He wonders what he's even doing here. The mid morning sun sears into his skin as he approaches the solid brick building.

It's a Saturday, too. Nearly everyone in this crowded apartment block is home right now. He can hear the whine of multiple vacuums, smell the cloying sweetness of syrup mingling with burnt animal meat. Kid cartoons and sickly scented bleach. The overwhelming cacophony of human life is almost too much to bear.

"Should just go back," he grumbles to himself. She wasn't even expecting him. Wouldn't even know he got this far and turned around. He wouldn't have to worry about the disappointed look on her face.

Whatever, he's here now.

He stomps the last few feet to the building's door and yanks it open, wincing at the pitiful screech it ekes out. Ava probably has something he can borrow to fix it. So he doesn't have to hear it every time he visits.

Doing everything he can to block out the assault on his senses, he begins to trudge up the stairs. Then he hears her.

Hears her heartbeat, of course. Thumping away like a beacon, always so steady. It's being covered up though, by the sound of her voice. She's singing. The song is upbeat, and judging by the sounds of shuffling feet, she's dancing, too. He chuckles to himself, teasing quip already on the tip of his tongue.

Then, just as he raises his fist to bang on the door, the music transitions into something quiet and haunting, and she follows suit. He freezes, almost entranced. It's nice, he thinks. Much better than the latest ear worm Farah has been subjecting them to recently. Time passes, and he suddenly realizes he's been standing in her corridor like an idiot for who knows how long.

Rapping his knuckles onto the door, more forcefully than strictly necessary, he hears her heart rate spike, a rather colorful expletive passing her lips as she cuts off her song mid word. This time he does laugh. "Come on, sweetheart. Open up." he calls through the door.

Taking a second to smooth out his clothes as she patters towards him (grumbling about vampires with no manners), he leans artfully against the door frame, hoping to looks as enticing as possible. It's why he's here, after all.

The door cracks open and he fixes her with his most wolfish grin. "Hello, songbird." he purrs. "Do I get an encore?"

She pretends to close the door in his face.

~~~

Ok so now I’m nervous.

I’ve shaved…everywhere, cleaned, moisturized, perfumed, all of it. I just want tonight to be perfect. What if he didn’t catch the hint? He’s a genius but he can be a bit clueless sometimes.

I hear a knock at the door; it’s him.

“Heyyy” his greeting is elongated as he takes in my appearance. I’ve decided to wear a big t-shirt dress. It’s casual but I know it’s already driving him crazy.

“Hey study partner” I greet him with a smile and a quick peck, forcing him to look back up at me.

Once he’s inside I noticed he has a crumpled up brown paper bag. I ask him, “What’s in the bag?”

As if he had almost forgotten he goes, “Oh! These are for you, m’lady”. He pulls out a pack of strawberries; he knows they’re my favorite.

“Aww thanks baby. Lemme go wash them real quick” I say as I walk into the kitchen with an extra sway in my hips in an effort to catch his eye.

He immediately follows me into the kitchen. As I stand at the sink facing away from him I can feel him slowly making his way towards me. Finally I feel his warmth, his presence, right behind me. He slithers his arms around my waist and hugs me from behind.

He leans into my ear and speaks softly with a groggy voice, “You look real cute today, sweets” he burrows his head into my neck, “And you smell so good too”. He takes a bigger whiff and sways us as he hums in my ear, tickling my neck and making me laugh. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting turned on by it.

I turn myself around whilst still in his arms and throw my own arms over his shoulders and around his neck; we’re still swaying. He has hooded eyes and a sly smirk on his face; it’s his turned on face.

I smile, “Aren’t we gonna study? I need your help with calculus, teach”.

He giggles but it’s slow, almost like he’s drunk or sleepy. That classic goofy smile is plastered on his face. “Yeah sure. 2 + 2 = 4. First lesson done now let’s kiss”.

He goes in for a kiss but I push him away laughing, “Peterrr come ooon I really do need your help”.

As much as I wanna kiss him until I can’t breathe I really do need the tutoring and I wanna tease him a bit longer.

He grunts, “Ughh. Okay okay, let’s do math or whatever”.

“Let’s go up to my room” I say as I walk past him with my strawberries in hand.

“Oh you see when you say stuff like that—”

“To study!”

“Right”

~~~

We’re sitting on my bed, books and notebooks sprawled out. I sit cross legged, he’s laying on his side, looking up at me.

We review the concepts that I don’t understand and he walks me through the mathematical problems. He’s wearing his glasses and has gone into full blown genius mode. I have to remind him not to talk so fast because he gets enveloped in it and I get lost quickly.

But I love it. I love his brain and how adorable he looks when he’s explaining all this.

I decide to tease him though, as he’s talking I take one of the strawberries and take a bite in an unnecessarily sensual way. I make sure to put my lips around it and suck on it a bit to simulate…another activity, whilst making direct eye contact.

I take the first bite quickly, just to get his attention. Once I have it I take the next one very slowly.

“So position as a function of, um, t-time, it would, uhh” and just like that, from genius to incoherent in two seconds. He’s entranced, eyes fixed on my mouth, breathing a bit faster now.

“It would what?” I ask him, putting on my most innocent face.

He blinks a few times and clears his throat, “Sorry, heh, yeah it would equal…” he trails off as he watches me take the last bite.

I snap my fingers in his face, “Peter!”

“Wha-what?” He raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes, biting his whole lip.

I chuckle, “You okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah I’m good. You’re just so pretty” he says in an attempt to save his ass. It charmed me nonetheless.

We continued with our work, I decided to not tease him too much. But it seems he had other plans. I started to notice a pattern every time I’d get an answer right.

He would give me subtle praise. Like “That’s amazing, keep doing that”, “You’re doing so good baby”, or “Correct, good girl”. And with each praise I felt myself get wetter. He knows what he’s doing, that sly son of a bitch.

So I pull out my next card.

I accidentally drop my pencil on the floor. So I get up from the bed and bend over to pick it up. Even though the t-shirt dress covers me fairly well, it won’t keep my ass from peaking out when bending over. Incredibly cliché I know, but based on his rosy cheeks and that lustful look in his eyes that I see once I turn around, I’d say it worked.

I sit back down and pretend to be concentrated on the work. Meanwhile I can almost hear Peter’s gears turning inside that beautiful head of his. He’s silent. Suddenly he sits up and closes all the books and drops them on the floor, leaving me with just the notebook in front of me.

“What are you—”

“Pop quiz time”

He moves over to sit behind me. I’m visibly confused so he explains, “I’m gonna give you the problems, you gotta answer,” he leans in my ear and whispers, “but you and I both know you can do it. So how about—” he pushes my hair to the side to expose my neck “—we make this a bit more interesting?”

His voice is low and raspy, his warm breath tickles my neck, his left hand keeps caressing my hair, grazing my skin, his right hand slowly moves over my waist.

“Sounds good”

My voice is small and frail, my breath quickens, my right hand grips onto the pencil, my left hand onto my bedsheets.

He lingers around my ear and neck, the near touch driving me crazy, “First question sweets,” he softly rakes his fingers up and down my arms, “There are 47 boys in the class. This is three more than four times the number of girls. How many girls are there in the class?” It should be illegal to make mathematical word problems sound this sexy.

I begin to write down the process, trying my hardest to concentrate, meanwhile his hands keep moving slowly over my body; caressing my waist and thighs.

I get the answer fairly quickly. “You got it?” he asks, I nod.

“Mhm”

“What is it?” he then kissed my earlobe, and it felt like my system rebooted. My eyes rolled back and I suddenly forgot how to speak.

“Well?” I can’t see it but I know he’s wearing a cocky grin.

“Eleven” it comes out breathier than intended.

“Very good. Next question” he pulled the neckline of my shirt over my shoulder and gently kissed the exposed skin. A whimper nearly escaped my lips.

“What’s the square root of 144 baby?” the way he slipped in the pet name made me weak. Nonetheless I get to work doing the math and one of his hands has found its way under my shirt. He’s lightly running his fingertips over my stomach, making me shudder.

Meanwhile his other hand keeps my shoulder exposed and he gives me a few more kisses here and there. I’m not making much progress, I’ve almost completely lost the capacity to do simple math.

The hand that’s under my shirt keeps moving up until…

I feel him smile against my shoulder, “No bra huh?” he couldn’t help but break character and geek out a little bit. I smile proudly, “Twelve”.

“What?” he’s distracted by the fact that the only thing separating my body from his are my panties and a loose shirt.

“The answer’s twelve bug boy”

“Good girl” he growls just before starting to attack my neck with wet kisses. I throw my head back, I can’t help it anymore; I give in. I move my hand to his hair and pull on it moaning out, “Oh, Peter”.

He pinches my nipple with one hand while the other keeps getting dangerously close to my aching core; his hand is right on top of it but he stops. Everything stops. He asks, “What’s the square root of 121,456?”

I grunt, “Peter!”

“I never said the quiz was over sweets” he said smugly.

I quickly start to write and try to do the math, he starts to kiss my neck again.

“You’re a dick you know that?”

“Really?

“Yes. What do you want me to do? Beg?”

“I mean that would be nice”

“In your drea—” I’m cut off by the feeling of his hand cupping my folds over my panties again.

“You sure you don’t wanna beg? What I’m feeling says otherwise” he whispers in my ear.

“I hate you” I hiss.

“Answer the question, or beg, sweetheart” he taunted.

I sighed, he gently moved his hand, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Fine” I grunted.

“Tell me what you want”

“Peter…”

“Yes darlin’?” he nuzzled into my neck.

“I want you”

“What do you want from me?” he kisses and licks my neck. A small moan escapes my lips; he’s turning me into mush I can’t take it anymore.

“I want you to touch me. I want you to fuck me”

He turns us around so that I’m under him, tossing my notebook on the floor. He smiles at me and says, “Shit finally” breaking character once more. I quickly take off his glasses and set them on the night stand.

I smile at him before pulling him down by his shirt and crashing my lips with his. I pull the rest of him down by wrapping my legs around him. The kisses are fast and sloppy, messy and lazy. We’re more concerned with eliminating any possible space between us.

But he creates space again, only to move his hand down to my core. He begins rubbing my clit through my panties and I can’t hold myself back anymore, I moan louder than before into his mouth.

“That feel good baby?” he says into my ear.

I nod. He shakes his head, “Words y/n, or is your pretty little head burnt out from the math?”.

He’s being a dick but what I hate about it most is that it turns me on even more. “Yes, so good” I whisper in between heavy breaths. He then moves his hand under my underwear and nothing feels more right than his hands on my bare pussy.

He chuckles lowly, “You’re so wet for me. I can’t wait to taste you” he says, which causes me to groan in pleasure. I don’t know where this side of him came from but every word he says ruins me further.

“Then do it” I whine. My head is foggy and my core is aching for him.

And so he gives me one last smile and moves down my body. He removes my underwear and lifts and spreads my legs. He’s taking it in for a moment. I was about to get insecure but then I saw his face, his eyes; pure adoration.

Peter begins kissing down my thighs. He then licks all around my labia, avoiding where I need him the most. I start to grow impatient, buckling my hips in desperation. Desperation for him. A fact I cannot hide anymore.

He puts his arm over my hips to hold them down in place. “Be a good girl and stay still for me”.

Then, a singular lick on my clit, making my body jolt. He does it again, my body jolts again accompanied by a lewd moan. He does it again two more times and I catch a glimpse of him watching me, how my body reacts, with a devilish smile.

“You enjoying that?” I taunt.

“Yes, we both are” his smile widens to a grin.

I put my hand on his head and say, “No more teasing bug boy”.

“No promises” he says before giving me what I want. He goes down on my like there’s no tomorrow, making me go wild. He switches between fast light strokes and long deep ones. I throw both hands into his hair and pull, hard. It earns me a moan from him; a beautiful erotic sound.

“You sound so sexy when you moan baby” I confess and he gives me another moan in response.

Waves of pleasure keep washing over me. I won’t last much longer. And that’s when he inserts one finger inside me. My moans keep getting louder and he keeps getting hungrier. I’m almost over the edge when he adds another finger and in about three seconds I come undone.

I exclaim his name, my body shakes and convulses, meanwhile he’s not stopping until I’ve ridden out my orgasm completely.

Once I have we both stop to catch our breath for a moment. I look down to see his face, his cheeks are flushed, his lips plump and bright pink, with traces of me on them. He’s so beautiful like this.

He moves up my body and kisses me deeply. But I don’t waste time; I flip us over and start moving down to repay him. I wanna hear more of those sweet moans of his.

But he stops me. “Wait wait, please, I just wanna be inside you sweets” he pleas with a ruined look on his face.

“But I wanna make you feel good”

“You’ll make me feel good with your pretty cunt around my cock” he begins to make us switch positions again but I stop us and straddle his lap.

“What—”

“I’m gonna ride you”

A smile slowly grows on his face. I then help him take off his pants. Once they’re off his cock lands right in front of me. I press it against my abdomen and…damn…he’s big.

He’s not my first but he’s definitely my first like this.

He chuckles, “Having second thoughts?”

“No no, I’m just impressed is all” I say whilst softly stroking his cock. He blushes at my comment and his eyes flutter shut. His hands rest on my thighs.

His breathing quickens, I stroke him with both hands; one spreading his precum over his sensitive tip, this makes him groan.

“You…you sure you wanna d—do this?” He’s in pure bliss from the pleasure but he still takes a moment to make sure I’m okay.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of him under me. Eyes closed, pink lips parted, cheeks flushed, hair tussled; gone, ruined.

“Yes I’m sure pretty boy”

He opens his eyes slightly, “Do we need a—”

“I’m on the pill”

I stop stroking so I can position myself and he whimpers at the loss of my touch. I lower myself down bit by bit and wince, he grunts. He holds my hips and helps me. “Does it hurt?” he asks.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, I kinda like it” I give him a smile, he grins.

Once he’s fully in we both moan in unison. I take a moment to get adjusted, meanwhile he removes the t-shirt that was still on me for some reason and gapes at the sight of me fully naked, on his cock.

He reaches out and massages my breast, I sigh in pleasure.

I start to move up and down, front to back, and we both start moaning, holding eye contact. His hands move down to grip my sides. I start to move faster as I watch his face contort so beautifully.

“You look so pretty riding my cock” he says. I simply moan in response. Next thing I know his hand has found my neck and he’s starting to move his hips up with me. My eyes roll back and I simply relish in this feeling. The moans get louder and the words get dirtier. My room is filled to the brim with sounds of skin slapping and moaning tangled up with cursing.

I look down to find he’s staring right at me. Eyes dark and lustful. Next thing I know he’s flipping us around and I’m on my stomach, and he’s fucking me.

He’s fucking me into the bed and moans turn into whimpers and cries of pleasure. I prop my ass up and he fondles it a bit before slapping it lightly.

“Oh fuck!” I cry out.

He slips a hand into my folds and begins to rub my clit. At this point tears are streaming down my face and the aching I feel, the need for release, is almost painful.

“I’m gonna—”

“No, not yet” he cuts me off. “I wanna cum with you baby”.

His thrusts are getting slower but harder and it’s making me lose my mind. “Peter it feels so good I—”

“You can. Be a good girl and wait for me” he spanks me again. It’s too much. He’s filling me up so good, hitting the right spot over and over again, rubbing my clit so well, and the sounds of his moans and whimpers are enough to drive me over the edge.

“You gonna cum with me?”

I nod, “Yes yes please”

“Cum”

And like the push of a button we both come undone and he moans out my name. Ecstasy. He’s officially become my drug.

We’re both out of breath but he turns me around and sits me up. He plants a kiss on my lips and says, “Clean me up sweets” with his cock in front of my face.

Is it possible to be turned on immediately after an orgasm? The answer is yes.

I happily take his cock in my mouth and start to suck him clean; he groans, eyes fixed on me. Once I’m done I look up at him. He says, “Damn, I love how you look with my cock in your mouth” holding up my chin.

I smile, “Should’ve taken me up on my offer then”

“Oh I’ll take you up on that”

We both laugh. I give him a kiss before getting up to use the bathroom. I come back to find him laying in my bed with his arms extended towards me. I hurry to the bed and he takes me in his arms.

“So, you gonna pass that math test next week?” he asks.

“You gonna punish me if I don’t?”

“ Do you know why you are here?” Regina asked.

Isabelle French shifted uncomfortably and nodded hesitantly.

She had been trying to set up a meeting with Regina for the past few months in vain. For some unexplainable reason, she received a call yesterday evening from City Hall, informing her that she was to meet with the mayor the following day at 10am sharp.

Belle had been working as the chief librarian for the past few months. She enjoyed her job, she was perfectly content with her position thank you very much. However, as the weeks passed, she began noticing that the library was in desperate need of repairs.

“ Is it about my Library Renewal project proposal?” she asked.

“ Yes, you’ve cited that the library needed a makeover if I remember?” Regina replies as she sipped her coffee.

Belle snorted, “ Makeover? Mam, the water fountains don’t even work properly. There are a few leaks in the ceiling, the air conditioning that barely works, the missing floor tiles in the washroom. I can go on. Pardon me, we don’t even have computers. What kind of library in 2005 doesn’t have computers with proper access to the internet? We really need these repairs at the very least if we are to keep our patrons happy.”

Regina rolled her eyes, “ What patrons? The elderly and the few children who come in with their gossiping mothers?”

“ Those elderly and gossiping mothers are part of your core voters. I suggest that you make them happy if you want to be re-elected for another term.” Belle retorted.

“ Oh dear, you really are something else. Touché Miss French.” The mayor chuckled as she slip a thick file towards Belle. “ You are in luck. A very generous patron has indeed decided to step in and donate a substantial amount to the Storybrooke Library.”

The librarian’s eyes grew wide as she quickly scanned the contents in the folder and found the amount of the donation along with other documentation. It was more than what she could hope for.

“ However, the benefactor in question, has an unorthodox request from you. Oh, don’t worry it’s nothing illegal I assure you. First of all, this person wishes to remain anonymous. Secondly, the bizarre request is that you are required to write to them once a week.”

Belle had many questions she wanted to ask Regina, but she decided to keep her mouth shut and let the mayor continue.

“ You will be writing to said benefactor until the completion of the project. In addition, there is another guideline for these letters.” The Mayor informed her as she leaned back into her chair.

“ Your patron will be not required to write to you back. You may give them updates or reports on the library repairs I suppose. The amount that they have donated should cover the repairs you have requested, along with minor upgrades. If there is any money left, there should be enough money for a few computers and obviously new books. I assume that you can take care of this along with your regular librarian duties?”

The young librarian nodded quickly as she sat in the mayor’s office in dismay. Finally, she summoned all of her courage to reply. “ You have my word mam. I will do the utmost to maintain my duties on top of managing this project.”

Belle suddenly had a thought and took a chance to ask the woman sitting behind her imposing mahogany desk. “ With respect Mrs. Mills, how shall I address this person? It’s hard enough for me to start a conversation with a total stranger, yet you want me to communicate with someone who has no name? Does this patron have a nickname or even a code name I could use while addressing to them?” She asked nervously.

Regina sat there for a few minutes, took a sip of her now cold coffee and mumbled something that was out of her earshot . Finally, the woman’s lips formed a peculiar grin.

“ Address them as Rumplestiltskin .”

Belle blinked, “ You mean, that imp in that fairy tale that makes devilish deals?”

“Yes. It's an inside joke between the two of us.” Regina chuckled and then continued.

“Now, as I was saying, the address for the benefactor is in the file. Don't bother getting all excited, it’s a postal box is located in another town. Before you leave, there is something else that I also need to inform you.”

Regina paused for a moment as if contemplating her next choice of words.

“ Mr. Gold, one of our retired City managers, has been assigned to assist you in this endeavor. I am not trying to undermine you, on the contrary, it is simply because Mr. Gold has over a decade of experience overseeing public projects for this town. We thought that it would be beneficial for you to let him guide you with the planning, getting the right permits and such.”

“Of course, I am grateful for any help or advice I can get.” Belle said and quickly put the thick file into her bag.

She had heard many rumors about this Mr. Gold ever since she moved into Storybrooke. Monster of Storybrooke. The Devil. Crocodile. Despite all the gossip, she has had never actually met the man in question.

The only thing she knew about Mr. Gold is that he was Bae’s father. Bae was a teenager had started to frequent the library quite often for the past few months. Although, she had bonded with Bae over various subjects, especially on the Harry Potter book series, she has yet heard him talk about his infamous father. She didn’t dare push the subject any further. In her mind, it was best to wait until the teen himself broached on the subject.

“ Now don’t forget Miss. French. One letter a week to this benefactor, or the deal is off. Surely you can manage that? ”

French Residence, April 6th, 2005

Dear sir or madam,

Please allow me to thank you again for the generous gift you have bestowed upon our small city of Storybrooke.

Regina Mills has briefed me of your generous offer in exchange of a weekly letter from me. I must admit, your condition to this deal is quite peculiar and vexing. It is an easy request, but I find it unfair. I am not a very fascinating person and I have no idea how to even start this endeavor. It is hard to communicate with someone you are indebted to, who will not be replying your letters and on top of knowing absolutely nothing about!

Luckily (or not) , Mrs. Mills has given me the nickname Rumplestiltskin for me to use when addressing to you.

Is she implying that you are some kind of creature, who preys upon unsuspecting villagers and loves making shady deals? ( This is why I plead to you to write to me back if you detest this nickname and would like a change for better one. Perhaps the Phantom of Storybrooke?)

Otherwise, we could start off with an introduction?

My name is Isabelle French. I recently moved to Storybrooke a few months ago to work as a librarian. I love tea, reading and I will admit to you right here and now, that I absolutely adore Harry Potter.

Now that I have introduced myself, I hope that you will extend the same courtesy towards me.

If not, I would like to thank you again for your generous donation.( I cannot thank you enough and you cannot fault me on that ). There are many things that need repairing in our small library and your monetary contribution will aid us greatly to revitalise it.

Mayor Mills also suggested that I give you updates on the project every week.

Well, I am expected to meet a Mr. Gold ( A retired City Manager rumored to be some sort of monster by the townsfolk, which I find amusing ) tomorrow morning.

Although, when I started petitioning to receive funding for the repairs, I never expected to receive help from city management. I admit, that I can take care of regular library management with ease.

But on top of those duties, there will be floorplans to discuss, consulting contractors, scheduling repairs, getting permits and much more. I must confess to you, that I am a bit anxious about all of this, however, this project is so dear to me. I will certainly welcome any feedback and suggestions Mr. Gold might present to me.

I will certainly double my efforts, so that the citizens of Storybrooke will have the best library experience I can offer.

Sadly, I must bid you goodnight, as it is very late, and I do not want to miss my meeting with Mr. Gold. First impressions are important are they not?

                                                                                                      Yours respectfully, Isabelle French

Storybrooke Library April 13th, 2005

Dear Rumplestiltskin,

Do you live in Storybrooke? Do you care for gossip?

If so, please indulge me and let me rant to you about my meeting with that city manager Mr Gold, whom I assure you,must be the most unagreeable person that I have ever met.

I made sure that morning to put an effort into my attire. Wanting to look more professional than usual. I figured, a pencil skirt and a creamy chiffon blouse would do the trick.

Well, Mr. Gold arrived at my desk yesterday morning, gaped at me like a fish! Did I look that appalling to him? ( I have heard rumours that he was wealthy. Apparently, this fellow owns half of the buildings in Storybrooke ).

I must say, he looked quite intimidating, wearing a fitting suit and leaning onto his cane. Willingly or not, I instantly felt inferior to him as I stood there wearing discounted clothing from JC Penny.

The man finally recovered himself, and introduced himself promptly.

Like any civilised person, I tried to offer him a cup of coffee, but he immediately asked to tour the building! ( Seriously, who refuses an offer of coffee? )

Before I can even gather myself properly, he had already started looking at every nook and cranny in the library. Asking me questions, telling me to write down every single observation throughout the ordeal. Every time I would try to say something, he would quickly moved onto another area.

I honestly felt more like an assistant than a partner.

In the end, he noticed there were quite of few places that needs to be repaired that I must have missed because, and I quote his exact words:

“ Well, I know more than you Dearie. Unless you happen to have any experience in managing buildings on top of those librarian skills Miss French? ”

Oh. I wanted to strangle him.

Behaviour aside, I must admit that he is an excellent planner.

After two long hours, we managed to sort the list of items that urgently needs repairing, the time that would be necessary for its completion, and the complexity of it as well. We will be meeting again next week and in the meantime, he gave me a list of contractors in the city and its surrounding areas, expecting me to call each and one of them to schedule for an estimate of all these repairs.

Have you ever met a man like this Rumplestiltskin? A man you immediately respect and admire but at the same time tests your patience?  

                                                                      Yours, a frustrated Isabelle French

He finds her in the kitchen, barely illuminated by the glow of the stovetop light. When did she wake up? Did she even go to sleep at all? Bottles of sleeping pills have long been empty, and really never helped enough to warrant buying more, anyway. He steps up behind her, not crowding, but grounding, and slides a mostly empty mug out of her hand.

“Another nightmare?” he guesses. One night, after bolting upright and scaring him so badly his own hands shook, she confessed in hushed whispers about the dreams that often haunt her. Unsettling, sometimes threatening, but always vague and distressing. 

She hums noncommittally at his question, still staring at specks in the laminate countertop. She knows she should’ve just gone to bed hours ago, just laid there and pretended to sleep; it would’ve kept him from waking and worrying, at least. A tiny part of her though, relishes that he came to find her. He always does.

His hands drift from the counter to her hips and he gently turns her to face him. "How long have you been out here?" He hates that he can only help in the aftermath.

A shrug. “I didn’t want my tossing and turning to bother you.” She’s answering his questions, but she’s not quite there with him either. Her fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt as she stares a hole right through his heart. She thinks about falling asleep, but having another nightmare, and waking up more exhausted than before, and then falling asleep again, b–

They stand in silence like this for a while, his thumbs occasionally brushing over her hip bones, as he searches his brain for something to break whatever loop she’s stuck in. Words of encouragement? A random story? A joke? He remembers something then. “Did you know sleep deprivation impairs you as much as being drunk? Alina read it somewhere. I’d hate to have to take you in.” He watches as she blinks once, twice, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, and then snorts at his obvious distraction. There she is. 

“I’ll be sure to charter Silas’s services if I need a ride to one of the three whole places I go in this town.” she quips back, but the exhaustion in her tone is unmissable. Maybe being this tired would finally force her subconscious (or anyone else) to give her a break. Maybe just getting off her feet wouldn’t be so bad, she thinks.

As if reading her mind, his hands slip down to tap the outsides of her thighs. “Up.” He requests. She tilts her head to look at him, slightly incredulous. His eyebrow quirks slightly, a silent challenge, and he taps again. “Let’s not stand here all night. I have better places to be.” He uses his most authoritative voice, but her responding chuckle lets him know she knows he’s (kind of) joking. They are both really tired.

So she jumps, legs wrapping snugly around his waist. “Gonna take me to bed then, Detective?” She uses her new vantage point to all but smolder down at him.

He huffs out a laugh at the way the blatant innuendo colors her tone and presses a kiss to her collarbone. “Yes. To sleep .” His stern reply can’t fully mask his fondness.

“So bossy. What’s stopping me from getting back up again as soon as you fall back to sleep?” she teases as he starts ambling towards the bedroom. 

Pushing through the bedroom doorway, he looks off to the side, as if truly considering her question. “I do have my handcuffs.”