#nicolewrites

Felix didn’t even bother to reply, twisting his controller with such an intense look of concentration Ingrid wondered if he would throw the controller at the TV if he managed to lose this time. On the screen, the glowing orb balanced precariously on the edge of some kind of maze thing. Felix tilted his hands a little and the orb shot forward, launching onto the next area of land.

Sylvain cheered and jumped off the couch as the game played its telltale jingle for the correct solving of the puzzle. “Fuck yeah, Felix!”

Felix groaned and dropped the controller, tipping sideways so that his face collided with the couch. “I fucking hate that puzzle. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “No one told you that you had to play the game again.”

Felix lifted his hand and flipped her off without moving. “I have to be ready for the race.”

Sylvain laughed. “Look, just because Dorothea challenged you to a race doesn’t mean you have to actually do it.”

Felix looked up at Sylvain. “You’re joking, right? I’m not losing to a music major.”

Ingrid clicked her tongue as she finished cutting up the last of the strawberries. She scooped them up and dropped them into the blender. “You seem plenty happy to lose to Annette whenever she’s over,” she teased.

Felix went red and scowled. He saved his game and quit to the main menu before shutting the console off. He jumped up and walked into the kitchen. “How can I help?”

Ingrid grabbed the lemonade bottle and poured a healthy amount into the blender. “Can you grab me the ice cubes from the freezer?”

Felix immediately opened the freezer. Ingrid turned to glare at Sylvain who was still lounging on the couch, though now he was scrolling on his phone. He glanced at her when he realized she was staring at him and just batted his eyes at her innocently.

“Are you going to help?”

“And get stuck doing all the dishes like I always do anyway? No,” he replied cheerfully.

Ingrid wanted to berate him, but he had a point. Sylvain almost always ended up doing the dishes. He was the worst cook of the three of them, so that meant he was almost always relegated to dish-duty after meals. When alcohol was involved, he ended up doing the dishes purely because he had the highest tolerance and was the most adept and practiced at managing his hangovers.

She picked up the vodka bottle and reached around Felix for their liquor cupboard. Felix glanced at her oddly, but placed the ice cube tray next to the blender and backed out of her way. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms.

“What are you doing?”

Ingrid grabbed the metal cup from the cabinet and waved it at him. “I need this."

Sylvain laughed. “Ah, Ingrid, always the responsible one, using the jigger to measure our alcohol intake.”

Ingrid was screwing off the lid of the vodka bottle when he spoke. She paused. “The what?” she questioned.

Sylvain blinked. “The jigger.” He gestured to the shot-measuring cup she was holding.

“Why the fuck do you know what that thing is called?” Felix asked, staring at Sylvain.

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Because we own one? And we drink a lot?”

Ingrid laughed out loud, almost spilling vodka on the counter. “Sylvain, I’m pretty sure only bartenders who are either super hipster and sell you the most expensive shit on the menu or the ones who work high-class events know what these things are called. As far as I’m concerned it’s a shot-measurer.”

Sylvain’s ears reddened. “It’s not that strange of a thing to know!” he argued.

The doorbell rang, saving Sylvain from more teasing and Felix slipped out of the kitchen and down the hall to open the door. Ingrid focused back on the task at hand, measuring a full shot of vodka and adding it to the blender. She dumped a handful of ice cubes in and then measured another shot.

Sylvain hopped up from the couch and leaned on the counter across from her, watching her as she mixed their drinks for the night. “Please tell me you’re adding more than two shots to that thing. Dimitri is coming.”

Ingrid paused and stared at him. “It’s not Dimitri I’m worried about.”

Sylvain held his hands up innocently. “Don’t blame a guy for his alcohol tolerance.”

“You started drinking when you were like 14."

“I had a good high school experience.”

“Sylvain.”

“Ingrid,” he parroted teasingly.

He leaned forward until there was only about an inch between their faces and every muscle in Ingrid’s body tensed. She was saved from having to react when Felix and Dimitri re-entered the kitchen. Sylvain leaned back and she went back to measuring vodka to add to the drink mix.

“Why do you know what a jigger is called?” Dimitri asked Sylvain, completely bypassing any greeting.

Sylvain smacked his forehead. “Is it really that weird?”

“Yes,” Ingrid and Felix chorused.

“I mean, I knew what it was called,” Dimitri admitted. “But that’s because there was a very chatty bartender at an event I went to last summer.”

Sylvain and Ingrid exchanged a look. A chatty bartender meant a flirty bartender and Dimitri, in his glorious and typical Dimitri fashion, had not even noticed a thing was strange about her behaviour, chalking it up to the woman being “friendly”.

“Anyway,” Sylvain cleared his throat. “I see you have brought food to rescue us from Ingrid’s inevitable wrath.”

Ingrid was almost offended, but then her stomach growled and she could only drop her gaze back to the blender and hope that she wasn’t flushing. She dumped a few more ice cubes in and slapped the lid on, holding the blend button as the grinding sound quickly drowned out her embarrassment.

Dimitri dropped the pizza box on the counter and Felix immediately went to pull out plates. Sylvain strode into the kitchen and it was suddenly very overcrowded with her three male friends, Dimitri and Sylvain especially, who had no concept of the fact that they were buff guys who took up much more room than they thought they did.

Ingrid stopped the blender and picked up the pitcher, sloshing the liquid in it a bit. It had changed to a pretty pinkish colour thanks to the strawberries and it smelled both sweet and alcoholic: just how they liked it. She poured it into the four glasses she had out and turned to hand them off.

Felix took the first glass and Sylvain the second. Dimitri took the third and replaced it with a plate that had three slices of pizza on it. Ingrid beamed at him and carried both the plate and her own glass over to the couch where she sat next to Felix in the centre of the couch. Dimitri immediately claimed the armchair and Sylvain lingered in the kitchen to grab the bottle of vodka from the counter.

Felix tasted the drink and wrinkled his nose. “This shit is sweet.”

Ingrid sipped it and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet and fruity taste of it. It tasted almost exactly like the strawberry lemonades she used to get at restaurants as a kid with just the slightest hint of alcohol.

“I think that’s the point,” Dimitri said as he sipped from his own glass. His brow shot up. “Wow, there’s alcohol in this?”

Ingrid hummed in agreement. “Annette gave me the recipe. I wanted to try it out.”

Sylvain plopped down on the couch next to her and placed the vodka bottle and four shot glasses down. “As lovely and boozy as it is, we’re still doing this with shots.”

Felix grumbled. “Just because you don’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

Sylvain grinned. “Your fault for scheduling shit after movie night.”

Felix crossed his arms and glared at Sylvain. “You’re cancelling on us next week so we rescheduled to this week. This is your fault.”

Sylvain shrugged. “Hey, the girl from my gym said she was only free next weekend. I’m not going to miss that opportunity.”

Ingrid’s drink was suddenly less sweet. She placed it on the coffee table and stood up, heading for her room. She grabbed the hat from her dresser and walked back into the living room. She placed it on the corner of the TV and balanced it so it wouldn’t fall off.

Felix grabbed the remote from the table. “I can’t believe we’re watching this movie again.”

Ingrid sat down between Felix and Sylvain and picked up her drink again, grinning. “It was my turn to pick and we watched Dimitri’s choice last time. Besides, this one works great with the hat game.”

Sylvain tapped his glass against hers. “Not that we don’t appreciate the artistry of The King’s Speech, Dimitri, but Ingrid is definitely correct on this one. Die Hard is a true pinnacle of cinema.”

Felix rolled his eyes but queued the movie. “No chickening out on these rules.”

Ingrid laughed. “Yeah, yeah we know. Every time someone wears the hat you take a sip and every time they have a line while wearing it we do a shot. We have done this before.”

Dimitri slouched in his chair. “I always lose these things immediately.”

Sylvain threw an arm over Ingrid’s shoulder and smirked at Dimitri. “That’s because you care more about the film than the actual drinking. We’d get the same reaction from Ingrid if we were watching the Great British Bake Off or Chopped.”

Ingrid elbowed him but didn’t shove his arm off. She was already a little warm in her stomach and she took a bite of her pizza. She was hungry and they were about to drink a whole lot more, so she needed to have food to balance the copious amounts of alcohol.

“Are we still doing the Sylvain rule?” Dimitri asked as the studio logo took over the screen as the movie started.

“Obviously,” Ingrid snorted. “Anything stupid or romantic he’d do means the last one to shout “Sylvain” takes a shot. That’s a given for whatever film we’re watching.”

“Everyone shut up,” Felix grouched as the film started.

-

Ingrid was warm. She was warm and her arm was numb and her eyes were sticky. She shifted the arm that wasn’t numb and brought her hand up to rub her face. She pried her eyes open and got an eyeful of grey t-shirt.

She blinked and twisted, realizing that she was definitely not in her bed. She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move her left arm, the numb one, at all. It was thoroughly pinned between her very fit roommate and the couch that they had fallen asleep together on. Plus, his arm was tightly wrapped around her waist like a steel band, keeping her pinned against him. Her head had been resting against the top of his chest over his shoulder and under his chin.

Sylvain didn’t stir as Ingrid twisted, still passed out cold. Ingrid managed to carefully extract her arm and pry Sylvain’s arm off of her. She had a horrid crick in her neck that made her scowl as she disentangled their legs. She sat on the very edge of the couch and looked around the living room.

Sylvain was, naturally, passed out on the couch where they had been unintentionally cuddling. Dimitri was asleep in the armchair, head awkwardly bent forward against his shoulder. Felix was nowhere to be seen. Ingrid turned and looked behind her into the kitchen and saw her other roommate standing in the kitchen, sipping from a coffee mug with an amused look on his face.

She rolled her eyes and stood up, walking towards him. She dropped her voice low so that she didn’t wake Dimitri or Sylvain. “When did you get up?”

“About fifteen minutes ago,” Felix whispered back. “Unlike you idiots, I did actually make it to my bed last night.”

Ingrid’s cheeks warmed and she glanced at the back of the couch where Sylvain was still sleeping. “We just fell asleep?”

He shrugged. “We were talking after the movie and you started wrestling with him. Dimitri was already out so I just went to bed. I guess you guys fell asleep after that.”

It wasn’t unusual for them to fall asleep after movie night and it certainly wasn’t the first time that she’d woken up cuddled to one of her friends. The best was still the time that Dimitri and Sylvain had fallen asleep together and she and Felix had taken many, many photos.

“Did he get his contacts out?” she asked, gesturing to the couch.

Felix shrugged. “I doubt it. It’ll be his problem today.”

Ingrid’s nose wrinkled. She felt sympathetic, but not overly remorseful. Sylvain had bitched about how much he hated sleeping with his contacts in before, but he continued to forget to take them out so it really was his problem.

“How much did we drink?”

Felix nodded to the vodka bottle by the sink. It was empty. Ingrid slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle a startled laugh.

“Oh,” she replied dumbly.

Her head jerked towards him, her braid swinging over her shoulder. She brushed her hand quickly under her eyes and straightened up. “Sylvain,” she greeted icily in reply. 

He folded his arms. “You’re not supposed to be back until much, much later.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and brushed past him, heading for the kitchen. He trailed after her, wracking his brain for what was happening. The only reason she would have been home this early was if her date had gone horribly wrong. But, Sylvain liked Ignatz. He and Ingrid had been seeing each other for almost a month and she had nothing but good things to say about him. It didn’t really fit. 

Ingrid was pulling a beer out of the fridge by the time that he made it into the kitchen. Sylvain leaned against the counter and watched her take a few heavy drinks from it. Finally, she sighed and placed the can on the counter, tugging on her braid like she did when she was feeling anxious. 

“We broke up, if you really have to know,” she muttered. 

Sylvain blinked. “I thought things between you were going well.”

Ingrid frowned and took another sip from her drink. “I think that’s the problem. They were going well, but not amazing.”

He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “Do I need to kick his ass?”

She gave him a withering look. “No. He’s moving to Derdriu to attend a prestigious post-grad program.” She shook her head, laughing to herself. “And I’m the one who convinced him he should be applying there.” 

Sylvain raised his eyebrows. “You encouraged your boyfriend to apply to a school outside of the city where you both live?”

Ingrid paused, digesting his words. “Yeah, I guess I did, but I’ve seen his work. He needs to go there.” She drank from her can again and then frowned, fanning her face. “Is it hot in here?”

Sylvain blinked. “I guess a little? Our air conditioner is kind of shit.”

Ingrid huffed and pulled the elastic off the end of her braid, untwisting her long, blonde hair. She flipped her head upside down and gathered it into a loose bun at the crown of her head. Sylvain watched her, almost entranced by the fluid, shiny length of her blonde hair. 

“My hair’s heavy,” she complained as soon as she had tied it up properly. 

“You could always cut it,” he suggested before he thought twice about it. 

Ingrid blinked at him and touched her bun absentmindedly. “Cut it?”

Sylvain imagined Ingrid with short-hair for a moment. Short hair like Leonie’s old haircut wouldn’t suit her, nor would Bernie’s style. Something medium-short that hung around her chin would, though. It would be strange because Ingrid had always had long hair, but it would certainly be an intriguing style. He shook himself out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry, I know your hair has always been long, that was a stupid idea.”

Ingrid pressed her lips together, looking pensive. She sipped from her beer again. “I’ve heard it’s cathartic,” she mumbled. 

Sylvain stared at her. 

Ingrid shrugged her shoulders. “Felix chopped his hair off after,” she trailed off, her throat closing around the name and Sylvain nodded. 

Felix had hacked almost seven inches off his long hair himself after his brother had died. Mercedes had also cut hers after she had graduated from medical school, ridding herself of nearly 12 inches of hair, saying that it was simply time for a change. 

“Mercie would probably cut it for you if you really wanted it done,” Sylvain suggested. 

Ingrid nodded. “Yeah, but now that you say it, I almost want to do it right now.” 

Sylvain grinned. “I mean, if you trust me with a pair of scissors near your head, I could do it.”

Ingrid laughed. “I think we’d both need to be way more drunk for that to happen.”

Sylvain winked at her and walked past her to the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of gin and placed it on the counter between them. “I’ve got tonic water,” he commented casually. 

Ingrid drained her beer, placed the can by the sink and took the bottle of gin from him. She tipped it, appraising the clear liquid inside. “This is the good stuff your mother bought you for your birthday, isn’t it?”

Sylvain shrugged. “It’s going to get drunk eventually. Why don’t we make a night out of it?”

Ingrid’s lips tilted into a small smile. She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “If you fuck up my hair, I will murder you.”

Sylvain grinned broadly and reached into the cupboard where they kept dishes, pulling out two glasses. He walked to the fridge and brought out two cans of tonic water and a lime. He tossed the lime to Ingrid and she washed it in the sink while he measured a generous two shots of gin for each glass, topping them both off with tonic water. 

Ingrid grabbed a knife from the sink and carefully cut the lime in half. She squeezed it over both glasses, dripping in a healthy amount of lime juice. Sylvain picked up both glasses and passed one to her. She took it and he tapped their glasses together. 

“To break-ups,” he said cheerfully. 

Ingrid rolled her eyes and took a long drink. “Please, do not compare my relationship to any of your break-ups.”

Sylvain took a sip from his glass. “Ouch, Ing, are they really that bad?”

She gave him a dead stare over her glass. “We’ve had three girls try to break into our apartment because they were so mad at you.”

He chuckled to himself. “To be fair, I never considered any of those three to actually be a girlfriend.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and drank again. “Not sure you’ve ever had a real girlfriend.” She paused, staring at the glass in her hand. “That’s really fucking good gin.”

Sylvain laughed. “It is, isn’t it?”

Ingrid sipped again. “How much does a bottle of that cost?”

Sylvain considered it for a moment. “Almost 200 dollars if I remember correctly.”

Ingrid almost choked and her eyes went comically bug-eyed. “What the fuck?” she exclaimed. 

Sylvain winced. “Remember, my mom bought that for me.”

“God, you’re such a rich kid,” Ingrid huffed. 

Sylvain winked and took another drink from his glass. “You’re drinking it too.”

She flushed. “It’s good,” she muttered, taking another drink. “You’re the one who likes top-liquor and wine. If it wasn’t for you, the fridge would literally just be whatever beer was on sale.”

Sylvain shook his head and grabbed the bottle of gin, heading for the living room. “And that’s a damn tragedy. I drank enough shitty beer in college, I don’t need to tolerate it anymore.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, but she followed him. “You were in a frat, Sylvain, I don’t know what you expected. Whiskey on the rocks every night as you sat around a fire in Godfather-esque armchairs?”

He sat on the couch. “No, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I voluntarily joined the frat and I knew exactly what I was getting into. It just means I can appreciate good alcohol when I drink it now.” He topped up his glass with another ounce of gin. 

Ingrid sat next to him and threw her legs across his lap as she reclined, just staying vertical enough that she wouldn’t spill her drink. “I suppose,” she conceded. 

Sylvain picked up his controller and waved it at Ingrid. “Smash?”

She snorted. “I’m bad enough at that sober.” 

He shrugged and unpaused the game. His character was immediately drop-kicked off the stage and the announcer called the end of the match, advertising his loss. Ingrid laughed next to him. Sylvain laughed at himself and quit to the main menu, shutting his console off. He drank from his glass. The gin was much stronger thanks to his top-up, but it was smooth and very pleasant to the taste. 

“So,” he continued, “what’s our plan tonight? Get drunk enough until you want me to cut your hair?”

Ingrid drained her glass and gave him a challenging smile. “One more drink for me and I’m there.”

Sylvain drank the rest of his glass and reached for the bottle on the coffee table. He poured himself a double shot and offered it to Ingrid. She poured herself a 1.5-ounce drink and tapped her glass against his. Sylvain grinned at her and sipped the gin. Ingrid tossed it back like a shot and her eyebrows knit as she scrunched up her face in mild disgust. 

Sylvain laughed at her. “Oh come on Ing! You can do it with tonic, but not straight? This is the good stuff.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’m just trying to get drunk faster.”

It was a fair point. She was the one who had just been through a break-up. Sylvain tipped his glass to her in solidarity and drained the rest of his glass. He could already feel the alcohol fog creeping through his mind. Normally it took a lot more alcohol to get him drunk, but the equivalent of five shots in very quick succession did the job well enough. 

Ingrid swung her legs off his lap and placed her glass on the coffee table. She stood up and swayed briefly, obviously already feeling the hit of the booze. Sylvain’s hand shot out to steady her, landing on her back just above her ass. He quickly retracted his hand, moving out of the dangerous territory. He absolutely couldn’t touch Ingrid there, no matter how good her ass looked in skinny jeans. 

She crossed her arms and looked down at him. “Well? Are we doing this?”

He grinned. 

-

Felix got home an hour later and found the two of them on the couch, Sylvain’s head in Ingrid’s lap. He dropped his fencing bag by the door and just stared at his roommates. “What the fuck?” he muttered. 

Ingrid looked back, grinning. “I got a haircut,” she said brightly, touching the much shorter ends of her hair. 

Sylvain closed his eyes and let Ingrid continue playing with his hair. He was absolutely drunk enough to enjoy her gentle touch and not be mortified like he would have been sober. He lifted a hand and waved it over the back of the couch towards the apartment door. 

“I’m a professional hairdresser now!” he called brightly. 

Felix groaned. “What is wrong with both of you?”

Ingrid shrugged, brushing her fingers over his scalp. Sylvain smiled at the feeling. “Ignatz and I broke up. I thought it might be cathartic.”

Sylvain heard Felix curse faintly. “I thought you two were good?”

Ingrid hummed. “He’s moving to Derdriu. We agreed it was for the best.”

Sylvain sat up, gently pulling out of Ingrid’s touch. His head was still foggy from the alcohol. They’d had a couple more drinks since they started in order to stay well and truly drunk. He grabbed the now one-quarter full bottle of gin off the coffee table. 

“Want some really expensive alcohol?” he offered to Felix with a grin. 

Felix’s eyes narrowed and he looked between Ingrid’s choppy hair and the bottle in Sylvain’s hand. He snatched it and drank for a few seconds straight from the bottle. He shook his head out and placed the bottle on the counter behind him. 

“Everything okay?” he asks. The question is open and directed to either Mercedes or Ingrid, whoever feels more up to answering it. 

“Ingrid has had a rough day,” Mercedes supplies helpfully. 

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What kind of bad day?”

“My supervisor rejected my most recent project plan,” Ingrid grumbles, not even lifting her head up. “I stayed up literally all night finishing it and the only thing he said to me was that the conclusion needed work before he could approve it and that he wanted a new draft by Thursday.”

Mercedes smiles sympathetically. “I ran into Ingrid on campus after I dropped Annie off and gave her a ride back here.” She checks her watch. “I do need to run to the hospital to drop off something before tomorrow.”

Mercedes stands up and walks over to him, patting his arm. Sylvain smiles at her, looking between his miserable, blob-shaped roommate and their mutual friend. 

“Thanks for staying, Mercie,” he says quietly.

“My pleasure,” she replies. 

Mercedes drifts past him and head for the door of their apartment and then Sylvain is left staring down at his grumpy roommate who is still lying face-down on the rug. 

“Ingrid,” he says, “surely there are more comfortable places to mope?”

“Too far away,” she grumbles. 

He rolls his eyes and finally walks around the couch. He bends down and grabs her under the arms and literally hauls her up. Ingrid shrieks and immediately flails in his grip. Her leg swings out, kicking at his shin and Sylvain grunts. Unfortunately, due to his own tiredness, he isn’t quite ready for a flailing Ingrid and she manages to take them both out, sending them crashing to the couch. 

Sylvain twists so he doesn’t land on top of Ingrid and they land side by side on the couch. Also unfortunately, the couch is not built for two people and since Sylvain lands closer to the edge, he immediately rolls off of it, landing straight on his ass. Ingrid sits up on the couch, blinking her wide green eyes at him. 

Sylvain’s tailbone hurts from the sudden impact, but he bursts out laughing. Ingrid laughs too, swinging her legs down so she’s sitting properly on the couch. She leans forward, her lips curling into a half-smirk. 

“Nicely done,” she teases. 

He rolls his eyes at her and pushes himself to his feet using the edge of the couch and the coffee table. “Hey, I was just trying to help you. You’re the one who flipped out.”

Ingrid shoves him as he sits on the couch next to her. “Whatever. I was comfortable.”

“No, you weren’t,” he counters. “The floor is wood. The rug is thin. There is no way that was comfortable.

Ingrid huffs and tugs on the sleeves of the hoodie she’s wearing, pulling them down over her hands. “I was lazy, then,” she corrects herself. 

She twists, reclining on the couch and throwing her feet up across his lap. Sylvain gets a good look at the hoodie she’s wearing and he blinks in surprise as he recognizes it. It’s an old dark teal hoodie with their high school crest in white. There’s a black ink stain on the right sleeve from where Felix broke a pen when Sylvain had been in his senior year. 

“That’s my hoodie,” he says dumbly, still staring at it. 

Ingrid blinks and looks at the sweater. She seems just as surprised as he is to see that it is. “Oh, it is, isn’t it.”

Sylvain stares. “It’s been missing since I was in my freshman year of undergrad! How do you have it?”

Ingrid taps her chin as she thinks about it. “You know, I think you left it at my house when you went off to university and I meant to give it back, but I just forgot to.”

Sylvain rubs his forehead. “Wait so we’ve been living together for four years and I haven’t seen you wear it?”

She looks down, her ears turning pink. “I, uh, normally sleep in it, not wear it out and around.”

Sylvain feels his own neck get hot and he clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, right.”

He drops his gaze down to his lap where Ingrid’s sock-clad feet are resting. The socks are navy blue and covered in cartoon pieces of sushi. He had thought they were hilarious when he saw them in December so he had bought them and sat on them for a month until her birthday. Ingrid had cracked up as soon as she had opened the present because they were socks, but she wore them fairly often. 

“I like your socks,” he says dumbly. 

She just laughs. “They’re comfortable. I’m still sad you didn’t buy those matching hot dog ones the other day.”

Sylvain practically snorts a laugh. “God, but those were ugly. There’s a difference between cute graphic socks and bright yellow graphic socks with wieners on them.”

She wrinkles her nose. “How do you make that sound dirty?”

Sylvain blinks and lifts his hand from where it had rested on her ankle without thinking. “I guess it kind of did, didn’t it.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes and swings her feet off his lap, standing up. She walks back around the couch into the kitchen and opens the fridge. Sylvain turns, throwing an arm over the back of the couch to watch her as she rifles around in the fridge. After a second, she shuts the fridge and twists her face into what Sylvain can only call a pout. 

“Fuck,” she grumbles. 

Sylvain chuckles. “You all out?”

Ingrid brushes some of her short hair behind her ear. “I definitely told Felix yesterday that I would make dinner tonight since he has fencing, but I also definitely forgot to buy anything that’s actually worth eating for dinner tonight.”

Sylvain stood up, stretching his arms above his head. His shoulders popped satisfyingly and he strode into the kitchen. He stepped around his roommate to the fridge and opened it, scanning his own side of the fridge. 

Similar to Ingrid, he also seemed to be lacking in actual edible food. There was some milk and a tub of yogurt as well as a couple of bell peppers, but no protein and nothing that he actually wanted to eat after having spent a full day in the library studying corporate law. And since it seemed Ingrid had had just as poor a day as he had, he knew there was something they could do that would cheer both of them up. 

“Text Felix and ask what he wants from McDonald’s,” Sylvain suggests to Ingrid, closing the fridge. 

He leaves the kitchen and heads down the hallway towards his room. Ingrid stares at him for a moment before she chases him, following him all the way to the door of his room. She stops in the doorway and stares at him as he strips off his shirt, pulling on a dark grey long-sleeved t-shirt. He turns around and sees Ingrid is still staring at him. 

“McDonald’s?” she repeats, sounding confused. 

Sylvain tugs his shirt down to straighten it and grins. “Sure! You’re telling me you don’t want to relieve the stupidest things we did in high school tonight?”

Ingrid’s mouth opens and closes and then she frowns. “I didn’t budget this in this week.”

Sylvain rolls his eyes and walks over to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and spinning her around, guiding her back down the hall towards the front door of the apartment. “Don’t worry about it. It’s literally just fast food. I can cover you.”

Ingrid sighs, but her interest in getting cheap fast food is apparently stronger than her dislike of Sylvain paying for things since she doesn’t resist as he leads them to the front of their apartment. He grabs his keys and wallet from his bag at the door and pulls on his shoes. Ingrid slows down as she walks to the door, typing a message out on her phone to Felix. 

Sylvain straightens up and waits for her by the door, spinning his keys on his lanyard idly. Ingrid slides her sock-clad feet into athletics scuffs and shoves her hands into the pockets of her poached sweater. Sylvain grins and opens the door, leading the way out of the apartment. Ingrid pauses as they leave to lock the door but then she follows him to the elevator. 

Sylvain unlocks his car and slides into the driver’s side. Ingrid gets into the passenger side and he starts the engine. His car’s Bluetooth beeps, confirming its connection to his phone and he steals a glance at Ingrid, smirking. Immediately, her brow knits in suspicion. 

“Play the High School Musical soundtrack,” Sylvain says gleefully. 

Ingrid groans and drops her arms and head forward onto the dashboard. “Oh my god, Sylvain.”

“Hey, we’re emulating being stupid high school days, aren’t we?”

The music from the first song in the movie starts playing over his car’s speakers as he pulls out of the parking lot. Ingrid leans back from the dashboard and glares at the speaker. Sylvain just smiles to himself and turns the volume up louder. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Ingrid grumbles. “A twenty-five-year-old man and you put on High School Musical in your car.”

“Only with you,” he teases back. “Besides, it’s not like we all didn’t absolutely love this movie when we were younger.”

Ingrid huffs. “When I was eleven, maybe.”

Sylvain laughs. “Aw, come on, I was just trying to distract you. Get your mind of everything.”

He steals a glance from her as he stops at a red light. She looks less annoyed when he says that, her green eyes softening. 

“Yeah, I know,” she mumbles. “I appreciate it.”

He takes one hand off the wheel and pats her shoulder. “You’ll knock him dead next time, Ingrid,” he assures. “If I can get my studiously lazy ass into Law School, you can knock your supervisor dead with this project plan. Besides, even if it takes a few more days, it’s not going to derail your entire Masters.”

She huffs out a breath. “I know, it’s just frustrating.” She turns towards him and it takes every ounce of driving knowledge he has to keep his eyes on the road and not to meet her gaze. “Weren’t you supposed to be busy tonight?”

“Nah,” he says. “I was going to go on a date, but I called it off earlier when I was three hours deep in corporate law with no end in sight.”

Ingrid shudders. “Oh god. How long were you even at the library today?”

He shrugs and turns on his turn signal to turn right into the McDonald’s parking lot. “Too long,” he grumbles.

Ingrid laughs at him. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m the only one who needed this break.”

Sylvain shrugs. “Hey, I’m just hungry.”

She fiddles with the sleeve of the hoodie as he parks and he turns towards her, grinning. 

“If I buy you a 50-pack of nuggets can I have my hoodie back?”

She scoffs. “No way. This is mine now.”

He snaps his fingers, but he can’t disguise the amused look on his face. “Darn,” he drawls sarcastically, killing the engine. “Guess I’ll just have to play the High School Musical 2 soundtrack on the way back to the apartment.”

He yanks his keys free and jumps out of the car before Ingrid can lash out and whack him. He jogs away from the car towards the McDonald’s laughing. She staggers out of his car, scowling. 

“Sylvain!”

Just as Fjord was resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get any work done, one of his other roommates, Caleb, poked his head into the kitchen.

"Ah, so Jester is here. I was wondering what the smell was," he commented, stepping into the kitchen and sitting across from Fjord at the table.

Molly laughed. "Yeah because god forbid any of us actually be a good cook."

"Hey," Fjord said indignantly. "Cad is a great cook."

Molly waved dismissively. "He's also at home for the break, so," he pointed out.

Fjord shrugged. His fourth roommate, Caduceus Clay, was a gentle soul who was quiet, but not quite as timid as Caleb. Caduceus had elected to spend Reading Break with his family at home, leaving the house to Caleb, Fjord, and Molly.

The four of them were certainly an odd group who one might not expect to be friends, much less roommates. Molly was a theatre major with the largest personality Fjord had ever known in a person. Caleb was a history and political science double major who buried himself in books and his studies most of the time. Caduceus was studying plant biology and was probably the most insightful person Fjord had ever met. Fjord himself was studying marine biology.

As it stood, there should have been absolutely no interaction between the four of them, but they had connected through mutual friends: namely, Jester and her roommates. Jester was studying visual arts and roomed with Beau who was in her third year of undeclared arts, Yasha who studied general sciences, and Nott who was in engineering.

Fjord had met Jester on the first day of orientation in first year. They had been in the same orientation group and Jester had been ecstatic to find out that Fjord was also from the West Coast. From there, Jester had become one of his closest friends and had been the one to really bring their group together.

Jester and Beau were roommates in first year so when there was Jester, there was often also Beau. Fjord and Beau had become friends pretty quickly too. Jester met Molly, and subsequently Yasha, through hers and Molly's theatre class. Caduceus and Jester had taken a first aid course together in second semester. Beau was actually the one who met Caleb and Nott since she shared a history class with Caleb.

The eight of them had become a tight-knit group of friends mostly thanks to the outgoing efforts of Jester and Molly, so when it had come time to look for student housing for second year, they had split into two groups: the girls and the guys. As it worked out, they had managed to find houses on the same street.

It was common for people to show up unannounced or to crash on couches or share beds. After a crazy, not-so-fun high school experience, it was still a bit baffling for Fjord to have seven incredibly close friends on whom he could rely. Still, Fjord considered his relationships with Beau and Jester to be the closest and most important.

And Jester was currently a source of serious internal conflict for him.

Jester was pretty, very pretty, and everyone knew that. Fjord had known that since the moment he had met her and she had made a stupid joke about how the two of them ought to stick together because of their non-human complexions. She was funny and passionate and protective of him and the rest of their group of misfits. Jester had a sweet singing voice and a knack for showing up unannounced at the boy's house to bake for them or watch movies or just sleep over.

And Fjord, in all of his stupid glory, had come to the very frightening realization that he was desperately in love with Jester. But, she was his best friend and even though she had a tendency to flirt, Fjord knew that she flirted with everyone and had given no indication that she liked him seriously.

So he desperately tries to quash his feelings for her, but it was moments like this, where Jester was being carefree and utterly herself, that Fjord could hardly take his eyes off of her.

"Hey, Jester," Molly said suddenly, perking up. "I got the new Mac palette this weekend, do you want to come experiment with some of the shades with me while these things bake?"

Jester squealed. "Um, of course I do." She turned to Fjord and Caleb and winked. "No touching my buns until they're done!"

Fjord's sanity momentarily deserted him as all he could think of was a different kind of bun, but when he managed to snap himself out of it, Jester and Molly had disappeared to Molly's room and Caleb was staring at him.

"What?" he demanded, his cheeks feeling hot.

"You are sweet on Jester, ja?"

Fjord stared down at his textbook and didn't reply.

"You should tell her because Jester will not be single forever."

Fjord glanced up and gave Caleb a flat look. "And I should take love advice from you, why?"

Caleb shrugged. "Molly and I have at least spoken about what is between us. You have avoided all discussion of Jester since you realized your feelings."

Fjord chewed on his lip and went back to his notes. "I'm won't mess anything up," he said finally.

He was saved from further discussion about his hopeless crush by Beau waltzing in the front door, accompanied by Nott.

"Sup, bitches. I heard Jester was baking."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Ja, she is making cinnamon buns. Molly and her are discussing makeup downstairs."

Beau crinkled her nose. "Ew, makeup."

Nott slipped off her shoes and slid into the chair between Caleb and Fjord. She glanced at what Fjord was working on and wrinkled her nose.

"I still don't know how any of you are studying biology, it's clearly the worst science."

Fjord shrugged. "At least I have a major."

Beau laughed and feigned offence. "Hey, I strive to be undeclared as long as they'll let me, if only just to piss off my folks."

Caleb shook his head. "You are ridiculous, Beauregard."

"Oh, the full name! I'm so scared!" she teased. "What were you idiots talking about before we showed up?"

"Nothing," Fjord said at the same time as Caleb said:

"Fjord's crush."

Fjord's face flooded with heat and he glanced nervously at the door to the basement.

Beau laughed. "Ah, the hopeless infatuation continues."

"Shut up," Fjord grumbled and dropped his head to the table, landing it with a thud on top of his textbook.

Three days later, Jester had appeared at the house unannounced again. She had strolled in without a care and walked into the living room where Fjord was watching TV.

"I'm boooored," she announced loudly.

Fjord looked up at her and blinked awkwardly. She was wearing a sparkly, low-cut shirt and skin-tight jeans. She had obviously been planning on going out, so he wasn't sure why she was standing in his living room. He tipped his head in confusion and she mirrored him for a moment before apparently remembering what she was wearing.

"Beau bailed on me because Keg's going to be there and she refuses to acknowledge that they had a thing, so now I have no one to go with since Molly and Caleb are actually hanging out for once." Jester pushed her lips into a frustratingly adorable pout and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Are you here to convince me to go out with you?" he asked hesitantly.

Jester waved him off. "No, I don't feel like going out anymore. What are you watching?" She crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa next to him.

Fjord unpaused the TV and his documentary resumed. Jester laughed as she realized.

"Only you would watch ocean documentaries during the break, Fjord."

He shrugged. "It's relaxing," he explained.

Jester shrugged and snuggled in next to him. Fjord tensed momentarily before relaxing and tucking his arm around Jester. She was naturally very touchy and they'd been loosely cuddling while watching movies since first year, so it felt comfortably normal.

Unfortunately, Fjord struggled to focus on his movie much since Jester was warm and comfortable as she tucked into his side. He refused to look down at her, keeping his eyes focused determinedly on the TV because otherwise, he was looking right down her clubbing shirt.

About half-way through the movie, Jester yawned and Fjord realized that she was probably not comfortable in clubbing clothes while lying on the couch. He retracted his arm slowly and Jester looked up at him, looking confused.

"Come on," he beckoned, pulling her to her feet. She followed him without question as they headed to his room. Jester scuffed her toe along the hardwood and Fjord thought he detected a flash of nervousness in her violet eyes.

He walked to one of his drawers and opened it, pulling out a loose t-shirt and grabbing a clean pair of sweats. He turned and offered them to Jester and she beamed at him.

"I'll just," he gestured back towards the living room and Jester nodded, a smile curling up her lips.

Fjord headed back to the living room and tried valiantly not to think of Jester changing in his room. When she re-emerged, he realized that he had made a mistake. His clothes were huge on her, swamping her, but she had cuffed his sweats five or six times to make them an appropriate length. She rejoined him on the couch, snuggling into his side.

"Thanks, Fjord," she said sweetly.

Fjord's arm wrapped around her like it had a mind of its own. "You're welcome, Jess."

Fjord woke up to early morning light filtering through the curtains of the living room and falling across his face into his eyes. He blinked and moved to stretch out his arms before realizing that there was a weight pinning him in place. He glanced down and was surprised to see Jester curled against his chest.

They were slotted together on the dingy couch with her head resting between his shoulder and his collarbone, tilted so her horns didn't stab into him. Fjord's arms were loosely wrapped around her waist and his right hand was brushing against pale blue, bare skin. The giant t-shirt he had loaned Jester had ridden up just enough that his fingers were grazing her bare hip. He shifted his hand quickly and tried to keep his face cool.

It definitely wasn't the first time Jester had fallen asleep on him, but it was one of the only times Fjord had also fallen asleep with her and it was definitely the first time that he'd found them in such an intimate position subconsciously.

There was a blanket stretched up across them too that definitely hadn't been there when they were watching the documentary. The TV was also turned off and that meant that one of Fjord's roommates had seen them which meant that he was never going to live this one down. He could always try to play it off on Jester's naturally happy and affectionate personality, but the blush he'd inevitably get would give it away.

He gently lifted his hand to Jester's shoulder and squeezed. She mumbled something under her breath but stirred. After an awkward second, she blinked her eyes open and they made eye contact. Fjord smiled uneasily, but Jester just beamed at him with her usual bright smile. She lifted herself off him and slid to sit next to him. Fjord swung his feet down so that they were sitting on the couch side by side.

Jester started untangling her hair from her horns and without thinking, Fjord reached over to unwind a lock on the horn nearest to him. Jester gave him a quiet thank you and they worked silently for a moment until Fjord dropped the last smooth lock of Jester's dark hair. She turned to face him, her curls bouncing and she grinned again.

"Sorry for falling asleep on you, Fjord," she said brightly.

He shrugged. "It's no big deal. As long as the girls weren't going to worry about you for not coming home?"

Jester waved him off. "It's definitely fine since I told Beau I was coming over, definitely."

Fjord stood up from the couch and tilted his head to the living room. "Breakfast?"

Jester beamed. "If you have anything edible. Otherwise, I'll steal from Molly."

They walked into the kitchen together and saw Caleb sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee while flipping through a history textbook. He looked up and didn't even bat an eye at the fact that Jester was there, so Fjord figured that he had been the one to give them the blanket last night.

"Good morning Caleb," Jester greeted brightly. "You're up early considering that you and Molly got home pretty late last night." Fjord caught on to the teasing lilt of Jester's words and he turned away, feeling heat sting his cheeks at the mere ghost of a thought about his two roommates.

Caleb just shrugged, the innuendo rolling off of him easily. "We were actually at your house for most of the evening with Yasha and a skulking Beau. Molly ended up crashing there so I suppose we have temporarily traded roommates."

Jester laughed and Fjord's lips twisted into a strategically hidden smile as he kept his back to his friends.

"So you just fell asleep watching the documentary?" Beau asked as she helped him reset the bar.

Fjord shrugged. "I mean, I assume. I just remember watching the movie and then I woke up in the morning." He laid down against the bench and braced his hands against the bar.

As Fjord began his reps, Beau watched him as a spotter. "And you're one hundred percent sure that there was nothing else involved?"

Fjord paused and let the bar fall back against the rest, narrowing his eyes at her. "What are you getting at?"

Beau raised her hands defensively. "Hey man, I'm just saying that her wearing your clothes and you guys sleeping together like that is awfully couple-y."

Fjord sighed and gripped the bar again. "This is Jester we're talking about. She's like this with everyone."

Beau stared down at him, folding her arms over her chest. "If you keep talking yourself out of it like this, I don't know if you'll ever be brave enough to do anything about it."

Fjord didn't reply and just finished his last two reps before sliding out from under the bar and sitting up. Beau rolled her eyes at him and turned away.

"If you hurt her I will kick your ass, Fjord, gym buddies or not."

Fjord nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Good," she replied stiffly. She jammed a finger in his face. "So man up already."

"Jester wants to know if you need anything from the grocery store while we're out here," Beau asked.

Fjord flipped a page in his book. "No," he said into his phone. "I'm good."

"Alright, well you're not going to bail on pub night again, are you? Because I, for one, have been really needing this drink all week."

Fjord laughed. "No, Beau, I won't bail on pub night. I'll be there tomorrow."

There was a muffled voice in the background that sounded like Jester over the rumble of her car. Beau snorted with laughter. "Yes, I won't forget to remind him." There was a brief pause as Beau's attention redirected to him. "Jester wants you to wear that grey shirt you have because it brings out your eyes and we're going to be taking lots of pictures apparently."

Fjord glanced over his shoulder at his bed where the grey shirt was folded next to black jeans that he was already planning on wearing to the pub. "Tell her I will."

There was another pause before Beau cackled again. "Jess, I should just give you the phone but I'd rather not die while you drive or have you get a ticket. Fjord, Jester said some very flattering things that you'll hear tomorrow again, so that's that."

"And everyone is coming, right? Caduceus gets back later today and Yasha's still around?"

"As far as I kn-JESTER, YOUR-" The call cut out suddenly and Fjord's eyes snapped to his phone screen. His screen was blank with no evidence of the call he had just previously been engaged with.

Fjord unlocked his phone and opened his call log. The call had been terminated from the other end, leaving Fjord confused and concerned at the panic that had resonated in Beau's voice before the call dropped. He placed his phone down and took a deep breath. Beau and Jester were adults. They could look after themselves and they would call him if they needed anything from him. Plus, Beau was known to freak out easily and hung up midway through conversations more than anyone else he knew.

He turned his phone over and tried to go back to work, but he found his attention kept straying from the comprehension questions in front of him. Fjord rubbed his brow and tried to forget the sharp fear he'd felt when he'd lost contact with them. He opened a new tab on his laptop and pulled up the university website so he could check on some due dates.

Finally, he managed to focus himself back and get to work on his project for his lab. He managed to work for an hour, but he was interrupted by a knock on his door and he looked up sharply. Caleb was standing in the doorway, his shoulders hunched with tension and his lips pressed firmly together.

"Hey, Caleb, what's up?"

"You haven't drunk anything today have you?" the redhead asked quickly.

Fjord shook his head. "Just coffee and water," he answered honestly.

Caleb nodded. "Good, well I'm meeting Mollymauk and Nott and need a ride somewhere if you don't mind."

Fjord closed his laptop lid and stood up. "Yeah, sure, I can get my groceries for the week now too."

Caleb turned and walked away without another word. Fjord grabbed his car keys from the hook by his door and followed his roommate. He pulled on his boots and slid on a coat. Caleb led the way out to Fjord's car and slid into the front seat. Fjord started the engine and glanced at Caleb.

"So, where to?"

"I'll direct so you just have to drive," Caleb replied cryptically.

Fjord frowned. Caleb was a private person, but he wasn't usually this short or secretive about things, especially if he was meeting with Molly and Nott. He pulled out of the driveway and followed Caleb's directions.

The further he drove, the more he began to notice a creeping worry appear in Caleb's guarded expression. Generally, Fjord recognized that he was being directed to the city centre and specifically the East District. He thought momentarily about notable places in the East District and came up with City Hall, the city library, and the main city hospital.

"Turn left here," Caleb instructed.

Fjord got into the left lane and realized that he was turning towards the hospital and away from any other notable locations. A stone sunk in his stomach.

"Caleb, why are we going to the hospital?" To Fjord's dismay, his voice trembled a bit as his mind raced wildly.

"You should park," Caleb said, avoiding the question.

Fjord pulled into the nearest parking spot and Caleb immediately got out of the car. Fjord followed him and watched his roommate cross the road towards the hospital without pausing. Dread curled around Fjord's insides, but he followed Caleb as soon as his car locked. They headed for the emergency doors and panic threatened to fill Fjord, so he stuck as close to Caleb as he could considering the fact that his roommate was moving with incredible purpose.

Caleb strode up to the receptionist and asked something that Fjord missed before immediately turning and walking down the hallway to a patient area. The receptionist gave Fjord a sympathetic look and he hurried after Caleb.

Fjord spotted Beau at the same time as Caleb did and panic blossomed in his chest much more fiercely than before. Beau was lying on a hospital bed, her arm in a sling and her face set in both worry and pain.

"Beauregard!" Caleb called out. Beau's eyes snapped to them and relief blossomed across her face.

"You're here!"

"Beau, what the fuck happened?" Fjord asked desperately.

Beau didn't answer right away and Fjord noticed that her eyes were rimmed with red and puffier than they should have been. "God, we were both distracted with talking to you and there was a guy who couldn't stop and he just hit us. The car's wrecked and it was a mess. Both of our phones disappeared and we were taken here. The only number I know by heart is Caleb's so thank god you're both here." Her words were quick, slurred, and slightly panicked.

Cold fear curled so tightly around Fjord's stomach that he was almost sick. "Beau, where is Jester?"

Beau just shook her head. "We rolled and we both screamed and other people were yelling and everything was so loud, but Jester, she didn't move. She was stuck and then I just remember sirens."

Before Beau could elaborate any further, Caleb straightened and nodded to a doctor that was walking towards them. The man was holding a clipboard and scanning a chart, but he looked up as they approached.

"Ms. Lionett, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Beau replied.

He flipped up a page and creased his brow. He looked back up at them and took in Fjord and Caleb. "Your friends?"

"My family lives far away and Caleb was my emergency call," Beau said shortly.

The doctor nodded. "Of course. I'm Doctor Grint, and I've just looked at your charts. We'll be able to get your arm fitted into a cast soon enough and I'll get someone on gathering your prescription while you wait for that."

Beau nodded slowly, glancing at her arm as if she had just remembered it was injured. The doctor looked like he was about to leave, but Beau jerked her good hand up to catch his attention again.

"Doctor, where's my friend? Jester? She's the one who was driving the car."

The doctor's previously neutral expression softened a bit. He glanced at something on his chart and looked over his shoulder down a hallway. "Ms. Lionett, I was informed of your accident and I must admit, you and Ms. Lavorre are lucky to be alive, much less have walked away from the crash with the injuries that you did sustain."

Fjord frowned. "Doctor, please, where is Jester?" he prodded gently.

Dr. Grint nodded. "Well, she's in surgery right now. She is going to be fine, but she's obviously not able to take visitors at the moment. I promise, if it's still during my shift, I will let you all know when she gets out of surgery since she also has no family nearby, I'm assuming."

"That's right," Fjord mumbled. He desperately wanted to see Jester to make sure she was breathing and that she was going to be alright, but he knew the best thing he could do for her right now was to wait with Beau for her to get out of surgery. "Thank you, Dr. Grint."

The doctor smiled. "It's a really unfortunate accident that befell you, and I assure you that Ms. Lionett here will be back on her feet in no time and Ms. Lavorre will be on the road to recovery soon as well." With that, he turned and walked off, returning to his rounds.

Caleb glanced around the open room. "I am going to see if they have any chairs for Fjord and I, and I am also going to call Nott. She and the others will want to know that you guys will be okay."

"I'll go help you find chairs," Fjord offered quickly. Right as he turned away from Beau, her hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

He turned back to her and her ears pinkened. "Hey, uh, actually, would you mind waiting with me? I really hate hospitals and the hour before you guys got here was the worst."

Fjord felt his lips twitch into a smile. "Don't like hospitals? I thought you spent all your free time in one?"

She scowled at him. "Good one," she said dryly. "I don't choose to be here, asshole."

"With all the fights you pick, I can beg to differ."

Beau stuck her tongue out.

It was around an hour and a half later–thirty minutes after Molly, Nott, and Yasha had arrived–when Dr. Grint finally returned. By this time it was getting later in the night and the emergency waiting room was emptying out. The group had dragged all the chairs that the nurses would let them around Beau's bed, but Nott was still sitting on the armrest of Caleb's chair. The whole group looked up as the doctor approached and he raised an eye at the addition of three more people.

"Found some more friends, have you?" he asked Beau.

"These are my other roommates Nott and Yasha as well as my other friend Mollymauk."

Dr. Grint nodded. "Right, well we're ready to put your cast on now, Ms. Lionett, if you'd like to come with me. And your other friend, Ms. Lavorre, is safely out of surgery. She is going to be fine, but she'll be here for a couple of days under observation. She's still asleep at the moment, but one of you is welcome to go in and sit with her for the next half hour until visiting hours are over."

"Fjord will go," Nott suggested quickly. Fjord tensed in his seat and narrowed his eyes at the goblin, who stuck her tongue out in response.

Hearing that Jester was out of surgery and was going to be fine had lifted an invisible weight off his shoulders, and though Nott's comment irritated him, his desire to see Jester was a lot stronger.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Where is she?"

"1014," the doctor replied. Beau stood up from the cot, limping slightly and followed the doctor away to get her arm cast.

Fjord glanced at the rest of the group briefly again. Molly rolled his eyes and waved him towards the occupied rooms. Fjord nodded and headed towards the recovery rooms. He walked slowly down the halls and let his breathing even and relax and some of his stress fade. He scanned the room numbers and very nearly walked right past Jester's room, but he saw it at the last second.

He stopped outside of it and looked through the small window. His friend was lying on a cot, hooking to an IV, with her chest rising and falling slowly. He couldn't make out much from through the glass so he steeled his nerves and opened the door.

Naturally, Jester didn't stir, so Fjord closed the door behind him and sat in the visitor's chair at the side of the bed. Up close, he could see stitches closing a gash that ran up into her scalp and several other small scrapes. There was some slight deep purple bruising forming on her blue skin around the stitches, but he couldn't make out any other injuries above the blanket she lay under.

Her hands rested atop the blanket, crinkling the thin material, and Fjord stared at her fingers. She had on dark red nail polish with a white smiley face dotted onto the ring fingernail. The IV and heart monitor were both clipped to her right hand, and Fjord sat on the left, so he didn't have to look at the plastic fingertip.

The monitor beeped smoothly and methodically, and Jester slept.

Fjord reached out and carefully cupped Jester's hand between both of his own. He swallowed roughly and internally reminded himself that she was alive. She was hurt, but alive, and he had to be grateful for that.

"Wake up soon, Jester, even if it's just for my sake," he whispered gently.

She didn't stir at his words and Fjord kept his eyes trained on her face while his hands cupped her slim fingers. He sat with her for as long as the hospital staff let him, but left when they told him visitor's hours were over.

He walked out into the main room and saw that Beau, Yasha, and Molly were gone, but Caleb and Nott were in conversation with a half-elf nurse at the counter. The goblin perked up when she saw Fjord before she abandoned the conversation to run up to him.

"How does she look?"

Fjord exhaled. "Okay, I guess. She's asleep and she should be fine."

Nott nodded. "That's good. Yasha and Molly checked out with Beau and are bringing her home. Caleb and I were just sorting out Jester's emergency contacts."

Fjord glanced at Caleb who appeared to be concluding his discussion. "Actually," he mumbled.

Nott waved him off. "We listed you as first to call, don't worry. They'll update us when she wakes up, or we can come back at 11 tomorrow when visitor's hours start again."

Fjord looked down at Nott and felt a tiny smile twitch his lips at her thoughtfulness. The two of them didn't exactly see eye to eye, but he nodded to her in respect and thanks. "I can pick you up tomorrow if you want to come sit with her with me," he offered.

Nott sighed. "I really, really wish I could, but I have a design team meeting that I cannot afford to miss. I know you'll update me when she wakes."

"Yeah," Fjord agreed. Caleb was walking towards them now. "Let's go, I'll drive you and Caleb home."

Fjord reclined in the plastic chair and tapped his pen against the corner of his mouth. He had brought his textbook with him to the hospital and was working through a couple of problem sets while he sat with a still Jester.

She hadn't woken up overnight, and Fjord had been sitting with her since visitor hours started, except for a brief break for lunch where he swapped with Molly.

He drew a circle around the definition in the question and frowned. The word he recognized briefly from one of his other readings, but the context of it was entirely new. He flipped back a couple of pages and observed the diagram displayed across most of the page.

"Your tusks are really coming in, aren't they?"

Jester's voice was quiet and tired from his left and it startled him into nearly dropping his book. She had tilted her head marginally in his direction and her violet eyes were trained on his face. She blinked a few times at him like she was still processing and Fjord shut his book, depositing it onto the floor.

"Jester!" he breathed.

"Hi Fjord," she replied softly.

Fjord reached out and took her hand. He squeezed it tightly and she weakly squeezed back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Jester replies immediately. She broke their eye contact and looked around the room briefly. "And confused," she added. "Am I in the hospital?"

"Do you remember what happened?" Fjord asked, his brow creasing.

Jester pressed her lips together while she rearranged her memories. Her lips formed a small 'o' and she shut her eyes briefly. "We got hit. Beau and I, in my car."

Fjord nodded. "According to Beau, you guys flipped and rolled and all the windows were broken and the doors mangled enough that you couldn't really get out." He saw hurt flinch across Jester's features momentarily and he squeezed her hand to comfort her gently. "But, Beau is okay, and you're going to be fine soon enough."

Jester exhaled deeply and then flinched. "Ouch, ribs are not good." She pulled her right hand up and touched her head gently. Her frown tightened. "Head's pretty bad too."

Fjord dropped her hand and stood up. "I'll get a nurse. They should know you're awake."

"You won't leave, will you?" Jester asked shyly.

Fjord smiled at her. "Not unless they drag me away." He crossed the small hospital room in two strides and was reaching for the door when she replied.

She relaxed into the bed a little and nodded. "Yeah, okay, well, I'm glad you're here now."

Fjord had already opened the door, but he paused in the doorway and looked back. "Me too, Jester. And I'm really glad you're okay."

"So far," she teased.

He laughed and slipped out of the room. Jester was going to be fine and he finally felt like he could breathe again.

It was a couple of days before the hospital was ready to release Jester, and it was Saturday, just two days before classes started again, when she called Fjord from the hospital and asked for a ride home. Naturally, he dropped everything he had been working on to pick her up.

She already looked better as her bruising was fading and her hair did a good job of hiding the stitches along her face. Jester grinned when she saw Fjord before turning and thanking the nurses before making her way over to him. Fjord opened the passenger side door of his car and beckoned her in.

"Thank you, my Prince Charming," Jester teased.

Fjord rolled his eyes, but walked around and got in the car himself. As he was fastening his seatbelt, Jester grabbed his arm, excitedly brandishing a new phone in his face.

"Look! Mama sent this to the house yesterday after she heard about the accident and Beau dropped it off for me."

Fjord smiled at her. "Guess we're going to have to make a new group chat to include you again then, aren't we?"

Jester punched his shoulder lightly. "There is no group chat without me anyways. I'm the life of this party."

Fjord chuckled and started the car. "So, where to? Home?"

Jester's smile dropped a little. "Actually, would you mind just going for a drive? I kind of want to look out from the top of the hill."

Fjord pulled out of the pick-up area and onto the main road. "Sure, I've got nothing else to do today."

Jester directed him through town and made him stop momentarily so she could pick up some pastries from a local bakery before they continued towards the largest hill in the city. They made easy conversation about school and what had happened while Jester was in the hospital as they drove to the peak.

At the top, Fjord pulled into the lookout parking lot and parked right against the railing. Jester jumped out of the car and ran to the edge, gripping the wooden railing in her hands. Fjord followed her, a little more slowly, but he studied her as he approached. She had her chin tilted up to catch the breeze and her eyes closed.

"You know," she murmured, "I thought I might never feel this again when I was in that car."

"Jester," Fjord said gently.

She shrugged. "I'm here though and I feel alive. I'm grateful to Beau and the firemen and the hospital staff. I'm still here, and I get to be here with you." She looked at him when she finished and her cheeks were dark with a slight blush as her eyes twinkled.

"I'm glad you're here," Fjord said firmly. He stepped a little closer to her and placed one of his hands over hers.

Jester's eyes widened a little bit, but then her cheeks darkened and her grin split even wider. She turned back to the view and squinted out over the city. "I can see the university from here," she declared proudly, lifting her hand out from under his to point out the familiar cluster of buildings.

Fjord instantly felt the loss of something when Jester moved her hand. She didn't look at him again, just kept staring at the city, so Fjord tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the railing, facing his car and the road.

Jester was quiet for a long moment after that before she spun her whole body to face him suddenly. "You know, this whole experience would have been so much worse without everyone. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't had you guys when I was in the hospital."

Fjord exhaled sharply. "Well, if you and Beau hadn't been talking to me, you probably wouldn't have even been there."

Jester frowned instantly and threw her arms around him, catching him in an unexpected and fierce hug. "Don't blame yourself. I was trying to say that I'm thankful for you guys. No blame-game," she ordered him.

Fjord slid an arm around her to squeeze her back. "Yeah, okay."

Jester lifted her chin and grinned at him victoriously. "I think all of us will be friends forever. Our group of crazy friends, the Mighty Nein!"

He laughed at her and nodded. "At this point, I can barely imagine school, much less life, without the team."

Jester poked him in the chest. "And us west-coasters have to stick together above all else."

Affection bubbled in Fjord's chest. "Of course," he replied easily. "Always."

The party was loud. The rainbow lights flashed erratically and the music was loud enough almost to make the walls tremble. People were yelling and laughing and singing and dancing and it was a bit chaotic, to say the least.

Fjord clutched his drink and leaned back against the wall. Molly had dragged Beau off to play some chaotic drinking game in the other room and Caleb, Caduceus, Nott, and Yasha had all elected not to come to the party. Jester was apparently around somewhere, but Fjord hadn't seen her all night.

He had almost come to the decision that he'd rather just leave and join in on whatever tame event the other members of the Mighty Nein were having at the boys' house when a familiar figure broke from the crowd and approached him. To his dismay, it wasn't Jester or even Molly or Beau.

Avantika was pretty unfairly pretty with curly red hair, sharp features, and an attractive body. She was in his program and in a bunch of his classes. They had talked a bit in first and second years, but they were partners in a biology lab this semester, so they interacted a lot more recently.

Fjord knew what flirting looked like and Avantika was incredibly flirty, but he was still taken a bit off guard when she stepped right into his personal space and ran a finger down his chest, smirking.

"Mr. Strong and Silent, over here, aren't you?" she teased.

While Jester's flirting usually made him warm inside, Avantika's just made him a little uncomfortable. She stayed firmly in his personal space, expression coy and apparently waiting. Fjord pressed his shoulders more flatly against the wall to try and escape, but she followed him determinedly.

After another moment, right as the lights flashed, Avantika surged up and kissed him firmly. Fjord felt her lips on his, cold and sticky from alcohol for a long moment before she pulled away. One of her brows cocked expectantly, but Fjord could only focus on the face that he had finally spotted over her shoulder.

Jester, clutching a plastic water bottle, was staring at him in a mix of hurt and disappointment. Jester's eyes searched his face for a moment longer before she spun and disappeared into the throng of drunk university students.

Fjord immediately pushed Avantika away and followed her. He shoved his cup into the hands of a completely wasted Sabian as he pushed by, and kept walking. He caught the briefest glimpse of her horns slipping out the front door and he darted after her. She had already reached the sidewalk in front of the house by the time that Fjord had made it through the front door.

"Jester! Wait!"

At the sound of her name, she paused and looked over her shoulder, surprised. She tensed when she saw him, but didn't walk any further away as he approached.

Fjord stopped right in front of her and placed both of his hands on her arms at her side and peered at her, concerned. "Where are you going?"

"Home," she replied shortly. She dropped her gaze from his and looked stubbornly off to the side.

"Jester, what did I do?"

"Nothing!" she cried, her voice a pitch higher than usual. Fjord lifted a hand and turned her face back towards him, his brow furrowing. Jester sighed and shut her eyes. "Shouldn't you go back to Miss Avantika and her pretty hair and eyes and body and lips?"

Realization sparked in Fjord so suddenly he was surprised that he didn't catch fire. "Jester, I don't like Avantika," he said slowly.

She opened her eyes and frowned. "Didn't look that way! I've spent three years trying to make you like me, and yet you still don't even see because here she comes with her perfect hair and her confidence and you're just kissing her!"

Fjord laughed shakily. "I don't see you?" he questioned. "Jester, I am head over heels for you. I see you in a light that I've never seen anyone else in, ever. You're radiant and special and beautiful and everyone knows that I'm obsessed with you. Avantika initiated the kiss and I, frankly, wanted nothing to do with it."

Jester's violet eyes widened dramatically. She appeared to be completely stunned into silence. Fjord laughed again, feeling tension drain out of him as he was filled with a reminder of how much he loved this girl.

"I'm crazy about you," he repeated. "And I see you, more clearly than ever, tonight," he said gently.

Finally, something clicked in Jester's mind and she stepped forwards, perching on her tiptoes as she kissed Fjord tentatively. Fjord's hand shifted to cup her jaw and he pulled her closer, sliding his other arm around her waist. He kissed her back for a long time and this kiss felt warm and right and perfect in every way.

After a long moment, they broke away breathless, but Fjord didn't let Jester move further away from him.

"You're serious?" she asked softly.

Fjord pressed his lips to her forehead. "As serious as Caleb is the night before a paper is due."

A small smile curled up her lips. "Okay."

She leaned up to kiss him again and just as their lips met, there was a whoop of joy from behind them, and they broke apart, startled. Molly and Beau were both standing in the doorway of the house, grinning like crazy people.

"It's about damn time!" Beau cheered drunkenly.

Fjord pulled away a little bit, his face burning, but Jester slid her hand into his and squeezed it tightly. He glanced at her and she smiled radiantly.

- Scarlet is obviously going to cook the meal, but Kai and Wolf are the only ones allowed in the kitchen with her. 

- Kai is super into big family and friend hang outs and gatherings. He always, to Cinder’s chagrin, offers to host and he loves when everyone gets together after periods of time spent apart.

- Cinder, on the other hand, doesn’t even care if there is a tree.

- She’s not a big holiday season person because there was never really anyone there for her besides Iko.

- She tolerates Kai’s enthusiasm and thinks its endearing. She always helps him decorate everything and doesn’t let him get too hung up on little details, sometimes literally.

- Cinder stops Thorne from spiking the eggnog, only to dump the rum in herself an hour later.

- Cinder buys small gifts, sometimes just making things, but will add her name to things that Kai buys to steal credit even if everyone knows that Kai picked it out.

- Cinder always has the best ugly sweaters and rigs hers and Kai’s to light up and be even more ridiculous.

- Kai is really, really terrible at keeping his balance on ice, even when they’re not skating. He falls a lot. Cinder laughs at him, but always helps him up.

- Kai pushes her into snowbanks in response.

- One of them always carries a pair of gloves if they’re outdoors so that Cinder’s metal hand can stay warm. Still, Kai always complains that Cinder is way too cold in general in the winter, but he uses it as an excuse to cuddle her.

- Kai loves starting a fire and just cuddling because he’s such a softy. Cinder complains about it, but she loves it too.

- They also watch all of the holiday movies that exist and then start marathoning other movies. They cuddle together and sneak peaks at each other’s reactions only to realise that they’re reacting exactly the same way and they’re equally invested in the story.

She accepts his outstretched hand and notes the stark contrast of her dark skin to his paleness. His hands are soft and as soon as she's standing, Iris pulls away, her cheeks flaming. Cilan is her friend. He doesn't deserve to be psychoanalysed because of his hands.

Still, Iris doesn't forget how well his long fingers curl around her own.

Iris shakes hands with Ash after a practice battle. She’s won, naturally, and she’s smirking when she takes Ash’s hand in her own. She’s almost startled by his grip. Ash’s handshake is firm and warm and Iris can feel the callouses on Ash’s palm. They have come from days, years even, spent outside being adventurous. She shares them with him. Ash’s skin is darkened from the sun, but she’s still darker. Her eyes wander from Ash’s bright grin to where Cilan sits under a tree, safely in the shade.

He stands up and makes his way over to them. Ash slings an arm around Iris’s shoulders and Iris smiles. He’s a little kid, but his excitement and energy are rather contagious. Cilan passes Pikachu to Ash, and his arm disappears from around Iris. Ash chatters to his partner and Cilan and Iris make eye contact, amused.

Axew drops from a tree branch above onto Cilan, startling them both, and the connoisseur almost falls. He removes the Dragon-type from his head and holds him out to Iris. Her young Pokemon is cackling and Iris takes him in her arms. Her fingers brush against Cilan’s fingertips and Iris draws her hands away like they’re on fire. Cilan’s gaze turns curious, but he says nothing as Ash butts in and exclaims how hungry he is.

Ash disappears frequently after dinner to train and to write in a leather-bound journal he carries. Iris once asked to see inside of it, and Ash clutched it close to his heart, claiming personal information. Iris thinks he’s writing about their journey, but also about the friends he has left behind. He talks about them often, and though he draws comparisons, Iris knows that she and Cilan are drastically different than other companions Ash has had before.

She wants to meet them. She wants to meet all of them, but Brock and Misty the most. Ash speaks the most fondly of them. They were with him for the longest and they seem to be the most similar to herself and Cilan. The way Ash raves about Misty, Iris knows she would like her. Fiery, smart, and fiercely strong. Brock sounds great, but it’s probably biased of her to say she doesn’t see how Brock could measure up to Cilan, despite how great Ash makes him seem.  

That night, Cilan is reading a book near the fire, when Iris realises something.

“Cilan,” she starts softly. “Do you think Ash will replace us too?”

The connoisseur glances at her. He closes his book. “Replace?”

“Well, when he’s done here in Unova, do you think he’ll move on quickly and hang out with a different group of companions?”

Cilan smiled gently. “I imagine that Ash will always keep moving. He’s an adventurous person and if that leads him in a different direction than you or me, then maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.” He pauses. “But, to answer your question, I don’t think he’ll replace us. You see how often he talks about Brock, and Misty, and Tracey, and May, and Max, and Dawn. They’re still his friends and even if we’re not travelling with him any longer, I don’t think he’ll lose touch with us that easily. Besides, we’re not quite like any of his other companions, are we?”

Iris laughs. Cilan has a way with words that makes her feel lighter almost instantly. “It would be pretty hard to be as cool as me,” she teases.

Cilan’s smile widens a little. “Of course,” he agrees. Cilan lifts his book back up and Iris watches his slender fingers fiddle with the edge of a page. She looks away. Ash will be back soon, and she has better things to do than to be caught staring.

“We should stay close together,” Cilan suggests.

Iris peers around Ash into the cave. It’s pitch black. There’s no telling where it leads or how many branching paths they’ll come across. It kind of gives her the creeps.

“Good plan,” Ash agrees. He reaches out and takes Iris’s hand. She blinks at him in confusion, but Ash looks back into the cave. He starts walking and pulls her along with him. She catches on; they’ll hold hands so they don’t get separated.

Iris instinctually reaches back and finds Cilan’s hand with her own. His fingers lace between her own and their hands fit together so perfectly. He doesn’t say a word, and neither does she.

Somehow, Ash leads them easily through the cave and they emerge ten minutes later on the other side. Ash’s hand drops from hers and it takes Iris a second to communicate the message to drop Cilan’s hand to her limb and her arm drops stiffly to her side. Her hands already feel cold at the loss of contact, but she doesn’t look back.

“Have you ever played the piano?” she asks suddenly.

Cilan nearly drops the plate he’s cleaning and he looks at her. “Oh, is this because of…” He trails off and lifts a hand in front of his face, studying his long, narrow digits. “No, music was always Chili’s thing.”

Iris abruptly stops fiddling with Emolga’s Pokeball. “Chili’s thing? Why couldn’t it have been yours too? I know you would have been amazing at it.”

Cilan looks uncomfortable and Iris realises she’s testing uncertain waters. “Chili was always the musical one and Cress wrote beautiful poetry.”

“Did you draw or something?” Iris asks teasingly.

Cilan’s head bobs awkwardly. “A little.” Iris stares. Cilan takes a deep breath. “I mean, drawing was something I was alright at, but it felt like it was doing it because everyone expected me to be as artistic as Chili and Cress, but in a different way. It was the same about training Pansage, Pansear, and Panpour–we could be similar, but never the same.”

“Cilan,” Iris says, “with your brothers, did you ever feel special?”

“Of course,” he answers smoothly. “We were always special, always unique, but I don’t think I ever felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. Becoming a connoisseur made me feel like I might have a clue.” He puts the plate down and fidgets with the hem of his vest. “I think that I like to cook, and I was alright at drawing, but those were things that I picked up and developed a liking to because of my brothers.”

Iris steps towards Cilan and brushes the edge of her hand against his. She lifts the plate he had been scrubbing and takes over where he left off. “Well, maybe you just need to find your passion then. You’re the connoisseur, aren’t you? Do an evaluation and find your fit!”

He laughs out loud. “You’re right,” he says, his tone noticeably brighter.

“I’m always right,” she sasses in response and bumps their shoulders together. Cilan returns the action, and neither of them wipe the smiles off of their faces until Ash saunters back to the clearing and declares he’s going to bed for the evening.

Iris curls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them. Her head is clouded with different emotions and she’s not exactly sure what to think. She has left her home behind her, and Drayden has placed this crazy weight, this expectation on her, and she doesn’t quite know where to go from today.

A rattling sigh escapes her chest and she shuts her eyes.

“Iris?” a familiar voice calls. Her eyes snap open and she sees Cilan standing before her. The connoisseur looks awkward, and Iris tries and fails to muster a smile. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” she admits.

“Is this about Drayden?”

She nods. She doesn’t really have the words to explain what she’s feeling at the moment.

Cilan sits next to her. “Being a Gym Leader is a lot of commitment,” he begins. “I know that is not what you’re interested in, but it is also flexible. It allows for freedom and breaks. You’ll be able to travel around and go to your home almost as often as you’d like, you know. And, Drayden has time before he retires yet. You’re not trapped into a decision, by any means.”

Iris nods slowly. “Were you scared when you, Cress, and Chili became the Gym Leaders of the Striaton City Gym?”

“More terrified than I’d ever been in my life. Our father had been the Gym Leader before us, and my grandfather before him. My dad couldn’t just pass the gym to one of us, so he gave it to all of us and we made it into our own. If you become the Opelucid Gym Leader, no one expects you to be Drayden. We expect you to be Iris and if that means changing some things, then you change some things.”

Iris smiles. “Thanks, Cilan.”

“Just promise me you won’t become Skyla,” he adds as an afterthought.

She laughs. “I promise.”

The battle between Ash and Trip has built up over the travels of an entire region. Pikachu and Serperior both look frighteningly strong and Iris is on the edge of her seat. Really, it’s bad luck that Ash and his rival have been paired off so early, but the tension between the pair could be cut with a knife.

Even from her seat high in the stands, the hairs on Iris’s arms are standing up in anticipation. Without realising it, Iris’s hand seeks out Cilan’s and curls around it. He returns the gesture and Iris stiffens. She exhales slowly and keeps her eyes trained carefully on the match. Today is about Ash.

Ash battles well through the tournament and though some moments are tense, the finale of his battle with Cameron is the most stressful. It is close–far too close to call in anyone’s favour, despite Cameron’s initial disadvantage.

This time, Iris isn’t the one to make the move, but slim fingers wind between hers and she squeezes them in return.

Ash loses the battle and Iris lets go of Cilan’s hand.

Iris has received so many cards. The one from Ash makes her smile, and she recalls the Unova League he competed in three years ago. It hadn't ended well, but Iris had enjoyed watching her friend compete. After Ash had left for Kalos, Iris had gone to Johto. It was eye-opening, and she came back with a decision.

Drayden had been pleased to hear it and after several months of training, it had been time. Drayden resigned and Iris had stepped forwards as the new Gym Leader.

The counter of her kitchen in her new home, attached to her Gym, is littered with congratulatory cards. They're from friends across Unova and Napaj, many of whom she met through Ash.

Her fingers break the seal of the last unopened envelope. She slides the stationery out of the covering and examines it. Her lips curl up at the word written on it.

It isn't signed, but there's no need. She recognises the neat, practised script anywhere. Her fingertip traces the word and she smiles.

Congratulations.

Iris bangs on the door one last time for good measure. She's completely soaked and the rain is still coming down in sheets. She had abandoned the idea of a coat and stands, waterlogged, on the doorstep of a building she’s not even sure has anyone home.

After a long second where she contemplates leaving, the latch slides away and the door is thrown open.

Cilan stares at her from inside the building, his jaw slack in surprise. “Iris, what are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” she replies weakly. She shivers. Raindrops catch in her eyelashes and she blinks them away.

Cilan reaches out and pulls her by the hand into his home. Chili is standing nearby and his eyebrows shoot up as Cilan shuts the door behind her. Nobody says anything for a moment and Iris looks down. She's making a puddle on the clean floors.

“I’ll get a towel,” Chili offers quickly and vanishes away to do exactly that.

Iris looks up and sees Cilan is staring at her.

“What are you doing here? Especially in the middle of a storm with no coat! Iris, I'm glad to see you, but why are you here?”

She lets out a short, shaky breath. “Alder is stepping down and Drayden and he want me to become the next Champion.”

Cilan blinks. Iris stares into his green eyes and waits for him to say something.

“It's the middle of the night,” he says finally. “You're soaked and freezing and I need a minute to process what you just said.”

Chili reappears with a towel and Cress at his side. Iris takes the towel from Chili and starts drying her hair. Cilan remains silent for another minute.

“Iris, you can use my bathroom to shower. I think you left some clothes here from the last time you stayed over. Chili, Cress, you guys can go back to bed. I’ll handle this,” Cilan instructs.

Iris quickly heads towards where she knows Cilan’s bedroom is. She walks through his room into the bathroom and stares at herself in the mirror. She stands there for almost five minutes before Cilan knocks on the doorframe and she realises he’s standing behind her. She turns.

Cilan holds out a t-shirt and jeans that are definitely hers from the last time she slept over. Iris takes them without question and withdraws, but Cilan gently grabs her wrist, pulling her hand back towards him.

“Iris, we need to talk.”

She looks down. “I'm sorry to drop in on you,” she murmurs. They haven't seen each other face to face in three months thanks to how busy they've been.

“I am glad to see you,” Cilan reaffirms. “But, about Alder,” he starts and Iris shakes her head.

“I can't be Champion. I'm 21, Cilan. I can't be Champion when Ash is 22 and still fighting through Leagues to face the Elite Four with hopes of challenging a Champion. Not after the backlash from the new Sinnoh Champion.”

“Iris,” Cilan begins, “you could be anything you wanted to be. Do I believe you’re strong enough to be Champion? Absolutely. Do I believe you could lead Unova to the future? Without a doubt. Should you become Champion? I have no idea. You’re young, but you’re idealistic and you’re passionate. Unova would be hard-pressed to find another person like you. Alder and Drayden clearly believe in you, and so do I. Are you young? Of course, but so was Alder when he became Champion.”

“I don't want to be Alder!” Iris snaps.

“Then don't!” Cilan replies sharply. “When you became Opelucid City’s Gym Leader three years ago, you did not become Drayden. You made the position your own and you would do the same as the Champion of the Unova League.” Cilan reaches out and takes both of Iris’s hands in his own. “You can do anything, Iris. You just need to believe it’s true.”

Iris stares at their joined hands. Cilan’s hands are still larger than hers and slender, but she feels the beginnings of adventurous callouses on his palms and a small, unwitting smile curls up the edges of her lips. His pale digits are wrapped perfectly around her own and she feels safer than she’s felt since before Drayden and Alder called her to a private meeting.

“I don't deserve you,” she says quietly.

Cilan detached on of his hands from hers and brushes it along her arm. “Iris, we established this years ago that this friendship does not go one way.”

“I don't deserve you,” she repeats. Cilan frowns, but she cuts him off. “Let me speak! I showed up freezing cold and soaking wet on your doorstep in the middle of the night. We haven't seen each other face to face in months and I drop a bomb on you like this. I've probably ruined the carpet in your house and you make me feel like this is my home too because you’re here, even though I've never felt a bond with Striaton. Chili and Cress are my friends too, but you’re different because you’re here and you’re holding me like this and I don't know what I'm supposed to say to you.”

“Don't say anything at all,” he suggests.

Iris takes his advice and leans towards him, breaking his grip on her, and hugging him tightly. Cilan’s arms wrap around her without hesitation. Iris tenses as she realises she is still soaking wet.

“Cilan,” she mutters, her voice a little muffled by his chest. “I am ruining your shirt.”

He laughs and just pulls her a little bit tighter.

“I am honoured to be serving Unova as your Champion. Thank you.” Iris looks down at the podium, breaking her gaze with the crowd, and smooths her hands over the paper that carries her speech. There is no way that she would have ever been able to do it without help. Speeches have never been her strong suit, but thankfully, Cilan is much more polished when it comes to his words.

The crowd breaks into cheering and applause, and Iris can’t disguise the smile that spreads across her face. She’s the Champion. Eleven years ago this idea never would have crossed her mind, but now she’s here. Alder and Drayden are standing off the stage and they both look proud of her. She steps away from the podium and crosses the stage. She descends down the steps and stands before her mentors.

“Thank you,” she says again, but this time it is only for them.

Drayden nods. Alder lays a hand on her shoulder. “I would not have chosen you if I didn’t know you would be great. You will be great,” he assures.

Iris smiles. Her mentors leave her then, and her friends approach. Cilan is leading them, of course, but Trip, Georgia, Ash, Misty, May, and Drew are close behind. Trip and Georgia wound their way back into Iris’s life as she began to get more entwined with the League as Trip is an official League Photographer and Georgia has taken over the Icirrus City Gym. Ash had introduced her to Misty and May.

Misty is every bit as fiery as Ash made her out to be, and there’s a sharp glimmer in her eyes that Iris loves. She’s in the running for the open Elite Four position in Kanto, and she thinks Lance, now her colleague, would be a fool to give it to anyone else. May is a huge contrast to Misty. She’s sweet and oblivious and actually a lot like Ash. With May comes Drew, her longtime rival and boyfriend. Drew’s cynical and snarky and everything May isn’t, but Iris thinks they’re a good fit. She likes Drew. His sarcasm keeps her sharp.

“Iris, that was awesome!” Ash exclaims, pushing forwards to hug her.

“Your speech was really good!” May adds, pulling Ash away so she can cram in her own hug.

Iris pats May’s shoulder and makes eye contact with Cilan briefly. The connoisseur smiles at her warmly. “Well, I can’t take all the praise for that one. Cilan helped me out a lot with it.”

“You wrote the main ideas, I just tweaked it to make you sound better,” Cilan corrects. “I don’t need the praise for this.”

“Well, it certainly helped you out there,” Georgia remarks. Her tone is laced with sarcasm and Iris knows that her old rival is only teasing.

She sweeps her gaze over her other friends. They’re all smiling, but Drew’s expression flickers as his eyes catch something over her shoulder. Iris turns but sees nothing. Whatever Drew had seen, has moved on. She clasps her hands in front of her and smiles brightly again. Drew is still scowling, and she’s about to push him on it when he answers her question by taking her firmly by the arm.

“Iris, move!” he demands, pulling her forwards.

She stumbles forwards and is about to chew Drew out when a gunshot rings out. Iris freezes and waits for pain, but nothing comes. Her ears are ringing and she’s trembling, but she wasn’t hit. Iris spins around and sees a figure standing further in the shadows holding a gun that is pointed directly at her. Her mouth falls open.

There’s no way this man, obviously a hired gun, would have missed such an easy shot. There’s surprise written across his face and Iris steps towards him, anger, confusion, and adrenaline fueling her. She takes two steps before another person tackles the shooter to the ground. It’s a G-Men agent from Sinnoh who is part of the security detail. Iris prepares herself to run over when Georgia catches her attention.

“Iris!” Her rival’s voice is as sharp as flint and this time there’s no hint of joking.

Iris spins back to her friends and sees Trip is holding Cilan up, lest the connoisseur fall over. She strides urgently towards them and instantly feels sick. There’s red welling up against the fine material of Cilan’s suit and Iris’s eyes flood with tears. Drew had jerked her forwards and Cilan had stepped straight into the trajectory of the bullet. Iris grasps Cilan’s other arm and together, she and Trip lower him to the ground.

Misty is already on the phone with an ambulance. A pounding of footsteps announces the arrival of more people. It’s Lance, Wallace, and Paul, the newly minted Sinnoh Champion, followed by Alder, Drayden and paparazzi. Cilan is on the ground bleeding out and Iris holds him desperately, her hands staining red with his blood. Iris’s friends form a protective ring around her as Misty hangs up the phone.

Cameras flash.

Iris falls asleep in the waiting room. She doesn’t mean to, but it’s been hours since Cilan was admitted and taken to emergency surgery. She startles awake and nearly falls out of the hospital chair. Her consciousness is quickly noticed by someone, and Iris cranes her neck slightly to see Misty sitting, awake, nearby.

“He’s out of surgery,” she says before Iris can ask. “He’s stable and they say he’s going to be fine.”

Iris breathes out a sigh of relief and tugs at a loose strand of her hair. It's still done in the extravagant style it had been done in for her inauguration. Misty is still dressed formally as well, but her hair is down around her shoulders and messy, like she’s been running her fingers through it. Iris notices, with a jolt, that Ash is asleep in the chair next to Misty, and the Cerulean City Gym Leader’s fingers are entwined with her friend’s.

“You should go in and see him,” a new voice suggests and Iris turns her head quickly. Trip is sitting just across the room, still wearing his suit, and he looks exhausted. Georgia is curled up next to him and Iris is surprised neither of them have left.

“Is he allowed visitors?” she asks.

“One for now,” Misty informs her.

Iris glances around the waiting room. The five of them are alone. May and Drew had returned to Hoenn, unhappily considering the situation, because of prior commitments, but the others had stayed with her.

“Are Cress and Chili here yet?” Iris asks. Ash had called Cilan’s brothers as soon as there had been a moment two and the other two Striaton triplets had immediately made for Opelucid City.

“No,” Trip answers. “They're still on their way. Go sit with Cilan,” he basically orders.

“Please do,” Georgia agrees. Her voice is rough with sleep as she straightens, waking up. “You're worrying enough.”

“Okay,” Iris agrees after a moment’s pause. “But you guys should all go change and get food. I’ll get something as soon as someone comes to switch with me, but you should go now.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Misty agrees. Iris stands and heads towards the private room where Cilan is supposed to be.

Iris hesitates with her hand on the doorknob, but she twists it. The last thing she hears when she closes the door behind her is Misty rousing Ash. After that, she’s alone in the silent hospital room. Her gaze instantly falls to Cilan and she sinks into the chair next to his bed.

He’s unconscious, naturally, but the gentle beeping of the heart monitor is reassuring. His green hair is pushed back from his face and his skin is still slightly paler than usual, but he looks alive. His chest rises and falls slowly as he breathes and Iris wants to cry.

He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.

Her eyes find Cilan’s hand. It is lying limp on the bed, long fingers curled subconsciously in his sleep. She tentatively raises her hand and threads her fingers through his. His skin is cold, but Iris holds on anyway.

She looks back at his face. He looks peaceful and a pang of something echoes in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

A gentle knock on the wooden doorframe draws Iris’s attention. She glances back over her shoulder and sees Ash and Misty standing there. Iris smiles at them warily and they enter the small hospital room.

They've both changed into fresh clothes and look cleaner. Misty’s hair is yanked up into a ponytail and Ash is wearing his signature hat. Pikachu is perched quietly on his trainer’s shoulder and Iris knows he understands what kind of a situation this is.

“I brought you some clothes,” Misty says, holding out a bundle of what Iris determines to be a casual set of clothes. “I'm taller than you, but they should fit, if you'd like.”

“I can sit with Cilan while you change and get a bite to eat,” Ash suggests, stepping forward. “I'll call you if anything happens.”

Iris smiles. Her dress is heavy and awkward and wrinkled. She stands from the chair and heads to the door. “Thank you,” she says to both of them.

Ash nods and slips past her to the chair she has vacated and Misty turns to lead the way out of the tiny room. Iris follows her and the two girls walk down the eerily silent hospital hallways towards a bathroom.

Misty breaks the silence. “Trip and Georgia went back to their hotel so that they could shower, change and get some real sleep. They said they'd be back. Ash and I showered at our hotel and decided to come relieve you.”

Iris nods. “I'm grateful.”

Misty pushes into the bathroom and looks around, determining it to be empty. She turns back to Iris and purses her lips. “You don't have to feel guilty about Cilan.” Iris blinks, but Misty keeps going. “I don't think any of us could have predicted what happened and I don't think Cilan would have changed his actions, no matter what went down. I know, if I was in his place, I would have done the same thing.”

“But it's my fault he got shot,” Iris murmurs, almost cringing at how desperate and upset her own voice sounds.

“You love him, don't you?” Misty asks. Iris gapes and Misty gives her a small smile. “I can tell. It's the little things that give it away. But, tell me this: if you were in the same position as Cilan, what would you have done?”

“I would have taken the bullet,” Iris says without hesitating.

“Cilan knows what he’s doing, Iris,” Misty assures. She hands the clothes to Iris and straightens. “I know what he was thinking and I know how he’s going to continue to think. It's kind of a tricky situation loving someone in your situation.”

Iris looks at Misty in surprise. “My situation?”

“You and Ash,” Misty says, “you're both in this place where the media follows you insistently and any move you make, or one that someone makes towards you will be judged and documented and your privacy is always being invaded.”

“So you and Ash are something? I never imagined that Ash could grow up enough to manage a real relationship,” Iris replies, teasing a little.

Misty laughs. “He’s Ash. I'm still not sure he knows what's going on, but everyone knows he’ll be going after Lance’s title soon enough, and you've just taken over for Alder. It's a lot of pressure on both of you, but also on Cilan and I.”

“Misty, Cilan and I aren't anything,” Iris denies. Cilan is her friend. Her friend with a musician’s touch and a connoisseur’s tongue and a smile that makes her heart skip.

Maybe they're a little more to her, but Cilan thinks she's a friend.

“That's Taurus dung and you know it. You've both just been too tentative about it,” Misty replies. She lifts her phone for a second and smiles. “Now hurry up and change. Ash just texted me. Chili and Cress are here and Cilan is awake.”

Iris pushes open the door a little too harshly and it bangs into the wall. The eyes of those in the room are instantly drawn to her. Ash smothers a laugh and Iris glares at him. He’s leaning against the wall near the door. Cress is sitting in the visitor’s chair and Chili is perched on the edge of Cilan’s hospital bed.

Cilan is propped up in his hospital bed and he’s looking at Iris with so much relief in his eyes that it hurts. Iris freezes in the doorway and just looks at Cilan. He looks exhausted, but her eyes find his hands which are limply draped across the thin sheet, but he’s waiting for her to say something. Iris swallows a lump in her throat and steps forwards.

“You’re awake,” she manages.

Cilan’s lips almost twitch into a smile, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply.

“Well, we’ll leave you two alone!” Chili says cheerfully. He practically leaps off the bed and grabs Cress’s arm, pulling his brother towards the door. Ash and Misty, who followed Iris in, also take their leaves and Chili closes the door behind him, leaving Iris standing across the room from her friend who took a bullet for her.

Iris has never felt so scared. The sheer panic that had washed over her when she realised that Cilan took the shock for her is still pulsing faintly beneath her skin. Seeing Cilan staring at her, conscious and probably alright, is a relief, but it makes her eyes well with tears all over again because she can’t lose him.

“Iris,” Cilan calls. His voice is soft and tired, but Iris can almost detect affection in it and it makes heat flush in her cheeks. “Sit,” he requests.

Iris listens without even having to communicate the message to her feet. She all but falls into the chair next to the bed and just stares at the pale green of Cilan’s hospital sheets, unable to even look him in the eye. She blinks away tears that try to burst. A slender, pale hand reaches into her line of vision and curls around her wrist, sliding to hold her hand.

Iris looks up at Cilan.

“I think you’ll have to take the next bullet yourself, Madame Champion,” he says. Cilan’s hand squeezes hers lightly and Iris laughs despite it all.

“I love you,” she says. There’s no warning, no precedent and certainly no explanation.

Cilan’s slender fingers are woven between hers and even though he’s shot and recovering and she’s going to be plagued by danger and stress and the media for the rest of her career, she loves him and it feels good.

“Well, I’ll return your sentiment as soon as you get out of life-saving emergency surgery,” Cilan teases. Iris rolls her eyes. Cilan lifts their joined hands slowly, so he doesn’t agitate himself, and presses a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “I love you too, Iris.”

Iris squeezes his fingers and thinks about how Cilan’s hands have played her like a fiddle. First, it was a curiosity and then an understanding and now an obsession, but he has wormed his way into her life in irreversible ways and he’s there to stay.