[IC] These Happy Golden Years: A Complex Family Roleplay

[Undine]

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[McHaggis]

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[cerozer0]

Time: 2:30 P.M.
Interacting With: Jesse Vallentine, Sly Carrington @McHaggis, Staff

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For a career alcoholic, Samantha Carrington was surprisingly sober during the entire flight. The lovely dulling effect of vodka (or beer, or whiskey, or-) was oh-so-unpleasantly missing, unaccounted for. Untapered and sorely unforgotten. The anxiety of being able to think and see so clearly without having a canvas in front of her face to distract her boiled down to the very soul. Fingers and legs bounced, pressed hard against leather seats and carpeted floors, ticked away at plastic until she was awarded an annoyed groan from the backseat. Sam turned around briefly to shoot her son a half fiery half apologetic glare, and was once again given a groan and a hushed, ”Calm down.” As he returned his attention to the snowy wonderland outside their rental.

Sam, too, settled back into the passenger seat and turned to stare forward. New York still had a few days left of chilly pavement and sticky sidewalks before their own snowstorm hit, so she took a quick moment to catalogue how different Colorado snow seemed compared to that of the East Coast variety. Verdict: it looked cold and wet in both states, but New York snow was always just a little more sootier. Sam imagined painting a landscape like the one tumbling over before her, but she lost the inspiration easily seeing just how much white and blue paint she would have to waste just to get the color right.

Besides, landscapes were the least of her worries currently.

Sam turned over an invisible envelope in her hand. An invisible letter. Invisible words. The object that spurred a thousand wake-up calls in her hazy mind. A harsh reminder of her name and her origins.

She hadn’t expected to get something like this from her father and mother, not for a while longer at least. Honestly, she had wondered grimly if the next time she would see either of them would be in a casket (theirs’ or her’s). Her initial response had been a guffaw of disbelief and a quick trip to her alcohol cabinet, and then the anxiety set in, and the memories, and the fears. The guilt and the sorrow and the rage. It had been overwhelming, suffocating. An onslaught of human emotions had threatened to kill her right then, and as she sat idly beside Jesse and in front of Sly, she mused over the idea of them actually striking her down.

Even now, the words burned holes into her memory. Her breath caught, and she squinted out at the blinding flurry as the letter replayed over and over in her mind.

Successful or not, you are still Carringtons. This is an opportunity –– and no, it is not a business one. It is an opportunity for us to make amends.

“Whoa, there’s like, no cars out here,” Sly said as he bravely cracked the window open, releasing the flurry of snow outside into the warm interior, an icy wind to blast Mom and Jesse in the front seats. The screen of his DS lit up the back seats and had been doing so for the entire trip thanks to a spare battery pack, but now it flickered black, power off. “A state free of my worst enemies, my arch rivals, my nemesis-es...”

“If you keep your eyes glued to that screen, you’re gonna end up needing glasses,” Jesse warned distractedly as she turned the corner to the path that led up to the Winter Lodge according to both the signposts (barely readable in the blizzard) and the GPS.

“But I already have glasses.”

“Yeah, you do. Uh, nerd.”

Flabbergasted that Aunt Jesse just called him a nerd, Sly turned his attention to the back of Sam’s head, a silent plead for help.

Sam blinked through the daze, inhaled, exhaled, and turned to give Jesse a weak smirk. “Don’t bully him, J. I’ll be forced to defend him if you make him cry.” She gave her friend a good-natured chop to the head, hoping the anxious tremors running from wrist to fingertips were translated as nothing more than chills. From behind, she heard Sly give a tiny noise of disdain, and she turned around to smile cheerily at him. Or, at least try. Her smile usually turned into grimaces whenever she was this sober.

“I’m not gonna cry.” He huffed, all light and playful as usual. “Not unless someone puts Dirty Dancing on because that’s the only way you’ll get me to cry. That or Jaws––”

“Of course you’re not. Now- shut that window before you catch a cold. It’s fucking freezing out there.” As if to emphasis her point, Sam huffed out a sigh and watched a misty steam escape her lips. Her single raised eyebrow and knife-sharp smirk was all the incentive Sly needed, and with a huff of his own he rolled up the window and threw back an exaggerated pout.

She turned easily in her seat again, pressing deep into the seat as her fingers reached out to drag along Jesse’s wrist idly. “How much longer?” She whispered, eyes narrowing.

“Not that long,” Jesse said, and motioned to the building barely seen through the opaque grey and white that surrounded the car on all sides. Brusquely – not that the cop had ever been known for anything else in her life – she asked, “You good?”

“No.” Sam answered abruptly, and then softer yet she added, “But maybe I will be, after-- after things are cleared up a little.” She had made it very clear to her family (her, REAL family, Jesse and Sly and anyone willing to hold someone like her nowadays) that this trip was going to be a nightmare and a half. But, guilty as ever, and stubborn to boot, she pushed away her vices and fury in favor of trying to find middle ground at least. Whatever this reunion was about would merely be a cherry on top of the world’s worst sundae.

The gray and white around them fell off, and Sam blinked back a strong punch of nostalgia was suddenly the house came into view. No, not a house. This was something grander, something older. The Lodge… It really had been a long, long time. Sam couldn’t control the way she reached out to grab a handful of Jesse’s coat, nor the sudden sticky way her lungs refused to work and her breathing turned into hurried gasps. The wish for a drink burned behind her eyelids, but instead of leaping out of the car in search of one like a fool she squeezed her eyes shut and forced a chilling blue calmness to claim her mind.

Jesse brought the car to a halt at the end of the path leading up to the Winter Lodge, right where a staff-member clad in formal wear with a nose that looked half-bitten off by the frost was standing. It was only when she realised what he was waiting for – them to get out of the car – that she realised she wasn’t in small town Arizona or starving artist New York City anymore, and that he was a valet.

She kept the engine on, and stepped out of the car, hurrying around to the other side to hold open the doors for the passengers, first Sam and then her son. When Sly hauled himself out, crutches and all, there was a moment of confused panic on the part of the help –– to take the car, or to help. The man fluttered forward, before Sly waved a hand dismissively. “Yo, I’m good fam,” he said. “If I fall and break my legs it’s not like it’s gonna make much difference.”

Sam rose from her seat careful, bundling further into her coat against the cold, and she waved the valet off again without even a single glance. Resting a hand on her son’s lower back, she helped guide him over the salt-stained pavement and into the lodge, keeping one eye on Jesse to ensure her girlfriend is following.

Inside hit her harder than the outside did. Memories of running through foyers and halls and rooms welled up and stuffed her brain full of cotton. Staff stood in numbers now, though, more so than they used to. She ignored a worried glance from Sly as she swallowed a stunted sigh and straightened, eyes as cold as the unforgiving blizzard just outside.

“Samantha Carrington and Co. here.” She said simply to the nearest staff member, craning her neck higher as if to give the impression that she was much more powerful, “Where are my mother and father?” The words felt heavy on her tongue. Toxic. Sorrowful.

God, she needed a drink.

“Mr. Carrington is upstairs in the study,” the lady said, “and Mrs. Carrington is in her room preparing. Would you like me to show you to your rooms instead while you wait? I think they’re going to address all of you together.”

“Yes, yes, that would be fine.”

And so they went. As they followed the woman up several flights of stairs – slowly – Sly, in a stage-whisper, said, “Holy shit, Mom –– they’re like Bond villains.”

“I would call them duo Darth Vaders, personally, honey.”

Jesse snorted, but she hadn’t seen those movies – they were neither Westerns or crime dramas. Nevertheless, her contribution was, “Emperor Palpatines.” And that gained a stifled chuckle from Sam as they reached the door of her old, old room.

[Tokara]

Emile

Emile sat shotgun with his Uber driver, one nervously jiggling foot resting on the opposite leg's knee. His parents would have paid for a private cab or chauffeur, no questions asked, but sometimes it was better to feel more normal. Besides, this was his normal now, having often shared a ride home after a night that ended in inevitable drunkeness. The driver, a man in his late 20s, smelled faintly of weed and cursed at the snow. The scent reminded Emile of his older sister, truth be told. She always seemed to have stuff stashed away...

He could remember the lodge, although not very well. He'd been young the last time that they'd visited. Trust his parents to have some holiday home that they only used once every decade. It had sure taken some adjusting when he'd moved away, but it had been good for him. He enjoyed his course, even if it wasn't going to end in what he'd told his parents it would. A chill ran down his spine, and he licked his lips. Hopefully he would be able to keep up the facade. For how much longer he'd have to lie, he didn't know. Forever?

"Hey- yeah, that way," Emile advised, pointing when they came to a fork in the road. Visibility really was awful. His driver seemed relieved when they finally reached the house, letting out a long, low whistle between his lips as he peered at the house. "That's a nice place you got." "You're welcome to take my place." With a soft laugh, Emile rocked forward and opened the door. He'd forgotten about the servants, who quickly rushed up to help him and opened the boot to take out his suitcase. The driver seemed a little wide-eyed at it all, giving his head a shake as he drove away.

"Thanks. I'm Emile," he said quietly as they helped him inside. He shrugged off his jacket, smiling gently at a nervous looking maid. She seemed terrified despite the smile. To be honest, he felt the same. He took in the lodge with a soft sigh - it was coming back to him now. All fancy and cleaner than his plate after a long day of lectures. His steps became wandering as another servant lead him to his old room. "Your older sister, Samantha, has already arrived, sir," she informed him as they went. "Your parents will greet you altogether, a little later. I hope that you will be comfortable."

Servants made him feel a little awkward, truth be told. The only reason that he was here, was because of his birth. He wasn't an inherently better person. He didn't really deserve all of this. It was just the status quo. The room itself was as he remembered - a queen-size, comfortable bed with a blue-and-white theme to it. Emile wasn't feeling tired, though. He thanked the servant who brought in his bed, pausing for a moment in the middle of the room. Samantha... He could barely recall her. Had he actually ever met her? Had she brought anyone with? He hovered, before tentatively going to his door and peeking down the passageway. He could hear voices. Brief excitement and nervousness suddenly struck in his chest. He'd be seeing Nat, and Arthur, and Elaine, and Indy, and... Esi.

The family was coming together. However dysfunctional, he still loved them.

[Write]

***
A coat of gold, a coat of red

Indie gently released her necklace that draped down her chest – the first lie elegantly propped along her collarbone. She decided on the red pea swing coat that would button up along her stomach. She had always set aside a sizeable amount of her money in case this were to happen. A letter. Perhaps it would’ve been attached to a raven - knowing her family and their flare for dramatics. She tightly wound up her fingers – making sure not to touch her hair which she dipped into the emergency ‘have to see my family’ again fund in order to have done up.

It was lightly curled, she could almost hear her mother now – “you’re visiting your family not going to prom.”

But it was fine. Everything was fine.

She grabbed her violin and bow and quickly propped the instrument onto her shoulder, resting her chin on it’s perch.

She closed her eyes.

A lion still has claws

She no longer really had to move the bow along the strings of the violin. Of course, it was still her moving it, not in some supernatural light. But when she was anxious and she wanted to play the violin, her hand did what was necessary of it.

She need not think about what she was doing, she just did it. She assumed this was how her mother felt about parenting, her father too most likely.

“Limo should be here soon.” She said thinking sadly about just how much of the fund she had to dip into to keep up appearances. She was pretty sure anyone in her family whom had been keeping track of her professional life knew she had recently played for the New York Philharmonic. Most would’ve signed after a performance like hers. She had always been good, simply never noticed.

That would include a signing bonus. One she would be expected to be spending. The limo was nearly here.

A ring came from the buzzer on her apartment. The limo driver was here.

Indie grabbed her things and rushed down the hall to the elevator. On the way down she imagined her family waiting to greet her.

The thought forced some calming measures out of her.

“One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven” ding!.

The elevator doors opened. She moved forward because that was what a Carrington did.

Met the limo driver out front of the apartment building and she helped her with her bags from there.

“How are you today Ma’am?” The limo driver asked her.

“I’m well, we have some things to go over.” Indie responded.

“I have no rented you, I have payed you to be my driver for the indefinite future. I chose the limo, it does not belong to your company.” Indie said snatching an air freshener that proudly displayed the company’s logo from the rearview mirror. “Big and Long Limo’s – We will pick you up faster than your last ex!” If Indie was buried she’d be rolling in her grave. Instead she would have to do with just her eyes.

“Everyone calls me Indie, but you call me Ms. Carrington and you never ask questions or say things out of turn. I am a violinist and understudy cellist for the New York Philharmonic you have a small crush on me and your favourite thing about me is my smile because it is rare and fleeting.”

And mine are long and sharp

“Just one.” The limo driver said aloud.

“Who are you trying to impress so badly?”

“Myself.”

“My name is Victoria, it’s a long road ahead Ms. Carrington you should get some rest.”

“I’ll do no such thing, are you ready to leave? I am.”

“Of course.”

And so they drove down to Hell, Georgia, Colorado.

as long and sharp as yours.

Indie got out of the limo after Victoria opened the door for her. She was already holding her bags.

“You learn fast.”

“Actually it took me a week or two, but I’ve got you figured out about now.” Victoria said confidently giving Indie a nod. It brought a smile to Indie’s lips.

“There’s that smile I love.” Victoria said, following Indie’s lead to the front door.

“That’ll be quite enough Victoria, thank you.” Indie said thankfully to her newest old friend.

“We’ve been on the road for nearly three days, you’ve gotten an ungodly small amount of sleep, are you seriously going to end things with a thank you?” Victoria asked with a bit of expectancy in her voice.

“Goodbye.” Indie said taking the bag from Victoria’s hand and nodding to her. The woman walked off to her car mouthing something, perhaps saying it under her breath. Indie did not care, she had served her purpose. It seemed that a lion still had claws.

She knocked on the door and recognized the woman who answered the door.

“Indiana, it’s so nice to see you.” The woman said warmly.

“Thank you, but right now I need to know only a few things.” Indie said placing her bag in front of her for another servant to collect and take to her room.

“Of course, what can I help you with?”

“Where are mom and dad?” Indie asked glancing up and diagonally, as if she would see either of her parents.

She didn’t.

“Well your mother is still in her room preparing to address the family, I believe your father is in the study.” She said.

“Of course, that makes sense.” Indie said the slightest hint of relief dripped into her tone.

“I’ll be staying in one of the guests I assume? I haven’t been here in a while so I don’t really remember which room I’m in.” She said honestly.

“Follow me, your bags will be brought up behind us.”

And so Indie followed and was lead to her room. As soon as she was finally left alone after answering if there was anything else she needed for the thousandth time. (There wasn’t). She was finally able to relax.

Of course, by relax that was more of a loose term for, absolutely freak the fuck out.

It was show time and from this moment she was no longer just a musician, she was an actress.

She grabbed her violin and bow and quickly propped the instrument onto her shoulder, resting her chin on its perch.

She felt herself thinking about every move she was about to make. She was back where she grew up and yet somehow so incredibly far out of her element.

[Gowi]

with: Piper Chapin (@Fabricant451)

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Colorado. Elaine Carrington had almost forgotten what it had been like.

Before passing her acceptance exam into Strathmore, it had been just her and her family— or at least what few of the siblings she had that remained. So really the better half of her life was just her parents and her brother, Emile. She remembered how some of her brothers would visit and how the household staff would talk about the one’s that had moved on with their lives, but really it was always so irrelevant to her beyond a few fleeting exceptions. The exceptions being the ones who came around for the holidays and brief visits or the ones she kept in contact through social media. Though really the number of Carrington’s she talked to online were few in number and overall she didn’t really think about it all too much. Indiana, Emile, and Nathaniel were the only ones that cared and Nate was always so aloof for Elaine to really “connect” with. So really in Elaine’s mind she had two siblings and two parents.

A warm albeit anxious smile left Elaine’s lips as she shuffled her hands in her coat’s insulated pockets. It was cold but not irregularly so. Even after being effectively raised in California, she had known Colorado well and she had spent two years in Maine where the winters were pretty much the same— cold, brittle nights subject to blizzards and mountain chill running down the peaks to the soft rolling hills. In fact, according to weather reports she had taken a peak of on her phone it was actually ten-to-eleven degrees colder back in Maine. So it was a pleasant change even if Elaine didn’t dabble too much in the winter activities or sports Strathmore students took interest in, and she most certainly had little care to hike uphill in snow-capped forests like Kiana Farahani did. Preferentially, Elaine liked sitting inside in warmth in front of a chess board with a warm cup of hot chocolate at her lips.

Such preferences is how she met Piper Chapin, after all.

Elaine wasn’t quite sure she remembered what led up to Piper heading up to Colorado for a Carrington retreat, but she did recall that when she received her father’s e-mail she was sure to appeal for bringing her along. After all, it being the holidays meant much to a lot of people and Elaine would’ve hated to be sitting in Colorado while Piper didn’t have the option to go anywhere. Sitting in your dormitory room on Christmas? She couldn’t imagine the dreadful feeling that would bring. It took some convincing but her father relented, seeing her appeal as rational— but Elaine couldn’t help but think there was something going on for it to result in such hesitation from her father. But it wasn’t such a worry that she focused on it.

Elaine took a glance to Piper pairing it with a warm smile before she went to open the main doors of the lodge, though she was certain had she knocked some of the household staff would’ve reacted in kind. But Elaine wanted to get inside and begin the few weeks she would be in Colorado for. Whilst she knew that the familial “reunion” would be dramatic and high strung, as long as she found something to take her mind off the family members she barely knew or cared about she knew it wouldn’t be a total disaster.

In part, that was another reason why she was glad Piper was with her and not back in Maine waiting for her return— she wasn’t just her friend or girlfriend, but in a way represented someone Elaine couldn’t be and as such allowed Elaine to “turn off” for a while without worry about expectations or responsibilities. She could just sit down as Piper put on a basketball game on the computer or something of similar effect. Elaine was always thinking so it was nice to have someone who could give her a break from her anxieties and process; even if it was just for a little while.

It doesn’t look different at all.

“Ms. Carrington?” One of the staff members noticed as she entered, a little offset she hadn’t knocked.

Admittedly, Elaine wasn’t too pleased with the response she received. Surely the staff could’ve started out with a “Welcome to the Carrington Winter Lodge, how can I help you?” rather than the kind of slight confusion. Manners would’ve been something her mother drilled into their heads, so the surprise that they slipped up was a bit warranted. Still, Elaine wasn’t going to yell at them like fire from hell itself— a minute correction however was on her mind and probably would continue to be on her mind until they ended their exchange of words.

“You can tell my parents that their youngest daughter has arrived as expected. How are we handling rooms given the situation?”

“Of course.” The man replied with a nod as he recalled instructions specific to Elaine, before he motioned to another employee to take the girl's luggage and set it off in their respective rooms. “Your allocated room for your guest should be across the hall to your own. Do you need help in guidance?”

Elaine shook her head— she had been to the lodge many times before and could manage “finding” herself around without any help. However, the sentiment seemed a bit more well-mannered than the one he shot at her upon arrival as a “greeting”; a fact she was happy about considering her initial annoyance. Her mother had always taught her that if you were going to act or perform you should do it correctly with rigorous preparation to not leave room for mistakes. Mistakes led to embarrassments and embarrassments led to failure. Cassiopeia Carrington did not expect this just from her children, but her employees as well.

“Right, thank you. I know the way.” There was a quick pause following the statement as Elaine looked to the stairwell and then back to the man. “Oh, by the way. You should probably greet people with comments that are warm rather than confused; my mother has little patience for things being done incorrectly. Have a nice day.”

“Right… of course, Ms. Carrington.”

The man’s reply was a quiet mutter, the nervousness dripping from his words like falling rain sputtering off a metal rooftop. It wasn’t the most vindictive or hostile as Elaine could be, and from her perspective was matter-of-factly spoken like a fact rather than an emotionally charged opinion. She noticed him give her a final albeit tense nod as he walked off— as per her opinion she hoped he wouldn’t make such a daft mistake again; especially if her mother returned from her room to witness it.

With her statements done and said, she turned her attention back to Piper. “Sorry about all that, you know how it goes. Do you want to head to our rooms first or something else? It’s a big lodge; plenty to do.”

[Darcs]

"some Greek boy band or something…"

Esther Carrington_____

Divani Apollon Suites, Athens, Greece
7:59 PM (EEST)/10:59AM (MST), the day before

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Esther Carrington awoke with eyes as red as the setting sun.

She always awoke a few minutes earlier than whatever companion she had taken for the evening prior. Call it a special skill, maybe. She always knew when to wake just when she’d be alone-- perhaps it was a trick of her mind, attempting to get her to reflect on her actions.

Whatever it was, she awoke to a very disheveled hotel room. Two walls of windows and balcony railings-- high up enough that no one had bothered with drapes or blinds-- the great blue aegean sea was the only witness to what she’d been getting up to last night, or, as the setting sun seemed to imply, this morning.

The other two walls were covered with a generic hotel pattern of beige and pearl diamonds. Something about the pattern bothered her, the room was cultured by untouched paintings of ships and sea monsters, and a TV that had apparently gotten into a fight.

Judging by the knife sticking through it’s thin, black membrane, it lost.

Esi sat up in the bed-- large enough to have ample space for 5… no, 6 people, including her, as it were. Her hair fell disheveled across her face. Her body, nude, glistened like honey in the orange light of the early evening with sweat and alcohol. Around her, four men lay about in various states of undress, most of them complete strangers to her, nuzzled against her thigh was a woman from one of her record labels-- one of her agents? Or her manager? Or her a managing agent? Or some assistant to them? Actually… Despite working with the woman for years, she didn’t know who she was at all.

The fluids that housed her brain felt toxic, she had to turn her head slowly in her observance of wherever the hell she’d decided to fall asleep, lest she disturb her hangover. She saw herself in the massive mirror before her-- so that was why she was glistening… Her eyes widened behind a curtain of hair, she tilted her head at the sight.

She crawled forward, eliciting a few annoyed snores from her bedmates, the blonde woman fondling her snorted, and turned into a cocoon of white silk. Two of the Greek men altogether fell out of the bed, coming to snuggle pillows against the blue sea pattern carpeted floors. Whatever they’d taken, they were coming down they didn’t even flinch as they *thudded* against the floor.

Esi, meanwhile, closed her eyes in faux pain as she made the effort to transition from infant, crawling across the golden comforted sheets of the bed, into a walking adult. Blackness was all she could deal with-- the world was coming in too fast, the light breath of the people around her was like a cacophony of horrid noise in her sensitive ears.

Taking in a deep breath, she griped onto the edge of the bed, swinging her bare legs around to dangle over the edge. She opened her eyes, slowly.

Huh...

So, she hadn’t been hallucinating? Her body was covered in glitter and paint, each color of the rainbow, swirling to meet the other in some abstract piece across her body. Beneath her eyes were black tears and above her breast, apparently, she had gotten an intricate tattoo of a ram’s head. Laying in front of the mirror, out of sight before, lay a beautiful brown Italian pony, sleeping on it’s side, with an ice cream cone glue to it’s head-- and a pink pig with the the word ‘MOM’ painted in a blood red on the side, around them, a nest of empty champagne bottles. Esi half sighed, half laughed in realization.

Fuuuuuuck.

“Mmm…” The blonde behind her stirred, “Esi…?”

"Yeah?" Esi, for her part, was already up, or rather, attempting to stand as straight as she could-- she made her way over to the closet. She had to place a hand on her head at the stress induced by hearing the sound of her own voice, she moved from drawer to drawer on desks and counters, opening them-- clearly searching, "What’s up?"

The woman moved slowly, adjusting herself so that she rested her head on her hand, posing herself like some Victorian woman leaning against a fainting chair. “What are you looking for?”

Esi’s chuckle couldn’t have been drier than the practical cough she gave at this question, "My passport, actually. Clothes would be nice… my purse… oh, and some water! Water is lovely!" At this, she stumbled over to the kitchen area, and began drinking from the tap.

The woman laughed without mirth, “They’re probably in your room.”

"Myyy r-r-rooom…" She said, gurgling water, then paused, "This isn’t my room?"

“No.”

Esi narrowed her eyes, "Then who’s…"

The woman had already pulled out her phone, dialing some chaperone from the label, “It’ll come back to you-- last night you said you didn’t want me to let you crash in your own room-- you didn’t even want to be in the same building. Apparently you’d already packed up all the things you needed and didn’t want to risk burning anything,”

_{"Good thinking, past me…"} Esi half whispered to herself, as an aside.

“So we hung out with these guys,” The blonde stretched her arms, “Apparently they’re some Greek boy band or something… you’ve given them a few beats in the past, apparently they’ve been selling well, so the label wanted me to show them a good time, so it was a win/win.”

Esi’s eyes flicked from each of their bodies-- interesting, how she remembered nothing about them now, "Huh." In a few hours she’d remember them in lewd detail.

“Anyway.” The woman fell back in the bed, “You should shower and get dressed. A limo will be here to pick you up in a few minutes.”

Years of drinking had enabled Esther to work through her hangovers with surprising aplomb, she suddenly recalled the woman’s name, as she tip-toed over to the shower, around the sleeping boys, "Thanks, Louise."

“What time is your flight?” She replied mechanically, no doubt inputting something in some calendar on her phone.

"Pfftt." Esi giggled with a shrug, "I lost the ones my Father sent me months ago… I figured I’d just get some at the airport."

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The road, Colorado
2:22PM (MST)

Esi felt her lungs expand as the warmth spread through her body. Smoke filled the interior of the car, as it poured out of her barely parted lips. Her irises here wide-- but her eyes were clear and white, she had eye-drops and perfume prepared. But she needed this last release before she descended unto the depths of Carrington hell.

The past 30 hours, half spent in the air, had been a wonderful opportunity to reflect on what it was she was doing, what this all meant to her. She’d been laid over for 6 hours, and spent most of that time hiding away in a restroom stall, crying. Her nonchalant facade was cracking rapidly as she realized how horrified she was of seeing her family.

Ignoring the complicated emotions she harbored towards her mother and father, she was in a state of mild panic about how her family might react to her. Emile, in particular-- but fuck, who knew? Maybe they all hated her at this point? She couldn’t blame them, she certainly got lucky enough to hate. A lucky disappointment, if she’d believe her mother.

Why hadn’t she drank more? It would have made all this so much easier. Even she wasn’t far gone enough to seriously ask herself that question. She knew why she was doing this. Why come here at all? She wanted to tell herself that she knew that too.

“Sooo…..” Said the Uber driver, after a coughing fit. He was some pale skinned White guy with a thick moustache and and long brown hair that reminded her of some unclassified wild animal-- a bit like her own.

He glanced over at her-- she was clearly a foreigner to Colorado’s winters. She wore brown leather boots, bright baby blue skinny jeans, and an expensive looking, over-sized varsity jacket, the only reasonable thing she wore for this weather was a scarf, but it was some thin white thing, clearly more for fashion than practicality.

Busty, but not overly so, with long legs-- crossed right now. Her eyes were hidden to him behind blocky, black sunglasses the woman’s, her name was Esther, Esther’s face was pretty enough-- she looked like an off-brand Mila Kunis otherwise, although despite the upward curve of her lips, she seemed sadder. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before.

“Not from around here?” He finally said, breaking the silence.

"Not so much, no," She took another toke, "Fuuuuck… I’m that obvious?"

The man laughed, “Lady-- it looks like you’ve never experienced a winter in your life!”

She welcomed the distraction, and a shift in her face occurred, something about her smile became more genuine, "Would you believe me if I said I’d been avoiding this shit weather for the past ten years?"

The man waved his hand to clear his vision of the smoke, his coughs and laughs became one, “No shit? Not a fan huh? How’d you pull that anyway?”

She laughed, "Money, mostly." She shook her head, "Nah… sorry, I mean, I usually just move somewhere warmer whenever shit starts getting too cool for me, always a demand for DJs on a crowded beach..."

The driver slammed his hands against the wheel, “Fuck!” He looked over to a mildly surprised Esi, “I knew I recognized your name!” He rolled his eyes, “Esther Carrington,” he said to himself in a mocking tone, “You’re that Esi guy, aren't you?”

Esi shrugged, taking another drag, as if to say ’If you say so, man.’

“Don’t give me that!” The Driver said, “I knew I recognized you from somewhere-- my kid loves you! I even listened to some of your stuff with her, you’re like Daft Punk from back in the day.”

Esi blushed, "That’s really sweet," as the car came to a stop at a light, she passed the blunt to the man.

“Hey,” he said, in between tokes, “Do you think I could get an autograph?”

"For a fan?" He handed her the blunt, "With a dad as cool as you? Driving in this weather? Sure man, whatever you need."

“Amazing, thanks.”

"No prob, Bob." Esi’s eyes narrowed at the familiarity of her surroundings, even through the smoke and snow, she knew where she was, she felt the nerves try to creep back in.

Fuck.

“So, Esi,” The driver said, looking around, “You never gave me more than a general address, where am I dropping you off?”

"We’re close," She sighed, tossing the roach out the window, "I’m going to the Carrington WInter Lodge."

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Carrington WInter Lodge, Colorado
3:53PM (MST)

A maid opened the door.

“Hello Esther, it’s been awhile!” If Esther was to be completely honest-- she didn’t recognize this woman at all. She was an employee in service of Cassiopeia Carrington, though, and that meant she had one of the highest human tolerances for BS possible. As far Esther was concerned, that earned the woman all the respect in the world.

"Yeah..." She entered slowly, allowing the familiar grand interior return to her memory, "This place hasn’t changed at all…"

“Neither have you!” The woman and a few of her helpers took her two suitcases from her, “You mother requested you show almost 2 hours ago!”

Esi shrugged, "Fashionably late!" taking off her coat, she declined the offer to have taken to a rack, and instead tied the arms around her waist. "I thought I knew the directions, and I ended up making this poor guy drive in circles for hours..." She stopped herself, realizing she was already espousing embarrassing detail, "So, where‘s everyone anyway?"

“Your mother is in her room, preparing to address everyone…” The maid though for a moment, “your father may still be in his study.”

"That sounds like a place he’d be." Esther continued walking.

“Your siblings have all had an opportunity to get settled into their quarters…”

Esi suddenly turned on the woman, "No one’s taken my old room, right?" She asked with the enthusiasm of a school girl.

“N-no.”

"Gucci." Her pace increased, "I mostly just wanna drop my shit off though, I figure you guys worked really hard getting everything all clean, me settling’ll just ruin that."

“If you say so ma’am…”

Esi rolled her eyes, "Mother is ma’am,” she said, “I’m the no good delinquent who never grew up-- Esther works fine if you don’t like Esi."

The maid laughed as the pair came to her old room, a mess of Wu-Tang and Nirvana posters. It even smelled like stale weed. She briefly wondered if her old stash was still any good, before deciding against it-- opting instead to simply change into more relaxed wear.

Entering the hallways again, she found herself alone, in the place she had been trying to escape from for such a long time…

_"Shit…"

[Beefydork]

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Great Shipwreck of Life-IAMX

The sun greeted itself by barging through the windows; windows that extended from the high ceilings to the shining wood floors. A handsome man is propped up on a chair, leaning on his kitchen nook. The kitchen is modern and chic; everything but mediocre. Really the whole penthouse could be labeled as awfully extravagant, everything is stylish and substantial. Mathias felt indifferent to this purchase, he didn't dislike it nor did he love it.

Sipping on some fruity tea --was gifted to him by a kind co-worker-- He actually didn't hate it. Expecting a tropical punch children's drink he instead got a strong tea with appropriate hints of fruit. Today is the day he'll meet a new patient, he couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of her name. Dorothy Cumberbottom. He needed a laugh, even if it was one for a childish reason. The client is recently having heart problems, her family saying she had a few heart attacks. It was idiotic and plain ignorant for them to wait this long, but Art accepted on greeting her into the hospital.

Taking another drink of his tea he glanced over at an envelope that is sealed by a blood red wax. It's the letter he received from his parents, for a family gathering. He remembers the night he took it from the mail box and thinking it was a letter from his wife or a bonus paycheck. After reading it he couldn't help but bawl, not because he was scared to meet not only his merciless parents that raised him and also his many siblings, but he was overcome with happiness and joy to speak to his family, not through phone but in one house. Granted he didn't keep in contact with any of them and as children he barely interacted with most but he still loves them.

Extending his arm to reach the envelope his fingers also lengthened to touch the wax. Grazing his fingers on top he pulled it closer towards himself. Staring down at the wax, "I have to get to work." He sighed rising from his chair and gathering his things. Before leaving his home he looked back at the letter, a smirk grew on his face as he closed his front door.

Little Garçon-Born Ruffians
Today is December 21st

Exiting his penthouse he called up Cheyenne, one of the few contacts he has on his phone. He was calling to tell her he's taking his leave to the cabin, asking if she could hire someone to watch over his home. She agreed, "But don't be surprised if anything goes missing." Chey joked mischievously causing Mathias to chuckle. "Oh, don't you worry. I already have a suspect." He replied his smile permanent as his wife giggled softly. There was a silence as he stayed on the phone, already going to the garage to drive off.

"I miss you. I really do." Softly and a bit shaken the female whispered into the phone. Mathias froze on the steps, she started to whimper and he could hear her delicate winces.

"I miss you too, darling." He said clearly before he got choked up, forcing himself not to cry in public. Where is this coming from? And why now? She regained herself, inhaling and exhaling before speaking, "I want you here, I want us to be together. But--" Pausing briefly she continued, "I don't want our family to be like this anymore. Work at the moment is steady and nothing major has come up. I-I'm ready to live together, I'm ready to be your wife and be seen in public together. But if you're not, I understand."

Silence.

Mathias' mind was wondering, rapid thoughts bundled up with one another. Opening his mouth all he could mutter out was, "I feel the same." It was weak and lacking in emotion, he has to add onto it. "It was ridiculous to live apart for this long over petty rumors and work. I want my children and my wife with me through everything." He concluded with a sigh.

They agreed on moving in with each other after he leaves the family reunion. Exchanging their goodbye's and I love you's; then rudely being interrupted by their twins crying in the background. "They're saying they can't wait to see you again." Chey said and then standing up from whatever chair she was on.

"Tell them I can't wait either."

"You got it. Kisses!" Smooching into the phone she giggled sounding like an adolescent girl. Mathias laughed in the lobby of his building, blushing and gaining stares from a couple standing near the front desk.

"Kisses."

And the phone call ended with that.

Finally entering his car he didn't cry like he expected to happen. Instead he grinned stupidly, pulling his luscious, wavy hair back he sighed before turning on his radio. An opera cd played, he bought this a while back, he doesn't know the singers but he loves listening to it while driving. Reversing out of the garage he made his way to the airport; it's going to be a extensive plane ride, Maine to Colorado but he was prepared.

The plane ride wasn't pleasant or even tedious. It was just dreadful. The plane was fancy and sanitary, with the tasty snacks and other dishes. Televisions were set on the back of the head rest for entertainment and the seats were cushion-like and reclined back. However, the people were the problem. Mathias was seated next to a man who was very talkative and obnoxious, rambling about picking up some ladies and getting drunk with some friends. He was a young man, not a day over the drinking age, and had mediocre looks that would label him as "Nice looking" He was obviously rich and loved to brag about every merchandise and trinket he owned.

Everyone else on the plane had their own redeeming qualities, but Art didn't care, they were all just annoying. After the plane he was escorted to his limo and taken to the lodge, he didn't hesitate to pour a glass of water.
He knew the driver was going to make pep talk but he didn't feel like chatting.

"So, why are you here in Colorado, Mr.Carrington?"

"Visiting family." Blunt reply, hoping the driver will stop in his tracks.

"For the holidays? Colorado is--"

"Listen, I'm sorry if I come off as rude or impolite, but I would really appreciate it if we didn't speak. Because really, I'm not in the mood for meaningless conversations."

The driver looked into the rear-view mirror at Mathias, Art stared back with no remorse. He was an older gentleman, maybe late thirties early forties. Not glaring at Art for disrespecting him but just staring at him blankly and then quickly looking back at the road, "Understood, Mr.Carrington." He spoke monotony.

The rest of the car ride was serene, which Mathias enjoyed because he could begin reading one of his books he brought with him. The book is horror, mystery base which are his favorite themes in a novel. Arriving at the lodge he was already past the median of the book; he's a fast reader. He assisted the driver when retrieving his luggage from the back of the car, but quickly stopped by staff as they took his bags. A maid came to his side, "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr.Carrington." She greeted with a welcoming smile. Mathias remembers her, she was one of his favorite maids when he was younger. She helped with his homework when he needed it, played doctor with him and even prank the other maids.

"You don't have to speak so formally to me, Rebecca, it feels odd. You can call me Mathias." He doesn't know why he called her Rebecca, it just appeared in his mind. But since she didn't oppose, that must be her name.

"Now you know neither of your parents would be fond of that," She looked up at him, "Mr.Carrington." She included his name to be playful and silly. They both smiled at each other, then another staff member took him inside the lodge. Rebecca had other duties to tend to, which disappointed Mathias. All the memories he had here started to come back to him, running around the lodge, waiting to go outside and play in the cold and running back inside to drink hot chocolate and read. He felt bad for his younger siblings that most likely won't remember much.

The maid guided Mathias to his old bedroom, "Here is your room, sir. Mr.Carrington is in his study while Mrs.Carrington is situated in her room." She explained.

"Well I won't bother them just yet, I'll wander around inside for a bit. Maybe even go out and build a snowman, give him a carrot nose and sing him a song." He laughed, the maid smiled dully which made him sigh, "You can take your leave." The maid nodded and left without a trace. He turned his attention to his door, a "Keep out!" sigh was planted onto it, but that didn't stop him.

Walking into his room he felt immense nostalgia, his posters displayed were the human body with sharpie markings and notes written on them. Zombie posters --He was a huge zombie fan, he still is--, with one astronomy poster above his bed frame, his desk is neat with pencil holders, note pads and other school supplies in their containers. In the corner his violin case and flute laid next to each other, with his stand to rest papers on. The windows brought in the natural light and he could view the snow as it fell on the forest floor. He missed this. He sat on his bed watching the staff bring in his luggage, when the last one arrived he took out the book he was reading and picked up where he left off. Looking at his watch he got the time, he already set it for MST time, "One thirty PM. Precisely." He mumbled to himself before continuing to read.

[Barrett]

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^{Interacting with: Serving Staff, Samantha (@Liriia)}

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A heavy base beat thumped through the rented car, its harsh rock'n'roll feel utterly at odds to the sleek and smooth nature of the vehicle. A song like this should really be listened to in a spluttering old banger with coffee stained seats and a dozen friends crammed in and all singing badly, not alone in a brand new Porsche, rented and driven for the first time today. This was utterly lost on the driver though, who happily chanted the song's familiar words as he stared through the fluttering snowflakes, searching for a familiar landmark or a signpost.

Bloody strange being back here, Arthur reflected as he drummed his fingers on the wheel and hummed a particularly striking couple of instrumental bars. It had been more than ten years, maybe more like fifteen, since he had visited the family winter retreat. There wasn't much of a good reason for it, now he thought about it, he'd just stopped visiting. No storm out or cessation of all contact with his parent's or anything so dramatic. Not with a bang but with a whimper...

The final hammer blow of the song, coupled with the sighting of a far off signpost, jerked Arthur out of his reverie. With practised ease, he slowed the car right down and peered through the empty passenger seat's snowy window towards the sign. Aha! Success! It really shouldn't have been that hard to find the family residence, not with GPS, a knowledge of the area and how well Lee had the area maintained but Arthur had not been borne with a skill for orientation. Rather the reverse, in fact.

The rest of the drive took only a few short moments but the wave of anxiety that had been strangely absent from his mind now returned and swept over Arthur. It was like walking up to his parent's office as a child with a report card in his hand, knowing that it would tell them he hadn't worked as hard on his work as he had on making his classmates laugh. Again. Only now I get to explain why I didn't bring Melissa and Abbi or why I'm still a producer and not a businessman, altogether more difficult matters to explain.

Shaking his head, Arthur swung the wheel around and pulled up in front of the main doors. Before he stepped out of the car to hand the keys to a nearby servant, he guilty stuffed the Wether's Originals wrappers and Best of Queen CD into the glovebox. Arthur was no more suited to this car than the song he'd hastily muted upon arrival and had tried to drown his mild discomfort with sleek leather and chrome with sweets and Freddie Mercury. He wasn't sure of his father's position on the latter and only to clear on his position on the former, though, so he'd prefer not to advertise it.

Dragging his suitcase behind him, Arthur climbed the steps and stepped inside. The anxiety was still scratching at the back of his mind but now it was being drowned out by nostalgia. I ran down that hall when Sam was chasing me... And I chased Emile down it while wearing a santa hat. With a pang, he thought of Abbi. I could've brought her, it might've been good to give her a look at the whole clan at once... But with an uncharacteristic straightening of his spine, Arthur walked on and climbed the stairs.

He'd struggled with the idea of bringing her a lot in the days before leaving. On the one hand, the letter had made it clear this was an opportunity to come together, to be a family again or, perhaps, for the first time. Arthur wanted to believe that with almost his entire being. But on the other hand, he remembered how uncomfortable his mother was with her first granddaughter and how few of his siblings had ever showed much interest in his family, not to mention how little there was for a young girl to do in this place.

No, better that I do this alone. A Carrington she may be, but it's only because even Melissa can't fight genetics. His room was familiar, though not in such a comforting way. He'd slept here before and even stayed awake for hours with Sam but so too had he been sent here without dinner by his mother after delivering one too many raunchy jokes at a New Year's Eve meal. It had been the first and last time he'd been punished like that but the look of utter disgust on her face at his antics had never truly faded from his mind.

Shaking his head, he dropped his suitcase on the bed and glanced at the spotless but clearly untouched bookcase. There were a host of golden age Fantasy books sitting alongside some classic 80s Sci-Fi, the sort of books Lee had bought him guiltily and his mother had sniffed at whenever she saw them. Or, more memorably, they were the books Sam would playfully refer to as 'the reason you're so damn straight'. Even the thought of her good natured ribbing put a smile on Arthur's face as he ran a finger over the weathered spines.

And on the subject of Sam... Arthur thought, stepping out of his own room and wandering down the hall. He wouldn't be surprised if Sam wasn't here yet, she was often fashionably late, but he'd rather face the hosts with some company. So he walked to her old room (noticing that the KEEP OUT OR DIE! signs had been removed at some point), gently knocked and spoke with characteristic levity.

"I hope there aren't any artists in this house, I've had just about as much of those worthless layabouts as I can take."

[flightless-angel-castiel]

Charlie Carrington & Eckhart Wolff

_{a collab with the wonderful @HalfOfLancelot}

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“You little shit.” Charlie murmured quietly, squatting down to poke at his and Eckhart’s cat, Shoes, who decided to curl around one of his loafers. Of course. Those were her favorite to snuggle down in, shed cat hair in, even leave scratch marks on. Sure, it bothered Charlie, but he loved Shoes more than his… shoes, so he dealt with it. She was still a little shit, though. “One of these days, you’re going to disappear, and I’ll just tell Hart I dunno, she must of finally got sick of being fed and loved and left.” he spoke softly, since Eckhart was asleep on the other side of their studio apartment, and kept poking at the cat on her head in an attempt to annoy her, watching her tail start to twitch around. “I can return you to the pound we got you from. Don’t put it past me.”

Shoes gave a giant, teeth-showing yawn and stretched a paw up, batting at his hand without her claws extended. “No, don’t start that,” he scolded as Shoes mewled, stretching up to butt her head against his hand, and Charlie sighed. “I’d never give you away. I’m sorry.” he said, scratching behind the spoiled kitty’s ears. Shoes began to purr and Charlie gathered the Scottish Fold into his arms, quietly grunting as he did so. “Gaining weight, Shoes?” he teased, receiving a meow from the cat as he straightened up to carry her over to the bed. “Go sleep on his head instead of my shoes,” he whispered, dropping Shoes onto the bed beside Eckhart. Shoes immediately went to Eckhart to snuggle up and Charlie stood there for a moment, looking at the image they made. From the lamp he turned on on the other side of the room, it cast a pale light over Eckhart, and he found himself, for the millionth time, wondering how he was lucky enough to snag someone like this man. His fingers twitched and the urge to create a piece of art inspired by this man was strong. It would be a good distraction but only in a few hours, an alarm would be going off to wake them up. He didn’t need to get into a piece and refuse to leave it. It had happened before. What he should be doing is sleeping, but that was a struggle at the moment. He had been tossing and turning since he laid down, and to not possibly wake Eckhart, he finally accepted his fate and got up to wander around. Since he couldn’t let himself get lost in a piece, even a small one, he, instead, snatched up his phone from the nightstand table and took a picture. Too fucking cute. he thought as he quickly set the picture as his phone background before setting it back in its spot.

He began to wander back towards the living room but what had been keeping him up caught his eye. To an outsider, it’d look like an innocent letter, but it was far from that to him. Ever since he had gotten it a few months ago, he had found it hard to not think about. He went over and slowly picked it up, feeling the quality of the paper between his fingers, slowly unfolding it again. The creases caused from the folding were deeper, worse, since he had opened it a thousand times already, to fret and worry over the words printed on the creamy surface. He looked it over again before forcing himself to set it back down, opened. A part of him was excited to see his parents, his siblings and their families, yet there was a gnawing anxiety clawing its way through his body too. That had been happening since he had gotten the letter. He felt bad for Eckhart; he had been stressing over the upcoming vacation too much. The brightest highlight was that he and Hart would get time to themselves, something they needed plenty more of together. Not to mention, he had a pressing question to ask Eckhart, and he felt like being on vacation, in a beautiful setting like that, would be a good time to ask it. He hoped.

He turned away from the letter and glanced over at the bed. He needed to stop worrying so much. He hated bothering Eckhart. He padded across the wooden floor, grabbing something off one of the shelves of a bookcase separating the “living room” from the “bedroom.” He fell into a plush chair by a window, pulling the little handle down and opening it a crack. The night air came in, smelling of the city, but soon enough, the air was swirling with the smell of cigarette smoke too. Charlie sunk down into the chair, putting his mismatch-socked feet up onto the window sill, and blowing the smoke towards the open window. The tension in his shoulders bled out, and he let the cigarette dangle between his lips as he laid his head back against the top of the chair, eyes slipping closed. He would be on a plane, heading to the Winter Lodge, to see his disconnected family, in just a matter of hours.

“Hey,” a croak came from the pile of blankets and pillows and fur - just a slip of skin visible, rising and falling above the mountain of sheets. Eckhart rose, as did his cat who found comfort on the warm pillow behind him, and padded his bare feet across the studio’s wooden floors. “Mm,” Eckhart hummed, groaning low in his chest as he collided into Charlie. His hands pinched the cigarette from Charlie’s lips and flicked it out of the window, “No kisses if you keep smoking like that. Tobacco mouth isn’t pleasant.”

As if he hadn’t just described his distaste for cigarette filled mouths, Eckhart pressed a soft kiss to Charlie’s lips, and then another, more urgent one. He cooed softly to Charlie, letting their noses brush and their foreheads press while his hands tugged and feet guided them both back to the warmth. But not before he slipped the window shut, murmuring about cold New York air.

The guilt Charlie had felt at Eckhart awakening was drowned out by the contentment said man caused to spark in his chest, a growing warmth that spread and settled down deep. He made the smallest sounds of protest when the cigarette was taken from him, most of it wasted, but it was a nasty habit he wanted to kick anyway. If he had to kick it to keep receiving kisses from Eckhart, then that would be the best motivation to push him into doing it. He wanted to make a comment on Hart kissing him, after he said he wouldn’t, but he found himself, instead, growing lost in the contact being bestowed upon him, returning it with a small smile dancing at the edges of his lips. He sighed softly as he was made to get up, was guided back to the bed, but he went willingly. He knew Eckhart was ready to drop off again, and he needed to get there alongside him.

“Pay attention to me,” Eckhart demanded in gentle whispers, dragging Charlie down atop him - the cat already moving to curl next to two warm bodies, now. He let his lips drag across Charlie’s ear and down his neck to nibble at the soft flesh there. Every slow, languid press of his hands or his lips or the rumble in his chest that vibrated through Charlie demanded the latter’s focus. A gentle reminder to keep them both grounded, whether that’s in the smell of sleep and sweat or in the soft noise of Eckhart’s voice like static in Charlie’s ears. “Stop thinking,” Eckhart huffed just above a whisper, his fingers curling in the fine, black hairs that hung like a mop over Charlie’s head, “breathe with me; we got a few hours, yet.”

A sigh tore through Eckhart. “Listen to my heart beat.”

Charlie felt a swell of adoration form in his chest as Eckhart took care of him. He could feel a heaviness beginning to settle in his bones, causing him to sink into the warm body beneath him, all focus turning to Hart. He didn’t say anything, or make a noise, just closed his eyes and listened to Eckhart, following his direction. He let the smell and feel and warmth of Eckhart encase him, just let himself get lost in this private, gentle moment between them. It was times like these his mind slowed, that he could think the most clearly and feel the most relaxed. Only Eckhart could make him feel that way, and he would never be able to thank and love the man enough for it. He snuggled down into the warmth, one hand sliding over to gently scrub at Shoes’ head, his other hand sliding up and disappearing into Hart’s hair, just holding on gently. He broke his silence by letting out a small “mm ‘kay,” already beginning to drop off. Being like this made his body realize how tired it was; now that Eckhart had chased away the anxiety that had been churning and making him feel high-strung, he could do as the man said, and listen to his heartbeat while dozing off.

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Four hours came and went, much like their sleep pattern that flight; a constant up-down of wake and sleep. Once their plane touched down, Eckhart tore through their carry on to snatch the two coats he’d packed inside. Even with Charlie’s fussing, Eckhart bundled him tight in the heavy pea coat and wrapped the orange scarf snug around Charlie’s neck. He finished the touch by shoving the ushanka over Charlie’s head and eyes and pulling the flaps to press a kiss to his nose. After bundling himself up, they immediately made their way to baggage claim and soon after into the thin, cold Denver air.

“Come on, let’s go,” Eckhart motioned toward the man waving a ‘Charlie Carrington,’ sign not too far from where they stepped out. The chill already bit down on his skin, leaving red impressions on his nose and cheeks. Regardless, he didn’t seem fazed, especially when Charlie questioned him about his baggage and he swept him off his feet.

Charlie almost cringed at the sight of the sign with his name. He felt like it was calling attention to him, but he was probably just overreacting. As usual, Eckhart distracted him, but it wasn’t in the most helpful of ways. He let out something akin to a squeak - though he wouldn’t admit to it - and threw his arms around Hart’s neck. It wouldn’t be the first time Eckhart had decided that randomly picking him up would be a good idea and… okay, Charlie liked it, but he didn’t have to act like he did. But, he made it obvious he did, by the way he tightened his grip around Hart’s neck and was completely relaxed in his arms.

A smile burned bright even in the overcast haze of snow as Eckhart carried Charlie toward their destination. “I’ve got the most important luggage of all,” he grunted, “man, you puttin’ on some muscle, Harley?” He gave him a wink before letting him down and opening the door for him, giving the chauffeur a little wave as he assisted the man with their luggage before sliding in next to Charlie.

Charlie didn’t want to tear his eyes away from Eckhart’s face, feeling his own lips twitching upwards at the sight of his boyfriend’s smile. He had the best smile; it transformed his face into something beautiful, not that it wasn’t before. Though, his lips twitched downward at Hart’s words, but it didn’t last long. He tried to not let a fond smile break across his face as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, gonna look like you soon,” he deadpanned, also giving the chauffeur a little wave before willingly sliding into the limo. He adjusted the scarf around his neck, loosening it just a bit, since it was fairly warm in the luxury vehicle.

“Hey.” Eckhart looked serious as he turned to face Charlie. “Whatever happens, you still got me, okay? Your family matters a whole helluva lot, kid, and they’re worth a lot, but they’re not worth everything. Yeah?”

Charlie sunk back into the leather seat, glancing over at Eckhart when he said ‘hey,’ but then he looked over at him at his serious expression. He blinked at Hart’s words, and again, he wondered what he did to get this man in his life. It was like Eckhart could read his mind, knew his exact thoughts, and knew just what to say to ease his worries. He still felt nervous, it beating around inside him, but Eckhart was right. He stared at him for a few seconds before smiling, expression softening as he reached out to take Hart’s hand in his own. He rubbed his thumb along his knuckles, giving a nod. “Yeah.” he murmured, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering only for a moment before sitting back, squeezing Hart’s hand tight the whole ride.

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Charlie found his eyes caught on the passing whiteness of snow as the limo drove along, hand not releasing Eckhart’s until the limo had pulled up to the big, grand Winter Lodge. He took a deep breath as he slid out of the limo, looking up at a place he could vaguely remember; he had been roughly around the age ten when he was brought here, and naturally, not all of the siblings had been present for that vacation. He had spent most of his time tracking down anything with the capability to write, before finding paper to doodle his time away. He had went outside a fair amount, though instead of throwing snowballs or making snow angels, he would attempt to create a snowman that was never a snowman, but rather a dog, or even a horse. The latter had been a horribly failed attempt that he just ended up falling into and laying there until he grew too cold and had to go inside.

He looked up at it and let out a breath, eyes almost crossing to watch his breath slowly disappear into the cold air. “It hasn’t changed much,” he mumbled, trying to ignore the way his stomach twisted in nerves. He was sure there were others who had arrived before them. Maybe they wouldn’t bump into them until he had some time to settle in. There was some part of him that felt excitement, sure, but a bigger part of him felt nervous and a little sick. You’re overreacting. he scolded himself, as he made a move to help with luggage, but it seemed the staff had been prepared for others pulling up; two people came out to help with the luggage, and Charlie felt himself frowning. The older he had gotten, the more awkward he had felt around the staff, over having people being paid to tend to him. It had never sat well with him, but he let them do their job, not wanting to interrupt or cause a fuss that would be pointless and rude, for that matter.

Instead, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to take Eckhart’s hand again, before he moved up the stairs to the front door, which was being held open. Of course it was. He should expect all the bells and whistles while here. He had been on his own for so long, grown independent alongside Eckhart, that he knew he was going to feel extremely uncomfortable with it. He was used to tending to himself now, and Eckhart; while they both took care of each other, they still took care of themselves, and he didn’t want anyone’s sole purpose being to wait on him. But, he knew to expect this while here, so he’d just suck it up and go with it. He entered the warm interior, letting out a breath and taking it in. It really hadn’t changed, at all, and he felt something clench in his chest at the vague familiarity of it.

“Mr. Carrington! You’ve finally arrived.” a maid approached him, with a kind smile on her aging face. Charlie didn’t recognize her, in all honesty, though he wasn’t going to say that.

“Oh, are-are we late?” he asked, a bit of strain in his voice as he let go of Hart’s hand to fumble with his sleeves to look at his watch, but he didn’t have to since the maid was quick to reassure him.

“Oh, no, sir! I apologize. It is just nice to see you all grown up, Mr. Carrington.” the maid told him, and now Charlie felt really bad for not knowing her name.

“Um, please, call me Charlie. Mr. Carrington is my dad.” he said a bit quietly, looking at the polished wood floor before glancing over at Hart. “This is Eckhart Wolff. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Very nice to meet you, sir. Shall I show you to your old room, then?” the maid - Charlie was really trying to remember her name - asked with a beaming smile. Eckhart grunted his greeting beside Charlie, putting on his best smile.

“Oh.” Charlie said, a little surprised that his old room had been kept intact, but what else would have happened to it? He knew his parents wouldn’t change much of anything in it. When the maid simply stared at him, he realized he hadn’t exactly answered, and jolted a little. “Shit, sorry- uh, crap, I mean, or, um, shoot. Okay, just. Yes, please, sorry.” he got a bit tangled up while speaking, feeling his cheeks flush at his stumbling and feeling the presence of a large hand settling on his lower back.

But, the maid obviously wasn’t phased, because she nodded without her smile faltering. “Your luggage should already be there,” she said as she began to lead the way. Charlie quickly began to follow, gazing around as they went, hand finding Eckhart’s without even having to look or fumble a little.

“Just act like this is another dinner with the parents,” Eckhart bent low to whisper into Charlie’s ear, squeezing his hand in a firm grip. Having traveled for most of his career, Eckhart knew these formalities as if he’d grown with them. Many of the high-strung hotels accommodated his team well, even in the less than savory affairs they tended to find themselves in - even Eckhart knew the embarrassment of waking up half naked, surrounded by a pile of regrets as awful as his hangover. Luckily, he knew his own limits and those events often found themselves few and far between.

Even if it didn’t need to be said, this trip had Eckhart on his best behavior. He just wanted to be absolutely sure of himself, especially for Charlie. He gripped his boyfriend’s hand tighter and let Charlie lead him forward. He could feel the anxiety radiating off of him and once they arrived with no stops or interruptions, Eckhart gave a curt thank you and waved his goodbye after she’d notified them of the welcome they had to attend down at the main parlor. The moment she left and Eckhart closed the door, he pushed Charlie to sit on the edge of the bed and snaked around him. Thighs bracketing Charlie’s hips, his arms came around to curl over Charlie’s stomach and leaned back slightly to let him fold into Eckhart’s chest.

Charlie knew there would be gatherings all throughout this whole thing, but being told one was coming up so soon in the main parlor made a spark of anxiety shoot up his spine. Though, he tried to his best to ignore it, instead thanking the maid - maybe he could manage to ask one of his older siblings, surely they knew her name - and feeling intense relief when the door was closed. Now it was just him and Eckhart, but that didn’t mean he could immediately relax. He still felt on edge, thinking of the welcome later, but that thought didn’t last for long. As usual, Eckhart was taking care of him, and while Charlie always felt guilty he needed it, he also knew Eckhart didn’t mind this one bit. Or else he wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t had stuck with Charlie for so long, he wouldn’t had fallen in-love with him, of all people Hart could have. He immediately relaxed back into the wider body, hands resting on Eckhart’s covered arms, squeezing to feel the arms beneath the thick fabric of jacket and shirt.

“I’m proud of you, Harley,” Eckhart whispered, rocking Charlie forward into a more comfortable position, “You’re doing great so far. Things’ll only get better, okay? And if they don’t, I’m here.” He repeated himself, “I’ll be here, okay? It’s gonna take a helluva lot to get rid of me.” Eckhart continued to murmur, brushing his nose into Charlie’s neck and taking deep breaths of him, receiving a slight shudder from the man as a reward before Charlie managed a nod to acknowledge his words. A hand pressed to Charlie’s chest and Eckhart let their breathing sync up, felt his heartbeat in his palm.

After a while of winding down, Eckhart pushed himself back slightly and let his hands peel the coat off of Charlie’s back, along with the hat and the scarf. Once he got his own off and tossed them to the side, content to care for them later, Eckhart pushed Charlie forward with just a slight edge of force. His hands grasped Charlie’s shoulder and the fingers immediately found the tense knots that bound Charlie’s muscles tight. It resulted in a small groan coming from Charlie’s throat, his back arching much like a cat’s in his best attempt to push into Eckhart’s magical fingers, a silent way of asking for more. The methodical work of kneading those muscles, digging his palm into Charlie’s spine, feeling the other breath deep in relief aided in calming Eckhart’s nerves, as well. Cause hell if he hadn’t been fretting this trip; unlike Charlie, Eckhart just had an easier time of hiding it. Mostly for Charlie’s sake, but a lot of it was for his own well being. He didn’t like loss of control and wouldn’t forfeit it willingly.

Knowing they didn’t have much time left, Eckhart finished quickly and let Charlie fall back into his chest. “You all good now?” he smiled, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s temple, “if you want, we can just say fuck ‘em and fake jet lag to get in bed early for tonight. Though, that’d mean missin’ out on dinner…” After a beat, Eckhart smiled into the side of Charlie’s cheekbone, pressing half his face into Charlie’s hair, “that is, of course, if I hadn’t packed a few snacks to much on ourselves. I gotta watch my calorie intake, but I wouldn’t mind breaking a rule or two for you. And I got your laptop for Netflix binging. It’s up to you, sailor.”

While Charlie hadn’t wanted that to end, he knew it couldn’t last for that long, and he slumped practically boneless back against Eckhart’s chest. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath and laughing at Hart’s words. He didn’t answer at first, instead choosing to turn his head so he could brush his lips along Hart’s own. Though, he didn’t linger - it’d be shitty to get something started like that and have to leave - and instead slumped down so he could nuzzle his face into Eckhart’s neck, right underneath his chin, settling there. “Tempting. But really shitty, too,” he breathed out a laugh against Eckhart’s neck before kissing the skin there. “Honestly, I could legit fall asleep right now, but… it’s the first official gathering. Gotta be there for that.” while he didn’t want too, because Hart’s suggestion sounded like the best thing in the world, he knew he had to suck it up in this case. “But, maybe after a few anxiety-inducing and awkward dinners, I can fake illness and we can lock ourselves in here for the rest of the vacation,” he said lightly, hands taking both of Hart’s own, and beginning to gently rub his fingertips into the skin, just feeling the roughened skin, suddenly thankful he had this, that he had Eckhart. Obviously they both knew he was joking. He couldn't do that, even if a part of him might want too. So, for right now, he'll let himself concentrate on Eckhart, and try to not dread what was coming up too much.

[Undine]

.

[HalfOfLancelot]

Gabriel Carrington & Oliver Harris

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Funny, how the world works things out - maybe ‘works things out’ doesn’t describe the depth of intervention the universe plays at. Muck up? Fuck up? Just an all out mess of things when everything seemed right, even for just a moment. All the stars staring from their posts at the mired clutter just trying to get from one goal to the next in some Sisyphean feat. If stars could look smug from a billion light years away, Gabriel wouldn’t doubt their lights turned that pomp onto him. The blackness hanging over him felt abyssal and simultaneously lacking that emptiness between flickers of light. Even the moon seemed to mock him, full blown face a brightness that hurt his eyes in damp grass.

This wouldn’t work. Gabriel ran a hand over his face, like it’d wipe away the bags hanging under his eyes. His hands fumbled with the dials on his telescope, making a mess of the towel the tripod stood on. A clank resounded and the head of the telescope dropped to clang on the metal of one of the legs. Cursing, Gabriel shuffled to examine the glass, a microfibre towel at the ready. Just a few smudges this time, nothing broke or out of place. The relief sank palpable into his breath and released in a sigh while he continued packing.

Three days after he’d gotten the letter - just enough time to send him off his axis. Nothing felt quite right, like a picture he knew looked crooked, yet even if his perception caught on fast, his vision lagged perpetually behind. That off-kilter feeling only intensified in the coming days and this allotted trip wouldn’t rear its head for another few months. That meant more time for Gabriel to go out of his mind.

After scrambling all of the equipment into his jeep, Gabriel climbed into the lit up trunk to roll up the jeans on his right leg. He grabbed a clean rag from one of his bags and simply lost himself in mindless maintenance. Respite never came often and after these hellish hours, it lost even that frequency. Funny how the universe worked. “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” Gabriel muttered, barely feeling the tug on the brace that kept the prosthetic firmly attached to his leg. “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” he repeated, taken with the adage and like some Pavlov experiment, Gabriel simply waited for the other shoe to drop. For a mountain of shoes to drop.

---

---

The soil felt cool between Oliver’s fingers, gritty and black, wiggling its way under his blunt fingernails and dirtying his slightly tanned hands. Not that he minded. He dug his fingers deep into the soil, breaking the surface, and pushed it aside. He did this repeatedly, beginning to create a shallow hole that turned into a deeper one. He got lost in the mindless task, focused solely on pushing dirt this way and that to achieve in making a hole. Allowing himself to squeeze soil between his fingers, to grip it hard and feel it, to let himself think on how this soil gave life to plants. If only humans could thrive in such a manner that appeared so simple; to just simply be, to just simply live without all the emotions and struggles attached to that. Oh, if only life could be that easy, then maybe Oliver wouldn’t be staring into a dark hole, his dirty fingers wiggling under soil, and wondering if he should come up with some overused metaphor that related the seemingly black hole to his life right now.

“Oliver, that hole is deep enough. And what have I told you about not wearing gloves and using the tools? Getting yourself filthy for no reason, tsk.” an elderly voice sounded from beside him, making him snap back into reality and look over at the source. A gentle, smiling face was staring at him, deep lines giving away the age, but eyes still bright and youthful, reflecting the type of person the face used to belong too.

Oliver cleared his throat a little, taking his fingers from the hole and rubbing his hands together to knock off the excess clinging to his skin. “Sorry, Ms. Moody. You know I’m stubborn.” he said with a slight smile in her direction; instead of saying he liked how the dirt felt between his fingers, liked having soil that gave life to something so simple held within his palms. While the stubborn bit was not a lie, even he could see that fault in himself, that wasn’t the whole truth, either.

Ms. Moody’s eyes lingered on Oliver’s face, as if she could feel there was more to the simple task, but then shook her head. “Go on, get cleaned up. You have to pack anyway, don’t you?” she asked, shifting her knees on the yoga pad she always used against the hard ground. She had to always remind Oliver, while throwing it down, that he had old, aching bones to look forward too.

Oliver sighed through his nose. “Yeah. Flight’s heading out tomorrow.” he murmured, reaching over to take the flower from Ms. Moody’s hands anyway, to gently place it into the hole. Just deep enough, he noticed as he began to pack soil around the roots, to steady the plant and keep it in the flower bed. “Just… a few more flowers, then I’ll go wash my hands like a good boy.” he promised, making sure the flower was firmly planted, and allowing himself to gently rub one of the petals, smearing dirt on the bright surface that’d be washed away later.

“Oh, fine.” Ms. Moody said with some amusement in her voice, turning back to her own spot in the flower bed, where she was busy planting the flowers in perfect distance from each other. “Just be sure to get some rest before your flight.” she said firmly, and Oliver simply hummed and nodded his acknowledgement of her words, as he moved over to begin digging another hole. Ms. Moody was quiet for all but four seconds before she asked, “Oliver, are you happy with Brad?”

Oliver froze at the unexpected question. Then again, when were questions like that ever expected? He knew he had been acting not that excitable but he had thought he was hiding his internal struggle a little better than that. Ms. Moody, however, had lived a long time, and she could almost always see through Oliver’s fake smiles. It was one reason he sometimes avoided her, making him feel extremely guilty. “Uh,” he said dumbly, beginning to move again as he shook himself mentally a little. He focused even harder on digging his fingers into the soil. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, giving a small laugh that sounded forced even to his own ears.

“Do you think I’m blind?” Ms. Moody asked with a scoff. “Or stupid? Usually people about to go on a vacation with their boyfriend of two years are a little more excited.” she pointed out, stabbing her trowel into the soil. “Aren’t you meeting his parents in Boston? Then heading to that nice cabin of your parents in Colorado? I don’t know, Oli, if I was having a vacation like that with someone I love, I wouldn’t be feeling so down in the dumps.”

Oliver grew quiet. He knew she was right. Of course she was. He had that thought himself. Why wasn’t he excited? He was more so… dreading, meeting Brad’s parents, and the guilt he felt over that was intense. Brad had met some of his family, it was only fair to go ahead and meet his parents, at the very least. “I’m just tired today. Overthinking meeting his parents. What if they don’t like me?” he deflected from the real issue and by Ms. Moody side-eyeing him, he knew she saw through it.

But instead of pushing him, she gave a soft sigh and reached over to squeeze his arm. “Just be yourself, because you’re such a good man, Oliver, and no matter what, don’t forget that.” she told him quietly and Oliver could only nod without looking at her, swallowing around the small lump growing in his throat. He wished he could believe that. He was relieved for the silence that followed the conversation, so he could focus solely on digging dark holes with his own fingers.

A few more holes and flowers later, and Oliver was threatened with a trowel as encouragement to go inside, clean up, and actually pack. It worked, because Ms. Moody could be a tough old bird, and Oliver wasn’t going to cross her path wrongly. The water turned dark with dirt, little clumps forming and slowly sliding down the drain, as Oliver kept his promise of washing his hands clean. He found himself scrubbing his blunt fingernails against his skin, going up to his wrist, before he made himself stop and stick to his hands. Washing away the evidence of what he had been doing for majority of his morning. A task that had kept him relaxed, for the most part, especially with Ms. Moody’s reminiscing of days long gone. Now, it was silent besides the running water, and that sound eventually ended once he was done rubbing his hands practically raw to get them clean and free of all the dirt.

Packing. That was what needed to be done next. But, he found himself lingering at the sink, staring out the little window above it, looking at nothing in particular. Boston. With Brad. To meet his parents. They haven’t even officially moved in together, instead hopping back and forth from each other’s places. Was this a good idea? He felt like something was coming to a head, like they were. Or, was he overthinking things again? Brad often told him he over-thought a lot of stuff. He guessed Brad was right. He was just thinking too much, as usual, letting his mind race and get away from him so it could conjure up the most ridiculous and darkest thoughts. He snorted a little, shaking his head and looking down. Stop freaking out, this’ll be good for both of you. he thought firmly as he pushed himself away from the sink. All right, packing.

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“I feel like I have to keep repeating this,” the click of a pen echoed in the room - felt like it had dropped. It continued clicking - click, click, click. A teetering pendulum, the sharp edges of Poe’s guillotine so tied to the laws of physics. A steady tick - tick - tick like a clock counting down the hours to an untimely death. The pit. The slab of cold so absent of heat it refused the warmth of the body strung to it.

Click - click - click

“-being that old and still not-”

“Excuse me,” Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, raking his vision away from the bookshelf, “can you quit that?”

“Quit wha-oh, I’m so sorry,” the therapist, a Dr. Cobb, threw the pen haphazardly onto the ornate mahogany next to him. Mahogany. Looked more worn - an heirloom. More likely a bargain with how carelessly treated it looked.

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to the clock fixated behind the man. It ticked noon and he stood. “Time’s up. I have to start packing. Sorry, doctor. Thanks again,” he rattled off, grabbing his briefcase and refusing to wait for the man’s rehearsed prompt before shutting the door behind him.

The ride home felt blank. Every building that passed remained a dull beat in the back of Gabriel’s mind. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and found himself handing the cab driver a twenty and shuffling out. Another squeeze and he smelled the faint aroma of sterility and overuse of pine sol for the crappy wood floor of his studio. He sighed, found himself staring at the bags he’d already packed the day before. A chill ran through him and he couldn’t quite explain the dread of staring at each bag like it’d personally scorned him.

“Right,” Gabriel mumbled and ran a hand through his hair. They bought him plane tickets. They didn’t know; he couldn’t blame them. A deep sigh tore through his throat, coming out shaky through his nose.

Too much time passed between leaving and now and far too much said and done, too. Unfortunately, he couldn’t look skyward for help, if anything, the universe gave him enough of a break. Gabriel had to look at this like a chance to make amends. Or something like that. Anything to make swallowing his fate a whole lot easier.

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Fold the corner over that corner, then fold the whole piece of paper in half again, and… that didn’t look like a bird at all. Instead, it looked like a paper that was folded multiple times without any true reason for it. Oliver should just give up on origami, but if he was anything, it was determined... that could be called stubborn more than anything. He’d learn to make this stupid swan before the end of this year, damnit. He turned the paper over in his hands, wondering where he went wrong, when his cell phone began vibrating on the desk beside him. It made him jump in surprise and he hesitated to pick it up when he saw it was his mom calling. But, he couldn’t just ignore her, possibly worry her, so he picked it up. “Hey mom!” he tried his best to sound cheery when he answered, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could keep fiddling with the piece of paper.

“Hi sweetie. How’s the vacation in Boston going? Were Brad’s parents nice? Did they like you? Did they-”

“Mom. I can’t answer fifty questions at once.” Oliver interrupted patiently, unfolding the piece of paper and staring at his opened ‘Easy Origami’ book, eyeing the directions for what felt like the millionth time on how to make a swan. Easy, my ass. he thought with a frown and narrowed eyes at the book, as if it was the book’s fault he couldn’t quite get a piece of paper to turn into a swan.

“Oh, sorry, sorry. I’m just so excited for you. Okay, one at a time. How’s the vacation going?” his mom sounded so happy for him, and Oliver lost focus on the page he was staring at. Could he tell her? Upset her? Or should he act like everything’s okay, wait until he’s home to tell her? But… he didn’t plan on being home for a long while.

“Uh. It’s going good. I mean, Boston wasn’t on the top of my list for vacation places, but I’m excited to go to Colorado. Hopefully I remember how to ski; kind of like riding a bike, right? You never forget.” he rambled slightly, not looking at the book any longer, but staring down at the crinkled piece of light pink paper. He just began to randomly fold it before unfolding it, just to give his fingers something to do.

Silence met him on the other end of the line, and he squeezed the paper a little, causing wrinkles. He began to smooth them out with his fingertips when his mom finally spoke. “Oliver. What happened?”

He almost groaned. Of course she’d be able to see through his false cheer. It wasn’t like he was trying very hard, either. He didn’t feel like trying very hard, still a little caught off guard from what had happened just a few hours ago. “Well… Brad, he… sort of broke up with me.” he said slowly, almost cringing at how the words sounded. Now that he spoke them out loud, it made it a little more real.

“What?!” his mom gasped. “Oh my God, Oli, really?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t be a real funny joke.” honestly, he had thought Brad had been joking when he first said he thought they should break up. Or rather, he had been hoping he had been joking. He knew he and Brad had their problems, but when he imagined talking to Brad about those things, imagined their future, he hadn’t quite imagined it turning out like it had now. With Brad losing it and pointing out all his faults, putting a lot of the blame for their failed relationship onto him, and leaving him alone in what was their shared hotel room. Oliver took that blame, too, because he did believe he was mostly at fault here. “Are you okay?”

“Am I-” his mother cut herself off and huffed. “Oliver. I am fine. What about you? How are you feeling?”

In all honesty, while he was really blindsided, he didn’t necessarily feel sad about it. He was more concerned over the fact he had spent money to stay a whole two weeks in Boston that would go to waste now. It wasn’t like he wanted to vacation in Boston; he only came here to meet Brad’s parents and… that hadn’t gone well at all. That train of thought made him feel bad. Obviously Brad was going through some of his own issues, feeling hurt over stuff Oliver hadn’t even realized, and all he could think about was wasted time and money. He almost cringed at his own thought process. He could feel like a real dick sometimes. “I’m… good, really. It was more of a mutual thing, to be honest.” he lied, as smoothly as he was at getting the wrinkles out of the piece of paper, which wasn’t very.

“Really? I thought you said he broke up with you. What exactly happened?” Oliver could tell by her tone of voice, she wasn’t believing him, and he couldn’t blame her.

“Well, I mean, he brought it up. But it was okay. I agreed. We just didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff. It happens.” he shrugged the shoulder the phone wasn’t on, even though his mother couldn’t see, and he didn’t exactly feel nonchalant about the matter either. “I’m gonna be fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” his mother asked and after Oliver’s confirmation, she sighed. “I guess I’ll have to believe you. Are you coming home then?”

“Um, well. No. I’m going to spend some more time here,” he told himself it wasn’t because Brad might want to talk this out, or discuss it more calmly - on his part - or possibly make up, no way. It was because he had paid for this room and he didn’t want to cause trouble by suddenly up and leaving, cutting his time short here. He could handle a few more days here. “Then, go to Colorado, like planned.”

“By yourself?”

“Mmhm. I am 35, I can handle time by myself. And I am sort of a chef so I won’t starve.” he tried to assure, though it wasn’t a very good assurance. He knew that wasn’t his mom’s concern, obviously, but he wasn’t going to give out any actual assurances because he didn’t want to think about that.

His mom knew there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. He had always been stubborn and rarely dove off the path he chose, even if it was a bad one and people pointed it out. “Just promise me something? Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, ‘course. Don’t worry. I’m really okay.” he did wonder, was he really? He wasn’t sure what to feel right now. “Oh, guess what I saw yesterday…” he managed to change the subject and after a few more minutes of conversation, he was off the phone. He stared down at it, at the background of it being a picture of him and Brad. He guessed he needed to change that. He quickly locked the phone and put it upside on the table, before slipping the failed origami piece into the book and shutting it. He was okay, right? Maybe this was good. Maybe… this was for the best. He got up and began to pace, telling himself it was okay… so why didn’t he feel okay? Even if he was starting to realize that they both were never good for the other, he still felt pretty shitty about the whole thing. Two years he had spent with Brad. Two whole years spent together. All gone, in just under an hour. That thought made it feel like his chest was caving in. He was thirsty. He went over to the mini fridge, falling to his knees as he opened it, and went for a bottled water when he froze.

He hadn’t bothered looking in the mini fridge until now, even though they had been in there for a few days, because they had ventured out enough to go out to eat every time. He hadn’t had a desire for anything to drink while in the room, and the drinks were always ridiculously priced anyway. While he could afford it, it was the principle of the matter. On the top shelf, in a pretty little row, was little bottles of alcohol. There weren’t many, just five in a row, but it was enough to make his heart jump into his throat and lodge there. If there was ever a time he needed a drink more…

No! he told himself angrily, slamming the door shut, making everything inside rattle, before sitting back on his behind. He dragged his knees to his chest, resting his chin on one of them, and stared at the shiny, black surface of the mini fridge. He could still see them. He could imagine the little click they’d make as he opened one. The slight burn as he drank one down. The warm feeling it’d spread throughout his chest. The satisfaction he’d feel, over giving in to something he hadn’t had in almost a year. A year spent with Brad. He clenched his fists and glared at the mini fridge. “Goddamnit!” he cursed loudly as he reached forward, ripping open the door.

The next morning, when housekeeping came by, the woman saw a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from room number 102’s door handle. Next, she saw a pillow case laying beside the door, tied at the top. She picked it up, confusion clear on her face, and something clinked quietly together in the bottom of the pillow case. Attached to the case, was a post-it note, simply reading, “Charge me if you want but please don’t replace these in my fridge.” she untied the case, looked inside, and saw five unopened little bottles of alcohol nestled in the bottom. They hadn’t replaced them in Oliver’s fridge for the rest of his short stay.

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“Yes ma’am, here’s the note that certifies them,” Gabriel unzipped the baggy to pull out the formal letter from his doctor, “It’s just to sedate me; trust me, you’d rather have me high than panicked.” The security personnel gave the note a once over, examined the tranquilizer, and gave Gabriel a wary eye. It only took a moment before she handed that baggy back and allowed him onward.

The entire stroll to Gate 7, Gabriel contemplated whether or not it’d be wise to take his dose now. A four hour trip from Boston to Colorado only dampened his mood and intensified the quake in his hands. He found the farthest seat from anyone and breathed deep, eyes shut tight. The grip on his carry on’s handle turned white knuckled and before he could steady his breath they announced first class boarding. Honestly, he wished they’d given him economy, but he didn’t expect any less from his parents.

“Only four hours,” he mumbled, allowing himself to fall into step with the line. Once they officially boarded and he fumbled enough with his luggage that an attendant had to help, Gabriel allowed himself a number of deep breaths in his seat. Only privy to the burst of the engines and the rush of rolling forward, Gabriel slipped the tranquilizer from the baggy (a small dose, one he almost argued against) and gave himself the shot. It took a number of deep breaths before he slipped into a lulled state of mind - a little dopey and while his eyelids felt heavy, he didn’t exactly feel tired. Self-aware, he only spared a shy glance to his neighbor and nearly fell into the man’s lap as he did.

“Sorry, I’m… just,” he mumbled, “Getting used to the feeling. I’ll mellow out inna minute.”

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This was going to be good for him. That was what he kept telling himself. He needed this mini vacation by himself. A vacation he, honestly, didn’t put an end date on. He employed himself, and he had the money to stay up there for some time, so why set a date for his time to end? He would decide while he was there. He just needed a couple weeks, maybe even a month tops, by himself. He could do this without any slipups. He deserved this trip, didn’t he? A trip to get away, to be able to think without the influence of others. He just hoped he could manage the time alone without the influence of a certain something. Oh, you will… you gotta. he thought, thinking briefly back to his time at the hotel. Give yourself a little credit for that. it had been almost two weeks since his breakup with Brad; he didn’t feel as confused or blindsided now. He was sad, but he couldn’t decide if that was over Brad, or the lost two years, to be honest. Something inside him was relieved but he wasn’t digging too deeply into his feelings over this. He’d rather just go and try to have a nice and relaxing time by himself.

Currently, he was waiting at Gate 7 for the announcement that first class was boarding. He had flip-flopped between first class and economy. But, since he had planned on having Brad with him, he had opted for first class to make the flight better for Brad. He, himself, hadn’t cared either way, but he wanted Brad to feel comfortable. Since he had the money, he liked to pamper the people he cared for, but looked like that wouldn’t happen anymore in the case of Brad. He lifted his eyes from his phone where he had been trying to distract himself by playing Color Switch, but that hadn’t been working. He took in the people around him, wondering who he’d be seated by. The day after the breakup, he had called the airport to see if any other seats were open, so in case two other people wanted to sit next to each other, he wouldn’t be taking up that space. The flight hadn’t been fully booked yet, and he had almost changed his ticket to economy, but he decided to keep with it. He hadn’t wanted to go through that much hassle, or cause that much trouble, and he told himself it was okay to allow himself a couple finer things in life once in awhile, since he usually avoided that treatment for himself.

He found his eyes lingering on someone seated a fair distance away. The man looked vaguely familiar but Oliver couldn’t exactly tell from this distance, and he wasn’t going to go up to the man to eyeball him, especially since the man might have chosen that seat purposefully. Instead, he went back to his phone, so he wouldn’t be caught staring, and possibly make anyone uncomfortable. After losing again on Color Switch and beginning to grow frustrated with the stupid popular game, the announcement for first class boarding caught his attention. With a deep breath, he got up to step into line. There was still some doubt in the back of his head that he wasn’t doing the right thing here. He had already ignored calls from both his parents and his therapist - probably being asked by his parents to try and contact him - and while he felt guilty about that, he didn’t want to have to defend why he was doing this. He couldn’t exactly say why but to be alone. And, that was something he wasn’t sure was a good thing or not yet.

It seemed he was on before his seatmate. He shoved his carry on into the overhead before sliding into the seat by the window. He turned to stare out of it, looking out over part of the airport, taking it all in. People were still boarding and he listened to the normal sounds, idle chitchat, luggage being moved around, people settling in. All the movement made him feel a little bit on edge, but nothing serious. Once everything slowed down and they were moving, he’d be fine. He’d be fine once they landed. He’d be fine once he reached the cabin. He’d be fine once he stayed with his own thoughts for a while. Just taking a breather, that was what he was doing. He felt the presence of someone beside him before he heard them taking deep breaths. He could understand being nervous on a flight. He turned to the person, with the intent to say something so he wouldn’t feel so awkward next to a stranger, when the words died in his throat. It was the man he had noticed earlier and now that he was sitting next to him, he definitely was familiar.

He began to rack his brain for where he might possibly know him. He didn’t want to openly stare but he was finding it hard because he knew this guy. He knew he did. However, when the man slipped a tranquilizer out from a baggy, he averted his eyes not out of shock or judgement, but respect. He didn’t want to be staring and the man mistake it for that reason, when in reality, it was because Oliver was wondering where he had seen that blonde hair and those blue eyes before. It didn’t take long for him to figure it out, perhaps because of how the man nearly ended up in his lap, and how he spoke. He got a grip on the man’s - Gabriel, holy shit, he thought he’d never see this face again - shoulder to make sure he stayed upright. “Hey, it’s cool,” he said, feeling his heart race a little. This was very unexpected.

Like a jolt, though, he realized Gabriel must not recognize him or surely he’d say something… right? Oliver wondered if he should say something, attempt to jolt Gabriel’s memory. He immediately thought against it. He didn’t want to remind Gabriel of what he took from him, what he couldn’t save, so he simply attempted a reassuring smile. He had seen the man in this state plenty of times before, so he knew how to handle him like this. “Nothing to apologize for.” he told him seriously, realizing he had kept his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. Quickly, he released his shoulder, his smile turning slightly sheepish as he looked down at his lap. Yeah, that attraction he had to Gabriel was coming back with a vengeance, but now, nor never, was the time. What a month this was turning out to be.

Time didn’t favor Gabriel much these days and the moment he leaned forward to reply, the plane lurched forward and the roar of engines pushed him further into his seat more than the gravity had. “Whoa,” he breathed, his hands grabbing whatever they could cling to. One of them happened to snatch Oliver’s wrist and the grip he had only tightened the further up they went. It went on like that for upwards of twenty minutes, with Gabriel’s vice grip slowly loosening enough that he quickly became aware of what he’d done. “Oh,” he mumbled, though his attention quickly swung toward the lady power walking down the aisle.

Oliver’s focus had been on Gabriel, even if he hadn’t been directly looking at the man, so the sudden take off had caught him a little off guard, but he didn’t have an intense phobia of flying like Gabriel obviously had, so it hadn’t bothered him. Though, he did feel some concern for Gabriel, especially when he heard his worded breath, but then his wrist was being grabbed and his eyes snapped to the contact. Honestly, in the hospital, Gabriel had touched him like this before, drugged up and not in his right state of mind, so he didn’t mind at all. This felt a bit weird. Actually, a lot weird. He felt like he should be back overseas and in a military hospital, visiting Gabriel because the man never mentioned family, he felt guilty, and he might have grown a small, but very inappropriate, crush on him. He was very relieved to not be there anymore, but being beside Gabriel was bringing that time back. Not that it was Gabriel’s fault, at all, so he wasn’t exactly protesting the man’s company. There was some disappointment he wasn’t recognized, but also intense relief.

“I wonder if they sell peanuts here,” he thought aloud, letting go of Oliver’s wrist and sinking into his seat. After a few seconds, Gabriel began to rummage through one of his pockets, grunting as he shifted his position on his seat. The constant movement only shoved him further down his seat until his hands snatched whatever it’d been looking for.

Oliver looked up at Gabriel’s voice, having been fixated on such a simple point of contact for reasons he didn’t even want to know, and began to smile, before his expression morphed into confusion at Gabriel digging through his pocket. “Uh.” he mumbled quietly to himself, watching Gabriel sink further down into his seat, and rubbing at his mouth to try and not smile, though it was hard. He had quickly learned that Gabriel was a good distraction from the hardships of being overseas; he was quite the character drugged up - who wasn’t? - but combine that with Oliver’s interest, and the ex-surgeon had been highly amused and a little taken. He had enjoyed humouring Gabriel, finding his time with the blonde to be a bit of a breather. That disappointment expended a little, pushing some of the relief away, but no, it was a good thing Gabriel didn’t know who he was. It should've been expected, though Oliver had never put much thought into it since he thought he’d never see Gabriel again.

Prior to the flight, Gabriel hadn’t been too certain the sedatives would work the whole flight and had stocked his iPod full of whatever songs he still needed to listen to in the recent years. The music player had been firmly secure one of his buttoned pants pockets where he currently pulled it from. After another few seconds, Gabriel’s hand come back with a pair of earphones, one of which he shoved toward Oliver.

“Mm, wanna listen?” he said, not waiting for Oliver’s consent before shoving the earbud into his companion’s ear. Once he got his rightfully positioned, he amped up the music loud enough to drown out sound, but not enough to irritate his eardrums. Coldplay’s Magic beat steadily into both their ears and Gabriel looked over from his slouched position to smile dumbly at Oliver. “I like your face,” he said, soft and barely a whisper. After a few seconds, he mumbled again before he slumped into a drug-induced sleep, “you’ve got the prettiest eyes.”

Oliver blinked at Gabriel’s sudden question, and he was going to politely decline. He was sure with both earbuds in, if the sedatives wore off mid-flight, Gabriel would find comfort in having music blasting into both of his ears. But, instead, he found an earbud being slipped into his ear with an accuracy that shouldn’t belong to a man high out of his mind, and accepted his fate as to not upset Gabriel. Not that he was going to protest, honestly. He didn’t want to watch the in-flight movie and he was curious about Gabriel’s music taste. Kind of creepy, Oli. he thought as a song began to come through the earbud. He immediately recognized it as Coldplay and he turned to Gabriel to compliment him having that song on his iPod, when a goofy smile was being directed at him. He felt the words melt on his tongue and at Gabriel’s words, he bit down on his bottom lip in a poor attempt to hold back laughter. This was very familiar. Gabriel had liked dishing out compliments to Oliver every time he had been around, and that hadn’t helped with Oliver’s infatuation.

A quiet laugh escaped from him as he watched Gabriel pass out. He was wondering if this was really happening. His eyes lingered on Gabriel’s face, trying to decide if he had actually consumed that alcohol back at the hotel, and this was a really long, freakishly detailed drunken dream. He knew that was reaching but thinking the world worked in mysterious ways wasn’t really something he’d do, so he wasn’t going to start now. He finally turned away from Gabriel, though he couldn’t go far or else he’d accidentally rip his earbud out, and stared at the seat in front of him. Instead of letting his mind wander, he leaned his head back and just concentrated on the music, feeling a little bit of surprise as he realized his and Gabriel’s music tastes lined up pretty well.

---

---

Oliver passed the flight doing mindless things on his phone, and enjoying the music on Gabriel’s iPod. The man barely stirred, not that was surprising. His phone was bitching at him, on the verge of dying, and he pocketed it when it was announced they’d be landing in a few minutes. He watched out the window as the ground got closer and closer, and felt the bit of tension in him leave after they landed. He had always liked the ground better. As people began to move about, slowly shuffling out, Oliver slipped the earbud from his ear, and did the same to Gabriel. He shut the iPod off, wrapping the headphones around it, before he reached over to gently shake Gabriel’s shoulder. “Hey… G-” he cut himself off, briefly biting his inner cheek hard before he continued, ... guy. You survived.”

A jolt passed through Gabriel, the electricity of feeling touched and then the sudden surfacing of memories had him bolting upright. “What? What? Oh. Oh shit, where’s the… the… the, uh…” his frantic voice mellowed out as his eyes fell on the still intact plane, the hand on his shoulder, then the man beside him. Another shock passed through him, one filled with more hazy memories that he could just barely see, but his mind refused to move forward to reach. That face seemed glaringly familiar, if a bit aged and worn - much like his, no doubt. He pushed those thoughts down and fell back into his seat to watch the other passengers slowly mill onto the docking platform.

“S-sorry, am I blocking you?” Gabriel moved to stand, almost groaning at the need to stretch but resisted as his eyes kept on the man beneath him.

Oliver felt his heart skip as Gabriel bolting upright, and he didn’t remove his hand, but gave his shoulder a tight squeeze, a way he hoped was grounding. When it seemed Gabriel had a grasp of his surroundings, he slowly released his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, letting the man watch the passengers leaving, but Oliver found his eyes stuck to Gabriel’s face. He knew he shouldn’t be staring, but he hadn’t seen that face in… a long time, he didn’t want to do the maths right now, and it was still shocking to see. Though, that wouldn’t last much longer, and he felt a pang of disappointment. You need sleep. he thought, because really, it wasn’t like he had known Gabriel extremely well. When the man stood, he found his eyes glancing at Gabriel’s covered leg, but he quickly got to his own feet as a way to not wonder about it.

“No, no, you’re fine,” he assured quickly and glanced off to the side. A lot of the passengers had filed off, just a few that were taking their time or waiting for the crowd to pass starting to move themselves. “Um. I thought you… might be thirsty when you woke up, and you had mentioned peanuts before dropping off,” he picked up a small bottled water and a bag of peanuts he had gotten earlier, almost cringing as he held them out to Gabriel, his iPod also clenched in the hand with the peanuts. “You don’t have to… take them. Just thought you might want them, you know?” he murmured, not quite looking at Gabriel, instead staring at a spot on his chest, as his cheeks felt like they were too warm. He felt kind of ridiculous now; when he had first gotten the water and peanuts, he had been excited to hand them over, excited to help another person, but now he felt a doubt and embarrassment settling down in him.

Coming off of sedatives sucked, that much Gabriel was certain. One of the issues he’s had to deal with, one of the most annoying ones, had been that simultaneous point where he felt if he didn’t he he’d starve and just the thought of food caused his stomach to tighten and his esophagus read to dry heave. Gabriel accepted everything with an expression between thankful and pinched; at least he’d have the peanuts for later.

A beat passed before he took in his surroundings again, alert to the lack of people still on the plane. He muttered a curse, shoved the peanuts in his pocket and moved to gather his things from the compartment above him. Noticing the second pile of carry ons, Gabriel slung those off and onto his shoulder before passing them onto Oliver. “Yours, I’m assuming,” he said and gave a tight lipped smile before allowing Oliver to walk by first. Gabriel followed close on his heels as they exited the plane and found themselves standing side by side near a wide pillar that divided the numerous gates.

Oliver tried to not overthink Gabriel’s reaction to what he had seen as a kind act, but now was doubting it even more. Okay, he didn’t need to freak out. He knew this past week was making him feel all twisted up and out of character, even, but he knew coming off of sedatives was never a fun venture. He had not only witnessed it countless times, but he had been there, too. So, he brushed off the reaction, instead just smiling and waiting to get his own carry ons, when they were passed to him instead. He blinked, taking them, before he smiled again. “Thanks,” he said as he slipped by to go first, leaving the plane but then stopping, finding himself rooted next to Gabriel and not wanting to walk away yet. He did wonder what was wrong with him. This whole week was just throwing him off, and seeing a familiar, and still extremely handsome, face was adding to him feeling a bit off. It didn’t exactly explain why he was lingering here, when he should be letting Gabriel get where he needed to go, especially before the man possibly recognized him.

This stranger tried his damn best to be accommodating. No doubt Gabe had made a complete ass out of himself before somehow konking out, likely mid-sentence. Just the fact that he couldn’t remember anything made things worse and he compelled himself to turn toward Oliver. “I’m really sorry, by the way,” Gabriel started, “I… I probably didn’t give you my name while I was high out of my mind. It’s Gabriel Carrington, but Gabe’s fine.”

A lengthy pause hung over him, his mouth trying to form more words. He had a lot to say and likely not a lot of time. This guy probably had somewhere to be and here Gabe was keeping him unnecessarily. “Again, I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you - that is, if you’re not late for anything,” Gabriel offered, making sure the guy had an out just in case. Even if he lied, Gabriel would definitely understand.

In all honesty, Oliver was having his doubts that Gabriel would recognize him, since he just introduced himself. Maybe that was for the best. He didn’t want to admit he was the one who couldn’t save a part of Gabriel. He leaned against the pillar as he let the pause hang, seeing that Gabriel had more to say, and waiting patiently. It wasn’t like he had anywhere pressing to be. He knew he looked surprised at Gabriel’s offer. He should say no. He really should take the out Gabriel gave him, and dart out of there. Go to his parents’ cozy cabin, settle in, and try to relax enough to not think too hard on this interaction. For a few seconds, he stared at Gabriel owlishly, before he realized he wasn’t exactly giving an answer, or a good reaction, at that.

“Oh. You probably don’t remember me telling you there’s nothing to apologize for when you were higher than the plane so I’ll say it again. Nothing to apologize for, Gabe, really.” he said sincerely, giving a reassuring smile. He could understand suffering from a few problems, and he wouldn’t judge anyone from suffering from their own demons. “I’m Oliver Harris. Nice meeting you.” here, he hesitated. He really should say no. He really should but he didn’t always do what he should, which usually ended up being his downfall, but whatever. Spending a little more time with Gabriel won’t kill him, and it wasn’t like he was going to get a chance to see him for longer than this. So… fuck it. Why not? This could be a good distraction from what he was trying to run from. “I have nowhere important to be. Unless you consider sitting in front of a fire drinking hot cocoa important, which I sort of do, but I think I can pencil you in.” he joked lamely, with a one-shoulder shrug and a smile that briefly revealed white teeth.

Not the best joke in the book, but it got a small laugh out of Gabriel. Mostly, though, he felt relief. The fact that he could have faced rejection just dawned on him. Rejection from what? They were total strangers. Gabriel visibly winced, trying to get the thought out. He recovered by offering a hand and shaking Oliver’s. “Sorry for the hasty appointment, doctor,” he said and motioned Oliver to follow.

Well, at least that horrible joke got a small laugh. It could have been a pity laugh, but Oliver was just going to say it wasn’t, and move on. He needed to sometimes shut his mouth, or stuff like that came out. He was far too aware of Gabriel, so he noticed the visible wince, but he wasn’t one to ask questions that could tick someone off, or even possibly trigger someone. Even, he didn’t know Gabe well enough to start asking after his well being with the intent for deep conversation… though it didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted too, or wouldn’t want too. He was glad Gabriel was turning away after his words, because he felt himself tense at the term doctor. Though, he realized Gabriel was joking - of course he was, calm down - and gave a belated laugh that sounded more relieved and breathy than anything. Time to move past that quickly.

Most days, Gabriel didn’t have to visibly fix his slight limp. The brace attaching the prosthetic worked fine with his knee. It bent willingly and practically unnoticeable; it was a fucking wonder the foot of it fit in his shoe without any stabilization problems. However, the fact that Oliver had so swiftly demanded his attention without either realizing (until now, for Gabriel), it made that limp a lot more noticeable - at least, in Gabe’s mind. The fact that he now consciously fixed it only drew further attention to the oddity of his gait and posture. A grimace took his features and he quickly made his way to the nearest coffee shop. Mentions of cocoa had him craving and he quickly procured a booth in a dimly lit corner after allowing the both of them to order.

They passed time with idle chat, only pausing to grab their hot chocolate. Mostly, it was Gabe recounting a lot of his middle life - the point between losing his leg, honorable discharge from the army, and now. A lot of boring things, like trying to read up on astrophysics and get his mind thinking critically again. The fact that he’s kind of looking to hopefully work out his fear of flying to potentially work for NASA. That’s a long shot any way you look at it, but Gabe spent a lot of life shying away from his dreams. It wouldn’t hurt to start back where he left off. Aside from the fact that he’s missing a few decades, he doesn’t think it’s all too bad of an idea.

“Right now, I’m kinda here for a family thing,” Gabriel bit his lip and let his eyes wander, suddenly aware his lack of eye contact would be a visible tick, “I walked out on them at 18 to join the air force. Haven’t talked to them since. A large task refusing any kind of communication for 18 years; I didn’t part on good terms and I wanted to make sure I was in the right mindset to make amends. I think I’m ready now, though.”

So maybe that last part was a lie. A very big one. He rubbed his face and let his hands fall to circle around the cup of cocoa in front of him. “Maybe not. I’ve done a heaping pile of nothing - that’s not true. I had a lot of therapy, I guess, but I still feel off, like I’m missing some kind of accomplishment to show them I’m fine. Or something,” Gabriel trailed off, letting his head turn to stare at the middle space facing the display window.

Oliver wouldn’t exactly say this out loud but he was sort of surprised at how much Gabriel was telling him. It didn’t mean he felt any less glad for his openness, though. He settled in and listened contently to Gabriel’s rumbling voice, sipping at his cocoa. He much preferred to be a listener rather than a talker, and so it was easy for him to be quiet, nodding and giving acknowledgements here and there, little things that showed he was actively listening. He kept his silence when Gabriel did, knowing the man would eventually fill it, and wanting him too. He enjoyed Gabriel’s voice. With a slight jolt that he was glad Gabriel hadn’t noticed since he was staring off, he realized this was the first, official, time he was communicating with Gabriel when he was fully sober. Now that made him feel self-conscious again, but he tried to ignore it, taking a gulp of his cocoa and nearly burning his tongue off. He looked down at the cup, rubbing his tongue against his front teeth and cursing mentally. He needed to get ahold of himself.

A thought occurred to him and a large grin pressed against his cheeks. “You know what’d be hilarious?” he didn’t wait for Oliver to answer, “if I asked a total stranger to be my fake fiance for a few months. Like post it up on craigslist or something; sounds like something out of a book. Or a weird version of You’ve Got Mail.” Gabriel let that thought sink in, his eyes fixed on Oliver’s face. His expression, everything about him screamed ‘attractive’... screamed ‘fuckable’ it made Gabriel’s face heat up involuntarily. He moved to hide it, coughing into his hand and taking a long gulp of his cocoa.

Oliver rose his gaze when, as predicted, Gabriel filled the silence, and felt his eyes catch on the grin on his face. He can’t remember Gabriel being this attractive, and it was sort of unfair. What was more unfair, though, were those blue eyes being locked on his face. He found it hard to break eye contact, and chose not too, because eyes that blue should be illegal. He noticed a redness start to come over Gabriel’s face, felt some concern jolt in him, but Gabriel seemed to recover, so he didn’t ask. He knew some people didn’t like to be fretted over, and he wasn’t sure which person Gabriel was. He didn’t want to possibly annoy Gabriel, so he chose to just be a presence rather than to start spewing off questions. “That’s something that’d turn into a serial movie real quick, you know that?” he commented, letting out a slight laugh as he looked down at his cup.

After the nervous laughter, silence hung over the two. Gabriel’s hands traced the lines on the wood table, avoiding knocking over his cup - avoiding looking at Oliver more. A deep breath expanded and ruffled his coat. Heat rose from Gabriel’s arms to his chest and stomach and finally his face. He cringed, knowing drawing attention to the fact that the airport was warm, he was drinking coffee, wearing a coat, and was this close to making an utter fool out of himself was entirely his fault. That blame was his to take.

“I’ll pay you five grand to be my fake fiance for this family reunion. Up front. Right now,” Gabriel’s head jolted up as he spoke, high on impulse and just really, really into making an ass out of himself in a public area. Like, just so into it. Just really, really, really turned on by the idea of humiliating himself non-sexually in front of a shit ton of people and a really cute guy. Yeah. His brows slowly drove themselves inward and his lips pressed tighter and tighter into a thin line, waiting patiently for Gabriel to implode.

Oliver watched Gabriel’s fingers move along the table, noticing that he was avoiding eye contact again. Not that Oliver minded. He understood some people couldn’t meet others’ eyes for various of reasons. To not openly stare at Gabriel, he instead watched his fingers. They were long, pale, and that was when Oliver needed to avert his gaze. He lifted his cup to his mouth, getting a small sip since his tongue was still aching from earlier, when Gabriel spoke. In his shock, he choked on the small amount of liquid, but nothing serious. Just a little coughing and throat-clearing managed to get it down, and he took a deep breath as he looked at Gabriel with wide eyes, face a bit red. “Uh.” he said rather dumbly, blinking and reaching up to run a slightly shaky hand through his hair, making some of the dark locks flop over his forehead when he scrubbed his hand forward. Did… did that just happen? That just happened. He was just asked to be the fake fiance of a guy he had very strong feelings over. And not romantically, but feelings of guilt, self-blame, lust, and attraction. To say yes would be bad, on so many levels. Saying yes was not a good idea, not at all, really, it was a bad, bad idea.

So, why was Oliver considering it? He stared at Gabriel, feeling his heart racing, his palms starting to sweat. This… could really help Gabe out, right? He had already expressed feeling like he had a lack of accomplishments to show to his family, a family he hadn’t seen in 18 years (that sort of boggled Oliver, being a family man himself, but he also understood not everyone was). Having a fiance would show that Gabriel had been putting himself out there, meeting people, opening up. It would make it seem like he was doing really well for himself. Which, in Oliver’s opinion, Gabriel was doing well for himself. But, a lot of people put stock into relationships, especially romantic ones, and he wondered if some of his family was like that. Either way, being in a relationship like that was good for an image, if one wanted to be shallow and overlook the accomplishments made by someone individually. Yet at the same time, seemingly having someone to confide in romantically could possibly make some of his family happy for him, make it seem like a form of helping himself, of moving on from what he had been through, and finding someone to settle down with comfortably.

Oh God, he was actually considering it. Not for the money, or because he was attracted to Gabriel, but because he felt like he had to help him. He couldn’t help him back in that Hell hole they had been in, he couldn’t save something that he was reminded he was missing every second of everyday. Maybe… this could ease his guilt, just a little. Gabriel had been one patient that stuck with him more than some of the others. Maybe this was a strange chance to fix this, to help Gabriel and actually do so successfully. Even, if he ever wanted a good distraction from Brad, here it was. It wasn’t a real relationship, it was with someone handsome, and Hell, it could even turn out to be fun. Like… being a spy, or something, yeah.

He couldn’t believe he was actually going to do this. Was he losing it? Maybe. But he had a shitty week. No, he had a shitty majority of his life, and so fuck it. Why couldn’t he throw caution to the wind and do something reckless that didn’t relate to destroying his liver? This could turn out so bad but it could also turn out fun. It’d be an experience, either way, and he’d be attempting to make amends. No, he would be making amends. If he didn’t slip-up. Damn, now they had a lot to discuss- oh, he hadn’t said yes. He had been staring at Gabriel for the past four, almost five, minutes without saying a word.

“Sorry, sorry, got lost in my own head,” Oliver quickly reassured, gripping his cup hard and allowing himself to glance away for a brief moment. He wanted to deny the money, he had no need for it after all, but then it’d look weird. He had to act like he was doing this for the money, rather than because he was making amends, and trying to smooth out some of the guilt he felt over this one man… who didn’t even know. “Is this gonna be like The Proposal? Where I’m gonna have to ask you generic as Hell questions in case one of your family members start grilling me?” he asked, reaching up to push the hair on his forehead back where it belonged, “So, favourite color? Childhood pet’s name? It wasn’t Sparky or Spot, right? So damn cliche.” he shook his head before he realized he hadn’t given a straight answer, though what he had been spewing was answer enough, he guessed. He still gave a clear answer, “My way of saying… yeah. I’ll be your fake fiance. Ever since I was a boy, I’ve been planning for my fake wedding. Even got a book and everything.”

“Wha…?” the thought that someone would actually say yes - a one-in-a-million chance - never really occurred to Gabriel. Honestly, he wouldn’t have put it against Oliver to take his coffee and leave. That fire sounded a lot cozier than being accosted by a stranger in an airport. Gabriel blinked, his eyes widened, and he nearly crushed his cup of coffee just trying to comprehend everything. “You’ll do it?” he repeated, this time a statement, “You’ll do it.”

Unexpected. Now what?

“Oh.” Oliver had already given suggestions and Gabriel just ignored him in favor of shock. “Yeah, um, favorite color: blue. Childhood pet: had too many to count. I have an intense love for the stars, though. You can say you bought me a telescope for our, uh, anniversary or something. Anything space related and they’ll believe you. Um, my favorite food: Pad Thai with Shrimp, but also no bake cookies. I had a really big Selena phase in the 90s, but… family probably doesn’t know about that,” he continued prattling off little tidbits about himself as they came up, making sure Oliver knew whatever he could about himself. As he wound down and the pauses lengthened, Gabriel scratched the back of his head. “Honestly, most of it will come natural. Just, most of the basics, I guess, should be out of the way,” Gabriel explained until he jolted in his seat and whipped out his wallet, “I should get you that 5 grand. Here, let’s go find a nearby ATM and you can tell me what I need to know about you.”

After agreeing to that - in such a long-winded way, Oliver needed to learn to shut his mouth - he began to have a doubt growing in the back of his mind. He agreed too quickly, didn't he? Granted, he was making it look like he needed the money, but nonetheless, it took someone real desperate to say yes to that sort of question. He was desperate, but not for money. He was desperate to make amends, to try and rid himself of this guilt; desperate to forget about a fresh break-up and to avoid the haunting thoughts of a warm, burning liquid. This could be a great distraction or a really, really bad one. Either way, Oliver was going to do it, and his main reasoning was because Gabriel deserved this after what he was unable to save for him.

He refused to acknowledge the fact that yeah, he found Gabriel really attractive too. He had back in the military hospital, and he did now, even after all these years had hardened and aged his face. He looked better to Oliver and that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. He listened even more intently when Gabriel said a few random facts about himself. He could feel some nerves growing. He was about to meet a practical stranger’s family, posing as his fiance. Oliver needed to learn to make really smart and well thought out decisions, but he wasn't going to back out, and he'd be helping out someone who certainly deserved it. He hummed here and there, finding himself nodding with a growing smile as Gabriel began naming off random facts about himself. At least they could relate on quite a few things, so this wouldn't feel so awkward. He took a drink of his lukewarm coffee - not as good now, he was ready to toss it - and blinked when money was brought up. Oh, yeah, that, he was supposed to act like he needed that.

Sliding out of his chair, Gabriel beckoned Oliver to follow as he gathered all his belongings. They made their way down quite a ways through the airport until Gabriel hit a small corner where an ATM sat snug in the wall. He swiped his card and didn’t hesitate with withdrawing that much money and immediately turning to hand it over to Oliver. “There,” he smiled and started moving toward the Airport’s exit, “you can tell me more when we get into the car. It’s a bit of a long drive there. Hope that’s not a hassle.”

It was hard for Oliver to accept the money when he had plenty in his own bank account. It was also hard to accept because guilt was an encasing feeling that made him immediately want to deny any little thing Gabriel offered him yet he knew he couldn't do that during this trip. He hadn't even asked how long this would last. He guessed it didn't matter, since he had plenty of time on his hands. He didn't hesitate to shove the money into an inside pocket on his duffel in an attempt for safe keeping, zipping it back up while it hung from his shoulder, before he grabbed his other bag and began rolling his suitcase behind him. He hadn't minded hashing out the money to send some of his bags with his clothes for Boston back to LA without him, so he didn't have to deal with them here. “Not a hassle at all,” he reassured, because it really wasn’t.

During the RSVP process, Gabriel’d let them know he’d prefer driving on his own and they procured him his choice of rental vehicles, of which Gabriel chose the only truck on the list. He figured they had staff to gather a number of things, but it didn’t hurt to volunteer himself when the time came. It just gave him an excuse to get out of the cabin when everything started overwhelming him. Plus, this snow wouldn’t let up till the end of winter, no doubt, and he had the foresight to pick a vehicle that could actually safely drive in a blizzard.

And boy did it warm up quick, too. Gabriel huffed, watching as minutes ticked by and the vapor of his breath steadily disappear with every puff. He looked toward Oliver before putting the truck in reverse. Being the gentleman that he was - and it didn’t hurt to make it up to the guy, either - Gabriel piled all their belongings in the spacious backseat area, suddenly glad for the extra length.

As they rolled onto the highway, Gabriel spared a glance at his future fake husband and tried his best to smile. “I’m sorry again,” he started, moving to turn the music down to better hear the both of them, “why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I wanna get some things down before we arrive.”

Oliver almost protested when Gabriel began taking his belongings to put up himself but he stopped just in time. He didn't need to look guilty, so he gave a small thank you before getting into the truck. He rubbed his hands together, wishing he had put on a thicker jacket but he knew he wouldn't had been lingering in the cold outside, and spared a glance at Gabriel. “No need to apologize. I'm the one who said yes.” he pointed out, staring at Gabriel’s side profile for a few seconds before tearing his eyes away to watch the road ahead. “All right. This is like a really weird blind date-” he stopped and cleared his throat a little. “One glaringly obvious thing about me is that when I'm tired and nervous, I ramble. And joke. Poorly. Not that you're making me nervous! Just… anyway.” time to move on and stop putting his foot on his mouth. “Favorite color: I'm torn between green and blue, so let's say blue since it's yours. Favorite food: God, there's so many. No bake cookies are the bomb but… anything Italian, and I'm there. Good thing I know some stuff about space myself. While it's not a passion like it is for you, I enjoy reading up on astronomy. Astrochemistry and space medicine. Which space medicine isn't a surprise because-”

Here, he hesitated. He didn't have to let Gabriel know about his time in the military but surely he could say he went to medical school. At least the dog tags around his neck aren't his own, in case Gabriel spotted them at some point during this strange relationship. He picked up, acting like he never left off. “I went to medical school and worked for a while as a surgeon. Now I'm a professional chef. Weird career change, I know, but my mother was a surgeon and my father a chef. So grew up around both, though I've always liked cooking more. Alton Brown is my hero, so if I turn on Food Network and see him, I may become a swooning mess.” he rattled off just a couple more things, gently tapping his fingers against his slightly bouncing knee without really noticing. “Oh. Should say Dreaming of You is a Selena song I could listen to nonstop and never get sick of.” he flashed Gabriel a toothy grin, and grew quiet for a moment, wondering how he got to this moment when he was supposed to be here with someone else.

That honestly surprised him. Well, not really. Gabriel spared a glance at Oliver, again, and decided he seemed the type to have that much intelligence and then skill. Honestly, having a steady hand worked for both jobs; it was highly likely Oliver was a better chef because of his experience as a surgeon. Honestly, he thought too hard on it; the choice likely had been simple for Oliver and not such a technical decision.

“Don’t get me drinking, otherwise I’ll definitely make you sick of that song,” Gabriel flashed a grin as he spoke, turning onto a less busy road and up towards Colorado’s snakier paths. The snow didn’t seem too bad, at the moment, though white did blanket the entire landscape. Still, despite the lack of strong snow, Gabriel drove as safe as he could - he had a passenger, after all. Someone important, his mind supplied and he quickly shook the thought.

Oliver stared out the window for a moment when he found his eyes returning to Gabriel. He still couldn't quite believe this. That this man was back in his life and… sober, this time, and his fake fiance. It'd take some time for the shock to wear off. At Gabriel’s words, Oliver laughed. “I dunno, I might have to test that and see,” he teased slightly, feeling some of the tension in him melt away. It wasn't really Gabriel causing the tension. He just had a stressful past week, it had been piling up, and now this was a sudden change in plans. It was a nervous thought, portraying this fake relationship to a family he knew nothing about. Speaking of which…

“So. I probably need a little back story on your family and how long we’re going to be doing this. Don't worry, I have no time limit. I wasn't even sure how long I was going to spend here myself, so you have me for however long you want me.” that sounded suggestive but Oliver definitely wasn't going to point that out. Gabriel would get what he meant. “Just basic family stuff, I mean. Whatever you'd tell me, I guess, if we had actually been dating.” maybe, if Oliver hadn't been Gabriel’s doctor, and they hadn't been in that situation, he would have pursued Gabriel. But those are thoughts not worth acknowledging, because reality was, they were only maybe’s and what if’s. As much as Oliver liked to deny some bits of reality… he still had to face some.

That’s right, Oliver still needed all the details beyond just himself. Gabriel could have slammed his head on the steering wheel if the roads weren’t so dangerous. A sigh tore through his lips and he kept his eyes locked forward, even as his hands tightened their grip. “Alright, so, don’t freak out or anything,” he let out another sigh, “I’m a Carrington. My mother and father, Cassiopeia and Lee Carrington, own Trium-Veritas. There are ten of us kids. Honestly, if we were actually dating, I’d probably keep this to myself not because I don’t trust you, it’s just… I wouldn’t be ready to reconnect yet. I wouldn’t want to give you any false hope - and I’m an asshole, so.” Gabriel coughed and, turning the trucks light on as they wound through a lengthy tunnel.

“But, since we’re going to see them specifically, it works out ‘cause this is probably the moment I’d tell you all about them,” Gabriel continued with a strained smile and let his eyes dart to glimpse at Oliver’s reaction, “I’m not that great a person. Anyway, they treat us kids as negligent disappointments, so it’s easy to dismiss us. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself; they’re not that bad. As people, they’re pretty decent. As parents, they’re not the best, but they weren’t… the worst. Honestly, they’ll treat you with as much respect as any of their business partners - I’m sure it won’t be too hard to get on their good sides. As for my siblings, they’re all so different, I think you’ll just have to make your own opinion. However, be prepared for a lot of anti-war sentiments directed toward me; they didn’t like that I joined the air force. It’ll bite and sting, but not in the way they think. There’s… a lot I’d like to forget. Leave and let die an ocean away.”

After that, Gabriel let silence settle while they continued their drive through the mountains. The snow laid thick across the peaks, the summits suffocating in heavy, grey clouds. Pines littered sides of the mountain, carved in the rough rock and soil and curved against the steel guards lined across the edge of the road. A number of ‘Watch for falling rock’ signs stood against the gusts of wind and snow. Frost clung heavily to everything, a sheen that glowed even in the overcast sunlight.

It had been no surprise to Oliver that Gabriel came from wealth. He was just given five grand earlier without hesitation. He couldn't really understand not being connected to one’s family but he also understood others had grew up differently, that not all families were like his. He didn't say anything, not feeling like it was his place to say much about Gabriel’s situation, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to say anything. Instead, he listened, attempting to be indifferent on the whole matter, but it was hard, especially when Gabriel mentioned his joining the Air Force and them not liking it. The hand on his knee clenched into a fist as he looked out the window so Gabriel wouldn't see his furrowed eyebrows and frown. He wanted to say he understood Gabriel. He hadn't been shoved into the middle of combat, hadn't gone through the same Hell as Gabriel, but damnit, he had still been there. The fact his family might make a few possibly snide comments over that rubbed Oliver extremely wrong. He just hoped nothing was said, because that would hit close to home for him too, and he knew a lot more of what Gabriel went through than they ever would.

The truck gave a low hum through the mountains until it finally came to a stop along the winding, narrow path toward the cabin. Upon spotting the valet, Gabriel cranked the heat up to unbearable and stopped as close as he could to the man. He motioned for Oliver to assist with the luggage, even as a number of maids and butlers came to retrieve them. “All yours,” he said and gestured toward the vehicle. Gabriel let out a huff of laughter at the audible moan from the valet before the truck door slammed shut and he whisked the vehicle off toward the cabin’s garage. The help distributed the luggage between themselves, happy that Gabriel gave aid when he could and made his way inside.

Cold made things far too uncomfortable and his leg squeezed in its brace, the metal and plastic already freezing against his skin. Gabriel coughed and sped up, even as a wayward maid began greeting him. He nodded, thanked her as she opened the door, and allowed her to finish speaking before making his way to an old room of his. It felt almost rude not to explain things to Oliver - how he used slide down the bannister, laughing and squealing and on his way to a huge family dinner. That there’s an alcove in the library that gave a perfect vista of the surrounding area, where the windows were tall enough that he didn’t have to press his face against the glass to see the stars at night. He spent a lot of his time there, a book in his lap and plate of cookies beside him, lip already dripping with milk.

The room they placed him in, his old one, seemed unchanged, though undoubtedly clean. After so many years, he’d expect the place to be piled with dust, but the maids did great work making sure even this old place shined. He frowned at the smallish bed, still large enough for one person to have plenty of room, but two? Possible, but they’d squeeze tight. Gabriel looked toward the corner where a small two seater sofa sat beside a wall of books. He swallowed, seeing the number of physics books lined with C.S. Lewis and Huxley. A pair of star charts served as posters along the walls, still creased from unfolding them from their packages. A laugh broke through his closed throat upon spotting the luminescent stars he’d placed so precisely into constellations across one corner of the room.

Keeping quiet and following Gabriel’s lead felt like the best thing to do. Oliver didn't want to start asking possibly prying questions, didn't want to step over an invisible line. While it may seem like Oliver was doing a huge favor for Gabriel, it was also for himself, too. He was here to pose as Gabriel’s fake fiance. He wasn't the real thing and so, he wasn't going to push past any lines until they had to put on that front of a lovey dovey couple. It helped that Oliver had been in these type of settings before, knew how to behave, so hopefully Gabriel’s family wouldn't eyeball him too hard if he looked comfortable and acted properly.

A knock broke Gabriel out of his reminiscing and he turned to see a petite lady, wide eyed and a little nervous. “Sir, once you’re settled, you’re needed in the parlor for a family greeting.” Once he nodded his assent, she bolted out with a final click of the door. Gabriel turned to Oliver, setting his suitcases on the bed and taking Oliver’s as well.

“I guess we should head down? We’ll have time to unpack later.”

Oliver found himself drawn to the star charts on the wall, lips twitching upward at the sight. The cabin had been amazing, bigger and grander than his own family's, but this room felt… relaxed, almost. Maybe because it was obviously Gabriel’s room from his childhood, the fact one could see his passion on the walls and in the form of books. The knock brought him out of his small musings and he watched the nervous maid; he hadn't grown up with maids or servants, his parents hadn't wanted any even though they could have certainly afforded it, so that was one thing he wasn't quite used too. “Yeah, guess so,” he said and gave another look around before focusing on Gabriel. “Hey, I know we don't know each other that well, and this could be a bit weird but… if anyone says anything upsetting, just… know I'll listen to you, if you need to talk. No judgement here, okay?” he said sincerely, before smiling and putting his hand out with a slight waggle of his eyebrows. “Shall we go now, future husband of mine?”

[Fabricant451]

---

There was a sixty percent chance that all of this was just some very strange, very elaborate dream. What other possible explanation could there be? Things like this didn't happen to her, not to Piper. Sure, the silver spoon came standard with the crib and all, but even so this was on an entirely different level - to the point where the only logical way any of it fit together was it being, well, a dream. It would explain so much and so easily to boot. It would explain why she was in Colorado of all places rather than sighing and rolling her eyes through yet another Chapin family dinner. It would explain why this residence seemed far more palatial than her own home, which was still larger than most homes the common man settles into. But most importantly of all it would explain how she was there with the arm of Elaine Carrington.

When their paths crossed at Strathmore, Piper didn't leave their first meeting thinking that they'd become anything, least of all involved. Even amongst the Strathmore Elite the name Carrington turned heads while the name Chapin flew so far under the radar it was a wonder when anyone took notice at all. Maybe that's why they hit it off. Piper didn't have or care about some familial reputation and didn't feel the need to buddy up with Elaine because of who and what her family meant. Piper was just glad at the prospect of someone being able to hold their own in a pick up game for a change. Granted, the chances of a pick up game happening here in Colorado seemed slim, not just from the snowy conditions but because it just seemed like many of the family Carrington would scoff at the notion of getting sweaty in athletics.

To the shock of Piper, it took more convincing on the behalf of the Father Carrington for her to come than it did her own family. The holiday break was typically a time Piper came up with some excuse to not take the flight home; her family was more than she could ask for - Connor aside, of course - but now that she was older, slightly wiser, and in that little period after angst and before responsibility the last thing she wanted to do was spend the break in an empty home. An empty dorm room was somehow more preferable. All it took was a phone call. Once Vera heard the news, that Piper was dating Elaine Carrington, Vera could not have agreed to the arrangement more eagerly. It was almost worrying.

Surely meeting the rest of he Carrington clan had to be preferable to twiddling her thumbs in a dorm room, watching whatever happened to be on an ESPN feed. And if not...well, there was always chess and beverages with Elaine - Piper had been studying techniques and was bound to get that illusive victory one of these days.

The raven haired girl stood outside the lodge doorway with nerves and questions swirling about in her head. What if they hate me? What if they ignore me? A series of what if scenarios playing out negatively in her mind. She couldn't show it, for Elaine's sake. It wouldn't do well for Piper to look intimidated; these rich types could smell it in a person, at least that's what her father always said. In a sea of sharks, that being those with a considerable amount of spending cash, it was swim or die. Piper was here to swim.

The smile given to her by Elaine before opening to lodge doors certainly gave Piper cause to dive into the waters headfirst.

Now she knew she had to be dreaming. It just seemed so surreal; but that would have to stay inside her own mind - the reality was clear. Piper was here. Piper was here as a guest of Elaine. Piper was here BECAUSE of Elaine, and Piper was here FOR Elaine. That's what friends did. Girlfriends especially. Even now, as she was following along into the lodge proper, Piper wasn't quite sure when it had happened, her and Elaine becoming a 'thing'. A simple meeting over a would-be friendly game of chess (which Piper lost rather swiftly) turned into more meetings for various purposes. A different sort of game. A request for tutoring. An invitation to watch basketball. Spend enough time around someone and people get to talking. It was Piper who brought the topic up. Over a game of chess, as she recalls. Just before Piper lost yet again, before checkmate was called, the question just sort of fell out of her. "Hey, are we, like, dating?"

If the response wasn't answer enough, the smile and Piper's presence here in Colorado certainly were.

Piper kept quiet as Elaine dealt with the hired help - that sounded better than butler or servant or whatever the term was, but took in the sights in the hall, namely the decor and architecture. It was certainly impressive. Was this where Elaine grew up? It seemed like a place where everything echoed because everyone spent time alone. Snow might be on the ground but inside the lodge it all felt...colder, somehow. Maybe she was thinking too much into it. She did that when she had enough time to be alone with her thoughts.

"We're not sharing a room?" Piper asked Elaine, catching the tail end of Elaine's conversation with the help. Of course it made sense, given their age and the presence of guest rooms, but it still came as a surprise. "I hope your siblings aren't bringing spouses or something; nothing kills the mood like separate bedrooms." Piper attempted to keep a stiff upper lip about the whole situation in the only way she knew how. Taking little jabs and jokes when she could get away with them. Someone had to have a loose tie.

"Don't you wanna say hello to, like, your parents or something first? Actually what am I saying, who wants to do that first? Sure, let's scope out the rooms and then I dunno, maybe you can give me the tour? Like...'this is the room where my mother fired a butler for putting the salad fork on the wrong side of the plate' or something." A positive attitude went a long way with Piper, it was how she could keep challenging Elaine to chess.

"But seriously, Elaine, thanks for bringing me. If nothing else, at least this thing won't entirely suck with me around, right?" Piper glanced towards Elaine, wanting to return the earlier smile given with a shrug of her shoulders and a hopeful expression in her eyes. As of now Piper Chapin was just a visitor and it was all she could do to keep from getting thrown out into the cold.

[Tokara]

Emile

It took a few minutes of awkwardly hovering in the doorway before Emile decided to see what was going on in the rest of the house. Hopefully, he'd happen upon one of his favourite siblings - Nat, or Art, or one of his sisters. Although seeing Esi would be awkward, to say the least. If she even arrived. They hadn't exactly talked since that last holiday, and it was perfectly probable that she could be lying comatose over some random person's hotel room couch... It made him a little sad, and the corners of his mouth drooped down as he walked.

His thoughts were interrupted by a maid, who'd caught his eye and hurried over. The servants of the house had never been as scared of him as they'd been of some other members. He tilted his head slightly at her, knowing already what she was going to say. And as she did, his heart sunk slightly in his chest. He hadn't even gotten the chance to greet anyone yet, and now he was being summoned to the den. Emile smiled in that lopsided way he usually did at news like this, one corner of his mouth rising, closed-mouth. "Thanks," he murmured, changing direction toward his destination. His tongue flicked out between his teeth, wetting his lips nervously.

Hopefully they wouldn't ask him too many questions about his course. It was still in the medical stream, so there was that. It would have been so much easier if he'd just told the truth from the start, but... He had a terrible habit of lying to avoid conflict. Call it an instinct for self preservation. He paused just outside the room, taking a moment to just breathe. He could do this. They were just his parents. What could they do? Other than hurt you, a little voice whispered, but he buried it and pushed open the door.

"Hi Mom, and Dad," he greeted them, smiling - this time, more normally. Okay, so he was sort of scared (especially since he was the first here) and his heart was beating faster than he'd like, but it had been a while. And... maybe he wanted a better relationship with them. Something about the heart growing fonder with distance. Emile hesitated for a moment, before moving toward the table. There were a few options here - he could sit on his father's left (definitely not), far away from them both (awkward), or next to his mother. Emile was a sensitive guy; he didn't want to hurt her. To be honest, gatherings like this were extremely uncommon. What if they had bad news?

And so, with a nervous licking of his lips again, Emile drew out the chair next to Cassiopeia. He gave both of them another good-natured smile, a blink of his eyes, and he took his seat. Oops. Should he have hugged her? Shaked his hand? At least he knew not to hug Lee. You can get through this. What to say? "Sure is storming out there. Crazy!" he commented, gesturing vaguely to the window. The weather was always a safe bet.