Work Text:
They broke up.
They broke up, Savannah...c'mon! You can smile! No one's watching!!
They broke uuuppp!
Stupid singsong inner voice. Stupid tiny mental party. There were probably balloons. Heart shaped balloons and twinkly music on the mental soundtrack.
Savannah Levine was twenty. Twenty was too old for a doofy crush. Twenty was too old to be lurking under the mistletoe and hoping for a kiss. She locked away the urge to quickly head to the bathroom and do a happy dance – they broke up! They broke uuuup!! - and attempted to behave in a sensible manner.
Paige was being sensible. She was giving Adam a hug and asking what happened with the lovely, tall redhead who had showed up (on a fucking motorbike, are you even kidding!?) a month ago, and was charming and nice and Savannah had actually liked the bitch, and now they've broken uuup.
“ It, uh, turned out we were kind of...related.”
“Adam!”
“Yeah, I know, the odds are astronomic. Luckily we found out before...well, you know. It's cool. We're friends. Who don't see each other. For at least a year. Until the awkward wears off. Then we can discuss scorch mark removal techniques and a lack of child support payments.”
“Oh...wow. Are you ok, Adam?” Paige sounded like she was about to tell him to sit down...
“Why don't you sit down...”
Savannah knew this was likely to be followed by Paige heading to the kitchen to a) tell Lucas what had happened to prevent foot-putting-in incidents, and b) put some cookies in the oven. Savannah had broken up with enough high school boyfriends to know this routine by heart, and grabbed some papers from the drawer in the side table so it looked like she was being Productive and Useful and Adult, instead of eavesdropping like a lovesick teenager.
“Oh, Savannah, Adam – oh, you found the Roen files, Savannah you're a superstar!”
Eavesdropping alibi AND brownie points towards Actually Being Allowed to Help...nice work, Savannah...
“Anyway, I was going to say, Adam broke up with Rose, so be...you know...sensitive.”
She bustled off into the kitchen, leaving Adam, lovelorn (well, kind of) and alone in the sitting room, where the mistletoe was stuck to the mirror above the fireplace, in a wad of tinsel.
Her good angel had apparently been hogtied and thrown in a mental basement. Teenage lovestruck Savannah was driving now.
“Hi Adam!”
“Oh, hey Savannah. I suppose Paige told you about Rose?”
“Uhm, you broke up? Sorry. She had a nice ride.” Wow, classy.
“Yeah. It wasn't going to work though, no big deal. How about you and whatshisname. You know, with the...” he made a few vague gestures at his head “...hair.”
“Right. Samuel. Uh, it didn't. Well, you know. It didn't happen. He wasn't right.” He wasn't you. That and the hair. God.
“Sorry. Man, having superpowers doesn't help in the romance business, huh?”
“Riiight. Actually I'm pretty sure it makes things worse. No scenario involving a love spell has ever gone right.” Savannah stated conclusively.
“I suppose you wouldn't know if it had, though.” Adam remarked, sitting forward in the chair and cracking his knuckles. “It's not like you'd just wake up after a sixty year marriage and be all like 'man, wonder if I'm under some kind of spell, better check!'”. He grinned for a second.
“Y'know, maybe love spells are the way forward...some pretty nubile young thing, all worshipping and devoted and whatnot.” He paused for a second, and turned falsetto, “ 'Oh, Adam, of course you can stay out all night working on the jeep! And go out with the boys! I'll make chilli for you all when you come back, and I'm not in the least suspicious about the burn marks on your clothes. When I do all your laundry. Which I do.' Yeah, I think that'd about do it.” He sat back with such a self satisfied grin that she threw a cushion at him, which was not going to help in her 'I'm totally an appropriate age for you now, baby!' campaign.
“Won't work, Adam, Paige would figure it out, and she'd agonise, 'cause it's you, but it's Paige, so she'd Do The Right Thing and tell the council, and you and your witch buddy would be locked up for, like, ever.”
“Is my witch buddy sexy? 'Cause I'm open to eternity locked up with a sexy witch.”
Huh duh bluh huh Savannah Levine Exception Error has been caused by 'Open to Interpretation Statement' by 'Subject of Long Term Crush'. Please reboot and try again.
“I...guess she could be. Probably not though. Probably old and wizened and droopy and really, really into younger men. They'll lock you in the same room though. Only one bed. Wandering wrinkly hands. Forever.”
“Uuughhh...”
“'I looove you Addaaaam...why won't you kiiiss mee...don't mind the fallsee teeeethh....” She advanced on him with a rolled up eyes and waggling fingertips.(Yes Savannah, very mature, very sexy.)
“Back, vile harridan! Doer of evils! This whole thing was probably your idea!”
Her intention to be Cool and Mature out of the window, Savannah was intending to slobber on him, but her plans were foiled by the fact that he could still pick her up alarmingly easily, spin her, and plunk her down. Right by the fireplace. Where the mistletoe was. Fortune favours the...stupid?
It was a picture perfect moment. Log fire, slightly cheesy decoration, the smell of cookies wafting in through the door. She just had to look up. The movie scene played out in her head. (Heroine glances up 'oh, gosh, didn't know that was there', slight awkward laughter, then a serious meeting of the eyes and...).
“What are you two up to?” Paige walked in, ruining everything with a smile and a mug of tea (milk, two sugars, because it was Breakup Tea).
“Nothing, just messing around. Does Lucas need any help in there?” Savannah asked, concealing her disappointment with a bright smile.
“I think he'd be grateful, honey. Potato peeling isn't exactly his strong suit. And I kind of distracted him a little.” She grinned.
Savannah left the room with half a sigh. There was, after all, still time before the mistletoe came down...