#kateerawrites

Chapter 2: Life is a Highway

Seven fucking hells.

Sandor took another long gulp from his coffee cup and buried the urge to sigh or groan or curse to break the silence of Stranger’s cab. He’d driven through the rest of the night and into the morning and the sun shone down on the black of Shadow’s hood like a fire demon, burning the air around them. Sansa didn’t speak a single full sentence to him as she stared out the window and watched the sunrise.

He was used to the long stretches of loneliness on the road with nothing but the sound of Stranger’s engine and the rattle of rocks against the undercarriage to keep him awake, but there was something uncomfortable about the tense silence coming from Sansa. He only heard her voice when he handed her something to eat or drink and every quiet “please” and “thank you” made him clench his teeth, bitter words burning at the back of his throat as he did his best to keep his language civil.

“Can you please tell me where we will stop tonight?”

He almost inhaled his truck stop coffee, bought at the first place he could find that didn’t have any other trucks in the lot. Is was the first actual sentence from her side of the cab. Beating at his chest to clear the choking sensation, he coughed and wiped at his mouth.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry!” Sansa cried out, reaching and then stopping with her outstretched fingers almost brushing his arm. She drew her hand back and tucked them under her legs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hey, it’s Christmas and I’m posting fanfic! Enjoy the fluff and adorableness :) Happy Holidays Fannibals!

Love at First Branch

(Summary: Hannibal and his adopted daughter went looking for a tree, and Hannibal came back with a crush. Lucky for him, Will Graham is now also caught in the web of a crush and he doesn't know what to do about it. Buster may be a Christmas angel, but who knows? )

"Are we going now?"

"Just a moment. Put on your coat," Hannibal said, pointing to the coat rack by the door.

Abigail sighed and grabbed her pale blue peacock coat, slipping it on while she waited to leave.

"All the good trees will be gone!" She whined as Hannibal patted his pockets and then headed back to the kitchen.

He returned with his wallet, tapping her on the nose with it. "Wouldn't want to forget this, or else we'd have to steal a tree."

Abigail giggled. "That sounds hard."

"Much more work than I'm willing to go through at this moment, yes."

Holding open the door, Hannibal ushered Abigail outside. He smiled at her enthusiasm, something she was just beginning to let him see. It hadn't been easy to gain custody of the traumatized child, especially when he'd been first brought in to consult on her case.

After her father murdered her mother in front of her and then slit Abigail's throat as the police responded to her panicked 911 call, Abigail had been unreachable, building walls faster than people could break through them. Hannibal used every contact he had to bring her home and coax her out of her shell. She'd escaped her father with minimal physical damage, a small thin scar across her neck, and the doctors told her how lucky she was. One look into her blue eyes and Hannibal saw how fragile she was, how easy it would be to break her apart. He couldn't let the foster care system destroy her.

Adopting a young child of only eight years old hadn't been in any of Hannibal's carefully laid plans, but Abigail needed him and he enjoyed the bond growing between them.

"You're driving too slow," Abigail said, crossing her arms as another car passed them.

Hannibal smiled and patted her arm. "I'm going the speed limit. There's no need to rush on a Sunday."

They arrived at their destination, Graham's Christmas Tree Farm, and joined the crowd of people standing outside the locked gate.

Abigail huffed. "Told you."

I started the A - Z Fic challenge with #Garcy goodness. These will be short (ish) snippets with various ratings. :D

A is for Advice : Rufus and Wyatt have a little talk. Rating: T

B is for Blood : Garcia thinks he’s going to die but Lucy has other plans. Rating: T

Summary: After a rough evening, Garcia figures out that the only smart thing to do is ask Lucy to move in. 

It’s their first real fight (something that didn’t revolve around who’s turn it is to pick the restaurant or what time the movie actually was) and Lucy wants to run and hide. She hates feeling like this, especially with him. Garcia fights like he does most things, with intimidating purpose, and she feels like crying, but she’s too angry.

“She was hanging all over you and you didn’t do anything.” She feels crazy, but it’s the third time this month that a Ms. Whitmore has hired Garcia for his protection services and the socialite has been photographed everywhere, parading him around like some prize she’s won. Lucy wants to be okay with it, and she wants to be supportive, but the gleam in the woman’s eye sets her on edge and she keeps having nightmare of Wyatt that shift into Garcia and now it’s all too much.

“It’s my job, Lucy,” Garcia says with a glare, crossing his arms. “I can’t alienate the people who want my help.”

“She doesn’t want your help, she wants to flaunt you in from of all her exes in hopes of drama.” She grabs a blanket from the couch and wraps it around her shoulders.

“You know I’m not going to help her with that.” His face is set in stone, like he’s ready for whatever she throws at him.

She sounds like a jealous lover and it’s the last thing she wants. He’s never given her any indication that he wants to move on, or see other people, or even that he looks at other women, but bad habits are hard to break and she can’t stop her mind from racing with all the reasons he should leave. She breathes in deep and lets it out in a slow stream of air.

“I know, and I know if someone else tried to start a fight, you could handle it,” Lucy says as calm as she can. “What I’m upset about is that idea of this woman getting you hurt because of her pride.” She hopes her eyes convey concern. “It’s not worth the money to end up as another scandal in the gossip columns.”

Garcia rubs his hand over his face. “Lucy, I get it, but it’s the job alright?”

She sinks further into the couch, wrapped in the blanket and feeling tired. “Maybe, but I don’t have to like it.”

Continue on AO3

Summary:  Lucy and Garcia get a few more changes thrown their way, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Summary: Lucy and Garcia are shopping for Amy's birthday present when they get an unwelcome surprise.

Garcia holds up a blue and green scarf with short fringe on each end. “What about this?”

Lucy hums and shakes her head. “She’s not really a scarf person.” She looks around the accessories aisle and frowns. “Maybe we should have gone to an electronics store.”

“She’s your sister,” Garcia says, putting the scarf back and patting Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m just here for emotional support.”

Lucy sighs and pulls him by the arm, heading for the other side of the store. “I’m all out of ideas.” She groans. “She’s so hard to shop for.”

She feels him squeeze her shoulder and smiles, letting his presence melt away the stress of figuring out her sister’s birthday gift. She’s tired of shopping and is ready to give up and find the gift card aisle. Garcia stops moving and Lucy almost loses her balance as he keeps them from moving forward. As much as she pretends to lead him around, if he doesn’t want to move, she doesn’t have the strength to pull him along.

Read on AO3

The Art of Beginning Again Chapter 2

Summary:  Garcia and Lucy have been dating for a few weeks and when an important date comes up, Lucy knows exactly where she needs to be.

Lucy wakes up and checks her phone, frowning when there are no messages from Garcia. Double checking the time, she reads seven thirty and her frown deepens. He’s always awake by at least six. Trying not to read anything into it, she sends her own good morning message and goes to shower. When she’s done, she towels off her hair and checks her phone again. There’s still no message and she wonders if he’s still sleeping.

Don’t read into it.

She tries not to worry, but it isn’t easy with her track record with relationships. They withdraw, become less and less available, and then they break up via a phone conversation or even an email once. Wyatt was the first to have the guts to at least say it to her face.

“Lucy, can you give me a ride to work?” Amy calls up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Sure, just let me get dressed.” She’s worried, she can admit that much, but as she puts on her makeup and slips into her cotton dress, she decides to keep her distance and see what happens.

Maybe it’s all been a bit much and he needs a break. Why wouldn’t he just say so? Forgot? Stop it, go get your sister to work.

Pulling a lightweight shawl over her shoulders, Lucy forces herself to smile and walk downstairs. Amy is waiting by the door, satchel slung over her shoulder as she taps out rapid strings of text on her phone.

“Ready?” Amy doesn’t look up from her phone as she talks.

Lucy grabs her by the shoulder, pulling her out the door and towards the car.

Read More on AO3

To the lovely and talented @butterfliesandresistance​ because I can’t give you a birthday hug, so this is the next best thing. :) I adore you, dear!

Summary:  Oswald gets a little carried away in the kitchen with his cookie baking frenzy, upsetting their chef and caretaker. Jim decides on the perfect way to distract him.

The last few notes of 'Jingle Bells' faded into the background as Jim entered the large mansion of the Van Dahl estate. He smiled and set down his work bag, a few files from the office sticking out of the top that he was sure Oswald would know to look through and provide much needed information on when the time came. It was a delicate balance, this life they'd built together, but he wouldn't trade it for all the security of a normal relationship.

"Hey, is that you, Jim?"

Oswald's voice called to him from the kitchen and he entered to an array of cookies spread out along the counters, each shaped to match the season. Along the back wall there were Christmas trees and stars and across the island counter-tops, bells and reindeer and Santa Claus lay in lines across the marble.

"Get bored, my dear?" Jim asked, picking up a reindeer cookie and wiggling his eyebrows.

Oswald looked up at him and huffed. "Jim! Those aren't for you, you know."

Jim didn't break eye contact as he bit down into the crispy sugar cookie.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Oswald glared at him. "That's one less cookie for the Gotham Children's Home."

"You'll just make more," Jim said, talking around the food in his mouth as he walked to the stove where Oswald stood. "Besides, someone has to taste test."

Oswald smiled at that and wiped a crumb off of Jim's shirt. "Always so reasonable, huh?"

"One of us has to be," Jim retorted, pressing a kiss to Oswald's forehead. "You've covered our kitchen in enough cookies for the entire population of Gotham."

"Not true," Oswald said with a tilt of his head. "I've baked three hundred and thirty eight cookies and Gotham's current residence sits at just a little over eight million."

Jim chuckled and took another bite of his cookie, loosening his tie as he munched on the treat. A timer dinged and Oswald slipped on his oven mitts, brightly patterned with poinsettias, and took another tray of cookies out of the oven.