#theasteriae

        Ask Box Trick-or-Treat

        * * *

“Miss Adler, how kind of you to come. And right on time too” she said, though it wasn’t so much the punctuality that was appreciated, more that anyone daring to be late when she had summoned them, needed a very strict correction. Kit had neither the patience nor energy to provide that today.

this meme for: @theasteriae​ verse: happy verse

I. 

Celia has never seriously dated before. There were boys but they had little to no interest in getting to know her. They just wanted to fuck her. People were always saying she was too pretty for her own good and she was starting to think that was true. 

Only Basher Moran didn’t seem that bothered about how pretty she was. Although she assumed, that was what drew him to her in the first place. It was silly and unrealistic to say otherwise and she certainly fancied him from the moment she saw him. It had nothing to do with her laugh and everything to do with his jawline. It wasn’t true anymore now. 

It had been one of the best summers of her life. She could hardly believe she had been tempted to turn Alex down, to return to Surrey, alone and melancholy. Sherlock has said he would come up but would have likely cancelled last minute. Cee has never spent so much time with people apart from at school and it took a while to get used to all the sibling and cousin dynamics. It was like something from one of her books; The Chronicles of Narnia or The Famous Five. They all had inside jokes and pet names and moved around each other like a choreographed dance. She knew her bothers well enough but she rarely had to deal with a cramped kitchen and sharing bedrooms. They knew each other differently than the Morans. 

It had been a fantasy of hers to live like this. When she was young and it was just her alone in that big house, she would daydream about having lots of brother’s and sister’s and cousins to play with. Adventures at the beach; caves and pirate treasure. She imagined herself into their childhood and al of a sudden, felt a lump in her throat. It was more than jealousy; it was something like grief. Greif for that lonely little girl who would always aways be alone. 

“What’s up?” Bash interrupted her thoughts. Clearly, her state of mind has shown on her face. 

“Nothing. I’m just a little sad to go back to school after all this.” 

Bash sighed knowingly, turning back to look out over the water. Even though she had come with Alex, Celia was spending more and more time on the beach with Bash. They sat in the dunes, a blanket around their shoulders, watching the sun fall into the freezing water. Even in the height of summer, the water was freezing. “Yeah, I’ll miss the beach,” he agrees. 

She turns to look at his profile, shoulder bumping into his. “I’ll miss you.” She didn’t quite mean you individually, she meant you as a family, but she was glad he took it that way. 

He turned to look at her and then leant in to kiss her for the first time, both their heads moving in the opposite way so they didn’t bump noses, as if it has been rehearsed. Cee had never been kissed like that before but it was almost exactly how the songs and books and poems described it. It was like seeing fireworks. But perhaps more wonderfully, when he kissed her like that, she didn’t feel so alone. 

II.

It had felt like a long time since that first kiss, although it has only been seven years. In the prospect of a lifetime together, that was short. But she couldn’t help but think about that moment, as she stood at the waters edge, champagne glass in hand, breathing deeply in the cool evening air. Behind her, her specially built carnival glows, reflecting in the dark waters. 

She’s changed from her wedding dress into a short ballet style tutu skirt, which stopped a little north of where her father, new husband and aunt-in-law might have liked. Long legs end in bare feet and she lets the water lap up against her ankles. 

“Hey, Mrs Moran-- there about twenty million people wanting to see you back there.” 

She turns back with a smile, just in time to see Bash - messy hair, jacket long gone, shirt sleeved rolled up - before he wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss into the side of her face. “There are not twenty million people, you’re such a drama queen.” 

He laughs. She does too. Then they relax into silence and both watch the waves. After a moment, Cee begins to cry. 

“Hey, hey,” Bash moves to turn her round, concern on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing-- I’m just-- I’m just so--” 

“What? Oh god, you’re regretting it already. I said, if you weren’t ready, that we could--”

“Happy!” Cee interupsts him with laugh, “Bash, I’m happy. I am so happy.” 

He looks so relived, it only makes Cee laugh again; more happy tears spilling onto her cheeks. He pulls her close, a deep kiss, just them. Maybe the big party was too much. She was danced out; talked out; laughed out. She just wanted this. And the best bit was, she had it, and she had it forever. 

III. 

“Twins!?” 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

Cee can tell the nurse wasn’t expecintg that reaction from her, but she couldn’t care less. One more baby was enough of a shock, but two more? She looks over at Bash, who’s grinning and offers a look as if to say ‘what are you smiling about, you bastard’. 

“I am very serious Mrs Moran. You can see one heart beat here,” the nurse points to a black mass on the monitor, “and the second,” another black mass, “here.” Cee will just have to take her word for it. She got very upset when she couldn’t see what the nurse was talking about with Beua but she’s over it this time. She’s already over being pregnant this time and now it’s just going to be two times worse? Well, it was always two times worse but now she knows about it. “I’ll leave this up and give you a minute,” the nurse smiles at the parents and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Cee’s face is full of panic. 

“What?” Bash moves into the side of the hospital bed, taking Cee’s hand in his. 

“What do you mean, what? Bash-- I can’t handle three kids. You’re away all the time. I didn’t even know if I could do two but three babies? I’m out of my depth here.” 

“So what are you saying? You want to-- not--” 

“No, no, I’m just-- it’s a lot, Bash. Twins. That’s twice the baby!” 

“And you,” now he moves his hands to her face. Eye contact is key with Cecelia, pyshical contact and looking her in the eye. “Are twice the woman. You can do this. You can do anything.” 

Cee takes a calming breath and nods. “I love you,” she manages and leans forward to kiss him softly, just in time for the door to reopen. They never get a moments peace anymore. 

IV. 

Celia closes the bedroom door very gentle behind her. It feels like having babies again; a house full she doesn’t want to wake up. Bash just smiles up at her, taking off his glasses. He’s only been in the job four hours and he’s already bringing work to bed. 

“Do they love their new rooms?” 

Celia pulls an apoletic look, pulling off her dressing gown. “Immy says she wants to go home.” 

“To Suffolk?” 

“Yeah.”

“She’s knows she’s now living in Downing Street, right?” 

“You know that a ten year old could not care less, right?” 

Bash just laughs, laying his arm out over her pillows so she can snuggle in next to him. For a moment, they just sit there, head leant back against the headboard, drinking it all in. They had been working towards this for over ten years and now? The real work was just beginning. She can already feel her eyes getting heavy. “You’re happy here though, right?”

“Mm,” she hums. She’s not sure yet. Suffolk is her home, more than she ever though it would be. It was where the boys all grew up, their childhood rooms even though they were all grown up and out the house now. It was where Immy was born, where they played capture the flag and five aside football when the rest of the family came over. 

Downing Street might be a symbol of how far they had come, but it wasn’t home and she doubted, no matter how long they were here, it would ever feel like one. She already had plans to nip back to Suffolk the first weekend they could. “Yeah, this is what we’ve wanted for so long. We just need to settle into it.” Cee looks up to Bash, smiling at the fine lines already marking his face. But his eyes look the same as they did when he kissed her for that very first time on the beach. He’s so good to her, always. 

She kisses him, the sort of kiss they haven’t had in a while. Five kids, two demanding careers and a whole country wanting his attention tends to lead to pecks of affection and quickies whenever they can get it. But they have a moment now. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, lips still touching his. “I’m so proud of us. For everything, not just this job. I love you.” 

V. 

They had been in rooms like this so many times over the years. The bad lighting, the round tables, the stage. Only, rarely for her. She had, happily, she wanted to add, taken a back seat for most of her life. Her skillset was better suited to a life of support and planning; organising and committing herself to the task at hand. Whether they was her husband’s career, or her children’s lives. How could she call them children now though? Immy sat next to her, one arm lazily draped across her own baby bump, the other reached out to hold her mother’s hand. 

All heads had turned to the stage as a larger man in a ill-fitting suit took to the podium. His welcome speech was short and sweet, something Cee appreciated. She had told anyone who she could that she wasn’t bothered; even to be nominated was an honour but she was bothered. Her stomach swam with anxiety in a way it hadn’t done in years. 

“And the winner, of the twenty-forty-eight Booker Prize goes to... Cecelia Holmes.”

The table around her, well dressed and well mannered, rose with celebration; clapping together hands together and whooping. Immy kissed her cheek, Beua was quick to follow but she wouldn't get around them all. Although, she couldn’t forget one of them. 

Bash had sat across from her for most of the night. Although it was her night, it was also the first time in months all the family had been together in one place. Well, not all the family. You could fill the whole room with all the family. They were on stand-by, waiting for the news. They could have a party anyway, Immy had said, but they’d take down the banners if she didn’t win, though she suspected they wouldn’t have to. That had made Cee laugh. All the family tonight mean the six kids. Beua, Cass, Edmund, Perc, Immy and Hugo, ranging in ages from early forties, to twenty-two. Her children. Fuck the books, these wonderful, clever, funny, thoughtful kids were the best thing she had ever done with her life. And it was all thanks to Bash. They had caught each others eyes all night and it had made her feel young again. Like when they used to catch each other eyes over the dinner table at Nettle Cottage. 

She was aware there was a room full of people waiting for her but she was hungry for the kiss. Her hands reached for his face and she wasn’t that surprised to see a tear in his eye. “I’m so proud of you,” Bash managed, although years of shouting in Westminster had left his voice a little hoarse. She kissed him again, although she could feel the ever secible and dependable Beua trying to take her arm towards the stage. 

@theasteriae liked this post for a starter

As the car pulled to a stop in the gravel drive and harry engaged the parking break, the looming shape of Hawthorn House grew to its full height. He looked out from the windshield and sighed, straightening his tie and pulling down on his jumper subconsciously.

THIS PARTY BLOWS // STARTERS

“Again?” Adam turned his head to look over his shoulder to scan the room. It took him all of two seconds to spot Bash, standing at their table, glass in hand and talking to whatever guests were forced to listen. 

Chuckling, Adam shook his head. “Let him,” he said and turned back to the bar to accept his glass of rum and coke, the one he’d mostly ordered because they’d paid too much for the whole thing to only stick to beer. “Looks like he’s having fun. And right now I’m not one of the poor bastards who have to listen, am I?”

God knew that with a few drinks in him, this wouldn’t be his husband’s last toast. His husband... Adam wondered when he would get used to saying that. Hopefully not anytime soon. 

for @theasteriae​ / from a meme i cannot find / not accepting / below the cut for length

❛❛ The shores respond in song to the waves. ❜❜      @theasteriae​     +     kate

           SHORE AND SEA     .        NEITHER OWNS ONE ANOTHER          ;         forever locked in eternal longing ,        what is the sea if not in love with the land    ?       how else would one explain the endless gifts placed ‘pon sand and rocks .       life offered as a token of affection ,        shells the pearls in the necklace around mother earth’s neck .            AWFULLY ROMANTIC ,       TRUTHFULLY     .         laughter rises easily ,       oranges and honey ,      the determination to see another day .       arm draped across other woman’s shoulder ,       a gentle squeeze of fingers clawing into flesh        (       but for once it isn’t obsessive .       not a gem which needs to be held tightly in her grasp .     )          a lean closer ,       mug raised effortlessly ,     drunk on another victory more so than stale rum .    

“Too much like last time?” To be honest, Sebastian doesn’t want to say it. This isn’t a fight. This is probably the last fucking time Bash is going to see him. And yet, here he is, trying to grin at Bash through the blood and pain of it all. He doesn’t know why he’s trying. It’s not one of those moments. It won’t make anything better, and it hurts. “You need to go. Without me.” He’d say it’s not worth it, but Bash is sentimental and would argue the point. Sebastian‘s never believed in going back for people, but no one else around him does, and especially not when it comes to family. He doesn’t have the energy for this, but he’d much rather Bash make it out of here than try to save him. It’s easier to be unwilling to save someone than to try and lose them anyway. He can’t think about David till Bash is gone, though, because Seb really doesn’t want to cry.

He grits his teeth, keeps pressure on the biggest wound, and knows that there’s no way out of this. You get lucky till you don’t. Bash didn’t get caught in the worst of it - he’s uninjured enough to be able to get out of there. Sebastian wouldn’t just lie down and die for any reason, but there is too much out of place for him to have even a chance. He’s got a hand on the biggest wound, but there’s so many others, and he’s pretty sure if he moves, he’s going to feel shrapnel in places that he can’t see from the angle he’s settled himself at. “If you want to do anything for me, put a fucking bullet in me before someone else does. And go.” It’s not ideal, but it’s a much better way to die.