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#the most romantic fruit bar oranges
masterwords · 2 years
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as the crow flies (part four)
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Summary: After a journalist does the BAU dirty, Derek is forced to take the job at the New York Field Office. Hotch is forced to deal. (AU where Hotch and Haley have a daughter instead of a son. Based on this story.)
Warnings: explosion injury aftermath, intermittent hearing loss, ear infection, food
Words: 4k
Notes: Want some cute sick Hotch? Something a little lighter after that last one? Hotch & Clooney & lots of comfort live here.
** CHAPTER LIST **
**
“I'll stay with Clooney.”
Hotch's voice was soft, weary, feverish. Derek couldn't help but laugh, but Hotch...sick as he was...he was also serious. Even from inside of the mess of blankets, only the tips of his hair visible,he was trying to bargain with chips he didn't have to play. Derek's blankets were warm, new, silky soft and very expensive feeling...and he was sweating all over them. And still somehow shivering inside of them.
“Let me. Please.”
Derek contemplated the offer while he made breakfast and got ready to hit the gym. He thought about it while he ran on the treadmill and lifted weights with the friends he'd already made in the building. A lot of other extended stay executive types who were bored out of their minds, just like him. Except most of them were single and loved to hit all the best night clubs, something Derek hadn't done in a very long time. He was enjoying himself, and it wasn't nearly as hard to go home alone every night as he'd originally thought. Every morning it was the same, meet up in the gym, spot each other on the weights, go out for coffee.
This morning, though, Derek skipped the coffee. “I've got someone visiting from out of town,” he said and one of them winked and nudged him with his elbow.
“That someone in your bed waiting for you to come back all hot and sweaty?”
Derek simply grinned and said no more. It was always good to carry an air of mystery, and he wasn't entirely sure what sort of someone they thought he'd have waiting for him.
Coming back upstairs, he'd expected to find Hotch on the couch or on his computer, but he was still in bed. Slipping through the shadows, he nudged the blankets back and pressed the back of his hand to Hotch's forehead, flinching at the radiant heat. The night before he'd seemed off, and he'd been pretty honest about how difficult the trip was, but it didn't really worry him. A good night's sleep seemed like it would be all he needed, that was usually it. Hotch didn't sleep, so the morning after a solid night he was like new. But not today. Today there was a definite fever.
Of course there was.
There was a corner store at the end of his block, a kind of half convenience store half produce stand that he loved to stop by and grab and apple or something a little more exotic at when he was bored and going stir crazy. No reason in a city like this to sit alone in his penthouse, so he'd decided to make friends with the man who owned the little shop. In turn, the man had started setting certain things aside for him.
Today, he grabbed the dragon fruit that Emil had snagged for him with a smile and added some cough drops and Tylenol to the mix. “Under the weather?” Emil asked in his thick accent, punching in numbers entirely from memory. He didn't use bar codes and there was something almost romantic about that to Derek. Like stepping back in time, being a child and buying handfuls of penny candy while his mom bought her cigarettes. No one scanned anything at that store, either.
“A friend,” was his reply with a half-hearted smile. That was a strange thing for him to say...a friend...and he nearly corrected himself before he realized that the look Emil was giving him said he somehow understood it was not a friend. “I'm good.”
Emil threw in a bottle of orange juice and a kiwi with a wink and didn't ring them up. “Vitamin C is more helpful than Tylenol...”
“Thanks, man.”
Hotch was still in bed when Derek returned for the second time, hadn't even moved. There was only so much he could do to keep himself busy...it was his day off and the last thing he wanted to do was sit and watch TV but leaving, wandering around the city, wasn't an option. Not when Hotch was here and sick. He was trapped.
There was some training he could do, so he unpacked his briefcase all over the kitchen island and paced back and forth listening to the HR training courses through headphones. A lot of bureaucratic red tape, diversity and inclusion and mostly just covering the FBI's butt more than him actually learning anything of real value. He started counting the buzz words they used, the terms that were hot and new in training, words that would be meaningless in ten years...replaced by other fun, trendy buzz words that made the company sound like they gave a shit. He got nothing from the training but he logged the hours. No wonder Hotch was always frowning. Dealing with the horrors of their job and adding this on top of it would steal the joy from just about anyone.
Hotch finally dragged himself out of bed around noon, a jumble of squinty eyes and messy hair stumbling cautiously through the apartment he wasn't familiar with. At Derek's house, he could manage with eyes closed but not here. He didn't know the place, so he rubbed his sleepy eyes and then looked around a minute to get his bearings before making his way for the kitchen. Straight to Derek.
“He's aliiiiiiiive!” Derek announced in his most wobbly, mad scientist voice and Hotch shrugged politely before falling with a thud right into Derek's chest.
“Don't feel good,” he muttered, his fevered cheek resting against Derek's shoulder.
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
His arms wrapped tight around Hotch's shoulders, and he pressed his nose into Hotch's temple, breathing him in. They stood in silence, and Derek almost thought by the way Hotch's breathing slowed almost to a still that he had gone back to sleep standing up. That would have been funny, a story to tell, but Hotch pulled away and looked at him miserably. He thought Hotch might say something, but he just stared at him with those big watery eyes and Derek couldn't stand it. Like a big, pathetic child who had come down with the flu but needed to be forced to rest.
“Go lay back down. I'll be right in.”
They spent the entire weekend in Derek's bed, sleeping and medicating and laughing. With just the right amount of Tylenol in his system, Hotch was at least in good spirits. Adding in the icy orange juice that felt like heaven in his burning throat and the sliced mango that left their chins and fingers juicy, and he was having as good a time as he'd ever had even if he did feel like absolute trash.
Sean couldn't resist coming by when he heard his brother was in town. He didn't get the opportunity often when he was in town and it wasn't for work. So he showed up with a couple growlers from the craft beers at his bar and a few pirated movies his buddies burned for him. Derek frowned.
“You know piracy is a crime,” he said. “And you're in a room with two Federal Agents.”
“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? You telling me you don't wanna watch The Dark Knight or Cloverfield?”
Hotch sipped his orange juice and stared at his brother while he dared Derek to make a move. Derek only laughed.
“Fuck. Okay, yeah. I already saw Batman though...” Cloverfield and pizza delivery it was. Hotch had less than zero interest in the movie, which turned out to be fine because the ache in his head made him just want to sleep. They'd gone to the Urgent Care that morning and gotten the news that he had a double ear infection, which would account for the fever at least, so he lay across Derek's lap with a warm, wet towel on the side of his face and misery in his eyes while Derek and Sean lost their minds over a movie that he was only barely able to focus on. Chewing was pure agony so he took only a few bites of pizza before deciding that juice was going to be his main source of sustenance until the antibiotics did their job.
Juice and ice cream to soothe the burn in his throat, anyway. He sucked on an ice cube, listened to it click against his teeth, while Sean and Derek talked about the movie afterward. They talked over the top of him, forgetting easily that he was even there.
He took the train home, still miserable but able to handle it with enough Tylenol and his antibiotics. At least until his doctor at home gave him news that left a sour taste in his mouth. News he wasn't keen to share with anyone just yet.
Instead, he moved Clooney into his apartment. Lucy was thrilled, let Clooney sleep on her bed at night even though Derek had forbidden it. “Don't be soft,” he'd said sternly. “Don't let that dog walk all over you. He has his own bed.” Yeah, well, Lucy loved him and so she would scoot over until she could wrap herself fully around the big furry mutt and Hotch didn't have the heart to tell her no. He'd find a way to fix it later.
Clooney followed him around whenever he was home, all wagging tail and slobbery tongue. With Lucy there, they became a little family of three walking to the park and playing with the dog for hours at a time. When she wasn't with him, the two of them fell into a sort of mope. Sitting together on the couch and lamenting Derek being gone. “We're pathetic,” Hotch whispered, scratching behind Clooney's ear. “Miserable and pathetic.”
They got into a routine of early morning and evening walks. Clooney gave him a reason to leave the office on time even on days Lucy wasn't staying with him. The dog was spoiled, but he sort of thought he was too. So when Derek called to let him know that he was ready to bring Clooney up, he'd moved completely from the penthouse into his own place and Hotch was a little hurt. Emily had gone up to New York, and with she and Sean's help, they'd done all the work without even telling him.
“I would have helped,” he said, patting Clooney's head. Derek hummed.
“I know, but your back still isn't better and you've been with Clooney so you're already helping...”
He stared at a pile of letters on his coffee table, letters addressed to him via The Post...asking him about his injuries, berating him for hiding information about a terrorist attack, calling him names, asking for his phone number. It was overwhelming, and JJ told him not to look at the mail. Not to even read it. She assured him that it would die out if he just didn't give it any attention. The problem was that it was coming to Quantico in droves, checked out and approved for safety before being placed on his desk.
He hadn't told Derek about the letters. It was embarrassing.
“I'll come get Clooney next week...this week's gonna be crazy at work. But next week, I'll drive down and pick you both up okay? Put you on a plane home, even.”
“I...” Hotch began, feeling like this was his in. The time he had to mention that he was going to need surgery for his ears. But he couldn't bring his voice to work, so he smiled. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
(x)
Showing up on Derek's doorstep with Clooney in tow, watching him unlock the security door, he felt the anxiety worm its way around in his stomach. Derek pushed into the long hallway and lead Hotch up the stairs to his apartment, listening to the clicking of Clooney's nails on the tiled floor. “It's a quiet building,” he said, leading the way. “Everyone's got a dog but I never hear them.”
“Clooney's quiet,” Hotch said in that supportive tone he got when he didn't know what else to say. Something was eating at him. Once they were inside, he was stopped short by the sound of the television, of some strange music coming from the next room. “Did you leave the television on when you left?”
The answer was provided to him moments later when he saw two bodies on the couch. Two bodies that looked like they'd been in the same place for hours, or days.
“Emily,” Hotch said softly, peering into the apartment. She and Sean were sitting on the couch playing Dr. Mario and lobbing insults back and forth with a bottle of tequila nudged between their thighs. It was barely past lunch time.
“Don't ask.” Was all Derek said, wrapping Hotch in a hug that gave all of his insecurities a swift kick in the ass and sent them packing. “I missed you, you know that? I'm glad you're here.” Sean barely looked in his direction but he hollered at his brother anyway, like it was old news that he was there, like he lived there. “You look like hell.”
“I feel like it,” Hotch replied quietly. “Can we talk?” In private, he intended to say, but Derek understood and pulled him back toward his bedroom quickly, Clooney never leaving their sides. As they skirted the couch and slipped down the hallway, Emily made a whistling sound and Sean hollered something about keeping it quiet because he didn't feel like losing his breakfast. They rolled their eyes in unison and shut the door behind them.
“What's up, baby?” Derek asked, flopping down on his bed. Hotch followed, minus the flop, instead easing himself and his sore back down carefully.
“I have a consult with a surgeon this week for my ear...” he began, pressing his palms to his knees to stiffen and straighten his painful back. “Up here. I thought maybe if I had it done here, I could stay with you.”
“Only you would turn a medical procedure into what amounts to a vacation.”
Hotch smirked and let out the breath he'd been holding. “What do you think?”
“I think it's a sweet idea. We'll have a great time. I can't really take much time off from work, but I'll figure something out.”
The look on Hotch's face, amused and confused at Derek's response, made Derek erupt in laughter. “I mean after you're done being a miserable old grump about some ear pain. After that.”
Hotch didn't even worry about the procedure after that. He went to his consult and felt good about the surgeon, it was all going according to plan. The problem didn't arise until Lucy was involved. Haley had a girls trip planned and Hotch's surgery ended up scheduled for the same week. If he pushed it out, he'd be waiting months and his hearing could be permanently damaged. The likelihood of recurrent infections loomed over him. He was still suffering from swelling and pain from the last one. It was already dodgy and he had a constant headache, the kind that no medication touched so he didn't bother with any of that. His office lights hadn't been turned on in weeks, and Garcia had been printing all of his case information when everyone else had it sent to their PDAs, he couldn't look at the screen for any length of time without it making his head throb. The headache may have originated with the intense ringing in his ears, but now it just lived with him.
This wasn't just his best option, it was starting to feel like his only option.
(x)
“Surgery?! Are you freaking KIDDING me Aaron?” Haley nearly shrieked, nudging Lucy toward her bedroom so she didn't hear if an argument erupted. Lucy, a little too wise for her years, mumbled something about not being a baby before she stomped her feet down the hallway dramatically. Hotch had to stifle a little smile. “I made these plans months ago Aaron, I can't just change them because you got yourself blown up in the field. Your job can't keep affecting our lives like this. What am I supposed to do?”
He was trying to stay neutral and calm. It wasn't easy, considering that she was upset about a girls trip while he was talking about the aftermath of being in a very public explosion. (Thankfully, she hadn't seen the Post or the photo of him and so far his ever growing stack of mail was still a secret kept between he and JJ. He thought she'd dig in even harder if she had any idea.) She was upset and he really couldn't blame her completely, not with what little she knew (or, if he had it his way, what she would ever know) but he had tried to get another date it just wasn't possible. Not the way he wanted it to work...maybe he could see a surgeon closer to home but he wasn't willing to compromise on that. “I'm working it out,” was his only defense and she narrowed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means I'm seeing a surgeon in New York so that Lucy and I can can stay with Derek for a week or two afterward.”
“And Derek is just okay with this? Derek is on board with becoming a full time parent in his fancy Brooklyn brownstone while you're healing from surgery?”
He bristled, even when he was trying not to. She'd always known which buttons to press and when to get the best reaction out of him, it was a special skill and one he had never appreciated. The only person who could get under his skin with more efficiency was Sean, but he held back more than she did. Sean had seen Hotch explode, Sean had seen more than Haley ever would and had more restraint because of it. He nearly took the bait but caught himself just in time. “The recovery period for this procedure is short. Derek is more than capable of helping me, and I don't think you're giving him nearly enough credit Haley.”
The blessing here was that she was raising her voice, just shy of yelling, he could hear her just fine. If she lowered her voice an octave or two they would both be worse off. And then she laughed at him. Nothing else to say, no response to that. It was cold and nervous, he could tell she was just worried about her child in New York more than anything but he was not going to let her take that out on Derek. “I promise, we'll be fine. You don't need to worry and you don't need to reschedule anything.”
“You two have never lived together,” she said quietly, leveling an icy glare at him. Now he was scrambling, trying to read lips. It was a skill he barely possessed, it was new and rudimentary at best. He wanted to tell her to yell again. “Spending the night a few times with someone, fucking in hotel rooms all over the country...that isn't the same as taking your child and moving in while you're...”
“Haley,” he started, feeling the way his heartbeat hammered behind his ears. She was really nudging him close to the edge, choosing her words carefully. “I'm aware of everything this entails. Believe me. If it doesn't work out, I'll be more than capable of driving after the first week, not to mention that Sean lives nearby. I will manage.”
“Oh, great. Yeah, Sean, a pillar of society. A marvel of adulthood.” Her voice wavered, and then she broke. She usually did, all that venom and all that anger melted into what the real problem was. All he had to do was wait it out. Be patient. “And what about Lucy? She adores Derek. If this goes bad, she loses big.”
“Haley, please. I'm handling it.”
Unsurprisingly, it was not resolved before Haley walked out the door, and Hotch was okay with that. He accepted it anyway. Sometimes with Haley it was better just to show her rather than tell her. He'd asked her out to prom and she laughed at him, told him there was no way he was going to a school dance, let alone a formal and yeah part of her was probably right it sounded like a nightmare but he still wanted to do it for her. So he rented a tux and showed up at her house for a trial run a month early. Just to prove it. His mom's friend gave them a private dance lesson, and Haley's mom took her out dress shopping the next day.
When she came by to pick up Lucy the next morning he gave her the information for his doctor, Derek's apartment, the post-op instructions. A full itinerary. “If you have any questions...” he said, hoping that his confidence would rub off on her. She blinked and looked away but not so fast that he couldn't see the tears in her eyes. She waved him off when he gave her that concerned doe eyed look. Everything had changed overnight, just like he'd expected. She hated being blindsided and he could respect that.
He did too. And he was dealing with this situation only slightly better than she was.
“You're an idiot, Aaron,” she said but she did it with a tear soaked smile and he accepted it as her apology and approval. “You really need this procedure?”
“I do,” he nodded. It's bad, he wanted to say. The pain, the hearing loss, it had gotten to a point that it was unmanageable and he was on the verge of losing the hearing in his right ear completely. They were going to trial run a hearing aid for the left side, avoiding surgery if it wasn't necessary but the right side was dire straits. She swiped at the tears and nodded.
“Okay. Do you need me to keep Lucy? I can figure it out. Maybe Jessica...” She was worried now. Her demeanor had shifted to something sweet and caring, she longed to reach out and touch him like she might have a year ago. Before everything fell apart. But she couldn't do that now, had no right to cross that line. She was the one who drew it after all.
Derek was where he drew his comfort now, and she was glad for both of them. She had her own new thing and they were all better off...didn't mean she wasn't sparking wildfire in her nerves over the idea that he was hurting. And had been for how long? Weeks? Months? This was the first she was hearing but that, in itself, wasn't surprising. He kept things from her. She never had had much of a stomach when it came to him being in pain, it made her ache right along beside him. Jessica always said the same thing...there was just something about him. It was terrible, really.
“No. Derek is looking forward to our stay. He turned his office into a bedroom for her and took the first week off of work. Last night he sent me a photo of his freezer stocked with mint chip ice cream.” Hotch didn't have the heart to mention that he wouldn't be able to chew solid food for a week after the surgery...they would cross that bridge later.
She rolled her eyes and blinked the tears back quickly. She'd long ago promised that she had cried her last tears over this stupid man, but here she was proving herself wrong. “Good. I'm glad. If you need anything...”
“Thank you Haley.”
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noctnis · 4 months
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gonna be answering these questions for tyreus under read more bc i need to ramble under the void RAGHHHH
1. what smiley face would they use the most if they had a phone
😊
2. regular morning beverage (and snack) order
he would probably drink tea and like a biscuit he's boring lmao
3. how lactose intolerant are they/if they were lactose intolerant would this stop them from consuming lactose products
he isn't but if he was he would probably not eat a lot of lactose products, but would still eat like ice cream or smth
4. if they went to a modern day university what would they get their bachelor's in and would they enjoy it
OMG he would major in anthropology with a minor in archeology and he would Love it
5. instrument they wish they could play but can't
the violin <3
6. hobby/interest they are most embarrassed about
mmm maybe him being a mild acrobat (honestly he's very flexible/can do flips and it kinda makes him feel obsence for some reason)
7. do they watch free to air tv
probably ??? he likes a good ole book instead
8. do they collect anything and what is it
anything old . silver handware, old rusted weapons, old story books, paintings, anything distinctly historical lol
9. do they prefer sweet and savory foods
he's more inclined to sweet foods since he never really ate anything sweet when he was a kid and never gave himself the opportunity when he became a adult . i imagine in bg3 he buys chocolate time to time as a treat :3
10. what are they allergic to
dust . i can imagine he's also has the occasional rash from crabs/lobster idk why i just think it would be funny
11. story of their first kiss
none . he was a edgelord (for reasons) and didn't allow himself to get physically and emotionally entangled with ppl and avoided situations where that could happen like at a bar or social events (he gets kissed by gale later on tho hehe)
12. if someone asked him to say one work place appropriate fun fact about themselves what would they say
"uhh i really like dinosaurs ^___^ and my favorite is the beipiaosaurus :)'
13. signature perfume
i don't think he would have a particular smell but smell kinda herbal since he uses oils to help w the aches in his body :P i weirdly also imagine he smells like apples idk i just like apples
14. how late do they leave their gift shopping before events where gift giving is required
FOOL . he is always early for that . a week before it happens and he already has like five presents wrapped already . keep up
15. what mundane human job would they have in modern society to pay the bills and would they like it
i giggle at him being just a normal data entry office working and him loving it bc it is simple easy and boring . excitement and unpredictability is smth he tires of lol
16. what would be his favorite and hated flavor of fruit candy
he would fucking love orange and hate grape (he would be confused on how it doesn't actually taste like grape it just taste like what purple would taste like)
17. pick a random mild illness or miscellaneous ailment for them to consistently or periodically struggle w
his face tattoos/tattoos along his spine and around right leg sometimes hurt (like a numbing sort of pain) and the deeper part of his scars sometimes flare up
18. everyday task they must do but struggle with or simply hate
hes super okay at cooking (he can make basic meals but he can't rlly make anything that has more than like ten steps) . he doesn't like the fact it makes a lot of dishes either lol
19. their top three songs on repeat
moon river - andy williams , make your own kind of music - cass elliot , fools rush in (where angels fear to tread) - frank sinatra
(i imagine he's the type to rlly enjoy romantic kind of songs from late/middle 1900s but he likes a lot of diff kinds of music ^__^)
20. preferred adhesive item for general use
blue tak . he likes how it feels in his fingies
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blccdchcrry · 8 months
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                                        ˗ˏˋ GENERAL. ˊˎ˗   
FULL NAME: So-Ri Park AGE/DOB: - 29 / March 28, 1994 HEIGHT: 5′6″ WEIGHT: 121 ETHNICITY: Thai GENDER: Female HAIR: Black EYES: - Dark Brown SCARS: - A few battle scars, none significant TATTOOS: - None PIERCINGS: - Both ears LANGUAGES: - Thai, Korean, Chinese, English, and French EDUCATION: - Some college OCCUPATION: - Owner of cosmO+ Blood & Oxygen Bar SEXUAL IDENTIFICATION: - Pansexual ROMANTIC IDENTIFICATION: - Panromantic TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine / Choleric: Sanguine people are boisterous, bubbly, chatty, openly emotional, social extroverts. / Choleric people are the proud, extroverted 'alphas' of our species. MYERS BRIGGS TYPE: INTJ: Innovative, independent, strategic, logical, reserved, insightful. Driven by their own original ideas to achieve improvement. MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral :  You put your own beliefs above all else, and they are not evil. In fact, your beliefs might be better than so called "good" beliefs. After all, what is good? Your answer to that is that it is a moral bias, and that being good depends on who is the judge. If you are working for another, it is because you felt like it or because they are paying you and are not insanely zealous.
                                          ˗ˏˋ SPECIFICS. ˊˎ˗ 
FAVORITE FOOD: - In her human life, kimchi and buldak FAVORITE DRINK: - Peach tea FAVORITE BRAND: - No favorite, Sori likes a variety. FAVORITE PLACE: - Seoul and NYC FAVORITE HOBBY: - Dancing FAVORITE ARTIST: - Myonghi Kang. FAVORITE MUSICIAN: - Sori doesn’t have a favorite musician, and listens to a brooooooaddddd variety of music. FAVORITE TV SHOW: - Fruits Basket and Full Metal Alchemist - anime series. FAVORITE MOVIE: - Anything horror. Hates most romances -- too sappy. FAVORITE BOOK: - Fruits Basket manga series. FAVORITE SCENT: - Rainwater. FAVORITE COLOUR: - Red, black, and orange FAVORITE TEXTURE: - Satin FAVORITE PERSON: - Her Sire - Fiamma Christiansen
                                          ˗ˏˋ RANDOM. ˊˎ˗ 
LIST FIVE THINGS THEY LIKE: - Dancing, music, having fun, creativity, the beach LIST FIVE THINGS THEY DISLIKE: - Being told what to do (by most), disloyal people, arrogance, hunters, PET PEEVE: - When people that she does not respect try to tell her what to do. PERSONALITY TYPES THEY PREFER: - Similar to her, or more creative, free-spirited types. PERSONALITY TYPES THEY AVOID: - Disloyal or ‘sneaky’ types. ACHILLES HEEL: - Her sire. LIST THREE THINGS THEY LIKE ABOUT THEMSELVES: - Her loyalty, spontaneity, and resilience LIST THREE THINGS THEY DISLIKE ABOUT THEMSELVES: - That she was a huntress pre-turning, that she let her father control them for so long, and that she is impulsive at times. FASHION STYLE: - Sori’s fashion style changes by day. She can rock darker outfits, or pretty pastel dresses. LIST TWO SEX POSITIONS THEY PREFER: - Reverse cowgirl and doggy-style LIST TWO SEX POSITIONS THEY AVOID: - She hasn’t found one yet.
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cookie-man-india · 1 year
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Which Chocolate is Best for Valentine's Gift?
It all began with chocolate! Without the boy gifting the girl chocolates and expressing his affection, or vice versa, there would barely be a love story to start with. You must arrange valentine's day with chocolates this year too. Hey, we've compiled five best chocolate gift suggestions for your loved ones.
5 Best Chocolate Gifts For Valentines Day
1.      Heart-Shaped Chocolate Container
A standard for the day is a box of chocolates. Give your partner a box filled with various mixed chocolates, including milk, double dark, gourmet cookies, fruit-raspberry, and strawberry. The delicious heart-shaped valentines chocolate box will express your feelings better than anything else.
2.      Personalized Chocolates
Chocolates are incredibly delicious and have the power to melt anyone's heart. You can provide them with a box of decadent chocolates that melt in your mouth and are personalized with their name, image, or a sweet message. So use customized chocolates to express your sentiments and fulfill their sweet desires.
3.      Bouquet of chocolates
Are you tired of gifting the same old box of candy? A lovely, delicious, and scenic chocolate bouquet will win them over once more and make the day extra special and romantic. So give them chocolates arranged into the shape of a pretty floral bouquet instead of a chocolate bar.
4.      Fruit Platter with Chocolate
The platter includes a variety of chocolate-covered fruits, such as grapes, strawberries, bananas, and orange slices, making it a unique valentine's chocolate gift box. This is the most fantastic present for a girl or a guy who adores chocolate and fruit. Any fruit lover will fall head over heels for this gorgeous bouquet.
5.      Crushed Chocolate Heart
A breakable chocolate heart is a chocolate container shaped like a heart for those unaware of this famous gift concept. First, it is stuffed with sweets, gourmet cookies, and other non-edible gifts. Then, a hammer is used to bash it open, revealing the surprise.
Final Takeaway,
Pick the option that would bring your spouse the most joy, then indulge in a day of delicious, chocolate-filled activities. Any of these suggestions for your sweetheart is ideal. These best chocolate gift basket suggestions will be a hit when paired with a beautiful bouquet and superb wine.
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prosmains · 1 year
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Paradise beach aruba
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Paradise beach aruba plus#
Paradise beach aruba plus#
They are compact, though, and most only have walk-in showers plus a simple selection of toiletries. Bathrooms are modern and done in marble tiling with granite vanities. Granite countertops and dark wood cabinets complete the high-end home look. Full kitchens are a nice-to-have feature, and include dishwashers, full-size refrigerators, coffeemakers, toasters, blenders, and stove-tops. Other features include air-conditioning and flat-screen TVs. The ones with a pool or garden viewĪre the most pleasant (the others offer an unremarkable view of the Room configurations vary, and range from Studios to multi-bedroom units.Īll of the rooms have private balconies with enough room forĪ couple to sit comfortably with coffee. It's not the freshest look, but is reasonably pleasant, and there are more elegant accents like solid wood furniture and dining sets made from pieces of bisected tree branches that add a dash of rustic charm to the otherwise bland decor. Despite differences in size and shape, all rooms have a similar color scheme defined by light neutral tones plus pops of burnt orange and deep red in everything from bedspreads to curtains to wall art. Given the size of the rooms, the mostly bare walls - save for a token piece of late-'90s abstract art - create an austere look that's unintentionally minimalistic. Private, though the decor is a bit dated and spartan. The apartment-style suites here are very spacious, sunny, and Expect to see lots of mature tourists and families here - those looking for a romantic escape may want to consider staying elsewhere. The most socializing happens here, and there are plenty of ways to kick back, from mini-golf to cheap snacks at the tiki bar. The beach is another main draw here, and ever-popular Eagle Beach - with calm, turquoise watersĪnd a relaxed vibe - is just across the street. The hotel's pool area is ridiculously big, and it serves as the main common area for Still, everything is in decent shape and the low-key interiors and decor can make a fine-enough setting for a mid-range oceanside hotel. The pink exterior, large paved and treeless expanses, and abundance of concrete don't create any sort of charming island vibe. Time as their friends, and frequently reach out to new guests, creating a laid-back social vibe.įrom a style perspective, though, things are a little less warm and fuzzy, and the hotel is unmistakably dated. Instead, the guests - many of whom are returning visitors - seem to plan their visits to the Paradise Beach Villas at the same In fact, don't come here if you're looking for solitude. Staff with hugs at this low-key mid-range resort, and this hotel seems like the kind of place to find friends new and old. (Actual taxes are 9.5% Aruban tourism tax plus $3 per night per bedroom environmental tax.) Weekly rate includes a generous electric allowance of $140.Retired Americans make good-natured jabs at each other and greet Rates are subject to BBV tax of 10.5% plus a service fee charged by VRBO. Aruba activities/restaurants information is in villa and on internet for planning your vacation. To enjoy & explore the island, car rentals are available both at or off airport check internet for prices and making reservations. While other beaches high rise hotels, shopping, tourist attractions, airport and the capital of Oranjestad are quick 5 minute drive. Great centrally located in a quiet residential area less than 1 mile of Eagle Beach & Druif Beach, supermarkets (Ling & Sons and SuperFoods), convenience store, gas station, casino, IMAX cinema, golf course, ATM, restaurants/bars and low rise hotels. Villa reflects the whimsical essence of Aruba with it's colorful Caribbean Island inspired decor. For your beach fun: sand chairs, cooler, large towels & beach bags are in villa. Privacy with a large fenced & gated property with tropical garden with palms, fruit trees and flowering plants surrounding pool with exterior security lighting and cameras. Also a covered BBQ pavilion with gas grill and bar seating for outdoor dining overlooking pool and tropical garden. Relaxation & fun with French doors leading to shady covered veranda with comfy outdoor furniture overlooking the private pool with sun lounge chairs on the travertine pool deck. Pack light as villa has a laundry room with washer and dryer. Villa has a split layout, so bedrooms are apart for privacy. Three bedrooms and two bath villa is fully air conditioned master bedroom has king bed & en-suite bathroom two bedrooms with queen beds and a shared bathroom. For your privacy, fun and relaxation, a fully equipped European kitchen with stainless appliances & quartz counter open layout with high ceilings & recessed lighting and large white tiled floors throughout. **0.7 mile to Aruba's Premier Eagle Beach & Druif Beach.
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tempestaurora · 3 years
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pomegranates [x]
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thelastsock · 3 years
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Giving you the time of day - Headcanons
This popped into my head and took on a life of it’s own. A smattering of Henry Cavill’s characters and their favourite times of day. 
Warnings: Hints of smut but nothing major! And it’s a long post so it’s below a cut! 
Clark Kent
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Dawn. He loves the stillness, as though the universe itself is holding its breath to see what the new days brings. Those first drops of pink, inking the horizon into hues of orange and pink. When the world is peaceful and quiet. If only for the briefest of moments. It reminds him of you, how calm and steady you are in the whirlwind of his life. And well hey, it's always dawn somewhere. He aches to take you on a tour of sunrises all over the world, cradled in his arms. Because you deserve to see all the beauty this world has even if it pales in comparison to you. 
August Walker
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He craves the deepest night, that sweet, decadent dark spot between midnight and dawn, where the shadows linger and eventually fade into the grey of pre-dawn. Where you can lurk and not be found if you don’t want to be. Where he can turn up at your door with violence in his eyes but be welcomed into your bed with not even a whisper. The ruby neon lights of the sign outside your window shine through the open blinds and paint him in alternating stripes of light and dark. It covers him like bars of a cell, like a cage for his heart. He’s deep in your gut and rooted into your heart before you wonder how to reach beyond those cold steel bars in his eyes.
Napoleon Solo 
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The Golden Hour. What else? The man who loves to love and leaves a little piece of his heart everywhere he goes. That golden glow of sunset highlights you at an angle that takes his breath away. Like you'd bathed in gold itself. His fingers itch to steal you the alchemist’s prize, the brightest gold and drape your frame in jewels. But he knows it's a poor substitute for the warming radiance of the sun. He'll take you to sunlit beaches and silent clifftops, wide verandas and tiny balconies just to watch the rays caress your skin in any way he can. Sunkissed. Kissed by Leon. It's difficult to tell the difference between the heat of his love and the heat of the sun's rays when they mix upon your salt-sprayed lips. 
Charles Brandon
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He thrives in the romantic, cosy dark that billows around you in those waking hours between the first and second sleep. Where you're relaxed and the worries of the world simply don't exist. It's here he lets the romantic words fall from his lips, murmured into your ear. Words of devotion, of worship. They trickle down your spine and set you ablaze. The fire licks at the edges of your consciousness until, finally awake, you grasp at the edges of the pale linen hiding your bodies. When you meet, it's with sighs and pillowy kisses, quiet undulations of hips and skin to skin embraces. Lighting candles and aimless chatter fill the time before losing yourself in each other until sleep claims you once more. 
Geralt of Rivia
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Dusk is when he comes alive, allowing his pupils to widen, to take in everything around him. Gone is stoic, shrewd Witcher, instead a poet of simple joys remains. Of sorts. His time spent with the bard colouring his language as he describes his vision to you in jewel tones of grey and brown and dark green. You lie in his lap, eyes closed, for it would be futile to look into the nothingness of the dimming light. You absorb it all, revelling in the passion that rings in his voice as he describes the birds roosting in the trees and the scuffle of mice in the ground. It’s peace, but a strange charged peace that crackles between you. He knows you well enough to feel the pick up in your heartbeat and it isn't long before you're pinned underneath him in the dewy grass. On some nights, you’re given a few minutes headstart to run into the gathering darkness before he gives chase.
Mikey
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Midnight, the exact moment between this day and the next because it stretches into infinity when he's with you. Midnight because he can celebrate birthdays and anniversaries instantly and commiserate every second of the days you'd rather forget. He waits until the yellow green on the radio alarm slips into the pleasing symmetry of 00:00 before he turns to you with yearning, hot eyes. In the ceaseless black of the exact middle of the night, he insists that your love is timeless and fathomless and all other -less words that aren’t less, not at all. They mean forever and you know he got them from cheesy movies but he's so sweet and earnest that you can't help believing him for a moment. You revel in the enduring nature of his love as you curl up together in his bed and slip into the next day.
Walter Marshall
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He never knows what time it is. Well he does, but only by the numbers of his watch. The values mean nothing, aside from dimly registering that it’s way past when he said he’d be home. Or hours past the time you’re asleep. But come dawn, dusk, noon or night - he doesn't care. Full moon or full sun, he's happy so long as he's wrapped tightly around you. Because he knows it won't be long until he's called away from your warm embrace again. Seasons may change on time’s endless march but he knows the one place where it stands still and he never wants to fuck it up. He thinks you're maybe too innocent to know the horrors he faces or that maybe he's too angry for you. But his resolve to insist you seek someone better dissolves on his tongue when he sees you dolled up in his favourite colour lingerie on the nights he makes it home before you’re asleep.
Sherlock Holmes
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Breakfast is his favourite time of day. It’s not always at the same time. But it’s always the same feeling, his joy in providing for your every whim. To see you laugh in delight at the spread he has procured for you when you sit at the groaning breakfast table. When the weather warms up he loves to sit with you in the garden and watch the butterflies float through the flowers. On some summer days he insists on carrying you up the hill by your home, basket of food in hand. He settles with your head in his lap, feeding you berries under your favourite tree. He picks the berries himself in the early morning when they’re newly ripe and loves to watch the sweet and tart flavours chase themselves across your features before he greedily kisses the taste into his mouth from yours. He tastes the fruit but he craves you. He indulgently waits until your satiated, lips stained purple and pink, before he tastes beneath your skirts. 
Humphrey
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It’s always mid-afternoon when Humphrey calls on you. When the sun has passed its peak and settled into the cheerful afternoon, he's there with the finest china and most delectable treats. He's determined to show you his worth, to demonstrate the depths of his love beyond fighting. He loves with demand, with vigour and unbridled passion. It burns deep in his gut that he might just go crazy with it. The restraints of his decorum wear thin as he sees you in that dress, your beauty incomparable to the spring blooms at your feet. And of course you’re barefoot at the door. Of course your face lights up with wholesome joy at the scene. Just a few more weeks until your courtship comes to an end and he can come home to you, his barefoot wife and let his passion spill over onto every inch of your skin.
Captain Syverson
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Midday is perfection in his eyes. Used to being the early riser, it’s a difficult habit to bear and while he loves his job, he hates that it robs him of so much time with you. Robbed him. He’s here now and makes no effort to pry himself away from you. Either he's just getting out of bed after a languid morning exploring you intimately or he's out on the deck with a beer in hand, prodding at a steak on the grill while you lounge in the porch swing a few meters away. The crickets chirp regardless. He feels at peace here. In the desert, the sun is harsh and unforgiving, but here the sun is warm and soft, like you. Like the caress of your hand across his back, like the touch of your satin lips to his skin. When he looks out across the fields of the small farm you share, he almost feels worthy of it. Then he looks over at you lightly snoozing on the swing and it’s not the warmth from the sun that heats his cheeks but the depth of his feelings for you.
Will Shaw
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He doesn't relish leaving you to catch breakfast. The salt of your warm skin is so much more preferable to the cold sea waves. But if his heart doesn't just ache with longing when he tiptoes back into bed to find you sprawled across it with his pillow clutched to your chest. The sheets protect your modesty but leave so much bare skin he can’t help but stare. You turn in a fitful doze and Will has to turn away to stop himself ruining the moment. He smiles at the ceiling and makes his way to the shower. He hears the bathroom door creak open and looks over his shoulder at you. Even through the foggy glass, he finds you stunning. He loses his ability to form coherent sentences when you drop the sheet and step into the shower. He lives for the sea, but he might just stick to land if you nestle yourself any further into his heart. 
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lydias--stiles · 3 years
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♡ IT HAD TO BE YOU, WONDERFUL YOU ♡
canon compliant juke valentine’s day fic ♡ for all you sweethearts in the fandom
Before hopeless romantic Julie Molina fell in love with Luke Patterson, she always felt glum on Valentine’s Day. She tortured herself with romcoms leading up to the holiday, went into the “couples goals” tag on Pinterest, pouted when her crushes she never talked to dated other people (read: Nick) and felt all around envious of those having a lover to spend the day with. Her mother dying, she who held the biggest heart of all, also didn’t help her mood.   
But that was before Luke blasted himself into her life. Sure, their romance was a little unorthodox, but predictability was overrated anyway.
They got together last summer, when the band played an amazing gig at a tiki bar on the beach and they were drunk on the heat, pink lemonade and each other’s adoring gazes. Dancing on the beach with him and the boys, Luke had grabbed her in his embrace and whispered lyrics at her she’s never heard before. His fingers grazed her jaw when he said it was a love letter - “For you, Jules.” She didn’t have to go far to reach his lips, both eager and giddy to finally come home.
(Weeks later, the love letter was transposed to music and performed for an audience. It was full circle moment. He loved music and her and now it was all connected. Luke had been dazed, but Julie was quick to kiss the stupor away. They could do that now. It was insane.) 
All week, Julie had been working on a secret gift. She scoured her room was scraps and pictures and notes; reminders of Luke hidden in every corner without realising it. A purple pick was found under her bed, a song in her dream box they never got to finish, a seashell he plucked from the beach, a row of pictures from a photo booth, love notes. Julie would lie if she said she didn’t find it adorable how his only reference of romance were the 80s flicks, as it gave her a heartthrob of a boyfriend that didn’t back down from cute gestures like those notes. It left her heart racing and brought a blush on her cheekbones. the sun’s jealous of that smile jules
It was only natural she made him a collage. 
They had an unspoken agreement to never involve money. Though they were in a band together, all the money they made directly went to Julie. She invested it back in their life passion, obviously, but the fact remained that Luke couldn’t take her on typical dates or buy her the typical gifts. Until American Ghost Dollars got invented, they had to be creative. 
Going to the movies were movie nights in the studio with a projector and cookies they made together. A love song instead of dinner. Dancing in her bedroom with AirPods instead of partying.     
And it was enough. It was more than enough. She loved him so much that each second spend together was perfect as is. 
The collage was small enough that he could easily tuck it away. Pictures overlapped, a dozen Mini Luke’s and Mini Julie’s staring at the camera or each other, from before and after they started dating. 
A photo Flynn took of Luke peppering her temple with kisses backstage. A polaroid of when she snuck up on him and smacked a kiss on his cheek, his teeth flashing white from the beam on his face. A Snapchat of when she showed him the filters and he kissed her instead. Multiple pictures of them snuggling on the studio couch, supposed ‘blackmail’ for Alex, but Julie cherished them. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his arms wrap around her back as she’s sprawled on top of him.
The pretty shell didn’t fit on the collage, so she decided to make a bracelet as well. A thick band made from orange, red and yellow string, the shell as its penchant. 
That morning, she pulled on her most Valentine’s day inspired outfit and rushed to the studio. Her gifts were still in her room, out of sight and kept for later, now she just wanted to see her boyfriend. 
Her smile, painted in cherry lipgloss, stretched wider when she slid the doors open and saw that no one was inside. Just last night had he kissed her a little longer after rehearsal, wiggling his brows like he knew something she didn’t. Luke was terrible at keeping secrets. She wasn’t surprised to find it empty, unless…
Luke poofed in front of her with a warrior cry and hoisted her up in one fluid motion. Julie yelled in delight, gripping onto him as he spun them around. For the occasion, he swapped his regular orange beanie for a red one. (One day, her heart was going to explode from all the silly stuff he did.) Matching her expression, his hands steadied her as she wrapped her legs around his waist.    
An index finger flicked his chin playfully. “How long did it take you to plan this?”
He gasped, faux-offended. “Julie! I’m spontaneous as shit.”
“Mh-hm,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss his lips. His frown melted away, the languid kiss flickering with the hint of passion it usually held. Slowly, he set her down, her staying locked between his arms. When she pulled back, he chased after her and pecked the side of her mouth - once, twice.    
“I’m gonna smother you with so much kisses that you’re gonna get sick of me,” he declared, as if the threat of loving her was scary. 
She pressed her forehead against his with a grin. “I look forward to it.”
Instantly keeping up his promise, he nuzzled against her cheek. “What’d you wanna do?”
“Well, we’re ending the day in the hammock.”
“Duh.”
“And,” she sneakily added, “we can be really cheesy and watch ‘Valentine’s Day’.”
He made a face, both remembering their divided opinion on the movie. “If we’re seeing it again, then I’m choosing all the snacks.”
“Deal.”
“Nice,” he breathed, raising his fist between their torsos so she could bump it with her own. Her cheeks were already aching from smiling so much, giddy to spend the entire day with her boyfriend undisturbed by the boys or family or school. 
Her fingers scratched into his plaid jacket. “You know what I’m also looking forward to?” His eyes narrowed at her lilting voice. “Giving you your present.”
His jaw fell slack. “Jules, now I’m gonna be thinking about it all day.” But then she saw the devilish glint in the green of his irises as he uttered: “Guess you’ll have to wait on your present too.”
“You-” That was unexpected. “You have a present?”
Luke bit down on his lip, watching her surprise. “I was waiting for that reaction. Sweet. Okay, I’m saying we dip everything in chocolate. Fruit, popcorn-”
“I’m willing to try one of those crazy combinations you love so much,” she proposed. The excited smooch she got afterwards was worth it.
The couple claimed the kitchen for an hour as they made their snacks, most of which being the typical chocolate covered strawberries both liked a lot, and then nestled themselves in her room. Curled into his warm body, they shared earphones as they watched ‘Valentine’s Day’. Though she asked to watch it, all her attention went to his hands continuously caressing her waist and thigh. It lulled her into a blissful trance. Sometimes he would make a joke (“We’re way cooler than Taylor and Taylor!”) and she’d chuckle and hum and rub his chest. By the time Jessica Biel was smashing the piñata, she was placing soft kisses on his neck and he had to pause the movie. 
Hovering over her with a wolfish grin, he pecked her nose. “I thought you wanted to watch.”
“And I thought you were going to smother me with kisses,” she bounced back with a quirked brow. For a beat, they shared an amused look. 
Then Luke laughed, diving for her lips and doing just that. That rushing feeling coursed through her veins, a pure shot of adoration and attraction with each warm, open-mouthed kiss. He tasted like chocolate, skin sticky from fruit, and smelled in that perfectly boyish way. Julie sighed into the kiss. No cheesy movie or love song could compete with the sensation of slipping her fingers in his hair and having his arms tighten like he never wanted her to stop. Her bedroom was heaven on earth.   
(Perhaps that was silly. She was only seventeen after all. How much did she actually know about the world to accurately make that statement? But did it even matter if right now, right here, she felt like the luckiest girl in the universe? The cynics could bite her.) 
She didn’t know how long they let their lips and hands wander. It was hard to care about time when his mouth was on her ear and her nails drew shapes on his back. 
“I bet,” he whispered, “Taylor and Taylor never felt like this.”
She giggled. “You’re just jealous of the big teddy bear.”
His smile pressed on her cheek. “Maybe.”
When Luke and her first got together, they were scared to touch. Sure, they had their moment on the beach and previously, they found plenty of opportunities to be in contact. But after they made if official and there was nothing to hide behind anymore, it got scary. They yearned for affection, but what if Luke disappeared one day without meaning to and then they’d both ache for each other’s comfort? They got over it eventually and now it was only natural to feel his smile on her skin.
It was hard to imagine kissing anyone but Luke, unfathomable having a different boy hug her from behind at school and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Only Luke could write her love notes. Only she was allowed to write him ones as well, or leave cute post-it’s on his guitar to cheer him up when he had a bad day. It was just them.
Her mind going haywire over such a simple touch jolted her memory, Julie abruptly sitting up and bringing Luke with her. His brows raised in surprise. She pecked the pout away, brushing her nose against his. 
“Can I give you your present?”
A breathy smile tugged on his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m curious.”
Julie untangled herself from their embrace and reached inside her wardrobe for the gift. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, she gave him his present with barely-concealed anticipation. Hopefully he loved it as much as she loved making it! 
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she sang, watching him pull the tissue paper out the small bag and unearthing the collage and bracelet. 
Speechless, he gawked at the collection of pictures. Eyes flitted past each quickly, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Crawling over to sit beside him, she placed her head on his shoulder. “You like it?”
He sniffled. Julie looked up and was shocked to note his eyes were shiny. “Aw, babe!”
His gaze caught hers, distraught. “You’re not supposed to make me horny and then emotional!”
She laughed and pressed a kiss on his cheek. His cute reaction made her heart lurch with fondness. “It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.”
Luke sighed, hand guiding her face to place a proper kiss on her lips. It was short, but just as electric as all the ones before. He kissed like he played guitar - always intentional and one hundred percent. 
“I love it,” he muttered. “Thank you. And I love the bracelet too.”
“I made sure it matches your others.”
He captured her lips again. “Yeah… Thanks, Jules.” His nose scrunched, arrogance dripping from his voice as he tucked a curl behind her ear. “My present is better though.”
Her arms crossed, challenged. “Oh really?”
“Hell yeah, it is. Gonna knock it out of the park.” With a snap of his finger, he conjured his songbook and stuck the collage between two fresh pages. He clicked his tongue with the typical bravado he exuded onstage. “Who knows, Jules, you might even get a crush on me.”
Just as she was about to retort with a tease of her own, her eyes caught a fluttering page with words she didn’t recognise. Pointing at it, she asked: “What’s that?”
Luke frowned, thumbing to the right side and rolling his eyes. “Some lyrics that got stuck in my head a few nights ago. It doesn’t work though.”
“Maybe not. I kind of like that part.” She tapped on the line ‘so deep, your DNA's being messed with my touch’ with a pensive wrinkle knitted in her forehead. Ideas began to brew, throwaway pieces from other discarded songs coming back to her and meshing well with what he’s already composed. “Yeah, this is good, Luke. Do you want to work on it?”
He hesitated for a beat, stare trailing from her to the half-eaten plate of snacks. “Do you want to?”
“Of course,” she smiled. They were Luke and Julie - did either of them really think they could go a day without music? Even if she hadn’t discovered this diamond in the rough, he’d inevitably spring upright to write down a riff or her fingers would tingle to try out a melody. Songwriting was perhaps the best date of all, showing that work and play could successfully be mixed together. 
He sighed in relief. “Good. Okay, so I was thinking…”
Hours went by tinkering on the song, the afternoon drifting by and them having moved to the hammock in the garden. It was a spot Luke rediscovered and she all too willingly found a place next to him. They cherished the quietude and warmth even before they were dating. The page was now littered with flowing, strung-together verses and a half-done chorus. Instrumentals were for tomorrow when they were all together. In the back of her head lingered the thought that he still hasn’t given his supposed homerun of a present, but Julie reminded herself then that it didn’t even matter. This was enough. He was enough. Who knew, maybe he was just talking smack! The doubts vanished as Luke drummed his fingers on her stomach, humming a beat.      
“And you thought it wouldn’t work!”, she teased. 
He puffed. “Cause it didn’t! It needed the Molina Touch!”
A brow quirked, amused. “The Molina Touch?”
“Yes,” he grinned and tapped her chest. “The Touch.”
“I don’t have the Force, Luke.” When his face fell flat, she decided to play along and mimicked his motion. Her fingers circled his sternum as she said: “Well, I look forward to the Patterson Energy bringing it alive onstage.”
The boy rolled on his side, she following suit. The hammock bended to the movement, pushing them closer together. The couple snickered, noses nudging and locked in the other’s arms. Above, the sky was coloured like Monet, purples and blues and pinks as the sun dropped below the trees. Julie stared at the way he craned his neck, green eyes blown wide while marvelling at the sweeping atmosphere. He was the most beautiful person she’s ever encountered. She was probably a little obsessed with him, never bored of looking at him, of finding new freckles, moles and spots. 
Her reverie snapped like a bubble as he said something. 
“What?”
He repeated himself. “Wanna get waffles?”
She blinked. “Waffles?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “V-Day waffles. I bet they have red velvet ones.” His face twisted, like he was in on an inside joke, and murmured against her lips: “Whipped cream, Jules. Can’t resist that.”
Damn. He knew her too well. “Reggie’s going to be mad we went without him.”
“Then he should get himself a ghost lover,” he joked. Slapping her hip, the exclaim was resolute. “Let’s go!”
The drive was short, an surprising amount of waffle places scattered around Los Feliz. The cityscape was painted red for the day. Heart-shaped wreaths adorned the doors of stores, bars promoted special cocktails with pink hues, boutiques displaying date night dresses on mannequins in the windows. At the end of a large strip of food joints, a waffle house joining in with a red banner hung across the frontage. RED VELVET WAFFLES! ONLY TODAY!
Julie shot him a suspicious look. “You knew?”
He shrugged, smirking. “A good guess.”
They were lucky. The parking lot was pretty much abandoned, no onlookers to see her joking around with air. He stayed in the car as she got the treats.
As she queued, her aimless thoughts found Luke as a focal point. It was hard not to. Maybe the best thing of all for a hopeless romantic like her, was that she found someone who was an even bigger dreamer than she was. If she jumped for the stars, he rocketed himself into space and hoped for the best. It made days like Valentine’s special, but it also felt like another regular Saturday. He didn’t kiss her differently, looked at her more intently - it was always like this. The red velvet waffles was just… extra. A cherry on an already perfect milkshake. Luke and Julie never needed fireworks to make the other feel remarkable. 
Dropping back in the driver’s seta with a sigh, she propped the waffles on the dashboard. “I’m not sure if it’s going to taste right, they look kind of mushy, but I’m sure the whipped cream-” The words died in her throat as she looked at Luke, a timid smile on his lips as his present laid flat in his hands. A mixtape. 
Her eyes tracked the CD for a beat (jules <3 written in sharpie with his infamous scrawl) and then flicked up to his face. That was most spectacular of all: the nervous twitch in his eye, the breathy smile. Luke was flustered.       
Gingerly, she took it from his grasp. “How did you make this?”, she whispered. 
The palpable energy didn’t waver. “Carlos. He lend me his computer and explained how to burn CD’s.” His chuckle was awkward. “Had to get you in the car somehow.”
A smile bloomed on her lips. Her heart was truly going to explode; the gesture so thoughtful and sweet. (Shit. He did knock it out of the park. How will his ego cope?!) Reaching over the middle console, she chastely kissed him. “I already love it.”
He shook his head with a grin, shoulders loosening a bit. “You haven’t listened to it yet. C’mon, play it.” He shot her a cocky nod. “You know how to use a CD-player?”
“Very funny,” she quipped. Cautiously, she took the CD out of its case and slipped it into the player. It whirred for a beat, her upping the volume, and just as she thought she’d hear some 90s rock band, something unexpected happened. 
hey jules
She froze, staring at Luke’s feverishly excited face, as his crackling voice came through the speakers.  
i finally learned about technology! you happy? anyway, you know i love you. i love everything about you, i think… i think that’s kinda why i’m here to begin with.
Tears lodged itself in her chest, ready to spill. Love was going to make her go mad one day. She loved this boy so much that it was insurmountable by anything else.
that’s not- it’s not what this cd is about. His tone brightened. what i love most about you, julie molina, is how fucking in love you are with music. so what better thing to give you, is more music? these are ten songs that remind me of you… happy valentine’s day, baby. 
It clicked off. Quietly, slowly, a melodious piano variation flowed in. Her breath hitched as she recognised it. Frank Sinatra’s ‘It Had To Be You’ reminded Luke of her? Her hands were shaking. His calloused ones grabbed them, pads of his fingers caressing the skin. A pout jutted from her lips, her eyes shimmering with emotion. It wasn’t fair. Boys weren’t supposed to be this romantic. 
His smile could light up the entire state, touch trailing across her arm up to her cheek, grazing the lone tear that she wasn’t even aware of. “Don’t cry,” he chuckled. “I can be the only sap.”
Shaking her head, she pushed herself over the console and placed herself on his lap. The divide of a stick shift was a plain crime. Circling her arms around his neck, Julie kissed him in the way she thought the song felt. Warm and languid and timeless and wholly, utterly loving. Depthless and infinite. The thrill of his bass voice melted them together, no space between them with his hands wrapped around her lower back. 
For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you, wonderful you It had to be you
“I love you,” she sighed into his mouth. “It’s not enough. It’s not…”
He kissed the lament away. “I know. That’s why music works.” Sinatra sang a line and then he grinned. “Gotta express ourselves somehow.”
Though that was true, though they had music to shape their thoughts into the most beautiful declarations of love, all she wished to have was a word. A simple word that perfectly encapsulated what she felt. Love felt too small. Too simple. But until she found it, she’d keep saying it.
And so she did. “I love you, Luke.” 
His eyes shut in delight. “I love you too, Julie.”
They wouldn’t leave for a long time. Locked in each other’s loving embrace, they listened to every song on the mixtape. And when it ended, they looped it.
Time and space wasn’t really important to them anyway.     
For nobody else gave me a thrill With all your faults, I love you still It had to be you, wonderful you It had to be you
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @ourstarscollided​​ @alexjulies​ @unsaid-emily​ @willexx​
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trentaafcsblog · 3 years
Text
February 14th
Anyone You Like
Warning - this is really shit, I’m so sorry! 
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love” he whispers as he snuggles up next to you, pressing a kiss onto the tip of your nose and smiling when you start to stir from your sleep. His heart going all fuzzy as your face scrunches up and you lift your arms above your head to do your classic morning stretch - something so simple but he was literally obsessed with it, having seen you do it pretty much every single morning for the past six years. 
“Hi” you’re saying when you finally open your eyes, burying your head into his chest as he brushes your hair away from your face and wipes the sleep from your eyes, mumbling an ‘I love you’ when you lean up to kiss his lips before stopping yourself from going any further.
“What’s that?” you’re asking as you shuffle out of his arms and pull the duvet away from your face, looking up at the ceiling and realising that it’s completely covered in red and white balloons with pieces of gold ribbon dangling off them. Your lips going all pouty as you sit up to get a better look at everything, noticing the rose petals that are sprinkled on the floor and the huge bouquet of red roses that are waiting for you on your bedside table, a little card in the top that reads ‘I love you forever and always’ - a saying that you’d picked up along the course of your relationship and something that had a much deeper meaning than people probably realised. 
“Babyyy” you’re cooing as he goes all shy and giggly, hiding his face under the covers because neither of you were ones to make a massive fuss like this, particularly on Valentine’s Day because you don’t see the point in celebrating each other on one specific date when your love for one another grows more and more with each passing day. “I love you so much” you’re saying as you try to pull the duvet away from his face, fighting a losing battle when he rolls over and prevents you from seeing his blushing cheeks, leaving you with no option other than to lean across him and attack him with kisses until he’s forced to look at you. 
“Stop” he giggles when he gives in and reappears from under the pillow, looking up at you hanging over him with the same look in his eyes that he had when he first realised that he loved you, one that let you know that he was yours until the end and that he’d go to the ends of the earth to see the little smile that’s now on your face. Just staring at one another for a few seconds, still in shock that you get to call the other person yours after all this time. Wondering what the hell you did to deserve one another and be lucky enough to experience all of life’s journeys with them, and all of the challenges that you thought would break you both - yet here you are now, probably the most content you’ve ever been, with a future ahead of you that you could only have ever dreamed of. But your little romantic moment quickly comes to an end when his tummy starts rumbling, just like it always does when it gets past about 7am, knowing that food probably occupies his mind more than you do as you lay there and roll your eyes at him. 
“Just you wait until you see what I’ve done” he winks before springing out of bed, heading downstairs and reappearing a few minutes later with a huge tray piled up with all kinds of plates and bowls. Orange juice sloshing over the side of one of the glasses and making you cringe when it leaves a trail of little splashes all over your white carpet. “It’ll come out, don’t worry” he’s telling you before putting the tray on your lap, clearly not as bothered about the mess that he’s made as you are, dreading to think about the state of the kitchen going by the array of different breakfast items he’s brought you. Waffles, croissants, mini pancakes that he’s cut into the shape of hearts with a cookie cutter that he found at the back of one of the kitchen drawers, a fruit salad, vanilla yoghurt, a random bowl of baked beans and some nutella and syrup to dip things into. “Looks delicious” you grin before scooping some of the chocolate up on a strawberry, getting him to open his mouth before you’re popping it in and he’s teasing that that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for him, which of course earns him a gentle smack on the chest and a threat to flip all of his hard work on the floor, knowing that it’ll make a lovely contribution to the orange splatters that now decorate your lovely white flooring.
“I got you a card as well” he’s telling you with a mouthful of croissant, the flaky bits of pastry flying all over the duvet from where he’s trying to talk. “Just as well I got you one too” you wink before handing him the red envelope with his initial and a little kiss on the front. “Nice to know you’ve made it all cute” you joke as you look down at his to see ‘the missus’ scrawled across the front in a pen that looks like it ran about about five years ago. “Excuse me, I was busy doing all of this” he’s telling you as he points at the ceiling and the tray of half-eaten breakfast, most of which he’s consumed himself despite claiming that it’s for ‘the pretty lady’, replying with ‘I know, I know, I’m just kidding’ as he hums and slides his finger under the flap of the envelope to open it up.
“That’s cute, innit” he’s saying as he nods towards the card that he’s got you. A teddy bear couple on the front, one of them holding a bouquet of flowers and the other one going all shy and blushy in response. “Yeah, I take it you’re this one though” you tease as you point towards the blushing bear, not even bothering to fight back because he can’t argue with that, not after the state he got himself into this morning when you saw what he’d stayed up doing all night. 
“Thank you so much” he’s whispering once he’s finished reading your card, leaning across to kiss you whilst trying to disguise the fact that he’s crying at what you’ve written inside. “Thank you so much for mine, who knew you had such a way with words?” you smile as he rolls his eyes at you, propping your card up on his bedside table so that it acts as a little reminder to read it again before he goes to bed. Pulling you into his side and pressing a series of kisses onto your forehead as the two of you lay there in each other’s arms, tracing patterns along each other’s bare skin with your hearts going all fluttery each time the other person looks at you, never wanting this moment to end.
***
“Wow, what’s going on in here, mister?” you’re asking when you come walking into the kitchen to see him leaping around and trying to juggle about six different frying pans. Completely ignoring your question when he sees what you’ve come down to dinner dressed in. The most beautiful red silk dress that hugs your figure perfectly, paired with the pair of Louboutins that he bought you for your birthday a couple of years ago and a little black clutch bag to match - not that you particularly needed it when you were spending the night at home, but he loves how you still go to so much effort to look all pretty for him, even though he’d love you just as much if you turned up to the kitchen in your Minnie Mouse pyjamas that are littered with about twenty different holes. 
“I would come and give you a kiss but I’m quite busy if you can’t tell” he’s saying as you giggle at him. “Come and sit here to keep me company though, I poured a glass of your favourite drink so don’t say I don’t look after ya” he winks as you coo and make your way over to the kitchen island, clinging onto the worktop to steady yourself because it’s been ages since you last wore heels and you don’t want a repeat of five minutes ago when you nearly went arse over tit halfway down the stairs. 
“Is that my favourite pasta?” you’re asking as he nods his head nervously, now realising why he spent most of today’s movie marathon on fancy restaurant websites trying to find a recipe for something that you couldn’t quite get a glimpse of thanks to the angle of his phone, but it turns out that it was your favourite dish. Immediately feeling guilty for scowling at him and telling him off for being rude when you were meant to be relaxing and watching all of the soppy love films on Netflix, completely oblivious to the fact that he was actually busy trying to memorise about twelve different recipes so that he could pretend that he knew it off by heart, particularly as it’s your favourite. 
“I made my own garlic bread too, look” he’s saying proudly as he points towards the oven. “And a salad, and some of that fancy bread that you dip in the oil and vinegar, well actually that’s a lie, I bought the bread but I mixed the oil and vinegar together and cut the bread into little stars” he’s telling you as your heart almost bursts at the seams. Looking over at the plate of little bread stars across the other side of the kitchen and just dying to squish him for being so cute, especially since he’d cut them all freehand without using any sort of template - something that he was incredibly proud of himself for, even if a couple of them had very wonky edges and a few missing points.
“Aaand I made a chocolate cheesecake as well” he says smugly as you raise your eyebrows in slight disbelief. “All whilst I was getting ready?” you’re questioning as he nods his head. “Don't look so shocked! You were getting ready for about three hours so I had plenty of time to do everything, even if I did spend about an hour trying to work out how to use a garlic crusher” he’s smiling as you laugh at him, loving how he was still pretty inept in the kitchen despite managing to conjure up a romantic meal for you. 
“Let me take the pretty lady to her table” he’s saying with a posh voice as you slide off the bar stood and link your arm through his, letting him lead you over to the dining table that you didn’t even notice when you came in. “Oh my god” you’re cooing as your eyes scan over the little tea lights that he’s shaped to look like a heart, rose petals scattered across the table and a collection of Polaroids that the two of you have taken across the years dotted around too. Trying to swallow down the lump in your throat as he pulls the chair back and helps you get comfy before disappearing off and coming back to bring you all of the food that he’s prepared.
“This looks amazing” you whisper as you reach across the table to hold his hand, mouthing a little ‘thank you’ at him as he lifts your hand up and presses a kiss onto your skin. “Don’t go all shy and emotional on me now, missy, it’s not our first date” he teases as you giggle at him and wipe away a stray tear. Being cut out of your emotional moment when he forces a little star of bread into your mouth, the oil and vinegar dribbling down your chin as you give him the evils and try to pat it away with one of the paper napkins that’s he’s folded into a square - covered in little Christmas puddings because ‘what’s the point in buying ones for Valentine’s Day when we can use what we’ve already got?’ Tempted to do the same thing back to him but you’re managing to resist the urge to start a food fight on the most romantic day of the year, instead dipping your fork into your bowl of pasta and twiddling several strands of linguine around it before putting it into your mouth. Clinging onto the table when you start to chew, your eyes blowing wide as you stare straight back at him and wag your finger in his direction. Waving your hands above your head and clapping before swallowing and letting out a little cheer. “Is it that good?” he laughs as you start shovelling more of the pasta into your mouth, giving him the all important answer he needs as he breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that all of his not-so-sly google searches and telling offs during your movie day have paid off.
“Thank you so much for all of this” you’re saying as you tuck into your slice of cheesecake, admiring the little hearts that he’d swirled into the top of the chocolate mixture before doing the all important taste test. Nodding your head and smiling at him to reassure him that it tastes incredible before he’s reaching across the table to hold your hand again. “Thank you so much for making me realise what love is” he’s saying as you try your best to fight back the tears. Never really hearing him come out with things like that unless he’s drunk, probably because he gets too shy and embarrassed and worries that you won’t feel the same way, despite spending the past six years of your life with him and reassuring him every single day that he’s the one for you, so hearing him have the confidence to tell you how much you mean to him means the absolute world. 
“Thank you for making my life a million times better and holding my hand through all of what life’s thrown at us” he’s telling you as you tilt your head to the side and just admire the man you love with your whole heart going all soppy, clearly having added something to his pasta that evoked this kind of emotion. “And for keeping my feet on the ground and being there when things haven’t gone quite as I’d planned” he’s saying as you sniff away opposite him, your thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand as he carries on. “There’s genuinely nobody else in the entire world that I love as much as you” he’s adding, his voice breaking half way through, making the rest of the sentence all shaky, as he does his best to try and hold himself together, despite just wanting to burst into tears at how much he means each and every one of those words. 
“I love you so much” you blub before getting up and making your way around the table to him, sitting down on his lap and burying your head in the crook of his neck as his arms snake around your waist and pull you close to him. His fingers tracing gentle patterns on the sides of your hips as you play with his hair, occasionally pressing the odd kiss to his skin which makes his grip around your body become even tighter. A comfortable silence washing over the two of you as you sit there in a completely love-filled state, neither person knowing quite what to say, but going by each other’s reactions a few minutes ago, it’s clear that this is what love feels like.
“I got you a present” you’re saying as you pull away from him, breaking the silence and climbing off his lap before disappearing off into the hallway. Picking up the little white gift bag that you’d left at the bottom of the stairs when you came down for dinner, your fingers looping through the silk handles as you make your way back to him. “I thought we said no presents?” he’s questioning as you scoff at him. “Says the man who decided to decorate the bedroom and cook me dinner” you’re replying as he gives you a shy smile at the thought. “It’s just a little something but it shows how much I love you and I know you’ve wanted it for ages” you tell him as he pulls one end of the bow, watching it unravel before he’s dipping his hand into the bag and fumbling around amongst the tissue paper. Pulling out several sheets of white tissue paper littered with tiny scarlet red hearts before he’s eventually reaching the box inside. Looking at you with a confused expression as he lifts the rectangular black box out and gives it a little shake, something rattling inside as he pauses for a second to think about what it could be, ruling out the possibility of it being a bracelet or a fancy watch, not that he’d ever want you spending that much money on him, of course.
“Just open it!” you’re giggling as you push him to open the gift, the anticipation getting to you more than it is him as. “I’m scared” he laughs nervously, waiting a few seconds before he’s beginning to lift the lid off. “Don’t be” you’re whispering as he looks at you one final time before fully taking it off. 
His jaw dropping as he admires what’s inside, his gaze flicking between you and the inside of the box as he tries to process what you’ve given him. 
“We’re having a baby?” he asks as you nod your head, your reaction taking a while to process in his mind, but after what feels like forever he’s letting out a breathy laugh, one that combines happiness and slight disbelief. And then the tears are coming too, his hand covering his face as he sobs into his palm. Making your way back over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck as you rest your head on top of his, letting him come to terms with the fact that you’ve blessed him with the best gift of all.
“Thank you so much” he’s crying as he takes the pregnancy test back out of the box, admiring the two little lines that are showing on the screen - confirming that there’s another life inside of you, made up of both you and him. “No, thank you so much” you’re sniffling as you cup his face and press a little kiss onto his lips. Staring into his teary eyes before they’re fluttering shut when your foreheads touch and the tips of your noses brush over one another. Neither of you knowing quite what to say as you settle back down on his knee again, just holding him close to you until he pulls away every few seconds to look at the pregnancy test again, feeling as though this is all one big dream and someone’s going to wake him up and take it away from him at any given moment. But it’s not. You’re living the dream, and it’s about to become a reality in just a matter of months, a reality that you’ve been craving for the past six years and one that you wouldn’t want to experience with anyone else, and now, it’s one step closer to becoming yours. 
 February the 14th. The day your lives changed forever.
——————————————————————————
I hope you enjoyed this little imagine 🥰 please let me know who you imagined it with because I’m nosy and I’d love to know hehe, I hope you’ve all had the best Valentine’s Day (regardless of whether you’re in a relationship or not) and remember that I love you all to bits x
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isitgintimeyet · 4 years
Text
Just A Friend
The response to this story has been lovely, so thank you all for reading. liking, reblogging and commenting on this piece of fluff. Hope you continue to enjoy.
Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta
AO3
Previous
Chapter 6: From Irritation to Interrogation
And just like that, we’re friends, Jamie and I. It’s strange how quickly you can go from strangers to acquaintances to friends. After that walk in the park, something seems to have clicked with us, there’s an ease in our friendship that doesn’t happen too often. Despite our vastly different upbringings, we have many things in common: a shared love of irreverent comedy, a fondness for very good quality chocolate and wine and a determination to succeed in our chosen careers.
Of course, it helps that we don’t have the whole fancying-sexual-tension-romantic thing lurking in the background. As I’ve said before, Jamie is not my type and, judging by the pictures on his Facebook timeline, I am definitely not his, which appears to be doe-eyed, tanned, petite blondes— their pneumatic breasts frequently struggling to break free from their restraints. No tall, wild-haired brunettes with only-slightly-above-average breasts usually firmly encased in sensible lingerie.
I may even invite him to Geillis’ wedding as my plus one. We’ll see. I don’t think I’ll be dating by then, I quite fancy a few months without any of those complications.
********
One of life’s pleasures, for me, when I’m not on-call, is to walk to the local newsagents on a Sunday morning for the newspaper. If it’s fine, it’s another opportunity to sit on my balcony and read it at my leisure. A mug of freshly brewed coffee and a cinnamon bun enhances this experience.
Today, it’s not so fine, but sitting on my sofa while listening to the rain pounding against the window is pretty good too. I’m just about to start the crossword when my phone rings. I quickly swallow my mouthful of bun and glance at the screen—private number. I offer up a silent prayer that it’s not the hospital as I answer it.
“Claire Beauchamp?” The female voice sounds familiar.
“Yes.” I answer cautiously.
“Jes’ a wee word of warning. Karma can be a bitch, ye ken.” The voice grows louder and angrier. I recognise that tone, last heard berating Jamie. “Ye’ll get what ye deserve. Ye canna trust James Fraser, but ye’ll find out soon enough—the hard way, like I did… thanks tae ye.”
“Look, I—“ I begin, but before I can finish my sentence, she’s gone.
My initial reaction is irritation. Laoghaire, no doubt looking around for someone to blame for her recent break up, has cast me in the role of home wrecker, clearly using my carefully honed feminine wiles to lure Mr. Fraser from her clutches. Like Frank, she can’t quite believe that anyone could break up with her, without there being another waiting in the wings, ready and willing to take her place.
My irritation dissipates as I begin to see the funny side of this. She’s obviously thought long and hard about this—checking his Facebook friends, keeping records of his phone calls when they were together. Perhaps she sees herself as Jennifer Aniston against my Angelina. I hope Jamie can see this for what it is and laugh. Besides, in this scenario, that makes Jamie what? Brad Pitt?
*****************
Two days later, Jamie and I have arranged to have a quick drink after work in a mutually convenient bar. Summer has not yet returned to the city. Whilst not actually raining, the air is damp and there’s a definite nip in the air. I do a cursory check of the outdoor seating, just to see whether Jamie is heroically braving the elements, but there’s no sign of him.
I make my way into the bar and have a quick walk around before snagging a corner table. The seats are comfortable and it’s in a prime position for me to keep an eye out for his arrival. This bar has always been one of my favourites in the city. It feels grounded, like it’s been here forever. The stone walls and dark oak beams are unchanging and watching the inebriated trying to negotiate the uneven wooden floor on their way to the toilets always makes for good entertainment. In fact, people come from miles around to marvel at its very crookedness.
I check my phone for any messages. There’s one from Geillis, accepting my invitation for girls’ night on Friday at my flat. I reply and put the phone down just in time to see Jamie heading toward me. He’s obviously come straight from work as he’s still in his navy blue suit and white shirt. I’ve come straight from work too but am not nearly so smartly dressed. Having worn my blue scrubs all day, I’m now clad in jeans and a wrap around top which used to be orange, but has faded to a light amber colour. I feel somewhat underdressed next to him.
“Drink?” He asks, before even sitting down.
I nod. “I’m parched. Think I’ll have a shandy, please.”
“Lager shandy? Half pint?”
“Bitter,” I clarify, not being a great believer in girlie drinks. “And pint.”
He returns a couple of minutes later with a pint and a packet of crisps in each hand.
He takes a huge slug of beer. “Sae, what do ye ken? What’s new wi’ ye?”
And so, I recount my day of surgery to him. And, bless him, he looks interested all the way through my narration. He does turn a bit pale as I begin to explain my use of the bone mallet and chisel, and his crisps remain untouched, but he soldiers through.
“In other news,” I change the subject as his colour returns and he rips the crisps open. “I had an anonymous phone call from your ex, warning me about you and blaming me for your break up. But, never fear, I’ll get what’s coming to me when you do the same to me—“
A bout of coughing from Jamie breaks into my conversation.  I get up and thump his back a couple of times. The coughing stops as he takes a swig of beer.
“Sorry,” he clears his throat and continues. “Crisp stuck in ma throat. She did what? How does she ken who ye are?”
“Presumably she kept a record of your phone calls and is monitoring your Facebook friends. Maybe you need to check your phone, see if she’s set up any other little apps so she can track where you are or what you’re doing.”
He shakes his head. “Aye, I’ll do that. I canna believe she would go tae such lengths. Although…” he pauses for a moment. “... mebbe I can. She was always the, er, suspicious type—asking me about women at work, convinced they were ready tae pounce on me. Perhaps I’m not the best judge of character, Claire. Ye need tae advise me.”
I laugh. “Ok. I’ll be your wingman, if you like. Or vet all your potential girlfriends. How about that?”
Jamie joins in with the laughter. His eyes twinkle and it’s funny the way he wrinkles his nose as he laughs.
“How about you? How’re the Spanish influenced dinners going? What are you up to?” I ask him.
“The plans are going grand. We’ve three dinner options planned out.” As usual, his face lights up as he explains the various menus to me.
“They all sound delicious. I’m looking forward to trying them.” And that's the truth.
“Weel, funny ye should mention that. We are looking fer people willing tae test them. How about it? Fancy trying one out? This week, mebbe? Free, of course.”
My weekend plans are getting better and better. Girls’ night at my flat could be turning into a bit of a Spanish fiesta, a mini replay of our Barcelona trip.
“I’d love that. Thanks. I’m having Geillis, Mary and Anna ‘round on Friday for a catch up. I could give you their opinion on the meal too.”
Jamie types something into his phone. “Great, I’ll sort it. So, good weekend plans then?”
“Oh yes, what about you?”
“Oh, I’ve got a sort of date type thing,” he mumbles into his pint and, to my surprise he goes a little bit red. Is he worried about telling me? Does he think that I will mind?
“That’s nice...isn’t it?”
“I dinna ken, really. I… I suppose so. It’s ma sister, Jenny’s, idea.  A friend of hers from university. Ma sister canna quite believe that I’m no’ yet married and she keeps trying tae make it happen. And Jenny, weel, let’s jes’ say that she’s a force of nature. Ye dinna want tae mess wi’ her.”
***************
I’m not exactly the most gifted cook, but I think it would be hard to go wrong with the box of food and wine that Jamie has delivered. The asparagus is waiting to be cooked, the mouth-watering smell from the simmering  chicken and chorizo fills my flat and bowls of juicy Spanish olives— some plain and some with garlic and chilli are dotted about the dinner table. Feeling inspired, I root out a large jug and begin to cut up fruit for sangria.
Like alcohol-seeking missiles, I’ve no sooner prepared the sangria when the doorbell rings. With many hugs, Geillis, Mary, Anna and I greet each other. I accept their gifts of wine, chocolate and flowers as we head into the flat.
As usual, everyone gravitates to the kitchen as I pass the drinks around, complimenting me on the wonderful aromas. Geillis’ stomach rumbles in eager anticipation.
When the four of us are together, the conversation flows as freely as the wine. Honestly, you would swear that we had not seen each other for months, when, in fact, I saw Anna on Tuesday in theatre, and squeezed in a coffee catch-up with Mary and Geillis only two days ago. The topics we cover are wide-ranging and random. Sangria and olives are accompanied by Anna’s search for a new flat, then the conversation turns to the destructive tendencies of Mary’s kitten as I serve the asparagus and Serrano ham starter.
For the main course, we have the tale of Geillis’ father refusing to wear a kilt for her wedding—he is prepared to don tartan trews but, according to Geillis, that will spoil the whole symmetry of the wedding photos. Neither, at the moment, seem willing to back down but, having known Geillis for so many years, it’s obvious to me who will win.
By the time I bring out the selection of Spanish biscuits and turrón, the conversation has moved on to men, more specifically Mary’s crush on a locum doctor newly arrived in the department. There’s a lot of good natured teasing about this—Mary seems to develop a new crush every couple of weeks, and why not?
Geillis drains her wine and turns to me. “Fantastic meal, Claire. Better than yer usual offerings.”
She pulls me close to her as she says this, and squeezes my arm to show she’s joking.
“Well, I have to confess. I did have a bit of assistance. I mean, I did the cooking, apart from the cookies, but everything came from FraserFood.”
“In that case, give me those chocolates back. I’m no’ sure ye’ve earned them.”
“But I have,” I moan. “I did all the cooking…and made sangria.” I reach across Geillis and help myself to another biscuit. They are melt-in-the-mouth delicious.
“It’s part of a new range they’re launching,” I try to explain as Anna and Mary start to squabble over the last biscuit. “Three course dinner party boxes. Everything you need. Jamie asked if I would test one of them out—“
Immediately Anna and Mary shut up, the last biscuit now abandoned on the plate.
“Woo-hoo,” Anna grins at me.
Geillis nudges me in the ribs. “Jamie, is it? And what else has Jamie given ye, eh?”
“Nothing, we’re friends, that’s it.”
“But we’ve seen pictures of him. Don’t ye want there tae be more tae it? I mean, c’mon look at him.” Now Mary joins in the questioning.
I sigh. “We can just be friends, you know.”
“Friends with benefits, mebbe?” Geillis isn’t giving up.
“No, just friends. Although…” my friends lean forward expectantly, perhaps awaiting some heartfelt confession from me, as if I’d suddenly realised my undying love, or, at least, a good bit of lust for Mr. Fraser. They’re going to be disappointed.
“...Although, I suppose you could say this free food and drink is a benefit. So,yes, I guess that makes us friends with benefits.”
Anna and Geillis look as if they don’t believe me, but say nothing. Mary isn’t prepared to drop the subject.
“So,” she starts. “So, suppose I meet yer—“
“Not mine,” I mutter under my breath.
Mary shrugs her shoulders and continues, “—yer Jamie Fraser. And suppose he asks me out and one thing leads tae another… ye’re telling us that ye wouldna mind?”
“No, I wouldn’t mind. Might be a bit awkward if you break up. I mean, can I still be friends with both of you?”
Geillis, laughing, joins in now. “Suppose our Mary marries Jamie Fraser and asks ye tae be a bridesmaid. Would ye mind then?”
I pretend to give this some thought. “Ah, now that does depend. Just how awful will the bridesmaid dress be, Mary?”
“Och, just hideous. We’ll be having a Disney themed wedding.”
All talking and laughing at once, we try to decide which would be the worst Disney outfit for a bridesmaid and finally settle on Moana.
I get up from the table to go and make coffee, but not before making one final statement on the whole platonic situation with Jamie.
“Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but I have no romantic interest in Jamie and neither does he. In fact, he told me that he’s got a date this weekend and that’s totally fine with me.”
Geillis grabs my hand in passing. “Ok, as long as ye’re fine. We jes’ dinna want ye getting hurt, Claire. We love ye too much fer that.”
I smile at my closest friends gathered around my table and feel a rush of warmth and love for them too. They’re my family, these girls, and, for all the joking and teasing, they have my best interests at heart.
“I know. Thank you for looking out for me. But, Jamie and I are friends, nothing more.”
And with that I head into the kitchen, giving Anna, Mary and Geillis, no doubt, the opportunity to continue to speculate about Jamie’s and my friendship. But really I don’t mind, they’ll get fed up soon enough when they see I’ve been telling the truth all along.
114 notes · View notes
vickyvicarious · 4 years
Note
Eliot sweet talking Nana into sharing her secret family recipes so he can get more vegetables into both Hardison and Parker.
I was just going to write a short headcanon post about this but then the first line popped into my mind along with a line about Eliot utilizing his retrieval skills, and then next thing I knew this was a fic. First in this fandom so go easy on me.
(AO3 link.)
.
The carrot cake was the final straw.
Eliot knew his partners had terrible diets, okay? It was impossible for anyone to miss that, the way Hardison would just fill up any empty space in any fridge with orange soda, or Parker would get more cereal than was physically possible to store in the cupboard until there was at least one box permanently sitting on the table. He was well aware, and he’d been taking steps for a while to deal with matters.
He bought Hardison a fridge of his own - a mini fridge - and just poured out any soda he found anywhere else. He impressed upon Parker that just this shelf was for cereal and solemnly swore to her that he would never let it get beyond half-empty before filling it again. In the meantime, he filled the rest of his kitchen with actual ingredients, and always had a bowl of fruit out so they would have something healthy as an easy-to-grab snack. He didn’t put anything Parker liked hidden on a high shelf, because she’d find that fun; just small decoy portions while he kept most of his chocolate inside an old Wheat Thins box at the back of the cracker shelf. Speaking of chips, if he opened the bag of a good brand, then Hardison would gravitate toward it once he’d finished his Cheetos instead of going out to buy more, so that was just a matter of letting him buy one bag and then watching the level and timing when to get the other stuff out.
They both ate meat well enough, though Hardison liked to put in requests for absolutely sacrilegious misuses of various cuts; when Eliot humored him and actually destroyed his fish or brisket or whatever else as requested, he actually did seem to enjoy it, which was... very wrong, and disappointing, but at least the food was still going in his body. Parker quite liked some types of pasta now, and she seemed to enjoy when he put effort into plating things up nicely, but she was still a work in progress on any actual mealtime like a family (or a date. Not that Eliot hadn’t had to eat on the run plenty of times before, but - he’d had to. You don’t walk in to a table set for multiple healthy, delicious, innovative courses he’d been cooking for hours and then just grab bites as you wander around the room! He’d had wine out! Norah Jones playing softly in the background! No candles because he wasn’t an idiot, but it was clearly a romantic meal! What the hell kind of untrained toddler behaviour-).
Breakfast was easy, since they both liked eggs and there were a lot of ways to go from there. Breakfast potatoes were a hit too, and bacon, and they’d even eat oatmeal if he smothered it in sugar so that was something. For lunch, Hardison at least appreciated a good sandwich. Granted, usually only a stolen one because he didn’t like to make any kind of food at all that didn’t come out of a plastic package with microwave instructions on the side (and that had been an argument for the ages, the microwave one. Frankly most things could be heated better on a pan or in an oven, and those that were meant for the microwave were usually mass-produced garbage Hardison really didn’t need in his diet, but he disagreed vehemently and in the end that was one battle Eliot had definitively lost), but once Eliot caught on, he just started making double whatever he ate. Parker scoffed at the idea of lunch, for some reason, claiming that a granola bar or a brownie would get her through till dinner, but if he packed a lunchbox to look interesting and then gave it to her, she’d usually eat it. He just stocked up on bento boxes and made various kinds of colorful and/or childish looking foods and they came back mostly empty so that was good enough.
(Hardison claimed to have gotten jealous about it. Eliot was pretty certain he was making fun of him, so obviously he said he’d be caught dead before packing a lunch for him. He was a grown man and could do it himself.
“She’s a grown woman!” he complained, pointing at Parker, who was sitting perched on the back of an armchair nibbling away at her kraken bento - black noodle limbs, gyoza face, and grabbing a little egg scuba diver. “Sh-she should have to - this is discrimination!”
“Stay away from my octopus,” she squinted menacingly. When Hardison just glared mulishly back, she hugged the food closer to her chest. “It’s not for you, this is my little dead man.”
She popped the egg into her mouth and chewed, never breaking eye contact.
He turned back to Eliot to complain some more, but apparently that was only an attempt to fake her out, because he tried to grab the gyoza barehanded and she screeched, flinging her chopsticks at his face before fleeing across the room. Noodles got everywhere, Hardison had two little round bruises on his cheek the next morning, and somehow Eliot wound up packing everyone lunches every morning after that, and putting notes on them to label who each one went to.
He did not put sappy notes instead the boxes. He wasn’t their parent, okay. The notes inside the lunch were only ever reminders they needed for the con, like Parker’s character’s peanut allergy and how she needed to have the attack exactly two minutes after the mark joined her at the break table, or for Hardison to lock Lucille II behind him because even if he could track down someone who took off in her, he really shouldn’t have to again.)
Anyway, Eliot had something of a system down at this point. It wasn’t perfect, but it was workable for the most part. The one exception was vegetables, which they both hated. He’d tried to hide them several times, but they often picked them out or he just couldn’t stand to puree broccoli into a little garnish/dip just because his girlfriend and boyfriend were both giant babies about actually eating them whole. He had to eat the food too, and he enjoyed himself some veggies like any sane person would. They ate the ones hidden in their lunches almost half of the time, and sometimes other varieties, so he tried not to focus on that too much. Baby steps, he thought. First regular meals at all, then vegetables later.
But the carrot cake.
That was just too much.
It was cake. It was covered in cream cheese frosting. Carrot cake wasn’t anything but decadent, at least not the way Eliot made it for Hardison’s birthday. It was sweet, had just the right texture from the roasted pecans, the perfect hint of cinnamon and ginger. Not a complicated dish by any means, but pretty well near perfect, in Eliot’s no goddamn need to be humble opinion.
Hardison scrunched up his nose.
“Oh,” he said, not accepting the large slice Eliot tried to give him. “Eliot, I’m hoping this is a joke and you have my Red Velvet in the fridge?”
Parker let him hand her the plate, ate a bite, spat it out, then just started eating straight frosting off all the sides.
Eliot could feel his hands twitching. He very carefully set down the knife.
“What’s wrong with my cake?” he asked. Gave them the benefit of the doubt, and tried a bite: delicious.
“I mean... it’s a carrot cake,” Hardison said delicately, as though Eliot had made some kind of mistake and he felt a little bad pointing it out to him.
“So?”
“Carrot, Eliot.”
“Cake, HARDISON.”
“I like the frosting,” Parker interjected, and Eliot glanced over to her. She’d moved on from her own plate and was just scraping fingerfuls of frosting directly off the top of the cake. His cake. His cake for Hardison’s birthday, his beautiful cake -
“Babe, we love you but you gotta know vegetables don’t have any place in a dessert, that’s just wrong. C’mon, you really didn’t make me something else? Really?”
“THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!” Eliot bellowed and stormed out of the apartment. He took the cake with him.
.
He brought it to Sophie and Nate, since they were in town and they weren’t insane like some people he knew.
“People you’ve, uh, chosen to dedicate the rest of your life to,” Nate pointed out around a mouthful. “I mean, you knew what they were like.”
“Oh, hush, Nate, don’t you get it? They’ve hurt Eliot’s feelings,” Sophie explained. She ate another bite, hummed approvingly, then waved her fork around to emphasize her words: “For Eliot, food is life. He wants them to lead long and healthy lives, he wants to live with them and show his love for them and keep them safe, and they just rejected that. It’s not all about the vegetables, y’know?”
Eliot was never sure whether he loved Sophie best or least of all.
“It’s definitely all about the vegetables,” he said, crossing his arms. The pair of them exchanged a look and then smiled at him warmly, like he’d just done something cute.
“Fine! Forget it,” he snarled, pushing himself roughly to his feet.
Behind him, Nate grunted the distinctive grunt of someone receiving a pointy elbow to the side, then cleared his throat.
“Okay, okay - wait! Wait, all right, I might have one idea.” When he turned back, Nate was rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “You’ve tried featuring the veggies, right, and hiding them. I’m sure you’ve lectured them both to death about why they should be eating more vegetables, but that’s not going to work on them, is it, because there’s no connection there. Ad novitam is only going to get you so far, you need the, the personal touch, a little ad misericordiam if you will.”
“I am not telling them it makes me sad when they don’t eat their greens,” Eliot said firmly.
“But it does,” Sophie said lightly. She met his glare with a soft smile, and popped another bite of cake into her mouth.
“N- Well, no, obviously, but you’ve got to think it through, Eliot. Step away from the situation. How can you imbue the food itself with emotion? Not for you -” Nate spoke a little louder as Eliot started to answer, “you’re not our mark here. What kind of food, with vegetables, is going make them feel an emotional connection?”
Eliot subsided, frowning down at his own plate. That... was actually a pretty good point.
“Hm, my favorite is still that little restaurant in Paris, with the exquisite quiche. But, I suppose hard-scrambled eggs are a bit of a guilty pleasure,” Sophie mused. “Mum was never any good at cooking.”
“You too?” Nate turned to her. “Yeah, my dad could set water on fire. I remember eating from my meal plan at college - the cafeteria, mind you - thinking how good the food was in comparison.”
The solution clicked into place. (Of course it did, they’d practically hand-fed it to him.)
Eliot stood up and grabbed his coat.
“Oh, are you leaving, Eliot?” Sophie asked.
“Yeah,” he said, and turned back to smirk at them. “I’m gonna go steal Hardison’s childhood.”
.
Once upon a time, Eliot had been a retrieval specialist. You name it, he got it back. Sometimes it was actually a they or even a them, on occasion. He’d committed arson for a pair of scissors, had gathered up a scatted set of Fabergé eggs from seven different countries and two different mafias, had traveled more than once through airport security with a live frog in his pants. The business was a strange one, but he’d been the best at it. And in the years since he left, his life hadn’t exactly gotten less weird; Leverage saw to that.
Breaking into an old woman’s home and stealing a book of recipes would be easier than taking candy from a baby. Of course, Hardison made sure to keep his Nana safe, and from everything he’d heard she could certainly take care of herself, but still it wouldn’t be any great challenge for Eliot to just break in and take what he wanted. He could do it and leave without her ever knowing he’d even been there.
He rang the doorbell, and gave her his best smile when it swung open.
“Hello ma’am, I’m Eliot. Can I come in?”
(This was Hardison’s Nana, he’d never do wrong by her like that. Anyway, it wouldn’t even work. For this he needed her direct input.)
Nana was a short, soft-looking woman. Her hair was pushed back with a purple headband, and she wore loose comfortable pants and a clearly old t-shirt covered in child-sized paint handprints. She exuded a sort of maternal air that had Eliot relaxing into the visit almost despite himself. They’d only ever spoken on the phone, and he’d admittedly felt a little awkward about his plan due to that detail alone. He knew Hardison would love for them to meet her, but it just hadn’t happened yet - honestly, Eliot had been reluctant before, worried that she would find him wanting, and he’d always been relieved that no plans had crystallized into anything solid.
Certainly, despite welcoming him in and getting them all set up on the couch with home-made lemonades, it was clear she felt suspicious. A few minutes in, she dropped the small talk altogether to pin Eliot with a steely glare.
“I’m fairly certain Alec wanted to be here when we met so he could brag some more about how hot his partners are,” she said, making Eliot flush. “And I’m just as certain nothing has happened to him, or it wouldn’t be you here to tell me, so that just leaves me confused.”
She raised an eyebrow, letting him take his time responding.
He looked down at his lap. Ran a hand through his hair, feeling... not less confident that he’d get those recipes by the end of this visit, but certainly more bashful about it.
“Uh. Yes ma’am,” he said. Quickly corrected himself, remembering her insistence over the phone, “uh, Nana. See, he doesn’t actually... know I’m here...”
“I’d guessed as much,” she said wryly.
“Right. Um, I actually wanted to ask you something. There’s something I want to do for him - well, for them - but I need your help to do it right.”
She stared him down a moment longer. Then her eyes widened, and she sat back in her seat with a little gasp, hand over her heart.
“Oh, Eliot,” she said warmly, leaning forward again to grab his hand and hold it between hers, “Oh, sweet boy, of course he’ll say yes. You should hear the way he talks about you, Alec’s been head over heels for years. I may not have met Parker personally, but I’m sure she will too. You don’t have anything to worry about, trust me on that.”
“What?” he croaked. “I... w-what?”
His voice broke in his throat. He wanted to yank away but he felt frozen in place. He didn’t understand how she’d - okay, no, he could easily see how she would draw the wrong conclusions from this situation, but they were the wrong conclusions! He’d never even considered marriage since Aimee, let alone proposing to Parker and Hardison. It wasn’t like a three-way marriage was even legal, and even if it were he would never. It was too much - not too much commitment, he’d already promised the rest of his life to them both, but still too much, somehow. He’d never dare.
“I know Alec doesn’t think too much of the institution in general,” Nana said, waving a dismissive hand, “but if you do he’ll understand that. He might not need it but he won’t say no if you ask, hon. I can promise you that.”
Eliot meant to deny the very idea. Instead what came out of his mouth was a shaky:
“...Are you sure?”
.
Hardison’s Nana - his Nana too, she insisted, even after Eliot finally managed to clear up the misunderstanding - was truly a gem of a woman. He could see so much of who Hardison had turned out to be in her kindness, her cleverness, her sense of humor. She’d broken out the picture albums for him, and had even kindly let him keep one photo of a gaptoothed little Alec in a horrible bowl cut, grinning proudly and brandishing a blue ribbon next to his science project. To Eliot’s complete lack of surprise, he’d won every year with zero competition from his peers.
(He told her that he wanted the picture to make fun of Hardison with. It was true, but she still just patted him on the shoulder and told him to keep it. Didn’t say a word when he tucked it into his wallet with unnecessary care.)
They talked for a long time. She gave him a journal to copy directly from her personal recipe book, a lovely clothbound thing spattered with grease and burnt at one edge, smelling of spices and old paper; clearly well used. She told him it was passed down from her mother, who’d put in lots of her mother’s recipes. Eliot took notes as she talked him through every one. He had a good memory but he didn’t want to miss a thing, and her recipes as written were bare bones. He could cook a delicious meal from them easily enough, but it wouldn’t have her heart in it, not like what he wanted to make.
Just talking could only do so much, and eventually they found themselves in the kitchen, demonstrating techniques and favored spice blends. It was nice, just in and of itself. Eliot rarely got to talk shop with other cooks, and it had been a long time since he’d eaten anything home-made by someone else. Nana never went to school for this stuff, but clearly her long years of experience carried their own weight, because she knew what she was talking about. 
It was late in the night by the time Eliot left her house, feeling himself flush to his ears as she kissed him on the cheek before waving until he’d driven away. And this after wrapping him up in a tight, warm hug just inside the front door.
“Alec’s done well for himself,” she said, and winked. “Now, next time I want you to bring that young lady of yours as well, you hear me? Make that a promise.”
“I will,” he said.
.
It was nearly three AM by the time he got home. Parker crashed out of the dark the second he stepped inside, clinging to him as he caught her midair.
“You made Hardison sad on his birthday,” she told him sternly, and headbutted him hard on the temple. As he winced, she pressed her nose down against his shoulder and took a long sniff. “You smell like lemons.”
“You made me sad on Hardison’s birthday,” Eliot sighed. “I mean, mad.”
“Doesn’t matter, you made him sad so I’m not sorry,” she said, and snuggled close.
Eliot carried her through the apartment, avoiding bumping into any furniture through the ease of experience, and into the bedroom. Hardison was sprawled across the mattress, fast asleep with a frown.
Setting Parker down, Eliot got undressed and climbed into the bed. He scooted behind Hardison, leaning up on an elbow to swipe a gentle thumb over the furrow between his brows. It came back, so he wiped at it again, and kissed Alec’s shoulder when he huffed a little and his face relaxed. Eliot kissed him one more time, then lay down behind him with an arm draped over his side.
Rather than going around the bed to the free space on Hardison’s other side, Parker crammed herself onto the mattress right behind Eliot, pushing him further into Hardison and determinedly spooning him.
He craned his neck up to look at her in the dark. She met his gaze solemnly and squeezed tighter, slipping a leg between his.
Eliot fell asleep warm, entangled in the two loves of his life.
.
He woke stinking hot, still entangled but a lot less happy about it. This happened every time he slept in the middle; he didn’t know why he kept letting it happen. Every single time he’d wake abruptly, heart thrumming in an instinctive alert to something wrong... Only to realize that something was just Parker drooling on his ear, or Hardison’s morning breath in his face, and (every time) both their limbs all wrapped up around him and each other in a very sweet, sweaty, and constricting mess.
The first few times he’d suffered through it, unwilling to wake them. Still basking in the fact that he was here, that he got to be a part of this. But Hardison slept like the dead, and Parker had the ability to wake up and go back to sleep pretty much indefinitely, so Eliot had no compunctions about shoving them aside anymore. He also knew that the other two were night owls who would happily sleep in to eight or even ten if left undisturbed. Eliot woke habitually at five regardless of how late he’d been up, maybe six at the latest; morning snuggles just really weren’t practical.
He wriggled free, clambering over Parker and catching her when the bed dipped and she nearly fell to the floor. Her eyes shot open, clocked him, then dropped shut as she went right back to sleep. He left them there and went to go take a shower, then wandered into the kitchen, grabbing up his new cookbook from his jacket pocket on the way.
Eliot was operating on only a couple hours of sleep; Nana didn’t exactly live next door, and he was frankly lucky he’d got out the cake relatively early in the afternoon, to be able to catch her awake at all. It wasn’t like he’d ruined Hardison’s whole birthday, just that last part they’d set aside for the three of them. They had already hung out with Nate and Sophie in the morning, and Hardison had a long phone call with Nana even before that. Parker had even given Hardison her present: a little statuette originally from a museum in Delhi if Eliot wasn’t mistaken. It was some god or something, but bore a striking resemblance to an Ewok, a detail she’d correctly guessed Hardison would love. He’d been planning on giving his present after the cake, at which point they were going to, on Hardison’s specific request, have a very normal and boring date at home. There had been a lot of jobs lately, so that must have tied into his desire for domesticity - that and ‘birthday rights’ to force them to watch all his nerd movies and lose at various video games.
They hadn’t planned anything for today either, so it wasn’t like those plans couldn’t still happen... And in fact yesterday hadn’t even been Hardison’s real birthday, just the replacement day they’d agreed to celebrate on when a con ran through the actual day. But in the cold light of day he felt a lot more stupid about taking a vegetable-related risk on Hardison’s cake, and then reacting stupidly when they didn’t like it. To be fair, he hadn’t considered it a risk at all, hadn’t even been thinking of his ongoing quest to feed them better so much as the fact that carrot cakes were good and he knew Hardison liked cream cheese frosting - but still. Sophie may have hit the nail on the head, but it was still a stupid and immature nail to let get in the way like he’d done.
He had to at least try to make it up to him.
Accordingly, the breakfast casserole Eliot put together was about as far removed from a healthy meal as any non-dessert in Nana’s cookbook. A baked blueberry French toast creation with lots of sugar, it actually was more of a dessert than anything else. It also took hours in the fridge, but that was alright; not the first time Eliot getting up so much earlier came in handy.
He took the time that it spent in the fridge to clean the apartment. He got out his gift to Hardison, swept and mopped and watered all the plants. Did some laundry, meditated a bit. Pretty much just puttered around for hours, steadily feeling worse and worse about his outburst the day before. Parker had been accepting if not forgiving, and didn’t need an explanation; Hardison might not feel the same. Eliot didn’t expect him to; he was the one clearly in the wrong. He really couldn’t regret the outcome of meeting Nana and getting her recipes, but it should have been on any other day.
He managed to time the casserole just to when the other two got up; just as Eliot pulled it from the oven, Parker wandered into the room.
“Ooh!” she said, and approached with a clear intent to stick her fingers directly into the hot food. Eliot intercepted her with a glare and a whap with his oven-mitt. She retaliated with a vicious pinch to the back of his hand and grabbed a blueberry off the top, tossing it into her mouth and wincing as she burnt herself chewing it.
“Quit that, it’s Hardison’s,” he told her.
“Hardison!” Parker yelled in what appeared to be terror, because of course she would. “I need your help right now!”
He came tumbling into the room, still only half-dressed and clumsily wielding Parker’s taser at the couch. When he saw only the two of them calmly watching him, he attempted to hide it behind his back.
“Oh hey, what’s up everyone,” he said nonchalantly. “Breakfast? Awesome. Smells like something Nana used to make.”
Parker went over and kissed him as she stole the taser out of his hand. She held it up in front of his face.
“Mine,” she scolded.
“Hey, I was ready to defend your life,” Hardison said, mock-offended. “What, you want me to run into an ambush empty-handed? Come on, baby, look who you’re talking to.”
“If you’d let Eliot teach you MMA like me then -”
“Then what, you’d use it as an excuse to choke me out again? I know what you’re after, I recognize that look in your eyes -”
“Hey, come’n eat.” Eliot put two full plates of breakfast  casserole down on the island. He braced himself, ready for Hardison to keep giving him the silent treatment or outright call him out on his behavior.
It didn’t happen.
“Morning Eliot,” he said as he came over to grab a stool. He leaned across the island; when Eliot was too surprised to meet him halfway, he rolled his eyes and reached out a hand to grab his face and pull it close enough for a quick kiss. Then he plopped down into his seat, inhaling deeply at his food. “Oh man, this smells exactly like Nana’s Blueberry Thing, I loved that as a kid. How’d you know?”
Eliot slowly sank down from his tiptoes. His stomach hurt a little from being yanked up against the edge of the island, his lips still felt the impression of Hardison’s. He... really didn’t understand.
“Uh, Nana said you liked it best,” he replied a little too woodenly. Neither of his partners seemed to notice.
“You been talkin’ to her without me?” Hardison asked, before taking a bite and moaning. It wasn’t a sex moan - Eliot knew what those sounded like - but it was damn near. “Did you turn into her? What the hell, this is it, this is the Blueberry Thing!”
Parker was at her own plate the moment Eliot said Nana; she was always fascinated by any mention of the woman, and would probably taze him for meeting her first. Right now, she was digging into her own plate, eyes closed.
Eliot cut himself a serving too and sat down to eat with them. He felt tentative, somehow, embarrassed.
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Went to talk to her last night. Got some recipes.”
The food was good. Sweet, warm, filling; clearly a comfort meal. He dug in.
When he looked up, Parker and Hardison were both staring at him. She opened her mouth, paused, and then fell silent with a glance to Hardison. He was staring at Eliot, mouth open.
“What the hell, hon?”
Eliot clenched his jaw. He knew what he should say. He’d spent all morning prepping himself to say it.
“...You never opened my present,” he said instead.
Hardison squinted at him.
“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna without you there,” he said pointedly.
“Right, well, here,” Eliot said and shoved it his direction before going back to his food. He could feel them staring at him but didn’t lift his head, kept shoveling bite after bite into his mouth as he heard Hardison final tearing at the wrapping paper, grumbling incoherently to himself.
A moment later, the angry mumbles got louder when he opened the first box to reveal the second one.
By the time Hardison got down to the final layer, a small paper booklet six boxes in, Parker was snickering rudely and his muttering was about half swear-words. Eliot still didn’t look up, kept waiting until Hardison actually read the gift.
(He’d thought it would be funny, obviously. He’d thought it would be hilarious, to watch Hardison getting more and more irritated by the wrapping paper. And he knew the gift itself wasn’t anything much, but Eliot usually prided himself on being good at getting people things they didn’t know they wanted, or didn’t think they’d ever get. He knew it was childish and kind of stupid right from the jump, but money didn’t really mean too much to Hardison, and he was confident he’d love this.
After his behavior last night, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Immaturity took on a different tone right now.)
“‘Eliot Tickets,’“ he heard Hardison read off slowly, then - “no.”
He glanced up sharply, but it’d been a sound of delight. Hardison’s eyes were wide and he was flipping through the pages rapidly with an ever-widening grin.
“No nerd jokes for twenty-four hours, back massage, favorite food, favorite sex, get-out-of-scolding free, dessert for dinner, oh my god Comic-Con?! Get to play with your hair, get to pick your cover, computer lessons, videogames, sleeping in, what kind of goldmine is this -”
Parker leaned over his shoulder as he kept going, pointing out her favorites as they worked their way quickly through the rest of the little booklet. It wasn’t horrendously long, but long enough: one ticket for every year. Twenty-eight in all.
Twenty-nine, including the piece of paper Eliot had slipped in front of the last page at seven-thirty this morning, before carefully re-wrapping every box.
“‘One I’m sorry,’” Parker read out loud. She met Eliot’s eyes as she asked, “Are you gonna use it?”
Hardison hummed thoughtfully, then picked it up to reveal the last page.
“No, I’mma save this for just the right time,” he said, waving it in the air. He looked Eliot in the eye and smirked meaningfully. “You messed up, man, you didn’t put an expiration date on any of these.”
“Dammit,” Eliot grumbled, like he’d just realized.
(It hadn’t been a mistake.)
“Don’t need that right now anyway,” Hardison continued, tucking it back into the middle of the book. “This, on the other hand - this one I’m cashing in now.”
Eliot took the little piece of paper Hardison ripped free. He sighed.
“Really?”
“Hell yes, now get in here - and no complaining, them’s the rules you made your own self. You too, Parker, c’mere.”
Eliot stood up and rounded the island, halting with a sigh just before reaching Hardison, who stood to meet him. He ripped the coupon in half.
“All right, here goes.”
Tucking the pieces into his pocket, Eliot stepped forward into Hardison’s outstretched arms, tucking himself in close and hugging him back tightly. A moment later, he felt Parker collide with them both, one arm over his shoulders and a leg around his hips. He sighed again, this time into Hardison’s shoulder, and let himself sway when they did, a gentle rock back and forth.
He closed his eyes when they started to sting.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into Hardison’s shoulder after a long minute. “Shouldn’ta left.”
“That does not count, Eliot,” Hardison told him firmly, and didn’t let go. “I did not use my coupon, I still got my coupon, you aren’t getting out of anythin’ with that you hear me?”
Parker snickered behind him.
“Not getting out of anything at all,” she said, and squeezed tighter. “We’ve got you trapped.”
.
(The next time he fed them vegetables, it was a Nana recipe and Hardison ate without complaint. Parker ate because she wanted to know what it felt like to be a little Hardison, and proclaimed the experience ‘like one of my harnesses’ which was obviously a very positive review.
The next time he fed them vegetables and it wasn’t a Nana recipe, they exchanged a look and then each ate exactly half of their servings. The rest they snuck back onto Eliot’s plate one bite at a time like he wouldn’t notice. He let them get away with it and looked down at everyone’s empty plates afterward with a weird content feeling relaxing his shoulders.
The next time he saw Nana, her words on Hardison’s bragging proved embarrassingly correct. She and Parker got along like a house on fire, and if left alone too long would probably cause a house on fire, and Hardison just watched them with a giant grin like he didn’t see the danger. Nana asked Eliot if he’d considered what they talked about last time right in front of them both, proving beyond all doubt that she shared Hardison’s love of driving him goddamn crazy for fun.
The next carrot cake he made was for Sophie and Nate. He refused to call it a thank you, but she did and also asked him to make that little French quiche she’d talked about like she honestly expected “it had spinach, I think, something green anyway, it was very light, and some kind of unexpected spice too?” would be enough to go on. Nate was no help whatsoever.)
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buckstaposition · 4 years
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I cling to your lips like gloss (3)
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a Javier Peña x OFC story
also on AO3
author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie  👋
tags&warnings: spoilers for season 3, wonky timelines & odd pacing, drinking, swearing, mentions of sex work, mentions of canon-typical violence, Miss Salome is back!, some mild domesticity, partial nudity, a lil’ bit of sexual & romantic tension, soft&protective!Javi today tomorrow and forever
words: 8906 🙃🤡🙃🤡
summary: “The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation.”
Author’s note: Thank you SO SO much everyone who read, reblogged, and commented! It means so much to me and I want you to know that I read those comments and reviews at least every other day 
Also this chapter was originally going to feature more as I was planning to move into the actual plot of the season, but then it just got longer and longer and I wanted to keep it under 10k words so that has all been moved to the beginning of ch4 instead. Anyway, remember it’s okay to take breaks in between, stay hydrated, and enjoy!
Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83​ @cinewhore​ @maddoggrahaml​
(message me if you want to be added to the list)
beautiful moodboard made by @huliabitch​ 
Masterlist
Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals
Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger
He made a habit of checking in with Miss Rivas regularly, usually on Wednesday evenings. It was late enough in the week for her to have gathered something to tell him, and for him to need interactions beyond dealing with pissy bureaucrats and the chorus of 'yes boss'es from his agents. That and he made the conscious choice to never bother her on Thursdays, seeing as how often she'd come back from a work day in the double digits, only to rise again with the sun on Friday mornings for her frequent trips back to Medellín. 
On this Wednesday, his self-imposed cigarette embargo inside his office combined with a slow and frustrating day had led him to go back to his apartment at an uncharacteristically early hour. He threw his jacket, wallet and keys down on the table, then loosened his tie and grabbed a beer from his fridge. He took a slow pull from the bottle, allowing himself to slump a bit against the kitchen counter. This apartment, while never what he would call a home, was still a sanctuary of sorts, even if most days he only came here to sleep and change clothes. He finished about half the bottle before clicking the bent cap back on haphazardly and placing it back in the fridge. He checked his watch and decided that a shower would, if not make him feel better, at least wash off the stale dryness of the embassy complex's aircon. 
His hair still damp, he exited the bathroom about half an hour later. He padded across the floor barefoot, shuffling around the few rooms a bit, pulling on a clean t-shirt and preparing a small meal in the kitchen. He didn't have much except for the usual staples, chosen by how easy they were to prepare and by how effectively they would fill his stomach, rather than for any considerations of taste. The only thing he allowed himself to indulge in was the selection of fresh fruit he picked up at the street market down the road. By the time he'd gotten something in his stomach it was nearing seven. Javier reckoned she would be home by now and would have had enough time to settle in. He grabbed his fruit plate and trudged over to his wall-mounted landline phone. After placing the plate on the low side table, he dialled the satphone's number and waited for the line to connect. 
"Agent Peña, good evening!" The sound quality was much better than with those tinny phone cells. It allowed him to hear how pleased she sounded as she greeted him, and how slightly out of breath. 
"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Rivas. I can call back later?" It occurred to him that she might be in the process of making dinner herself. 
"Oh no, it's alright!" He heard the shuffling of steps and the hum of music in the background. "Hang on, let me finish on the landline, then I'm all yours." She must have set the satphone down right next to her stereo system. He could hear music more clearly now, still distant like not all of it survived the transmission, but distinct enough to make out a string section paired with electric guitar and words in an unfamiliar language. 
"Interesting music selection." He mused as she came back on the line.
"Huh? Oh yes, Angelika let me borrow some of her tapes. Newly historical contraband from behind the Iron Curtain." She laughed quietly, and Javier thought of how for some of his former CIA colleagues, that might have been reason enough to drag her in for an interrogation. He sneered at the notion, glad it was no longer relevant. "Not that I understand anything, but that's why music is called the universal language, I suppose."
"Your German friend." Javier hummed thoughtfully. He'd had to look up what that Stasi remark meant, embarassingly enough. Despite the added information included, he'd been made to change it to 'Calí KBG' in his preliminary report on the matter. 
"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't convince her to help more. It's half the way she was brought up and half fear. I guess the thought of going up against a powerful drug cartel and helping the American government at the same time is just a bit too much. And with her and Julio now trying for a baby she just really doesn't want to risk it, you know?" 
"It's okay." Javier said reflexively, allowing himself to sit on the floor by his phone, his back against the wall. Angelika Florez-something-long-and-German-with-lots-of-umlauts that he wasn't even going to attempt to pronounce worked at the Calí phone company and would have been an invaluable asset, but then again she'd already placed herself in danger by allowing Diana to relay what she knew. Javier wasn't going to force anyone to become an informant. "Anything new on your end?" 
"New corner office." 
"Nice." 
"Oh, very."  He heard more soft rustling over the line, as if she was moving around, and then some light clicking noises that might have been a large window or door being opened. "Miguel Rodríguez did stop by yesterday. Unannounced, of course. Cut into my lunch break." 
Javier straightened, the hand with a piece of orange sinking back down from his lips. "Oh? What did he want?" Unfortunately it was nothing he could be nailed down for. The Rodríguez brothers did own that bank and had every right to be there, every once in a while. 
"Wanted to talk about the tax evasion scheme I devised. I swear, there's nothing rich people hate more than paying their taxes!" Her huff made him laugh softly, despite everything. "Nothing of substance to report, sadly."
"We'll get them." Javier promised. "With your help, they'll go down like a bag of rocks in water."
She hummed, tapping her nails against the phone casing absently. He could hear the light click of it over the line. Javier let himself enjoy the reprieve this unassuming silence offered.
"I've been wondering," she started again after a moment, pensive, "how you met Gabriela. Was it when she was still at the brothel or after?" 
Actually screw reprieve. Javier felt like all his blood was now rushing to his ears and neck. "Umm..." he said, eloquently. "W-why d'you want to know?" And hadn't the other woman told her that detail, since they apparently shared everything? He had made it until now in forcibly not dwelling on what exactly this 'everything' would entail. 
"Sorry no, that came out wrong. I was just wondering if she'd ever been in any way involved in your... work. I'm sorry, this isn't... I just- I worry."  
Javier exhaled slowly, thinking back on the night he'd chanced upon the stunning redhead at a bar. He hadn't planned on it becoming a regular thing, and then before he knew it, the sporadic nights he spent with her were the only thing removed from the stress of his job. "No, never." 
"Dammit." 
That was... not what he'd expected. He frowned a moment before it dawned on him. 
"You're worried that by involving her when Maritza asked you for help you put her in danger."
"...Yes." She sounded glum now, not pleased and at ease enough to attempt to joke with him like before. He hated it. 
"Hey, it's alright. Nothing happened to her." At least to her. At least one person had come out of that nightmare mostly unscathed. It was something to be grateful for. "They're gone now. Escobar and his men are gone. She's safe." 
"Thank you, Agent Peña. I just-" Her voice sounded so small, suddenly. He frowned, plate of fruit long forgotten. "I couldn't bear it if I lost her, too. And while I didn't live in Medellín for all of it I ...you hear things." 
Unbidden, his mind flashed to the brothel on 23rd street in Envigado, all the women executed, La Quica putting bullets through their brains because one of them had been brave enough to call the Search Bloc and DEA on him. He thought of Helena. He thought of the dozens more who had the violence in their lives compounded tenfold because they'd dared to defy the narcos' terror. And often enough, through him. Sometimes the guilt ate Javier alive. 
"Hang on a moment." He said, already heaving himself up and striding over to the kitchen, grabbing his unfinished beer from the fridge, then doubling back over to the bar and grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey. Mixing the two was probably not a good idea. As much as drinking in general. He didn't care right now. Javier tried to be a better man than he had been, but there were times when he slipped. 
He poured himself a glass of the liquor as he sat back down and snatched the phone receiver back up from where it swung against the wall. 
"I'm back." He announced simply and took a swig. 
"I shouldn't have brought it up." She sighed long and drawn. "I'm sorry for... I suppose I just wanted to make myself feel better. That if something had happened to Gabi it wouldn't have been my fault, too. I didn't think- I cannot begin to imagine, Agent Peña-" 
"It's alright." Javier said, reflexively. The beer bottle was just one generous sip away from being empty now. His fingers played with the rim of it absently as he stretched his legs out in front of him, the tumbler of whiskey at his side. 
"It's not alright." Miss Rivas insisted, sounding even more distraught. He hated that, too. 
"Maybe. Maybe not. It is what it is." He scrubbed a palm over his face, rubbing at his burning eyes. The alcohol was beginning to swirl through his bloodstream. It helped, he supposed, that there was a sort of artificial distance through the telephone line. Otherwise the next words would likely never have left his lips. 
"Can I tell you something?" Javier Peña wasn't a religious man, but there were times when he saw the sense of a confessional. 
"Of course." Her voice was just the slightest bit shaky. "Should I get myself a drink, too?"
"If you want." He threw back the last bit of beer, following it up immediately with a gulp of whiskey, then pressed the still cold bottle against his flushed neck. He hesitated a moment, listening intently to the shuffling and rustling on the other end of the line. He felt his shoulders tighten and draw up, let his head fall back against the wall with a soft 'thud', his fingertips tracing the rim of the glass until he heard her soft affirmative. 
This was not a time to let shame hinder him. Hell, the fact that he paid women for sex was the first thing she ever knew about him. 
"You should know that I have a kind of... reputation." Javier began slowly. Like she didn't know that already. Like she couldn't guess. Like maybe this illusion where he could make this a confession instead of a confirmation was somehow more dignified. 
He'd gotten the idea a few months into coming down here. Or rather the idea had found him in the shape of a lovely, doe-eyed brunette who'd introduced herself as 'Aurélia'. And Javier had been hungry and lonely, his shame at his ruined wedding fresh and the frustration of running after leads into empty corners even fresher. And he doesn't even remember how he ended up inside her room, and while under no illusion that what was about to transpire was merely a business deal, a service rendered and compensated for, he'd found himself talking. Javier wasn't a talker, but she'd been so sweet in the way she carded her slender fingers through his hair and let him ramble on, probably wasting her time. 
"That's who you're here for?" Javier remembered still, with such distinct clarity, how her fingers had stuttered against his scalp. Javier had lifted his far-too-heavy head from her comfortable bosom and peered up at her, wondering whether disclosing all this had been a mistake. What kind of idiot walks into a brothel in Medellín half drunk and says he's a cop looking to take down Pablo fucking Escobar plus associates? 
"They come here sometimes. Those sicarios I mean." Aurélia had said, resuming her caresses. Sweet girl. Sweet, sad girl who kissed so softly. 
"Oh yeah?" Just his luck. "Not tonight though, hopefully." Suddenly he wasn't quite as drunk or tired anymore. 
"Not tonight, no. At least not that I know of. Anyway, it's not- I shouldn't tell you this." She'd tilted his head up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. That girl could kiss like she was in love with you. 
That was that. Four days later he'd come back, with a proposal wrung from his superiors. Any information that could lead to the capture of one of the Cartel's sicarios for a generous chunk of solid American cash. 
"Aurélia?" Miss Rivas asked in a voice as if she was running calculations. "With curls or with a birthmark?"
"Umm, birthmark." A mole on her left cheek, just under the eye, like a rococo lady in every period piece about the French, except real. 
"Oh! Catalina Vasquez!" 
"You know her?" Of course she knew her. Apparently Medellín was actually a damn village and not a city of millions. 
"Yeah, the family lived just down the street growing up. I used to babysit them sometimes, her and her younger sisters." 
Javier hummed, unsure of how to reply. He pinned the receiver between his head and shoulder and shoved the freed hand up under the collar of his shirt to rub at the tension in the back of his neck. 
"Sorry for interrupting, do go on." 
It had taken some convincing. A whole lot of planning, too. But by the end of it he had one of Gacha's sicarios in custody. A large, brutish man who'd nicknamed himself 'Cobra'. Low-level and not especially bright, as it turned out, but not completely worthless. Javier had gone back to the brothel that night to give Aurélia her reward, and then he'd come back again the night after, when the high of success had worn off and he'd craved being kissed again like it meant something. Only, she'd been gone. Left without a trace, her erstwhile colleagues unwilling to divulge the whats and wheres and whys. Frustrated and anxious and in no small part betrayed, he'd drowned himself in a willing bottle blonde who could do extremely interesting things with her mouth. And that was that, the start of a career and a reputation. Not that he ever expected to be 'serviced' when he was there in a professional capacity. But when they offered, he found himself too weak to refuse. And they almost always offered. For whatever reason. 
Professional pride perhaps.  
"What happened to her?" It had been years but he had to ask, just on the off chance. 
"She took your money and cut loose, moved to the coast and got a job at a baker's. Last thing I heard she was married and had another baby on the way." 
"Good. That's ...good." He'd wondered, all these years... "Thank you."
"I didn't do anything." 
"For listening. For letting me ...unload." For lifting a bit of guilt and uncertainty off of me. "Just... you don't have  to do that. So thank you."
A short rustling, the squeak and groan of a chair, then: "I will listen to whatever you want to tell me, Agent Peña." 
Javier released a sigh, deep and weary, and set aside his glass and the bottle that was significantly lighter than it had been. His mind was somewhere in that soupy stage now, floating aimlessly on some sort of thick fog. It dulled the creeping pain in his back that told him he was too old to be sitting on the floor now. He mumbled something indistinct, rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear the haze. 
"Well, in any case, now you know." He'd only need to tell her about Lorraine, Helena, and Carillo, and he'd have shared all of his major sins. Huh.
"What are you asking for?" 
Absolution. "A verdict?" 
"I have no intention of judging you, Agent Peña. Not for this. You acquainted yourself with all the working girls in Bogotá and Medellín, and I married a man I did not love and stayed with him for years." 
"That's hardly the same." 
"Isn't it?" Her voice was soft and rueful, brimming with words not ready to be spoken quite yet. He sensed it, and agreed, and therefore decided that it was time to cut this heart-to-heart off here for both their sakes. 
"Hell, I don't know. Maybe, in a way." He was way too drunk for this. He shouldn't have drunk this much. Where had his threshold gone? It's like he'd spent years tempering his liver for nothing. 
"Well then, I'll let you know whether or not it'll be worth for you to come down to Medellín next weekend. Sleep well. And drink some water before then." 
Javier glanced at the clock mounted on the oppsite wall. When the hell had it gotten this late? No wonder his ass was numb and his back was killing him. There was a moment when the strangest words were just hanging on to the tip of his tongue, ready to plummet off. That it would always be worth it to see her. Even just to take a turn about a park with her and the kid. Javier swallowed thickly. Gathered his professionalism and detachment. 
"Until then, Miss Rivas. Good night." --- --- --- The phone rings insistently in a way that tells him it's been at it a while. Javier sighed while sliding the glass door of his office shut behind him. He hadn't planned on being all but ambushed by one of Stechner's CIA stooges under the guise of 'inter-agency liasing', and that was after getting caught up with a lenghty presentation one of his newly transferred agents had prepared for him. Feistl, he'd said his name was. The presentation was full of good ideas, too, just too involved. Javier had told the guy as much. If you can get your point across with ten words there's no point using fifty. 
Javier picked up the receiver, one hand rubbing at the dull throbbing that was just starting to build in his temple. 
"Peña."
"You're still at your office? It's past eight, you should go home." He smiles despite himself, and the chiding tone. 
"Got delayed." He offered by way of an explanation. She harrumphed softly. 
"Not that I'm not delighted to hear from you, but what's the occasion?" She rarely called him, he usually called her. She certainly didn't call on Thursday nights because when she wasn't preparing to drive up to Medellín she was usually exhausted enough at this point in the week to turn in early. 
"I hope you're sitting down." 
Javier perched himself on the edge of his desk where it wasn't piled high with reports and mind-numbing paperwork awaiting his signature. "I am." 
"They're having a party and I've been invited. Friday next week. They'll all be there; Santacruz is apparently coming down from New York for it. The chief accountant, the money launderer, everyone. And their wives, or other-" 
Javier's foot slipped a bit where he'd foolishly leaned a significant percentage of his weight on it. He caught himself as the desk gave a loud groan, slipping a bit on the linoleum floor. He righted himself quickly, sitting more firmly on the edge of the desk. 
"What do you know?" 
"Apparently there's going to be some sort of important announcement, but no one knows what it is, not even Miguel. Gilberto called it. All I know is that all four of them will be there, as well as everyone important in the organization. And then some. Likely every politician and law enforcement official in their pocket. Other cartels, too, but I don't know who exactly-"
"Miss Rivas, stop." Javier said firmly. Her voice had gotten that rambling, frantic quality that wore thin its natural pleasant rasp. "That's plenty. This is..." he twisted around and fished for his desk calendar, grabbing the nearest pen to circle the day, "This is huge. It could even be just the break we need."
She was silent for a moment, only her long, deliberate breaths crackling over the line. "You think so?"
"I think regardless of what it is, if it's important enough for a gathering this big, then yes."
"I don't suppose you could raid the party and arrest them all just like that?" She mused. 
"Only in my dreams, Miss Rivas." He allowed himself a second to picture it: surroundig what was no doubt a very large and fancy property, riding in like the cavalry, the dumbstruck faces as the Gentlemen of Calí and their associates realized their luck had run out, clapping the handcuffs on them - he'd want to do it himself, hear the gratifying click of metal on metal that would wipe the self-satisfied smirks off their faces. 
The warrants for the Calí godfathers existed, that wasn't the problem. The problems started with finding the location, circumventing their no doubt expert security, getting the lot of them without anyone escaping... Then there was the trouble of getting a search warrant for the property, even if they did know the address, and it was going to be a whole lot more complicated if the guy who signed those warrants was at that party himself. Then there was the fact that for all the valuable intel Miss Rivas had provided already, it wasn't nearly enough to nail the godfathers beyond what their army of slippery attorneys could weasel them right back out of. What they really needed was for someone to talk. Someone who had been there for longer and knew the operations of the cartel more intimately than Miss Rivas ever could (or than he would want her to, if Javier was being honest). The mysterious money launderer perhaps, or the chief accountant. Either would be good, both would be better - then again, the immunity deals that usually came with these kinds of cooperations didn't sit too well with Javier. 
"Hell, I don't even have a plus one. Do I really have to go? I could pretend to be sick." She sighed and scoffed, and muttered something about not having anything to wear. 
"I think you know." And if these people didn't know his face (and would put a bullet through it on sight) he'd gladly offer to be her plus one, if only to keep her safe. He hated knowing she'd be all alone there, among the wolves. It didn't make what he still had to ask of her any easier.  
"Yes, I know. Miguel called me the 'third corner of their finance trifecta'." A bitter laugh, not that Javier needed that cue to know. He could tell from her voice alone how much she despised it. "In any case, now you know, so you can make whatever arrangements you need. I'll see you tomorrow?" Ah yes, about that. 
"I'm afraid I can't make lunch. Urgent meeting called by the ambassador." Urgent and useless, but when the new president and minister of justice wanted a briefing he had to oblige. "Sorry."
"That's alright. Dinner then? My aunt will be in the hospital overnight." 
"I'll see what I can do." There was just one more thing. "Miss Rivas?"
"Yes?"
"Would you be willing to wear a wire? To the party?" 
"Well, I was thinking a cocktail dress would be more appropriate-" 
Javier scoffed. "You know what I mean." He could picture her grin on the other end of the line, pleased at her little joke. 
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I suppose I might as well, seeing as I'm not getting out of this-" 
"Thank you."
"Best bring the necessary ...equipment with you. I need to go dress shopping this weekend." 
He promised that he would. He promised to call as soon as he knew when he'd be in Medellín. And he promised to go home for the day as soon as they said their good-byes.
He intended to do just that; he only needed to file away some things first. 
"Boss?" Another one of the new transfers poked his head in after knocking. Why was he still here at this hour? Javier struggled to recall his name. 
"Yeah, what is it, uh..." He did feel bad about it, too. A little bit at least. 
"Van Ness, sir." 
"What is it, Van Ness?" 
"Duffy just faxed this over." Van Ness leaned further into Javier's office, holding himself steady on the doorframe, and handed him the flimsy sheet of paper. "They've gotten a lead through Cornerstone." 
--- --- ---
Dinner instead turned into an apologetic phonecall during a meeting break and then a red eye flight out to Medellín. Then there's another meeting at the Search Bloc home base with Colombian National Police representatives and the only high point of it is that he briefly sees Hugo Jr who looks well. So by the time Javier finally starts out to Envigado it's lunchtime again. He makes it there just slightly after. 
He walked up to the small house, past the flowerbeds on the windowsills, and knocked on the door. That side of the house was south-facing and it was a hot, cloudless day that has him sweating in his suit in no time. He's just about to knock again, thinking perhaps the first time he'd been too soft to be heard so as not to disturb the aunt who must be resting after her overnight stay at the hospital, but then he hears the quick tap of feet and the door is yanked open by an out-of-breath Diana. "Hey." 
She was wearing a wide smile and cut-off denim shorts with a simple blue cotton blouse and her hair was loose and much longer than when they'd first met. It seemed like no time at all had passed since then when in reality it had been close to a year now. 
"Hi," Javier breathed, "Sorry for the delay." 
She waved it off. "Come on in, I saved you a plate." She turned and walked back the short and narrow hallway. Stop gawking at her legs.
"That's not necessary." He tried to deflect, toeing off his shoes near the door and loosening his tie and shirt collar, just the top button. 
"Nonsense, unless you've eaten?" She looked over her shoulder before turning into the small kitchen. 
"I haven't, no." Javier conceded, following behind. It wasn't exactly spacious, a round table squished to one wall with just enough space for three chairs. Little Salome sat at one, drawing with an array of colorful crayons. She acknowledged him silently before going back to her drawing and Javier sat down. 
"Coffee?" Diana asked over the hum of the microwave, already pulling two mugs from a cupboard. 
"Please." Javier stretched his legs out as far as he could without becoming a tripping hazard. "How's your aunt?" 
"Resting now. She's been better recently, but overall she's been declining so I don't know-" She gave a helpless shrug, then brought over the mugs, shortly followed by the steaming plate which she set in front of him. He'd learned a while ago that even the most minute resistance was futile anyway. Besides, he actually was really rather hungry. Catering wasn't a priority for the CNP. 
He waited until she sat down in the chair opposite to start eating. They talked quietly, not exactly smalltalk, but nothing too heavy either. It was strange sort of almost-domesticity if one looked over the fact that he was being snuck in like a teenage delinquent boyfriend whenever the aunt was out or asleep (which was fine by him as he had no desire to meet the woman whose only daughter he'd gotten killed). 
"So how does that whole wire situation work in real life?" Diana asked after she'd cleared away the dishes (and physically slapping his hand away when he moved to help). 
"Well it's... there's a literal wire, a microphone on one end, and a recording device on the other. And a battery." Javier began haltingly. 
"And it needs to be concealed under the clothes, obviously." 
"Obviously." 
"Hmm, I see. How big?" She sat back down again, brushing a hand through Salome's hair affectionately. "And how do I secure it under the dress? I need to know these things so I can pick out one that'll cover it all, you see." 
Javier nodded. "Did you want to leave soon? Because I was thinking it's probably easiest if I just came along." 
At this, she seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. "You sure?"
He sipped the last of his now tepid coffee and nodded again. "Yeah, let's go buy you a dress."
"There's no need to buy me a dress, Agent Peña." He recognized that tone by now, how testy she got at any allusion of charity. It was an ingrained reflex that he knew better than to be irked by. 
"The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation." He stood to put the empty mug in the sink before she could beat him to it, then returned to the table, standing behind the seat he'd previously occupied and gripping the back of it. "Besides, more of American taxpayer money is spent on worse things." Like Stechner's salary, he thought. She gave him a look that said they'd have more words on this, probably when they reached the checkout, then stood, saying she'd go say goodbye to her aunt. 
Javier nodded, watching her leave. A little noise caught his attention. Salome still didn't speak much, but she knew how to make herself known nonetheless. "What is it, Miss Salome?" Javier stooped to get closer to eye level with the kid. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and held up a scrap of the paper she'd been drawing on. 
"Oh, what's this?" She shook the paper insistently in her tiny fist, an adorable frown creasing between her brows, as if miffed that he was being slow. And it's... he's gotten more relaxed around the little girl by now, but it still always lingers that he's part of the reason she's an orphan, and traumatised into a selective mutism that apparently even the average counselor or child psychiatrist doesn't quite know how to deal with to boot, that leaves him with a lingering apprehension that manifests in the kind of awkward hesitation that now has her scrambling off the chair and patting his leg as she holds the paper up for him to take. 
"Want me to take a look?" He bends and takes it gently. Is answered by a sort of long-suffering sigh. The scrap is barely the size of his palm, covered in colorful blobs of red and orange and yellow and blue, pink and green and purple swirls in between. 
"Very pretty." He decrees and attempts to hand it back just as Miss Rivas is poking her head back the room. 
"Can you please grab the car seat?" 
"Huh?" It's not very eloquent, but then again he's engaged in a game of impromptu reverse tug-of-war with a toddler. "She's coming with?" She's also pushing the paper back at him again, pouting. 
"Yes of course she is. The car seat? It's on the shelf behind you." There is no argument to be had with the women in this family, so he doesn't even attempt it, just straightens and looks for the car seat which is indeed in the described spot. "And that drawing is for you so just take it." 
"For me?" It's still clutched in his hand, and Salome is heaving a huff as if to say 'Duh. Idiot.' His throat feels tight all of a sudden. "Well, thank you very much." He makes a show of tucking it very carefully into the pocket of his suit jacket, then turns to retrieve the car seat. Together they make their way out. It takes a moment to set up the car seat in the back, another to wrestle the stroller into the trunk, but eventually they're on their way downtown.
--- --- ---
They have entered a world of ruffles. And sequins. For a moment Javier thinks he's having flashbacks to Lorraine's endless sessions discussing bridesmaid's dresses all those years ago. He exchanges a look with Miss Rivas, her expression stony and tense. 
"Alright, quick in and out. If at all possible, I want to be out of here again before Salome wakes up." Javier nodded, tightening his grip on the stroller handles. Salome had dozed off in the car on the drive over and was now out cold, not even stirring throughout the transferral from car seat to stroller. Javier eyed the sea of satins and gulped, then turned to the woman at his side. "What's your plan?" 
"I'm going to find a shop assistant." She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting over the masses of racks. 
"Good plan." Javier mumbled. He had an inkling that they'd be here forever if they attempted to brave this ocean of dresses alone. 
"Right, you can..." she trailed off as her eyes fixed on a woman some feet away, her head just bobbing up from between two racks where she was rearranging some very bright red and very small garments, "...um, wait by the changing rooms?"
"It's fine." Javier replied, starting to push the stroller in that direction. If nothing else he figured he could function as a temporary clothing rack or something. On instinct, he scans the perimeter while Miss Rivas elucidates to the shop assistant what she is looking for and the younger woman, perhaps in her mid- to late twenties, snaps her fingers in triumph before announcing that she has 'just what you're looking for' and starts marching away. They follow her like ducklings from rack to rack, and a good ten minutes later they have an armful of cocktail dresses of varying lengths, cuts, and colors. It's the kind of brutal efficiency that even Search Bloc could only dream of, all in the petite shape of this eager retail employee with a side pony.
"Let me know if you need help." She chirps as she deftly deposits them in the changing room area before returning to her other tasks. 
It's an almost enclosed space, five curtained cabins in an open half-circle arrangement with a long-ish bench in the middle and some tall mirrors on the spaces between. He wheels the stroller beside the bench and sits a moment later, so that the both of them are facing the changing room where the shop assistant had hung up the dress selection. Shrugs off his suit jacket, then drapes it carefully over the sleeping child to block out the light and muffle the noise of shoppers. Miss Rivas looked at him expectantly, one hand on the curtain that was half drawn. 
"What?" 
"You're gonna have to show me how to put on the wire thingy." She jerked her head towards the changing room. Javier gulped, the implication dawning on him. Looked at the stroller helplessly. There was nothing but an effectively timed baby snore and a twitch of one little ladybug-socked foot. 
"Come on, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can leave." As previously stated, there is no arguing with the women of this family, especially when they're right, so he resigns himself, dives for the case that holds the machinery, and stands. Miss Rivas stepped aside, drawing up the curtain after a furtive glance around. "We're both adults." 
"Yeah." Javier agreed, his throat tight. At least these cabins were decently sized or they'd be squished in there like sardines in a can. 
Javier turned away to give her some privacy, fiddling with the wire instead, pretending it had gotten more tangled than it was. At her soft confirmation that she's ready he turns around, making a conscious effort not to look... anywhere really. At least she'd only chucked her top; the shorts are still on. 
"Agent Peña, I would assume that you have seen women in their underwear before." She sounded amused, and clearly more relaxed about this than he could ever pretend to be. He gives a terse nod, making his eyeline give a wide berth until his gaze lands squarely on her face where a bemused smirk just barely masks something more uncertain. 
"Sorry, there is a real dearth of female agents or this would be much less awkward." Javier stepped closer, holding the wire in his hands like the world's flimsiest shield. She's right of course, the sight of a woman's brassiere hasn't been new to him since he was a teenager sneakily perusing clothing catalogues in his bedroom after dark. Hers isn't even... it's... functional, off-white, unwired and unembellished, and reveals just the edge of a tan line, something he quickly drags his gaze away from. The problem is of course, that the path his eyes take is further down her body, suddenly snagging on a raised line down at the very edge of her ribcage on the left side. 
"What's this?" His thumb drags across the raised skin instinctually. It's a thin, straight line of scar tissue, around half the length of his index finger and sitting right on the lowest rib. Diana gasped softly and he snatched his hand away like he'd touched one of the electric fences back on the ranch. "Sorry." 
"It's fine, it's just a scar." She took a steadying breath and retraced the path his finger had just taken on her skin with her own, pensive. "I got caught in a shootout on my way home when I was home for summer from university once. It's just a graze." Just a graze that would have been more than that if it had hit just a few inches to the side. Javier felt faint at the thought. 
"Do you have any?"
"Huh?" His brain is lagging on something, hence the eloquent reply. 
"You said you get shot at a lot in this job. Ever been hit?" She ducks her head a little, looking up at him through her lashes from where she's leaning back against the wall. "Come on, I showed you mine, you show me yours." It's clearly a joke, and one she obviously regrets as soon as the words are out, judging by the pained expression that comes right after the statement. 
"Just one." Javier said, tapping his leg about a handwidth above the knee. "Went right through. Apparently missed the main artery by less than half an inch." 
"Hmm, " she hummed, "Looks like we're both lucky then." 
"Yeah," Javier agreed, his voice soft and low, "lucky." 
The changing rooms really were not cramped, but with two fully grown adults inside, they were just about spacious enough. They stood barely an arm's length apart, mirror to one side and thick faux-velvet curtain to the other. Javier felt heat prickle from the base of his neck downwards, and he wasn't even the one with half his chest out. He'd only rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare. 
Her hand brushed over one gently, curling around his wrist and startling him out of whatever feverish reverie he'd zoned out into. 
"So," she trailed her fingertips further down, over his knuckles and the wire slung around them, before tapping against the small black cylinder that housed the recording device and battery, "does this thing get hot?" 
Pull yourself together and be fucking professional! "It shouldn't." 
"Right, well let's get it on then." 
He handed her the microphone end first. Explained ideal placement, the closer to the face the better. This was a modified necktie bug, small and discreet, secured against the skin with tape if necessary. She took it, pinned the mic to the strap of her bra, high up on the shoulder. The wire itself was long enough to wind around her torso once with some slack. The slim casing that held the battery and recording device she tucked into her bra for now. Listened intently as he explained how to turn the device on and off. 
"I'll keep this on for the rest of the day, just to get used to the feeling." Her smile was a bit wobbly as she spoke. 
"Yeah, that's ...uh, a good idea." Javier fidgeted a moment, not sure what to do with his hands. "Right, I'll leave you to your-" 
She gripped his hands just as he was about to turn and leave. Alarmed, he stilled. Watched he lip wobble and the rims of her eyes redden under furrowed brows. "Hey, what is it?, What's wrong?"
She heaved a deep and shaky breath that ended in an even shakier laugh. "I'm sorry I'm just... I'm scared."
"You don't have to do this if you don't feel safe." Javier was quick to offer. "You've helped us so much already."
She swallowed hard. "No, I do want to! Do this, help you. I want to bring them down! Besides, I'm going to be there anyway, so it would be a waste not to-" 
She was trembling now, unaware of her own body's reaction until it was brought into sharp relief by his large warm hands on her shoulders. 
"Hey," he said, thumbs rubbing gently at her collarbones, "It's going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" 
She knew, realistically, that there was only so far he could carry a promise like that, but her nerves calmed nonetheless. It was silly, really. This relationship was just a professional alliance, no matter how many deep secrets they'd shared with one another. Officially of course they couldn't ever be associated, at least as long as any of the 'Gentlemen' of Calí still roamed free. And yet, she trusted him.  
"I know. I'm sorry." She babbled, nerves imploring her to externalize her anxiety through words. "I came to you; I wanted this... want this. I'm in. I'll try to be brave."
He squeezed her shoulders gently. "You're one of the bravest people I know." And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Because deep down he didn't want her to be brave. Helena had been brave too, and what did it get her? 
"I'm just… I'm tired of being afraid." She steadied herself on him, hands gripping his biceps now. 
"Sometimes being afraid is what keeps us alive." He murmured, bringing one hand up to tilt her face to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you're safe, okay? Whatever I can, I promise. I can't have you on my conscience as well." The last part was whispered so softly that she barely caught it, but she nodded, pulling herself together and schooling her breathing.  
"Thank you." She squeezed her hands once and let go. Javier searched her face for a moment longer, thumb brushing over her cheekbone absently, before he remembered himself and drew back.
"You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah," she nodded, "yeah I'll be fine." 
"Okay." Javier breathed, straightening, hand going for the curtain. "I'll wait outside."
Her answering smile was still shaky, but not quite as much so.
When Javier ducked out of the changing room his first glance is towards the stroller, where Salome is still napping peacefully. His second glance is directed towards the shop assistant sorting through the returns rack, directed there by the woman's disapproving huff. It's not the same one who helped them pick out dresses, but a slightly older woman, one who carries the gravitas of authority derived by experience with her. 
"Did your wife need help?" She quips while untangling garments from hangers. Out of all that's happened over the past quarter of an hour or so, this is what really makes Javier's ears burn. 
"Yes, with the um... zipper." He stutters, wishing for the first time that day since leaving the base that he could have a smoke. 
"Hmm," the shop assistant resumed her folding, "You would not believe the kinds of things people get up to in there." Her disapproving stare moved to the stroller where Salome was still blissfully asleep under his blazer. He snatches the garment away guiltily, but Salome doesn't even stir, just slumbers on cutely. At last, the woman's eyes soften. 
"Yes, well... call me or any of my colleagues if you need further... assistance." 
"Thanks." He clears his throat and sits as she sails off with an armful of clothes. Miss Rivas poked her head out not a second later. 
"I'm sorry, your what?" 
At least she was laughing again, even if her eyes were still slightly red-rimmed and watery. 
"Sorry, next time I'll be sure to clarify that you are my confidential informant and we're taking down the world's biggest drug cartel together." He retorts, and she breaks out into a wide grin accompanied by a snorty burst of laughter. 
"Well, if you put it like that it sounds almost romantic." Now it's his turn to snort. "I do actually need help with this zipper, though." 
She stepped half out of the little alcove, clad in a floor-length, wine-red halter gown with intricate beading all over, and a slit so high it makes his brain short-circuit. Which causes him to just stare at her dumbly for a long moment, even after she's already turned to present the high back of it. 
"Agent Peña?" She throws over her shoulder, somewhere between amused and slightly concerned. He jumps and strides over, fingers fidgeting with the zipper tab until he gets a decent grip and starts to pull it up the rest of the way. 
"Uh, no I meant down." Her voice is as strained as he feels. He pulls the tab down, desperately trying not to focus on the skin being revealed as he does. She releases a relieved breath when he's done and turns, stepping back inside the changing room. 
"Thanks."
"This one good?" He asks with a non-committal shrug, nodding towards the dress without really looking at it. 
"No, I think I do need to be able to breathe. And also I'd like to be able to walk without flashing everyone. I do work with these people, after all." She smiled, one hand on the curtain ready to draw it back shut. "I'll be quick with the rest, but you can take Salome for a turn if you want, maybe have a smoke outside? We can meet back here or by the registers." 
They both look at the little girl's sleeping form simultaneously, watch her eyes move rapidly under her lids as she is lost in dreams. 
"Thanks, but it's alright. I can stay in case you need further...help."
It really isn't long after that. She hurries, but they also make light conversation while she tries on another five or six dresses. She doesn't come out with most of them but narrates all their flaws very entertainingly. Javier once again enjoys how forward she is, not censoring herself in the least as she complains about everything from odd sizing to itchy material to unfortunate placement of embellishments. 
"Okay, last one." She announces and then draws back the curtain with a flourish and Javier... just gapes. The dress is midnight blue, so dark it looks almost black until light hits the silky fabric and reflects off of it. The color compliments the deep bronze tan of her skin like it had been chosen specifically for her. It's slim-cut, body-hugging and high-collared with thin spaghetti straps and subtle beading on the bodice. A tasteful slit goes to just above the knee and the hem brushes just over the tops of her feet. 
"I think this will work." 
'Oh it definitely works.' Luckily Javier's mouth is currently too dry for these words to slip out, so he just nods, clearing his throat awkwardly. 
"Great! Let me change back real quick and let's get out of here." 
He's just adjusting his suit jacket to lie over the still blissfully sleeping toddler like a blanket when Diana steps back out, back on her shorts and top. 
"Looks like the American taxpayers are in luck. It's discounted." She said as she read the tag, then draped the blue dress over the top of the stroller. "Twenty percent. Not bad." 
Javier snorted. Took the other dresses and hung them up on the returns rack. Grabbed the stroller handles and gently set the vehicle in motion. Salome stirred a moment, then bunched a chubby hand in the fabric sheltering her from the chilly air-conditioning and settled back down. Diana's gaze is soft upon her niece, and soft still when she raises her eyes to meet Javier's. 
They make their way down to the registers, walking from the top floor of the department store downwards, weaving around racks and shelves and other shoppers. Javier is pushing the stroller, Miss Rivas at his side where possible, her hand loosely hooked into the crook of his elbow again as she likes to do. It's two floors down, as they traverse the men's section, that she suddenly sidetracks, half disentangling herself, half pulling him over to a wall display. Neckties. He raises a questioning eyebrow. 
"Since we're here already." She shrugs, like that explains everything. It doesn't. The eyebrw remains up and quizzical. 
"Explain." 
There's a dangerous glint in her eye as she lets her fingertips glide over the assorted fabrics. 
"Gabi said you only have ugly ties." Has she now.
"She's only seen two!" Javier protests without heat. She eyes him critically, eyes the tie he put on this morning at the asscrack of dawn for his damn meetings. He has half a mind to argue that he didn't feel like dressing up all pretty for some pissy general at half past four in the morning. 
"Was this one of them?" Though truth be told perhaps his tie selection is a bit... outdated. This one is several brownish tones in a very 70s pattern, if he's being honest. 
"No?" But this one was also one of the old ones that had been gifts from Lorraine he'd never gotten rid of. 
"Then you have three ugly ties." There is no arguing with this woman. So, he submits. "You'll have to make announcements on national television sooner or later; you'll need to look decent." 
"I'm not arguing, am I?" He figures what's the point. What's the worst that could happen. And she knows she's won, too. Gleefully starts peering through the selection before them. 
"Is this revenge? For this?" He motioned to the dress still draped over the stroller, his meaning clear between them. Is this for making you go to a party with the world's most powerful drug bosses with a wire up your boobs.
"No." She lied, picking up a solid charcoal tie and holding it up to his collar. "Of course not." 
She picks out four, two solid and two patterned.
By the time he parks the car back on a side street in Envigado Salome is awake and very grumpy. A snack of peach slices and crackers mollifies her somewhat, but just enough to get her in the house and distracted by her toys before throwing a fit. Javier carried in the car seat and then the stroller, after Diana's signal that the coast was clear, and lastly he grabs her shopping bag and stuffs the last item on his itinerary for this visit inside, before he forgets again. 
"Another coffee?" He wants to, he really does, but if he ingests any caffeine now he knows he won't sleep until well after midnight. So he shakes his head, apologetic. He's tired, sure, but he'll power through until he reaches his hotel (and then promptly collapse on the bed there.)
"I have one last... I brought you something, just in case." He hands her the bag, and she looks at him quizzically. Until she looks inside, that is. 
"What's this?" She holds the garment up in question, turns it in her hands a a few times. Javier clears his throat.
"Bulletproof vest." 
She gulps. Pales imperceptibly, eyes flitting between him and the vest. 
"You really think this is neces-"
"Just in case." He insists. It probably wouldn't- it's a newer model, thinner and more discreet than the tac vests they use out in the field, but likely still too bulky to be hidden under her normal work clothes, even though she favors looser cuts. He takes it from her gently, motions for her to put her arms up so he can lower the vest over her head and do it up at the sides. Explains how it needs to be secured tight to the body so it doesn't shift. 
"It won't work under my normal work clothes." Miss Rivas frowns, hands smoothing down over the front of it, calculating. Probably going through her wardrobe mentally. Doing an admirable job of not letting fear grip her again like that earlier hiccup. "It's too bulky."
"No, you're right." Javier conceded, hands still at her sides where his fingers are hooked into the clasps of the vest. "You should still take it. Who knows when it'll come in handy."
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Author’s note cont’d: this is the song Javi is hearing over the phone in the first scene btw
youtube
learn about bugs and wires here (though I do admit that I am playing a bit fast and loose with this here ;)
this is what I based the first dress on:
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and here’s the final dress: 
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and yes, I hate about 90% of the ties they have him wear in the show and that is how that bit came about. Sorry to throw Lorraine under the bus a bit there but I’m sure they were fashionable at the time :/
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yandere-society · 4 years
Text
Candy Man
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Synopsis: Stepping into the world-famous Hope World Candy Factory the day of Valentine’s Day, you are filled with an overwhelming number of sweets and surprises. As a confectionary lover, this is your dream, to not only see the inside of the glittering multi-colored building, but maybe get a glimpse of the interesting man behind all the delicious desserts. There’s also something here, lingering behind every jelly bean wall or chocolate cove. After getting separated from a tour group, you think maybe this was a mistake to come in here so carefree. There may be something sinister behind these seemingly harmless candies.
Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
Word Count: 4,300+
Admin: @mintedmango​
Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist
Trigger warnings: Yandere-themes, mentions of death/murder, mentions of gore, blood, passing out/fainting, knives, improvised weapons, being tied down/restrained, hospital beds, unhealthy thinking relationships, cannibalism.
The skin of your lips was being peeled off by your teeth as you nervously flit from foot to foot on your elevator ride up the see-through jelly tube. You could see almost every chocolate cove and red vine tree from the pink tubing your tour group was being brought down to. Your heart was pumping rapidly with a mix of excited and full of tension, and your empty stomach was rumbling as butterflies fluttered, trapped inside. You weren’t sure anymore if not eating this morning to make room for all the sweets that one could possibly enjoy was a good idea. 
You were so anxious you could hardly stand it. Ever since you learned that the infamous Hope World Candy Factory was opening up one day to the public for the first time, you decided you just had to fly across the country and see it for yourself. You’ve loved the company and all the creations that they make ever since you had your first Daydream Bar at the tender age of five. 
All you had to do was buy a ticket for the factory (that costs a pretty, pretty penny, mind you) and you were set for the whole day!
The only catch though was that it was only open on Valentine’s Day and it was strictly for couples to come and enjoy a romantic, sweet-filled day in the candy factory...
And of course, you were as single as single could be. 
That’s just how life goes, right? 
The elevator lurches to a halt suddenly and you almost stop breathing, your excitement overwhelming you. 
“Everyone, step lightly, we have much to see!” Says a stout woman with green hair and carrot-colored skin as she ushers everyone out of the tube and into a dim room with a tiny, tiny door at the end of the hallway. “Now,” she whispers, as she grabs what looks to be different colored (and probably flavored you assume) gelatin keys and sticks a goldenrod one through the small keyhole. “Beyond this door is where you get to roam the marvelous Grand Garden.” 
You gulp, mind full of wonder and awe as you watch her turn the key, and it glitters and sparkles with the bright light beyond the door, much like your eyes right now. 
From the moment of purchasing your own golden ticket, you have been scouring the internet in hopes you would find more info about the Hope World Factory and the mysterious secrets it keeps locked up tight behind its doors. There wasn’t much on the Jung family or the current CEO of the factory. Just rumors of an immense and large edible garden, with so much grandeur and thought put into it, it was something straight out of a fairy tale book. 
“Everything is edible.” She states with a smile before pushing open the door. “But please be advised to stay within the walls of the garden with your partner, or you could end up in some serious… hot chocolate.” 
A few people in your group snicker at her sweet-treated pun, but you can’t focus on anything except seeing what is beyond that bland-colored door, wanting to know if the rumors of splendor are true. Your palms are sweaty and your mind blank with anticipation. 
“Please come back to this door, under the raspberry truffle tree in one hour!” She smiles as she finally pushes the door open for you all to run inside, and see what the Jung family has been hiding for decades. “It’s something out of your purest imagination!”
Speaking of Jung family, you wonder if the rumors are true: the family's youngest son is in charge of the factory now, after his sister got engaged to a rival candy company’s heir. So many whispers and hush-hush with this family, you swear! Deep down you really wanted gossip and drama from them, as selfish as that sounds. You wish they were a little bit messy and spill their internal secrets to the world. So you only really knew what the internet and late-night television hosts would spread amongst the airways, which were usually ridiculous words of slander and vile garbage. 
But what you do know about the famous sweet CEO was that he has an amazing taste in everything from cars, to clothes, especially to candy and you’ve heard that he has an amazing, dazzling smile. Supposedly, and according to the rumors circulating everywhere. 
“Where’s your date, young lady?” The woman with white eyebrows asks up to you with a serious smile on her orange lips, breaking your inner thoughts. Her eyes rake your features up and down, like a human scanner, and you can’t help but gulp. You hoped all your hard work was not in vain. 
“Uh-He’s in...the bathroom.” You lie with a wry smile, hoping she’ll buy it with just enough time to get you into the room she’s so close to unlocking. 
She purses her lips and looks away from you, but doesn’t ask you anything further on the manner. 
“Have fun in the garden!” She says instead of throwing you out and opens the plain door to the grandest thing you think you’ve ever seen. 
Couples scream and laugh as they whiz past you on your journey to roam freely around the edible valley. You can’t be bothered though, as your mouth is going to collect dust if you leave it unhinges for too long. 
There are no words. You couldn’t fathom half the things in this room. Is this even a factory anymore, or are you in heaven? 
It’s… simply breathtaking. 
The online forms were right - there is a giant edible garden - but the words and descriptions on screen didn’t do the real thing any justice. And, of course, they confiscated your phones even before you entered the building so you couldn’t document this creation out of a book come to life scene unfolding before your eyes. 
You are stunned as you walk on the hardened peanut butter cup path towards the giant garden in the middle of four, high walls. Your eyes sparkle, filling with tears of joy upon seeing the beautiful, wonderful sights before your eyes, covering your mouth as the couples in your tour guide pass by your idle body. It is seriously extremely super overwhelming: your senses are going on overdrive as your sockets roam over every inch of the garden that you can see. You just need a moment to take everything in. 
There is so much - so many details and little things going on. 
Trees made of marbled dark and milk chocolate stand tall, protruding into the blue-raspberry colored sky, pastel cotton candy clouds wisping around above you. Most of the whimsical looking plants bear fruit of all kinds and gummy leaves hanging low off their perfectly carved branches. You hear a trickle of something, like a stream of water, and see that there is a tiny clear yet caffeinated creek of soda-pop softly crackling its way through the garden. Following your eyes, you see there’s realistic grey rock-candy gravel and well, rocks, underfoot as well as strings of grass you can only assume are sour green-apple flavored, or even possibly key-lime pie? You can’t be certain but you can’t wait to try it! There’s a fountain spewing caramel in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a pool of white chocolate, and it's held together by what looks to be a brick, but upon a further glance, you suspect that it’s potentially licorice or Twizzlers, or a combination of both. There’s tables, chairs, and benches made out of finely crafted shortbread cookies placed along the peanut butter paths of the edible wonderland. There are colorful flowers made of lollipops and sugared, blown glass softly billowing in the artificial breeze, seemingly waving at you as you gawk on in shock.  
It’s all too beautiful. Your mind is having trouble processing everything until you hear an excited scream about life-sized gummy bear bushes and you can’t help, but want to investigate further. 
Your feet finally start to move as you are openly sniffling and crying: you are such a happy mess. 
A stout figure smiles at your back, a menacing aura surrounding her as she presses a single digit on her smartwatch to the man behind this beautiful room and factory. 
“Fritz?” He questions, nearly shrieking through the speaker with excitement. “How are our esteemed guests doing?”
“Oh… Well, I suppose,” her upper lip curves into something dreadfully evil. “But, we have a lost little crumb who decided to bend the rules and attend the party without a date.” 
The young CEO sighs into the receiver, watching everything unfold from his observation deck placed high above the ground, in order to study the humans roaming around his perfect, edible garden. 
He knows. He’s known since she walked in here that she was alone and didn’t have a special someone to share this day of candy hearts and love songs to. 
Which was perfect because well, you see, neither did he. 
He sighs as he tips his silkened purple top hat up to view the mesmerized crowd down below, throwing up his dark leather boots on the desk in the observation deck. Deep down, the young man was lonely, hiding his family’s recipes and secrets for the rest of his life due to the enigma that was the candy business. His usually jovial smile turns into a sour frown as he watches her stand shell-shocked by the river of soda pop, staring up into the cotton candy clouds. Or, paradise, as he calls it.
It was as if she was looking at him, knowing there was someone watching her admire and take in all the hard work that he and his staff have given to the largest and most amazing room in the factory. He leans into the window, removing his boots from the desk to watch her with her mouth agape take in the splendor and majesty that was his garden. His eyes widen as he studies her expression. She hasn’t even eaten or enjoyed anything in the room yet… Why is that he wonders? Was she a spy for another company? No, it was more like she was in complete disbelief that this was even real. Almost like she was marveling at his handy work...
Suddenly, the young man clad in his expensive purple suit has a wicked thought. Oh yes! If she is a fan of confections of any kind she will be a great asset to the company and myself! A dream only someone of his caliber who’s spent so much of his time up in the clouds could fathom. Or she’ll do nicely for some company if I end up breaking her in the process then! 
“Fritz,” he presses his watch up to his lips that curve into a devious smile. “Bring her up.” His amber eyes turn dark and cloudy as he thinks of his lair, a lab where he designs desserts and candies of all kinds. “I think we found our new taste tester.”
Oh wow! This is really unlike anything you could even dare of dreaming! You don’t think anything can ever compare to the concoctions and creations that the Hope World Factory has let the outside world enjoy for a mere afternoon. It didn’t seem right to you to try anything. If you ate and ruined all the time it took someone to place here so craftily and carefully. No. You didn’t think you could. 
Unlike some...
A playful screech comes from your left and you duck just in time to see a flash of white pass right by your nose. 
You watch with mirth as a couple runs by you, throwing marshmallow fluff off the cherry flavored giant mushrooms placed delicately around the garden. They scream and fly past you, making a mess of the precise and wonderful dessert and bakery items it probably took a whole team of people to create. You frown with judgmental eyes, studying the pair of grown adults act like they were children. 
Though you suppose, candy does revert you back to your childhood, where everything was much more innocent and easy to deal with. 
It was amazing what a room of sweets could do to a group of people. 
They race around, running this way and that, laughing and having the time of their lives with giant smiles plastered on their faces. They disappear from view and you stand watching the space from where they left, under a chocolate tree with gummy bananas hanging off of them. 
Shooting through your body, a zinging pain shoots through your heart feeling like the zap of a thousand volts of electricity that trickles down to your toes and lights its way back up your spine again. 
You freeze watching the pair disappear behind a licorice willow tree. With a tired gulp and a teary blink in your eye, you have to face reality. Truth hurts, as some would say: you are incredibly lonely. 
“Miss,” just then, the shrill voice of the stout lady behind you echoes from where you are standing and you nearly jump right out of your skin you are frightened by the sneaky tour guide. You all but tense up, breathing hitching as your sockets expand, fearing for the worst. “Miss, a word?” Your nerves were on fire as the soda stream pops and fizzles next to you, filling your ears with the carbonated crackling, as well as all the blood that rushes to your ears. Adrenaline running through your veins, like hot-white lightening sparking up and down from head to toe.  
Shit! You think turning to face the orange lady with a sheepish smile. I’ve been caught! 
“Y-Yes?” You mumble as she smiles on at you turning to face her fully. 
“Who can take a sunrise?” She starts to sing an eerie tune and your stomach pits. “Sprinkle it with dew?” Your eyes are the size of the moon as you watch her bring a bag out of her pocket as she continues to smile that weird, twisted smile at you. “Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two?” Your heart is pounding out of its chest staring at this round orange woman who reaches into her silkened purple bag, pulling up a handful of what looks like sparkling glitter. “The candy man can.” Her mouth continues to stretch across her face, as she makes invisible worms and spiders crawl along your skin that’s turned to ice. She lifts her hand and blows the dusty glitter into your eyes, as you try to recoil from the crazy action the tour guide throws your way.  
Literally. 
“Hey!” You yell, opening your eyes to find the world covered in glistening lights, the garden shiny and bright for some strange reason. “What the heck?!” 
“Because he mixes it with love,” she ignores you and continues chanting her odd song to you. Your eyelids feel heavy, your body suddenly sluggish, “and chocolate,” you can barely stand on your own two feet as you feel yourself slumping forward and backward. You feel like you are stuck in a murky pit of blackness, and will never be able to escape from the throes of this evil she’s thrown at you. Unable to form a coherent thought, sleep seeps into your mind as you start to succumb to the feeling. Darkness creeps around your vision as you start to fall. Two pairs of hands keep your body up as you hear the orange lady say a few final words. “And makes the world taste good.” 
-
When you come to your senses, you have a sneaking suspicion that you aren’t in the garden anymore.  Your eyes are clouded with that weird dust that the weird-ass tour guide blew in your face. There’s more shining, glittering lights floating above you and you realize all the spotlights are all pointed at you. You try to blink the dust away but every move you make makes your body ache for some reason. Why were you in pain? Did you fall? No, you could have sworn there were two people holding you up, carrying you, while you heard… singing, the whole time…
So weird.
Oh crap, speaking of that green-haired tour guide… You gasp a little, foggy brain finally waking up fully, and you nearly grasp. You finally understand. You were caught! You broke the rules though and you deserve to be reprimanded and rightfully so. But, the question still stands. 
With a groan and a small shift of your head, you try to grab your throbbing head, but it was sadly in vain. 
You blink rapidly. No. This had to be a bad dream right? You are not strapped to a metal object, right? No. Your hands around bound and placed above you? No. You try to kick your legs, only to find your ankles confined into shackles connect to the cool metal item. Loud noises of your struggle erupt from your body, echoing throughout the small, sterile room. Metal clanging around itself was the worst thing you think you’ve ever heard.
There’s… no way… right? 
Your eyes expand, practically falling out of your head as your empty stomach flips over on itself. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, throat running dry. You let out a blood-curdling scream upon realizing that you are tied to a flat, stainless steel table in the middle of a brightly lit, sterile-looking room. You hear the faint melody that evil woman was humming in the distance and you want to throw up you feel physically sick. 
This was something out of a terrible bad trip, a nightmare, a horror movie. Is this a scene from a sci-fi film? Your eyes are shaking in their sockets, unable to focus on anything. 
Sure, you broke the rules. Sure, you should be punished for it or be fined a sum of money. But, wasn’t this a little extreme? What were they going to do? Torture you?  Was the policy for breaking the rules to probe you? With a hard swallow, you honestly hope that’s a solid no. 
“Hi there, little crumb.” Comes the awful, nails on a chalkboard, screeching sound of the stout tour guide flutters in somewhere above you. No! You plead to no one in your head. No please don’t kill me! I haven’t even eaten anything from the garden yet!
Your heart is beating, drumming, pounding at the shackles of your sternum to bust free from your chest. Her sweaty, orange meaty fingers come out of nowhere to twist your face toward her. A twisted smirk forms on her scaly lips, her white eyebrows rising to her wide forehead to reveal her pinked gums and dilated eyes beaming, honing in on you. Her yellow, laser-like eyes lock together with yours, which enlarge in fear. 
“You think you are special, huh?” She laughs, throwing her head back and maniacally cackling. “You think just because the young master has chosen you of all people to be his new taste-tester you think you are something else?” 
“We are going to have so much fun,” she lifts a pumpkin carving knife up to your neck, “together.” She hisses, leaning in, and you nearly taste the bile, the vomit rising in your esophagus while you can’t form a single clear thought as you watch her press the shiny blade to your throat further. Your breathing hitches as she sneers, leaning in closer to practically spit on you. “I’ve loved him for years, since he had dreams to build the garden and you think that YOU,” you wince when you feel the stinging slice of the blade a trickle of blood runs down from your skin and onto the blade. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM FROM ME?”
You are going to die. You are going to die. You are going to be murdered in cold blood by this woman who knows nothing about you. She’s going to kill you and probably play jump-rope in your intestines. 
“Hello, little lady.” A cheerful voice filters in from behind the orange lady, snapping you out of your swirling, disintegrating thoughts of your impending peril and doom. “And goodbye Fritz.” 
Before the round woman could even think to turn around, your vision, that was once white and sterile, is painted in bright sticky red. 
Blood to be exact. 
It drips from the giant blue lollipop-shaped into a knife protruding from the orange chest of the orange tour guide. Red particles splatter upon your body, painting you in the warm, maroon color of her life force that someone is robbing from her. Her eyes roll back into her skull, removing the carving knife from your throat as she spits a lump of clotted blood out of her dry, cracked lips. 
Your lips part in shock, eyes continuing to stay as wide as dinner plates as you watch the lady before you crumple in on herself and slump to the ground in a heap of orange, red, and green. 
A man in silkened purple suit, with a shit-eating grin curving his lips and whose white gloves were speckled and smeared pink from the blood of his staff, was clapping enthusiastically. The sound fills the once sterile room, the noise jarring and ear-splitting as you recoil slightly every time his covered palm connects to the other. 
Why is he clapping? He beams as he steps over her dead, lifeless body as yours tenses up. And who the fuck is he?
You remember where you are and why you were here in the first place and you nearly jump out of your skin. 
He’s… oh my God...
The young CEO of the Hope World Factory: Jung Hoseok. 
He is handsome, there’s no doubt about that. His chestnut-colored hair is barely visible due to the matching violet top hat that covers his head. Amber eyes that sparkle with mischief under the bright spotlight of the medical looking room. You can’t help but drink him in as he starts to loom over you. His slender nose sculpts into a soft-looking smirk, that's curved into a tender smile, shines gently down around you laid out on the cold metal bed. His grin really is magnetic because you are completely captivated by this man who looms lower and lower over you, until you can smell the sweet aroma wafting in around him. 
Enthralled, enchanted, mesmerized… This man has a spell over you and you can't look away. 
But you have to ask, “Are you going to kill me?” 
He blinks at you in disbelief, smile falling only for a moment before he starts scream-laughing. 
“What?” He chuckles as he clutches his sides, cackling himself into stitches. “Oh, no no no, little crumb!” His nostrils flare, honey-colored eyes dilating. “You know who I am, yes? You’ve put two and two together?” 
You nod, with a weak ‘yes’ leaving your mouth. 
“Then you know I’m the infamous candy man, Jung Hoseok.” He sneers, slamming his stained bloody gloves on either side of you on the metal table. “I’m solely going to play with you, little crumb.”
A gasp leaves your lips as you register his words in your head.
You struggle in the shackles, trying to retreat away from the man sneering down at you with mirth. He cocks his head to the side, the bright light being blocked from the man practically climbing on top of you. “Do you know what my main ingredient is here at the Hope World Factory?” His voice drops an octave and his playful eyes cloud over with something dark. 
You swivel your head back and forth in a no.
Hoseok slams his hand down next to your head, nabbing your attention in full force. “Speak when spoken to, pet.”
“N-No.” You whisper, a tear leaves one of your eyes, sliding out of your socket, dripping onto the cold table. 
“Very good.” He caresses your face with the back of his pinkened-color glove. With a menacing and misplaced smirk, Hoseok dips down to your neck where the tour guide shallowly cut you. You whimper with trembling lips, closing your eyes moving your face away from him, which only reveals the pulse point of your neck to him more. “Oh, very good.” You hear him inhale before the warm flat of his tongue laps the trickle of blood that streams out from your flesh. 
Did he just… drink your blood?
Hoseok stands then, lips swollen and colored with your blood, grinning like a wild, maniac above you. “Oh, you’ll do just nicely.”
“F-for-r wh-what?” You shake, tied to the table you are straining, desperate to get out of. 
He raises his hands above you, eyes dark with no sparkle left in them. “I drained my last taste tester, broke her, some would say. But, oh you,” he cups your face leaning in to grin at you with his pearly whites coated in your blood, “you just need to lay here and look pretty while your blood is our secret ingredient for all things sweet in the Hope World Factory.” He shrieks, laughing like an insane person as he cups your face in his sticky palms. “Isn’t that great?” 
Your heart breaks as you silently beg for a quick and easy death like the lady on the ground. This was not what you had in mind for your Valentine's Day, as well as the rest of your life.
“You can’t keep me here.” You whisper, but it sounds like you are begging him more at this point than anything. 
He ignores you and starts humming that dreadfully eerie song from earlier as he leans back over to trap your wounds in between his lips again. “The candy man can.” He hums into your skin, his tongue swirling all over your poor neck. “Because he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.” 
———
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luluwquidprocrow · 3 years
Text
love was made for me and you (and you)
originally posted: february 15th, 2019
word count: 22,821 words
rated: teen
beatrice baudelaire/bertrand baudelaire/lemony snicket, beatrice baudelaire/lemony snicket, beatrice baudelaire/bertrand baudelaire
violet baudelaire, klaus baudelaire, beatrice baudelaire, lemony snicket, bertrand baudelaire, kit snicket, the duchess of winnipeg, dewey denouement, olivia caliban, beatrice snicket
alternate universe – modern setting, alternate universe – everybody lives/nobody dies, alternate universe – parent trap fusion, family, romantic comedy, humor, with occasional required sad undertones, screenplay/script format, less of a fic and more of an outline but one hell of an outline, with enthusiastic swearing by yours truly, referenced but very background kit/dewey and duchess/olivia
Summary:
[so beatrice is nicholas, lemony is elizabeth, violet is annie, klaus is hallie, bertrand is the absolute worst at being meredith because he is a Genuinely Nice Person so honestly he’s really not meredith at all, and those parallels are all a little loose anyway because i moved places and conversations and character roles and basically everything around, everyone is just a mess. where is vfd????? i sure don't know.]
Notes:
back in march 2018, the good the iconic the legendary the CLASSIC ace attorney parent trap au came back on my dash and I decided to rewatch the parent trap a few days later, and as I was watching it, I thought, ‘i wonder how that would work with asoue, and lemony and beatrice, and of course with them getting together with bertrand,’ because I will of course ship the three of them together in any fic I can, but I told myself ‘girl, you cannot write this fic. you have too many other fics to write, you canNOT write this fic.’
I then told myself, ‘well, yeah, okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t outline it.’
and then the outline spun wildly out of control, to the point where i was never going to write it as a full actual fic because it wasn't going to work like that anymore, but also to the point where it had a life of its own and was in my opinion somehow still worth reading like an actual fic. this is over 20k of a lemonberry ice parent trap au half-fic/half-outline/half-weird-script/wonderful mess of conversations and headcanons, and I genuinely hope my weirdly detailed ramblings (and unapologetic swearing) bring people as much unbridled joy as they bring me. I wrote this with the intention to have fun, and I hope!! you have fun too!!!
I think you can get through this with a working knowledge of the parent trap movie (1998 version) but a thorough knowledge is also very good
title obviously corrupted from love by nat king cole
.
lemony and beatrice, young and definitely foolish and definitely in love but totally not thinking this through, marry (fairly soon after college) and beatrice has twins, violet and klaus (violet is two minutes older, their birthday in this splits the difference between (what I personally image to be) their canon birthdays, so that’s, what, january 8th or something???? first I had it as the 3rd but nick and liz marry in the movie on january 8th and I was like ‘well that’s not too big a change to make in the name of a good reference’).
not long after, their marriage dissolves (for, well, pretty much canon reasons???? I mean like with less accusations of arson and criminal activity. lemony has Radical Commitment Issues and beatrice is Impulsive and Angry and Not Taking Anyone’s Shit and honestly how they made it through marriage and having kids with all those problems completely in tact and never doing anything about them is anyone’s guess, love is Occasionally Not Cool), they divorce, and lemony takes violet and beatrice takes klaus.
they both leave The City which I have always imagined as new york even though i’ve never spent a second there in my life, but anyway, beatrice does go to california (she likes the weather, but she does not end up in sanfran (danhan’s hometown) – the part of me simultaneously obsessed with a different fandom is screaming santa barbara!!!! but no i’m going to stick with the movie and say although she’s not in a vineyard she is in napa), the idea of lemony just being in england as like, a concept, and especially with a broken heart, is hilarious to me
kit: do I have to confiscate your copy of keats?
kit: do I?
kit: do I, lemony??????
beatrice raises klaus with the help of the duchess of winnipeg (and ramona’s delightfully sentimental and frankly adorable wife, olivia caliban, I will sail this ship single-handedly I guess) (what is ramona doing in california????? OH MAN DO I FINALLY GET TO BUST OUT THIS LINE I TOOK OUT OF THE BAYBEA FIC
ramona: have you seen winnipeg lately???
ramona: there’s not much for me to duchess over.
actually it’s probably that ramona’s mother is still alive in this (otherwise what would be the POINT of everybody lives/nobody dies modern au???? fucking fight me) and she takes care of winnipeg and ramona was like ‘…...canada’s not doing it for me’ and her mother was like ‘canada doesn’t do it much for anyone, dear.’ and ramona skedaddled to california with olivia, which worked out because they have banging careers as artists out in california.) (ramona paints (she likes watercolors and pastels), olivia actually writes historical fiction lesbian romance novels (where everyone also lives!!! she writes an on point jazz age novel only everyone lives and it’s great) (why historical fiction??? olivia is a sucker for romance and loves big sweeping romance epics….and ramona) (are her books just. period piece self-inserts with her and ramona??? well why the FUCK not), they are both………..really too good for this world.) (anyway bea has zero (0) family with which to raise klaus so ramona and olivia offer to help her out. out of the goodness of their hearts and long-standing friendship, not because they have any experience raising a child. they do not. have any experience.)
and lemony raises violet with the help of his sister. kit and dewey get together earlier, and have their daughter earlier (violet’s….five or six when she’s born?), and name her (obvs not beatrice) bernadette (I have Specific Reasons for naming her bernadette, however that is in my giant list of bernadette headcanons, which is a whole other Thing). beatrice is an actress (klaus can’t act for shit, sorry), lemony is a writer (violet doesn’t have a poetic bone in her body, sorry). (but violet can act and klaus is pretty good at putting words together.)
ELEVEN YEARS AGO BY, or, well, eleven and a half, I guess, eleven and a half delightful years filled with the following –
-lemony and beatrice fervently denying they ever married each other and trying to forget the other even exists, what do you mean you have photographic evidence, we were definitely not married
-ramona’s mother briefly going to california to tell three grown women how to change a diaper
-klaus, age one and a half, crawling up the staircase in their house all by himself to get to the library, beatrice promptly dies out of sheer terror
(true event. I did that.)
-violet getting ahold of a wrench at the same age and fixing one of the loose bars in her crib
(not a true event. I did not do that.)
-dewey and jacques, trying to fix the curtains in violet’s room, immediately and silently agreeing to never tell lemony they were The Worst Uncles In Existence for five seconds for accidentally dropping the wrench in violet’s crib
-beatrice training herself not to do a double-take every time she sees klaus with a book because he looks fleetingly like lemony, just for that second
-lemony lulling violet to sleep with a variety of accordion songs, violet’s favorite is his rendition of what he says is ‘a song about spending a day on the beach’ but is actually why I cry by the magnetic fields (particularly danhan’s rendition of it with ben gibbard.)
-hey I never said they were successful at forgetting each other, especially when the kids were kids
-a truly harrowing number of children’s birthday parties
-kit snicket, who firmly kept her maiden name, going through what she called ‘The Chillest Pregnancy In Existence, Look At Me, I’m Completely Fucking Calm’ in the middle of labor
-klaus going through a period where he only read poetry, which caused bea and ramona and olivia to speak in rhyme for a week
-violet insisting she could fix the toaster and promptly not fixing the toaster because nothing was wrong with the toaster (it just wasn’t plugged in.)
-beatrice appearing in a number of plays, klaus being enchanted when she’s in les mis and reading the book but, in fact, only finding the outrageously long sewer chapter interesting
-violet trying to write a poem for lemony for father’s day and rhyming ‘orange’ with ‘mortgage’
that summer, they both wind up sending violet and klaus to the same summer camp excursion, because what sort of comedy would this be without the wildest coincidence ever, honestly
kit drops violet off at the camp a la martin – will lemony get on a plane?? that is a resounding No (also he would have just cried the whole time. the whole time. the. whole. time.)
however lemony is the one who does the ‘fruits, vegetables’ thing, only before violet leaves, and he gives her a million hugs and honestly doesn’t want her to go to camp oh my god, it’s only because violet tells him he’s sort of squishing her that he stops hugging her, lemony is???? like the most concerned parent of all time
kit, meanwhile….
kit: I was going to give you a new dart set but I was informed that they would not let you through customs.
violet: uncle dewey told you, didn’t he.
kit: I married a real killjoy, violet.
I honestly cannot think of a scene for klaus to parallel hallie meeting glasses and tie dye girl while getting her duffel bag. I thought of putting the quagmires in this but I think that’s…...pushing the identical envelope a little here (would’ve been worth it though for the brief note I used to have here that was just isadora shouting ‘HOW DID THEY TAKE SO LONG TO REALIZE THEY WERE RELATED THEY LOOK EXACTLY ALIKE’)
i’m sure they hang out with like-minded people before running into each other, it’s a good camp and they literally never talk to those other characters again anyway, which is, a real shame
we can all at least rest assured that klaus gets to camp in once piece regardless and doesn’t have a conversation about darts and airport customs, anyway beatrice, ramona, and olivia each smuggle a deck of cards into his suitcase as a surprise and he has three card decks and impresses all the other kids in his cabin with a giant architecturally sound house of cards made to resemble thoreau’s cabin at walden pond
hey annie and hallie are both allergic to strawberries and KLAUS AND VIOLET ARE ALLERGIC TO PEPPERMINTS
before they meet there’s probably a moment like with marva sr and the strawberries (I just had a horrifying thought that JEROME is the camp counselor (esme is nowhere in this. olaf is nowhere in this.) and that’s…………..awful, but, as I was writing the following scene, you know who I wrote him more like?????? arthur fucking poe, what did I just fucking do, honestly poe is a WORSE choice but…...well
mr. poe: we have peppermint brownies today!
[I just saw someone on the food network make peppermint cheesecake brownies and I want them so bad]
klaus: oh, i’m allergic
mr. poe: oh, well, please live
mr. poe: I cannot perform cpr
klaus: …………………………………………………………….shouldn’t you maybe –
mr. poe: for your own personal safety and especially my own i’m going to have to ask you to step away from the brownies
[violet shows up on mr poe’s other side]
violet: oh! peppermint, i’m allergic
mr. poe: another – didn’t I just see you? how did your hair get longer that fast? that’s not an allergic reaction, is it?
violet: ……………………………………………………………...i don’t think that’s –
mr. poe: i’m going to eat this entire brownie pan to save lives, but also because I want these brownies
he came out more like show!poe instead of book!poe but, I do not care, no one cares about mr. poe.
SO, violet and klaus eventually do meet and have practically zero immediate animosity, also through fencing!!! lemony and bea are both canonically badass fencers but I stand by what I said in fight me, that lemony is the better fencer, and violet wins. klaus concedes his loss to a talented fencer. they take off their masks and are like WHOA WE LOOK REASONABLY SIMILAR
violet: I don’t know, I think your eyes might be little farther apart than mine.
klaus: oh, don’t worry, i’ll probably grow into them. it can take some time before people really grow into their faces.
however this does get them talking and they find out they have so much in common! they’re like, ‘you like books and only have one super weird parent??? what a coincidence!’
then they find out they both play cards. (this stays, cause poker games are gold and I am reasonably sure watching the parent trap so much as a kid was what instilled this love of ‘hilarious poker games’ in me because I used to jam them into my fanfics all the time.) (also explains why I only know two poker hands….)
they hold an (amicable!) poker game that night with all the campers, and they do like a round robin tournament sort of thing and swap tips all night until it’s just the two of them facing each other, and klaus wins. (lemony is Pretty Good at cards and definitely taught violet BUT you’re damn right bea taught her kid how to count cards. not that klaus wins through cheating, he also has a natural talent and bea’s impeccable poker face. klaus also hangs out with ramona, who has repeatedly kicked lemony’s ass at cards as well.)
since they still have to wind up in the isolation cabin (because how else are they going to secretly plan swapping identities with NO GODDAMN COUNSELOR noticing???), CARMELITA is at camp and busts them for the poker game. she got eliminated pretty early in the game and camped out outside the cabin the rest of the kids were in waiting until someone won and then got mr. poe.
mr poe: gambling is not for children! unless of course you have a verified accountant or, perhaps, an established banker who wanted to embark on a personal journey and decided to run a camp for small children but has always wanted to go back and manage money again because, you know, even after the two scandals, I was good at – but we don’t have time for this, violet, klaus, it’s very irresponsible to try and get adults going on a tangent to avoid your responsibilities.
violet and klaus: but we didn’t –
mr poe: i’m afraid that I have no other choice but to send you to the isolation cabin.
carmelita: cakesniffers in the isolation cabin!!! CAKESNIFFERS IN THE ISOLATION CABIN!!!!
oh……..that was painful.
AT LEAST THE CABIN IS LIKE A NICE GOOD CABIN AND NOT the orphan shack, also like how far into the woods is the isolation cabin???? do the marvas really just leave kids out there?????? come on, marvas…..
and so our heroes get stuck in a windy lil cabin out in the woods.
what do they do when they hang out there, since they have Zero Animosity???? talk about books. read books. klaus does sketches of various local leaves. violet rewires the lamps so they don’t flicker and rigs up the windows so they don’t bang open in the middle of the night. the only thing they argue about is how to make toast, which isn’t even IN the cabin (unless violet makes something into a toaster), whatever
does klaus have a stuffed animal like cuppy???? damn straight he does. because why the hell not. (some boys play with dolls? SOME BOYS HAVE STUFFED ANIMALS)
i’m being really basic here but it’s a teddy bear BUT bea made lil wire glasses for it because klaus got glasses when he was real little so she thought he’d feel better if his favorite stuffed animal also had glasses (bea wears glasses but she HATES wearing them although I think after klaus gets glasses she tries to wear them more because bea is supportive as hell) (she needs new glasses though like they’re still these big thick black frames from her goth phase and she hates them but she hates the idea of an eye doctor appointment more) (bold of me to assume bea has ever honestly stopped having a goth phase, though…)
oh gosh what is the bear’s name
what’s something like super nerdy but cute for a small book-loving child to have named a bear
oh no, he names it kenneth. bea reads baby klaus the wind in the willows and he names his bear kenneth and this is so cute. I can’t fucking handle this, oh my god
honestly I am one of those people who thinks oreos w/ peanut butter would be pretty disgusting. (I mean, without the cream in the middle, sure, that probably tastes good, but like, with the cream and the peanut butter???? no) their snack of choice is………….hey isn’t there a snack in penultimate peril at the picnic it’s mentioned they like
or is just because I have that particular book within three feet of me, i’m gonna check
okay, it does mention that klaus likes custard eclairs, violet makes a smoked fish sandwich and wants to try the chocolate spread. maybe they just like oreos, sans peanut butter. I like oreos. (also, you can’t stash eclairs in a suitcase.
olivia, staring at a series of freshly-baked custard eclairs and a collection of tupperware containers: ….do you think I made too much??
ramona: olivia, he’s – he’s just going to summer camp.)
ANYWAY, how do they realize they’re siblings???? like???? how do
do they have half pictures in this??????? I think that’s honestly going to be the easiest way
like, of course lemony and beatrice would have a wedding picture, and they are both absolutely extra and dramatic enough to have each other’s half
it probably is still a ‘sitting at a table, staring lovingly at each other’ sort of thing, lemony in a white suit and beatrice in a suitably extravagant but actually still somehow very low-key for her wedding dress (there’s a lot of tulle though, like………..layers of tulle………………………..), their color scheme flower-wise was red and white roses because like, what fucking else would they pick at that time (they are only JUST convinced by like, jacques, probably, to do red/white instead of red/black, beatrice personally wanted purple/black)
kit gave violet the picture of beatrice, because while she hasn’t spoken to beatrice since her brother’s divorce, she does think lemony and bea could stand to talk to each other
(although I headcanon kit as the kind of person to firmly forget about past romances and put them behind her THROUGH ANY MEANS NECESSARY this is not strict asoue canon, and she always liked beatrice, anyway. lemony and bea breaking up isn’t like kit and olaf breaking up, which, i’m not even gonna try and touch in this)
klaus found the picture of lemony when he was reading through anna karenina (beatrice forgot she put it in there when she let klaus read it) and figured immediately that it had to be his father, and he kept it (maybe he showed it to ramona, who was like, ‘yep, that was your father. goodness, I forgot how awful his hair looked back then.’)
they’re probably reading some book about geography (klaus is into geography at the time)
klaus: my mother says that for my birthday next year, she’ll take me on a trip to see the famous hinterlands sunset.
violet: my father’s shown me pictures, but he agrees that it’s a lot prettier in person, but he’s also not one for planes.
klaus: well, I don’t believe hinterlands are technically confined to one geographical area, i’m sure there’s more than just in california – here, i’m sure there must be more information in the index.
violet: when’s your birthday, klaus?
klaus: january 8th.
violet: !!!! that’s my birthday!
klaus: !!! that is an extraordinary coincidence.
I never said these kids were smart.
klaus: violet, what’s your father like?
violet: he’s kind of quiet, but he’s very kind. oh, I have a picture of him – well, sort of –
she pulls out from one of her own books a picture of lemony, from behind, sitting at his desk at his typewriter, absolutely no recognizable features present whatsoever
violet: he didn’t know aunt kit was taking the picture, otherwise he would’ve turned around.
violet: actually, even then he probably wouldn’t have? he insists he’s not very photogenic.
violet: what about your father?
klaus: i’ve never met him. he’s – my mother doesn’t talk about him much, but I got the impression that they divorced shortly after I was born.
violet: oh, gosh. i’m sorry, klaus.
violet: ….sometimes I think I get that impression too, about my parents.
klaus: i’m sorry too, violet.
and if this were a snicket novel, insert soft, gentle explanation about divorce and commiseration and finding kindred spirits in your friends and how sometimes love does not work out and the affects we don’t realize it has on the children who watch it happen or see the aftermath and are left with the gnawing wonder of what went wrong and how violet and klaus each wonder, a little, what the cause was, and it can be very lonely, at the end of the day, to know that even if you have one parent who loves you very much, there is someone out there who may not love you at all, and never got the chance to know you to love you, and an even deeper part of you that wonders – no matter how young you were – were you the cause of it?
violet: oh, but I – I have a picture of my mother, my aunt kit gave it to me – I have it in my suitcase
violet: /gets up to get the picture
klaus: I, I have a picture of my father, too, in fact I think it’s stuck in this book somewhere in the back, I didn’t want to forget it
and
as violet goes to sit back down with the picture of her mother, the half-picture of beatrice from her wedding day, klaus pulls out from the index the half-picture of lemony from his wedding day
and they are
STUNNED
to realize
this is, of course, the exact same picture.
there’s a lot of hugging and crying.
so they realize they’re siblings!!! and then decide try to figure out what the hell even happened with their parents, because now that they know they’re fucking related and still somehow wound up meeting each other they realize that there has to be some incredibly detailed story behind the reasoning for their parents splitting up and now they have not just proof but an actual opportunity to find out and maybe, just maybe, get their parents back together in the process!!! it worked once!!! it could work again, why not!!!!!
AND SO THEY DECIDE TO SWAP PLACES. (contrary to hallie having the idea, it occurs to them at the same time.)
meanwhile
for the past, say, YEAR, or so, bea has been seeing bertrand, a friend from her childhood (just narrowly managing to keep it from klaus BECAUSE it will involve A Conversation About Lemony and Commitment and Marriage and Things Not Working Out and Falling In Love With Someone Else and look bea is good at a lot of things but it’s a really heavy subject for her that even after eleven years she hasn’t quite figured out how to parse, so she’s really been putting off trying to explain all of that to klaus, in a case of her vastly underestimating her son [bea you see all the books he reads…….talk to your son]), and things are going well between them and they love each other a lot and!!! they decide to get married.
how do they meet up again??? bertrand winds up going to one of her plays completely on accident. he’s been on the other side of the country for years and years and he happens to go to napa and hears about this play happening and he’s like ‘well that sounds really neat!’ because bertrand had a short-lived theater career in high school and doesn’t act all that much anymore but appreciates a good play! who doesn’t appreciate a good play??
(bertrand played lieutenant frank cioffi in his senior year production of curtains to rave local newspaper reviews. bea, meanwhile, gave a stunning performance as carmen bernstein [esme wanted to be carmen so fucking bad and she’s never forgotten that bea got the role instead, and that would not even factor into this au even if esme WAS in this au] [esme was, instead, jessica cranshaw (if it was a small school she maybe doubled as bambi), ramona was niki harris, olivia played johnny harmon, olaf was…...daryl grady……..which pains me to write cause the guy I had a crush on in high school played daryl, josephine and ike played georgia hendricks and aaron fox, jacquelyn and gustav were head of stage crew, lemony supported them all from the audience – unless lemony was sasha????!!!!!!!! okay lemony was totally sasha.]) (wow I got unnecessarily invested in their high school drama club.) (IS THEODORA THE DRAMA ADVISOR?????? oh my god. oh my god she’d be so bad at it but so good. i’m dying.
theodora: snicket you need to FLOURISH your baton with MUCH MORE GUSTO
lemony: I am going to flourish this baton right up your –
bertrand: HE’S DECIDED AGAINST IT THANK YOU MISS MARKSON)
(hey you ever write a parallel that’s so good you hate it????? olivia is johnny. olaf is daryl.)
(I usually headcanon bertrand as two years older than bea and lemony but for the purposes of this au they’re all the same age – however bertrand joined drama club first, and I picture lemony as more of a band kid than a drama kid, they probably just pull him in for curtains.
was lemony drum major???? I want to say ‘hell no’ but I also want to say ‘most cryptic drum major ever, lead the most bizarre championship performance in the school’s history, somehow still won’) (I wonder what song it was to???? that right there is where my secondhand band knowledge conks out.) (but if I HAD to supply ‘bizarre, cryptic song for championships’ I would probably pick like, david lynch’s dark night of the soul or something, idk.) (but like, listen to it and just imagine it with marching band instruments……….i kind of like it. i’m kind of digging it.)
ANYWAY BERTRAND LOVES SEEING PLAYS and he goes to see it and he has NO IDEA bea is even in it and he’s like SUPER THROWN to see her but also???? really excited! it’s been eleven years!!! he can talk to her!!!! he finds her after the play and bea immediately drops whatever she was holding and is just like???? absolutely breathless to see him again (it’s been ELEVEN YEARS, cats. oh god no it’s been more like FIFTEEN YEARS since bertrand has seen bea cause they haven’t spoken since high school oh no that hurts even MORE). a giantass hug is involved. bea spins bertrand around. they make plans to see each other later. then they start hanging out, and they like, reconcile from their weird high school fallout and have a really neat relationship)
(so
the high school fallout
lemony and bea and bertrand were all delightful friends since they were kids (well, lemony and bea were, bertrand moved to town and joined their class when they were freshman in high school). they all had stupid crushes on each other, uggg. there was. an incident. at the end of their school escapades that resulted in a falling out with bertrand (maybe they had an idea of how they all felt and just couldn’t or weren’t ready to figure it out and it sort of. drove a wedge between them. not on purpose, it was just the way it happened to work out, with teenage emotions and refusing to talk about things and uncertainty. lemony+bea and bertrand went their separate ways after graduation, lemony and bea married right out of college, bertrand does his own thing, life goes on.) (maybe there was like some prom drama about who was gonna take who and who asked who first or something (at my junior prom, I was ready to kill the guy I asked who turned me down for that very reason). I mean that’s legit???? prom drama is incredibly legit. why is there so much drama at prom??????)
(honestly after going back and writing the production of curtains and remembering the (specifically romance-related) drama I witnessed happening among the drama club at my high school (I wasn’t in drama but I had a startling number of friends who were) i’m surprised they had the drama at prom and not in the middle of drama club, but i’m still going to stand by ‘prom drama.’)
(and I feel like it was prom drama of the type that’s like, low-key there and A Thing people think about but no one talks about or addresses so the whole night is real awkward and you worry something is gonna break out at any second but nothing does but you’re still obsessively on your toes about it. like, that simultaneously high-strung just-there high school romance drama angst that’s just this ever-present layer coloring everything that people say and do, hyped up specifically because it’s PROM. they probably all danced with each other and the dances were all cut short because of Feelings and Awkwardness and no one knew what to do, the whole damn night.)
and like, bertrand, going off to college and a little heartbroken but unwilling to try and do anything about it, is upset, but bertrand is also bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire, and honestly he wants them to be happy (bertrand is……..very non-confrontational……….and it is honestly his downfall, he likes to have fun and be nice and kind, and to acknowledge scary things is to actually deal with them and that scares bertrand so much, he buries a lot of things – so do bea and lemony, and in fact all of vfd, but in very different ways. bertrand has achieved a sort of Chill™ that bea and lemony just do not have) so he just goes on with his life, he does date other people but nothing ends in marriage, he becomes a librarian in maine and is actually only in california originally for a few months to help manage some of the collections at local libraries. then he runs into bea and he doesn’t like INTEND for a romance to happen (and neither does bea, which I also firmly stand behind for their canon romance too), he still planned to leave at the end of the few months, but it happens and bertrand feels a lot more secure in himself and his feelings about people than he did in high school and they really do love each other, a lot
oh he went to college for library science!!!! obviously lemony majored in lit and bea majored in theater and music)
(OH NO WAS BERTRAND AT THE WEDDING?????? oh no bertrand was not at the wedding. I mean he’s certainly invited but bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire is also bertrand ‘vaguely heartbroken, does not want to interfere, can actually honestly only take so much’ baudelaire and he says that he’ll be unable to make it. sigh. I want to say he sends a sweet wedding gift or even just flowers but man that makes me so sad to think about lemony and bea getting that on/around their wedding day and THEM being sad and i’m too sad now, bertrand does not send a gift. (he’s torn up about not sending a gift for some time. years later, walking through an antique shop, he is struck with the ‘Years Later But Still Feels Like It Just Happened And Oh Shit Why Did I Do That’ brand of Lingering Awful Anxiety™ about all that.)
HE DOES NOT KNOW ABOUT THE DIVORCE until he meets up with bea and she tells him.
bertrand: so how’s lemony????
beatrice: ahahhahahhahahhahhahahhahhahhahhahhahahaaaa!!!!!!
beatrice: ahahaha
beatrice: ahaha.
beatrice: …….oh you genuinely do not know oh shit i’m sorry
(I wanted so badly to put in my ‘bertrand and olivia were good cute friends and actually are penpals and like lemony and ramona’s ongoing card game they have an ongoing checkers game’ headcanon but it just. won’t. fit. in. here. cause why wouldn’t olivia have told him about the divorce???? I mean it’s bea’s thing to tell, NOT olivia’s, but to occasionally write to bertrand for YEARS and never mention she and ramona live with bea?????? I think that’s a little much.)
(does bertrand ever try and convince bea to reconcile with lemony???? I feel like at this point in his life he WOULD but bea would have very early on and very firmly vetoed that. and bertrand wouldn’t necessarily be happy about it but respects her wishes. not because he wants bea all to himself. but because bertrand is also quite frankly still. a little nervous re: navigating relationships. like he’s for sure A LOT BETTER at it now but like!!!! especially with lemony like bertrand is TERRIFIED of seeing lemony again. he really is. I think he thinks lemony blames him for stuff even though lemony does not. and I don’t want it to seem like bertrand’s……….just sort of swooping in and taking bea and not letting her talk to lemony????? cause it’s not that, it’s not that at all
they do really love each other
and just because bertrand’s grown as a person doesn’t mean he’s PERFECT
and bea certainly Does Not want to talk to lemony
it’s just, nick never mentions to meredith that hallie’s a twin and meredith HATES hallie and annie anyway, but bertrand does not hate kids and I just wonder, has bea told him about violet???????? like why wouldn’t she????????
so I mean yeah they probably have talked about it, and probably still came to the same conclusion, bea Does Not want to talk to lemony either, just, not right now, and yeah bertrand isn’t delighted about it but he’s like ‘alright, okay.’ because he still understands her reasoning and for all his talk he really doesn’t want to talk to lemony either
but it’s, I think it’s a thing, in the back of their minds, a worry that hits them sometimes, have they done something wrong, trying to forget)
(and this is why planning takes so much time because I always have so many stupid questions about characters)
(when bea and lemony were young and in college and extraordinarily drunk they would come up with new titles for bertrand, because they forgot they were trying not to talk about him
beatrice: bertrand ‘best hair this side of the mississippi’ baudelaire
lemony: bertrand ‘smooth hands’ baudelaire
beatrice: bertrand –
beatrice: wait do you mean like, his legit hands or like what he DOES with his hands
lemony, trying very hard not to think about Doing Things with Hands: ……..both
lemony: I definitely mean both
beatrice: good, I agree
beatrice: bertrand ‘i WILL dance the charleston and no one will stop me and I do not care’ baudelaire
lemony: bertrand ‘softest reading voice’ baudelaire
lemony: no no, wait, bertrand ‘BEST reading voice’ baudelaire, remember when he read ee cummings
beatrice: bertrand ‘i read lord of the flies and cried at the end’ baudelaire
lemony: oh bea are you complimenting him or being mean
beatrice: lemony I read lord of the flies and threw it out the fucking window when that kid killed piggy
beatrice: that was a compliment)
(ee cummings is because I have a scene in another fic where bertrand reads ‘maggie and milly and molly and may’ to beatrice and lemony and gosh…..i hope I get to use it at some point, it was a beautiful scene)
(they probably stop talking about bertrand like, sophomore year of college, idk, it just gets too hard and they become really miserable drunk nineteen-year-olds about it, and that’s not cool) (AT LEAST THEY HAVE THE WHEREWITHAL TO DO THAT)
ANYWAY, back to violet and klaus, who are still at camp and have decided to switch places!
ultimately, violet (like hallie) is supposed to find out how bea and lemony got together, and klaus (like annie) is supposed to find out why they broke up
violet cuts her hair (she’s a little bummed because she likes her hair but at least it won’t get in her way when inventing) and pierces klaus’s ears (klaus is so UP FOR THIS he’s very excited, also he keeps himself calm during it by telling violet the history of ear piercing) (these kids are either canonically very good at rationalizing or it’s just me radically projecting again…..or both), klaus practices wandering around without glasses (he bumps into EVERYTHING), violet practices how to fucking wear glasses and not die (she falls over EVERYTHING), of course violet already has an appreciation for books but she has to get the definition thing down (and growing up with lemony ‘a phrase which here means’ snicket left her with a pretty unorthodox idea of word meanings sometimes
klaus: so an optimist is someone who sees a positive side in any situation, like –
violet: say, if their arm was bit off by an alligator, a pessimist would say, “ahh! my arm!” and an optimist would say, “well, this isn’t too bad, no one will wonder if i’m right or left handed now.”
klaus: ……….what sort of person is our father
violet: he’s very specific about words.)
klaus has to figure out?????? how to invent on the fly????? (he’s seen beatrice macgyver a million things together but he’s still not sure how she does it) and the two of them teach each other about their lives, beatrice and lemony, ramona and olivia and kit and dewey and bernadette
violet: bernadette is really delightful, but you need to watch out for her
klaus: well, she is six years old –
violet: no, I mean, she can appear at a moment’s notice, and I don’t know who taught her how to pick locks, because I certainly didn’t and father can’t pick locks, but she can do it in under seven seconds.
(jacques taught her how to pick locks (he also taught violet). I don’t know where vfd fits into all this or if it even does in this fanfic but like, just try and tell me these guys don’t still act like absurd spies in any universe anyway.) (also I think lockpicking is, in general, a handy life skill, even if you aren’t living the absurd spy life.)
klaus: mother is, um
klaus: a little embarrassing
violet: how so?
klaus: she once scaled a ten foot wall because I forgot my lunch.
(ramona: hey so why did becoming a parent rob you of your top-notch secrecy skills?
[not necessarily, though, I mean, she does a great job scaling the ten-foot wall in complete secrecy. bea just, has a lot of love for her son, and is VERY OBVIOUS ABOUT IT, is the thing]
beatrice: ramona have you SEEN my son
beatrice: I will take a BULLET for him
beatrice: preferably in a non-critical area so we can hang out afterwards.
beatrice: but if I have to embarrass the shit out of him to make sure he eats, I WILL)
violet: father is the same way, a little. he keeps crying on the first day of school and I don’t have the heart to break it to him that I might be too old for that.
klaus: mother calls encouraging phrases from the car, which I think she does to prevent me from walking into school too fast.
violet: you know, they really sound like they were made for each other.
(lemony and bea, like, separately, are such legit disaster parents and I love them, they love their kids so damn much.)
the last day of camp comes, and it is time for them to officially swap places – violet goes to beatrice, klaus goes to lemony!
klaus recites book themes to himself the whole plane ride to england to keep himself calm because he’s trying not to think about how worried and excited he is!!! he’s going to meet his father for the first time!! truth be told, he knows pretty much nothing about lemony, even after talking to violet!!! IT’S A LOT FOR ANY KID TO TAKE IN, to suddenly think ‘yeah this was a good plan – oh fuck’
anyway, he meets kit at the airport, because kit is there to pick up violet. (kit and violet do not have a secret handshake. they have, of course, dart-throwing contests. of course that doesn’t make sense in an airport, but whatever. that’s their thing.)
why does kit pick klaus up at the airport instead of lemony??? I mean kit is in martin’s role but she’s NOT martin, you know, she’s lemony’s sister and definitely does not wait on him, but she does drop violet off at camp anyway, although in the movie that’s to prevent elizabeth (and nick) from showing up until the kids switch for Maximum Emotional Impact, but like lemony is obviously not THAT fucking busy he can’t pick up his own daughter
I had the thought that like kit is maybe his manager (on the side, otherwise she has….god some other job)??? does that work for a writer???? i’m a writer and I don’t even know. whatever. and kit maybe scheduled a reading that day by accident months in advance and couldn’t change it, or it runs long, so she has to get violet (klaus) from the airport
(moxie is still his editor, only she lives way out of town and they send angry emails to each other all the time about his work)
also ties in with hallie’s scene where she looks at elizabeth’s vanity and says she’s super cool about the wedding dresses cause I love that scene a LOT and I want klaus to think his stupid dad’s cool!!!
kit: violet, I am all for the beginning of your teenage rebellion with this new hairstyle but I should inform you that your father may just die.
klaus: you think he won’t like it??
[read: YOU THINK HE WON’T LIKE ME]
kit: he’ll probably come around to it. he’s still at his reading, do you want to surprise him?
klaus: !!!!!!
klaus: yes!
the reading is huge. I have no damn idea what lemony writes in this au, definitely not danhan’s stuff cause it’s not his vibe, but he still writes the picture books (although there are YEARS between them irl he wrote the composer is dead and the dark for bernadette before she became, in her words, Too Old For That Sort of Thing although she still secretly really likes them and reads the dark every night before she goes to bed. bernadette, in contrast to babybea, is fucking terrified of the dark but tries to like rationalize it out by thinking through the science of light or something, and then by just rereading the dark), oh he probably like, okay so he can’t just write asoue but he probably writes some other great children’s book series with the same sort of writing style and moral discussion, and the picture books
and violet told klaus he wrote stuff and bea like…..knows he does and refuses to talk about it but reads ramona’s copies in the middle of the night (and then has to stop doing that cause it bums her out too much), but klaus has no idea about it or how good it is and he’s so impressed, sitting at the back of this giant giant theater, and klaus loves books, he loves them with all his heart, and to sit there and see his father, for the first time in his whole life, doing something that klaus thinks is so incredibly cool
klaus: wow.
okay, so, the damn relief and happiness on lemony’s face when he sees kit and klaus
has he been imagining terrible airplane accidents for the past week? weeks? MONTHS??? yes he has.
he sees them once he gets offstage and immediately runs at this child (or, at least, definitely fastwalks.) and sweeps klaus up into this giant giant hug
klaus is!!! overwhelmed by the amount of sheer unadulterated love in this hug oh no i’m crying
putting aside that he’s pretending to be violet, this is the first time he gets a hug from his father and even if lemony thinks he’s violet klaus is still the one getting the hug and it’s just, a lot, man, it’s a lot, that scene in the movie where elizabeth hugs hallie is exactly the vibe right here god it’s so fucking sweet
lemony: oh, goodness – what happened to your hair?
klaus: I – I cut it. do you –
lemony is in the process of remembering that scissors and haircuts exist, he’s a little blindsided here
lemony: no, no – haircuts are things that happen, at one time or another, to all of us.
lemony: i’m just so happy that you’re back.
he just. hugs klaus again. god I can’t handle how much lemony loves his kids. klaus is really emotional and I’M really emotional I have to move on
on the ride home (kit is still driving)
lemony: so how was it at camp?
klaus: /frantically thinking of how he’s going to pull off something violet would say now that he’s HERE and has to act like her and decides to just be honest and hope it comes out okay
klaus: I had a lot of fun; the outdoors are incredibly pulchritudinous.
lemony: /thoroughly convinced that the outdoors has finally instilled violet with a greater poetic sense
I NEVER SAID THEIR PARENTS WERE SMART EITHER
do you know how wild the plot of this movie really is, when you get down to it, parents not recognizing their kids wtf have I done
violet can act pretty passably as klaus, but klaus, even employing beatrice’s acting techniques, just can’t act. but the one who finds him out is bernadette, like half an hour after he gets home.
[you can tell what scenes originally started this outline because they’re actually written like scenes, this was one of them]
[bernadette stares at klaus with wide, curious eyes over the top of her book. “you’re not violet,” she says.
the bottom of klaus’s stomach drops clear out. “what?”
“violet doesn’t squint when she’s confused,” bernadette says. “she frowns and puts her hair up. and it’s something she’s used to doing, so even if her hair was cut, she’d still reach for a ribbon, out of habit. you’re klaus. shouldn’t you have glasses? mother says aunt beatrice wore glasses.”
“how – how did you know about me?”
bernadette rolls her eyes. “i know everything,” she says loftily, for a six year old. “i can read, after all.”]
bernadette is the best kid. so I love babybea so much but babybea in canon is like…..still very on point but very quiet about it, because she’s grown up with really so little interaction with people????? she’s like a really subdued kid because she’s had to be so independent and do so many things herself. and she’s got her firm, almost unshakable optimism. so bernadette is still very quick and clever but a LOT more precocious about it and pretty boisterous for six years old and just. even more like kit than babybea is. her optimism is a little more…..sharp in this. I don’t think she understands embarrassment, as a thing that people experience, because she sure doesn’t. she’s just like, ‘well why don’t you just try again??????’ and it’s so great to see that inherent commitment to existence in a six year old
(an important sidenote from my bernadette headcanon list, though, is that she really does just read everything. she reads cereal boxes and magazines and reports and all the papers on lemony’s desk and really just absolutely anything she can get her hands on, and she’s easily bored so she goes looking for stuff sometimes and she’s good at putting things together, so that’s how she knows about klaus.)
[“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” she says. “i wanna see what happens. uncle lemony’s kind of lonely, you know? and aunt beatrice – when they talk about her – always sounded really nice.”]
bernadette makes it her MISSION to help klaus act more like violet and cover for him as much as she can
bernadette: you need to walk different
bernadette: and hold yourself a little taller
bernadette: here, keep this wrench in your pocket, violet likes wrenches
bernadette: and this ribbon!!! she didn’t give you any????
bernadette: oh, make sure you stare off into the distance while eating and think about machines or something
klaus: how do you notice all these things???
bernadette: ?????? doesn’t everybody?????? she’s your sister, you two didn’t follow each other around to try and pin down how you act????
klaus: …..do you do that, bernadette
bernadette: regularly. I can impersonate anyone’s footsteps. except my mother’s, because I think she keeps wearing different shoes on purpose. i’ll show you sometime.
so, armed with This Random Wrench and a lot of acting details that he can’t process very well, klaus HANGS OUT WITH LEMONY
so klaus spends a lot of time in the library in lemony’s house (which also doubles as lemony’s office, it’s big enough that he and violet can take separate corners and know each other’s there but not run into each other if they don’t want to (especially good for klaus pretending to be violet because no one has to see him TOTALLY FAIL AT INVENTING)), and it has so many books and klaus is so thrilled
klaus has to try and bring up bea and find out how they met, only, DISCREETLY
[gosh this one is a lot harder without “so doesn’t designing all those wedding dresses make you think about getting married again?”, especially because the truly spectacular “f word” line doesn’t make sense with lemony but what can you do]
he probably goes up to lemony while lemony’s at his desk because klaus figures, the easiest way could be to relate to something on the desk
AS purposeful narrative coincidence LUCK WOULD HAVE IT lemony is looking for something in his desk and you know lemony keeps the most inconsequential things and has accidentally dug out his plaque for ‘one semester of cheerleader participation’
klaus, immediately thrown by this news: you were a cheerleader?
lemony: mm? oh, my, I forgot about that.
he smiles at the plaque and dusts it off and my heart is m e l t i n g
lemony: yes, in high school. I wasn’t the only boy on the team, as a matter of fact. a – a friend of mine did it with me.
klaus: why were you on the cheerleading squad?
lemony, trapped in this conversation now: well – your mother was on the soccer team. I was not what you would call athletically inclined at the time, so I joined to support her.
klaus: !!!!!!!
klaus: my – my mother?
this was a fact he did not know about beatrice, as a matter of fact
lemony, realizing that children are going to be curious about their parents and, well, okay, it’s been eleven years, I probably won’t see beatrice again (ahahahahaha.), and my child deserves to know: yes. she was very good at soccer, among other talents, although she didn’t last very long in her soccer career.
klaus: why not?
[if this man was PAYING ATTENTION he would have noticed for sure that klaus is much more straightforward than violet.]
lemony, remembering that time beatrice launched herself across the soccer field and accidentally tackled the assistant coach and dragged him through the mud: she and the coach disagreed on some of the physical aspects of the game.
klaus, dying to hear what lemony’s going to say: what was she like?
lemony, immediately remembering the details of their divorce but also a series of Shenanigans from their school days that he should never repeat to anyone, then resolving to be kind about it: very charming and resourceful.
lemony: she had a great deal of verve.
lemony: I see a lot of it in you.
klaus is touched, I’M touched, god fucking dammit
klaus resolves to leave it there and decides to dig around lemony’s desk later for other things about bea and lemony when lemony isn’t looking
which he promptly does, that night.
klaus sees his typewriter and pictures of kit and jacques and there’s probably one of ramona (in a drawer) (sorry, ramona.) and in a secret compartment in the desk is a pic of bea (maybe one of bertrand too?) (definitely one of bertrand too) and some letters from bea (klaus recognizes her handwriting)
(watch it be something like, some stupid candygram she sent him for valentine’s day that says dear lemony, [the content of this candygram has been censored by the school administration] love bea!!!!!) (bea gets detention for a week for the content of the candygram.) (the second candygram gets through but it’s only because bea writes it so thoroughly in code that the school administration, at a passing glance, cannot see how raunchy it is. but also very heartfelt. it is genuinely heartfelt.) (so of course he has some from bertrand too. because bertrand sent everyone a candygram. they’re all so friendly but so sweet and so cute and bertrand’s just breaking my heart in this whole fic I love him so much) (they’re stuff like, i’m so happy we’re friends! happy valentine’s day! i made sure this candygram doesn’t have anything that will conflict with your peanut allergy! like some fucking NERD and i’m SOBBING) (because you know bertrand was on student council and helped with the candygrams, bea and lemony were definitely not on student council)
(bea: what gets me is that they still sent it!! they censored my loving sonnet about your ass but they still sent it!!!!!!
bertrand: I guess nothing stops true love?
lemony: or, nothing stops beatrice mariner. [you’d have to kill me before I conceded to ‘beatrice kornbluth.’ anyway one of kornbluth’s pen names was mariner so that’s my compromise.])
klaus thinks the candygrams are so fucking embarrassing and also had no idea his mother was capable of such language but then again, no, she is, but he also thinks they’re charming and evidence that lemony still has feelings for beatrice, if he kept them!!
he’s, intrigued, a little concerned, but not very worried about this mysterious picture of a strange man and his own candygrams, although klaus concedes they too are very sweet.
MEANWHILE, back in california
bea is so so so so so excited to pick up klaus (not knowing it’s violet) from the airport, like she manages to sit still for most of the wait but in the last half hour she just sort of bounces around the airport and buys a series of irritating, tasteless teas (“fuck this tea is so bland yes i’m ordering another one, ramona, don’t judge me”) and reads the same newspaper over and over again and when the flight comes in she’s ECSTATIC, MY GIRL IS BOUNCING ALL OVER THE PLACE
she’s the kind of like……...vaguely silly but a little (a lot) overprotective (?) parent
like beatrice is the one SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS WHEN SHE SEES HER KID CAUSE SHE’S SO THRILLED, she’s just very vocal about how much she loves….
[I actually rewrote some of bea in this (or, changed the amount of capitals I had her using) because, like, bea is delightful and charming and very smooth but she’s also got such passion for life, she loves to be delighted and she loves to laugh, and she’s so smooth and sarcastic but like!!!! I love beatrice when she’s having a good time, but I got worried that she was leaning too silly in this which. irritated me.
like, in canon I feel like she is incredibly mischievous but once she gets married and has kids, she’s still very on point and loves her kids very openly but she becomes a lot more straight-laced because she’s so intent to protect them, so much so that I think she loses a little of that mischievousness. but considering the fluctuating capacity of vfd vibes in this au, I think she is a little more…….loose in this. the other thing about bea is that her veneer of perfection is her best acting job of all time, and divorcing lemony and being a single mother and raising klaus puts a big dent in that and makes her even more determined to try and wring as much joy out of life as she can without letting people know how much she has to deal with]
violet, upon getting off the plane and seeing beatrice: oh.
beatrice: look at youuuuuuuuuu LOOK AT YOU!!! you’ve got everything??? all your limbs???? nothing broken????
she says all this while like running straight at violet and patting her down and then giving her the biggest hug of all time. violet is engulfed in this hug and!!! she thought her father gave tight hugs but this is something else
I think lemony puts a lot of warmth in his hugs but beatrice puts this endless amount of joy, along with love, into her hugs, and violet’s life up until this point has been very low-key and surrounded by adults who excel at deadpanning their dialogue so this is!!! very strange but very exciting!!! because violet herself also has this very bright enthusiasm that other people in her family don’t have the same way she does so as much as it’s so different to meet beatrice it’s really cool!!!!!
[for the record, bertrand’s hugs exude safety]
re: pierced ears
beatrice: oh, ramona and olivia are gonna be real upset.
beatrice: they definitely wanted to be involved in your first rebellious teenager act.
beatrice: then again, so did I??
violet: doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a rebellious act?
beatrice, going in for a side-hug: …...i missed that snark so much
does beatrice have a dog???? she’s really not a dog person. neither are ramona and olivia (dogs scare olivia. in fact, most things scare olivia. the toaster scares olivia. she’s so nervous and I love her.) (it’s less of a josephine fear and more of a ‘please leave me alone!!!’ sort of startled fear, is how I see it)
if there is a pet, ramona and olivia have a cat that olivia named annabelle, and she’s a sweet, all-white cat who loves cuddles. she does not even care that violet isn’t klaus. she’s just like, ‘this person has arms!! this person can cuddle.’ annabelle is the best, most chill cat. (although I headcanon that bea is allergic to cats – but that was just cause I was allergic to cats, and now that i’m not allergic to cats????? GUESS IT’S FREE REIN NOW) (anyway the cat is still ramona and olivia’s.)
so bea has to introduce klaus (violet!) to bertrand, and, oh, bea
she really has been putting this conversation off for quite some time, and she decides to just, go for it, as she’s driving violet home
beatrice: klaus, there’s, there’s someone i’d like you to meet
violet: who?
beatrice: an old friend of mine. we’ve been talking recently, and he means a great deal to me, and if you don’t like him, then that’ll be it, but – I really want him to be a part of our lives, klaus. I know it’s a big change, but I’d like you to give him a chance.
violet is REALLY, REALLY THROWN HERE because she and klaus are supposed to get their parents back together!!! this isn’t supposed to happen!!! this is supposed to be a happy ending without this NEW CHALLENGER (UNACCEPTED!!!!), how is she supposed to ask about lemony now???????
violet: oh, um
violet: well, I would like to meet him
she resolves to be HARD AND UNCOMPROMISING when she meets bertrand, but, well, then she meets bertrand fucking baudelaire. bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire. bertrand ‘just desperately wants to make a good impression on his fiance’s son’ baudelaire. god I love him. what a guy.
especially because bertrand really does just want to make a good impression, and he knows klaus is into geography right now so he brings this absolutely impressive atlas as a gift
not as an attempt to bribe klaus into liking him, but to show that he’s supportive of his interests!!!!
bertrand, sweetest man alive, shaking violet’s hand: i’m so excited to finally meet you!!
violet, blindsided by the sweetest man alive: oh, thank – thank you. it’s very nice to meet you too.
bertrand: I heard you were into geography, so I brought this atlas for you! I hope it’s alright.
violet, holding the biggest, heaviest atlas she’s ever seen in her life: oh. that’s very kind of you.
they spend some time looking through it because it has so many cool details
he stays for a while and then bows out gracefully because he cares so much, hello i’m dying, and then beatrice asks violet what she thought
violet: I –
violet: I liked him a lot.
beatrice: are you sure? because I swear, it’s fine, klaus, if you’re uncomfortable, it’s absolutely okay, it’s –
violet: no no! it’s fine!
[read: IT’S NOT FINE]
violet: I have this….atlas, now.
beatrice: you could kill a man with that.
violet: probably! I probably could.
beatrice: ….so it’s okay?
violet: ….it’s okay, mother.
[read: IT’S NOT OKAY BUT WHAT ELSE CAN SHE SAY HERE] [hey you know when you take out how much of an awful person meredith is you are left with a lot less humor in this situation.]
beatrice: I don’t know what I did to deserve a child like you, klaus.
cue good, squishy hug.
[personally I cannot fathom marrying someone else and having twins and raising one of them and not trying to have a relationship with your other child because you didn’t want to work things out with first spouse, but I never said I myself was smart either, in what I chose to write (I NEVER SAID I TOOK THE EASY WAY OUT)
anyway, I do think when bea says that, she thinks about it for a second
that (as far as she knows) this is klaus, she’s known him his whole life, and she had so little time with violet and maybe she would be sweet and clever too and she doesn’t know
she doesn’t know!!!!!!!
and it tears her apart for a split second that she doesn’t have everything and before she can let it eat her alive she shoves it down and forgets about it like she does with everything else and just, moves on] [time is a scary thing – if this much time has passed, what can you do? do they care? is it easier to do nothing or does that hurt more? does it even matter when both parents know their kids don’t know about their sibling or their other parent (or as far as they know at this moment)??? does that possibly make it even a little easier????] [anyway.]
because of bertrand – or, not necessarily bertrand, but more, ‘wedding shenanigans,’ but also, yeah, bertrand – violet also spends comparatively little time with beatrice
she wants to dislike him on principle, but can’t because he’s just???? so nice!!!! he talks seriously to her about her parents and about her (well, klaus) and really wants to get to know her (well, klaus) violet is begrudgingly impressed. violet thinks klaus would be really impressed too. but she’s real worried about what means for lemony and beatrice
especially since they did this not only to get their parents back together but to spend time with the opposite parent, like!!! violet has spent practically zero (0) time with bea to get to know her!!!!
so she holds off for a little bit and just genuinely hopes bertrand will somehow be less nice
this is hard, when bertrand helps bea make dinner ever night (klaus was VERY EXPLICIT that beatrice allows NO ONE in the kitchen when she’s cooking so there’s that) and he talks so damn OPENLY to violet about being a presence in her life
bertrand: klaus, I hope you don’t think i’m intruding in your life.
violet: I understand where you’re coming from when you say that but remarriage is in fact a part of life that occurs with some frequency.
[not only death and taxes, but haircuts and remarriage….]
violet: mother said you were an old friend, though?
bertrand: yes, we went to school together.
violet: if you don’t think it’s too rude of a question
violet: you strike me as the type of person who would have had a high school sweetheart and I am perhaps a little concerned that you didn’t marry my mother earlier.
inside, violet is cringing but it’s a very klaus line.
bertrand: !
bertrand: oh, well, we didn’t date each other in high school.
violet: ! you didn’t?
bertrand: no, there was –
bertrand has been. avoiding these feelings for some time. but he’s so struck by them that he has NO poker face in this situation
bertrand: – it just didn’t work out at the time, that’s all.
but fuck violet is absolutely stunned by that look on his face
she’s never seen someone look so heartbroken before and she is, concerned, but that’s mostly ignored in favor of the sheer stress of the situation
and violet does actually get kind of angry!! about bertrand being such a good person!! she starts to get really frustrated!!! like I picture this happening over, maybe a week
she hates that she can’t tie her hair back and her thoughts are all jumbled and that she has to wear glasses and she misses her dad and she loves beatrice a lot but NOTHING IS WORKING OUT LIKE SHE WANTED IT TO
and she has to wear klaus’s glasses and keeps taking them off when she’s sure no one’s looking to rub her eyes man I want to give this kid a hug
but she also wants to make her mom happy!!! fuck this is a mess
violet: he’s been – a lot kinder than I thought he would be.
beatrice: yeah, he has that effect on people.
beatrice: when we were in high school, we called him “bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire.”
beatrice is viscerally reminded of Being Drunk In College and tries to shrug it off
however, violet, growing up with two detail-oriented snickets, does not miss a single thing
violet: we?
beatrice: oh, you know – nicknames, nicknames stick, klaus, everybody calls everybody things!!
violet: it just sounded as if you were….
violet: /casts around for the correct grammatical term, she’s committed, but comes up with nothing because hell even I don’t know, apologies to my grammar professor from college
violet: ….using ‘we’ to mean just you and someone else and not necessarily lots of people.
beatrice is actually vaguely suspicious to hear Less Technical Grammar but chalks it up to the situation
beatrice: well, I mean, we had friends, of course – ramona and olivia!! that’s!! that’s who i’m talking about!! that’s all!!
violet remembers that ramona gave klaus his half of the wedding picture, and klaus told her what ramona said, that ramona didn’t like lemony’s hair at the time, and violet’s done the math, she knows how old lemony and bea are and that she and klaus were born not long after they left college, and with this sudden but persistent reluctance to talk about An Additional Person from high school from both bea and bertrand, violet is terribly suspicious that there could, in fact, be much more to this than she initially thought
beatrice: don’t forget, we start looking at hotels for wedding reception venues this week, okay?
violet: okay.
so, that night, violet, now alerted to the possibility that there could be a connection between bertrand and her father, and also DESPERATELY HOPING THERE IS ANYWAY BECAUSE THAT WOULD CAUSE HER SO MUCH LESS STRESS, goes digging
she grew up with bernadette for the past six years (and has also seen lemony create giant information webs to map out books), VIOLET KNOWS HOW TO GET INFORMATION AND PUT IT TOGETHER
she starts looking for yearbooks – they all went to the same school, for years, they have to be somewhere, but violet can’t find anything in the library, or ramona’s studio, or olivia’s office, or beatrice’s hiding place (the kitchen), and then looks through their desks for papers or plaques or photographs or anything that could give her a hint (nope)
if there is one thing she’s learned from bernadette, but also her father, it’s that the best place to hide something is usually in plain sight, which leads violet back to the library, pulling out boring-looking books to see if anything is stored behind them or in them (still nope)
this leads to violet CLIMBING THE BOOKCASES to reach the top shelf because adults are taller than her and put things on high shelves
and lo and behold, there it is, the senior year yearbook.
violet has a HEART-STOPPING MOMENT in the downward climb (which she’s doing one-handed anyway) where she almost steps on annabelle who she hadn’t realized was sleeping on a shelf and violet is TERRIFIED but annabelle, chillest cat in the world™, just yawns at her and picks a different shelf
annabelle is no sammy.
so, curled up in a library chair, violet finds not only pictures of beatrice and bertrand and lemony in the yearbook, but also a giant section of papers that fold out from the back cover where apparently lemony had more than the average length of a yearbook comment to say to her
violet, vaguely skimming this hardcore romantic comment, incredibly used to her father’s verbosity: yes that sounds about right.
and she finds a (significantly smaller but still lengthy and painfully heartfelt) signature from bertrand nearby, that definitely reads as a guy in love
but she’s still not sure how they feel about each other now, like a few yearbook signatures are no indication of how a person feels over eleven years later, so she’s still nervous about this and decides to sleep on it
this takes the whole night, violet is exhausted in the morning
now re: chessy unpacking hallie’s (annie’s) suitcase in the movie, it’s not that ramona did the same, but when doing the laundry earlier she did notice this weird amount of ribbons stuck in the lint filter/in pockets/pant legs/sleeves
and she barely even thinks anything of it at first and asks olivia and olivia has no clue and she’s not asking beatrice because beatrice has so much on her mind and ramona’s like ‘….hmmm,’ and goes to talk to klaus (violet)
ramona: hey klaus, I keep finding ribbons everywhere and I just wondered –
violet, in the process of running her hand through her hair cause she’s tired and processing a lot and misses being able to tie it: /JUMPS
violet: oh
violet: bookmarks, i’ve been using them as bookmarks
[actually violet has a million ribbons because lemony never wanted her to be without one, and it was so natural for violet to bring them with her she just legit forgot she wasn’t supposed to have them, like hallie with cuppy]
ramona, vaguely concerned: ….yeah, your mother used to do that
ramona: anything wrong with your hair?
violet: oh, no, not at all!
ramona: everything….going okay?
violet: yes, absolutely!
[the thing about violet acting as klaus though is that she can get like his speech patterns down but her own natural cheeriness still shows through in the places where klaus is in general quieter]
this is gonna get discussed right after this but ramona knows violet ties her hair up to focus because lemony told her in a letter, years ago
so ramona frowns and walks over to her and ties her bangs back with one of the ribbons, and violet just so visibly relaxes
ramona, incredibly emotional: oh
ramona: violet?
violet: ….yes.
ramona: so I can’t necessarily abide by breaking up a marriage but HECK YEAH i’m down for helping you reunite them. beatrice got me in the divorce and it’s very irritating just writing to lemony, which he actually hasn’t done for a while, now that I think about it.
violet: why don’t you just visit him? i’m sure he’d love to see you.
ramona: he makes me send the letters to a post office box. I do not know that man’s address.
violet: ……...that sounds about right.
(bea still does not find out until the hotel shenanigans, though.)
(I love ‘beatrice got me in the divorce’ like that’s fucking hilarious, cause I picture ramona as lemony and bea’s best friend so when they aren’t together it’s like…...well, what happens to ramona???? WHO DOES RAMONA HANG OUT WITH?? WHO GETS CUSTODY OF RAMONA)
(but also like, wtf lemony and ramona write to each other and bea never finds out???? I mean ramona was their best friend so like yes I think they do keep in contact but then does ramona never tell lemony about klaus????? and for them to write to each other and ramona to get these letters and BEA IS IN THE SAME HOUSE??????? I can’t tell if this is just angsty or poor thinking through on my part
but like ramona has to know for the reveal scene here to work out right, otherwise she’d never guess specifically violet
unless I rewrite the scene, but? nope. i’m committed to this ribbon reveal. I like it a lot. fuck it.
THIS WAS WHY I TOOK OUT BERTRAND AND OLIVIA AS CUTE PEN PALS auuuuuggggggg
I don’t know I mean. it is weird and stretching this (already shenanigans-filled) fic a little but. I don’t think it’s the WORST illogical thing I can stick in here. and they are friends, they can write to each other, just, yeah, probably not a lot and they actually probably don’t talk about the kids a lot, cause then lemony would know about both kids and since r wouldn’t tell bea she was writing to lemony bea wouldn’t know anything at all about violet and THAT’S what’s not good (although r telling lemony about klaus is cute i’m gonna have to nix it here. no can do.), so yeah r probs never brings up klaus and lemony rarely brings up violet, he probably only mentions the ribbon thing back when she was really really young because of how much it reminded him of bea and lemony was One Sad Man in his twenties trying to cope with the emotional reality of raising a child that reminded him of his wife and needed to tell someone
that is a lot of weight on ramona though and she doesn’t say anything but lemony apologizes for bringing it up in the next letter anyway and actually after that they probably talk a lot less cause it’s hard on both of them)
(writing is hard! writing is hard.)
ramona: so what’s your plan now?
violet: first, I have to make a phone call.
VIOLET CALLS KLAUS, keeping in mind the concept of time zones a little bit better than hallie and annie
violet: so, it turns out that mother is engaged????
klaus: engaged????? to who?????
violet: this man named bertrand, and, honestly, klaus, he’s such a nice person, he brought me, well he brought you, an atlas –
klaus: oh. that is very nice.
violet: it’s the sort of atlas you could probably use to incapacitate a reasonably-sized adult.
klaus: wow.
violet: and mother said that apparently she knew him when she was younger, and they get along so well, but –
klaus, remembering the picture he found with the extra candygrams: wait
klaus: is he sort of tall, and thin, and blonde
klaus: and sort of, idly optimistic
violet: yes! although I would say more….calmly steadfast
klaus: hmmm
klaus, trying to describe bertrand’s facial expression in this picture: disarmingly kind?
violet: humorously honest?
klaus: I think father has a picture of him in his desk!
violet: !!!!
[myth: confirmed!]
klaus: and some notes from high school from mother and him!
violet: !!! klaus, based on some other things i’ve found, I think all of them might have had feelings for each other.
klaus: !! that makes a considerable amount of sense here. if they all still do, that could make this much easier.
violet: but we won’t know for sure unless –
bernadette: who are you two talking about???
klaus: BERNADETTE
violet: bernadette, are you on the extension again
bernadette: well why wouldn’t I be?
bernadette: it sounds like you guys are talking about bertrand.
violet: how do you know who bertrand is?
bernadette: dad talks about him all the time???
bernadette: well, not when uncle lemony’s around
bernadette: he sent dad that book of poetry that mom immediately burned
bernadette: the elephant guy?
violet: …….oh, now that you mention it! that’s right!
klaus: wait why did your mother burn the book
violet: aunt kit has very little patience for certain poetry.
klaus: she doesn’t like john godfrey saxe??
violet: it’s a big deal, it’s best not to get into it.
violet: look, I think what we need to do is get everyone together and sort this all out.
violet: we’re scouting hotels this week for the reception, you can come here and meet up with us at one of them!
MEANWHILE, kit finds bernadette on the extension, for an honestly longer than usual length of time (bernadette does eavesdrop regularly), and also klaus on the phone in general (and violet rarely uses the phone, like, as a phone. usually she’s taking the phone apart), and really, nothing gets past kit fucking snicket. (you know kit denouement does have a great fucking ring to it, but as I said before, just try and tell me she didn’t insist on keeping her maiden name when she got married.)
so she goes and finds klaus and hears the end of the above conversation and is like ‘oh shit, they totally switched on lemony and bea, what badass kids’
[what if she tries to corner bernadette first
kit: bernadette, I didn’t know you knew anyone to call on the phone.
bernadette, without missing a fucking beat: I called the international operator to ask about time zones, but she caught me up in a conversation about soap operas and whether or not their use of sudden death is considered theatrically cathartic or not.
bernadette: I told her it happens way too often for it to be cathartic.
kit is too impressed to counter her. kit loves her daughter so fucking much.]
so then she sort of shows up in klaus’s doorway when he goes to leave the room after the phone call, arms crossed over her chest
kit: is there something you’d like to talk about?
kit can be outrageously intimidating but kit is also, actually, a pretty good parent
kit, significantly more gently: just between you and me, klaus.
klaus: …..maybe.
kit: come on, let’s go for a walk. you can tell me all about it.
klaus: it’s a long story.
kit: well, good, I like long stories.
klaus: are you going to tell father?
kit: don’t you think you should tell him?
klaus: do you think he’ll be upset?
kit: oh, not at all. more with himself than you, anyway. once, violet was responsible for wiping out the electricity of the whole city, and he gave her two slices of cake for dessert and said he should’ve bought more books on electrical wiring.
lemony is appropriately concerned and horrified and thrilled to see his son, like, oh my god, but the moment is taken over by the urgency of the situation because klaus says he has something to tell all of them that cannot wait
[forgive me for not writing that one out.]
klaus: so it seems like mother is getting married
lemony: oh
lemony: well
lemony: like haircuts, marriage – marriage comes to all of us, at some point –
klaus: to bertrand?
kit, lemony, and dewey: /STUNNED, DEAD SILENCE
kit: oh my.
dewey: what are the odds?
lemony: I think I can die now. I believe i’m ready.
bernadette: why don’t you just go see them and work this all out???
lemony: bernadette, I don’t know if life works like that.
bernadette: uncle lemony, you’re going to ruin all my bright-eyed optimism.
dewey: sometimes I think I didn’t have anything to do with you at all, bernadette. I think you just sprang, fully-formed, from your mother’s head.
kit: don’t be vulgar, dewey. ….thank you, though.
kit: but really I don’t see any other way to sort this out than by going to see beatrice and bertrand.
[this was one of the very first conversations I wrote for this and I am still very attached to it, even though I find dewey so hard to write, I haven’t yet figured out how I think he functions with these guys, especially kit, which I should maybe have done sooner but, what can you do.]
[also I feel like it just makes more sense in this for them to KNOW bea is engaged]
[I’m putting this in here because honestly……….in the movie once elizabeth realizes the switch she does not spend nearly enough time hugging hallie constantly or getting to know her, I get that seeing your ex-husband for the first time in eleven years is A Lot but YOUR DAUGHTER WHO YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IN ELEVEN YEARS AS WELL IS RIGHT FUCKING THERE] [also makes up for not writing klaus revealing himself as klaus, i’m so sorry.]
lemony: klaus?
klaus: ?
lemony: I – please don’t think that I didn’t love you. because I do, and I have thought about you every second of every day, I promise you. and there are many things that I should have done as your father, and many things that I cannot make up to you, but I want you to know that whatever happens with this, I have always loved you. and I am sorry.
so i’ve always pictured that klaus (besides looking reasonably like bea anyway, in any universe) gets angry like she does, and bea gets that sort of like, quiet cool hatred that turns into full-blown shouting really quickly and she will pull no punches and just fucking give it to you!!!!! and klaus has some sort of version of that and like look I put a lot of thought into ‘adult problems fucking over small children as those adults fervently avoid those problems’ when I wrote babybea so like
man, of course klaus can be angry at his parents for like???? never trying to work things out???? this is the first time in almost ten years he’s seen his father and his sister and he has an aunt and an uncle (and another uncle he hasn’t even seen!) and a cousin he never knew about because of lemony and bea being stubborn and stupid and recklessly young!!!!! I think violet is honestly less mad about it (well, she gets a little mad about it later on, but like, being raised by lemony, she has this weird way of trying to rationalize things while feeling really guilty about it, but that’s scenes away from right here – or she just? maybe internalizes it more.) but klaus is like, he’s not totally angry but like, as himself, face to face with lemony, lemony talking to him like a parent and about klaus and not about bea or violet or shenanigans or anything, like, yeah, he’s a little angry that it’s just….taken this long and that lemony and bea are so stupid
klaus is an angry crier. and an angry hugger. so that’s what he does.
like it’s hard to suddenly have a relationship with a family member whose never….been that to you before or made themselves available like that or just generally been there at all, and as much as I want them all having a good time, bea and lemony have some shit to work out with their kids
THEY HAVE A GOOD HUG, IS THE POINT
and I want to say that like they spend some time together after this and…….yeah they probs do it’s just gonna be weird re: the previous paragraph so…….maybe they just sit around and read and occasionally point things out to each other, that sounds chill and legit, doesn’t ask a lot of either of them
SO, that brings us to, later that night, when lemony can Officially Panic
kit: so
kit: you seem a little tense, brother mine.
lemony: I am NOT going to break up a marriage between two loving people who care about each other and happen to have incredibly pleasant facial features and are two people I myself still care about a great deal despite not having seen either of them for a lengthy amount of time
lemony: we’re only going to switch the children back, and I will talk to beatrice, about something, and I don’t have to say anything at all to bertrand, and that’s going to be it. that’s all. nothing beyond that.
kit: that would be a more powerful statement if you weren’t packing every single fancy tie you own.
lemony: really.
lemony: we’re not going to think any more into this.
lemony: that’s all we’re going to do.
lemony: which tie should I wear?
kit: well, definitely don’t pick one of the ones you’re strangling in a death grip.
(hey, where is jacques in this??????????? wish I knew)
(he’s probably regularly out of town, maybe he happens to call home and bernadette is the one to pick up the phone and she’s like “we’re going to see aunt beatrice, I think we’ll be back in a week or something?” and then immediately hangs up because dewey calls her for something, and jacques is left, miles and miles away, standing in a phone booth and wondering if, perhaps, he should maybe visit his siblings more often so they don’t go tearing off to california
jacques: kit what the hell is going on
kit: what, didn’t bernadette tell you?
lemony: ask him what tie I should wear
kit: we’re embarking on the adventure of a lifetime, jacques, it’s your own fault that you decided to go out of town this weekend, I really don’t know what to tell you
lemony: ask him what tie I should wear
kit: /sighs
kit: what tie should your brother wear
jacques: the one with the single blue stripe, it brings out his eyes, what are you two doing
kit: really, jacques, you need to pay more attention
kit: lemony, he says the one with the blue stripe
lemony: oh, good. tell him he’s a lifesaver.
kit: lemony says you’re a lifesaver, although I have yet to see real proof of this, however I will consider changing my mind if you happen to bring me a souvenir. please remember that I could use a new set of nice, engraved fountain pens. also our plane is leaving soon and we need to pack, so bye, loser
jacques: ………………….
jacques: what did I do to deserve this)
(jacques, in any universe, is eternally pained by his siblings)
this being a rehearsal dinner brings it very close to, you know, an actual wedding date, and the thing is, I have planned a completely different wedding-related fic, weddings are EXPENSIVE AND, YOU KNOW, TIME-CONSUMING, PLANNED IN ADVANCE, ALL THAT SHIT
but the whole reason there’s a wedding in the parent trap in general is because, if meredith and nick are just dating, there’s no commitment, marriage means COMMITMENT and A TIME CONSTRAINT and meredith wants his fucking money
so yeah bea and bertrand ARE engaged and planning to get married and plans have happened but the idea of this being so close to the rehearsal dinner makes me sad about all those ‘yeah i’m gonna have to cancel’ phone calls someone is gonna have to make, which is, well, pretty silly, but still, I Hate feeling uncomfortable esp when reading things like that (or even just, thinking of them in advance)
and that is why they are scouting hotels for the reception. (don’t ask me where the denouement is. I do not know.)
so bea + co get to the hotel first, and the only people who know lemony + co will be there are violet and ramona
ramona, hanging back to talk to violet while bea and bertrand and olivia (she has a good eye for decorating.) go ahead: do you know what you’re going to do?
violet: well, I thought maybe we would just
violet: all bump into each other?
violet: and go from there??
ramona thinks that’s an exceptionally courageous take on this and that, yep that girl sure is bea’s daughter
[yeah bea still has NO IDEA ANY OF THIS IS HAPPENING ramona is A+ at keeping secrets
meanwhile, sometime later-
olivia: you didn’t tell me?????
ramona: olivia, I love you dearly but you can’t keep a secret to save your life
[oh, yikes, re: legit asoue canon]
olivia: ……..okay, you have a point.]
it is at this moment that lemony + co arrive, and bertrand, who had backtracked for a moment because he realized he dropped a pen, immediately runs into dewey, who had stopped near the door to examine the hotel brochures and ambiance in more detail (you can take the boy out of the hotel but you can’t take the hotel out of the boy)
[based on penultimate peril, I always thought bertrand and dewey were very good friends and had bonded over absurd poetry, and, of course, based on kit burning the poetry book, are still in contact – there’s much less of a sense of forced distance between bertrand and dewey, because dewey’s just lemony’s brother-in-law and bertrand was friends with dewey first so they’re still good friends but like most adults they have a hard time committing to keeping in contact regularly especially with the distance and haven’t physically seen each other for some time]
so they bump into each other –
bertrand: dewey!!
bertrand: it’s been ages, what are you doing here, how are you!!!
[dewey denouement, much in the way that olivia caliban can’t keep a fucking secret, cannot fucking lie.]
dewey: oh, um
dewey: you know
dewey: hotel conference!!
dewey: kit wanted to travel!!!!
dewey: we’re traveling FOR a hotel conference!!!
dewey: WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THESE CURTAINS, BERTRAND
bertrand: ……..dewey, you’ve never been very good at lying.
dewey: no, no I really haven’t.
dewey: forgive me for everything, bertrand.
bertrand: you might have to be a little more specific.
beatrice: bertrand, have you – dewey??
dewey: oh no
beatrice, remembering dewey and kit are married, suddenly battling sheer terror the likes of which she has never experienced: how….how are you
dewey: I could be better. I could definitely be better.
beatrice: is kit here?
bertrand: I believe they’re here to look at the curtains.
dewey: we’re definitely here to look at curtains.
beatrice: ….they don’t have curtains in england
dewey, grasping at straws: not….like these….?
MEANWHILE back at the ranch, lemony backtracks outside because he dropped a pen, narrowly missing three adults awkwardly talking about curtains
olivia: beatrice, we’ll be late for the wine tasting if we don’t go soon.
beatrice: oh – well, dewey, it was….nice to see you
dewey: please, go enjoy your wine.
bertrand: /waves good-bye!!!!
klaus and bernadette, hiding behind a nearby ficus, because bernadette thinks fast and has her own specific idea about how this should go and it doesn’t involve her relatives meeting again because of her father talking about curtains: wow.
violet: /narrowly avoids getting swept up into the wine tasting, darts for the elevator to try and locate klaus + co
MEANWHILE back at the ranch, upstairs, in their hotel room
lemony: why did I think I could do this
lemony: how do I approach a couple here to scout locations for a wedding reception?
kit: ….you approach them
dewey: don’t talk about curtains, maybe.
lemony: i’m not – dewey, what do curtains have to do with this?
dewey: trust me, just don’t talk about them.
there is a knock at the door. lemony has seen death. this is it, for him.
anyway, it’s violet.
klaus: violet!
violet: klaus!
awkward sibling hug sincere sibling hug!!
violet: klaus, please take your glasses back.
klaus: oh, thank you. my spare pair just doesn’t feel the same as these.
lemony: violet!
now, seeing the two of them together, he can absolutely tell the difference between them. ain’t that just the way.
lemony hugs his daughter like she’s going to disappear right out of his arms and then hugs klaus for good measure and he has to try and ignore the true roller coaster of emotions that puts him through and then tries to look very stern.
lemony: i’m not disappointed in the two of you but I cannot believe you switched on your mother and me. that was very….
lemony is not good at being angry at his children, he has no real concept of it.
lemony: ….clever. it was very clever.
violet and klaus are very proud but find it in themselves to try and look a little chagrined. they don’t do it very well.
violet: father, you really need to talk to mother.
klaus: and bertrand.
lemony: both of you know about bertrand??
klaus: you and mother are very transparent about him.
MEANWHILE back at the ranch, at the wine tasting
ramona: what do you think?
beatrice and bertrand, equally lost in thought about the presence of dewey, the implied presence of kit, and the possibility of the presence of lemony: hm??
bertrand: oh, yes
beatrice: wine
beatrice: /downs entire glass
beatrice: /sets down glass
beatrice: not that one.
bertrand, who has been holding the same glass for the past twenty minutes and has no idea which wine that even was: definitely not.
MEANWHILE back. at. the. ranch.
lemony’s children have such boundless courage (I have hurt myself so many times while writing this fanfic with the occasional too-on-point line and this in particular wounds me these kids are so strong and so important and won’t take no for an answer compared to their parents and get the chance to get their parents to FIX THINGS and oh no i’m gonna cry) and have dragged him downstairs to the lobby, with the INTENTION of having him run into bea and bertrand
lemony: this is not going to work out –
violet: nonsense!
klaus: it’s going to work perfectly.
meanwhile, bea and bertrand leave the wine tasting
bertrand: ….did we come to a conclusion, about the wine?
beatrice: no, I don’t think so.
bertrand stops by the bathroom to wash his hands for something to do as he’s consumed with thoughts (not about wine), beatrice is in a daze as she goes through the lobby, violet notices her but sees she’s not with bertrand and decides she has to stall
violet, rushing over, purposely trying to block beatrice’s view with varying success: mother, how was the wine tasting?
beatrice: oh, it was –
did you remember violet gave klaus his glasses back?
beatrice: klaus, what happened to your –
and, well.
beatrice looks at her so hard and processes kit and dewey being here and then it fucking hits her like (forgive me. forgive me so hard.) a harpoon to the chest
beatrice: ….violet?
violet: yes.
beatrice: but – how –
klaus, appearing next to her: it’s a truly fascinating chain of events we’d like to tell you, but –
hey! beatrice is stunned and horrified! and grabs her daughter into a hug, knowing now that it’s her daughter and has been this whole time and!!!! she feels so awful with herself for not noticing but is also trying to not make a big deal out of it and startle violet by sobbing uncontrollably on her shoulder but beatrice is simultaneously devastated and filled with so much love and she’s for sure going to break apart now
beatrice: and klaus –
she’s hugging them both now, it’s very good.
beatrice, in tears: you two are lucky you’re so cute
violet: mother, there’s someone we’d very much like you to talk to.
beatrice knows somewhere in the back of her mind that it’s lemony but is also not even thinking of lemony because, her children
klaus: /tries to wave lemony over
lemony: /trying and failing to hide behind a ficus, have you seen a ficus, have you seen lemony
violet: /ALSO WAVING
beatrice can’t miss that for the world.
beatrice, while turning around: what are you two –
imagine, if you will, lemony snicket trying to hide behind a potted ficus that hits about mid-chest.
also imagine, if you will, two people who divorced over eleven years ago, still have too many feelings about each other, split up their children for their stupidity, have been trying to avoid the knowledge that both of them are there for the past hour, and are now confronted with the reality of their lives right in front of them
…….besides the ficus.
lemony, stepping out from behind the ficus: hello, bea.
this is a headcanon i’ve long held, since I first started writing asoue fanfic, but, bertrand and lemony say ‘bea’ differently, especially in canon, like particularly in canon, so it’s like less so here but lemony still says her name with so much love, and bertrand says it with love too but lemony has known beatrice for so so long and here they are after years apart and here he is saying her name again, and he never ever ever expected to say it like that again, he never even DREAMED of saying it to her again, but it’s real
beatrice: lemony snicket.
violet: as nice as this is for us –
klaus: – we’re going to allow you three the time you need to discuss assorted events.
at this moment (of course), bertrand reemerges.
bertrand: bea, I –
he sees violet and klaus rushing off, looking delighted, and bea and lemony standing there still trying to process words, and then there’s bertrand, frantically thinking ‘abort mission, ABORT MISSION’
because. the way they turn and look at him, in tandem, like they did all the time in high school, immediately makes bertrand feel like they’re there, back in high school, back at prom, here’s the two absolute loves of his life standing in front of him and bertrand is filled with delight but also fear because, here it is, they all have to deal with it now
(all of them are thinking that, the three of them, standing there, there is not a single trace of jealously but instead there is so much love and regret and it’s, heart-wrenching)
and here is where he loses all his Chill™.
bertrand: you know what, i’m gonna – go –
bertrand: /trips over a chair
lemony: oh –
beatrice: bertrand!
bertrand: totally fine, still alive, i’m – they have such a nice gift shop, you know, i’m – i’ll be there
bertrand: /high-tails it practically out of existence
beatrice and lemony: ….
lemony: he – he still has a very nice running form.
beatrice: yeah, I think so.
lemony: well, bea
lemony: or does everyone call you beatrice now?
beatrice: no, no, bea – bea is fine. bertrand still calls me bea.
[beatrice starts to laugh. “it’s – man, it’s funny, isn’t it?”
lemony smiles at her. “what is?”
“i’m going to marry your high school crush,” beatrice giggles, “who’s still – still in love with you.” she stops. “you know, that’s actually really not as funny as it sounded in my head,” she says, frowning.]
they have dinner!!! and talk. about. stuff. do violet and klaus recreate the night lemony and bea met or the wedding or something????? idk honestly. like at least they didn’t get married UPON MEETING I MEAN LIKE COME ON (although somehow that is very them, but, come on, this backstory is good and solid and I love characters that grow)
maybe they just pool their allowances and give their parents a banging night out (which is pretty much just. dinner.)
beatrice: I see that cut on your forehead healed up nice
lemony: yes, anna karenina left very little lasting damage –
both: – except to anna karenina.
they pause, and then just, fucking burst out laughing, this is a horrible old joke for them that they made up when they were in school because anna karenina was the biggest book either of them owned (neither of them were particularly interested in war and peace) but was somehow sort of light and if you dropped it it really didn’t do much damage, which they thought was funny re: the size of the book and the subject matter
beatrice throws it at lemony during the fight that ends with their divorce and it’s the first time it actually hurts something
lemony: so, how is bertrand
lemony: I don’t think i’ve seen him since – well, since before the twins were born.
beatrice: oh, he’s – he’s doing really, really well. he’s a librarian, and – we keep joking about how many more books klaus and I will be able to read. lemony, he’s got the magazine editions of hammett –
lemony: w h a t
lemony: does he even have the –
beatrice: yep. he has the unfinished story. i’ve seen it.
lemony: I knew I liked that man for a reason
THERE IS SUCH A WEIGHTY PAUSE.
lemony: that is, hammett, obviously. I mean, the continental op is one of the quintessential fictional detectives, and hammett’s novels –
beatrice: you did like him, didn’t you
beatrice: when we were in school, you looked at him the same way you looked at me.
lemony: oh, no
lemony: I looked at you with a rapt adoration and I looked at bertrand like he was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. I have that on good authority from my sister.
beatrice: oh, right, right.
lemony: ….but I did, didn’t I. I did like him very much.
lemony: I don’t think anyone disliked him.
beatrice: that wasn’t quite what I asked, lemony.
lemony: ….what do you want me to say, bea? that I saw him there, with you, and couldn’t even find it in me to be jealous because the sight of you two together made me so unbelievably happy that I forgot how to breathe? that I – that I wondered, for a moment, if, twelve years later, we could – if I –
lemony: ….i don’t believe this conversation is supposed to be about bertrand.
beatrice: …….no, I – I suppose not.
lemony: that day, when you asked me to leave –
beatrice: you mean when I shouted at you to leave.
lemony: I was trying to be kind.
beatrice: lemony, I for sure shouted at you.
lemony: no, bea, I – I thought things would be better if I left. if you didn’t have to put up with me, because you clearly didn’t want to. and I didn’t make it easy for you, back then. there were many things I overlooked about both of us, things I hid from both of us, things I should have talked about with you. and I didn’t.
beatrice: ….oh.
lemony: I thought that loving the person that I wanted you to be was enough for the person that I wanted to be. obviously, it wasn’t, because you asked me to leave and I left. I never even looked back.
beatrice: ….lemony, I don’t think anything would’ve been enough for either of us. I asked a lot of you, too. I didn’t want you to see anything bad about me, and you didn’t, but the longer we were like that, the more I just – the more I really hated you for it. you just saw what you wanted to. and, well, what I wanted you to. I think I kind of hated me, too.
beatrice: sometimes, I think, what would’ve happened if we’d stayed together and I don’t know if I like that either. not that it was – okay, what we did. because it wasn’t. and we might’ve changed or we might’ve fucked up even worse, I don’t know, and i’ll never know.
beatrice: but lemony, seeing her now, I regret every single second I haven’t spent with her because of it.
lemony: I know.
beatrice, who’s a little angry cause she hates when lemony says that to her and her temper gets away from her: do you?
lemony, who’s just regretting all his life choices and knows he fully deserves beatrice’s ire: ….i’ve missed so much of his life.
beatrice, voice breaking: ….yeah.
man, these are some really miserable parents.
beatrice: we should – I don’t know, you know, what we’re gonna do, with – us – but we should – they, they should see each other. we can’t do that to them again.
lemony: I agree.
beatrice: you know, we have some pretty clever kids. I would never – okay, maybe, but I don’t know – have had the balls to switch places with someone on the other side of the world.
lemony: we do, don’t we?
lemony: I know we didn’t do a great deal right, but, maybe we did, with them.
beatrice: ….yeah, maybe we did.
beatrice: not every day two people have kids like ours.
lemony: …….can I be honest with you, bea?
beatrice: …okay.
lemony: i’m glad they switched places. i’m – i’m glad I got to see you. and bertrand. and you.
beatrice: i’m glad you came, lemony.
[all these conversations starring two people steadfastly trying to avoid that they are still in love with each other but also trying to really acknowledging they have Real Problems, brought to you by one (1) woman struggling to get two characters to talk about their problems but also the idea of introducing a third person into their already rocky relationship, don’t mind me just casually dying over here, this was harder than I thought]
beatrice, feeling the weight of this conversation and knowing they done fucked up in the past but also desperately wishing she and lemony could go back to where they were before only better and just trying to figure out where they’re gonna go from here, girl’s doing her best here, and you know what, so am i: so, um
beatrice: fuck, marry, kill
beatrice: continental op, nick charles, sam spade.
lemony, going through incredibly similar emotions: ….
lemony: do you want me to give my virtue to one man and then marry another
beatrice: why do you always take this game so literally
beatrie: I am banging nick charles, but I am marrying the continental op for job stability, and I am killing sam spade where he stands
lemony: bea, no, you can’t just kill sam spade like that
lemony: how about, I take the continental op to dinner, I have a pleasant night with nick charles –
beatrice: I like that we’d both fuck william powell.
lemony: we’ve both seen william powell. no one wouldn’t.
lemony: but sam spade, though, I don’t think it’s so clear cut as all that –
they’ve really!! grown a lot!! they’re really trying to talk this out!!! a little, at least!!! be adults!!!! talk like they didn’t eleven years ago!!!!!! they’re so stupid and they’re trying so hard!!!! my kids………….
this is definitely not the only conversation they’re gonna have about this, like it’s Good that they’ve said this but there’s. a lot more they need to talk about and will probably talk about, just not right now
anyway, LATER –
the continuing saga of two people Not Talking and then Talking About Certain Things and then Inadvertently Talking About The Things They Didn’t Want To And Not Quite Realizing It
lemony: at the hotel
lemony: you, ah, said something about bertrand
beatrice: !!!!
beatrice: ooo, we are talking about him, hmm?
lemony: bea.
beatrice: fine, fine. yes, that he’s still in love with you.
lemony: is he really?
beatrice: I think he is.
beatrice: you still didn’t really answer me before, when I asked if you still felt the same about him.
lemony: ….does it matter, if you’re going to marry him?
beatrice: of course it matters! i’m not – i’m not marrying bertrand to, prove a point or anything, or – say I like him better than you, I – i’m marrying him because I, I love him, but I don’t – that’s not all there is to this.
beatrice: I mean, we didn’t get divorced because of bertrand, that was all on us, but – seeing both of you, sometimes I feel like – maybe – we – maybe we could’ve made it work. not if we had bertrand, but with him. now.
beatrice: and, and that’s a lot, to ask you – I know – it’s a lot to ask both of us, especially after everything, but – do you?
lemony: ….bea.
beatrice: lemony.
lemony: ….i feel that, in the interest of the past eleven years, we should perhaps talk to him before I make a concrete decision about that personal feeling.
beatrice: well, that’s – that’s a wise choice.
they are, quiet, for a while
it’s a lot to think about, you know?? there’s a lot to this
lemony: …….but I think I do.
beatrice: you think you do?
lemony: I think I do.
beatrice: I think I do, too.
there is a little more silence because they’re like ‘!!!!! well that’s SOMETHING REALLY BIG TO THINK ABOUT’ especially because they haven’t like totally committed back to a relationship with each other and there is!! still!!! so!! much!!!! but, they’re thinking about it now, and they’re, sort of floaty-happy because it’s like, wow, wow, this is a possibility, they can
maybe
push it, a little, and see what happens, maybe maybe
lemony: well, you should, you are marrying him.
beatrice: shhh, you are ruining the rhythm.
lemony: I think –
beatrice: you think?
lemony: it’s been known to happen.
beatrice: mmm, I don’t think so
[it’s hard to tell because there’s generally very little concept of outside action/feelings when getting down scenes this way but these few lines are supposed to be v cute and soft and just the tiniest bit flirty]
lemony: trust me, I have had many a thought.
beatrice: well, I think –
lemony: you think, now, do you
beatrice: I do indeed, lemony snicket.
[god. lemony wants to kiss her so fucking bad. beatrice wants to keep teasing him until he does kiss her. they’re very close. he just. smooths her hair behind her ear and takes a step back.]
lemony: I think we should talk to bertrand.
beatrice: yeah. we should. we should probably do that.
MEANWHILE.
I want bertrand to bond with these kids with all my heart so that’s what fucking happens while bea and lemony are dealing with their problems
they play a rousing game of scrabble. it’s usually a game I give the snicket siblings because of their vicious playing styles (which is just based on me and my brother playing scrabble) BUT I love scrabble a lot and I think it’s super cute if bertrand hangs out with violet and klaus and they play board games, it’s distressingly endearing to me, violet trying to sneak in names of inventors on the board and klaus being insistent on following the rules of the game and bertrand trying to come up with a sufficient compromise
bertrand: okay, so, last names are allowed, but only if you can also include the first initial, initialisms by themselves are not allowed, and foreign words and phrases are on a case-by-case basis, providing I can translate it and you’re not trying to put down something inappropriate.
klaus: what about scientific names?? can I put down binomial nomenclature
violet: hey how do you spell binomial
klaus: b-i-n-o-m-i-a-l
violet: oh, how neat.
violet: /puts it down on the scrabble board
klaus: ….
violet: :)
bertrand: it looks like you can put down binomial nomenclature.
bertrand: but yes, I will allow actual nomenclature, klaus.
klaus is deathly quiet for the next few turns until he manages to put down nomenclature. (which I think is achievable, with enough luck.)
klaus: actual. nomenclature.
violet: so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh
bertrand: okay, references to previous conversations are no longer allowed, let’s try this again
eventually they stop playing the damn game and come up with their own wildly specific set of rules for playing scrabble, and bea and lemony come back to a lot of paper and a lot of scrabble tiles and violet and klaus sitting on either side of bertrand on the couch, helping him write this rule list
and bea and lemony want to comment about how they’re not even playing scrabble, but watching bertrand interact with their kids and be so soft and patient with them is the most distressingly heartwarming thing they’ve seen in a long time
they both have the immediate thought of ‘holy fuck I wanna kiss that man,’ which is followed by ‘holy f u c k maybe a relationship between all of us could work’
lemony: bertrand.
bertrand: ?
lemony: could we talk?
there is no camping trip! instead we got NEARBY HOTEL SHENANIGANS and THREE PEOPLE ON A DATE AT A LOCAL FAIR, TRYING TO FEEL THINGS OUT
imagine your average carnival-fair sort of thing with Rides and Games and Absurd Amounts of Cotton Candy and That Super Salty But Still Real Good Popcorn
bertrand and lemony arrive first and bea specifically gets there late so bertrand and lemony can actually talk, because honestly this is the only time I can see in all this that these two would be able to talk to each other uninterrupted
and they all know they’re there for the weirdest date ever but bertrand still feels the need to clear the air
bertrand: lemony, I don’t want you to think that I was waiting your marriage out or anything, I didn’t even know you two weren’t together until last year, and I didn’t even intend to see bea, it just happened on accident –
lemony: bertrand, it’s fine.
lemony: beatrice and I aren’t married anymore, you don’t have to explain anything.
bertrand: ….sometimes I feel like i’ve wanted to explain everything to you, for the past fifteen years.
[bertrand ‘breaking my fucking heart again’ baudelaire…….]
bertrand: that’s – silly, isn’t it.
lemony: no. I don’t think so.
bertrand: I never got the chance to say it. well, actually I don’t think I ever let myself say it, because I had plenty of chances! especially at prom, I could’ve changed everything! but you and bea were so – I wanted you two more than anything else in the whole entire world, but I didn’t want to hurt you two or what we had. I think I did, though.
bertrand: and, and I really shouldn’t blame myself or anyone for these stupid mistakes that happened when we were just kids, because we were just kids!
bertrand: I mean, we’re right here, right now, and i’m – i’m really looking forward to this, lemony.
[lemony, much like me, is momentarily dazzled by how fucking genuine bertrand is]
lemony: so am I.
lemony: ….i kept those candygrams you sent me when we were all in high school because they were remarkably sweet and I treasure them dearly
bertrand: !!
lemony is so nervous and I love him and you know when you get nervous and you just sort of spill weird secrets to people, especially when it’s the person you like???? that’s that
they look at each other for a moment and then start laughing and it’s the kind that starts kind of soft and then they’re just rampantly giggling and being dorks and I love them both so damn much okay
and because they haven’t regularly seen each other in you know fifteen years they spend some time. talking about their lives. there’s a lot of things they don’t know about each other!
lemony and bertrand like make a vague show of trying to win bea some prize and they suck and they stand to the side and talk while bea wins herself a prize and she runs back over to them and just looks so proud of herself, winning this…….thing (it’s very much “i don’t know if it’s a duck or a panda, but I want one.”)
lemony: is it a…….hmmm
bertrand: ….those are cat ears, right
beatrice: what, no, they’re wolf ears
lemony: it has webbed feet, though
bertrand: it’s a platypus! oh, no, not with all those feathers.
lemony: it could easily be a duck, I suppose
beatrice: BUT THE EARS
bertrand: a penguin!
lemony: a grackle
bertrand: a goose!
beatrice: THE E A R S
lemony and bertrand share an obnoxious amount of cotton candy, and honestly it’s the date they all should’ve had in high school, a date that would’ve changed everything, and man, they’re having so much fun and maybe they could do this, lemony has never been so happy and bertrand is just this ball of delight and, it’s really beautiful, and beatrice is for sure thinking that and she’s having such a good time and she’s so happy
but then
she thinks, what if it DIDN’T change everything, what if they all got together in high school and tried to make it work and really fucked each other over, would they have been able to do it?? what really would’ve happened??? and they’re adults now, they’re better people but they have so much more to think about, there is so much more at stake now and beatrice is fucking terrified about what could happen, all of a sudden
and she’s been terrified for years about all the terrible things that could happen to klaus or her or ramona and olivia and even their stupid cat and she’s still trying to hide it so well and she does, she’s happy and creates such a good life for her son but she is so scared and she can’t keep running from it anymore by being impulsive or silly or shouting all the time, she has to face the reality of the situation that she really has to think this one through, what all three of them are going to do about this
she and lemony still have so many problems, and they both know that, they all know that!!! they aren’t going to solve them right away!!! and with bertrand there, maybe it’ll be harder!! maybe it won’t be easier!!! not that bertrand immediately makes things easier, in any universe!!! but especially here!!! you know!!! what if they don’t talk about anything because he’s there??? what if they avoid talking about everything so much in trying to be happy that they irreparably fuck them all over??? it’s been so long since all three of them were together, what if they can’t do this!! what if their kids don’t like them together, what if none of them can get along??? suddenly there are a lot more variables to this, and seeing it happen, bea is struck by everything they’re going to have to fix and all the ways it could go wrong and it’s not good
beatrice: …..what are we doing?
beatrice: and – and what if it doesn’t work out, this time?? what if we all try this and we can’t do it??
bertrand: do you think that little of yourself?
beatrice: no.
beatrice: i’m thinking about, what if I break my kid’s hearts, even worse than I already have? I can’t do that, not to them.
and, they get it. they love each other so much but this story isn’t about just the three of them anymore.
bertrand and bea decide not to get married. and even though they all know they still love each other, lemony and bea have violet and klaus to think of, so they all decide it would be for the best to go their separate ways.
violet and klaus are not happy, by any means. they are not happy to pack up all their stuff and know that nothing is going to work out, and it hurts, a lot, man
klaus, picking up his books: I really respect our parents and their chosen additional life partner but don’t you think they can be a little…..
violet, jamming her toolkit into a suitcase: stupid?
klaus: I was going to say stubborn
klaus: but stupid works too.
so they all say good-bye :( lemony, violet, kit and dewey and bernadette go home. (bernadette’s real upset no one got back together. she hides it well but she just sort of crams herself into her seat on the plane on the trip home and is just super bummed. I love this lil kid.) (I fondly remember when this outline was nowhere near over 20k and was just a short little thing and bernadette’s scenes just monopolized it….)
the thing I love about bea raising klaus is that, and I also feel this for canon too, klaus gets so so much of bea’s anger and short temper
like violet is a lot more calmer in the take no shit category but klaus will, like his mother, flip a table
klaus: mother, that was the most foolish thing you’ve ever done and you know it
beatrice: !
beatrice: don’t you – don’t you use that tone with me, klaus
beatrice: I am your mother
klaus: and you’re just going to let my father and my sister walk away from us???
beatrice: I – it’s more complicated than that!
klaus: how??
beatrice: klaus, would you want me to risk this, everything we have, on the off chance that your father and I could maybe sort out our differences?
klaus: you didn’t seem to have that many differences!
beatrice: there’s a lot of things you don’t know, klaus!
klaus: then tell me! you’re the one who’s always telling me I can do anything, and I just think it seems pretty rich of you to decide that that doesn’t apply to you, or that I don’t get to know everything about the people who are supposed to be my family!
klaus has a point, here, and beatrice realizes that, so she decides IN THAT INSTANT that, okay. fine. it’s time to do something about this and she can do something about this.
SO SHE GOES TO BERTRAND
bertrand: bea, what –
beatrice: I can’t – look, I can’t do this to my kids either, okay, I can’t keep them apart anymore, what – why did I think that was such a good idea in the first place??? so I wouldn’t see lemony?? so I wouldn’t work things out between us, because we were fucking kids when we were together and, and I sacrificed my relationship with my daughter because I was so petty and selfish, and i’m doing it again, bertrand!! i’m letting myself do it again after everything we all talked about because i’m so fucking scared but I – I can’t do this to myself, you know? I want – I want things to work out this time. with all of us. I want to make it work and i’m going to make it work and i’m going to go get my daughter and lemony, and I want you to come with us, if you want to come with us.
klaus, leaning out of the car window and shouting at beatrice and bertrand, who are standing on the steps of bertrand’s place: if I may interject, the plane we intend to catch does leave in half an hour, so you two should maybe hurry up a little
klaus: not to ruin your moment or anything!
bertrand, desperately: I want things to work out, bea, I do. but what if you were right and we can’t –
beatrice: i’m right about a lot of things, bertrand baudelaire, and i’m right about this.
bertrand, nodding and trying not to smile too much: ….okay. okay.
MEANWHILE
violet: ….are you mad at me?
lemony: what – violet, I could never be mad at you.
violet: but I – I went behind your back, and I tricked both of you, and I wasn’t even thinking about what you wanted, it – it was just what I wanted, and that wasn’t okay, I shouldn’t have interfered with you and mother at all, I feel so awful –
lemony: none of what happened was your fault, violet. not at all. it was mine. i’m sorry that I kept so much from you. it was incredibly unfair to you, and to klaus. I should have told you a long time ago.
violet: I never got to ask before, but why did you and mother get divorced?
lemony: ….we were very young, and very impulsive. and, also, incredibly scared. that’s not a good combination when you’re trying to make a life with someone.
violet: you two seemed to get along a little better, now.
lemony: well, eleven years is a lot of time. you get older, and you realize the mistakes you made in your youth could’ve been dealt with a lot more easily than you previously thought. you realize you were….
violet: stubborn?
lemony: stupid.
violet: what made it not work out, this time?
lemony: you also realize there are more important things to think about than yourself and what you want.
violet: !
violet: father, I didn’t want you to –
lemony: it wasn’t your call to make, violet.
violet: but it was yours about whether or not I get to see my brother? you were only thinking about what you wanted, too!
lemony: ….
violet: ….that was rude of me, i’m sorry.
lemony: no – don’t apologize, violet. please.
violet, still very angry but also just sad and concerned about how lemony has, in the intervening time between these two conversations, said very little: I thought bertrand was nice.
lemony: bertrand – bertrand is very nice.
so they get back home.
lemony: what would you like for dinner?
violet: I don’t think i’m all that hungry, father.
lemony: no, neither am I.
and lemony just sort of, wanders into the library with his hands in his pockets, because he’s somehow more miserable than he’s been in quite some time, and he’s expecting to just sit around and stare at his typewriter and not get anything done for the rest of the night or really for the foreseeable future, and the library is filled with so many books and so much stuff but it feels so empty to him now, and lemony himself feels empty and horrible about everything and he just stares at the floor without really seeing anything at all
AND THEN
klaus, sitting in one of the library chairs: father, did you know that the concorde gets you here in half the time?
[I just kept the line. I thought long and hard and could not for the life of me think of any other jazzy lil line.] [although yes sadly the concorde no longer exists]
[hey, if lemony and violet are here, and kit and dewey and bernadette were with them on the plane, who’s driving the bus who let bea and bertrand in the house???? cause in the movie it’s gotta be the grandfather
jacques, who had stopped at lemony’s house hoping that he could catch them before the flight but obviously not catching them, who stayed to water the plants: /exiting the house
beatrice, careening out of a taxi: JACQUES HOLD THE DOOR
jacques: !!!! beatrice?? what are you –
bertrand: we’ll have to tell you later, there’s no time!
jacques: bertrand????
klaus really only has time to wave.
all three of them: /BOLT PAST JACQUES INTO THE HOUSE AND SLAM THE DOOR SHUT, leaving jacques out there in the street
jacques: ……….]
anyway
lemony, STUNNED: klaus?
violet, dashing into the room because she heard her brother: klaus!
klaus: ideally we would’ve figured this out before you left, but when you did, we were not completely happy about it.
lemony, still trying to collect himself: you –
and there’s bea and bertrand, standing there, real as anything! really there!! in his library!!
and lemony walks towards them, because this isn’t a matter of, chasing anyone, it’s all of them coming together like this
beatrice: this is gonna work. the three of us, this is gonna work.
beatrice: what do you think?
and the thing. about lemony. is that what he wants more than anything else in this whole fucking world. is a family. particularly in canon, being separated from (reasonably dead) parents and growing apart from his siblings and losing those connections to people, he so desperately wants something that’s his and his own and that he can keep stable by himself
and I think he still feels that way even in whatever fucking world of an au this is, and of course he wants to be with bea and bertrand and to have klaus and violet because he loves them but he is also massively craving that stability of having his own family and like really having it this time, not fucking it up because he’s young and stupid and just as impulsive as bea
THE POINT IS THIS IS A LOT FOR HIM, OKAY, THIS MEANS SO MUCH, to get this!! second chance at all the things he totally fucked up before, PLUS the loves of his life!!!!
and like!!! there’s bertrand. there’s bertrand!!! standing there and reaching out to take lemony’s hand and lemony takes bea’s and bea takes bertrand’s other one and. the road they had to take to get here wasn’t. the best. all the time. they all made mistakes. some. worse than others. and this isn’t the end, right here, there’s still gonna be things they have to work out. and it’s gonna be okay because there’s beatrice and bertrand and lemony. they’re in the same room and no one’s scared.
lemony: yes.
beatrice: yes???
bertrand: yes?
lemony: yes.
there’s a lot of good hugging, people are kissed, comments are made about chapstick flavors, lots of laughter, violet and klaus are tearing up and thrilled beyond belief, everything is beautiful!!!!!
klaus: I can’t believe –
violet: – we actually did it!
and, of course, beatrice was right. about everything.
the following amount of time is filled with –
-lots of arguments.
-mostly between bea and lemony.
-although bertrand has his fair share of arguments with both of them.
-violet and klaus don’t speak to each other for two weeks under the pretense of disagreeing about a book’s theme but really because they’re not sure how to act around each other now that they’re both there, they’ve lived their whole lives as only children and this is what they wanted but it’s also something they didn’t think about having to adjust to
-there’s also this immediate reluctance to listen to anything bea and lemony tell them because they have to get used to parents now, too
-parents who aren’t currently super functioning as parents
-there’s a lot of second-guessing people’s intentions
-why did you say that?? the hell does that eyebrow mean???? you picked that song for a REASON and fuck you for that!!!! you don’t trust me to drive, do you???? I KNOW HOW TO MAKE A SANDWICH FOR MY CHILD THANK YOU VERY MUCH
-that sort of thing.
-in varying shades of seriousness.
-i know it sounds mostly like just bea screaming there but trust me the sentiment is shared by all of them in various ways and actions
-they don’t do it in front of violet and klaus though
-NO ONE KNOWS WHERE THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO LIVE NOW, do they stay in england or all go to california??? do they go somewhere else???????? what even (I don’t even know)
-(they probably do stay in england though. that’s what I was picturing while writing this.)
-violet and klaus do adjust to no longer being only children and realizing they have someone their age to rely on now who understands them
-they make blanket forts where violet designs these stands that will hold books up and periodically turn the page so they can lay on their backs and read and not worry about moving
-klaus reads up on inventors so he and violet can talk about them
-they argue with bea and lemony a little about weird things because violet and klaus are trying to figure out where they are with their parents now and how they’re supposed to act and bea and lemony are trying to figure out how to coordinate parenting while wanting to kill each other
-they institute family game night and try to best each other in cards or scrabble because they can handle that
-bertrand, of course, is in a very awkward position at this time
-like he’s around but he can’t take sides because that’s Weird and he’s not that kind of person anyway, and he wants to be there but he doesn’t quite know as what
-like, he was gonna marry bea!! and now he’s not. and he loves lemony!!! but he can’t do anything about it because bea and lemony have problems to work out!!! and bertrand loves both of them!! and they love him!!! they know they do!! he knows they do!!!!! but everything is very uncomfortable!!!
-like, bertrand needs to be on equal footing in this relationship too!
-he hangs out with dewey a lot and they become Poetry Buds again
-he participates in family game night
-bea and lemony are worried that bertrand is only going to see himself as like a peacemaker between them when he isn’t because he never has been and realizing that bertrand is a huge official permanent part of their lives now is a big thing for them
-hi, my name’s lulu and writing the navigation of relationships is hard!!!! it’s so fucking hard
-the three of them watch movies wednesday nights – bertrand picks the movies and he picks these really sweet romantic ones (cause that’s just the kind of movies he likes!!!) and it’s unbearably great
-they mean to watch the thin man movies (the ones with nick charles aka william powell aka the guy lemony and bea would both fuck if they had had the opportunity) over a series of weeks but wind up marathoning all six of them one night (and it takes all night)
-none of them can function the next day
-bertrand: I get it. i’d do it with nick charles, too.
-beatrice sings herself hoarse during a play rehearsal and can’t talk for a week
-she can’t sleep one night and lemony finds her in the kitchen and makes them both tea and they salute each other with the mugs
-bertrand takes up writing limericks and leaves them around the house and lemony finds one in the shower and slips from laughing so hard
-bertrand, in the hospital: I could’ve killed you with poetry
lemony: I mean, all things considered, it’s not the worst way to go. it’s better than next to a pile of books I was meaning to read, which I always thought to be much more likely. slipping in the shower because of a charming limerick about shoes? it’s not all that bad.
bertrand: I don’t know whether to take the compliment or be worried about how you’ve considered how you’re likely to die. please don’t die.
-beatrice shows up at the hospital and throws the stuffed animal from carnival night at lemony
lemony: oh, you didn’t have to give me your….ah….
bertrand: ….moose? have we guessed moose?
beatrice: the ears……….
-things get, better
-they take turns picking up the kids from school
-some kid: gee violet how come your mom lets you have two dads
violet: just lucky, I guess
-lemony helps beatrice rehearse her lines and they straight-up make out for an hour instead
-lemony and bertrand make dessert once a week and routinely end up covered in flour
-there is a household debate on ‘what species is the stuffed animal’ and ‘what are we going to name it,’ moderated by kit
-violet puts on a one-woman play that she and klaus wrote about hedy lamarr for her school’s talent show and receives a standing ovation
-lemony and bea and bertrand are in the front row and beatrice is full-on sobbing during the standing ovation
-they get bertrand a new record player for his birthday and all three of them dance to his records the whole night
-yes they ARE all falling in love with each other all over again it is very important to me that they’re all on the same page when they do that
-violet and klaus make bertrand a ‘best additional parent’ mug because they don’t quite know what to call him (they haven’t figured it out yet), like violet makes him a fucking mug in her glassblowing class (you ever seen someone glassblow a mug??? it’s great.) and klaus does this beautiful calligraphy label for it
-bertrand cries immediately, for the next hour of his life, and just carries it around because he doesn’t know where to put it
-beatrice: aww, that was so sweet of you two, to make – does that say ‘additional parent’
lemony: I believe it says ‘additional parent.’
violet: we did also consider ‘greatest poet’ but that had less of the feeling we wanted.
klaus: we do realize that ‘best’ is truly an unquantifiable concept, because there’s no one out there ranking parents, but we thought it was the most fitting.
it’s after that that they all decide to get married.
later on, sunny is born!! and she’s very upset she missed out on all these shenanigans.
[jacques comes back to find so many people in his brother’s house.
kit: well jacques, you really should be home more
lemony: yes, find a nice person
lemony: …...or two
kit: settle down, stop looking so surprised.
lemony: kit your daughter just leapt off the bookshelf and tackled my husband
kit: and am I surprised? no.]
[also jacques does not buy his sister a nice new set of engraved fountain pens.
kit: so did you get me a souvenir or not, jacques
jacques: souvenir? I thought you said
kit: JACQUES WE ARE ADULTS DON’T YOU DARE BEETHOVEN ME
jacques: edward lear
jacques: here’s this book of delightful nonsense poetry.
kit: how could you]
[while bea is pregnant with sunny –
bertrand: what about sunny?
lemony: bertrand baudelaire.
lemony: you come into my house.
lemony: you marry my wife.
beatrice, across the room: I married both of you???
lemony: and you have the audacity.
lemony: to suggest we name our daughter after our high school drama teacher.
bertrand: okay but your reaction isn’t necessarily a no]
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movealley · 3 years
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12 best places to visit in Portugal
Portugal is a fantastic tourist destination. It has such diverse landscapes that it is capable of satisfying the tourist tastes of all types of travelers. It has idyllic beaches, inhospitable territories, great historical sites and much more. Here are 12 places of interest in Portugal that you must visit at least once in your life.
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Aerial panoramic view over Dom Pedro IV square, also know as Rossio, in Lisbon, capital of Portugal
University of Coimbra
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Via Latina at the University of Coimbra in the evening in Portugal
Coimbra, the capital of the Coimbra District, is one of the oldest and most beautiful cities in Portugal. It is located along the Mondego River and has historical buildings that witnessed important events in Portugal. The most captivating building is a public university. It was built during the 13th century. The headquarters was originally located in Lisbon and later moved to its current location in the 16th century.
The University of Coimbra was named a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 2013. The most visited places on campus are: the University Tower, the Royal Palace of Alcáçova, the 18th-century botanical garden and the Library Baroque Joanina.
Pena National Palace
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Pena National Palace
This palace, located at the top of the hill of Síntra, looks like an illustration from the pages of a fairy tale. However, its construction was the idea of ​​King Ferdinand II, a German prince who married Queen Maria II of Portugal.
The romantic-style palace was the result of the reconstruction of the abandoned monastery, Nuestra Señora de Peña. Lush gardens with local and exotic flora were included in the plans, along with beautiful paths and benches. When you visit the Palacio da Pena do not forget to take a walk through the old Castle of the Moors.
The coast of Sagres
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The coast of Sagres
The coast around Sagres, which is in the southwestern corner of Portugal, is very different from any other area in the Algarve . This coast is frequented by surfers and locals who want to escape the crowds of tourists. There you can enjoy a feeling of isolation, especially during the winter months. Although it may not seem like it, for some travelers, that time is even more attractive. But actually, the peak season is in summer.
Sagres is a remote place where you can rest, relax and delight your palate with the most delicious seafood. On your way along the coast, do not forget to visit: the Sagres Fortress, the Sagres Lighthouse and Cape San Vicente.
Braga Cathedral
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Bom Jesus do Monte, a sanctuary in Tenoes near Braga, Portugal
One of the characteristics that stand out of Braga, the oldest city in Portugal, is its historical and religious heritage. Visiting all the churches in the so-called “city of the archbishops” would be a great effort. So we will tell you which are the most popular for you to include in your sightseeing tours. The main one is the Cathedral of Braga (better known as La Sé). Also famous is the Church of Mercy in Braga and the nearby Sanctuary of Buen Jesús del Monte. Braga is a charming city, fall in love with its historical and cultural richness.
Funchal
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panoramic view of the Funchal’s suburb, Madeira island, Portugal
The warm city of Funchal is the capital of the island of Madeira. It has become a fantastic destination to visit during any season and the favorite place to learn about the culture of the island. It is located between the ocean and the mountains, so the city is full of outdoor activities. In addition, it enjoys a temperate and dry climate that greatly favors this kind of tourism. Strolling through the markets is also a fun activity, there you will find a lot of fresh fish and exotic fruits.
At night, bars and clubs give the city a more vibrant character. If you’re traveling to Funchal, don’t miss the botanical gardens and be sure to book a slide ride through the city streets. It is a tour that is done in a wooden cart pushed by men dressed in the traditional attire of the island: white shirt, white pants, hat and shoes with rubber soles.
The center of Angra do Heroísmo
Angra do Heroísmo is the capital city of Terceira Island, located in the Azores Archipelago. All the cities of the Azores are very beautiful, but the capital of Terceira is one of the best. The center of Angra do Heroísmo is illuminated by buildings painted in shades of blue, yellow and orange. These colors blend perfectly with the lush green landscape that surrounds you. In short, the center of Angra do Heroísmo is a delight to behold. Not in vain was it declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO not only for its beauty but also for its historical importance.
When visiting this city, be sure to visit other places of interest such as the Sé de Angra Cathedral, the Church of Mercy, the City Hall, the São João Baptista Castle and Mount Brasil.
The Rua Direita de Obidos
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Porto, Portugal old town ribeira aerial promenade view with colorful houses, traditional facades, old multi-colored houses with red roof tiles, Douro river and boats. Aerial cityscape image of Porto.
The small town of Obidos is very close to Lisbon so it is very easy to take a day trip. Rua Direita is the main street of Obidos, where travelers can find shops, restaurants, bars serving Ginja (sweet cherry liqueur) and much more. The name translates into Spanish as “right street”, since it is the path you travel just after entering the fortified entrance of the city.
After exploring all that Rua Direita has to offer, walk along the castle walls, but you must be cautious as much of the path is narrow and without a protective barrier. You can also visit the Literary Man Hotel. It is an 18th-century convent that today has been converted into a perfect hotel-library for lovers of letters.
Ribeira District, Porto
The Ribeira district of Porto is the most emblematic neighborhood of the city and was declared a World Heritage Site in 1996. It is located in a privileged area, on the Douro River. In the Ribeira district there are many places of interest to visit. Some sites include iconic bridges, cozy boats, cafes with beautiful terraces, and centuries-old historical sites built in the Baroque style. Make sure to visit Casa do Infante , the birthplace of Prince Henry the Navigator.
Costa Nova
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Ribeira District, Porto
Costa Nova, known as “the Venice of Portugal”, is the heart of Art Nouveau in the country. Aveiro city center looks like a living painting. However, the most colorful area is the Costa Nova, a nearby beach characterized by its peculiar cabins painted with stripes of the colors of the rainbow. Costa Nova is a quiet place, perfect for relaxing, enjoying the coastal benefits and watching some surfers in action. There are also many restaurants serving fresh and delicious seafood.
Peneda-Gerês National Park
All the Portuguese are proud of the Peneda-Gerês National Park. It is the only protected national park in the country and an excellent place for hiking, bird watching and camping. The park is located in the lush Minho Region, which is the oldest part of Portugal with beautiful vineyards and charming little towns. The landscape ranges from valleys and rivers to rocky peaks. When visiting Peneda-Gerês, you will find a Roman road with distance markers that are thousands of years old.
The historic center of Évora
The historic center of Évora is full of very well preserved ancient monuments. The main square, Praça do Giraldo, is a busy area where people sit and relax on the terraces of the cafes and restaurants. From that perspective, you can admire in detail the Gothic buildings and the old palaces that are now public buildings. There is also the church of Santo Antão dating from the 16th century. A few steps from the square, travelers find the beautiful Chapel of Bones, the Roman Temple, the Royal Palace, the 18th-century Cathedral of Évora and the Museum of Évora. 
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amazing footpath under a beautiful arch of flowers and plants.
Terra Nostra Garden Botanical Garden
The Terra Nostra Garden Botanical Garden, located in Furnas, is considered one of the most fascinating and exotic gardens on the entire European continent. It is well-known thanks to its abundant vegetation, large geothermal pool and small jacuzzis. This splendid site has earned the joy of being seen as a haven of well-being where people get rid of stress. It is open all year round from 10 am to 6 pm. It is a cheap and beautiful ride.
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