FALLEN.

“Have you ever had a dream that felt so real that when you woke up you were shocked it wasn’t, I had one of those last night.”

“Yes. I was under the impression that it’s a normal occurrence,” Castiel responded, a little confused. Dreaming had always felt strange to him, but he’d never thought about it too much, figuring that everybody likely felt that way. “Is this a dream you wish to discuss?”

if there was one thing elsa was an absolute sucker for, it was chocolate. any kind - milk, dark, white, orange or cherry or coffee-flavored, she could find something to love about all of it. she loved it on things, from potato chips to fruit, and loved finding a way to work it into her daily food habits. sure, her figure-skater lifestyle didn’t call for the extra sweets, but the last thing she was going to do was deny herself something she liked. never again. with a small box of chocolate-covered-strawberries open just in front of her, the blonde sat on her little blue picnic blanket under the willow tree, taking in the sunny - but still just a tad chilly - afternoon. she hadn’t gotten a day off in a while now, and she was happy for the peace and quiet.

just as she was about to pick up the first one, she couldn’t help but notice the other. “ oh. uh. hello. ” she was never great with first interactions, but since getting out of the house, she’d gotten better. “ would you… like to know where i got them from ? ” it was a sort of lame offer, but she was happy to point them in the right direction of the little bakery shop she got the strawberries from.

Castiel was hardly the best with social interaction himself. He never quite knew what to say, and he found that, more often than not, he said the wrong thing, or simply didn’t understand what they were talking about. It was something he was improving at, though. Or at least, he thought so. Either way, he hadn’t meant to disturb the woman, but the strawberries looked delicious, sweet, juicy, and chocolatey, and maybe he’d been focused a little too hard on them. “Oh. Hello,” he echoed, shifting his gaze to look at the woman. “That would be very helpful. Thank you.” 

As he took in the rest of the scene, the blue of the picnic blanket under the tree, the sun beaming down, he tilted his head slightly. “That doesn’t look comfortable.”

Veronica just blinked, it took her a minute to register the accent but when she finally did she just shook her head. She stuck her hand into the waist band of her blue plaid skirt and pulled out her own wallet. “Nope, looks like it’s some other sucker who lost that one.”

“Huh,” Mélie took a seat opposite the woman, slipping the wallet into her pocket without a second thought. Without giving the other a chance to react or say anything, she spoke up. “What? Like you said, they’re a sucker. Finders keepers, and all that.”

Hearing the other girl’s commentary, Heather shot her a glare. “Anybody ever teach you that it’s rude to insert yourself into somebody else’s conversation uninvited like that?” the redhead hissed. “Go on, go fetch that popcorn and don’t think about coming back. I wouldn’t bother putting on a show for only one uncivilized audience member.”

“Anybody ever teach you the definition of uncivilized?” Mélie questioned, raising her brow and folding her arms over her chest. If her twin brother were here, he’d probably drag her away from this, tell her the fight wasn’t worth it. But Arthur wasn’t here, and she sure as hell wasn’t backing down any time soon. “How about hypocrite? Because if you ask me, it’s pretty uncivilised of you to think you’re all high and mighty, and it’s definitely rude. But go on, keep telling me about how rude and uncivilized I am for sticking up for someone. I’d love to hear all about it.”

“Q   U   I   C   K !   i   need   you   to   pretend   like   we’re   dating   for   the   next   like…5   minutes!   a   creep   from   tinder   has   been   STALKING   me   and   he’s   here   and   just   PLEASE.   i’ll   repay   you   with   cuddles,   kisses,   alcohol   or   d.   all of   the   above.”

Mélie didn’t need to be asked twice. She’d have done it for free, given how freaked out the girl was, but how could she turn down an offer like that? Especially from someone so pretty. “I’ll take d,” she half-joked, reaching out an arm to curl around her waist, pulling her close. “Is this alright? Are you alright? Men can be real arseholes.”

“Honestly… I don’t know why I didn’t think to offer that position to you earlier,” Rachel admitted, feeling foolish she hadn’t asked Blaine to help her with the high school’s auditions in the first place. “You’re one of the few people in this entire town that can even remotely keep up with my level of talent and understanding in regards to the arts,” she mused, more to herself. “If you’re not too busy or not put off by having to work with my painfully stubborn self, I would love it if you would help me out with the auditions Blaine.”

Blaine was thrilled. Although he adored teaching music and loved his students, his passion laid in performing of all kinds. He could appreciate Rachel’s position, and he couldn’t wait to work alongside her with the school’s auditions. “Ah, but the question is if you are able to handle my stubbornness,” he teased lightly in response, a wide grin set in his features. Of course, he knew Rachel well enough to know that painfully stubborn was a pretty accurate descriptor for her, but he was also very aware that he could match her. Especially when it came to the performing arts. “It would be an honour, Rachel. Thank you. We can discuss it over coffee, if you'd like? My treat.”

Then you have no purpose being here.” Sherlock spoke firmly. “I’d highly suggest that you do find another bench as this one is occupied and I am busy thinking.” 

“Thinking about what?” Castiel asked grumpily. He didn’t know what could be so important that he couldn’t make a little space for him, but he also didn’t see the point in making a fuss over something so small. It wasn’t the end of the world that he would need to find another bench. 

“Everything will work out…won’t it? Good always wins over evil in the end, that’s how stories work…right?” The angel asked as he looked down to focus on his fidgeting fingers.

“That would be assuming that 'good' and 'evil' are easily distinguishable, but that would be ideal,” Castiel answered with a frown. It’d be nice if things worked like that, he thought, but as positive as he tried to be, he knew he also had to be realistic, and the truth was that sometimes, good didn’t win over evil. “But it would be foolish to believe in that theory with no doubt. Are we discussing a situation in particular?”

Just how many cigarettes Sherlock had gone through today was beyond counting now. Still, he was lounged across the seat, exhaling a long plume of smoke, watching as it curled enticingly in the air above him. “Unless you have something at least vaguely entertaining to say, I would avoid interrupting my ‘me’ time.” Came the comment as he noticed the arrival of another body.

"I’m not here for entertainment purposes,” Castiel answered as though unaffected by the implication that he was unwelcome. “I’m here to sit.” He’d taken some of his free time to walk through the park to enjoy the sound of the birds singing, but now he needed a short rest, and this seemed like a nice spot. The problem was, the man was practically sprawled out across the bench, leaving no space for company. “I’ll find another bench.”

Rachel let out another dramatic sigh, glad that Blaine knew first hand what she was talking about. “I’m going to have to start calling you in as reinforcement to turn people down at auditions,” she sighed, admiring Blaine’s ability to see the situation in a different light and flip it around. Rachel seemed to bulldoze through everything and anything. “I can’t exactly afford to lose my job because I made a kid cry. Although the world out there is ridiculously harsh. It’s better we teach them that early, no?”

Blaine was torn. Rachel was right, the world was harsh, and if the kids weren’t taught that now, it would hit harder further down the line, should they try to pursue a career in the performing arts. Even so, Blaine didn’t think he had the heart to be that harsh to the kids. “You do have a point,” he admitted, then gave a hum as an idea came to mind. “If you’re serious about getting me to come to help with the auditions, maybe we’ll balance each other out? It’ll teach them the realities of the industry, while also giving them areas to improve?”

“Mind giving me a signal when you’re done with your aimless whining? I would rather rip each of my nails off one by one rather than listen to whatever you’re complaining about,” she replied, taking a moment before rolling her eyes at the other, “You didn’t actually think I was listening to your little story, did you?”

“Aimless whining?” Mélie questioned, a smile curling at her lips. This woman wanted to take out her claws? Well, she had her own set. “Oh, I wasn’t complaining. I was actually just talking about how much I love seeing narcissistic bitches do exactly that. You think you could show me? I’ll go fetch my popcorn.”

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Veronica asked, holding a cigarette up to her lips.

“I was saying that maybe you should turn your ears on,” Mélie replied sarcastically, her French accent coming through. There was a wallet between two of her fingers, and she held it up in the air. She’d taken a couple of the notes when nobody had been looking, having slipped them into her pocket, but everything else remained. Upon first glance, it would appear nothing was missing. “This yours? I found it on the floor over there.” She pointed to a spot over by the door with the wallet. 

“I know I can be harsh but… how are you supposed to tell a kid they’re tone deaf without making them cry?” Rachel sighed, thinking back to her day at work today.

Blaine knew that struggle all too well, though he didn’t have a good answer for her. Some kids just didn’t have the talent, and that wasn’t always something that caught be taught. “I don’t think you can,” he answered honestly, shrugging slightly. “Constructive criticism is usually a good way to go, though? Something like: ‘You’re good at this, but you can improve at this, and the best way to do that is dot dot dot.”

“Seems very… British.” Buffy commented, “Maybe I should just stick to stuff that comes out of a machine or coffee. The idea is cosy but the reality of it is a little underwhelming. Unless it does something magical to your teat that is.”

“Magical?” Castiel repeated, titling his head to one side. He wasn’t certain if she was being serious or not, though that wasn’t an uncommon struggle for him. “No, I don’t think tea cosies possess any magical qualities. Their purpose is to keep the contents of the teapot warm.”