Chapter Text
Dairine sat at the kitchen table, trying to summon the motivation to finish her geography homework. In general, she thought school to be pointless, but she did have a responsibility to complete the work assigned to her. Geography was an especially tedious subject though. She sighed to herself and began labeling the map in front of her.
The screen door banged open and closed. The weather had been consistently sunny so the battered screen had been acting as the sole doorway to the outside again and it was back to complaining endlessly. It preferred when the storm door was needed as well as most household members would pause to open the other door, cushioning the blow for the tattered screen. Dairine didn’t bother to look up from her work. Nita went out with Kit earlier and she was meant to be returning around this time.
She is therefore surprised when the lanky form of her boyfriend sinks into the chair next to her. She labels another item on her map before setting down the pencil she had been using.
“I require a moment of your time.”
She assesses him briefly. He had been looking very stressed as of late, but today appeared to be worse than normal, “I’m all yours.” To prove her point, she closes her textbook firmly and sets it aside. He’s much more important than a stupid assignment.
He doesn’t quite seem to know where to begin, “there was an attempt.”
She sucks in a breath, “did you catch them?”
He makes a tense “no” motion.
She stands from her seat, “I’m going back with you. Right now.”
He smiles tiredly, “and of what use would that be?”
“I’ll find them.”
He rests his head in his hands in an exhausted motion, “and then what? Any harm you did to them would speed up entropy,” he grins at her, though the motion is tired, “I often wonder how you have managed to make it this long without losing your wizardry.”
She sits back down, “oh, shut up.” There’s no malice behind the words.
She examines him closely. There’s no question the attempted assasination has him rattled. She can’t see any physical wounds, and doubts he wouldn’t have told her about them by now, so that’s a small comfort. Emotionally, though, he looks wrecked. And rightfully so. It breaks her heart, knowing that there are people out there, regular people, who hate him so much for a legacy he couldn’t choose. She glances down at her geography homework. And here she was, complaining about a stupid assignment.
She stands again, “come on.”
He mimics her willingly, “where are we going?”
She grins, “on a field trip.”
“A ‘field trip’?” He inquires.
“It’s like a short activity trip that kids who are in school in the U.S. get to go on sometimes, ostensibly for educational purposes. In this context, it basically just means we’re going to go out and do something.”
She bangs through the screen door, pulling him gently with her. They very nearly run into Nita and Kit, both of whom are soaking wet and shivering, even in the heat. Dairine raises a brow but says nothing. She has other priorities at the moment. Once in the backyard, she makes a split second decision.
“How soon do you have to be back?”
He makes a shrugging motion, “my parents suggested I take the afternoon off.”
Privately, she agrees with them. He seems uncharacteristically rattled. More time is better for what she wants to do anyway. She rugs him by the hand, leading him out the back gate and onto the road behind their house.
“We’re going for a walk?” he asks.
She punches him gently, “no Kingling, we are simply walking to our destination. Just because we can use a transport spell to get somewhere doesn’t mean we should . Might as well conserve the energy since it’s a nice day.”
“Who would’ve thought? Dairine Callahan conserving energy.”
Dairine rolls her eyes, but he seems more relaxed so she lets it slide and simply pulls him a little closer and rests her head on his arm a little as they walk. She can feel him begin to relax and then, quite suddenly he stiffens again and drops her hand.
“What if someone sees?”
“Who cares?” she responds bluntly, “this is Earth.”
“But people might ask questions.”
She shrugs, “let them. I’m not worried about what they’ll be asking. Tom and Carl introduced my dad to a non-wizard friend of theirs in the government who knows about wizardry. Apparently he’s created documentation for other hominids in need before. In a couple weeks you’ll have the necessary identification that will prove you’re really only two years older than me. No one will even blink at that, don’t worry.”
“That is a relief.”
He joins their hands once more and they resume their walking. It doesn’t take them too long to reach their destination.
“Mollie B Drugs?” Roshaun asks.
Before he has the chance to finish, she cuts him off, “it’s a supplier of medicines and other types of cures for ailments,” she pushes the door open, “but this particular location also has a soda counter.”
He gives her a questioning look, but rather than explaining she just leads him to the old-fashioned counter in the back. The owner nods to her. She had come here a lot when she was younger with her mom. She shoves down the wave of sadness before Roshaun can notice, though.
“Hey Bob,” she smiles.
“Dairine! I must say it’s been a while. And who is your friend?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he asks the question.
“This is my boyfriend, Roshaun. Roshaun, this is Bob. His mother was Mollie B, the woman this place was named after.”
“What can I do for you today?”
“Two root beer floats please,” she requests, jumping up onto a stool.
Root beer float? Roshaun asks, his longer legs enabling him to slide gracefully onto the stool next to hers.
Root beer is a kind of soda. You’ve had it before. You’ll probably recognize the flavor when we get our floats. Basically they just add ice cream to it. Then she adds aloud, “Mollie B’s has the best floats because they blend in ice cream with the soda and then scoop it on top.”
“That’s right kiddo. All our ice cream is made in our creamery just down the road too,” Bob adds for Roshaun’s benefit.
“You’ll love it,” Dairine assures him.
“We shall see,” Roshaun responds in English.
She can’t help the impressed expression that crosses her face. His accent is still very obvious, but she’s surprised he’s gotten confident enough to speak English in public. She doesn’t mention it though, “when am I wrong?”
“Often,” again, the word is in English.
Bob sets the floats in front of them before she can defend herself, “enjoy you two.”
Dairine leads by example, spooning a mixture of the ice-creamy soda and pure ice cream into her mouth. Nita has always argued with her over this, claiming it was uncouth to consume a float in such a manner. Roshaun doesn’t seem to mind, not bothering to hide the smile that covers his face. Dairine can’t help but reflect the expression upon seeing him happy.
“What do you think?”
“It is...good.”
She pretends to be offended, “just good?”
I am not familiar with the English word. This treat is surprisingly refreshing and delicious. He admits.
Don’t worry about it. You are doing quite well with your English. Then she adds aloud, “I believe the word you are looking for is ‘superb’.”
He cocks his head, probably translating, “superb,” he echoes, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation. It’s kind of adorable.
They finish off their floats in no time, both relishing the refreshing treat after walking in the afternoon heat. Dairine waves a cheery goodbye to Bob, promising to be back soon and then leads Roshaun back out to the street. Her original plan was to just head back home, but then she gets a much better idea. It takes Roshaun longer than it probably should for him to realize they’re not headed back to her house.
“What is the destination of this journey?” he asks her, once more in the Speech, “I do not believe this to be the way to return to your domicile.”
“What? You thought this was a one stop date?”
He makes a shrugging motion, “candidly, I am unaware of what your plans are.”
Dairine does not admit to the fact that she is mostly making this up as she goes along, “good. Doesn’t hurt to keep you on your toes.”
She turns down a street and leads him to the park. There are a few people milling around, but no one pays them any mind. The playground is deserted, so Dairine leads him to the top of the structure and then down the slide. The childish look of joy on his face as he reaches the bottom is so raw she has to bite her lip to refrain from the grin that threatens to split her face. She leads him to the swing set next. It takes him a few tries to understand how to build momentum, but once he gets it, he quickly matches her in height.
They swing for a good while, and then she jumps off, flying through the air and landing gracefully on her feet. Roshaun attempts to mimic her, but being less familiar with the endeavor, falls on his face. Dairine had been anticipating the incident, and had luckily already spoken the words of a quick spell to cushion the blow. She does not spare him her laughter, though.
He gets up rather sheepishly, “more practice may be in order.”
She grins “hold your horses, cowboy. You can swing more another day. Right now I have one last thing I want to show you.”
“Hold your horses? Cowboy?”
“Essentially, don’t get ahead of yourself.”
He shakes his head slightly, “your people NEVER tire of idioms and sayings.”
She rolls her eyes, “c’mon before I get sick of you.”
He rolls his eyes too, a habit he’s picked up from her, but follows her to the path.
Dairine walks down the path, Roshaun trailing a little ways behind. She’s not exactly sure what she’s looking for as it’s been a while since she’s visited this particular location. Luckily, she recognizes the tiny break in foliage and plunges in.
She can practically see Roshaun raising a perfectly skeptical brow, “are you confident this is the correct way?”
“Fairly.”
He sighs deeply, but she hears him enter the brush behind her. She leads the way a little further, avoiding the largest of the branches whenever possible so as not to get cut. A few seconds later she emerges into the small clearing, Roshaun behind her. He looks around the clearing, slightly skeptical.
“Am I meant to be impressed?”
She sticks her tongue out at him, “I used to come here a lot when I was younger. I was never much for nature, but isolation was another thing entirely. I never had any close friends.”
He frowns slightly at her.
She raises her brows in reassurance, “but now I’ve got you.”
He wraps his arms around her, “you certainly do.”
She spins to look up at him, “and you have me.”
She rests her head briefly on his chest before pulling back, “you ever tried to find shapes in the clouds?”
“I do not believe so, no.”
She lays down on the ground, motioning for him to join her. Once he does, she points up at the first cloud she sees, “that one there reminds me of Sker’ret.”
Roshaun looks for a moment and then laughs, “I see the resemblance.”
“Okay, now it’s your turn. You find a cloud that reminds you of something.”
Roshaun picks a cloud, “that one there has the likeness of Ponch.”
Dairine nods, “I see it. That one is a rabbit.”
“So it is.”
They lay like that for a while, completely at peace. It’s a novel feeling. The reality of what had almost happened earlier today is temporarily banished, but it’s not gone. He’s still going to have to go home tonight. That’s the part about his job that has always freaked her out the most. The fact that regular people try to kill him.
“That one looks like Spot,” Roshaun points to a cloud.
“Absolutely not!” she argues.
“When he has his eyes and legs,” he doesn’t give up.
“Absolutely not. That would be like me saying you looked like that blob over there.”
“It hardly does me justice,” his custom arrogance shines through.
“I don’t know,” she taunts, “big head. Probably has a bit of an ego. General anime aesthetic.”
“Any likeness I may share with this so called ‘anime’ can be explained as the creators drawing inspiration from yours truly.”
Dairine gives a disbelieving snort, “yeah, right. You’re just mad because I don’t like anime.”
“On the contrary, I still have no concept for what anime even is.”
“You know the scary thing is you’d probably really like it.”
“With the knowledge that you dislike it, I find myself certain of that fact as well.”
She rolls her eyes, “I’m sure ‘Mela would be happy to show some to you if you’re interested.”
He shivers, “I am not certain I have the constitution for that. I find it difficult to believe that Carmela engages solely with entertainment on the television.”
Dairine shrugs, “it might be good for you to have to sit through a ‘Mela gossip session. It’s a life altering experience.”
“I find it difficult to believe that you mean that in a good way.”
She smirks, “you might learn a little more respect for those of us who deal with her regularly.”
“I already have it,” he assures her, mostly joking but they both know ‘Mela well enough to hear the truth ringing through the words as well.
The conversation ceases and they fall once more into a natural silence, hands still entwined and gazing up at the clouds. Dairine idly remembers she did not think far enough ahead to put on sunscreen, but she can’t bring herself to end this peaceful moment and remedy that. A little sunburn might add some color to her complexion, which was something she sorely needed. Even in the summer, her skin had the tendency to remain pale. This had never mattered much to her before, but now it was just another thing that made her stand out on Wellakh. Perhaps she was the reason Roshaun was attacked earlier today.
“No.” Roshaun’s voice is harsh and he sits up to look at her. Evidently he had heard that thought. She sits up too, but doesn’t meet his eyes.
“It’s a possibility, you cannot deny that.”
“The attacks happened long before you came to Wellakh. Do not forget that my father was subject to an attempt meant for me while I was still on excursus here on Earth. They are part of the job, and have been part of the job nearly since the first Sunlord took up the Sunwatch. They find fault in my rule, or even simply in my existence.”
Dairine shook her head, “but having me around doesn’t help.”
“You are the light in the darkness that often ironically accompanies the Sunwatch. In time, I hope, my people will see that.”
She smiles wistfully, “they do not seem to be easily swayed.”
Roshaun sighs, “that much, I am afraid, is all too true.”
“That’s my job, is it not? Speaking the truth?” she teases gently, trying to inject some humor into the conversation once more.
He smiles briefly, then sighs, “what is the truth?”
She turns and faces him abruptly, sitting up straighter. He copies her motion, a look of tense apprehension on his face.
She takes a deep breath, “the truth is…” she pauses, then makes her resolve and begins again, much more sure. “The truth is, Roshaun, I love you. You are selfless and brave and completely devoted to your people. You’re a wonderful King and an even more wonderful person. If your people could know you as I do, I have no doubt they would be honored to have you as their King.” She says this in a rush, and though the words are true, it was never quite this scenario in which she imagined saying them.
Roshaun, the consummately composed royal, is actually staring at her, mouth hanging open in shock and pure elation. “Dairine Callahan,” the way he says her name is akin to worship, “I love you.” His thoughts are a jumbled mess that echo that sentiment exactly. She smiles in pure elation, her own just as disorganized and happy.
There are no more words, she’s not sure either of them are capable of organizing anything coherent, but there need not be for he captures her lips in a passionate kiss. She scrambles immediately into his lap, feeling the intense need to be closer to him. Her body betrays her with its need for air and she pulls reluctantly away for a half second before planting an open mouthed kiss on his neck. He shivers at the contact, and begins trying to pull off her shirt.
She pulls back from her place at his neck far enough to take it off herself and he does the same before their lips crash back together hungrily. His hands are everywhere and she's sure by the end both of them will have hopeless tangles in their hair. She can’t bring herself to care and instead lets her hands do some wandering of their own. Eventually she decides to just simply throw them around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
For a good time everything is just a pleasurable mix of hands and lips and skin on skin. Then she accidentally knees a tree root and sense comes rushing back. She breaks away from him rather suddenly, “this is not the place for this,” she’s completely breathless.
Roshaun actually gasps for air a little, “a regrettable but true deduction.”
She scrambles back a little and pulls her shirt back on. Once she’s done she smirks at him, “you good?”
“I require a moment.”
She can’t help the self-satisfied grin at those words and, a little triumphantly, tosses him his own shirt. It lands conveniently in his lap, and he stands, facing away from her to pull it on. When he turns back to face her, she’s trying to work out the worst of the knots from her hair. She appraises him. The T-Shirt is baggy even for him, something she hadn’t noticed before. Even at his height, it reaches to his mid thigh. His hair, like hers, is hopelessly tangled. His lips are also swollen. If Nita or her dad is going to be home, they’ll need to do something about both those facts.
“Spot!” The little computer appears obediently at her side, “open a portal to my hairbrush, would you?”
He begins the spell immediately and she approves it silently through their connection. Half a second later she’s slightly winded and holding a hairbrush.
She quirks a brow at Roshaun, “you first.”