#anders johnson fluff

He hadn’t been able to get his mind off of what Mike said to him the other day, the words echoing in his tortured mind with a cruel determination to be believed; Anders isn't capable of loving anyone other than himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he muttered aloud to his empty apartment, swallowing thickly as that constricted feeling in his throat began to choke him again. The view of the Sky Tower was now blurry, and he blinked a few times as he brought the glass he held to his lips with a hand that shook, his knuckles white from gripping it so tight. The scotch was warm as it slid down, but did nothing to dull the possibility that Mike could be right. He puffed out his cheeks and closed his eyes, his breath expelling forcefully, but rickety out of his lungs, and his head tipped up to the ceiling as he was hounded once again with the reminder of his shortcomings.

For most of the time you had been away, Anders had convinced himself that he might have been falling in love with you, but after seeing Mike, the whole notion seemed ludicrous. He had always been so careful never to bring feelings into any of his relationships.

Until you.

No, he reminded himself again. His hands fidgeted nervously against his glass and his leg bounced up and down, unable to keep himself still. The amount of times he switched back and forth in his mind was turning him insane.

He didn’t know what love really was, that if any of the things he felt for you were in fact the one thing that plagued so many people in a painfully beautiful and risky way. How was he to know? No one had ever declared the terrifying phrase to him before, nor had he ever uttered the words, and he assured himself for what had to be the millionth time this week that being with you was no different. What you had together was fun; perfect as it was, and the sex was the best he could recall in the very long line up of his history. Why chance losing all of that over something that he'd gone his whole life thinking didn't really exist with the exception of a few lucky people?

Still, he couldn’t deny that he found himself longing to hear the words slip from your lips; to have you tell him how you felt, to know how it would feel to have someone genuinely hold that kind of unconditional and shamelessly pure affection toward him.

So many times he thought you would say it, lost in intense moments of passion that had you on the brink, almost confessing it within your moans of rapture, and he knew it would be the sweetest sound he ever heard.

And then you left.

Heat crept up through him, his hurt fueling his anger, and he clenched his teeth together hard as his nostrils flared out in an effort to steady his breathing. His head hung low and he ran his hand up the back of it, reminding himself that whatever you felt for him he didn't deserve, and that he would always be the type of man who refused to succumb to something as frivolous as love.

He sat up straight and drained what was left in his glass, his resolve restored, vowing to never let anyone make him doubt his character again.

Anders didn’t want to lose you but—

The sound of the door opening brought him out of his thoughts, his head whipping around to watch you walk in through his kitchen, a mix of bitterness and relief filling him at the sight of you.

Standing from his perch, he set his empty glass down on the table and made his way over to you, your bright, although hesitant smile matching his own.

“Welcome home,” he said with a hint of sarcasm through a grin that didn't reach his eyes, his dimples barely hidden beneath his stubble. Anders stopped before he completely closed the distance between you, tucking his hands in his pockets as he looked at you suspiciously.

Every muscle in his body tensed as you gingerly took a step toward him, the feel of your hands on his chest causing even more confliction. He could see the pain reflected in your eyes as they danced across where your fingertips lingered, the anguish he knew you would be feeling as clear as the day was, making him want to let you in again as if nothing had happened.

"How was Dunedin?" he asked in a low tone, the roughness of his voice a result of his struggle to stay distant.

You looked up at him quizzically, like you couldn't believe that was the question he was asking out of all the other possible ones, and your head shook slightly when you answered.

"Fine. It was fine. Cold…" you said absently as your fingers moved across his chest that poured heat, like you were contrasting the iciness of his current demeanor to the temperature that radiated from him rather than the difference of weather between Dunedin and Auckland. The sensation of your skin gently touching his was like torture, and it took everything in him not to rip your hands off of him.

Anders sighed through his nose and nodded his head slowly. "Good."

He felt like each time he opened his mouth, everything he had felt through the week would come spewing out, and he was determined not to disclose those flaws to you.

"How are you?" you dared ask, and all Anders could do was laugh in disbelief and shake his head. He couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye, his gaze instead focused on your hands that remained timidly on his chest.

"Absolutely perfect."

"Anders…" you pleaded, moving your head to try to meet his eyes, obviously seeing through the bullshit of his words.

"What?" he snapped, finally looking at you, his veil quick to fall and reveal the fury he wasn't very good at concealing.

"I'm sorry."

Your apology hit him like that arrow did Axl, piercing through the wall he built back up only to have it crumble down so easily, exposing his pain piece by piece. He huffed out another small laugh, his eyes darting to the side in fear that if he continued to look at you he would simply forgive you without hesitation.

He wanted to stay mad. He was furious.

His hands moved to cover his face and he swore through them, feeling so torn and deranged. He felt your hands drop from his body, and the loss of contact suddenly stung more than anything else had. His hands automatically reached for yours again, pulling you back toward him, and his eyes flickered back and forth between yours and your lips. Before he could think about what he was doing, Anders covered your mouth with his, demanding your next apology in the form of a kiss.

He was weak, Anders thought, his hands roaming your form that was ingrained in his memory and to his touch, the feel of you against him imprinted on him for eternity and quick to distract him from his earlier decision. With each pass of your tongue over his, he became more and more lured in, wanting to abolish his pain and focus on how good you made him feel and how much he knew he needed you. It was moments like this he could swear you were a goddess, the power you held outweighing the influence his own could ever have.

You hummed against him, bringing him out of his haze, his body betraying the very thing his mind was trying to prevent from happening.

Eventually you parted, both of you needing to resurface for air, drowning in each other but so desperately not wanting to stop.

Be mad, he reminded himself, but it was no use.

He had felt like a house of cards all week; the threat of toppling down from a simple pass of air looming dangerously, leaving him vulnerable and unsteady on his own. Being in your presence again reinforced him and gave him strength, the taste of your lips lingering on his awakening all the reasons why his mind could never win against his heart.

You stood staring at Anders for a moment, sharing panting breaths, your lips already feeling raw from his kiss. Was it possible his eyes had turned even bluer since the last time you saw him?

"I missed you,” he said in a hoarse whisper, the words sounding strangled, almost as if he was scared of telling you something as meaningful as that.

“I missed you, too,” you told him, observing the sincere, but struggling look on his face. Taking more of him in this time and no longer feeling as afraid to let your gaze linger on him, you noticed how tired he looked; the lines around his eyes more prominent, the blue of his irises barely disguising the dull gray that hinted at pain; all of those little details ones you could never forget regardless if after a week or a lifetime.

His proximity was enough to make you say everything that was in your heart, the words bursting to get out, his scent and radiating warmth a lethal combination without him trying, and you scolded yourself for how easy he made it to get you to talk even without the use of his powers.

Your mind pleaded for you not to say it, but as your heart hammered in your chest you could feel the words clawing their way up your throat at record speed. Swallowing thickly, your hand moved so you could trail your fingers up his cheek and across his brow and you noticed even more now the wearied, doleful presence that dulled his eyes. It seemed that each caress brought forward stifled feelings in Anders, the sadness in him switching to anger again.

"Why did you leave like that?" he demanded, his tone making your unsaid words form into a lump in your throat.

You sighed and closed your eyes, trying to find a way to help him understand exactly how he made you feel. It was always a myriad of things with him; excited, happy, whole, loved, scared. How could you begin to explain that he made you feel so good it terrified you?

When you didn't answer right away he backed away from you, a waft of cool air instantly replacing the warmth where his body had been.

Your mouth opened and then closed, and each time you parted your lips those three condemning words threatened to tumble out involuntarily, your heart and soul needing to free itself of the restraints you tried so hard to keep bound and safe.

"Because I-"

His eyebrows flew high on his head and he shrugged, his gestures exaggerated, prompting you to give him something. Your eyes followed him as he turned and walked further away from you, and as much as you wanted to follow him, your feet were rooted where you stood. When he turned back to glare at you impatiently, you finally managed to find your voice.

"I was scared, Anders!" you admitted, cowardly. How long would you be able to keep denying this for, you wondered, watching as Anders moved to lean against the back of the couch, his arms folding across his chest protectively.

"Scared of what?"

His voice was quieter than you expected it to be, and you wondered if he would coax the truth out of you whether you permitted it or not.

You sighed and dropped your head to look at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact in case the bastard did pull his powers out on you.

"You make me feel things that I have tried to avoid this whole time."

"Like what?"

You shook your head as tears stung your eyes, your tongue suddenly too big for your mouth as it desperately tried to block what you knew you wanted to say.

"What are you afraid of?" Anders asked again, this time louder, his frustration no longer disguised.

"Everything…"

You glanced up to see him push off the back of the couch to begin pacing back and forth, one of his hands covering his face as he tried to summon patience to deal with you.

"For fuck's sake," he mumbled to himself. "I thought what we had was good, effortless," he spat, stopping to look at you with honesty in his cerulean eyes, his hand motioning in the air between you. "Special…"

The last word trailed off but held so much honesty in it that your heart split open again, knowing how much damage you caused, and bile rose in your throat at the thought of it being irreparable.

"It is, Anders!"

"Then why the fuck did you leave?!"

His voice boomed through the apartment, the force behind his words triggering your own.

"Because I love you!"

A loud ringing resounded in your ears, and you felt all the blood that was in your face drain out of it only to be pumped forcefully through you again as your heart pounded ruthlessly, its beating deafening. The sound of your laboured breaths made you focus again, drowning out the blaring nothingness, a slight sense of alleviation beginning to take over your panic.

You could physically feel the binds breaking apart in your chest, your heart freed from its confines, and now that it was said, you stood waiting for the aftermath.

Anders faltered, sighed and put his hands on his hips. His expression was full of disbelief, like he didn't hear you or as if you had said something in a language he didn't understand. He looked down at the ground and pulled his bottom lip in his teeth, shifting his weight on his feet to take a step forward, but moved back again.

You kept quiet, and when he finally looked you in the eyes you could see how much emotion your confession brought out in him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn't come.

Anders rubbed a hand over his face, the room so silent you could hear his palm scratch against his stubble. His mouth parted again, and this time he chuckled, but not out of humour or anger.

"Anders-" you started, but stopped when he walked toward you and cupped your cheeks, pulling you so close your lips grazed against each other.

"Please don't take it back," he pleaded, his hands holding your face so tight it was like he was making sure you wouldn't vanish along with your words.

"Never," you vowed, and his mouth connected to yours like he needed the air that was being held in your lungs.

His lips quivered ever so slightly, the smallest tremble of uncertainty and vulnerability that coursed through him unable to hide itself as it transferred onto you. You pressed against him harder, deepening your kiss to give him the surety he searched for, that you meant what you said and would never use it to trick or hurt him. He matched you with equal intensity, his tongue driving into your mouth that still tasted of your declaration, and in turn you relished in the taste and smell of him, the spiced aftertaste of scotch welcoming and familiar.

His hands moved up to cradle the back of your head, supporting you as you felt you were about to melt away under his touch, his body pressing into yours the longer you kissed as if you would simply fuse into one.

Anders moved away from your mouth, and your breathy gasp shuddered in the air as you drew a sharp inhale, the sensation of his wet lips traveling down your jawline to your neck eliciting needy moans from you. One hand returned to rest against your cheek, preventing you from pulling away as he licked at your throat, his tongue marking you with clear streaks, his lips sucking at your flesh that throbbed to the beat of your pulse. You could be lost here forever, drunk and satisfied from this alone, his tongue sending shivers through your whole body as it slowly trailed over your sensitive skin.

You clawed at his back, your nails attempting to tear through the dress shirt that covered him, feeling more desperate than ever to feel his skin on yours. He gripped under your thighs and pulled your legs up to wrap around his waist, your silent prayer being answered by him for yet another time, making you wonder if Bragi was able to read minds as well as make people obey his word.

His lips clashed with yours, sealing them together as he carried you to his room to set you down carefully on the bed. His chest heaved as he undid his buttons in a hurry, tossing the shirt somewhere in the room, and once his upper body was bare, he leaned forward and kissed you again. Your hands carded up his chest, catching in the soft, amber coils that your fingertips had longed for since you saw him last, and it seemed your touch sparked a similar impatience in him. He abruptly stood and pulled at the hem of your shirt, flicking it up and over your head only to meet you in a desperate kiss once it was discarded. His thumbs grazed across each of your cheeks in a sweeping motion that made your head spin, but not enough to stop you from working at freeing him of his pants.

Even though you were the one to do it, your heart rate sped up and arousal flooded through you at the sound of his belt unbuckling, becoming ever closer to reuniting your bodies and displaying what you felt for each other in the best way you knew how.

Anders hissed and nipped at your lower lip when you tugged his boxers down to expose his leaking cock to the cool air of his room, and he knelt between your legs and guided you to lay on the mattress, his lips still locked with yours as you slowly stroked his length.

"Fuck, why aren't you naked yet?" he growled, his cheeks red with frustration and lust when he pulled away from you to look you over. You swallowed thickly at his impatience and released his cock from your hand to shimmy out of your pants, your panties that were soiled by your slick going with them.

Anders slid his hand beneath your back and expertly unclasped your bra, roughly pulling it from you, battling with himself between wanting to take you hard to help carry out his pain, or continue with the terrifying reality of giving in to the tenderness he secretly ached for. As soon as he pressed his mouth on yours again, his decision was made, set in stone and written in the stars, his heart plunging further and further into the trap he vowed it would never get caught in. He could feel the strangled emotion bubbling up his airway - everything he fought for so long to suffocate boiling to the surface - the things he always believed he was unworthy of in front of him for the taking.

Your hips lifted and rolled, teasing the tip of his cock with your soaked core, your hands roaming across every part of his torso like you were trying to make purchase on his heart and soul, coaxing him to no longer fear bearing this part of himself to you. He felt the words choking him, and he swallowed hard and kissed your collarbone, a sound that resembled a cry he didn't recognize from himself sounding out against your skin when he opened his mouth.

Your soft whimpers brought him the focus he needed, drawing his attention back to worshiping your body, his confidence growing as he put his intentions back to the physical kind he knew he had every control over.

His tongue swiped across the curves of your breasts, making your nipples harden into pebbles, swirling his tongue and sucking until every nerve in your body was awakened with jolts of pleasure shooting through you.

Continuing to explore the body he could never get enough of, his hand slowly trailed down your waist, and lifting his hips away from you slightly, he allowed room to slip his hand between your bodies where his fingers delved in your wet folds. Slowly, he fingered you, his need for you increasing with each stroke on you; your walls clenching around him only to have him pull out to leave you vacant and eager for more.

Streetnoise crept in through the walls and window of his bedroom, and for the first time ever it felt distracting to him. Anders sat back on his knees and pulled at the sheets that lay crumpled behind him at the foot of the bed, dragging them up and over your heads as he returned to settle between your legs. You smiled at him as the sheets billowed with air around you, making his heart ache at the sight of you, knowing you were the very reason he was meant to exist in this world; as a mortal or a god, on Earth or in Asgard.

The sheets landed softly on top of him, and a comforting feeling draped over him like the high-end thread count itself, knowing that he was hidden away from everything and everyone else with you. He kissed you slowly, relishing in the fact that no one could reach either of you to judge or criticize, sheltered from denouncement and the need to defend what you had.

His cock lingered at your entrance, nestled comfortably in your folds without pushing through completely, your bodies in agreement to take their time. Anders softly broke your kiss and gazed at you, finally feeling unashamed to let his emotions show. He could feel moisture pooling at the corners of his eyes, his eyelashes damp when he blinked, and with a sigh he brought his forehead down to rest on yours.

A long moan sang out of you when he pushed inside your heat, his mouth returning to cover yours as if capturing the sound would allow him to hear it on repeat in his mind whenever he pleased. He wanted to pull these noises from you any time he was able to, wanted to wake up beside you every day and hear the words you confessed only moments ago. Being away from you only made him realize how undeniably hard he had fallen for you, and he wasn't going to let anyone convince him otherwise again.

He knew he needed you like a heart needed a beat, but even as he thrust deeper inside you, he continued to fight with himself to actually say it.

He pulled his face away from yours again, but still the words wouldn't come.

Frustration quickly began to take over, and as he pressed forcefully into you to push you to the brink, his doubts settled in around outside the sheets that shielded you.

Did you love him? Did he imagine you saying it? Was he so desperate to hear it from someone, anyone, that his mind created an illusion just so it could mock him later?

Another cry of pleasure escaped your mouth and you clenched around his cock, drawing him back. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he increased his pace, determined to prove what he couldn't speak.

How ironic, he thought, that the God of Poetry couldn't muster the courage to answer you with those three words, even when he knew he believed them.

"Oh my god," you called out softly, swimming in pure, wanton need, his name falling from your parted lips adding to his dizziness. Your praise echoed in his ears, and while he normally basked in it, knowing you worshiped him and his divinity, he questioned if even with the use of his talent he could be convinced that all of this was real.

You couldn't even manage to make her stay using your powers, could you?

Mike's indictment hovered over him like it was floating around just outside the covers - tormenting him - making the thought of speaking seem impossible.

Were you here because you wanted to be, or did you just fall for the shit-talking god whose only appeal was the charm dripping from his lips?

Anders let out a growl that resulted from the mix of pleasure and resentment, and as if you could sense his turmoil and blatant uncertainty, you cupped his face and kissed him with purpose, allowing him to find reprieve in being with you.

He carded his hands through your hair and looked at you with a penetrating stare, his voice dropping and words sounding far-off when he spoke.

"I need you to tell me-"

He stopped, the heightened control and slight tingling sensation in his veins vanishing as quickly as it came. He blinked and when he made eye contact with you again, it felt raw, like you were looking at the most exposed version of him.

"Tell me again," he requested, his voice honest and no longer laced with anything that would sway your response.

That dream-like mist lifted in an instant, the world coming back around you rather than falling away, your body still cradled by the mattress rather than feeling like you were floating as Anders' weight pinned you against it.

You knew right away what he needed to hear, and with or without him drawing it out of you using his gift, you would say it over and over until he knew it was true.

"I love you."

It was like you had stolen his powers, for when you said it this time you could tell he believed it. His eyes danced with a light that was so full of emotion, and you found it funny how you had thought earlier that they looked the most vibrant shade of blue you had seen them yet.

Anders crashed his lips against yours again, his kiss full of fervor and meaning, pressing into you so much that you could feel your body sink into the bed even more.

He gripped one of your legs to pull it up around his waist, grinding against you harder and deeper, his determination to say to you what he couldn't with words clear in his movements. You held each other tight, your bodies seemingly closer than they ever were before, both of you lost in the best way you knew how to express your love. Your hips rolled together in a synchronized motion, repeating the same routine you'd come to know and craved so much, your whimpering increasing as Anders pawed at your flesh.

He could feel his whole body tingling with his power; his magic lingering just below the surface of his skin, latent and pulsing through him in a way he'd rarely experienced.

Wanting to write poems on your skin with his lips, he dipped his face in the hollow of your neck, allowing you to moan softly beside his ear while he attacked you with kisses and gentle nips. Unable to catch his breath with how intense of a pace he was keeping, Anders tore his lips from you, focusing on sending you both through to your end, allowing you to return the favour by lifting your head slightly off the pillow to reach his neck.

It intoxicated you further; his hot, thick skin smelling of him adding to your frenzy and catapulting you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Come with me," you pleaded, your voice strained and needy, squeezing his back to aid in your request.

Anders gave a curt nod, angling his hips in a way he knew would take you both to the sought after high, and dipped his head back down again to slot his mouth over yours, his deep moans of pleasure muffled as he worked with unbridled passion.

With your bodies once more tuned in to each other, you let go of the strings that were barely keeping you together, your core tightening around his cock that pulsed into your depths as blinding pleasure took over, his mouth pressing onto yours harshly as he rode out your climaxes.

Slowly rocking until the rippling heat dispersed from every limb, your kisses turned softer, focusing now on the smoothness of your tongues and recognizing just how much you had missed this.

Anders gradually stopped the entanglement of your lips, pressing a final, gentle peck on yours as he pulled back enough to allow you to see his face. You reached your hand up, using your finger to brush away a drop from his cheek you were unsure was sweat or a tear, watching as he didn't attempt to hide whatever he was feeling from you.

"I love you, Anders," you repeated, seeing the relief at being reassured in his eyes. He flashed a faint smile, enough to pull out his dimples, and as he softened and began slipping from you, he rolled off of you onto his back, pulling you into his embrace.

Anders made love to you two more times through the night, hearing you recite the poem he wrote for you out loud countless times before you were taken by sleep, his limerick bestowed into your body and given a voice to be heard only by him.

Despite his own fatigue, his addled mind betrayed him and prevented him from finding rest; the words you spoke etched into him where they burned his skin, knowing he wouldn't find sleep until he let his heart say what it needed to.

You laid tucked up against him, your head on his chest with an arm and leg draped across his body, sleeping peacefully with your mind clearly at ease. His body begged him to close his eyes, but his mind continued to spin. Happiness filled him in knowing that you did love him, but anger mixed in with it at not being able to say it back to you, leading to a level of frustration he had a hard time imagining existed; that even the god of poetry couldn't get the words to fall from his lips, words that held more power than any others he had spoken from his silver tongue.

His hand slowly trailed up and down your arm in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay, but all he really wanted to do was scream from his irritation or wake you up so he could finally tell you.

His heart hammered in his chest and he was convinced that alone would wake you, yet he still feared that even if you were to wake that very second, he wouldn't be able to get it out anyway.

Anders clenched his teeth, desperate to say it and needing you to know, the fear he felt making his cheeks flinch as he fought himself over what to do. He never wanted you to regret saying it, to be embarrassed by your admission or worried he didn't reciprocate your love, and even still his cowardice won.

Exhaling deeply in an attempt to calm his nerves, he rubbed your arm with his thumb, and shifting enough to see if you were still sleeping, he peered down at your beautiful face. You stirred slightly, but your evenly tempoed breaths continued, the only change being that you gripped your arm tighter on his waist and sighed as you nuzzled into his chest more.

“I love you,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your forehead.

His whole body coursed with adrenaline, knowing there was no hope of sleep for him now, and he smiled to himself that somehow the words didn't feel foreign on his tongue.

Anders woke with a start, realizing you were no longer beside him, your side of the bed cold. His stomach dropped and he felt panic rise in him until he heard the familiar sounds of you knocking about in the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling his nostrils as he drew a deep inhale.

A moment later you waltzed into the bedroom, a sweet smile adorning your face, wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts with the buttons unfastened to reveal your perfect form to him. You looked like the goddess you never had been but always were to him, holding two steaming mugs of coffee in your hands as you walked toward the bed.

"Morning," he said, his voice thick and raspy from the short but heavy sleep he had eventually succumbed to. He sat up against the headboard and shifted over a bit to make room for you to sit beside him, watching as you blew on your coffee before taking a careful sip.

"Morning, Anders," you purred, a playful glint sparkling in your eyes as you watched him over the rim of your mug before placing it down. "I figured you could use some coffee, I could tell you didn't sleep very much."

"Mm, yeah," he confirmed, absently. "Hey, come here a sec."

A very serious expression dressed his face, his eyebrows knitted closely together, and reaching for your hands that were warm from the cups, he pulled you to straddle his lap. His hands found your waist beneath his shirt, gripping you with a pressure that was gentle enough but showed his surety.

Opening his mouth to speak, he closed it again, rethinking his words, the power of Bragi seeming to fail him again. Instead, he kissed you, reaching up to cradle your face in his hands, the fervor in his kiss making you reciprocate eagerly and readjust your naked core on his lap.

Finding his courage in your touch, he broke away, his thumb landing on your lower lip to press on it gently before looking into your eyes.

Your name slipped off the curve of his lips, instantly spreading a dream-like warmth over you, your eyes locked on his as he began to speak in his soft, languid voice.

"I love you."

Feeling Bragi flit away, you blinked a couple of times, your heart racing, and your breath hitched in your throat as you did your best to comprehend what Anders said to you in your stunned state.

"I love you," he repeated, in his own voice this time, the help of Bragi missing from his words. "I love you as Bragi, and I love you as just me."

Tears stung your eyes, and as you grinned a beaming smile, a few fell on your cheeks. Cupping his scruffy cheeks in your hands, you kissed him, trying to buy yourself a moment of composure before trying to speak.

"You’re never just you. You’re everything. My god. My Bragi. My Anders."

He chuckled, the sound making your heart swell as much as the happiness on his face did, and tipping your head slightly, you said five words you never thought you would have the chance to utter.

"I love you, too, Anders."

---

Taglist:

She puffed out her belly and picked at the bow on her waist. “Look! I wore my party dress.” “I see that. You’re very beautiful.” She put her hands on his cheeks. “No, YOU’RE beautiful!” He scrunched his face and wagged his nose at her. “No, you’re beautiful.”

She tapped his sunglasses. “Can I have these?” “Just until the car.” He shut his eyes as she unceremoniously removed them from his face and put them on her own. They were too big for her face, but she was quite chuffed. He smiled at her with pure love and affection. “Now you’re extra beautiful.”

“I thought she was overdressed,” Dawn interrupted, walking up to them. “But I see you’re wearing a suit.” “We’re having fancy lunch, mama.” “That’s right.” Anders nodded in agreement. Dawn raised a brow. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“We’re going to Sky Tower to see the view and eat at the Sugar Club.” Dawn frowned. “That’s not a very kid-friendly restaurant, Anders.” “Zinny is always a perfectly well-behaved lady-” He turned to his niece, who was playing with the knot of his tie. “Isn’t that right?” She nodded proudly, sticking her chin out a bit.

“I don’t know about that,” Ty argued, crossing his arms as he joined them. “I know a certain lady who was screaming bloody murder this morning when she couldn’t have what she wanted for breakfast.” “Well that was for you,” Anders smirked. “She’s always an angel for me.”

Dawn narrowed her eyes at him, suspecting he was implying that he used his Bragi powers on their daughter, but unable to challenge him on it in front of her.

“So what are you two going to get up to while we’re gone?” Anders wiggled his brows at them suggestively. Ty grimaced. “Errands.” “Uh-huh. Have fun doing errands.” Dawn’s tone was warning. “Anders.”

“Errands sound boring, eh, Zinny?” “Mm.” “Hey! After lunch you wanna have ice cream in the park?” “Yeah!” “Oh, that might be a lot of sugar-”

“Okay, bye mum and dad!” Anders turned and started walking toward his car to cut off the argument he knew was about to start with Ty, and Zinnia waved over his shoulder at her parents. “Bye mum! Bye da’!” “Have fun!” “Be safe!”

“You do know Mike would have taken her, right?” Ty murmured as they watched Anders get Zinnia buckled into the back seat, taking his sunglasses back to drive with. “Yes, but Anders loves Zinny,” she replied, smiling as he pulled onto the street. “And she just adores him.” “She likes Mike just fine.” “And she should get to know all of her uncles.”

“I know, but… The older she gets, the worse an influence he’s going to be on her.” Dawn laughed. “Oh, absolutely.”

--

As the elevator inside Sky Tower ascended to reveal the view of Auckland below, Zinnia grabbed Anders’s hand tightly, letting out a small noise.

Anders raised his brows as he crouched next to her, letting her continue to hold his hand. “We’re up high, eh?” They were headed up 53 floors, in fact. “Mm.” “But we’re safe.” He let his voice drop into his Bragi tones. “I would never let something bad happen to you.”

She nodded slowly, so he flashed her a conspiratorial grin, pointing out at the view. “Look how far we can see from here, eh? There’s the park, and my office is that way, and if you look far enough, there’s the ocean.”

She moved closer, not letting go of him, but smiling as she looked at everything from the unique vantage point.

-- Eventually they settled at their table in the restaurant, sitting next to the tall windows that gave the same incredible view of Auckland and the sea beyond, Zinny kicking her legs excitedly under the table.

Anders talked through some options with her, then smirked as the cute waitress came by to take their order. Zinnia stared at the woman, noting the smile that appeared on her face as Anders spoke quietly to her. From Zinny’s point of view, the way everyone was friendly to her uncle was just proof that he was ‘nice’; after all, he was always nice to her.

“And for your daughter?” Zinnia leaned closer and stage-whispered before Anders could reply. “I’m his niece.”

He let out a falsely bashful humming laugh, nodding. “Yes, uh- she’ll have the cheese board. And a Shirley Temple.”

The waitress was charmed, and gave him a quick glance over before nodding. “Very good.”

When they were alone at the table again, Anders turned his attention back to Zinnia and winked. “Good remembering.”

He’d trained her from an even younger age to always correct people when they thought she was his kid; something that had earned him plenty of attention from women, making her his own pint-sized wingman.

--

When the waitress brought their food, Zinnia’s eyes lit up at the sight of the colorful drink placed in front of her. She waited until the waitress was gone to get Anders’s attention.

“Um, Uncle Anders…?” “Hm?” “Mama says I can only have water when I’m eating.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin and nodded. “You should always listen to your mum… but it’s okay this time because it’s fancy lunch, alright?” “Okay!” She grinned and picked up the glass, wide-eyed, and took a sip. Anders tried to temper his grin as he watched her brows raise at the sweet taste, pleased that he’d made her happy.

Dawn had scolded him a few times over the years for ‘spoiling’ her, even accusing him of trying to bribe her into liking him, but that wasn’t what it was about for him. Sure, he wanted his niece to like him; but mostly he wanted her to be happy, and to get to experience all sorts of things. To live a good, full life; better than they’d had.

He watched as she ate her food, methodically pairing a piece of cheese with one of the small bread rounds, carefully finding one about the same size. It was no wonder, given her parents, that she could be quite particular with little things like that, and Anders found it charming in her rather than annoying.

After eating in silence for a few minutes, he tilted his head. “Would you like to try some of my lunch?”

Zinny perked up to look at his plate, then nodded. She held her mouth open expectantly, making Anders laugh as he got a forkful ready to feed her. She seemed to enjoy it, chewing as she prepared another piece of bread with cheese on top.

“That’s lamb. What do you think?” “Good. Before, Uncle Mike made lamb for us.” “Oh, that’s right.” He recalled the big family potluck she was referring to, just a few months prior. “Do you like this lamb better, or Uncle Mike’s?”

She hummed and grabbed her drink to take a sip while she considered. “I dunno!” She shrugged, shoving more cheese in her mouth. She looked up at Anders with a furrowed brow. “How come we eat lambs?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He mirrored her confused expression. “I don’t really know. Because they taste good?” Zinnia giggled. He grinned. “You know what doesn’t taste good? Goat.” “Goat?” The thought seemed to amuse her.

“You know, your uncle Axl and I met a goat farmer once in Whangamangamoa.” “Did you eat his goats?” “I didn’t, but I think Axl may have.” “Did you pet his goats?” Anders scrunched his nose up. “Nah, they were dirty.”

“Why did you meet a goat farmer in- that place?” “We thought he might know someone we were looking for. But he didn’t, so we went home.” “Did you find them?” “Not yet.”

She pouted. “Are they lost?” Anders hummed, unsure how to answer. “Not lost, but… Just a friend we haven’t met yet. But it’s all good, don’t worry.”

“I have lots of friends.” “Oh, that’s good!” Anders returned to his meal. “Are they nice to you?” “Mmhmm! Yesterday Leah gave me half her orange on recess. And Penny showed me how to draw a truck.” Anders hummed as though this was a very important topic. “Make sure you’re always nice back to your friends.” Zinny grinned. “I am!”

Their lunch continued on much the same until they’d finally cleared both their plates.

The waitress approached. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Just the cheque, and-” Anders leaned closer, dropping into his Bragi tones. “Maybe your phone number, so we can grab coffee sometime when it’s just the two of us.”

The waitress bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Right away.”

--

They strolled through the park holding hands, Anders having to temper his usual stride as he did his best to match Zinnia’s uneven pace. Still, he couldn’t help but smile as she enthusiastically told him all about what they’d been learning at school, making big sweeping gestures with her free arm, skipping at times, and laughing brightly when he said something ‘silly’ to her. 

It took until they arrived at the gelato stand for Anders to realize how many people were looking their way. He flashed a quick smile to an attractive woman nearby, enjoying the ego boost at her reaction, before turning his attention back to Zinny.

“Okay, bean.” He scooped her up again so she could see the flavours inside the glass-lidded freezer. “What kind should we get today?”

--

“Your chariot, milady!” 

After having finished their dessert and their walk in the park, Anders held open the door for Zinnia, helping her up into the backseat once more.

“Home, James!” She giggled, not quite understanding the reference, but knowing that it got a grin out of her uncle every time she said it - because she’d picked it up from him saying it to Ty.

“As you command.” Anders perched on the seat next to her. “Now, what are we?”

Her eyes lit up, recognizing this ritual they had. “Johnsons!” “And what are Johnsons?”

She made fists with her hands. “Strong.” She pointed at her head next. “Smart.” Then she grabbed Anders’s face again. “Beautiful!”

He let out a soft humming giggle. “That’s right. Don’t forget it.”

Anders wanted his niece to be proud of her family; something he hadn’t been able to feel until the last few years. As a kid, he could only feel shame for the Johnson name, coming from a home where their father had first been abusive - hitting their mother and even Tyrone - and then shot through, only to have their mother follow suit.

But now their family was strong. Axl had been chosen by Odin; the brothers had reunited; Ty had a stable marriage and a kid. They could rebuild what it meant to be a Johnson, and give Zinnia the solid foundation they hadn’t had themselves.

He only regretted that she wouldn’t one day get powers like they had; that they would likely have to keep it all a secret from her.

He closed the buckle on her seat belt. “Did you have fun today?” She grinned. “Yes!” “I did too. Thank you for coming out with me.” “No, thank YOU!” “No, thank you.”

Zinny giggled and Anders took a small breath, letting himself relax for just a moment. He was typically hypervigilant; always assessing for threats and chewing on ways to mitigate them. That had been behind most of his substance abuse in the past - anything to quiet the worries and the god spirit that flooded his thoughts.

But this was nice. A simple family interaction. A positive one.

“Love you heaps,” he stated softly. Zinny replied without hesitation, just as she would for her parents or other family members. “Love you too.”

He took a sharp breath, mischief sparkling in his eyes as he tilted his head. “Maybe I’ll keep you, then eh? Your mum and dad won’t mind, right?” Zinnia laughed, agreeing, but soon they were on their way again.

Anders didn’t really like the idea of having a kid in tow all the time, of course, but an afternoon here or there to feel that familial connection did him good. The way she trusted him, and looked at him with adoration - her face a perfect blend of two of his other favourite people - gave him a sense that there was something outside himself that was worth the effort. He’d protect their family so she could have an easier life than they’d had. He’d wanted that for Axl, and even Ty and Mike to an extent, but it seemed that only now he was able to actually carry through properly with that, and he was determined not to mess it up.

--

When they returned, Zinnia ran to meet Ty at the end of the driveway.

Ty scooped her up much as Anders had earlier, and Zinnia started rambling to him about the view from SkyTower, and the ice cream they’d gotten afterward.

Dawn met Anders beside his vehicle and they walked toward the others. “How was your afternoon?” she asked curiously. Anders grinned, hands in his pockets, watching Ty with Zinny. “It was grand, Dawn. I told you, Zinny’s always an angel for me.” “Mm, I wonder why that might be,” she teased. Anders tilted his head as he met Dawn’s gaze, his soft and serious tone catching her by surprise. “She’s a good kid.”

“Doesn’t take after you, then.” “Oh, definitely not!” They shared a laugh as they joined up with Ty and Zinnia.

“How was your afternoon?” Anders asked, raising his brows. “Doing errands?” “Productive,” Ty answered pointedly, shaking his head at Anders.

“Dad! Uncle Anders and Uncle Axl met a goat farmer!” “A goat farmer? You must mean our friend Derrick.” Ty looked to Anders. “And how did that come up?” Anders shrugged. “Just did.”

“Come on Zinny, let’s get you changed out of your dress, alright?” Dawn took her from Ty to bring her into the house.

Zinnia waved from over her shoulders. “Bye Uncle Anders!” “Bye munchkin!”

“What exactly did you tell her about Thor?” Ty asked seriously in a hushed tone. “Oh, nothing, Ty. Seriously. You worry too much.” “No, Anders, I worry just as much as I need to as a dad.”

Anders grinned and poked at his younger brother’s cheek. Ty batted his hand away. “Stop-” “You love being a dad.”

Ty grinned and crossed his arms, nodding. “Like you don’t love being an uncle?”

Anders let out a humming laugh, placing his hands back in his pockets. “Thanks for letting me take her out.”

“Chur.” Ty nodded and raised his brows as his older brother. “Stay for a beer?” Anders grinned and gestured for Ty to lead the way.

---

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