#Walter could read his mind but he prefer to give him some privacy so he never do it

[lexumpysfunland]

I feel like Walter would hypnotize Stanley with his eyes.

Nah, just kidding!

...

Unless...?

it happens. but with time Stanley is less affected by it. but Stanley never talked about it to Walter.

Walter doesn't do it on purpose-

#Walter could read his mind but he prefer to give him some privacy so he never do it #unless it's something urgent #don't stare into Walter's eyes for too long- #unless you are ready for it or immune to this kind of fuckery #narrator #tsp narrator #the stanley parable narrator #narratorverse #tsp #tspud #tsp stanley #tsp au #tsp art #insane!narrator

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 20- Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Summary: Frank and Fliss head off for their trip to Vermont…

Warnings:  Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  WOOHOOO MY MOJO IS BACK! And who better than to bring it back than FRISS! This one’s a LONG update, and I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not!!! I hope you all enjoy!! Happy New Year! Gotta thank @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for her Vermont knowledge that helped pull this all together.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 19

“How many times have you read that now?” Fliss asked as Frank pulled the well-worn copy of ‘Man’s Search For Meaning’ from the small carry-on bag.

“I have no idea.” Frank shrugged as he kicked the bag under the seat in front of him.

“It’s at least five in the time we’ve been together.”

“Well it’s my favourite.” Frank looked at her. “You know you should give it a go.”

“What’s it about and don’t say a man searching for meaning.” Fliss cut off his sarcastic response before he could utter a word and he chuckled.

“It’s about a guy in a Nazi concentration camp.” Frank explained. “It describes his psychotherapeutic method which involved identifying a purpose in life to feel positive about, and then actively imagining the outcome. Basically how meaning of life is found in every moment of living and that life never ceases to have a meaning, even in suffering and death.”

“So, light reading then.” Fliss snorted and Frank gave a chuckle.

“I used to recommend it to my second year students.” His fingers traced the cover gently. “One of the modules on the Metaphysics side of things focussed on Ontology which is the study of the nature of being, existence or reality, so to speak, which linked into the Philosophy of mind and studying mental properties, consciousness and the relationship that has to the physical body in particularly the brain.” He rambled off as he looked at Fliss. “The book has it all. It’s the reason I decided to study Philosophy and not Math”

Fliss smiled at him, her head cocking to one side. “You sound so passionate about it.”

“Well, I enjoyed it.” He let out a deep breath. “Safe to say Mother wasn’t a fan. She was, and is still, far too logically minded. She preferred the study of mathematical problems as oppose to fundamental ones concerning matters such as existence, knowledge, values and mind…” he trailed off “Maybe a little part of it was rebellion, I don’t know.”

“Do you miss it?” Fliss asked.

Frank took a deep breath “Honestly, yeah, sometimes.” He shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about going back but I wouldn’t even know where to start now. It’s been almost 10 years since I taught, the techniques will have all moved on.”

“Sure it wouldn’t take you too long to pick it up again.”

“I’m happy as I am, honey.” He smiled.“Maybe when I get older…”

“How much older do you wanna be?” Fliss teased “I mean you’re 40 next year.”

Frank shot her a look and she laughed, her hand squeezing his knee, but before he could reply the PA cut in and the Pilot spoke to them, announcing that they would soon be ready to commence their flight. It wasn’t long after that before they were asked by one of the hostesses to fasten their seat belts and the plane jolted as it pulled away from the stand and set off taxying to the runway.

Frank needn’t have bothered with his book after all, as their chat just continued as it usually did, and a beer or two later they were both surprised when the Captain announced the approach into Philly. By the time they’d gotten off the plane and made their way through the transfer line, they actually only had half an hour or so to spare so they grabbed a quick coffee each and made their way to the gate ready for the final leg. At quarter-to-three in the evening they touched down in Vermont and Frank didn’t miss the excitement in Fliss’ eyes as she turned to him and uttered one simple word through her grin.

“Snow!”

He chuckled and took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin below her knuckles, keeping his fingers laced into hers as they waited for the plane to come to a halt at the stand before they stood up. Frank stretched his arms above his head, flinching a little as Fliss reached out to tickle the strip of skin on his belly that had appeared thanks to his sweater riding up slightly. He grabbed her hand and arched an eyebrow as she giggled.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Cowgirl.” His voice dropped a little and it sent shivers down her spine as she bit her lip, peeking up at him with innocent eyes. Eventually, the line in the aisle started to move and Frank thanked a man who stopped to let them out, his hand warm on Fliss’ back as he guided her in front of him, dropping a kiss to her cheek as they made their way off the plane and into the airport.

By the time they’d gotten their luggage, which miraculously had made its way through without going missing,  and picked the hire car up it was almost half-three. Frank tossed their bags into the trunk of the shiny grey Ford Explorer as Fliss made her way to the passenger’s side.

“Oh my God it’s so cold!” she grinned as Frank climbed in to the seat beside her.

He laughed as he adjusted his seat “Dur, snow.”

Fliss rolled her eyes and set about retrieving the email confirmation she had on her phone. She keyed in the GPS and Frank gave her a quick smile before they set off.  The forty-five minute drive was full of laughter and an air of childish excitement. Fliss had settled on the Moscow area of Stowe, Vermont as it was less than fifteen minutes to the Ben and Jerry’s factory, and also within thirty minutes from the Smuggler's Notch resort for the weekly fireworks display. On Friday night they were heading out to the Ice Castles at Woodstock. That had been a total stroke of luck as the attraction normally closed early march but due to a slight delay in the opening this season thanks to some 'technical difficulties', whatever that meant, their last weekend open coincided with this one. Fliss had booked the five thirty to six pm time slot as recommended by Jake who had been with his kids the previous year, meaning they would be inside when it lit up.

The sun was starting to set as Frank pulled off Route 89 and they got a glimpse of the town for the first time. It didn’t escape Fliss as to how festive it looked, like a scene straight from a Christmas card with the snow-capped rooves on the red buildings and the bright white spire of the church. It was another ten minutes or so before Frank turned onto the road where their lodge was and Fliss pointed suddenly as she spotted the one they were looking for.

“That’s it. Adams Mill Cottage.”

Slowing down, Frank pulled up on the drive and cut the engine, the pair of them looking at their home for the next few nights. It was gorgeous. Set back off the road, someone had been and cleared a path from the drive to the door. The rear outside porch area which bent round the property in an L-shape was lit up with strings of rope and fairy lights, and Frank could see the steam rising from the hot tub as it snaked from under the covers, nestling in the privacy and shade of the hilly area the house was flush too, the rest of the private yard area was closed off by a wooden fence.

“Looks even better in real life than on the photos.” Fliss grinned. Frank looked at her, and she gave a little squeal of excitement before she yanked open the door another exclamation about it being cold hit his ears before the door shut behind him. Shaking his head at her enthusiasm he let out a little chuckle before he stepped out and followed her to the door where she was already working at the key safe, keying in the code she’d gotten on the confirmation. Frank grabbed the bags from the trunk and headed over to where Fliss was now unlocking the door. They both stepped inside what was to be their home for the next few nights, stamping their feet off on the mat before Frank closed the door.

“Wow…” Fliss muttered as she looked around, the smell of an open wood fire cascaded around the room and Frank took a deep breath through his nose, savouring it. He loved that smell, it reminded him of nights when he was a kid with his dad in front of the huge one they had at home, one that post his Father’s death had on the whole remained unlit as his Mom and Walter had preferred to use the central heating, lighting it only for weekends and special occasions.

They made their way into the living area to find it was cosily decorated in neutral colours, with a large grey L-shaped sofa, a light wooden floor which was partially covered by a cream and grey rug upon which a glass coffee table sat. But the thing that drew Frank’s attention was the huge stone chimney breast and fireplace in which the fire was crackling away. There were large windows on three sides of the room, which looked out onto the snowy garden area and he couldn’t help the sigh of satisfaction that left his mouth. This was his type of property. He loved their home in Pinellas, that was a given as they’d spent a lot of time decorating it to their taste but there was something about this type of cabin that he loved. Together they wandered through to the kitchen which was very farmhouse-like, adorned with silver, grey and white tiles and a huge Aga stove along one wall.

Fliss’ eyes grew wide as she took it all in, running her hand over the solid oak island in the middle before she glanced out of the patio doors and let out a happy little sigh.

“Oh Frank, I love it.”

He moved to hug her from behind as they both stood looking at the view.

“Just wait till we’re outside in the tub with that back drop!” Fliss beamed, nodding to where the little woodland edge met the lawn of the garden. Frank smiled, dropped a kiss to her cheek and then they continued their tour finding the bathroom and finally the bedroom which sported a large, king-sized bed with a huge grey headboard covered in a white and pink throw.

Frank placed their bags down, smiling.

“It’s beautiful.” Fliss turned to him, grinning, and Frank made a noise of appreciation as he undid his jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner.

“Like you.”

“Smooth!” Fliss laughed and he grinned, his hands falling to her hips as he pulled her close.

“You know me, all about the smoothness.” He quipped, rubbing his cheek against hers, his beard scratching her slightly and she squealed, attempting to get away, but he wasn’t letting go. Laughing, the pair of them pitched sideways onto the bed and Frank leaned over, kissing her gently. It wasn’t long before the kiss grew deeper and Frank pressed into Fliss, rolling her onto her back. Her hands tangled in his hair and his hands had just begun sliding their way up her top when there was a loud bang on the door that made the pair of them jump from surprise.

“Expecting someone?” Frank looked at Fliss who shrugged as he heaved himself up and made his way to the entrance hall, puzzlement overtaking any annoyance he had at being interrupted. He opened the heavy oak door it to be greeted by a kind faced man bundled up in a snow jacket and a hat, holding a box in his hands.

“Good evening!” he beamed at Frank “I have a delivery for Frankie and Titch?” The man’s eyes twinkled as he read the label and Frank snorted, there were only two people that called Fliss Titch, her dad and brother. And, given the use of the name Frankie, he’d lay odds on this was from Steve.

“Yeah, that’s us.” He smiled, reaching out to take it.

“Excellent. Welcome to Moscow.” He nodded as Frank took it “I’m from the Stowe Mercantile, and on behalf of myself and my wife we hope you enjoy your gift hamper. Feel free to pay us a visit. We’re on the high street.”

“I’m sure we will, and thanks.” Frank smiled at him as the man gave him a cheery little wave goodbye and headed back down towards his truck. Frank carried the hamper back to the kitchen where Fliss was examining the fridge which had been stocked with a little ‘Welcome package’ of basics such as milk, butter, bread, orange juice along with some Green Mountain Coffee Roasters pods for the coffee machine which stood in a little jar on the side.

“What’s that?” she asked, turning as Frank placed the box on the counter.

“A Hamper.” He said, taking the card off the top and handing it to Fliss to open.

She snorted as she saw who it was a dressed to and turned it over. “Frankie and Fliss, have a treat on me, Sian and the boys. Enjoy your time away and make sure you actually get out of bed enough to explore…” she read, shaking her head.“Idiot…”

“An idiot with good taste.” Frank mumbled, pulling out the bottle of Moet which was nestled in the hamper. When they dug further they found a bottle of decent Rioja, a Sancerre, a large block of Cabot Cheddar Cheese, some savoury crackers, chutneys, olives, croissants, some candy, Lake Champlain Chocolate, chips, breadsticks and dips.

“Looks like we got snacks for a while.” Fliss mused.

“And Sam Adams.” Frank grinned, holding up the four-pack. They stowed it all away, before they then took their bags into the bedroom and after quickly unpacking and, after changing into warmer clothes, they headed out, Fliss keying in the zip-code for Smugglers Notch.

They chatted as they went, laughing and joking about anything and everything and just like any time spent with his girl, it seemed to pass in a flash and after what felt like five minutes, but was in fact twenty-eight, Frank pulled their rented vehicle into a spot and they both climbed out, hastily bundling up into jackets, hats and scarves. Frank couldn't resist pulling the front of Fliss' pink woollen hat down over her eyes, just as he has done in New York, and she shoved him in the chest, her hand rustling against the fabric of his faux-fur trimmed SuperDry jacket, causing him to step back a little. He laughed as she set her hat straight and the two of them headed through the main entrance, winding round the side to the main area of the resort which was seemingly packed with visitors and locals alike. "This takes me back." Frank commented, a little nostalgia flooding his tone as he looked around at the various groups of people milling around. Some carried skis, others snow boards as they wound down from a day’s activity on the slopes, whilst others were simply there like they were for a few drinks and the fireworks. "Something I never learned to do." Fliss leaned into him, her right hand clutching his left, her left hand curling round his arm, almost hugging it to her. "I was never allowed in case I broke something that put me out of action." "Do you wanna learn?" Frank asked. She pondered for a moment and smiled "I dunno, is it hard?' "I found boarding easier than skiing." He mused. "Some people are the opposite though. Not sure I’d be able to do either anymore." "Maybe we should bring the kids for a long weekend, have a go." Fliss mused before she grabbed his arm tighter “Oh my God, we should so go sand boarding back home.”

Frank laughed. “I did it once, me and the guys. Jake ended up in the ER with bust ankle.” He sighed fondly. “It was a great day.”

“Maybe I could strap a line to Cap and get him to pull me.” Fliss mused and Frank looked at her, shaking his head.

“Can you not?” he sighed. “You already scare the crap out of me when you jump those damned fences.”

“I’ve jumped higher.” She shrugged

“Yeah, well, that was before you met me.”

“We could use your truck then.”

“No, Lissy.” He rolled his eyes.

She chuckled “Spoil sport.

“Behave.”

They continued to walk, passed the little stalls and shops pausing at one to grab a hot chocolate and a bag of warm sugared donuts. They ate and drank their treats, sitting on one of the benches outside, and Frank had just taken the last drink of his chocolate before something caught his eye and he gave a little sigh, his smile growing bigger.

“Oh shit, sugar on snow.” He breathed out softly, watching a family of four walking past clutching trays of the treat.

“What?” Fliss looked at him blankly.

“You never heard of sugar on snow?”

“Is that like a snow cone?”

“Kinda.” He looked at her, his eyes shining “They serve it in some places in Boston but it’s never the same. It’s hot maple syrup, served over actual snow, not ice.”

“Seriously?” Fliss grinned at the boyish excitement on his face and he nodded.

“Some people call it leather aprons, on account of the fact it goes kinda leathery in texture.” He explained “It’s fucking awesome, Lissy, I haven’t had it since I was a kid. A situation I feel that I should rectify right away.”

“Okay, Sailor, lead the way.”

With a grin, Frank hopped up, grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the vendor where they joined the queue and soon reached the front. Frank ordered two, paid and then draped his arm over Fliss’ shoulder as they watched the guy serving fill two trays with scoops of powdery snow from a large chest behind them. He passed the trays to the man to his left who stirred a large, metal pot full of hot, Maple Syrup which he then ladled over the snow.

“You guys want the sides?” the server asked and Frank nodded.

“Hold the donut but I’ll take the pickle.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Fliss held her hand out and turned to Frank. “Hold the donut but you’ll take the pickle? What the hell?”

The man behind the counter chuckled as Frank shrugged. “Yeah, the pickle cuts through the sweetness.” She looked at him, her face utterly perplexed and he laughed. “You like pickle, and you ate far worse when you were pregnant.”

“I happen to think my cravings were positively normal, thank you. Apple juice and chili fries.”

“Lissy, you dipped your McDonald’s fries in milkshake.”

“Steve does that anyway.” She shrugged.

“That doesn’t make it normal.”

“Neither is eating pickle along with syrup!” she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t know shit.” Frank scoffed before he turned back to the server. “I’ll take the pickle.”

“I won’t.” Fliss shook her head.

The server nodded and slid one tray over the counter. Frank moved, thanking him as he handed it to Fliss, taking the other with his precious pickle on the side. Fliss took a spoon full, and made an appreciative noise, nodding as Frank did the same and immediately was hit with a flood of nostalgia as he could remember as it was yesterday the last time he’d had this. A family trip with his mother, Diane and Walter to a resort not far from here actually.

“Oh God.” Fliss’ voice was muffled and Frank turned to see her chewing and he laughed “You weren’t wrong about it being like leather.”

“It’s like taffy, but not.” He shrugged and with that he raised the pickle and took a huge crunch, grinning at her as he chewed. She gave a laugh again, shaking her head.

“That’s disgusting.”

“C’mere baby.” His voice was muffled on account his mouth was full of pickle, as he bent towards her and she laughed harder, shoving him away. He swallowed in between his chuckles, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head as they made their way over to where the majority of the crowd had gathered awaiting the fireworks.

They didn’t bother trying to push to the front, fireworks went up after all, and soon enough the music grew louder and someone spoke over the PA welcoming them all to the weekly fire work display. Leaving Fliss for a second to dispose of their empty snow containers in a nearby trash can, Frank returned and wrapped her arms around her from behind, pulling her back to his chest, dropping another soft kiss to her cheek. She smiled and leaned against him, happy for him to hold her and then the crowd let out a gasp as the first rocket flew into the air and burst into a huge bloom of gold and red.

The fireworks were spectacular. Screaming rockets, silent ones, crackling ones, ones that were colourful, ones less so, but what Frank was watching most of the time was Fliss’ face. Her mouth stayed in a constant smile for the full fifteen minute display, her eyes wide, the bright explosions reflected in those deep brown orbs as she followed the trail of lights against the clear, starry sky. The last time they’d all seen fireworks was a display held on the beach for the fourth of July last year, but Fliss was staring at them like she hadn’t seen any for years. Frank couldn’t be sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion she was lost in the romance of the situation, the pair of them being alone, on a cold evening, wrapped up surrounded by snow. With a smile he kissed her cheek again and tuned his attention back to the sky as the finale ramped up in a cacophony of colour, explosions and yells of awe from kids and adults alike in the crowd.

“Enjoy that?” Frank’s nose nuzzled at the spot behind Fliss’ ear and she smiled, tilting her head to look at him.

“Yeah, did you?”

“Absolutely.” He beamed. “It was awesome.”

“Took me back a few years” she grinned, turning to face him. “You ever heard of Bonfire Night in the UK?”

“Remember, remember the fifth of November.” He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think the last firework display I saw whilst wrapped up against the cold was Bonfire Night in 2011.” She mused. “Stanley Park in Liverpool. No snow though, just pissing down rain.” She took a deep breath “There’s just something magical about being all wrapped up whilst watching them.”

Frank smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Anything else you wanna do?”

“Hot cider.” She nodded, and Frank grinned, his arm round her shoulder as they made their way back towards the drinks cabin.

An hour or so later, the little bar seemed to fill up almost all at once and both of them decided to call it a night. As they wandered back to the car, Frank gently kissed Fliss’ cheek as his arm curled around her shoulder and she smiled at him.

“You’ve been kissing me a lot tonight, Sailor.”

“I don’t ever intend on stopping.”

“Even when we’re married? I mean, isn’t that when all the romance is supposed to go to shit?”

“Only if you marry an asshole.” Frank spoke without thinking and then let out a little groan. “Fliss, I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” She said gently “I know you didn’t. Don’t worry.”

Frank bit his lip, cursing himself as they continued towards the car, before he sighed and shook his head. “You know, I’ll always be in awe of how you just deal with it, you know. Everything you went through and you came out the other side…and now…” "It wasn’t easy.” Fliss replied after a second or two, her hand gently playing with Frank's as his arm was draped over her shoulder. "Sometimes I don’t know how I did it. But, I do know one thing though." "What's that?" "I never thought I'd trust someone again enough to be…well, intimate with them, let alone fall completely and utterly head over heels in love." She took a deep breath before she leaned into Frank as his arm tightened around her. “And then you showed up that day with Mary and broke down every wall I'd put up, Adler. And you did it so damned quickly. I mean I don’t know why but there was something about you that made me know I could trust you straight away. And...oh I'm rambling on as usual." She waved a hand and Frank took a deep breath, pulling her closer. "It was the same for me you know.” He told her and she glanced up at him as they walked. "How so?" "The way Mary hugged you, the first time she met you. She’s never been that open with people. As we drove away that day she turned to me and said 'you like her'. Simple statement but I did. She was right."  Frank looked ahead as they rounded the corner to the parking lot "I knew from our first kiss on that boat that this was it for me. Everything I had no idea I needed and then some in this tiny little red-headed fire cracker." Fliss laughed and nudged him slightly and he grinned. "And you still gave me a chance. I mean there was the whole thing with Bonnie." Frank took a deep breath. "And I wasn't the easiest person to be around when the court case was going on." "No, you weren't." Fliss agreed. “But you were going through a tough time. Even if I hadn't had feelings for you that way, I'd have been by your side regardless. You know, that right?" Frank stopped by the side of their rented car and turned to face her, taking both her hands in his "Yeah, I do. Because, well, because you’re fucking amazing. You're just the most gorgeous person inside and out, Lissy, and every damned day I wake up next to you and wonder how I got so fucking lucky." "Frank!" Fliss gave a little sniff as her eyes filled with tears and he smiled, his hand gently cupping her face as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was slow, deep and loaded with feeling, Fliss' hands dropping to his waist, her fingers curling around the cold material of his jacket as she let herself go, losing herself in the romance of the moment as they stood in the parking lot at the base of the mountain, surrounded by snow. When they finally broke apart, Frank pressed his forehead to hers, smiling softly. "Come on, let’s go before we freeze to death." Fliss laughed, "Not much chance of that with you to keep me warm." Frank narrowed his eyes. "Is that a fat joke?" At that she laughed harder. “Absolutely not." Her hands squeezed his slim hips and she blinked up at him, knowing just how sensitive he was getting to the fact that, thanks to him now being effectively behind a desk all day, he was having to work harder at keeping in shape. He'd picked up running at the start of the year and was now also using the weights he had in the workshop area of the garage to keep himself as toned as he could. But to Fliss it didn't matter a jot. He was perfect to her. "But just so you know, if you do put on weight, it just means there's more of you for me to love."

******

Once back home they debated hitting the hot tub for an hour but they were both tired from the early start so settled instead for a cozy drink in front of the fire in the living room. After checking in at home, speaking to Verity and Mary, Verity assuring them that both kids were fine, Fliss headed for a shower as Frank checked a few emails from work on his phone as he lay on the bed. When she walked back into the room he hopped up, gave her another deep kiss before he headed off, jumping a little as she slapped his ass as he passed. He gave her a smirk over his shoulder as he wandered barefoot down the hall and into the bathroom.

Once showered he dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a plain white t-shirt before he headed into the living room to find Fliss in a pair of dark green plaid flannel sleep pants and a hooded top, her hair piled on top of her head as she sat in front of the fire, a glass of red win in her hand, simply watching the flames.

“You okay, honey?” he asked and she turned to look up at him, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s just been a while before I sat in front of a fire in the evening.” She said as he dropped a hand to the back of her head. She pat the rug besides him and grinned “Pull up a seat, Sailor.”

“Let me grab a drink and I’ll be with you.”

“Way ahead of you, Francis.” With a grin she gestured to the table behind her and Frank chuckled as he saw the bottle of red wine perched in the middle along with an empty glass waiting for him. He poured himself a helping, topped her glass up and then with a little groan he settled onto the floor, his back resting against the coffee table, legs spread to allow Fliss to shuffle back against him, her chest resting against his back.

“You had a good evening?” She asked, turning her face to look at him.

“The best, thank you.” He smiled, kissing her softly. With a contented sigh she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I was with you, how could I not?” Frank’s hand traced up the outside of her arm, lips brushing the top of her head as she leaned back a little more, her back resting fully against his chest. They sat in silence for a little while, enjoying the relative peace that wasn’t so forthcoming at home with two kids and busy jobs. The last few days had been particularly manic, Fliss pushing full steam ahead with the plans for the expansion had meant they’d had a few late evening consultations with Bill and the architect Steve had recommended as they discussed the best options. Then there had been Tuesday, when Fliss had called him in a flap as her jeep had broken down outside the store for the third time in as many weeks.

“Have you decided about your car yet?” Frank asked what was on his mind and Fliss shook her head.

“No.” She sighed “Can you not fix her?”

“I keep fixing her.” He replied “But, it’s only a matter of time before the damned thing gives up for good. Why don’t you look at one of the Audi’s you like? We don’t need two huge cars. I got the truck so...”

“Maybe. I want to get the wedding paid for first.”

“We don’t have much left to pay.” Frank reasoned. “The Banquet tent and food trucks are settled up. We just have the bar and the entertainment to sort really.”

“Decorations, dance floor hire, oh, and photographer.” Fliss mused “Although Bonnie said her sister’s husband is a pretty good amateur one. I might ask her for his number.”

“Sounds good.” Frank dropped another kiss to her head.

“Oh, and we should probably sort the invitations.”

“Yeah, that…” Frank chuckled, “that’s pretty key I suppose.”

“I thought…” Fliss tipped her head to face him, “I thought it would be nice if we wrote the invitations from Mary and Alex. You know, like it’s usually Mrs and Mrs Parents-Of-The-Bride request your presence bla bla bla…I’d like to ask Mary to suggest something.”

Frank smiled, his head cocking to one side slightly. “I think she’ll love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, shifting so he could take another sip of his wine, which was exceptionally good and going down pretty damned well. “She’s as excited about the wedding as we are. Probably a little more actually.”

“Speak for yourself.” Fliss snorted, swallowing a mouthful of her drink “I can’t wait.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Frank rolled his eyes as Fliss laughed and she gently titled herd head round to look at him and reached up, scratching her nails of her left hand into his beard.

“I know Sailor, keep your hair on.”

“You know I can’t wait to make you Mrs Adler.”  Frank told her, dropping his head to catch her lips in a soft kiss. Fliss smiled as he pressed his head to hers, their noses bumping slightly before she moved and settled back into the position she had been in before, the back of her head once more resting against Frank’s chest.

“You know, I have a funny feeling Dad’s gonna give us a check towards it anyway.” She took a deep breath “He paid for Steve’s wedding, well, half. Sian’s parents paid the other.”

Frank shifted a little, “You think?”

Fliss shrugged “I don’t know. He’s never given anything to one of us and not the other so. He didn’t give a penny towards…” she trailed off and took a deep breath.

“That’s probably because you were marrying a cunt.” Frank shrugged and Fliss scoffed, shaking her head before she let out a little sigh and then Frank saw her shoulders sag a little, one hand running round the top of her wine glass as the other clutched the stem.

“I sometimes wonder how I got it so wrong you know? Like how I ever fell for him in the first place.”

“Hey.” Frank gently pulled her to him a little more, “Don’t do this, not tonight. None of that was your fault.”

“I know, but…”

“No buts, Lissy.” Frank shook his head, his tone a little stern. “He was an abusive piece of shit. Don’t go there, not tonight.”

Her head dropped and Frank took a deep breath, before he reached out and gently plucked the wine glass from her hand, setting it on the coffee table he was leaning against along with his own.

“Baby, look at me.” He instructed gently. After a seconds pause she knelt up and turned around, sitting back on her heels as she looked at him, large brown eyes dancing in the firelight, full of a melancholy that wasn’t quite sadness, but still enough to tear his gut apart at the fact she could still be so self-doubting. “Sorry I snapped and I’m sorry for bringing him up, again.” Frank looked at her, his hand gently brushing her hair back off her face. “I didn’t mean to.”

She looked at him for a second before she shuffled forwards a little and Frank dropped his legs flat so she could straddle his thighs, his large hands falling to her hips as she gently smoothed her hands up his ribbed T-shirt, her eyes following her fingers.

“You know, it’s kinda funny really” she spoke softly, her fingers still trailing his chest.

“What is?”

“Life, when you think about it. I mean, what I went through was shitty. What happened to you and Mary, you know with Diane was shitty.” Fliss took a deep breath, her hands pausing, palms flattening over his pecs. “But if it hadn’t happened, we would never have met. We’d never have had Alex.”

“True.” Frank breathed out as her eyes flicked up and locked onto his as he gave a small smile. “Is this where you tell me it was fate?”

“Maybe.” Fliss shrugged, before she raised an eyebrow. “Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.”

“Lemony Snicket?” Frank chuckled his question and Fliss grinned, nodding.

“Mary was reading it the other day.”

“Well I’m glad to know I’m one of the things you do like” Frank arched an eyebrow. “Okay, if we’re dropping quotes, how about this one. Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”

Fliss pondered for a second, shrugging. “I like it but, no idea who said it.”

“Marcus Aurelius.” Frank informed her.

“Ok, Professor.” she sassed, her hands now curling over his shoulders, and Frank laughed, “Now tell me who said this. You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it.”

“Oooh.” Frank pondered, “That almost sounds Shakespearean?”

“Close.” Fliss grinned “Goldie Hawn”

“Fahk off!” Frank tipped his head back, chest vibrating as his familiar laughter filled the room and Fliss snickered a little bit. He looked back at his girl as his chuckles subsided, saying nothing for a moment, simply studying her pretty face. Her eyes were full of warmth as she curled her hands round his shoulders before one moved to the back of his neck, her nails gently grazing at the skin below his hair line. He gave a sigh, his mouth curling up into a soft smile “I love you so fahkin much Cowgirl.”

“Love you too, Sailor.” She replied, her voice quiet, before she shuffled even closer, her head dipping to his.

The kiss was soft, gentle, Frank’s hands moving to her back, under the hoody she was wearing, splaying against her skin as he held her close to him. He felt Fliss shift a little, her hands dancing downwards, gripping the hem of his Tee. He moved back slightly, allowing her to pull it off, mimicking her actions by dragging her top over her head, along with the camisole she had on under it, before he gently lay her down on the rug in front of the fire place. He shimmied out of his sweats, before he dragged Fliss’ pyjama pants down her legs, leaving them both completely naked, and he gently grasped her right ankle in his hand. He kissed his way up her smooth leg, his mouth hot and wet, short beard scratching against her skin. He continued mapping his way up her body with his mouth, and when he reached her breasts, Fliss arched her back, letting out a soft groan as his mouth gently sucked on one nipple, his hand tweaking at the other.

“Look at you.” He whispered gently against her skin as his tongue continued teasing her, worshipping her with his mouth, the way she deserved. His beautiful Lissy, his girl, so fucking precious it was beyond comprehension to him how anyone could have ever wanted to hurt her. The mere thought was abhorrent and he screwed his eyes up as he felt the tears rushing forwards as he fought the image from his head, and he swallowed, his mouth pausing a little against her breast as he took a shuddering breath.

“Frankie.” She whispered his name, and he opened his eyes to look up at her, her hands moving to cup his face and he pushed himself upwards, as his lips crashed to hers in a desperate, needy kiss. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth as her hands tangled in his hair and she let out a little whimper, tipping her hips up to meet his and the feel of her press against him made him groan, breaking the kiss. Her head fell back, bearing her neck to him and Frank shifted, taking his weight on his palms, caging her between his arms and legs as he pressed soft kisses up her throat.

Fliss felt the warmth in her belly mounting, that familiar ache between her legs was becoming more and more intense, to the point it was almost unbearable. She needed relief, and she wasn’t above begging. “Please, Frank,” she croaked out, her breath coming in deep, ragged pants as her hands dug into his broad back, “I need you.”

“Oh, baby, you got me. Always.”  Frank’s breath was hot on her ear, as he gave that spot on her neck a little nip, dropping to his elbows. His hands snaked up both her arms pulling them from round his back, the points where her nails had been biting into his skin still stinging slightly. He laced his fingers with hers, pressing her hands down at either side of her head as he moved, Fliss shifting underneath him and with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips he sank into her, his head dropping slightly as she fluttered around him, the sound she made almost enough to make him blow there and then.

The feeling of relief at having him inside her caused Fliss’ chest to hitch and her eyes closed momentarily, before she took a shuddering breath as Frank began to slowly roll his hips against hers, each thrust deep, measured, deliberate as he dragged himself against languidly in and out of her. She opened her eyes to see him watching her face intently as her eyes locked onto his, the pupils of those baby blues she loved were blown with desire.

“Frank, you feel so good,” she moaned and he let out a groan of his own at her words, keeping his movements steady, almost leisurely as he continued to watch, her mouth slackening, breathing quickening as he knew she was approaching her peak. When her orgasm rolled over her, she gave a loud cry and melted underneath him,  her nails digging into the skin beneath his knuckles as he picked up the pace, rutting into her a little faster, desperate for his own relief. It didn’t take him long at all, and he felt his stomach tightening and with a hiss and a loud “Fahk” he came with a final deep thrust, his fingers tightening around hers before he collapsed forward, burying his head against her neck.

A quiet bliss, surrounded them like a bubble, keeping them safe from the world, as the room was silent bar the sound of their deep breathing and the crackling of fire as they lay tangled with one another. Fliss’ extracted her hands from his to gently rake one through the back of his hair, the other trailed lightly over the back of his shoulder blades and Frank gave a soft hum of contentment, his eyes closing as they lay still, neither of them wanting to move. Fliss pressed a soft kiss to his warm, clammy forehead and Frank rolled over onto his back with a little sigh, pulling her with him so that she was draped over his chest as he lay between her and the coffee table.

“Can we just stay here?” Fliss asked quietly, and Frank glanced down at her as she pressed her cheek to his chest.

“Whatever you want, Honey.” He agreed, his head looking around before he spotted the blanket on the sofa “Just sit up a moment.”

“Frank!” she whined and he laughed, pushing himself up and jostling her off his chest. “Asshole.”

“I just loved on you well, in front of the fire, and that’s the thanks I get?” Frank hopped up. “Being called an asshole?”

Fliss grinned as she propped herself up on her elbow and watched him, scanning up his legs and strong thighs, taking in his bare ass before she followed his back muscles to those broad shoulders which rippled slightly as he reached over to grab the tartan throw. He turned back to face her and she grinned as his eyes blatantly roved over her in the same way as she lay side on, completely naked, her hair falling over her shoulders.

“You should look like that all the time.” He remarked as he dropped back down and gently wrapped them both in the blanket. “Freshly fucked and naked.”

“Yeah, not so easy when you’ve got a 10 year old and a 7 month old to look after.” She chuckled as she lay her head on his chest. His hand gently carded through her hair and he sighed.

“True.” he looked down at her as she glanced up at him, her chin resting on his chest “But we got a coupla days without them. Maybe I’ll just keep you like this for the duration.”

“Fine by me Sailor. There’s only one slight problem.”

“What’s that?”

“You keep me here, no Ben and Jerry’s on Saturday.”

“That is a dilemma indeed.” Frank mused, “Okay, maybe Saturday I’ll let you out.”

“Good to know where I feature on your list of priorities.” Fliss scoffed and Frank chuckled.

“You can have a lot of fun with ice cream cowgirl.” He smirked, dropping a kiss to her head.

  ***** Frank woke the next morning feeling thoroughly relaxed. He stretched a little where he was lay on his stomach, arms folded under his pillow and raised his head, turning to look at Fliss. She was lay on her back, facing towards him, one arm bent by her head, the other across her chest. She looked so peaceful, her mouth open just a smidge, hair splaying over the pillow. He shifted onto his side, and moved closer to her, pressing a soft kiss to forehead, trailing his lips down her nose to her mouth.

She gave a little sigh, her eyelids fluttering as he kissed her again and he felt her smile, lazily against his mouth.

“Morning, Honey.” He said gently and she gave a little hum of contentment, her sleepy eyes opening to look at him.

“Morning, handsome.” She smiled as he pushed himself up a little to give her a deep kiss, hovering the top half of his body over her slightly. The kiss became soft touches, which led to more urgent touches, and soon he was buried inside of her, his movements lazy as he made love to her, their bodies pressed together as close as could be.

It set the tone for the remainder of the morning, nothing urgent or pressing to do. The time was theirs and theirs alone. After showers they ate breakfast and checked in with the kids before they bundled up and took a short walk into the little town centre, taking a peek in the shops, making a few purchases before they had lunch and then headed back to their cottage. Frank walked up the steps on the porch to unlock the door, and he had just turned round to look at Fliss when he was hit square on the chest with a snowball. He paused, watching as the icy glob slid down the front of his coat and he glanced up to see Fliss stood at the bottom of the steps, laughing.

“Good shot.” He arched an eyebrow.

“Not really, I was aiming for your face.” she tipped her head back, laughing harder as he blinked.

“My face.” he blinked as she nodded. “Oh, Sweetheart, you’re gonna be sorry!”

Her laughter died down as he began to stalk towards her, his pace slow and she stepped back a little before she gave a playful shriek and set off running as best she could in the deep snowfall. Frank dipped down, grabbing a handful of the snow which he rolled into a ball and sent it flying where it hit her right in between her shoulder blades. She screamed, punctuated by more laughter as she bent down and scooped up some more, turning to fling it at him. Frank raised his arm to block it and it exploded on the sleeve of his jacket, and at that he shot forward. She began to back away and just as he reached her she stumbled and flailed backwards. Frank caught her, and pitched them round, the momentum sending them both crashing into the soft snow, Fliss landing with a thud on top of him.

The pair of them were laughing that hard, neither could breathe properly, but Frank somehow managed to gain enough control to grab a scoop of the powdery snow and shove it straight down the back of her coat.

“Oh my god, you asshole!” she shrieked as she felt the cold liquid dribble down her back. “Fuck, shit!”

“I warned you yesterday about startin’ things you can’t finish!” he laughed as she shook her head, shivering.

“Well, I like to live dangerously.” Her laughter subsided and she bent down to give him a soft kiss, her cold, slightly red nose brushing against his. “Ever had sex in the snow?”

He laughed. “Can’t say I have, although I’m not sure I’d be able to. It’s that cold my balls have retreated into my stomach.”

She broke into another fit of giggles before Frank pushed himself up onto his elbows, jolting her slightly and together they got to their feet and headed inside to warm up. After a change into dry clothes and a hot chocolate each, Frank went out to set the car running so it would be warm for their grip out to New Hampshire. Fliss packed a bags with snacks for the trip and at little after three in the afternoon they set off.

There was plenty to see on the way, the landscape was breath-taking, Fliss’ eyes bright as she took it all in, Frank smiling at the joy on her face.  About an hour into the journey, Frank felt Fliss’ eyes watching his profile as he drove so he arched an eyebrow slightly, sneaking a glance at her.

"What?"

"Nothing just,” she reached out to gently twine her hand in his hair, “never noticed before but you're getting a few grey-" "Fucking fuck you." He shot, jerking his head away from her hands as she laughed, her head falling back against the head rest of the seat. "So angry, Adler." "Angry Adler?" Frank arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like some kind of poisonous snake." "You got a snake but it aint poisonous." Fliss grinned and Frank snorted. "Flattery will not detract from the fact you just called me old." "That’s not what I said." Fliss shook her head. "I merely commented on the fact your hair is...: "Going grey, ergo pertaining to the fact I'm getting old!" Fliss shrugged. “I’m kinda down for the silver fox look." "Silver fox?" Frank laughed, looking at her. "That what I am?" "Not yet." Fliss shrugged before she grinned and turned to him. “At the moment you're just a D-B DILF" Frank let out a little laugh, shaking his head. "Let me guess. A Dirty Boat Daddy you like to fuck?" "Damned straight" Fliss smirked, her fingers lacing through his.

Once they arrived they followed the direction from the parking attendant and climbed out, wrapping themselves up before Frank took Fliss’ hand and they headed over to join the queue for their time slot.

“Wow.” Frank heard Fliss breathe out as she got a look at the huge structure that loomed in front of them. Frank smiled, it had been years and years since he’d been here.

“Wait till it goes dark.” He smiled, “It’s something else.”

It didn’t take them too long to get inside, and Frank watched Fliss eyes grow wide with awe as she spotted the huge towers which were dripping with molten-looking ice as they walked through the huge cavernous opening. As per Jake’s recommendation they headed straight for the slide. The line to get on was already huge, but both of them were adamant they wanted to go on it so they waited patiently, Frank chatting to Fliss and giving her a little bit of factual history about how the castles were made. Eventually they reached the front of the line some forty minutes later, and the attendant there asked if they wanted to go down together, which of course they did. Frank hopped down first, Fliss settling between his legs and he gripped her hips, leaning forward.

“Ready?”

“Just push off already, Sailor!” she laughed, and with a snort he sent them sliding down the glassy sheet of ice. Fliss laughed as they sped down the chute, the twists and turns jolting them slightly. It wasn’t as smooth as he expected and when they hit a particularly bout of bumpy rivets, Fliss letting out a squeal, Frank was glad he had a padded coat under his ass or his tail bone would have been protesting. Their slide was over after little more than thirty seconds, and whilst it might have been a ridiculous amount of time to queue for half a minute or so of fun, Frank had to admit as they slowed to a stop at the end, that sliding through an Ice Castle with his girl in front of him, was a pretty awesome experience that he’d queue for all over again.

Together they made their way off to the side and had just set off to explore when suddenly the Castle lit up inside with thousands of LED coloured lights. Fliss mouth dropped open as the opening bars to ‘Let It Go’ from Frozen started to play and the lights followed some form of choreographed routine to the music. They stopped to watch, just like everyone else seemed to have done and when it was over, most people started to clap and cheer.

“Does that happen again?” Fliss looked at Frank as they began to walk through to a smaller room. “The light show?”

“I think so.” He nodded. “From what I remember it does it periodically.”

As they walked through the Castle exploring, it felt like around every corner there were hidden surprises. They found ice sculptures of animals and birds, tunnels which led into smaller caverns with spectacular icicle details hanging above from the ceilings, ice thrones, glowing ice orbs and even a fountain. Fliss took as many photos as she could, even accosting some random guy to take a shot of them together in one of the smaller rooms they found.

After an hour or so they were confident they’d seen everything there was to see so they made their way back to the entrance, Fliss’ arm looped through Frank’s as they strolled over to one of the temporary wooden shacks set up which was serving hot drinks and snacks. They both took a hot cider each and headed to a little table, sitting down.

“The kids would love it in there.” Fliss smiled, taking a sip.

“I was just thinking that.” Frank nodded. “I’m definitely sold on a family winter weekend away.”

“Maybe next year.” She mused. “I mean we can’t this year, what with the wedding and then Disney.”

“Yeah, yeah we do.” Frank smiled. A week to Disney with the kids was what they had settled on as a sort of honeymoon, but post that he had a little something else up his sleeve, something that she was going to have no idea about until it was time for them to go.

“I can’t wait to see Mary’s face when we tell her we’re all going to the house of the mouse.” She grinned

“Yeah, she’ll be almost as excited as you.” Frank raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m a huge kid at heart.”

“No shit.” He replied and she laughed.

“Oh don’t act like you aint. I heard you giggling away in there when we were on that slide.”

“Well…” He leaned over the table, smiling slightly. “You bring out my inner child, what can I say?”

Fliss grinned and leaned over to give him a soft kiss before she pulled back and smiled, giving a sigh. “Suppose we should head back, it’s getting a little late.”

Frank was loathe to concede she was right. They finished their drinks and headed back to the car, Fliss taking a fond look back at the Ice Castle before climbing into the car. By the time they got back, the pair of them were starving, so the hot tub went another night without use as they made a very good sized dent into the Hamper that Steve had sent them. Once they’d  drunk another few glasses of wine they collapsed into bed with full bellies, snuggled together, falling into a comfortable and deep sleep.

***** Fliss woke the next morning before Frank and so she gently kissed his cheek, slipped from the sheets and pulled his hoody over her top as it was a little chilly. She turned up the thermostat and then headed into the kitchen to make a coffee before she settled in the little living room with her book. But she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind was wandering to the kids and she was feeling a little lost now without them. She hadn’t been apart from Alex for more than a night before, and she couldn’t help but miss him, and Mary too.

With a deep sigh she turned the TV on, flicking through the channels and little over half an hour later, Frank padded in, his hair all over the place as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“You’re up early.” He said, flopping down next to her, giving her a quick peck.

“I know.” She shrugged. “Think I’m just used to being up early with the kids.” Frank yawned, stretching his legs out, feet resting on the edge of the coffee table as Fliss nestled into him. “Is it wrong that I miss them?”

“No.” Frank gently rubbed his hand up her arm as she gave a little sniffle, pressing her face into his t-shirt. “I miss them being here too. Don’t get upset, Honey.”

“I’m sorry, this is pathetic.”

“It’s not. But uou know what is?” Frank looked down at her, wiping her tears gently. “How excited this thirty-nine year old is about going to an ice cream factory.” At that Fliss spluttered a soft laugh and Frank smiled. “The kids will be fine, Alex is too young to even know we’re gone and, well, Mary won’t care. Not with your mom, dad and Steve fussing over her.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m right or that I’m pathetic?”

“Both.” She smiled up at him and Frank gave a little snort.

After a lazy breakfast they headed into town again for another little walk, Frank skipping lunch so he could eat as much ice cream as humanly possible. Then they made the short drive to Waterbury, the brightly coloured Ice Cream factory making Frank grin like a child as they pulled into a parking space.

“You now, this is basically my childhood dream.” He grinned at Fliss as they climbed out of the car and she rolled her eyes, chuckling to herself.

“Low aspirations there, Sailor!”

He shrugged and they headed inside, Fliss handing her reservation number over to the assistant and they were directed down to the lobby. As they walked, they took in the artwork that adorned the walls detailing the history of the company, which made for an interesting browse. But as soon as they crossed the threshold of the lobby, it was the smell that got them both. It was sweet, notes of vanilla and sugar making them both smile. Whilst they waited in line for their tour to start, they scanned the flavor map that was on the wall, both pointing at various places, and then a bell rang.

“Good afternoon!” A cheery voice spoke and they both turned to the front to see a man stood on a little box, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. “My name is Ben, yes, that is my real name but sadly, no, I’m not the Ben.” A few chuckles rang out. “I’m merely a tour-guide, your tour-guide for the next hour or so in fact. But, before we start I need to tell you a couple of the usual boring housekeeping rules…”

Ben, not the Ben, ran through the usual emergency protocols and stuff, before he clapped his hands together and smiled.

“So, the first stop is the theatre room where you’ll watch a short video on the creation and mission of Ben & Jerry's. No one does ice cream better than BJ. And, as I’m sure most of you will know, BJs come in all sorts of flavours and rarely fail to satisfy.”

At that Frank gave a snort along with a couple of other adults on the tour at the innuendo and Fliss nudged him, grinning at his dirty mind.

“We have a worldwide reputation for excellence, quality, and flavors that are, quite frankly, unparalleled by any other ice cream maker in the world.” The tour guide continued. “Right here, in the town of Waterbury, the Ben & Jerry's factory has been operating since 1985 and it continues to create just as many delicious ice cream flavors as it did when it first opened.” He smiled “Right, so if you would follow me, I’ll take you through. The film is only about five minutes long or so but quality over quantity and after that then the fun really begins.”

A door to their right swung open and the group headed inside, Frank and Fliss taking seats at the back. The lights dimmed and a colourful cartoon began to show, running over the history of the company. Frank, being an avid fan, already knew most of it but to Fliss it was a nice bit of background information.

The little film finished and the lights flicked on again and Ben once more appeared at the front.

“So, now you have the scoop on Ben & Jerry’s…” He began and a few people, including Frank, groaned at the pun and the man held up an apologetic hand. “Yes, I know and I’m sorry to say you’re gonna hear more awful puns as we go along. In fact my legen-dairy puns are actively cone-doned here.”

Frank let out a chuckle as did Fliss.

“Ok, without further ado, let’s go!” The tour guide smiled.

Following in the middle of the group, Frank and Fliss were led into the main factory area where they were able to peer through a glass overlook and look down on the operation below. The ice cream-making process was ongoing and the tour guide began to identify various points of the production process. Frank watched the workers down below, operating the various pieces of equipment, fascinated by it all. They were there for about twenty minutes or so as the manufacturing process was explained, and then they were led to the room which was the one Frank was dying to see- The Flavour-Building room.

Simply put, he was in an ice-cream lover’s heaven. As they walked around they soaked in all the information about where they got the ideas from, the Public engagement and market research process and how they offered opportunities for people to become testers, which Frank made a note of vowing to put in his application. They were then given a sample of a new flavour that hadn’t yet been released, a banana and chocolate one that Fliss pulled a face at but Frank really liked. Neither could deny, however, that there was something truly special about actually trying the ice cream straight from the source. Whilst the pints you could get from the store were incredible, trying fresh ice cream from the factory was nothing short of perfection.

“I’m afraid, Ladies and Gents that we are at the end of the tour. Short, and sweet, yes, pun very much intended, but whilst the guided tour ends here, your Ben & Jerry’s experience doesn’t have to.” Ben grinned. “Our gift-shop should provide you with ample opportunity to browse and buy any souvenirs, and then, why not head down to our Flavor Graveyard to mourn the passing of our dearly de-pinted ice cream flavors. You can also take a vote on your way out as to which one of our offered de-pinted flavours you would like to resurrect.”

After thanking him on their way out of the room, Frank and Fliss wandered round the gift shop and bought a couple of things, and then made their way back outside into the bitter air, walking over to the graveyard. They chuckled at a few of the tomb stones, Fliss pointing out that some of them sounded pretty nice, until she stopped dead at one and cocked her head to one side.

“Peanut Butter and Jelly. Peanut Butter Ice Cream with Peanut Butter Bits and Strawberry Jelly Swirl1 1989-1990” she read and Frank gave a groan of nostalgia as she continued to read the epitaph underneath “An unbeatable duo! Yet somehow it managed to flop in a cone, so we stuck to the sammich.”

“God I loved that as a kid!” Frank sighed. “Dad used to always come home with a pint of it on a Friday. It was gone by Saturday morning. Me and Diane used to fight him for it.”  He took a deep breath before nodding firmly. “That’s the one I’m voting to have resurrected. You also need to vote for it.”

“Isn’t voting supposed to be done in secret?” Fliss looked at him as he dropped his arm round her shoulder and they made their way back towards the main area of the buildings.

“True, but I won’t tell if you won’t.” He grinned. “Now, can we go and eat some ice cream? That mouthful in there was nowhere near enough to satisfy me.”

“Whatever you want, Sailor.” She chuckled as she leaned into him a little, smiling. “Whatever you want.”

*****

Whatever he wanted turned out to be about twenty bucks worth of ice cream sundaes complete with every topping imaginable, so by the time they walked back to the cottage after a few drinks in one of the local breweries, Frank was well and truly ready to fat float in the tub thanks to the combination of beer and ice cream in his stomach.

They called back home, Fliss smiling as Alex sat on Bill’s knee, making a grabbing hand at the screen of the phone, Mary chatting away telling them all about how Steve had taken her, Charlie and Joel out to the Zoo for the day. By the time they were done it was pushing seven pm so they both changed, Fliss heading out to the tub with the fluffy guest towels, whilst Frank followed a little while later with the bottle of champagne that had been in the fridge along with a couple of beers for himself. He popped the cork, poured Fliss a glass and then placed the bottle down by the side of the tub next to his spare beers, quipping that given the temperature outside he knew there was no need for an ice bucket.

They sat and watched the moonlight reflecting off the snow of the mountain back drop, simply drinking and chatting, and before they knew it an hour had passed and they had somehow gotten onto the subject of that year’s elections, having seen the first drabbles of news about the rumoured Democrat candidates. When Fliss commented to Frank that she had a horrible suspicion Trump would get re-elected, Frank groaned and slid under the water, pretending to drown himself. When he emerged, he shook his head in the manner of a dog and Fliss chuckled.

“So, if you were president what would be the first thing you'd do, Sailor?” she asked, stretching out her legs along the bench she was sat on, her feet laying flat just to the side of Frank’s right thigh.

“Make being Donald Trump a crime punishable by death.” Frank shot back and Fliss let out a loud laugh.

“That's a little over the top.”

“So is his tan.” Frank shrugged and Fliss snorted again. “What about you?”

Fliss pondered “I’d make three day weekends the law.”

At that Frank looked at her, scoffing. “You work for yourself, you could have a three day weekend if you wanted one.”

“But I don’t.”

“So why would you make it the law then?” he laughed.

“Because I’m thinking of other people.”

“Socialism.” Frank nodded, “Good call.”

Fliss grinned. “And I’d also make it a legal requirement for you to be Professor Adler more often.”

“Assistant Professor.”

“Details.” Fliss waved her hand.

“And what do you mean, more often?” He cocked his head to one side “I’ve never been a Professor in the entire time you’ve known me.”

“You talk like one.”

“No I don’t”

“You so do.” Fliss smirked. “When you’re helping Mary with her homework, debates, the other day on the flight over…”

“Okay, maybe some times, but not much.”

“You should do it more. It’s kinda hot.”

"Is this some kind of strange authority kink? You know, to go along with the grease monkey one?"

Fliss let out a groan "Professor Adler in a shirt with rolled up sleeves and dirty arms and face..." she bit her lip and Frank let out a loud snort as he shook his head.

"You have a problem."

"Yeah, a big one. In that now I can't get that fucking image out of my head.” She cocked her head to one side as Frank laughed. “Hey, did you ever fuck any of your students? You know, favours for extra credit?"

Frank choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken. "You’re a dick"

"I'll take that as a no then."

"No I didn't. Because that would have been a gross abuse of power."

“So not because you didn’t want to?”

“Fucking hell, Fliss!” he shook his head, before he smirked "I might have had you been one of them. Especially if your mouth was a smart back then as it is now."

"You've never complained about my smart mouth before." She teased.

"That's because you put it to good use." Frank looked at her, his eyes darkening "Had you used it to sass me like you do, in one of my lectures, I'd have been pissed"

"How pissed?" She asked, her leg dropping off the ledge she was sat on, foot trailing up the inside of his calf.

"Seriously pissed."

"Yeah?" Her foot stopped at his thigh and his hand reached under the water, gently grabbing her ankle. He shifted a little, the tightness in his swim-shorts a good indication about how he was finding this much more of a turn on than he should, and levelled her with a stern look. He saw her chest hitch a little and he arched an eyebrow.

"You're in danger of finding out if you carry on." He all but growled.

Fliss bit her lip before she shifted and pulled her leg from his grasp before she moved over the tub, glass in her hand as she straddled him. "Know what I am very good at finishing?"

"What?" Frank swallowed, the feel of her in his lap was doing nothing to help his little situation so to speak.

"Champagne." She smirked, raising the glass to her lips as she tossed the rest of the white down her throat. Frank let out a groan of a chuckle as she laughed, gently kissing his cheek. "Sadly, that was the last of it. Shall I open that final bottle of red wine?”

"Sure, I'm all gassed out from beer." Frank nodded, draining his bottle. “I’ll get it, sweetheart.”

"Its fine. I need to pee anyway.”  Fliss moved to stand up, giving a little squeal, ducking back down under the water. “Fuck its cold."

"Kinda happened when you're in a mountain resort surrounded by snow."

"Asshole" she rolled her eyes before she stood up again, giving Frank an eyeful of the front of her body. Her arms and shoulders were ridiculously defined thanks to her riding and physical job, her large breasts were swelling over the top of the green bikini top she was wearing which sported a large knot at the front, the bottoms slung low on her hips as the decorative buckle sat over her reasonably flat but soft stomach, the faded, silvery stretch marks which were just about visible as they glistened with water, a reminder of how she'd carried, given birth and nurtured his son.

She was a marvel, and as he looked her up and down she flushed a little, the way she always did when he was blatantly ogling her and he shrugged. With a coy glance over her shoulder she climbed up the steps to the tub to hop out and Frank then got an eyeful of her firm ass and stupidly toned legs as she wrapped herself in a towel and headed quickly across the decking to the door that led into the kitchen area.

Frank leaned back in the arm water with a sigh as she disappeared from sight, contemplating not for the first time, just how much his life had changed since she had walked into it. He had no doubt in his mind she’d sent him along a completely different path, a far better path, despite the little bumps along the way. Her family had welcomed him and Mary with open arms, and right from the start had treat them both like they were their own. She’d encouraged his reconciliation with his mother, embraced and positively enjoyed the birth of their son despite the fact he knew full well some people had shitty comments about how soon and fast that had all come around with them being together just over a year. But time didn’t mean shit to him, as he’d said the other night, he’d known since that first kiss they’d had on the borrowed boat that if he never held another woman in his arms in his life he’d die a happy man.

But it wasn’t just him that had changed. Fliss had become far more confident and assure in herself as she had settled into a relationship that she felt safe and comfortable in. She still had her little moments and there were so many things they had never actually experienced together that she had tentative memories of, but they worked through them. Even when they argued, in a twisted way it made Frank feel almost pleased that she felt safe enough with him to call him out on his bullshit or stand her ground, even if she was wrong, without fear of getting a beating in retaliation. She’d opened herself to him intimately as well, in ways she’d admitted she’d been scared of because she’d had nothing but brutal or rough memories.

Suddenly his mind flew back to that evening on the boat in their garage a few weeks ago, when he’d pushed her just that little bit further and been pretty rough with her, remembering how he’d fucked her from behind as she leant over the bench at the back. God, that had been incredible.

And now his little problem was a pretty large one as he was rock hard. He slipped his hand down under the water, in an attempt to try and make himself feel a little more comfortable but it was no use. He knew that the only way was going to sort this out, so to speak, was currently bustling around in the kitchen.

Fuck it.

Rising out of the water, he hopped out of the tub and strode across the decking, the wood cold on his feet as he made his way purposefully into the kitchen. Fliss was just turning setting two wine glasses out on the side,  and without warning, he strode up behind her and grabbed her hips over the top of the towel she was wrapped in. She gave a little squeak as he spun her round, his lips crashing to hers in a bruising kiss.

“Frank…” she mumbled, and he shook his head.

“Shut up.” He muttered, his lips back on hers. His tongue slid across her upper lip and she gave a soft groan, opening her mouth, allowing him to taste all of her, one hand sliding into her hair as he held her to him, not giving her an inch of space, his rock hard dick pressing into her stomach. She reached for his face but at the motion, his hands grabbed her wrists and forced them back to her sides, clearly, but wordlessly telling her who was in charge as he pulled away, his forehead pressing to hers as he untucked the towel, letting it drop to the floor. One hand sliding up her bare side, over her breast and came to rest at the base of her throat and he hesitated for a second, suddenly his memory spiked with the imagery of angry red finger marks around her delicate neck courtesy of that fucker in Boston almost eighteen months before. He stopped dead, his chest heaved, as for the first time Frank found himself a little lost about just how to proceed, worried he’d over stepped the mark.

And then Fliss’ eyes flashed, with excited trepidation as she leaned forward a little, her hand curling around his wrist.

“Do it.” She whispered, her lips ghosting his.

And at that Frank lost all self-control, a door he’d kept locked for as long as they’d been intimate was blown open the moment the words left her mouth.

Their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to both pull her closer and he began to tug at her bikini bottoms, and in a quick swoop shoved them down as he took hold of her hips again so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted, the pair of them stumbling a little before he roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his slim waist and her arms went around his neck as he slammed her up against the cold glass of the patio doors that led out to the decking. Using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass, one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her head in position as he kissed her, while the other pried her hands from around him. He wrapped his large hand round both of her wrists, pinning her arms above her head and held them there tightly as his mouth continued to fuck hers, hard, deliberate swipes of his tongue over hers, swallowing the little sighs and whimpers she was making.

Fliss rolled her hips hard against him which was enough to distract him a little, his mouth pausing, but not for long. His lips moved from hers, down to her jaw, her neck, and he bit and sucked, his lust addled brain not giving a single shit if he marked her flawless skin. The hand that was wrapped round her neck moved, skating down her side and over her bare stomach and she arched into the touch, wanting him to move a bit south, but his hand stopped an inch away from where she wanted it to be.

“You’re mine.” Frank’s voice was right by her ear, and he spoke with a deep, almost dark tone that Fliss had never heard from him before. It was full of desire, and it sent a shiver down her spin as once more she attempted to thrust up into his hand, desperate for any sense of relief. But he pulled away a little, making her whine a bit. “Ah ah, baby girl.”

“Frank.” she breathed out, stumbling over her words “Fuck, I…”

He cut her off as he surged forward, kissing her desperately and she openly cried out into his mouth as two of his fingers slipped inside of her. His motions were fast and aggressive and he brought her to the brink, and then stopped.

“Like that?” He breathed out, voice ragged, his lips brushing hers. “Tell me you do and you want this.” “Frankie, please.” She thrust her hips out toward him, gasping “I want you, always…”

At her words Frank felt his cock twitch and with a growl that was positively feral, his hand reached into his swim-shorts as he freed his painfully hard erection from them. He pushed the tip of his cock into her folds, pausing slightly before he slammed the rest of the way into her, making her cry out sharply. He continued to rut into her over and over causing the patio doors to rattle a little, and, as he looked up into her eyes, he found them wide with a look of surprise and downright lust which drove him even wilder and he dropped his head to the swell of her breasts. His free hand moved, pulling the cups of her bikini down and his mouth went to work, sucking and nipping, leaving red marks across her skin as his teeth and beard bit and scratched her raw as his hips snapped back and forth with an avaricious pace.

As he rolled a nipple between his teeth, Fliss let out a loud cry and tried to lean in more to him more, the motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused them both to groan at the feeling. At that Frank moved his mouth back to hers, both messily kissing each other as he spun her round and stumbled around the kitchen area before he lay her a little roughly over the island in the middle, yanking her back slightly so that her ass hung off the side. His hips pistoned in and out of her with a force that it jolted her body back and forth, her hands flying to either side of her, palms slapping down on the cool surface. She arched her back, her ankles locking around his waist as he leaned down to kiss her again, his brow now beaded with sweat, chest heaving as he felt the coil in his belly starting to tighten.

“Fuck, Frank, I’m gonna…” Fliss felt the red, hot feeling brewing between her legs and thighs, her belly contracting as she teetered along the edge of her orgasm and at her words Frank slammed into her even harder before he gave a dirty little grind against her, repeating the motion a few more times and then she was done. She let out a loud scream and tightened around him, white lights exploding in front of her eyes as the entire world faded to nothing but a jumble of shapes and distant noises as her release wracked her entire body. Her legs trembled around him, gripping him tighter around his waist as she continued to groan out incoherently and at the feel of her tight heat pulsing around him, Frank’s final few thrusts became desperate before he gave a loud “Fahhk…” and he came, hard, his knees buckling slightly as he gripped at the edge of the counter, trying to steady himself.

His arms trembled as he gasped, before he leaned forward, his forehead pressing into her chest as she lay there, legs hanging off the side of the counter, her breathing deep, hands gently tangling in his hair as they both desperately tried to right themselves. Eventually, Frank found the strength to raise his head, his softening cock still stuffed inside of Fliss as he moved to kiss her again. This time the kiss was soft, and loaded with love as he slid his nose against hers, his eyes closed.

“Did I hurt you?” He swallowed, his voice raspy and Fliss shook her head.

“No, you would never hurt me.” She whispered. At that Frank opened his eyes to find her smiling gently at him, her face flushed, a look of sated satisfaction across her pretty features.

“I don’t know what came over me.” He shrugged, almost apologetically and she chuckled, her hand sliding to his shoulders.

“I don’t care.” She took another deep breath “Frank, that was…”

“Yeah.” He agreed, not needing to hear what she was going to say. “I know.”

“I think I’m done in the tub.” She mumbled and Frank chuckled.

“Bed?”

“Yeah. We should probably shower first.”

“Okay.” He move and pulled out of her slowly, before he tucked himself back into his shorts. Fliss pushed herself up into a sitting position and he gently wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her towards him. Her legs once more wrapped around his waist and she kissed him again, her hands sliding through his hair before he gently set her down on the floor. He took his time to scan her up and down as she sorted her swimwear, not missing the red marks on her neck, or the finger shaped ones on her hips where he’d manhandled her. He gently reached out to brush over the red lines he’d made just above her bikini bottoms with the pads of his fingers and her hands fell over his, and she shook her head.

“Don’t “she said gently as he looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers. “They were made with love, not anger, Frank.”

He swallowed a little at her words, as she kissed him again, and then with her fingers laced into his she turned and they made their way to the bedroom. They took a quick joint shower, cleaning up, sharing a few more gentle kisses and hugs before they dried off and collapsed into bed, utterly spent.

“I love you sweetheart.” Frank pulled Fliss close, her back pressing to his chest as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, baby.” She yawned, shuffling back into him as they both closed their eyes and settled down, sleep claiming them in a ridiculously short time.

**** The next morning they both woke and lay in bed, just cuddling and chatting for a while before it was time to pack up and head to the airport. They packed their heavy winter coats into their bags just before check in and then headed through security and settled into the bar for a drink whilst they waited for their flight.

Thankfully, their trip home was as smooth as their trip out, no bags went missing and their transfer was on time, so at just after 3pm they touched down in Florida. Little over half an hour later they emerged into the arrivals lounge at Tampa Airport and Frank chuckled as Mary ran to them both. He dropped the bags he was carrying, swinging her up into his arms with a groan, dropping a kiss to her cheek as she hugged him. He then placed her onto the floor and she moved to hug Fliss.

“I missed you both!” She grinned as Fliss straightened up.

“We missed you too!” Fliss smiled at her, before she looked at her Dad who had just given Frank a quick back slapping embrace. “How’s Alex?”

“He’s fine, he’d just gone down when I came out to pick you up.” Bill smiled, giving her a hug. “So, did you have a nice time?”

“It was great.” Frank smiled, picking up his bag as Bill reached to take Fliss’. “Loved every second of it.”

“Did you bring me a present?” Mary demanded as they headed through towards the elevator to take them to the parking lot.

“Matter of fact, yes we did.” Frank smiled and he reached into his small carry-on bag , pulling out a half drunk bottle of water. “Brought you some genuine Vermont snow except it melted, so now it’s more genuine Vermont water.”

Mary looked at it, then to him. “That’s not funny, Dad.” She glared as Bill roared with laughter. She snatched the bottle of Evian and then gave a scoff. “You could have at least tried to make the joke with a bottle of water from this country.”

“So ungrateful.” Frank took it back from her and twisted the cap off, taking a long drink as the elevator doors opened. “Tell you what, snow water sure does taste good.”

Marry rolled her eyes before she turned to Bill. “Can I stay with you?”

“Course you can love.”

“Good, because you’re much less of an idiot than he is.” She jerked her thumb at Frank who arched his eyebrow at her.

“Oh I dunno about that.” Fliss quipped cheekily as Bill looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “I could tell you a few tales about some pretty dumb stuff he’s done.”

“Like what?” Mary asked.

“Like the time he crashed a fork-lift into the side of a van on a building site.” Fliss mused. “Or when he dropped a hammer on his foot and broke two of his toes when he was putting up a shelf in the kitchen.”

“Are we going there, Titch?” Bill turned to her as he selected the floor for their car, Frank and Mary’s laughter echoing around the elevator. “Because as far as doing stupid stuff goes, you and your brother take the biscuit.”

“Cookie.” Mary looked at him. “They take the cookie.”

“Biscuit.” Bill shot back.

“We had this discussion last night, Poppa Bill!” Mary shook her head. “It’s a cookie.”

Bill looked down at her, then to Frank.

“I changed my mind, you can keep her.” He deadpanned.

**** Chapter 21

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #frank adler smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

[slashyrogue]

Hannigram AU: The Christmas Waltz

A month before his wedding Will Graham decided to surprise his wife-to-be with a gift: dance lessons. The lessons would last all the way to their big day, which happened to be on Christmas Eve.

Molly had always dreamed of a Christmas wedding ever since she was a little girl and though their guest list was a bit small even Will was excited to finally make her dream a reality.  

A reality that wasn’t meant to be.

He sat across from her in Bon Appetit, her favorite Italian restaurant and the same place he’d proposed, as she tearfully told him she was getting back with her ex-husband.

“I...we...we just...I didn’t expect it but...Will, I love him. We’re meant to be a family.”

Will dug his nails into the chair beneath him as he forced himself to smile when she handed him her engagement ring.

“All I want is for you to be happy, Moll,” he whispered, taking her hands, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

They hugged and Will held on a bit too long but he forced himself to pull away leaving the restaurant quickly. The tears didn’t start to fall till he got into his car, and he pulled out the envelope with the dance lesson receipt inside tossing it onto the chair beside him. The ring was still in his pocket, stabbing into his chest, but he didn’t dare look a it again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He hit his head on the steering wheel, stomach in knots, and took several breaths before he pulled out of the parking lot.

The ride home was a blur, and he passed out on his bed fast waking up the next morning feeling like shit.

He’d taken the day off today, wanting to prepare for their lesson, and now he was immensely thrilled they’d decided to wait to move in together. Molly had said it was for Walter, her son, but part of him wondered if she knew that even after a year she’d change her mind.

Will sighed when he heard Winston’s collar jingle and held out his hand for the dog to lick. “Good morning, buddy.”

Winston had always been a bit standoffish with Molly.

He’d liked her dogs though.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with tears in his eyes.

“Always the groomsmen, never the groom,” he whispered, letting his hand snake inside his suit jacket.

The ring was a modest diamond, but still pretty.

Will stared at the way the diamond shined for way too long before put the ring back into his pocket. He stood up, groaning, and pulled his cell phone out.

Pas De Duex was a bit more upscale than Will usually went for but he’d gone there because they were the best. The clerk at the desk had looked like she thought Will was shit on her shoe even when he shelled out a thousand dollars for weekly classes. He hesitated before he looked the place up again, and waited for someone to answer.

“Hello, may I help you?” an oddly accented man asked.

“Um, yeah, this is Will Graham. I signed up for classes the other day? I was just wondering if I could cancel over the phone or if I had to come there in person to get a refund?”

There was a pause.

“We do not offer refunds.”

Will blinked, rubbing his eyes. “What? How...”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graham, but this is a very private and selective business. We only took your wedding dance class because of a cancelation. The dance instructor is very...”

“Oh fuck you, seriously? You think you’re so goddamn special?”

“Mr. Graham...”

“I’m coming down there, buddy. Try saying this shit to my face!”

Will nearly jumped out of bed, a man on a mission, and got hastily dressed. He fed Winston and took him outside to do his business before heading out. Will was laser focused on tearing that snooty asshole on the phone a new one, so much so that he nearly got into two accidents on the way, and when he pushed his way inside Pas De Deux he nearly fell in the entryway.

Several people stared at his arrival, and he caught his breath seeing the same red haired receptionist he’d bought classes from only twelve hours ago.

She grinned at him. “Mr. Graham, I assume?”

Will glared at her. “Mr. Snooty on the phone tell you I was coming?”

The redhead, Freddie her nametag read, nodded still smiling as she pointed to her left. “Mr. Lecter is in the studio if you still wish to speak with him about our cancelation policy.”

Will stood up straight, fixing his rumpled suitcoat, and stomped down the hallway. The hallway ended in an open area where he could hear music wafting through, and when he got down to the end he froze at what he saw.

There was an oddly handsome man dancing alone with what appeared to be an imaginary partner. He danced beautifully, not one toe out of place, and when he turned a third time he seemed to spot Will.

“Hello, may I help you?” he asked, smiling as he got closer.

Will knew from his voice that this was the man on the phone from earlier. He suddenly found himself a bit tongue tied. “Um...I’m...”

“Mr. Graham,” the man finished, his warm smile fading, “I apologize but we do not offer cancelations.”

He suddenly felt the ring poke his chest and tears filled his eyes.

“Oh god,” he said, falling to his knees.

“Mr. Graham! What’s...”

Will fell forward, pressing his hands to his face, and a sudden sob came unbidden from out of nowhere.

And the ring that was inside his pocket fell to the dancefloor rolling away from him.

He sniffled, reaching to grab at the same time that Mr. Lecter did the same. Their finger brushed and Will recoiled, staring up at him. The way Mr. Lecter stared at the ring made Will feel even more embarrassed.

“I...”

“She called off your wedding.”

Will grabbed for the ring and was given it with care. He stood up and his legs shook as he glared.

“That’s none of your business.”

The frown he got in response made him want to throw up.

“I will give you your cancelation.”

He shook his head. “Don’t pity me. I can lose a grand, it’s...”

A warm hand hit his shoulder and Will slumped forward suddenly falling into Mr. Lecter’s chest. He smelled like expensive cologne and a bit like sweat but still very nice.

“I’m sorry, Mister...”

“Will,” he said, his voice cracking, “It’s Will. I...fuck.”

Mr. Lecter smiled. “Hannibal,” he said, still clutching Will’s shoulder, “My name is Hannibal.”

Will sniffled wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry about all this. I just...it just happened last night.”

Hannibal frowned. “I see. Would you...like to have a cup of tea? We would have complete privacy in my office.”

He stared at Hannibal for far too long before he answered. “I...”

“I promise you no one will see the state you’re in,” Hannibal promised. “It’s right behind that door.”

Will turned to see a rather impressive looking door at the back of the room. He sighed. “Yeah,” he said, chuckling a bit, “I...I’d really like some tea.”

Hannibal led him toward the door that opened on a rather expensive looking office that had a couch where he sat down. It also had a fully operational automatic tea kettle, sink, and a perfectly ordered desk.

“I admit your call this morning was a bit of a surprise. I don’t normally get such a response.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Will mumbled, leaning back against the couch, “I just...had a shit night.”

“I’m sure.”

“I didn’t even get to tell her about the classes,” Will murmured, watching Hannibal make their tea, “It was a surprise.”

Hannibal handed Will a very expensive looking teacup and sat down beside him. He watched Will with an odd focus, and when Will let out a sigh of appreciation he smiled.

“I take it you like the tea?”

“It’s great,” Will said, smiling back, “I...you know, you don’t have to give me the refund. I know you don’t usually...”

Hannibal sipped his own tea, still eyeing Will, and pulled the teacup back to look at him seriously. “No, I will honor what I promised. Your circumstances are...worthy of an exception. But...have you thought about...keeping the classes and taking them alone?”

Will blinked. “Alone? Why would I need dance classes?”

“Dance is a rather good distraction for me when I’m feeling low. Perhaps it would be of some help to you?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, I’m not...I’m no dancer.”

“Anyone can be a dancer, Will. Some people are just better at dance than others and if they’re lucky they can...find the right partner who will make them exceptional.”

They stared at each other for far too long without saying a word and Will blushed, setting the teacup down on the table beside the couch.

“No, I think I just...no.”

“Of course it’s entirely up to you,” Hannibal said, standing as he walked to his desk again, "I just thought I would ask. Would a check suffice? Or would you prefer cash?”

Will felt his cheeks warm as he watched him sit and open a drawer. “Um, a check is okay.”

He watched him pull out a checkbook and begin to write.

“It was a month’s worth of sessions, correct?”

“Um…”

Will suddenly felt his earlier sadness returning as the ring poked at his chest again.

“I…”

“Will?”

He stared at the closed door to the dance studio. “You...you said dancing helps you?”

Hannibal didn’t answer for a moment. “Yes, very much so. I think if I didn’t have dancing as an outlet I would unleash my upset in more...destructive ways.”

Will swallowed past the lump in his throat as he turned to look at Hannibal again. “Would you be the one who instructed me?”

Hannibal’s smile widened. “Yes, of course.”

He let out a long breath, his hands shaking, and nodded. “I think I...I want to keep them. The lessons. Unless you think you can fill them in or…”

Hannibal closed the checkbook and put both his hands on the desk. “I would be delighted to be your teacher, Will. I think we would dance beautifully together.”

Will blushed, chuckling. “Probably not, but...I think it’ll be a good distraction from now until Christmas.”

He watched Hannibal walk across the room and open the door to the studio. The room still had music playing and it was oddly inviting to Will. “ I’m certain I can teach you a proper waltz by Christmas. Would you....like to start today?”

Will suddenly had butterflies in his stomach as he stared at him. “I...yeah. I think I would.”

Hannibal walked into the studio and held out his hand. Will took his hand and was startled when he was pulled tight to Hannibal’s chest. The warmth of his breath tickled Will’s nose.

“Then...let’s begin.”

#hannigram au #hallmark au #christmas waltz au #christmas stories #oh shit i shouldn't have started this lol #fluff

[nightslain]

STUDY    :    LEON BELMONT.  Repost it, do not reblog.

tagged by : @patricursed​ ⭐⭐⭐ tagging :  @vampiriam​ @bloodxsong​ @goldenendless​ @ghostlyanon​ and whoever else wants it!

—    basics.

▸       is your muse tall    /    short    /    average ? Average! He stands at 5′10″, certainly not the smallest among his peers, but neither the tallest.

▸       are they okay with their height ? He is! Leon isn’t troubled with any insecurities regarding his height and doesn’t necessarily wish he was taller for any reason either. Even if Mathias uses it to his advantage to hold things out of his reach, but that man is remarkably tall.

▸      what’s their hair like ? Leon’s hair is a warm pale honey colour and is very soft, thick and voluminous--not necessarily sleek, shiny or silky, but pleasant to the touch, almost downy in texture and, for lack of a better word, fluffy! It falls quite straight nearer the crown of his head but unravels into those waves of bouncy curls about his ears and neck. His curls often becomes even more unruly during humid weather or after spending time in the sea air, which is quite a regular occurrence given his location being nearer to the shoreline of Carnac. He has humoured the idea of growing it out, but largely abstained due to the fact he already has his hands full with maintaining his hair and keeping it well groomed. He does take a lot of pride in it, though!

▸     do they spend a  lot of time on their hair     /    grooming ? A decent amount. It can take quite a bit of effort to wash, dry and groom it all to a satisfactory condition given its wild texture that often does not like to cooperate with him! His curls flick out every which way if left without their usual meticulous styling and care, and perfecting them soaks up a hefty amount of his morning routine, especially given the state of it when he wakes up. Needless to say, he has some impressive bedhead to tame each day.

▸      does your muse care about their appearance   /   what others think ? Leon does take pride in his appearance to a certain degree; not to an excess of vanity so much as simply minding that he always looks presentable and sets a good example, presenting himself as well-groomed and dignified at all times. He has a reputation to maintain above all else, and the way he dresses and minds his appearance very much reflects that. Albeit, even without the expected societal norms in place, he would choose to present himself as such. He has worked hard for his impressive physique in particular, and maintenance of that aspect of himself above all is vital. 

He doesn’t care too much what other people think of him; he knows he is perceived often as being beautiful by some, whereas others sometimes sooner mock him for how delicate and feminine he appears, at least in the face. While he will always present himself to others as impeccable in appearance, he doesn’t trouble himself too much with what they think beyond that, having heard as many compliments as he has insults, and only taking notice of what people closest to him say. It’s why he is far more likely to blush at a compliment coming from any close friends, but is seemingly unmoved by those coming from anyone else. 

—    preferences.

▸      indoors    or    outdoors ?    Outdoors. ▸      rain    or    sunshine ?   Sunshine. ▸      forest    or    beach ?    Beach. ▸      precious    metals    or    gems ?     Metals. ▸      flowers    or    perfumes ?    Flowers. ▸      personality    or    appearance ?      Personality. ▸      being    alone    or    being    in    a    crowd ?   Alone. ▸      order    or    anarchy ? Order. ▸      painful    truths    or    white    lies ?    Painful truths. ▸  science    or    magic ?     Both. ▸      peace    or    conflict ?    Peace. ▸      night    or    day ?    Day. ▸      dusk    or    dawn ? Dawn. ▸      warmth    or    cold ?     Warmth. ▸      many   acquaintances    or    a    few    close    friends ?   A few close friends. ▸      reading    or    playing    a    game ?   Playing a game.

—    questionnaire.

▸      what are some of your muse’s bad habits ? Leon absorbs too much responsibility for a lot of situations, even when he is aware of his lack of power over a situation. This isn’t necessarily always applicable, but whenever something of any magnitude happens, Leon often lets himself get wrapped up in guilt over things he failed to do in order to secure a different outcome. It is something he struggles often with and despite having enough rational thought to understand his relative powerlessness, he will torment himself with what-ifs and should-have’s.

Leon is also incredibly stubborn when he sets his mind to something, and is sometimes prone to acts of rash impulsiveness when particularly emotionally charged--which, sometimes, is a very valid reason for his struggle with the previous point. He takes things to extremes in a temper, albeit such is indeed rare and difficult to spark, and regrets it later when his mind is clear again. He also has the tendency to say rather scathing things when truly provoked.

▸      has your muse lost anyone close to them ? how has it affected them ? Certainly. This was a precedent set early into his life with the loss of his parents, although Leon was not quite old enough to remember them with clarity. The absence of both parents though did give way to quite bit of loneliness as he was growing up, despite having a close relationship with his foster mother. He had a poor relationship with his paternal figure, which did little to balm that particular void in his life. However, this impact was relatively minimal compared with the frankly traumatic losses he suffered later in life.

Elisabetha’s death was the first that Leon truly experienced and was damaged by significantly. Her death wounded Leon to a similar degree of intensity as it did Mathias--the three of them all shared a very deep love of one another, and Leon positively adored her. The only thing keeping him together once she passed away was the fact he had a duty of care to Mathias, who simply could not cope and more or less went mad without her, as well as succumbing to illness. Leon struggled a great deal in this period, now being saddled with the responsibility of supervising their men and arranging their battle tactics alone as well as taking care of Mathias in the time he had to spare, who seemed just about ready to follow Elisabetha to the grave. He put on a brave face for the public, but no less was suffering. He couldn’t bring himself to eat much if at all for quite some time, which combined with the resulting loss of weight and energy did start to impact his competence in battle. It was something of an uphill battle getting himself back into good condition again throughout the following year.

The second was naturally Sara, made all the more traumatic by the fact he failed to rescue her after sacrificing everything else in his life to do so, and that he was forced to kill her himself once she was tainted by Walter. Leon didn’t give himself chance to properly grieve her death once her soul was infused into the Vampire Killer, and the true magnitude of her loss didn’t come crashing down on him till much later, though he had already long set his plans to honour her promise into motion. When it did finally catch up to him in its entirety though, he was a complete and utter wreck, suffering much the same symptoms as experienced after Elisabetha’s passing, but to far worse a degree; working himself to the bone between travelling for days on end and battling the monsters he found along the way while eating little to nothing. Eventually, his wounds and exhaustion both weakened him to the point he fell prey to sickness and its nasty cocktail of symptoms, from a raging fever to vomiting to vivid, frequent hallucinations. He was extremely ill for a worrying period of time.

And of course, there’s Mathias, although not dead in one sense, certainly in another. Mathias’ betrayal is directly intertwined with Sara’s death, and both of them more or less died at the same time as far as Leon is concerned--therefore, the suffering that followed was just as much consequence to Sara’s death as it was to Mathias’ traitorous actions, and for that matter his role in it all only accelerated Leon’s already rapid decline in health and stability. Leon couldn’t fathom why Mathias would hatch such a plot against him for quite some time and that wound never truly healed even after years spent hunting him down. His betrayal was devastating in every sense of the word, and yet even then, once his hate and rage began to burn out, Leon was left to ponder if he had done too little to protect Mathias from his own madness when he still had the chance. He spent a little too much time lamenting over whether he should have surrendered his alliance with the church much sooner and devoted more of his time to Mathias’ recovery, or if he simply was too far gone to save at all. Neither possibility brings him any comfort. Mathias’ loss perhaps cut the deepest, as he had known Mathias for the longest and loved him with such intensity for the entirety of that time they spent together. Leon was never quite the same again, even if he refused to let his suffering strip him of compassion or resolve, he struggled with loving people once more for years into the future.

▸      what are some fond memories your muse has ? The fondest memories he has are all of his time in France, before the Hell of Mathias’ betrayal and Sara’s death. He thinks back to many of the hours the two of them spent by the sea watching the sunset and the stars or chasing each other through the woods on horseback, raising hunting birds and minding their gardens together--for all the peril and danger of their lives, they were immensely happy and they made the most of every waking moment. Memories of Elisabetha and Sara are likewise precious to him; he would sometimes let Elisabetha dress him up and fix him with a makeover in the privacy of Mathias’ home simply to see his reaction when he came home, which never failed to be comical! The two were very close in general, albeit, and Leon spent quite a bit of time tending to her in Mathias’ absence, whether that was helping her with her knitting or assisting with washing and combing her hair. 

As with Sara, he always fondly remembers their night time strolls hand in hand through the lavender field encompassing Leon’s land, as well as the many things he endeavoured to teach her; he would often take her fishing with him as well as on the occasional hunt or horseback ride when he could sneak her away. Other times he would bring her to his aviary to teach her how to handle his hunting birds--and as well as showing her the chicks he was raising while she was visiting, often with the promise he would gift one to her when they were older. 

And he will always vividly remember the look on her face when he first proposed to her.

▸     is it easy for your muse to kill ? Yes. Leon is very used to killing, even if he hasn’t grown numb to the weight of taking a life. He has been a witness to war since he was more or less a child, and fighting them almost as long. However, he does begin to struggle morally with the thought of people he’s killed when he becomes disillusioned with the church and begins to realise that he may well have been party to many a needless death. His act of defending humanity from monsters is as much a fulfilment of his promise to Sara as it is penance for the lives he has already taken.

▸      what’s it like when your muse breaks down ? Intense and deeply troubling to watch. Leon is quite explosive when he reaches his limits, and this is not much aided by the fact he will bottle up much of his grief for as lengthy a time as possible. When his suffering finally gets the best of him, he shatters quite violently into screaming and sobbing fits, often becoming physically aggressive and remaining inconsolable until this wave has passed. After this, it’s common for him to isolate and go completely silent, unwilling to speak or even see other people and going out of his way to avoid them. This can last for days or weeks, depending on the severity of the situation that sent him over the edge. Thankfully, it is blissfully rare that Leon suffers a break down of this intensity, and to date, it has only occurred twice; once when Mathias got his throat cut and almost died as a result of an ill-fated plan Leon warned him against acting upon, and the second time is when Mathias turned him into a vampire in order to save his life after Leon was accidentally impaled during battle with his monsters. 

▸      is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life ? Absolutely! Although it is naturally rare that Leon would put that level of trust in anyone, he put his life in Mathias’ hands countless times and vice versa during their years in France. They trusted one another completely and utterly in all matters, and they knew their lives were perfectly safe when guarded by one another. Albeit, Leon is considerably less trusting after Mathias’ betrayal, and guards himself much more intensely. His trust can still be won to this degree if given time and a great deal of patience.

▸      what’s your muse like when they’re in love ? Leon is quite transparent when he is harbouring feelings for someone, unless he is under the impression he absolutely cannot share it with them for whatever reason. Typically, Leon is swift to tell someone he is romantically attracted to them one way or another, and following a reciprocal reply, he will not hesitate to lavish time, attention and gifts upon them. He is a very affectionate man and he loves nothing more than doting on the people he cares deeply about--both as an expression of love and as an expression of gratitude for that person being in his life. If you manage to win Leon’s heart, you can safely expect endless praise and affirmations of his devotion--there is no small amount of passion when it comes to Leon’s expressions of love, either! He’s a very physical and intimate lover who leaps at the opportunity to be close to his partner in any capacity, and he deeply enjoys being able to provide for them or attend their needs. 

You will know Leon is in love simply by the sheer amount of romance that starts to seep into the way he talks to certain people--his speech will often start flourishing with poetic, dreamy descriptions of them or the way they make him feel. If he is welcomed to, he will become much more physically affectionate, with much less fleeting caresses and kisses working their way into the display. Closeness will amplify in almost every sense. The looks he give them will become much drawn out, as though he has seen nothing more lovely than that particular person and can think of looking at nothing else. And of course, gifts. Leon likes to make gifts for many of his friends, but there will be a noticeable difference in the quantity and exact nature of the gifts he offers to people he is hoping to woo.

#⚜ :: OOC ┊ Person of Sinterest #{WOW THAT WAS ONE BIG OL INFO DUMP HUH LMAO} #{ur codex on the local good boy has been updated} #{there are actually threads associated with a lot of these points tbh which is where most of the info comes from WHEEZE} #{leon in love is just...him passionately declaring how you are the sun the stars the moon the entire UNIVERSE TO HIM} #{because its true when this boy falls in love he falls HARD}

[meetmeatthecoda]

Grifting with the Enemy: Chapter 4

Hey all! :D Here is the next chapter of GWTE! I know, I know, it’s been 84 years. I’m hoping there’s still some interest in this fic! In the coming days, I will splitting my writing time between this and Amethyst, which is Part 2 of Facets containing all my soulmate and AU prompts. Super pumped :) That said, this is a bit of a return to writing for me since it’s been a while since a substantial update cause of real life and it’s CERTAINLY been a while for an update on this fic, in particular. So, as usual, I would love any feedback you can give me, especially concerning continuity with previous chapters, flow, and pacing. I’m hoping I picked it up okay but, as always, I await your responses with baited breath :)) Anyhoo, please enjoy if you can and this will also be posted, as well as the previous 3 chapters, on my FF.net and AO3 profiles! :D Thanks guys! :) Much love! <3 

Liz walks into the restaurant, standing on her toes as she scans the room for Red. She sees many diners, all dressed in casual, mid-day finery, and paying her no mind. Liz purses her lips. Only Red would invite her to a restaurant like this knowing full well that she would be wearing a leather jacket and a blue beanie.

Typical.

Red had left a day in between their last meeting before calling again – Liz tried to ignore how happy she was that he didn’t wait a full three days like the last time – and inviting her to lunch to discuss the heist. In a public restaurant. In broad daylight.

Unbelievable.

She had assumed that he had reserved the whole stuffy restaurant or something ridiculous for the sake of privacy (that was something rich people did, right?), thinking there was no way he would discuss secret illegal plans surrounded by potentially eavesdropping diners.

She was wrong.

He apparently didn’t think anyone would care enough to listen to their heist plans or, if they did, he obviously didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He was happy to sit and enjoy what will probably be a delicious lunch – if the small portions and pristine table cloths are anything to go by – out in the open, where anyone can see him.

Except Liz, apparently.

She continues to crane her neck, struggling to find him in the busy restaurant. She sees the host spot her and start to make his way over to seat her. Great. She was hoping to slink in unnoticed, feeling very out of place in her current attire, every inch the careless, fresh-out-of-college, youth she pretended to be. She doesn’t even know what name Red gave when reserving his table and it could be anything. If she could just catch a glimpse of him –

“Hello, can I help you?”

The host interrupts her desperate search, looking at her with undisguised interest. Hm. Well, at least he’s not snobbish and rude. He is cute, after all, despite being several years younger than her, probably actually fresh out of college, as opposed to her. Oh well. Perhaps he can help.

“Um, maybe, I’m looking for a, well, he’s a, uh, he –”

But Liz is saved from struggling to describe the walking enigma that is Raymond Reddington by the sight of a fedora perched on a hat stand near the back of the restaurant. She swears it wasn’t there a second ago but, if it was, it’s no wonder she didn’t see it. He must have secured a private table if he’s all the way back there. She can’t see him but there’s no mistaking that hat, probably worth more than her monthly rent costs.

The host is still watching her hesitantly.

“Oh, never mind, I see him,” she says kindly, relieved, and flashes the young man a smile which seems to dazzle him a little. “I’ll just go and join him.”

She leaves the stuttering waiter behind, catching a quiet little “oh, okay” before she saunters out of earshot, not sorry to be going. He is sweet but much too young for her, even if an on-looker wouldn’t be able to tell. Besides, she’s not interested in a boy.

She is having lunch with a man.

(Oh, bad, Liz, bad thought.)

Liz weaves her way carefully through the tables, minding the messenger bag slung across her chest, catching a few stares from elegantly dressed man and woman with her bright blue beanie and wide rimmed glasses, as expected, before she finally rounds the corner to a table situated out of the way in a little alcove. It is still within sight and earshot of a few tables, all of which are suspiciously empty. Perhaps reserving the whole restaurant wasn’t such a far-fetched assumption, after all.

“Lizzie!”

His warm, welcoming voice washes over her, as it always does, making her feel much less out of place than she did in the open dining area. Amazing.

He sits in a fancy chair at the beautifully laid table, looking just like all the other elegant, rich diners in the outer area. She sighs.

(He’s so out of her league.)

There are only two places at the small table, all the dishes empty, save two goblets of water at each place. Both glasses contain the same amount, however, meaning that Red waited for her to arrive before eating or drinking. Somehow, she’s not surprised. He is an unfailingly polite criminal. She smothers a smile.

“Hi, Red,” she says happily, slinging her bag over the back of the vacant chair across from him. “Where’s Dembe today? Won’t he be joining us?”

Red smiles easily at her, taking a moment to watch her remove her beanie, stuff it a little self-consciously in her bag, and smooth a hand over her ponytail before answering.

“Dembe is rather a connoisseur of fine foods and he enjoys watching professionals at work. He’s in the kitchen observing.”

Liz raises her eyebrows, surprised and skeptical. She thinks it’s more likely that Dembe is watching over Red’s meal at all stages to make sure no one slips anything in it. That fits with her current profile of Red, appearing completely at ease while really going to all lengths to assuage his paranoia. Poor Dembe, being quarantined to the kitchen to watch his boss’s food, how unfair –

“I know what you’re thinking, Lizzie, and it’s nothing like that. Dembe is quite an enthusiastic chef. You should try his dishes, they’re exquisite. His mushroom ravioli with sun dried tomatoes and white wine sauce is to die for. And don’t even get me started on his desserts.”

Liz smiles, amused by Red’s gushing over Dembe. Perhaps their relationship is something deeper than it appears at first glance. She’ll be sure to observe them more closely from now on.

“I see. So, he is a willing student of the kitchen, is he?” she questions, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Very much so,” Red says happily. “I’ll tell him you were worried for him though, he’ll be touched. If you’re lucky, he may even make you his famous crème bruleé as a thank you.”

“Good, is it?”

“Positively indulgent,” Red hums, his voice deep and his eyes dark. Liz stares back at him, entranced. The air warms between them.

(Liz suddenly wonders what would happen if she took advantage of their seclusion at this private table, out of sight, alone, together –)

And then a male waiter materializes out of thin air – luckily a different young man than the one Liz talked to before – and the heated staring contest between Red and Liz comes to an abrupt end. Liz can’t help but feel both relieved and disappointed.

She reaches for her water goblet and takes a fortifying gulp.

“Are you and the young lady ready to order, Mr. Kershaw?” the man asks professionally, completely unaware of what he just interrupted. “Would you perhaps like some wine to get you started?”

“Yes, please, Walter,” Red says smoothly, turning away from Liz to address the waiter he is obviously familiar with. “I think we’ll share a bottle of ’76 Merlot, if that’s all right with you, of course, Lizzie?”

Liz, who hasn’t even glanced at the beautiful menu covered with curly writing, nods easily. “Sure, I’ll have a glass.”

“Very good, ma’am,” the waiter nods and disappears again.

Liz sighs, turning to the menu, on the hunt for something that looks good. She doesn’t even know where to begin. But she certainly doesn’t want to admit it to Red.

“If I may, Lizzie, I would recommend the chicken marsala with roasted potatoes and red wine sauce. It’s delicious, easily my favorite thing on the menu.”

Well. That sounds lovely. How convenient. But she doesn’t want to admit that either.

“Hmmm,” she hums noncommittally. “Thank you for the suggestion. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Liz pretends to read the rest of the menu thoroughly, already having settled on the chicken marsala. Then she thinks of a way to tease him more. She can’t resist.

“Red wine sauce, you said?”

“Yes. Why, are you not a fan of wine?”

“Oh, no, certainly, I am. I love a good glass of red before bed just as much as the next girl,” Liz smirks at him over the rim of her glasses. “I’m just sensing a theme with your suggestions here, Red. Not trying to get me drunk, are you?”

Red only grins at her, his eyes sparkling. “Perhaps I am,” he murmurs.

Another moment starts to grow between them but is quickly stopped once again by the return of their waiter with their ordered bottle of wine. Liz is starting to feel a distinct distaste for this poor server and his timing. But then he pours her a generous glass of wine and she feels a little more friendly.

“Are you perhaps ready to order?”

“Lizzie?”

“Yes, I am. But you first, please.”

“Of course,” Red agrees easily, wasting no time in ordering his preferred chicken dish.

The waiter simply nods, making no move to write the order down. Liz tries not to be impressed by that. This order will probably be the least complicated thing he serves all day. He turns to look at her expectantly.

“And I’ll have the same, please,” Liz says politely. The waiter just nods again before taking their menus and moving off.

“Well, well. You took my advice, after all,” Red says to her slyly, regaining her attention effortlessly.

“Well, you know, there’s a first time for everything,” Liz says cheekily, reaching for her wine glass.

Red smirks at her, picking up his own glass and clinking it gently with hers before she can bring it to her mouth. “Indeed,” he purrs, holding her eyes as he takes a sip from his glass.

She blushes.

(Oh, my.)

“Well, I was under the impression this was a working lunch. Am I mistaken?” Liz prompts after another long moment, struggling to break Red’s gaze long enough to form coherent words.

Red continues to stare at her for a second even after she looks away. She can feel his gaze on her, a warm, drugging thing, before he nods to himself and slips into his businessman persona.

(Liz can see the change in him easily, another person sliding into place as if a switch has been flipped.)

“No, you’re absolutely right. A working lunch it is,” Red confirms, straightening in his chair. “Details are coming together well for the heist.”

“Excellent,” Liz murmurs. “Any chance you want to fill me in on those details? I’m used to running solo on gigs like this. I feel quite left in the dark.”

“I’m sorry, Lizzie, that’s not at all my intention,” Red frowns, leaning forward to convey his sincerity. “It’s only logistical things that I’ve been organizing. I invited you to lunch today for the very purpose of filling you in.”

“Oh, good,” Liz says easily. She doesn’t feel any animosity towards Red for the lack of information. She believes him when he says he was intending to tell her. She just wants to prod him along a little, with the heist date drawing closer every day. “So, what do I need to know?”

Red gives her a little smile of thanks for understanding and takes another sip of wine before answering her.

“We’ll rob AM&R Bank at two o’clock in the afternoon on September the twentieth.”

Liz almost chokes on her mouthful of wine.

“What? We’re robbing one of the most secure banks in D.C. in broad daylight? Are you crazy?”

“Quite possibly,” Red grins at her a little madly. “But this is a perfectly sane decision, I assure you, Lizzie.”

Liz puts down her glass and pushes it far away from her. Perhaps drinking wine at a working lunch with Raymond Reddington is not a good idea.

She crosses her arms. “Care to elaborate?” she asks primly.

“With pleasure,” Red answers happily. “As demonstrated beautifully by your response, the best time to commit any crime is when the ones who would stop you least expect it. This is especially true with a robbery. If the guards aren’t expecting a break-in, they won’t see one. The human mind is a remarkable thing, as I’m sure you’re aware, Lizzie.”

Liz purses her lips, mulling over his logic and the obvious reference to her psychology background. She has to admit he has a point. But that doesn’t mean she agrees with him.

“All right,” she says a little tersely.

Red frowns slightly. “You don’t sound completely on board.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Liz answers simply. “I admit that your logic is sound but only in theory. In reality, it simply can’t hold up.”

“And why is that?” Red challenges, seeming intrigued by her defiance and genuinely interested in her opinion.

Liz stares at him evenly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my studies of the human mind, it’s that people rarely do as they’re expected. There’s so many random variables that you’re not taking into account in this situation.”

“Like what?” he asks immediately, an odd sparkle in his eyes that pulls Liz forward in her seat, leaning towards him and lowering her voice into something more intimate.

“What if the guard on duty decides to have an extra espresso shot in his coffee that morning, making him more observant and on edge than he usually is? What if one of the cameras needs unscheduled maintenance and it’s left tilted two inches further to the left than you originally anticipated, at the perfect angle to catch our faces? What if Amos Rodfield himself decides to show up and inspect his bank that day and we’re caught? There are simply too many unknowns.”

Red nods seriously, leaning forward to match her posture, placing his forearms on the table, and looks earnestly into her eyes. “Absolutely. We need to be able to control as many factors in this situation as possible if we are to be successful in our operation.”

Liz nods, pleased. Good, she’s convinced him to see her side of things, excellent, perhaps now he’ll –

“Which is why I’ve planted a guard to be on duty that afternoon, a most trusted friend named Amilo, who, as it happens, abhors coffee. I’ll have one of my own men check the cameras and install fake feeds during the morning shift to avoid any unexpected technological mishaps. And, as far as Amos goes, I know his schedule. He’ll be on vacation with his young girlfriend Bridget in the Bahamas on the day of the heist.”

Liz blinks.

Oh.

“Do you agree with me now, Lizzie?” Red asks, a slight taunt in his voice as he leans closer conspiratorially, a dark twinkle in his eyes.

Liz stares back at him for a moment, mouth agape, entranced and in wonder at his brilliant mind, before looking down at her empty plate with a huffed little laugh. Impressive. But she can’t let him off the hook that easily.

“No,” she murmurs, looking up to catch his expression.

She sees his self-assured grin slips in an instant, the corners of his mouth pulling down in an unexpected frown.

How satisfying.

“You can only control so many factors, Red. And as impressive as all those things are, committing a robbery in the middle of the day is still a large and unnecessary risk.”

They stare at each other in silence, both sets of eyes flicking back and forth to watch the other.

(There is no anger or resentment between them, only good-natured tension and excitement, a friendly debate to see who wins. Liz loves the feeling.)

“But,” Liz suddenly breaks the silence with a careless shrug, moving abruptly to sit back in her seat, secretly lamenting the new distance between them. “It’s your heist, Red. So, I’ll show up whatever time you tell me to.”

She grins teasingly at him. She wants to make it clear that there are no hard feelings between them, at least not on her end.

Red seems to get the message, returning her smile after a searching look and a slow nod, easing back in his seat to copy her posture.

“That’s good to know,” he murmurs finally. “And, while I accept your reasons for thinking otherwise, I’d still like to perform the heist during the day.”

“All right,” Liz says easily, taking a sip of wine.

(She was right to save it. She needed her wits about her for that round.)

Red follows her lead, sipping his wine as well, observing her as he does so.

“So, you would never perform a heist during the day?” he asks, the teasing back in his voice, happy that they got through a mild disagreement without serious complications.

“Well,” Liz lilts, unable to resist playing with him a little. “Not by choice, no.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve found that I always perform best at night.”

She looks up at him coyly, making her innuendo clear, pleased to see his lips quirk and his gaze darken as he looks at her.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” he rumbles.

Liz lets out a breathy laugh and they watch each other in rapt fascination until suddenly their waiter reappears with their identical lunches.

(And she is sure that in that moment they were both contemplating a “night performance” and the thought alone heats her cheeks.)

Red turns to their waiter, making a show out of thanking him for the quick service, using no shortage of flattery as he does so. Liz, grateful for the personal moment, takes a deep breath and attempts to steady her heart rate. Who knew lunch with Raymond Reddington could be this exhilarating?

(Oh, but she is enjoying herself.)

Liz looks back up as the waiter moves off again, feeling a little more in control and ready to tackle whatever disarming looks Red may choose to throw at her next.

(And perhaps throw some of her own. She can’t let him have all the fun.)

“This smells amazing,” Liz says. And it’s true. The chicken looks perfectly done with just the right amount of sauce. Her stomach grumbles. She suddenly remembers that she’s only had some buttered toast to eat today and that was this morning.

Red smiles at her. “I hope you enjoy it,” he tells her sincerely, picking up his wine glass and holding it towards her. “Cheers.”

Liz quickly picks up her glass to clink it against his once again. “Cheers.”

They dig in, Liz starting with her potatoes and Red going right for the chicken, cutting it up into neat pieces before delicately dipping it in the sauce.

(He is a methodical eater, Liz notices, much like herself, further reinforcing her suspicion that they have similar minds, detail-oriented and organized. The thought that they have things in common thrills her.)

They eat in silence for a few comfortable minutes before Red speaks.

“So, Lizzie,” he begins.

Liz looks up from her half-empty plate with her eyebrows raised politely.

“Yes?”

“Now that work is out of the way for now, should we indulge in some pleasant meal-time conversation?”

“Certainly, if you like,” answers Liz with a grin, amused by his playfully formal attitude. “Or, we could continue to sit in companionable silence until it gets unbearably awkward from lack of speech and one of us excuses themselves to the bathroom in a desperate attempt to get away.”

Red chuckles warmly at her. “Yes, we could also do that, although I must admit I would prefer the former.”

Liz smiles back at him. “Yes, I would as well.”

(She can’t imagine even a hint of awkwardness permeating the air between them. She just suggested it to be funny. Red is simply too comfortable to be awkward. Too suave and confident and handsome –)

“So, what should we talk about?” asks Liz, out of both genuine curiosity and an effort to halt that line of thought in its tracks.

Red takes a moment to drink his wine, swishing the liquid around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, clearly pondering her question. Then, having come to a decision, he looks up at her suddenly, his gaze direct and piercing.

“I’d like to talk about you.”

Liz blinks in surprise, her fork, chicken and all, stopping halfway to her mouth. “Me?”

Red’s mouth twitches. “Yes, Lizzie. You.”

Liz puts her fork down and takes a drink before answering, a little confused. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about that you don’t already know. I’m a professional grifter. I pick locks and do brush passes and steal things. That’s about it.”

“Those are your professional qualifications, Lizzie. I know all about those. I’m talking about more personal things.”

Liz frowns. “Personal things? Are you telling me you didn’t already have your henchman look up everything little thing about me?”

This time, Red’s eye twitches instead of his mouth. Hit. “Intel, for the purposes of the heist, mind you, only tell me so much,” Red murmurs. “I want to know more about you, Lizzie, as a person, not as a grifter, impressive though that side of you may be.”

“Oh,” Liz murmurs, feeling a little touched that Red would even be interested in her that way.

(She tries to tamp down the little flutters in her stomach at words “Red” and “interested in her”.)

“Well,” she says, feeling more at ease now. “What would you like to know?”

Red smiles a kind smile, his eyes warm and attentive. “Where did you grow up?” he asks softly.

Liz smiles back. “Nebraska.”

And it goes on from there, Red asking questions and Liz providing answers, opening up more as time passes. Red is an active participant, making it a true conversation, adding comments or occasionally sharing a related story of his own.

(He is a fantastic storyteller, engaging but not overpowering, and she thinks that she could listen to him all day, would like to, in fact. But, for some reason, he’s more interested in her right now and that creates a different but equally pleasant feeling inside her.)

Liz does most of the talking, the rest of her meal going cold on her plate while Red picks a little more at his own before abandoning it completely to give her his full attention. And Liz doesn’t mind not finishing her plate; she was getting full anyway and she can have the leftovers for dinner tonight.

(And the fact that Red values what she’s saying over their delicious lunch of chicken marsala – and he was right, it is fabulous – speaks volumes to her.)

Liz isn’t sure how long they talk but she knows she never wants it to end. She’s never enjoyed talking about herself very much but with Red, she doesn’t feel like something on display to be picked at and dissected, like she does with most people. She can feel his attention on her but it is polite and courteous and interested, a warm, flattering thing. It doesn’t suffocate her or pressure her like other people’s eyes do and instead gives her just the right amount of welcome to feel safe.

(It’s a lovely feeling.)

Liz isn’t sure how long they would have sat there talking and sharing and laughing if Dembe had not suddenly appeared by Red’s elbow, staring at him meaningfully until Red finished his current story (which left Liz holding a stitch in her side from laughing so hard) and managed to tear his openly adoring gaze from her.

“Yes, Dembe?”

“We must leave now if you are to make your three o’clock meeting, Raymond,” Dembe says quietly.

Liz’s mouth falls open in shock and she quickly turns to root around in her bag for her phone, needing to see the time for herself. She manages to extract it with minimal struggle and unlocks the screen. Dembe is right, of course. It is half past two. Her and Red have been eating and talking for just over two hours.

(Time flies when you’re…well.)

Red nods, gently dismissing Dembe, and takes a moment to shift back into his business man persona. Liz watches quietly, lamenting the return of Raymond Reddington and the departure of Red.

He turns to look at her. “Well, Lizzie, I’m truly sorry to say it but I do have to be going.”

“That’s all right,” Liz says, trying not to let disappointment bleed into her voice. “I didn’t realize how long it’s been. I can’t expect to steal any more of your time.”

Red shakes his head at her. “You of all people should know, Lizzie. The word ‘theft’ implies that you took something I wasn’t offering. And that was certainly not the case.”

Liz blushes lightly at his words, feeling quite light-headed at the clear insinuation.

(And perhaps it’s best that they part ways now; she’s not sure how much more overt flirting she can take without breaking out into childish giggles. How much wine has she had anyway?)

Red raises a hand to signal their waiter, who was apparently waiting nearby, unnoticed by Liz, and he hurries towards the table.

“Yes, Mr. Kershaw?”

“Walter, could we have the rest of the young lady’s meal to go, please?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Kershaw. I’ll be right back, sir.”

Red thanks the waiter who, to Liz’s surprise, whisks her plate out from in front of her and takes it away. Well, the service in this restaurant is certainly something. At the eateries Liz frequents, they usually just toss a flimsy box in her general direction. What a change.

Liz takes a breath. “Thank you for such a lovely afternoon, Red. The meal was delicious and the company was…better.” She smiles at him, trying to make her feelings clear.

“You’re very welcome, Lizzie. I assure you it was my pleasure. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

(And Liz thinks she might hear a bit of a tremble in Red’s voice as he says this, just a hint of uncertainty. It’s so unfounded that it’s almost laughable.)

“Oh, I think so, yes,” she says with a kind smile.

He smiles back at her gratefully and they just look at one another until the waiter re-appears, placing a small take-out bag on the table in front of her. She thanks him profusely and, once he’s gone, finally moves to stand. Red follows suit.

“Well, I expect I’ll be hearing from you?” Liz inquires cheerfully.

“Oh, yes,” Red hums, looking into her eyes. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Excellent,” chirps Liz, finding it hard to pull her gaze – and body – away from Red and his magnetic presence.

(Well, she has to leave sometime, doesn’t she?)

“I’ll talk to you soon then,” she says happily, and he simply nods at her. She turns to leave.

Liz makes her way back to the front of the restaurant, weaving through the tables in same way she came in. The only difference is that this time, she can feel Red’s eyes on her back until the door closes behind her.

Liz kicks the door of her apartment shut with a sigh, heading right for the kitchen to drop her bag of leftovers off in the fridge. As it happens, she’s not hungry, even after a full day of errands and shopping after leaving Red at the restaurant. It’s early evening now and she can always eat later.

She turns on some lights as she makes her way through her apartment, growing dim in the evening light, and tosses her bag on its usual chair, somehow managing not to stub her toe on any furniture as she goes. Amazing.

Liz enters the kitchen and sets the bag of leftovers on the counter, reaching in and feeling around for what should be a small box of chicken marsala, only to be confronted with what feels distinctly like two boxes.

She frowns.

Liz pulls out both boxes and sets them on the counter, squinting at them in confusion. After a moment’s deliberation, she opens the box on the left to reveal her entrée. So, then what is in the other box? Did the waiter perhaps give her Red’s leftovers as well? No, Red’s plate was still on the table when she left. So, what –

She carefully opens the mystery box and gasps aloud. A huge slice of tiramisu sits there, looking absolutely delicious. The scent of coffee meets her nose seconds later and her mouth waters. Liz loves tiramisu. How did Red –

Ring, ring.

Liz jumps, a little startled, and goes running for her discarded bag, her phone’s muffled ring tone luckily still audible from inside. After a brief struggle involving her car keys, a pair of earbuds, and her lockpicks, Liz finally manages to extract her phone and glance at the screen before pressing accept.

Unknown.

Her heart flips in her chest.

“Hello?”

“Lizzie.”

“Red,” she breathes, not realizing how she sighs his name until she’s already done it.

“Is this a good time?”

Liz can’t help but smile. Polite criminal. “Yes, perfect actually, I just got home.”

“Wonderful,” Red says and she’s sure she can hear a smile in his voice. “Did you, uh, get a chance to get settled?”

“If you mean look in my bag of leftovers and find the tiramisu, then yes, I did,” Liz can’t help but get straight to the point.

“Ah, yes, that’s rather what I meant,” he sounds a little hesitant, though Liz can’t imagine why. “Did you, uh, are you, well, do you –”

It takes a second for Liz to understand what he’s trying to ask. “Oh, yes, I love tiramisu!” she hurries to reassure him. “Yes, I could hardly believe it, it’s my favorite, how did you do it?”

Red gives a relieved chuckle, so deep she thinks that her phone might have warmed a little in her hand. “It was just a lucky guess. I know you’re a fan of coffee, at least in the morning, since I had some with you in your apartment last week, so I figured it was a safe bet that you’d like tiramisu. And I just slipped a note to Walter when you weren’t looking, that’s all. I’m surprised you didn’t catch me, to be honest.”

“So am I,” murmurs Liz, truly impressed that Red managed to perform what was basically a brush pass right in front of her without her noticing. “Well, thank you very much, I can’t wait to dig in.”

“You’re very welcome, Lizzie, and I’ll let you get to it in just a moment. I was just calling to see if you’d like to practice a little tomorrow.”

Liz frowns to herself. “Practice?”

“Yes, for the heist,” he answers, excitement now clear in his voice. “I was just thinking it might be a good idea to see how we work together under pressure before the big day. Just to be safe, you know.”

Liz has to admit it’s a good idea. She hasn’t done too many joint gigs – since she definitely prefers to work alone – but with the few partners she’s had, it’s never quite worked out.

(She has a funny feeling that Red is different though. In more ways than one.)

But, it can’t hurt to practice, as Red says.

“All right,” she agrees eagerly. “Do you have anywhere specific in mind?”

“Not really,” he says idly. “I figured I’d get your opinion on that since you’re no doubt more experienced in the field than I am. Of course, we could always meet at outside your apartment and wander until we find an appropriate location to steal a little something. Or is that too spur-of-the-moment for you?”

He sounds genuinely concerned that this won’t be to her liking, apparently oblivious to the fact that that’s exactly the sort of thing Liz had so much fun doing with her friends in high school. Besides, what better way to test themselves as a team than not planning a thing, all the while knowing that the actual heist will be planned down to the last detail?

“No, no, that’s fine,” Liz assures him. “Spontaneous crime is my favorite kind of crime, as it happens, however did you guess?” she quirks her mouth up in a teasing grin even though he can’t see her.

“I seem to be on a winning streak today,” he hums.

Liz presses her phone close to her ear. “One could almost say you’re getting lucky.”

Red’s delighted chuckle at her innuendo fills her whole body and she laughs breathily along with him.

“One can only hope,” he murmurs, making her smirk. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” Liz says, happy at the prospect of seeing him again so soon. “Does nine-ish sound okay?”

“It’s a date,” he murmurs.

“Excellent,” she hums. “I’ll see you then.”

“Good night, Lizzie. Enjoy your dessert.”

“Good night, Red, and thank you again.”

Liz hangs up, breathless and tingly, and does nothing but stand stupidly in her kitchen for a second, a ridiculous grin on her face.

Oh, Red.

Then she gets another whiff of the tiramisu and snaps out of it, turning to grab a fork from the drawer next to the sink. She wastes no more time digging into the tiramisu, spearing a generous forkful and putting it in her mouth, closing her eyes with a tiny moan as the coffee flavor explodes on her tongue. As she swallows, already helping herself to another bite, she catches herself having the oddest thought.

She wishes Red was here to share dessert with her.

Oh.

Oh, she’s got it bad.

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #mine #fanfic #prompt #@launa88 #AU #grifting with the enemy #it's been forever #i'm sorry #also i'm not entirely sure this was ready to post #but i think i always say that #i think it's just pre-posting jitters #also since it's been a while #also also it's a long-ass chapter #sorry to fucking brain-dump on y'all #LOL #so let me know what you think please?? #much love!! #<3