That Which Even the Clouds Cannot Hide by Not_So_Austen

M, 30k words, Complete

Summary: David Hollander never went to the cottage. Ilya and Shane's secret was never discovered, though their plan remained the same. Keeping their relationship secret went well until an accident leaves Yuna stranded and Ilya is the only person Shane knows who is close enough to help her. With a storm raging overhead and phone troubles to stymie the way, Yuna and Ilya wind up stuck together for a night as they wait out the storm. Secrets aren't so easy to hide when you have too little cover.

Excerpt:

The temperature outside seemed to have dropped further since Ilya had arrived. The chill bit through his clothes and pricked at his skin underneath. Beside him, Yuna shivered, her good hand reaching up to rub at her injured one, trying to warm herself up. There was a news crew to one side, out of the way of emergency services, but close enough to make Ilya feel paranoid as a woman spoke into a microphone, her hair whipping in the wind. Ilya tugged his hat down lower and, with a hand to Yuna’s uninjured shoulder, he guided them both well clear of the shot. They came to a stop in the shadows a few yards from the emergency room entrance and Yuna shivered again, her entire body rocking with it. Shrugging out of his jacket, Ilya gripped it by the collar and held it out to her in offering. 

Yuna looked at the jacket, then up to Ilya’s face. “I’m not taking your jacket, Rozanov.”

“I am offering,” he said, giving the garment an insistent little shake.

“It’s freezing out here,” she said. “You’ll freeze.”

“I am Russian,” he told her. “We do not feel cold.”

The look she levelled at him was unimpressed and just as unbelieving. 

“We won’t make it three blocks in this weather,” Yuna said, with a shake of her head, another shiver rocking through her. “Put your jacket back on.”

“You want me to tell Shane his mother was fine until I took her outside and let her die of the cold?” Ilya asked. “Take the jacket.”

Yuna’s nose wrinkled, but she let Ilya settle it over her shoulders, and she clutched it around her with her good hand.

“We should go back inside,” Yuna said, sounding resigned. “There are no taxis, no Ubers, we can’t walk in this storm. You tried, but we’ll have to wait it out.”

“Is not so far,” Ilya said, though even he didn’t believe his words. 

“In this weather it is,” Yuna countered, turning her head towards him. “I think this storm has caused enough trouble for me, I’d rather not risk another round.”

“Excuse me,” a soft, lisping voice came from the roadside. “Do you two kids need a ride home?”

“Kids–?” Yuna started, but Ilya cut her off with an enthusiastic, “Yes, we do!”

“I’m headed towards town,” the old lady continued, gesturing with a shaking hand. “If you want me to drop you off somewhere, we’ll have to leave now, before the storm hits.”

“We will come, thank you,” Ilya said, taking a large step forward, following her towards the small, bright yellow car parked close to the hospital’s entrance. But his progress was stalled when Yuna grabbed his arm, her fingers curling into the thick fabric of Ilya’s coat. Ilya stopped and looked down at where her hand was squeezing like a vice around his bicep. 

“You want to get into a stranger’s car?” Yuna whispered, her voice hushed and urgent. “We don’t know anything about her.”

“She is little old Canadian woman,” Ilya said, raising a hand in the direction of the elderly lady in question. “What is she going to do, kidnap us? She is one hundred and three years old, I think we can take her.”

Yuna’s expression was pinched, but she relaxed her grip on Ilya’s arm. “That’s not the point.”

“Point is we get somewhere warm before storm gets too bad, yes?” Ilya raised his eyebrow in question. “Or we spend night sitting on floor of hospital waiting room.”

With a sigh, Ilya pulled out his phone again and snapped a photo of the old lady’s vehicle, focusing on the licence plate. “Here,” he said, tilting the screen towards Yuna so she could watch as he sent the photo in his message thread with Shane. 

“If you don’t hear from us in ten minutes,” Yuna murmured, reading the words as Ilya typed them on the keypad, “little old lady is murderer.”

With a sigh of her own, Yuna raised her eyebrows at him. “Really?”

Ilya shrugged. “You want, I ask him to avenge us? I do not know if I trust Shane with that: he cannot even chirp well.”

“Some people are above that,” Yuna replied, straightening her posture, though from the look on her face, Ilya wondered if she was remembering the time he threw down with Scott Hunter, just like Ilya was. Yuna looked over at where the old woman was looking at them from her open door. “Alright. Fine.”

“Fine?”

Unconventional

T, 4.7K, Complete

Summary: Daryl just wanted to get one of Judith's drawings signed by her favourite TV star. Meeting Paul 'Jesus' Rovia turned into an experience Daryl could never have predicted.

Excerpt:

Rovia’s eyes were wide and bright, and his lips curved into a slow, lazy smile. A pen pressed to the plump flesh of his lower lip and the air in the room seemed to increase by several degrees in an instant. Sweat prickled at the back of Daryl’s neck and beaded across his brow. His arm twitched in an aborted motion to wipe at it. 

“Nice picture,” Rovia said, lips moving around his smile. “Did you draw it yourself?”

Daryl exhaled heavily through his nose. The back of his neck itched something fierce and his hackles rose. “My niece drew it. Likes you for some goddamn reason I don’t know.”