Summary: Crowley wears a new outfit and Aziraphale definitely isn’t impressed. Not at all.
Excerpt:
“Did you come up with those? Making people pay for things that are already ruined?” Aziraphale gestured to the ripped jeans.
“Of course not. Besides, your side came up with the slanket, you can’t point fingers.”
Tags: Silly, walk walk, fashion baby, drabble
Notes: Super short and only vaguely shippy
Aziraphale looked up as his best friend the demon slinked into the bookshop. “What happened to your trousers? Are you all right?”
Crowley looked down. “Nothing happened to them. They look just like when I left the house this morning.”
“They’re all ripped!”
“Oh, that.” He swaggered past the other man, into the shop. “They’re meant to be.”
“They’re...How can they be meant to be? They’re broken.”
The demon splayed his arms out and turned in his snakeskin boots. “Some things are made to be broken.” It didn’t come out quite as casually as he’d have liked and he moved on. “Besides, they’re in fashion.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If you’ve ever heard of it.”
“Crowley, I happen to like this coat. If I find something I like, I treasure it, you know that.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The demon lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t hurt you to buy a new jacket once in a century or so.”
“Did you come up with those? Making people pay for things that are already ruined?”
“Of course not. Besides, your side came up with the slanket, you can’t point fingers.”
Aziraphale sniffed. “The slanket happens to be an incredibly comfortable, practical and considerate gift to humanity.”
“Oh, get off it. You know just as well as I do it’s a contraception device and a trap to keep people indoors instead of out with, what is it, undesirable influences?”
“That’s...that is, most definitely not, it’s…” The angel pulled his vest down with an air of affront. “What are you doing here, anyway? Besides flaunting those...atrocities in public?” He waved a hand in the direction of the ripped jeans.
The demon hooked his fingers through the belt loops and weighed back on his feet. “Must I want something to come by?”
“You usually do.”
“Well, I don’t. I was in the neighbourhood. Though now I might take my offended jeans and walk out.”
The angel sighed. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I...They surprised me, that is all.”
“Can’t all be as snappy a dresser as you, angel. In fact, I specifically asked for an ensemble all in beige corduroy but apparently you’d bought it all up.”
“Oh, shush.”
Pleased with the annoyed reaction, Crowley fell back on the dumpy couch, long legs over the arm. “But now that I’m here...Drink?”
A snapshot of the A.Z. Fell & Co Bookshop, 365 Days Since The Apocawasn't:
Afternoon sunlight slants into the room through dusty window panes. It highlights the dust motes dancing in the air before spilling over books, books and more books. The shelves are crammed, the old fashioned table displays are covered. Footstools, chairs, writing desks, every piece of furniture has books on it. Some are piled precariously, some in tidy stacks. It looks like someone has spent hundreds of years reading in this room, picking up and putting down the tomes at whim. It gives the impression of cozy, homey, cluttered chaos.
Deeper into the store, there is a small desk. Antique, with several small drawers and a comfortable chair in front. The polished wood shows the deep glow and patina of a piece of well loved furniture. On the desk more books are collected, as well as several heavy ledgers of accounts. In a crystal bowl on the top shelf containing bits and pieces, rests a key, the keyring of which is a stylized “B”. The metal is worn smooth from travelling for close to a century in a pocket. Looking out the window above the desk, you can easily spot the door which the key opens, the sleek 1929 Bentley glinting in the sun like onyx.
Behind the desk a small drinks trolley is crammed in. It once stood in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s sitting room, supplying the mixers to make sidecars and gin martinis. Now it has a collection of books at one end, some early Victorian tumblers and a two-thirds full bottle of Talisker 10 on it. The ice bucket holds a set of ebony and ivory chess pieces. The board is leaning against the shelf behind the cart, ready to be taken out and placed for a game. On the bottom shelf are a collection of old maps, rolled up and several dusty bottles of Chateauneuf du Pape
The gramophone is old enough to have a custom made stand, a large gilt pavilion spreading the sound with an endearing crackle. A record is spinning slowly, having come to an end but it’s easy to read the letters in the centre, revolving gently. Q-U-E-E-N. The record’s cover is piled with its neighbours on the shelf underneath. The most recently played ones have yet to be placed back tidily and Into the Woods, A Night at the Opera, The Best Of Righteous Brothers and My Generation lie awaiting to be played again.
Around a low coffee table, two armchairs and a couch are grouped. They’re faded red velvet and wonderfully well broken in, moulded just right to a human body. The sofa has a worn patch on one of the armrests where someone has been prone to rest. A black jacket, the back of the collar a much brighter red than the couch, is tossed over the sofa’s back. It looks like the owner has dropped it, distracted by other things, to carelessly leave it where it has fallen.
Under one of the armchairs sit a pair of extremely worn tweed slippers. They’re the kind of worn that speaks of love, enduring and true. They sit, sagged, waiting patiently for the next time they’ll be put on, providing comfort like a hug, the touch of a hand, a complicit smile. It is warmth and it is welcome to slip one’s feet into slippers like those.
On the coffee table itself sits a dainty tea set, two empty cups balanced on a silver tray. An open biscuit tin echoes the tartan pattern of the slippers. Next to the tray lie a pair of sunglasses, one of the temples bent. Someone has sat on them.
In the very back of the shop is an old, sturdy staircase. The newel post has a light blue scrap of fabric hanging around it. On closer inspection, it’s a bow tie, undone to hang forgotten for the moment over the age-darkened wood. At the top of the stairs is the door leading to the apartment above the shop. The door itself has a brass sign spelling “A.Z. Fell and Co.” Someone has taped over the Co, scrawled with marker on top, to instead spell:
Pairing: Red Cricket and tiny bit of Rumbelle, mentions of Swanfire
Rating: Not for kiddies. Mentions of violence and darker themes.
Plot: Cop!Archie and FBI Agent!Ruby AU. When Special Agent Ruby Lucas is assigned to lead a taskforce to assist the Boston Police Department she is not immediately impressed with her new partner, Detective Archie Hopper. But first impressions can be misleading and sometimes opposites can be the best match.
A week after her birthday, Ruby was walking down the hall on her way to the bull pen in Homicide when someone called her name.
“Agent Lucas!” Spinning on her heel, Ruby almost wished she hadn’t when she found herself facing Belle Gold. The petite woman looked even smaller than she had in her big house standing inside the police station. Her hair was matted and pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and she was hugging a worn cardigan around her. None of this could make her ugly but Ruby found it hard to look in the face of the naked despair emanating around her like miasma.
Desperately she looked around for Archie, he was better at this than her. But the cop was nowhere to be seen and she clasped her hands behind her back and swallowed.
“Mrs Gold.”
The other woman stepped closer, her movements jerky and slow like she was a puppet, the strings clasped in the hands of a child.
“Agent Lucas, are there any…Have there been any…?”
Shaking her head Ruby bent it unintentionally in shame.
“We’re following several leads at the moment.” She hated that she wasn’t allowed to speak freely to the devastated mother. Ruby didn’t have any children but she couldn’t imagine anything worse than losing your child, of not knowing if they were safe. Of having strangers looking for him.
“But have you…Have you eliminated any since…since…” Mrs. Gold’s voice hitched and imagining what Archie would do, Ruby squashed the panic rising in her throat like bile.
“Mrs. Gold. Belle.” She leaned forward, gently grasped her arms. They were thin and frail like bird wings under her hands. Closer in height now she met the pale blue eyes fringed by tear-heavy lashes. Refusing to look away she made her voice as gentle as she’d heard his get.
“We are doing everything we can. I am not going to give up until we find Bae. I promise.”
A little of the tension left the other woman’s shoulders under her hands.
“I know. I know you are. I just…I walk around at home, expecting him to just burst in. To look at the clock and know it’s time for his snack and hear his steps on the porch. His voice, calling me. It drives me crazy, I can’t be there surrounded by those four walls when he…when he isn’t. I have to do something. Anything.”
“Belle!” The voice was filled with relief and Ruby looked up to see a worried Mr. Gold come down the hall. It seemed Mrs. Gold had given her husband the slip to come over.
Reaching them, Ruby stepped back as he wrapped an arm around his wife’s narrow shoulders, pulling her towards him.
“I…I found a picture for…for the posters. They said you’re putting up…missing ads.”
She held out a worn picture, having clearly held it for hours from the creases and the rolled corners. Taking it Ruby had to gently tug it free of her grasp.
“Thank you. I’ll give it to the printers. This will help a great deal.”
Tearing herself from the couple she nodded in farewell and headed down the corridor. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Mrs. Gold turn towards her husband, her small frame shaking with sobs. He wrapped her in his arms, his eyes lost. Lost for what to do, how to help, how to be there for her and for his son.
o.O.o
Archie didn’t find Ruby until late that evening. He’d looked practically everywhere before he poked his head into a rarely used stationary supply closet. A metal shelf held bales of paper and post its, boxes of pens and staples and some tired party decorations someone had stashed in there after an office party sometime. Boxes of old case files with no other space handy towered along the walls. A lone light didn’t quite brighten the small room.
And in the corner behind the shelf, her back to the wall sat Ruby. Her legs were pulled up, her arms around them and her head bent. Closing the door behind him he entered, kneeling in front of her.
“Ruby.”
She looked up sharply and his heart twisted painfully when he saw she had been crying.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Ruby looked away, her normal steel armor under her skin rent to shreds. Shaking her head in disbelief as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, she whispered,
“I never cry. Not anymore. It’s no use. And still, here I am, crying.”
“Sometimes it helps.”
“Helps who? Bae Gold? He’s the only one I want to help and I sure as hell don’t think he gives a damn whether the lead agent on the case cries over him or not.”
“I’m sure he would rather have someone who cares about him look for him.”
“I’m not meant to care. It makes me less objective. It harms the case.”
“I don’t think so. I think it makes you work harder.”
She let out a humorless laugh. Leaning her head against the wall behind her she looked up at the ceiling.
“I don’t know what more I can do. We’re working hard but we’re not getting anywhere, Archie. We’re down to trusting in the public, putting up fliers and monitoring the tip line. This is the point where cases get shut down and today I had to look Belle Gold in the eye and tell her I wouldn’t give up until Bae is home.”
Archie leaned forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“You won’t. You won’t and I won’t. If they shut down this investigation we will keep looking for him, and the others. Ruby, I swear to you I will not let this case go. Not until we know where they are.”
Sighing, she picked up the picture of Bae that had fallen to the floor. A smiling little face with pearly milk teeth, a mop of unruly dark locks and a pair of laughing brown eyes met hers. An image of those eyes dull and flat, of the soft skin bruised and pale flashed in her mind and her throat squeezed shut as fresh sobs broke through her.
Archie hesitated for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. Stiffening in surprise Ruby waited for the cold distaste at being touched but nothing happened. Leaning her forehead on his shoulder she took the comfort he offered as the tears wrung her insides like a vice.
o.O.o
In a way Ruby supposed Archie was right. Crying did make you feel better. The hot ball of fury and desperation had cooled some, lay smoking under her skin instead of burning her stomach. In another he was wrong. Her eyes felt dry and sensitive, her throat hurt and her head throbbed. She’d dug out a rarely used concealer that morning to battle the dark circles under her eyes. Hoping it would act as a shield, she opened the door to the Tank, unconsciously straightening under the cool gazes of her superiors. Archie entered behind her and quietly shut the door.
“Agent Lucas. Detective Hopper. Thank you for joining us.” Knowing they’d get to it when they pleased, Ruby nodded.
It took them, like it took all bureaucrats, several minutes to get to the point. When she realized why they were there, her head started buzzing. Resource allocation, incentive planning and budget strategization meant little to her and washed over her in a low pitched drone. Then she got it. It took them painstaking circles to get there but they were telling them the resources were being cut on the case. The task force would be halved, its budget slashed.
The media had begun calming down, not splashing headlines and columns full of The Lost Boys and Pan anymore. It meant the higher ups could let go, could free up more of the budget for whatever reason bureaucrats were always so concerned with freeing up the budget instead of using it.
It meant nine boys were a short step away from being considered a loss. If that happened, if the case was closed and shelved, they’d stop being The Lost Boys. They’d be the boys who were lost. Their lives taken for granted and the case scratched up to a deduction for the department somewhere. Boxes of files would be taken down to cold case storage and gather dust.
Her superiors didn’t care but she would have to look a parent in the eye and tell them that due to “budget insufficiencies” the investigation was being limited, resources and officers shifted away from it. She knew the manual for telling victim’s families, knew what empty words to offer and what words to use. But she had made a promise, not just a promise to herself that she would find these boys, or to their parents, but she had promised them. She had thought of each of them in turn and sworn she would find them and return them to their families.
Next to her Archie was standing, his shoulders tense and his hands curled to fists at his sides.
“We are still making progress, there are still several leads that-”
“There hasn’t been an abduction since Bae Gold in September. Our profilers think he’s reached the climax and won’t harm anyone else.”
“They think Pan is a serial killer?” Archie’s voice was incredulous. “There is no evidence to support he is abducting these boys to kill them.”
“There is no evidence to support he’s not, Detective.”
“We’d have found bodies,” Ruby added. “If he was...killing them.”
“There is no such guarantee.”
“There are no guarantees! That’s why we’re not giving up on these boys. If...If Pan is killing them then the families deserve closure at least.”
“We feel for the families, of course we do, but we have to listen to our internal experts and they believe Pan has finished what he considers his task and has gone underground. It’s pointless to keep a full investigation going.”
“There are several lines of enquiry that-”
“Detective, this is not a hearing. The decision has been made.”
The suited men stood and began tapping papers together into neat piles, depositing them into neat briefcases. Ruby could only stand and watch, helplessly feeling the boys slipping further from her reach. Like they were on the other side of a ravine, with her reaching as far as she could over the edge and she’d almost gotten there, but now the gap was widening, her flailing uselessly in the face of the outside elements.
Archie took a step to the side so he was in front of the door. With his mild manners and soft voice it didn’t seem like a threat but the suits stopped.
“Sir, do you have children?”
“That’s really not-”
“Do you?” Archie’s voice was insistent.
“Yes,” the stuffed shirt responded gruffly. “Two of them.”
“Then you know. You can imagine what these parents feel. What it’s like when your child is missing and you’re relying on people you don’t know to find them. I know you don’t want to do this. Give us a little longer. We still need the manpower to follow some of the leads.”
Ruby didn’t know how Archie had found the right words, or even how he’d known which one of the confusingly similar suits to appeal to but the stiff man finally nodded, once.
“Two weeks. That’s all I can give you with full resources. Then it’s not up to me anymore.”
“Thank you.” Archie stepped aside and together they watched the suits march down the corridor.
“I thought you were more of a carrots than whip guy, Detective Hopper?”
“I like to think I can dangle the carrot from a whip.”
“Well, you dangled that carrot fantastically. Now we just need to find something in the next two weeks.” She put her hands to her hips. What could they do that they hadn’t already done?
“Hey.” He put a hand on her arm, the warmth of it comforting. “We’ll find something. I know it.”
He’d been right before. She could only hope he would be right again.
Thanks to everyone who has shown this story so much love recently, it’s been super inspiring to see you’re enjoying! In recognition, here’s chapter six! If you need to catch up, start from the beginning here
Title: Partners
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Pairing: Red Cricket and tiny bit of Rumbelle, mentions of Swanfire, Snowing and Mad Whale.
Rating: Not for kiddies. Mentions of violence and darker themes.
Plot: Cop!Archie and FBI Agent!Ruby AU. When Special Agent Ruby Lucas is assigned to lead a taskforce to assist the Boston Police Department she is not immediately impressed with her new partner, Detective Archie Hopper. But first impressions can be misleading and sometimes opposites can be the best match.
As the next week passed, Archie would find that more and more evenings, Ruby would come to his place after work. Though she hadn’t said, he got the impression she disliked her hotel room. He found he didn’t mind having her around. She had an innate feeling for how to put him at ease and he couldn’t deny it was nice to have another person around. Pongo enjoyed it as well, finding a new friend in Ruby. So most days they when they finished, they’d go to his place, cook together or order in. Sometimes they read, the agent taking advantage of his well-stocked bookshelf, or watch a movie. She’d introduced him to Netflix and they’d spent a few evenings bingeing on a whole season of some show or other.
He learned a bit more about her, finding out she adored Thai food, liked historical novels and preferred horror movies. Her i-Pod collection contained a lot of names he didn’t know but found he mostly didn’t mind. When she was off duty she liked to pull her hair into a messy ponytail and lounge around in her sweats. And she didn’t snore. The first time she’d stayed over they had been going over the case until late and she had fallen asleep on the couch. He hadn’t had the heart to wake her, knowing full well how little she already slept, so he’d put a blanket over her and let her stay. Now she’d remain a few times a week, cuddling with Pongo who was delighted to have someone allowing him to sleep on their bed.
The proximity, day and night, at work and at home, made them comfortable with each other, growing close at a pace Archie had never experienced before. He was normally slow to trust, a result of his fractured childhood, but the link to Ruby had been as quickly forged as it seemed unbreakable. It surprised him, and it surprised him it didn’t bother him more. They had to be naturally suited to be partners.
It was a Saturday, one they had decided to not go into the office for, and rain was drizzling outside, pattering against the window. Ruby was wearing a big woolly jumper, leggings and thick socks, a cup of tea in her hands and a case file open on her lap.
Working on his laptop across from her, he was contemplating a break. They could re-heat some of the food from last night, maybe read something fun for a while after. Rest their brains.
Then Ruby put the file aside, stood. With her tea cup in her hands, she looked out the window for a minute, turned away. Paced, then returned to the window. Sensing there was something she wanted to say, he just waited.
“You’ve never asked why...Why I am the way I am.”
“What way do you mean?”
“Don’t play ignorant. I know people find me...cold. Distant.”
“I don’t think you’re cold, Ruby.”
“No?” She gave a mirthless laugh.
“No. I think you’re reserved. I think you…” he weighed his words carefully. “I think you were hurt and you’re trying not to be again.”
She smiled humorlessly and looked out the window. “Almost. I hurt someone. And I’m trying not to do it again.”
“How do you mean?”
She edged to sit on the windowseat, her knee bent and almost touching her chin.
“I...I was in the Army, I don’t know if you know.”
He nodded. “It was in your file.”
“Right.” She looked away and sipped her tea. “I did two tours. There was...I don’t know, I don’t think you can explain what it was like.”
He didn’t interrupt or prod and she relaxed a little.
“In my platoon there was a man...A man I cared for. A man I...loved. Peter.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “It was against regs, he was under my command but we...we didn’t care. It was love at first sight. Nothing else mattered.”
Archie shifted in his seat, wanting to reach out to comfort her. But he knew there was nothing he could say. He could hear in her voice Peter wasn’t in the world anymore.
“He..died. He died because of me.”
She looked out the window again and knowing she wouldn’t be comfortable with him getting closer, Archie tried to stifle the impulse to hold her in his arms.
“It was my fault.” She drew a deep breath. “We had orders. We were in enemy territory and we had clear instructions. Peter did everything he should. But I...I saw a child. A little girl. She was just standing there and I couldn’t help it. I went to save her. I put the whole squad in danger. Risked our hold in the region. Peter, he...he covered me when he saw it and because of it he was caught in the the crossfire. He was just 23.”
Seconds ticked by and Archie waited for Ruby to come back from the memories that had taken her. In a few minutes she looked at him for the first time since she started the story, her eyes glittering and the gaze tortured by guilt.
“Do you think I’m a monster? Do you think I killed the man I loved?”
“No.” Archie stood, walked over to kneel in front of her where she could see him clearly. “No,” he repeated.
“I killed someone.”
Gently he put his hands on her arms. “Ruby, you saved someone. Whoever shot Peter is his killer, not you. You put a little girl first and it’s how it should be.”
“Not for a soldier.”
“Then maybe for a minute you were human first.”
She brushed her hands over her eyes, smudging tear tracks of salt and kohl.
“I just miss him so much, Archie.”
“You’re allowed to, Ruby. You’re allowed to feel.”
Tears fell from her eyes unhindered and Archie didn’t hesitate to wrap her in his arms for a hug. She sank against him until they sat on the floor, rocking her gently. He didn’t know for how long they sat, with him holding her, just stroking his hand over her back, her hair, mumbling gently. But slowly her sobs subsided and faded into shaky sighs. He loosened his hold and she wiped tears from her cheeks.
“I’m...sorry about that. I don’t know what got into me.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ruby.”
“I’ve cried more since I met you than I have in the last five years.”
“I’m glad.”
“You’re glad?” She blinked.
“Wait, that’s not what I…” Colour crept up his cheeks. “I meant, I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me, Ruby. It’s...I’m happy we’re friends, is what I’m trying to say.”
She relaxed and a small smile shone through the tears like the sun peeking through mist.
“Me too.”
o.O.o
When Emma had heard his evenings now included Ruby, she’d not wanted to take no for an answer until he brought her. Knowing full well his previous partner wouldn’t give in until he took her around, he’d caved easily. Arguing with Emma was like beating your head against a wall anyway.
So he promised to ask Ruby.
Predictably, she wasn’t thrilled with the idea.
“Dinner? With your old partner?”
“Yes, and her husband.”
“But why?” She asked as she sorted through files on her desk.
“Ah…” He didn’t think the fact that Emma wanting to scope her out was an acceptable excuse to anyone but her. So he rephrased. “She’s curious about you.”
“Curious?”
“Yes. Emma’s my best friend. She’s curious about you since we’re friends too.”
Ruby gave him a long unimpressed look that showed exactly how far she believed him.
“Very well. I’ll go, since she’s so interested. But please don’t make me small talk.”
Archie chuckled. “Oh, I promise. Emma detests small talk.”
“Small blessings.”
Now they were standing outside the house and Ruby was quite obviously counting exits, windows and streets leading away. Knowing it helped her with her nerves to rely on her training, he didn’t say anything but rung the doorbell.
o.O.o
The door was opened by a boy of about eight, with straight brown hair, serious eyes and a missing front tooth.
“Hi Archie!” He hugged the detective and smiled so the gap in his teeth winked. “Who are you?” He directed at her.
“I’m Ruby Lucas.”
“Ruby’s my new partn...temporary partner. She’s with the FBI.”
“No way!” The boy was all enthusiasm. “Can I see your badge?”
“Ah...sure.” She took it from her belt and flipped it open.
“Cool! Do you have your gun with you?”
“Henry,” Archie chided softly. “Ruby didn’t bring her gun to dinner.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s fine, we’ve got Mom’s anyway.”
Ruby stifled a chuckle and followed the boy inside. Hanging up her coat, a blonde woman she recognised as Emma Swan came into the hall. They’d met before so Ruby summoned a dutiful smile.
“Did you ask who it was before you opened the door?” Emma directed at her son, putting a hand to his shoulder.
“No. Did you invite some murderers to dinner with us?” The boy grinned and ducked under her hand.
The blonde chuckled and shook her head before directing her attention to the two arrivals.
“Archie. Ruby. Welcome, come on in.”
Ruby had no problem hearing the warmth in Emma’s voice when she said Archie’s name and the cool reserve then she said hers. The two of them are friends, she reminded herself. It was completely normal she was a bit suspicious of Ruby, especially since she was Archie’s partner now. Temporary partner, she reminded herself.
“Thank you. Here, for you,” she handed Emma a bottle of wine. “I wasn’t sure what you like but hopefully it’s okay.”
“Oh, thanks. I’m sure it’ll be great. Come on in and meet everybody.”
“Everybody?” Ruby hissed under her breath as she and Archie followed Emma into the next room.
Archie shrugged in reply and Ruby made a mental note to get him back. She should have expected a friend ambush. It had have been too long since she spent any time with friends if she’d forgotten anyone possibly becoming part of the group had to be put through a trial period.
They entered a kitchen-living room, the kitchen part to the left with a dining area behind it. To the right was a homey living room and den. Decorated in bright colours it was warm and welcoming.
“Everyone, this is Ruby, Archie’s new partner,” Emma said and the people in the room fell silent.
Emma turned to Ruby, pointing the guests out in turn. “In the back there is my son Henry who probably didn’t introduce himself because we’re really behind on his manner classes. August, Marco’s son and Grace, Jefferson and Percy’s daughter.”
The children waved in between laughs and whooping at some videogame they were playing on mute in the den.
“There’s Marco, he’s Archie’s first partner, he’s retired now,” she nodded to the older man. “And over there is David Nolan, the captain of the force, currently my partner, and his wife Mary Margaret. She’s a primary school teacher. Next to them is Jefferson Madden, he’s in Vice, and his husband, Percy Whale, one of our MEs. Slaving away in the kitchen there is my house boy, Neal Cassidy.” They all greeted her in turn as Emma spoke their names and Ruby felt like the new kid in class.
“Now that I’ve told you all the names, can I get you a drink so you forget them?”
“Please.”
Ruby had been prepared to have a bad time, had told herself it was just one night of her life. She could manage. To her surprise, she didn’t have a bad time. The people Archie surrounded himself with were funny and warm, all interested in her and how she was finding her time in Boston. She found Emma’s husband funny and relaxed, liking his easy going attitude and cheeky grin. The ME, Percy Whale, was intelligent and sharp, with a biting sense of humour that had her laughing out loud more than once. The children were all outgoing and friendly and she thought she scored some points with Emma by sitting down and thrashing her only son in Halo.
The second thing she noticed, after realizing she was enjoying herself, was that all the couples were so...together. From the dinner conversation she’d found out all of them had been together for a good number of years and still, she saw all of them being so...joined. Not that they were excessively lovey dovey, but they all had something intangible between them that declared they were joined. It was in Jefferson Madden’s eyes when he looked at the doctor, in the way Neal smiled when he listened to Emma, in the way the Captain leaned closer to Mary Margaret to mumble something to her. It put a little prick of regret in her stomach, showed her something that had been missing from her life a long time. An empty space that sought to be filled and held.
Archie’s hand was suddenly over hers on the table, catching her attention. Meeting his eyes, seeing them twinkle with warmth, she forgot about the feeling.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she automatically responded. She held his eyes for a little longer and knew it to be the truth. She was okay. “Yes, I am.”
From the title you can see when it was meant to be posted but I figure better late than never! A little Mad Whale one-shot. Lightly angsty but ending with tooth-rotting, cavity-inducing fluff. Rated teens and over. Features a same sex romance - don’t want, don’t read.
Hope you like it!
Percy Whale sat back, his glasses perched on his nose, a new thriller open on his lap and a glass of rich red wine at the side table next to him. His phone was off and he’d bargained with himself that he wouldn’t check his emails for at least two hours. The evening was his.
As head surgeon for the Grimm Memorial Hospital he rarely had any free time at all. When he wasn’t on shift, he was preparing to be or spent time doing research and external consultations. Today was a freak occurrence but one he had decided to make the most of.
Settled in he dove into the story with a content sigh. He’d only gotten past the first two pages and the description of a grisly murder when the bell rang. He considered letting it ring. He wasn’t expecting anyone. But it could be a delivery, out of state hospitals sometimes couriered him medical charts when they needed help. So he got up, marked the page and opened the door.
There was no one outside. Or so he thought until he looked down. At about thigh height, a ghost, Spiderman, an astronaut and a fairy chorused “Trick or treat!” With a sinking feeling in his stomach he realised today was October 31st. Halloween.
“Oh. Right.” He pictured his empty cupboards, never stocked as he spent so little time at home. “Erm...One second.” Venturing inside he rifled through his kitchen. When he returned he held out a bag of carrot sticks he’d found hiding in the fridge.
“Here you go, take as many as you want.”
The fairy turned on her heel, the ghost took a step back, Spiderman said “n’thanks” behind his mask but the astronaut plucked a stick from the bag and bit it.
“Eww, it’s actually carrots!” Then they all filed off the porch. To his dismay, Percy spotted more little costumed people crowding on the street. He slammed the door shut and wondered if he should turn off the lights and pretend he wasn’t home. Then again, he didn’t know how seriously the children took the “trick” part of the evening and he really didn’t want to have anything unpleasant put in his mailbox or clean toilet paper from his yard. So he sighed and left the lights on.
This time he only managed on page before the bell rang again.
Heaving himself up, he grabbed the bag of carrots and opened the door. Pretty much the same scene played out again, this time to Buzz Lightyear, Dracula and what could be mini Hilary Clinton.
Over and over, the door buzzed and carrot sticks were frowned upon. He only got a few more pages in his book and he was getting mightily annoyed with his evening getting interrupted. How late could these children be allowed out of bed, anyway?
The doorbell rung once more and he put the book down with more force than necessary. After this one he’d turn the lights off and go to bed. He might as well use the extra time to sleep if he couldn’t spend it reading.
Opening the door he found a pretty little blonde girl dressed as a jedi on his porch.
“Trick or treat!”
“Right, I know it’s Halloween and I know you’re expecting candy, but see I didn’t go to the store so all I have are carrot sticks. Do you want one or are you going to stomp off?”
“Can I have one, please? I love carrots.”
He blinked and frowned. “Ah...okay. Here,” he handed her the whole bag and she grabbed a handful before handing it back. “That’s all right, you keep that.”
“The whole thing?” Her eyes were wide.
“Sure.”
“Thanks!” She propped a stick in her mouth and munched. “Mister, do you think you could tie my shoe? It’s loose and I don’t know how too.”
This was very far from the evening he’d pictured but amused with the straightforward kid, he sank to sit on his knees.
“Okay, foot here,” he patted his knee and obediently she put a moderately clean tennis shoe on his jeans. Tying it quickly he heard steps on the porch, too heavy to be a child and figured the chaperone was coming to check on the little jedi to see what was taking so long. Wise, the thought to himself. There were all kinds of weirdos out there.
“Daddy, I got a whole bag of carrots!” The girl announced.
“Good haul. Will there be any left for me?”
Percy snapped his head up from the little tennis shoe. He’d know that voice anywhere. He hadn’t heard it in fifteen years or so but he knew it immediately.
When he looked up he met the eyes that peered down, past the little girl’s shoulder and down at him.
“Percy?” The word was drenched in disbelief.
“Jefferson.” He set the little foot down and got up.
“You know the mister, Daddy?”
“I used to.”
“A long time ago?”
“Yeah, a long time ago.”
Though he was speaking to his daughter, Jefferson’s eyes hadn’t left his since he spotted him.
It had been a long time.
He’d changed, grown taller and broader over the shoulders. Lean muscles covered in jeans and a black overcoat. His hair was windblown and his face chiselled in the weak porchlight. A dart of unbridled lust shot through Percy and he swallowed. So the man had changed but the reaction was the same as always.
Percy crossed his arms over his chest. “So...how are...things?” It was a lame question, forced out of him from politeness.
“Fine. And you?”
“Likewise.” The cold of standing on the porch with just his sweater and jeans was getting to him. Or perhaps it was the Ghost of Halloweens Past. “Did you bring your wife for the trick-or-treating?”
Jefferson shook his head.
“Daddy’s dee-vor-ced,” the girl helpfully piped up from between them.
“Oh.” He shifted, let his arms drop. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be.” Jefferson’s grin was as mercurial as it had been all those years ago and something in the vicinity of his chest cavity contracted.
“Right. Well…” He looked back over his shoulder, into the house.
Jefferson stiffened slightly. “Are we keeping you from your company?”
“No, no. I’m just reading tonight.”
“I see.” He put a hand to the little girl’s shoulder. “Well, we should be off. It was...nice to see you.”
“You too. And you,” he directed to the mini jedi.
“Bye!” she called and marched down the steps from his porch. Jefferson lingered a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then decided against it and with a nod he followed his daughter.
Percy closed the door behind them and leaned his forehead against the wood. Jefferson Madden. After all these years. He had no idea he was living in Boston. No idea he had a daughter, that he was divorced.
Because you didn’t want to know, he reminded himself. Though Jefferson would sometimes appear in the papers he always made sure to skip those parts. He hadn’t looked him up online or asked any of their common acquaintances about him. All to avoid hearing anything that would call him to mind or see any part of him that would make the old picture in his head come more alive. The way he saw him in his memories was sketchy, like a stop motion movie reel. It ran, interrupted, parts missing and out of focus. But it still ran. It always had. Ever since the summer when they’d both been sixteen and he’d been hired to tutor the young heir of one of the world’s biggest business conglomerates. It wouldn’t do for him to get kicked out of school and as a desperate measure a tutor Jefferson’s age had been brought in. Percy.
He remembered seeing the other boy for the first time, trudging down the stairs in the largest house he’d ever been in. Bark brown hair that waved around his face, a defined jaw and eyes the colour of steel. His heart had started hammering in his chest, his palms had grown clammy and his throat felt slammed shut. He’d never experienced anything like it before. A door had been inched open to something new and profound was on the other side.
The doorbell rung again and he jerked free from the reverie. Not more trick-or-treaters. Why hadn’t he turned off the lights and headed upstairs already? Unable to escape as the people on the other side would be able to see his shape through the window in the door, he opened it.
Jefferson, carrying his daughter and wearing a sheepish expression stood outside.
“You’re back,” Percy stated dumbly.
“We are...I just discovered I’ve lost my keys and my wallet. I called the locksmith and he says the earliest they can be there is tomorrow morning...I don’t suppose we could…” He looked away for a moment. “I wouldn’t, except we just moved back and I don’t really have anywhere to...to go.”
Realizing Jefferson was asking if he could stay, everything in Percy recoiled. He’d been hurt enough by this man and he should just slam the door in his face. But he was carrying his sleeping daughter, and he looked harmless wearing that sheepish expression.
“Fine.” Percy stepped back to let them in. “She can take the guest bedroom upstairs and you can have the couch.”
“Oh, I’ll share with Grace. She doesn’t take up much room and she’ll be frightened if she wakes up alone.”
Damn the man. Percy had no wish to share the upper floor with Jefferson, he’d much prefer it if he slept downstairs, as far away as he could get.
“Very well. It’s the third door on the right upstairs.”
“Thank you,” Jefferson said and edged past him, careful not to hit the doorframe. He disappeared up the steps and Percy headed into the kitchen to refill his wine glass. Then he downed it and poured another. His nerves, vibrating in his stomach, felt a little less twisted, as if coated in oil and he distracted himself with taking out another glass.
He heard the other man walk around upstairs, and it put tension in his spine. For a moment he considered sending an SOS text to Ruby to have her come over and distract him from Jefferson. But his best friend was out with Archie and their children trick-or-treating. It wouldn’t be fair to pull her away with a friendship code red. He’d have to manage on his own.
Percy put on some music, fiddled with the lighting, moved the glasses. Then he thought it looked like a date and turned the music off and the lights brighter. He was still determining the right amount of light when Jefferson returned and he stopped himself.
“Is that a drink for me?”
Percy nodded, edging backwards. This way they had the whole breakfast bar between them.
“Thank you. Trick-or-treating is mad. You’re surrounded by little dressed up people, it smells of candy everywhere and you get a headache from all the noises and lights.” He took a sip of wine and sighed contentedly.
“You used to always like loud noises and bright lights.”
He remembered Jefferson had always surrounded himself with noise. Music, wherever he went.
“I like my own noise. Or maybe I just got old.”
“You don’t look old.”
“Neither do you. In fact you…” A very vague colour washed over Jefferson’s cheeks. “You look good.”
Percy knew he’d been a scrawny kid the last time Jefferson saw him. Though he wasn’t in Jefferson’s league, he’d filled out since high school, gotten rid of his constant glasses and had a better haircut.
“Thanks. You...look well.” Well? He looked better than he’d ever had and just seeing him in his kitchen made Percy’s heart pound in his chest like a hammer on an anvil. The brown, slightly wavy hair that looked so soft to the touch, the eyes that struck a colour between gray and blue, like a winter’s lake, the quick smile - all were the same as they’d been. And they affected him just as they had. The wide shoulders, the sculpted chest and the crease in his cheek when he smiled were all new but they just built on the attraction that had always been there.
Cut it out, he told himself. He was a grown man, an intelligent, educated, sensible man and he could resist something as basic as physical attraction.
Jefferson accepted the half compliment with a half smile. Starting forward he stopped on the other side of the breakfast bar. Percy edged back a little further, the kitchen counter pressing against his back. He couldn’t back away any further.
“So you did it.” Jefferson was looking at the post stacked on the counter next to his glass. “Became a doctor. Like you wanted.”
“Ah...yes. I did.”
“Graduate top of your class, doc?”
“I...well, there were a lot of intelligent people there and…” Jefferson’s eyes were amused while they rested on his face and he stopped his stumbling. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
“I always knew you would. Do you like it?”
“Being a doctor? I do.”
“Everything you thought it would be?”
“Absolutely.”
“And do you still get a kick out of people calling you Dr Whale?”
Percy was vividly reminded why the man in front of him had used to be able to make him laugh so much. And the way he said doctor chased a thrill up his spine.
“Of course I do.”
“That must be great. Reminded every day you reached your goal, made something out of yourself. I never amounted to much. Just like my dad predicted.” He shrugged and turned the glass by the stem, watching the liquid swirl.
“You’re something. You’re a father.”
Jefferson looked up, surprised, like he hadn’t thought of it quite that way before.
“You have a lot more than a career can offer. If I…” Percy’s voice trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.
“So you...you don’t...There’s no one? You’re not with anyone?”
Percy was wildly tempted to make up a boyfriend, someone tall and built who was out of the country a lot but always came back and took him on the most romantic dates.
“No.”
“Me too. Single, I mean,” Jefferson tripped a little on the words.
Percy wondered if the other man was trying to be empathic or if he actually cared for him to know he was single. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. Jefferson appeared to prefer women and he’d come to peace with that a long time ago. Or so he’d thought. He despaired at how little it took for Jefferson to drag his thoughts back to where they’d always been concerning him. Even as he remembered how he’d been hurt his fingers ached to card through that soft, floppy hair. His eyes searched out Jefferson like a magnetic pole, his gaze tripping and getting stuck on how he had laughing creases spanning to his temples, how a day’s stubble roughened his jaw, how his hands looked wrapped around the glass. He didn’t know how long he could stand to be around him before the sensations drowned him completely. He wouldn’t be able to trust himself then.
“Do you want to watch a movie? I’m sure there are specials on,” he blurted. Anything to distract him from Jefferson’s presence.
“Ah...sure.”
Percy topped off their glasses and they moved to sit on the couch. Jefferson didn’t sprawl like he was wont to do but rested his head on his hand, elbow on the armrest so he was sitting actually leaning away from Percy. The doctor breathed a little sigh of relief he at least wouldn’t have to have the other man in his personal space. He flicked the TV on and picked the first thing that looked like a movie. So focused was he on Jefferson he didn’t realize it was Ghostbusters until the screen filled with pink goo.
Why did that have to be on? Would Jefferson remember? He glanced sideways. Jefferson was staring at the screen, a slanted half smile on his face. Did that mean he did remember, or was it related to the movie? Could he recall, in as much detail as him, the moment they’d first kissed was while watching Ghostbusters on TV? Percy remembered vividly how aware he’d been of Jefferson’s presence throughout the evening. Every time he shifted, he’d noticed, his eyes unwillingly returning to the TV screen when he forced them. The scent of Red Vines in the air, Jefferson’s laugh, the way the couch had felt under his hands. He remembered it all. He remembered when he hadn’t been able to take just sitting there anymore and he’d bid goodbye to their friendship in his head before reaching out. His hand had shaken as he touched Jeff’s shoulder. The other boy had turned quizzically, a smile still on his face before Percy covered it with his lips. It had been a quick pressure of warmth, then he’d pulled back, braced for the angry yelling. But Jefferson had blinked slowly, like he was trying to work out some kind of code. Then he reached for Percy’s collar and instead of shaking him, pulled him close and kissed him. It had been clumsy and and unskilled but Percy’s heart had burnt in his chest and he’d felt the room around them disappear in a wave of blinding light.
Now, sixteen years later, they were sitting in the same way, watching the same movie. And his fingers ached to reach for him in the same way.
More than the years that had passed stood between them. Jefferson had never chosen him. When it mattered, he hadn’t chosen Percy. The other boy had moved on, had dated, married, had a child. Percy was the one who had been left behind, wanting and heartbroken. It had taken him a long time to put himself back together. Just because an accident of fate had brought the other man back into his life didn’t mean any of that had changed.
So he resolved to ignore the heat stirring in his stomach, the longing that rested like mist around his heart. Fastening his eyes on the screen, he stared unseeingly at the movie.
He was so focused on ignoring him, he didn’t notice when Jefferson shifted, or when he moved closer. It was only when he felt their knees were touching he came back to reality and froze. He knew he should move his knee away, should inch away. Jefferson probably hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He glanced at him. The other man was still watching the movie, his eyes dancing as the huge marshmallow man moved across the screen. Percy’s eyes fell back to their knees touching. Jefferson was wearing black jeans, his were blue. The area where they were actually touching was incredibly small and yet he felt like the nerve endings in that spot had blazed alive. So focused was he that every sensation increased, Jefferson’s skin seeming to burn through the fabric. Then he felt a touch to his shoulder. Sure Jefferson would be grinning at catching him staring, he steeled himself and turned his head to meet his eyes.
Jefferson’s gaze burned into his with a look that made air catch in his throat. Then his lips were on Percy’s and his hands cupped Percy’s face. Surprise only lasted a split second and his resolve to protest barely a moment. So with a sigh he wound his hands in Jefferson’s hair like he had wanted and took everything he wanted to give.
The kiss that had started timid, questioning, quickly warmed to passionate before hurtling into desperate. Percy felt like a house that had been left empty for years had suddenly been unlocked, opened and lit. The rooms he had once known held life once more. Shifting, he turned to face Jefferson and encouraged the other man moved to allow Percy’s leg to settle between the back of the couch and his hip. Pulling him closer, wrapping his arms around his back and tilting his head Jefferson deepened the kiss. Percy’s heart galloped in his chest, his breathing fast and shallow. So long. It had been so long. Like a man wandering through the desert he had found water and he wanted to drink it down in deep, fast gulps.
Jefferson was just as eager, his hands running over him hurriedly, his breathing strained. It seemed like a miracle. A miracle under his hands. Jeff hooked his hand under his knee and in one move backed, lifted Percy and slipped him lower on the couch so he was almost lying flat on his back. Hovering over him, he lowered himself, closer and closer. His chest melded to his and Percy couldn’t help rolling his hips. Jefferson groaned deep and the sound rumbled through Percy. Mirroring the gesture, Jeff ground against Percy and the unexpected friction made his back arch off the couch. Desperate, Percy pushed his hands between them and found Jefferson’s belt buckle. Fighting with it, Jefferson sat back. Then his hand came to rest over his.
“Wait. Grace.” The one word had Percy’s hands stilling. With a slow smile, Jefferson tilted his head up by the chin. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. “Next time.”
Percy knew there would never be a next time, that he was on borrowed time from the past. Something in the time space continuum had created a pocket where he and Jefferson were in the same place, feeling the same. Maybe it was even a dream.
Then Jefferson kissed him again and he didn’t care. Didn’t care if this was all he would ever have. As long as he could have this moment. So he returned the kiss and pressed Jefferson to lie back on the couch, turning the tables.
o.O.o
Percy sat at the breakfast bar the next morning dressed in the jeans from last night and a white t-shirt. His feet were bare and his coffee cup sat before him untouched. Staring down onto the counter, his head in his hands, he wondered if he could diagnose himself as temporarily insane or if one of his colleagues would have to do it to ensure as little bias as possible. He must have taken a leave of his senses if he made out with Jefferson until the small hours. If it hadn’t been for the fact he’d heard Grace talking in the guest room and felt his lips were tender from the previous night’s activities, he’d have thought he’d dreamed it all.
Why? Why was he such a glutton for punishment when it came to this man? Hadn’t he suffered enough without having the unavailable, gorgeous, infuriating man back in his life? But however he berated himself he knew the weak spot was there all the same. Jefferson had been his first love. He would always hold that place. If it happened again he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Jefferson was a drug and to have him running through his bloodstream was an unbeatable high. He’d do anything for it.
He heard steps on the stairs and sighed. It was time to check himself into rehab again. The second Jefferson left.
“Morning,” Jeff spoke from the doorway. He leaned against the doorjamb and Percy’s mouth went dry. His hair was still tangled from the night before, his lips just a little swollen.
“Mm,” was all Percy managed and he gulped some coffee to ease his throat. All it did was scald his tongue.
“We’re just leaving, the locksmith says he’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Right.” He got up. “Do you...want some coffee? Breakfast?”
Grace opened her mouth, the enthusiasm alive in her eyes. But Jefferson shook his head.
“I’m afraid we have to go.”
Percy nodded. There it was. The end of the dream. Cold, harsh reality was knocking on the door.
“Of course.” He got up and showed them to the door. Grace sped out with a quick “bye”, spotting some children in the yard next door and beelining for them. Jefferson moved slower, putting his hands in his pockets and weighing on his feet.
“Right...I guess...I’m going.”
“Yes. Goodbye, Jefferson, it was...interesting to see you.”
Jeff’s smile flashed for a moment. “You too, Percy.” Then he walked down the steps and turned up his collar to the wind. Percy watched for a moment longer before shutting the door. Sighing, he stared accusingly at the couch. How could it look exactly as it had yesterday? All innocuous and dumpy.
There was a knock on the door and expecting girl scouts or mormons was surprised to see Jefferson.
“Jefferson. Did you forget something?”
“Yes.” His eyes were laughing. “Trick or treat, Percy?”
“What?”
“Come on. Trick or treat?”
Percy sighed. He wouldn’t put it past Jefferson to shove a handful of mud in his face or something at him if he said trick. Maybe that would help him seem less perfect. So he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms and responded,
“Trick.”
“Will you go out with me?”
Percy blinked, dropped his arms to his sides. “I…”
“Please?” Jefferson stepped closer and put a hand to his cheek. The kiss that followed was different from last night’s. Soft, longing, lingering.
“Yes.” He had breathed the word before he knew it. Jefferson’s lips curved before they met his again and patiently swallowed every last objection Percy could think of.
“I’ll call you.” Jefferson rested his forehead on Percy’s for a moment before leaving with a last peck. He was almost all the way to sidewalk when Percy woke and called from the edge of the deck,
“Jefferson!” The other man spun on his heel, wearing a wide smile and his coat hanging open. “What if I’d chosen “treat”?”
“Then you’d have taken me out. It has to be a treat for the asker, remember?” Then he winked and was off.
Percy watched him and Grace until they got to the end of the street.
Epilogue
One Year Later
“How does it feel to be on this side of the action?” Jefferson asked behind him and Percy turned from watching Grace ringing the bell of a blue door across the street.
“Better.”
Jefferson stood with his hands in his pockets, smiling as Grace eagerly grabbed a fistul of gummy worms from the lady who lived in the house. She was a dressed as a mad scientist this year and stood out among the many princesses and Iron Men.
“And you wouldn’t rather sit at home with a good book and a glass of wine?”
“And miss this? No way. Besides, Grace promised me half her haul if I came with.”
“Really?” Jefferson sidled closer. “Cause she promised me half her haul.”
Percy chuckled. “Yeah, we’re still struggling with the fractions.”
“Thank God it’s you and not me. I detest fractions. And short division. And the multiplications table.”
“Daddy, daddy, look, I have ten more candies now!”
“Ten, wow! How many do I get?”
“Half.” Grace said stolidly and bit into a gummy worm.
“And what about Percy?”
“He gets half too.”
“And you, what do you get?”
“The other half, silly.” Then she turned to Percy, her mouth full of gummy worm and her hands sticky, smelling of sugar and crackling excitement.
“Dad, can you tie my shoe?” She wiggled her small trainer clad foot.
Percy felt the world still around him, the word laying a weight around his shoulders. A weight he had never thought he would have ever wanted but now couldn’t imagine living without. The weight of responsibility and love for the little girl in front of him. He felt Jefferson’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing. He’d heard it too.
“Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, of course I can.” Percy crouched and she put her foot on his knee while munching on her sweet. He tied her lace and with a called thanks, she set off for the next house. Still crouching he felt Jefferson’s hand on his neck, rubbing. Then the other man crouched next to him as well.
“She knows how to tie her shoes now,” Jefferson said.
“I know.”
“I guess she made it official before I could.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t really the time and place I pictured, but hey, Grace picked it and I trust her. So, Percy, what do you say? Will you marry me? Us?”
He sat back, on his knees, resting on his heels. Water from the rain wet street seeped through his jeans.
“I…”
“I know it’s fast, and we don’t have to. But I want you to know I want to. I want you, forever, Percy.”
His voice seemed to have gotten trapped in his throat, emotion choking him. “Of...course, I want to.”
“So, you’re saying…?”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Jefferson laughed and pulled him close for a kiss, sitting in the middle of the street surrounded by children, laughter and the repeated words “Trick or Treat!”
Since I have some new followers - amazing, welcome all - I have done some tidying in the archives and updated the Masterlist of all my Tumblr writing. Hopefully you can find anything you’re looking for a bit quicker now!
So I thought I’d give one of my usual side pairings some love and try my hand at Swanthief. Little fluffy one-shot about two people and their little yellow car.
The parking lot was deserted this late at night. A lone neon sign flickered at one end sending a vague, otherworldly light across the lot. The other side was lined by a dense wall of trees, the darkness under the low branches impenetrable. The vague rustling of foliage and the murmur of traffic whispered in the silky night air. Except for one car, parked in the middle, the lot was empty.
During the day the lot served as a space for secondary parking for the mall across the road, accessible only through a dingy tunnel under the busy highway. Unless you had to, you parked in the main lot and therefore there was usually space from early evening to late morning. In addition, the security guards rarely made the effort of walking as far as the secondary lot and this, combined with its relative proximity to the town centre, made it the ideal spot for the one car currently parked.
It was a 1972 Volkswagen Type 1, colloquially known as a Bug, in buttercup yellow. The colour was unusual by anoyone’s standards and betrayed its conception in the brashly coloured 70’s. Even in the half dusk of the flickering neon sign it stood out brightly in the dark.
The doors of the car opened and two figures climbed out. Suddenly music poured out in the night, the bass rolling over the asphalt in waves. The taller of the two, a man in his early twenties with bark brown hair and dimples that deepened to creases when he grinned. He was grinning. Dressed in a worn canvas jacket over a hoodie and jeans he carried a blanket under his arm. Spreading it over the sloped hood of the Bug he hoisted himself up to sit.
The girl, a blonde in her late teens, her hair pulled into a sleek and bouncy tail down her back reached for something inside the car. Dressed in a leather jacket and worn black jeans she looked like any regular teenager. Which was precisely the point.
When she straightened, she was laughing too, holding a bucket of fried chicken and a large soda bottle. Putting it next to the man on the hood of the car she too pulled herself up on the hood.
In a moment they were both tearing into the food, their laughter ringing out in unconcerned ripples over the lot.
When the bucket was empty, it and the bottle were discarded and the man laid back, leaning on the windshield, his arm held out invitingly. Needing no further prompting the girl slid into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.
As they laid there, the man pointing up at the stars, gesturing grandly to the accompanying sound of the girl’s laughter, the cassette clicked, the tape changing sides. A moment later a rhythmic synth tune started, the iconic intro to “Only You” by Yazoo filling the parking lot like the band was playing right next to them.
The man and the girl both fell silent as the simple tones of the singer picked up over the electrical synth strands. Both still now, they laid, listening with the breathless concentration of the days before the “play on repeat” button existed.
In that moment their senses brought into sharp focus all around them. They would both forever more be able to perfectly recall the feel of each other’s bodies twined together on a scratchy blanket on the hood of a car, of base pounding through the metal like a heartbeat outside their bodies. Of a smell of gasoline and fried chicken and Little Tree Pine Car Air Freshener. Of summer night air caressing their cheeks and tousling their hair. Of the feeling of being absolutely content, of knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be, sharing it with the only person able to feel exactly the same.
As the outro began, the girl spoke.
“Is this our song now?”
The man shifted so he could meet her gaze.
“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his smile growing roguish. “This, or “It’s A Small World”. I just can’t decide, it’s so catchy.”
The girl’s laughter resounded again, and it embroidered gilt edges around the memory for the man.
o.O.o
Twenty Years Later
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bid farewell to one of our most loyal companions.”
The day was overcast in Storybrooke, the wind nipping at exposed skin, an icy rain in the air. Still, a small group of people were gathered in the backyard of the Swan-Cassidy house. On the back lawn stood a small yellow car, by all signs old but well-loved and well-tended. It had rolled over a hundred and fifty thousand miles, but it had always been more than simply a means to get from A to B. It had been a home and it had been a sanctuary. It had been an escape, a refuge and a fortress against the outside world. It had been Freedom.
Since it had shipped from the factory, brand new and sparkling in 1972 it had changed hands a few times. But no hands had looked after it better or with more care than Emma Swan and Neal Cassidy. To them the yellow car had been much more than just a car. It had been what brought them together in the first place, it had been their home for periods of time and it had been an enduring part of their life. They had driven to work in it, taken their children to school and moved houses with it. They’d taught Henry, their oldest, to drive in it. Constant like a shadow it had followed them, always fitting into the next place and the next stage.
But nature couldn’t be bargained with forever and the yellow Volkswagen had drawn its last metaphorical breath forty-nine years after its conception. It had only been right the four-wheeled companion should be sent off with some ceremony.
“I found you on a small street in the Eastside of Portland. You were dirty and worn and by looking at the dust on your hood I knew no one had driven you for years. But I was desperate and lucky and your keys were kept on the front wheel under the fender,” Neal spoke, a hand kept affectionately on the yellow hood of the vehicle.
Around him stood his wife, his two children, his father, his in-laws and his friends. The little car had touched many hearts in its life and even to those the metal and combustion engine meant little, knew what it represented to Emma and to Neal.
“You’ve taken me to all the best places in my life. You helped me find my family, my wife and my...Tallahassee.”
A glance, short and fleeting passed between him and Emma, charged with what both felt and neither had to say.
“You’ve taken me through and from all the hard times, and you’ve made sure we were warm, safe and...in time for work.” He patted the hood. “Mostly.”
“And for this, and everything in between, we say thank you and enjoy your well-earned rest...Lola.”
The somber silence was broken by Emma.
“Lola?”
“Yeah, Lola.”
“This car is not named Lola.”
“Sure it is.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
At this point the other attendees rolled their eyes, sighed or smiled charitably. From experience they knew any discussion between husband and wife could take anything between hours and days. Steering back to the house, they left Emma and Neal to it. They didn’t notice.
“Its name is Bug.”
Neal spluttered, “Bug? Bug is common. It’s easy. This car deserves better. It’s Lola.”
“It does deserve better - better than to be named for a song by The Kinks.”
“You like The Kinks.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s Lola. I had her first and I named her Lola.”
“I had it longer and I named it Bug.”
“See, you only use “it” for it. This is clearly a she. A Lola.”
Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Bug.”
“Lola.”
“Bug.”
“Lola.”
Emma threw her arms out. “I can do this all day.”
“So can I.” Neal crossed his arms as well. Then he thought better of it. “Okay, okay. Compromise - her name is Lola Bug. First name and last name. She deserves it.”
Emma managed to hold her stern face for another moment before a laugh warmed the cold air around them.
“Lola Bug?”
“It’s both of us.”
Emma sighed and stepped closer, putting her hand on the hood as well.
“It is.”
Neal’s hand covered hers on the cold, yellow metal.
“I’m going to miss it. Her.” Emma leaned her head on Neal’s shoulder, his arm snaking around her waist.
“Me too.” Neal pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I fell in love with you sitting on the hood of this car. I made love to you for the first time in the backseat of it. Henry was probably conceived in it. We were going to drive it to our Happy Ever After.”
She looked up at the house, the covered porch, through the wide sash windows where she could see her family and friends moving inside.
“We did.”
He chuckled, the rumble of it reverberating through her bringing to mind the humming of the Bug’s engine.
“We did, though we didn’t take the easiest route.”
“We got a little lost. We had no map, after all.”
“Maps make the assumption you want to get somewhere quickly. We ended up where we wanted to.”
“Yeah, we did.”
Emma sighed again, and Neal reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. Spotting it, she straightened slightly.
“You don’t think getting married once was enough?”
“I was drunk last time. I thought I could remember it this time,” Neal joked. “Go on, open it.”
She flicked the lid and revealed two small keys, both with the characteristic Volkswagen logo of the entwined “V”s at the top. Keys that fit the Bug.
“You made a copy of the key?”
For twenty years there had only been one key for the car and though it had been annoying and inconvenient it had never occurred to them to have a second set made. Until now.
“I did. And it gets better.” He lifted the key to show it was attached to a thin, silver chain. “She won’t be able to take us places anymore but we can bring her with us anywhere we go.”
A small sniffle escaped Emma. “Now you’ve done it.” She swiped at her eyes. “I hate you.” She sniffled again. “Give it.”
Helping her to put it on, she then fumbled his in place, her gloves clamped between her teeth. Adjusting hers to sit straight, nestled next to the swan key chain he’d once given her, his smile was slanted, touched by a twinge of sorrow.
“Looking good, Swan.”
Drawing a deep breath, the mist of her exhale rose between them in the cold air. Looking up under lowered lashes, face framed by her long blonde hair and gray beanie, she spoke,
“Wanna make out in the backseat for old time’s sake?”
“I can’t think of a better send off for...Lola.”
She swatted him with a laugh and they were both still smiling when the yellow car door closed behind them.
The End
Still finding my stride with these two but I hope you liked it! :)
Rating: Not for kids and a dash of NSFW here and there (yes, I mean this chapter)
Summary: Modern!Boston!AU. Percy Whale is not a paediatrician but Jefferson Madden insists on bringing his daughter to him all the same.
Notes: Features same sex love - if you don't want to read, then don't read. Sorry for the long wait - my writing attention span is gnat-like and my muse is a fickle creature....
Percy’s phone woke him up and smiling at the picture of a cross-eyed Ruby sticking her tongue out that always flashed when she called he slid his thumb over the screen to answer.
“Finally! I’ve been calling and calling. How did it go last night?”
Sitting up in bed, the blue sheets falling to his waist he grinned.
“It went...amazingly.”
Ruby whooped.
“I knew it! I knew it when he came to Diner, the way he looked at you, like you were a puzzle he really wanted to solve there was something between you.”
“Did you now?”
“Sure I did. I just didn’t want to tell you in case he wouldn’t want to admit it. Wait,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “is he there now?”
“No, we decided to take it slow.” He glanced around his bedroom, sadly only populated by himself.
“Oh. Good slow or bad slow?”
“What’s bad slow?”
“A euphemism for “don’t call me”.”
“Then it’s definitely good slow. We’re meeting today.”
“Wow, fast work. This is great news, Perce, I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks, Rubes. I’ll swing by the Diner soon and we’ll talk, yeah?”
“Anytime. You know where to always find me.” The tone was only slightly sulky.
“Got to go. See you soon.”
Two hours later he found the address Jefferson had texted him. It was the penthouse of a tall building with Gothic archways and a spire at the top. It suited the man, Percy thought. Original, eclectic, old-fashioned and classy. Riding the elevator all the way up he exited into a small hallway with a wooden front door that looked liked it could withstand full frontal assault from a battering ram. Knocking, it swung open to reveal Grace dressed in pajamas with seahorses on them.
“Dr. Whale!” Happily she bounced up to hug him and he caught her awkwardly as he held three take away cups and a bag of muffins. Grace didn’t seem to mind the one armed hug though and sniffed in the air.
“Are those blueberry muffins?”
“Good nose. Here you go. And why don’t you call me Percy? Dr. Whale makes me feel like I’m at work.”
“Well, that’s a shame since I like calling you Dr. Whale.” Jefferson spoke as he entered the hallway, his tone almost purring the syllables of his name. Glancing at Grace he saw she hadn’t noticed anything as she poked her nose into the bag of muffins.
“I brought coffee. And hot chocolate.”
“Bless your heart. Grace, don’t you have something to say to Percy?”
The little girl swallowed a large bite of muffin and smiled.
“Thank you, Percy.”
“There you go. Off to the table with you. Mrs. Potts will have my head if you trail crumbs everywhere.”
Rushing farther into the apartment Jeff stood back.
“Come on in.”
Proceeding past the hall Percy entered a large room that was combined living and dining space, the kitchen only separated by a counter from the rest of the room. The walls were painted a dark brown that should make it look dark and gloomy but that in this space seemed the perfect backdrop to the eclectic collection of art and furniture. There were two wide chesterfield sofas, a low coffee table in between. Art from the eighteenth century to the twenty-first lent a sophisticated yet homey air to the place. All in all the mix of traditional and modern looked very much like Jefferson.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks. Have a seat, let’s get some muffins before the little munchkin has finished them all.”
Sitting down Grace quickly switched seats so she was sitting on Jefferson’s lap and reluctantly she let go of the paper bag to put it in the middle of the table. Percy joined them but only sipped from his cup. He didn’t think he’d be able to eat. Nerves were trembling low in his stomach, winding themselves too tight to think of adding food to the mix.
“So, what are we doing today?” Jefferson asked and Percy responded,
“You don’t have a plan?”
“I never do.” He grinned and popped a piece of Grace’s muffin in his mouth.
“So you asked me over to…”
“Come up with one. Now let’s see…Grace, what are you in the mood for?”
“The zoo!”
“The zoo?” Percy echoed. If he had to guess what they’d be doing today it would have been low on the list.
“Yeah! They have five thousand penguins and zebras and squirrels.”
“Five thousand?”
“Uh-huh. I counted. Daddy and I named them all. There’s Esther and Hester, Augustus, Conrad and…ah…I’ll know them when I see them. But when we go to see the snakes you have to hold Daddy’s hand because he doesn’t like them. He doesn’t like any rep-remp-retl…”
“Reptiles?”
“Yes, rempniles.”
“So how about it, Percy? Will you come with us and protect me from the evil rempniles?” Father and daughter tilted their heads in an identical move and Percy chuckled.
“Okay, let’s go to the zoo.”
Grace whooped and shot up.
“I’m getting dressed. I’m wearing my jedi outfit.” Then she was off and Percy was left alone with Jefferson.
“I haven’t been to the zoo in…twenty years.”
“You’re missing out. It’ll be fun.”
It turned out Jefferson was right. It was fun. Grace’s enthusiasm knew no bounds as she hopped in front of them dressed in a child size jedi outfit, yellow wellies and a rain jacket with boats on it. The rain was such a slow drizzle it seemed more like mist and it dusted Jefferson’s shoulders, hanging like tears from his lashes. Deciding to venture into the heat of the reptile house Grace sternly reminded Percy he had to hold her father’s hand. Amusedly Jefferson watched him struggle. The struggle wasn’t what he should and shouldn’t do but had all to do with believing he could. Believing Jefferson wanted him to hold his hand. Then Grace solved his hesitation as she took his hand and put it over Jeff’s.
“There. Now we can go in.”
Taking her dad’s other hand she pulled them inside the dark, damp heat of the reptile house. Jefferson shifted his hold and twined his fingers together with his. Percy’s pulse beat so hard he was sure Jeff had to able to feel it in his wrist. But he just smiled over his shoulder before he let Grace drag him to the anaconda enclosure.
o.O.o
Entering the Diner that evening he was surprised to find Archie Hopper in there already. The psychiatrist lived in the suburbs because of his dog so he had to have made a trip for the sake of the Diner if he was there over the weekend. Not intentionally eavesdropping but wanting to get a chance to speak to Ruby he edged closer. His friend was clearing the Little Red Riding Hood table, the red haired psychiatrist at her side. He was talking fast and the tips of his ears were red.
“-Red Riding Hood is actually an originally French seventeenth century cautionary tale about rape. It taught young women to never walk alone or talk to strangers.”
Ruby just blinked and Archie stumbled on.
“I mean, it’s not only Little Red Riding Hood. Most fairy tales are lessons of some sort, often praising virtuous behavior. Meaning in the West mostly Christian beliefs about virtuousness.”
“So they’re actually parents telling their kids what to do?”
“Certainly. Stories of things that live in deep waters and caves were often invented to keep children from going near.”
Ruby collected the last glasses and waved Archie off when he made a move to lift the heavy tray. She spotted Percy and gave a quick smile and shake of her head that seemed to say, “in a second.” Following her lead he shrank back, still able to hear the conversation in the rather empty Diner.
“I didn’t know that. So, is that where all the fairy tales come from?”
“There’re millions, a lot of them often using similar themes and most being spread by word of mouth. A lot of the most famous ones we know today were collected by the brothers Grimm in the nineteenth century. They were influenced by the times they lived in, the Romantic era, and in a move of national pride they wanted to collect German folklore. Today a lot of them have been toned down whereas before characters died horribly or received brutal punishments. In the day they were told this was commonplace and not viewed as too frightening to tell children, it was just the way life was.” Archie’s voice grew surer as he explained a topic he was clearly familiar with.
Percy smiled as his friend listened attentively to what could only be classified as a lecture. It was sweet to see that whenever she made Archie nervous he’d rely on intellectualism to get comfortable again.
“I’m still not sure we should rename the Little Red Hiding Hood table the “French Cautionary Tale Table.”” For a moment Archie just blinked but then his eyes warmed and he actually threw his head back and laughed. A deep, rich sound that seemed all the more surprising as he was usually quiet and soft spoken.
“You’re right, Ruby. Sometimes a little romance is called for.”
Percy could see Ruby steel herself and crossed his fingers unconsciously.
“How about now?”
“Pardon?”
“Romance. How about some right now? I’m off in five. We could go grab dinner or see a movie…ah, only if you want.”
“I…I’d like that very much,” Archie stuttered slightly, the red of his ears spreading down his neck. Giving Ruby a victory fist pump behind the psychiatrist’s back he blew a kiss and mouthed “Call me later”, before backing out of the Diner and leaving them to it.
o.O.o
Jeff sunk down in his most favored armchair, a glass of Scotch in his hand. Grace was in bed and the apartment was quiet. Looking out over the Boston nightscape he sighed. Two weeks had passed since their first date and Jefferson was ready to throw the towel in on caution. The only thing that kept him from giving in was the fact that Grace adored Percy.
Bringing out his phone he flicked through the pictures he’d taken of the two of them at the zoo a couple of weeks ago. Two blonde heads close together in front of the monkey enclosure. Percy lifting Grace so she could see the zebras far off in the distance. The doctor crouched behind Grace as she solemnly pointed out each penguin and gave their names. Eating ice creams, both smiling widely, his daughter with a streak of vanilla across her cheek and a smear of it down her bright braided hair.
More pictures, from another night at the Diner, from the cinema when Percy had laughed in the same places as Grace in the latest Disney movie. Last night she had demanded he read her bedtime story and he knew of no one else who had earned that honor but him before. It had been fantastic to hear Dr. Percy Whale read “The Chicken That Had No Friends” in his polished, educated accent. It had been better to see Grace cuddle against him, her eyes drooping. His daughter had impeccable taste in people and could tell right away if someone was worth her time and she deemed Percy “the best”. Her father could only agree.
Once he’d finished that bedtime story yesterday Jeff had decisively dragged him to the couch and kissed him until their breathing was ragged and their hands frantic. This time it was Percy who broke away first.
“Grace is home, Jeff.” Jefferson pushed himself up, supporting his weight on his arms as he looked down at the attractive doctor.
“Grace is fast asleep, Percy.”
“She might wake up.”
“Were you planning on being loud?” He teased and Percy leaned closer, his breath brushing over Jefferson’s lips and teasing tingles of desire sparked at his nerve endings.
“I was. And I was hoping you’d be too. When we finally get each other I don’t want there to be any cares but you and me in that moment.” Dropping his head to Percy’s shoulder Jeff drew a few calming breaths.
“I hate it when you’re right. Very well.” He pulled back and rose, helping the other man to stand as well.
“We’ll find the time, and the place. And hopefully it’ll be soon.”
Finishing his Scotch Jefferson decided that there were some games he didn’t want to play. If they couldn’t find the right time and place, then perhaps he would just have to create it.
o.O.o
Percy had just finished his rounds for the day, about to settle down with reports and charts for the rest of the afternoon when he found Jefferson in his office.
“Jeff. What are you doing here?” Jefferson smiled and pulled out a bouquet of large fall flowers from behind his back.
“I wanted to see you. Here,” He held them out and Percy resisted burying his face in them.
“I…Well, thank you.”
“I was thinking…” He moved closer and Percy pressed the flower to his chest like a shield. “If we keep waiting for the perfect time and the perfect place, this might never happen. I think we should just give up on finding perfection. I think here and now would be just perfect.”
“Ah…I,” Backing away he felt his heart beat heavier, his throat tightening as Jeff advanced towards him. Fighting to keep his eyes off Jefferson’s lips that he wanted against his, his neck that he wanted to set his teeth to and hear him pant, the hands he wanted on his skin making the heat under it build and fume he kept retreating.
“You see, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for two weeks.” Swallowing audibly Whale backed and felt his desk stop his retreat. But Jefferson just kept closing in.
“Jeff…not here. Tonight, I’m free, or just after work or…”
“Oh no, now. Right now, before I actually do go as mad as they say I am.” Holding out a hand to stop him getting any closer Percy felt leather over warm muscle and his resolve wavered.
“I…I can’t…We’re…We shouldn’t…”
“I love doing things I shouldn’t. Come on, Percy. To hell with it.” The face of Jefferson’s young laughing face under him in the snow flashed in his mind.
“No…I’m…”
“I want you, Percy.”
“Oh, god.” His resolve couldn’t hold a candle to hearing the man he had wanted since he was fifteen tell him he wanted him. Seventeen years of pent up need was released as he let the gates open, forced apart by the roaring, rushing flood of desire. The flowers fell to the floor as he grabbed the front of Jefferson’s shirt and hauled him close.
Claiming his lips in a rough kiss he felt as if the need had been set aflame. Light, pure and blinding, shot through him, spread like a wild fire through his veins, exploded in his head. Jefferson hummed approvingly as he closed the distance between them, his arms snaking around his back, hugging him close. Letting all his wishes have free roam Whale pushed his hand into Jeff’s hair. With a decisive tug he pulled Percy’s shirt open, the seams ripping. Backed against his desk he was surprised at Jefferson’s strength when he lifted him and set him down on the top of it, a growl rolling through his chest as he pulled them core to core, Percy’s leg slung over his lean hip.
Hurrying now Percy slid the ruined shirt and white coat off his shoulders, eagerly pushing Jeff’s leather coat off him. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud and impatiently Jefferson stepped back and pulled both the waistcoat and the shirt over his head in one move. Barely giving Percy the chance to appreciate the wide shoulders, the tapered waist and the impressive sculpted chest he stepped back again, his lips finding Percy’s once more. Feeling his last tenuous binds on restraint fray at the edges he found Jeff’s zipper and let the world around them fade.
