.

His hands got to work. It was a much bigger project that he imagined. He was up all night to make sure it worked properly. He didn’t even notice that the sun was already up. Only when he walked out to the deck for fresh air is when he realized that the sun was blinding him.

“Hey.” Leo heard from behind him. When he turned around, he smiled. Hazel was walking over. Her skin seemed to sparkle in the dawn light, like there were miniature gems in her skin.

“Morning.” Leo yawned.

“Let me guess, you didn’t sleep again. What were you working on this time?” She asked, standing next to him on the handrail.

“Just a tinkering project.” He replied. “Nothing big.”

“Then why stay up all night?”

He shrugged. “I got really into it and forgot to sleep.”

She just smiled and didn’t say anything as the sun started to rise higher into the sky. Leo could feel his pocket getting heavier. His hand snaked in there to find the bronze piece of junk he made earlier.

He took it out and looked at it, shining in the sunlight. The metal pieces inside started to turn and the bud slowly opened up into a beautiful bronze lily. Leo was amazed that the piece of junk was actually something beautiful and he didn’t even have to think about it.

Hazel’s eye caught the shiny object and looked at him. Her mouth slightly opened at the beauty of the flower in Leo’s hand. The way that the light shone on it, made it seem like it was real.

“Leo, is that-?”

“It’s for you.” He told her. “A...A thank you for spending a great day with me.”

Hazel took the flower and looked it over. “It’s so beautiful.”

An idea popped into Leo’s head. He gently took the flower back from her and pushed her curly hair back so he could place it behind her ear. When her hair fell back around it, Leo couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful girl before him.

“Perfect.” Leo smiled.

Hazel’s cheeks turned lighter as she smiled at him. This reminded her of Sammy. The time they were hanging out by the river and he found a flower. He gently pushed her hair out of the way and put it behind her ear before giving her cheek a kiss. The first kiss she received from him.

           Leo stared at her for a moment, realizing what he did. He was in shock from his own actions along with her. Hazel's face was mirroring his.

           “I'm sorry.” He told her. “It just happened and I wasn't thinking.”

           “It's okay.” Hazel blushed, secretly liking the kiss and this side of Leo. “I liked it.”

            Leo smiled a tiny bit. Maybe this would be the start of something better than a friendship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Hazel could feel her cheek rushing with blood as she thought about and touched where Leo kissed her cheek. His lips were so soft against her skin. It left a warm tingling sensation where his lips made contact with her skin.

            She didn't even notice Annabeth walking over and sitting next to her in the make shift dining room.

            “Hey. Sneaking out for midnight snack too?” Annabeth asked her as she sat down with some chocolate chip cookies. No doubt she pulled those out from Piper’s cornucopia.

            “Oh, no. Just thinking.” Hazel replied.

            “Sorry to interrupt then.” Annabeth said as she started to get up.

            “No, stay. I just want to talk to someone about this.” Hazel told her. Being the youngest, she was always asking the others for advice.

             “What’s going on?” Annabeth sat back down and dunked one of her cookies into the cup of milk she had.

           “I have feelings for Leo.” She told her, telling the secret was like ripping off a band aid. “And I'm pretty sure he has feelings for me too. He kissed my cheek. But, he reminds me of his grandfather and I don't want to confuse the two of them.”

            Annabeth was silent for a bit. Hazel looked at her and noticed that Annabeth was thinking of possible things to say. Something to help and not hurt her.

            “I can see how you can mix the two of them up.” Annabeth started. “But you need to organize your feelings to make sure that you're not falling for Leo just because he's related to your old crush.”

            “I know.” Hazel sighed. “But also, Frank is here. I know we talked things through and restarting our friendship, but it seems awkward that all of this is happening when he's here.”

            Annabeth looked at her friend with an encouraging smile. “Figure out your feelings for Leo of this trip. Then when we get back, tell Frank so he's not surprised.”

            Hazel nodded as she tried to think. Annabeth handed her a cookie to help her out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            A couple of days have passed and Hazel has been spending a lot of time with Leo. It was the best couple of days of her life as they traveled, alone, to explore Greece. Annabeth had the idea of traveling in smaller groups so they wouldn't attract monsters.

          Hazel took the end of each day to decide whether or not she was developing feelings for Leo. And so far, she was. The feeling she had for Frank and Sammy were much stronger with Leo. And that terrified her a bit.

            Falling in love was a strange thing. First you could fall in love with your best friend. Then with the person who helped you out the most when you needed it. And finally, the person who you think you should spend forever with. Why go through so much pain? But then again, that pain helped Hazel possibly find the right one.

            Leo was in the maintenance room, as usual, making sure Festus could get them to their second destination, Rome. Hazel decided to keep him company. She was always worried that the Latino would tire himself out to exhaustion.

           “How long until we get to Rome?” Hazel asked.

            “It shouldn't be that long. Definitely less than twenty minutes.” Leo replied as he worked. He was always working on something.

             Hazel watched him. His hands were going anywhere near Festus’ controls. Instead, they were playing with something else.  She couldn’t tell what he was working on except that there was scrap metal, a rubber band, and something she couldn’t determine.

“What are you making?” Hazel asked.

Leo looked down at his hands and shrugged. He was never sure what he was making subconsciously. The surprise was always the best part of his tinkering.

“I never know.” He replied.

Hazel nodded and looked at him. She wanted to tell him about her feelings for him. Just come out at say them once and for all. She could do. She would do it. Right now.

“Leo, about that kiss the other day, I really liked it. And I really want to spend more time with you.”

Leo stopped tinkering and looked at her. His heart pounding a bit faster as he heard the news. He has thought about it a lot too, and he did want to be with her. But he wasn’t sure how she felt towards him. Of course the past few days were great, but he wanted more out of this relationship. He didn’t even have to put on his goofball persona to get her to like him.

“I do too.” He replied with a slight smile.

There was a slight pink tint on Hazel’s cheeks along with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they landed in Rome, everyone started to split up into groups and headed off to see different parts of the city. Hazel and Leo were on their own as everyone else split up to boys and girls.

Hazel was rubbing her arm a bit as they headed in a random direction. She didn’t know what to say to Leo. It wasn’t helpful that she wasn’t a history buff like Annabeth, otherwise she would know some of the spots that tourists were taking pictures of. She was curious herself, but mostly ruined temples didn’t seem like much history to her.

“Whoa, look at this.” Leo pointed to a statue of a man, lifting up a woman who was struggling to get out of his grip.

They got closer to the statue and Hazel was able to recognize what the statue was depicting.

“That’s my dad and him kidnapping Kore, or Persephone.” Hazel told him. “Same story as in Greece, I think.”

“So Romans just stole a lot of the Greek’s history and made it their own.” Leo noted. “Seems like Romans are lazy.”

“They are not lazy.” Hazel replied. “And we have more important gods than you do. Greeks value Poseidon, while we do not.”

“Alright, alright.” Leo backed off.

            Hazel looked at the statue of her father. She wished that he got to know him better as a person and not through stories. But she smiled a tiny bit, glad that people kept the statue around and that they still remember him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the day went on, Hazel was itching to hold Leo’s hand. She could tell that he was constantly brushing his hand against her. So did he want to hold her hand as much as she wanted him to?

They were sitting on a hill, near one of the statues, and looking across the valley. The sun was starting to set and the air was starting to get cooler. Leo looked at Hazel as she looked across the valley. Sunset made her skin glow a nice color.

He wanted to hold her hand, but was too afraid to do so. He didn’t want rush anything. But he was dying to.

“I think we should head back to Festus.” Leo told her. He got up and offered her his hand.

She took it and got up, holding his hand longer than normal. Leo didn’t protest, so they walked together, hand in hand.

They walked for a while, soaking in that they were holding hands. Untalked feelings were finally being shown.

As they walked, getting closer to the town, they felt the ground shake. Their heads shot to the right and saw a statue, that came to life, destroying parts of the town.

“That’s Vulcan.” Hazel whispered. “Well a statue of him.”

“So my dad is destroying a town. Great.” He dropped her hand.

They rushed over to the statue, Leo with his hammer ready to go and Hazel with her sword. The two of them fighting side by side together for the first time in a while. And they were out of practice. Leo tried to cover Hazel as much as he could without getting himself hurt.

Leo was starting to get annoyed with this statue. It wasn’t tall, his body proportion was all out of whack. His legs were short, as tall as Leo, but his upper chest area was about three feet longer and wider than his legs. How it stayed balanced, Leo had no clue.

He blasted fire at the statue, hoping that it would stop or at least slow it down. But it did little effect on it. He wished that his statue was made of metal, then at least he could melt the joints.

With slight frustration he let out another fireball, not knowing that Hazel was close to it until he heard her scream.

He stood there in shock before he noticed that Vulcan was about to step on her. With a shout, he ran towards the statue, not thinking just rage. He didn’t want Vulcan to hurt Hazel, he just wanted him destroyed.

When Leo came to, he was surrounded by pebbles and dust. He looked around and saw Hazel lying on the ground, unconscious. He ran over to her, almost tripping multiple times in the process.

He knelt over Hazel’s body, making sure that she was breathing and not badly injured. There were burn marks on her arm that were second degree, almost third degree burns. Her face was cut up, probably from the rubble that fell as Leo destroyed the statue.

“Hazel...Hazel can you hear me?” Leo asked, as she fiddled through his tool belt to find nectar or ambrosia to help her wounds.  

She didn’t move and that worried him. He found nectar and carefully dripped a few drops into her mouth. Cuts on her face were starting to heal. But the burns were still there and pretty bad. She still wasn’t up but she was still breathing.

Carefully, he picked her up and walked her back to Festus, hoping someone could help him. Walking there wasn’t the problem, it was his arms. They were getting tired from the fighting and carrying her. But he was able to make it there, with the hope that she was going to be okay.

No one seemed to be back yet, so he carefully placed her on her bed. She looked a bit better, minor cuts were healed and there was color in her cheeks.

He went through this tool belt and pulled out an ace bandage with burn cream. Ever so carefully, he spread some burn cream on her arm and wrapped the ace bandage around it. He hoped that this would suffice.

She let out a small groan and Leo’s heart lept. Hazel was okay.

“Hazel, it’s me. Can you hear me?” He asked, wanting to make sure that he didn’t damage anything else.

“Leo?” She groaned. “What happened?”

He took her good hand. “I shot fire and accidentally burned you. The Vulcan was destroyed and the rocks might have fell on you.”

“And I’m not dead.” She stated.

“No. You’re okay.” Leo slightly smiled. “You’re alive and safe. I’ve given you nectar to help you heal better.”

“Thanks Leo.” She smiled weakly at him.

Leo smiled and kissed her cheek. As he backed away, something inside of him made him want to go back for more. It was a feeling of “now or never”. So he leaned in and gently placed a kiss on her lips.

He thought he was flying. Her lips were so soft and tasted like cherry, probably from her lip gloss. But he really enjoyed the two seconds that his lips were on hers. He wanted to keep them there forever.

Hazel was blushing furiously as she looked at him. Her hero, her friend, her Leo, kissed her. All those feelings that were thick in the air were finally addressed.

Leo was smiling as he saw her blush. He was happy that she liked the kiss as much as he did.

“Um, so, how are you feeling?” Leo asked.

“Better.” Hazel replied as he took her hand. She squeezed it, filled with hope as her feelings settled in. Hazel Levesque loved Leo Valdez, not Sammy Valdez. She loved Leo the elfish latino who can burst into flames and stole her heart Valdez.  

[aravenlikeawritingdesk]

the strongest type of magic

a pipabeth rumpelstiltskin au written for @rarepairproject with the WORST TITLE IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE 

anyway it’s here at my ao3

[not-for-granted]

~More Sunset Boulevard~

A Beryl Grace and Tristan McLean fanfic spanning eight years of turbulent romance and drama, on and off camera. 

Will also post to my fanfiction account, seen here. 

Hope everyone who reads will enjoy! 

More Sunset Boulevard

~The first meeting~

Like many Hollywood romances, it began at a very wild, wild party. Also like few (but still a surprising number) of Hollywood romances, it also began in the bathroom.

It took place at a swanky new manor, owned by some producer who wanted to break into directing, and with no expense spared. Unfortunately exorbitant spending paired poorly with a distressing lack of taste in fashion. Decor was garish, the music from a cover-band managed to be simultaneously the worst vibes of the '80's and still otherwise entirely forgettable, and the guest list was comprised the most desperate and the most dismissive people in show business. Naturally they waged an unspoken war of passive aggression against each other. Directors were beset on all sides by up-and-coming and has-been actors trying to make an impression for a role, the most needy hoping just for the vague promise of an audition. Actors were plagued by fans who gate-crashed, or more opportunistic sharks offering business cards, declaring themselves agents, co-producers, or vague titles of similar semi-importance. At least half were posers, and it took experienced players of the Hollywood game to sift through the dregs and dross. Writers and tech specialists just huddled together validating each other.

But the biggest deals weren't made with an exchange of cards and numbers, "your people call my people", more often it was an exchange of fluids. A few (or more) drinks, a bit of tongue with a kiss, a dozen rooms reserved for the sorts of depravities only the hyper-privileged would think of.

So, this 'love' story starts in one of the seven bathrooms, on a decidedly cheap and sour note.

The bathroom in question had a marble sink basin and steam shower, smelled like basil and lime scented candle (which was very different from either actual basil or actual lime) and a mix of regurgitated canapés and liquors. Beryl's poisons of choice for the evening included a few finger foods that looked to be puffed shellfish and lightly pickled cucumbers with a mix of white wine with tonic, and a cosmopolitan for both the taste and for the fancy glass they were served in since it paired well with her latest haircut. At the moment, she was poison of choice for a co-director or something with minimal responsibility and disproportionate power over an upcoming film. Even his name sounded fake, but Hollywood was full of assumed names and false faces so she didn't think much of it. Didn't think much of him either, but through the lenses of her cosmopolitan she could almost pretend his murky brown eyes were blue.

Couldn't pretend he was a better kisser.

The biggest problem right now though was the faucet digging into the small of her back. "Mm, not so fast--"

He broke off the kiss completely. "Don't ruin it by talking." Mr. Co-Director, she never got his name, resumed trying to French with a spastic tongue, hands fumbling up her dress until he reached her garters. 

Beryl squirmed, trying to get comfortable, trying to get the least bit dignified. He only took her gyration for encouragement and pressed on his assault. This was supposed to be a much simpler romp, a chance to improve her chances for getting a call-back that was supposed to go to Nicole Kidman before she dropped out without warning. Had Beryl ever tried to pull a diva stunt like that she would've been blacklisted from any picture, but she wasn't a household name or married to a household name or even sleeping with a household name. Maybe this was an all-time low? Not like she hadn't done worse but... 

She could try to get out of this with some basic dignity intact, without the torn dress and ripped stockings that was the defining mark of an amateur trying to start sleeping her way up to stardom, or the fading star screwing her way back into relevance. 

"Get off," she demanded, trying to push him back with heel of her hand on his chest.

“I’m trying babe, stop talking about it.”

Dammit if she didn’t deserve some professionalism from this coked-up imbecile. Bathroom this nice, this roomy, there were options beyond necking and pawing each other like a couple of teenagers. She could've hung her dress up on the hook and he'd have gotten a glimpse of the new lingerie she had for feeling slinky, they could've gotten cozier on a few of the luxurious looking towels overtop the tiles, and then she’d have a chance to fix her makeup with a proper mirror to assess the state of her deshabille, but instead he had her pressed up against the sink so hard she thought it was happy to see her... and more impressive than him for that matter.

And still he wouldn't stop, and when she heard the rip of fabric that had to be from her dress, Beryl snapped. "Get off me!" And this time she kicked the jerk hard enough to get him stumbling into the shower stall. 

"You goddam bitch!" He clutched his chest where she had kicked him with stiletto heels. "Don't you know how this works?" 

"Yes, with me not working for you," she snapped back, smoothing out her dress and assessing the damage. Too high and ragged for her to play it off as a designed slit, maybe if she hadn't worn the stockings and suspenders, maybe if she had gone with the silver number instead of her aqua-blue chiffon instead. She may have been out of work and she may have resorted to these sorts of... arrangements to jumpstart her career, but she was established and she was used to the upper echelons of the business enough to have some class. At the very least serviceable technique. Not this loser.

Definitely was the cosmopolitan to blame. She wasn't drinking those again, maybe just martinis from now on.

Now Beryl Grace certainly hadn't been in a lot of major motion pictures, but she had been in enough to have soaked in the tired cliché that the put upon spunky heroine stood up to the bully and the bully backed down. Sadly this was a lie, as in the real world more often than not the coked up bully just waits waits for you to turn around and hits you.

The pain was sudden and it was tremendous, but the biggest worry Beryl had wasn't for her safety but for image. She had been struck, sucker punched really, in the back of the head hard enough she was propelled into the mirror hard enough to crack it. A piece of glass broke off and shattered in the sink, and Beryl was staggering blindly against the countertop, feeling the fresh welt on her head and a new cut slick with blood.

"You should've seen that coming, if you weren’t so busy looking at your wrinkles." The rejected jerk muttered, making a poor attempt at a joke about ‘objects in mirror closer than they appear’ or something. Maybe he was nervous, maybe he realized he had gone too far. "Oh get up, you're not a good enough actress to sell this, you're fine--"

It all felt thick and runny between Beryl's fingers, and she felt like she was going to throw up (again), and what if she had a scar right on her forehead, makeup would never be able to cover that--!

"I said get up, you're fine!" Co-director coke-head demanded, grabbing a fistful of her hair.

Beryl wasn't hurt, surprised, or panicked enough to start doing the 'insensible' thing and scream, she had her career to think about and people finding out about this would just ruin any silver screen chances faster than if the paparazzi got pictures of her children. Single mother actresses were lucky to star in pinko off-Broadway plays. She struggled quietly as possible, biting his wrist and flailing with her arms, but all she managed was yanking off a cufflink with her teeth and nearly swallowing it.

"Sir?" That was a new voice... please don't let it be someone important, thought Beryl. Thankfully it wasn't anyone she recognized, and he was dark-skinned enough to be a waiter here. "Should I get help? The lady seems to need a change of scenery, maybe a hospital--?"

"Mind your own business, Kemosabe!" 

"Tonto," Beryl's new rescuer corrected with a long-suffering sigh that had to be real, not acted out. 

Wasn't what the jerk was expecting. "What?"

"Tonto called the Lone Ranger 'Kemosabe'," he explained patiently, "and it was a term of endearment so you probably didn't mean it that way. But honestly I'm still just relieved someone here didn't just assume I was Mexican. I'm still going to hit you now."

There wasn't another warning, Sir Lancelot in the cheap suit just decked the woman-beating jerk with a southpaw cross that gave Beryl a vindictive spark of delight. Mr. Bigshot with the little package landed by the toilet, fittingly enough, with at least two teeth scattering to make noise like dice on the tile floor.

Suddenly Beryl noticed that even though he was dark enough to be related to her gardener, and though dressed like he was late for a court appointment, her rescuer (wincing and clenching his bleeding left fist, erasing her doubts he really was human) was actually quite cute. More than passable for cute even. If he was one of the gate-crashing novice actors trying to make a lasting impression, he definitely made the wrong sort with this director.

Well, co-director, so screw that piece of shit. 

"Thank you," she stage-whispered, turning on the most expressively vulnerable, grateful eyes she could for his benefit. But it was wasted, or so she thought, because he was already getting her a washcloth off the counter for her face. "Can you get me out of here? Please?"

"That's probably a good idea." He agreed fast enough that she knew she was right and he wasn't supposed to be here, and he made a much bigger impression than he had meant to. "Do you have any friends--?"

"Not here," she said quickly. Truth was she didn't have any friends in the whole state, let alone these strangers she was invited with here. She got them both walking out, holding on to his arm and keeping close so no one noticed her ripped dress. The washcloth? Well as long as there wasn't any blood seeping through she had a migraine and that was it. He matched her well enough that they managed to turn some hungry, jealous stares as they hastily weaved through the manor out towards the front gate.

"Do you need a ride?" He offered hesitantly, knowing how that must sound. His trepidation was endearing, the younger man was a lamb among lions in the Hollywood hills when he wasn't throwing punches at (semi-)important people.

Still she was lucid enough and with enough leftover anger and fear to act a little indignant in the face of perceived insult. "I'll be fine, I haven't had that much to dri--"

But he stopped her mid-lie, "I just mean you've a bonk on the head."

Bless him, he was actually concerned. That warranted some honesty. But just a little. "I took a cab," she admitted ruefully. She didn't tell him that her driver quit and she couldn't afford another.

He only smiled back, teeth very straight and even. "So did I," he laughed, looking relieved. 

"Do you want to share?" She offered. 

"No, that wouldn't... I live kinda far." He sighed. Definitely struggling actor. "And I have to get straight home for the sitter and everything--"

If she had been more curious, or genuinely interested about him beyond appearances, maybe Beryl would've asked him about 'sitter'; if he had a pet or a child, or if that child came with a spouse and if his wife was working too or if she was even still in the picture. But she didn't, she just helped flag down a cab, ripped dress good for showing a little leg. There was no doubt in her mind that there had to be a wife at one point, as she smugly noted he paid entirely too much attention to the exposed leg and garter to be anything but straight.

Cute and chivalrous and straight, in this town? What would they think of next? Then again, Beryl was spoiled by a glut of handsome, or outright gorgeous men, so she didn't think anything of it. Romance was ruined for tonight anyway, until he opened the cab door for her and gave an unsolicited "Tristan."

"Hm?"

"Tristan McLean, it's um..." He tousled his dark chocolate brown hair for lack of anything else to say, embarrassed. 

"That's nice," she commented nonchalantly, slipping off her heels and tossing them in the backseat of the cab. Then, feeling charitable, "I'm Beryl--"

"Grace, Beryl Grace," he smiled slightly. "I know." He shrugged as if to say 'naturally'.

It did wonders for her ego. In a rush of gratitude and flirtatious mischief, she stood tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. It held a bit longer than she had anticipated, long enough for him to kiss back quite well, and she arched her back appreciatively before breaking away to climb in the cab.

"Catch you later," she promised, grinning. She shut the door and enjoyed the look of longing and blushing bemusement on his face. Then she paid the cabby and gave him her address, forgetting about it entirely, privately declaring the whole party a bust.

Truthfully neither of them thought much of it at all... that only changed with the latest tabloid photo. That changed everything.

 ~the first (few) dates~

It took about six months for the people who should've taken most interest to finally start paying attention. Six months for them to notice to notice their clients were in the paper. Gossip rags, sure, but still a front page with a photograph and everything. A clear sign that Tristan McLean was considered a low priority by his talent agency, though that was about to change when his assistant Jane told him that his agent had found him an opportunity of a lifetime.

“BERYL GRACE LANDS NEW MYSTERY MAN”

"You absolute dog," his agent, a stocky sleaze in a pinstriped jacket overtop a stained basketball jersey named Richard 'Chaz' Crowe, grinning as he slapped greasy hand over the tabloid photo. "You magnificent sonofabitch, when was this a thing? It's perfect, and you didn't even know? Bah! Youth and beauty is wasted on babes and bimbos. You're lucky you've got me, I'm leading you away from wolves."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tristan admitted honestly.

Jane, his assistant, elbowed him subtly. It was an overly familiar move on her part. She had been very attentive since he...

Well it had been a mistake sleeping with her but that he could say he could afford an assistant in this town meant the world. It made all the difference in meetings like this to have her take notes and speak for him when he felt out of his depth. He couldn't afford this service otherwise and he wasn't at risk of falling in love with Jane. Though some days he wasn't sure if she hadn't fallen in love for him, which would make things awkward, but he doubted it. Jane had been doing odds and ends for would-be-stars since she was in her early twenties, naïveté and innocence had probably been stamped out of her to leave behind a reptilian social climber in pantsuits.

There might've been more to Jane, Tristan hoped that there was, but when he was being perfectly honest with himself he didn't really care. Maybe this town was changing him in ways. He wasn't sure he liked what he was becoming.

Another overly familiar elbow to Tristan’s side. "I'm sorry Mr. Crowe, I didn't--"

"Don't call me that, that Australian bastard is dead to me, it's ‘Chaz’ babe."

"Right, Chaz, I didn't think this was a big deal at all. We met once at a party. She seemed unwell and needed to leave early. She was pretty formidable." Should he mention the kiss that took him completely off-guard? No, that was private.

Then again he glanced under the headline and that private moment was caught in a shot that made it seem like Beryl was all but ready to drag him into the cab. Oh, so much for that.

"Poor, trusting Tristan," Chaz sighed. When he shook his head pityingly like that, his artful, gravity-defying combover started to come unraveled. Tristan didn't have the heart to point it out. "This is a move, a play. Older woman cozies up to younger, upcoming star, suddenly the papers are all 'what's he see in her?' and 'hope for women over forty'--"

Tristan pointed out glibly, "Isn't she young enough to be your daughter?"

"Son, I'm trying to help you, don't go hurting my feelings like that with slander." Chaz reflexively checked, then fixed, his combover. "And it gets you public. I always said, the target demographic for you...?"

"Women fourteen to forty," Tristan recited.

"Bah, what do I know? What do you know? If the country gets more chances to see that beautiful bronze mug of yours it'll be nine to ninety-nine, every single one'll want you to stick a feather in their cap."

Tristan tried not to grind his teeth, but Chaz was already apologizing for the incidental slur. Wasn't like Tristan hadn't dealt with worse anyway, and sleaze or not, Chaz was one of the few agents that respected his wishes not to appear typecast in token “Indian” roles. All he had said was that Tristan would have to slog through some shit before he got halfway decent roles.

While Tristan was prepared to work hard, having already resigned himself to taking no shortcuts in this showbiz life, this wasn't one like any shortcut he had imagined when he made that particular vow. It was making him uncomfortable thinking about it, but Piper going to public schools in this town filled him with immeasurable dread.

If nothing else he was a fan of Beryl's work, she seemed quite professional, his unfortunate first meeting with her aside. Not counting that kiss either because that? That kiss, that was something else entirely.

He glanced over to Jane. She just kept writing in her notepad, glancing between him and the tabloid picture of him embracing Beryl Grace with an expression more opportunistic greed than jealousy. After all, this was a chance for one of her stars to get much needed publicity. Maybe she was as impersonal about their affair as he thought after all. A bit disappointing, but good to know.

"So should we set up a... meeting?" Tristan looked between his agent and assistant. He almost called it an date, but that'd be mortifying, definitely crossing over into gigolo territory.

"Oh you're already handled baby bear," Chaz assured with a slimy wink that reminded Tristan uncomfortably that gigolos had to come with pimps.

"We'll set you aside for an upscale brunch," Jane announced, with a definitive stab of her pen into note paper, looking quite pleased with herself. "You will show up, make small talk to iron out any scheduling issues the two of you might have individually for the next month, take the time to set aside a day for a public date, and agree to escort to any events with one veto each afforded. I've already used yours so that you can plan your daughter's birthday."

"But that's not a sure thing," Chaz added hastily.

"No, it is a pretty certain thing," Tristan corrected evenly. No matter how famous he ended up getting, he promised himself he would always make time for Piper.

Of course he would never be able to tell how famous he would get, especially now, but the thought was there.

"Checks will be split," Jane continued, only to pause and look over to Tristan from her notes. "The time will be 11:35 AM, don't let her drink."

"But you just said it was set for 11:35?"

Jane gave him a much longer a look, halfway between pitying and patronizing. "I know."

 …

 Beryl's publicist didn't like her.

She’d known that for the longest time now, but it came suddenly back to her attention when she had to find out she was in the paper herself. She would've found out sooner but she had stopped paying attention to anything that wasn't front page and related to her for about a year and a half. She had been disappointed until now.

Once she  discovered the tabloid, after a short victory dance in her living room alone, she called him up and harangued him into submission. She demanded to know why they weren't setting appointments up with this very photogenic young man, finding if he was represented by anyone. She looked positively glowing in his arms, like he was giving back her old spark

That thought made her sad. She knew it wasn't real. He couldn’t compare to her reality. The important thing was that it looked enough like real in the paper.

Her publicist spent the morning “apologizing” profusely, and  tracked down the mystery man to set up a quaint brunch meeting. Beryl curtly told him it was acceptable, and hung up, still secretly giddy.

So what if she had to play the bitch to get what she needed? She had played other roles before and played them supremely, this was nothing she couldn't handle.

Fetching her scissors she made to add the latest photo to her personal photo album. This was definitely worth chronicling for posterity, her legitimate return to spotlight. Frowning when she couldn't find the glue, she called out "Jason? Has your sissy been in momma's things again?"

Soft and deliberate padding of socked feet was her only warning before her youngest, Jason, came to peer around the corner. Maybe it was the lighter coloring of hair maybe it was seeing more of his father's jaw in his developing features, but for all the talk of parents loving children equally well...she had a favorite, special little boy.

"Thal's touched glue for sool." Frustrated, Jason tried again, face scrunched up. "School."

"That so?" It was hard not to have a favorite when that girl was the competition. Just the other day she had found cigarettes in that little future lesbian's jacket, and she she calls about her skipping class from all the teachers. And then a fire? Ugh. Probably from smoking.  

Nasty habit, she mused, pouring herself a little celebratory Irish Coffee. "Jason baby, could you go get mommy's scrapbook and glue? Thank you sweetie."

Jason obeyed immediately, and Beryl felt definitely pride. Such a lovely boy. Things could've been so different if...

She wasn't going to think about that though. Focus on the present and the future, don’t dwell on what almost happened in the past. Especially with the future looking so bright.

Looking like a kiss that was almost electric.

 …

 The two of them met for brunch.

Tristan took the time to actually shop for and buy a new suit. He didn't wear a tie, but he hadn’t gotten any complaints, especially with the top two buttons undone. He wondered if it was possible for a man to be slutty, decided not to risk unbuttoning the third.

In contrast Beryl arrived in an outfit that looked like she had planned it in advance for about a week. The tight periwinkle dress that made it to her knees only allowed for walking thanks to a generous slit that bared her whole knee and half of her cream-stocking clad thigh, with matching gloves that didn't quite make it to her elbows, and a pair of stunner shades.

Layman's terms, she dressed like someone imagined a movie star would dress. She had no trouble pulling off the look and she knew it judging by the habitual swing of the hips, and the coy smile that gave away that she knew people were looking.

But still: whoa.

He pulled the chair out for her, it was only chivalrous... then again, he found it was also helpful for checking out how a woman was wearing her dress. Not just ass grabbing, actually paying attention to how a dress fit could factor into how smoothly Tristan could peel it off his date. They had always been very appreciative of his attention to detail, and the anticipation. Beryl's current ensemble left a deal of tanned back exposed with just a clasp behind the neck, on her left side barely visible was the proper zipper to get it slid all the way off. All these details Tristan habitually filed away.

"Thank you for meeting me," Tristan began politely.

She waved his pleasantries off unconcernedly. "Please, don't. It's the least I could do."

"Yes I'm glad that--" Tristan fumbled with his words when she took off her stunner shades to meet his eyes with a heavy lidded, practiced sultry minx look. "I'm just glad it's under better circumstances."

She shrugged nearly bare shoulders. "That was nothing, let's not ruin such a perfect day. Have you ordered?"

"My first time here," he admitted, "but I ordered a pitcher of the sweet tea."

For a moment she stared at him, lips pursed, calculating. He worried he’d offended her, that she’d seen through his ruse to get her away from mimosa or sangria. After a few moments though, to his relief, she only asked "not decaf I hope?"

He smiled, with all his charm. "Not if it’s proper sweet tea."

She laughed like he imagined Daisy Buchanan would laugh ever since he read a torn cover copy of The Great Gatsby. Maybe that should've been a warning. Maybe it was just his imagination. Either way he asked short questions and made short quips and subtle jokes throughout the rest of their first “date” just for more chances to get her to talk excitedly about old performances, dream roles, to listen to her laugh again.

Perhaps he was a sucker for that laugh, because he definitely agreed to more than he should’ve. By the end of the night, she’d ended up talking him into a date every two weeks when the original plan was once a month, and he’d be wearing a tie or a silk shirt next time. He also agreed to send flowers to her dressing room if she got that part of Lady MacBeth, though he did manage to talk her down from two dozen roses down to a dozen. It wasn’t much but it made him feel like he had a bit more of a spine.

“What about PDA?” It was surprising that he had to be the one to bring it up, almost as surprising that it wasn’t brought up yet.

“Save it for the cameras?” Beryl sipped her tea, gauging his reaction.

“I thought that too,” Tristan started slowly, cautiously. “Then again, well, we didn’t know the during the first kiss, so if we only turn it on for obvious swarms of paparazzi and play this out we’ll get caught. Right?”

Beryl’s nodded approvingly. “So we what, handle this method acting?”

“I’d rather not,” Tristan winced. “I’ve known some pretty big asshole method actors.”

“How can you tell?” Beryl smiled wryly, and it was a deal more genuine than the ‘come-hither’ smiles she shot at him between requests and probing questions. “Maybe they’re just deep in character for someone who’s written as an asshole?”

“No one can play an asshole that well unless they’re full of shit,” Tristan denied flatly. “Anyone who plays it that well that quick I don’t want anything to do with off-camera.”

Another laugh, and he knows he said the right thing. “Alright then, we play this natural, shouldn’t be so hard.”

“You’re a pretty good actress,” he teased, smiling back as he raised his own perspiring glass of tea. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I’ve done a few things,” Beryl breezily admitted as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, no doubt deliberately showing off a profile of her gorgeous neck and delicate wrist. “But really, I mean, I’m not going to have much trouble faking it with you.”

“And I don’t think I’ll have much trouble pretending to be in love with you either,” Tristan admitted. It was true, he pretended for a while since…well since Piper’s mother. With more women than he probably should have ever gotten involved with.

Then again, heartbroken didn’t mean dead, and certainly not impotent. Clearly though Beryl thought he meant something else, judging by her eyes widening in something between surprised and alarmed. Great, last thing he needed was for her to think he was a crazy fan who lucked into a fake relationship with her. He wasn’t crazy.

“I mean, we’re both good at what we do and we’re not a bad match. On paper anyway.”

“Or in the papers,” Beryl added with obvious relish that made her seem more dangerous. Like a rattlesnake rattle. “We just need to agree to boundaries and keep it professional.”

Tristan held his arms wide in an open, exaggerated ‘of course’ gesture. “Boundaries and professionalism are no problem.”

She giggled, sipped her sweet tea. “No problems, no unnecessary unscripted drama.”

“Of course. Just play it natural.”

“Naturally.” Beryl smiled, toyed with her straw.

 …

 “Natural” lasted about four months and then they end up in bed at her place.

Either way, Beryl was impressed with both of them for different reasons. It turned out Tristan McLean was something of a romance prodigy: soul of a poet and body of a bodice-ripper pirate off a paperback.

It had been a while since she had actually seen the original movie, and she never did read the book, but Beryl was certain that people were supposed to swoon at Wesley’s “as you wish” and not Inigo’s “You killed my father, prepare to die”. When Tristan read it aloud though, that wasn’t the case. She had hitched her rocket to the right shooting star. Or something to that effect.

It was hard to keep them all straight, she might’ve had a pair of martinis tonight. Oh and a daiquiri but that seemed so long ago.

Drinks aside she was impressed with herself, impressed that she had lasted this long. Sure the two of them had agreed to keep things professional, or rather “natural”, but that just meant they were “naturally” letting things go further and faster.

Between her being up for consideration as a guest appearance on Law & Order and him being understudy for a staged production of “The Princess Bride”, they had grown closer and closer. Maybe not emotionally, he hadn’t talked about his past that much and neither of them introduced the other to their respective children (thank goodness) but boundaries continued to be tested and they continued to test them.

Dinners with ‘friends’ got steadily more regular, and they’d sit closer and closer together.One dinner they sat so close that she didn’t notice or object when his hand stayed on her knee until the check arrived. And their kisses in public were reserved to shy pecks on the cheeks or brief touches of lip, but then she’d put a hand on the small of his back or tuck a finger in the waistband of his jeans to feel beginnings of well-trimmed fuzz that she realized she wasn’t faking her flirting for possible cameras. No, she actually craved him.

And when they were watching B-movies together, something they called “research” but was really a way to unwind and laugh at the misfortune actors trapped in contracts playing ridiculous clichés, it was clear he wanted her too. She didn’t blame him, that was unstoppable, but how he pursued it was new and exciting. The first night he had paid more attention to the movie than her, then asked her about it in-depth, arguing about quality of the lead actresses. Then they were laughing together at bad special effects around the dead-serious fading action stars fast approaching their forties and fifties.

By the third time she had gotten used to his hand on her knee, but when it strayed into the hem of her skirt and ‘twanged’ one of her nylons with a deliberate flick, she knew he was wanting more. Just careful about it, careful to tell her where there wouldn’t be cameras to catch her rebuffing or arguing. Which was considerate, since they hadn’t scheduled a break-up or a fight yet. Trying that without a script could get messier than necessary.

No she resolved to let him down gently, in private, with the courtesy and professionalism they had agreed to going into this. He deserved that much, both of them did.

Again, that was the plan, really it was. Problem was those martinis. Alright, and the daiquiri she supposed.

She made the right call taking her shoes off, the heels on the hardwood might've woken up the children and she'd be mortified if this was the night one of them walked in.

But try as she might she couldn't keep down the case of the giggles when he muzzled her neck. "Take me to bed."

"As you wish," he vowed playfully, lips on the shell of her ear. He had told her he knew this trick but she didn't believe him, but with a few sharp twists of his tongue and sudden pressure he had removed both her earrings. He took the time to break apart from her to drop them from his lips into his palm and put them on the vanity, not dropping his a devious smile.

Oh but she wasn't having any of that. "I don't want the farmboy, give me Dread Pirate Roberts."

"Well in that case," he growled as he advanced, forcing her to back up against the foot of her bed, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. "I should warn you; the Dread Pirate Roberts takes no prisoners!"

He lunged which caught her off-guard and gave her another frightful fit of the giggles, and she let out an 'ooft!' of surprise when he picked her up and threw her bodily to bounce disoriented on silk sheets. She had just enough time for one luxurious stretch to show all her legs in the bunched up dress to tease him, but only that much time and then he was on her, and she was pleading for him to hurry and take no prisoners.

He ignored her pleas though, and handled her clothing with reverence that frustrated her and made her shiver with want.

She was glad he didn't though, it must have cost hundreds, that one slinky number she picked out just for him. The lingerie she was being worshiped in right now must've cost two or... o-or... oh...

Calculating the cost of her wardrobe could wait.

"Please... please there... love me..." she hated how broken her voice was sounding when she urged him on. Hated how she sounded closer to tears than satisfaction, and yes satisfaction was definitely coming.

No, this wasn't her begging. This was a sure thing, a home run. He was more than a little in love with her. She could tell this, she wasn't ever going to get left again. She wasn't only for being used, she wasn't possessed, and she wasn't going to be alone.

No, he was going to love her and Tristan McLean didn't have a wife and a family somewhere else. He'd grow old and she'd not hate herself seeing him staying young while she was wasted away.

She didn't mind his kisses were the imitation of that electricity, she could fake the sparks if it meant not being alone.

Oh...

...

Boundaries definitely got crossed.

This whole thing felt like a mistake. Tristan expected, had accepted, the whole thing being a lie but not one that'd go this far.

But it had been months and he hadn't tried since he had met Beryl at that party, since then he hadn't tried to forget and try to love someone else.

He had to try again after all, he refused to begin to think that something in his heart wasn't just broken but dead.

Oh, and Beryl certainly hadn't any complaints, no.

Honestly she seemed more surprised than turned on (and she was plenty turned on) when he took charge in bed. It wasn't like she didn't know what she was doing, but he had to prove something and he had taken great satisfaction in making her beg, curse, and most definitely scream. He had a love-bite all across his collarbone where she had latched teeth to his clavicle when he pulled her sideways into his lap and she desperately muffled her screams biting down on him hard enough to feel like she had broken skin and bruised bone.

Not that she hadn't given as good as she got. She had risen to every challenge, rode him like a she was rodeo star, holding back another scream biting her fist stuffed against her mouth. Then again when he pressed up against her and into her, forcibly and repeatedly from behind, he could make out just over the knocking headboard that same cry of want muffled into her pillow.

They tried nearly everything in a short time, with more definitely to come. But the problem arose in missionary, where and whenever he looked into her eyes when he was trying to lose himself in her and saw the truths that chilled him even as he dripped sweat and satisfaction; she wasn't who he wanted her to be, and she was trying to do the same exact thing he was.

So he drowned out her pleas to love her, harder or faster or anyway else, ignored her eyes being too desperate, greedy, and faded, and he buried his face in her hair and buried the rest of him deeper still.

No matter though. In the beginning of the night the illusion held, but at the start of the day he knew better. He'd not be able to love this lonely, wanting, grasping creature any more than he had loved another since Piper's mother, not so completely and purely. Something was wrong with him that he could not be in that place again with someone else. But maybe that she couldn't either was a sign of hope and not despair.

Or maybe she was recovering and he was dragging her down, maybe he wasn't giving her enough credit. He doubted it though.

Who could really tell? Maybe it all meant nothing. Oh, Tristan doubted that most of all but he found comfort in that lie.

Food for later thought then, with food for thought ready to wait behind actual food. Least he could do was make some breakfast. He didn't think he'd step on any toes, however well off Beryl might be this seemed a very private, compact home that probably didn't have a chef, maid, or butler he might end up running into.

So he pulled on his jeans and stuffed feet into his boots, having worn down the heels enough not to worry about waking up ‘lady company’ on his way tiptoeing out of boudoirs. He spared a look behind at Beryl, curled up as lithe, naked, and satisfied as a well fed cat in tangled sheets, smile on her face making her look decades younger.

Tempting as it was Tristan opted not to wake her with a kiss. His notably successful experience taught him women responded better to well-cooked bacon than half-baked imitations of fairytales.

Downstairs, the metallic fridge had scarce space to observe his reflection but it was enough for him to notice a few angry looking scratches Beryl made against his hips. He chuckled, and opened the refrigerator to dig through and find milk that was thankfully still fresh, two eggs, and some unopened packets of Canadian bacon. He shut the door, bacon packets in teeth, and set it all down on marble countertop before looking for a pan to scramble the eggs.

It took a whole history of improv classes for him not to scream and panic at the tiny "Mad Max" extra already sitting at table watching him critically, eating string cheese.

She had blue eyes, sharper blue than Beryl, but had the same chin and faint smattering of freckles across nose and cheekbones destined to grow sharp and aristocratic. There the similarities ended, both coloring and fashion, with this girl having long and messy dark hair done up in choppy leonine mane that made her seem wild but smaller. She had a faded leather jacket overtop striped pjs, and the bizarre picture was completed with hot-dog slippers, one with felt mustard Velcro and the other with felt ketchup.

Beryl did mention she had children from a previous relationship in passing, but he didn't think they were home. He didn't think at all, and now Tristan made sense of all the times Beryl muffled her cries of pleasure, and now he felt immensely guilty about the noisy headboard. Most of all though he wished he was wearing a damn shirt. He had no idea how old this, um, girl-child was but she certainly was giving him an analytical look far beyond her years.

When she did speak, it was softer than he had expected. "So," she nearly trilled, when he had been expecting a growl. "Are you my new dad or whatever?"

Oh.

Oh crud.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Tristan began honestly, not to mention awkwardly.

He had no idea how right that was going to turn out to be.

 ~a few years’ worth of fighting/drama~

If it wasn't for their children, none of this would ever have gone so far, which perfectly summed up all Beryl's complicated feelings towards kids in general. They were cute, especially at first, and they loved unconditionally until they started talking back. Best of all though, and Beryl didn't believe this until Jason started to walk on his own, children really did make you feel young.

When they were little of course, and then they started to give you grey hairs. Thalia's mouthy little preteen self must've cost her hundreds in hair-dye. 

Of course they loved Tristan though.

From past experiences, she had assumed he left before morning when she woke up alone. When she smelled food, her initial pleasure died immediately at the thought of Thalia using the stove again, and she quickly threw on a robe and sprinted down.

The domestic scene caught her off-guard, but not in an upsetting way. Rather an alien sort of happiness; it was the first time in her life Beryl had seen a family breakfast with family members who could stand each other. Idly, and pessimistically, she wondered if her joining in would spoil that.

"You cook," Beryl noted, looking over Tristan flipping a second-helping of bacon for Thalia and Jason. Her wild-child daughter slurped down all orange juice that Beryl had been reserving for her mimosas, and Jason sat regally in his booster-seat, carefully using his colorful plastic breakfast spoon. His face was still a mess though, until Thalia proved she was good for something by cleaning up his cheeks with a napkin.

"Not too much," Tristan demurred. "Oh, you're out of milk."

Honestly Beryl didn't remember buying milk. She sat down and ate sparingly, watching Tristan clean a glass wearing a spotless apron that she didn't remember buying either. It wasn't a bad view. Certainly wasn't bad cooking.  

"He seems nice," Thalia murmured through bits of eggs.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Beryl snapped reflexively. Taking stock in this new development demanded all her attention. ... "Come again?"

"I'd love to but I really have to go." Pausing in the middle of pulling on her sundress only to give him a wink, Beryl returned to her extensive vanity to browse through lipsticks. She had an impressive collection of shades and colors Tristan couldn't name. 

"No, you know what I mean," he insisted. "Why can't you find a sitter?" "My usual one has a thing, completely unreliable." Beryl picked a shade of maroon with an erotic sheen. "Why should I spend my money to hire a stranger? I have you. And the kids love you. Jason always asks about you. Well he also thinks Triskets are named after you but he's still a good judge of character."

Now Tristan was starting to worry about the presumption. They've had this 'arrangement' for close to a year now, and apart from a few dozen breakfasts he prepared the morning after he spent the night he hadn't really interacted with Thalia or Jason to the 'babysitting' extent. "Beryl, I might've had plans." "Well, do you?"

"No, well... no." He thought about it. "I've been reading through scripts but so far the only thing I learned was avoid titles with Roman numerals."

"That's nice."

"Piper, I don’t have a sitter for her on this sort notice."

"That's perfect."

"Beryl, no, you have to listen. I can't just leave her by herself--"

"I heard you Tristan," Beryl interrupted breezily, trying on sunglasses. "Bring her over."

"What?"

"Bring her over, she and Jason are the same age, aren't they?" Beryl picked her sunglasses, apparently by rhinestone ratio, and was now pursuing her collection of handbags. "And Thalia could benefit from some more responsibility. And you keep saying how you want Piper to make friends?"

That actually did sound tempting. "I guess that could work."

"Of course." Beryl picked out a small, sparkly clutch that matched her sunglasses. 

"But look, favors aside, you can't spring these things on short notice anymore."

"I wouldn't if it wasn't important." Now her tone was getting defensive. "Didn't I tell you my usual sitter was unavailable, unreliable, and by the time I'm finished absolutely un-hirable?" 

"Fine, I said I'd do it. Might be nice." 

"Of course." 

"What's the occasion?"

"I've a date."

Now Beryl turned to him, looking over her sunglasses at him, one stenciled eyebrow (when did she redo those?) raised almost incredulously. Clearly the answer was supposed to be obvious. 

"I'm glad you're clearing that up," Tristan managed, though it came out a little more clipped than he would've liked it to. "Clears up a lot."

"You're not upset, are you?" Beryl asked, gaze probing. 

"A little but I don't see why I should be," he answered, tone a little more even than before now that he was prepared. "I hardly kept us exclusive."

"Works out perfectly," Beryl smiled. "And you're still the best man to have on my arm."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Tristan assured cheerily. He kept up his forced smile until she left, and only then did he fall back in bed fighting the urge to go out and hit something. 

Took him a minute to remember he really was still seeing other people if his casual arrangement with Jane counted. He nearly forgot. 

Guess that was the sort of man he was becoming. ... The first day of school for Jason was resurfacing bad memories. Beryl's breakfast of toast with pistachio butter was in danger of resurfacing too, bile rising in the back of her throat worse than any stage fright. She willed herself to hold it together, last thing she wanted was to be one of those mothers who was crying just as much as the clinging toddlers.

She couldn't help it though, it was like she was back getting ready to leave him all over again and... No. She made her choice, she made the right one, and she'd be right back. She refused to believe otherwise.

"You've got your lunch?"

"Yes mom." 

"All your books?"

"Yes mom, and pencils." 

"Good, good," she took a fortifying breath. "Don't be scared, or at least don't let the other kids know you’re scared."

"I'm not." If Beryl was being completely honest, Jason looked more prepared for this than she felt by a miles. He had always been a thoughtful little prince, except now he was standing at attention to wait for permission to walk up to the front door with other first graders, completely at ease.

Definitely his father's son. Her beautiful boy.

"You'll make plenty of friends," she boasted.

"Yes mom."

"If you get nervous you can ask to go to the nurse and you get her to call me right away." She smiled sweetly. "Alright?"

"I'll try not to bother you."

"You won't," though Beryl wasn't sure that was a good thing if she didn't get another role. She was well on her way to being put out to pasture as an actress unless she established herself in serious roles, and soon. On a lighter note, for them both, she added "and you'll have at least one friend going in, you'll never guess who..?"

Jason waited patiently, knowing his mother well enough to not deny her the big reveal.

"Piper," she cooed. Those two were just the cutest together. Even if she and Tristan hadn't gotten involved, and if she was completely unbiased, she'd still love how photogenic her little prince looked with the teeny Cherokee beauty queen. The playdates between the two of them were Hallmark card level adorable. 

Now Jason reacted, his stoic expression shifting briefly into something like terror, then sulky. "I don't feel so well."

"Oh hush," she laughed, lightly guiding him to the stairs. "Love you baby!" Oh to be young and have your biggest problems be cooties and puppy-love butterflies-in-the-stomach. 

Speaking of, she'd have to check her answering machine when she got back home. Maybe one agency had gotten back while she was out.

"Excuse me? Um, excuse me?" Beryl Grace was tapped on the shoulder, and when she turned around there was a woman in her mid to late 20s who looked as excited as a high school girl. She wasn't not pretty but judging by the sweater vest with the food stain on it, she had given up on whatever dreams came independent of motherhood years ago.

She immediately put Beryl on edge. "Can I help you?" Though what she really wanted to ask was, in most sarcastic tone possible, 'do I know you?' But she knew enough from her years of being single mother with Thalia that making enemies at her children's school only would come back to haunt her.

Besides, women like this tended to travel in herds or packs.

"Are you, and I'm so sorry if I'm off, but are you..? Aren't you Beryl Grace?"

Sure enough, she was surrounded. Apparently this was a pack of mothers and not of herd. For a brief moment Beryl wondered if the heard about her from all of Thalia's old schools before she was sent to New York. Thankfully that didn't seem to be the case, their faces were more expectant than accusatory. And it always felt good to be in the spotlight, to be center of attention. "Oh, shoot. Yes that's me, I didn't want this to become this whole scene--"

"OhmyGod you know Tristan McLean!"

What? "Why yes... yes I do."

"You're dating Tristan McLean," the lead soccer mom gushed, and some of the others were blushing, making spectacles of fanning themselves or giggling like teenagers, even the one with short hair that Beryl would've bet her left leg was a lesbian. 

"Yes, have been about..." Now Beryl pretended to think about it, feigning a convincingly sly smile. "Oh nearly two years now. The time just flies by, where does it go?" 

"You have got to dish," one of the women pleaded, and the others soon echoed the request excitedly. 

Beryl halfheartedly 'dished' some scandalous gossip, not willing to pass an opportunity to be center of attention. The rest of her was focused on bottling up seething jealousy. ... Tristan had some reservations about this, but the only way he would've been able to afford to live in a place as nice as the Grace family's home and pay for Piper's tuition was if he took that modeling deal.

While the offered money was good, the articles of clothing he'd be expected to wear put him at ill-ease. The day he oiled up his chest and posed in what amounted to a leather washcloth for everyone to see was the day he'd bash his brains out with a brick. 

Besides, it only took a little convincing from Beryl in a tight wrap-around dress (which he already figured out how to untie one-handed) and from Piper's infectious delight that she and her 'boyfriend' would be moving in together. Piper actually believed it was Jason's idea and that he invited them both over. Which Tristan had to admit must seem a great deal more romantic than moving in with your girlfriend-of-convenience to avoid having to jump through financial hoops. Plus he liked to think maybe this was Beryl's way of coping with a slightly emptier nest after she was sent to a... Camp in New York. He doubted it though; he was there to drive Beryl to drop off Thalia off at the airport and the young girl practically sprinted out. 

Tristan couldn't find a fault with Beryl's relationship with Jason, but then again that was one good kid. On that much he agreed with Piper. They were getting old enough that they might be needing the talk, and Tristan wasn't looking forward to that at all.

Besides, Jason was too good a young man to worry about all that now. In fact, right now he was helping bring up boxes for the move.

Maybe too many at a time. "Whoa there son, hold your horses. You don't need to be setting any records."

"Piper asked me to help," Jason replied matter-of-factly, looking terribly resigned.

Tristan smiled, hiding a twinge of worry. This was becoming more the norm for the boy, though he only got these glimpses of Jason's feelings when Piper wasn't around to (more or less) speak for him. It didn't seem like healthy behavior even if a crush was involved. "Jason, I appreciate how good a friend you've been to Piper these past few years but really, you don't have to do something just because she asks, not if you don't want to."

"Really? Is that the way it is with you and my mom?" Jason asked levelly, looking Tristan hard in the eye for reaction. 

This time Tristan wasn't able to completely mask his embarrassment or worry. "That's not completely the same Jason, I mean, love is complicated."

Now Jason raised an eyebrow. "Love?" 

Tristan hadn't actually been in trouble with the law, apart from that misunderstanding with police after an 'unscripted' fight he and Beryl got into. He played both defendant and lawyer on different shows though, but never got cross-examined as convincingly as now. "Adults," he amended, for Jason's benefit. "Adults are complicated."

"Uh-huh," Jason hefted the boxes purposefully, going inside Chateau Grace. "Please don't call me son."

Ouch. ... The very first time they went to the beach, they hadn't brought the kids and picked a place with plenty of sun and privacy. Beryl thought those trips were the closest she had come to being perfectly happy with Tristan; but that changed when Piper turned thirteen and was sent to... learn self-control in New York with Thalia at that special Camp. 

Now he insisted on bringing the children. All the while Beryl fought tooth and nail against it (once literally, but she was only trying to slap sense into him, honestly) but Tristan wouldn’t drop it. 

Maybe he wanted to spend time with all the kids for a change, maybe he wanted to show off the body that got him considered for that King of Sparta movie. It was down to him and some Scottish actor now, and Beryl was betting on Tristan for the role since he didn't have to worry about accent slipping.

She could've been wrong, except now they weren't on a private beach, and Tristan spent most of his time by the water signing autographs. And maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if most of those autographs weren't for college girls with itty-bitsy swimsuits. 

She pretended not to notice, and he pretended she wasn't watching... until he deliberately met her eyes, signing a girl's cleavage in waterproof marker.

Beryl ground her teeth, letting out a frustrated huff, looking for an ally. 

Unfortunately Piper was out in the water with Jason, teaching him to surf. Despite all Jason's protests when he was apart from Piper, he didn't seem to mind as much now since she brought a bikini. And despite her self-avowed tomboy-isms, Piper never seemed to mind falling over into Jason's arms every time she convinced him to go along with some new game.

Oh to be that young and stupid again. 

That left Beryl with just Thalia to talk to... great.

"So," she attempted. "Tell me about this Percy Jackson boy, he sounds interesting."

Thalia looked suspicious, the sun darkened up the freckles along the edge of her brow to make for a more expressive look of disdain. "He's Jason's age. And we're just friends."

"Well what about that Luke boy, he seemed nice-?"

"Well turned out he wasn't."

"Oh. Well I'm sorry."

"We don't have to talk." Thalia put her headphones back on. "Luke is dead, Percy is dating a girl who's like my little sister, and Jason is practically dating a girl who I can't stand who’s basically my stepsister. I haven't dated since Luke and all the boys and girls" Thalia gave Beryl a nasty look at that reminder, "you introduced were horrible."

Yes, so Beryl made some unfortunate assumptions about her daughter's dating experiences, but she didn't think it was uncalled for her to think outside the box when it came to Thalia's romantic interests. She had tried to keep an open mind. "Wait, Luke died?"

"Mhmm, and we're all caught up." Thalia turned up the volume on her CD player. "Thanks."

Beryl pushed her sunglasses back on to cover up how fast she started blinking to keep back tears.

This was unbearably unfair.

Since when did no one recognize her? And when did she become the bad guy?

~betrayals, a wreck, and reconciliation~

 Tristan respected Jason's wishes, didn't bother to act like he was suddenly father of the year material. Still, he couldn't stop from worrying.

Jason and Piper dated on-and-off, and that worried him enough, except Piper seemed convinced she and Jason were meant to be while Jason seemed to be less sure. He had been writing letters (seriously, Tristan came to terms with Jason being an 'old soul', but what boy his age didn't have a cell phone?) to someplace with a California zip code. Meanwhile he hadn't made an effort to give Piper a Skype chat.

That wasn't even the worst part. Yes, Tristan disapproved of his daughter pursuing a boy who was indecisive and noncommittal about a relationship. Also was worried that Jason felt trapped in a relationship built up by expectations and didn't see a way out that didn't involve a lot of hurt feelings. Yes Tristan was worried about both of them being hurt, but he was more worried about how Jason seemed to have already been hurt and kept silent.

First he suspected Piper was pressuring him but he shut down that train of thought, believing it was both too ridiculous and horrifying to take seriously. Besides, it wouldn't explain things like the books Jason had taken to reading. At first it was mostly history books, but all with 'war' as the theme, and then books on PTSD.

Tristan had even found notes with Jason's handwriting in one of scripts for a proposed Jonathan Netanyahu biopic Tristan had been preparing for. They were distressingly extensive notes.

They were the notes of someone who had seen some very real shit go down.

Really this brought things like Jason's somber maturity, his mysterious contact in L.A., all that purple he kept wearing, and his firsthand accounts of losing friends to violence all to an unmistakable conclusion... but how was Tristan supposed to tell Beryl her son was in a gang?

Worse, how could he get Beryl to listen?

He headed to Beryl's room. He had taken the guest bedroom after they had agreed to start sleeping in separate rooms about eight months ago, claimed it was more comfortable. Really though, this was easier on them both to keep their own... affairs in order. Tristan took pride, at first, in keeping things discreet. There never was any lipstick on his collar when he came home, or perfume on his clothes. When he did start to slip up, Beryl didn't notice or didn't show any sign that she cared.

Maybe that, plus his worry that Jason was not only two-timing his daughter but in a gang, was what put him already on edge when he saw Beryl was getting ready for another date.

"You get a callback?" He knew that was a longshot, she was dressed too slinky for business.

"Better," she smiled, putting in earrings with a smile Tristan hadn't seen for a while.

When she didn't elaborate Tristan tried to press on. "Beryl, about Jason... I'm a little worried about his... mental health and wellbeing."

Beryl gave him a long and contemptuous look, went back to putting on mascara.

"... Beryl this is important, I'm worried Jason might've gotten involved with--"

"Oh pft, I thought you'd be more open-minded."

"Beryl are we talking about the same thing right now? I'm worried Jason might be involved in, well, in a gang."

"Well she is Hispanic" Beryl mused, "but the gang thing seems a stretch."

"... wait. What?"

"Oh don't be so surprised, he's made friends with a girl in his club. Name begins with an R, with like three last names, I wouldn't be able to tell you what they are."

This wasn't expected. "Does Piper know?"

"He's told her." Beryl slipped on a pair of strappy heels.

"Beryl I really think we should talk more about this."

"Agree to disagree, I made plans."

"This is Jason's mental and emotional well-being. I'd hope you could put aside your own bullshit for this and start acting like you cared about your family as much as you did your career."

"How dare you. Is this really what you think this is?"

"Of course not, my mistake, you haven't had a career in a decade. You never were really serious about acting or work at all, just getting into the papers."

"That worked out very well for you, as I remember" she snapped.

"It made me as much a part of this family, more than you try to be most of the time, so one of us--"

"You are not part of this family, you are not Jason's father, and Jason is in fine health. It's what I'm going to tell his father tonight."

That hit him in the gut like a sledgehammer. "He contacted you?"

"Just out of the blue," Beryl sniffed haughtily. Then she added with maximum venom, "hasn't Piper's mother ever tried to keep in touch with you? No..? Well I guess you just didn't leave a big enough impression on her to care about the family you might've had." She put on a light coat. "Keep that in mind before you start looking down on my choices, I've been doing pretty well. Oh, and I might be late tonight so don't bother waiting up. Thanks 'hon.'"

 ...

 Beryl returns home, early.

Everything was going so smoothly. Everything was magical. For a change she was back in the finest restaurant without riding on Tristan's coattails, drinking glass after glass of fine wine, with gorgeous blue eyes locked on her like she was the only woman that mattered.

She should never have thought that she really was, because the second she brought up his wife everything felt a shit. Oh he was proud of how the children turned out, he was always proud of the children, and he made sure to tell her she had aged gracefully and he was still a big fan of all of her movies. Even the recent ones.

There hasn't been a movie with her in it for the last five years, and the last one was direct to DVD and had Roman numerals in it.

And she has aged, gracefully doesn't matter, and he hasn't and never will. He didn't want her anymore, he just wanted to make sure she still wanted him. Damn him she did, just when she thought maybe she had a chance at going through the motions of being happy she throws it all the way for him.

He called her out of the blue and he disappeared into the night just as quickly. She goes home early and she doesn't go in her bedroom because she doesn't want to see herself in the full length mirror with running mascara, and she doesn't go into the guest bedroom because she can't face Tristan. She goes into her daughter’s old room instead, because where a normal girl might have a vanity mirror Thalia had posters of Nirvana and Xena and...

Tristan McLean's oiled up chest.

Beryl tore down the poster of that trashy sword-and-sandal imitation-epic "King of Sparta" with an indignant howl of rage before collapsing in the messy twin bed to scream her frustrations into a grungy pillowcase.

Of course if there was a conspiracy to keep her from being happy, Thalia would be in on it.

 ...

 The next few days, Tristan doesn't go back to the Grace home. He stays with Jane, he goes to parties, he rents hotel rooms.

Whenever Thalia visits, it's usually for work, and she usually rents hotel rooms. Tristan never asked what she did, or maybe he did and never found out, but it paid well enough to keep her in upscale hotels with a new leather jacket for every occasion.

Neither one of them are strapped for cash then, but when they unexpectedly meet up, both of them still say they ought to share a room to save some money.

That's what they tell themselves, that's not what happens.

There is a rational part of him that insists he did nothing wrong, nothing illegal. Then a vindictive side (much larger than he would like) that says this is justice, perfect revenge. And a buried, lustful creature in the pit of his stomach demands he take more and more until he forgets everything else.

He does, repeatedly, and they're both satisfied several times each.

Then it's over, really over, this time with a chill in the room that gets both of them to realize how empty they feel.

Tristan tries to listen in the silence but his conscience isn't speaking to him. He feels trapped and sick.

Always the brave girl, now Thalia is the first to get ready to flee, sliding out of bed and pulling on boyshorts and jeans in one impatient tug. When she slides on her shirt, he tries to say something.

"We shouldn't hav--"

"I know... believe me, I know."

One name she mentioned in passing comes to mind, and he can't stop himself from asking "Who was Luke?"

She pauses in the middle of tying up the laces of her left boot. "A boy I thought I loved."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because... you got disappointed."

"He liked blondes better."

"Oh."

"And then he died," her voice cracked in the middle of pulling on her right boot. "Killed himself."

"I'm..." There's no fixing this, or coming back from this. He's been with college girls and starlets Thalia's age. He's had romances that felt real and flings without expectations. Never with a woman that he remembered as a girl who wore hotdog slippers around the house until they fell apart.

"It's fine. Guess I never really knew him."

"Maybe."

"Guess I never knew you either. Didn't think of you like this." Didn't think you were like this goes unspoken but he can hear it crystal clear in the silence.

"... I didn't think of you at all."

If his words hurt, she doesn't let it show. "Did you love Piper's mother at least?"

"I might've... could have if she gave me the chance."

"What was her name?"

He laughed, and it's as bitter as he feels. "I can't even remember." He hadn't admitted that to anyone before.

Then Thalia asks the question he never could answer. "How messed up are you?"

 ...

 Of course Beryl finds out. Thankfully the press don't, and that's a miracle by itself. It would've killed her if the tabloids got hold.

The car wreck nearly killed them both, and in the state she was in Beryl almost would've preferred it.

She didn't make sense of the darkness, of the white noise after the world turned into thunder and screaming, and she doesn't want to go back to the pain. But she doesn't know anything else and she's so afraid.

Then she was rescued, like in a fairytale, by a shining knight. It was like she imagined, though far less glamorous than she had wished. She always wanted him to swoop in and rescue her.

Except the eyes weren't blue, and she knew it had to be Tristan. Funny, she thought she would rather die than be in his arms again. That seemed stupid now.

"Somebody up there must really like you."

Beryl spun around. "What?"

There was a slim man in a uniform, not military but like for a bike messenger service, something decidedly unglamorous that he wore with distinction. "I said 'someone up there must really like you', though honestly I can't tell why."

What happened to the car accident? She thought for sure she was being pulled out, she thought she saw Tristan...

Sharp whistle. "That way," the messenger pointed with a pair of snakes(?) on a stick, remarking "in case you have questions--"

Beryl looked, and her car in shambles, practically flipped on its side. Further away, following a trail of crushed glass and red smears, she saw Tristan kneeling over a woman. His hands pumping furiously on her ribs in a frantic tempo. It must've been agony for him, his hands were splintered lumps of fractures and shredded skin.

Her face was obscured by blonde hair caked in enough blood to turn it a rust color, and her clothes in worse shape from where they were torn when Tristan dragged her from the crash.

When Tristan dragged her from the crash.

No... Oh no...

"'fraid so," the messenger sympathetically clicked his tongue. "Don't worry though... not your curtain call just yet."

Beryl's world turned black and red in a sudden burst of fear and pain.

 ...

 The first person he ends up calling is Piper, he had to ask one of the nurses to help him dial the numbers. With the medication and the gauze, his fingers don't seem real. Feels more like stiff, wet gloves. Tristan didn't even want to know how they would feel when the pain meds ran out.

Piper is in a panic, tearful and hugging him tightly, but she rallies. Damn if his girl wasn't strong enough for them both when he felt like falling to pieces.

She tells him that she's called Jason, and he'll be on his way. She tried but she could not reach Thalia, but Tristan tells her he knows what hotel to call.

Piper knows. That's all it takes for her to figure out what has happened. She had a nose for gossip, romance, and scandal that was completely at odds with her disdain for Hollywood bullshit. Her expression goes tight lipped for a moment, but she doesn't judge him yet. He knows it'll come later, but for now Tristan is glad to wait.

"You saved her life," Piper says at last, judiciously. "That has to count for something."

"Yes I... I suppose so."

"Of course it does." She hugs him, more carefully this time.

He never wants to let her go. Tristan knows all the things that he wants to say to her, that he wants her to be happy, and that she deserve someone who loves her just as much as she loves them, that the perfect life she's imagining will always be more complicated...

He manages to tell her that he loves her, and that will be enough for now.

She leaves to call Jason again, to contact Thalia, and he goes to Beryl's room.

There's a lone nurse there in pink scrubs, he's not sure what she's doing. Looks important though. "Sir, she needs her rest, and only family should be back here."

"Right now I'm all that she has," he insists. "I've called her family, our kids I mean. They're on their ways, they should be? They should be but right now it's just me." He feels like he's flubbing his lines at an audition, only so much worse.

The nurse nods patiently. "She seems like a lucky woman."

"It's more complicated than that."

Now the nurse smiles, but eyes are looking sad... and change colors. "I know. Press the button if you need anything."

It takes her walking away for Tristan to recognize her voice, or at least to think he does. He just remembers she was probably the most beautiful woman he had seen since...

He sits down next to Beryl and holds her hand. It seems so much more papery and frail, but he feels a pulse where his fingertips touch her wrist. It's enough to get him to hope and he needs it, especially when his insides feel like they're being tied into knots.

Not certain who or what he's praying to, he bows his head and whispers over and over "please please... please..."

 ...

 When Beryl wakes up her head is pounding, it hurts when she breathes, there's a drip-drip from an IV, the TV is playing old movies, and Tristan doesn't notice. She lets him think she's still asleep a little longer, watching him watch the TV.

It's the iconic final scene of 'Sunset Boulevard', with the delusional silent film star all misguided glamour descending from the staircase, soaking in the attention of the news cameras with desperate, heartbreaking pleasure.

Of course she notices the similarities, and judging by the queasy look on his face Tristan does too.

The poor man deserved a fairytale romance. Then again, so did she at one point, she's sure of it. How'd they end up with this? With each other?

She clears her throat and he changes the channel in a hurry, a rerun of 'The Brady Bunch' starts playing instead.

"I'll... I'll get someone, a nurse--"

"No. Not yet." Her voice is so hoarse, which makes sense given her throat feels like sandpaper. Worse than any hair-of-the-dog she's ever had, or ever will have again. After what nearly happened... "It still could be so much worse," she says aloud, surprising him.

He laughs weakly, clumsily brushing back hair with bandaged, ruinous clubs for hands. "I guess so."

"I think... I think you should move out."

"I was thinking the same… I'll look for places."

"A new castle for the king of Sparta?"

"Something like that."

“…You’ll manage to visit?"

"I... I'll try. If you'd like."

She thinks on it. "Yes. I wouldn't mind."

"Then I wouldn't mind either."

"If you have the time," she amends.

He nods back, assures "I'll make time."

That would be a trick even the king of gods never managed for Beryl. Maybe Tristan would though.

"I love you," she admits, even though she's not sure what sort of love she has for him after all this. The man she built up, dragged down to her level, who pulled her out of a wreck? Almost a decade and she didn't even know what to make of him, or her feelings for him.

He just smiled his best young Harrison Ford. "I know."

She snorts, closing her eyes and feeling how tired, sore, and thirsty she was all in one wave of exhaustion. "You're being a real method actor right now," she warns.

"You too."

"Hm?"

"... I love you too," Tristan admits, softly.

And Beryl can tell he's just as unsure about it as she is, and that only makes sense given everything that happened between them. It's how she knows it's real too.

 Good. They've done enough pretending.

  �����$���t�

[sincerelyhecate]

my heart is a compass

Title: My Heart is a Compass (and It Points to You)

Pairing: Luke Castellan/Ethan Nakamura

Length: 12.6k words

Summary: Ethan was a pirate with a broken compass and Luke was the treasure he never thought he needed.  Fantasy!AU - pirates and merpeople. You can also read the chapter-ed version on AO3 and FFNet.

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Note: This fic is written for the @rarepairproject 2016 Mini-Bang. This work is also beta-ed by @likemybonfireheart, who also provided their amazing artworks! It was a great pleasure working with you!

The night felt almost mystical in its silence. The wooden hull of a frigate silently creaked as it drifted slowly across the dark waters of the bay, red sails fluttering in the midnight air. The moon was nowhere to be seen, its absence went unnoticed by the stars.

The tide was high that night.

Captain Ethan Nakamura sat idly on the bow of the ship, his posture composed yet cautious. He appeared to be deep in thinking, lower lip bitten and eyebrows furrowed. His first mate, Alabaster Torrington, manned the helm quietly; he knew better than to disturb his friend’s odd silence. Besides, steering a massive frigate amidst these strange waters requires great concentration, and Alabaster could not risk the safety of the ship as it was.

Mystical.

Indeed, for the Bay was made of lore. Locals spoke of legends residing the waters, believed to be both spiritual and dangerous. Misfortune is said to befall those who violate the laws empowered by ancient kings hundreds of years ago. A set of rules to please the sea deities and appease their anger.

No one was supposed to sail during the night, hence the absence of fishermen boats and the darkened lines of the beach farther west. Yet the Invidia’s Judgement did, her captain unbothered and determined to reach their destination tomorrow’s noon. They had escaped the pursuit of a royal brigantine just two days ago, a result of careless judgement (despite the ship’s name) and the crews’ failure of communication that they were targeted by a legion of armed forces. Piracy seemed to be the only justifiable reason for the pursuit, they could figure that much. They were pirates, after all.

Piracy. It was a word that left a bitter taste in Ethan’s mouth. It brought back an ugly part of Ethan’s history.

xxx

He was supposed to be a child born of nobility, the only son of a well-known Japanese merchant who travelled the world selling oriental goods and serving a recognized trading company. His father was well-off and rich, and Ethan vaguely remembered the rumour of how his family was then very respected and powerful back in his hometown.

That was until his father met a mysterious woman during one of his many voyages in Greece. It was a tale recounted many times, of how his father’s life, a life of practically bathing in gold and silver, was changed when he fell in love with this Greek woman.

Ethan detested her the more his father talked about her.

Yet his father would recall with a fond voice, of how the woman, with her dark hair and alluring eyes, charmed him with a charisma like no other. A realistic woman with the practicality of a goddess. A woman with a heart so expensive that it costed his father almost all of his fortune just to win it over. A treasure, as he would call her, that would never come again even in his next lifetime, to the point that most of his life’s savings were laid to waste.

Ethan thought she was an animal.

Because it was misfortunate of him to know that with her, his father had begotten Ethan. He was born in the small hut his father had managed to buy after salvaging over what had been left of his riches. Born as a small little thing covered in a swath of dirty cloth, left on the dusty mattress that served as his parents’ bed. A small little pathetic thing, crying helplessly alone while mysteriously, his mother was nowhere to be seen. The midwife was strangely subdued, blabbering nonsense as she cowered in a corner, unable to provide any explanation.

His father had really thought that she was a goddess, back then. Still did even through the last of his days. Ethan disagreed with a vengeance, though he never said it out loud. Goddesses would never abandon their children. Goddesses would never strip their loved ones of their lives. And certainly goddesses would not be as cruel as taking their sons’ eye. Or at least from what he had assumed of said deities, being the personifications of divinity themselves.

And yet his mother did.

He was born without an eye. Ethan was thoroughly convinced that she was the culprit, because it was certainly not enough for her to take away his father’s riches, she had to take half of his sight too.

So it was impossible that she could be a goddess, when she was even less of a human. How Ethan would love to remain in disbelief and denial, but even he, son of a so-called deity, could not change what fate desired. He learnt the truth when he was at the mere age of fourteen, growing up as a servant of a wealthy family after his father’s untimely death. As Ethan was sleeping on the skimpy blanket he called his own, he dreamt of someone he would never imagined meeting.

A woman, dressed in a white chiton, stood before him. Behind her was a passively folded pair of wings. She wielded a sword in her right hand, a broken wheel with the other. Her face was timeless, but just as stern and austere. Cruel, even. An indisputable aura radiated from her seemingly divine figure, causing Ethan to blink once or twice before his eyesight would focus.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I am your mother,’ she replied.

A poisonous bubble of rage seethed and churned in his stomach. He looked away and grunted, ‘My mother is gone.’

‘Your mother is an immortal, and she stands before you now.’ Undeterred, the woman spoke. ‘She comes with a blessing, Ethan Nakamura, appearing before you in her merciful form, not as an enemy for your vengeance. She comes with a gift, a compensation for you to have as her rightful child.’

There was a ghost of a smile on her lips, though Ethan doubted with all his heart.

‘She comes to see you as your mother.’

‘Well, that’s a bunch of utter codswallop, I could figure that much. Mothers don’t abandon their children and leave them defenceless against this kind of life, do they?’ He sighed. ‘Might as well leave me to die instead of having me slave around like a dog.’

Her gaze hardened, and she replied, ‘As a son of balance and retribution, you may as well know why the Fates have decided so. I am Nemesis, and my duty in this mortal world is to maintain balance, for as long as humanity remains. I have done this for a millennia, and it so remains that I will do so for the next, too.

‘Meeting your father was merely my duty, to place something as where it should be placed. To maintain balance is to have something remain perfectly on its axis, never too much yet never too few. A sphere on a needle. A perfect scale. And your father, he has too much than what he should be asking for. How the gods of fortune favour him so much, so much over others, that misfortune befell upon them. And that, I cannot allow.

‘Say it be fate or Aphrodite with her dominion over such fickle things like love and emotions, that the arrow of her son struck me just as I was stripping your father over his undeserved riches.’ Her voice softened, or so Ethan had imagined. ‘I fell in love, and then I had you.

‘Regardless of all the happy things granted for us, I could not be with him much longer. My recklessness has rendered the world into all sorts of imbalance. I had to leave the two of you, for my duty as a goddess remains superior over my selfish desires. I had to leave you. But, not without giving you a parting gift.’

‘What was it, by taking my eye?’ Ethan spat, his boiling rage returned with a vengeance. He couldn’t exactly digest these unsightly revelations. How could someone not allowed to have so much that they needed to be punished for what they have? What a ridiculous ideal.

Gods be with him when his sarcasm backfired by a single, ‘Yes.’

‘W – What?’

‘I meant not for a new-born to suffer the loss of his eye, but in order to be fortunate and successful, you have to sacrifice. I meant for you to have a chance in making a difference to your ill-fated world. But in order to do so, you will have to pay a price.

‘The sight is one of men’s few greatest treasures. To take half of your sight as a sacrifice is to give you an ultimate chance in changing your fate, and so I did. Very few men lived to be blessed with my merciful side. Yet for you I did not hesitate.’

Ethan could remain as stubborn as he wanted, but he began to see the reason behind everything. Having a deity as one half of your ancestry, a member of the immortal beings who control the forces of the universe, you wouldn’t exactly expect an attentive parent, much less a loving one.

‘Life is not supposed to be a pleasant journey, Ethan Nakamura, and my duty is to ensure just that. I struck those undeserved with my whip, I am feared more than I am worshipped, but for you, my only child, I give you a prospect to have your tilted scale balanced.’

Her left hand glowed for a moment, and when she opened her palm towards Ethan, a compass appeared.

‘Life is all about balance, my child. Find yours,’ she said. ‘Go.’

Ethan woke up with a compass clutched in his bony hands. The needle turned around for a few times before pointing to a fixed direction, and with that, he knew where he had to go. With an empty stomach and a burlap sack filled with his meagre possessions, he sneaked out of his master’s home and ran into the unknown.

xxx

It had been days since Luke Castellan last saw the strange ship cruising across the Bay. He wouldn’t be the least surprised if they had already set off towards the open sea, to the horizon beyond. Human vessels rarely sail here, they were constantly on the go after all, and rarer it was to see even the smallest of boats afloat during the night.

Yet the ship was there, moving forward in adequate speed. Luke could recognise the silhouette of the ship from down under, the familiar wooden hull littered with barnacles. He wondered about its occupants above, and though he knew the risk of being caught, curiosity won over.

He slowly swam upwards, hands gripping his ornate spear and surfaced into the chilly night air. The deck of the ship was lowly illuminated by a number of lanterns, eerily vacant except for a few crew members silently moving about as they man the ship. Luke swam around the body of the massive vessel, his tail swishing lazily until he saw a familiar sight that made him stop.

It was the human captain, strangely still as he leaned against the railing of the ship, face in a sullen expression as he observed something in his hand. From Luke’s vantage point, he could have guessed that it could a small compass. He swam closer, aware of the risks if he was ever seen.

It was oddly fascinating, this one pirate captain. For instance, it was how he looked a little too young to have such a position at his disposal. Yet an eye-patch covered his left eye, and his ears were pierced with studs of matching earrings. Though his skin, too light to be considered a native from around here, was unmarred and… young. Usually humans of his age would be apprentices of trading ships or servants of the royal army, but Luke wouldn’t have bet even a few drachmas on how this odd boy became a leader of sea robbers.

It was oddly fascinating too, for Luke to be charmed by such a human. He remembered vaguely of the first time he encountered the boy, who was struggling to release a seal from a fisherman’s net he must have found on a boat. It was a simple move, saving a small animal from being notoriously caught for its rare meat. But it was a move done with a big heart.

The seal was unfairly young, so its tender meat would be a prized catch. Life at sea was a constant process of injustice, and fishermen were amongst its many perpetrators. They wouldn’t care whether the seal was young or not, when in fact it was unlawful even for the merpeople to hunt for baby animals. Yet that human captain did the complete opposite, and Luke had a newfound respect for the young man.

He could only watch him from afar, but Luke was contented as long as he could follow the frigate to wherever it goes. He was a nomad after all, a soul free from any social attachment. It might sound a bit lonely, but an outcast like Luke would be treated the same anywhere; that strange merman with a crippled fin and a scar across his face.

Luke swam closer, snapping out of his reverie as a voice shouted from the ship. It was possibly another crew giving orders about. The captain was standing as still as a statue, and worryingly so. His gaze was zeroed onto the compass in his hand, eyebrows furrowed into concentration. Sometimes Luke could see how his eye would flit to the side, occasionally gazing to the sea and the horizon. Sometimes he would glance over his shoulder, probably checking how his crew is faring.

One time, he paused looking at the compass before turning his head towards Luke.

Luke dove quickly under, heart beating fast, praying that the dark waters would conceal him. He swam deeper, hoping that the human captain saw nothing but another creature of the sea. After a few moments of swimming a few metres from his previous position, Luke dared himself to surface again.

The captain was still staring at the spot where Luke had carelessly revealed himself. He was still rooted on the spot until another crew, a girl with brown braided hair approached him, hands moving in an anxious gesture. The captain started, his posture straightened in alarm before running to follow her, disappearing into the deck of the ship.

Luke finally knew what was happening when the first sound of cannon teared through the night.

xxx

Ethan had sensed that something felt off when they sailed passed the same coral reef for the third time. The compass in his hand was a bit off putting too; the needle kept rotating without a fixed direction. The crew was bustling about the frigate, manning the sails as the wind picked up in several notches. While it certainly helped in perfect timing with their schedule, it was a bit too odd for a supposedly cloudless night.

There were no signs of a storm but the wind was almost as if it was brewing one.

Eye flitting over the waves, Ethan couldn’t help but feel restless. His position as the captain however, compelled him to stay calm and collected. He needed to be a source of high spirits for the crew, and it wouldn’t help to agitate them more. He wondered if it was a good decision to sail through the Bay instead of the set route the map had provided for them. The original route would have brought them to a sea supposedly riddled with sea monsters, if the illustrations of the maps explained any better. Compared to that, this Bay provided a safer shortcut to their destination. Worse comes to worst, they would reach it by tomorrow’s sunset.

This was it, though. A closure for the years of his journey across the seven seas.

He looked down to the compass in his hand, and for a tad moment, it stopped spinning. Alarmed, Ethan followed the direction of the needle.

And much to his surprise, he saw… a person.

Or was it? He blinked, and the silhouette was gone. His heart beat a tad faster. It could be the waves playing with his limited vision. While it was strange enough to sail through these waters, it was stranger to see shadows amidst the waves. His mind carried off away to the thoughts of sirens and sea-witches, and he shuddered at the thought. He encountered them once and it hadn’t been a pleasant experience.

‘Captain.’ It was Piper McLean, his boatswain, and Ethan turned around to see her uneasy look. Her palm was enclosed tight around her dagger. ‘They caught up with us.’

‘What?’

‘Leo was keeping a lookout up in the crow’s nest. Don’t you think it’s strange to pass the same reef over and over again? Captain,’ she took a deep breath. ‘The legion is here.’

They were moving in circles for hours, Ethan realised. That was ample time for the legion to catch up. Ethan cursed and followed Piper across the deck.

As if on cue, a brigantine came into view, its sails bearing the royal colours of purple and gold. Ethan’s sailing master, Percy Jackson, was rooted to the port side of the frigate, hands tight on the railing. He was one of the many children of gods aboard the ship, and the sea was his father’s domain. However, Ethan could see how white his knuckles were from gripping the railing. It was not a good sign.

‘It’s not working,’ Percy let out a shuddered breath. Ethan could see how it did not. Usually Percy would drive the enemies away with waves of seawater obstructing their approach, but right then the sea seemed difficult to be tamed. There was only splashes of water, and that was just about it. Ethan could tell that Percy couldn’t harness his abilities much further.

There was only one way. ‘Then, we fight.’

A cannon blew up and the frigate creaked and trembled.

‘Cap’n, I got this!’ Percy shouted. He seemed to be regaining his control as a wave started to build up towards the enemy ship. It was a hopeful move, if not for the burst of lightning obliterating the tower of water and striking the deck. Hooked chains from the brigantine attached themselves onto the railing of the frigate, and the legion began their descent on board the smaller ship.

The lightning died down to reveal a young man with a golden armour and a gladius, electricity crackling from its tip. Ethan’s lips pulled down in a scowl. Another girl with similar apparel landed beside him, purple cape fluttering and her hand gripping a sword made of Imperial gold.

‘Welcome on board my humble boat, praetors. Considering your grandeur entrance, I wouldn’t expect just a friendly visit, would I?’ Taunting has been in Ethan’s arsenal for the longest time.

‘Halt in the name of the senate, son of Invidia. Your crime of piracy ends here.’ The man ran a hand over his golden hair, his icy blue eyes trained upon Ethan. The girl spoke up, her fierceness not quite reflected in her calm demeanour. ‘Surrender and return the stolen artefact back to our city. If you show cooperation, the senate will consider mitigating your punishments.’

As if. They must have been very desperate, resorting to even risk sailing when they have always neglected their prayers to the sea gods. Percy must have been fuming by now.

Ethan felt the eager atmosphere of his crew, their bloodlust radiated in heated waves from behind him. A few guns cocked. Blades were withdrawn, waiting for their captain’s instruction. Ethan withdrew his own Celestial bronze sword, stance still relaxed, face trained to mirror the notorious pirate that he was known as. The son of Nemesis he was feared as.

‘Dogs yipping at my feet are nothing new to me. I refuse.’

Percy brought in another wave towards the legion, and the battle began.

xxx

Luke could only watch from afar when the two ships collided. These humans were intriguingly foolish, to even dare initiating a fight in the middle of the Bay. He couldn’t even bother counting how many rules the humans had broken on these waters. So he waited in silence, lightly anticipating what would blow over and stop the mess.

It took a few minutes. One moment, there were lightning and giant waves enveloping the battling ships, the next was of both ships crashing on the coral reef. Even with all the tragedies Luke had seen or heard as an aftermath of violating the rules of the ocean, this was by far one of the worst. Without wasting another breath, Luke swam over as fast as he could.

The damage on both ships was severe, but not enough to actually sink them. A few bodies were overthrown off board, as the shouts and lightning and waves died down from above. Luke avoided a few chunks of wood falling from the ship, swimming as fast as he could past the lifeless bodies floating all around him. Some bore the symbol of a great empire Luke had only heard about, but he couldn’t care less. There was none he could recognise, anyway.

Boats were lowered to the sea for emergency transportation, both pirates and legion alike. Both sides must have withdrawn themselves from the battle to tend for their own safety and the conditions of their respective ships. Luke submerged himself low enough for only his eyes to observe the occurrences all around him. He could see the legion on massive boats with giant oars paddling farther away to inspect the damage. The pirates were much or less the same on their smaller boats, except for one obvious difference.

Their captain was not with them.

Luke’s stomach felt heavy. He could see the panicking crews disoriented without their captain, necks stretched and faces weighted down by worry to see if their captain had survived the ordeal at all. Luke dove down under, his mood a bit affected. He kind of liked the captain, even when he usually couldn’t give a walrus’ crap over what happens to humans.

There was a sudden explosion on board the pirate ship.

The sound was loud enough to alarm Luke to a halt. He immediately surfaced and saw that the deck was smouldered with smoke, probably fire. There was a huge splash nearby, and Luke saw another body floating a few metres away, its attire terrifyingly familiar.

The humans’ boats were not nearby either; they were on the other side of the wreckage after all. Cautious, Luke propelled himself slowly with the help of his powerful tail before swimming a good few metres to a halt. The body did not seem to move, the face obscured by teared up clothing. Luke approached him slowly before carefully lifting over the obnoxious amount of fabric, which swirled around the half-submerged body in the water.

It really was the captain. He was breathing, thank the gods. Luke could see how his pale lips fluttered as they took in weak breaths. He supported the boy with his free arm, noticing how easy it was to manhandle the human body in the water, before swimming away to find land.

 The sun was about to rise, Luke noted as the horizon burst into golden light. He had managed to swim to an island that had been his unlikely home, the pirate firmly in tow. The boy hadn’t regained any consciousness since Luke saved him, and the fact that his skin was worryingly cold gave the clear warning to Luke that they needed to get on shore.

It was a chore, dragging the heavy mass of body onto land and away from the waves lapping at the sand. In fact, it was so much harder than carrying the body through the water that Luke was panting and sweating by the time he managed to drag the boy, and his own heavy tail, to a considerable distance away from seawater. Mind you, he couldn’t remember the last time he sweat, having years living underwater. When he was settled, he slumped over face first onto the ground next to the boy, mindful not to get sand into his eyes. Resting his cheek on the ground Luke faced the boy, taking the time to study the features of his face.

The boy, strangely yet obviously, was not anywhere from around here. At least not from the countries lining along the shores of this part of the ocean. His skin was pale, black hair plastered in contrast against his delicate forehead. For a pirate captain, supposedly to be as far notorious as being targeted by governments, he looked exceptionally youthful and… fragile. Luke could imagine his enemies’ disbelief when they find out how a captain of an infamous pirate crew would be this young.

He was by far one of the few humans Luke took notice about, so gods help him that this boy looked a bit too attractive for even his own liking. Despite the strap of eye-patch covering his left eyes and those supposedly unfriendly-looking earrings, there was nothing intimidating about him. Probably because he was still unconscious, but Luke wouldn’t take any blame if he was entranced by the person beside him.

Pink lips fluttered feebly as the boy gave out shallow breaths, his chest a slow motion of rise and fall. Luke carefully traced over the coarse lining of the boy’s eye-patch with his index finger, before his eyes trailed down his slim figure, damp clothes sticking to his skin. Only then did he noticed that the boy was holding something firmly in his clutched palm, a silver piece of sorts. He sat up and leaned over, curiosity burning through his fingers as they carefully touched the boy’s tightly wound ones.

There was a gasp and with a violent jerk, the boy was awake.

Pirates were very protective of their treasures, Luke observed. They probably guard them with their instincts, he mused in silence. The effect was immediate after all. Luke could not so much as pry even a single finger off the gold when the boy woke up in alarming speed, clutching the item close to his chest. He coughed out seawater for half a minute, drawing ragged breaths as his single eye flitted wildly at the surroundings.

Luke touched his forearm carefully, and the boy was able to focus on his eyes, looking understandably troubled. From up close, his single eye was prettily shaped like an almond, hazelnut iris encircling a widened pupil. Luke thought he might have seen golden flecks in them. Leaning closer, he shushed the boy with care, their foreheads almost touching in a move he could only hope as a gesture of comfort.

‘W – Who are you?’ The boy’s voice was hoarse. The human throat was probably not built for seawater.

‘Shush, you’re safe now. Do you need anything?’ Luke said in a voice he could hope to be reassuring.

‘I – I need…’ the boy’s voice trailed off as his eye moved around again before settling onto the shape of Luke’s tail. Silence befell upon them. Luke could see how painful it was for the boy to speak, stumbling through his words with his eye so wide his eyeball was about to pop out of his socket. Trying to start over, Luke softly touched his forearm again when the boy squealed, paddling backwards a few feet away from him.

The merman sighed, tilting his head to the side. They needed a lot of work.

xxx

Of all things that Ethan could imagine waking up to, having a merman lying next to him was not in his list.

It went down vaguely like this; blisters from the fire when he was salvaging the treasure they stole from the city, the heatwave blasting him off board the ship, the sudden darkness as he hit the sea surface.

It ended with the weird sensation of someone trying to pry his fingers off the treasure in his hand, him waking up immediately because it was his damn treasure, clutching the thing close to his chest as his throat burned from thirst and salt, his eyes burning from the bright light of the rising sun.

Someone touched his arm, a feeble sensation of warm fingers against his skin. He slowly opened his eye to find himself staring into the depths of blue ones, pale eyebrows raised in concern. Their proximity was so close, their foreheads were practically touching each other. Ethan shuddered from cold sweat running down his back. ‘W – Who are you?’

His throat felt gravelly. He was not sure if his voice came out at all.

The person shushed him, gently so. His (Ethan guessed they were a he, then) voice was soothing, words rolling out of a strange tongue, forming themselves in even stranger vowels and sounds, ‘You’re safe now. Do you need anything?’

Need. What did he need? Thoughts began to swirl themselves into existence, memories of the eventful battle prior flashed through his mind into muddled and strange conceptions. Recollections of his frigate, the legion, his crew –

He remembered. He needed to move quickly. ‘I – I need…’

Thoughts and memories faded away into a new sensation bubbling through his chest as his eyes trailed down the strange man’s bare torso, down to his waist where skin seamlessly transitioned into shining blue scales and –

Oh, gods.

He couldn’t move, his mind a useless blank. Where was his gun? Did he even have anything useful on him right now?

There was that touch again, so gentle it felt like a caress. Ethan’s reflexes went overdrive, and he did the least pirate thing he could ever do; squealed like a little imp and scooted backwards as far as he could away from the creature. Oh gods, oh gods, oh sweet Nemesis –

The creature then did a peculiar gesture. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, almost as if he was contemplating on Ethan’s ridiculous reaction. It was a gesture so human-like that Ethan stopped his frantic attempt to get as far away as he could. He needed to calm himself down, being unreasonable would not help any buccaneer in a dire situation. Not that the situation was dire itself, as the creature five feet away from him seemed to be pretty harmless.

‘What in the name of Poseidon are you?’

The creature mirrored his gaping mouth before closing it shut and shaking his head in… light irritation? Mild amusement? Ethan had always been bad at reading expressions but he hoped he hadn’t misjudged the creature in a negative way. Especially when he would never know what to expect. He could have been eaten, for all the gods care.

‘Hey. I’m not going to hurt you.’ There was that voice again, a pleasant timbre in Ethan’s ears. He kept his guard up; his experiences with sirens taught him that magical creatures always have a trick up their sleeves. The creature dragged his (serpentine? Amphibious?) tail along as he slowly approached Ethan, lifting a hand in placation as if Ethan was the wild creature. He felt himself leaning away.

Warily observing the creature, who sullenly settled to sit nearby less than a metre from him, Ethan could finally see fins at the end of his scaly tail. That was when realisation dawned upon him, mouth parted slightly in awe as the creature waited out in apprehension, teeth biting the inside of his cheek. ‘You’re a merman?’

‘Took you long enough, Captain.’

Ethan started, before glowering at the merman. Well, this one has an attitude. And to smoothly pointing out his position as well, you couldn’t just blame Ethan for being downright suspicious. He huffed, before asking, ‘How did you know that?’

‘You always wear that big hat over your head back in your ship. I guess that differentiate your position amongst your followers, does it?’ the merman noted, his eyes (one has a nasty scar slashed down to his cheek) glancing to the waves lapping at the shore. If it did not sound much like a cult, Ethan would have agreed. ‘They are my crew. Rather than that, how long have you been watching our ship?’

‘For the past few days. Ever since your ship set sail from the port at the other side of the Bay.’

‘You followed us?’ Ethan just couldn’t believe this. A mythical creature was following them for more than few days, and Percy had failed to even report this at his quarters. The son of Poseidon must have noticed this, at least.

‘I am very good at concealing myself,’ the merman said as if he was reading his thoughts. Ethan wondered if he really could, and distanced himself from the merman some more. He had never met one anyway, so being careful was a wise choice. For his benefit, the merman had not commented anything, though Ethan had to ignore his incredulous expression.

‘Where am I?’

‘On the beach?’

‘For the love of – I mean, what is the name of this place?’

He must have sounded a bit harsh. The merman slightly bristled, before replying, ‘The Fortunate Isle.’

‘What?’ Gods.

He must have looked so surprised that the merman nodded again in confirmation. This is the place. The destination of their long voyage across the seas. He sailed for years, from a lowly cabin boy to a full-fledged pirate captain, just for this moment. The Fortunate Isle. A secret island that no one could ever reach without its map. A paradise named after the Isles of Blest, which could only be found during the high tide of the absent moon, and only for those whose souls were bound to the seas. A place where his treasure was kept hidden for hundreds of years. Gods.

Finally.

But it was without his crew.

His heart deflated a bit. They were the only people who supported him until almost the end of his journey, they were his unlikely family, and a pang of sadness resonated through his chest. He hadn’t known if they even survived the wreck or not. Of course, it would have been more than meaningful if they were here by his side. Which was painfully obvious; they were not.

‘They are safe, you know. At least most of them. I saw them on the boats.’

Ethan could not even reprimand the merman intruding his thoughts right then; he just let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank the gods. Fumbling all over his now ruined clothes, Ethan managed to retrieve his compass from the front pocket of his shirt, hastily clicking it open and see where the needle pointed.

East. He followed the direction with his eye and was met with a questioning gaze by the merman. He groaned, shaking the compass a tad too violently before clicking it open again. The same result was obtained, and he sighed in defeat. Some days he would wonder if his mother was even serious in helping him. Over the years Ethan had learnt that the gods were not as holy and divine as they were told in the legends. They were not trustworthy, they were terrible parents, and their wraths were irrational.

Were they even worthy of their titles? Ethan thought the answer was clear.

After deeming that the compass was useless beyond this point, Ethan clicked it shut and turned to the merman, who was playing with the cluster of seashells dotting the beach, darkened eyes staring at him. ‘Do you know where the Lovers’ Cove is?’

‘I’ve been around the island a few times, there is a cove at the eastern side.’

‘Can you take me there?’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, Cap’n, but I can’t walk.’ Ethan threw a conch at him, and the merman laughed at his own deadpan. It was a sweet sound, deep and clear and oddly comforting, but Ethan tried not to dwell too much on that. Perhaps merpeople were generally a playful kind.

‘Please. This will be the only day a pirate say “please” to you and you probably won’t hear it again.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Please take me to the Lovers’ Cove. I’ll make sure you have your own share.’

The merman hesitated for a moment, lips drawn in playful thoughtfulness, and Ethan could see that the creature was mocking him. After a few moments of Ethan gripping his compass and refraining himself from bashing his head with it, the merman nodded before smiling in a way Ethan could only describe as mischievous.

‘Carry me back into the water. It was literal hell dragging you up the shore, might as well return the favour now.’ Ethan made a face at the demand, but he nodded tersely, much to what he believed was the merman’s utter delight.

‘Besides, I don’t bite.’ At Ethan’s apprehensive silence, he continued reassuringly, ‘Not often, anyways.’

xxx

The captain was indeed an interesting man. He sure had some issues with his temper, and while Luke felt like getting on his nerves even more, he looked better in other circumstances.

Like when he was frightened.

Luke could not believe himself, but the surprised squeal that the captain gave out destroyed every presumption Luke had had in mind of him. And his terrified face, oh praise the gods, it almost had Luke snorting, if not for the awkward situation they were in.

Not to mention how adorable he looked then.

Luke found no fault in doing anything to see that face again. The captain grumbled muffled profanities as he hoisted the merman up in his arms, and Luke smirked as he felt the young man tremble under his weight. He settled with his forehead leaning against the jugular of the boy, tracing his collarbones and feeling the smoothness of his skin under his finger. More shudders. The boy was now ankle-deep in the water, adjusting the merman in his arms. His neck was tensed.

Luke mouthed the boy’s collarbone, making a playful biting sound.

The effect was immediate. The boy practically threw him in the water, backing away with a squeak before falling on his buttocks on the wet sand. While Luke was not lucky enough to have a graceful landing, the boy was not any better, groaning in pain as he struggle to hoist himself upright.

The boy glared at Luke, who laughed shrilly as he lazily let himself drifting in the water. The merman was positive that tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes from laughing too much (though no one could tell from his wet face). Noticing the glare directed to him, Luke grinned and waved apologetically. ‘Sorry!’

The boy flipped him off with the finger. Was he supposed to be offended? Luke sneered in return before diving underwater for a minute, relishing the embrace of the warm seawater. As much as he liked sun-bathing, he should not have been in the sun for more than half an hour. His skin was definitely not made for living on land. When he surfaced, the boy was much more nearer, arms crossed while waiting for Luke. His eye was averted to the side, and was that a pout on his lips? It changed his demeanour completely, and Luke swore to the gods. He was certain that his interest for the boy has developed into something else entirely.

‘When the hell are we going?’

Just for the fun of it, Luke splashed some seawater to the boy’s face. Yes, his face was much better like that.

xxx

If Ethan had never associated playfulness with being annoying before, he now did. Who knew magical beings would be so infuriating.

In fact, it defeated the purpose of extraordinary creatures being… well, extraordinary. He knew they were supposed to, because Ethan had seen a variation of sea-witches being sinisterly magical, sirens being deathly alluring, sea serpents being viciously nasty, as to how people would generally associate them. Now, he guessed that all those mermaids depicted being elegant, with sea-shells in their braids and tails of gleaming scales, were just a bunch of artistes’ codswallop. Might be fair, as well.

Because the merman, who swimming in the water near him, was rude as hell. Definitely not what he expected.

Ethan might’ve not been able to refute the point that merpeople were indeed beautiful creatures, but vulgar attitudes annoyed him to a fault. And indeed that merman was a feisty one too, with that stupid smirk permanently stuck on his face. And that cocky eyebrow thing, gods. And a wild thing he seemed to be, judging from the scar on the side of his face, and his crippled fin. And more so the spear he held tightly in his hand, a lethal weapon for an equally feral creature.

But after a while, though Ethan hated to admit, he could somehow see the acclaimed beauty underneath the rough appearance of the merman. How his tail would swish in an enticingly graceful manner, his body as fluid as the water he was swimming in. And of course as time passed by, Ethan would sooner learn that he hated it even more when he was caught staring for a good many times too.

They were heading upriver, moving up a path the merman was claiming to be a shortcut to the Lovers’ Cove. Ethan walked near the shore of the river the merman was swimming in, which directly connected the sea to the body of water that was their destination. It was said to be located near a vast saltwater lake bordering a small cliff, where an underwater cave was formed within the vicinity of the Cove. The map claimed it to be where the treasure was located, the endpoint to the last piece of the map Ethan had been consulting for his hunt. It made his heart beat a tad faster just by thinking about it.

Ethan reached for the compass neatly kept in his pocket and clicked it open. Even though he would question its reliability several times on a daily basis, Ethan knew that the compass had contributed to most of his journey as a sailor. It’s as if the compass was an instrument leading him along his path of survival, and Ethan would know better than objecting. Its needle has offered him the right directions and wisdom more than the treasure maps he possessed.

Except for the current moment. The needle of the compass was pointing to another direction than the one they were heading, and he wouldn’t so much as even glance at the direction it pointed. He had enough of being caught staring, not without the merman being cheeky about it. So it was only safe for Ethan to conclude that the compass was indeed broken.

‘This is it.’

'It' referred to a dead end. They had reached a small hill, its foot a place where an abundant number of cypresses grew in clusters. The river continued flowing from what Ethan assumed to be an underwater pathway, disappearing into a small cavern. Which would definitely not be leading to a cove. Ethan bristled internally. The merman must have thought he could fool him, pirate captain of the infamous Invidia’s Judgement –

‘The route is now submerged down under, so you might as well get into the water now,’ said the merman as he emerged from the water, wet hair as if spun from gold. Ethan wondered if the merman’s monotonous voice was prompted to irritate him, or if he was just imagining it. Rude. Warily studying the water flowing downriver, he narrowed his eye at the merman and approached the edges of the riverbank.

He paused for a moment. This couldn’t be a ploy to whatever the merman was planning on doing to him, could it?

All thoughts in his head did not last for long when he fell into the river.

One of his legs was grabbed under him in a strong pull, and before Ethan knew it, he was spluttering and spitting water, his wet bangs getting into his eye and obscuring his sight. Panic began to bloom in his chest as he felt himself dragged underwater.

There was water everywhere as he struggled to breath, only to inhale more water, hands blindly grabbing for purchase of anything, anything at all, while his feet kicked on to maintain his body upright, not exactly registering the depth of the river, more thoughts rushing in, I’m drowning, I’m drowning, I’m –

‘Hey, you’re alright, I got you.’

He felt arms holding his body tight, and it was moments of being disoriented before he realised that he was once again afloat. The merman was there right in front of him, their proximity so close that Ethan could feel puffs of his breath fanning over his face, could see his blond eyebrows furrowing in concern. Ethan coughed, his lungs hurting from being forced to breathe in anything other than air. Rubbing his face roughly, he looked at his surrounding and found his breath taken away.

The river and the cypresses were gone, replaced by tall hills and lowly shrubs surrounding what seemed to be a vast lake. They were right in the water, floating inconspicuously near the bank. A waterfall crashed down near them, the small cavern they had swam through hidden behind it.

‘You’re holding me a bit too tight there,’ the merman said in mild amusement, and Ethan realised that he was indeed holding both of his biceps like a lifeline, nails digging hard onto his skin. They were firm and nicely shaped. Surprised at his own thoughts, he could feel blood rushing to his face as he immediately loosened his grip, averting his eye away from the merman. If anything, their proximity grew closer, a smirk forming on the merman’s lips as he silently laughed. Irritation returned to Ethan with a vengeance.

‘You’re enjoying this too much, you wanker.’

‘I saved your pirate bottom back there, so be nice.’

‘From what, exactly?’

The merman scoffed. ‘From being devoured alive. You’re weaponless, and having only a compass won’t actually do much to fight off those empousai, will it?’

‘There were empousai here?’

‘Yes. I sensed their presence, they were getting closer. And it’s only a matter of time until they locate you by your scent.’

They were being followed. Ethan grimaced, the thought of narrowly evading men-eating monsters sent a shudder down his spine. He hadn’t noticed anything at all. Give him a sword and he would be fine, but without? He wouldn’t even think about it. The Fortunate Isle seemed to be holding more secrets than those it was known for.

He felt goosebumps on his neck. The merman was blowing at his ear to get his attention.

'Oh for gods' sakes –'

'You seemed so out of it,' the merman chuckled. The nice timbre in his deep voice returned. Ethan felt a different kind of chill down his spine. 'We're here.'

And they were. Now that he could focus less on his well-being and more to his surroundings, beautiful was an understatement. The place was impressive beyond words.

It was described to the last detail in the map, but even words and illustrations paled in comparison to the real place. The lake was an amazing vista, its water a deep shade of sapphire blue. The scenery was beyond Ethan's coherence, the surrounding as if it was painted by the Muses themselves. The sun was low, casting its rays in pillars of light, illuminating the crystalline water and tinting the whole place in a warm glow. And then there were the distant sounds of waves crashing down the shore, presumably located beyond the cliff, soothing his heartbeat to a steady pace.

And just at the other end of the lake was the Cove.

xxx

‘This place is protected by an enchantment. No monsters can ever reach here,’ Luke explained. The boy nodded vaguely, allowing himself to be supported by Luke’s strong arms as they swam towards the bank. ‘It’s a safe haven for us companions of the gods.’

The boy pulled himself out of the water and up to the ground, Luke steadying him up with a hand on his lower back. He was still shivering, Luke noted silently, when he asked, ‘You’re a companion of the gods?’

‘Along with the creatures living on this island. The Fortunate Isle was favoured by the gods enough that they often came here to rest and hold parties, accompanied and attended by the nymphs and satyrs. Lately they were not here much, so the outer part of the island became infested by monsters and occasionally, humans,’ the last sentence was an indirect accusation, although Luke meant it to be a tease.

The boy glared at Luke, before abruptly facing the other way.

Strange.

They began to move towards the cove, the boy walking along the bank as Luke swam to catch up. The lake was eerily silent. After all, this was the first time a human set foot here in hundreds of years, so it would be quite a shock to the islanders. Understandably, there were no nymphs in sight.

‘Y’know, I never asked why you’re looking for the Cove.’

‘I’m looking for the treasure. Obviously.’

Brat. ‘Obviously there are other treasures that won’t cost you your ship and your crew.’

‘Would it be so hard for you to not get on my nerves, just for once?’  

‘That’s an actual reasoning, Cap'n. I see no point in taking great risks of sailing through cursed waters and struggling in a mythical, dangerous island only to have it end like… this.' He gestured in emphasis of the boy's condition.

That touched a nerve.

He could see how the boy struggled to refrain himself from punching him right there and then. But all he received was not a fist to his face, but a compass on his hand, roughly shoved onto his palm. It was a small pathetic thing, the metal dented on the side, the chain rusted beyond compare. Looking at the boy, whose arms were crossed with a scowl on his face, Luke found the knob and clicked it open.

The face of the compass was an empty expanse of faded white, its needle a kind of metal Luke suspected to be bronze, the framework intricate and complicated. There was no direction written or drawn. He wondered if it could even work with such bizarre machineries.

Though there was one thing that sparked his interest. 'It's pointing to me.'

'It's broken. It was a gift from my mother. I've been surviving all these while following wherever it pointed to,' The boy seemed to noticed Luke's grin and snapped, 'when it's working anyway.'

'What a thoughtful lady, giving such a… charming gift.'

'She's a goddess, what do you expect.'

'Oh, I can tell you what I exactly expected, because my father's a god, too.'

Silence descended upon them, as the boy gave him a funny look, his eye narrowing at him in an adorable glare. 'You're a merman.'

'Okay, I believe we had a very rocky start. We should probably start over again.' Their beginning felt like a joke when Luke thought about it. He held his arm up and offered his hand to the boy. As the handshake was received with reluctance, Luke nodded at the boy. 'You start.'

The boy sighed. He sat down on the edge of the bank, and Luke found himself swimming closer. 'Ethan Nakamura. Son of Nemesis,' he paused for a heartbeat. 'Pirate captain, treasure hunter. Survivor.'

Ethan. Luke tried out the name. It sounded nice on his tongue.

'I'm Luke Castellan. My dad's Hermes. He once got himself hitched with a sea nymph, which happened to be my mother. She's kind of mad now, and my dad is up on Olympus minding his own business and forgetting that he has a son.' Well, the look on the boy was unexpected. Luke guessed his bitter sarcasm surprised him. 'I was born on this island by the way, the nymphs being kind enough to raise me. But now I travel the seven seas, I occasionally steal from sailors, and I survive.'

Ethan scoffed. 'Guess we're not so different, after all.'

'Oh, and lately I also happen to be interested in pirate captains, too. Especially the ones who fell into the water a lot and needed saving every time. That’s the difference.'

You could say anything you want about Luke being a terrible flirt, but the look on Ethan's face was gold. Blushing a pretty shade of pink, he splashed the water on Luke's face before stalking off grumbling.

xxx

The sun was sinking further down the horizon, the intensity of its rays casting glimmers of light to dance on the water's surface. The nymphs, no longer wary of Ethan because of his association with Luke, appeared out of their hiding places to enjoy the afternoon glow. The dryads danced around in their pretty autumn dresses, while the naiads lazed around in the water, occasionally greeting Luke and playfully teasing Ethan, cooing and giggling over how “cute” he was.

Excuse him. Ethan Nakamura was never cute. It defied the foundation of his life principles.

And that rascal Luke. He could not believe someone had the audacity to say that to him, to flirt with him, especially for someone who had just known him for a few hours. Ethan felt his cheeks warming again, and he dug his nails deeper into his palm.

Cute. What a pile of codswallop. Percy called him that once and Ethan extended his night duties for two additional nights. Alabaster chuckled at him after hearing that and Ethan had told him to shut up. When he said that it was true, Ethan had told him to join Percy.

Sadly enough, these creatures were not a part of his crew. They should thank the gods.

They reached to the edge of the lake that was connected to the Cove. The water there was a deeper shade of blue, clustering moss of every colour decorated the walls that served as the gateway to the Cove. There was no more space for foothold, much to Ethan's dismay. He wondered how the lovers managed to meet each other at the cove hundreds of years ago.

'In case you're wondering, the lovers used to bathe together here every night they met.'

'Stop reading my mind.'

Luke looked at him as if he was crazy, before laughing his damn laugh.

 The Lovers' Cove, as insinuated by its name, was a place of lore, of a tale of two lovers. One was a man whose ship was stranded on the island, the other was a naiad whose spirit was bound to the waters of the Cove. The man, a merchant on his way to trade in faraway countries, had to wait for his ship to be repaired, a process that took ten days of their voyage.

The young man had been venturing further into the island, solely out of curiosity, when he discovered the lake. It was a beautiful place, and he saw the gods holding a grand feast by the bank, their celebration tended by magical creatures, nymphs and satyrs alike. It was an impressive sight, but what impressed him the most was the beautiful young naiad accompanying the goddesses, attending after them as they swam in the lake.

Even the goddesses paled in comparison to her astounding beauty.

They fell in love when the man helped her retrieve her stolen precious jewel. They sought for one another secretly at the Cove, meeting up for ten continuous nights, confessing their love and living in their desires. However, the man failed to show up on the eleventh night, having to continue his duties as a merchant and resuming his journey. The naiad was devastated. She wept for months until the water of the Cove turned murky and shallowed, left carelessly unattended.

The gods, having realised what had happened, were not pleased. Not only did the naiad associate herself with a human, such was a forbidden act, she also failed to carry out her duty as well. They transformed her into a spring of water in order to restore the Cove. Not entirely cruel, her spirit was kept in her jewel, hidden together within mounds of gold and silver in a protective enchantment, locked away from eyes of the unworthy, concealed away from men.

Ethan was about to change that. The gods were not exactly unified, and someone had carelessly (or purposely) dropped a map offering an impressive detail of information on how to retrieve the jewel, its value so great that it was beyond the prices of diamonds worn by Victorian queens.

The compass had led him, from years of being a servant boy, a sailor, up until he resorted to a life of piracy, to the map, and to this very moment.

 Luke had resurfaced from the water again, his arms spread, beckoning Ethan to get into the water. Again and almost immediately, he felt the urge to make a face. Most probably a glare. He couldn’t explain which part of Luke, from that almost-permanent smirk on his lips, or to the cocky eyebrows he’s sporting, or his brassy confidence, annoyed Ethan the most. He only knew that he had to resist, he had to show disinterest, because there was something inside him that was flaring, rapidly growing, something that he hadn’t felt for years.

And he could not let that happen.

Why? He would deny it with all his heart, but unfortunately, he was afraid.

But Luke’s arms, his sculpted strong arms, looked so welcoming. It seemed to be promising something, though Ethan couldn’t find the exact reason why. Even the Cove itself was not as such. Beyond it was a cavern half-submerged underwater, the exact location as to where the treasure was kept. Its darkened mouth was sealed shut, and Ethan found himself faltering.

‘The naiads wouldn’t let you pass this easily if it wasn’t for me, y’know.’

He just can’t shut up, can he?

Ethan jumped, trying to avoid Luke’s hold, trying to prove that no thanks, I can handle this on my own, when he lost his footing and found himself struggling to stay afloat again. Luke was there in less than a second, steadying him up, his arms finding their way around Ethan’s waist.

Not again. He managed to embarrass himself for the umpteenth time, and it was with that same creature over and over again.

For the better part, Luke did not comment. He looked at Ethan strangely, tilting his head yet again before looking like he decided against it. ‘It’ being something Ethan would never know, but he suspected something unpleasant. Probably some bunkums about how he, a pirate captain, was being foolish jumping around in waters he never knew about, or his considerately large ego. He felt his cheeks warming again; they often did lately, and it was not making things easier.

The waters surrounding the Cove were deathly silent. Not a nymph nor any creature was within its vicinity. It was probably a taboo for them; the naiad responsible was ultimately punished after all. In the middle of the cavern’s mouth was a single darkened spot, where drops of water drip down in regular intervals. As they approached, Ethan could make out a platform raised underwater, its top a rough version of a bowl, where the water, in a deep pearlescent shade, rippled in different colours.

This was described in the map down to the last detail. Ethan knew what he had to do.

Hand not quite letting go of Luke’s arms, he fumbled over the pocket of his pants and retrieved the treasure they had stolen from the city where the brigantine hailed from. The merchant was said to have died from a surviving Roman city, and his few last possessions were kept there over years. Until Ethan’s crew came.

‘You have it?’ Luke’s voice was one of wonder.

‘Yes, the reason why we were chased by the legion,’ he felt his throat tighten, ‘and why our ship crashed on the reef.’

The treasure was really not a treasure at all. It was just what Ethan liked to call it. It came with a fancy wooden box ornamented with gemstones, its bolt a fancy and utterly infuriating thing to be unlocked. When the crew discovered it, they had expected gold, or at least some precious stones, but none had expected a cooking utensil.

Well, not really. A silver knife with a piece of paper, its faded surface written in Latin words of, ‘to be paid with blood.’

The knife, now clutched tight in Ethan’s hand, was slowly unsheathed. For the littlest moment, he looked at Luke from the corner of his eye, his heartbeat pacing up as hesitance slowly returned. To his surprise and relief, Luke nodded. His arms around Ethan’s waist tightened. Hope seeped through him just from that little gesture.

He cut his finger. The blood traced a path of crimson as it trickled down Ethan’s palm and into the unlikely bowl below, casting another cloud of crimson slowly dissolving into the water. They both held their breath.

The world became red for a second. And then the cavern opened.

Luke met his eyes, and he nodded. Taking a deep breath, they began to dive. Though Luke had let Ethan go, there was always that hand on his lower back, comforting and reassuring. It was a bit anticlimactic when he thought about it. One moment they were bickering, and the next, Ethan could feel how Luke became a source of assurance.

Underneath the water was an impressive sight. Impossible spirals of sea corals grew in kaleidoscopic hues, tall kelps swayed in shades of green, while sea urchins and seashells scattered the bottom of the cove. The sunlight casted a multicolour glow, illuminating the cove in a brilliant radiance, the water soft and welcoming to their touch.

Ethan glanced to his side, and was greeted by a much brilliant sight.

Luke, as he had noticed, was in his element when he swam. His tail swished with considerable power against the current, blue scales gleaming under the filtered light of the sun. His hair was a halo of gold around his head, his eyebrows furrowed in focus as they dove under the mouth of the cavern, looking thoroughly rough yet magical all the same.

Looking thoroughly beautiful too. Something flipped in Ethan’s stomach.

They reached the surface and into the cave. As Ethan coughed out water, clean air blissfully filling his lungs in ragged breath, he took a look at the surroundings. The legend revealed itself before him. Under the soft glow of a mysterious light, mounds of silver and gold scattered from the walls of the cave up to the banks of the water. Precious gemstones, swords and spears made from valuable metals, chests upon chests of treasure, everything was a pirate’s dream.

In the middle of the cave flowed a spring of clear water, streaming down a path into the water of the lake down below. It was the naiad, or what was left of her. According to the map, the jewel would be placed in an array of small stones, in perpendicular to the spring. Residing in a small throne of its own.

Ethan saw no jewel.

‘Wait a minute.’

He climbed onto the bank into the mounds of gold. This was wrong. The treasure was there, the spring was there, even the array of stones was there, but he couldn’t see any signs of the jewel. The symbol of the naiad’s love, in which her spirit was embodied in its depths to lay in rest. The jewel, that was more valuable than any amount of gold or silver there.

The map couldn’t be lying, would it? Or could it be that someone had arrived before and claimed it?

Ethan was frustrated. Luke swam closer to the edge, a concerned look etched on his face. Ethan went over the whole cavern, kicking away emeralds and rubies, turning over bronze chests filled with precious silk, and found nothing. He remembered his crew, his crashed ship, everything that was in vain from his foolish treasure hunt, and he then remembered his mother, and her stupid compass, and everything that he sacrificed for.

His life was still not in balance. And when would it be? He was a pirate, a robber and a criminal wanted by countless organizations and entities. His ship was gone. Even this countless amount of gold, he couldn’t possibly carry it out all at once without his crew. His crew, now lost in the sea without their captain. Unknowingly trapped into this problem and laid to waste because of this fruitless mission. While he, forever trapped on this island, would also suffer the same fate.

The accursed compass felt heavy in his pocket. Could it be that this wasn’t the place that it had pointed all along? Or could it be that he was the one foolish enough to follow its rusted needle, and not creating a path of his own? Ethan felt like he was being weighed down by all the gold there, his chest heavy, his infuriation thickening. He sat down by the bank, and retrieved it from his pocket.

He clicked the compass open. It was still broken, its needle idle in a fixed direction.

He threw it into the water and cried.

‘Hey, Ethan, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s over. We’re getting out of here.’

‘But the jewel?’

‘It’s not here, Luke. Everything that I did, that I pursued for years, ends here,’ he let out a heavy sigh. ‘I give up.’

Luke put a hand on his lap, and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘There must have been another way –’

‘No. Luke, listen.’ He slapped the hand away. ‘There’s none, and I’ve been fooling myself into thinking that there is one all along. I swear to the gods that when I saw that map, I thought the jewel would change my life and give it balance. And this compass pointed into everything that coincided with the map and I was so sure that the jewel would be the answer I needed. And now it’s over. The gods must be laughing at me now.’

Luke was scowling. Ethan was a little surprised but he scowled back. Not that merman trying to prove that it wasn’t all for naught. Ethan had enough.

The merman, rudely enough, dove back into the water and splashed Ethan in the face. Great. Now that he was left alone, Ethan could wait until he die here. His bones would be a warning to other questers that this, all this, would be the end of their foolishness too.

That would be nice, if he thought about it.

Surprisingly enough, Luke emerged again from the water, and shoved his compass roughly into his lap. ‘You need to listen to me.’

Ethan stared at him.

‘You know what, damn the gods,’ Luke said. ‘You are your own person, and you are the one who will find yourself balance. Listen. If you think about the one who will change you, the answer would be yourself. Why would you trust the gods? They can’t even win any war without heroes helping them.

‘You don’t owe your mother anything. You’re capable of surviving just by yourself all these while and this compass was not even the one who decided for you. It was you who decided to follow it. It’s entirely your choice. Look at this, it’s not even –’ Luke abruptly stopped as he clicked the compass open. The upcoming words would be a mystery to Ethan and Luke would never talk about it afterwards.

Because both of them saw it.

‘… It’s pointing at me.’

‘It’s broken.’ Ethan was about to dismiss it when Luke shifted slightly to the left. The needle followed. He swam farther away to the right. The needle shifted all the same, exactly at the direction of Luke. The merman swam close to Ethan again, his lips parted in wonder. Ethan felt a flash of irritation. ‘It’s impossible.’

‘What are you afraid of?’

‘Gods. I am not afraid.’

Luke somehow was closer than before, his blue eyes unblinking and sure. Ethan found himself unmoving, enraptured by the merman’s physique, his chiselled face. His eyes found Luke’s lips yet again, and was dumbfounded of how enticing they were, wet and chapped from seawater. They moved as Luke said, ‘Don’t be.’

Their lips met in a soft kiss.

Ethan couldn’t find himself resisting, because suddenly, everything just clicked right. He desperately wanted to move away, but Luke’s hands, gently resting on his thighs, were like anchors, mooring him firmly to the ground.

It tilted his scale just right. It balanced.

When they broke apart, he found himself still breathless. Luke was still close, his eyes unblinking, staring into Ethan’s with an intensity like no other. Not even his enemies had the courage to hold his gaze this long. He felt his cheeks warming up again, his hands crawling up to cover his face.

‘No,’ Luke said in a daze and blinked owlishly, his hands holding off Ethan’s. ‘You look pretty when you blush.’

There was a sudden clink, and Ethan pushed Luke away, blushing madly and looking for the source of the noise. There was, thankfully, no one. Glancing at Luke, who was grinning brightly, he mumbled, ‘This is impossible.’

It was so half-hearted that the merman laughed. Ethan was about to shush him off and get up when Luke was right in front of him, his lips gracing a smile as he whispered, ‘It’s not. We have all the time in this world to know each other. And we have the time to fall in love too.’

Love was a strong word, but Ethan couldn’t find another one as a substitute.

‘But only if you wanted to, of course,’ Luke whispered again. He nudged Ethan’s nose with his own. The boy felt his stomach clench, his heart on the verge of bursting into a multitude of emotions. Every little gesture Luke did resulted in those series of reactions and Ethan couldn’t find himself to fathom it, nor to resist it.

There was a glimmer of light, momentarily disorienting them both. When he searched for the source of it, seemingly to be behind him, Ethan saw it.

The jewel, in the most beautiful shade of blue, was there. When it was not supposed to.

xxx

Luke had never felt this happy for such a long time.

His father abandoned him, his mother went thoroughly insane, and he was left to grow up parentless. The nymphs were good companies, but they were not really good mothers. He felt the thirst to have someone with him, and him alone, for a long time. Someone who would be the source of his happiness, like a mother does, someone who would share his laughter, like a father does. Someone he would do anything for, like a lover does. Someone he could wake up next to every day, someone for him to protect and cherish for the rest of his life.

Of course it was impossible for Ethan to even sleep with him underwater, but to protect and cherish him? Luke would gladly volunteer.

And there he was then, shivering in front of him, clothes half damp and half ruined, looking utterly beautiful. When Luke kissed him, he expected him to resist, to push him away. Not for him to be so docile and willing, with which Luke would be happy to comply. His lips were as soft as they looked, pleasant to the touch. Very cooperative too, in an almost eager way. Poor boy had probably never kissed anyone in his life.

Luke was about to kiss him again, kiss him senseless and breathless, when the jewel appeared.

What a rude show-stopper.

Ethan stood up, much to his dismay. He walked over to the spring, almost running until he stopped near the jewel. There was hesitance in his steps as he approached it, and for a second, he glanced at Luke. Luke waved his hand to continue, too tired to even argue. The pirate captain picked the jewel up, and it came off the array of stones with a clink.

The effect was immediate.

The spring stopped flowing. The lake darkened, its once clear water murky and clouded with filth. He could sense that the naiad’s rejuvenating life force slipping away as it was separated from the spring, now a pathetic trickle of water. The Cove was now reliving its legend; it slowly died again.

For a second, Luke was rendered motionless. He waited for what Ethan would do next, because the boy was a pirate after all. He could leave for all he care, the jewel was in his possession now, after all. What value would a tiny cove hold, against a jewel with the rejuvenating life force of a naiad? A gemstone more precious than gold? And what value do even Luke, a mere merman, hold against its powers?

The pirate was always one with hesitance. It drove Luke insane. But Ethan, to his relief, returned the jewel back on its place. The place returned to its normal state.

He returned to Luke, sighing heavily as if the presence of Luke enough was wearisome as it was. Luke found himself smirking as he tilted his eyebrows teasingly. His heart though, was thundering madly, so relieved that Ethan had chosen him over the jewel. Releasing his breath, Luke chuckled at Ethan’s scowling face as the pirate clicked the compass open again.

The needle still pointed at Luke. Unsurprisingly, this time. ‘I knew it. I’m stuck with you, that’s how terrible my luck is.’

‘Cut me some slack, will you?’ He closed the distance between them, and plant a kiss on the corner of Ethan’s lips.

‘If you’re going to be with me for the rest of our pathetic lives, at least kiss me properly.’ Gods bless him, this boy still had the nerve. Though Luke couldn’t really complain, could he? He stuck his tongue at Ethan before drawing the boy close with a pull of his waist, and kissed the pirate senseless.

As Ethan unravelled himself before him, Luke’s heart was a garden of contentment. He was happy that Ethan had found the balance to his life, and Luke was even happier that it was he himself too.

x Epilogue x

His crew, miraculously, stranded on the same island.

They had eyed him suspiciously when they found their captain with a merman, lazing around under the warmth of the sun. Ethan tried to remove Luke’s head lying on his lap, desperately trying to remove himself off this embarrassing situation, and failing tragically. Because naturally, Luke wound his arms around Ethan’s waist and wouldn’t let go.

Percy was the one to burst out laughing. ‘Our captain is so…’

‘So what, Jackson?’

Percy hid behind Piper, whose kaleidoscopic eyes were still wide with wonder.

‘Adorable.’ Luke’s voice was muffled. Ethan hit his head, smirking as he heard another muffled ‘Ow!’ He could see his crew bonding with Luke already. Another addition to his crew of misfits. So much for being the balance of his life.

The compass, its needle a permanent direction, was still in his pocket. Ethan couldn’t say it was broken, after all.

Because his heart was the compass, and it would always point to him.

End.

[percyinpanties]

tiny sneak peak of my @rarepairproject fic.

[rarepairproject-blog]

THANK YOU!

Now, the project is over and we want to thank all the artists, writers and editors, ... who participated in our project! It’s been fun to organize and we sure learned a lot for the next time!

Give us some feedback!

Tell us what you liked, what didn’t work out and what you think we could have done better! We’ve already noticed a few things that didn’t quite wor out as we hoped, but it’s going to be better next time!

We don’t want to let go of this idea yet, but we will take some time to figure out how we might be able to keep going. Look out for us, keep an eye on the tag and we hope at some point we might work together again!