#day 05

You didn’t know what the last part had to do with anything but his brother Dick was nice enough to send you a picture of him sleeping in his place at your request. You got up early this morning and decided to take a walk to get some air. You were being strangled with work, not leaving the office for twelve hours yesterday, so you barely had time for yourself and walked straight home to eat junk food and sleep. You reached the end of your street, turning the corner when you heard someone landing to their feet behind you. It was Jason. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes looked like they had their own 401K and you could see his armor peaking out of the hoodie he was wearing, like he just threw it on. “You should be sleeping.” You call over your shoulder, continuing to walk.

He scoffs. “No way. Not when you’re being stupid.” He mutters, dragging his feet faster to walk along side you.

Up close you can see the hunch in his shoulders, the scarring on his face that wouldn’t heal until much later, and the more prominent red veins against his green eyes. “I’m stupid? Jason, you look like you died and came back to life.” You argue, poking at his shoulder. He winces and shoves your hand away, but not before blocking your shoulder from bumping into a sign. He snorts at your comment. “Already did that, don’t recommend it.” You roll your eyes.

“I guess I should have seen that coming.” You sigh.

You stop at an intersection, casually sticking your hand in his front pocket. He couldn’t get too intimate without feeling smothered so you acted as casual as you could to not tip him off. His tired face softens and he slides his hand over yours in the hidden comfort of his hoodie, not saying anything.

“You really should be sleeping. I know you didn’t finish patrol until late again—you never end it on time.” You resume your argument, glaring at him from his side.

Your glare is ineffective, he looks right past it, settling on something else on your face, perhaps the toothpaste you forgot to wipe off your chin last night. His lips quirk on one side. Yeah. It’s the toothpaste. “I would be sleeping if someone stayed inside their little apartment instead of walking around Gotham in the early goddamn hours of fuck that.” Jason mocks, and if you didn’t know better you would think he’s annoyed. Well, more annoyed. “Sorry? I needed the fresh air. It’s not like I was in the alley begging someone to rob me.” You retort, tilting your head back. Jason watches you, wiping the small smile that appears on his face quickly. He scowls, making you stumble into him when he tugs at your hand. He snickers at the shocked expression you make. “It’s Gotham. You might as well be doing that on the street—the kids in this city have knives.” You observe him back for a minute, seeing the hard set of his brows, how on edge he looks, his eyes still scanning your surroundings like he’s on a covert mission. You gasp, a mischievous smile taking over your face. “Oh my…Jason Todd, are you worried about me? How sweet, you came all this way to join me on my morning walk even though you hate the sun—just to make sure I’m safe.” You cackle, making him glare at you.

You go to slip your hand out of his pocket, just in case he decides to use it against you but his hand quickly clasps around your wrist keeping you in place. “M’not worried…you just need to be smarter.” He mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.

He lets go of your hand and steps back, huffing.

“Whatever, if you’re so bothered I’ll just go back to bed—” He begins to pull away and you jump, grabbing his arm. He sputters indignantly and tries to shake you off—with little actual strength.

“What? You’re so confusing, fucking hell.” He groans. You stop teasing him and continue pulling his arm until he’s right next to you again. “I really appreciate it, Jay. Honest.” You murmur, making him scoff, “Really! You make me feel so safe. It’s kinda hot watching you come home and immediately lecture me on home safety. Makes me all warm and fuzzy.” Jason turns his head so you can’t see the small smile ghosting his face.

“Finally got some common sense.” He mutters, escaping your hold to wrap his arm around your shoulders and bringing you into him. He turns to you, a crooked smirk and eyebrows lifted. “Hot, huh?” You nod innocently, humming. He shakes his head, suddenly slumping over you. He groans. “Tired?” You ask knowingly and he nods. “Yes…can you go home now so I can sleep?” He begs, exhausted.

You smile, cupping his face to kiss his forehead. He closes his eyes at the touch, leaning in. “Alright. We’ll go home.”

He sighs relieved, muttering about you being difficult as you turn around with him. He doesn’t say it but he relaxes a little more when you climb into bed after him, leaving his arm outstretched for your head.

With this piece, I made myself actually cry (isn't that totally nuts?) with the sentiment of Ghosts POV when his precious Johnny is taken from him.

Its the second picture for the events. Find the first here.

The text above is a shortened mix of the prompts for the events @whumptober, no.12 & 18, @angstober, day 05 and 16 and @ailesswhumptober prompt 15.

I loved to work on it and how it came out! I couldn't wait any longer to show it to you. So please suffer together with me.

Let medicine be thy food. 

That's the quote, or at least you think it is. After a particularly long shift, words in English seemed to scramble together a bit, with it being your second language and all. Usually, you’re a natural, perfect, fluent speaker. There are moments, however, when understanding what your peers are saying or formulating cohesive sentences becomes a herculean task. You didn’t make yourself unintelligible, but it was a little awkward to be with a patient who clearly had no idea how globalized the world was and how many doctors in the United States were not native English speakers, and who looked at you like you had just robbed the white coat from a “proper doctor”.

Sure, dealing with people was shitty sometimes. “Doctors don’t treat people, they treat illnesses”, your boss had once said. But in your mind, people weren’t that bad. The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life — that was the really bad part. And there were, of course, the very short lunch breaks. 

Medicine was fun, but it had nothing on a full plate of pasta with those weird looking meatballs. What once was disgusting, now seemed appetizing as hell. Not eating once while working for the whole night could do that to a person. Medicine was not food, at least not literally.

You had taken off your sweater and your white coat a while before going to the cafeteria, where the rest of the team was. As of right now, you and Chase had spent thirty-six hours working. Cameron and Foreman had taken the long straws and gone home last night while you and the prettiest doctor around worked on some lab tests. 

That man who, right now, was not really trying to hide how he lustfully eyed you up and down, stopping on your cleavage. You didn’t blame him for looking, though. Firstly, you did spend the night working together and you mentioned that you did not have sex for the last six months, and secondly, you had nice boobs, which was both a blessing and a curse. Also, he was very much exhausted. Thinking about your coworkers in an unfashionable manner to keep awake was better than falling asleep atop of a patient during a lumbar puncture — you had done both, so you could tell, oops. 

“I’ll die if I have to do any more thinking”, the pretty doctor said, accent even more prominent, letting his head drop to the headrest of his seat behind him. 

“Yes, thinking just doesn’t come naturally to some people”, you laughingly replied, sitting down next to Foreman. He scooched over, making more room for you and your tray. There was enough pasta on your plate to feed two, not to mention the salad, the dessert, the can of Coke and the can of energy drink. 

“Damn, kid, do you not have food at home?” You eyed Foreman, a little annoyed at the comment. Why did men think they had the right to comment on women’s food choices and bodies all the damn time? “Don’t give me that look, you know that’s a lot, especially for a girl who skips lunch every other day”. 

“Not by choice” you said, taking a lot of pasta into your mouth. “Nof ba chos”, you replied, mouth full, making everyone at the table let out a tired laugh. 

It was an uneventful meal. The team was really tired, especially Chase, who almost dropped his head on his plate twice. The four of you rushed upstairs when lunch was over, after being paged by your boss. 

The man himself was pacing back and forth in the conference room, brows furrowed and looking extremely aggravated. Nothing new, then, you think, sitting down across from Cameron. 

Allison Cameron and you had been friends since med school, and getting to work together was pretty nice. Women in STEM need each other, of that you were sure. The thing is, she was in a weird place romantically, which made you feel weird about getting along with the people about whom she was confused — which hardly makes sense, but it is what it is. She had a crush on your boss for the longest time, and that didn’t work out at all. And then there was Chase, who she had slept with, but had no interest in further pursuing. 

Hanging out with Chase knowing he’d seen her naked was a little weird, but the fact they’d slept together wasn’t the problem. He liked her, and that was her problem. Your boss, well, he was everybody’s problem. 

Particularly yours, considering… you know. The one-night-that-became-every-night. The HR-nightmare. The doing-the-devil’s-tango. The seeing-each-other-scars. The kissing-and-absolutely-not-telling.

It was fairly easy sneaking around. He was inappropriate, sure, but not big on PDA. He treated you like any other dumbass employee with boobs. If anyone saw the two of you leaving the hospital together? You worked together. If you were seen going towards the same place? You’re neighbors, duh. And if anyone happened to see the two of you having breakfast together in the little café a block around his place? Well, it was a coincidence meeting him there! 

If they saw you giving him head while he tried to play the piano, well… There’s no explanation for that. 

You looked at him coming and going, and you knew his leg must be killing him. Yesterday when you left his home in the morning to pick up your stuff for the day (which turned out to be the day, the night and the next day), he was popping more pills than usual. Shit. 

“New case?”, Cameron asked, looking at the limping man with worry and care in her eyes. You liked her a lot, but she had to stop thinking about your limping man with such care. 

Sure, she liked him first. And she probably worried for him just as she would anyone else. And it was ridiculous to be annoyed at your long-time friend for caring for her boss. Still, there was a sting of jealousy that made you want to bitch-slap her. 

He finally stopped and looked at all of you. When his eyes finally met you, he looked right at your low cut top and let out a “Yowza!”. When you blushed and stood up to pick your white coat, he called your last name, and said, nonchalantly: “Nice boobs”. 

You raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you sat down. It might seem like sexual harassment — and at first, it was a little bit —, but now it was just him being as inappropriate as always. Hiding from his feelings, keeping his distance with pathetic remarks and cold attitudes. It made you sad when you started working for him, but right now, you pinched your nose to stop you from giggling like a sixteen year old cheerleader being noticed by the boy on the football team. Or rather, the boy on the bench cursing at the stupid players.

Dr. Gregory House had a massive crush on you, and that made all the shit he did go away. 

You realized Chase started updating House on the patient you spent all night testing and monitoring. Truth is, that guy didn’t stand a chance for a normal life here on forward. At best, he had a benign hereditary chorea. Worst case scenario, it was Huntington manifesting earlier than it should, as you’d been saying from the beginning. 

“Shut up”, House said to Chase, making those blue Australian eyes widen. Poor guy, he looked beyond exhausted. “I understand how DNA testing works. I went to med school too, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was seven hundred years ago”, you let out before you could think twice. You teased House a little for being older. Scratch that, you gave him a lot of crap for being older. You just didn’t do it in front of the team, which was why they all looked at you horrified. 

Horrified, but Foreman was holding in a laugh.

The ‘old-man’ hit his cane on the desk, turning the attention back to him. “Ouch”.

You smiled, playing it off like a remark made by an exhausted overworked young woman who disliked her boss. House half-screamed some orders to all of you, even though he already knew you had clinic duty. 

The hours left to finish on the clinic were manageable, so you could finish it after you did some of the tests House asked.  

Time passed by too quickly, and as your day went by, you remembered you had to talk to Wilson as soon as possible. It wasn’t a life or death matter, but a peace of mind kind of thing. You decided to stop by his office before you It was then that you overheard something you shouldn’t have.

Well, that brought the high school memories right back. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, also known as the beginning of your third shift in a row, and you were stopping by Wilson’s office to discuss a private matter. A family member of yours had cancer, and then another one. By the time your fourth relative came down with the diagnosis, you decided to check your genetic predisposition. Although the tests came back clean, meaning you were safe for oncology purposes, you still wanted to know his opinion on how you could be even safer.

You looked cancer in the eyes many times. You didn’t want to look at it in the mirror too. 

For some godly reason, you stopped before knocking. That’s when you recognized your boss’s voice, complaining about something, per usual. 

“She’s a baby! She had never watched Grease, for crying out loud”, the voice and the footsteps made their sounds in harmony. You leaned in closer to the door, to try and listen better. 

“Well, you two barely know each other, now it’s the time to know if there’s a future in this relationship or not. And would you ever marry her?”, Wilson’s voice, and the words made you freeze. 

“Not everyone has marriage on the brain 24/7, Wilson”, House replied. Even from behind the door, you could almost hear the engines in his brain turning. “And God, no. I could never marry her. I can do better than a gullible third-world princess”.

You froze.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. Even if he didn’t mean it. 

The realization came like an electrical shock flowing through your body. You felt it, and it made the hairs on the nape of your neck rise. 

You meant nothing to him. 

As an immigrant, the feeling of never belonging is constant. You don’t belong in the place you now live, but you don’t really belong in the place you were born. 

You had felt for a fraction of a second that you could find your place here. In House's department. Perhaps, even with House. God, you were stupid. You were a device for him to finish his puzzles, and an object to finish… Well, to finish himself off. 

As you left your transe and heard the voices again, you ran as fast as you could back to the clinic, where you had a couple hours left to finish. There was something you needed to arrange with Cuddy, too. 

Hours later, you were in the department’s room reading some exams when House walked in. 

He eyed you up and down again, eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than a boss’ eyes normally would. “So”, he took his bootle from his jacket and opened it, popping a couple of pills, “your place or mine?” 

“You suck”, you murmured, angrily, but pouting a little. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing you a little aggravated, crossing your arms in front of your body in a way that made your already eye-catching torso irresistible. 

He smiled a little, putting the medicine back in his pocket. “No, sweetheart”, he now fully grinned, “that’s you.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your arms fall and a cold smile creeped into your face. 

“Yes, I do, actually”, you rose up from the chair and walked all the way towards him, hitting your hand towards his chest and pressing the paper you were holding against him. “I’m a full on sucker, and ass-kisser, as you like to point out. That’s why your so called mortal enemy offered me a job in New York”. 

He took the paper, blue eyes never leaving yours. 

“Consider this my two weeks notice”. It was hard to say, but it felt a little good, too. Logically, there were no downsides in this opportunity. Then, why did it hurt so much? “I guess everyone was right. I can do better”.

The double meaning was not lost on House. 

Your hand finally left his chest, and he didn’t look back as you left. 

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. It never is, though, is it? Especially with House. And you, an intelligent, kind, talented and ambitious young woman, could definitely do better than attach yourself to a crippled, bitter, odious older man. 

Dealing with cameras that flashed nonstop, light so blinding you thought it had been daylight the first time you experienced it. A red carpet walk that felt like a vulture's strip, your name being screamed at by faceless reporters, microphones and cameras waving over the red rope stanchions to try and pry your comment from you. It was all so overwhelming, the sounds and lights. You surely would have collapsed the first time, if it hadn't been the comforting weight that slipped around your waist, and the dazzling smile that took the heat off you.

Dick's hand always knew how to keep you grounded during those events, tracing small shapes into your waist and turning you so he could take the brunt of the cameras. Waving to every news reporter and journalist frothing at the mouth for his statement, always offering some upbeat support for whatever the cause was, while they wrote it like the word of God. The same hand that would guide you through the doors of the venue and out of reach of the squabble outside, looking down at you with the boyish blue eyes you adored and white grin stretched across his face.

"You okay?" he'd ask softly, and you always nodded. The tension in your body melted away when his eyes searched yours so earnestly, trying to pick apart if you were lying. His own worry always seemed to dwarf your own, making you smile as you reassured him that you were fine.

You wanted to get better this time.

So, when you arrived for the Christmas Ball held by the Mayor in the Park, you had already prepped yourself. Dick had come to collect you in his car, smile bright and dazzling when he saw you. It was like he saw past all the flaws you could highlight in your outfit, not caring that the shade of blue you were wearing didn't match his tie exactly, and that despite all your efforts your hair refused to co-operate. He made no comment on your jewellery despite how you felt that the silver you picked didn't match with the rest of what you were wearing, or that it clashed with the gold on your shoes. He just opened the car door for you, kissing your cheek as his hand came to the middle of your back where it belonged.

"You look amazing." he hummed; eyes bright as he shut your door for you. You smiled weakly back in response, tension easing slightly. he could tell your anxiety hadn't gone down, evident in the way his thumb drew circles on your thigh, one hand resting there while the other gripped the wheel. Your hands felt cold despite the car's heater going full blast, and your cheeks were numb. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you whole again, adrenaline running through your body like you were fighting for your life. It made your throat close up, worsening as the car rolled to a stop.

"You going to be okay?" he asks softly, hand coming to gently cup your face. You nod, although your smile was tense.

You could do better. This night was going to be fine.

"Yeah. I'm ready." you reply back, the clamouring of reporters and the frantic clicking of shutters were dulled while you were in the car, but you knew it would turn into a roar the second the seal of the door cracked. "We'll make the entry quick; I promise." he smiles, hurrying out from the driver’s seat to come to your door, the paparazzi outside growing ten times louder now that a prince of Gotham has shown his face.

Like the true gentleman he is, he offered his hand to help you climb out from the passenger’s side, broad shoulders blocking most of the flashes aimed your way. You tilt your head up, and your breath is stolen for a moment.

"Good?" he mouths to you, and you wordlessly nod. Illuminated by the flashes of the cameras behind him he looked heaven sent, a bright halo ghosting over the contours of his face and the dip of his cupid's bow. You nod, and he brings you out in front of the crowd. The flashes blind you as usual, but you do your best to send a few smiles their way, waving at a couple of reporters that make you pose together for photos. A perfect couple, that's what you tried to be. Tried to be someone worth standing next to the human turned angel next to you.

You hold yourself together, feeling more and more confident as you walk your way down the carpet, until you’re out of sight. You turn to him now hidden behind the privacy of the event doors, beaming up at him. He reciprocates his smile, hands settling onto your hips as he pulls you close for only a moment. "Getting the hang of it I see," he teases, "I told you; you were made for the spotlight."

He chuckles at the light flush that envelops your features, arm looped with yours as he guides you into the ballroom.

That one comment makes you feel on top of the world, inspiring you to come out of your shell and mingle with everyone, glass in your hand. You felt seen, branching off for conversations and even getting along well with some of his brothers as they arrive. The anxiety smooths out from your forehead, shoulders relaxing and smiles coming more easily.

That was until you saw her.  More accurately, until you saw him looking at her.

Barbara entered the ballroom, clad in a beautiful, deep purple dress and her gorgeous orange hair falling down her back. Your shoulders raised again, fingers tightening on the glass flute uncomfortably.

She was gorgeous, of course. You told her any time you saw her around, since she was still invited to the family dinners every couple of months. Tense smiles swapped between you both, with conversation just polite enough to cover any awkwardness. Were you apprehensive when you started dating Dick and he told you that they were still friends? of course you were. Was it a worry when they had “work” discussions you weren’t allowed to be in? You had cried over some of those nights.  But his smile was charming, and he treated you like you were his earth.

Well, if you were his earth, he was looking at her like she was his sun.

You swear you could see galaxies in the deep blue of his eyes, stars in the smile that fell across his face when she waved at him. Even when she disappeared into the sea of rich Gothamites, his eyes sought her out like an asteroid in orbit. Everything felt like it was collapsing around you, spotlight of confidence cut off and leaving a cool chill across your skin.

Your clothes felt itchy and off colour again, jewellery felt cheap. Your shoes didn't fit right, and your hair looked unflattering in the window reflections. Like Cinderella your clock had struck midnight, except you hadn't even gotten to dance yet. Your stomach rolled, butterflies from before attaching to your sides and cocooning again, going still. Your heart felt heavy, sitting low in your throat and preventing you from calling his name. He looked so spellbound, so full of longing in the way that his lip’s part softly in a sigh.

When he blinks it's like he comes out of a trance and he takes a moment to collect himself again, hand coming to rest once more on your waist. He looks down at you, and you take in his features again. The starlight in his eyes has dulled, his smile still soft but nowhere near as radiant. You had no idea if he realised what he had done, if he was aware of the way he radiated sunlight simply from looking at her. "Let's go get something to eat, dinner will be served soon." he grins, leading you along after your tight-lipped smile and nod. He grinned at the high class he passed, politely navigating them with you at his side completely unknowing that they'd all witnessed his visible adoration. Oblivious himself to the fact that his heart was still in love with the commissioner’s daughter, despite having you by his side.

You wanted to it to all get better, and for a moment it had.

Your silence was odd.

Not bad. Just odd.

To Saitama, nothing you presented was bad. Your loudness, your quietness, he loved it all. Of course he woud, why else would he be with you?

He loved you like he had loved no one before. You snuff out the utter boredom he constantly feels with the few moments you're by his side. You make him happy. As happy as he could be, at least. 

You've done so much for him, but he can't do the same.

The numbness in him still muffles the emotions-- the words and actions he wants to potray. On occasions, it frustrates him. But you never complained about his lack of reciprocation, you just smiled and gripped onto his hand tighter, leaning further into his arm.

So he lets it go. He doesn't like when things bother him too much, and if it doesn't upset you, why should he worry about it? He can still make you happy, even without grand gestures. Maybe.

Yet as his hands move mechanically to chop the vegtables, his mind drifts to his apprentacse's words from earlier that day. 

Genos, ever the observent, commented on your unfamiliar change in demeanor around Saitama, and the dejected look that befell your features more often. Saitama thought maybe genos was overreacting, and had mistook your tiredness for gloominess. He didn't notice anything strange about your expression.

But now he sees it. That distant look in your eyes whilst you pulled out the dishes from your cabinet, it was so different from your serene expression you used to hold when he's around. How could he not notice? When had it changed? Had it always been like that?

He also noticed the faint disappointement in your gaze when you opened your door to let him in, and he apologized for being late once again. Had you always looked this upset when he was late?

And when you planted a peck on his cheek then glanced at him with yearning eyes, which he returned with a soft smile like he always did. Had your gaze always held that desperate longing? Now that he had noticed it, why didn't he push himself to do more?

He coudln't figure out what was wrong with him. He wanted to do more. He wanted to initiate more, but it was so hard. He didn't understand why this constant heaviness always kept his arms rooted to his sides until you had pushed to move them. Or the weight in his throat that prevented him from telling you more than those simple words he offered.

You probably didn't know how much he thought of you. How much he appreciated you and cherished you. Who could blame you, though? When he made such feeble efforts to relay it all.

'I really do suck.'

He tried to put more effort this time. To hold your hand more. To tell you he missed you. 

Now he noticed the brightness in your features as he did. But he was barely doing anything, why were you so happy about those small gestures? Was he really depriving you from the affection you deserved to that extent?

Next time. Next time he'd do more. Next time he will treat you better. Next time he'll be early. Next time he'll make you happy. No matter how hard the shackles on his ankles tried to drag him down.

As he stood at the doorway, he didn't pull away from your embrace this time. He allowed you to hold him for as long as you liked, hoping that maybe this small gesture could covey how hard he truly was trying. 

He noticed the deep, comforting sigh you expelled as you pressed your face into him. 

This hug lasted longer than he expected.

"I..."

'I'm sorry. I'll do better.'

He held the extra ingredients in his arms as she ushered him into the townhouse- the rest of the Inner Circle off to the Hewn City for the next few days. Elain had feigned a headache, Azriel was supposed to be away on a mission. Nuala and Cerridwen went in his stead and promised her they would not return until late the next day. She was not sure how long he’d stay, but she hoped for another night where they both got more than interrupted sleep. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi. The market didn’t have exactly what you asked for, but Nuala said this would work.”

She took ingredients from his arms, moving with swift efficiency. The moment the last item landed on the counter, his arms and wings wrapped around her- their own little private world- as she held him tight. She rose to her tiptoes, her lips pressing against his cheek- lingering longer than she should. His hand caught her chin and her breath flooded out of her. 

“Please.” 

He froze for a moment- she knew that night haunted him. The offer he turned down. The hurt he caused. She tilted her head a bit more- another offer and instead of stepping away, his head tipped down and his lips claimed hers. He adjusted his arms, lifting her, holding her against him tightly. He did not devour- no- no he savored this kiss and she sighed as he took his time, as they took their time learning the feel of each other’s lips. 

He broke the kiss with a deep inhale as their arousals flooded the space. She leaned her forehead against his and let out a giggle. Amusement flashed in his eyes, as he sat her down on the countertop and took a step back. 

“I’m going to get out of my leathers- don’t start without me.” 

Space. She appreciated the space as she stared at the ingredients he brought and she smiled. He had gotten more than she would ever need for simple chocolate chip cookies, but as she weighed the options her heart fluttered. This rebellion, this tiny secret they kept made her entire being thrum with anticipation and excitement. They both deserved this chance. A chance at love. 

His shadows danced against the wall before a few brave ones greeted her again. More of them were spending their days with her- whether or not Azriel knew that- she was not sure. Any time she visited the River House, they hid in her hair, under her dress- or her favorite spot- in her pockets. She laughed to herself as she checked a pocket and realized at least one shadow had climbed into it. Azriel’s huff of a laugh joined hers as he announced himself and she looked up from her pocket at him. 

Unguarded. This was the most unguarded she had ever seen him. His leathers exchanged for heavy linen pants and a training tank- his shadows curling around him, but calm and his eyes- his eyes losing the guards he always kept there. His entire face softened. He was not the shadowsinger here. He was not the Torturer of the Night Court. He was just- Azriel and she let out a shaky breath as he walked by her to the sink, trailing a hand along the small of her back. She suddenly felt like her carefully chosen cornflower blue dress and apron was too formal for this. 

“Lainey- don’t. You look lovely.” 

“And you look comfortable.” 

His shadows stirred, swirling around her and she sensed Azriel tense- ready to call them back. In the next moment- they disappeared and she gave him a confused gaze. He shook his head as he dried his hands and rolled up his sleeves- ready to work. The recipe she wanted to make was one that was hard for her to make on her own- most of the family didn’t realize that Azriel had helped her with it in the past. And only Rhys might suspect why this recipe had disappeared from their table. 

She placed the butter and sugar in a bowl as Azriel grabbed a spoon and began to cream the ingredients together. A shadow thumped against her and she looked down to see linen pants and a loose sweater on the counter. Azriel’s eyes flicked to the side and he shook his head, a laugh rumbling to the surface. 

“You don’t have to wear them- but if you want…” 

She gathered the clothing and quietly excused herself. With anyone else- she would not be willing to take down her own armor- but with him, with his own armor gone- she wanted to give him the same gift. She slipped into the first empty room and fingered her apron nervously. His shadows somehow stuck to cornflower blue and as she swapped out the pants and sweater for her dress, she grasped her apron and then put it back on. Maybe, maybe she was not ready for all her armor to disappear. 

“I think this is how it’s…supposed…to…be…” 

“Is this right? I’ve only worn pants well…the once- when I killed…” 

“You’re perfect.” 

Perfect. She hated being perfect. Hated the expectations that came along with it. A hand caught her chin again and she tried to force a smile, his gaze held hers gently. He would not pry. He would not push, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know why she hated perfect. 

“My mother- she always focused on me being perfect. The perfect lady. The perfect host. The perfect future wife. I lost who I was in perfect and I…I…” 

“What would you prefer to say to reassure you?” 

“That you see me.” 

“I see you, Lainey. You’re beautiful.” 

Her ears tinged pink first and it then spread over her cheeks and down her neck, disappearing into her sweater. She moved over to the mixing bowl, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. He had taken care of the hardest part of any cookie recipe- creaming together the butter and sugar. 

They worked in silence- adding vanilla and eggs, then dumping in flour with baking soda and salt. Gently folding in the chocolate chunks Azriel had diced with his careful precision. She dolloped lumps of dough onto a baking sheet, taking a bit to test it- offering Azriel the spoon to lick. 

His arms wrapped around her as she moved to clean the dishes and he pulled her away, pulled her into him. She leaned against him, settled into his body. She felt him shift, his lips planting a kiss over her pulse as it pounded away. She trembled against him, as he moved around her- finally pressing a solemn kiss to her lips. 

“I’ll get the dishes. You make some tea?” 

“Ye-yes- that- that-”

“I want you to trust me again, Lainey. You tell me you want more- you want me- I’m yours.” 

She stared at him. He moved in front of the sink- slowly, deliberately- her eyes trailed over his body and she shook her head. She needed time. She needed more time before she could trust him fully again and he knew it. She walked over to the kettle and set it to boil, pulling down various teas- looking for both of their favorites. The aroma of the cookies filled the air, her body relaxed. Azriel’s calm, steady presence settled her in a way she had forgotten existed. The kettle boiled, a timer chimed. She made cups of tea and Azriel pulled out the cookies to cool. 

They curled up on the couch together, Elain curling into his side. She blew on her tea and he stirred in a bit of honey- a smile threatened. He remembered. Was there anything he didn’t notice? Another timer dinged and she stood, intent to make a plate of cookies. Her hands shook and she looked over at Azriel- was this wrong? Would her feeding him change them? She had made hundreds of meals that Azriel ate before that Solstice, but now everything felt heavier. It felt like more. What did more even mean? 

“It’s only more if we want it to be more.” 

She nodded as she piled the plate high with cookies. Too many thoughts ran through her mind, too many possibilities of what could be, too many visions that had shown him…had shown them. His hands settled over hers, a quiet brush and she shook her head. She had disappeared again. She wanted to stay with him and he nuzzled her neck gently, a giggle spilling out of her as he held up a cookie and she took a bite. This was good. This was what she needed and as she offered him a cookie as well- he took it with a playful bite and a nip at her fingers. One day. One day he would be hers, but only when she was well and truly ready.