Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Wait, the Norsemen actually believed that some giant wolf was going to eat the sun and send everything into chaos?" Comfort: the dying bundles of fire dancing atop a pile of ashes warmed her feet while a pair of hands smoothed out her hair. While sitting on the floor couldn't compare to the bed, Jenny felt content leaning back her shoulders to rest on Julian's shins. All Jenny needed was an Adele album playing in the background, quiet—she started growing attached to the British singer and her soulful belting—and the scene would feel perfect. She felt the hands divide her hair into three portions before slowly twisting them over each other. The simple motions and scene relaxed Jenny, her posture sinking into the dark oak floor.

"In defense, Fenrir is a powerful deity. Humans just interpreted him to be more bloodthirsty than he actually is."

Her lungs faltered mid-breath, causing a puff of amusement to escape through her nose. "But a wolf—"

"A wolf made sense to their culture," Julian said, cutting her off. His voice fit the audial image of shrugging, an image Jenny's learned to associate with Julian after their three years of living together. She felt one of his hands pushed her head away as the braid reached the top of her shoulder blades. Jenny did so, allowing him better access to complete it. When did we start doing this— "Do you really want to argue with an expert on North and Central European Mythology?"—being so casual?

"Mmm," Jenny hummed, not feeling the energy needed to move her mouth and speak. If she had to guess the time, it'd be sometime at night. To be fair, thought, it always felt like midnight to her. Time moved differently here, and it was hard to tell. Or, to be more accurate, the concept didn't exist outside of Earth. When she first came to live with Julian, she tried to keep track of the days with her sleep cycle, but she also took naps, stayed up "late"—again, time didn't really exist—and soon stopped trying after a few weeks or months. Now if she wanted to know the exact time, Jenny would pay her old home a visit.

In a world of infinite darkness, no one ever slept in a way. Do I even need sleep?

Remembering home cued a memory from the week before; she and her little brother Joey went cave exploring in Southern Europe for his 13th birthday. His angsty, preteen self practically melted back to a five-year-old, head full of dreams with knights in well-used armor and greedy dragons. Is Julian my "knight"? Simpler times when all that mattered was hurt feelings at the school's playground. Or am I his? Simpler times: with all her needs met, Jenny could think more, and thinking more lead to thinking critically. It's funny how simple solutions create complex riddles and games. I'm too sleepy for metaphors.

The flames in the stone fireplace died down to glowing ember gathered in clumps. Cold had yet to wander into the spacious bedroom, though she's never been so cold in this world that she shivered. Jenny wondered if her staying with Julian affected her physical body and prevented the feeling of coldness from registering with her, but the thought shooed itself out of her conscious. It would only spoil the moment. Gosh, I'm like an insomniac having two-in-the-morning epiphanies. Plus, according to a short story that used to scare her*, excessive deliberation on ideas ultimately leads to disastrous consequences; in her case, that would be headaches or meaningless arguments. "Maybe later," she murmured when Julian took out the braid and started twisting new sections of her hair into a different style. What brought rest before now brought on a new wave of sleepiness.

Julian laughed. "Later?" She should've been used to it by now; the way he acts always either conflicts her negative emotions and thoughts or teases and coaxes pleasant ones. Manipulative pig.

Jenny couldn't stop the smile creeping onto her face. "Well, unless you've got something planned…" she said, playing along, poking a fire stick at the spider.

"Jenny, I can always come up with something."

How true you are. She just smiled at that. Silence filled the air once again, not that it was a bad thing. On the contrary, sometimes she felt the most content when words weren't needed between them.

Once again, she felt his hands smooth away the braid and restart with yet another type. He just wants to play with my hair she knew—this must've been the fifth or sixth time he's restarted—but she didn't mind. Jenny felt her eyes closing, though it didn't quite disprove her idea regarding whether she needed sleep. After all, she noticed how much less food she ate nowadays when she visited Dee about a month ago to catch up over her friend's spring break.

Testing the waters, "I would've never pegged ya down for being good at braiding" she teased.

He scoffed in a light tone, "Why wouldn't I?"

Shrugging, Jenny moved her back as her arms hugged her knees, her posture leaning forward. "I don't know; it just doesn't seem like your type of thing."

She felt his hands pause before, "And just what is my type of thing?"

"Gambling—" Jenny faltered when Julian laughed again before continuing her list. "Seriously, you've got a problem." She shifted her position ever so slightly, forcing Julian to move away and more onto the bed.

"Well, now you can add 'braiding hair' to that list," he replied, shifting his arms behind him, relaxing his posture. Feeling his presence move away, Jenny leaned forward and stretched her arms towards to the fireplace. "Though, I should admit, I only like braiding if it's your hair."

Jenny let out a giggle, somewhat distorted and drawn out by the yawn that snuck in. "You sure about that?" It must've been ten o'clock back in her original home. Or maybe not. After all, it's possible to become tired for reasons other than that one's internal clock says it's time to be tired; sleep cycles should not replace clocks. I've got to stop guessing the time. "You could've lied about me being the first. For all I know, there's a girl on the side."

"Don't joke about that."

Jenny turned to look back at Julian before standing up, winching at the tingling numbness that settled in her legs because she sat for too long. Legs crossed over each other, back and shoulder slouched, head cocked to the side: Jenny never learned how anyone could possibly look as good as he did so casually. And he never gives a clear answer on that. However, that frown did not fit his face, not at all. Better fix it. "I'm sorry, babe."

The frown vanished from his face; yes, that cocky grin looked much more at home on his lips than the other expression. "'Babe'? Huh, I've been promoted."

She grabbed a conveniently placed thrown pillow—things always seemed to appear when and where she wanted them to—and chucked it at his face. He dodged with ease, as usual. "Look who's joking now." Jenny flopped onto the bed, landing right next to Julian with her arms spread out like an angel's wings. Julian glanced down at her and raised an eyebrow at her, acknowledging the satirical reference before lying down and using her arm like a pillow.

"Is something on your mind?"

He always knows. "Why was Freud so obsessed with sex?" At least he tries to act less invasive than he actually is. Who needs sleep when her new psychology book left so many unanswered questions?

Chapter Text

If Jenny could, she’s punch that snarky tone straight out of Julian’s voice. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel like a knife lodged itself into her heart and started twisting deeper in with every word he spoke. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” Jenny scoffed at his question. You heard me, bastard. His back was turned away from her, but his posture left little to imagination as to his goddamn expression. God, she could clearly picture that obnoxious, suave smirk basking in his newfound victory.

“You heard me,” Jenny growled. The uncharacteristic tone did not fit her voice. Or her throat. She’d already cried herself hoarse at this point; why should she cause herself more pain? Besides, no matter how much verbal venom she spat at him, it still wouldn’t change her mind or her predicament. God, how she wished there was another way, but after Summer… I’ve got to do this. Jenny slumped her chin against her knees and pulled her legs closer to her chest. Do this for her. For everybody. This was one of those moments when Jenny was really thankful that she didn’t wear a lot of makeup like Audrey. But, God, I don’t want to. It was shocking to her that her eyes could numb out the burn after a while.

Julian laughed, light yet mocking, and at that, Jenny felt a twinge of annoyance. Actually, that could’ve just been a twitch from her shoulder or her arms, or her calves. The Game had not been kind to her muscles, and if Julian’s “gracious gift” of an invisible clock was any bit accurate, it was early morning. No one should make life changing decisions in this condition, but her hand’s literally being forced by a demon from a mythology that shouldn’t even be real.

 “Ha, no,” Julian said, raising a slender, pale hand and smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt—Wipe that smile off your face. I can’t stand it—still facing away from Jenny. “I need you to repeat yourself.”

Jenny burrowed her forehead against her knees, as if curling into a ball would make this awful place and decision vanish. “I can’t,” she strained; Jenny never sounded so helpless before. “I don’t want to.” Why couldn’t the floor just swallow her alive like it did with Summer?

“No, really. You must repeat your consent.” Is he looking at me yet? “Once you make a promise to someone—” Something “—like me or in a Game, you can’t take it back. Jenny,” Julian paused, whether for emphasis—Dramatic effect, huh—or for more vulnerable reasons, she didn’t know, “I need you to be sure on this.”

Jenny raised her head but didn’t look up; seeing is believing, after all. She didn’t want to see the Victorian dollhouse or hallway or whatever scenery surrounded her because it sure as hell wasn’t her living room. She didn’t want to look at Julian, whom was literally the devil she’s going to sell her soul to. She didn’t want to look up and have her consciousness accept that all this was real and not some ludicrous dream. Not even my mind could conjure this, though.

So, instead of facing her waking nightmare, Jenny chose to drop her head, cradling its weight between her knees. Who knew, maybe if her legs applied enough pressure, she’d pass out. Jenny would technically still lose and stay here, but it would take away the choice, the ability to say no and mess up her friends’ and Tom’s lives forever. Maybe they were already damaged just from being here, accepting that the darkness has a name, and it would all be her fault.

His fault the strong part of her mind shouted, but her anxieties and exhaustion and grief overpowered the voice. It’s her fault they’re in this godforsaken place, and it’ll be her that’ll get them out.

With that thought clouding her judgement, she took a shaky breath—her last, free breath—and glanced up, slow and cautious. Julian’s front still turned away, but half of his face was visible. The orange firelight from nearby candlesticks and fixtures painted itself on it, leaving harsh shadows all over him. When had the light dimmed? Jenny thought, noting the way the blue of his irises reflected the fire, making them almost a smoky lavender. Though in all honesty, Jenny found it hard to tell. Her own were blurred from crying, the constant rubbing away of each tear’s salty trail down her cheeks, and the blacks of his eyes had swelled.

Jenny vaguely remembered someone explaining body cues and something with pupil dilation, but she couldn’t recall any of them. Not completely, but whatever it meant can’t be anything good. He looked feral; Jenny forced herself to suppress the shiver running its cold finger down her spine.

“Once you promise something here or in a Game, you can’t take it back.” A deal, huh? Of course it’s a deal, but perhaps…

“I agree on a condition,” she started, her voice slow and sure, spelling out her message and stopping for a moment when she saw Julian turn his body toward her whilst lifting an eyebrow. “They all go home. Including Summer.” She deserves a body to bury, at least.

The smile that grew on his lips surprised her. “You’re catching on already,” Julian teased. He took a step towards Jenny, and once again, she had to restrain herself from reacting physically. It was silly, really, he seemed to know all about her. Surely he’d know the instant she’s uncomfortable.

He crouched down, joining her on the same eye level. God, Jenny wanted to look away. A new knot in her stomach tightened and twisted; those egg rolls from the party no longer agreed with her. Yea, keep telling yourself that.

Reaching for Jenny’s hand, the same one he stole permission to touch back in the Erlking’s cave, Julian rubbed his thumb over the tense muscles, smoothing out the tremors she neglected to notice or care about. It’s strange, how calm that one part her could feel while the rest of her feared for its life. He shifted his gaze and focused on the hand. His expression was hard yet soft. Sober: that’s the word.

After what seemed like minutes but was only seconds, Julian lifted the hand towards his lips and planted a light kiss on its back. “I accept your offer.” All the rough edges of the sober expression washed away when he looked back at her. There was no smirk, no condescending raised brow; Jenny couldn’t get any sense of superiority from him unlike earlier through the game. “We have a deal,” Julian repeated.

He looked relieved. Oh, so relieved. Julian pulled her tired body towards him, holding her in his arms tightly until everything from that night came crashing down as if for the first time. He held her, and she cried. It hurts; it all hurts. Jenny gave into the suppressed urge from before she stepped foot into a Dee’s nightmare.  And though she won’t remember, her own arms snaked around Julian’s waist, her hands latching themselves onto the back of his black shirt.

Chapter Text

“Ohmygod! She’s so cute!” Jenny exclaimed, turning her head to the side as to avoid the assault of puppy kisses. The puppy, Bella, was only five weeks old and still easy to excite. At least that’s what Dee said. Speaking of the dog’s owner, she stood to the side while her friend retreated towards the floor, helpless to the energetic puppy’s playful bites and licks.

Dee laughed, soft and from the chest. “Told you she was a spaz.” Since her faced was turned, Jenny now got a better view of her old friend. She leaned against a wall, so casual in the way her arms crossed and with one leg in front of the other. For a moment, Jenny was reminded of the stereotypical middle-class snob trying to look tough, though Dee could actually pull the stance off well enough. No scrawny white-boy sporting an air-thin beard—one that he’s been growing for over a month—and pants that drooped lower than his ass cheeks could compare to the dangerous grace that was Deidre Eliade.

Just the thought of some spoiled punk standing like that near her lifelong friend made Jenny bust out in a fit giggles, though Bella didn’t help her maintain her composure, either.

Dee raised a hand to cover her mouth, failing to hide the wide grin that grew. “What? Something on my face?”

“No, it’s the way,” Jenny wheezed out, “Ha, the way you’re standing.” Grabbing the still-sniffing-and-licking puppy, she sat up and placed the animal down on her lap. “It’s just like a one of those freshman guys who try to act all cool and gangster while waiting for his mom to pick him up from soccer practice in the family’s minivan.”

“What?” Dee cracked up at that. “Where’d that come from? Wha—haha!—what are you on?”

“Nothing, I swear!” Jenny’s cheeks hurt, but god, it was good to see Dee again. The last time she saw her was at Tom’s wedding, and the entire ordeal felt tense and just plain awkward. It’s nice to have time just meant for friends without the lousiness of exes or a said-ex’s new wife lingering over Jenny like a raincloud about to burst. Yes, hanging out for no reason in particular other than to catch up is nice, simple even. Sometimes the best things in life aren’t flashy or complicated. But something still feels off Jenny thought before forcing it into the darkest, farthest corners of her mind. I’m having fun; stop overthinking.

Jenny took a few deep breaths to calm down, and then looked at her lap. Her left hand found itself entangled in puppy limbs and a jaw, though it wasn’t like Bella could do any lasting damage. The puppy play tickled more than hurt her.

“What breed is she again?” she asked. Why she added “again”, she didn’t know. Jenny didn’t recall asking in the first place; maybe the extra word made the sentence sound more casual. Why did I say it like that?

Dee took her weight off of the wall and walked over to where Jenny and the puppy sat together. Leaning down, she skillfully maneuvered her hands around the nipping bites and scratching paws to pick Bella up under the front legs. The puppy didn’t struggle, instead opting to curl up against Dee’s chest when she was close enough. “We’re pretty sure she’s a pit-bull mixed with some terrier. I don’t know, really, or care,” she said with a shrug. “Ah, Jenny look. She’s all tuckered out,” Dee cooed, running a hand up and down Bella’s back. Her expression melted into that of adoration, appearing to enjoy the feel of her short fur.

“Aren’t they supposed to get really bad and aggressive when they’re older?”

“Nah.” Dee crept towards a small dog bed, careful as to not wake the bundle currently trying to sleep in her strong arms. “There’s no such thing as a bad dog, just bad owners.” As she lowered Bella down onto the soft pillow, Dee flashed Jenny a sly smile. “’Sides, it’s perfect practice before Alex and I start doing foster care.”

Three years dating, three years married, one year with an animal to see if you’re worthy, and then can you have kids: Coach Rogers was always a stickler for teen abstinence. This was just one of the many mantras he’d pound into your skull if you were unfortunate enough to talk to him about anything relating to a social or love life. “Taking Rogers’ words seriously, are we?”

For a split second, Dee’s face scrunched before returning to a more happy, holding-back-a-giggle expression. “I completely forgot about that! God, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that, but yea, I guess so.” Seeing and hearing Bella’s little bouts of snoring, Dee stood back up. “Maybe the old coot was actually on to something, ya know?”

“Hm.” Jenny still sat on the carpeted floor of Dee’s new house. After Dee proposed and Alex said, “Yes!” rather enthusiastically considering that Dee almost fell to the ground from being tackled into a hug, the couple moved into the house they’ve been stalking online for a few months. It wasn’t anything gaudy or large, nor was it broken down. Well, not anymore. Dee insisted on a fixer-upper, claimed it would be fun and give them a challenge.

Boy, did Dee outdo herself. Jenny couldn’t tell that the wall opposite of her used to have multiple holes from sledgehammers—“It’s therapeutic, I swear!”—no matter how many times Dee said otherwise.  

The inside felt like a home, and Jenny’s only been there for half an hour. Dee’s high school martial arts trophies and ribbons decorated the selves and walls. She and Alex’s high school diplomas and various degrees intermixed with family photos, pictures of memorable dates, the plane tickets from their trip to Amsterdam, and other paper copies of memories. Ones I’m not in anymore…

Jenny shook her head and pushed herself off from the floor, flitching slightly at the soreness in her knees. Adjusting her skirt, Jenny asked, “When’s Alex getting home again?”

Dee shrugged and opened her mouth to say, “Any minute now,” but the front door interrupted her, opening slamming the door with a sharp crack.

“Sorry, the doorknob got stuck again.” Alex entered the room, took off her heavy-duty winter coat, and hung it on the nearby coatrack; it was a cheap one from a thrift shop. “I thought you said you were going to fix that last week?”

Putting a finger to her lips, Dee grabbed her fiancée’s hand and pulled her into the kitchen. “We just got the puppy down for a nap; be quiet, ‘kay?” she whispered, “Oh, and you remember Jenny, right?”

Alex planted a quick kiss at Dee’s lips. “How could I forget? I think I still have that protection charm you made me wear atTom’s wedding.”

Jenny’s walk to the kitchen faltered with a weak step. She wore a what?

Dee didn’t miss her misstep and turned toward Jenny. “Ah! Sorry, should’ve told you that.” Waving a hand with a quiet laugh, signaling no hurt feelings, Jenny continued her path and reached the cupboard. The doors didn’t squeak when they opened as she looked for a small cup. Yea, I also should’ve expected that. No matter the time, place, or surrounding people, Jenny’s friends never treated her the same, not since before The Game. “If it’s any consolation, it was more for the case that Julian showed up. Which he didn’t, so it was pointless.”

Jenny smiled at the couple, trying not to seem as tense as she actually was. “I get you,” she said, filling the cup with water from the sink, “It’s fine.”

Dee walked around the kitchen island, closer to Jenny’s spot. Let me pretend it’s all fine. Please don’t walk over here. The hug was quick, loose, and informal: an apology. “No it isn’t. I’m sorry. I know he isn’t all that bad, but I just-“

“I said I get you. Can we move on?” Jenny couldn’t help but steal glances at Alex. A Dutch exchange student—and very obviously so with the blonde hair, blue eyes, and likeness to a skyscraper—during the group’s senior year, Alex did not experience the tragedy that was Tom’s seventeenth birthday party. However, after just two years together as a couple rather than “gal pals”, Dee filled her in with all the juicy details from the nightmares, Julian’s borderline-possessive passes towards Jenny, the forfeit, Summer’s return from what was thought to be her death—everything. She told her everything just in case an incident happened at Tom’s wedding, which as the time would’ve been a few short months in the future.

Alex knew the details, but didn’t understand. She can’t understand my choice Jenny thought, not missing out on the cold look Alex gave her. Her nose was wrinkled everything time Jenny saw her, so much so that she couldn’t tell if that was her natural expression or if that was reserved just for Jenny. What did I do that was so offensive?

Dee took a step away from Jenny, allowing her some space to cool her emotions. It’s just a funk; you’ll get over it. “If you say so,” Dee said. Maybe I shouldn’t have come over. I always end up feeling… different. Out of place.

And she was. The physical differences were the hardest to miss. Dee grew beautifully into the body and mentality of a twenty-one year old while Jenny was still stuck at sixteen in a physical sense. Sure, she still attended online classes—apparently the frozen wasteland that was Niflheim had a great wireless connection—and probably would have had some sort of Master’s in English or History, but the fact that Jenny couldn’t go out for drinks with her friends bugged her. Dee may have been smart, and she proved that in The Game, but Jenny was smarter, wiser… and still barely passed as “legal”.

The fact that she was married to something that breathed life into a person’s worst nightmare for shits and giggles also set the previously tight-knight friend group on edge, but, honestly, how could it not?

“Jenny?” A hand gripped her shoulder, shaking it. “Jenny, are you okay?” She looked up and saw Alex rushing to the paper towels at the corner of the kitchen and Dee holding onto her. Jenny couldn’t remember when she stopped looking at Alex and instead at the floor. She looked down again; Alex used soaking up spilt water and picking up large chunks of broken glass, creating a pile on another sheet of paper towel. Jenny couldn’t remember when she dropped the glass, either. Honestly, she had forgotten she had one for a moment. I need to stop spacing out like that.

Apologizing for the mess and her lack of focus, Jenny took over cleanup duty to which a grateful former Dutch citizen relented. “Hey, Dee?”

“Yea?”

Jenny stood up and gently dropped the glass shards wrapped in soaked paper towels into the trash bin beneath the sink. “I know we planned on making homemade pizzas, but I think I should get going.” The slight look of relief on Dee’s face hurt. It hurt a lot. This was a mistake. It’s almost been five years, and I’m still not ready to face them. At least it was easier to see her little brother Joey; he’s still young at thirteen and changeable.

“Not feeling well?” Jenny nodded. I feel so out of place.

Later, as the engaged couple waved their goodbyes from the front door, Jenny willed into existence a bottle full of a clear liquid. When Julian first taught her how to summon anything, she was shocked at how easy the task was for her. It burned when she took a swig but not like an ember floating away from a fire pit and landing on you. The burn was warm, cleansing, comforting. Looking around to ensure that no people were around, Jenny turned toward the empty asphalt street and jumped into the black vortex that appeared, blue lightning crackling from it. Julian’s gonna give her an earful for drinking in public, but she didn’t care right then. That would’ve been a morning problem if mornings existed back home; time was more a human thing to be honest.

Chapter Text

"Ah! You swore no complaining, and what's that I'm hearing?"

"Jenny, you're absolutely insane. We cannot-"

"One more word of disagreement out of you tonight, and I'm leaving for another bar. And I'm not saying where." Ha! Gotcha this time!

"…Fine," Julian said, giving up now that Jenny had something over him. Ever since she learned how to cloak her presence with some obscure spell she stumbled upon in a Middle Eastern cave—was it Mesopotamian? God, I can't remember—she's been so damn smug about how she finally had something to taunt him with. Besides, of course, sex.

Jenny could feel the pleasant buzz from her cup of diet coke and rum working its way through her system, weakening her mental and verbal filter. Julian, on the other hand, had nothing, seeming to prefer watching her gradually-worsening antics from across the booth's table. The bar itself wasn't unique or even one of those grimy, low-level ones young teenagers can sneak their way into without any sort of ID. It was just as she planned; a generic, run-of-the-mill bar with average people and an average crime ratings according to some recommendation apps and overall heresy.

Sometimes, it's better to have everything blend together and blur away from the consciousness than to have every detail perfected, thus standing out always.

"Eh, lighten up." Jenny took another sip from her drink. "At least it isn't a strip club."

Julian choked, coughing to rid himself of that stinging sense of uncomfortableness. "This is why I don't like you drinking," he said, somehow maintain that smooth, elemental voice of his, "I can never guess what nonsense you'll be spewing next."

"'Spewing'," Jenny snorted, "Who says that nowadays?" Seven years: that's how long it's been since she gave up and consented. Over the years, like with any other functional and healthy couple, fights broke out, make-ups (and -outs) were made, moments shared, and the polar opposites found a common hobby. Teasing required wit, sass, and if to be done without hurting your target's feelings, some sort of affection. As they had all three, it only made sense that the hobby emerged after that general awkward stage dissipated. God, that seems to be ages ago. "It's such a weird word… Spew."

Jenny brought the cup once again to her lips only to not be met with carbonated juice, chemicals, and spiced alcohol. Groaning, she dropped her head to the table, making a satisfying thunk!She held up her empty cup, forehead still against the hard wood. "Refill, babe?" If Julian was still annoyed by their surroundings, he didn't show it. He gave a small smile as he grabbed Jenny's glass and set it in front of him.

"Want something different this time, or are we sticking with rum and coke?" he said.

She returned back to a sitting position, but set her elbows on the hard surface, using her hands as a stand for her chin. "You know my answer, idiot, now get to it." Surprise me.

Pulling out a clouded glass bottle from his jacket pocket, Julian poured a clear liquid into the cup. The bottle was the same one he used before—and always, really—but it was never filled with the same drink; Jenny had yet to get the same concoction twice in a row. Or, really, twice ever. One of the lesser known perks of magic, she guessed

"Thanks," Jenny said, drawing out the 'a', when he handed her back the now-filled glass. She took a swig and then sputtered, spilling it over the tabletop and her sweater. "Ohmygod, what is that?" Jenny spat, partially words and partially the drink itself.

"Why, don't you like it?" His voice was light and mocking.

Jenny slammed the cup down and leaned her head back, instantly triggering a wave a dizziness. When had she gotten drunk? I hadn't had that much to drink… Did I?

"No…" she whined, "You know I don't like peppermint! An-and who thought peppermint and alcohol went together? God, you're a jerk." Jenny then giggled, fitting the stereotype of every drunk blonde girl ever. "But…"

Julian leaned closer towards Jenny, folding his arms and looking at her with nothing but playfulness. "But?"

She grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and her face was pink. Whether it was from the stuffiness of the bar or her drunken state, Jenny didn't know. "But, I still love you," she said, cocking her head to the side.

"Yea?"

The rest of the rowdy bar shut itself out of her sensory range, or maybe it just ceased existing. Sometimes that happened when the couple went out; it felt like the whole world revolved around them and their unlikely relationship. Talk about being self-centered, right? "Yea."

"Well, I guess that's acceptable," Julian purred, going back to his previous position of resting against the booth's cheap, fake-leather seat. How can he always look so damn hot and casual?

The next few moments were spent in silence, not that anything needed to be said. Jenny remembered an albeit foggy memory of a classmate commenting on how silence can be comfortable if there's love, but she didn't need a rumor to confirm that. Years of experience spoke for themselves, ya know?

Speaking of foggy memories, Jenny couldn't recall how she convinced Julian to dress, well, normal for once. It was only black clothes with a touch of exoticism for him. Now, however, he wore a black hoodie with a blue graphic on it. Blue. And a hoodie! Color and casualness! Julian didn't part with his black jeans that hugged his legs—not that she was complaining—and combat boots of the same color, but Jenny would definitely say that it was an improvement. Or was it a work-in-progress? Specifics, schmecifics

Sure, they didn't really have to fit in, but it was more fun that way. Blending in with the locals, acting as if you weren't living in some obscure plane of existence with your not-at-all-a-demon spouse whose hobbies included physical torture, mind games, and watching time fly by on Earth like it was the latest reality show though it kinda is, catching up with international drama by doing something other than read the paper: Jenny loved it.

In a way, these outings kept her human. She never changed her character or values, no, but returning to her original home always had a way of grounding her, even if she couldn't describe how. The only way that came close to it was like how most people visit their parents around the holidays; they didn't rely on them anymore nor did they want to, but coming back would bring back the memories, bring back the person's roots, reminding them who they were and how much they've grown. It's sentimental Jenny thought whilst in the middle of a mock-staring contest with Julian.

And I'm too drunk to think about it. Jenny backed away from his gaze, forfeiting the match in favor of downing the shitty-tasting drink. Ignoring both the burn of the alcohol and the overpowering sweetness of the mint, Jenny slammed the cup down on the table again.

"I've never seen you drunk, Julian," she started, putting much effort into not sounding incoherent or like her tongue had swollen to the size of a golf ball.

He shrugged. "I guess not."

"Why not?" Jenny asked before making a conclusion-hopping realization. "Wait, can you even get drunk?" Not having that option open to her, not being able to enjoy the blissful tingling that accompanies the bottom of the bottle, that's hell. Sure, she didn't drink all that often, but it was nice every once and a while to numb out the complexities of her life and the pain of her old friends brought if she was too tired to deal with it like the totally mature woman was. Totes sophisticated, yep.

Letting out a small laugh, Julian sat up straight, perfect posture and everything. Gah, stop being perfect physically, jerk. "Yes, I can. And don't look so upset about it if that wasn't the case."

"Julian, we're at a fucking bar. You don't need to ar-ti-cu-late everything you say," Jenny laughed, trying to ease him into being, well, normal. Shoving the cup in his face, she put on the most serious face she could muster. However, her drunken state overestimated how much to exaggerate the tenseness of her eyebrows, and rather than a semi-frown, her mouth slightly puckered. "Drink this vile shit."

Julian couldn't help it, nor did he try to stop himself from laughing. Jenny looked ridiculous; she was being ridiculous, and she knew it. For that, Julian took the peppermint vodka from her weak hands and downed it in one go, no flinching, no awkward "ah!" from the shock of the burn and sugar. "Alright, but I blame you if anything happens."

"Ich liebe dich," Julian breathed into the crook of her neck. It was hazy, but Jenny vaguely remembered Julian crawling over to her booth. It must've happened after he got up to yell at some sleazy college student for gawking at Jenny. Of course, the fact that he was screaming in Old Norse mixed with a handful of German insults just made him even more intimidating.

Oh! Now she remembered! Jenny stopped the intoxicated—and intoxicating—Julian from damning the poor kid and dragged him back to the table. That also explained the empty bottle of mead that was about to fall out of his grip. Wait. No it didn't. Where the hell…?

Jenny was brought back to reality when she felt a sharp bite at her neck. Raising her alcohol-heavy arm, she pushed Julian away, creating a space the span of a few inches between them. For a split-second, she felt bad for stopping him; he looked so hurt. It's too bad she had too much, otherwise she'd be able to remember the uncharacteristic, puppy-look he sported. Cute…

"Was ist unrecht?"

Jenny had to try so damn hard not to bust out giggling; she's never seen him like this before. "You're stuck in… German, I think. I-I can't understand what you're saying, Jules." She covered her mouth with one hand in a wasted effort to control herself, but hey, no filter means no filter. Not wanting to see him more upset—although the idea of Julian full-on pouting was hilarious—she scooched close, so close that she could have been technically on his lap. Swigging her arm over his waist, Jenny leaned her heavy head against his chest. "German sounds nice on you."

"That didn't make any sense, Schönheit."

"Your German doesn't make any sense."

Julian scoffed, wrapping his own arm around Jenny, pulling her closer. "Says you. I'm fluent." His upset mood seemingly gone, he planted a quick kiss to the top of her honey-blonde head.

Jenny hummed when he repeated the action; it was soothing, the kisses, cuddling, and the blurriness from drinking. We should get outta here… She smiled at the one coherent thought amongst the jumbled phrases and wants floating in her sloshed mind.

Poking Julian's side, Jenny raised her head so that her mouth met his ear. "Let's go home," she breathed, noting in her intoxicated state how he reacted when her warm breath met his cool skin. Jenny let her finger run up and down his torso and cocked her head, a gesture she learned from the man she was teasing.

With that, they were gone. Literally, they vanished, melting into the shadows of their booth, their tab unpaid and the various bottles they drank out of littered the table, booth, and floor. When thinking about it later in her shift, the bartender couldn't recall anyone to have been there all night, which was odd considering how packed it was last night.

Maybe she ought to stop sneaking sips from the merchandise during work.

Chapter Text

Jenny jumped in her seat, hitting its cushioned back and jostling the adjustable arm rests. Pillars of fire shot up from the stage about fifty feet away from her as 'Raoul' twisted his body out of harm's way. 'Eric' stood one a tombstone shaped like a Michelangelo-esque angel, clutching to the stone wings and throwing fireballs towards the trembling man before him.

"That's right! That's right; keep walking this way!" he shouted in a manic state, laughing at 'Raoul''s scuttling across the stage while 'Christine' stood horrified at the spectacle. Words of reason were yelled back by the couple, but it was lost through the crackling flames and laughter. Finally, 'Raoul' managed to grab ahold of his fiancée and weaved the two of them around the tombstones, avoiding the shoots of fire that sprung up sporadically.

Defeated, the Phantom slumped against the marble torso and banged his fist on the shoulder. "So be it. Let it be war," he yelled, glaring down the audience, "Upon you both!" The entire downstage section burst into blinding white sparks; Jenny could feel the heat of the musical's pyrotechnics warming her skin. The stage darkened, signaling a scene change.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Julian whispered in her ear.

She turned to look up at him. He wasn't in one of the auditorium's seat, opting to stand next to Jenny. Bringing a finger to her lips, she whispered, "Yes, but shh! I'm supposed to pay attention and observe the techniques they used or… whatever." Now that I think about it, they're cheating is spot on.

Jenny had never finished high school and didn't get a diploma or GED, but that couldn't stop her from taking classes at some little known college. Who needed all that when—who knows—maybe a glitch occurs so that her name suddenly appeared on the list for the Theatre class a week before school returned to session. One of the major assignments due by December was to attend any play or musical in the area and take note of what acting techniques the cast used effectively. It was a simple, one-paragraph task; freshman classes were a breeze, and Julian knew this.

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," he started, "Besides, I know you're dying to say something. You won't stop fidgeting and playing with the pamphlet." Jenny glanced down and sure enough, her program was twisted almost beyond recognition.

"It's nothing, trust me," she started despite knowing that it wouldn't stop Julian from pushing the subject, "I'm just getting a bit of déjà vu, I guess."

"Yea, I'm feeling it, too." Jenny hummed in response. The play progressed, and the two seemed content in their silence, the only disturbance being when Julian handed her another program that she could unconsciously destroy since the first one laid in shreds on the floor and in her lap. It wasn't until 'Eric''s voice bounced from all corners and walls that Julian said anything.

"At least I'm not some forty-year old circus-escapee."

"True, and Raoul's a lot nicer than Tom."

"And Christine—"

"Total ditz," Jenny said, shaking her head with a faint smile, "Thank Whatever I'm nothing like her."