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He became…careful. Pranks didn’t go as far as they used to. Essays were always handed in on time because most of his time he spent with you, you helped him study. Even Fred started to tutor a couple of younger years in Potions. 

Fred had always silently been top of his class at Potions. Everyone thought Fred was secretly Snape’s favourite student. Or, he would be. If Fred wasn’t a Gryffindor. 

But, no matter how many times his family or his friends, or your family and friends, pushed…Fred never acted on his feelings. 

And you denied he had any for you. 

“We’re just friends,” you chuckled, chopping carrots in the Weasley kitchen with Ginny. 

“Y/n-”

“Gin,” you sighed. “I know you would love for all of us to become actual sisters, but…it’s insane! Fred doesn’t have feelings for me. We’re friends. Good friends. But that’s it.”

Ginny gave you another deadpanned look. “What is the date right now?”

You laughed. “Ginny.”

“Just humour me.”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. “Fine. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“And where are you?”

“Here. With you.”

“Ah. Just the first part.”

“I am here,” you said. “At The Weasley Burrow. Chopping carrots for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner.”

“And where is your family?”

“At home. Preparing for a movie marathon with their neighbours. It’s another long battle to find the perfect Christmas movie.”

“Where’s your jumper right now?”

“Upstairs.”

“In whose room?”

“Fred’s- Ginny.”

Ginny barked a laugh. “You can’t deny it! It’s so painfully obvious.”

“Ginny-”

“You are spending Christmas with us-”

“Because Molly invited me.”

“You could be spending it at home.”

“I still might if you keep-”

“And your Hufflepuff jumper is currently in the one room in this house where other house memorabilia has been banned.”

You sighed, again. “Ginny.”

“And you won’t be spending Christmas with your folks, so don’t even try and threaten that because Fred will just magically appear in your living room to drag you back here.”

You placed a hand on your hip. “Gin? Who did that exact thing last year?”

Ginny paused for a moment. “I was desperate and outnumbered by boys. That was different.”

From behind you, there was sudden whistling. “Happy Christmas Eve, ladies.”

“Hi, George.”

“George, tell Y/n that her and Fred should just make this whole thing official.”

“George, tell Ginny that she’s delusional. Please.”

George smiled, turning to his sister. “You’re delusional.” Then he turned to you. “And you and Fred should have gotten together years ago.”

“You agree with me! Why am I the delusional one?”

“She said ‘please’. And I’m not about to argue with a Professor again.”

For the last three years, you had been the head History teacher at Hogwarts. The second you had gotten the promotion, Fred had been there at your front door with flowers (real ones) and an invitation to join him at The Burrow since Molly was throwing a congratulations meal, along with your mother, for you. 

Eventually, the argument of your love life (that should or should not include Fred) eventually died away. People helped with meal-prep, games prep, or started a wrapping station at the table. 

By the next day, you took your usual seat at the table besides Fred. If neither of you were talking to someone else, you were talking to each other. 

It seemed like, from day one, you and Fred couldn’t stop talking. No conversation topic was too far or too scary to handle. You could be honest with your fears and feelings when you were with Fred. And, although he told George almost everything, the parts that he couldn’t talk to his brother about, you knew. 

“Ready? Okay…Go!”

Like every New Year, party games were involved. This time: Charades and Pictionary. 

Ever since finding out about your childhood parties, Arthur Weasley had found great joy in taking part. Whilst he and Molly didn’t always win, they got pretty close. 

But the one team that did…was you and Fred. 

At first, everyone thought you were both cheating. You had experience in the game, and Fred had experience in cheating. So, you and Fred had your own special round of cards that were charmed by Hermione. 

No cheating. No magic. Fully muggle. 

A single box drawn, a couple of lines— “Fleet Street!”

The next page. “Cheddar Race!”

Another— “Fairytale of New York!”

“Home Alone.”

“While You Were Sleeping!”

“Chocolate chip cookie. Milk. Santa Claus. Interrogation. Gods- Norse— Loki! Spice Girls. Dumbledore. The Black Lake. Muggle School-”

“Time!” Hermione called. 

“Fourteen?!” Ron called out. “How?! Are we sure they’re not cheating?”

“Mind reading?”

You just shrugged with a smile and collapsed comfortably next to Fred who threw his arm over your shoulder. 

“We’re just that good.”

The Charades round went just as well, as Fred acted out the different titles. 

As time ticked on, and midnight drew closer, you disappeared upstairs to grab your jumper whilst everyone went outside to set up the firework display with your parents. 

“Looking for something?” 

Standing up, quickly, you turned to face Fred who was leaning against his open door frame. 

“What did you do with it?”

“Do with what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fredrick Weasley.”

Fred chuckled, holding up his hands. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You’re lucky I let you keep that traitor jumper inside my room.”

“Traitor?” You laughed. 

Fred hummed, opening his wardrobe and reaching into the top shelf at the very back. “Yep. Traitor. You were meant to be supporting Gryffindor at our last match. And, instead, you turned up-”

“In my house colours.” You laughed, reaching for your jumper. Only, Fred pulled it back for a moment until you looked at him once again and he handed it over, peacefully. 

“Does it really have to be in my room, though?”

You nodded, pulling the sleeves up your arm before hauling it over your head. Fred came and stood a little closer, gently tugging your hair from the collar as you pulled it down your body. 

Neither of you noticed the fact the letter on the front was an ‘F’ in bold red colouring. 

“Yes. As a matter of fact, it does.”

“Why? If anything, you should be wearing my house colours. It’s my room.”

“You would prefer that, wouldn’t you?” You glared, playfully, at Fred. 

“I would actually.”

“Then it’s a shame I refuse to wear the losing house colours.”

Fred gave a dramatic gasp as he watched you walk away. “Take that back.”

“Can’t. Hufflepuff won more games.”

“For, like, one year.” Fred followed you. 

“Five, actually.”

“And we weren’t the losing team! That was Ravenclaw and you know it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Y/n-”

Chuckling, you came to a stop on the stairs whilst Fred hurried in front of you. On more than one occasion, meeting Fred at eye-to-eye level on a set of stairs was one of your favourite moments. 

“Okay, okay. Maybe Gryffindor weren’t the biggest losers. But Hufflepuff still won more games.”

For a moment, you expected Fred to continue to argue with you. But he didn’t. Instead, he fell quiet. Rather, you both did, as the fireworks outside started going off. 

Meanwhile, Fred’s gaze travelled from your jumper to your face, where his gaze fell the way it usually did. Like…he wanted to spend longer looking — like you had something on your face but didn’t know — but didn’t want you to see something in return. 

“It’s midnight.”

You smiled, unconsciously leaning a little closer to him. “Happy New Year, Fred.”

He leaned a little closer, too. Fred smiled. “Happy New Year, Y/n.” Then, after a moment, said: “We’ll have a better view from upstairs.”

“Lead the way.”

Letting Fred take your hand, you followed him back up the stairs and towards his room. Making sure you were safe, he helped you out of his bedroom window and onto the stuck out roof Ginny’s room from below. 

Before long, school was starting up again and you were far from that firework-filled night with Fred, making new seating charts for your classes. 

“Hey,” Fred called out. “Ready for food?”

“Almost.”

“What are you working on? Seating chart? Nice.”

“I’m trying to work it so— ah ha!”

Fred scanned your page for a moment as names moved around for the sixth time. “Are you planning for a lot of weddings in your future?”

“As if our teachers didn’t do it.”

You were splitting seating between students who could help each other, and students who even Fred knew had crushes on each other. Running a joke shop that stocked love potions also meant selling a lot of antidotes, too. 

“Someone might as well have the chance at a decent love life because of me. Merlin knows mine is shocking.” You laughed. “You know, the last date I went on said I was a six out of ten, but he might rank me higher if I let him sleep with me.”

“What?!”

You laughed, a little, again. “I know.”

“The guy from the-the library? Why didn’t you tell me before? That date was-” Fred pretended to do a quick calculation in his head. “Five months ago!”

“Relax, Fred. It’s hardly my worst one. Besides, at least this way, the kids might find them sooner without experiencing just…any of that.”

Fred looked from you and then towards the chart. “If we were in the same year, we would have been sat together.”

“What? Tutoring each other? I think Snape would have preferred-”

“Not just because of that,” Fred said, quietly. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

Looking up at him, you felt something slowly wash over you. Something he was trying to tell you, without letting you read it on his face first. 

“What that guy said…you didn’t believe him, did you?”

“That I’m a six out of ten?”

Fred nodded. And you paused. 

It wasn’t like you thought of yourself terribly, but you didn’t think you were the most beautiful woman in the world. You weren’t a celebrity, or a model. Over the years, a lot of people agreed if you worked in entertainment, you would be more suited for Radio than anything else. 

“Well, I don’t think it’s that simple. People…have certain traits they find attractive, that’s all.”

“Y/n.”

“It’s not like I’m the most beautiful, stunning woman in the world. A-And I can be messy. And sometimes oblivious, but it doesn’t make me stupid or ignorant. Not on purpose, at least. And-”

“Y/n-”

“Look, the guy was an ass and-”

“You’re beautiful, Y/n.” 

Your ramblings stopped dead in their tracks as you heard Fred. Not just his words, but his tone. Soft, kind, truthful. Not an ounce of sarcasm or mocking. Then you saw the look in his eyes. 

It was like he was letting you read him. And you were trying, but something just wasn’t clicking. Like looking at a house in a distant field, on a foggy morning. 

You knew what the house looked like. What it felt like, and what it smelled like. But the fog was distorting your vision. Was the tiles on the second roof still red, or were they painted white like the wood that encased Ginny’s room?

And what was Fred writing on the poster sign in the window?

“You’re beautiful,” Fred repeated, softly. “And it’s not just my opinion. It’s a fact, too.”

Unsure on what to say whilst the cogs in your head started turning, you just swallowed nervously and nodded. “Thank you, Fred.”

“We should…we should probably get going.”

Food. Right. 

“Oh, shoot- you’re right. Let me grab my jacket and I’ll, uhh…just be a second.”

Rushing into your office, you closed the door behind you just so you could take a moment to breathe. Your head was starting to spin. What was Fred trying to tell you? What was he writing on the—

Turning around, quickly, you looked through the crack in your door. Fred was standing in the middle of your empty classroom. He was standing tall, but completely relaxed. He was still in his suit from work, paired with the tie you had gifted him for Christmas. 

It was a simple floral design with a mixture of red, yellow and black colours against a warm-winter background. 

Gently, as he looked around your classroom, his thumb rubbed back and forth over one of the yellow flowers with black detailing. 

No. It’s a coincidence. You’re as delusional as Ginny. 

But…

In the fading sun, and the brightening candles, you felt your mind flashback to your Yule Ball. You and your friends had agreed to go together, without dates, since a Ravenclaw boy has dumped your friend a week after asking her to be his date. 

Only, halfway through the night, a hand reached out for yours and pulled you from the table you were sitting at, minding the bags and coats for your friends whilst they danced. 

Fred pulled you onto the dance floor and held you close as he led you around the room. 

“You deserve to have at least one decent memory that doesn’t include being the coat-chaperone.”

“Who said I wasn’t enjoying it?”

“Even you can’t be enjoying something so mundane.”

“I guess you have a point.”

“I have a very good point. I would have been your date if you’d asked.”

You nodded, slowly. “We were going as a group, and I didn’t want to upset anyone.”

“I could have been your secret date.”

“You can’t be secretive to save your life, Fred Weasley.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t.” You laughed. “It took you less than five minutes to spill the beans to me, about George and his crush on Angelia.”

“Hey, that was in confidence. And, yes, I can keep secrets from you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, then,” you smiled. “What’s this big secret?”

Fred laughed. “Oh, no, no. I’m not telling you. You’re gonna have to figure it out.”

“If I’ve got to figure it out, then why does it have to be a secret?”

Fred smiled, gently. “Because…when the time is right…you’ll know.”

“You’re playing the long game? You? Fred Weasley? Who spent half of his fourth year trying to figure out who his Secret Santa was before we’d even picked names?”

“Hey! I already knew it would be you. I just wanted to know what you got me.”

You smiled, boldly. “And did you like it?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Hufflepuff colours. Very nice.”

You laughed. “I gave you a red ‘F’ on the front.”

“You just want to see me kicked off the team so it’ll be easier for your friends to win.”

“Don’t have to. We already win more games than you do.”

Fred feigned an injury. “You wound me.”

You laughed. “Relax, Fredrick. You have my permission to burn it in protest of us winning the next game.”

“Oh, I already did. Went up with fireworks.”

You didn’t really believe him, but either way, you weren’t offended. You’d used magic in order to make that jumper. The one you got him for Christmas — the one you’d handmade with red and yellow yarn — had been his real present.

That was the one he also wore for his games. He called it his lucky charm.

“But. If you really want to know another secret of mine…I can dance. But only when I have a really good partner.”

“That one I’m starting to figure out.”

In the hours that followed, you tried to be as normal as possible. But the harder you tried, the harder the signs got to ignore. Old memories played through your head, and looking at them through a different lens…

It was like everything was beginning to fall into place. The wind was blowing, the sun was rising and the fog was clearing. 

“How long has she been like this?” Hermione asked, waving a hand in front of your face. 

Ginny, Angelia and Hermione had stayed the night at your place for girls night. You’d been weird all evening. Like a detective who was retired but couldn’t let that one case go. 

Waking up in the morning, Ginny had found you at the kitchen table, completely zoned out in a stern panic. Rather than panic, herself, Ginny had made herself a cup of tea and sat beside you. 

Ginny had both of her sisters do the same. 

“Should we call someone?” Hermione asked. 

“What do you think happened?” Angelia asked. 

“I think she’s finally realising the truth.”

“About…” 

Ginny nodded. 

For the first time, you spoke. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Honey, you lost that a long time ago.”

Furrowing your brows, you snapped back into reality and swatted your hand against Ginny, who just smiled. “There she is.”

“Welcome back.”

“How are you?”

“It can’t be true,” you shook your head. 

“Tea?”

“Please.”

“Girls?” Ginny asked. 

Both nodded and turned back to you whilst Ginny made the tea. 

“Maybe I’m reading it wrong. I could be reading it wrong, right? Fred doesn’t…”

You looked at Angelia and Hermione for guidance, but both just looked at each other. They couldn’t lie to you. 

“Fred is definitely your friend,” Angelia told you. 

“Definitely,” Hermione agreed. 

“But…” 

Hermione took a breath. “But…and this isn’t to say he’s only friends with you because of it—”

“Because he’s not!” Angelia nodded, holding your hand. “He is certainly your friend because you’re friends.”

“But-”

“But my brother has been pathetically pining over you for years, is madly in love with you, and would marry you in a heartbeat if you asked him to. Bet he’d even take your last name, if you wanted him to.”

Ginny laid the mugs of tea on the table and took her seat. 

“I, like everyone here, has been waiting years for you to realise the same. So, start from the beginning. When did it finally click?”

Girls night bled into a Girl’s Weekend that eventually included George, Harry and Ron. 

“I’m such an idiot.”

George joined you on the floor, wrapping his arm around you. “You’re not an idiot. You’re just in shock.”

“Right.” Ron kneeled on your other side. “Look at me and Hermione. It took us almost ten years to realise our feelings.”

“Felt longer,” Harry mumbled before Hermione hit him. 

“People just need time.”

Suddenly, Angelia crouched in front of you and gently pulled your hands from your face. You were mortified. 

“But, none of that matters right now. What matters is…and I think I already know the answer, but I do think saying it out loud will help…do you feel the same for Fred as he does for you?”

“I…”

You thought you knew your answer, too. But you couldn’t say for certain. You loved Fred. Of course you did. He was your best friend. But…in love? 

Suddenly, your mind was flooded with worries. What if you were wrong? What if he was wrong? What if it was just the chase? What if his feelings have changed? He could meet someone else tomorrow and realise it was just a school crush that lasted too long?

What if you fucked it up? What if you lost him? What if you were the reason you lost him?

“Okay, maybe we should just let Y/n take all of this information in first before she answers questions about her own feelings.”

Before everyone left, you swore them all to secrecy. At least until you could figure it out and talk to Fred. 

Only, you kept postponing your talk with Fred. 

The thought of seeing him, never mind talking, was terrifying to you. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to do when it came to Fred. Or your feelings. Or his feelings. 

But you couldn’t ignore him forever. 

“Are you avoiding me?”

You practically jumped out of your skin. “Fred!”

“Are you avoiding me?”

“What?” Two seconds into his surprise visit and you already felt like you had been strapped to a lie detector exam. “N-No. Of course not. Why would I avoid you?”

Quickly, you picked up a pile of papers you didn’t need, and hurried out of your office. Fred just stepped out of the way to let you pass, and watched as you placed a page on each desk. 

“Because this is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other and you keep telling me you’re busy. Which I can fully respect…so long as you’re not suddenly busy trying to avoid me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Fred looked at a page on one of the desks. “And an Historian is suddenly teaching Sex Ed?”

“What?”

Fred held up the pamphlet as you turned around. “Uhh…sure! I…uhh…”

Fred smiled a little, putting the pamphlet back down. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“George told me what happened.”

“George?”

Fred nodded. “My brother? Kinda looks like me but a little less good looking? Y/n-”

Suddenly, you closed your eyes and held out your hand. “Stop!”

“Okay.” Fred said, his voice gentle. “I’m…staying put.”

“I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

“We’ve gotta talk, eventually.” Fred remained completely calm. “How about this? I just…say a couple sentences and then you can decide what to do with them?”

Fred could see the fear in your eyes as you finally opened them again. For a moment, it did sting. You were his best friend, and his own feelings were causing your fear. 

But, the longer he looked, the more he saw. And the more he recognised the fear. His news was scary to you, but that wasn’t causing the growing fear and anxiety in your eyes. 

Your fear was your uncertainty. 

“Okay.”

Fred took a small breath. “Okay. I just want to preface this by saying you are my best friend. Away from feelings and other complicated adult…stuff. You are my friend. And, if you want to keep it that way forever and completely ignore this new information, I will be happy to do so. Having you in my life and seeing you happy is enough for me. Loving you, and being in love with you are two separate things. But, for me, I hold both for you. I always have. And I always will. I’m not saying that to scare you, but just to…assure you. Just in case.”

“Okay.”

“How we move forward…I will leave that for you to decide. You are fully in control here. Whatever you want to do. But, if you don’t mind, I do think we should talk a little more about this eventually. Unless you want to completely ignore it for the rest of our lives. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me yourself?” 

The question left your lips before you could stop and overthink any further. 

“I respect our friendship. I didn’t want you to freak out-”

“Freak out?!”

Fred held up his hands as you hurried forward and then stopped yourself, unsure about what to do. “Okay, well, you’re not exactly disproving my point-”

“No. No, no, no, this isn’t me freaking out-”

“It kinda looks like it.”

“I’m not freaking out!”

Fred watched as you started pacing, picking up pamphlets and replacing them on different desks. “Aaand now we’re pacing.”

“I-I just need a minute, okay?” 

“Okay.”

“It’s a lot…it’s a lot to take in. But I am not freaking out.”

Fred shook his head as he took a seat. “You’re not freaking out. Take all the minutes you want.”

“Thank you.”

Feeling glued to the floor, you took a few deep breaths whilst Fred sat comfortably at one of the desks and looked around the room at the different decor and ceiling candles. 

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Sitting there. Like that.”

Fred held out his hands, wanting to laugh. “I’m sitting normally.”

“Well…stop it. It’s too…casual.”

Slowly, Fred stood and leaned against the desk. 

“That doesn’t help either.” 

Fred just gave you a reassuring look. Why can’t he be the one freaking out, huh? “Look,” he said. “We don’t have to talk right now. I just came to see you because I don’t want you avoiding me because I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Merlin,” you mumbled to yourself, throwing down the pamphlets as Fred continued to talk. 

“I get it. I mean, if I were in your position I’d be freaked out, too! But I’ve had a couple years to deal with th-”

Fred’s voice was suddenly muffled by the feeling of your lips colliding with his own, as you reached up to pull him down and closer to you. 

For a moment, you had the confidence of a thousand suns that were fully prepared to sunburn everyone in sight. But they quickly burst into a ball of flames, and into a black hole.

Quickly, you pulled away, definitely freaked out. 

“I-I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I don’t know why- oh, fuck.”

Fred smirked, keeping his hand anchored at your waist before you could run away. Not that your body would let you. “Did you just kiss me?”

“No.”

Fred narrowed his eyes, playfully, at you. “I think you did.”

“It was someone else.”

“Who else is here, Y/n?”

“Peeves?”

Fred raised his brow. “You’re not sure?”

Looking at Fred, you didn’t really know what had come over you. One second your eyes are flicking between his, the next you're kissing him, again. 

Fred took a second before kissing you back and pulling you closer to him. He didn’t care how many times you kissed him, or how many times you denied it immediately after; the small noise that escaped your throat when he gently deepened the kiss, and the feeling of your hand in the back of his hair, pulling him closer to you, made it worth it. 

For a moment, you paused, standing in your hallway and looking at who was at your door. He just waved, awkwardly. 

Well, at least you weren’t the only one feeling it.

“Is everything okay?” you asked him as you unlocked your screen door. 

The weather had been too hot recently, so your door was already open. 

Jake nodded. “Yeah.”

Others might have been confused by the question being asked without any happy smile or pretense. But, considering he was at your door, it wasn’t uncalled for that your first thought would be that something was wrong. 

“Okay,” you nodded, hoping Jake would explain why he was standing on your porch at four in the afternoon. Or, on your porch at all. 

Thankfully, he did. “I heard- well, Penny told me- Actually, Amelia told her mom and I just happened to be there so she-she told me, too and-”

“Hangman.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay?”

You nodded, slow. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, again. “Pretty sure. Last week I had a boyfriend, this week I don’t. I don’t think there’s much to worry about.”

Jake took in a breath. “Right.”

He was still standing on your front porch. “Do you…wanna come in? Out of everyone, I didn’t expect you, like, at all.”

Jake nodded. “Me neither.”

“I don’t know what the hospitality code is,” you told him, honestly. “But…it’s hot and…I made fresh lemonade.”

Jake shrugged, shifting on his feet to try and feel less awkward. “Sure, I could go for some lemonade.”

You nodded, opening the screen door a little more. “I guess…come in then?”

“Shoes on or off?”

“Uhh, off. I-I mopped earlier.”

Jake nodded, following your preference. 

“So,” you said, pouring two glasses of fresh lemonade, as Jake walked further into your house and met you in the kitchen/dining space. “Amelia told you?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda. Well…yes.”

“Here you go,” you said, handing him the glass. 

“Thanks. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Jake asked, noticing the array of colours on your dining table. 

“Oh, no. Just…trying to pick a colour is a lot harder than I realised.”

Jake’s gaze travelled over your entire being as you looked at your dining table. Your house was almost spotless. 

He didn’t know what he had been expecting. He knew, from others, you kept a tidy house. But, after a break-up? Your entire house was…freakishly clean. 

Not psycho-medical clean – though, after finding out what your ex had done, he wouldn’t judge you if it was. But…clean like…wiping memories clean. 

The entire house smelled of lemon lysol and bleach. There wasn’t a spec of dust or dirt to be seen. Not a single streak on your windows or cabinet, or your counters. The oven looked brand-new, and so did the sink. 

And you…

Jake had seen you enough times to know you were clean and tidy. It was a very rare occurrence that he saw you with a hair out of place, looking frazzled. It was also rare he saw you look…comfortable. Don’t get him wrong, he’d known you long enough to know you were comfortable with yourself but he’d never seen you…like right now. 

Rather than a trouser suit and heels, or pressed jeans and clean trainers, you were in a very old t-shirt. The kind you keep at the back of your closet and pull out when you need to get shit done or feel comforted. Old paint splatters, torn and faded writing. 

It looked soft against your skin, and skimmed your thighs. Under its length, the calming colour of your cotton shorts poked out. Your hair, which was usually neat, even when it was in a blow-out, was tied into a messy knot at the base of your skull. 

“Want some help?” Jake asked, motioning to the nail polish colours. “I do have sisters so I have some experience.”

“If you ask me what vibe am I going for, I’m gonna tell you now that I don’t know.”

Jake chuckled, taking a seat across from the one that was already away from the table. “Well, for starters, we can take this one out.”

“Why?” You asked, sitting down in your seat. 

“Because you wore that last time I saw you.”

You were too tired to question how, or even why, he knew that. 

“Okay.”

In the space of two minutes, Jake had whittled your options down from seventeen to one. 

A fresh mint green. 

“Seriously?”

Jake just looked at you, calmness in his eyes. “It symbolises freshness and a renewal.”

You stared at him. “What?”

“Don’t judge me for knowing what colours symbolise.”

“I’m not. I’m just…shocked.”

“Well,” he held the bottle up to you. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises, sweetheart.”

Taking the bottle from him, you sat forward and unscrewed the cap. The prep for your nails had been finished before Jake had knocked on the door. Halfway through painting, you smudge the paint a little. But, before you could ask, Jake held out a q-tip soaked in nail polish remover. 

“Thank you.”

“Told you, I have experience.”

You nodded, cleaning up the edges. “Your sisters taught you well.”

“I’ll tell them you said so. They’ll be thrilled to hear it.”

“The team's worried about you,” Jake said after you had finished. “They haven’t seen you around The Hard Deck for a week. Or on base.”

“So they sent you to investigate?”

Jake shook his head, sitting forward. “No. I came here because…I don’t actually know why. Amelia told me what happened and then…I was here.”

Rather than ask questions, you switched subjects just a little. “I’ve been busy.”

“Cleaning?”

“I did that today. No, with work.”

“You’ve still been going to work?”

You shrugged. “Just because my relationship ended, doesn't mean the rest of the world ended with it.”

“That’s true but–”

“It’s better for me if I work.” You cut in. “It keeps me distracted from…dealing with what happened.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Neither does burning down his life,” you said. “At least, this way, I don’t sit and overthink everything at once. I don’t let the anger consume me. I…can take a step back. Judge it. Find some…clarity and then…try and find a way to move on.”

“Still,” Jake took a sip of his drink. “If you ever want to burn his life down, I know of at least a dozen people who will help you. Myself included.”

You chuckled, quietly. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

You just shrugged. “It is what it is. I can’t…change the past. Or his feelings. Or his opinion of me.”

“He’s an asshole, Y/n. You deserved better. You deserve better.”

You just nodded, rolling your lips together. Logically, you knew he was right. But…you’d been with your ex for so long, and had suspected the truth he’d told you that you couldn’t bring yourself to agree with Jake. 

“Truth is,” you looked away for a moment, before looking back at Jake. “I think I knew. I knew he was settling. I knew he wasn’t happy.”

“Settling? Is that what he told you?”

You looked down at where your two hands were lightly gripping your lemonade glass. You couldn’t look at Jake, not fully, not while you told him. It was hard enough re-living the memory in your head. 

“We, uh,” you sniffed, willing the tears away. “We had been talking– discussing our relationship for a couple hours. And, I’d asked him to tell me the truth. His truth. And he did.”

“Y/n-”

“He said that I was the one guys settled with, not the one they looked for.”

It had hit you like a punch to the gut, then. But now it was hitting you like a freight train. 

“A-and it’s…well, it’s the first time it’s been phrased like that. But…” You looked up at your ceiling, quickly wiping the falling tears away. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been told something like that, you know? I don’t even know why I’m getting upset-”

In barely half a second, there was the sound of wooden chair legs scraping across your kitchen tiles before Jake was by your side, hugging you. 

And you just cried. 

“I’m really sorry.”

Jake shook his head as he crouched beside you, keeping his arms around your frame as he pulled away. With the back of his fingers, then his thumb, he wiped away your tears. 

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. Your ex is an asshole. And a liar, to boot. Y/n…you are so much more than what he thinks.” 

Jake wanted to kick your ex into next Sunday. And the Sunday after that. And the one after that. Until he felt as much pain, as Jake currently did with anger. 

“And so much more than whatever – whoever said things like him. Jesus, you are a powerhouse. And a knock-out. I have seen you walk into Navy bars and have everyone in there following your orders before they’ve even asked your name. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to hurt, and feel hurt. You have nothing to apologise or be sorry for.”

Then, he placed one hand in yours, gripping it tightly, before laying his other gently at the side of your face. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to look at me when I say this. You are a wonderful person. You are smart, and strong, and capable of doing…pretty much everything. In fact, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do. Kinda annoying really.” Jake mumbled the last bit. 

You chuckled through your tears, tasting the salt on your lips. 

Jake smiled at you. “But you are and deserve so much more than those assholes have ever tried to make you think.”

Taking a breath, you nodded, holding his hand. “Thank you, Jake.”

Jake nodded. “I mean it. You are a true wonder, Y/n. Don’t let anyone try and convince you you’re not.”

On the brink of tears again, but for a separate reason, you leaned in and hugged Jake. And he didn’t hesitate in hugging you back. 

“Just to be clear,” Jake said into your hair. “If you do ever want him to, you know, disappear…you’ve got a shit-ton of people who would help and wouldn’t bat an eyelid.”

You chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”

Surprisingly, or maybe not so, Jake stayed for the rest of the evening. 

He ordered your favourite take-out. You asked how he knew, but when he gave a half-arsed excuse about Natasha mentioning it a while ago, you couldn’t help but wonder what the real answer was. 

Was it the same reason he knew what nail polish colour you’d last worn?

You’d asked him about his family – mostly his sisters. You wanted to know more about the women that had trained him so well in the art of nail polish colours. 

Out of all the films that were on your streaming services, he’d chosen one that you actually found comforting. It was also one you hadn’t seen in a while. Your ex didn’t particularly like it, so you’d just…not watched it. 

It was somewhere, a few days later, as you were surrounded by multiple piles of books – some you owned, others you had just bought since Jake had knocked on your door at eight in the morning – that you realised Jake had done more for you, as a friend, in less than a week than your ex had done for most of your relationship. 

He’d said he was taking you for coffee, then for lunch at the Hard Deck. Penny wanted to see you and you needed to get out of the house before the smell of lysol killed you off. 

As a treat (though it seemed to be his plan anyway) Jake drove you to the bookstore where you bought most of the books on your TBR list. They were also the books you’d avoided buying because your ex said there was no room for them, despite four of the shelves in your bookcase holding one or two picture frames and a plant. 

He actually listened when you talked. And, when you didn’t, he encouraged it. 

Before everything had happened, you and Jake hadn’t exactly been close. Truthfully, you hadn’t even been friends. You thought, he thought you were too uptight. And you thought he was a fuck-boy turned slightly competent adult asshole. 

Any conversations you did share before you cried in his arms, in your kitchen, had always been shut down pretty quickly. 

But now? You found conversation easy with him. For every question he asked you, and you answered, you wanted to know the same about him. And, he answered you as honestly as he could. 

“Let me help,” Jake said as he stepped back into the room. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, as you teetered on a chair to reach the top of your bookshelves to shove a heavy basket on top. “I’ve got it.”

Where you expected him to just agree and walk away, Jake stood his ground. “You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart, I know you like doing stuff on your own. But, just because you can, shouldn’t mean you have to. Please, let me help?”

With a sigh (how the hell are books this heavy? They’re condensed in a basket), you balanced the basket on your knee as you stood, praying mantis style, on top of the chair. 

“Please?” He asked, again, holding out his hands to take the basket. 

“Just so you know,” you said, finally handing him the basket. “This goes against every fibre of my being.”

“I know it does,” Jake smiled, holding the basket under his arm whilst holding out his hand to help you down. 

Once you were finally down, he stepped onto the chair and in one smooth motion, lifted the basket on top of the bookshelf and pushed it back. 

“Thank you for letting me help you.”

You nodded, trying to remind yourself that you could accept help and didn’t have to push through to do everything alone. “Thank you for helping me.”

Jake smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your cheek as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on, I made dinner.”

“Oh, thank you god!” You turned around quickly, heading towards your landing. 

“Thank god?” Jake laughed, following you. “Thank me, I made it.”

“Thank god and thank Jake!” You shouted, practically skipping down the stairs. 

You’d been so busy organising your bookshelves, you'd almost forgotten about dinner. The second Jake had secured the new shelves to the wall, he’d left you to ‘talk to your books’. 

You’d denied that you talked to your books, until you apologised to them when you accidentally dropped a hardback onto a set of paperbacks. 

Before you knew it, more than six months had passed since your break up. And you’d never felt more free. Or more loved. 

Jake had helped hype you up when you decided to get back into the dating game. Between himself, Natasha and, during one facetime call, Jake’s sisters – you’d been on a total of three dates out of a potential ten. 

And they’d been…nice. 

Until one got too suggestive, another bailed half-way through the date to go on another one, and one had admitted he already had a girlfriend. 

“He’s an ass, but at least he was honest.” Natasha took a sip of her beer. 

You shrugged, taking a sip of your own drink. “True. But, still.”

“Yeah…bar on the floor?”

You nodded. “Just about.”

“Actually,” Natasha sat up. “Maybe not. Am I right in saying I saw you and Bagman at that new coffee place the other morning?”

“Probably. What about it?”

Natasha smiled. “Think there’s something there?”

“Between…me and Jake?”

She nodded. “Why not?”

“We’re just…friends.”

Natasha laughed. “Sure.”

“We are!” You sighed in laughter. “Look, Jake…helped me after everything that happened. Our friendship is still in its early days, technically. And…I don’t know if I’m ready for another relationship yet. I like my space.”

“Even more when Jake’s there.”

“I won’t deny that…maybe it’s…nicer having him around.” You tried to hide your smile but you were failing. “But, seriously, we’re just friends.”

“Okay, fine.” Natasha agreed. “But when you two get married, I want people to know I called it first.”

Just a little over a year since your break-up, you didn’t realise just how close your reality would come to Natasha’s request. 

With a rare weekend off, and with multiple errands to run, you and Jake decided to do them together. 

He needed to pick up a few orders from the hardware store, drop off some dry-cleaning, and pick-up his click and collect orders from the bookstore. Meanwhile, you needed to do a bulk stock of groceries, return a clothing order, and having a look around the bookstore wouldn’t hurt. 

In the hardware store, whilst Jake marched off with the customer sales rep to find the correct size of his items, you’d wandered off towards the paint sample and card displays. 

By the time Jake had finished, and came to find you, you had a handful of different coloured cards. 

“Thinking of redecorating?”

You hummed. “Maybe. Depends on if I prefer a different colour.”

Heading out of the store, neither you nor Jake noticed the wandering stare of a man, who was with his girlfriend as she picked out bathroom tile samples, followed you and Jake’s hand that gently rested at the bottom of your back. 

By the time everything was done, and you had another pile of books to add to your collection, yourself and Jake had stopped off to pick up dinner and headed back to your place. 

The next day, after doing a drop off at the recycling centre, yourself and Jake had decided to stop off at a small diner. 

“Booth or counter?”

Both of you agreed on the counter. Between the two families of five on either ends of the room, the strollers at the end of a few others, and the time of day; it was safer and easier to pick the counter. 

You’d be able to hear each other, at least. And keep out of people’s way as they wrangled their kids to sit down and eat their food. 

At the counter, Jake sat facing you, your legs loosely slotted in between his own. The waitress took your order, and returned with two coffees whilst you both waited. However, somewhere between one of the families leaving, and a couple entering, your conversation with Jake over paint colours got cut short. 

“Y/n?”

You did a double take over your shoulder as you heard someone say your name. But, the minute you realised who it was, you wished you’d pretended to ignore them. 

Jake’s hand that had been resting loosely on his thigh shot out, discreetly to your knee.

“Simon?” 

He smiled at you. Jake wanted to punch him in his teeth. 

“Hi. Hey.”

“Hi? What…what are you doing here?”

He was still smiling, a little out of breath. The kind of smile that says he’s pleasantly surprised to see an old friend. Except, you weren’t an old friend. And you had no interest in ever seeing his face again. 

“I just…we decided to stop in.”

“We?” Jake asked. 

Over his shoulder, Simon motioned to the woman who was sliding herself into one of the empty booths. 

“Does she know you’re talking to me?”

“I-I was coming to order, anyway. I just…” Simon’s gaze flicked between yourself and Jake. “Actually, I wanted to say…I’m sorry, are you two together? Or could I have a minute alone with-”

“That’s none of your business. And, no.” 

Simon stood back, offended. “I don’t know who you are, but we actually-”

“There is no ‘we’. And he can stay.”

“Y/n-”

“I never wanted to see your face again, but you seem persistent. Say what you’ve got to say and then move the fuck away.”

Simion sighed, looking between you and Jake, clearly annoyed. 

“I saw you guys yesterday. At the hardware store, right?”

You squeezed Jake’s hand. 

“Are you stalking her?” 

“No! No! We were picking out samples. Honestly. You can ask my girlfriend. But…Y/n, when I saw you…I made a promise to myself. If I saw you again, I’d talk to you.”

“And say what, Simon?”

“That I made a mistake,” he said, eventually. His voice went low, and soft. As if it was a secret he only wanted you to know, even though Jake could fully hear him. “You…you were great. Really. I-I’m trying to build my life with my girlfriend now, but-”

“I swear to god, if you say you’re still in love with her-”

“Jake.”

Jake stopped talking, but he continued to shift in his seat as you held his hand. 

“Clearly, your boyfriend is the protective type.”

“After everything you did to me, if you’re about to profess your undying love for me, then I don’t blame him.”

Jake’s murderous gaze didn’t leave Simon’s face, but his ears did perk up at the fact you hadn’t corrected Simon. 

“Look,” Simon took a step closer. “What I’m trying to say is…I should have settled with you. We had it good, right?”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m sorry,” he lifted his hand that had been reaching out to hold your arm. “But, we did, didn’t we? Surely, you can remember?”

For a moment, Jake got worried when you didn’t answer Simon. Your gaze just seemed to travel across his before it fell onto the woman sitting in the booth, waiting patiently. 

Then you moved. 

“Stay here,” you told Jake before ducking past Simon. 

“Uh, Y/n- wait-”

Jake stayed where he was, and watched what was happening. And, apparently so was the waitress on the other-side of the counter. 

She just smiled at Jake before turning back to watch what was about to happen. 

Reaching the booth, you stopped. You seemed friendly enough, introducing yourself to the woman. She shook your hand with a welcoming and warm smile. Meanwhile, Simon looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. 

Then the pleasantries began to fade. 

The woman looked from you, and then to Simon. Jake couldn’t hear what was being said, but he figured there were a lot of questions. Then a lot of pleading from Simon just before he tried to lay a hand on your arm again. 

Both yourself and the lady told him to back off. 

You seemed to be apologising, but explaining something. The woman shook her head and looked at you with a thankful look in her eyes as she explained something else to you. 

Scooting out of the booth, the lady hugged you. Then turned to Simon. On the table, there was an old cup of coffee left. 

Lifting it, she splashed it across Simon before looking at you once again with a thankful look. She also handed you a business card before leaving gracefully. 

Meanwhile, you looked at Simon and said something before you turned your back on him for good. 

Looking at Jake, you gave a relieved, if slightly awkward, look. 

“What happened?”

“Uhh…” 

“A lot to unpack?” Jake asked as you sat back down, and the waitress was called away to another table.

“Yeah,” you said, letting out a surprised breath. “She gave me her business card. Our next coffees are on the house.”

Jake looked at the business card. It was the same title and logo of the small coffee chain you had both been attending almost religiously. 

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Feel good?”

You nodded. “Definetly.”

“Well, let's wait til the waitress gets back. She seemed interested, too.”

You chuckled, looking down at the business card, feeling elated. But, then it dawned on you. 

“I-I’m sorry for not correcting him, about the boyfriend thing.”

Jake shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t want you thinking I ignored it on purpose, or to make him feel jealous or-”

Jake smiled at you. “It’s okay. Besides, let him feel jealous. He’s an ass who didn’t appreciate you. He’s also an ass who didn’t deserve you.”

With a smile, you reached for Jake’s hand and squeezed it three times. “Thank you.”

“You looked pretty badass dealing with him.”

“It was a long time coming.”

Jake nodded. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Because I know I’m proud of you.”

You didn’t have time to respond further than a smile because the waitress suddenly appeared once more, armed with a dozen questions and compliments. 

A few hours later, you and Jake pulled up to The Hard Deck to find most of the Dagger Squad running around on the beach, playing football. You stopped to talk with Penny, where Jake told her she should be proud of you, before he was called away by Coyote. 

Pressing a kiss to your head, he held onto your hand only letting go when he got too far away, making you promise you’d come outside with Penny. 

“You two look cosy,” Penny smiled, raising her brows as Jake disappeared outside. 

“It’s been an eventful day.”

“Eventful weekend. I saw you two grocery shopping.”

“Penny.”

Penny just smiled, leaning on the bar top. “Call me old fashioned, but that’s usually reserved for either roommates or couples. And, since I know you both live separately and alone…”

“It’s not like that. We’re just…we’re friends.”

“Who hold hands?”

“Well-”

“And kiss?”

“Casually. And never, you know, on the lips-”

“And are inseparable?”

“We’re not-”

“Don’t even bother trying to deny it.”

With a defeated sigh, you gave up. Penny just chuckled. 

“You can admit you have a feelings-”

“Whoa, hey, no. No- there are no feelings.”

Penny’s lips curved up. “But there is something?”

You sighed. “Okay. There might be a…” You rolled your eyes, feeling awkward as you admitted the truth. “Tiny, miniscule- like, so small it’s practically insignificant, crush on Jake. But, I mean, come on!”

You pointed your hand to the window where he was playing football with the rest of the squad.

“He’s smart, and capable. He doesn’t make me feel like shit. He’s my friend. And…he looks like that.”

Penny chuckled. “Sweetie, you don’t have to defend yourself to me. Or even to him if you were to tell him.”

“What? No. No, no, no.” You shook your head. “That can’t-”

Penny ignored you. “That boy had been pining after you for so long, I don’t even know how he hasn’t killed your ex for doing what he did.”

“What?”

Penny nodded. “Oh, yeah. A little pathetic, really. Sweet, mostly. But a little pathetic.”

“Seriously?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Your eyeline drifted between Penny and Jake. 

“You’re sure?”

“Sweetie,” Penny smiled. “The first day you walked into this place, that boy was falling all over himself trying to talk to you. Then, when he found out you had a boyfriend…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so jealous. It was all he could talk about for months. Any time he didn’t see you, he always asked about you. Natasha banned the topic of you for a couple months, unless you were in the bar. And the second Amelia told him what happened– Y/n. You’ve never seen a man move so quickly.”

As shock settled into your bones, you sat down. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I am not! Honey, that boy has been in love with you from day one.”

“But we’re friends!”

Penny gave you a gentle smile, and held your hand. “A lot of people will stay in situations where, even if they’re desperate for the whole thing, the small pieces are better than nothing at all.”

You were completely in shock. “But he…he helped me with dates.”

“He might be a fighter pilot, but even they get scared once in a while.” Penny patted your hand. “He’s a good man, Y/n. All of his actions haven’t been just because he likes you. They’re a part of his reasoning, but…he’s a good man. Who has been in love with you for so long, he’s willing to help you find your ‘forever person’, even if that person isn’t him.”

It was a lot of information to take in at once. You’d only processed a third of it by the time Natasha had come running inside to drag you out to help her. 

Between herself, Bob, Payback and you – you defeated Jake’s team by the skin of your teeth. 

“No hard feelings?” You asked, standing over Jake as he lay down in the sand. 

“I think I’m dead.”

You giggled, holding your hand out. “Come on, Hangman. I’ll get you a drink.”

With a groan, he lifted his arm and clapped his hand into yours. As he stood, he threw an arm over your shoulder, whilst you kept hold of his hand and started to walk towards the bar. 

“That is the last time I ever trust Bob.”

You laughed. “That’s just your bruised ego talking.”

“Oof- harsh.”

“I think you’ll survive,” you smiled. 

You managed to act normal, for the most part. But what Penny had told you continued to play on your mind. 

Jake liked you? He had feelings — feelings stronger than friendship — for you? Since the beginning? 

No. That can’t be—You gave an internal, mental gasp. Then the dread quickly started pouring in. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Oh…fuck!

You felt horrible. 

You’d known Jake Seresin for, what? Four? Almost five? Years. And in that time you’d done nothing but completely misjudge him.

Well— to be fair. From the stories Jake had told you over the last year about his childhood, his teen years, his time off-base from the Navy…your judgement was pretty spot on. 

But that didn’t change the fact that you’d held it against him. Jesus, no wonder he hated your guts.

Yet, that was the thing. According to Penny's accounts of things, he…didn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

But— 

You grumbled, tossing over in your bed and staring at your moonlit ceiling. You’d been going over Penny’s testimony in your head for literal hours. 

You had a million and one questions you wanted to ask. But, despite mentally going to each of the Dagger Squad for their opinions (all of whom gave a similar result as Penny). There was only one person who could answer all your questions and give you the right answers. 

You groaned again, slapping your hand onto your face. 

“Jake?” 

Poking your head through the door of The Hard Deck, you looked around hoping to find him. But, after no reply came, you stepped further inside, lifting the sunglasses from your head and folding them in your hand. 

“Jake?” 

He was nowhere to be seen. You had been stressfully asleep when your phone had loudly woken you up, a little before seven in the morning. 

“Jake?!”

“Hey.”

A surprised sound came from your mouth as you turned, finally seeing him. 

“Hi. What’s going on?”

Walking closer to you, he laid down the box of supplies in his arms onto the table. “Rooster called me – it’s kinda an all hands on deck situation.”

You nodded. “Okay. What happened?”

Jake’s face was washed in frustration and sadness. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Walking you into the backstore, you saw it. The back supply room at the back of the kitchen was covered in water. There was a pool of water at your feet, just under an inch deep. The damp was firmly making itself at home in the walls. A lot of the cardboard boxes were slowly melting, along with the paper straws and napkins. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Pete’s gone with Penny to wake up her plumber. He wasn’t answering his phone. Rooster got called in for a meeting, so he called me. And then I called you.”

You nodded, “Okay. Okay. Yeah, we can…try and salvage this.”

“Sorry to wake you,” Jake apologised, but you shook your head. 

“No, it’s good you called me. Penny got a mop and bucket round here?”

Jake nodded, pointing to the bar. “Back there. I’ve been trying to get most of the stuff out for now. I shut the water off, but I swear this thing is still rising.”

For the next two hours, you and Jake worked to save, salvage and soak up everything in the supply room. Meanwhile, Penny stood over the shoulder of her plumber who had sworn to her that his work wasn’t the problem, only to find out it was. 

There had been a small leak for months and then, in the middle of the night, it decided to push past the dam. 

Over the following week, whilst Penny was getting the backstore fixed, you were trying to find the courage to ask Jake the truth. But, the longer you tried, the more your anxiety grew. So, you took a step back. 

You’d watch his actions. You’d try and listen to his words more. Maybe something would give the truth – his truth – away to you so you didn’t feel like an idiot when you would ask him and find the answer to be he just saw you as a friend. 

That turmoil carried on for a month. 

For every slightly friendship fueled gesture, there was a glaring romantic gesture staring you right in the face. In a crowd, he’d hold your hand. At the bar, he knew your drink order. He knew your work schedule well enough to know when to call you, or when to text you. 

But during those moments: his eyes were on you during the conversation, his hand lingered on your hip and waist when he stood beside you, if you were intentionally separated in a crowd and you looked for him…he was already looking at you. 

The bar had practically been on the floor before you got to know Jake. You also didn’t want to warp that into something that was just made up in your mind because other people were convinced, too. 

“Earth to Y/n!”

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turned your head and looked at Jake. He was standing in your backyard. 

“Jake?”

He smiled at you. “You really need to get security cameras or something. I could have been an axe murderer.”

“I’ve got cameras,” you told him. “And you could never be an axe murderer. They’re the silent type.”

“And I’m not?”

“You're chatty.”

Jake chuckled, walking up the steps of your back porch. “Yeah, my mom always got that on my report card.”

You chuckled. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Jake shrugged, taking his usual seat in the deck chair beside yours. “What can I say? If I wasn’t in the Navy, I’d be a reporter. Or a talk-show host.”

You chuckled, again. “I can see that for you.”

“Thank you. Now, you wanna tell me why you didn’t hear that massive lock on your side-gate?”

You shook your head, avoiding his eye contact. “It’s nothing.”

“Can’t be nothing. I was standing there for, like, half an hour!”

“It was not half an hour,” you said, rolling your eyes at Jake’s dramatic tone.

“Might as well have been. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“Nothing-”

“It’s not nothing-”

“Jake-”

“It’s not nothing,” he said. “Seriously. What’s going on-”

“Do you like me?” 

You blurted out your question before you could stop and think about…literally anything else. 

Jake’s facial expression faltered. “W-what?”

Despite the pang in your chest as you saw his face shift, you decided to become a masochist. 

“Do you like me?” You asked him, again. “Because…someone told me something and with how I’ve been feeling recently…I’ve been trying to figure it out, Jake. And…I can’t. I can’t even trust my own judgment of it because, if it’s what I hope it is but not what I think it is– my brain is trying to sabotage it. Whilst trying to keep my feet on the ground.”

Jake remained still, apart from leaning in just a little. “And what do you hope it is?”

You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest, as well as your cheeks heat. “I don’t want to say.”

“What do you hope– why?”

“Because I don’t want to be right. And I don’t want to hope for the wrong thing.”

Throughout your head, you were reminding yourself that Jake just saw you as a friend. That you both would only ever be friends. 

But your heart was hoping for more. 

“What?”

His confusion just solidified your reality. So, taking a panicked breath and standing, you turned to him. 

“You know what, just– just forget it. This was stupid. I-I’m sorry.”

“Y/n-”

“You should probably go. I-I’ll see you when I see you. I’m sorry for saying…just literally everything.”

“Y/n, wait-” Jake stood as he watched you try and find your bearing before making a beeline for your screen door. 

“Goodbye, Jake.”

Just before you could reach out to tear open your screen door and walk into your home, where you fully planned to bury yourself under the covers of your bed and wait for the next apocalypse, Jake pulled you back. 

A grasp of your hand, a tug of your arm and you were spinning quickly into his arms where he kissed you. 

His hand held your head steady, and despite the shock, you closed your eyes. After a moment, you kissed him back. The second you did, his other hand finally settled against your skin. With his fingers first skimming your bare thigh, slipping under the short dressing gown and then firmly anchoring you to him, he pulled your entire body flush against his. 

“I like you,” Jake confirmed, breathless. “I more than like you.”

“You do?”

Jake nodded. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“My brain needed a second to catch up.”

“I meant…before. Why didn’t you tell me anything…before?”

Jake swallowed. “The first couple years, you seemed happy with someone else. When we finally became friends…you seemed to finally be finding you, again. I love you, but I wasn’t about to jeopardise that for you.”

“What about the dates you helped me with?”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know if I would be someone you’d…” Jake took a breath, loosening his grip on you. “If I wasn’t, I wanted to make sure you found someone who saw you. You deserve the world, Y/n. You deserve someone who sees that, too.”

“Jake…” 

Every emotion within you felt like it had been dialed to eleven. Tears were brimming in your eyes, but you didn’t know if they were from being overwhelmed with relief, worry, fear, love or frustration. 

And Jake caught them in an instant. 

Anchoring his hands by your neck and shoulders, he held onto you. And you held onto him, your fist gently gripping at his t-shirt. 

“I’ve…I am in love with you, Y/n, And I have been for a long time. But, first and foremost, you are my friend. I want the best for you and I’ve had a long time to deal with the fact I might not be that person–”

“Jake, please. Please.” You were definitely crying. “You have to know that you are. You are that person for me. I know you. I wish to God I’d known you sooner. But I know you. And I know myself.”

Reaching up, you leaned in to kiss him and he met you instantly. Through the tears of overwhelming emotion, Jake’s kiss was untamed and constant, with a wisp of desperation. Whilst you flushed yourself against him, he was careful in walking you backwards to lean against the porch post. 

His heavy boots clunked against the wood, but he made sure to avoid your bare feet. 

Bracing one hand against the post beside your head, he lifted you with his arm and sat you on the beam of the porch. 

“I love you.” 

Gently, he wiped away the drying tears from your cheek. 

“I love you.”

You shook your head, holding back a laugh. “Nothing. Just…even I thought you were more intelligent than that, Erik.”

Erik grumbled, ready to charge at you. Holding out his hand to stop his friend, Xavier shouted out. 

“Maybe it’s best if you go inside, Y/n. Erik? Erik!”

Finally he got his friend to turn away and for you to go inside. 

“Sorry, Charles. She just-”

“I know. I know. But you can’t let your emotions get the better of you.”

“I can’t believe she’s even allowed to own a gun.”

Xavier shrugged. “I don’t know if she does. But who’s gonna argue with her? Other than you, clearly.”

It had been the same for months. Even from the moment they had both found you whilst on the search for more mutants who might want to join the group. The same group the others had affectionately called: The X-Men. 

You had been working at the New York Museum of Natural History. Apparently, two researchers wanted to talk to you about some of the new artifacts. It was rare, but not unknown for academic researchers to want to talk to you so you had agreed. 

But the second one unknown face, and one slightly familiar face, walked through the door, you’d regretted agreeing. 

“Hello,” Erik had smiled, his hands in his pockets, as if you were friends. 

“What the hell are you after?”

“Uh, please excuse my friend. I’m Charles Xavier and this…this is Erik-”

“I know who he is.”

“Alright then.” Charles rocked on his feet. “Well, we were hoping to talk to you.”

Looking between Charles and Erik, you waited for a few minutes, trying to make up your mind. 

“I’ll talk to you,” you said, looking at Charles. “I’m not talking to him.”

“Told you she wouldn’t want me here, Charles.”

“Yes, Erik, I gathered that.”

“You should have trusted me.”

You raised your brows. “Trust? You wanna talk about trust, now?”

Charles quickly cleared his throat. “Maybe-maybe it's best we talk in private. In your office, perhaps?”

It had taken you three days to decide whether or not you wanted to help. Charles Xavier had made a rather convincing argument, but the fact he was working with Erik was unsettling. 

But, once you had made a decision, you tracked them down. It had made for a nice surprise visit for Charles when he found an unknown duffle bag in the hallway of his home. 

He had welcomed you with open arms, finding it fantastic that you had agreed to join. But Erik wasn’t of the same mind. After that, everything became a fight. 

The fact that you had decided to join, the fact that it was Shaw he was looking for, the conversation about your change of style since he last saw you, your not-so-subtle statement that you’ve changed since he was last in your life. 

The way you sided with Charles, the way you didn’t side with either of them, his approach to push Cassidy off the top of the satellite dish, the way you used your powers and abilities around the grounds.

Who made dinner, and how. Who the singer of the record was, which record was better, how far was too far to push training abilities. 

“He deserved it.”

“But did you really have to shoot him?” Charles asked you, hours later as you stood in the kitchen, seasoning Hank’s food before he knew. 

“He can deflect them. He’s fine.”

Charles watched you with a perplexed look. “What happened between you two?”

“I thought you could read minds.”

“Not my friends. Not unless it’s needed.”

 You still didn’t turn to look at him. “Thought Erik might have told you?”

He shook his head. “No. Well, not exactly.”

“I thought you didn’t read your friends' minds.”

Xavier sighed. “Earlier…Erik allowed me to enter into the brightest corner of his mind. It was a memory of his mother, from when he was younger. But before that…he still has memories of you. Happy ones.”

For a moment, you stopped what you were doing. Charles watched as the information washed over you in waves, but you simply pushed the waves back. 

“Yeah, well…” You cleared your throat, avoided his eye contact, and dried your hands on a dishtowel. “That’s in the past.”

“Not necessarily.” Charles caught your arm, gently, as you passed him. “What happened, Y/n?”

You sighed and he saw the pain in your eyes. “Why don’t you ask him? He probably knows more than I do.”

On your way out of the kitchen, you nearly ran into someone but moved out of the way just in time. 

“What are you-”

“Out of my way.” 

Pushing past Erik, you hurried down the hall and towards the main staircase. Meanwhile, Erik turned into the kitchen and looked at Charles. 

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Charles said, avoiding the bubbling rage inside of Erik. “What did you do?”

“Excuse me.”

“I asked her what happened between you two, and she said to ask you. I know you still hold fond memories of her.” Charles’ eyes scanned Erik’s as he watched the past and pain wash over his friend. “What happened?”

Erik’s shoulders dropped after a few moments. “I left. That’s what happened. I promised her a goodbye and…never did.”

As Erik grabbed himself a drink, Charles took a seat and waited for Erik. 

“It was five years ago,” Erik began. “I was returning to Europe to hunt the rest of the soldiers that complied with my torture. But, for a brief time…I stopped.”

“Because you met Y/n?”

Erik nodded, taking a hard swallow of his drink. “We met outside of her university. She was, uh, she was studying for her masters.” 

Charles watched as a proud and nostalgic smile came onto Erik’s face. He didn’t mean to, but he saw Erik’s mind and his memories – not that Erik noticed. 

“I was doing some research to try and find some old files. It was a pure accident I’d run into her. Knocked her books to the ground…pretty sure she cussed me out.” Erik laughed. “I’d never been cussed out in an accident before. When I saw what she was studying, I asked for her help. She said ‘no’, obviously. Until she found me lost in the library a few hours later.”

“Did she know you were a mutant?”

Erik shook his head. “Not at first. She knew I was different, though.”

“And you? Did you know about her?”

Erik shook his head, again. “Not until she told me.”

The moment when you had told him about your abilities had been one filled with vulnerability. Something that, at the time, he didn’t break. Equally, he shared his own ability with you, which turned into a conversation about how he had discovered his powers, who else had done the same, and why he was meant to be heading further into Europe. 

“So, what happened?”

“We fell in love,” Erik said, simply. “She made me promise to stop hunting. To stop looking for vengeance and to try and find happiness where I was. Some days I wish I’d never broken that promise.”

Charles stayed quiet, waiting for Erik to finish. 

“But, ultimately, I did. And…she knew. I guess she could feel me slipping away and…about a month before I left, she’d asked me to promise to say goodbye. That if I was going to leave, that it would be finished. That she wouldn’t be left hanging on to hope.”

Charles felt his heart break for you. And for Erik. “But you didn’t say goodbye?”

Erik shook his head. “No. I thought about leaving a note but I could never bring myself to write one. In the end, I just left.”

Charles let out a long breath and took a sip of his own drink. “I don’t blame her for being so angry.”

Erik nodded, taking another drink of his own. “Neither do I.”

“But why fight with her? Why keep fighting with her, when you know you were an asshole?”

“Ouch.”

“Erik. We both know it’s true.”

“Yeah, okay. I guess-”

Charles closed his eyes. “Please don’t say it’s because you miss her. Even I know that’s an asshole move.”

Erik chuckled, just a little. “I’d rather have her fight me than ignore me.”

“Like you did with her?” Charles asked. “Did you ever look for her?”

“Not that she knows about.”

Charles was shocked. “But you did?”

“Before I tracked Shaw to the US, I looked for her…”

Charles nodded, “The museum…you already knew she was there.”

“Her master’s came in handy, and she found a great opportunity. She seemed happy. Until I showed up.”

Charles scoffed a little, in sarcastic judgement. “Who can blame her? Look, Erik, in all seriousness, I think you both need to talk. Seriously talk. You can’t fight forever. Seek her forgiveness-”

“I don’t want her forgiveness. Charles, I broke my promise to her, twice.”

“People make mistakes, Erik. You can’t let your past define you, or Y/n. There’s still good inside of you, and, once you accept that, maybe she might start seeing it, again, too.”

Erik raised a brow. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Charles had an odd but hopeful look in his eyes as Erik looked at him. Clearly, he knew because of more than just intuition. 

And, to his credit, Erik tried. Really, really tried. 

But…you had changed. You were still you, just…harder. Tougher in every sense of the word. Others saw your kindness, and your compassion. But not Erik. 

Not that he could really blame you. He was angry. Annoyed, sure. But, even then, he knew he was angry and annoyed at himself because, deep down, he was the reason you were mad at him. He was the reason he couldn’t get you to lower the barricades he’d made you build as a consequence for breaking his promises to you. 

Finally, one day, it hit him. 

“I’m sorry.”

You’d been training most of the day and had barely had a moment's peace to yourself. You were ready to tell whoever had walked in to give you five minutes, until you heard Erik’s voice. 

Rolling your eyes, you sighed and started heading for the door of the library. “Goodbye, Erik.”

“Wait, Y/n! Wait, please- please just– just wait? Please?”

Erik blocked your exit. Not by closing the door with his abilities, but by literally running in front of you. 

“What?”

Despite the memories that flashed across your face as you remembered the last time you’d seen Erik run to stop you from leaving, you couldn’t forget why you hadn’t experienced more of those moments over the last five years. 

Back then, you had been younger and in love. It had been in an act of pleading to try and get you to come back to bed and to skip the boring lecture meeting. 

Now, it was…well, you didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Did you push Cassidy off the roof?”

“No,” Erik shook his head. “Not this time. I’m…I’m sorry for leaving five years ago.”

You hadn’t been expecting an apology. Although, you’d never really been expecting to see Erik again after he left. 

“You asked me to stop hunting, and I broke my promise. You asked me to say goodbye and I broke that promise, too. I-I’m not looking for your forgiveness. I don’t want it.”

“Wow.”

“But I do want you to know that I’m sorry.” Erik let out a breath. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Why-”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why did you just leave in the middle of the night like some random hook-up? We’d been together for months, Erik. Granted, that’s not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but we were in love! And you just left. Just like that. Like it didn’t even cost you a second thought!”

Erik swallowed, finally seeing some of the pain behind your eyes. No longer just disdain, but anger, sadness, and hurt. 

“I couldn’t say goodbye,” Erik said. “I-I didn’t want to.”

“But you still wanted to leave? So, what? Go and hunt Nazi’s and then come home like nothing happened?”

“No, no! That’s not what-”

“What the hell was I to you, Erik? What? Just a warm bed?”

“What?! No! No-”

“Someone to distract you whilst you completed your research? What?! What was I, Erik?”

Each accusation was like a dagger to his heart. He knew he had been an idiot to walk away from you, no matter the manner in which he did it. But he had really fucked things up. 

Turning away from him, you walked further inside the library. 

“You were my partner! You were my love! My life!”

With tears in your eyes, you turned back to him. “If I were your life, Erik…then why did you leave?”

“Because I had to. I had to.” Erik started to cry, now. Watching you in pain – pain he had caused – was crushing him from the inside. “Everything that happened– everything they did to me, to my family! I couldn’t just let them get away with that. Believe me, I wish I could change the story. I wish I hadn’t left you. I wish I had come back to find you sooner. I wish I had said goodbye, but I was never going to bring myself to do it. I loved you, Y/n. I still do. Saying…saying goodbye to you would have meant we were permanently in the past.”

Taking a few breaths as you looked at him, you wondered why you had ever agreed to join his team. 

“I asked you…” You wiped the tears away. “I asked you, Erik, that if you were going to leave then you wouldn’t leave me hanging on to the hope that you might come back. You hurt me, Erik. You really hurt me.”

“I know.” Erik’s voice was as soft as your own as he slowly approached you. “I know. And I should have done that. I should have given you peace.”

“I waited for you.” 

Erik stopped in his tracks. 

“For four years,” you told him. “I waited for you. Didn’t…date anyone else, didn’t leave my routine other than to go to the library more often, even after I graduated, just in case you were there, waiting for me. My entire life was put on hold, waiting for you. I know-” You took a breath. “You never asked me to do that, but…you never said goodbye. I asked you not to make me hope, and…you did.”

“What…what made you…”

“The museum was sending a shipment of artifacts to New York. They asked if I would go, and that there was a permanent position for me there if I wanted it. There was no sign of you anywhere and life was moving on. I figured I better start moving with it before I lose myself to the memory of you completely.”

Biting your lip, nervously, you looked at him. You were both a few years older now, but you could still see the Erik you knew. He was right there, staring back at you. 

“I really did love you, Erik. I think part of me always will. But, I already lost you because of Shaw. I won’t stand here and wait to watch you walk away again, because of him.”

“You won’t. I’m not-”

“I’m here because I won’t stand by and watch as innocent people get caught in the crossfire of another world war.” You spoke, plainly. “Why are you here, Erik? For the same reason, or because you want to kill Shaw?”

“He took away my family.”

You nodded, saddened by his pain. “I know he did. But don’t let him take you, too.”

Wiping your eyes, quickly, you excused yourself and Erik watched you go. 

He couldn’t turn his back on what Shaw did to him, but he also couldn’t lose you, again. He didn’t want to hurt you, again, either. 

But that, sadly, seemed inevitable. 

The next day, everything seemed to evolve into an extreme. Russians vs Americans, an impending war, Shaw, Hank (now Beast), a submarine and a water tornado. 

“Erik!” 

Unbuckling yourself from your seat, you hurried over to Charles and Erik by the dropped wheels. 

“I don’t think I can hold it much longer!”

“Can you help him?” Charles shouted to you over the sound of the engines. 

Furrowing your brows, you looked back to Erik who was starting to struggle. 

“You should get back to your seat!”

Charles followed your request and buckled himself inside, meanwhile you reached your hands out, and the wind started to pick up. 

The smell of sea-salt filled the air almost to the point of nausea. Erik’s hair was growing damp from where it was hitting him, although not at the same force at the back end of the submarine which was starting to lift. 

Somewhere on the submarine, a hatch opened. And what followed was enough resistant power to send the submarine flying towards the beach, and to give the jet’s landing a bumpy ride. 

Reaching for Erik’s hand, you managed to catch him just in time before he fell. In return, as you both tried to make it to your seats for some kind of safety measure, you were both sent flying. 

Until Erik covered your body with his own, anchoring you to the mental panel. 

Everyone was screaming in fear, in sickness and in pain. And, when it finally stopped, the entire crew fell silent. 

Slowly, Erik lowered you both to the roof of the jet that now lay on the floor. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, quickly. “No, no. I’m okay. What about you?”

“I’m okay.”

Carefully, you stood up before helping Erik. Meanwhile, Charles called out for Moira and helped Raven out of her seat. 

However, by the time Erik was running inside the submarine, Charles called out to you. 

“Help him. Make sure he doesn’t lose himself.”

For a split second, you hesitated. 

“There is still good inside of him, Y/n. You and I both know that.”

Taking a breath, you nodded and ran outside. Alex gave you a clear path to get inside, and you made a break for it. It took you a few attempts, but slightly bruised and sand covered, you made it in. 

“I’ve lost him!” Charles shouted inside your head. 

“What do you mean you’ve lost him?!”

“He’s gone into the void. I can’t communicate with him there!”

You grumbled, “Goddamn it. Erik! Erik!”

Running throughout the submarine, you found no-one. Until you heard a distant crash and Charles’ voice inside your head again. 

“Erik! Erik, whatever you’re doing, it’s working!”

“Erik?!”

Behind you, the wall slid open into two and you saw what Erik had done. Rather, what had been done to him. 

A mirrored room, Erik on the ground, and Shaw standing in the middle, a helmet on his head. 

“Erik!”

“No, Y/n, don’t!”

Shaw seemed to smile. But it wasn’t at all comforting. “So, this is the girl? This is the one who almost got you to change?”

“Don’t you touch her!”

Suddenly, Erik was thrown against the mirrored walls once more. And you didn’t hesitate. Running inside, you just reached Erik before you were thrown back from him and into a wall yourself. 

“Y/n!”

“You’ve come a long way from bending gates,” Shaw said to him, watching him stand. “I’m proud of you. But don’t let her get in your way.”

Just as Erik went to move towards you, Shaw threw you, again. This time, Erik threw every metal beam he could to block Shaw’s path to you. 

“Think about how much further we could go, together.” 

Despite the dizziness, you could still make out the image in front of you. Erik, trying with all his might, to keep Shaw in his place. But, with a simple hand, he just pushed Erik back. 

“This is our time, our age. We are the future of the human race.”

From your position on the floor, you could see Erik. And he could see you. Both of you, bloodied, cut and bruised. 

“Get away from him!”

“Zip it.”

 Suddenly, you felt a crushing weight on your chest and a growing inability to breathe. 

“Let her go!”

“She’s nothing to you! Whereas I,” Shaw held the back of Erik’s head as if he was a father talking to his son. “I can help you find your everything. You have a calling, Erik. Don’t waste it on the likes of her.”

“Don’t–” You were struggling to talk. “Don’t let him– do this to you– Erik. Please.”

“Let her go.”

Shaw watched the look in Erik’s eyes turn…compliant. But his own ego didn’t see the darkness that lurked behind them. 

Finally, able to breathe again, you tried to find the energy to stand. But it was a struggle. 

“Everything you did, you made me stronger.”

“Erik…”

Erik couldn’t look at Shaw, but he did look at you. “Made me the weapon I am today.”

“It’s the truth. I’ve known that all along.”

Managing to stand, Erik’s gaze turned away from you and onto Shaw. You had an opportunity whilst he was distracted. You just hoped you would have the strength to pull him free. 

“You are my creator.”

Reaching forward, you pulled the helmet from Shaw’s head, leaving both you and Erik to shout for Charles. 

With the sound of metal dropping, you felt yourself fall to the ground with it. 

“Y/n!”

Erik fell to his knees on the floor with you, holding your head up. “Hey, hey- stay with me. Y/n! Stay with me!”

“It hurts,” you said, weakly. 

“Where? Let me-” 

From your rib cage in a downward curve, there was a long slit of blood. Erik couldn’t tell how deep it was, but from the amount of blood starting to stain your skin and clothes, he knew it wasn’t good. 

“Outside. I need to go outside. Let Charles take care of Shaw.”

Erik turned to where Shaw was still standing still. 

“He’ll make him pay, Erik.” You assured him. “Don’t let the cost be you.”

It took a long moment, but eventually Erik walked away with you and helped you outside. Whilst Beast and Raven made their way inside the submarine, following Erik’s orders to make sure Shaw didn’t get away, he helped you into the water. 

The salt stung your wound as you dropped to your knees, feeling the tide wash over you. Meanwhile, Erik kneeled beside you, cradling your head against him as you closed your eyes and tried to ignore the searing pain. 

“You’re okay,” Erik continued to repeat, almost as a mantra to himself, in order to remind himself that you were alive. That, despite the pain, you were breathing. 

You are alive. You are breathing. You are okay.

In a pain-filled daze, you looked up at Erik and saw the same man you had seen in the library. Erik. Your Erik. Erik, who knew kindness and wasn’t afraid to show it. Erik, who could feel something other than rage and his soul in torture. 

Although the following situation wasn’t relaxing, you let your anger go. Erik had walked away, once. And, he could have done it again. But he didn’t. 

Shaw was barely three feet from him, and he chose to leave with you.

Although some of the others continued fighting, which resulted in flying bullets, by the time you were all back on the jet, the world was getting hazier and hazier. 

Charles lay on the floor of the jet. Moira was trying to make contact with her bosses, so Erik took her place beside Charles, holding his hand. 

“I’m sorry, Charles. I should have seen it coming.”

“Don’t, Erik. It’ll be okay.”

“I could have stopped-”

“There were too many. Erik, all that matters now is that we’re together. As a team. My legs…the doctors will be able to help, if there is any hope of help.”

“There will be.”

Charles gave him a polite smile and squeezed his hand a little tighter. Then, he looked over to you. You had your eyes closed and your head tipped back against the seat, meanwhile, you were holding your side. 

“It’s nice.” Charles smiled in a whisper. 

“What is?” Erik managed to laugh. 

“You two. Not fighting. You make quite the team when you’re not at each other's throats.”

Erik swallowed, his eyes falling on you with a kind look in his eyes. 

“I love her, Charles.” Erik admitted, quietly. 

“I know.”

“I never stopped.”

“Neither did she.”

Erik swallowed, looking back to his friend. He didn’t have to say his worries out-loud. 

“It’ll take a little time, but it’ll be worth it. You’re good for each other.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. Erik…trust her. Trust yourself. It’ll all work out together in the end.”

“Any other wise words, Professor?”

Charles gave a wet laugh, looking to the ceiling. “Yes. I suppose I’m a real professor now, aren’t I?”

“Not until you get the school up and running.”

Charles looked at Erik. 

Erik looked around at the team. Despite being worn and beaten, they were mostly okay. 

“You’ve got a good foundation, and a good idea. Why not help the kids figure out how to use their abilities? We are still the future, Charles.”

Charles chuckled, once more. “I suppose you have a point. Fancy teaching European History?”

Erik laughed. “That might be a push too far.”

From the pilot's seat, Hank called out the ETA for landing back at the school. 

“Go,” Charles said, nodding over to you, to Erik. “I’ll be okay.”

Moria appeared behind Erik. “I’ve got him.”

Standing, Erik took a seat beside you. You barely opened your eyes to check who it was before you leaned your head against his shoulder and took his hand in your own. 

Over the months of recovery for everyone, and the time it took for Charles to set up his school, it gave yourself and Erik time to grow together. 

In the beginning, it was a little stagnant. 

You were open to his help, and he was more than willing to give it. But there was still the unspoken hesitation. The fact he could have been half-way across the world, creating a mutant army, or hunting more soldiers. 

But he wasn’t. 

He was helping you. 

Over time, it got easier. You both fell into a natural flow of things. Conversations got easier, there were less fights, neither one of you left the room the second the other walked in. 

Kinder memories started to come to the front. 

Slow mornings were spent in each other’s quiet company, surrounded by the smell of fresh coffee, fresh bread and danishes. The hurried mornings were started with a quick coffee, a surprise kiss on the cheek and a bite of toast. 

Eventually, you and Erik found yourselves on the cusp of rediscovering the loving relationship you had once had with each other. 

“You’re gonna fall.”

Erik had been watching you for the last three minutes trying to balance on an old kitchen chair, as you started to hang up your DIY Ancient History timeline. 

“No, I’m not.”

Pushing himself from the beam of the doorway, Erik chuckled. “Famous last words.”

“Famous last words are like…Oh happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust and let me die.” You sighed, a little annoyed as you needed to reach further to make the banner follow a coherent line. “Not-oh!”

Around your waist, you felt Erik’s arm take a strong-hold of you before he lowered you to the ground, spun you around and kissed you in a slight dip. 

After a few moments, he replied, “And thus, with a kiss, I die.”

“You should teach English.”

Erik gave you a coy smile and set you back on your feet. “Either way, I don’t need your famous last words to be because of an unsafe chair. Give it.”

Handing over the end of the string, Erik changed the tac to a new one that wasn’t damaged and willed it to float up. 

“Uhh…a little lower? Higher- stop!”

“There?”

You nodded. “There.”

Setting it into the wall, Erik pulled the chair away with him and stood beside you. 

“Looks good.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. “Want me to make one for your classroom?”

“What?”

Still smiling at Erik, you moved away and reached into the top drawer of your desk. Erik, although curious, seemed a little scared as he followed you. 

Walking back to him, hiding the nameplate behind you, you stopped directly in front of him. 

“What’s in your hands?”

“A little something,” you shrugged. 

“A little something…of what?”

Presenting it to him, name forward, you let him take it. “Congrats, Mr Lehnsherr. You are now the new teacher of European History. And, also, philosophy. That one is a class you’ll be sharing with Xavier, though.”

“Oh, will I?”

You hummed in a playful nod. “And, if you will follow me…” Taking his hand, Erik willingly followed you out of your classroom and straight across the hall. 

“Welcome,” you said, opening the door and pushing it open. “To your new classroom.”

Erik couldn’t help but laugh a little as he stepped inside. He’d already made a deal with Charles that he wasn’t suited to a teaching position. Clearly, Charles thought differently. 

And so did you. 

“So long as you stop pushing people off satellite dishes, I’m sure you’ll be great.”

Erik turned around. “That was one time.”

You giggled, almost skipping across the laminated wooden floor and laying your arms over his shoulders. Without a second thought, he brought his own (and his nameplate) around your waist. 

“So? What do you think?”

Erik looked around. “I think…I’m gonna need help.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “I’m just across the hall.”

“That is,” Erik shrugged and then nodded. “That is a bonus.”

You chuckled, leaning up and kissing him quickly. 

By the time classes officially started up, it was safe to say you and Erik were far from the people you had been when you had first landed at the school.

“Well, if this baby ends up coming out of me whilst on fire, I’m picking the wallpaper. Not a chance am I setting my-”

Johnny covered his ears. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- you-you pick the wallpaper. If that happens.”

You chuckled before sighing, weighing up your options to stand from the floor and go to the bathroom. 

“Want some help?”

“Please.”

Standing, Johnny dodged the small piles of samples you had made and reached for your hands. First you went to your knees before lifting off one and onto the other. 

“Ooh.”

“You okay?”

You laughed. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just ready for this baby to finish up in there. It’ll be nice to have my bladder back. And the ability to stand, without help.”

Waddling down the hallway towards the bathroom, you took your time breathing through the pain of the strained muscles in your back. Just as you were washing your hands, the lights in the bathroom flickered. 

“It’s okay!” You heard Johnny shout. 

“What happened?”

“It wasn’t me!” He shouted first. “Reed says the power is gonna be out for a while. Something about…something sciency. I dunno.”

“Great!”

However, as you were drying your hands, you felt another twinge. Another pull. 

“Oh, no.”

Taking your time to walk down the hallway, you eventually made it into the living room where H.E.R.B.I.E was helping Johnny work the back-up generator inside the kitchen to give power to at least the common area. 

“Uhh, Johnny?”

“Herb- Hold on. No, I got it.” 

“Johnny?”

“You’d think for being, like, the smartest man alive, Reed would come up with something more advanced than tangled wires and-”

“Johnny.”

Finally, he looked up. “Yeah?” 

“I-I think…I think I might be in labour.”

Dropping the door panel of the generator, Johnny started rushing around the room. “Right, okay. Okay, alright. Yeah, sure. You’re in labour-”

H.E.R.B.I.E beeped something. 

“Shit. Right. Power–the power–the power grid is– you’re in labour. Are you sure?”

You nodded, fear in your eyes. “Pretty sure.”

Johnny came to your side. “Okay, it’s okay, you’re okay. We’re all fine- Sue! I’ll call Sue!”

Running across the room and over towards the phone, Johnny paused for a moment before punching in Ben’s phone number. For a split second, he almost called Sue’s number inside the building. He tried to give you a reassuring smile as he waited for the phone to be answered. 

But it never was. 

The line disconnected and the entire building went down. 

“H.E.R.B.I.E?!”

H.E.R.B.I.E beeped again to say I’ll check it out, meanwhile Johnny came back to your side, helping you down towards the sofa. 

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Holding onto Johnny’s hand, you closed your eyes tight, feeling another contraction wash over you. The sensation was…unsettling. A growing dull ache spreads from your lower back, across your stomach and down. Repeatedly. 

“Do you think you can make it to the lab?”

You shook your head. “N-no.”

“Okay.” Johnny looked around him. “I’ve gotta leave you-”

“What?!”

“Not for long. Just long enough to get into Reed’s lab. He’s got a medical kit and other things we might need if the power doesn’t come back on, soon. H.E.R.B.I.E!”

H.E.R.B.I.E beeped as he came into the room. 

“Stay with Y/n. I’ll be right back.”

“Please be quick.”

Johnny kissed the back of your hand and started running through the building, making his way towards the stairwell. Meanwhile, H.E.R.B.I.E joined you at your side, beeped at you and then started beeping a lullaby. 

Oddly, it was helping. 

Meanwhile, Johnny was breaking into Reed’s lab and searching everywhere for the emergency medical kit he kept under one of the hidden benches around the sides of his lab. 

Johnny knew Reed had packed one for when Sue was pregnant with Franklin, and he wasn’t so old that the items would be unusable or out of date. 

“Come on. Where are you? Ah-ha!”

Coming back up the stairs, Johnny ran inside the living room to find you mid-way through a contraction. 

“I don’t think they’re meant to happen this quickly.”

Johnny nodded. “Reed did say my DNA might alter different parts of conception and birth.”

You groaned, feeling another contraction start up. H.E.R.B.I.E beeped once again at Johnny, telling him how far apart the timing of contractions was. Johnny didn’t know much about labour, but he knew the longer and closer they got meant trouble. 

Trying to breathe through your contractions like Sue had told you, you groaned. “I am seriously regretting that third shot of tequila right now.”

Just nine months or so ago, yourself and Johnny had been attending a charity fundraiser together, as friends. It was raising money to build new eco-parks around the city that were safe for both children and animal habitats. 

It was long after the auction – the same one Johnny had begged you to win when it came to him – when you were both sitting in the hotel bar together, raising a toast and slightly drowning your sorrows. 

Yourself and Johnny had been good friends for a while. You were one of the only journalists he actually liked, which meant that a genuine friendship started to grow. Sure, he tried the odd hand at flirting with you, but you both knew it wasn’t really serious. 

Until it got incredibly serious. 

Six weeks after that one night that you both agreed couldn’t ever happen again, nor would either of you talk about it, you were sitting inside your office bathroom staring at the flashing blue positive sign. 

Then, later at your apartment, you had a smiling face, another two flashing blue positives, and a prominent pregnant symbol staring back at you. All of which showed up too fast to be considered normal. 

The box said it took four minutes. The test took less than sixty seconds to make its mind up. 

You had hidden the pregnancy from Johnny for all of a week. Each time you saw him, you just felt guilty. But, you didn’t know what you were going to do. You were doing well in your career, you had savings, your building was rent controlled and was practically a steal. And, sure, you thought that one day you might have children. 

But a random and slightly eye-opening conversation at a bus stop helped you make your final decision. 

Johnny had been shocked to say the least, but he waited until you told him your plan before he got excited. He would have been supportive of any decision you made, so long as he got to be there for you. 

You were still friends – that was something you’d both agreed on long before the positive signs started showing up. 

But, yes, right now, feeling your body go through labour much quicker than the doctors would consider normal…you were regretting that third shot of tequila. 

“What can I do?”

“Help-” You tried to breathe. “Help me out of these pants.”

Johnny nodded, coming to your aid. First to help you remove your pants, then to help you onto the floor. With your back flat against the sofa, you bent a leg up. 

“Better?”

You nodded. “A little.”

In the meantime, H.E.R.B.I.E beeped around the place, grabbing towels, blankets, hot water – any and all supplies you might need. 

“What are you thinking right now?” You asked him. 

“What am I thinking?”

You nodded. “There’s…there’s too much going on in my head right now. I need a distraction.”

“Well, I’m thinking we could really use a grown-up right about now.”

“We are grown-ups.”

“Okay. A grown-up who knows how to medically deliver a child.”

You laughed a little. “Okay. What else?”

“And I’m thinking…I’m thinking about what we’re going to call this baby since we still don’t know the gender. I’m thinking that, although you regret that third shot of tequila…I’m glad we did it. You know, we might not be the most functional family but…I’m glad we’re doing this. Together, you and me.”

You gave him a smile despite the brimming tears. “Okay, that was really sweet.”

The sweet moment didn’t last too long, however, because you suddenly felt like pushing. 

Johnny was both enamoured and shocked at your strength, as he helped you try and deliver your baby. He’d always known you’d be strong and brave enough to do it – to do it all. But it was something else to actually witness it. 

You were amazing. 

Three different positions later, and Johnny was telling you to give one final push. 

A scream sounded around the entire room, meanwhile both yourself and Johnny were moved to tears. Following H.E.R.B.I.E’s instructions, Johnny did what he had to before he was able to transfer your baby to your chest, along with a fresh blanket. 

Neither one of you knew how much time had passed, but neither one of you really cared. Not whilst you were holding your baby in your arms, with Johnny’s arms around both of you. 

“I’m really glad it’s us,” you said, looking at Johnny. 

For a moment, he didn’t hear you. But, once your words registered, he looked at you. He could have sworn you had never looked more beautiful. 

“Yeah?” You could see the smile he was trying to keep suppressed.

You nodded, with a smile of your own. “Yeah.”

In that moment, you both shared a kiss that simply didn’t measure up to any single kiss you’d shared with him, or anyone, before. Maybe it was because of the hormones, or the heightened emotions in the moment; either way, it was a kiss you’d never forget. 

But the moment didn’t last long, as the moment you both looked back at your daughter, the lights suddenly flicked on and voices were coming from the hallway. 

Sue, Reed, Ben and Rachel were talking away, laughing at some anecdote Ben was telling. But all conversations stopped the seconds they saw both you and Johnny on the floor with a baby in your arms. 

“Hey, guys,” Johnny smiled. 

“Oh, my god.” 

“Johnny-”

“When did-”

“Why didn’t you call us?” Sue rushed forward, a bright smile on her face. 

“We tried,” Johnny said. “The power to the lines got cut off.”

“Are you okay?” Reed asked, hurrying closer. 

“I’m fine-”

“She needs to be checked over,” Johnny said. “The placenta was delivered, too, but I’m also not a doctor.”

Ben chuckled. “Never did I think I’d hear the word ‘placenta’ come out of your mouth, Johnny.”

Rachel stepped forward. “What can I help with?”

An hour later, you were set up inside the infirmary inside the Baxter building, and being checked over by your midwife. Everything seemed normal: your vitals, the baby’s, and everyone else's. 

Before you knew it, the nights were starting to bleed together. You and Johnny took turns getting up with your daughter whenever she cried. It had become an unspoken agreement for you to sleep in Johnny’s room with him. 

Not that you were complaining. It was nice to have company – his company – in the moments where you weren’t being a mom for an hour or two. 

The press didn’t know about the baby. They knew about your pregnancy, but not the fact that Johnny was the father. Having just been friends throughout, well, everything…you and Johnny decided to wait to tell the public what was really going on. 

They didn’t need to know you’d both gotten drunk and pregnant one night. If anything, he was helping out his close friend on her journey into single motherhood. 

But, if Johnny had a complete say, there wasn’t a chance on Earth he would be leaving you to be a single, stand-alone parent. He loved his daughter – more than he ever realised he could. 

And he loved you. 

He’d always loved you. 

Admittedly, not as deeply as he first suspected. At first, he thought it was friendship. Deep, bonded friendship that would live with him for the rest of his life. Like, when you would both be eighty, your grandchildren would be friends and you’d both still be talking about whatever Sue and Reed were planning. 

But, the second he watched the door to your hotel room close behind you as you left for an early morning work meeting, he knew he was a goner. 

Feelings were involved, whether either of you wanted them or not. And there was nothing that could be done to stop them. 

Especially not when you saw him in person for the first time in six weeks and told him that you were pregnant. 

Collapsing on the bed beside you, Johnny felt you lift his arm and lay your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help it, but for a moment, he wanted time to just stop. He wanted to be in the moment for as long as he could. 

“She okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. The dirty diaper is changed and she’s sound asleep.”

“Good. Try and get some sleep.”

“You first,” Johnny whispered. 

You mumbled in agreement, and by the time Johnny was brushing the hair from your face, you were out like a light. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Standing beside Sue, as she held Franklin and you held your daughter, you all watched as the three most Fantastic men tried to figure out how to open up a stroller. 

“Yep,” Johnny said, strained. “Three, two, one - shake.”

The buggy just rattled and refused to pop open. 

“You know, we can just put her in the carrier-”

“No, no, we’ve got it.” Ben said. “Again, gentlemen?”

Sue spoke up. “Have you guys read the instructions?”

“We don’t need instructions,” Reed said. 

“These things are self-explainatory.”

You raised an eyebrow at your baby daddy. “You sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. We just need to-”

Fifteen minutes later, you had your baby strapped to you in her carrier as you all took a walk towards the city park. 

“I’m just saying, they should be a lot easier-”

You chuckled. “It’s fine, Johnny. So, strollers aren’t your strong suit.”

“Don’t say it like that. Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“I know how to open a stroller. It’s just that one was…weird. I dunno.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arm around his. “It’s okay, honey.”

“How is she?” Johnny asked. 

“Look for yourself. Sound asleep.”

You stopped walking for a moment, letting Johnny check on his daughter. For a moment, he removed the hat from her head and pressed a sweet kiss in its place, before quickly replacing the hat. 

“Beautiful,” Johnny smiled. “Just like her mom.”

Looking up at Johnny, you felt the same butterflies you’d been stuffing down since you’d willingly let your guard down around him that evening at the charity gala. 

It would take time, but eventually you would stop stuffing those butterflies down, and Johnny would (in a completely sleep-deprived manner) find the courage to admit his true feelings for you. 

Charles looked to Erik for a moment, a worried and puzzled look on his face. Meanwhile, Erik just shrugged. 

“Will you please,” Charles turned back to look at you. “Just get some rest. Even if it's just for tonight?”

You sighed, re-reading the starting sentence for the fifth time until it was pulled away from you. 

“Charles is right,” Erik told you. “Go to bed.”

You scoffed a little. “Surprised you even care.”

“I don’t,” he replied, quickly. “But if you comply, it gets him out of my head.”

You looked at Xavier as you scooted out of the make-shift kitchen booth. “You can talk openly, you know.”

“I’m just worried about you, is all.”

You hummed, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge as you passed. “Fine. But just for tonight. I’ve still got assignments due-”

“Assignments can wait,” Xavier told you, ushering you out of the kitchen. “You're sick and you need rest.”

In all honesty, the rest did help. In the morning you felt like your lungs could breathe again, and your head wasn’t as heavy. But the head cold was just the tip of the iceberg. 

Over the following months, small things began to crop up. 

When you were stressed, feeling as if you’d forgotten every word within the English language, you’d close your laptop with a slight bang. In turn, the books on your shelf would topple over. 

A random sneeze shook plant pots that were resting on the window cill. If you got spooked, a small ball of fire would shoot out and catch something alight. 

In the mornings when you couldn’t sleep, you would go on a run to try and clear your head. Only, as you did so, other thoughts came to the surface and storm clouds started to follow you. 

Even in your calmest moments, when you finally did take a break from work, teaching and studying, other things would happen. Your veins would glow different colours; purples, reds, streaks of pearl…

You would excuse yourself, quickly, to grab a jacket to cover it up. It wasn’t like it happened every day, or so often that you thought you needed to worry about something changing. 

But it was also a new development. 

Which, for as much as you tried to hide it, someone had noticed. 

“I thought you said you were too warm,” Erik said, standing by your doorway. 

Inside, you were sitting at your desk, again. With your veins suddenly becoming a one-mutant Broadway show, you’d grabbed your jacket from the foot of your bed and threw it on. 

“I-I was. But then I got cold.”

Erik just hummed before placing a glass down on your desk. “What’s this?” you asked. 

“Iced hot chocolate. One of the kids made a batch and thought you’d like some.”

You took the glass with caution. Recently, when you hadn’t been concentrating, any glass had shattered in your hand. 

“It’s not poisoned,” Erik told you. “We might not be the best of friends, but even I am not that bad.”

A small, if a little forced, chuckle left you. Before you could raise the glass to your lips, however, it smashed in your hand. 

“Oh!” Looking down, the cold milk was starting to soak into your carpet. “Shit.”

Racing to find a towel from your hamper, you tried to soak it all up before it caused too much damage. And Erik helped you. 

“Show me your hand.”

“My hand’s fine, Erik.”

He shook his head. “There’s a trail of blood. Show me your hand.”

Most of the milk seemed to be soaked up, so pausing for a moment, you showed him your hand. “See, it’s not– oh.”

Erik gave you a poignant look. “Told you. Here, let me–”

You pulled your hand away, quickly, but he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft. 

You held his gaze for a moment, unsure of how to explain yourself. With so many mishaps, you’d decided to stay away from most people when it came to any kind of physical affection. 

If a glass could break in your hand when you weren’t concentrating, what would happen if you were hugging someone and hurt them unintentionally?

“And you’re not going to hurt me,” he added. 

You looked at him, shocked, but ultimately let him pull your hand closer. 

“How long has this been happening?” He asked after a few moments. 

“Not long.”

He looked at you for a real answer. You sighed, “A couple months, maybe.”

Erik just nodded, cleaning the small cuts in your hand with the tools from your own first aid kit you kept inside your desk. 

“Has it ever happened before?”

You shook your head. “No. Well, the glass breaking isn’t the first but…before my cold a couple months ago, I had everything under control. Now, I’m accidently setting things on fire, or throwing things across a room without meaning to, or–”

“Smashing glasses.”

You nodded. “Or smashing glasses.”

“Have you spoken to Charles?”

“No. I-I didn’t want to worry him. He’s already done so much for me and I’m only a couple months away from finishing. I’m sure by the time I’m graduating, everything will be fine.”

“I think you should talk to him.”

“No.”

“Y/n-”

“Erik,” you sighed. “Xavier has helped me not only find a home and a job here, but also a future outside of it, as well. I don’t want to jeopardise that because…because a couple mishaps are getting in the way.”

“And what if they grow bigger? What if you end up hurting someone other than yourself?”

That was one of your biggest fears. But, so far, everything had been under control. And you felt fine. A little tired from time to time, but writing and proving a thesis tended to do that to a person. There was no reason to raise an alarm. 

“You need to talk to Charles,” Erik almost pleaded with you. “Even if it’s nothing.”

With a swallow, you nodded. “Okay.”

Three days later, you were laying on an examination table with both Charles and Erik beside you, watching the monitor with Hank.

“What is it?” You asked when they all suddenly drew quiet. “What?”

Xavier smiled at you. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Seriously?”

Hank nodded, “Your levels have elevated more over the last couple of months, meaning your abilities are growing.”

“All it means is that you just need to learn how to control them.”

“Can’t I find out what they are first?” You asked, a little nervous. 

Previously, your mutant powers had consisted only of slight telekinetic and energy manipulation abilities. You didn’t even know what they were growing into, so how could you possibly begin to try and control them?

That question went unanswered for…a long time. 

Whilst you were trying to finish off and prove your thesis before the deadline, whilst also producing three other essays for your classes due around the same time, you were subbing different classes, marking a small pile of paperwork, learning what your new abilities were whilst also trying to control them. 

And on top of all of that, try and stay awake long enough to actively understand what you were doing. 

“I agree with Hank,” Charles said as you collapsed onto the sofa inside the library. You’d gone for a little peace and quiet, and instead found yourself being tested with a glass, again. 

“You need to learn how to control your new abilities before they control you,” Charles finished. 

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up. “Can we not just do this later? I’m really tired and my head won’t stop-”

“I agree with Y/n,” Erik spoke up. “Surely this can wait, Charles.”

Though you were looking at Erik, both thankful and puzzled, Charles just looked at his friend, puzzled. 

“Erik,” he said, his voice laced in shock. “Weren’t you the one who pushed for this to happen?”

Erik nodded. That much was true. “Yes, but…how many tests can you run if something isn’t there?”

“Then maybe we can extract them. Give Y/n the space to let them out.”

“Y/n doesn’t need space, she needs rest. Yes, she needs to learn how to control them – for her safety as well as the others,” Erik sighed. “But how much can she do when she can barely stand on her own two feet?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the back up, but why are you jumping to my defence?”

Erik turned to you. “Because somebody has to. Hank is too concerned about the numbers, Charles has too much concern about learning and you’re too concerned over what-”

Quickly, you stood. “I’m fine, Erik. It’s just a small test.”

“You need rest.”

Hank cut in. “If Y/n’s up for it, then she’s up for it. And she is, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. What do you need me to do?”

As Hank got you to work on another one of his tests, Erik pulled Charles aside. 

“She is running herself into the ground. You need to make her take a break.”

“If she says she’s fine, Erik, then she’s fine. She’d tell me-”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

Charles laughed. “Of course she would.”

“No,” Erik repeated. “She wouldn’t. She’s too fearful to disappoint you. Do you even know how many hours of sleep she’s getting? If she’s getting any at all?”

“She’s…”Charles shook his head. “Y/n’s fine. If she didn’t think she could do it-”

Erik sighed. Since starting the tests and lessons to learn how to control your new found abilities, Erik had been keeping his eye on you. 

Despite the lessons, you were still doing everything else. Studying, working, learning, studying, learning, working, planning, studying, learning, working, sleeping, planning, studying, working– 

It was a never ending cycle. And he was fearful that if it didn’t ease on you soon, the consequences would cost you more than your body was willing to give. 

He already knew you weren’t sleeping. 

Usually, he was up on a run just after dawn. Half-way around the estate, he would see you, finishing the circuit. In the mornings, before everyone else, he’d find you sitting at the kitchen table, reading over more literature for your thesis. 

Too many mornings, he’d seen you work over-time and forget breakfast. So, he started making it. 

For ten minutes every morning, he made you stop and eat something. It wasn’t long overall, but it was long enough for you to take a moment and just eat something. 

Throughout the day, he started doing it more and more. 

A sandwich or a bowl of heated left-overs would be on your desk during lunch. At dinner, when he would finally find you, he stayed with you until you had finished your dinner. 

Even if he couldn’t physically send you to sleep, or to get some rest, the least he could do was to make sure you were eating something. And drinking enough so that you didn’t get rushed into the ER with kidney issues. 

Erik’s fears came true only a few weeks later, and it had been when everyone least expected it. 

You had handed in your final assignment, and had defended your thesis. Away from learning how to control your abilities, Xavier had been helping you practice defending your studies in front of the Board. 

You had started, slowly, getting more sleep. You still woke up in the night in order to turn over, or to use the bathroom. And maybe it wasn’t REM sleep, but it was more sleep than you had been getting. 

Only, one afternoon, things started to shift. 

You felt it from the moment you woke up. Your dream had been cut short, and you felt groggy. It took you a few moments before you were able to register what anyone was trying to say. 

You were ready to crawl back into bed, just before Hank came to get you to guide you through a new test he had created. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Erik asked you as you passed him in order to step inside the chamber. 

“I’m fine,” you snapped, “Let’s just get this done with.”

Inside, you could hear Xavier’s voice trying to ask you to remain calm and focus on the instructions he was going to give you. And, it worked. For a short while. 

Hank hummed as he looked at his monitor. “Maybe the filter needs changing? Something’s not reading right.”

“Uh, okay. Y/n, we’re just gonna have you step out for a few moments. Hank just needs to fix something.”

You nodded. “Can I take a break?”

Hank nodded. “Just a short one. I don’t want to lose any progress we might have made.”

You sighed, but agreed. “I-I’ll be…outside.”

Erik watched you drag your feet towards the door. It was almost like your bones were made of lead as you lifted your hand to press the exit button. 

“I think we should stop for today,” Erik announced. “She needs-”

“Y/n’s fine. Ah-ha!” Hank turned away from the conversation to focus on whatever he had found. 

“Erik, go and get Y/n please.”

“She’s only just-”

“She’s probably in the bathroom. Please go and get her.”

Erik sighed, but followed Charles' request, with no intention to bring you back into the room. Not that he had much of a choice when two kids came running down the hallway to alert someone about what was taking place outside.

Stormy skies were gathering, and the windchimes hanging by the garden gate had stopped singing their song and instead were beating against each other. 

At first, Erik thought a helicopter was coming into land because of the freak storm that was gathering. Children outside were screaming as they came running inside, narrowly avoiding the spare metal pieces, garden fence posts and other similar items dotted around the grounds within eyeline. 

In the very centre of the ground, past the whipping gravel stones, was you. You were crying out in pain, in between the breaths you were trying to take. Erik couldn’t hear you, but he could see your lips moving. 

Inside the expanding bubble of elements forming around you, you were panicking. 

It had all happened so fast. Too fast. One moment you were leaving the testing chamber and feeling like every bone in your body was made of stone. The next, you were feeling incredibly nauseous and running for the bathroom. 

It was occupied, so you ran to the nearest place you could think of. Outside. 

By the bushes, you emptied your stomach which was almost empty anyway. In the space of seconds, you had gone from feeling lethargic to…clear. Not with clarity, but survival. The kind of clear you got just before you realised your body’s natural instincts were about to take over. 

You’d left your jacket inside the lab with Hank, not that it would have done you any good. The lights beneath your veins were starting to burn bright. Without knowing what to do, you ran away from the house and into the middle of the empty grounds. 

You didn’t know what would happen, but it didn’t feel good. 

The brighter they got, the more they burned. Then, suddenly, everything was starting to get big and loud. 

The wind started whipping you in the face, odd pieces of gravel from the drive nicked against your exposed skin, the sun above you felt too hot and bright, but the thunder that was gathering overhead was too dense. 

All the while, you were in pain. Physical pain that you just wanted to shut off and stop. But you didn’t know how. You didn’t know if you could. 

Erik shouted for everyone to get inside, just as the other teachers and X-Men made their way outside. 

“Can you stop it?” Erik asked Storm. 

“I can try.”

For the first time, Erik watched her struggle. “It’s not…it’s too powerful.”

“What’s going on?” Charles said, coming closer. “Oh, my– Hank, get the kids inside.”

“But-”

“Now!”

“What do we do?” Storm asked. 

Erik watched as Charles tried to get into your head, but failed repeatedly. 

“She’s too…there’s too much input.”

Over the wind, they heard your scream of pain. 

“We can’t just leave her!” Storm shouted. 

“I’m going in.”

“Erik, no!”

“She needs to be stopped, Charles! There’s a forcefield. I can feel it. I can get to her!”

“Erik! Wait! We don’t- damn it, man!”

Erik fought like his life depended on it, meanwhile Charles and Storm continued to try and help. Though, there wasn’t much any of them could do. 

Whatever you were doing, whatever your power was becoming…it wasn’t something they knew about. 

Between the building pain, you heard someone shout your name. But you couldn’t turn. Instead, you started rising off the ground. You felt like someone had hacked into your skin, drove in industrial fish hooks, and was pulling you by your very skin into the sky. 

“No, no, no, no. Please, please, stop it. Make it stop, please.” 

You were crying in pain, and you were crying in fear. All you knew was that you were in pain, everything was burning and growing brighter and louder, and that you were growing tired. 

But not enough to pass out. 

“Y/n! You! You have to stop!”

“I-I don’t know how!”

“Try and calm your mind!”

“I-I can’t!” Again, you cried out in pain. 

Erik had managed to bracket himself to the ground, but each time he reached out to break through the forcefield you were creating, it caused you pain. 

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

Erik felt his chest shake with a feeling he wasn’t used to. Fear. Not of you, but for you. 

“It’s-it’s going to be okay! But I need you to relax enough to let me get closer! Let me help you!”

“I don’t know how.”

“Yes! Yes, you do! I know you don’t want to hurt me! Or anyone! So, let me help!”

You tried your best to calm your mind, but it wasn’t easy. Each time you tried to focus on a memory, or a sensation, there was something sharp that cut between it all. 

“It burns, Erik! It really–”

“Hey!” 

Erik watched as your head lolled to the side and snapped back up. You were moments from passing out. 

“You need to stay awake! Y/n! You need to-”

Still suspended in the sky, you passed out. But everything didn’t stop. The forcefield was holding you up, the thunder gave a deep rumble loud enough to deafen anyone, and somewhere between the wind, the sudden rain and the burning heat growing around you-

There was a crack of lightning. 

For a few moments, everything remained where it was. The wind paused, the rain almost froze as it fell to the ground, and you remained unconscious in the air. 

Until you didn’t. 

Erik watched as you fell towards the ground at an alarming speed. Running forward, he threw up his hand in order to try and slow you. Just as you nearly hit the ground, he crossed your path and gently lowered you to the damp grass. 

You were out cold. 

He called your name, cradling your head as you lay in between his legs, but you weren’t waking up. Placing two fingers against your neck, he found your pulse but it was thready. 

“Help me! Get a gurney!” Erik’s heart was almost beating out of his chest as he checked you over. 

Your skin was ice cold, the colour of your veins was dying away to its natural state, the natural colour of your lips was fading and from underneath your t-shirt, there were lines spreading across your skin. 

They were deep and dark. Jet black with an outer line of ash. Had the lightning struck you?

Whatever it was, it was spreading. And fast. 

“I told you she should have been resting.”

“Erik,” Charles said. “This could have happened with or without rest. None of us saw this coming.”

“I did!” He yelled. “Maybe not this, but something like it!”

“Erik.” Charles watched as a panel in the wall started to creak and bend. “Erik!”

The panel stopped. 

Taking deep breaths, Erik spoke a little more calmly. “I told you she needed rest. I told you to postpone her tests until she was healthy.”

“She is healthy-”

“And yet she’s in surgery!”

“Erik! None of us saw this coming. If Y/n didn’t feel up to it, she wouldn’t have done it. Besides, you were the one-”

“Yes, I know that, Charles. But she-”

“You know, you do surprise me, Erik. Barely a year ago, you couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. She would walk in, and you would walk out. If you both ever did share a conversation, it wasn’t long before you were not-so-subtly insulting each other-”

“Things have changed!”

“You’re meaning to tell me you have feelings for Y/n?”

Erik didn’t get a chance to verbally answer, because Hank walked inside. 

“Hank. How is she?”

Hank looked exhausted. “She’s stable…for now. I’ve had to put her into a medically induced coma but…”

“But what?”

Charles looked at his friend. “But what, Hank?”

“Her vitals are still active. I’m mean…they’re off the charts. I-I don’t know what the storm did to her, or what she did to cause it.”

“But she’s okay?”

Hank nodded. “For now, yes.”

Erik took off. 

“Uh- Erik, you can’t go in. She’s on bed-”

Charles held out his hand to Hank. “Let him go.”

As Erik didn’t stop and disappeared down the hall, he headed straight for your infirmary room. 

He stayed by your bedside for several days. In the rare times he wasn’t doing as much research as he could on the phenomenon of you, he was talking to you. Hank said it was healthy and could help you. 

And in the even rarer times he was doing neither, he was watching you. Watching you breath, watching your monitor beep away steadily to let him know you were okay. 

According to Hank, the deep and ashen coloured scaring across your skin all stemmed from the lightning strike that, he presumed, hit you. 

When you finally woke up, the first thing you noticed was that you felt like you could breathe. There was no crushing weight on your chest, no burning sensations spreading down your arms or across your body. 

You didn’t feel hypothermic, but instead…comfortable. Cosy, and safe. Even more so from the feeling of someone’s hand in yours. 

Eventually opening your eyes, you were greeted with the sight of…Erik?

Slouched forward, asleep on his crossed arms, just beside your legs, he had his hand gently wrapped around your own. 

For as odd as it was, it felt rather nice. Familiar. Gentle. 

You didn’t know how long you had been out – something Erik would tell you when you woke him up. Or what had happened after you passed out – something else Erik would reassure you about when you woke him up. 

“Oh, hello.”

Erik hadn’t heard a thing. Not a footstep, not a breath or even the turn of a key in the lock. Nearly dropping his coffee cup, he turned quickly. 

“Hello.” 

His voice was measured and controlled. He didn’t know you. He hadn’t even been expecting anyone. 

You looked around you, taking care as you stepped further into the kitchen. “I’m not an intruder, I promise.” 

Erik saw a brief smile on your face. A look that was probably meant to put him at ease. Except, he wasn’t. 

“You-You’re Erik, right? Magneto?”

He definitely wasn’t at ease. 

Slowly, he moved from his place by the kitchen counter, near the coffee pot, to stand in front of the sink. There was still a kitchen knife amongst the dirty dishes from late last night. 

To him, that was the safer choice of metal since a tea spoon likely wouldn’t help if you were about to attack him. 

“And who are you, exactly?”

You moved your hand towards your pocket, but watching his reaction, you stopped for a moment. “Just reaching for my badge.”

“You’re a cop?” The question left his lips before he could stop. 

But, instead, you laughed. “Oh, no. Well, my brother is. But I’m not.” 

From your pocket, you pulled out a lanyard with your photo ID. You worked here?

“I work here. With Professor Xavier,” you clarified. 

Erik nodded, and held out his hand. You handed your badge over with ease. 

It didn’t look fake. The amount of ID numbers matched, there was a stamp across your photo only visible in certain light, and it had your department title. 

Only when he looked at your name did it finally make sense. 

It wasn’t much, but there was a physical relaxation in his tense shoulders. “Y/n.”

You nodded with a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I know I’m meant to be on sabbatical but after six weeks with my family, I decided to cut it short.”

“Does Charles know you’re here?” Erik asked you, handing your badge back. 

You nodded, accepting it. “I left him a message. Several, actually. He should get them once he wakes up.”

Erik took a look at his watch. Going off the top of his head, and taking the time-zone difference into consideration, it would be at least eight hours before Charles would be waking up – that was, if he was in bed. 

“If I had your contact details, I would have left a message with you, too.”

Erik nodded. “Would you mind if I waited to hear back from Xavier before-”

“Oh, oh my– yes. Sorry, of course. Sorry.”

“You said you were with your family?”

“For six weeks. It was meant to be eight, but they can be…a lot. Entertaining and fun, but a lot. Especially when I’m used to this place.”

“And your brother’s a cop?”

“Yeah. A couple kids here got into trouble a while back. My brother found them. Xavier was worried but my brother…he isn’t like the rest,” you explained. 

“Because his sister is a mutant?”

You seemed to get a little defensive. “Because the only people he doesn’t care for are bullies.” 

Erik could help but laugh a little. “And who is your brother? Steve Rogers?”

“Wasn’t aware you read comic books. You don’t seem like the type.”

Erik shrugged. “I’ve confiscated plenty during classroom hours. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Ah.”

Erik laughed. “What?”

“Nothing, just…you already sound like the kinda teacher I thought you would be.”

“And what kind of teacher is that?”

“A hard ass.” 

“Excuse me?” Erik raised a brow. 

“You heard me. But, ultimately, even if the kids don’t like you now, they’ll appreciate it when they’re older.”

Erik didn’t know whether to be offended, agree with you, or simply say ‘thank you’ and walk away. But, he didn’t have much time to do anything because the phone he’d left on the counter was ringing. 

“That’ll be Xavier,” you said. 

Erik furrowed his brows, especially since from where you were standing you couldn’t see the caller ID. And he’d given no reaction to alert you otherwise. 

“Hello?”

“Erik. Just a quick call to let you know Y/n–”

“Is coming back? I know.”

“Oh, she’s there? Oh, right- time zones. Totally forgot. Anyway, she’s free to start right away.”

“She says she’s got another two weeks-”

“That doesn’t matter much. She’ll start work whether you want her to or not. I’ve found it’s better to just let her do her thing.”

Erik looked over at you, briefly. “So I’m starting to gather.”

Xavier chuckled on the other end of the line. “I’m sure you two will get along like a house on fire. Just…don’t actually set my house on fire.”

“I’ll try not to,” Erik mumbled before Xavier said his goodbyes and wished him good luck. 

“Guess I can start unpacking?” You asked, a knowing smile growing on your face. 

“I guess so.”

Everything ran somewhat smoothly despite his unease with you. You were a good teacher to your students – they all seemed to be enthralled in your classes – and the extra circulars you ran seemed to produce good numbers. 

There was just one thing that bugged him. He couldn’t work out what your mutation was. There was nothing in your work file from Xavier, and each time he asked him, Xavier just replied and said you were gifted. 

You seemed to have a knack for knowing who was calling, or who was about to walk into a room. Based on your reactions to the few outbursts that happened in your classroom, you seemed to know what was going on in people’s heads. 

“Tea?”

“Jesus-” 

You also never seemed to make a sound. 

From your place behind the counter, you just smiled – a little smug – at him. You motioned to mug in front of you, as if to ask him again. 

“Yes, but, I can make my own.”

You just shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I make a mean cup of tea.”

“I’m sure you do.”

In the quiet of the kitchen, you were aware Erik was watching almost your every movement. The way you picked up the kettle, the tea you chose, what you stirred it with – a spoon or magic. 

As he turned his back, opening up the tea cupboard, you didn’t look at him. Just simply said, after a few moments, “Top shelf, right at the back and to the left.”

Erik stilled himself for a moment, before reaching to where you said and he found the box he’d been looking for. 

What th-

“Alright.” He turned around quickly. 

You paused, the tea spoon you had been using, hanging in your mouth for a moment as you assessed your situation. 

“How did you do that?”

“Know where the tea was? Who do you think stocks the cupboard?”

“Not that.” Erik placed the box of tea down as he came to your side. “How did you know which one I wanted?”

You shrugged. “Took a guess?”

“Took a guess?” Erik laughed. “Alright. It’s not just the tea.”

“We have coffee, too.”

“What are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. What are you? Because that is something I’ve been trying to figure out. Are you like him? Like Charles? A telepath? Or a psychic? Some kind of witch?”

“Why are you so interested?” You lowered your voice, playfully. “Do you have a crush on me? If you do, you can be a little more forward.”

“Stop messing around.”

You chuckled. “I’m not messing.”

“What are you? What is your mutation?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. 

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not,” you almost laughed, again. “I’m not lying. I don’t have a mutation.”

You held a steady gaze with Erik, keeping your heartbeat calm. You really were telling the truth. 

“You’re not lying…” Erik’s voice came out softer than he’d ever spoken to you. “But Charles said-”

“That I’m gifted?” You nodded. “Because I am. But not because of a mutation.”

“So what’s your gift? Knowing tea preferences?”

You nodded, “Amongst other things. Look, I’m observant. I always have been. My dad was a Detective, my brother’s a cop, my mom was the woman everyone ran to when they needed to vent. I notice things, pick things up. Both emotionally and from off-the-books training.”

“You’re really not a mutant?”

“All human.”

Erik, surprisingly, relaxed. “So how did you end up here?”

“My brother’s a cop. After he found a group of kids hanging round the mall, after hours, he was gonna call it in. Until he saw what they were doing.”

“Do I wanna know?”

You chuckled. “They were training. Mostly messing around, but they were using their abilities. Doing flips and tricks – nothing any standard human could do. My brother called out to them and when they didn’t run, he asked if there was someone he could call to come and pick them up.”

“They called Charles?”

You nodded, picking up your mug and walking over to the small wooden table by the window. Erik joined you. 

“He was thankful that my brother wasn’t–”

“A bully?”

“Yeah. Anyway, a couple days later, one of the kids must have wanted to report a missing item or something but didn’t exactly wanna go to the cops and explain how they had lost it.”

“And?”

“Xavier showed up at my house.”

“Why your house?”

“Oh, my brother was having his house exterminated. Termites, just everywhere.” You gave a shiver at the thought. “Anyway, he was staying with me. But, he was out so I invited him in. He wasn’t there long but he must have seen what I was preparing for my classes. Apparently he had an open position at his school and, well, I wasn’t exactly crazy about staying where I was.”

“Why?”

You smiled at him. “Why are you so curious?”

“Can you blame me? I know Xavier is all for mutant-human relations but…I didn’t expect him to have human teachers this soon.”

“Well, if you must know,” you sighed. “My boss was more focused on what the teachers, especially the females, were wearing, rather than what the kids were being taught.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. But…well, I’m no longer there. And, come to think of it, I don’t think he is, either. Pretty sure he moved after his divorce.”

“Good for his wife.”

You nodded. “She’s remarried now, or so my neighbours tell me.”

Erik smiled a little, leaning on the table.

“Go on,” you said. 

“What?” Erik smiled. 

You leaned on the table, with a smile covered sigh. “I know you wanna know more. So, come on, ask me.”

“Are you sure you’re not a mutant? Mind reader, perhaps?”

You chuckled. “Maybe in another life. In this one, I’m just perceptive. Plus, Xavier warned me you might be nosy.”

“Did he now?”

You hummed. “So, come on, ask me what you wanna ask me.”

That evening, Erik got to know you a little more. More than what was in your file, more than what he was sure you had shared with Xavier. 

And you got to know him. 

Some of his past – the happier memories, at least. Moments between himself and Xavier, and his surprising ability to be a decent teacher. And not just when dealing with mutant powers. 

Only a few days later, things were beginning to change. Erik wasn’t quite as guarded when it came to you. He smiled a little more, he actually walked with you down a hallway without stopping to study you, he didn’t make excuses or hide away. 

Deep down, it surprised you. 

Professor Xavier had tried his best to explain the man that would be taking over his position in the school whilst he was away. What you could research about Erik Lehnsherr only ever told you one side of the story – not that it was a big story in the eyes of the mass media. 

But after spending time with him, getting to know him, he seemed…different. 

You could see the sides of him – predict them, even – that others had seen. But you could see something else, too. He wanted what Xavier wanted, but his methods were different. He looked out for the kids, taught them what he knew and what they needed to know – both about the world and the academic version. 

But there was still a vulnerability. A softness. Something buried in his soul behind pain and hurt. You couldn’t blame him for burying it. 

But it was nice to see it. To experience a side of him that Xavier had told you about. The side of him that smiled, the side of him that laughed, the side of him that opened himself up to happier memories. 

Even after Professor Xavier returned, you were grateful to get to know Erik as both a colleague and somewhat of a friend. 

“Don’t you think it’s rather dangerous to be climbing so high in your position?”

“And what position is that?” You called down to Erik. 

Since the summer months were drawing in, you had decided to start clearing out the botany garden at the bottom of the hill on the estate. So far you had pulled out all the weeds, gathered the broken pots and were now straddling the roof of the shed in order to strip the moss and replace the broken beams. 

“You know,” Erik called up. “Human. Last I checked, you don’t exactly have the ability to fly.”

“Technically, neither do you.”

“Technically, I still have powers.”

You chuckled, before concentrating to pull up another stubborn beam whilst also trying to avoid splinters. 

Erik felt a little uneasy watching you. “Are you sure you’re safe up there?”

“I’m fine, Erik. Totally-”

The commotion all happened at once. The sound of your voice, a splinter, a crack and then a loud crash. 

Erik ran as quickly as he could, whilst making sure the metal brackets inside the shed kept the sides up. He wasn’t about to watch you get buried alive under rotten and unstable wood. 

“Y/n!”

You coughed, trying to catch your breath. By the time he got to your side, you groaned. 

“Whoa, easy. Take it easy. Are you okay?”

“I think my life just flashed before my eyes.”

Erik tried to keep you still as he checked you over. “Does anything feel broken?”

You shook your head, but instantly stopped. “No. I-I don’t think so, but I think I might have hit my– oh.”

Moving your fingers from your head, you saw red. 

“Here, let me see.”

Leaning over you, Erik cradled your head in order to check it. “Is there blood?”

“Yeah. Yeah, there’s blood. We need to get you back to the house.”

You groaned. “Help me up. I can walk.”

Erik shook his head. “You’ve got a concussion. I don’t need you collapsing climbing up that hill.”

“It’s not like you can carry me.”

“Says who? I get I might not be, you know, some world champion body builder, but I can still carry you.”

You laughed, but instantly regretted it since it left your head pounding. 

“Okay, come on. Put your arm around me.” Erik kneeled by your side. 

“What? No.”

“Y/n, come on-”

“No.”

“Do you always have to be this argumentative?”

“Yes.”

Erik paused to look at you, and you shot him a weak smile. The pain in your head was growing, and you were growing tired. 

“Give me your arm.” Erik placed it over his neck and shoulders, placing his arms around your back and under your legs. “Ready, on three. One, two, three.”

Erik stood with you in his arms, and you cried out a little in pain. 

“You okay?” Erik asked, his voice worried. 

Biting your tongue, you nodded with a hum. “Hm-hm. I’m fine. Just sore.”

“Okay, just…try and hold on.” Erik made his way with you over the debris of the fallen shed and towards the house. “Almost there.”

Twenty minutes later, you were in the infirmary being checked over by the on-site doctor and nurses whilst Erik told them the truth about how you sustained your injuries. 

“It wasn’t that high.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Make sure she’s not got any rotten splinters, too.”

“I don’t have any rotten– ow.” You saw Erik smile a little behind his hand as you were given pain-meds. “You’re enjoying this.”

“You almost die-”

“I didn’t almost die-”

“And you still manage to argue with me.”

“It’s a fun past-time.” Your smile quickly disappeared when you were jabbed with another needle. This time, they were drawing blood. “Ooh-ow. Ow, ow, ow.”

Erik held your hand before you hit someone. 

“Don’t worry,” he told you. “Squeeze as hard as you need.”

A few hours later, after you’d been subjected to a lecture from Xavier (more than once), you were finally able to get some rest. 

Only to wake up feeling worse. 

Thankfully, you had no broken bones. You did, however, have one fractured rib, and a lot of bruises that you would be feeling sore for a few predictable weeks. 

One afternoon, after teaching a couple classes, you said you were going for an hour-long nap…which just so happened to last four. 

Sitting up, you fixed the mid-thigh t-shirt from its twisted state and slowly swung your legs over the edge of your bed. It was dark outside, and so was your room. 

Carefully, you stood, trying to avoid the dull pain becoming sharp across your entire body. Only, as you managed to stand, the pain became your consequence. 

You managed to reach your bedside table, flick on your lamp, and make your way to the body length mirror in your room when someone knocked on your door. 

“Hey.” 

It was Erik. 

Light from in the hallway flooded your room as Erik stood in your doorway, dressed in- jeans? Most often, he was in business casual. Really, you’d noticed, he only ever wore what he was wearing – jeans, boots and button-down flannel – when he was getting his hands dirty. 

Most often, in the garden when he was with you. 

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“Sore,” you told him. “Really sore.”

He nodded to where you were holding a hand on your lower back and hip. “Want me to take a look?” Then he held up a pot of balm. “Arnica. It’s…well, it’s meant to help.”

You just nodded and took a breath, before telling him to close the door. 

Erik was as gentle as he could be, as he lifted up your shirt. It wasn’t long before he saw the deep purple, black and yellow bruises that trailed up the side and back of your thigh.

The bruises continued up your body and ended just above your rib cage, but Erik stopped lifting when the fabric of your shirt hit your waist. 

You were both quiet. 

In the mirror, you watched as he tried to hide the pain he felt for you. 

“It’s not so bad.”

“Liar,” you replied, your voice quiet but light. 

He hummed, “Okay. Maybe it’s a little bad. May I?”

He looked at you in the mirror, and for a vulnerable moment, you held his gaze. You trusted him, you trusted his touch – you trusted he wouldn’t intentionally hurt you. 

Unscrewing the jar lid, Erik scooped some of the balm out and warmed it between his fingers and palms. 

“Ready?”

Holding onto your window cill to steady yourself, you nodded. 

It hurt. Not badly enough to make you cry, or anymore than it would have done if you had done it yourself, but it hurt. 

But he was gentle. 

Steady and supportive, but still gentle. After a few moments, your skin started to warm under his touch and, rather than tense yourself, you relaxed into him. 

“Any better?” He asked, his voice soft by the shell of your ear, and his chest firm behind your back. 

You closed your eyes. “Yeah. Thank you.”

For a few moments, you both stayed quiet and soaked in the moment. The feeling of his hands anchored on your hips, your breathing falling in time with his, your heartbeat steadying its rhythm enough to sync with his. 

And his lips by your shoulder. 

He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately laid a gentle kiss against the fabric of your t-shirt. The second, just by the edge of the fabric, where it met exposed skin. The third just a little higher, fully against your skin. And the fourth, he placed it in the crook of your neck. 

“You’re never climbing a rotten shed again.”

A small chuckle escaped you. “You can say that again.”

“Okay. You’re never climbing a rotten shed again.”

You both laughed, Erik stepping a little closer and wrapping his hand and arms a little deeper around you. 

“Think you can make it downstairs? Everyone’s already eaten dinner but I saved you a plate. I can heat it up.”

“You cooked?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

You shrugged, slowly turning in his arms. “What can I say? I didn’t know you could cook.”

Erik smiled, a little coy, at you. “And yet I thought you noticed everything.”

“Oh, ha, ha. Pass me my shorts?”

Hanging over your desk chair, Erik reached for them before lowering himself to his knees. 

“I can put them on myself, you know.”

Erik nodded, helping you step into them before he carefully dragged them up your legs. “You're injured. You’re allowed help.”

“I can still get dressed–”

Erik stood, keeping his gaze fixed on yours, whilst his fingers trailed the bare skin of your thighs. 

“And yet, you let me help you.”

Erik came close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips. And yet, the gravitational pull you felt towards him, and he felt towards you, he pulled back and took your hand. 

“Let’s get you some food.”

Erik stayed with you, walking at your pace, as you both made your way down the hallway, stairs and into the kitchen. 

“Ready to show me what you’ve done?” You asked him, long after you had finished your meal and argued with him (but let him win) the ‘who washes the dishes’ argument. 

“What?” Erik turned around in the hallway of the kitchen to look at you. 

You smiled at him. “You’re wearing jeans and you’ve got dirt under your fingernails, despite the nail brush. Last time that happened to me I was pulling up potatoes.”

Erik sighed, placing his hands on his hips, but couldn’t hide his smile. “It was meant to be a surprise.”

“You couldn’t even hide your tea preferences from me when you were avoiding me-”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Erik shook his head. 

“Sure you weren’t,” you replied, quickly. “Really thought you could hide it from me?”

Erik looked at you, shaking his leg a little, visibly debating whether to show you or not. 

“Fine.”

“Yay,” you cheered, Erik still smiling at you. 

“Grab your jacket.”

Grabbing the grey sweatshirt from the bench in the back hallway, you slipped it over your head as Erik opened the back door. 

“That’s mine.”

“And now it’s mine,” you said, pulling your hair out of the back. 

As you stepped in front of Erik to get outside, he gently pulled the rest of your hair from out of the collar and followed you. 

Leaving your shoes inside the house, you walked barefoot through the cool grass whilst Erik’s boots tracked beside you. Reaching the bottom of the hill, you found fresh wooden beams and a full workshop set up. 

“Oh, my god, you’re building a shed?” You quickly looked at Erik before looking back to the garden. 

All the weeds were gone, the rotten wood had been chucked into a pile fifty yards away, there were freshly built raised beds filled with fresh soil and fertiliser. Some were already growing flowers – they had been replanted into fresh soil. Others were still waiting to bloom. 

And then there was the food. 

Most of your large-batch plants had been sown into the ground, thanks to Erik. In smaller pots, Erik had managed to salvage some of the herb plants that had been dying away before you fell through the old shed. And, at the very back, behind the half-build shed, was a large basket of potatoes. 

“Holy crap, Erik. This is…thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome,” Erik told you. “Figured it was the least I could do before I found you here in the middle of the night when you should be healing.”

You hummed. “I have been going stir crazy.”

“It’s been less than a week.”

Erik watched you as you stepped into the garden and traced your fingers over the different petals, flowers and growing food. 

“Still longer than a day.”

Erik chuckled.

Turning to look at him, there was nothing but sincerity in your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

Erik shrugged. “Can’t have you falling from another shed roof.”

With a chuckle, you took one last look around before walking back through the garden to stand with him. Almost instinctively, he placed his arm over your shoulder and held you against his side. 

“We should get back before you catch a chill.”

“Erik Lensherr. Mutant Power: Prediction.”

Erik chuckled, pulling you closer. “Come on.”

“Really, you should ask Xavier if you can get extra powers as you get older. First the roof, now this? Before you know it, you’ll know someone’s tea preference before they do.”

“How did you figure that one out?”

“People have patterns before they notice them. Which foot they lead with, which item they reach for first in a morning, which direction they take during the day. You had to hold two early morning meetings and had a debate club. Every time you needed to wind down, you always reached for the tea at the back of the cupboard, to the left. Since I restocked that cupboard, I figured you’d need some help finding it.”

Erik went quiet for a moment as you both walked back to the house. “You don’t know which foot I lead with.”

“I knew your favourite drink before you realised you had one. Really think I don’t know which foot you lead with?”

Erik paused for a moment and looked at you. “That’s kinda scary.”

A few hours passed with quiet conversations and laughter, before Erik was helping you into bed, but not before you were standing between his legs as he sat on your desk chair and he carefully rubbed the Arnica balm over the bruise spreading across your upper thigh. 

You held onto his shoulder for support, and accepted his help when lifting to covers to get into bed. 

And, when you asked him, he crawled into bed beside you. 

Over time, the dynamic between yourself and Erik was beginning to be noticed by everyone else. The way you moved together – they could practically predict the moment Erik was by your side, his hand would be on your lower back or hip. The way you talked, the way you didn’t talk. 

Almost every movement you both made in each other's presence was as if you’d been doing it for a lifetime. 

So, when the rain was pouring down over New York – weather you were usually still outside in – and had been stress baking all day, the students knew who to call on. 

Rather, who to call on first. 

“Do you know what’s up with Y/n?” Charles asked Erik as he entered the library. 

Erik didn’t look up from his book. “Why do you ask?”

Charles just smiled at Erik. “You know, even I don’t have to read your mind Erik.”

Laying the book down on his lap, not bothering to remember the last two pages he’d read, he looked to his friend. 

Charles just kept smiling. “It’s nice,” he said, “seeing you two together.”

“We’re just friends, Charles.”

“And I’m the King of England. But, seriously. Do you know if something’s happened?”

Erik sat up. “Is she okay?”

He nodded. “She seems fine as far as I’m aware, but a few students have asked me the same question. I figured I’d ask you.”

“Where is she?”

“In the kitchen,” Charles said, a little confused why Erik sounded so passionate. “Baking. She’s…completely fine-”

“What is she baking?”

“She’s just pulled some cinnamon buns out of the oven. I smelled them on my way here.”

Erik sighed, closing his book and standing. 

“Erik? Erik, what is it? Is she okay?”

“She-She’s fine. Just…keep people away from the kitchen for a while.”

“Erik? Erik?!”

Erik didn’t turn back. Just simply made a beeline for the back kitchen which was where he found you. It was slightly worse than he was expecting. 

It was like a tornado had exploded in the kitchen. An organised one. But still a tornado, nonetheless. 

“Honey?”

You didn’t look up. You didn’t even react. You just kept hammering your dough with your rolling pin. 

“Okay,” Erik said slowly to himself, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen. 

Across each counter was some relevant stage of baked goods. Some still in the ingredients stage, others half way there, and about eight trays of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, blueberry muffins, and a collection of cookies. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t bake. There was at least a tray of cookies or muffins each Sunday morning for the students and staff to enjoy. But, when you baked like this? With the anger, annoyance and intimidation of a thousand armies?

Something was seriously wrong. 

Erik cleared his throat as he stepped closer to you. “Sweetheart? Can-can we put the rolling pin down?”

You turned to him quickly, making him jump. You weren’t exactly one for violence, but he wasn’t sure what your reaction would be if you were startled. 

“Two days!” You yelled. “Two days!”

“Two days for what?” Erik managed to pry the wooden rolling pin out from your hands. 

“You’d think-” 

You started whipping up a new storm inside the kitchen as you darted around. As you did so, Erik tried to ensure your safety from open cabinet doors, mental utensils that were inches from falling off the counter and into your feet, and death defying climbing escapades in order to reach the top of the industrial sized cabinets. 

It had been just over a month since you fell from the shed roof and Erik wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of you repeating your accident. 

“After years of teaching, and having cops in the family, I’d know how to lie better. Wouldn’t you? But no! Instead, I’ve become some kind of truth-telling machine, physically incapable of forming a believable lie to my parents. And it’s not even a big lie! It’s a tiny, little white lie.”

Erik followed you. “A lie? What did you have to lie about?”

You turned quickly, pointing a finger into his chest. “I didn’t lie about anything. That’s my issue. I should have, but I didn’t, and now- now, they’re coming here.”

“Who’s coming here? And what should you have lied about?”

You kept walking, but Erik continued to follow. 

“I should have said I was fired. Or that the injuries were to someone else. Or that I-I-I don’t work at a boarding school that is off for Spring break.” You sighed.

Erik had to take you by the shoulders. “Okay, just take a breath. What’s actually happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus as you told him what had happened. 

“My mom called me. She asked about my injuries. I hadn’t told her, but apparently the form that was sent through to the hospital flagged with my name. One of the nurses there knows my brother. She told him, he told my mom and now…they’re coming up here in two days.”

“Your…parents? They’re coming here?”

You nodded. “They don’t like the idea of my getting hurt in the work place and not being told. So, now, they are coming up here to see me. And, before you say…my dad has already said if Xavier says no and doesn’t rearrange, he’ll drop in and make a surprise visit.”

Erik nodded, slowly. “Okay. Does Charles know yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. I’m trying to…work out how to word it. Or find a way out of it.”

“Do they know what kind of school you teach at?”

You shook your head. “My brother does. But my folks…I don’t think they’d hold any prejudices but…”

Erik nodded. “You don’t want to risk it.”

You nodded, agreeing. 

Erik took a breath. “Well, most of the kids are heading back home for Spring Break tomorrow. They’ll only be a select few here and one of the other teachers can…take them out on a day trip. Maybe your brother can help with that. Does he know how to fish?”

You nodded. “My dad taught us when we were young.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. In the meantime, you…try not to implode. I’ll go and talk to Charles.”

Placing a kiss on your forehead, he headed for the door.

“Erik-”

He turned back. “It’ll be okay.”

By the time he returned, the kitchen was less Tornado Alley, more…chaotically organised. 

“If it helps, Charles seems excited. Apparently his brother had spoken highly of your parents, too.”

“Are you gonna be here? When they arrive?”

Erik started helping you pack away the sweet treats you had already made, into air-tight containers. “Do you want me to be?”

“Yes,” you said. “If-if you’re okay with it.”

Erik smiled, walking over to you. Without a word, he hugged you and you wrapped your arms around him, tight. “Everything will be fine.”

You sighed. “You haven’t met them yet.”

“I’ve met you. And I like you. Surely the people who raised you can’t be much different.”

You leaned your head against his chest. “You say that now, but if you need an escape from my dad’s stories, or my mom’s relentless questions…just give me a sign.”

Erik chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “We’ll be fine. Besides, I’m sure Charles can keep them entertained.”

True to Erik’s word, Xavier did. He greeted them with a warming smile and offered them a tour around the place. He made reassurances for your safety as well as the staff and students. And, he soon got your dad talking about some of his old cases he’d read in the newspapers. 

Meanwhile, your mom was practically falling in love with Erik. 

You hadn’t mentioned you were dating, or even seeing anyone. You’d introduced Erik, the same way you had done with Xavier. But, even if your dad didn’t visibly notice your slight change of tone, your mom did. 

She also recognised the look in your eyes as you looked at Erik. And, she recognised the look in his eyes, too. 

A few hours into their visit and a general swap had taken place. Whilst Xavier was showing your mother around the grounds, bringing you with her, Erik showed your dad around the study halls and library.

“Take care of my daughter, Erik. She’s very precious to me.”

Erik nodded. “She’s precious to me, too, Sir.”

From his hand, your dad accepted the drink Erik had poured for him. 

“I can see that.”

Erik fell quiet behind his glass. Meanwhile, your father took a sip and sighed. 

“Her mother thinks I don’t see what’s going on, and I suspect Y/n doesn’t, either. But I do. You care for my daughter, yes?”

“Very much.”

Your father nodded, satisfied with his answer. “I am aware,” he began, slowly. “Of what kind of school this is. Now, I don’t hold any prejudices or fears. But…I don’t want my child. The one who seemingly should be the furthest away from danger, here…I don’t want to see her get hurt. By anything. Or anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

Erik nodded, swallowing the small ball of fear in his chest. “Yes, sir. I should assure you, Y/n is safe here. The students love her, and she’s fantastic at her job. She does have a tendency to ignore the generic rules of safety-”

Your father laughed, deeply. “She hasn’t changed. Did she ever tell you what happened when she was six?”

“No,” Erik said. 

Taking a seat on the sofa in the library, your father invited Erik to join him. He took a seat across from him and listened. 

“Her brother had decided that he was too old to play with his sister in the treehouse, so he and his friends had made up a ‘no girls allowed’ rule. Of course, Y/n wasn’t too happy about that. And she tried everything to get into the treehouse and claim her ownership. So, after everything else had failed her, she decided the best course of action was to climb onto the garage roof, shimmy across to the tree on a ladder and make the death-defying jump from the higher branch, and onto the roof of the treehouse.”

“So, her climbing onto roofs isn’t a new concept?”

Your father chuckled. “Oh, no. I got home just in time to watch her land on the roof, lose her grip and hit the ground below. Thankfully, she wasn't so high up that she lost a limb, but she did give me the fright of my life!”

“I don’t know if that story reassures me, or makes me more nervous.”

“Either way, Y/n is…independent. And tough. If you’re going to be her friend? Look out for her. But, if you’re going to be more than that, which, from how you look at each other, I suspect you already are...”

Erik shifted a little, nervous under your father’s gaze. 

“Then I ask that you take care of her. In whatever way you can. Just don’t hurt her.”

“Believe me, sir, I have no intention of ever hurting your daughter.”

Your father took a breath, silently but not subtly, studying Erik.

“I believe you.”

Then, clapping his hands, he sat forward. “Now that's been taken care of, we should probably go and find my wife and daughter. No doubt the Professor is feeling the third degree of my wife’s questions.”

Erik chuckled a little, but did let his mask drop for a moment whilst your father’s back was turned. Quickly, he wiped his brow, said a small prayer to whichever God was listening, and led your father to the garden at the bottom of the hill. 

It was approaching ten in the evening before your parents – after sitting for a cooked meal from Erik – headed home. And, whilst Xavier made sure all the kids were back and safe in their rooms, you went to find your brother. 

“So, how was it?”

“It was good!” 

Your brother smiled at you. “Told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Erik appeared behind you. “Hello.”

Your brother looked at you for barely a moment before looking at Erik, trying to hide his smile. Without having to properly introduce him, he already knew who he was. 

“Hi,” your brother stuck out his hand and introduced himself. 

“Erik,” he replied, shaking his hand. 

“Erik, this is my brother-”

“The cop. Charles said the kids had fun.”

Your brother smiled proudly. “Oh, yeah. They’ve learned how to fish, and also what not to do. A couple people almost fell in.”

“Truth,” you said, glaring at your brother. 

He turned a little sheepish. “Okay. One.”

“And that was?”

“Me. Okay, it was me. But it was…purely on purpose. You know, to show them what not to, uh,” your brother scratched the back of his head, “what not to do.”

You chuckled, the image of your brother falling into the river playing across your mind. 

“But, hey,” your brother smiled. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”

Erik smiled, looking at you a little. “Has she?”

“Oh, yeah.”

You wanted to die. Suddenly, you were fourteen again and avoiding every corridor in your school in fear of running into your crush who your friend asked out for you. 

“Uhh, we- we don’t have to do this right here-”

“Non-stop,” your brother clarified, completely oblivious to your mortification. 

Erik just grinned like the cat that got the cream. “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of things has she told you?”

“Oh, well, the usual. Your looks, your personality. Honestly, sometimes it’s kinda annoying. How handsome, tall, smart, funny–”

“Okay-”

“-you are and how she feels-”

You called your brother’s name, but Erik just held out his hand politely. 

“Y/n, let the man talk.”

Flicking your gaze between Erik and your brother, you slowly watched the mask on your brother’s face fall. He knew what he was doing. 

“Ohh, I hate you,” you grumbled as he started laughing. 

When Erik joined him – although deep down it warmed something inside of you, knowing your brother and Erik were getting along – you wanted to kill both of them. 

“God, you’re annoying.”

“Oh, come on!” Your brother laughed. “When else can I talk to the man? Besides, he asked!”

You threw your hands up in the air. “You know what, I’m gonna ask Xavier to wipe my memory. You two stand here and gossip all you like.”

Erik shrugged. “It’s interesting gossip.”

You glared at him, but behind the heated look, Erik saw the smile you were hiding. Which, by the time he was joining you in your room long after everyone went to bed, was beaming on your face as he got you to finally admit your crush and subsequent feelings for him. 

“What are you working on?”

Mycroft leaned back. “It’s…not important.”

“You’re still awake at two in the morning. It must hold some consequence.”

He sighed, “It’s for Sherlock. He…needs my help.”

“Legal?”

“More so than the last time.”

You smiled, leaning down to wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

Since you had known the Holmes brothers, Mycroft had always looked out for Sherlock. Even if it meant giving him gray hairs before he was thirty. 

“Think it can wait long enough for you to get some rest?”

He sighed, pushing the papers forward in order to stand from his chair. “I don’t see why not.”

Snuffing out the candles, you took Mycroft by his hand and gently dragged him to bed. 

It wasn’t until a year into your marriage that you both started to share a bed. Nothing other than sleeping, and the odd cuddle, occurred. But it was nice. 

It was nice to know you both had someone.

In the beginning, it had been only a little less than awkward. Maybe if you hadn’t known each other for so long beforehand, it would have been easier. Maybe. 

But, one night when you’d both finally gotten home from saving Sherlock’s neck once again, you’d collapsed onto the master bed. Mycroft had landed beside you and asked you to stay. 

After spending the last three days searching for one family member, he didn’t like the thought of being separated from another, even if just for the night. 

From then on, it just…stuck. 

You both already talked and dined together. Once a week, you’d both go out and have lunch or dinner at a tea shop or restaurant. You were already a friend of the family before marriage so there was no bad blood. 

Sherlock did seem…off for a while when the engagement was announced. But, after a few weeks, he came around to the idea. 

Sharing a bed, just to sleep, didn’t seem too big of a stretch. 

“I’m meant to see Lestrade today,” Mycroft told you when you’d both finally woken up. 

Rubbing your eye, you turned your head to look at your husband. Mycroft had a strange ability to look devilishly handsome, even in the morning.

“And?”

“I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach…”

“Sherlock?”

Mycroft nodded. “I do worry about him.”

Reaching up, you laid a gentle hand on the side of his face. “He’s your brother. And, he does often find himself in precarious situations.”

“But if he’s on Lestrade’s radar…”

You rubbed your eye, again. “Then…hope for the best. Prepare for the worst.”

Mycroft nodded. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

“Are you alright?”

You rubbed your eye for a third time. “I think there’s something in my eye.”

“Let me see.”

Leaning closer, Mycroft gently brushed his thumb under your eye. “There’s an eyelash. Hold steady.”

“Ow.”

“That didn’t hurt.”

“It’s not your eye.”

“Stay still…there.” Mycroft leaned up a little. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

Mycroft smiled, his own hand resting on your face gently. His eyes traced over your own, before he felt his breath catch in his chest for a moment. 

Just as his eyes dropped to your lips and started to wonder the same thing he’d been wondering for weeks – what would it be like to kiss you? – there was a knock on the bedroom door. 

Like most mornings, you both put distance between yourselves and went about your day. You met him at the bottom of the stairs before he left for work, fixed his tie and kissed his cheek. 

The entire way to work was spent with thoughts of you. Even on your wedding day, you didn’t share a kiss. A pillar candle inside the room had fallen from the table when the officiant stepped back, distracting both yourselves and everyone else from the final piece of your marriage agreement. 

The kiss. 

Mycroft couldn’t lie to himself; though you were his wife, you were his friend. And he was yours. Although no verbal agreement had been made, there was an unspoken understanding that the marriage was strictly business. If either one of you were to fall in love with someone else, it would have to be kept secret until you could both find the least messiest way out of the marriage. 

But that was three years ago. 

Since then, you’d saved both his and Sherlock’s neck countless times. He’d been there for you, even when you tried to push everyone away. You had made sure he took care of himself, in the time he forgot he was human. He had made sure to take care of you, even when you said you could do it yourself. 

“I hate to pester but when am I going to get grandchildren?” Cordelia asked you. 

You and Mycroft exchanged a glance before he took the lead of the conversation. Every Sunday, you both took a trip to Appleton Manor to visit Cordelia. And, every Sunday, the conversation always landed near or around the topic of children. 

It was unusual to be married three years and not have a child. Most couples you both knew were on their third child by now. 

“I know you both said you’re waiting for the right time, but Mycroft. You’re more than secure at your job, and Y/n…children-”

Reaching out, you held her hand. “I know. I know. But…we’re just taking our time, right Mycroft?”

He nodded with a reassuring smile. “Yes, dear.”

Mycroft couldn’t lie to himself. He did often find himself wondering what it would be like to have children, especially with you. But, again, you were friends. Marriage in name, alone. 

You couldn’t lie to yourself, either. You had found yourself thinking what it would be like to actually have children, especially with Mycroft. You were an only child, growing up. Sherlock had become not only a friend, but a brother of sorts, when you were kids. 

And Cordelia wasn’t the only mother-in-law asking for grandchildren. Your mother had been waiting longer than three years to see you married with children. 

The thought both excited and terrified you at the same time. Because, for as much as you were married, yourself and Mycroft had never…crossed that line. With all technicalities, you hadn’t even kissed each other. 

By that logic, children were…a long shot in the dark. 

“Well, whenever you decide to have children, there is an empty room at the top of the hall for a nursery.”

Yourself and Mycroft smiled at Cordelia before you both realised what she had said. 

“Let me show you.”

Less than five minutes later, yourself and Mycroft were opening the door to an old bedroom. It was the nursery Mycroft had stayed in as a baby. After Bea grew up, the nursery became a collection room for old trinkets and sheets. 

Except, as you both stood looking inside, it was…freshly painted. 

The cot had a fresh coat of wood-stain and wax, the mattress was new, as were the sheets and curtains. Old wooden toys had been refurbished to look like new. 

It was…perfect. 

“O-Of course, I would expect your mother would want to be close, too, whilst you were recovering. And London is no place to recover in peace. But I understand if-”

You were on the brink of tears. “Cordelia, this is…”

“Mother, this is truely…”

“I’m lost for words.”

“You can just say if this was a bad idea-”

You shook your head, quickly. “No. No, no, no. Of course, not. No. I just…it’s a lot to take in. Thank you, Cordelia.”

“Yes, mother. Thank you.”

“You both like it?”

You nodded. “It’s wonderful.”

Cordelia took a breath. “Oh, thank goodness. Of course, nothing has to happen now. But, I wanted you to both know that there is a place here, for all of you, always.”

The carriage ride back home was quiet. Filled to the brims with a silence that was almost suffocating.

“So…”

“So…”

Mycroft cleared his throat. “We never broached the topic of children, did we?”

“No…we didn’t.”

“Do you, rather, I guess, would you– would you like– to– unless there’s someone– I suppose, unless you have someone else—”

Reaching out, you took his hand. “Mycroft.”

Almost selfishly, it eased you to know that he was dealing with the issue as well as you. Awkwardly, whilst trying to remain normal.

“Please tell me you know what I’m trying to say.”

A small chuckle left you. “I think I do.”

“Dear lord,” Mycroft lifted a hand to his brow. “One would think this kind of conversation would be easier.”

“Yes, I suppose so. If one wasn’t married only in name.”

“Plenty of couples are only married in name, surly.”

You nodded. “But how many are just friends? Friends who might want children?”

“I don’t know. I don’t…know.”

Mycroft laid his head back and looked at you. 

“How about we take this one step at a time?”

“I think we’ve skipped the first few.”

You nodded. “And maybe that is something we have to retrace before we…commit to children.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

Mycroft smiled, squeezing your hand. “Retrace. One step at a time?”

You nodded. “I think I can agree to that.”

Despite everything seemingly going back to normal, there was a fresh awkwardness around yourself and Mycroft. Some conversations would die away, others simply would start off too awkwardly for either one of you to stick around long enough.

However, it would only take a few weeks for all of that to change forever. 

First, there was a government gala where one particular member of parliament decided that you were to be his date, electing to ignore the fact you were someone else’s wife. 

It wasn’t the first time you had heard Mycroft call you his wife, but it was the first time it seemed to truly mean something more than just a name coming from his lips. 

Then Sherlock found himself in a spot of danger, which just so happened to pull you into that spot, too. Thankfully, you were unharmed, but Mycroft wasn’t so lucky. 

With a slash across his jacket, a heavy log of wood thrown to bash his rib cage and a grazing bullet left him with: a smattering of scars across his back, a growing purple bruise across his side and chest, and a burn-like scar. 

“I really do think you should see a doctor, Mycroft.”

Mycroft shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

You looked across his bare back and chest with sadness. Despite the new scars, you couldn’t help but let your fingers trace over healed ones. They were miniscule in comparison, and decades old. 

“I’m okay,” Mycroft said, his voice gentle. “Look at me?”

With a gentle finger, he pushed your chin up until you looked him in the eyes. 

“I’m okay,” he repeated. 

“You’re still bleeding.”

“All that matters to me, is that you are alive and well.”

“At what cost?”

“A couple of scars that will heal.” 

Reaching up, you went to lay a hand on his arm where you usually would. Only, there was now a fresh scar. 

“It’s okay,” Mycroft quickly took your hand, kissed it, and held it close to his chest. “It’s okay.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to still your tears. 

“Don’t cry, darling.” Mycroft held you closer, wiping away the falling tears. 

“When I heard the shot…Mycroft…I thought…”

“I know. I know. For a moment, I did, too. But everything’s okay. We’re both safe.”

Reaching up, you wrapped your arms over Mycroft’s shoulders and neck, being careful to not disturb his clean wound. Meanwhile, his own arms wrapped around your waist securely. 

The final push came a few days later. 

Until then, your days had been filled with soft and quiet moments that you shared with Mycroft. You kept his wounds clean and made sure they were healing, eventually he told you where the other scars came from. 

Most were from being a child – climbing trees, rolling down twig-covered hills, and the like. But a few – only a few – were from more…serious incidents. 

“My father got angry one evening. I don’t even remember what it was over, but I got in the way. I know he didn’t mean it but…”

Leaning down, carefully, you placed a single kiss against the scar. 

“You’re not your father, Mycroft. You’re not him.”

That night, you held each other until you fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. But that wasn’t the case a few nights later. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Mycroft looked over at you from his space on the sofa, “What? Oh, sorry. No, I guess not.”

With a tired smile, you closed the door behind you and took a seat beside him. On instinct, he lifted his arm and held you by his side. 

“How are your wounds?”

“A little sore, but healing thanks to you.”

“Good.” Looking up at him, he seemed…pensive. “Mycroft? What are you thinking about?”

Suddenly, he turned to you. “We’re married, yes?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“We’re husband and wife.”

You nodded, again. “That’s usually what happens when people get married.”

“Do you think of me as your husband?”

You chuckled, nervously. “Why are you asking?” Then your stomach dropped. “Mycroft-” You sat up. “Have you…” You tried to steady your voice. “Have you found someone?”

Mycroft sat up, too. “No. I just…I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking a lot, actually, and…I think- no. I know…I want to be married. Specifically, to you.”

“We already are.”

“Not just in name,” he quickly added. 

“Oh.” 

You fell quiet as you looked at him. He was waiting for a response, but your reaction told him that your brain had come to a halt. 

“It’s not just because of these last few days. Well, I suppose it gave me the push I needed but...I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I just– and this isn’t about being intimate…I’d like for us to try and be more than just friends.” Mycroft took a strained breath. “I’m really hoping I haven’t read into things wrongly, or made assumptions–”

“No. You haven’t. I just…”

The longer you looked at Mycroft, the more you wanted to invent a time machine to go back to when he first offered to marry you, and hit yourself over the head. Entering into a contractual marriage with the one guy you’d secretly been crushing on, from afar, probably wasn’t the best premise to avoid catching feelings for your husband. 

Mycroft’s breathing seemed strained. Like he was secretly wishing to turn back time, himself. 

But for the wrong reasons. 

Because he wasn’t wrong. 

He didn't make assumptions. 

For as long as he had been thinking about your marriage being more than you both agreed, you’d been thinking about it a lot longer. 

Mycroft seemed confused, and a little concerned, when you reached for him. Unable to think of what to say, your mind landed on one simple thing that could express what you were trying to find the words to say. 

Simply, you kissed him. 

It was a little awkward, at first. Uncertain, testing, searching. After a moment, Mycroft finally moved. 

His hand came to hold your face, gently, as he deepened the kiss a little. Leaning forward, pressing a little harder, your mouth parted just a little. 

With a slight of hand, it wasn’t long before you found yourself straddled across your husband’s lap. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d been dressed in a nightgown and dressing robe in front of Mycroft, but it was the first time he had touched you. Just small and sensitive touches – a skimming of his palm over your clothing, the tender cupping of his hand, a squeeze of your hip. 

A small noise came from the back of your throat as he seemed to shift a little under you. 

“Is-is everything alright?”

Trying to catch your breath, you nodded. “Yes. It’s just…new.”

Mycroft swallowed. “We should probably slow down.”

“Probably,” you agreed, your fingers gently tracing his jaw line. 

It was the logical thing to do. After all, it was past midnight and, despite his injuries, Mycroft was well enough to travel. You’d both promised Cordelia you would go and see her. 

But there was something in his kiss that felt…magnetic. Pulling away from his kiss was harder than leaning closer and kissing him, again. 

So, you did exactly that. 

Not that either of you were complaining. 

Being married for three years granted you both more than a little leeway in terms of intimacy. 

And Cordelia certainly noticed the change in both of you when you arrived at Appleton Manor two hours later than scheduled. 

“We got caught in…traffic! Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Traffic. There were so many carriages in the city this weekend. It was ram-packed.”

Cordelia smiled. “Mycroft, darling, perhaps you could fetch me my shawl. It’s just in the drawing room.”

“Of course, mother. I’ll be right back.”

The second Mycroft disappeared, Cordelia took you by your arm. “You two are terrible liars. But, I’ll forgive you. I suppose nearly dying gives you both a second lease on life. And a second honeymoon.”

“Cordelia!”

“Oh, please. Before Silas turned out to be a raging psychopath, we were the same. When we were a lot younger. But, I won’t embarrass you further. I just wanted to say…it rather suits you. Being in love. Showing it.”

In your head, nothing had really gone any differently. But, perhaps, there was an atmosphere. Less secret looks, more open ones. A few more noticeable, lingering touches. 

The block of your heels clacked against the floor, as you weaved in and out of people. Clark wasn’t having an easy time keeping up with you. 

“I get the feeling you don’t like me very much,” he said as he finally caught up with you. 

“Really?” You asked, starting up the printer to make some copies of the file in your hand. “What gave it away?”

Clark shifted on his feet as he stood beside you, moving to the side to avoid being hit with the mail trolley. 

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asked, his voice tense with worry. “Because if I have, please tell me.” 

You didn’t answer, and instead concentrated on making sure the printer didn’t eat your paper again. 

You heard Clark bark a quiet laugh. “You seem to be able to speak your mind to everyone else. So why not me?”

Turning your neck quickly, you looked at him. Your gaze was less than warming.

“I work better alone. I told you that from day one. So why make Perry agree to make me your partner?”

Clark shrugged, looking for his answer. “I dunno. I have a few good leads for your case. I thought we could work together. I thought it would be easier.”

“I have my own leads,” you told him. “I can write my own article. I don’t need help from someone who’s just gonna try and steal it down the road. Free press is a competition, right?”

Clark nodded, slowly. “I did say that but– that’s out of context.”

Less than a week ago, Clark had been standing with Lois by the coffee maker, having a discussion over the morals of story ownership. Whilst someone might discover a story, it is theirs. But that doesn’t stop others from finding it out, too. 

There’s a difference between using somebody else's sources and quotes, and finding your own which just happen to be similar. 

Finally, the printer had stopped jittering. 

“You know,” you sighed. “I see right through you.”

“I wasn’t aware you had x-ray vision?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you bundled together the copies. “You put on this act.”

“What act?” Clark asked, starting to get offended. 

“This…” You waved a hand over him. “This bumbling, clumsy – but somehow always manages to save the day – ultimate farmboy next door act. And I see right through it.”

Clark bit the inside of his cheek as gaze darkened just a little and he looked at you. “You think you know me, huh?”

You nodded, firmly. 

“Fine.” Clark placed his hands on his hips as he looked at you, clearly annoyed. “Have it your way. Use your sources, write your story. And I’ll write mine.”

You raised a brow, though completely unsurprised. “So you are gonna steal my story?”

“Perry put us on this together-”

“Because you asked.”

“But since you wanna be so stubborn about it-”

“Stubborn?!”

“We’ll write it separately and have Jimmy splice it together. 100% effort, 50-50 shared article.”

You glared at him for a while, even more so when he held out his hand. 

“Deal?”

You knew you didn’t have much of a choice. Perry trusted you, but Clark had been at the Daily Planet a lot longer than you. If he wanted a partner on something, you had a feeling it would be a battle to try and shift Perry from the idea. 

Putting the copies under your arm, you shook his hand. “Fine.”

Having an understood shared article was better than having the rug pulled from under you. 

Not long after striking the deal, you headed out in search of your sources. One called you in the early hours of the morning, telling you to meet them outside the quarry. 

Meanwhile, Clark was still in the office, making a few calls to confirm his leads. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Lois said, her voice light as she passed his desk. 

He’d been on hold for over thirty minutes, but hadn’t stopped glaring at your empty desk. 

“What’s your opinion of Y/n?”

Lois shrugged. “She’s a hard worker. Quiet. Saw her reaction when Perry said she’d be your partner for this. Is that why you look so…pensive?”

“I’m not pensive.”

“Annoyed, then.”

“I’m not annoyed.”

Lois shrugged. “Could have fooled me. What’s going on?”

Clark sighed. “She thinks I’m gonna steal her story.”

“Are you?”

“No! We’re partners. Well, we’re meant to be. And, instead, we’ve made a deal to write our own articles. I’m gonna have Jimmy splice them together.”

“Why not just work on it together?”

Clark sighed, again. “She didn’t seem thrilled about working together. Why make her write with me, too?”

Lois hummed. “She hasn’t been here long, but usually by now the newbie’s have made some kind of friendship group. I wonder why?”

At that moment, Cat leaned in. “I know why.”

“You do?” Clark asked. 

Cat nodded. “Rumours have it her last job didn’t end so well.”

“Because of Y/n?”

Cat shrugged. “I don’t know the full details, but a couple sources I have over at the Eagle tell me her last partner completely pulled the rug from under her.”

“He stole her story?” Lois asked, testing the waters for her answer. 

“Remember that front page story Perry lost his mind over, just before Christmas?”

Lois and Clark nodded. 

“That was her?” Lois asked. 

“Rumours have it.” Cat nodded. “But, then again, they’re just rumors. If we want the truth, we should probably ask her.”

“Why haven’t you asked her?”

“Because she needs a little time,” Cat said. “Her last job…I suspect it was like leaving her family.”

Clark’s gaze fell onto your desk. Between the messy post-it notes, overflowing pile of random papers, two smaller case files, and your desk-top computer, he spotted a picture frame. 

It was you, two girls and another woman in front of a building. He hadn’t paid much attention to it before. He just figured the woman was your sister. But, taking a closer look, the woman didn’t look related to you. 

Her face shape was different to yours, the eye colour, smile…all of it different. But the two girls look related to her. She was their mom, most likely. 

Looking even closer, Clark recognised the building you were all standing in front of. The Metropolis Eagle. 

Clark’s curiosity was piqued. Why have a picture of people, standing in front of your old building, on your desk at your new job? And, if the rumours Cat told him were true…how badly had it gone down?

Over the next couple of days, Clark kept his eye on you. As he suspected, he ran into you more often than you liked. But, with overlapping sources and meetings, it was inevitable. 

“Wanna get some lunch?” Clark asked you as you both left the lab where you had been pushed together for a meeting with the owner. 

“You think we should spend more time together?” You asked, your voice a little lighter, as you rummaged through your bag for…something. 

Clark shrugged. “We do work together. Maybe…rather than fighting over this, we work together. It would also save Jimmy a job.”

“How about this?” You asked, looking up at him. “You go and do what you wanna do. And I’ll-” You looked at your phone. “Go to the hospital.”

“What?”

The lighter expression you had been holding on your face disappeared in an instant. 

“I need to go to the hospital.”

Looking around you, the panic was rising up your throat as you tried to figure out where you were. 

“I-I- what street– where did I-”

Clark took you by your shoulders. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I need– what street are we on?”

Clark told you. “The hospital is three blocks away. I’ll drive you.”

“No-”

“Y/n, you’re not in the right frame of mind to drive, right now. Who’s at the hospital?”

“My goddaughter. She’s- I don’t know. I just-”

Clark nodded. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Ten minutes later, you were running down the hallway of the children’s ward of the hospital. 

“Y/n!”

Turning on your heel, you looked down one of the halls where Molly, the mother of your goddaughter was standing. 

“Molly!”

“Hey,” she smiled, accepting your hug. 

“How’s Iris? Is she-”

“She’s okay. She fell off her bike,” Molly explained. “No broken bones, no concussion. She’s got a couple grazes and a sprained wrist. Nothing, a couple painkillers and some ice cream won’t fix.”

You laid a hand over your chest. “Oh, thank god.”

Then Molly shifted on her feet. “I should warn you-”

“Y/n!”

You felt your skin crawl with betrayal as you heard your name leave the mouth of Molly’s newly ex-husband and your ex-partner. 

“And Clark Kent!” Richard seemed surprised. “My, my. Isn’t this a surprise?”

Clark’s gaze flicked across everyone’s faces. Molly was the woman in the photo – the two girls, her daughters. Your goddaughters. Richard was…the journalist who covered the Eagle’s front page story before Christmas. 

“I heard you got a job over at the Planet,” Richard smiled. “Hope they’re keeping you busy.”

“Fuck you.”

“No need for hostility,” Richard held up his hands. “A story’s a story. Am I right, Kent?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved past Richard and entered the hospital room. The door closed just as you heard Molly tell him to shut his mouth. 

After you had left the Eagle, it had taken less than three months for Molly to turn up outside your apartment door with Jane and Iris. She was divorcing Richard and didn’t have anywhere else to go. 

You had accepted them with open arms. Richard had been your partner, until he betrayed you. You’d worked with him long enough to know he could be one of the nicest people. Until the Hyde to his Jekyll came out. 

Inside the hospital room, Jane hugged you tight before letting you go to sit on the edge of her younger sister’s bed. 

“What happened, kiddo?”

“I fell off my bike. The doctor said I’ve sprained my wrist.”

You nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, it hurt at first. Like, really bad. But now it’s okay. Mommy said I can have ice cream.”

You chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”

“Who’s that?” Iris asked, looking over your shoulder to the tall, broad and handsome man standing outside her room. 

Clark was talking to Richard. Rather, he was nodding along as Richard rambled to him about something. Molly just looked fed-up. 

“Oh, that’s-”

Jane smiled. “He’s handsome. Is he your new partner?”

“Uhh.”

Jane and Iris shared a knowing look. 

“Sorta.”

“Sorta?” Jane asked. 

“We’re…working on an article together but…it’s complicated.”

Suddenly, the door opened. “Say bye-bye to your dad, girls. He’s leaving now.”

“Bye!” They both called from the bed. 

Richard, who was waiting for his girls to run and hug him, dropped his arms awkwardly. “Uh, bye then, girls. See you next week, yeah?”

“Bye!” They called again. 

As Richard moved away and left, Molly invited Clark inside. 

“Girls, say hello to Mr Kent.”

“Hello,” Iris smiled. 

“Hi,” Jane smiled, before looking at you with a knowing look.

“Hi,” he smiled back. “I heard you’ve fallen off your bike?”

Iris nodded, very quickly jumping into her story about what happened. While she was trying to ride as fast as she could, she saw a cat and didn’t want to hit it, so pressed her brakes but swerved and then fell. 

“Are you Y/n’s new partner?”

Clark looked at you as he stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, and rocked on his feet. “Well…it’s-”

“Complicated?” Iris asked, raising her brow. “That’s what grown-ups usually say when they’re being childish.”

Clark let out a nervous chuckle, but looked at you nonetheless. Meanwhile, Molly stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on her daughter’s back. 

“Iris.” She warned. “Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s…it’s fine.”

You and Clark stayed for twenty minutes before being shooed back to work by Molly and Jane (who whispered once more about how handsome Clark was). 

“Still hungry for food?”

You turned quickly. Quicker than Clark had been expecting. 

“Iris had a point back there,” you said. “About being complicated, being childish. But-”

Clark cut you off. “Sometimes complicated can also just mean complicated.”

You swallowed a little. And then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Y/n, listen…” Clark shifted on his feet, awkwardly, until his gaze found your own. “I don’t know what happened at your last job.”

“You don’t?”

“Well…sorta. I mean- I don’t know the full story.” Clark said. “I don’t know what your last partner did to you, or how badly it screwed things up but, I just want you to know, I’m not him. I know that doesn’t really instill a lot of trust either.”

You nodded. You had lost count of the amount of times a ‘nice’ guy had told you he was ‘one of the nice’ ones, and then that turned out to be the opposite. 

“I’m just- what I’m trying to say is-” Clark sighed, frustrated at himself for not knowing what to say. “I respect your reasons for not trusting me. But…can you try and judge me on my actions? At least every once in a while?”

For a moment, you paused. He had a point. A point you already knew. From most of his actions, on the face of them, he was a genuinely good guy. Bought coffee in the mornings, helped people edit, helped people in general. 

You’d just seen him with your goddaughters. He had them smiling, laughing – feeling the complete opposite as they did when they’d been around their father, recently. 

But you still had your reservations. 

Richard had bought coffee. Richard had been nice. Richard had been helpful. 

And, although Clark wasn’t Richard…you’d only known Clark for six months. 

Your trust had been shattered at the Eagle. You didn’t want another story being taken from you, and having you stripped of your credibility. 

Swallowing, hard, you nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

Over the next week, you tried your hardest to judge Clark based on his actions and his words. But it was proving difficult to lower your guard when around him during writing sessions, interviews and information. 

You were walking back from work after finishing late. Your route was only a couple of blocks and, since it was a Friday night, the streets of Metropolis were almost as packed as they were when people took an early lunch break in the summer. 

Halfway home, your heel broke. 

“In need of assistance, ma’am?”

Jumping a little, you turned around and took a breath of relief. “Superman.”

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, my shoe broke. I’ll be fine.”

Superman looked around the block. It was late, and dark, and although there were people, they were tipsy and/or drunk. 

“Maybe I can help fix-” Before he could finish his sentence, you took off your other shoe and broke the heel. 

“I’m not looking to walk barefoot through the city and,” you shrugged. “I’ve been meaning to replace these anyway.”

“You know, I could have carried you home.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Well…may I walk you home? It is late and you’re on your own.”

Looking around, you soon turned back towards him. “I guess…I guess it couldn’t hurt. But, if sirens pass us, I expect you to follow them and not me, we clear?”

Superman chuckled. “Very clear, ma’am.”

“Call me Y/n. I feel like my mother when you call me ma’am.”

“Sorry, ma’a- I mean, Y/n.”

You smiled. “Better. Thank you. So, what are you doing on this side of Metropolis?”

“A pub brawl. You?”

“Late night at the office.” You said. “I should probably tell you, I am a journalist so…I expect full scoop if we do pass sirens.”

“Daily Planet?”

You looked at him, surprised. “How did you-”

“Your badge,” Superman pointed out. 

On your hip, you had your Daily Planet ID badge on view. 

“Right. Duh.” You chuckled. 

“I don’t recognise you. Are you new to the Planet?”

“Yeah. Well, sorta. I’ve been there six months so far.”

“Enjoying it?”

You nodded, lifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Actually, yeah. Perry’s a good boss, coffee’s better, people are nice.”

“What’s your latest scoop?”

“I’ve heard you’re good friends with Clark Kent,” you said. “Figured you’d already know.”

“Uhh, well, Clark doesn’t tell me much about his work.”

“Really?”

“He…he did tell me he had a new partner, though. Is that meant to be you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Sorta. I-I kinda blew up at him over it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I kinda have a history with work partners and Perry knew that. He knows why, too. But, when Clark asked him to partner up with me, he jumped at the chance.”

“Mind me asking about your history with your partner?”

You sighed, debating whether or not to tell him. “It’s kinda complicated. Or, feels that way, at least. I had this story and…just before publication, my trusted partner of almost ten years took it to our editor and said it was his. The story ran front page and everything. I wasn’t even a footnote.”

“But it was your story?”

You nodded. “Every word of it. Had the evidence and everything. All the copies, edit notes – everything. Took it to my editor and he just shrugged. Said free press was a competition. Since I didn’t bring it to him first, it wasn’t my story.”

Clark felt sick to his gut. He hadn’t meant to pry this much, but he had wanted to know more about you. But, the second you opened up to him, he felt like he was really going to be sick. 

Because now he knew. 

But he wasn’t Clark. 

“I’m so sorry they did that to you.”

“Not much I can do about it, now,” you said. “But, he got his just deserts.”

“He did?”

“Not long after the story ran, his wife divorced him. Molly – his wife – we’re good friends. I’m also godmother to their two beautiful and funny little girls.”

Clark couldn’t help but smile as you did. Without your guard up, you felt safe to talk some more. And he couldn’t help but admire the way your eyes lit up when you told him random side stories about your goddaughters. 

He’d only met them for twenty minutes but the stories you told, and how you told them, he could totally see it. Jane practised for her recital at school – which was apparently why you disappeared from work early two weeks ago (though Perry seemed to know). Iris running rings around her neighbours. 

It was the first time in six months Clark had heard you laugh. Truly laugh. Not one that barked at him out of sarcasm. 

“Well, this is me.” You said, pointing at your apartment building. “Thank you, for walking me home.”

“Anytime, Y/n.”

Just before you walked into your apartment building, you turned back around. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

You smiled at him. “Thank you for listening. I know it probably sounded boring but…thank you.”

“It didn’t sound boring. And, you’re welcome.” Clark was about to fly away when he turned back around to you. “The reporters at the Planet…they’re good people. It might be worth getting to know them?”

For a moment, you remained fixed in your spot. Then you nodded. “I might just try that.”

And you did. 

By the time your and Clark’s story ran in the paper – landing you both on the front page – you had allowed yourself to trust Clark enough to save Jimmy the job of splicing your articles together. 

You worked together and stayed late at the bullpen in order to write the article together. You shared your casefile with him, and he showed you the information he had found from his research. 

Whilst writing, although some things overlapped, other pieces of information were like two jigsaw pieces finally fitting together. 

You also got to know Lois and Cat some more. Cat had the scoop on your old job, including some other reporters that had transferred to other newspapers after you left. Lois and yourself shared the odd comment that still kept Clark humble. 

“What do you say, Y/n?” Jimmy asked. “Celebrations calls for drinks?”

You looked at the clock on your screen. “Oh, uh, actually…I’m needed elsewhere.”

“What? No,” Cat pouted. “Can’t you do one drink? It is yours and Clark’s names on the front page?”

You smiled a little, with a nervous chuckle. “I know, and I’m sorry. But have one for me, yeah?”

Cat sighed. “Fine. But I’m ordering my brand. I love you, but your choice of drink is appalling.”

Jimmy scoffed. “Why not mine?”

As they bickered about choices of celebratory drinks, Clark leaned into you. 

“Sure you can’t come?”

You nodded, nervously. “I’m sure. I promise Iris and Jane a movie night.”

“Which movie?”

You shrugged. “Dunno yet. They get two picks each and we put on a random generator. See you on Monday?”

Clark nodded, letting you go. But, as he watched you leave the building, he couldn’t help but wonder what you were really up to. 

Since your conversation with Superman, you’d disclosed the same information to Clark and the others, so he was no longer in ‘questionable ethics’ territory. But, on top of that information that Clark knew, he also knew Molly had taken the girls away for the weekend to visit her parents. 

So, you were home alone. 

As far as he was aware, you didn’t have a story that required a late night meet up with a lead. You, as Cat had gracefully pointed out when Jimmy suggested they go out for drinks, had a non-existent love life. 

So, what were you doing?

“Should I be worried you’re stalking me?”

You’d spotted the familiar floating red cape outside your fire exit five minutes ago. When he didn’t knock, you decided to throw the window open and check where he was. 

“I just wanted to check in.”

“Didn’t think to ring the doorbell?”

“Sorry,” he said, landing on the platform. “Force of habit.”

“You make a habit of landing on people’s fire escapes?”

“Well…”

You chuckled. “Relax, Superman. I’m only messing.”

He chuckled. “I saw Clark and the others not too long ago. I also read your article. Front page, congrats.”

You tipped your imaginary hat. “Thank you.”

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”

“I am.” You shrugged, “In my own way.”

“And that way is?”

“Enjoying my quiet apartment while I have it.” You nodded to the open window you had climbed through in order to sit on the steps of the fire escape. “I love my goddaughters, but sometimes I like the sound of silence.”

Superman chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the barrier. “Noisy?”

“In the best way, but yes.” As you looked back at Superman, you couldn’t help but study him for a moment. He seemed to have something on his mind. 

“Something on your mind?”

“What?”

“You seem worried about something.”

“I do?”

You nodded. “I’m off the clock, so this will all be off the record. Superman is usually Clark Kent’s domain, anyway. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Superman sighed. “I don’t know if there is.”

“The man who helps save people daily doesn’t have anything to worry about?”

He sighed. “I guess…this is off the record?”

You nodded. “Completely.”

“Okay. Well, I have this…friend. Not ‘friend’. They’re more like a–”

“Situationship?”

“No.” He seemed genuinely disgusted by the term. “No, nothing like that. Just…we work together.”

“Another superhero?”

“No. This is…at work. Away from…me.”

“Okay.”

“You see, I don’t think she likes me very much. Or, maybe she didn’t, but now she does? It’s…It’s hard to tell. She’s the lone wolf type. Doesn’t like working with others, independent almost to a fault.”

You nodded. She sounded familiar. 

“Everytime I think I’m getting close to her, she…pulls away.”

“Well, how long have you known her?”

“A…short while.”

“And how long is a short while?”

“Almost eight months.”

You nodded. “Well, the best advice I can give you is…take your time. It takes time. And effort. I know a thing or two about emotional wall building and,” you chuckled. “I can tell ya, it’s not an easy thing to tear down. Especially when you’re afraid…”

“Afraid of what?” Superman asked, when you didn’t continue. 

“Especially when, even if you don’t get hurt again, you’re afraid you’ll trip on the rubble and hurt yourself anyway.” You looked at him. “Or that another person will mistake your rubble for fresh building blocks and accuse you of building the emotional wall, again.”

Superman seemed to take a breath, unsure of what to say next as your words washed over him. 

“A little kindness, and a safe space, can go a long way,” you told him with a light smile. “I know that first hand. Show her reasons to trust you. Even if she doesn’t believe you right now, keep showing her. Hopefully, it’ll be worth the wait.”

“Who showed you?”

“You did,” you said. “And Clark. I-I don’t know what, or if, he’s told you anything but…I spent a long time fighting him because of my experience with others. After my conversation with you, I thought if Clark hadn’t proven me right yet, then I shouldn’t be trying to find evidence to prove he was going to.”

You and Superman spoke for another twenty minutes before the sound of sirens wailing across the city were calling for him. 

Over the following months, as you got to know and became a close friend to the others at the Planet, you also got to know Superman. 

“There’s something familiar about you,” you blurted out one November evening, whilst sitting out on your fire escape. 

Clark shifted on his feet, trying to keep his ‘cool’ facade up. “There is?”

Your eyes narrowed at him, but not in malice or hate. It was in genuine curiosity. Like there was something different on his face and you couldn’t work out what it was. 

“Yeah,” you said, your voice distant. “I-I’ve been thinking about it for a while, to be honest.”

“Why not mention it before?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around you tighter. “Guess I just thought it was because I’ve talked to you more than I ever thought I would. Even as a reporter.”

Superman chuckled with you. 

“But…I don’t think that’s it. Have…” You bit your lip a little, debating whether or not to ask. “Have we met before…outside of you being Superman? I know you have a normal job- well. A semi-normal life outside of being a superhero.”

Superman nodded, folding his arms, trying to hide his smile. 

There had been numerous conversations over the last few months that let you know more about Superman than you suspected anyone else did. Aside from Clark. And maybe Lois. 

“A coffee shop?” You shook your head. “No, that’s not it. On the metro? I know you can fly and all but even normal, everyday Superman has to find a way around the city, right?”

“How often are you on the metro?”

You hummed. “Right.”

You sighed, still focusing your gaze on him. You knew him. You knew you knew him. You just didn’t know from where. 

“You’re not a reporter, are you?” You half joked. 

Clark felt his entire body heat up. He chuckled, trying to keep his nerves at bay. Looking at his feet for a moment, he shook his head. “No. No, I'm not a reporter.”

You sighed. “Just as well. You’d probably get all the scoop on yourself, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t that be considered unethical?”

You nodded. “You don’t seem like the unethical type.”

“Thank you?”

You laughed a little before feeling the chill. 

“Cold?”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged. 

Superman smiled at you, walking closer. “Here. Give me your hands.”

Holding them up, a little confused, he clasped them together before covering his own around both of yours. Within seconds, you were able to feel your fingertips again, and it was quickly spreading throughout your body. 

“Is that a part of your superpower?”

He chuckled, again. “No. I just run hot.”

Your eyes remained on his for a beat too long to be considered casual. Thankfully, as you darted your gaze away, you saw what you’d been waiting for. 

“It’s snowing,” you said. 

Clark couldn’t help but admire you as you looked out to the darkened city as the snow started falling. There was something softly magical about it all. You included. 

Sadly, the feeling of your hands in his as you both looked out to the rest of the city didn’t last long. Crime stopped for no one. 

“I better go.”

You nodded, a little sad. “Be careful.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Night, Superman.”

Gently, he squeezed your hand a little before floating and flying off across the city. You were used to him going to save the city, but something was still bothering you. 

Who was he? And why was he so familiar?

Your answer came a month later, just before Christmas. 

The city was knee-deep in snow. It was all anyone could talk about. Aside from whatever Superman was doing – saving children from ice-skating on a deep lake, helping a family of squirrels find suitable hibernation. 

It was three days before Christmas and Perry had assigned you and Clark to cover the Mayor’s speech for the day. They were meant to be discussing what they would be doing to help those who couldn’t spend seven hundred dollars at Costco to bulk-buy for the winter, when the streets would be cleared of snow to make it safe to walk, and anything else that needed aid. 

“It’s freezing. How are you not shivering?” You asked, clapping your double gloved hands to try and get some feeling back into them again. “We’ve been standing out here for ages.”

“It’s been twenty minutes,” Clark pointed out. “The Mayor should be out soon.”

You scoffed. “They’re probably still inside, keeping warm.”

“Y/n.”

“What?” You rolled your eyes. “I get grouchy when I’m too cold.”

Clark playfully rolled his eyes, pulling his hands from his pockets. “Give me your hand.”

“I’m not holding your hand.”

“Yes or no: can you, currently, feel your fingers?”

You paused for a moment, before sighing in defeat. Pulling your gloves off your hand, you held it out to Clark who clasped it in his own. 

“How are you so warm?”

Clark shrugged. “I run hot.”

You sighed with a grumble. “Lucky bastard.”

Clark just laughed, pulling you closer to him. Even in his winter clothes, he was almost like a furnace. 

Thankfully, the Mayor finally made their appearance and started their talk. You were half-way through taking notes when you felt Clark’s thumb rub absentmindedly over your knuckles as he kept his hand, and your own, inside his coat pocket. 

It was a split second thought. Your brain forgot where you were and who you were with. The Mayor’s voice muffled into the background as you looked up. 

Where your brain expected Superman to be, you saw Clark. 

Clark!

You did a double take. 

“Everything okay?” Clark asked you, quietly. 

Taking a breath, you nodded. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

Looking down at your notepad, you pretended to read over your notes as a smile started to spread across your face. 

Over the next hour and a half, you went through a wave of different emotions. The car ride to your lunch stop, you’d been quiet. Pretending to listen to the Christmas music floating out of the radio, your mind raced over everything. 

You had opened up to Superman before you had opened up to Clark. Superman had talked to you about work. You were co-workers. He read your article. He knew your friends. He’d lied to you. But he also told you his truths. 

He was your friend. 

Superman was Clark. 

Clark was Superman.

“What?” Clark asked you as he picked at his fries. 

You’d been sitting across him in the booth for ten minutes, unable to take your eyes off him. 

You had grounds to be mad at him. But…you weren’t. Instead, you were pleased. Grateful. Happy. 

“What? You keep staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”

You shook your head. “No. Sorry, no.” You smiled as you shifted in your seat, folding your arms on the table. “It’s…it’s nothing. Uh, anyway, are you heading home for Christmas?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna drive down on Christmas Eve. What about you?”

“Molly and the girls have invited me for Christmas at their new place.”

Clark smiled. “How are they liking the suburbs?”

You nodded. “They’re really enjoying it. Molly had joined a local divorce book club.”

“Divorce book club?”

“They’re basically divorced and free women who can drink as much wine as they like for a Friday evening and compare fictional men to their shitty ex-husbands.”

“Sounds fun.”

You laughed. “She seems to be enjoying it. Iris is living next door to her new best friend, and Jane has been volunteering at the library. She wants to start a book club of her own.”

Clark smiled. “They sound like they’re thriving.”

“They definitely are.”

It wasn’t long before your article was being written and sent into Perry for editing. And, by the time you were done, and had started to finish off the last of your Christmas wrapping, you heard a gentle tapping coming from your window. 

If you hadn’t figured it out earlier, seeing Clark Kent crouching on your fire escape, wiping the snow from his glasses – that would have done it. 

“Clark?”

“Hey,” he chuckled, nervously. “I tried your buzzer but it wasn’t working. Pretty sure it’s frozen. I saw the light on so I thought-”

“You’d climb up eighty feet of icy fire-escape steps?”

“I’ve got sensible shoes on.”

You let out a laugh and stepped back from your window. “Well, come in then. Before you fall.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you here, exactly?”

“Uh, well, I wanted to give you this.” From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s– just read it.”

“Okay.” Opening up the letter, you unfurled the three-way fold and read it. “Oh, my god. Is this real?”

Clark was almost beaming. “Congratulations!”

You had been nominated for a journalism award for your article that reported on the misdeeds of a local laboratory. Perry had made you front page news for a week. You’d celebrated by having a newly stocked Pumpkin Spice Latte, at the time. 

Beaming, you hugged Clark in excitement. “This is insane!”

“Well, you earned it, Y/n.”

“Can you stay for a while? I’ll make us some drinks. How did you know?”

“Perry got a call,” he told you as you stepped back. “He told me and asked me to bring this to you before tomorrow.”

“Hot cocoa?”

“Sounds great. You’re still wrapping?”

“Oh, yeah.” You poured some milk into a pan on the stove to heat it up. “We’ve been so busy, I kinda lagged behind.”

“Want some help?”

You popped your head around the edge of your kitchen door. “How well do you wrap presents?”

“I’ve not won any awards or anything, but Ma always has me help her.”

You hummed and nodded. “Fair enough. Just, uh, I should have labelled the piles.”

Clark nodded, calling back to you. “You have.”

A few minutes later, you came through with two mugs of hot cocoa with the toppings. 

“Cheers.”

“To your nomination.”

You smiled. “To my nomination.”

Clark helped you finish wrapping the presents you had bought, whilst you re-watched (but mostly talked through) It’s A Wonderful Life. 

Long after the movie had finished, and all the presents were wrapped, you and Clark were in stitches with laughter. 

Trying to breathe through your stitch, you couldn’t look at Clark without laughing. 

“Oh, no, no, no. Stop. I can’t breathe.”

Both of you tried to catch your breath. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Clark nodded. “Believe it. It haunts me enough at 3 am.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Collapsing back against the sofa, the laughter started to settle and it was just you and Clark, left alone in your living room, with whatever hallmark christmas tunes were floating around the room. 

“You’re staring again,” Clark said after a few minutes. “Got something you’d like to share?”

“No.” You replied, a coy look in your eyes. 

“Really?” Clark sat up, and you copied him. “Because you’ve got that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“That one. That one that says I know something you don’t.”

You shrugged, acting innocent. “Hmm, who knows? Maybe I do? Maybe I don’t.”

Clark’s gaze narrowed at you. “Spill.”

You shook your head. “Nu-uh.”

“Oh, come on! I shared my 3 am nightmare.”

You smiled. “But mine isn’t a nightmare.”

“Y/n.”

You grinned, leaning closer as he had done. “Clark.”

Clark sighed, “You’re a tough case to crack.”

You nodded, proudly. “That I am, Kent. That I am.”

He glared a little longer, hoping it might work. “What secret are you hiding?”

“What secret are you hiding?” You countered. “Often it’s the guilty who see guilt in others.”

“And what am I meant to be guilty of?”

You hummed. “Secretly being a really good Christmas wrapper. If I’d known you were this good, I would have found some way to guilt trip you into doing the rest.”

“Well, if it helps, I would have helped if you’d just asked.”

“That does seem like you. You’re very helpful, Clark.”

“Thank you.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know.”

Clark swallowed. “Really?”

You hummed with a nod. “Someone you know, too. Really well.”

Clark’s head tilted. “Who are we talking about?”

“I don’t know. You looked in the mirror lately? He might be closer than we think.”

You watched as Clark’s eyes flicked over your own and the penny finally dropped. 

“Y/n.”

You smiled, gently. “I haven’t told anyone, Clark. And I don’t plan on doing so.”

“I’m not-” Clark was about to deny it, but you just talked over him. 

“Wanna know when I figured it out? It was earlier, at the Mayor’s speech. You were holding my hand and, for a split second, I forgot where I was. I thought it was you. And it was. It just wasn’t the you I was expecting.”

Clark’s shoulders dropped and he leaned back against your sofa, feeling on edge. So, you shuffled closer, laying a hand on his arm. “Clark?”

He lowered the hand from his face and looked at you, a little hopeful, a little defeated. 

“You have my word. No-one will hear it from me. Ever. Unless you told me otherwise.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Really.”

“And you’re not mad?”

You shook your head. “No. Believe me, I was surprised, too. But, no. I’m not mad. Rather, I’m glad it’s you.”

Clark sat up. “You are?”

You nodded, a light smile on your face once again. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet. “I am.”

Gently, Clark took your hand in his, his thumbs once again running back and forth over your knuckles. 

“Does anyone else know?”

He shook his head. “No. Not yet. Ma and Pa know, obviously. But…if you mean work…no.”

You highly doubted that was completely true. Everyone had their own guesses as to the real identity of Superman. But you believed him. 

“I’m guessing you’ve got a lot of questions-”

You held onto his hand, firmly. “They can wait. Tell me whenever you want.”

“Ask me, and I’ll tell you.” Clark said, his focus on you. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

“Like…right now?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Oh, okay. Uhh, okay. Let me think.” 

You looked away for a second. You had fully meant it when you said your questions could wait. But being told you could ask. Now. Suddenly, every question you had ever had (and not even for Superman) had disappeared from your brain.

“Oh, okay.” You turned back to him. “When you’re late to work, is that on purpose?”

Clark laughed a little. “All the questions you could ask?”

“I wanna know! Is it a tactic or do you just have poor time management?”

Clark leaned back into your sofa, his gaze softly focusing on you whilst he kept your hand in his. “I wish I could say it’s the former, but some mornings I just press my snooze button one too many times.”

“Does caffeine have any effect on you?”

“No. But, I like the taste.”

“Have you ever been sick? Like, when you were a kid? Were your…abilities less powerful then?”

“Nope,” Clark shook his head. “It took me a while to learn how to fly but in terms of being sick, no.”

“Not once? Not even after being exposed to kryptonite?”

Clark shook his head. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

You asked Clark every random, and not so random, question you could think of. Before you knew it, the conversation had leaned away from Superman and had delved into Clark’s childhood. 

Despite his abilities, he was still the ‘nerdy’ kid the popular ones picked on. Whenever he was on the farm, he usually used his abilities to help his Pa paint the barn or fix the roof. 

On the whole, he lived a pretty normal life.

“I should go, it’s getting late.” 

“You sure? You can take the spare room. Saves you driving back to your apartment in the snow.”

Clark looked out your window. The snow in the city had practically doubled in the space of a couple hours. 

“Well…”

With your blanket trailing behind you like its own tired version of the dramatic Disney cape sweep, you headed towards your spare bedroom. “You can stay. Pretty sure I’ve got some pjs that should fit you.”

Clark did a double take back to you. “You do?”

Clark appeared in your doorway as you rummaged through your linen closet. “Yeah. I placed an order for pajamas online. They ended up sending the wrong package but they said just to keep the package.”

“Didn’t you want a refund?”

“Oh, they gave me the refund. Yeah- oh, here they are.” Holding them up, you judged them against Clark’s frame. “They should fit.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. There’s spare toothpaste, brush, washing stuff – all in the cupboard under the sink. Use what you want.”

A few minutes later, as you had finished with your shortened night routine since you were seconds from falling asleep whilst standing, you said goodnight to Clark. 

Clark replied the same back, and as he finally laid down in bed, smiling as he thought back on the whole day whilst being surrounded by the smell of your laundry detergent. He ignored the fact he could have easily flown home.

It was still dark when you woke up. 

You would have stayed in bed, huddled in the warmth of your bed, if you hadn’t been intrigued by the smell of fresh breakfast coming from your kitchen. 

Clark was standing in your kitchen, in a world of his own, when he turned to see you standing in the doorway. Huddled in a thick blanket, your hair loose, one word flashed across his mind. 

Beautiful. 

“Are you making breakfast?”

Clark shrugged, a quiet smile on his face as you shuffled inside and planted yourself at your table. 

“Thought it was the least I could do since you let me stay.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after seven,” Clark said, reading the clock on your kitchen window cill. 

“What’s the snow like?” You asked in a yawn. 

Nodding over to the window near your fire escape, Clark said, “Take a look for yourself.”

“Oh.”

Against the window, the snow had piled up. If you were to open your window, your apartment floor would end up covered, too. 

Looking around your kitchen, you spotted your radio on the side. As the bacon started to sizzle in the pan, you stood from the kitchen chair and reached for it. 

The voice of the radio crackled through your kitchen as they gave out the reports. Most roads were closed, everyone was being advised to stay indoors, more snow was to come…

“I’ll do a sweep,” Clark said. “Make sure nobody’s stuck.”

You nodded. “I’ll call Molly and make sure she’s okay with the girls. Think you’ll still make it home?”

Clark shook his head, turning off the stove. “Not if people need me here.”

As Clark got the plates and cutlery ready, you pressed start on your percolator to start coffee. 

Suddenly, the ringing of your telephone rattled through your apartment. 

“You have a landline?”

Dropping the blanket off your shoulders, you rushed over to the beam of your doorway between the kitchen and the rest of your apartment. “It’s mostly for emergencies.” 

Lifting the receiver, you placed it against your ear. “Hello?”

It was Molly. “Hey, happy Christmas Eve.”

“Is everything okay?”

Clark leaned against the other side of the phone, his bicep braced against the beam. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that our wifi has cut out. The entire block is the same way. The company- they’re meant to be coming out to fix it but we don’t know when. I heard the city’s blocked.”

You nodded, despite the fact she couldn’t see you. “Yeah. We’re basically snowed in here.”

“We?” 

You stalled and Clark just smirked but looked away. “Uhh. Yeah. Uh, me and Clark.”

“Clark’s there?” Molly sounded hopeful. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, he is. I didn’t think it was safe for him to drive back last night so I asked him to stay.”

“Well.” You could hear the smile in Molly’s voice. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“Molly.”

“The girls aren’t awake yet. I’ll let them call you later? You know, when you’re not….busy.”

Molly was trying to hold back her suggestive laughter. 

Trying to remain cool and normal, despite the fact pajama-clad Clark Kent, with slightly messy hair and glasses, was leaning against the doorframe barely four inches from you, you tried to keep the conversation on track. 

“Keep me updated, yeah?”

“Course,” Molly said. “If it keeps snowing, maybe we can push Christmas Day?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll let you go. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Bye, Molly.” You said in a panic before quickly hanging up the phone. 

Clark looked at you, an amused expression on his face. “Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Everything’s fine. Breakfast?”

You heard Clark chuckle behind you, but he moved to plate up breakfast as you poured the coffee. 

Throughout the day, as Clark zipped around the city to help those who needed it, you checked on your neighbours. Some had braved the storm to pick up their shopping, others were hunkering down with a film and hot chocolate. 

By the time you were back inside your apartment, showered and dressed in pajamas once again, Clark knocked on your front door. 

“Did you bring all the snow in the city with you?” You asked, dusting him off as he stepped inside. “Let me get you a towel.”

Heading towards your dryer, you pulled out a towel and passed it to him as you took the coat from his hands and lifted it over the hook beside your door.