beth harper had little patience. she’d been a good daughter, a diligent and hard-working student, and now was in the very position she’d always wanted. not that any of that had gotten her much. her mom was gone, her school career had ended in heartbreak and humilation, and now she was viewed as the ice queen. she didn’t have any time for nonsense, was over being stepped all over, and had hardened in the years since graduating. 

none of that was helped by him. the very reason for her heartache, the reason her shoulders tensed and her temples throbbed by the end of a workday. noah had always sparked strong feelings in beth, for a while there they’d been entirely positive. the kind of feelings that had her wanting to say three words, in the dark as they fell asleep, in the mornings when they both loathed the idea of separating for class. then she’d been the campus joke — the subject of a bet between the man she loved and the man she despised, the revelation robbing her of the softness she’d become accustomed to in noah’s presence. 

it was like high school, but crueler, more malicious and beth swore she’d never be the punchline again. five years later, a degree under her belt, a new job and of course the very person she didn’t want to see had a position in the same school. the same building. someone was playing a very unfunny joke on her surely. 

the morning’s classes had been uneventful, but still she made her way to the staff lounge to make a strong cup of coffee for herself. even the sight of a familiar head of dark hair didn’t stop her in her tracks, for her latest method of dealing with hawkeye was to ignore his existence entirely. 

the wedding was that of a family friend, one who august had only met a handful of times. but in the city, word of mouth was everything. without it, you were battling against dozens, if not more, of competitiors. chain businesses, willing to sacrifice quality for quantity, and many of which didn’t know flowers like he did. mandrakes was more than happy to go that extra mile, had since the early days. so, dave and marco wouldn’t know what hit them — august had flowers coming out of his ears by the time it hit an hour before the ceremony. he was eager, excited, delighted to be there. 

it helped that theo was also working the wedding, explained why he was wearing slacks and a button-down shirt for the first time in months. her sister had stormed in two weeks earlier, flinging information at him as if he could absorb half fo it, and demanded that he make things right. so, there he was, ready to try. ready to have theo in his life again. he’d missed her desperately for the three years they hadn’t spoken, each one more painful than the last. august refused to spend another waiting for her to realise what he had never made clear, figuring it was obvious.

he loved her.

the fairy lights cast every flower in a romantic glow, making him feel all the more ready to say it. finally. and then the doors opened, chatter flooding in as his mother’s old friend spoke to the photographer in question. august licked across his lips nervously, watching as theo smiled and gesticulated, pointing out potential shots. his heart hammered the way it had all those years ago, when they’d first met and he’d begun his slow fall, the way it had three years previous. before things had fallen apart, and even after, with a painful ache accompanying it.

august managed a polite smile as adora passed him, still listing off things to do under her breath, as he approached theo. theo who was just as short, just as bright, just as beautiful as he remembered. nerves wouldn’t overcome him this time, he’d sworn as much that morning, the night before, the week before. 

the opinion of others rarely mattered to levi unless it impacted his source of income. money meant even less to him, but without it, there was a sense of instability. as a child he’d had naught, besides the clothes on his back that he’d long grown out of, and a stomach never quite full. now he never went without, never went to sleep wishing he were somewhere else, never woke with an unsatiated anger in his heart. 

though some of his childish vices had remained, a sweet-tooth until the tomb for one, others had joined them. which was why levi found himself in a lavish, if unassuming, office for his second appointment with her. the only woman he’d let touch him in years, the only woman he wanted to touch him. gabrielle was an altogether fascinating person — calm unless she was in the throes of something sordid, quiet when she wasn’t analysing him with terrifying accuracy. all of that and more was why he kept coming back, to her bed, to this place which he’d have never considered a year earlier. 

loneliness changed a person, it’d seem. 

levi waited, with a patience fitting for a man who spent his days waiting for prey, only gabi wasn’t his prey. he was hers. the dark, wooden door opened and so did his face — the crease by his brows softening, the smile widening. 

the door wasn’t latched, why would it be? it was dinner party for close friends, colleagues, and donors alike. those kinds of parties selina had always slipped into without issue. with a purr and bat of her eyelashes, the man at her arm had been all too willing to bring her along. they’d met at a bar an hour earlier, talked and talked, though really selina just bode her time. councilman rochester had never been a smart man, but selina had quickly seen just how gullible he was. 

selina had it in the bag quickly. she merely slipped away when the music grew louder and her date was otherwise occupied. by the time she slipped out with what she’d come for, they’d have forgotten she was there at all. for all the newspaper and internet chatter of the cat being a suited menace, nobody knew that many of her jobs started when she was in civilian gear. a dress, heels, and some stolen jewels meant an easier time of things than her goggles and suit. that being said, she’d cased the home earlier and set her bag on the windowsill she’d judged was the closest to the owner’s office. 

as always, she’d been right, and some two minutes after entering, she was zipping up her suit. the home’s owner was a lawyer, not nearly as high profile as dent but close, with dirt to hide and money to spare. it was the dirt selina wanted, though she’d take the money too for good measure. she wanted to know falcone’s movements before she struck and if her suspicions were correct, adam taylor was in on the action.  

with a click of a button, her goggles slid into place and she hummed as her gaze slid across dark wood panelling. 

her feet ached and her head throbbed with a night spent doing what she did best; for men who paid twice what other clubs charged. the montague name had that effect, drawing in the elite of this city and neighbouring ones, all eager to pay for drinks and dancers like their lives depended on it. yvette loved working for cc, felt the safety she’d always yearned for and the money was nothing to scoff at. it helped that yvette had her eyes on eli, a man whose reputation didn’t measure up to the man by half. powerful, handsome, ambitious — it was hard not to be attracted to him. 

his eyes were on her too, she knew that much. but weeks had passed since their introduction, thanks to cc who seemed determined to see them interact, and little more than conversation had transpired. yvette wanted him, more than she’d wanted another person in sometime, but his work seemed determined to keep them at arms length. he’d been in the crowd, watching from his private booth yet again. sometimes he visited her after, on others he didn’t have the chance. both times left her wanting and it was getting to be too much. 

delicate fingers pulled at the pins in her hair, letting blonde curls fall for the first time in hours. she stretched, letting out a content sigh before her eyes caught his in the mirror. yvette’s back straightened and she beamed, turning in her chair to face him. one arm drapped along the back of it so her chin could rest painlessly, eyes twinkling mischeviously. 

the studio was quiet, his left hand was covered in pen, and isaac was falling in love. he had no doubt his mom would say he was wearing his heart on his sleeve as always; falling harder than he had reason to. but zara was easy to fall for. light and power, talent and fire — even watching zara or listening to her from afar was bound to have people on their knees. it was harder yet to resist the desire to fall when one met her, finally, in person. after a few weeks of back and forth, it seemed fitting that they should meet because music was involved.

an unfinished song, his song, that she’d now made as much hers with gorgeous, haunting vocals and lyrics. then, she’d gone and added piano. raw and painful in a way that made the song fit everything he’d envisioned and more. 

what he hadn’t anticipated, even less so than the piano, than her absolute talent — was how well they got along. it’d been days of closely working together and she hadn’t once snipped at him for his eagerness, the memory that left a lot to be desired, the passion that often made him pace endlessly. zara had endured it, entertained it even, without so much as a frown.

“apperantly.” evan hummed in affirmation. rosie hadn’t expressly told him not to go sharing the secrets she’d spilled on the sidewalk that day — but she hadn’t agreed, either. but this was ethan, perhaps, outside of luisa — the only person he truly trusted with every part of his life, every part of his heart. “…she’s the youngest. and her mother’s favourite. tight-knit didn’t apply to her.” he knew that ethan would pick up on the implications. the call-back to their own family dynamics. his brother wasn’t a writer for no reason.  “i… suspect that’s why she did what she did. because when her mother died, and there was no else, well. she did what she had to do.”

his fingers idly filled with the wedding ring he still wore, though, not on the same finger as he once did. ( for the most part, evan had moved on from luisa. he looked back on their time together and their girls with nothing but a nostalgic heart and a fond memory. it still hurt in some ways, the way loss always did — a pang here, a pang there. mostly it was for the girls, though. that xiomara and anita would never have their mother for such big milestones; like their weddings, their children, their first heartbreaks, dances and dates; college and school and graduations. it was that she missed it, that made evan sad. everything else he’d long ago laid to rest — largely in part thanks to rosie’s help. ) “i’m letting her in. letting her help.” evan murmured after a long moment. “the way i figure, if she’s lying i’d rather keep her close and where i can keep an eye on her. if she isn’t, then great. works out well.” he shook his head slightly, head leaning back against his chair. he’d pondered the whole thing for weeks, unsure of what to do and how to do it. the only answer he came up with was this. because technically, she knew everything already — and technically, if anything came down from santiago, rosie made a good bargining chip. a chance to keep himself and his family out of harms way — and test the theory that she was as well loved as her brothers. “but… even with all that. i don’t think she is.”

evan pursed his lips. “there was so much she could have told her old man. about you, about the girls. there wasn’t a secret i didn’t tell her. and it’s been years, and nothing has come of it.” all there was the usual fbi detail, and the occasional spat in the club. everything ran like clockwork. “santiago isn’t the kind of man who waits on information and then strikes. he gets the minute he has it, which is largely the reason why i own this city; and he doesn’t.”

he snorted, head lolling to look at his brother.  “as sweet as that offer is, baby brother — you’re supposed to be writing a book, remember?” his chin jerked at the collection of ethan’s stories on the back bookshelf. “i need something new to add to my collection.”

“she always was a perplexing figure.” ethan hummed, though it would seemed that had only intensified since last she’d been in town. he noted that evan hadn’t cursed the woman for all that she was worth and then some — a sinclair favourite for when they felt slighted. it wasn’t hard to understand why he might’ve struggled, there’d been a lot of love there. even if it had only been one-sided. his brother’s next words, however, had him pausing. tight-knit didn’t apply to her. if he didn’t know that feeling like the back of his hand, with its dusting of dark hair and freckles, the fine lines that hadn’t seen blood nor gun powder. he associated it all with their father, couldn’t not. the business came first, evan next. ethan was somewhere towards the bottom, deluge that caught at the soles of his father’s shoes. he exhaled through his nose, eyes focusing on the drink in his hand. “sometimes one has to do the worst things to hide in plain sight.” he mused without much thought, but the words rang true. in the early days, when he’d known so little, ethan would do anything to ensure eyes weren’t on him for long. do as you were told and praise was swift, fleeting, do the wrong thing and you’d hear about it for weeks on end. 

ethan watched intently as evan fiddled with his wedding ring, grieving in his own way for the life his brother had shared with the mother of his children. for a time, it was peaceful. almost as if evan’s life weren’t tainted with death, as if he weren’t destined to be a more powerful man than their father ever was. his next words, after a prolonged silence, had ethan’s brows raising. “that’s awfully...” he weighed his words carefully, “generous, frankly. you’ve killed others for less.” his lips were pressed into a thin line, “not that i’d have suggested any harm come to her, at your hand or otherwise. that’s a line one can’t uncross.” no matter her reasons, her actions, she had very well been a part of their family for a time. 

“the old man is several pegs away from losing it all. if his youngest has turned on him, finally, this could be his undoing.” ethan smiled to himself, “it’s very poetic.” 

“you realise there’s like. one genome of difference between the two? they’re basically the same fucking animal.” she was tired, testy — annoyed that something which was supposed to be an easy job had turned into so much more. ( and further frustrated that the cute guy she’d met at her daughter’s school, the first decent man she’d met in months and months — had turned out to be the one person she never could have. too much in her professional career rode on the fact. credibility was hard to come by in their line of work — a fact that drove margot to charge such higher prices. not that marco never bothered to ask or understand that fact. it was always down to one simple idea with him — she overcharged, he didn’t. when they virtually did the same job, it was his opinion that he was the better choice. )

margot scoffed, her head shaking and annoyance rolling off her in waves. “yeah. funny. but half your clients in the last financial quarter used me for their excavations, so please, continue telling me all there is about repeat business.” the truth was that they were both pawns in this game — neither of them was really better than the other. ( but they weren’t going to let truth get in the way of a good rivalry, were they? )

she watched as he heaved the ornate box up onto his shoulder, alarm pricking at her chest. “woah, woah. just where the fuck do you think you’re going with that, cowboy?” her brows rose in expectation, hands coming to rest on her hips — all as she moved to stand in front of him — blocking the one exit out of the cave and back to civilisation. “finders keepers is for the playground and i ain’t in the mood to be going home empty handed this week.” ( with her ex once more disappeared and child support payments going ignored — margot needed this. she needed it bad. and she wasn’t leaving without it. ) “drop the box.”

“semantics.” marco waved a hand dismissively, before he snorted — “though, i shouldn’t be surprised. any employee of stanton, king of bullshit, is well versed in them.” his patience was worn thin by the fact that it was margot. always had been. ( it’d been a long fucking time since he’d liked someone, at all, but specifically as much as he’d liked her. still liked her. for him it didn’t come with an off switch and he was frustratingly liking this side of her. annoyed, fierce, a fire in her eyes as she stared him down. a shame as no matter what, marco was here to complete a job. the artefact was to be returned to its rightful owners, not in some dilapidated cave miles upon miles from the culture that’d created it and the people who’d nurtured it. as much as he loved his museum, loved the work he did, he cared about history more. he cared about justice more. marco would see the chest was returned, whether it left margot with a bruised ego or not. )

a brow raised, his grin widening in challenge. “just as your clients come to me when they need an expert’s opinion, or a careful hand. is it true what they say about your temper and the shake in your hands that accompanies it?” he was playing dirty now and a small twinge in his chest told him he didn’t love it. but that didn’t stop him and never had. 

“a true shame.” margot drawled sharply. “and to think you could have been getting laid semi-regularly before stealing my cut out from under me.” would she ever let it go? most likely not. she was like a dog with an old bone — that was her job, marco had been a dick and gone ahead with it anyway. ( she was ignoring the fact she would have done the same to him if the situations were reversed, of course. because such a feeling was inconvenient in her desire to hate him — in her desire to be better than him. and god only knew hating him was a hell of lot easier than admitting it hurt to find out he was her professional rival. ) because she’d done something she hadn’t done in years around marco. she’d believed in him. she’d wanted him. now, it was naught more than distant and dim memory. a road not taken.

she was trying not to feel so cut up by the reality of her own feelings.

if there was ever a common ground to be found between them, it was their daughters. for a long moment, margot eyed him warily, before looking away with a shrug of her shoulders. “…acing english, flunking math.” her lips pursed. “she’s too much like me in that respect. but… i suppose i should be thankful the only shit she has in common with her father is their eyes.” she didn’t need more of harvey around if she could help it — was hard enough that clem was approaching the age of curiosity, as her dad called it. that she was bound to start asking questions any day now. margot didn’t have answers to any of them, she was sure of it. ( largely because she never understood why harvey had done what he’d done. if it had been a case of love lost or growing apart, okay. it would have hurt, but margot would have understood. instead, he just disappeared. leaving behind a sticky note with a half written apology — the only sign that he’d even said goodbye. ) clearing her throat, margot glanced back at marco. “she’s been asking for a sleepover next weekend. i assume your museum has you on the de soto dig? to authenticate?”

“don’t remind me.” marco sighed dramatically, though her next words had his expression falling. some months ago, he’d felt it — there was mutual attraction, they were getting closer to crossing that line. and then, the revelation. they’d been working against each other all along. “as if you haven’t done the same to me, many a time, margot.” he replied coolly, frustration seeping into his tone without effort. ( the shitty thing was that he’d really liked her, not just for a quick fuck, but for the closest thing he’d had to a friend in years. margot was wickedly intelligent, gorgeous, hilarious. and his biggest academic and professional rival. life had a way of fucking marco winters over in every possible way. )

he refused to worsen his relationship, tense as it was, with the mother of alia’s best friend. even if there were hurt feelings and a bruised ego — but he wouldn’t let it all fly. especially not when margot attempted to blame him for it all. 

“they said they’ll lend us a room. second level, away from the crowds.” gendry shook out the wet droplets from his hair, — already too long and in desperate need of attention from the barbers in flea bottom. ( but that was naught but a distant and dim memory of a life left behind. no longer his reality. ) now, it was hard rocky beds, mud on his boots, hair falling into his eyes — rain soaking his leathers, a horse that listened to his travelling companion more than it listened to him.

( he couldn’t blame the animal. not really. he’d listen to arya more too, if it came down to him or her. he never really was one for giving orders — an irony, given his former status as prince of the realm. )

quickly, he held up a hand to answer the question he already knew she was going to ask. “and before you berate, i confirmed it’s a room with a bath and a fire. they might even throw in an extra roll of bread if we leave a tip on the way up.” ( he’d had to flirt and charm his way to that last one, but what arya didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her, he’d decided. ) this last part of their journey had been rough — uncomfortably so. any comforts he could manage to secure them, the better. “shall we?”

“wonderful.” arya’s hair was damp, but pulled away from her face — in two thick braids that sansa had been kind enough to teach her, the last they’d seen each other. her cloak was long, brushing against the floor as she moved closer out of habit. there’d been naught a moment in recent times where they hadn’t been close — shielding one another from danger, hands seeking each other out in the night, it was all that kept her grounded most days. 

( it was on those days when the past seemed so distant, in gendry’s company, huddled against his warmth. though, as much as she loved his warmth, she was glad to be inside again. their horses were good enough company, but the nights of little sleep and cold food had done little for either of them. harsh words had been exchanged with no real truth behind them on some mornings, as arya fought the urge to yawn, or cry. but they were here now and that’s what mattered. ) 

she hadn’t been home in two days. the reality had only occured to her some hours earlier — that she had been here for two straight days. had ignored all warnings from supposed friends about seeing him again. had gone and done what she swore she wouldn’t do — and then went a step further. ( checking her phone had showed no notifications. no one asking where she was, if she was okay. she was willing to wager that sam was under a pile of work and hadn’t noticed she wasn’t even home. was welling to bet her not being home was a source of relief — he didn’t have to worry about her for a change. he could just work. )

in truth, kayla wasn’t sure what to make of all of it. that her friends and family weren’t worried. that she wasn’t worried either — that being with alex and spending the entire weekend in bed was the best use of her time in months, if not years.

with another hum, she rolled over in bed, dropping her phone face down on the bedside table, — decided that alex had been up and about for far too long. it simply wouldn’t do. tugging his previously discarded shirt from the floor and pulling it on, she wandered down from the bedroom and towards the sounds of his puttering in the kitchen. with a warm smile, she leant against the door jamb… and simply watched. ( and she realised with a startlingly fresh type of clarity why it was she didn’t want to go home. because this, right here — was home. alex was home. wearing his shirt, watching him in the kitchen, spending two straight days in bed… that was home. more than anything else ever had been in her life. when they’d started this, that hadn’t been the plan. it had been to blow off steam. a high school fantasy come to life. but what it had turned into might have been the best thing ever to happen to her. )

kayla cleared her throat. “your side of the bed is getting cold. something that’s frankly unacceptable.”

alex knew better than to believe in miracles. he’d been through too much to approach life with anything but cynicism. yet, he had a pep in his step and a bright outlook as of late — it was all thanks to kayla. he’d known her for so long he shouldn’t have been surprised, despite all she’d been through she remained the one spot of sunshine in this entire town. filled with grief and gore, he’d seen his fair share of it too. but he’d come out the other side with a grim, cloudy worldview. kayla was refreshingly different; so unlike him he had to wander what the fuck he’d done to deserve her attention. again. 

it was different from high school — there was more kissing, fucking, secrets. hell, she was engaged. to someone who wasn’t him. alex had never really seen himself settling down, not when he’d spent those years combating accusations and trauma of his own. romance and the future were the last things on his mind, all he wanted to do was sleep peacefully. 

his house was as comforting as its owner, which was to say disarmingly so. filled with almost as many books as the store, smelling of the candles he liked to light at night, with a homey kitchen that saw more use than one would expect. once he’d woken up it was all too easy to go downstairs, after he’d pressed a warm kiss to her temple. he was quick to make himself a cup of coffee, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the minutes ticked by. it was different when kayla was under the same roof as him. the silence comforting rather than isolating, for he knew that upstairs was the reason he felt good each morning. whether it was a short text or the visits that were becoming more frequent, he saw more of a reason to get up. ( that was something that hadn’t changed since the old days — how she was able to make him care. )

in a way, he wanted to throw her own words back at her. if a year couldn’t change someone — then why did she look so different to who levi knew her to be? dressing up to the nines wasn’t the issue and it never had been. but it was the look in her eyes that was different. gone was the natural sparkle. the warmth and amusement, as if she knew a secret the rest of the world didn’t. even her signature red lip, applied flawlessly — looked different. there wasn’t a loss of pigment, because levi hadn’t spent half the cab ride over here kissing her senseless.

“time’s a funny thing, deaver.” levi mused instead. “it has a way of surprising us. especially when it comes to those we know.” with a sigh, he reached for his soda water and took a sip, relishing in the hydration and the simple distraction.

for her dress that night had to be designed to torture him. the only possible explanation, really. long sleeved and short in the same measure; made of some sparkly fabric that meant almost all eyes were on her. the hint of her breasts, the length of her legs — all of ti serving to remind him of another time and in another life, where those dresses like hers would end up on his bedroom floor — her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the soft curve of her breasts under his mouth.

and try as he might, — try as he might to be a friend, and not someone who was desperately, painfully still in love with her — levi’s gaze still dipped down, down from her eyes and over his nose; following the column of her neck and the smooth skin of her chest, through the v neckline of her dress — to finally rest on the subtle curves of her décolletage. ( he remembered what they had felt like in his palms — smooth, soft and just this side of firm; perfectly sized to fit, naturally, like they were made to be there. levi had had something of a… fixation back then; right alongside his seeming need to be eating her out at all hours of the day — or whenever he managed to convince her to forgo studying. ) in his mind, harley’s breasts, her cleavage, was perfect. he didn’t see the need to change it, amplify it, mould it to please someone else’s idea. because she already was. 

“there’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world.” levi drawled conversationally, tearing his gaze up from her breasts, meeting her own eyes — before looking away. “it’d be a pity to count yours outside of that. when in my opinion, yours were always first on the list. besides.” he cleared his throat, and jerked his chin at the TA in question. “hers are fake.”

she knew her hair was blonder, that her makeup was harsher than usual — that she was wearing higher heels and a tighter dress. yet, harley still felt as if she wasn’t pretending to be something she wasn’t. the look in her eyes was how she felt, the absence of warmth towards levi was earned, though difficult all the same. harley had been talking to him for only a little while and already felt herself firing up in a way she hadn’t for months, and months, wanting to shake him by his shoulders. or kiss him. or both. levi always had an overwhelmingly confusing effect on her senses — had since they were children. 

“you’re the very last person who needs to remind me of that.” her voice came out softer than she anticipated and she took a sip of her drink, in hopes that it would provide liquid courage. “you look well, though, all things aside.”

the dress had caught her eye a couple of weeks earlier, shimmering in the sunlight as if it were made just for her. but as she’d twirled before the mirror something had been missing. something was always missing these days. with a sour expression she had realised just what it was. for, as much as she loved the dress, she missed having that person, her person, who loved it twice as much on her. and on his floor even more. daniel had feigned interest, as he often did, and harley knew it with certainty. 

she missed levi terribly. always would. he was her person and the fact that he didn’t throw himself at her immediately seemed to confirm what she’d feared for months. he no longer felt the same. hadn’t since he ended things like it was the easiest thing in the world. but, that all conflicted with the way he looked at her now. ( if her cheeks warmed at the thought, she wouldn’t acknowledge it beyond blaming the alcohol. with that in mind she emptied her glass and set it down, firmer than necessary. daniel’s inability to keep his date interested was no longer of any issue to her, for she had something in mind. someone. )

that same blush spread some, just down her chest, not quite reaching the end of her necklace. a purple flower pendant her mother had gifted her years ago, when birthdays were naught celebrated for they were destitute. it still meant the world to her now, grounded her as times changed the people and places around her.