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Rhys had been having such a nice dream. He and Feyre were dancing at Starfall, up in the observatory under the real sky. Her eyes reflected all of the majesty of the falling stars and then some. She was a star fallen to earth. Somehow, he knew that this time they wouldn't be interrupted, so he leaned in to kiss her, for real this time, and—
There was a pounding on his door, shocking him into the waking world.
"Go away," he grumbled.
"No can do," came Morrigan's voice from the other side of the door. She was far too chipper for… he rolled over to squint at his clock. Eight twenty in the morning. "You and I need to have a little chat."
Oh no. The emphasis she put on 'chat' was ominous.
"It's too early to deal with you."
Naturally, she ignored him and pushed into his room anyway. She was quite an amusing sight early in the mornings, golden hair rolled up in curlers, green jelly patches under her eyes, wrapped up in a red silk robe that fell to her thighs, and wearing matching red slippers that looked kind of like ballet slippers. He would laugh, but she was glaring at him something fierce.
She wasn't an authority figure to him in any way, but he still felt oddly chastised. "Oh, you're not getting out of this one. I worked so hard, and you squandered it!"
His brows furrowed. "Squandered what?"
"Feyre!" Her voice came out in a hiss, clearly not wanting to wake the girl in question, who was right across the hall. "I have words for you, dumbass. But we're going downstairs, because she's right there."
Perfect. He didn't have to get out of bed, so he wouldn't have to listen to whatever she had to say. What he did or didn't do with Feyre was his business, and the night before… Gods, he'd wanted to kiss her so badly, but his privacy had been stolen away, and making a move on her in the townhouse felt too vulgar, too close to an invitation straight into his bed, and he didn't want her to feel like just another one of his hookups. She was so much more than that.
She was everything.
So he just raised an eyebrow at his cousin, not moving to get out of bed at all.
Mor narrowed her eyes at him, matching his silence, then bent down. To do what, he wasn't sure.
At first.
It became clear after she strode over to his bed and smacked him in the shoulder with one of her slippers.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"That's for not listening to me." A feral grin blooms on her lips as she slaps him with her slipper again. "And that's for being the stupidest person this side of Prythian. Get out of bed, I have zero qualms continuing to hit you until you listen to me."
Rhys groaned, more annoyed than actually hurt by the shoe, but he certainly didn't want to keep experiencing it. "Fine! Fine, if I get up, will you quit resorting to physical violence as a method of coercion?"
She just arched an eyebrow, still managing to look imperious with rollers in her hair. "Up with you."
"Gods, fine, you're ridiculous."
He tugged a shirt on before starting down the stairs to the kitchen, Mor following closely behind him, slipper still in hand and poised to strike. When they got to the kitchen, he turned to her. "Say what you need to say."
"You didn't even kiss her last night?" Mor exclaimed, gesturing wildly with the slipper. "She looked fucking otherworldly in that dress, and you can't even kiss her? What is wrong with you?"
His hands raised in surrender, hoping to defend himself from any more shoe attacks. "I just… we were interrupted up in the observatory, and when we got back, it seemed like if I did anything it would look like I just wanted to hook up—"
Mor cut him off with a slipper to the chest. "You are so fucking stupid! No, I need something more than stupid, because that's what you are. Fucking useless sack of muscles with a sponge for a brain, and absolutely no sense of what's good for you!" She punctuated her point with another whack of her slipper that he managed to block with his hand.
"Mor, I just didn't want to give her the wrong idea—"
"Dumbass!" She shouted, forcing him further into the kitchen under threat of her slipper. "I got her to buy that stunning dress that shows off her tits and one of her gorgeous long legs—" another thwack of her slipper against his shoulder interrupted her impassioned speech, and Rhys turned to escape the onslaught— "Oh, no you don't! Get back here!"
He was on the verge of laughing at this point, amused by how impassioned Mor was about his crush on Feyre (Cauldron, 'crush' makes it sound so immature) and everything he hasn't done about it. But the slipper assault was far more pressing than humor, so he darted into the living room.
She followed easily, slapping at him without abandon. "I took her to get waxed with me— everywhere, for your information— and in that dress there was no way she was wearing panties—"
That pulled Rhys up short, and he whirled around to face Mor, nearly taking a slipper to the face because of it. Maybe it's shitty to turn around at the mention of something sexual, but shit, the mental image that hit him of his hand sliding up Feyre's bare leg, slipping under the dress to feel the smooth crease of her thigh, the heat of her— it was attention-grabbing. "What?"
"No. Panties." Mor repeated, smirking at him. "Regretting your actions yet?"
"I— fuck, Mor, you can't just say that and expect me not to react."
"Of course not. The whole point was to get you to react."
"Fuck you," he sighed, resisting the urge to chuckle at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. His cousin had basically coaxed her friend, who happened to be the girl that Rhys was in love with, into getting prepped and dressed up to entice him into making a move. It had nearly worked, too. If only they hadn't been interrupted in the observatory…
But Feyre didn't seem all that disappointed. And had she really been looking at him like she'd wanted him to kiss her, or had he been seeing what he wanted to see?
"I don't like that look on your face," she huffed. "Your brain is going weird places, I can tell. Now shut the fuck up and listen to me, Rhysand."
He put his hands up in surrender once again, falling back onto the couch. "I'm listening."
"You may be a stupid idiot of a man, but you're also my cousin who I love very much, so I'm going to say this as plainly as possible. If you don't take your chances, you will never have her. Sure, she could also make a move, but you hide your feelings from her so well, I'm not surprised she's still hesitant about whether or not you're into her. It's obvious to anyone else with eyes, because whenever she's not looking at you, you're staring at her like she hung the moon. But when she looks at you, you get all withdrawn." Mor halfheartedly thumps her slipper against his thigh. "Not all the time, but you need to be clearer. You need to make your move, Rhys. For someone so smart you're incredibly stupid.
"And just for some extra incentive, you're not the only one who thinks she's cute. If you don't fuck her soon, I just might do it for you."
Rhys had been listening, taking her words to heart because she was right, but that last bit— he didn't just think Feyre was cute. He was stupidly, ridiculously, irrevocably in love with her.
Mor smiled softly, as if she could tell exactly where his thoughts had drifted. "Just think about it, Rhys. You know I'm right."
He huffed, but he couldn't disagree. "I know. I just… I need it to be special for her. After her last relationship, she deserves something special, and she deserves to make that choice for herself."
"Whatever you do will be special to her," Mor murmured, patting him on the shoulder.
"You sound so sure of that," he ran a hand through his hair, tugging gently at the roots. "How can you be so sure?"
The laugh she gave him was answer enough, saying it should be obvious. "I know both of you. And also, I'm always right. You'd do well to remember that."
"Cauldron, enough of the 'always right' bullshit," Rhys laughed. "I am taking your points into consideration, I swear. I just need time."
Her brown eyes roll dramatically. "It better not be too much time, or I'm slipping into her bed to show her a good time."
"Mor!" He fought to snag her slipper out of her hand, but she wriggled free of his grasp and darted into the kitchen, laughing the whole way. "You're a fucking menace."
"Oh, yes. But I'm effective." She leaned casually against the counter to slide her slipper back onto her foot. "Now, do you want coffee or not?"
Now it was Rhys's turn to roll his eyes, but there was a fond smile on his face. And a new resolution in his mind. He'd ask Feyre out by the end of the semester.
"Yes, fine, I want coffee, please."