here we go again.

Nash should not have been surprised to see Danica Edwards at the scrimmage, and yet there he was — looking stupid, staring at her and trying to collect his thoughts. Making eye contact with her was not the most humiliating part, believe it or not. It was the hand that shot up to wave at her… he had to go say something, didn’t he?

Sporting a uniform that was proving just for show today, as a result of his newbie status and what was becoming a familiar seat on the bench, he sighed deeply and drilled over to Danica. There was no way for her to know just how much she had been brought up in his conversations as of late, and yet he felt exposed at the thought.

Ajani nods quickly and compliantly when he’s asked not to interrupt, despite the anxiety injected in him at Colton’s assumption that he’ll react negatively. He inhales deeply through his nose, still fighting to show how attentive he is, how ready he is for however harrowing a journey Colton wants them to brave together. 

I love you too, he almost whispers when Colton says it first. But he was told to remain silent and so he does. With his heart lodged so firmly in his throat, Ajani isn’t sure if any sound would have come out of him anyway. And though Colton looks away from him as he speaks on, Ajani’s eyes remain firm on his boyfriend, adamant that he isn’t too fragile for conversations like this. He’s never looked away when things were hard between them, never the one to apparate away, and he won’t be now either. 

He thinks that perhaps the reason his eyes are growing watery is because his blinks are far and in between, insistent that he won’t look away when they’re so low. But as Colton apologizes for the very series of events that brought them here to begin with, it becomes undeniable that his vision is blurred with tears of heartbreak. Surely, because it’s still difficult to think about all of the feelings surrounding Colton’s disappearance, ones he can barely talk about even after months of stewing with them. But also because right about now, his all too active mind is beginning to piece together where this conversation is going. 

“Oh…” A shaky, involuntary and breathless sound escapes him when Colton says he was leaning on their relationship too much. The next explanations to leave Colton are like an avalanche, working together as an undeniable force to make an undeniable point. Ajani can barely see through the pooled up heat in his eyes, but it’s only when Colton’s voice gives in that Ajani takes a quaking breath that spills his tears over. And even so, he looks directly at Colton. Brows and lips and chin and fingers quivering, Ajani still stares, willing himself to be firm for several seconds even after Colton finishes speaking. And then…he can’t take it anymore.

All this time, Ajani had been telling himself there was no point in allowing a meltdown to sneak through the cracks of the trials they’d been enduring since Colton’s overdose. Telling himself that all he had to do was count down the minutes and seconds till they could be together again, and once he made it to today, he would be home free. But now he’s here and the hope he’d clung desperately to is gone, replaced by everything he didn’t let himself feel before. Every little twinge and hurt that that he had foolishly thought would be erased when he had his boyfriend back, floods forth now. And when Ajani finally looks down, the tears roll seamlessly off his cheeks, dripping onto the bedsheet between them without a second’s pause.

He nods with great effort, not knowing what to say. Wanting so much to beg Colton to choose him too, wanting to argue that things will be better with his support during this healing process but Colton said the opposite himself. He sounded so sure that Ajani was detrimental to his healing and how could he fight that? How could he beg when Colton himself believed that they would be harmful to his healing process? He wants to say so much but only nods unsteadily. None of it matters, none of his words about this matter.

Ajani draws short, abrupt inhales through his nose, shoulders shaking from the effort of keeping his breakdown contained, because if he’s sobbing, if he’s hysterical, well that would make Colton uncomfortable and wracked with guilt, wouldn’t it? When the man is already going through so much, how could Ajani pile guilt on top of that? 

When he finally speaks, the sound is oxygen deprived. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that I-“ was bad for you. “I want you to be happy-“ even if it’s without me. “Colton-”

Are you sure? He wants to ask, but he knows the answer already. Colton wouldn’t have done this to them lightly. Even during his lowest moment, in a haze in their living room, seconds from fleeing into the darkness of his addiction, Ajani was sure Colton hadn’t done so lightly.

“If this is what-“ you want. Ajani braves a glance back up in Colton’s direction, but to see that they’re suffering together chokes the thought on his mind. He can only nod. He can only whisper, “If this is what you need…”

“You make me happy,” he quickly chimes in, unable to let the comment go without making something clear. He brings a hand up to stroke the cheek of a man who doesn’t deserve the pain he’s so clearly feeling. The pain Colton inflicted. He had been a fool for thinking that love was enough to shield Ajani from the inevitable, being sucked into the black hole of Colton’s chaos. How could he ever forgive himself for this? 

“This isn’t about that, about what makes me happy. If it was, I wouldn’t be doing this.” If it was, I’d be with you. “This is just something I need to do by myself right now. I need to stop fucking around and focus everything on getting better.” Colton couldn’t shake the image of them in ruins because he was too selfish to let go. The truth, that he could see now but was unwilling to before, is that Ajani was always going to get caught in the crossfire of the war in Colton’s mind. It doesn’t matter how much he loves him. 

Colton doesn’t know at what point he started crying, but it suddenly becomes evident to him that he is when, for just a moment, he finds it hard to catch his breath. He's suddenly aware of the salt streaming from his eyes and shakes his head at himself, wishing he was stronger. Ajani always deserved better.

Sloane was never one to find discomfort in silence. She often preferred people didn’t bother her with trivial, personal things, and when she craved noise and chaos she found no trouble instigating it herself. Though, things had been much quieter without her usual right hand. But this kind of silence made her nauseous. The can of worms she opened crawled on her calves, sticking to the sweat at the bottom of her back, itching her all over. She crossed her arms to satisfy the urge and manicured fingers poked her hot, black leather jacket. She huffed. 

Sloane felt she knew Nash well, could tell his next move from a look in his eye, but she had never seen him so deflated. So still. He didn’t motion to her, barely looked at her, she couldn’t quite read him–but she wasn’t surprised. Stilted, yes. But when Nash finally spoke a question outlandish enough to turn Sloane red she barely skipped a breath. She knew him well. He had always been the one to say things aloud, to start conversations, to call her out. From Sloane, what am I to you? to Sloane, I’m in love with you to, well, unfortunately Sloane, are you jealous? Even though she was breathing steady she didn’t blink, barely winced at the light wind, couldn’t pull her eyes from him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her instinct was betrayal, disrespect. How dare someone ask her if she was jealous? In order to be jealous you have to favor a person, you have to want to be someone’s favorite. She could have killed him on the spot if she didn’t…you know. 

Instead, she thought hard about it. No one in her entire life had hurt her as much as Danica had these past few months. Not even her parents. They had never earned that kind of pull on her. If her rage was cloaked jealousy, if she was aiming her new glowing hatred for Scamp at Danica because that was supposed to be her receiving her sister’s love and attention, was that so bad? What had Scamp done to steal what had been hers, and how unfair of Danica to give it to him so freely, so selfishly. But that was what Sloane realized about the twins: stand them together and they’re identical, separate them and show their true scales. Danica was selfish; Sloane had to be something else. 

That was when it hit. If Danica was selfish, Sloane had to be something else. If Danica was cruel, painless, strong, Sloane had to be something else. If Danica couldn’t be lonely, had to be spot-lit, Sloane had to be something else. If Danica had a partner easily, freely, wickedly, Sloane had to have something else. In order to be jealous you have to want the kind of thing someone else has that you can’t. Being jealous of Scamp for getting time with her sister was miniscule. The night prior, Sloane would’ve rather melted into acid on the floor of the bar than admit being jealous of Danica. But at least Danica got to have Scamp.

Sloane rubbed the sleeves of her jacket but didn’t flinch at the sting of her bachelorette party scratches. “And so what if I was.” She chimed. “She did that to hurt me, she said it at the bar to fuck with me, it can’t be…real. Why would I be jealous of them?” Sloane wasn’t ready to admit this defeat from her sister in broad daylight in the middle of a conversation she was slowly regretting starting, but at least this made sense to her logically. “I don’t want any part of that.” Danica’s fake attention, Scamp’s blindness, whatever vindictive romance was afoot. It wasn’t like she couldn’t get that easily, the adrenaline rush. Sloane had managed to talk herself out of any jealously before she could even give Nash a clear response, just as she managed to weave her way out of anything. 

After asking what was a truly bold question in the face of someone already undeniably vexed, Nash anticipated a quick dismissal — and Sloane didn’t disappoint. Or she did, but it was right on cue. His head shook, looking to the side but still not at her, something akin to a laugh escaping his lips before they curled inward and tightened up again. He couldn’t quite place the feeling, a mix between irritation and… amusement? If there was one thing he was sure of it was that Sloane would not just leave it there. She might spew something rash from her mouth, often vile and pungent, but she was far too cerebral to not spend time seriously considering it. When she spoke up again, Nash surprised himself by looking back up at Sloane. They knew each other so well, didn’t they?

Sloane hadn’t realized she was baiting Nash until he told her something she also hadn’t realized she wanted to hear. It may have been her desire to know if someone else had managed to charm him while she was so inelegantly pushing him away. An unexpected bubble of relief popped inside her sending warmth to her shoulders and sides. All she could do was look at him. She couldn’t tell if she was smiling, and she was only slightly, but it felt much wider on the inside. “It’s not an easy task.” But not impossible, apparently. She finally replied with a smug tilt of her head and a sly smirk of satisfaction, or pride. There was only a small ache, located on her lower spine, that itched over whether her sister had managed to replace her. But it was acute, like the pinch of a bug bite, and overshadowed by what she felt watching Nash tell her she was irreplaceable. “And you won’t be surprised to hear that most people back home have been terribly boring since you left.” Replacing him hadn’t been on her agenda. She had chosen loneliness. 

Despite the moment of bliss, the spiraling conversation left Sloane feeling distanced from Nash and caught in her own feelings. It wasn’t till he moved from her, till the end where she finally began to see him, that her thoughts had focused. Sloane used to always be focused; she was diligent, cognizant, calculative, but lately she felt erratic and overwhelmed and angry. Now, she was only focused on Nash as he moved to sit and she stood firmly. Tension built in her body and her stiff frame fought the momentum that pushed against it, urging to sit beside him, but she didn’t move–only focused. She focused on his expressions piece together what she hadn’t bothered to filter, because she was used to holding herself back around him. She should have done better. Weak, again. 

She focused on the way his eyebrows moved, and the trail of his bottom lip, and his eyes as they settled on what she knew to be true but suddenly felt sick to repeat. Caught in her own feelings, in what was conspiring between her and her other half, fumed at how Danica had made her feel, she hadn’t considered how things would make Nash feel. But that was the thing: Sloane scarcely considered how things affected others. Few times had she cared enough for it to factor into the choice she made. She felt different now, hurt but not by her own pain, a feeling she recognized but not one she welcomed often and not one she had any clue what to do with. This was the type of feeling that on instinct would send her fighting, but who was there to fight? She had already fought her sister; she had already fought herself. Without that option, Sloane didn’t know how to protect him. 

Sloane felt the need to place the blame on someone other than Nash so he didn’t blame himself, but she faltered when figuring out how to do so. She only told him what she believed was true. “I think Danica would’ve been jealous of anyone…who had that much of my attention.” Most of it, but Sloane had a few people she spoke to that her sister had found no issue with. Danica had chosen Nash specifically to hate, as if she’d known from the beginning, as if she could see it in Sloane’s eyes before either of them had understood. She’d asked Nash how long he’d known that Danica and Scamp were sleeping around. She should’ve asked Danica how long she knew Sloane and Nash were in love. “Unfortunately for everyone involved, no one else did.” 

Somehow the conversation had shifted. From that unobtrusive bug bite in her back things had no longer been about Danica or Scamp or Danica and Scamp. This conversation was now about Nash or her and Nash, about them, and still Sloane could not bring herself to move closer. She crossed her arms, her final defense. “I didn’t realize.” She tried to explain, catch him up to speed on the realizations she’d made. “Well, I did know, I think part of me did.” And like most things with her sister she chose to look past it. “But I didn’t realize how bad it was until we fought. I didn’t realize that all of it, I guess when it came to my…when it came to Danica it wasn’t about me. It had always been about you.” So many things, Sloane was starting to make, had always been about Nash. For the both of them.

The corners of Nash’s lips twitched at her comment about how no one else had managed to capture as much of her attention as he had. They fell as quickly as they rose, thinking about Sloane and Danica’s relationship. Nothing had ever felt so foreign to him. Since hearing the way Scamp spoke about Danica, as unrecognizable as she sounded described to him by his cousin, Nash had managed to shed even the small bit of animosity he held for Sloane’s sister. While protective, he was even more open minded than most in meeting his own sister’s boyfriends and jealousy was not even on the table. He was not a twin, but he was confident that if he was one… he still would not have wound up in their position. 

Nothing Sloane said made Nash feel any better, but he was not expecting her to ease the sting of the realization that he was in the center of all of this. He was still sitting and she was still standing. He might have asked her to sit beside him if he was not feeling so tense. He didn’t know how to help, what to say, how he was supposed to act. He just couldn’t stop thinking about Danica being jealous of him. It made sense why she never allowed things between them to progress past playful banter… and now he was asking himself how playful it really was on her end. 

The blissful laugh that initially sparks onto Ajani’s lips from Colton’s kiss is smothered only by the passion that Colton brings into it. His boyfriend’s intensity sweeps over him, weakening him in ways he’s always welcomed, and damn if he doesn’t want to just melt into Colton’s arms, into his very heart and soul. After all this time, he’s grown to love feeling drunk on nothing but Colton’s deepest affections. 

Even upon hearing Colton assert that he’s serious, Ajani nearly teases away the sentiment, insisting that he’s serious too- about getting laid, that is. But when Colton backs up enough for their eyes to meet, every trace of joy has been sucked out of them and the sight suddenly hollows Ajani too. His heart sinks along with his smile, slow and heavy with a twist in his gut that he hasn’t felt since finding Colton high in their home. 

Abruptly pulled out of the glitter of their celebratory reunion, Ajani realizes he’s staring at Colton wide-eyed, like he’s been caught in headlights. “Sorry,” he mumbles, biting his lip in worry that maybe Colton had actually been trying to open up to him about the hard parts for once. The things he never talked about before rehab that may have given Ajani some kind of indication at all of what was to come. He felt terrible to think that he was steam rolling Colton’s attempts at vulnerability with so much careless lightheartedness. 

“Sorry. We can talk,” he repeats quietly, reaching out a hand to place gingerly over the back of Colton’s in a show of support. Are you okay? He wants to ask, curling his fingers around the other man’s palm. But he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing again, doesn’t want to simply assume that Colton is struggling even after his two months away. “What’s going on?” Ajani asks instead, fixing his eyes back on Colton’s to prove that he’s completely willing to listen and be there for him now.

“I have a lot that I need to say so I just need you to let me get through it and then you can… you know, yell at me or say whatever you have to. Just please let me finish first.” He knows his preface to everything he’s about to say is not reassuring in the slightest, but he needs to say it. If Ajani doesn’t let him get through it all, he’s scared he won’t. His heart feels heavy with the words he has yet to say, the same ones that have been littering his mind in preparation for this. He almost threw them away for another night with the half-naked beauty in front of him, but his self control has been surprisingly good tonight. For his sake, for their sake. Colton brings his hand to rest on top of Ajani’s, already placed on his other one. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. Please, don’t hate me.

“You know I love you. I love more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known and I’m thankful everyday that you chose me, that you choose me.” He needs Ajani to know that none of that has changed. Colton’s eyes retreat down to their hands. “I'm sorry again, for everything. For when you found me, for when I left, for what I did after.” He knows no amount of apologies can make up for it all, but they come spewing out of him anyway. “Rehab was a bitch, it always is, but I know I needed it. People think once you come out you’re good, you know? That you’re fixed or something. I used to think that. Truth is that it’s just the start.” There’s so much he’s realized about what the rest of his life is probably going to look like, how frustrating his situation is, but bringing any of that up will just derail this. 

“I think I was leaning on you too much.” His voice is quieter. It’s something he talked a lot about while he was in rehab and he’s curious if Ajani will have a reaction to it. “That’s not fair to you. But I know you and I know that’s not something you’re worried about. You’ll let me and you’ll be happy to do it and… I love you for that, but I can’t do that again.” He forces himself to look at Ajani, to not let himself cower away from this next part, from the rest of it. “I guess, what I’m getting at is that I… right now, I need to be selfish. I need to focus on the meetings and therapy and taking my medication and all the other bullshit that comes with this and somehow on top of that also be a person and not lose my fucking mind. I need to just focus on me.” He’s gonna hate me.

“I… I can't do that and be with you. I just can’t. I can’t be selfish with you. I don’t know how. There’s just no way I can be a good boyfriend to you right now, probably for a while. And you don’t deserve that. That’s not fair to you.” Up to this point, he’s managed to keep it together. The first cracks in his tough exterior show with cracks in his voice, causing him to clear his throat. It doesn’t help. “I love you to death but if I’m ever going to get out of this loop I’m stuck in, I have to be by myself. It’s the best thing for me right now.”

Ajani is wracked with excitement. He’s barely managing between the nerves of anticipation vibrating through him and the butterflies that Colton’s touch gives him even now. Even three long months since the last. Ajani’s expression fluctuates between framing the moans of sheer desire on his lips to housing small smiles, soft laughs that betray him and fall into Colton’s mouth to feel so overtly loved once more. It’s one such senseless giggle that leaves him when Colton flips them over, Ajani’s arms beginning to reach around his boyfriend so they can kiss from the new angle. But Colton sits up out of reach and Ajani is sure that he’s pouting despite himself. He busies himself with running his hands down Colton’s stomach, down towards the hard lines leading to his pelvis. He rolls his hips up into the touch that Colton offers him and licks his lips, barely able to focus on the words that are so painstakingly delivered to him. 

“Hmm…” Ajani mumbles at first, knowing they had been very eager indeed to get back into it. And sure there are a lot of things in their relationship that need to be ironed out and worked through, but they have always done such things successfully. They always found a way out of the messy and hurtful parts side by side, so he was sure this would be no different. They would have all the time in the world to talk and figure their lives back out. “Mhm,” Ajani chuckles as he sits up too, wrapping his arms around Colton’s back to be able to hold himself up. He leans in to kiss at Colton’s neck and then collarbone, trailing down to his pec before glancing up at the man cheekily to gauge his reaction at being so readily adored. 

There’s nothing surprising about the ferality that Ajani exhibits, despite Colton’s statement. He doesn’t have any context, no indication of the anxieties that are plaguing Colton’s mind. With each moment of intimacy, each kiss, Colton can feel himself slipping further. There is nothing he wants more than to give in to his deepest desire, to push Ajani back onto the bed and spend the rest of his life intertwined in their bedsheets. 

There’s a fleeting moment, where he considers pushing back their conversation. He might never get a chance to do this again, just more evidence of life’s cruelty. Would it be so horrible for them to spend one more night together? Colton knows the answer because he’s gone over it countless times already. If there is any evidence that he’s an addict, it’s hidden in the rationalizing his brain is attempting to do. 

Just one more time… one more day? One more hit. That’s all he needs. Then, maybe he would be ready to cut his heart to pieces. Life has already thrown so much shit at him, so much pain and abuse. He deserves this, doesn’t he? It’s just sex. He’ll be breaking Ajani’s heart either way, might as well wait until after they can enjoy each other again.... right?

Colton looks down at Ajani, his beautiful brown eyes looking up at him for approval. Instead, Colton leans down to kiss his boyfriend with passion that’s rivaled their most intense moments. He knows by the time that he pulls away that he can’t go any further with him, not before he rids himself of the guilt he’s holding. Not until he says what he needs to say. Not until he lets him go.

“I’m being serious,” Colton says without a hint of a smile. He sits back and maneuvers himself into a crossed legged position, a heavy sigh from his mouth. All he can do is hope that Ajani can stand to look at him after all this. Which is funny, because Colton’s having a hard time with that already. “Believe me, I want this too but… we need to talk.”

Sloane wasn’t particularly well-versed in this practice, but she was led to believe apologizing was usually enough. She figured pushing aside her pride and giving any apology in general would be a end-all-be-all, and because hers was so genuine she thought it would lay that part of their conversation to rest. She did not want to think more about the severely drunk version of herself that night, or about whatever they might’ve discussed, or about if the sex was sloppy, or anything at all. Surely, the last thing she expected was for him to ask her that. Quick-tongued and clever, Sloane was the kind of person who had an answer for everything. This time she faltered and it even slightly showed as a twitch on her face, as a hiccup in her step. 

If this had been months ago, in a situation like that Sloane assumes she would have likely called her sister. Thinking about it now, she couldn’t remember the last time she was that vulnerable with Danica, that raw, or that embarrassing. She couldn’t remember the last time her sister had ever seen her be weak, but she was weak. Just as she had said to Danica on her way out of the bachelorette party. Sloane was weak. She knew this now. 

If Sloane called Nash he would pick up, but a brief thought fluttered past her that if he called her at a random hour of the night she would pick up too. She realized as she walked beside Nash that in her moment of absolute weakness, at her lowest point, the only person in her life she could think herself comfortable enough to allow to witness it was him. Her best friend. Someone she loved. “Because I trust you.” She said plainly, as though it didn’t carry as much weight as it did. Trust for Sloane was more than missing, maybe even more than love. She loved her family, but she did not miss all of them in their absence, and she surely did not trust all of them. She cleared her throat. “You were my best friend once.” Her eyes thinned to glance at him, “I should like to think you still are, regardless of…” Everything, she thinks. “How much we’ve spoken lately.” Which is not much, for good reason. “I don’t carry a lot of desire to befriend more people.” Sloane joked.

Despite feeling closer to Nash earlier in the conversation Sloane noticed distance wedged between them as they stood before his porch, distance she could feel herself instigate with tension in her arms. The idea that Danica and Scamp were fucking at all was maddening, but the concept that Scamp could be happy with Danica left Sloane lightheaded. The way that Nash was talking about them made Sloane feel there was much much more she wasn’t aware of. “Happy?” Sloane’s head cocked, “You think Danica is capable of being happy? Capable of making someone else…” Her voice struck, stiff compared to the fluidity it had earlier in their banter. But she stopped herself, a furiousness coming on as well as a headache, before finishing that sentence. Regardless of how she felt about her sister now, Danica had made her happy once. 

Sloane by this point had looked past Nash, stepped back, and had turned away from the porch. She crossed her arms and took a second to run the facts back in her head deliberately like a detective. “Danica never will.” Sloane said low in her thought process, waving her hand dismissively. This was the one thing out of all the nonsense that Sloane was sure of. If Danica could not come around to Nash for her, Sloane couldn’t think of anything stronger her sister would bend for. 

Sloane finally turned back to Nash abruptly, “A month?” Fucking hell. But Sloane could barely take a moment to be hurt when Nash was already throwing a curveball of a question her way. Sloane blinked hard, glare softening to sea-sickness. She neglected the first question in favor of the second one, which was also painful, but easier to answer. “Danica is selfish, that’s what’s going on between us. She’s wicked and jealous. She can’t fathom me enjoying someone else’s company beside hers and criminalized me for it.” Criminalized me for you. She doesn’t say this, but it weighs heavy in her gut. “And now she’s…now she’s doing things she would have scorned me over. With Scamp, of all people, of every fucking bloke in London. Your cousin.” She can’t understand why he doesn’t think this is as crazy as she feels it is, crazy enough to warrant the way Danica revealed it to her at the bar, detailing every location Scamp had spread her sister thin. 

Sloane nearly gagged, but she tightened instead, internally curling into herself. Her sentences uttered out more crisp, bitter. When she finally found it in herself to meet Nash eyes again, her shoulders dropped. It was not that she hadn’t been looking at him during her rant, but she had not been seeing him. For not the first time in the conversation, and without any distinct explanation, Sloane felt…sorry. “Danica has always hated you.” She doesn’t know if this is to him or to herself.

Nash would have been quick to chime in, but Sloane added an amendment to her previous statement that quieted the words that danced on his tongue, guarded by teeth and lips. It only quelled them for a moment. The more she spoke, the more he felt the surfacing. When had he started holding himself back with her, anyway? “I’ve befriended a lot of new people, many of whom you met tonight.” Despite how complicated things seemed between them, he had yet to vacate the spot he held for her in his life… despite half-hearted attempts to follow his cousin’s advice. “Still haven’t found anyone to replace you.” How could anyone else compare?

“Happiness does seem to be a foreign concept to her,” Nash scratched the back of his head, mumbling. At his porch, tensions were high. He could not have stood there looking any more clueless and out of place than he did, outside of his own home. He vetoed the thought of asking her if she wanted to rage about it more inside before even flirting with the idea. Her dismissal of the possibility that Danica could ever come around when it came to Nash just furthered his own silence. He was not sure that anything he said would actually hold any weight, at least in that conversation. Was Danica truly so stubborn, so ridiculous, that she couldn’t play nice? Especially if her and Scamp actually did make each other happy.

Nash noted that she skipped over one of his questions to ask the other, which felt like his fault for giving her an out. What she did choose to share with him, however, held his attention more than daring to ask again. At first, because with the way that Sloane continued to talk about Danica, it was very clear that whatever the hell was going on was serious. It was the word jealous that stood out at first. Then, the emphasis on Danica criminalizing Sloane for enjoying someone else’s company. If the previous comments about his own relationship with Sloane's sister were too fresh on his mind to draw another conclusion, Sloane cemented the thought in his head by rubbing salt into a wound he didn’t know he had. Danica has always hated you.

Something in her words forced Nash to take a seat on the steps they stood in front of. She could stand if she chose to, but he was exhausted by all the vitriol spewed. He couldn’t imagine ever being in a situation like the one she was in, ever talking about his sister like she was. He knew their families were different, but it was just something he couldn’t and didn’t want to grasp. With a sigh, he looked up at her. 

Sloane noted the room he made for her, but she wasn’t entirely sure where she stood on the spectrum of responsibility. Sloane wasn’t usually drawn to heavy roles due to responsibility but to power. She worked well under pressure and was quick on her feet so responsibility never bothered her. That is, up until lately, where it seemed responsibility was demanding she care more than she was used to, asking her to handle a higher risk. So no, maybe responsibility wasn’t that good of a thing, but Sloane knew what she could rely on — “Unless nothing,” she smirked confidently, a not-answer, “I like a good challenge. I think I’ve just needed something…new.” She admitted because she didn’t think that actually meant anything, feeling trapped in herself. Her eyeroll at his comments was instinctual but pleasant; she liked the way it felt to react naturally, to be annoyed by him from too much fondness. She had missed it. “Yet, you’re still single.” In some way, this is a clarification. “So there can’t be that many girls.” Finally side by side at this point, she lightly hit her hip against his, and that was the last fun she had in the conversation.

Sloane, not commonly embarrassed, squirmed under her leather jacket at the thought of being very drunk in the worse way. She could only hope she still did a solid job sucking him off. She’d set a high bar in the past. “Sign of a good party.” She said sarcastically. There was a brief moment where she felt the urge to tell him she missed him too, that she should have reached out more, sober, but she only glanced away from him. It was weird physically rejecting things she would have told him easily in their earlier friendship now that she felt she had something to hide, that there was a slight chance she had miscalculated where they stood romantically. That, unbearably, she had been wrong. However, there was one thing she couldn’t deny him on principle. “Thanks for coming all that way.” She knew how much he hated apparating. But not without adding, “I would have made it home just fine…but, it’s better you were there.” It always was, she realized, and maybe that’s more than any I missed you. 

The way Nash answered her question solidified something in Sloane. She’d hardened at what felt like a dismissive and casual laugh as he stepped into her line of view and on instinct she felt herself pull an inch away. The sun she once begged to blind her haloed him and her eyelashes blinked quickly for clarity, the stiffness in her gut tensing like an under-worked muscle. This was not an appropriate time to watch him glow. She was eased only by the word mental, which she had mistaken for understanding. “Exactly!” She stepped back with a weighted nod. “Doesn’t that bother you? Danica practically despises you.” She assumed her sister wouldn’t do something like that without a motive. 

In a state of helplessness, Sloane had resorted to conspiracy. “And I just don’t und—” she started before it hit her, the question he’d asked with an obvious answer lingering between them. Sloane wondered who else knew before her. Was she the last to find out? She felt like a fool and wondered how many other secrets circled, how stupid she looked to people, how it had gotten past her. Part of her logically knew she couldn’t be angry with Nash, had he not thought of her, had he assumed she knew? How much had they not talked about lately, and how much of that was her fault? He had been loyal to his cousin, and Danica had been loyal to herself, but who had been loyal to Sloane? Not even in the womb had she ever felt lonely. For as long as she could remember, she’d had someone in her court. Now all that was left was a restless crowd. 

Sloane had realized how long she’d been stiff there, arms half out in conversation, which was likely not long at all but time had slowed to suffocate her. When she spoke again her voice felt hollow. “Danica told me in the middle of a fight, as ammunition.” She nearly glitched at the glimpse from the night before of her sisters expression calling check-mate with her eyes. Sloane was angry in the kind of way that dulled her. As much as she hated revealing to anyone her cards, it was Nash, and she had questions. “How long?” She asked flatly. “How long has it been going on?” She close to choked on this last bit and could not look at him as she said it. Her jaw tightened and the thought that anyone could know something about her sister better than she did stung worse than any spell to the spine. “You clearly know more than I do.” 

Nash just stared at Sloane as she remarked on his being single, teasing him about it. Teasing had always been a huge part of their relationship, the back and forth a reliable sign of whether the two of them were feeling comfortable around the other... but he felt how even that had been affected by his recent confession once she teased him and he couldn’t let it slide right off his back. It stung. It stung because actually there were other girls but none of that mattered to him. Not really. It stung because of course he was single and she knew she was the reason why and was teasing him about it. Before it wouldn’t have made a difference, but it felt like a gut punch coming from her right then. Still, it didn’t change much. In fact, nothing had. He was still happy she was there, despite being freshly stung by her. 

It was her commenting on that night that gave him a voice again, having just realized he was fairly quiet for a stretch. Nash waited for her to add something onto the end of her apology and that’s exactly what she did. His first instinct, of course, was to tell her how wrong she was and continuing the banter but a question came to his mind. “Then, why did you call me, do you reckon?” He kept his eyes on forward, then to the ground where he found a rock to kick as they walked.

"Like I said  — when he first told me, I thought that he went mental or something... but after hearing him talk about it, I dunno, he seems happy.” Nash shrugged, remembering the day his cousin let him in on the nauseating reality that was him dating Sloane’s sister. After hearing the way he talked about her, seeing the look on his face, how could he do anything but be supportive? Even if it was Danica. His became more animated as he felt the need to bring up what, in his opinion, was a very good point. “And if Danica wants to stick around she’s going to have to get over whatever her problem with me is.” He didn’t know why she chose to act like she hated him, but he was sure the two of them could at least be civil around each other for Scamp’s sake. He anticipated quite a few missteps before they found their footing... provided she actually sticks around. 

DEEPAK: Where in the world are you throwing this axe?

DEEPAK: You'd make a very handsome serial killer then. Give that Ted Bundy a run for his money.

KYLE: There's this place in London. Looked like fun so I popped in to check it out. I'm basically a professional axe thrower now. You ever been?

Being a Captain in the Magical Federal Bureau of Investigation came with many perks, but free time was not one of them. It was a sacrifice she had been willing to make, but it meant that, while the others were visiting Agent York in the hospital, she had been stuck overseeing the efforts to find the man responsible.  And when that was done she was stuck at her desk, keeping things running amidst an avoided crisis. 

Vivian knew that if she really wanted to see the lucky agent… no, luck had nothing to do with it. Anyway, if she really wanted to see York, Vivian knew she would have to make time to — so that’s exactly what she did. 

Before heading to the hospital, she picked up two bouquets of flowers. One was for York and the other for her wife. It was hard, on rough days, not to be sentimental and romantic. Especially after an agent on her squad almost lost their life. It makes her grateful for the team she has around her, but especially for the woman she gets to kiss at the end of a long day and release the worries of the day with.

When she arrives at the hospital, his room is full of vibrant life and overflowing with love. As she approaches, she can recognize rumblings of a familiar Scottish accent, but the other voices are not ones she knows well. Must be his family.

It’s a surprise to her to be met with blue eyes that light up upon seeing her, already filled with such joy seconds before noticing her. She takes a glance around the room to find faces she has seen before, in passing and in photographs and stories. Before she can introduce herself, Benji gestures to her. She can tell that he is in pain, and feeling stiff, by the movement of his arm. “This is my boss, Captain Li. She’s-” Vivian stops him, sensing something unnecessary about to come out of his mouth. “No need to kiss my ass, York. Your family’s in the room, not mine. I’ve heard a great deal about you all.” More than one face smiles brightly after she says so.

Benji acknowledges the flowers she brought… another bouquet of tulips, his favorite. How the hell did she know? He thanks her with a nod, Sabrina grabbing them to display them next to the others. Vivian speaks up again. “I’m glad to see you up and… in a better mood than I’m used to, if I’m honest.” His response is quick and sincere. “I’m just really thankful.”

One of the twins speaks up, though Vivian cannot identify which right away. “He’s a lucky bastard, is what he is.” Forrest. “But us Yorks are like cockroaches. We’re too stubborn to kill.” It brings out a small smile from her, and a shake of the head. It is unmistakable, the pride radiating off of him. When his eyes dart to Benji, he is looking at the equivalent of a superhero. It’s that look that stops Vivian from arguing against his comment — while Benji is one of the most stubborn people she knows, she has a feeling that it’s more about his strength and resilience than his stubbornness. What’s a few injuries to someone who has had their world collapse around them time and time again?

“Well, I just came by to tell this lucky bastard,” she starts, eyeing the more outspoken brother, “that he should know he can take all the time he needs. No rush on coming back… as long as you do come back. We need you out there.” After a few more pleasantries, she left the family to spend time together. 

At this point in her tenure with the York family, Alizeh was comfortable enough that she didn’t feel the need to linger around the safety of Forrest’s company every passing moment the way she initially did upon meeting the brood. Though she preferred to be by his side given the circumstances now, she was still standing hopelessly in front of a vending machine when Remi approached her.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Alizeh snatched up the opportunity to take a break from the famous York temperament, especially in a time of crisis. “Don’t think Jack gave me enough for a decent haul anyway,” Alizeh rolled a few sickles between her fingers as she gestured to the glowing and moving novelties before her. She pocketed the coins with a little mischievous glance in the aforementioned York sister’s direction and then turned her full attention to Remi. “What d’ya got in mind?”

She found Alizeh standing by a vending machine, Remi immediately caught off guard by the sickles the girl was holding. “Oh, crap.” She had not considered that the magical world might have a different form of currency from normal people... Finch called them muggles, right? What was he again? As if she wasn’t exhausted enough. 

"I figure it wouldn’t hurt to wake up to something nice, like some flowers?” Yes, it was for Benji but it was also a great excuse to get her out of the hospital. She was hoping some fresh air would bring her back down to earth. “I asked around to see what his favorite kind was and his friend knew. I think she said her name was Mei?” Remi said the name with fifty percent certainty, knowing there was a huge chance she didn’t retain it correctly with how hectic the day had been. “Anyway, apparently she couldn’t tell me *how* she knew, which is... honestly, don’t know how I should take that... but, turns out Benji is a tulip kind of guy.” That one took Remi by surprise. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t tulips. “Anyway, I have no idea where I’m going, so should be fun!”

Sloane had been hyper aware of how little they’d been in contact lately in comparison to how they used to be, but she knew it was her doing and that was enough to make her stick to it—even if she had lost track of the reasons. She was always good at busying herself and she never had issues with missing people, out of sight out of mind, but lately missing seemed to be all she ever felt. Everything in her life had been off-kilter, like she was staring outward but her vision was focused slightly to the left, like trying to straighten a picture frame by eye. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him this. “We’ve both been so busy.” She said instead, which is true. He moved and has been working his ass off, she’d been eyeing a new promotion at work while simultaneously trying to decide if she wanted to quit her job entirely. “I’ve been taking on more responsibility at work—mostly because barely anyone else is competent.” She smirked, (mostly) in jest. Sloane had never had an existential crisis, but she had been trying to tweak anything in her life except for the real issues. “And look at you, running with the big boys, Mr. Hot Shot.” She yelled up at him as he yelled back at her, and this made her smile. “I bet the fangirls have been lining up.” She can’t help herself.

She watched his body gravitate and slow to find a home beside her, her traveling eyes taking the trip with him. She thought about how much he seemed to care about his team meeting her, liking her, and that did not bother her as much as it did that she found herself also caring. Sloane couldn’t remember the last time she cared if somebody liked her, surely not a group of muscle-headed strangers and Detlev fucking Diederich, but even with him had she entertained much longer than her record. But it was for Nash. “Well next time you need me to make you look good, I’ll try to be in town.”  

Nash started his so… and Sloane rolled her eyes immediately, hands tucked into her jacket, knowing him well enough to know where this was going. “I didn’t intend for you to see me like that. The other night.” She said outright with a stern jaw, already laying bricks for the wall she was about to build. “I was angry and I…” She used to feel like she could talk to him about most things, but now she couldn’t bring herself to actualize her feelings when he was part of them. There was lull as Sloane contemplated his question, and a question barked at the back of her throat but for once she found herself trying to swallow it. Normally she would say what she wanted despite the consequences but she didn’t know what she would do if she got an answer she knew was inevitable. For once, she had to decide if this moment with him was worth ruining for her own peace of mind. But then she realized that if she didn’t ask him this, she’d have to answer him instead.

They got the front steps of his building and she turned to him, a deep breath tight in her chest. She looked at him and felt that familiar feeling, the one where she watches herself ruin herself. “Did you know?” She said plainly, head tilting slightly so that the sun shone in her eyes and she didn’t have to see his face as clearly. “That Scamp is fucking my—Danica?” 

“Someone’s gotta show ‘em how it’s done, yeah?” Nash smiled brightly at her. “More responsibility is good, though! Unless…” he trailed off, allowing her to correct him if necessary. Even being drafted to a professional team, Nash had his days where he questioned everything and even had a few where he almost quit. When she teased him, he laughed and fixed his hair. “Well, I’ve always been a big deal. Nice to see everyone else catching on finally.” And because she wanted to play games, Nash felt he had no choice but to play back. “Oh, they definitely have been.” There had been an influx of attention from the ladies since becoming a Falcon, but figured that hanging around some of the more substantial players helped with that. The truth was he would have had options, had he been interested in pursuing anyone but the girl walked beside him.

When Sloane hesitated to finish, he took a quick moment to try and ease any anxiety she might have about the other night and show he was not bothered by it. “I was actually… it was nice to hear from you, no matter how drunk you were. Which was very.” He laughed, unapologetically amused thinking about some of the more ridiculous moments from that night. It faltered as his mind wandered to a specific moment, his arms wrapped around her as she cried against him. The thought of it broke his heart even now. “Just glad we got you home in one piece.”

Nash heard the way she dismissed Danica and Scamp’s situation to just fucking and — god, the thought of it still makes him kind of nauseous — he almost said something, but shakes away the thought of correcting her. He wasn’t sure how serious the two of them were, but Nash could tell from the few conversations he had with his cousin that he was into her beyond just the fun they were having. Regardless, he was still gauging what Sloane’s exact reaction to this revelation was, as well as what he was about to tell her. 

She was halfway through typing out a text message to her sister, informing her of where she was and why, when she realized that might not be the best idea and deleted it. Little did she know the message wouldn’t have sent anyway... something about all the magic surrounding them interfering with technology that she only would find out later. Only a few minutes passed before an idea of how she could be more helpful popped into her head and she rose from her seat to inform her boyfriend of it.

After a few minutes of figuring some stuff out, Remi scanned the room until she found who she was looking for. She walked over to Alizeh and gave her a small smile. “I had an idea for something nice that we might be able to do for Benji. You up for getting some fresh air for a bit?” It was phrased as a question, even sounded like one, but she was begging for a yes. She felt bad leaving Finch there, but looked back at him and the family that surrounded him and knew he would be okay without her for a little bit.