j

Danny won’t arrive in New York until tomorrow, so you use your free night to go to a club.

It’s not often you’re able to let loose. Being free and having fun on a weekend like a normal person in their twenties is actually pretty rare for you, due to your chosen occupation and various ill-advised life decisions.

You were practically born into the Eye, your Uncle Dylan shaping you into a better magician, con artist, and liar than he ever could be. You love your Uncle Dylan with all you have, and you know in your heart the work you do helps the little guy and can change people’s lives for the better while taking down the most evil, privileged assholes the world has to offer, but it doesn’t leave much room for fun.

Most of your life has been filled with magic tricks, how to solve them, do them, create them. You know deception like the back of your hand and, if Dylan was to be believed, perfected a Disappearing Act before you could even walk. Many times.

It wasn’t all magic though.

It was secrecy, strategy, planning, and hours of practice practice practice until all your muscles knew thousands of skills and how to pull a trick off before your brain could even decide on which to do, until your lungs could stand at least five minutes with no air, because the traumatic loss of your grandfather is now your burden to bear, to overcome. It’s the only way your parents let Dylan train you. You wouldn’t be like the Great Lionel Shrike, you would be better. Had to be.

You and Dylan are the only members of your small family in the game, both of you being the ousted black sheep, so you made your own small herd.

From an early age, everyone knew you were different, more curious and awestruck by magic, the need to perform and take too strong to just fester within you, so Dylan took you under his wing, always an eye on potential, always betting on the long game.

Your family loves you, just not all the necessary crime and deceit that comes with your profession. No matter how much they attempt to reassure you (which wasn’t a lot, actually), you can tell by their tight smiles and apprehensive eyes that they do not trust you and never will.

Their limit began and ended with parlor tricks, Three Card Monty on thin ice, and robbing someone, whoever they are, only left you and Dylan on the receiving end of tight lipped displeasure.

Though, no matter how much they disapprove, they never snitch because they love you and Dylan—they just don't like you.

Suffice to say, you didn’t have a normal childhood. You expect your adulthood will turn out much the same.

So when J. Daniel Atlas, infamous magician and frontman for the legendary Four Horsemen, calls you for the first time in years and tells you about a tarot card he received from the Eye, you contact Dylan immediately.

You’re the only one who can.

You were the only one able to visit him in prison, and, not that the others know, the only one who knows where he is now that he’s out.

It took a lot of time and skills you had no choice but to pick up, but you and The Eye were able to get him out after a few years.

But you couldn’t tell the other Horsemen, and you still don’t know why.

You have hunches, yes. Maybe Dylan’s pride embarrassed him, maybe he didn’t trust the Horsemen anymore, maybe he had a secret so dangerous he couldn't even share with you, but you were instructed to never tell them. You hope one day Dylan would, because whatever the reason is, apparently it’s worth a near decade of festering guilt and ruined lives.

Dylan tells you he will investigate, because The Eye has so many networks he can’t keep up with them all, and to meet up with Danny in New York.

So here you are. The Big Apple. You’ve been a few times on a job, but never stayed long enough to sightsee. You were usually cooped up in an apartment or warehouse with blueprints and props and other Eye members to enjoy much of anything. Danny’s flight gets in tomorrow, and you had nothing better to do.

Clubbing it is.

It doesn’t bother you that you’re going by yourself, you’re pretty much always alone. What they don’t tell you among the adrenaline of a trick perfected and a job well done, is how lonely a magician’s life can be.

The pulsing beats and flashing lights of the club pull you in, and you take a chance on a fruity drink before you hit the dance floor.

While you’re not on a job or otherwise involved in reconnaissance, you never let you guard down. One drink won’t lower your defences, and whatever affects your blood will have worn off by midnight at the latest. Your inhibitions will remain intact and sharp, but you desperately want to have fun and alcohol is guaranteed to kickstart your night.

While your life is a somewhat solitary one, you’re more than experienced with social interactions and expectations, and how to elicit positive responses. You easily make friends with a bachelorette group who can’t be much older than you, and they take pity on your loneliness. You don’t mind, whatever this is won’t last, and you want to soak up every minute of their friendship you can.

You dance and sing and laugh for hours, feeling so close to filling that space with yourself that you never want to acknowledge, and the only other thing you drink besides water is a shot bought by the bride-to-be herself for her bridal party and you, having named you an unofficial member of their party.

Later, you’re spilling out of the bathroom with half the party after one girl felt that last shot come up the wrong way when you see him.

More specifically, you see him slip his hands into a pocket that was decidedly not his, and in a flash, transfer a wallet from one clueless person to his own sneaky one.

You watch him even as you’re led to the bar again (the girls knew not to get you an alcoholic drink at this point), and it seems as though you’re the only person in this packed club who is witness to the impressive thievery currently going on.

He’s swift and decisive, quickly determining who the easy scores are and who aren’t worth the trouble. He glides through the sweating bodies, occasionally stopping to dance with anyone trying to get his attention, and every time, that unlucky person will leave the club without an item or two less than what they came in with, completely blinded by his intense eyes and mischievous smirk.

His pockets must be endless with the amount of game he’s managing to stuff in there. He’s dressed as a typical twenty something year old guy would in a place like this and a goal like that: stylish, but nothing identifiable. Attractive, but not memorable.

You see him though.

His clothes, nice and clean as they are, are older and well-worn. It looks great on him, but you know it’s more for practicality and convenience. It’s probably one of the nicest garments he owns. His hair is a mess of curls, but not styled with product or tools. His mouth is always twisted so wickedly, but to anyone else unfamiliar with the streets would think it’s simply a cocky grin (it very much it is) but to you, it’s an act. All of it.

You pay closer attention.

His victims are those under the most influence, with the most influence, and have actual karats and ice on their bodies. This club isn’t exclusive, but with a ridiculous $20 door fee (that you did not pay, thank you very much), it’s trying very hard to be something it’s not.

He’s stealing from the richest people here.

Forgetting yourself, you grin into your drink.

“Please tell me you’re gonna talk to him,” a voice says next to you.

Startled, you turn around and are met with the bachelorette party you nearly forgot about. They’re smiling and giggling and drunkenly winking at you, and you know you’re absolutely fucked.

So, maybe you were staring. Maybe it was a little too long. Maybe you should never do shots again.

You dart your eyes around, and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “He’s cute,” you shrug noncommittally.

This guy is cute, no question. But it’s easier to feign interest than explain he robbed half the club and ruin his night. Besides, he didn’t take anything from the group you found yourself in, so it really doesn't matter to you what he has down his pants.

Well, now you’re thinking about something else. Fuck.

Shaking your head, you grin at the group, ready to brush this off, but they won’t let up. At once, they seem to all have an opinion and wish to express it. Loudly. In the middle of the dance floor. They’re going on and on about how you need to dance with him, to loosen up (you thought you were), have fun with a man.

“But I am having fun!” You insist, waving your hands in an aborted motion. “With you guys. I don’t need a guy to enjoy a night out.”

Finally, the bride-to-be turns to you, something twinkling in her eye. “No,” she says, taking the drink from your hand. “You don’t. But we want you to. He can help you in ways we can’t. Sorry about this, girl.”

Your eyes widen, totally blindsided and unprepared for that comment. “Sorry about wha—” You begin to ask, but your word morphs into a yelp as you feel hands on your shoulders, pushing you away. The sudden move unbalances you, and you stumble into a different pair of arms.

His.

You blink up at him, mouth opening and closing in a stutter as you try to explain why you so rudely ran into him, but nothing comes out. All you can do is focus on those dark, intense eyes you surveyed just moments ago, now on you. Only on you.

You weren’t planning on confronting him, and now he’s right in front of you, holding you steady with your arms holding each other, and you can’t find the words. Any of them.

He clears his throat. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say back automatically.

He chuckles deeply, the noise vibrating your bones. Your throat is dry as you swallow.

What the fuck. You’re not like this. You’ve never been like this. Not with anyone. You don’t bumble or stutter; on the rare occasion you have to honeypot for a job, you’re smooth and confident, knowing the right words to say to have your target eating out of the palm of your hand, while the other reaches into their pocket.

And now, all you can say is “Hi”?

“Psst!” a voice not so discreetly sounds from the direction you were forcibly ejected from. You and the thief both look over and find the entire bachelorette party staring. Some wave, others give you a thumbs up, the rest are swooning. “Ask her to dance,” the bride whisper-shouts, then gives you not one, but two thumbs up before turning around, leaving you alone with him.

“Friends of yours, I take it?” he asks. You whip your head back to the stranger, and he’s got a content look settled onto his face, apparently rolling with the interruption. He has an eyebrow quirked and the corner of his lips twitching up in amusement.

“No actually,” you say with a smile. His eyes widened with suprise, not expecting that answer. “I just met them a few hours ago. I came here by myself and they took me in. That’s probably the last time I’ll ever talk to them, actually.”

“Well that's no good," he mutters.

You reply with a shrug, “It’s okay. They were nice and I’ll miss the company, but it happens.”

“No, I mean—” The guy looks away for a second, then back at you, a small grin on his face. “It’s no good you’re here on your own.”

You feel redness creeping up on your cheeks, but you’re not shy as you reply. “I don't feel alone.”

“I don't either,” he responds, and your heart cracks in your chest. “Wanna dance?”

You do, so you say yes.

It only takes a few minutes to shake off the initial awkwardness and a well timed song before he spins you around, your back flush against his front, arms around your waist.

“Is this okay?” he mutters in your ear, breath hot against the shell of your ear, fingers pressing into your skin with intention. You’re shaking.

If you said no, you knew he would back away. You don’t know why you were able to read him so well. This guy is as guarded as you are, but it feels right to know him, to be confident you do.

“Yes,” you sigh, and lean back into him.

You dance together for what feels like hours, definitely longer than you two have danced with anyone else tonight, and you feel so young and free as you grind into him, as his hands run over every inch of your body he could without getting you kicked out for public indecency.

That’s when you feel it. You were wondering how long it would take him, the itch too strong to ignore.

His hand that was laced with yours slid down your wrist and arm, but you feel the exact moment he lifts your bracelet and drops it with the rest of his stuff.

Little did he know…

You turn in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and his remain around your waist as you bring him into a slow dance. Inappropriate for the song currently playing, but perfect for you.

You get a good look at him, no hint of what he just did on his face, and you laugh. God, he's kinda perfect.

“What,” he drawls, low as a hum.

“What time is it?” you ask him, smiling so wide your teeth are showing.

He lifts his wrist where his watch is. Or was, before you.

You see the barely contained panic in his eye as he finally notices its absence, and he pats his pockets.

“What,” you say in a teasing tone. “Can’t tell the difference between your watch and the five others you have hidden in there?”

When he looks up, meeting your gaze and looking at you like he unlocked the secret to life itself, it feels like Heaven.

He blinks. Blinks again. That soft, mystified look is still there, never slipping off as he recounts every bit of your time together tonight, trying to place the moment you pulled one over him.

You hold his watch up. “Baby, I got a hold of this before we even started dancing.” You wink at him.

“You saw me,” he says in awe, clutching you closer. You feel every inch of him.

“I think I always will,” you admit, and that hole inside you shrinks and he tightens his grip and leans down. His face is so close that you're practically breathing into each other’s mouths.

His eyes bare into yours, almost desperate. “Do you wanna leave,” he practically groans out and god, you need to hear that noise again. And more. So, so much more.

“Yes,” you gasp, and he’s pulling you away.

***

He slams you against his bedroom door, holding you up as he attacks your mouth fervently. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and your hands are in his hair and scratching at his shoulders.

He pries open your mouth and kisses you like a man starved. It feels like he’s drinking you up, and well, maybe that’s exactly what he’s trying to do. You match his pace, for once not feeling that empty loneliness that’s been making itself known to you this time of night for the last decade or so.

It’s not there tonight, and it’s because of him. All because of him. You hope he doesn’t catch onto the fact that your kisses are also a thanks, because you’re not entirely ready to bare yourself to him like this, but you think maybe you can someday.

Your thoughts are pushed away as Bosco (you have since learned his name on the way to his place) does something so brilliant with his tongue that you cannot possibly think of anything else but him, and the fact that neither of you are naked.

“Clothes,” you gasp out. “Clothes. We’re wearing too many. Take this off right now.” You tug at his shirt incessantly. He chuckles and just spins you away from the door, then tosses you onto his bed. You lean up on your elbows and watch as he strips the offending article off.

He moves to climb over you, but you stop him with a heel to his sternum. He didn’t take everything off, and that wasn’t right.

“Just wait, baby,” he says with a low rasp. He reads you so well and fuck, did he call you baby? Just as you think this night couldn’t get any better, he takes your heel in his hand and bends down to kiss the inside of your ankle. Then he’s kissing up your calf, your thigh, and you're so wet you growl as he takes the time to slip off your panties at an achingly slow pace before finally diving under your dress, making you thoroughly lose your mind.

He’s blessedly rough as he licks you, tongue working as expertly down there as he was inside your mouth. He laps up your hole, darting in and out as you whimper above him. He adjusts your legs so they’re slung over his shoulders, and the new angle lets him go even deeper. You’re near sobbing when he finally makes his way to your clit, and your heels dig into his back and he sucks in your button. The pressure of his tongue is so intense and like nothing you’ve ever felt before that you can't even give him a warning before you flood his mouth. You moan deeply as you come, and you’re making pathetic little noises as he works you down your high.

You’re still panting as he makes his way up your body, bunching your dress up as he goes. You take the hint and sit up, peeling it off, the only thing left is your bra.

Bosco leans his forehead against yours as his hands trail along your body again. You wipe off his glistening mouth, and surge in to kiss him again, sucking at his mouth and moaning when your tongues find each other again. He’s kissing you almost desperately, and you pull away to tell him to take off his pants and your bra before diving back to his pink, inviting mouth.

The pants come off immediately but he’s slow to discard your bra, and his fingers trace invisible lines along your back in a way that makes your skin sing until finally, you feel it snap off. You toss it away, and climb into his lap.

“Can I touch you,” he whines, eyes round and watering and begging, “please?”

You’re a little taller than him now, so you lean your head down to touch your foreheads again. Then, you take one of his hands in yours, and bring it up to your breast. You sigh into his mouth as he squeezes you in his huge palm, and when he thumbs at your nipple, you dig your fingers into his curls and pull.

You feel Bosco hiss, your lips touching but not quite kissing, and suddenly both his hands are on your chest, and you become a puddle on his lap as he positively worships you.

At some point, you end up laying down and Bosco’s mouth is all over your tits, his fingers pumping inside you and you’re still a writhing mess under him. He wouldn't let you suck him off, saying he wanted to come inside you or not at all, before he began finger blasting you to high Heaven.

The fingers aren’t enough.

“Bosco,” you say breathlessly. “If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to take everything you stole tonight and toss it into the Hudson River.”

He stops what he’s doing and his eyes shine. “You wouldn’t.” He muses, but crawls up to your place on his pillows, leaning on an elbow and running his fingers (the non-sticky digits, he can be a gentleman when he wants to be) through your hair. “You’d pawn it and donate it to the women's shelter we passed on the way here, about three blocks away.”

God, he’s right. A lifetime of studying socioeconomics and magical radicalization wouldn't allow you to throw away money so carelessly like that. No matter where it came from, money is money and money helps those without.

The fact that he knows exactly what you would do makes you throb even more.

“Bosco. Fuck me. Now.”

You’ve never seen him move as fast as he did to put a condom on, not even when he scored in the club. You’re grateful for his swiftness, because the second he sinks into you, you see stars.

He starts off slow to let you adjust, but he picks up the pace as you move against him, not wanting him to be gentle, but to fuck you like he meant it.

This primal urge shocked you. You really do not get out much, and while you have experience in this area, it is certainly minimal. With Bosco though, it’s easy to forget all of that and just be with him. To listen to your bodies and screw the life out of each other because you can.

It’s nice, feeling like this. Hot, needed. Not alone.

Bosco makes a very impressive thrust that has you gasping, and he wraps a hand around your thigh to bring it up, and now he’s hitting your sweet spot relentlessly, both of you babbling, grunting messes from how insanely good you feel together. You match his pace, working together to bring you both to the edge. It’s so good your nails rake along his back, and he keens at the sensation.

Suddenly, you feel it coming, and you warm him.

“It’s alright, baby,” he moans. “I got you. I got you.”

It’s the way he cares for you, physically and verbally, that pushes you off the edge. You cry out in pleasure as you come, and a few seconds later, Bosco whimpers into your ear as he spills into you, and you don’t think there's a word in this world for how beautiful that sound is. A sound he made because of you.

After your highs wear off, he slips out of you and buries his head into your neck.

This is everything. He is everything.

“You’re everything,” you whisper, stroking his curls. You feel him smile, then he peppers kisses to your skin.

You lay there for a long while in each other’s company, knowing you need to get cleaned up eventually, knowing you need sleep, knowing this can't last forever. For now, the two of you lay in the wet, sticky mess you made together, basking in the afterglow and not caring about anything but each other. This is contentment, this is fulfilling, and freeing, and the dark hole inside you seems so filled it’s almost bursting. This is him, and you, and nothing matters except the kisses you share and sweet nothings you exchange until you’re both so tired it all comes out as nonsense. You fall asleep together, in each other’s arms, and for once you feel at peace.

***

It nearly kills you to leave him.

You slip out just before dawn breaks, stopping for a moment to take in the man sleeping, face entirely at ease and not the tense, determined expression you were first introduced to.

You close the door behind you, and your heart shatters.

***

You meet up with Danny later that day after hearing from Dylan.

Apparently, the Eye did not send out cards to the Horsemen, and it’s your job to investigate the mystery behind it all. The Eye says it doesn't seem malicious, but to be on guard as they can’t know for sure. Unfortunately, Dylan also emphasized that Danny, and whoever else got a card, did not know about anything. You were to work behind the scenes and tag along with Danny on this adventure, doing whatever it takes to unmask the truth.

They warned that the architect behind this might not be so welcoming with your unexpected intrusion, and you assure them you would be cautious moving forward and would make yourself an indisposable member in their plot to avoid being pushed out.

You’re one of their best, they trust you.

You hope.

In any case, you know whatever happens Danny will defend you. You’ve only met a few times in person and got into contact with each other when necessary (and sometimes, on Danny’s end, unnecessarily), but you know he feels a kinship toward you.

You met after their first performance during their year of hiding. You were so young, but Dylan wanted the most important people in his life to meet, and you think, maybe, the protective streak Danny has over you is because of the guilt he’s carried for nearly a decade over Dylan’s imprisonment.

On occasion when he looks at you, it feels like he’s seeing someone else. His eyes pass through you and settle on a shadow, and the thing about shadows is you can always trust them to follow. Always.

You’ve met all five Horsemen and love them as much as your uncle, but Danny is the one who keeps in contact the most. You think he needs the company more than you.

Maybe it’s not a shadow he sees in your eyes. Maybe it’s himself.

You’re together now, and you both hesitate for a moment before hugging. It’s nice, and you feel him exhale in what sounds like relief as you tuck your head under his chin.

Danny pulls away awkwardly and is clearly eager to get started, and whenever the two of you are in close proximity, you plan. He shows you all the files the “Eye” sent him on Veronika Vanderburg and her stupid diamond, and after reading up on her, he tells you that someone is using the faces of the Horsemen to do a show tonight and that you need them.

You hadn't heard about that, but you’re positive that whoever these imposters are, they’re just luring the Horsemen into their act. Danny is the only one here, so where is everyone else? What are these people trying to achieve?

Later, you and Danny dress inconspicuously and head to the venue. It’s packed when you get there, and you head to the balcony on the second floor to get a better vantage point. It starts soon enough, and Danny even tsks in irritation as he's met with himself. He doesn't fool you, you can tell he’s impressed.

It took a few moments, but you deduce these images were constructed by a master at graphics, obviously pulled from their previous shows (which would explain why this one only had the original crew and Lula was nowhere to be found), and were made possible with high tech projectors angled perfectly.

By chance, you look in the direction of the bar just in time to see a girl pickpocket what looks to be a gold phone. She swipes a few more from Gold Guy’s friends and Jesus. They’re textbook douchebags.

The girl, who cannot be much younger than you, shares a smirk with the bartender, who had gone unnoticed to you until this moment.

A hooded figure slinks past, and the figure is so familiar it makes you stop. You see the girl pass him the phones, and he disappears into the crowd.

Ah. So, it's the three of them, then.

You share your observations with Danny, who immediately pulls out his phone to research them. Unfortunately, the mystery figure has yet to show his face, so for now you only have information on the bartender and girl. You can’t stop thinking about the figure, feeling like the answer you didn’t even know you were asking is at the tip of your fingers, just out of reach.

When the faux Horsemen randomly pick from the audience (nothing is ever random at these kinds of shows), it’s the hooded figure who cheers and hauls himself on stage.

Your body freezes.

It’s him.

Bosco.

The man you left this morning and cried about in your hotel room for hours until Danny knocked on your door.

You suck in a sharp breath and have to grip the balcony’s rung to stop yourself from stumbling forward.

Well fuck. Nothing is ever random, is it?

Danny spares a concerned glance your way, and you give him a smile you know is distracted, assuring him you’re fine. He quirks his eyes in that Danny way he does, but trusts you to work through whatever slipped you up and turns his attention back to the stage.

You do too, and can’t help but admire Bosco. Without question, he’s in his element with an act to perform and an audience to feed it to. Lapping up the attention like it’s natural, damn near peacocking on the stage as he does incredible impressions of the Horsemen.

Merritt needs work though.

The visuals are stunning and so is he, the trick impressive and deserved. The douchebags get what they deserve, and soon everyone is tearing off in fear of the cops.

You’re still reeling from the revelation that the sweet, mischievous guy from last night is behind your newest job, and you stop as you realize you and Danny have to confront him. Tonight.

Well, them. But it means you have to see him again. That he will see you, and you have to work together because the Eye said so, but no, they didn't because these kids sent the cards but actually, the real Eye said to do what was necessary to unravel everything so technically they did tell you to work together and—-

God, it’s too much. It’s all too much for you and you hadn't even started yet.

You shake your head and catch up with Danny.

He shares the information he learned about the three kids, and you listen to him relay Bosco’s entire life story, some which you gathered yourself last night. You remain cool in front of Danny, but the way he talks about Bosco, so cold and clinical, like Bosco’s just another pawn in the game and not someone warm and inviting and complicated, whose laugh sounds like magic when mixed with yours, felt wrong.

You beat the three to their illegal hideout, and you shudder as you recognize the building.

Flashes of open mouth kisses against the aging brick, laughter ghosting over lips, and fingers drawing on skin cross your mind, and your stomach turns.

You swallow as Danny instructs your entry and how to sneak in, where you’ll hide and how he’ll take the lead before he decides it’s safe enough to reveal yourself.

Now inside, you hope the wall you’re crouching next to swallows you whole before Bosco gets the chance to see you.

When you hear his voice, that familiar, low, sexy drawl, you squeeze your eyes shut and wait.

You listen to them bicker, and when Danny determines that they’re harmless, he discreetly signals you. You sneak into the kitchen and hop on the island counter, no one noticing your arrival.

You cross your legs and rest your palms on the countertop as you watch the scene unfold, and when in typical Danny fashion, he comes after Bosco’s name, you roll your eyes.

“Okay, Atlas. What’d your mom have sex with a map?” And you can't help it. Bosco’s sarcastic delivery and thorough takedown of Danny on his high horse is way too hilarious to not laugh at.

You’re still snickering as the three look at you in bewilderment, clearly wondering who you are and how you got in. Charlie and June were, at least. Bosco looked like someone punched out all the air in his lungs.

You only hesitate for a moment, then your mouth slips into a smile. “Hello,” you sing, wiggling your fingers in their direction. “Can I just say that you guys were amazing out there? Danny would never admit it, but he was impressed too.”

“Haha,” he deadpans, and explains that you’re with him. As Danny is introducing you, taking care to not mention your semi-nepo status, you can practically see Charlie and June masking their shock, running through scenarios on the inside on how to make this work, sizing you up to see if you’re worthy enough to join their game.

You know you have a part to play, your own mask to hold up, but all that flies out the window as your eyes meet Bosco’s.

It’s been less than a day since you met, but you feel so rattled with his attention on you, and you’re just sitting on his counter, in his safe space, like you didn’t run away from the first meaningful connection you had in a long time. All you left him with were memories and, when he asked, a whisper of your name given in between lovebites.

You wonder if his sheets smell like you.

He looks positively wrecked, and not in the pleasurable way he did last night. His face folds in on itself, his body completely tensed up, and his eyes—those once beautiful, dark eyes—are broken. All because of you. You want to tell him so badly, how if you only knew who he was last night you would never have left him. That you would've stayed.

But now isn’t the time. There’s a job to do.

So you sink into a persona not entirely unlike yourself, but something more confident and unfazed. It was the only way you could get through.

You all debate heavily about going to Antwerp, with Bosco firmly on the opposing side. You had a hunch last night, but you didn’t realize until now just how frustrating he could be.

“Look, the Eye needs us there,” you interrupt. “All of us. This Heart Diamond can change people's lives, and it’s in the wrong hands. We have the chance to make it right; we should take it.”

Bosco scoffs, and you whip your head around at the offending noise. You raise your eyebrows at him, daring.

“Us. We,” he mocks, tone ice cold. “Who even are you, anyway? I’m pretty sure Atlas got the tarot card, not you. Why are you even here?”

You inhale shakily, willing yourself not to lose it. You know he’s upset with you, you know he’s angry that you’re brushing him off, but you know that he’s arguing for the sake of it, acting like the three of them don't have a trick up their sleeve involving the Heart Diamond and he’s being contrary just to be a subversive asshole because apparently someone in their group has to be.

“I’m Dylan Shrike’s niece, alright?” you admit, practically in his face. Whatever. His fault for crowding you. He blinks in surprise. “I was born into the Eye, magic is all I know and I am good. You’re right, I don’t have a card, but the Eye sent me with Danny, so that’s where I’m going. You don't have to come, but—” You cut yourself off abruptly.

“But what,” he persists, a flash of curiosity amidst the irritation.

You chew the inside of your cheek and go for it. “But you will.”

“I will?”

“Yes, you will.”

“And you just know that, huh?”

“I do.”

“Oh really.”

“Yes, you asshole.”

“...”

“...”

“Fine.”

“Thank you!” Danny mutters, throwing his arms up.

That’s how you find yourself spending the night in the same building for the second day in a row, but in a different bed.

Despite their plans getting messed up with your arrival, you can tell they’re able to adjust easily to your presence, especially knowing who you are and that you’re actually part of the Eye.

You and Danny head back to the hotel to grab your stuff and get dinner for everyone, because they seem to live off take out and beer, and it’s much easier to make arrangements when you’re all together, and Bosco makes a snarky comment about how Danny should've led with a free trip to Europe.

As a control freak is wont to do, Danny is never done planning. His perfectionism a fatal flaw as well as an asset, but you tap out. June offers her room, one part excited to not be the only girl for once, the other curious to know you.

So you and June end up on her bed, giggling under her sheets as you recount a card trick you pulled on a sexist finance bro a few weeks ago during street hustle.

“Oh my god, you have to show me that trick.”

“Of course! It’s actually really easy. I’ve done it so many times.”

June sighs. “That sucks. We’re magicians in our own right and we deserve to be treated the same as any other street performer. We shouldn't have to fight to get an audience to suspend their disbelief, men never have to do that, they get it just by being men.”

“I know,” you agree sadly. “You wanna know the best part about being a female magician?”

June nods her head eagerly. “We always have each other’s backs no matter what. I’ve seen it and experienced it firsthand and June, I promise I will have your back.”

June is a little teary eyed, and she holds up a pinky. You hold up yours and lock them together. “I promise to have yours,” she says.

She falls asleep soon after, and it hits you just how young she is. You can see how close she is with Charlie and Bosco, but you doubt she would be as vulnerable with them as she was with you just now. You’ve seen her in action, how she puts up a stone cold, untouchable wall. She has to, to get where she wants to be. She plays everything so cool and she is, but you wonder how much longer she can keep it up before the wall cracks.

Whatever happens, you’ll be there for her.

Only, on the plane, you start to regret this.

She would not stop bothering you about Bosco.

It’s your own fault, admittedly. Neither of you were subtle with all your weighted gazes and bickering, anyone could see there were hidden meanings behind them. Danny refused to bring it up with you last night, vaguely reminding you to keep your focus.

She spoke in quiet, teasing tones, taking care even though Bosco had headphones in and his eyes shut in the row behind you.

“Come on, there’s something there,” she insists. “I know what I saw.”

You shake your head, “What you saw was two people with explosive temperaments passionately disagreeing. He gets under my skin, I get under his. There’s really nothing more to it.”

“Passionate, yes. Nothing more to it, no. Honestly, the way you speak to each other makes me think you already know him or something.”

You stay silent.

“I mean, the three of us can read each other pretty well, so I know he’s hiding something from us. About you,” she continues. “Which is so weird because normally he doesn’t shut the fuck up—don’t get me wrong, I love the guy—it’s just so weird. The way he's acting, I mean. About you.”

You sigh, the familiar pinch of a headache creeping up.

“June, I’m sure whatever his hang up is with me is personal. It’s really none of your business how we know each other.”

You startle at June’s sudden squeal. “Wait, you said ‘how we know each other.’ Which implies you do. You do, right? You met before yesterday?”

Ah fuck. Normally, you’re more careful with your words, ethos being a powerful tool you wield well. But you're so tired and stressed and no matter how much you travel, planes suck. June is so disarming, and you’ve felt affection for her ever since she nicked that douchebag’s ridiculous phone.

Really, it’s her incessant questions that make you spill.

You slam your head against the headrest. “Jesus Christ, fine. I’ll tell you but it has to stay between us, okay? I don’t want it to distract from the job, got it?”

June nods her head rapidly, eyes alight, her cheeks sucked in and—is that a tiny smirk?

Damn, you think. She’s good.

So you tell her about that night. Catching him, meeting him, feeling for him, going home with him.

“That was you!?” June nearly shrieks, incredulously.

You shush her.

“You were there?” You whisper furiously, noting a few heads turn your way on the otherwise quiet plane. “He told me his roommates were gone!”

June huffs. “Well we were. We came back early but had to leave again because we heard him fucking a girl within an inch of her life. You! What the fuck. Is sex supposed to be that loud or were you trying to help him win the Most Obnoxious Roommate Award? Cohabitating with Charlie isn't always easy but I’ll take obsessive late night rambling over whatever you did to Bosco. You guys are freaks. Eugh,” she shutters.

Despite it all, you snort. What you and Bosco did wasn’t nearly as freaky as it could've been, so June should thank her lucky stars the two of you didn't stop long enough to discuss kinks.

Crossing your legs, you begin to wonder what else gets Bosco Leroy off.

***

By the time you land in Antwerp and check into a hotel, you’re kind of over playing double (triple?) agent.

Danny is a softie at heart, so all it takes is one tiny mention of chocolate before the four of you are begging him to get you something artisan, and you’re finally alone with them.

“Look,” you assert. “I know you sent the tarot cards. I’ve been part of the Eye for as long as I can remember, and you might've convinced Danny, but I know how they work.”

The three of them tense up, their faces closing and eyes assessing you similar to how they did at the apartment. You need their trust; it’s now or never.

“The Eye sent me with Danny to determine if you were dangerous or not, and I don’t think you are. I don’t know why you’re targeting Veronika Vanderburg, I know there’s more to it than exposing a money laundering scheme. This screams personal, seriously.” You huff at their disbelieving faces. “I’m not going to tell Danny or the others—oh don’t look at me like that of course I know they’re gonna pop up at some point. I’m sure there’s a reason you’re not telling anyone. I know the Horsemen. I want to help. Let me help you”

You wait for their judgement, shocks of emotions running through their faces. To be honest, they didn’t really have a choice, but you hope they let you be part of their trick. You may be a member of the Eye, but after meeting these three, you felt that being with them makes you part of something greater.

They take you in for a long moment, and your palms begin to sweat. You’ve been shot at, threatened, ran for your life, and been suspended hundreds of feet in the air with nothing to catch you if you fall, and yet, nothing has ever made you more nervous than you are right now.

Then, a smile blooms on June’s face. You only had a second to prepare before she squeals and launches herself at you, yammering something incoherent, yet excited all the same. Over her shoulder, you see Charlie with a similar smug grin and he shrugs.

He admits, “I knew it. I had a good feeling about you. We didn't plan on you being here, but I’m glad all the same.”

You don’t know Charlie that well, he’s pretty closed off and you suspect he’s the one with a score to settle with the Vanderburgs. Shortly after seeing him in action (or not in action, you should say) and reading up on him, you knew immediately he’s a Chameleon.

That’s two down.

June has you in a side hug, apparently latching herself to you for the foreseeable future, and you’re glad for the support as Bosco stares you down.

He’s so… unreadable. You thought you knew him but after what you put him through, he shut down. You know you have to talk to him, explain yourself, and relearn him; you just hope he gives you the chance.

He doesn't say anything for so long you’re afraid Danny will come back before it’s all settled.

Finally, after standing there agonizing like a lovesick fool, his lips pull up slowly, then all at once.

“Welcome to the team, Shrike,” he says, voice just as inviting and syrupy-sweet as you remember. It’s not your last name, but you’ll take it, relief hitting like an avalanche.

Charlie and June whoop, and the four of you are a mess of limbs as you’re pulled into a warm, enthusiastic embrace.

Oh, you think. So this is what it’s like.

All huddled up, your gaze meets Bosco’s, sending him a small, hopeful smile. He scoffs, an amused little puff of air, and winks. Your stomach flutters. Head dizzy. Heart bubbling.

Danny comes back a little later, bitching in his signature way, and you’re ready to get started.

You’re used to strategizing, picking apart a blueprint of a building, determining what supplies you’ll need and when to use them, and running recon.

Nothing prepared you for Charlie.

The aptitude on him was off the charts, and at least twice he makes such small, precise suggestions that when Danny comes up with an idea, you know it was actually Charlie’s.

You’re not sure what you expected, but the acute manipulation of one J. Daniel Atlas has you nearly applauding. A Chameleon, indeed.

Later, Danny heads off to bed, the old man. June and Bosco are snoozing on the beds, having retired a while ago claiming jetlag.

You take a second to admire that same peaceful look on Bosco’s face. He’s so cute when he sleeps. You’re tempted to slip under the covers next to him, but he’s sharing with Charlie and it would be a mess and a half to explain anyway.

You take a peek at him, and you realize he’s already looking at you, eyebrows raised knowingly. Goddam it.

“Shut up,” you bite.

He snickers. “It doesn't take a genius to figure out what’s going on between you and my guy over there.” He nods his head in Bosco’s direction.

Completely done and most definitely influenced by lack of sleep, you hurriedly change the topic like a coward.

“You are though. A genius. I meant what I said the other day—you really are amazing.”

He blushes. “I’m not Bosco, stop flirting with me.”

You roll your eyes at his obvious deflection. “I’m being serious, dude. Take the compliment. Own up to your genius.”

He looks down sheepishly. “Thank you.” Then he looks back up with a devious expression. “Are you going to own up to your feelings for Bosco?”

Something inside you snaps. In a hushed tone, you snark back, “I never once doubted what I feel for him, it’s just not the right time. I fucked up, Charlie. I don’t even know if he likes me. I probably ruined whatever we had and he deserves a lot better than what I gave him.”

You plop down in a chair, utterly defeated.

Charlie comes up and sits beside you, a hand on your shoulder. “Just talk to him. He might be an asshole, but he’s an asshole who cares. He’s not like me—he doesn't hold grudges. He’s a lot more understanding than what you give him credit for.”

So you sit with that, all your nerves firing and twisting all complicated inside of you.

You want, too. You want and want and want. You hope he wants you too.

***

The heist goes off without a hitch, sort of, and you pick up three more people.

The Horsemen.

Except Lula, which upsets you, but Charlie explained that there weren't enough images of her to deepfake, and the ones he got his hands on were too grainy to use. Apparently, he actually had no idea where she was no matter how hard he searched, and hoped Jack would bring her along. Like a plus one on a wedding invite.

Jack decidedly did not bring her along, and you silently thank Merritt for asking her whereabouts.

It gets you thinking though, because you were positive Jack and Lula were a sure thing, having seen them together on occasion and they always seemed so in love and infinite. But now they're not together, and that frightens you.

You think about Bosco.

If you start something with him, who’s to say it’ll last? You’re not experienced with romantic relationships and you can barely maintain a friendship, what if you blow it? Well, actually, now that you’re thinking about Bosco, irritation flares inside you.

You know he’s an actor and you know he had to distract Veronika, but seeing him with her, flirting and attempting to dom her felt so wrong. Disgusting. That wasn’t him, and you know it was for the job but it pisses you off all the same.

So, you're mad at him.

It was easy to ignore these annoying, stirring feelings as you ran and fought for your life and reunited with everyone (who were glad to see you again, all grown up, if not slightly confused by your presence). Now, standing around on a rickety little boat, you have time to sink into vexation as everyone argues.

They were trying to split off and repress their issues again, everyone eyeing you carefully at the mention of your uncle, so you and Charlie take that as a cue to jump in and convince them to stay.

Later, exploring the mansion, you curse as you lose sight of your adventure buddy Merritt.

“How do the elderly move so fast,” you mutter under your breath. He could be literally anywhere, and you’re not paying attention when you turn the corner and run straight into Bosco’s arms.

“Hi,” he says, voice low.

“Hi,” you croak.

The way he’s looking at you in that soft way he does, holding you like you’d fall to pieces without him, brings you back to a few days ago. His familiar warmth relaxes every part of you, and his crisp scent is like coming home.

He’s so close, and it’s such a dizzying position to be in that you almost miss when he speaks.

“God, I thought I would never get rid of Atlas. He’s such a control freak, it’s crazy.”

You giggle and bite your lip. “Well, you’re defensive and kind of a dick so it evens out. Merritt and I found a room that’s literally just mirror, you two should check it out. Do some reflecting. See what I did there?”

His grip on you feels stronger now. “What,” he says flatly, “ever.” His gaze is severe, and you notice how zero’d in on your lips he is. Unconsciously, you take a step forward and have to tilt your head to look at him.

“You’re so cute,” he grumbles.

All at once, you feel like mush.

How can he bring out so many of your emotions? Now that’s a real magician. Every time you’re around him, you feel them all. Which reminds you.

You close your eyes for a brief moment, then attempt to harden your gaze. “I’m mad at you, by the way.”

“What,” he narrows his eyes at you, clueless. “I thought I was mad at you. When did we agree it was your turn?”

“When you spent half the night flirting with Blood Diamond Barbie,” you snap. “I mean seriously, did you need to lay it on that thick?” You were relatively calm bringing it up, but now you're lowkey fuming. “Like, be so for real. A woman as powerful as her should not have been so easy to seduce. Do you think she was desperate? I think she was desperate. I guess money can’t buy you everything. Which is weird, because she can certainly afford that if she really wanted to.

Your rambling trails off after catching the unexpectedly hurt look on Bosco’s face.

“Desperate?” he asks quietly, there’s an uncertain edge to his voice you’ve never heard before.

Wait, did he think—? Your clasp on him tightens.

“No, no baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” you reassure him, and just like that you’re back to how you were that night. Together. Intimate. Understanding.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek and he absolutely melts into you.

“I mean Veronika Vanderbitch has all the money in the world and probably pays that security guard to fuck away the emptiness inside of her, and she might say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but at the end of the day, it’s just ice.”

He chuckles, and you feel it go down to your very core.

“You aren't making any sense,” he comments. Yet, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I don't care,” you reply, “Are you okay now?”

He nods. “Yeah. I just. When you said ‘desperate’ I—” You cut him off, needing to put an end to that insecure train of thought.

“No, that night I wasn’t deperate to fuck someone and decided you were good enough. I was desperate to fuck you.”

You barely finish your sentence before his head dips down and his mouth is on you.

You moan into him, his tongue immediately finding yours as he gives you a hot, desperate kiss. God, you missed this. Your lips sucking at each other and so demanding. It’s so right, so balanced, and you nearly fall apart as he whimpers into your mouth.

“Atlas was being an asshole,” Bosco says, breathless. You don't care and pull him back in.

A few moments later, he breaks away again. You want to scream, but decide to attack the exposed skin of his neck as he talks since he evidently has to. “And I wanted to get rid of him, right? Oh fuck please keep doing that, mhmm. Guess what I found? A bathroom. It’s really nice—god your mouth feels so good—and quiet.

In seconds you and Bosco are in the bathroom (he’s right it is very nice), struggling with his belt and feeling murderous.

“Why won’t this stupid thing come off, I swear to god. Why do you have the stupidest belt in existence, take it off. I don't ever want you to wear this thing again, this is so stupid.”

Seriously, seriously, if you’re not getting railed within the next minute you might actually strangle Bosco with his own belt.

He laughs at you and you punch his shoulder, but he acquiesces because try as he might, he’s just as hopeless and needs to get inside you.

No sooner than his difficult, stupid belt is off is your hand inside his pants, stroking his girth and bringing him to tears.

Both of you know it has to be quick, so you just shove your bottoms down and face the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink.

You can’t help the whine that escapes you as he pushes in from behind, no prep because you told him it’s now or never, and he’s fucking into you furiously.

You’re grateful and touched that the cheeky asshole brought a condom, because watching his blissed out expression in the mirror as he pumps into you again and again feels like a sick kind of baptism. Unlike before, both of you are on the same page, and it feels like a renewal. A clean slate you both get to write on.

He slams into you, and you groan a vow.

You arch your back as he slides his hands up your shirt to cup your tits. His hands are warm, and you're so overwhelmed with affection that you twist your head around and capture his lips.

“You’re a fucking dream,” he growls and you know it’s his vow to you.

He quickens his pace, snapping his hips with such finesse you nearly stumble, and you can tell he’s getting close. You want to come together, so you bring one of his hands in between your legs and he rubs your clit until you're gasping your release into his mouth, and he’s mewling into yours as he spills inside you.

You take a few seconds to stand there, both holding each other up and breathing the other in, not caring you're half naked messes. Your hand reaches back to stroke his hair, the curly wisps calming you down. His eyes are shut as he rests his face next to yours, arms around you tight.

This is the moment you know.

***

You’re struggling with a police officer as they yank you and June into the bullpen. As Veronika attempts to persuade the cops to release the two of you into her custody, your eye catches onto an achingly familiar woman.

She’s hunched, dressed in rags, and her makeup makes her look decades older, but you’re sure it’s her.

Soon, a fire breaks out, and so do you.

It’s a full on brawl getting out of the police station, and you’re flying over cops and dodging their attempts to grab you. You’re doing well, but your attention is split between securing your own freedom and checking on June’s well-being.

She’s holding her own, twisting and deceiving like a magician does in a street fight. You notice she copies a defensive move you made moments before, and you feel pride swell in your chest.

In your distracted state, you don’t notice the cop creeping up behind you. He grabs you by the hair and slams your head down into a desk. For a moment you feel nothing but shock, then you cry out in pain, and you struggle against him as your head explodes. Distantly, you hear a panicked June shout your name.

Like a papa bear, Merritt barrels into him and you take the opportunity to stand straight. The head rush that comes immediately after has you stumbling. You’re caught by June, and she holds you up.

“Get her out of here,” you hear Merritt yell. You want to protest—you couldn’t leave him alone in this place!—trying to push June off but in your hazy state, she easily overpowers you and you’re running for your lives. June is strong as she maneuvers you to safety, but you can feel her shivering.

When you meet up with Jack and Lula, they’re on you in an instant, asking you what’s wrong and if you’re okay, and all you can think about is Merritt. Alone. With the enemy.

Slowly but surely, the four of you (it should’ve have been five, fuck) make your way to the a safehouse. You’re still disoriented, so Jack and June help you walk while Lula leads the way.

Once inside, everyone rushes to you. You’re grateful for their care and attention, it fills you with so much warmth you feel buzzed, but you only want one person.

You and Bosco collide, holding each other so close you’re not sure where you end and where he begins. You breathe him in deep, his hands holding you secure, and you feel so much better. You stay there, hugging and holding and so so thankful.

You feel more arms wrap around you, Charlie and June joining your hug. It’s a powerful thing, the four of you together. Distantly, you hear your uncle's voice in your head: a single organism.

Eventually, the adultier adults give you an ice pack and have you lie down on a couch. Soon after you, Henley, Lula, and June have your little female magician moment of solidarity, the arguing begins again, but you fall asleep in the middle of it all.

You’re not entirely sure what happened after you conked out, but now everyone is ready to get Merritt back and take down Veronika and her bloody empire.

You feel a lot better after resting, and they make sure you’re okay to join this act. The wheels are turning, and Charlie discreetly clues you in on his own plan, giving you a job within the job.

On the plane ride there, you confide in Bosco about your guilt from leaving Merritt. He takes your hand in his and is quick to correct you.

“There was literally nothing you could've done. There were too many of them, and Vanderbitch has them in her pocket. Did you expect him to do anything other than protect you? They might act all exasperated, but these old timers love us.”

You swat his arm. “Do not call them that,” you say, but you’re smiling. He is too, but then his face pinches together.

“I get it. Do you know how guilty I was when we all got separated and you got arrested? I was ready to charge in, no plan, until they talked sense into me. I felt like it was my fault. If I hadn't gotten into a pissing match with Atlas then we would have had time to escape. All of us. You wouldn't have been hurt, Merritt would never have been kidnapped. And Thaddeus—”

“Stop,” you command. “Don’t go there. That was no one’s fault except the cop who shot him.” You bring your foreheads together.

“Can we agree then,” he says quietly after a few minutes, “to not feel guilty about anything that happened these past few days?”

You make a strangled noise. “I… don't know if I can do that,” you respond. Your chest constricts, and tears well up in your eyes as you thought about that night. “If I knew who you were, I never would have left, I swear.”

“It’s okay,” he tries to calm you. “I get it.”

You shake your head. “It killed me leaving you after all of that. I’ve never regretted anything more.”

Your foreheads are still touching, and Bosco takes your head in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “I get it. You were in an impossible position. I forgive you, and we're here now. You’re not going to—”

“No,” you gasp out in agreement. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

“Good,” he swallows. “I’m not leaving you either.”

Then, he kisses you so sweetly you melt into his mouth.

***

Once you land in Abu Dhabi, it all happens quickly.

The Horsemen are getting Merritt back, and you’re following Bosco as he swerves around the city in the stolen Formula One car. It’s not easy, and you’re pissed when he gets arrested, but seeing him swagger out of the police van in victory is so fucking hot.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you tell him as he jumps in your car. You lean over the console and crush your mouths together.

“Fuck you’re amazing. Are you alright, baby?” he asks in concern, searching your eyes for a hint of pain or discomfort.

You brush a thumb over his cheek. “Just a small headache. But I’m fine.”

He takes your hand and kisses your palm. “Good. Now, let’s help Charlie get his revenge.” You kiss him one more time, then floor it.

***

In the end, Charlie steps into the light, the Horsemen are together and gain four new members, and you? You get everything.

***

You’re giggling into Bosco’s mouth as he presses you down onto his mattress.

“Get off, they’re going to be here any minute! We have to get ready,” you say, not attempting to get up at all.

In a melted tangle of limbs, Bosco’s half on you, and one hand trails up your naked thigh. You keen at his touch.

“See, why would I leave this bed?” He leaves butterfly kisses in the crook of your neck, and you hum in appreciation. “It has the most beautiful girl in the world in it, and she’s all mine.” He latches onto your collarbone and sucks. You hiss in pleasure. “Out there, I have to share her.”

You breathe in deeply and hold his face in your hands. “Okay. Okay. Fuck it. C’mere,” and you drag him down, lips on yours. You’re so lucky your boyfriend is a good kisser. He’s lucky he makes you wet.

You’re still kissing as he grips your thigh and hikes it over his waist. At this angle, he easily slides inside of you, and makes a little noise in the back of his throat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So wet and tight for me.” You nod and mumble in agreement. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, and you take the time to enjoy each one. He treats you so well.

“Mhm, you’re so deep. Filling me up,” you whisper praise in his ear. You rock against him. “So good. Harder, baby. Please fuck me harder.”

Bosco groans above you, completely losing it at your words. It never gets old, hearing you say them. He’ll never get used to you wanting him. You’re a vision, and you’re his, and he’s so happy he could die.

He fucks you so hard you bite his shoulder when you come to stop yourself from screaming so loud.

He hasn’t come yet, but he takes a second to check the damage in the mirror. When he sees the indent you left, he blurts, “I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to push him down on the mattress and straddle him. He looks so pretty and pliant underneath you, and when you start to ride him, his face crumples.

“I meant what I said the night we met. You’re everything. Of course I love you,” you confess, and he floods your pussy instantly.

You’re both giddy and blushing as you clean up and pull on clothes. You each spray on a fragrance to mask the scent of sex. There’s a kiss stolen here and there as you get ready, the afterglow of sex and love too strong to come down from.

The two of you trip out of his room, beginning to think you got away with it when you’re met with literally everyone. They have mixed expressions. June and Charlie are used to this by now, and they’re laughing at everyone else. Lula and Henley are by far the most pleased with this turn of events, both of them giving you nods of appreciation and Lula cheers for you. Jack and Merritt are kind of confused with this development, but out of the corner of your eye you see both of them silently giving Bosco fist bumps. (You would have been more annoyed had they each not given you one later on.)

Danny is plain horrified. He stutters even more than usual and talks in circles, then finally the most coherent thing he manages to jabber out is an incredulous, “Was that you two in the bathroom? In the mansion?” There are gasps.

Motherfucker. You weren’t going to tell anyone about that.

“Atlas,” Bosco admonishes, a red flush climbing up his neck. “C’mon man.”

This is as good as a confession, and pretty much everyone is screaming at you guys or just screaming in general. It’s all in delight and shock, mostly teasing and others slightly disgusted.

“What!”

“That’s my girl!”

“You hooked up in the mansion? That’s like, sacred ground for magicians, guys, gross!”

“How did you even have time?”

“When I lost you after the mirror room I was worried sick, young lady. Only to find out you were getting a little hanky panky? Well I’ll be damned. Kids these days."

“This is… Gross. I can’t handle this, I just can't. Ugh. I’m going to bleach my brain."

Through it all, you knew they were happy for you. You used to be so lonely, and now you have all of this. You’re not alone, and you never will be again. The thought makes you fuzzy inside.

Bosco wraps an arm around your waist and leans down. “You deserve this, you know,” he whispers.

You can see his frustration being pushed down in real time. The two of you are in the apartment you share in New York—Bosco had to rush you back here after your show because clearly, something went wrong with your last stunt. You’ve been doing stunt magic for so long that you’re used to at least one gnarly bruise after each set, but not usually one that permeates your ribcage. Charlie and June stayed behind to clean up your set because Bosco wouldn’t let up on taking you home. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t subscribe to the belief that you have an abnormally high pain tolerance; he was ushering you out of there like you’d been shot.

He looks at you for a second, deeply frantic, but seems to decide against his impulse and takes a deep breath. “Take these.” He holds his palm up to you, two painkillers glinting in the light. “This is just Advil, but do you need the stronger one?”

It’s hard to think straight with the pain shooting through your chest, the sweat that’s pooled on your temples. “No, no,” you grunt, “I’m fine.”

You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s frowning. “But do you need it,” he repeats. “I’m serious, be honest with me, do you need it.”

There’s a box of heavier painkillers you keep locked in a cabinet in the kitchen. Your roommates know where the key is and you don’t. It’s a precaution, to ensure you don’t have a chance of getting addicted to them. Bosco’s always the one that gets them for you. Sometimes you think he keeps the key on him whenever you have a show just in case.

“Bosco,” you say firmly, and slap one of your hands onto his shoulder. You do your best to focus on that maniacally concerned expression on his face. “I don’t need them. I swear. I will be fine.”

“Stop saying that! You are very clearly not fine!” He huffs, running a hand through his curly hair. “Open, please.”

He gently taps your chin, stepping a little closer to you. There’s a furious pink blooming on his cheeks and nose that distracts you. You can’t really look him in the eye. But still, you do as he says and he drops the pills in your mouth. He hands you a glass of water, watching you like a hawk. “Y’look creepy,” you quip, trying to wash down the warmth in your face.

He gives you his classic sardonic grin. “So charming, even when you’re injured.”

You squeeze your eyes shut again. This isn’t your first rodeo, so you return to your old tactics. You try to feel the cool counter beneath your hands, the lights seeping through your eyelids, Bosco’s warmth flitting around you. You feel his leg pressed against yours and the noise of him going through your med kit. It’s nice to have him this close to you; it always has been. You never let yourself read too closely into it. Sure, he patches you up after your shows, and sure, sometimes you’re disappointed when there’s nothing for him to patch up. You know he prefers it the second way—a clean show, no risks, good reward. Problem is you want a great reward. And you want to remember what he smells like when you fall asleep. And you’re worried you want more than that.

“You should’ve said something,” he murmurs after a while. “You should’ve called it.”

Your eyes open. Bosco gets this look sometimes that teeters between disappointment and tenderness. His brows deepen but the creases under his eyes are soft, his mouth pressed into a line. There’s something honest about it that makes your heart twist, makes you want him closer.

“That would’ve ruined the trick,” you shrug.

“Who cares about the trick?”

“I do!” You exclaim. “And so do you!”

He huffs, “Yeah, but I also care about my teammates being alive and like, functional. You should’ve called it. I could’ve helped you.” He’s getting fidgety now, fiddling with a roll of gauze. “That asshole guy in the audience was distracting you, I should’ve—we could’ve stopped and gotten him out.”

“Bosco, you punched him. You don’t think that would’ve distracted me maybe?”

“He was heckling you so I just pushed him a bit and told him to shut up! I didn’t punch him, I’m not a wrestler!”

You try to grab his wrist but pain flares in your side. “Bosco—”

“Look, I know this is your area and that you do risky things all the time, but a solo show in a shitty warehouse isn’t the time to put it all out on the line and break a rib or whatever the hell you did to yourself,” he proclaims. The colour on his cheeks has ripened, but he keeps inahling like he’s trying to bury something. “You need to be safe. A good show is when you’re safe, that’s what matters. Not if it looks good or if it makes us a ton of money. Magic is supposed to look easy, so part of it has to feel easy for us too. If you’re doubled over the second you’re offstage there’s no trick in the world that’s worth it.”

“Bosco.” You finally seize his forearm, pulling him close. He stops his pacing and his flying hands. You think it’s written all over your face now that the pain isn’t going away. “I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry I wasn’t careful. But I knew the risks. I knew it was gonna hurt me and I did it anyway because it was worth it. I’m a stuntwoman, I know my limits.” A fog of nausea clouds your head, and your eyes are watering. “The pain will go away, but only if you stop freaking out so I don’t freak out. I’ll be fine. I just need you.”

Everything comes out strained. Your eyes are wet and your teeth are gritted, a state you’ve subsided to many times. Bosco’s arm had landed on your shoulder when you grabbed him, and his thumb is ghosting behind your ear. All his contempt has been electrocuted out of him. “Okay, shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, cupping the back of your neck and meeting you in a half-lidded hug. He’s warm and he smells like leather. “I got you, I’m an idiot.” He’s so close that his nose is against your hairline and you feel his breath on you.

For pain to pass, you need to indulge in it first. You let your face press into the sleeve of his t-shirt, close enough that he only needs to whisper. He lifts his face away but keeps his hand where it is, cradling the back of your head. “I’m gonna go over your cuts, okay?” You can smell the alcohol doused onto the cotton pad. There’s a brush of his hand against your shirt. “Can I… um…”

You nod. He watches you carefully, and then drops his gaze to where his fingers hitch at the seam of your shirt. He lifts it just enough to reveal the brunt of the damage: the scrapes on your torso and the giant bruise purpling your ribs. From the way Bosco’s eyes widen you can tell it doesn’t look great. “It’ll be fine,” you say softly. “I’ve had worse.”

He looks back up at you with such guilt that it makes you regret saying it. “This is gonna hurt, yeah?” He says, staring intently at the damage you’ve done.

“Yeah. But it won’t be too bad. Just a sting.”

He laughs shortly, “Feels like we should be switching lines.”

Before he does anything else he laces his free hand through yours. “Bite my shoulder if you have to,” he says, deadly serious. In response you lean forward again to rest your chin on his shoulder. You give his hand a preliminary squeeze, and he chuckles quietly so of course you want to do it again.

“Don’t wanna break your fingers,” you point out.

“They’re bendy, I’ll be fine. Ready?”

You lodge your nose in the crook of his neck. If you tried, you’d probably be able to feel his heartbeat. “Yep.” Your mouth accidentally grazes his skin and he swallows.

“Okay, deep breath.”

You inhale sharply and scrunch your face. Bosco presses the pad to your skin. First comes the chill and then comes the burning. “Ah,” you suck air through your teeth. “Shit.”

It’s like tiny pricks of glass are seeping from the gashes in your body. All the muscles in your face are bunched together. You really are abusing the privileges Bosco gave you, squeezing his hand so hard you’re pretty sure your nails will give him cuts of his own. “You’re doin’ great,” he soothes, “just a few more.”

The intensity floods back as he disinfects somewhere else. You wish you could be immune to the sharpness of the pain by now, but no luck. “Ow, fuck, fuck me, Jesus, fuck me,” you seethe.

“Please stop saying that,” Bosco mutters.

After a few more seconds of swearing and sweating, the prickliness eases. A shiver wracks you when Bosco takes the cotton pad off. “All done,” he says. His thumb runs over your knuckles, a gentle respite for you. “You okay?”

Your mouth feels dry, like half your water weight has evaporated. “Yes,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. He strokes the back of your hair and lets you stay there a moment, as warm and comfortable as you could be when your left side feels like it’s been hit by a battering ram. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replies. You can’t tell if it’s the adrenaline or the pain or something else that’s making your heart skip a few beats.

“Could you get an ice pack?” You ask him quietly, sniffling.

He pulls back and nods, softening when he sees the look on your face. You think your pulse stills in your throat when he brushes at the tear tracks gathered beneath your waterline. “Anything else?”

You’ve realized there actually is something you want from him, very, very badly. But it hurts every time you breathe too hard and he’s still probably upset at you so now is definitely not the time. “Do we still have that ice cream in the fridge?” You ask instead.

He grins a little, like he knew you were going to say that. “Yeah. Do you maybe want, like, real food?”

“Fuck no.”

“Okay then,” he laughs, pulling himself away from you. The ache in your ribs returns tenfold without his warmth. “You sure you’re not concussed?” He asks quizzically, thumbing over your temple.

“I’m fine, Bosco, really,” you give your most assuring smile.

“Yeah? What card am I holding right now?” He steps a few paces away from you and a playing card is between his fingers like it’s always been there.

“Eight of Spades,” you read.

“Ooh, maybe you are concussed,” he winces conspiratorially, glancing at the card in his hand. “This is clearly a Six of Hearts, ma’am.”

When you look at the card again you realize it is, in fact, a Six of Hearts. He has a shit-eating grin on his face and you roll your eyes. “Fuck you, Magician.”

The ice cream has been emptied and the movie is halfway done. You’re still holding the ice pack to your ribs, feeling the dull ache every time you inhale. Bosco is watching beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch. The two of you are sharing a blanket, but you’re still missing how close you were before he helped you off the counter. He looks really good like this, you think, when you’re drowsy and on painkillers. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and his hair is all mussed up, eyes glued to the screen. Sometimes you hear his fingers tapping to the movie score behind you. Bosco can get very dedicated to movie watching. But right now, you’re horribly distracted.

Both your phones buzz on the coffee table. Bosco glances at you before going to pick it up, breaking the warm bubble you’ve found yourselves in. “It’s Charlie and June,” he says, flipping the screen to you so you can see.

You take it as an invitation to scoot closer. He lets you, putting his arm back along the couch so you can cozy up to his side. He opens the text and it’s a picture of the empty theatre, your set entirely dismantled, followed by them asking if you’re okay and saying that if you are, you should all go out to celebrate. One last picture pops up of the two of them with wide smiles and a thumbs-up.

“They look so drunk,” you snort.

“They are.”

“You should go with them,” you manage to say through a yawn.

Bosco looks at you like you’re crazy. “What?”

“Go with them, celebrate! ‘m all good, don’t worry. Just need to … sleep it off.” You interrupt yourself with a yawn several times, and it’s apparent the stronger painkiller Bosco urged you to take is rearing its ugly, sedative head. “The night is young, Leroy.”

His face scrunches even further. “You do realize that if we were normal people you’d be in a hospital right now, right? Please tell me you realize that,” he implores, angling himself to face you. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“Y’need to stop worrying about me,” you murmur, “I’ve done this a million times.”

He sighs deeply. “I also need you to realize that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

You manage to keep your eyes open so you can look at him properly, his contemplative, wanting face. “Come here,” he says gently, and you do, melting into his side as he adjusts the blankets around you and holds you by the shoulders. “I’m allowed to be worried about you,” he speaks into the crown of your head, “I’m allowed to want to take care of you.”

“I know, but you don’t have to,” you slur, relishing in how warm his chest is when you rest your face on it.

“But I’m going to. I’m not going out when you’re hopped up on painkillers with a fucked-up rib, no matter how durable you think you are,” he states. And as an afterthought, he adds, “Besides, this movie’s really good.”

That makes you laugh, and everything else he says makes you feel fuzzy. You nuzzle your face into the fabric of his shirt, stretched out on the couch. His arms drape around you, careful to avoid the ice pack on your side.

“Can you hold my pack?” You mumble to him, yawning again, as your eyelids get heavier and heavier.

“Course.” His hand slips under the blanket and replaces yours, holding the ice against your bruise. “Get some rest,” he whispers, one of his hands carding through your hair.

He might’ve said something else, but you can’t remember. You breathe him in and you’re asleep by the time you exhale.

When you wake up, your side hurts. “Mmph,” you grog, your eyes pushing open. “Bosco?”

“Yeah?” You hear his voice resonating in his chest. When you look around, you realize you haven’t moved much since you were last conscious. You’re still lying against Bosco, his hand still threaded through your hair. Your cheek has been smushed into his chest. When you lift it off, you feel that it’s red from all the pressure against his shirt.

“Where’s my ice pack?” You ask blearily, clinging to him like a sloth.

He chuckles, “It melted. Want me to grab you another one?”

“Yes please,” you nod, and you catch him looking down at you with a lopsided smile. He touches your cheek where his t-shirt pattern is imprinted. Your stomach warms.

As he gets up to head to the freezer, the fog in your mind starts to clear. You wrap the blanket further around yourself. The movie playing on the TV is profoundly different from the one you were watching earlier. “How long have I been asleep?” You blink profusely, trying to wake yourself up. The apartment is still dark and the sky is black beyond your windows. Your body still hurts, but there’s a sanity that’s returned to you on account of your little nap. Everything seems more bearable, just like you knew it would be.

“Like, an hour and a half, I think,” Bosco says from the kitchen, but he’s already making his way back to you. “You feel better?”

“Much,” you nod. “Are Charlie and June still out?”

He sits back down beside you. The couch sinks under his weight. “Yep.”

You notice he has a bag of frozen peas wrapped in paper towels in his hand. When your eyebrows raise, he just sighs, “We really should invest in more than one ice pack.”

Something about his expression is different. Maybe he’s also tired, but it seems like he’s really taking his time when he looks at you. He shifts towards you and gestures, “Come.” You scootch towards him again, but this time, it seems like he wants you in front of him. He taps on one of your thighs so you lift yourself to the point where you’re effectively sitting on his lap. You’re not sure if this is what he means, but he wraps an arm around the small of your waist to settle you in, which is the equivalent of lighting ten thousand fireworks under your sternum.

You’re starting to feel something you really should not be feeling, and it gets worse when he lifts the hem of your shirt again to look at your damage. You whip your head around to the TV and ask, “What’s this about?” and hope that you sound normal and not maybe, entirely coincidentally, a little turned on.

“Christmas,” Bosco says. His eyes are still laser focused on your ribs so you’re trying to breathe as normally as possible.

“I mean the plot, Bosco.”

He shrugs. “School.”

“Very informative, aren’t you.”

You’ve mustered up the strength to turn around, but when you do you understand it’s a terrible, rotten mistake. He’s staring at the sliver of skin you massacred today with fixation, an obvious lump in his throat. “Bosco?” You say quietly.

He snaps his eyes back to you, flushing scarlet. “Yeah, I—does it—is it … does it still hurt?” He asks with a heavy tongue.

“Um,” you give a breathy, self-conscious laugh. “I mean, a little. But it’s manageable. Way better than before.”

“Yeah, right, yeah,” he swallows. He holds your gaze for another second like he’s waiting for something, and then darts back down to your ribs. Feather-light, his thumb rests on the outer ring of your bruise; you almost shiver. “Here?” He asks, and around ten billion noises get caught in your throat.

You wonder if he feels how stunted your breathing is. “No, little closer in,” you croak.

He ghosts over the curve of your rib to where your skin is the most tender. It’s hardly any pressure at all, but you inhale sharply almost immediately. “Yeah, there,” you wince out. Bosco mumbles an apology before replacing his thumb with the makeshift ice pack. The coolness sinks into your skin, tamped by the paper towel, but you’re glad that your scrapes don’t feel like they’re burning anymore.

Bosco is back to watching you. “Better?” His voice is soft and scratchy but it cuts through the noise of the TV and could probably cut through much more. It’s hard to pretend like you’re not aware of how close you are, how you can feel the shift of his thighs and the splay of his hand against your back. You could lean down and count his eyelashes. See how red his face is in the scarce light. His eyes are so dark you almost think he’s hiding something in there, inviting you to take a look.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. You can’t be bothered to think or move when this is the best possible place you could be. You really should be in immense physical pain right now. It’s unclear if the painkiller is still doing its work or if it’s just Bosco. If he’s a magician, who says he can’t be a miracle worker, too?

You keep breathing, waiting, feeling your ribs push against your skin. Bosco’s lip is pulled between his teeth again. He always looks so sure of himself but you catch him in a rare falter, where his eyes skirt away from you and then come back even stronger, and you know then that you’d do anything he told you to.

“Let me make you feel better,” he says lowly. “Please.”

Your heart warms down your insides as you follow, your arms folding against his chest as he cups the back of your neck. He guides your forehead to his, then your noses brush. He’s still watching tentatively, always watching. His breath is warm but your body is cold, and his mouth is soft when he nudges forward to kiss you.

It’s rare for your mind to go blank—you’re a stuntwoman, for Christ’s sake, it’s your job to be ready and on alert. But right now, you feel absolutely melted. Bosco kisses you slowly, generously. His hand slides down to your back, an urge for you to drop your weight even further until you’re chest to chest. He’s sinking into the couch but you have a suspicion he’s right where he wants to be, too, considering how he kisses you again, cupping your cheek and running a thumb under your jaw. You keep waiting for him to break away, for some sort of fog to clear so he comes to his senses. But Bosco is not impulsive. These are his senses, and they’re very much yours too, and you want more.

You knit your hand into the curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs softly, and you steal the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your heart is beating so wildly against your ribcage it could form a bruise of its own. Bosco is always one to up the ante, though, so he meets you in stride. His tongue slips into your mouth like he’s been betting on it, and you think you can feel him smiling. It’s a little more urgent, a little more fun, as his hand travels the length of your spine to the back of your shirt and sneaks under. You hum a little when he traces back up, his palm burning a hole in your back as the ice is still nestled on your front. The room is getting warmer and the kisses are greedier, but Bosco is still careful with your ribs getting in the way of anything else.

“This would be a lot better if we didn’t have a bag of peas between us right now,” he says breathlessly, pulling away just enough. His lips are bitten red and his nose is wonderfully pink.

“Get rid of them,” you blurt. “They’re getting mushy anyways.”

Bosco smiles peculiarly, but to your surprise, he listens to you. “You know, I’m supposed to be minimizing your injuries,” he says after tossing the peas onto the coffee table. You shiver and he pulls your shirt back down, as you adjust gently so you can feel all of him, even where those stupid goddamn peas were keeping you away.

“You are,” you respond, breathing shallowly against him. It hurts, but not nearly enough to warrant less of this. Your forehead drops back to his and he takes your face in his hands. “As long as you distract me well enough.”

He raises his brows “Oh, is this not enough for you, my lady?” He muses, stroking a path down your neck. “Wanna hear some Shakespeare?”

“Think that would make it worse, actually.” You push some stray curls out of his face. “Look at us. A failed stuntwoman and a failed actor. We make quite a pair.”

“See, that doesn’t sound so bad when you say it,” Bosco murmurs. He presses his mouth to the underside of your jaw, so soft and surprising your pulse almost leaps out of your skin. “Still need a distraction?”

You find purchase in his hair again. “Mmhm.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he mouths against your throat, leaving tender kisses along your pulse points. It’s working wonders, really. You hardly care about how bothered your injuries are when you’re getting increasingly bothered in other places.

He gets a little more daring, teeth scraping against your neck. It draws a noise from the back of your throat that makes you shudder. “More a’ that, please,” Bosco drawls, determined to coax it out of you. And he does, mixing languid kisses with bites along your neck and collarbone. “That okay?” He asks after leaving a mark somewhere on your clavicle.

“‘m already bruised, Bosco. You've got a unique opportunity here,” you tease, running your hand through his hair.

He takes the hint and sucks a hickey into the base of your neck, making you whine. “Seems counterintuitive,” he whispers, “adding to your tally.”

“You’re just evening out the score.” You’re so desperate to keep his mouth on you that you practically drag him there. “Bosco one, drunk audience member several.”

That does the trick. He leaves a mark right under your ear, a place that feels so good it’s making you loopy. “Better start counting,” he murmurs as you squirm in his arms. He kisses the spot gently afterwards, moving back down to leave a few more, savouring every noise you make. He reaches your jaw and then your mouth, where he catches you again. “Now you’re even,” he grins.

You kiss him again, sore and exhausted, but you don’t really mind either. You think he can tell you’re getting spent by the way he cradles you into him, taking his sweet time again, rubbing circles into the small of your back. “I’ve got you,” he says against your lips. “We should get you to bed.”

Right on cue, you yawn. “What about my distraction?” You ask, settling your face into the crook of his neck.

“I’ll give you more in the morning,” he promises, kissing the top of your head. “I mean, I’m kind of hoping I could for… you know, for the foreseeable future.”

You peek back up at him and his cheeks are still rosy, his smug smile diluted with an earnestness. “I’d like that,” you say, and kiss his neck.

He’s beaming. “Cool.”

When June and Charlie get home about an hour later, half-drunk and wholly high, Bosco can hear them stumbling around the house through the crack in his door. You’re knocked out cold beside him. It’s an extremely lucky sight. You’re gonna kill him, he thinks, with your reckless abandon and your stubbornness. He knows you’re right—that you’re fine, that you’ll likely always be fine, but that won’t stop him from being there in case you’re not.

When Thaddeus died before your very eyes, in the escape tunnel you took, Daniel's and Henley's tears made your heart tighten at the sight. Bosco's hand was still in yours. He squeezed it tight, easing your nerves a little. His presence felt reassuring. The warmth of his hold spread through your whole arm and you sent him a grateful look.

When you looked up at him, his racing mind came to a halt, and for a brief moment, hardly a second, he felt at peace. He wished to admire your eyes for longer, alas you all had to start running away again.

The second you were all safe from the police, Bosco wanted to rush into action to save those who had been arrested. You couldn't agree more.

“Come on, they've got June!” you implored Daniel, siding with Bosco.

But Charlie and Daniel urged you two to calm down and think it through. You couldn't rush in unprepared, you both would end up behind bars as well, which wouldn't be any help. You huffed and consulted the curly brunette with a single look. You both accepted to listen to Charlie and Daniel, much to your dismay.

The four of you went to a random french hotel to prepare for a rescue plan, or at least, get in touch with the others to make sure they’re safe. The last events replayed on loop in your mind, trying to figure out where the hell it all had gone wrong. As you remembered everything, a detail kept bothering you: what about the weird looks that had been exchanged between Charlie, June and Bosco? Something was off, you just couldn’t pinpoint it.

Sure, Charlie was very smart and knew everything, literally, about magic and illusionism. But wasn’t it oddly convenient that he was the one to find the plans and Veronika’s client list and illegal activities?

Your sulking figure on the hotel room’s chair did not go unnoticed by Bosco. He approached your chair slowly and you looked up at him. Why didn’t he trust you with whatever secret the three friends held? Were you even part of their group if you were kept on the sidelines this way?

“Come on” he said, as he grabbed your hand to pull you up from the chair. “Let’s get some food, Charlie and Daniel would let us starve otherwise”.

You both turned to look at the said magicians, who were discussing vividly different hypothesis. It was pretty clear they weren’t moving from their seat any time soon. You sighed and followed Bosco out of the room. Some fresh air would do you good, anyway. You went down to the nearby supermarket.

Your steps fell in synchronicity as you studied him discreetly. His leather jacket, his beige shirt and white t-shirt underneath. His messy curls. The whole sight tugged at your heart, as it skipped beats like it was failing.

“Do you think June and Charlie like me?” you asked, words leaving your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He paused a brief second, made a face as if to say “what?!” then resumed walking by your side.

“Of course they do!” he assured.

A beat. Your heart pace quickened.

“What about you?” you said, voice low.

He stopped in front of the sandwiches aisle. His breath hitched and he didn’t know where to look. He felt his palms get sweaty and his legs go weak. He wanted to melt in the ground and never be found but he couldn’t go on ignoring your pleading eyes any longer.

When he saw your worried expression, he slouched a little more and softly grabbed your shoulders, as if to anchor you.

“What's wrong? Why are you doubting us? Me?” he whispered, a worried look on his face.

You brought your hands up to rest them on his, on your shoulders and he could’ve died right there and then happily. But the sentiment was short-lived, your words taking him aback:

“Because you are not telling me the truth”.

It was not a question, it was a certainty. Your voice was poised, devoid of any anger, devoid of any hurt. But he could see them in your eyes, all the doubts that had been growing in the past few days.

He sighed. He fully took your hands in his, now. He looked around, carefully, once, twice almost three times before he whispered:

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, we just got carried away by… well, everything. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right time, the other Horsemen are always with us”.

“They aren’t now” you shrugged, squeezing his hands back.

And he told you. Quickly, briefly, in whispers that had his voice cracking ever so slightly in a heart-stuttering way. He told you how Charlie had created the cards, how he had planned everything down to the Château Roussillon, to take down Veronika. The only thing he didn’t reveal, is the exact reason why Charlie was seeking revenge.

“That’s not my story to tell. He will tell you, I promise. But in the meantime, even if you cannot trust the others, trust me”.

You believed him, fully. His face was now inches away from yours, taken by the secrecy of your exchange, and also your incredibly adorable features. For a second, you both were lost in each other’s eyes. His eyes flickered every now and then to your nose and to your lips and for a second there you thought…

Before he could think better of if, he pulled you in closer for a hug. Your heart exploded in your chest, as you rested your head on his chest. You could almost hear his frantic heartbeat and you were pretty sure yours matched his. 

“Should’ve known you were way too smart to be fooled by us” he mumbled in your hair. You could hear the smile and his voice reverbated in his chest like the calm rumble of the sea. “We should’ve come clean the minute we met you”.

“I’m glad you did, Bosco” you smiled too.

He wanted to stay like this longer, holding you like his life depended on it. But Charlie and Daniel would probably get worried if you didn’t come back up soon, so you bought the food and went back to the room.

Some time later, you found out that June, Jack, Henley and Lula (finally, you had yet to meet her!) broke free from the French police but Merritt was stuck with Veronika. You arranged to meet in Abu Dhabi on the isle of Yas to exchange the diamond heart for Merritt. No more games, no mare sacrificing friends. You all just wanted Merritt back and safe with you.

The plan was to distract Veronika by stealing one of her Formula 1 cars. Charlie, Bosco and you would maneuver to steal it.

“So, once Bosco is in the car, we’re just supposed to wait and see? You haven’t thought about tracking him?” you wondered aloud, a bit worried about the scheme.

“Uh… No, we haven’t thought of that” he said slowly, as if taking your proposition into consideration. He sent Bosco a questioning look. When you saw the shit-eating grin on his face, you knew you were going to have to fight him on this one.

“What is it, princess, don’t think I can handle a sports car?” he mused, coking an eyebrow up, slouching a little more over you, closing the distance between you a little more.

It marvelled you how fast he could go from the sweetest man to the most arrogant one. Daniel, who stood further away from the group, muttered something like “jeez, get a room you two” but you ignored it.

“No, princess” you mocked back and you heard Daniel and June chuckle somewhere behind you. “But if something goes awry, how are we supposed to find you or know whether you’ve been arrested?”

“Once again it seems (y/n) has more sense than some of you” Daniel stepped in on the conversation.

You smirked and raised your eyebrows as you looked at the brunette expectantly. He sighed.

“Fine, what do you suggest?”

“It’s a good thing I brought a small tracking device from home” you said cheerfully as you searched for it in one of your bags. You brought it out and stepped closer to Bosco, who watched you with a puzzled look.

You grabbed the lapel of his jacket carefully. His cheeks reddened at the proximity, studying the top of your head like it was the most interesting artifact in the world. You put the tracking device and stuck it firmly to the inside of the jacket and gave him a practically transparent earpiece.

He took it in his hands and fiddled with it for a brief second, lost in thought.

“You gotta wear it, genius” you scorned.

He didn't even find the courage or arrogance to mock you back. He thought about the earlier day's hug, the chase at the private party when he caught you in his arms, and you, a few seconds ago, stepping so close to him he could feel the warmth of your body radiating off of you. It never failed to send his mind into a frenzy and he didn't know whether he liked it or loathed it… probably a bit of both… but he mostly loved it.

The other magicians noticed Bosco’s embarrassment. Actually, they had never, ever, seen him at a loss of words the way he often was with you. But the both of you did not notice the glances the others sent each other, full of meaning.

He put the earpiece in one of his ears as you wore a headset. You stepped away until you were practically in another room.

“Can you hear me?”

He heard your voice in the earpiece and the proximity of your voice, albeit through a mic, made his heart leap.

“Yup” he said back, a little uneasy.

“Perfect”. You came back within the group and stood next to him. “I'll track you and stay in contact throughout the whole car chase” you explained.

“Sounds good to me” said Charlie, glad you took this matter and Bosco into your own hands. He winked at June, making you frown a little, curious.

— 𓂀 —

When you arrived on the Isle of Yas where you were to perform for the night, your first stop was the stage. You saw the crowd, the setting of the performance, the lights, the projections that showed the five Horsemen. People were already cheering and you shivered at the thought of having to perform in front of such a crowd.

You all stepped away from the platform that allowed you to oversee everything and set the plan into motion.

June, Charlie, Bosco and you went to the Formula 1 presentation. You needed an ID Pass to get to the car, which June masterfully stole from someone who worked there while the three of you distracted him with questions. She left the three of you for the rest of your plan.

Charlie propped his camera up, making it obvious he was the 'photograph' and stepped close to the agent who guarded the car. He immediately stopped the three of you.

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked angrily.

As Charlie and Bosco explained that they had to photograph the car for Veronika, you brought your phone out and dialed a phone number.

“Look, you can ask her yourself” you said, cutting the agent's umpteenth refusal.

“Man, this isn't good for you” fake-warned Charlie as he shook his head dramatically.

You had to stop yourself from smiling. His overacting was very funny.

The agent talked to Veronika, well, June, who obliged him to let you three do whatever you want with the car. The poor man gave you your phone back with a small 'sorry about that' and you all finally stepped closer.

Charlie pretended to take pictures in a good lightning, allowing Bosco to practically lean on the car.

“Ok, so (y/n) will track you while you distract Veronika and the police. You ready?”

“More than I've ever been” he answered with a smile.

You rolled your eyes as you stepped away to make for your hideout. You were to stay there during the whole car chase until it was safe for all of you to head back to the stage, and while the others exchanged the diamond for Merritt.

When he got into the car and turned it on, the people around immediately went into a frenzy, the agent you had fooled being the first.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” he shouted.

You could even hear his screams through Bosco's earpiece, from your hideout.

“Alright, have you figured out how to drive it?” you asked as you watched his position on your tracking device. He wasn't moving yet.

“Of course I have” he blatantly lied as he fiddled with the buttons here and there. “Just give me a sec!”

You rolled your eyes. Even from the safety of your hideout, he managed to get on your nerves.

“Woohoo!!” you heard him yell as he managed to finally move the car around. The small red dot on your device started moving, growing to an alarming pace.

“Hey, careful!” you shouted in the headset.

“Aww, you worried I'm gonna crash or something?” he smirked as he violently took a left.

You saw the red dot move through the streets of Abu Dhabi. By now, he was probably already chased by multiple police cars.

“How 'bout that for a distraction, Daniel!” he proudly chuckled to himself.

“Are you in a competition with Atlas or something?” you asked in disbelief. How could Daniel be the first thing on his mind when he was literally being chased by the police through the town?

“I don't know, he seems to like you. 'Finally someone with some sense', 'finally someone who's smart'” he mocked lightheartedly but the jealous undertone did not go unnoticed by you.

“Aw, what is it, Bosco, you jealous or something?” you chuckled, much like he did a few minutes ago when mocking you for worrying about him.

You took his silence as a victory and focused on the moving red dot. You were hoping the exchange was already done by now and that you'd be soon joining the others for the show. After a few minutes of silence, you noticed Bosco's turns becoming more and more violent and his being quiet did not reassure you in the slightest.

“Uh, everything alright in there?” you asked, bringing your mic closer to your cheek.

The red dot stopped moving. Why did he stop driving? Why was he quiet? Had something happened?

“Bosco?” you asked, alarmed.

“Yeah, I may or may not have been blocked by police cars from all angles, so…” he trailed off.

You sighed. You knew it, his cockiness would get the better of the mission.

“Let's hope this was enough of a distraction for Daniel” you said. “Can you escape?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope, they're gonna take me”

“Shit. Try to keep the device hidden. I'm on my way”

“No!” he quickly whispered. “Stay there, or else they'll arrest you too. We can't have that”

But you were already out of your hideout and he knew you wouldn't listen to him.

“Just don't let them take the device away from you” you warned.

You heard the rustling of clothes and voices shouting. Doors closing loudly. The sound of a motor, maybe? Ok, so he was taken away by car, you deduced.

“Thank God I can see where you're going” you said as you stared at the moving dot and ran.

He stayed quiet at the end of the line, unable to speak in front of the police. You ran through the streets like a madman. When you looked back at your device, you realized it was no use. They were moving way too fast. So you went Jack Wilder batshit as you crossed a street and stopped in the middle of it. The car that was coming your way honked violently as you opened the driver's door and urged him out of the car.

“Police, I need your car!” you announced as you presented a fake police badge you had bought a few years ago for a costume.

The man got out of the car, hands in the air, as he stared at you mouth wide open. You took the car and drove off as quickly as possible, eyes switching to the tracking device every now and then to follow Bosco.

Bosco heard your shouting through the device. He would have laughed if he wouldn't have looked insane to the police that sat around him in the truck. As he talked to distract Veronika's partner (Lethabo, if he recalled correctly) in crime, he swiftly passed his hands through the handcuffs.

You heard the sound of a shout and the rustling of clothes and movements as Bosco seemed to fight the police.

“Bosco, no! Don't do anything stupid!” you shouted.

No response as you heard him fight still. What if they killed him? What if the car got into an accident? Your mind went through all the hypothesis as you drove faster and faster to catch them.

“Jesus, can't you ever listen to me?!” you asked angrily as you saw the dot moving astray from the road. You were now a few streets away from them.

“Don't worry, (y/n), I got it all under control!” he shouted as he seemed to give one last hit to god knows who or what.

By the time the backdoors of the truck burst open and he stepped out, getting his jacket right on, you were just behind, waiting in the car. He huffed loudly and said something like “that was fun, let's do that again some time?”.

When he got in your car, he looked at you triumphantly, unaware of the turmoil he had caused you.

“What the fuck, Bosco?!” you shouted.

“Hey, calm down, I had it under control! You didn't even need to track me down and come here!” he shouted back.

“What about a simple thank you, Leroy?! You could've died!” you snapped back, voice cracking a little from the fright.

He was about to fight back but saw the worry in your eyes and immediately turned quiet. His chest heaved as he caught his breath.

“Does anyone else’s opinion ever matter to you?!” you continued angrily as you drove back to where you were supposed to meet with the others.

He stayed quiet. Your eyes were set on the road but you could feel his eyes still on you.

“No one except yours” he finally said, voice low.

Your eyes briefly snapped back to meet his before focusing on the road again. You immediately calmed down. The thing is, you never knew what he thought of you. One minute he was cocky and angry and the next he was the kindest and softest person you had ever met. Plus, he had never answered your question back at the supermarket. When you asked him whether or not he liked you, like Charlie and June supposedly did… So what if he didn’t? What if he didn’t like you? What if you misinterpreted the signs? Were there any, anyway? Sure, he caught you from falling once or twice and called you pet names every now and then… what if it was all just a game, to him?

You wanted to melt into the car and never have to look at him again. Embarrassment, curiosity, anger, yearning, all crashed into you in waves you couldn’t control.

“It doesn’t feel like it” you finally let out, answering him. If your opinion really mattered to him, why did he act so recklessly, even after your warnings?

“I know, I know” he quickly said, still looking at you. “I just have trouble being… I don’t know, tamed, or just working as a team. Ask Charlie and June. I can’t count the number of times I overdid it and went overboard”.

Well, that, you could believe, thinking back to when you all had crashed Veronika’s private party and he had gone properly bonkers with the environmentalist thing. Bear in mind, him destroying the fake diamond heart statue was not planned by any of you…

“But it doesn’t mean that your opinion doesn’t matter to me” he added, voice pleading.

You shot him a look, finally, and he breathed a little easier. When you smiled, his shoulders eased and he brought his hand to yours on the steering wheel. Just a small contact to reassure you, and himself, that neither of you was mad at the other.

“You never answered me, you know” you sighed, stress making your voice tremble a little.

“About what?” his voice was more amused now, like usual.

You were about to repeat your question. Do you like me? But you neared the meeting spot now and didn’t feel it was the right time to ask.

“Where do you gotta be, now?” you asked, thinking about what Charlie had said about the plan. You weren't supposed to know about this part, but there was something to do about Veronika's vault…

Bosco stared at you for a second, wondering why you backtracked on your conversation. But he remembered he had to switch into Veronika’s vault’s guard’s clothes.

You dropped him off where he was required, with June, and went back to meet with the others, who should be out from their meeting with Veronika. Hopefully with Merritt.

As Bosco watched you drive away, he suddenly understood what you had meant. You were referring to the question you had asked at the supermarket…! He sighed and shook his head as he made for the fake vault awaiting him.

He was determined to finish this conversation once you were all done with Veronika. He had waited long enough already.

— 𓂀 —

Part 4 (coming soon)

“Yeah well it’s not my fault that I’m too tall” lied Bosco.

“You sure there isn’t something on your mind?” asked June softly, but her eyes motioned to the front row, designating you and Charlie.

Bosco scoffed, and turned his head to look at the clouds outside.

Meanwhile you played a few tricks to Charlie, and he explained each one of them whenever you were done. He was such a magic encyclopedia, you were never bored of the stories he told you. You thought the way he geeked over the magical world was cute.

When Bosco heard you giggle at Charlie’s stories for the umpteenth time, his eyebrows furrowed. He leaned forward in his seat and placed his head in the small space between your seat and the window. He wriggled his hand through the space to tap your shoulders. You turned to him, and smiled. His face looked very funny like that.

“Sure you haven’t lost something?” he slurred.

You slowly raised your eyebrows and turned away from his hazel brown eyes to search your pockets.

“Don’t bother” he added, voice low.

You could hear the mockery in his tone. You turned back to look at him, best you could given the strange position.

He handed you your phone and you smiled at him, half-impressed half-amused. You were even now, theft-wise.

“Y’know, thinking of it, it was bold of you to assume we’d lead you to the Horsemen simply because you chased me” he taunted.

“Don’t you know fortune favors the bold?” you smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t get too cocky now, you still have no idea what we’re in for” he warned but couldn’t conceal his own smirk.

“Says the king of being cocky” you deadpanned.

“Oh, so I’m king of something, now? Does that make you my subject?”

The lull in his voice was playful, and so low he was almost whispering. You didn’t like the way your heart stuttered at his words.

“You wish” you glared at him.

He was about to add something but the seatbelt sign turned on. The plane was about to land.

Once you landed and got your stuff to the hotel, you walked in the streets of Antwerp. It was rather sunny and almost warm. You wore dark blue jeans, black boots with heels, and a black turtleneck. June said you looked very chic like that and you thanked her and returned the compliment, all smiles. The two of you talked a little, getting to know each other when Charlie exclaimed:

“Oh my god we have got to try the chocolate here, who’s in??”

The four of you raised your hand in approval, much to Daniel’s dismay. He sighed and bought you a box of chocolates. Bosco opened it and offered some, which you gladly took. You had to shield your eyes from the sun with your hand to look at his face, which gave you an adorable pout. Bosco chuckled, then offered the others chocolates as well.

As you walked, Daniel suddenly urged you all to get closer and brought a magazine out of his pocket. He showed you the heart diamond, your target and told you all the information needed about it. Looks like you all had a private party to crash.

Back at the hotel, each one of you got ready and rehearsed the plan, mostly designed by Charlie. His genius was mind blowing, although you could sense that there was something unspoken between the three friends you tagged along. There seemed to be a part of the plan you weren’t aware of, neither you nor Daniel for that matter. But you kept your suspicions to yourself. After all, maybe you were just paranoid.

Each one of you worked on your costumes and the tools you needed  to execute your plan. When Charlie said Bosco would play the role of an environmental activist, you stifled a laugh.

“Something funny?” he asked you as he turned towards you.

He was sitting next to you and Daniel on one of the hotel room’s sofas. Luckily for you, the sofa was huge so your shoulders weren’t even touching, even when he looked at you.

“Actually, yeah. I can’t wait to watch your performance” you said, rising your head to look him in the eye.

Even sitting, he practically towered over you. And he was slouching a little.

“You spoke too soon” said Charlie with a smirk of his own. “You’re gonna play the activist along his side”

“What?!” you exclaimed as the curly brunette burst out laughing.

“Come on, you two are gonna look cute as the environmental activists couple” said June, tilting her head sideways to mock you two.

You met Bosco’s eyes and he provocatively wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes and stood up. The two of you went to your respective room to change into your costumes.

You put on a t-shirt that said “Diamonds are NOT a girl’s best friend” which you found cringe and stepped out at the same time as Bosco did, from the opposite side of the main living room. You both stopped and stared at each other’s clothes.

His t-shirt said “Make Love not CO2”.

You pointed at his t-shirt, about to comment on it when June said : “We should order something to eat”.

Starving, you immediately said : “Let’s!”. But your arm was still pointing at the t-shirt at that same time, and Bosco’s face turned red as Charlie and Daniel burst out laughing.

Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding at first. Then you realised… it looked like you had said “let’s” as to react to Bosco’s t-shirt… which looked like you were saying “let’s make love”.

“Ugh” you growled at their childish reaction.

Needless to say, as everyone went through the plan one last time over the food, Bosco and you were very quiet.

— 𓂀 —

The day finally arrived. You were to stay with Daniel for the finishing touches to the plan, while Bosco, Charlie and June went to Veronika’s photoshoot for Vanity Fair.

Daniel and you arrived early at the private party. The two of you looked good next to each other, his simple tuxedo complemented your long black cocktail dress with a slit on your left side. You wore a pair of Jimmy Choo Bing 100 pumps you had stolen borrowed. 

You grabbed a glass, like Daniel, to blend in with the others. All those rich people with a dirty agenda made you sick to your stomach. You were now looking forward to crashing the evening with your fake activist outrage. 

Daniel couldn’t resist making a spectacular entrance and adressing Veronika directly when she appeared. While he made sure to leave a lasting impression on the billionaire, you looked around for the other three magicians.

Once Daniel was done with his little speech, you two moved away and hid yourselves among the growing crowd.

Charlie spotted Daniel first and Bosco spotted you. Charlie stationed at his spot, while June and Bosco met you in the crowd. When he saw you in your dress, the activist outrage you both were supposed to perform was the last thing on his mind. His eyes failed to look away from your face and frankly, your whole figure in the dress.

You sighed in relief when you saw the two of them approach you. You nodded once to Bosco, as if to ask “ready?” and he missed a beat to nod back, mind blank, once again. You scooted through the crowd to the toilets to change into your activist t-shirt and black pants, and he followed you.

You had left a bag with your clothes in one of the ladies’ toilets. You put on your new clothes, breathed in and out slowly to prepare for the outrage you were about to cause. It did help that you wouldn’t be alone doing this, even if it meant it was Bosco out of all those who could’ve been your teammate for tonight. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, on the contrary. But you always felt a little stressed or shy around him, even if you managed to hide it well (or so you liked to think).

He was waiting for you on the outskirts of the crowd when you stepped out. A jacket covered your t-shirt, to make sure the security wouldn’t notice the two of you before you had a chance to crash the event.

“Who would’ve thought?” he said as you walked slowly among the crowd. “You and I, environemntalists. If your offer still stands, we could repopulate the world”.

You were simply gobsmacked. You had never expected him to bring up today's earlier mishap. With the stress, it seemed Bosco was much more upfront and even more arrogant if it was possible!

“I fear the champagne has gotten to your head” you hissed, although your heartbeat quickened at a sickening pace.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” he turned to you briefly to wink at you. “Ok, ready?”

“More than ever” you assured, clearly not willing to let him destabilize you with his words.

He shouted as he tore his jacket apart to reveal his t-shirt. You opted for a more discreet riddance of your own jacket.

Of course he overdid it. You should’ve known, from the way he was clearly hyping himself up by making jokes and playing with your mind, you should’ve known he would overdo it. But you followed along, what could you do?

You both jumped onto the small platform where a massive heart statue stood and pushed it together. You watched as it crashed and when Bosco was done talking and the security approached, you screamed, still standing on the platform, with an accusatory finger pointed at your target:

“Diamonds are NOT a girl’s best friend, and Veronika Vanderberg is certainly NOT yours”.

Complete silence as every pair of eyes turned to you. Talk about dreaming of becoming an actress! You never thought you’d end up on this kind of stage, with this kind of audience, and yet…

Bosco looked up at you from where he stood, a proud smirk on his face, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t want to wipe it off.

You both got carried away by security while the others carried on with the plan. You were just hoping they would be quick with it, because the security’s strong hold on your arm was beginning to really hurt. 

Bosco saw your face, slightly distorted by the pain. You held in a cry when the security guy twisted your arm forcefully.

“Hey! Easy on the lady!” he exclaimed, surprising you.

He was positively furious. You had never heard him shout like this and hadn’t suspected his voice could boom so loudly. He didn’t mind being mishandled but seeing you in pain outraged him.

You smiled at him, as to say thank you and to reassure him that you were fine. Luckily, a growing rumble of noise and voices came from a distance. It came closer and closer until Daniel, June, Charlie and… was that Jack Wilder?! ran to you and hit the security men, causing you to lose balance while you tried to run away. Bosco caught you before your face hit the ground, however, and you instinctively wrapped your arm around his shoulder.

“My god you’re a good catcher!” you said, almost laughing from the euphoria of being chased and living an adventure you never dreamed of.

“For you, always” he smiled.

You weren’t even mad at him for flirting joking with you. When Henley Reeves also revealed herself, you had to stop yourself from fangirling like Charlie and Daniel. The Horsemen were almost all back! And they were with you! You heart could’ve exploded from happiness. But the cherry on top was getting on the rooftop and running into Merritt.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, practically causing the whole group to jump in fright. “Merritt!”

“Well, hello to you too, who are you?” he slurred. His smile was contagious.

“Long story” you quickly said.

“Run!!” someone behind you said.

And off again you all went. Your small group of five was now a big group of eight. Eight magicians reunited by a weird set of circumstances. Unless you were all part of a bigger plan you had no idea of...

You finally got to a small boat to escape. You closed your eyes as you felt the cool night breeze in your hair and on your face. At last, some quiet after all the chaos. You stood a little further from the whole group, leaning on the deck, as you watched the city lights far away. When you looked back to the group, you caught Bosco’s eyes on you before he looked away quickly. Now that the chaos was over, he seemed to be back to being his regular mixed signals arrogant self…

When the heart diamond was passed on to the group jokingly, you froze, bewildered. If they broke it… how careless could they be! you thought.

It seemed being arrogant and overly confident was inherent to being a magician.

When Bosco fake-lost balance with the diamond, swinging it from one hand to the other, you thought you were going to have a heart attack. He sent you a devilish look and you quickly held out your hands to catch the diamond he sent your way right on time.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that again” you exclaimed at the same time as Daniel.

You both locked eyes as Daniel nodded in approval.

“Finally someone with some sense” he shrugged as he took the diamond from your hands.

You sighed from relief and saw Bosco roll his eyes.

They all put their tarot card on a sort of table at the center of the boat and watched as it made a map.

"Oh, look, it's your dad!" said Bosco to Daniel.

Maybe it was the nerves, maybe it was the shit-eating grin on his face, maybe it was just that you hadn't expected the joke, but you properly burst out laughing, for a solid 10 seconds. Which is long, when everyone is staring at you.

Bosco chuckled, proud and happily surprised by your reaction.

The joy was short-lived however. When the Horsemen got into a fight, you, Charlie, Bosco and June awkwardly stared at each other, the boat filled with the Horsemen’s unresolved issues. They explained what happened to Dylan and resumed their fight, prompting you to step closer to the group now.

“Guys!” you said amidst all the screaming and pointing fingers. “I’ve looked up to all of you my whole life. All I’ve ever wanted was to find a group of people that were more than friends. A proper family, like you were before”.

Everyone went silent as they stared at you. Charlie, June and Bosco were much more of a family than the Horsemen seemed to be now. Your heart tightened at the sight of everyone there, hanging on your words. How you longed to be part of their life, part of their family…

You sighed and looked at the Horsemen, expression resolute.

“It’s no use to fight now. We have a mission” you summed up, a bit bummed out that the magicians you’d always looked up to were on such bad terms.

You could sense your other three friends were also disappointed by the turn of events. But something must’ve clicked in the Horsemen’s mind because they decided to pursue the mission.

— 𓂀 —

“Château Roussillon, here we are!” you said as you walked with the other magicians in the massive garden of the mansion.

“Nice accent” said Charlie.

“Thanks!” you winked, which did not go unnoticed by the tall brooding brunette.

You took your phone out to check the time when you heard the rustling of clothes nearby. You turned to see June edging closer to you.

“Let’s take pictures!” she said happily.

You started taking pictures of her and of two of you before Bosco joigned you. He slouched a little to hold your shoulder for the picture and you did not dare move your face to look at him, close as he was.

“No, no, please don’t take pictures” started Daniel before giving up halfway through the sentence.

You all chuckled and finally arrived in front of the magnificent door to the Château. When June ‘solved’ the door, you gave her a high-five as you entered the premises.

Thaddeus (yes, the Thaddeus) told you all he’d also been invited through a Tarot card from the Eye. Whatever it was you were meant to uncover was supposed to be somewhere in this Château. 

So you settled to separate in groups of two. You turned to June but she went with Jack with an apologetic look. Charlie went with Henley, Daniel with Merritt and you could’ve sworn Daniel had a shit-eating grin on his face. You were left with Bosco.

You all separated and the two of you found yourself drifting closer as you ambled through the house.

“Planning on stealing my phone again?” you joked.

“Hey, you started it” he chuckled.

He was glad you broke the silence. He stared at you, walking a little in front of him.

“You know, we should thank you”.

You turned to him, finally stopping and looking him in the eye.

“What for?” you asked, ready for the joke. But he wasn't joking.

“Well, if it weren't for your speech on the boat, the Horsemen wouldn't have stayed with us”, he shrugged, looking at the hallway.

“Please, the three of you would've convinced them anyway” you huffed, completely deflecting the praise.

He stopped in his tracks, and snapped to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. He even seemed a little taller, as if he’d squared his shoulders.

“Why do you do this? Always deflect praise, keeping to yourself?”

You were at a loss of words. You had been somewhat distant from the whole group these past few hours, mostly because something felt odd about the whole plan. The Eye had a weird way of reuniting such different people together, and you sometimes caught your three new friends shooting one another discreet glances that felt heavy with meaning nonetheless. Perhaps, if you asked Bosco about it, he would entrust you with whatever it was they kept secret. But you feared he would simply hide behind the walls that had barely started to come down, so you chose against it.

“What you said about the Horsemen being a family and you wanting to belong… I get that. I've felt it too”, he added, expression softer.

His hazel brown eyes had a way of making you want to trust him and confess everything that was on your mind.

“Until I met June and Charlie, I was lonely. So I just wanted to say…” he shrugged and looked around as if he might find the right words on the walls of the hallway, “I understand you. You're not alone”.

You hadn't expected for his words to move you this move.

“Please, don't make me emo right now…” you scoffed as you turned away from his face to hide your teary eyes.

He was no fool but he didn't mention it. He shuffled closer and put a hand on your shoulder. He squeezed it tight, once, before he moved closer to the wall and fiddled with a portrait. He pushed it aside and suddenly the whole hallway started moving.

“Holy shit” you both said, bewildered, mouth wide.

He immediately put the portrait back in its' place and the hallway stopped moving. You explored a few other rooms quickly before joining the others back. Daniel was already in the main room and the minute he saw the two of you approach, his eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Oh, if it isn’t the lovebirds” he mumbled so low you thought you heard wrong. If Bosco heard it, he didn’t react at all.

Annnnnd of course Daniel had to challenge Bosco to prove himself.

“Come on, I don’t think that’s necessary” you huffed as you crossed your arms and looked at the two arrogant men.

“I’m sure Bosco appreciates you defending him, isn’t that cute, but I think he does have something to prove to me. Why the Eye sent me to you” he directed at the tall young man.

You ignored the petty provocations and watched the scene unfold as Bosco started playing with the deck of cards. Soon enough, the other magicians were here and everyone joined in on the trick. You thoroughly enjoyed it, going from mildly sulking to finally seeing the family you had dreamt of behave like one. In the midst of it all, June discreetly approched you and whispered:

“Soooo… what’s up?” she asked inconspicuously.

“Uh… nothing?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“You sure?” she said as she tilted her head towards Bosco before looking back at you to check your reaction.

Your cheeks turned red as you tried to come up with an excuse. Luckily (or were you?), the French police arrived, voices booming in the château as you all panicked.

It became evident that you all had to split up and you were startled when Bosco grabbed your hand to pull you with his side of the group.

“Hey, wait! We gotta help the others!” you screamed, not wanting to abandon your newfound friends.

“No, you’re coming with us” he shot back, as his grip tightened ever so slightly.

“You don’t get to boss me around!” you said, scandalized.

“You should know boss is short for Bosco, (y/l/n)!”.

You didn’t know what shocked you more: his ability to crack jokes and give you attitude admist chaos or his bossing you around. But you ran nonetheless, hand in hand, his strong grip signaling he wasn’t ready to let go of your hand anytime soon.

— 𓂀 —

Part 3 (coming soon…)