Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t know, are you sure you don’t want to put the candy corn in the middle? It seems a little lopsided,” Petra said. She leaned forward, resting her chin in one hand, her expression serious as she took in the candy charcuterie board that was laid out on the island in front of them.

“No. No, it’s fine. See, if we put the gummy worms in here—” Farah began.

“See, I knew you were going to say that, but I think we’ve already overdone the gummy worms.”

“—and move these around, it’ll balance things out,” Farah continued, unfazed, moving the gummy worms around to form a rainbow-sugared border between the candy corn and chocolate-covered marshmallows.

“Yeah, but that’s kind of a lot of gummy worms.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you bought like ten bags of gummy worms.”

“Yes, well,” Petra shrugged, grinning. “Some people get wine drunk, some people get gummy worm drunk.”

“Is that a thing that actually happens to people?” Farah said, narrowing her eyes skeptically at her, and Petra just shrugged, still grinning.

“Hey, up until a few months ago, I didn’t think vampires existed, either, so who knows what’s real anymore?” she asked, leaning her hip against the island, so she was standing next to Farah and facing her instead of the candy charcuterie. She reached down and hooked a pinky through Farah’s and squeezed, smiling down at her affectionately, and she felt something flutter inside her as Farah smiled softly in return, that little look on her face like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening to her.

That look never failed to make Petra feel like her whole world was suddenly brighter than she’d known was possible, a thousand new shades and hues revealed in the radiance of Farah’s happiness. It was the kind of look that made her want to be extra silly, to say something funny just so she could watch Farah’s mouth curve upward into another smile, so she could hear that little puff of breathless laughter, and see that look of adoration on her face.

“Hey. Do you want to hear a terrible joke?” Petra said, and Farah laughed immediately, her smile turning to a wide, delighted grin.

“Of course I do,” Farah said, bright eyes glittering with anticipatory amusement.

“Okay, okay. What kind of ship does Dracula like best?”

“I don’t know, what kind?”

“A blood vessel.”

Farah’s laughter rose and swelled in the quiet kitchen, and Petra felt that familiar flutter in her chest again, a tiny burst of joy.

“God, that really was terrible. That was so bad,” Farah said, her eyes still shining with laughter as she looked up at Petra, and Petra grinned, giving their pinkies another squeeze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, that’s not even the worst one I know,” Petra said.

“No?”

“Nope. It gets worse. Much worse.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Farah chuckled. “Okay. What else have you got?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me put the candy corn in the middle,” Petra grinned, raising an eyebrow at Farah, who gave a long-suffering sigh, though her eyes still glimmered with a mischievous light.

“Fine, but only if you promise you have at least two more equally terrible jokes to tell me after that,” Farah said.

“Deal,” Petra replied, and she felt that warm glow of happiness in her chest again, radiating out through her like sunlight.

Chapter Text

“It’s not funny.”

“Who’s laughing?”

“You are. You’re smiling.”

“Aww, babe. Can you blame me? You’re cute when you’re all ruffled.”

Holland scowled. “I’m not—” They brushed past another knot of shoppers, her breath coming out in a puff in the cold, “—ruffled.”

Felix laughed. It was a light sound, unburdened as ever as it tumbled over the murmur of the crowded Christmas market, and Holland felt it dance up the back of her neck. It pulled at something inside her: an odd flutter in her chest she didn’t know what to do with.

“Okay, okay,” he was saying, easy and amused. “Maybe ‘ruffled’ isn’t the best word…”

“Not the best word?” she echoed. “Honestly, I’d venture to say it might not even crack the top hundred.”

He laughed again, then, at that; his eyes were like a sunbeam splitting the clouds.

“Frazzled?”

She looked down, nudging a piece of gravel off the icy sidewalk with the toe of her boot. “That’s even more flattering.”

There was a shift in movement out of the corner of her eye, and when she looked up again, it was to find Felix had slowed his steps so that he was closer than before. Holland felt her mouth twitch.

“Adorable?”

He was beaming, his voice a conspiratorial whisper even as he slung an arm over her shoulders.

Holland gave a long sigh, like something loosened within her against her will. “You’re missing the point.”

“Nope,” Felix said cheerily. “I see the point, babe. I just think you’re looking at it from the wrong angle.”

They were rounding the corner of the square, the number of holiday stalls beginning to thin out with each step. Most of the stores along the street were shuttered, all closed up for the night, and aside from the odd pedestrian hurrying through the cold or bundled-up family leaving the market on the opposite end of the square, the town was quiet. Everything was bathed in moonlight, a kind of sleepy, faded-blue tone that made the cobblestones, the frost-touched grass, and even the wrought iron fencing along the storefronts look oddly otherworldly, like they’d wandered into some sort of monochrome dream. There was something…peaceful about it all. Serene.

Holland moved closer to his side automatically, to feel the soft heat of him bleeding through the heavy layers of fabric, chasing away the night’s chill. It was nice. Sometimes, she forgot she was cold at all until she remembered what it was to be warm.

Felix tipped his head towards hers. “There’s an easy fix to this, you know?”

Her bootfalls were softer on the sidewalk than they would’ve been at any other time of day. It was always like this, being out at night—it was like the entire world got just a little bit quieter, a little bit calmer, even when she was smack in the middle of town. Like nothing had any edges anymore, and everything that seemed sharp during the day was dulled into something soft and soothing.

She tipped her head back, glancing up at him. “Enlighten me.”

“You could just admit I was right.”

Holland snorted. “You weren’t right.”

The flash of his grin in the darkness was wide and instantaneous.

“Oh, I was so right.” He grinned down at her, eyebrows raised. “And deep, deep down—way, waaaaay down, maybe in a place that I could only find with the aid of advanced geological equipment—you know that.”

“I think you might be overestimating how deep—”

He kissed the tip of her nose, just a chaste brush of warmth in the crispness of the night, as quick and fleeting as the glimmer of a falling star. “Nah,” he breathed. His smile hadn’t slipped. “I don’t think I am.”

Holland took in a slow, measured breath. That strange little flutter in her chest was back. Something about the bite of the frost-chapped evening, or the shadowy blue darkness falling in silky waves over the square, or the soft glow of the multicolored lights strung between the nearby trees seemed to just…throw things off-kilter somehow. Almost like they were wandering along the borders of reality, treading across some strange threshold she could barely even admit existed.

Or maybe it was just him that made it feel that way.

“You,” she said, “have an incredibly high opinion of yourself.” But she was already giving in, lifting her arms and sliding them beneath his open jacket to wrap around his waist. She pressed close, her nose skimming up the column of his throat, breathing deep. “But since this is obviously so important to you…”

A smile against her hair, the edges of it clear and vibrant even if the expression itself wasn’t visible, like a landscape brightening under the rising sun.

“I appreciate that,” he murmured. There was a curl of humor in his words, and another of something warm, a crackle of kindling on a distant, unseen fire, “Almost as much as I appreciate the chance to say 'I told you so’ for the second time today—”

“Don’t push your luck,” she warned him, though the threat fell short even to her own ears. Her words were all fondness, a low murmur into his collar that made him tighten his arm over her shoulders. It felt nice to have that weight, something to lean into.

Felix just grinned, his eyes glittering in the moonlit darkness like bits of the sky had gotten stuck in them.

Chapter Text

Nat was halfway down the stairs when she heard the laughter. A soft, sweet sound that trickled through the halls like sunlight, gentle as a whisper, just barely making itself known. She followed the sound until she reached the living room, eyes lingering on the woman sprawled across the floor, giggling at the tiny bundle of fur currently batting at her fingertips as Petra wiggled her fingers back and forth along the rug. The kitten—a small, ginger tabby, all wide green eyes and twitching tail—seemed completely fascinated by her, curling itself against her palm and nipping gently at her wrist, earning itself another laugh in the process.

Nat smiled to herself, watching them for a moment before quietly clearing her throat to make her presence known. Petra’s gaze flickered up to meet hers, cheeks pink and a soft grin on her lips. “Hey,” she murmured, shifting her hand to properly cradle the kitten in her palm. “You’re back early.”

“The meeting was unexpectedly brief,” Nat explained, as she moved to settle beside her on the floor. “Though it seems I was gone long enough for you to pick up a stray while I was out. Was he on your list of supplies?”

“She,” Petra corrected, shifting to pull her knees to her chest so she could nudge herself a little closer to Nat’s side. “And no, she’s my weekend roommate. My neighbor from across the hall is out of town this weekend, and I offered to babysit. I thought I’d bring her by and surprise Farah.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted when she returns,” Nat said, as the kitten squirmed free of Petra’s hands and tumbled onto the ground, stumbling before repositioning herself to peer up at Nat curiously. “What’s her name?”

“Possum,” Petra replied, reaching out to pet Possum lightly along her back as she pawed at the rug, twisting so that she could brush against her fingers. “Don’t ask me why. I think there’s a story there, and maybe one day Emily will share it with me.”

“Perhaps,” Nat said, offering a finger to Possum to sniff. The kitten considered it for a moment before pressing her head against her finger and purring loudly. Nat smiled, scratching behind her ear, and Possum’s eyes fluttered shut. “She seems very sweet.”

“She’s a despot,” Petra corrected, grinning at her. “But a very cute one.”

Nat chuckled, nodding. “A benevolent dictator, perhaps.”

Petra’s smile widened. “Something like that,” she said, her attention shifting back to Possum, who’d given up on Nat’s attention in favor of batting at Petra’s shoelaces, attempting to catch one of the aglets in her mouth. “I’d say she’s more interested in being a menace than an actual leader, though.”

Nat hummed in agreement. Possum, seemingly pleased with herself, let out another loud purr, then scampered away from Petra’s feet to chase an errant sunbeam across the carpet, her tail swishing back and forth as she went. “Well, whatever her ambitions,” Nat murmured, her fingers catching at Petra’s and lacing through them, “I’m glad she brought you here this morning.”

Warmth sparkled in Petra’s eyes as she looked up again and she squeezed Nat’s hand, her thumb rubbing circles against her skin. “I’m glad to be here. Though admittedly, I didn’t really need much of an excuse to stop by today, so I probably can’t give her too much credit.”

“Oh?” Nat arched a brow, a hint of amusement creeping into her tone as she watched the kitten tumble around on the plush carpet.

“I was hoping I’d get to see you at some point today, actually. I missed you.”

A slow, warm smile unfurled across Nat’s features, and she leaned closer. “That’s quite the coincidence,” she breathed. “I missed you too.”