#ted garcia fluff

it starts off like this, a day in the hot new mexico heat, stewing in the sun like there is no tomorrow. he’s sitting in his home office, flicking through the paper idly. his phone pings, vibrating against the wooden table.

New Message

Open Outlook to read your message. 

he always trawls through his emails, fuck getting an assistant to do that. if he outsources everything, then what does he have left to do? he doesn’t get too many anyway sent to this email address, the campaign one usually gets complaints and donors. this is another one, internal systems.   

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme.

main body: 

Good Afternoon Mayor Garcia,

My name is Sophia Edmund, and I have been elected as Mayor in Florence, California for this upcoming term. I wanted to discuss the terms of Florence and Eddington being Sister Towns,as they are quite out of date. Rewriting the terms of the agreement could provide with solid cultural exchange as well as improve business opportunities between us. 

Regards,

Sophia Edmund.

he squints at that, florence and eddington have been sister towns since when now? that was something completely defunct, tried in the seventies and it fell flat on everyone’s faces. there was no use for these sister towns, heck he didn’t even knowflorence, california existed, let alone was eddington’s sister town. except this sophia edmund, who was not forgetting about eddington.

he opens up his computer, to type out a response, humming to himself, what could be the harm in trying? 

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme

main body:

Good afternoon Mayor Edmund,

I’m delighted to hear that you are willing to review and discuss the terms of Florence and Eddington being Sister Towns. I agree that the terms of the agreement are quite outdated, and need to be fixed to be in line with a shared vision for both towns going forward. I would be delighted to discuss the terms of the agreement next week . 

Regards and well wishes,

Ted Garcia. 

new mexico’s heat is almost unbearable, the desert sapping away every drop of energy in him. even the air conditioner in his home office isnt enough to block out the heat. it seeps into the day, seeps into the sand, every gust of air is hot.

he fans himself with a laminated agricultural advisory sheet, one he’d printed one too many of. his fingers scroll through his inbox with the mouse, this one is empty. there’s not much from the central new mexico government to be sent to towns as small as these, and again, nobody knows about this one.

he can’t bear to open the campaign inbox, full of complaints and donors and sleazy schemes that he doesn’t want to get involved with.

a car passes by, the exhaust sputtering in the dry road. he picks up his phone (to message his son), when he gets distracted by some click bait article, and suddenly it’s been fifteen minutes.

his phone pings again, and he sees another notification for outlook on the top of his screen.

he places the phone down, and peers into the computer monitor, and there’s one red dot on the tab, signifying a new email.

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme.

main body: 

Good afternoon Mayor Garcia,

Thank you for your email, I am pleased to know that both you and I share the same visions in updating the Sister Towns agreement, as it reflects the shared vision we have for the future of Florence and Eddington.

Next week works quite well for me, as Florence is in California, are are one hour behind MST. Taking that into account, please let me know your availability, and I’ll be happy to arrange a meeting between us to go through the terms together.

I look forward to the discussion,

Sophia Edmund.

you send the email off, and then close your inbox, it’s nearly 4:45pm, and your working day ends at 5. although, both you and mayor edmund know that politics sleeps for no man ( or woman in your case.) you wonder what mayor garcia is doing in front of his inbox at 5:45pm, and then are swiftly reminded that it’s probably not him, but rather an assistant like you.

your eyes drift over to the coast outside your window, before focusing back on mayor edmund’s calender. she’s barely free anytime this week, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go to the meeting. you’ll be armed with her notes and several hours of research, you’re sure of it.

you’re ready to log off, when suddenly, you hear an email.

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme

main body:

Good afternoon Mayor Edmund,

As we are to be sister towns, I would love to learn more about Florence’s key exports, and the town itself. This information could help me understand how to explore ways in which Florence and Eddington could support each other both economically and culturally.

Regards,

Mayor Ted Garcia.

your eyes read it quickly, it’s short, but strange. he’s asking you about florence? nobody asks anyone anything about florence. it’s…florence. 

your hands fidget with the pen in your hands nervously, and you start writing down things that make florence stand out. there was an obsolete fishing export business, cut away by overfishing and lack of industry to continue. then there was the bus station, that was pretty nice.

florence to you is home, your parents house that called out to you once the thrill of getting a degree fell through and you couldn’t get internships anywhere in dc. florence to you is safety, a net to catch you whenever you fall. god knows they have enough nets in the docks that are barely used these days. 

strange that mayor garcia (or his assistant, or. whatever.) would bother asking about the town.

you’ve jotted down five things on your planner in answer to the question: sea, fishing, knitting, ‘good in summer’, grilled fish.

you sigh, and type out the email on your phone, having shut off your laptop at 5pm.

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme.

main body: 

Good evening Mayor Garcia,

Florence is a true delight of a town, I’ve grown up here all my life, and only left for college. The town’s exports are usually fish and other seafood, however due to the lack of development in the infrastructure, there hasn’t been much improvement in the industry as of late. But Florence is more than it’s exports, there’s a true sense of community here with the town knitting club that I’m a part of, knitting hats for the community for the winter week s. We also have wonderful restaurants on the pier —

( you pause, thumbs twitching over the next few words, should you mention your parents’ restaurant? then decide against it.)

— as well as in the town center itself. Florence is a lovely town, full of lovely people. Please let me know more about Eddington, which will help me also explore ways for us to connect better economically and socially. 

Best Wishes,

Mayor Edmund.

(sent by IOS)

he sees the message instantly on his phone, his son is back home from school, with the door slamming. but his attention is on the email, and he’s already typing out a response, fingers flying over the keyboard. 

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme

main body:

Good evening Mayor Edmund,

Eddington is certainly also a sweet town, although there are many people with strong opinions about…just about everything! It makes for —

(and he pauses, frowning at the screen, should he tell her about the conspiracy theorists? no right?) 

— interesting conversations, if nothing else. Our town’s main exports are spare parts, but we’re quite isolated whilst being in the desert and all. It would be good having a sister town to expand our horizons, especially from so much farther away.

Best Wishes,

Mayor Ted Garcia.

he considers not adding his first name there, she isn’t doing it back. but he sends it before he can edit it out, and it sits there. in her inbox.

it’s 6:20pm, and he doesn’t expect an answer from the mayor — you — and you don’t give him one, having probably logged off for the day.

a sigh, and he opens up tinder, having scrolled through his instagram reels half an hour ago. his son says he’s slowly learning brainrot, whatever that means. 

he opens up tinder and then immediately regrets it, someone who he meets at the farmers market for tomatoes every monday is shooting their shot; asking if he could be their “dilf” for the night. tempting offer, but he’s not willing to do “one night stands” or whatever, he needs stability or nothing would work. politics is unstable enough as it is, he can’t be having one night stands to rock the boat. 

then he closes tinder, and thinks about deleting it from his phone. why did his son want him to “find someone”, like this??? what happened to meeting people in real life. 

not that anyone would approach him in real life, he’s the mayor.

he stands up, and smooths his hair down, he should log off too, get out of this office before being a mayor takes over being him. spending time with his son, making tea before some good old tv time. 

his phone pings.

(1)New Message

Open Outlook to read your message. 

he opens it without a second thought.

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme.

main body: 

Good evening Mayor Garcia,

(you had mulled over that for a while, should you use ted? should you just continue doing what you were doing? you went with the latter because you were scared. you weren’t mayor edmund.)

I’m glad to know Eddington exports a lot of spare parts, this could seriously help with issues surrounding industry.  Small towns do often come with a lot of…characters. The desert sounds incredibly isolating, I am quite unsure of if the temperatures are what lead to the isolation.

Thank You for your time,

Mayor Edmund.

(send from IOS)

the days pass, simple and inconsequential. you’ve booked him in to talk to mayor edmund for next monday , but you can’t help but email him. the chain must be fifty emails long, and you’ve found out more about the town. 

you’re logged into mayor edmund’s inbox on your phone, and so you email back almost whenever you get the notification. it’s pathetic, really, how quickly you reply. but there is nothing for you to do, florence is a small town.

you’d been in sacramento for college, and then worked a job there for quite a bit. the city was full of people, different lives all brought together by the fact that they were in the city. so many things to do, so many new people to see.

then everything had fallen through, and you were here in florence, ca again. living in your old bedroom in the loft above your family’s seaside bungalow. an internship with the mayor, who your parents had known all their lives.   

his emails have taken over your life, just a little. your parents pointing it out may have been a good sign that you were constantly flicking your eyes to your phone.

not even a text; no numbers exchanged. just emails on outlook of all places. 

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme

main body:

Good Morning,

I’m going over the Sister Towns act of 2004 and there are some discrepancies in the way certain terms are applied and defined, specifically some clauses in section three of the act are outdated and inconsistent with technology being used today with regards to seasonal events. Does the warm weather bring out a lot of social events in the town? 

How does florence deal with the summer, do you like it?

Best Wishes,

Mayor Garcia.

you answer this email from your bed, hair fluffy from how you slept last night, curled up around your phone. it was getting ridiculous, the way you were hanging onto every word in his emails. Mayor Garcia, you’d done your work to look him up. Pretty, he was pretty. With big brown eyes and a sharp mustache paired with a clean shaven beard.

very cowboy of him, you thought, a fond smile on your face, the image of his promotional posters having him in a suit. He looked sharp, sharp, all edges. and yet here he was, asking you how you liked the weather in florence at 9:35 in the morning on a saturday. 

from:[email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme.

main body: 

Good Morning Mayor Garcia,

Florence is usually rather warm in these months, even if the summer is coming to an end. Personally, I quite like it.  The fishing industry usually does quite well during these months too, and we leave with a surplus which ends up being wasteful, it would be quite helpful if we could negotiate a deal between fisheries and electrical parts company you had mentioned in your previous email about surplus?

Thank you for your time,

Sophia Edmund. 

he smiles as he sees the notification for a new email, almost five minutes after he sent his. their chain must be long, fifty emails discussing business negotiations and he slowly finds out that she likes the environment, likes the sea. likes the way the summer never seems to end, even in september. his son had always said to get on a dating app, but outlook was doing him more favours than whatever the hell tinder was. 

he’d had more luck learning about the mayor from another town than he did on tinder. knowing how you liked your ice cream (cookie dough), and your opinions on bubble tea (it’s very good but only the milk teas), but he couldn’t find a single picture of you, since this wasn’t your first term. being voted in every time, barely any campaign posters of you that made it to the internet.

you chew nervously on your bottom lip as you wait for his response, sitting in your own bedroom, a thousand miles away to the west. you’re probably talking to an assistant, there’s no way a whole mayor is sitting there typing away emails so quickly with his own hands. your hair tied back into a ponytail, away from your face. mayor edmund wants that research done by monday ,and you better get started on it.

not even two minutes later, you see the notification ping in the tab you’ve minimised.

 (1)New Message

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme

main body:

Hi Sophia,

I understand, but I think if you faced a NM summer, I feel like you’d disagree. It gets too hot around these parts, I’m sick of seeing sand swirling around these days, and would absolutely enjoy some ice cream. My son quite likes one creamery in Utah, and we import quite a lot of ice cream from there for the town, we have a tie up with them. I think some sort of negotiation between the fisheries and the electrical parts company can certainly come to fruition, especially with the economy these days. 

Best wishes,

Ted.

you scan it quickly. oh. on a first name basis then? well, his first name basis, he doesn’t know that he’s talking to you…and not sophia. 

you. the assistant, you the one who balances the files and mayor edmund’s schedule. you who deals with the donations whilst mayor edmund makes speeches. 

and yet he talks with such…candidness. like he’s speaking to you directly, sitting across you from the table over dinner.

you’d like that. having him sit across you over dinner.

your hands ghost over your phone screen, and you type out another email.

from: [email protected] 

subject: Connection request for Sister Town Programme.

main body: 

Hi Ted,

I have not had a NM summer before, truth be told I’m a bit scared of the heat in NM, being worse than CA. The summers in Florence are…nice. I hope you can experience them one day, the sea breeze makes it so that it’s a pleasant temperature here. The tieup with the creamery in UT is actually a perfect jumping point for an economic tieup between Eddington and Florence. The electrical parts could certainly be invested in the fishing industry for a payout in future years

Best Wishes,

Sophia.

(and if you type out your own name, and backspace until it’s off your screen, he doesn’t have to know.)

the meeting is a zoom call, obviously a zoom call. florence, ca is a thousand miles away, and nobody is paying a civil servant like him to get to ca for this. 

he stands in front of the mirror, in his best shirt. he’d pressed it at least three times, enough to smite the creases out of existence. he considers wearing a tie (for a long time), and then decides against it. he’s wearing slacks for gods sake, it’s a zoom meeting where he’ll be sitting down, and he’s wearing slacks. 

business casual. all business and very casual with the way you two have been talking away in outlook.

he’s wearing cologne, and his son had actually laughed at him.

“are you getting ready for a date?” he’d asked, laughing over cereal, and ted had blushed, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. “you know she can’t smell your cologne over zoom.” 

he’d teased him, but he didn’t mean anything, not really.. he’d been less tense these days, less wound up like a tight coil, been able to laugh with his son and not be stressed about the sheriff or conspiracy nuts or anything. 

too busy replying to emails from you, his son would have said. 

he smells of cologne, all woody and musky and he sits in front of the zoom meeting, his name “Ted (he/him)” on the screen before he turned his camera on.

he saw your camera went on first, in the official building, and what he could only assume to be yousitting in front of him. 

“mayor garcia,” the woman smiles, short hair, a grey bob paired with a bold red lip. she’s older than him, her tone is all ice, nothing like the familiarity that he’d come to know of her.

“call me ted.” he says, a grin on his face, “and you must be sophia, i’m guessing?”

her face darkens, and she frowns, “sophia? i’d rather you refer to me as mayor edmund.” 

oh. his heart breaks, what about all the conversations he’d shared with her, all the hours spent talking.

“oh i just assumed, because in the emails…” he rambles, fidgeting with the pen. had he read thing wrong?

“oh, right, the emails.” she gives a tight smile, “i wasn’t the one answering them, sorry about that, that was my assistant’s job.”

assistant.

his heart sinks, so he was just talking to someone he had no idea about? someone who was lying through a screen. he felt catfished, if that could even be a thing in outlook. scammed? phished?

she turns around, and calls out for an unfamiliar name, and zoom call picks up on the sound of stumbling heels against the floor.

he sees the legs first, in a pencil skirt, formal and tight but floral. his mouth is dry, and he feels overwhelmingly guilty. guilt that he didn’t even know who he was emailing, or why he felt himself getting hot for a pair of legs in a tight skirt.

red heels, is the next thing he notices, tall red heels that click against the floor as the figure stumbles into view.

a blouse with a v neck and a lace trim, pretty eyes behind thick rimmed glasses. and lip gloss, shiny enough to be seen through the screen on his mac.

there’s something about this woman, he thinks, hair curled and styled, framing her face. 

“this is my assistant (y/n), she did most of the work on the sister cities project under my name.” mayor edmund pats yourback, “i think she should be talking about this more than i.”

you blush, stammering over your words as she moves aside for you to sit down. “i- mayor edmund, this is highly improper…”

“please, you managed to get us a fantastic sister town and build a good relationship, that’s good work!”

ted sees your blouse more clearly when you sit down, grey with a lace trim. it fits you, he thinks, all ditzy and cute. fits you in the words that you’ve written to him, fits you, the way you get all flustered. 

you bite your lip nervously, and he can see your gloss smudge to the corner of your mouth. he desperately wishes to wipe it away through the screen.

“hey.” he smiles, after a moment, all charm. the mayor charm, white teeth.

“hi…” you say, giving a small smile of your own, biting your tongue. he knows you are the one who told him about the summers by the sea, and your college in sacramento.

“sorry about the email thing.” you mutter, looking young. younger than him anyway, looking for approval in your eyes behind those glasses, “mayor edmund wanted me to…”

“no it’s okay, really.” he sighs, “though we did get on like a house on fire.”

another smile at that, less embarrassed this time, “i would agree with that mr mayor.” 

“it’s ted.” he adds, helpfully. hey, maybe this is salvageable after all. betrayal is one thing, but he cannot lose someone like you. you feel like it a star became a human being, all the warmth in the world, seeping through the damn screen.

“okay then, ted.” you say, clearing your throat and tugging your shirt a little to adjust it, probably for your comfort, but as you move, you lean towards the camera, and he sees your chest a little more clearly, before you sit back again.

he shouldn’t look, but he’s looking anyway. pretty face, prettier if your eyes were glazed and your lips were glossy with spit and not gloss, looking up at him from your knees and —

“ted? you there?” how was he so distracted already, maybe it was because he knew you, your thoughts, your dreams, history everything, bundled into a long email chain.

“i’m there.” he smiles, “no but thank you for doing this sister cities initiative, i think it could bring a lot to eddington.”

you tilt your head and jot something down on your notepad, “no worries, it was nice knowing about eddington…and honestly you.”

he didn’t realise you were as interested in it as he was in you, he’d just assumed that it was part of your job.

mayor edmund rolls her chair back into frame, “(y/n) is a wonderful assistant here, seriously, always jotting notes, i didn’t even realise we’d discussed sister cities until she brought it up in one of our meetings.”

you’re blushing again, shy. your notepad has a picture of a whale on there, and he knows it’s because you love the sea.

he knows that you love the sea, your parents have a restaurant on the pier and you know how much he wishes to visit the sea.

(visit you too, hell, two weeks and he’s fallen this hard.)

through the screen he seems older than he did in his campaign photos, the greys mixing with his black hair that you can see, pixels on a screen.

you listen to him as he talks about the sister cities project from eddington’s side, and he lets you talk about florence’s contributions. his voice is so smooth and sweet, it sounds nicer than the one you’d imagined in your head whilst reading his messages.

after the discussion ends, he pauses, “before you cut the call.”

mayor edmund has left now, it’s just the two of you, the sun is darkening behind you, and he looks so soft in the lights of his house. the past hour he’s been talking with mayor edmund, your eyes keep ghosting over the simple photos of him and his son. a family man, like he mentioned. son who likes ice cream, son who likes castles, son who wants to study political science.

you tilt your head, looking up at him.

“can i send you my number?” he asks, “all this outlook stuff is boring.” and your lips twitch.

“i dunno, i kind of liked it, very old-western.” you grin, but you’re pulling out your phone. your hands are so slender wrapped around that phone, he thinks, he thinks—

“here, i sent my number over the zoom chat.” he typed in the number manually into the phone. 

you copy and paste it onto the messenger on your mac. 

“well then.” he gives a polite smile.

“well then.” you smile back, tapping your fingers against the table. 

“i’ll be seeing you?” he asks, waving his phone. you laugh, what an old man.

“you’ll be seeing me!” you say back, through the screen.

unknown number, florence, ca:

(20:37)

hey ted, this is y/n!

he smiles as he sees the message, and replies in a few seconds. 

ted:

(20:37)

hi :) nice seeing you today. 

THANKS FOR READING!!! any comments are super duper appreciated as always!!! LOTS OF LOVE angieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! (see, a friend yelled at me about updating this fic, and here we are...an update...yell at me about updating the harry fic!!!) my requests and inbox and everything is so open please talk to me about this fic, or any of my other fics for that matter....i am SO SLEEPY...GOODNIGHT.... THE SUN. I SEE THE SUN.

The evenings were the hardest part of the pandemic.

Days at least had structure, calls, briefings, careful routines that made everything feel like it still had purpose. But evenings…

Evenings stretched. Quiet. Too quiet.No dinners out. No networking. Just the same walls.

You sat at the kitchen table, scrolling aimlessly, the same four apps on rotation like they might suddenly offer something new. They never did. Even the tiktok dancing challenges had dried up.

Outside, the town of Eddington felt paused. Not empty, just… waiting. Like everything had been put on hold and no one knew quite how to press play again.

Ted noticed. As mayor, He noticed everything.

“You’re bored,” he said from the doorway.

You didn’t even look up. “I’m thriving, actually.” Sarcasm flowing out.

“Mm.” He leaned against the frame, arms folded. “That’s why you’ve checked your phone 5 times in the last minute.”

“…4,” you muttered before absentmindedly swiping.

“5.”

You sighed, dropping it onto the table. “There’s just… nothing to do. No events, no campaigning, no people. I didn’t realise how much of your life is usually…”you gestured vaguely “…busy.”

“It is,” he said simply.

“& now it’s not.”

“No.” A pause.

“There’s nothing to get excited about” you say as you reach for your phone but stop. Ted sees clearly that you need stimulation.

“Give me an hour.”

You blinked, finally looking at him. “For what?”

“You’ll see. Trust me sweetie.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “That’s suspicious.”

“You’ll love it,” he corrected, already turning away.

“Ted…”

“An hour,” he repeated, disappearing outside.

You huffed softly, but there was already a small shift in your mood. Curiosity, if nothing else. Your hand swiped up on the phone & the doom scrolling began.

Time passed. Eventually Tim got you & lead you through the kitchen. By the time you stepped into the garden, you stopped short.

“…oh.”

Ted stood near the back fence, adjusting something on a small table. Behind him, a white sheet had been strung up between two posts, pulled taut enough to act as a screen.

A projector sat ready.

Soft outdoor fairy lights had been looped along the fence, casting a warm glow across the space. Blankets layered over the grass. Cushions. A small tray set up with snacks & drinks like it hadn’t taken him any effort at all.

It had. You could tell.

“You did all this in an hour?” you asked.

He glanced back at you.

“Closer to forty minutes. But the light looping took the longest.”

You smiled despite yourself.

“Show-off.”

“Efficient,” he repeated.

You stepped further into the space, taking it all in.

“This is… actually really nice.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Thought we could use something different.”

“Movie nights with a difference.”

You looked at the screen again.

“…what are we watching?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just picked up the remote, aimed it at the projector.

The familiar logo appeared.

Star Wars

You laughed softly.

“Of course it is.”

“You complained about being bored,” he said. “This solves that. Nostalgia. Space. A world to get lost in.”

“It does,” you admitted, stepping closer. “Very effectively.”

He watched you for a second. That look again. The one that lingered just a little longer than necessary.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward the blankets.

You did, settling down & pulling one around your shoulders as the evening air cooled. Eddington was always warm in the day but at night with a breeze it had an evil chill to it. Ted joined you a moment later, close, but not crowding.

“May the force be with us” he said. You kissed his cheek.

The film started properly, the sound soft but clear in the open air.

For a while, neither of you said much. You watched. But there was more than the film to distract you from your phone.

The stars above you, real ones, competing with the ones on screen. Twinkling billions of miles away. There quiet hum of the town in the distance, neon flicking you could make out. The occasional brush of Ted’s arm against yours as he shifted slightly beside you. At some point, you leaned into him. Not deliberate. Just natural. He didn’t react at first.

Then his arm moved, settling around your shoulders like it had always belonged there.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Better.”

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence. Comfortable. Warm.

You reached for the snacks your favourite m&ms, nachos, dips. It was all there.

“Thanks,” you said.

“Anytime.” You glanced up at him.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

He didn’t answer straight away. His thumb brushed absently against your arm.

“You needed it,” he said finally.

Your chest tightened just slightly.

“That’s very mayor of you, would you do this for all your voters?”

He huffed a quiet laugh.

“No just the most loyal” you blushed “so do you now want this to be a thing?”

“It is a thing.”

“No I mean watch a Star Wars movie like this each week…” he then sees the look in your eyes which meant something else “oh that thing” he looks flustered. He always felt shy when you made the first move even though you’ve been a couple for a long time now.

You smiled.

“…maybe a little.”

He shook his head, but there was a softness to it.

“Hmmm maybe I’ll hold you to that for the after show.”

The film carried on in the background, but your focus drifted. Back to him. Always, somehow, back to him.

“You’re not watching,” you pointed out.

“I’ve seen it.”

“So…”

“ watching you is better.”

You blinked slightly.

“That’s… a line.”

“It’s true.”

Your breath caught just a little. The space between you shifted Subtly.

You turned slightly toward him, the blanket slipping just enough that his hand instinctively adjusted it again, brushing your shoulder in the process.

“Careful,” you said softly.

“With what?”

“You’re starting to sound charming.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Starting?”

You smiled.

“…fair.”

There was a pause. The kind that lingers. The film played on, unnoticed now. Your hand found his first this time. He didn’t hesitate. Fingers threading through yours, grounding, certain.

“You’re not bored anymore,” he murmured.

“No,” you said quietly. “I’m not.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips. Then back to your eyes. Checking. Waiting.

You didn’t pull away. That was all he needed. He leaned in slowly. Not rushed. Not uncertain. Just… inevitable.

The kiss started soft. Careful. Like he was still giving you time to change your mind. You didn’t, you would never.

If anything, you leaned into it more, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath your palm.

His grip on your hand tightened slightly. You felt his heart skip a beat.

The second kiss wasn’t careful.

Still gentle, but deeper, more certain, like something had sparked into life.

The projector kept running behind you, light flickering across the garden, across the two of you, across something that had been building quietly all this time. Time stood still for you both as you sat there making out. Appreciating a moment just for the two of you.

When you pulled back, just slightly, your forehead brushed his.

“You did all this,” you murmured.

“Yeah.”

“For a movie.”

“For you.”

That landed. Properly. You smiled softly, still close enough to feel his warm breath.

“Good answer, Mr Mayor.”

He huffed quietly.

“Don’t start that.”

“Too late.”

He shook his head, but his hand found your face this time, thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. The film reached its final stretch behind you. Neither of you noticed.

“You staying out here?” he asked.

You glanced up at the stars. Then back at him.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I will.”

He nodded once.