#ratedg

You peak over at Kakashi where he kneels at your side, biting down gently on your lower lip. He still wears his mask, but the formal montsuki brings out the pale of his hair, painting a lovely picture of black and silver. He looks beautiful, as you knew he would, and you can only hope you don't look dull in comparison.

As though sensing your thoughts, Kakashi tilts his head to meet your gaze, eye-smiling. "Not too late to run away," he whispers to you, earning a glare from the priest who presides over the ceremony.

Your instinctive smile is bright, as you bring a hand to your mouth to cover your soft laughter. "And waste everyone's time? There's still a whole dinner waiting for us after this, too."

"Maa, when you put it like that ..." Kakashi nods at the priest, shrugging his shoulders as he takes the offered dish of sake. He moves to pull down his mask to drink, and you make the effort to turn your head away before the fabric is removed.

(He notices, because of course he does; though he tries to ignore the sudden warmth in his chest at the sign of respecting his privacy.)

Kakashi offers the shallow dish to you, your gaze drawn to his hand in your periphery. When you turn your body back towards him his mask is firmly in place, and you smile encouragingly as the sake passes from his hands to yours. Raising it in a toast to the gathered guests, eyes slipping shut, you ignore the thunder in your heart as you bring it to your mouth.

Your hands don't tremble as you return the dish to the altar, feeling only the slightest guilt that you barely even hear the prayers and blessings the priest offers. Sake is poured and offered in respect to those gathered twice more, and then after hushed and practiced and unoriginal vows murmured between the pair of you, Kakashi slips a ring on your finger and you slide its twin onto his.

And with that, you're married.

Your heart feels full, with nerves and anxiety, but with the pull of something new, the excitement of potential. Something that should be felt on a first date, maybe, and not on your wedding day. But, well, it isn't as if you'd had much of a dating period in the first place.

-----

(Four weeks earlier)

The Hokage Tower is busier than normal in the early morning, everyone seeming to be in a rush. It's a mystery to you, as you make your way to the Rokudaime's office, binder held tight to your chest as your shoes clack rhythmically on the stairs. A couple of jōnin pass by you, offering nods as they take the stairs two at a time. You don't mean to eavesdrop, but it's a small staircase, and they're making no effort to quiet their gossip, even as you slow your ascent, curiosity piqued.

"He has to," the tall brunette says around the senbon in his mouth, hands in his pockets as he steps past you. "The council has every right to remove him from office if he doesn't."

You nearly miss your next step at the words, catching yourself on the railing and pausing in your step as your brows furrow. Remove him from office? Kakashi has to do something to appease the council, or he'll be removed as Hokage?

"That's ridiculous," the woman behind him says with a scoff, shaking her head. The motion makes the small braid behind her right ear sway. "He's proven himself, again and again, as a worthy Kage."

"Doesn't matter. Clan business is clan business, shit like this goes back to the days of the shodai."

Clan business? The words stick in your mind as you reach the top of the stairs, the two jōnin's conversation too far for you to hear anything further. You aren't aware of anything particularly noteworthy when it comes to the Hatake clan, but perhaps there's some old tradition that Kakashi needs to adhere to? Why it's the business of the council is beyond you.

You hum softly beneath your breath as you travel down the wide hallway towards his office, chewing on your bottom lip. Kakashi is digging his heels in about something to do with his clan, and the council aren't happy with him. And now everyone who works in the tower is in a tizzy as rumors float that he'll be forced to step down as Hokage. You shake your head, mystified about what you're about to potentially walk into as you open the door to the Hokage's office, knocking as you go.

"Good morning, Hokage-sama," you greet with a smile, as you'd done every morning for the past year.

"Drop the sama," Kakashi responds as usual, though his tone is considerably more subdued than normal. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and gazing down at a handful of forms and papers spread across the surface of his desk, with enough intensity you're surprised they don't burst into flame. The sight makes you worry, closing the door behind you and smoothing down your hair.

With practiced ease you close the distance, opening the binder you hold and tracing a finger down the first page. His schedule is filled to the brim, as per the norm, and you nod once to yourself as you stand in front of Kakashi's desk. Your lips part to run through his various meetings, but he interrupts you with a held-aloft hand, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Ah. Looks like the reason for the gossip will reach your ears sooner than you thought.

You place the binder on the edge of his desk as you take a seat, head tilted to the side as you watch Kakashi curiously. Something nervous rushes through your veins; whatever has been happening, it isn't anything good.

"The council," Kakashi begins, his tone low and serious, with a hint of underlying anger, "are breathing down my neck because of an edict that dates back to the founding of the village. An edict that states that the leader of a clan must be married by a certain age, in order to guarantee the clan will continue."

His words make you frown, finger tapping against your cheek as you put together the unsaid implications. "For the purpose of breeding."

"Correct."

"That's barbaric. Forcing people to marry, to have children, even if they don't want -"

Kakashi waves his hand. "It's practicality. There are several clans in Konoha with powerful kekkei genkai and bloodline jutsu. It's an asset to the village as a whole, to have plenty of those kinds of skilled nin around."

You run a hand through your hair, brows furrowing slightly. It makes sense, in a detached and insensitive sort of way. Even still, you glance at Kakashi with a tilt of your head. "But, the Hatake don't possess a kekkei genkai. Unless I'm mistaken, I don't think this really applies to you."

Kakashi nods at your words, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to appear nonchalant about the whole discussion. But you know him, well enough to see the tense set of his jaw and the way his right hand is curled into a fist. "I'm apparently a special case. I'm Hokage, leader of the village - and as such, I need to set a certain example. And regardless of the fact that my bloodline is entirely ordinary, it's an undisputed fact that I'm the last of my line. There are no other Hatakes." He finishes with a certain air of disappointment, something beneath your breast clenching at his tone.

"Your bloodline isn't ordinary," is all you say with a shake of your head, offering a soft smile. "Your father was a hero of the village, and incredibly skilled if even half the stories are true. And you're - well, you." You can feel your cheeks heat in a flush even as you speak the words.

Kakashi chuckles, eye-smiling as he rests his chin in his palm. "Please, continue. I could use a good ego stroking today."

You somehow resist the urge to either chuck your shoe at him or offer to stroke something else. Instead you roll your eyes, clearing your throat as you sit back in your chair, pondering his predicament. You're his assistant, helping to fix this problem is literally your job.

"Could they actually remove you from the position? Or are they all bluster?" You ask him, glancing down at the gathered papers and scrolls on his desk.

Kakashi lifts a red-rimmed scroll, nudging it towards you. "Konoha was founded after the end of a decades-long war. Re-population was a concern for a budding community. But they weren't completely controlling over it - it only mentions the clan leader, and the heir apparent, need to be married by thirty."

You pick up the scroll, leaning forward in your seat as your eyes scan over the words. "And you're thirty-three," you point out needlessly, Kakashi shrugging once again.

"I'm leader of a clan of one. The council doesn't like that, and they have the power to remove me and elect a new Hokage. Even over something as ridiculous as my marital status."

"The leadership of this village is in shambles, if they want to depose a skilled and dedicated Hokage simply because he doesn't have children," you reply flatly, glancing at him over the top of the scroll with a roll of your eyes.

Kakashi snorts a laugh, though he doesn't disagree. "At least the edict only touches on marriage. The subsequent baby-making is only implied, never actually put down as a requirement. Heirs are something all clan leaders want, so they never bothered to put it into writing."

"Then there's your solution. If all you have to do is get married, half the village will be eagerly lining up. As - unfeeling as it is, marriages of convenience still exist," you suggest, blushing only a little. You hide your face behind the held scroll, glancing down at the looping signature of the Shodai Hokage.

Kakashi is silent for a time, unrepentant as he studies you. "Even if I can't marry for love, I'd at least like to marry someone I like. I don't want to force someone to be tied to me for the rest of our lives for the simple reason of it had to be done.

You glance up at him swiftly, lips parted as something warm begins to burn beneath your breast. A slow smile unfurls as you realize what he's implying, fondness and endearment overcoming your every sense. "You're a romantic," you realize with a breathless laugh. All this time you were under the impression that his beloved Icha Icha series was nothing but shameless erotica; perhaps they're far more tender and amorous than the covers imply.

"Don't tell anyone," Kakashi replies with a groan, waving his hand in your direction. Though he smiles, warmly, at your answering laugh.

"So, then, is my job for the foreseeable future nothing but a matchmaker for my esteemed Kage?" You ask with an encouraging smile; if his hands are tied in this then you will do your utmost to ensure everything go as smoothly for him as possible. To assist in fixing his problems and guaranteeing a positive outcome - that's why you're here, that's why you sit as his right hand.

"You certainly know how to serve your Kage well," Kakashi answers with a shameless wink, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. You don't miss the slight infliction in his tone, and were this any other situation you'd have read his words as flirtation. But this is Kakashi - this is Lord Sixth. There's a problem that needs to be solved, you can't afford to blush and titter over your hidden feelings for the man.

"Unfortunately," Kakashi adds after a moment, and you glance up to see his dark eyes utterly serious once more. "The council are just about out of patience. I'm a few years older than thirty, and half of them hate the fact I'm Hokage at all and are itching to get someone more easily controlled to wear the hat. I've cowed them for now, but ..." Kakashi shrugs, as though already resigned to his fate of losing his position.

it grates on you. Anger, unbidden, unfurls in your belly as you return the scroll to his desk and study him in silence. The improvements and changes he'd made to the village are undeniable. Focused more on protection and equality and advancement of scientific fields, instead of training child soldiers to die. Why would anyone want to be rid of his leadership, after he strides he'd made?

"How long?" You ask, hand curling into a fist as you fight the urge to call an emergency council meeting just to throttle the old bastards.

"A week, maybe two."

You don't know what possessed you to say it. Panic, maybe, at the thought of something so utterly unjust and ridiculous ruining his tenure as Rokudaime. Maybe you simply spoke before thinking. Maybe you wanted to shove a ridiculous old law into the faces of the council, seeing as you're a clanless civilian who would otherwise have no business propositioning a clan leader. Or maybe, a secret and guilty part of your mind whispers, you simply saw an opportunity.

"I'll do it."

Kakashi goes utterly still, his dark eyes wide as he turns slowly to you. You're not even certain he's breathing. "Pardon?"

You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat, nodding your head as a silent encouragement to yourself. "We work well as a team, we know each other comfortably. We're - friends, if that isn't presumptuous of me to say -"

"It's not. I think of you as much more than just a subordinate. I trust you, and enjoy your company. That's what a friend is," Kakashi interrupts you, his tone low and even and betraying nothing of what he thinks, behind his usual mask of careful disinterest.

You make an inelegant noise in the back of your throat, looking down to study the worn wood of his desk before you drown beneath the weight of his stare. "Good. That's - that's good. Friendship is a good place to start. For a married couple, I mean." How you managed to choke the words out you'll never know, embarrassment heating your face to such a degree you idly wonder when you'll start sweating.

Kakashi says your name, and when you glance back up you see he's leaning half across the desk, his eyes fixed on yours. "It should be the only place to start, when it comes to marriage. Not a half-assed arrangement for no reason other than an absurd old law that no one should give a shit about anymore -"

You interrupt him with a swift shake of your head, finding yourself smiling. "Hokage-sama -" it weighs heavy on your tongue, and you delicately clear your throat before trying again. "Kakashi. Exactly no one in the village wishes to see you step down. This is a - greater good situation, as strange as it is to say. For the greater good, you must remain Hokage. For that to happen, you must marry. And it's -" now, your words begin to fail you, unable to stop yourself from glancing down nervously as your voice lowers to a hush. "- and it's, well it's ... Really not a big ask. I - like and respect you, quite a lot. We're already a team in this office, so why wouldn't it work in a shared home?"

"You speak so casually about such a huge decision about your life," Kakashi says, glancing away as he runs a palm down the side of his face. But - he's considering it, you realize with a jump in your pulse.

"There doesn't have to be any - expectations, between us. We can appease the council, keep your position, and be - well. Together. As friends. I'm at your place often enough as it is, you really need someone to help keep you organized," you add with a wry smile.

"And you've been perfect at that. Keeping me organized, I mean," Kakashi says, almost offhandedly as his gaze turns very far away. You preen beneath the compliment regardless, warmth building beneath your breast. Kakashi glances back at you suddenly, leaning forward to hold your gaze. "Are you sure this is what you want to do? There are other options -"

"Yes," you interrupt him, voice sounding more breathless than you'd anticipated. "I want to do this." Not just for the village, or for you - but for me, as well, you think to yourself, only feeling the slightest bit of guilt.

Kakashi continues to watch you, something unspeakably warm hidden within his dark eyes for just a moment. "Alright. I'm sorry for putting you in this position, truly. And - thank you."

You're nodding before he can even finish speaking, an unexpected giddiness bubbling low in your belly. I think I just got engaged.

Kakashi stands from the desk, rounding the edge before he comes to a stop next to you, offering his hand. You blink up at him even as you slip your palm against his, his gloves warm and touch gentle. Eye-smiling, Kakashi pulls you to standing, and in a blink you're chest-to-chest, your breath catching in response.

"At least allow me to do this part right," he says with a low laugh, shaking his head at the novelty at the situation. He takes a steadying breath, gazing fondly down into your eyes in such a way that makes you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, your pulse thrumming. Kakashi says your name, and you're nodding eagerly immediately, plucking a laugh from his chest.

"Let me get there first," he admonishes gently, his hand moving from yours to trail a palm up your arm. The rasp of his glove feels like heaven on your bare skin, and you barely manage to suppress your responding shiver.

"Will you marry me?" Kakashi finally asks, thumb rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

"Yes," you answer with a smile, very nearly laughing. How utterly bizarre. "I'd love to."

Kakashi's expression eases into one of genuine warmth, a small slice of vulnerability before it shifts back into something wry. Before you can even blink, the hand at your shoulder moves, his fingers grazing beneath your chin. Breath catching, you go utterly still as you watch Kakashi close the distance, tilting your face up towards his, and then his masked mouth is brushing softly against your cheek.

"Thank you," he whispers, and though you wish to close the distance, capture his mouth, or simply wrap your arms around him, all you can muster is a nod, your breath leaving you in what sounds like a sigh.

-----

You twist your hand this way and that, gazing down at the unfamiliar weight of a ring on your finger and watching how the plain silver catches the light. Your smile is embarrassed, but it's genuine, something warm filling your chest. With only a twenty minute ceremony and some words exchanged, you're Kakashi's wife. How strange.

It was surprisingly easy to marry Kakashi, you think with a giddy flutter to your belly. Not only because you've been sporting a healthy crush on the man for quite some months, but because the pair of you seem to click. Maybe not the firmest foundation for a marriage, but a good place to start, as you'd told him before. There is mutual trust, and shared humor. He's kind to you, and respects the work that goes in to assisting him. You're friends, if one can be friends with their boss; you may not know his deepest secrets, may not be privy to whatever horror it is that dogs his heels -you can see it plain in the way he stares off into nothing, his gaze far away- but you like each other, work well together. Add to that the fact that his dogs are fond of you (and your freely offered belly rubs and treats) and - well. Maybe it isn't a fairy-tail wedding, but it is an unfortunate situation made better, easier, with the aid of friendship.

A cleared throat interrupts your musings, and you glance quickly upwards to see kakashi watching you with a cocked brow. He holds aloft his hands, palms skyward, and as you watch he nods encouragingly. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with what he's implying, and you swiftly shake away any errant thoughts as you step forward, placing your palms over his. Kakashi's hands are rough from countless years wielding weapons and molding chakra, silver scars criss-crossing over his right hand in the shape of lightning. But his touch is tender, and he squeezes your fingers in wordless reassurance.

"We're married," you whisper to him, caught up in the moment of unreality that threatens to stagger you beneath its tide; you're a wife, a Hatake, a bride to Konoha's Hokage and the renowned Copy-Nin and - your friend. It's utterly bizarre, very nearly overwhelming. Something deep within you almost wants to laugh at the absurdity.

"Almost," Kakashi interrupts your thoughts, and as you blink up at him something tells you that beneath the dark fabric of his mask, he's smirking at you. "There's still one last thing to seal the deal."

You tilt your head to the side, confusing apparent across your face. But Kakashi only laughs, low and quiet. He squeezes your hands once more, before one of his hands drop to curve a palm over your hip, pulling you closer towards him.

You blink rapidly as a flush heats your face, your smile nervous as you tilt your head up. You're keenly aware of your audience, wondering suddenly why the universe decided your first kiss with Kakashi would be at the altar. "How could I have forgotten?" You whisper with a breathless chuckle, Kakashi's smiling eyes encouraging you, his hand squeezing your hip once. He leans down, closing the distance between you, but just a moment before he brushes his mouth to yours, your eyes suddenly go wide.

You pull back with a gasp, shaking your head with a quietly murmured apology. Guilt weighs you down for just a moment, at the shocked expression painting his features. Reaching back, you yank the sensu tucked into the top of your obi, smiling triumphantly up at Kakashi as you brandish the folded fan. He only arches a single silver brow, looking from the your eyes to the fan and back again.

"It's been a while since I've kissed anyone but I'm almost certain there aren't usually any accessories involved," Kakashi whispers flatly, glancing at the gathered guests who watch with a strange combination of confusion and impatience.

"You need a better imagination," you quip impatiently, opening the fan with a flick of your wrist. Taking a deep breath, you raise the fan until both of your faces are hidden behind it, free from the unrepentant staring of the gathered guests. You don't miss the groan of disappointment from who you suspect is Naruto, once the both of you are concealed.

"Indulge your wife," you whisper, your smile soft as you muster your bravery. "I want our first kiss to be a good one."

Kakashi looks momentarily stunned, very nearly afraid. You wonder briefly how long it's been since anyone outright asked him to remove the mask, feeling that now-familiar guilt eat its way through your veins. But then Kakashi arches a brow, and you know he's smirking at you once again.

"Anything my wife desires," he murmurs with a low laugh, the sound going straight to your core. "Close your eyes."

And you do, immediately, because you trust him, and he's choosing to trust you. The hand still held in his trembles finely, butterflies dancing inside you making you feel light as air. But the hand holding the sensu is utterly still; this moment of vulnerability is for you and him, and no one else.

The hand at your waist disappears, anticipation building beneath your breast as you fight to steady your breathing. His hand squeezes yours once more, in a silent encouragement that brings with it a certain calm. There is a moment, a held breath, wherein you feel utterly adrift; at the edge of a cliff, ready at the barest pressure to fall.

The moment passes as a warm hand rests over your cheek, pad of a thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. Your breath hitches, just a little, your eyes remaining tightly shut. Your spine stiffens as you feel Kakashi's breath fan across your face, nerves suddenly alight at the small pressure of his forehead pressed to yours. Your hand instinctively scrambles for a tether, before the nerves can eat away at you entirely, twining your fingers between his and stepping the barest inch forward to press your chest to his. You don't have the presence of mind to wonder if he can feel the rushing rhythm of your heart.

And then Kakashi's mouth is gently capturing yours, his lips soft and unmasked and you sigh, immediately, as you melt against him. You can feel the way he smiles against you, his lips gently parting to take your bottom lip between his, dragging his teeth against the soft swell. A shiver rushes down your spine in response, your mouth opening to swallow the soft sigh Kakashi lets slip.

He pulls away before either of you can get too carried away, and you feel almost dizzy at the loss of contact. You keep your eyes shut tight, breath coming out in a stutter as you realize, very nearly laughing aloud, that your first kiss was definitely a good one.

"Now we're married," Kakashi murmurs against your mouth, and you can hear the smirk behind his words.

"Lucky me," you answer, breathless and smiling wide at the way he simply laughs in response. Before you can think too hard on it, or put too much thought to the audience that waits impatient, you tilt your head up to kiss him once more.

“You know that guy at work who keeps harassing me to go out with him?”

“Chuck, was it?”

“That’s the one.”

“Do I need to punch him in the face? Because last time I offered you said you could handle it,” Archie says.

“I did handle it,” Betty says proudly. “I told him I had a boyfriend.”

“Okay….” Archie says slowly. He’s still waiting for the part where she asks him for a favour.

“And he didn’t believe me so I told him he could meet my boyfriend at the Christmas party.”

Archie squints at her, beginning to understand where this is going, but needing her to say it out loud. “So, you need me to…”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend for the night, yes.”

Archie hesitates. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help her out. The thought of this guy constantly hitting on her while she’s just trying to do her job makes him want to march down to her office and knock him out. He just hadn’t been expecting this to be Betty’s solution.

He wants to tell her yes, but he’s not sure he can handle pretending to be her boyfriend. Mostly because he’d like to be her actual boyfriend, and he’s kind of pretty much in love with her, but she doesn’t feel the same way and being her pretend boyfriend, even for a night, might end up hurting him even more in the long run.

But she’s looking at him with those big green eyes, pleading him to come to her rescue, and how can he say no to her?

“Yeah, of course,” he tells her. He swallows, already conjuring up images of the two of them walking into the party together, arm in arm, everyone under the impression they’re a couple. He likes the fantasy a little too much.

“Yes!” Betty exclaims, throwing her arms around him. “Thanks, Arch, you’re the best!”

Archie laughs. Her ecstatic reaction is reason enough for him to go through with this. He just hopes he doesn’t regret it.

  The party is being held at the office Betty works at, so even though it’s being held after work hours, it’s not exactly a fancy affair. Archie offers to just meet her there, but she insists on going home and picking him up, seeing as how he’s already doing her such a huge favour.

She’s got her hair out, which is unusual for her, and she looks so pretty Archie thinks he might actually die. He thinks about how lucky he’d have to be for her to be his real girlfriend.

Knots form in his stomach as Betty drives them back to her office, and Archie is suddenly worried that it’s going to be obvious to everyone that they aren’t really together.

“Do we need to come up with a story of how we got together?” Archie asks.

“I’m sure no one will ask,” Betty says. Archie isn’t convinced. Betty seems to sense his reservations, and she removes her hand from the steering wheel to place it on his knee. The simple contact gets Archie’s heart racing. “It’s going to be fine,” Betty assures him. “All you have to do is hold my hand when we walk in and if anyone asks you say we’re together. People are always thinking we’re a couple when we hang out together anyway.”

That’s true. “But what about Chuck?” Archie asks.

“I’ll handle Chuck. And besides, once he sees you, he’ll back off.”

“If you’re sure,” Archie says. He still isn’t convinced. After all, it’s a Christmas party with a bunch of journalists. They’re bound to be good at hounding people until they get the truth. The only thing worse would be a Christmas party at a police station. Still, he promised Betty he’d do this, and if she thinks they can pull it off, who is he to disagree?

Archie feels like he might vomit as he and Betty walk through the front doors. She grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze, and it doesn’t completely put him at ease, but he relaxes a little knowing she’s by his side.

Archie half expects the entire office to be staring at them when they walk in, but no one even looks up from their conversations.  Archie looks over the room, people standing around drinking out of plastic cups, gaudy Christmas decorations on desks and on the walls. Someone has even hung mistletoe from the ceiling. Archie makes a mental note to steer clear of it.

Betty helps him take off his coat as Archie studies her co-workers, trying to work out which one is Chuck.

“He’s the tall one by the photocopier,” Betty whispers, as if reading Archie’s mind. He looks towards the photocopier, where a tall, obviously muscular black guy is talking to a chubby redhead. Archie blanches. He’d been expecting some skinny, gross looking pervert, someone Archie could easily take in a fight. Chuck is… intimidating to say the least.

“That’s him?”

“Yep.”

“You could have warned me.”

“Warned you?”

“That he’s bigger than me,” Archie grimaces.

Betty gives him a disapproving look. “You’re not going to fight him.”

“Not now I’m not.”

Betty laughs at that, and Archie sees Chuck look up from his conversation. Archie and Chuck lock eyes, and Chuck gives him the once over, sizing him up the way Archie had done when he first laid eyes on Chuck.

Chuck mutters something to the redhead, and then he’s approaching them, and the sick feeling in Archie’s stomach returns.

“Betty,” Chuck says. “This must be your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Betty says. “Chuck, this is Archie. Archie, Chuck.”

Archie holds out his hand and Chuck gives him a firm handshake.

“I thought Archie was your roommate?” Chuck says, raising an eyebrow. “Your best friend.”

“Well, he was. And now we’re together,” Betty tells him. Archie admires the way she holds her ground under Chuck’s intense stare.

“And how did that happen?” Chuck presses. Archie can tell he isn’t buying it.

“Excuse me?”

“How did you two get together?” Chuck repeats. Betty glances at Archie and he does his best to not look like a deer in headlights.

The redhead Chuck had previously been talking to bustles over, along with a couple of Betty’s other co-workers, including her friend Kevin, who Archie has met a couple of times.

“Ooh, I want to hear too,” says the redhead.

“Come on, Ethel,” Betty rolls her eyes. “It’s really not that interesting.”

“We want to hear,” Chuck commands.

Betty swallows. She looks nervous all of a sudden. “Well—” she starts.

“How about I tell it?” Archie interjects. Maybe he’d been anxious about this before, but seeing Betty anxious seems to have kicked in some innate sense he has to protect her. Plus, she’s probably the worst liar he’s ever met.

“Okay,” Betty says, relieved.

“Well, the truth is—” Archie starts. And then he figures, why not tell the truth? At least part of it? After all, Betty won’t know he’s telling the truth. She’ll think it’s made up for the story. “The truth is, I realised about a year ago that I was in love with Betty. And I didn’t know what to do about it. We grew up together, you know, we’ve been best friends since we we’re kids. And I figured she didn’t feel the same way, so I said nothing.”

“That is so heartbreaking,” Ethel says, putting her hand on her heart.

“Shh!” Kevin shushes her. “I’m listening.”

“And then, uh—” Archie glances at Betty to find her listening intently, her eyes wide, hanging on his every word. “And then one night we went out with friends to a bar. Kevin was there,” Archie nods to Kevin. “And we were both still a little tipsy when we got home, and Betty couldn’t get the key in the door, and she was getting so frustrated. It was cute. And then when I laughed, she told me to do it, and I guess I just couldn’t help myself and I kissed her. And it turned out she did feel the same way after all,” Archie shrugs. He looks to Betty again and she quickly looks away, her face bright red.

“Exactly,” she says. “And now we’re together.”

Chuck doesn’t look impressed, but the others seem satisfied. Still, Chuck doesn’t push it instead skulking off to find someone else to talk to, and it seems like they’re finally off the hook.

“Archie, can I get you a drink?” Kevin asks.

“Sure,” Archie nods. He glances at Betty, but she’s already deep in conversation with Ethel and another woman, so Archie follows Kevin over to the drink station, which is just a table with a cooler full of ice and beer, and next to it a large bowl of punch.

“Punch or beer?” Kevin asks.

“Beer,” Archie decides, and Kevin hands him a bottle.

“That was some story,” Kevin muses.

“Well,” Archie sips his beer. “It’s true.”

“Most of it, anyway,” Kevin says knowingly. “I remember that night. About a month ago now. That was the second time we met.”

“Uh, yeah,” Archie nods.

“I’m in on it, by the way,” Kevin says. “I know you guys aren’t really together.”

“Oh.”

“You should tell her.”

“Tell who what?” Archie asks, taking another sip of his beer.

“Tell Betty that you really are in love with her.”

Archie chokes on his beer, coughing dramatically as the bubbly liquid sprays out of his mouth and all over Kevin. “Sorry,” Archie coughs as Kevin grimaces. “I’m not really in love with her though.”

“Come on Archie, we both know the only part of that story that wasn’t real was the part where you kissed her,” Kevin rolls his eyes. “I’ve only met you three times and it’s that obvious to me.”

Archie sighs. He looks over his shoulder to where Betty is laughing with some of her co-workers. “I mean, the other part that isn’t true is the part where she loves me back,” he admits.

Kevin tilts his head. “You sure about that?”

  Surprisingly, Betty’s work party is actually kind of fun, once Archie manages to relax. None of Betty’s co-workers are hard to convince that Archie and Betty are a couple. Except Kevin, who already knows the truth. And Chuck, who still seems suspicious, and who, unfortunately, is the one they most want to convince. He keeps trying to catch them out, asking them supposedly innocent questions about their relationship like, what do you parents think of your relationship? Or making snide comments like, you’ve only been dating a month and you’re already living together?

But neither Archie nor Betty let Chuck get to them. If he wants to be bitter, that’s his problem. Archie is relieved Betty never decided to go out with him. The guy is a nightmare.

At around eight-thirty, Betty interrupts Archie’s conversation with a guy named Dilton, snuggling into his side, and putting her arms around his waist. Archie’s arm circles around her shoulders as if it’s second nature.

“We should go home,” Betty murmurs. “I’m sick of these people.”

Archie chuckles, thankful Dilton is already engaged in a conversation with someone else so he doesn’t hear Betty’s remark.

“Okay,” Archie replies. He presses a kiss to her hair, then swallows the last couple of mouthfuls of beer before throwing the bottle in the trash.

“I should say goodbye to Kevin first,” Betty sighs.

“I’ll get our coats.”

Betty wanders off to find Kevin, while Archie makes his way back to the entrance where their coats are hanging on hooks by the door. He slips his own coat on, folding Betty’s over his arm while he waits. It only takes her a minute, and then he helps her with her coat. She turns back around to face him for a moment, a small smile on her lips, before looking back to the rest of the office.

“Bye, everyone!” she calls.

There’s a half-hearted chorus of goodbyes, and then, “Wait!” Ethel yells. Archie and Betty stare at her in confusion. “Look up,” she says, pointing to the roof above them.

In unison, Archie and Betty tilt their heads to the ceiling. Sure enough, right above their heads is a sprig of mistletoe. Archie is positive that wasn’t there before. Someone must have moved it.

“Oh, how convenient,” Chuck smirks. “Some mistletoe.” He sounds so smug, as if he’s finally caught them out. Like he knows they won’t kiss in order to keep up the charade. Which means they absolutely have to.

Archie lowers his eyes back to Betty’s. She looks a little nervous, but she gives him a tiny nod, as if to tell him it’s okay to kiss her. Archie swallows. He’s been dreaming about this so long. He never thought their first kiss would be at a work Christmas party under some mistletoe in front of all Betty’s co-workers. He also recognises that he needs to make this look like he’s kissed her before. He can’t let himself get carried away.

He leans in, keeping his eyes locked on Betty’s until the last moment, letting them flutter closed just before their lips meet. He’s gentle with her, tender. His hand hovers in mid-air for a moment before he grips her waist. He tells himself to pull away. They’ve done their little show, he’s kissed her. But then he thinks this might be the only time he ever gets to kiss her. And if this is the only time he gets to do it, he’s going to make it good.

He kisses her harder, and he thinks maybe he hears her moan a little. The sound makes his stomach flip over. He likes how her lips part for him as she kisses him back, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, and then she definitely moans, louder, and the only thing that stops Archie from pressing her against the wall and ripping her clothes off right there is the wolf whistle that cuts through the fog in his head, and he quickly pulls away from her, face burning and heart pounding.

Betty’s face is the colour of beetroot, and her chest rises and falls dramatically as she tries to catch her breath. She averts her eyes from Archie, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off her.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it!” Toni yells. “You’re still in the honeymoon phase.”

Archie glances at Chuck, who finally looks like he’s been convinced that their relationship is real, but he doesn’t exactly look happy about it.

“Come on,” Archie says to Betty. “Let’s go.”

Betty is completely silent as they make their way back to her car, and Archie is sincerely regretting the kiss already. She obviously hated it. He’d crossed the line by kissing her like that, in front of all her co-workers. Why couldn’t he have kept it short and chaste?

Betty unlocks the car and gets into the driver’s seat, and Archie slides into the passenger seat. He closes the door behind him, an apology already falling out of his mouth.

“Betty, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—” he starts, but Betty cuts him off.

“Shut up,” she says, and then she’s surging towards him, grabbing his face in her hands and pulling his lips to hers. It’s Archie’s turn to moan this time, and she gives him a kiss that leaves him gasping for air and desperate for more.

“Betty—” he murmurs, his lips chasing hers. She kisses him again, and Archie’s head spins, or maybe it’s the world around him that’s spinning. She eventually pulls away and sits back in her seat, much to Archie’s disappointment. He’d like to keep kissing her forever.

His eyes linger on her, and she bites her lip, looking down like she’s embarrassed about the whole thing.

“What was that?” he asks her, still a little breathless.

“Did you mean all that stuff you said?”

“What stuff?”

“How you’ve been in love with me for a year,” she glances at him.

“I mean—” he swallows. “Kind of. I realised I loved you a year ago. I think I’ve actually been in love with you a lot longer.”

Somehow it’s easy now to say it out loud. Maybe it was the kiss, or Kevin’s words of advice, or maybe just because she finally asked him outright.

She looks at him properly then, for the first time since he kissed her. “Me too,” she admits. “I love you too.”

“Yeah?” Archie grins. Butterflies swarm in his stomach and his heart swells.

“Yeah,” Betty smiles.

“How’d you keep it a secret? You’re a terrible liar,” Archie laughs.

“Shut up,” Betty gives him a soft nudge. “We fooled all of them, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but could we fool them into thinking we’re not in love?”

“Point taken.”

“So, uh, do you want to be my actual girlfriend?” Archie asks.

Betty gives him a giddy smile. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

It is dusk. The sun has long dipped over the Western side of the mountain and it's long shadow has begun to fade into a haze of grey twilight. Vegeta sits on the porch of his home. Smoke reaches liltingly upwards from the chimney. The lights are on inside, yellow circles casting shadows outside in the growing dark. Vegeta looks out into the forest. It is late in autumn and the leaves have begun to shrivel, turning from red to withered brown. But still they cling to the branches, making each breeze sound like the rattling of small bones. Emerging from the tall, skinny trunks of trees Vegeta sees what he has been looking for--a shape taking place in the darkness. It's body is tall and black and makes no sound when it moves. It is a formless column of darkness marked only by a face of painted white. It comes before him and stops, a toothless smile spreading on its white face. Vegeta stands and addresses the creature.

"I've been waiting for you," he says.

The creature stands still.

"I know what I said, back on the battlefield of Huran. I made a promise and you delivered on your end. But things are different now. We need to strike a new deal."

The smile on the creature's face fades. Skinny knobs of black form out of its side, stretching forth to form arms and hands.

"I'll give you myself, if it comes down to that. But I cannot give you the child."

The creatures painted mouth slumps downwards. Violently it begins to shake its head left to right and as it does it makes a rattling sound like a ball clattering inside of a ribcage. Vegeta stands his ground and looks at the creature as the sound began to fill the woods.

There is a creak of a door as a pool of light pours out onto the porch and then disappears. Bulma pulls the blanket draping her shoulders tighter around her body and steps to the edge of the porch.

"Is it here?" she asks.

"Can you see it?" asks Vegeta.

"No," she replies, pushing a lock of hair from her face, "but I can hear it." She takes a step towards the ground.

"Don't come any closer," he says to Bulma, putting his hand out to motion her to stop. "I want to test something."

The rattling sound stops and the creature extends its arms. 

"I cannot give you the boy," he says to it, "but if you want to try to take him from me, do it now."

The creature tries to approach but then stops. Try as it might it can not come more than a few feet closer to the house.  It rattles again, harder and louder this time, as a cold wind rips through the forest. Bulma feels the iciness of the wind cutting through her blanket and shudders.

"I won't say that I'm sorry to disappoint you." says Vegeta. "The spirit of the mountain is more powerful than you. As long as we remain within its shadow, you cannot touch the boy."

It rattles even harder and the wind makes a wailing sound, picking up dead leaves and swirling them between them.

"Now that you know you can't touch us, I suggest you leave us in peace. Or think of other terms to repay you for what you gave me. I'll be here."

And with that Vegeta turns back towards the house, putting an arm around Bulma's shoulder as he leads her back into the warmth and the light. Bulma glances back once before going inside, and though she can not see the creature with whom Vegeta had conversed, she can hear it's terrible rattling echoing through the trees in the forest behind her.

That night the crib is left empty and instead the baby sleeps between them in the bed. And though the rattling ceases as soon as they shut the door to their home, the wind howls all night long. It wails so loud and mournfully that Bulma wakes up in the middle of the night when the moon has cast a pool of light though the window onto the foot of their bed. She holds Trunks closer and waits until the pool of moonlight shrinks to a sliver and then disappears before she can sleep again. And in the morning, when they step outside, the wind has knocked every leaf down off of the branches of the trees. The forest floor is covered and the branches stand bare like boney arms reaching up into the sky.

 * * *

 Once upon a time there was a mother, father, and son who lived in a small cabin at the foot of Mt. Huanshu. Every morning they rose early and traveled to a cave deep inside the mountain. There they left offerings of food and wine and flowers and to the spirit of the mountain. In the spring they planted their garden and tended the foaling of their goats. In the summer they swam and fished in the deep, clear pools fed by the mountain streams. In the autumn they harvested their garden and set aside hay  and wood for themselves. In the winter the father, whose name was Vegeta, would go hunting in the woods, setting traps for stoats and killing deer whose long, slender leg sank into the deep drifts of snow. Vegeta only travelled to the faraway village twice a year. In the spring, to sell goats for tools and grain and sugar, and in the autumn, to gain whatever was needed for the long winter. The mother, whose name was Bulma, and the baby, whose name was Trunks, never left the shadow of Mt. Huanshu. They clung to the mountain like the snow which clings to the peak and never melts or flows down to the valley below.

In the spring of their third year Vegeta prepared as he always did for his journey to the village, kissing his wife and child goodbye as he left. But this time there was a figure watching him from the edge of the forest, and the figure was dark and formless.

It was not long after Vegeta disappeared into the forest that Bulma, who was working in the garden, suddenly felt a powerful and unnatural fatigue come over her. She picked up Trunks despite his protests and brought him inside, and together in the dark coolness of the little cabin they lay down on the bed as Bulma fell into a fast and deep sleep. But Trunks was awake. Lying in the crook of his mothers arm with his eyes open, looking out through a window, he started up when a butterfly flew in through the window, fluttering up around his face then landing just at the foot of the bed. He got up and tried to get close to the butterfly, but just as he was about to touch it it fluttered up and away again. He slid off of the bed and followed it, until he was standing just by the front door of the cabin. A wind from outside pushed the door open with a creak. As the papery wings lit up and out of the door Trunks followed again, chasing across the threshold of the house, through the garden and out into the forest beyond.

Bulma snapped awake with a start. With a terrible feeling in her gut she rushed to the main room, where she saw the door laying open. She rushed out of the house, screaming Trunks' name and spotting him off in the distance, well past the edge of the wood. She screamed and ran after him, but he didn't seem to hear her. His hand was holding something that she could not see. Only when she came closer did she begin to see a shape take place and she know at once and with horror what was leading him deeper into the woods. A painted white face turned around towards her and wore a smile. She ran as fast as she could after them, screaming, but they only moved further and further away from her until their outlines faded and disappeared entirely. Bulma collapsed on the forest floor, wailing, the water from her tears soaking into the pine covered earth.

 * * *

 They had been traveling for a day when the saw the house, sitting on it's own in the deep woods. Vegeta led a goat with a rope tied to its neck and Bulma held a satchel slung around her shoulder. "Are you sure this is the right place?" said Bulma. No sooner did she speak than the house sprung up on legs, chicken legs none the less, and bounced menacingly towards them. Bulma leapt back, grabbing onto Vegeta's arm. He stood his ground and suddenly a golden aura began to surround him and his hair turned gold. He handed Bulma the rope. "Keep back," he said. The house lifted its legs and stomped them back down a hair's breadth from Vegeta, threatening to squish him. He didn't budge, but when the house lifted up it's leg again he moved swiftly beneath it and grabbed onto it, holding it in the air and keeping it off balance. The house was hopping around on its other leg unsteadily, threatening to fall over onto its side, when a big raven flew at Vegeta and hit the back of his head, surprising him and causing him to drop the leg. He dodged out of the way just enough to avoid being crushed by the house as it landed back on its two feet, then spun and turned towards the raven.

"Enough! Enough!" came a voice from inside the house. "I won't have you destroying my house like this." Vegeta and Bulma both looked up and as a a tiny, wrinkled old woman with pink hair and black robes came walking out of the front door. Vegeta and Bulma both dropped quickly into a full bow, their knees on the ground and heads down as the golden aura around Vegeta faded away.

"Forgive us, Fortuneteller Baba," said Bulma. "We've come seeking your help."

"There, there," she said, addressing the house, "It's alright." The legs of the house settled back down on the ground and disappeared into the earth. "And you!" she shouted at Bulma and Vegeta. "Go away! The last thing I need is you people terrorizing my pets and then asking for help!" She was turning her back to go inside when Bulma sprung up and rushed towards her.

"We've brought gifts," she said. "This is the best milk goat from our herd. And this," she pulls out a jar from a sack slung around her shoulder, "is honey from a hive my husband found in the woods."

Baba stopped and turned around. She took little waddling steps up and investigated the goat. Then she opened the jar and dipped a finger inside, pulling out a finger full of honey and waited. Bulma and Vegeta stood before her and waited.

"Well, well, I suppose this is all well and good," she said. "But I expect more than just this for scaring my house and my raven half to death." The raven that had flown at Vegeta alights on her shoulder, making her seem even more comically small it comparison to it's large body. "What else can you give me?" she demands.

"What else do you want?" asks Bulma.

"Hmmm," she thought for a minute and then turned her gaze to Vegeta. "A minute ago you had yellow hair. What changed?"

"It is a transformation that I can undergo at will."

"Show me."

He closed his eyes and instantly the golden aura surrounded him again. His hair began to shimmer and turn to gold.

"Interesting," she said. "Give me three of those hairs, then I'll hear your problem."

"They're yours," he said, and with that the raven flew up and plucked three golden hairs out with it's beak. It flew back to its mistress and she took the hairs in her hand.

"Leave the goat here," said Baba. "She won't be able to wander far. You two come inside and you can tell me everything."

They follow the little woman inside. The house is dark except for a fire in the middle which billowed smoke going up and out the center point of the ceiling. Baba sat down on a cushion on the other side of the fire. "Now what's your problem?"

Bulma opened her mouth to speak but Baba put her hand up to stop her. "Nevermind. I don't like too much blabber. I'll find out better this way." She took one of the golden hairs that she had taken from Vegeta and dropped it into the fire. The fire popped and sizzled and the smoke began to billow and spread throughout the room. Soon a picture began to appear in the smoke. A picture of Vegeta as a younger man, his hands a face covered in blood as he lay on his hands and knees in a muddy field, bodies strewn all around him. Baba spoke, "You were a soldier in the great war. Your heart burned with hatred. You wanted revenge for your family, but you weren't going to survive this battle. So you summoned it, thought I'm certain you knew not what you were doing at the time." The creature appeared in the smoke, approaching the image of Vegeta. "It told you it would make sure you survived the battle if you gave it something in return." The image of Vegeta took a thick ring from his smallest finger and gave it to the creature, and then the vision faded away.

Baba dropped another hair into the fire. The smoke began to show another scene. Vegeta had an arrow drawn in his bow and a man was in his sights. Other arrows were whizzing to the right or left, or clinking against the man's armor and falling to the ground. "The man who gave the order to burn your village. You saw him before you fled before, and you wished to destroy him." The creature appeared again in the vision. Without hesitation Vegeta ripped off a chain that had hung around his neck and gave it to the creature. He drew his bow again and fired. The arrow landed in a gap in the man's armor, right at his throat.

Just as the scene was dissipating again Baba dropped the third hair into the fire. "I assume this is where you got into trouble," she said. Vegeta rode this time on a back of a horse. He was charging at full speed towards a figure that sat high and steady on his own horse. "Freeza the Conquerer," said Baba. "The price must have been high for this one." Freeza met Vegeta's gaze directly and didn't flinch. Just as he came in to charge, Freeza moved quickly to the side, picked up his sword still in it's sheath and slammed it into Vegeta, knocking him off of his horse and into the mud. Vegeta struggled to come to his senses as his horse ran off in terror. He saw boots land in front of him in the mud and heard a voice he hated more than anything in the world. "What have we here? Another peasant come to slay the great beast." Vegeta leapt up and charged but was knocked down by a blow straight to his jaw. He fell flat into the mud and the world went dark. When he opened his eyes again Freeza was standing over him, his boot on his chest. He heard the hated voice again, "Perhaps I should let you live so you can send  a message to the others." He boot pressed hard onto his chest. "Resistance is futile. You all belong to me now." He raised his foot and stomped down. Vegeta heard a rib snap. And then the creature appeared in his vision, above and behind the face of his enemy.

Baba spoke again. "It promised it would spin you into gold and give you the power to defeat your enemy and you agreed before you even heard what it was that it wanted from you."

The vision faded and the smoke cleared away, flying up up out through the chimney. As it faded Bulma's spoke, and her voice was hoarse and cracked.

"That thing stole away my son."

Baba looked at Vegeta. "The creature, did it ever tell you it's name?"

He shook his head.

"Well," she said, turning her attention to Bulma, "You'll need to find the creature's name. Only then will you be able to command it and recover your son."

"How will we find it's name?"