#but just like. it felt right for Darius in the moment and Hunter got emotional about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-sunshine-dims · 1 year

Text

A mighty fine night (For comfort and rest)

hope you enjoy!

the book is ‘Tales from Thicketdown Forest by @a-small-batch-of-dragons, its a really lovely book, nice and cozy, highly recommend 20/10!

Ao3

Words: 4.9k

Summary: Hunter wanted Darius.

That's the only thought in his mind. As the door shut with a quiet but devastating ‘click,’

He was too old for this. He was a teenager, he was. Even if he suddenly had to work for the answer of sixteen when he tried remembering the specifics of how old he was.

Hunter knew being childish was bad, and no one would take him seriously if they saw him like this.

But regardless, Hunter wanted Darius.

Contents and Warnings: Age regression. Hurt/comfort. Referenced child abuse. Dadrius (unbeknownst to him). Childish fears. Fear of things being taken away. Post-episode ‘Any Sport in a Storm’.

______

Hunter wanted Darius.

That's the only thought in his mind. As the door shut with a quiet but devastating ‘click,’

He took a deep shaky breath. Trying to ignore the sudden emotions coming to the surface now that he was alone, in the confines of his room. He walked over, and then in a quick defeated action, fell right onto his bed.

Deep breaths.

He spent a couple of minutes there. Flapjack curled into his side reassuringly. Just being there, as Hunter took a minute.

Then, when he thought he was ready, he got up again. Because he had to. And he went to put on his pajamas for the night, trying to shift into the regular routine.

And trying to ignore the aching of his chest.

Trying to ignore the numbness slowly fading away completely, leaving only the emotional rawness.

But as tears finally sprung to his eyes; no matter how much he tried rubbing at them, the cold making them sting. And as sobs soon followed; no matter how much he tried breathing.

He wanted Darius.

Flapjack was instantly up, and then close again, cuddled into his neck in an attempt to comfort him. And Hunter just cried harder.

He was too old for this. He was a teenager, he was. Even if he suddenly had to work for the answer of sixteen when he tried remembering the specifics of how old he was.

Hunter knew being childish was bad, and no one would take him seriously if they saw him like this.

He knew he wasn’t even supposed to cry. It was a weakness, he’d been told so, a whole lot.

But his uncle had just given him some, corrections , again. For messing up. And he knew that it was his fault.

If he'd just done better.

But his mind felt soft and hazy again- if he was honest it had felt soft and hazy the moment he’d left the throne room. But it was getting hazier by the minute.

And everything just felt bad, and he just wanted Darius.

Darius was nice. Darius was cool. And Darius didn't hate him anymore, he had even given Hunter a scroll!

He would help.

He would comfort him and make all of the bad feelings go away!

He would make everything okay.

He would fix it.

But what if he was mad?

It was late.

Hunter had gotten back from his unsuccessful mission late.

And Hunter knew Darius sometimes went to bed early because of ‘beauty sleep’ and whatnot.

What if he was already asleep? What if Hunter woke him up and Darius was mad at him again?

Or what if Darius just didn't want to deal with him?

After all, Hunter should be able to be all good on his own with Flapjack! Flapjack was always really good at comforting him.

He should be fine all on his own.

It would be fine!

It wouldn't though.

He couldn't handle being alone, and Flapjack couldn't help all the time.

And even though a voice deep in his mind tried warning him against bothering Darius. Tried convincing him he’d be mad. Hunter couldn’t really imagine it.

Darius was nice to him now! He’d even given him a sewing lesson or two, and had said if Hunter ever needed him, he was there.

And Hunter needed him.

Why would he get mad?

So with not another thought to it, and his mind made up resolutely, mostly because he needed someone to be there, so very desperately. He grabbed his cloak and wrapped it around his pajamas. Hiding Flapjack subparly underneath. Then he wiped his eyes roughly one last time, before exiting his room quietly with socked feet.

He sniffed. But he knew he had to be quiet.

Just until he got to Darius.

he held his breath, in a dramatized action; He couldn't get caught.

Quiet quiet quiet.

He had to be super stealthy.

Like a super stealthy person who does stealth for a living.

He ran corner to corner in every hallway he went through, slyly.

It was almost fun. Anytime he forgot for a second why his chest ached so much, or why his face was all itchy and bad, or why he felt so lousy.

And okay, maybe it was starting to be increasingly more fun, as he got too preoccupied with dodging and weaving to remember the reason he was doing so.

And soon he was at Darius’s door.

And how could he be anything but excited?

____

When Darius heard a knock at his door, far later than anyone should bother a coven-head. He had several ideas of who, or what, it was, already in his head.

One less when Eberwolf didn’t barge in after a moment anyways, regardless of Darius's non-answer.

But no matter how many ideas he had, one thing he did not consider was the teen golden guard currently at his door.

He was shifting on his feet nervously but despite that- and despite the fact, his eyes were very obviously red and puffy- he was looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes known to man and a little sheepish grin to match.

“Little prince?” Darius asked, mouth agape, concern instantly taking precedence as he immediately went to gently shoo Hunter into his room and out of the open space.

Hunter’s large peculiar-colored eyes seemed to have gotten larger at the words, almost looking teary for a second before a pout broke through it suddenly and he crossed his arms.

“I’m not little!” He demanded, suddenly seeming a whole lot younger than Darius had sworn he was.

Darius simply blinked, the sudden weight of worry lessening significantly already. He smirked, “then what am I supposed to call you kid? Big prince?-“

“Yes!”

“No- it sounds all ugh!” He made a dramatic showing of disgust and Hunter outright giggled.

giggled.

And the worry was back.

Darius had been so sure this kid was sixteen. Hunter had been… when he became the golden guard- much too young an age. And then it’s been a couple of years since then-

And then Hunter’d confirmed it a little over a couple weeks ago!

Was he bleeding out again?

And then, suddenly, a little note of information he’d only half been paying attention to from Raine pierced itself into his mind.

Age regression.

It would make sense, they had said it was often a coping mechanism.

he stored that information away again carefully to ask more about later.

“Alright brat- that fits, huh?”

Hunter gasped “nuh-uh!”

He chuckled “Only a little, if it makes you feel better, little prince”

Darius still very much received a pout at that though. However, it was taken back very quickly as Hunter found himself distracted with Flapjack happily flying up and out from the cloak, and instead to his hair to make a nest of, while Hunter moved about.

Darius huffed a laugh, before crouching down to the kid’s height and potentially giving himself back problems in the process. Titan, he was getting old. “Alright little prince, now after having that very insightful conversation, what’s going on? What did you need?”

He honestly didn’t know what to expect with that question. Even if Hunter wasn’t very well potentially regressed, Darius was completely in the dark about most of this.

Hunter simply paused, as if remembering. Bringing a gloved hand to his eyes- revealing a pair of pajamas under his slightly crinkled cloak - before tears sprung to his eyes.

Crap.

Titan, what did he do?

The kid's bird got up immediately and went right to his shoulder instead, chirping a little reassuring tune, before glaring at Darius with all of its might. Darius felt like he had been threatened.

“Oh Hunter I’m sorry-“ he tried, his arms moving placatingly in his attempts. Because he really couldn’t tell Raine and Eber he had made Hunter cry.

He didn't even know what he did.

Hunter let out a sudden sob, “he wa’ mad at me ‘gain” he hiccuped.

Oh.

Darius didn’t even have to guess who ‘he’ was “oh kid, I’m so sorry”

The poor thing just shook harder.

“Hey it’s okay-“ he panicked, he would deny it till his dying breath, Darius Deamonne did not panic. But he panicked.

“-comfort?” He offered, the word rushing out in a panic as he opened his arms, completely out of his depth.

The word had barely even left his lips before the kid was nodding profusely and barreling toward him.

The wind nearly got knocked out of Darius with the force that Hunter clung to him. And after just trying to breathe for a second- because Titan kid, he carefully wrapped his arms around the kid in exchange.

He decidedly did not mention the growing wet spot on his sweater from Hunter, he could always burn the thing.

It was more pressing to try and help Hunter.

Because Darius didn't think he could take the frankly heartbreaking sobs and mumbled words of explanation that didn't really make sense.

It was so very melancholic.

but, eventually after carefully rubbing circles into Hunter's back- and then swiftly stopping after being swatted at and told it, quote, ‘made the skin exist too much, but angry’ by Hunter. The sobs had slowly stopped and morphed into nothing but small breathy hiccups.

Darius was nothing, if not relieved.

Hunter felt better.

Darius carefully untangled himself, “Alright little prince, Why don't you go sit over there” he pointed to the brilliantly purple couch -“for just a moment while I get you water?”

Once again, however, he is lost as Hunter does not do that, and instead clings harder.

“Hunter-“

Darius is met with a wobbly lip and any resolve to do anything crumbles, for a totally inexplicable reason. But he needs to get him water before he starts feeling the headache and any other plethora of dehydration symptoms-

He sighs, and Hunter shies away a little- making Darius feel guilty instantly, but then Hunter gasps, eyes bright with an idea.

Hunter backs away a little before holding up his arms at Darius, Darius just blinks.

Hunter frowns, “up!” He demands.

The kid baffles Darius constantly.

he chuckles lightheartedly, raising an eyebrow “ really? How old are you?”

Hunter pauses, thinking, before going onto quickly count on his fingers, eventually he lands on four.

four.

Darius just blinks again, theory effectively proven. And he decides this might as well happen.

“Alright brat, we’ll try, ” he says. Before very carefully picking the boy up by the armpits and settling him on his hip with less effort than he was expecting.

And okay, he wasn’t expecting Hunter to be super heavy, he was only, usually , sixteen. But he wasn’t expecting him to be this light, it was concerning.

Teenagers weren’t normally that light, were they?

Darius didn't mention it right now though.

Instead, just continued on his prior mission, walking over to the small kitchen. Carefully, as he held Hunter and grabbed a glass from his cupboards- before deciding that was most definitely a terrible idea, and replacing it with one of the sturdier ceramic mugs he kept for Eber.

He made sure to not fill it up the full way before handing it off.

Hunter took it happily, and his palisman chirped in approval, seemingly having maybe forgiven Darius.

Darius smiled as Hunter took a sip, a lot more relieved than he probably should be, especially for just some random kid, that he was definitely not at all attached to.

And he would recite that over and over when Eber would ask.

Even if Eber would not believe him.

He carefully carried Hunter to the couch, doing his best not to make sharp movements so the water wouldn’t slosh.

Once he was on the couch though, he was finally hit with the realization he should've had far earlier, he didn’t know how to deal with kids.

He hadn’t had any younger siblings, Titan he hadn’t even had older ones. He was an only child. And it had been so long since his own childhood.

He had barely known what to do with Hunter when he was a teenager.

But he was completely lost on what to do now that he was age regressing- and four.

He definitely needed to look more into age regression later. But even that. Was a later thing.

He couldn't do it right now.

He sighed, just settling against the couch with Hunter. For just a minute trying to relax and think as Hunter took quiet sips out of his mug. It was fine, right now everything was fine. They were in between things, able to settle for just a moment, Darius usually liked these kinds of moments, even if specific others didn't.

He could just think, think about his next step, or, maybe not. Maybe he would close his eyes until Hunter decided he was done with the water or wanted to talk.

Hunter wasn't crying anymore, that was a good sign, it was okay for now, Darius was doing something right, hopefully.

Should he be concerned about the lack of tears too?

Darius felt like a worried hen. Titan, this kid will be the death of him.

Hunter has already caused more gray hairs than should be possible in just the short time they've started getting along, this added stress could not be good for him. Still, he didn't find he minded. What was one more gray hair?

The kid deserved someone to go to.

He was a good kid.

Feeling like a worried hen just happened to be a side effect, and even that, he could, eventually, likely, get over.

If Eber didn't find out at least.

He was pulled out of the thought of the ruthless mocking he would incur from Eber later when he felt Hunter tug on his sweater. And he looked over to see the little witch quietly hugging the already mostly-empty mug with one arm. And looking so very, very, young , his legs moving up to his chest. He was so small, a child .

He was only sixteen. A thought Darius had thought before, with more scorn than necessary, aimed at someone he knew wasn’t responsible.

Didn’t stop him often, only recently being struck by the thought in a different light.

He was only sixteen, not fit for his duties still, but deprived of outside experiences, deprived of a childhood.

Not his fault.

“Yes, little prince?”

“I’m tired.”

Darius blinked, not surprised, but registering.

Yes, it was getting late. Darius would've even been going to bed soon.

As if to emphasize the statement he had just made, Hunter yawned.

Darius huffed a laugh, patting Hunter's hair as he made a move to get up

-“Alright kid, it is getting late. How about we get you back to your room for the night? I’ll even- what? Tuck you in?”

The blond froze, visibly tensing before shaking his head insistently, disgruntling his little bird.

What was the bird’s name? Pancakes or something?

“I- what? ‘ no’? ” Darius asked back incredulously. Completely baffled. Hunter was tired, therefore, he should go to sleep. And it wasn’t like Darius was just sending him off! He would walk him back.

Still, Hunter just pushed himself back further into the couch, “no” he told again stubbornly.

Darius was, once again, in the span of only what he could guess was maybe ten minutes, realizing he was terrible at dealing with children.

He sighed, moving a hand to massage at his temple, “and is there any particular reason for that?”

Hunter looked down at the floor, suddenly refusing to make eye contact, or even look in Darius’s general direction.

Because Hunter didn’t want to make Darius mad. Darius was nice, and he’d been nice! But Hunter was being a brat, he knew that.

Even when everything was soft and fuzzy he always knew that. He couldn't not.

If he didn't know, he’d be told it.

He didn’t want to be a brat. Didn't want to be mean, didn't want to be thought of as a pest again.

Didn't want to make him mad, didn't want to be annoying or a bother.

He didn't want everything to go back to how it was. Didn't want to be hated by everyone in the castle again.

He needed to just do what Darius said. If he did what Darius said, then everything would be okay!

Darius wouldn't be mad.

He had to do what Darius said, if he didn’t-

But he couldn't go back.

Darius wouldn't understand and he couldn't go back-

Now that he had left, the shadows and monsters would be waiting for him.

The moment Darius left, they would mock Hunter.

He didn't like the shadows.

He couldn't go back,

He couldn't go back he couldn't go back-

Darius sighed again, moving slowly to sit back down next to Hunter.

“Little prince, you're not in trouble. But I need to know what’s going on, can you please just tell me what is the problem?”

There was a small mumble of ‘I’m not little’ before Hunter just hugged his legs harder, the poorly drawn-on cloak not doing any favors.

He didn't want to make him mad.

“You can take your time. I just want to help, and I can't help think up solutions if I don't know the issue,” Darius said as gently as he could.

Hunter slowly nodded, a good sign.

Darius would help, wouldn't he? Hunter still needed him. And Darius didn't lie, not a lot at least, Hunter didn't think.

It did take a minute, Darius just sitting there with Hunter.

But eventually, Hunter gathered the courage to speak again.

He still hesitated, opening his mouth once, then twice, before closing it with an unsteady lip. And then after looking at Darius for a minute and receiving an arm in invitation, hiding in Darius’s side again.

“I don’t want the shadows to get me,” he admitted quietly, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Completely baffling Darius once again, would the baffling of the older witch never cease? because he knew, often, young witchlets had that fear, in fact, it was pretty common. But Hunter?

Maybe it was just the headspace?

He really needed to ask Whispers more about the whole regression thing.

Regardless he very carefully set the water down on the end table before it spilled onto his poor couch.

And then, he took a breath, before wrapping an arm around the poor kid, who- despite how much he’s argued to the contrary- he quite frankly has gotten attached to. Because he really is a good kid, a brat, and a menace, often, but a good kid.

“You don’t want to go back to your room, because you're afraid of the shadows getting you?” Darius parroted back, not mocking, just making sure he understood.

Hunter nodded, once again disturbing his bird, not that his bird complained, simply chirping a sad little tune to comfort his witch.

Darius thought about it for a moment. Took another breath, and then made a big show of sighing melodramatically, “alright fine -“ he made a dramatic gesture with his free arm, “I suppose then, just this once, you can stay”

Hunter immediately perked up, eyes bright with hope “really?”

“Yeah yeah little prince, don’t get used to it”

Despite his words, Hunter lit up with a bright grin as he jumped up- making Darius thankful he moved the mug- and pumped his fists into the air in a little victory dance.

He said yes! He said yes!

Flapjack flew around him too, celebrating alongside him chirping excited little chirps.

Darius just huffed an amused laugh making a motion to settle down “shh, lower your voices. It’s late, someone will hear you.”

Hunter pouted at him.

He didn’t have to be all alone, hiding himself and Flapjack from the monsters looming so close, and the shadows trying to grab him.

Everything he was sure would be waiting for him when he got back.

Because they were always there when he got back.

And the monsters, and the shadows, scared him.

But if Darius was with him then he was safe!

Darius would protect him.

Darius went to stand up and immediately Hunter was back at his side and following him again, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a young griffin-ling.

“Sure are clingy tonight, little prince” he breathed out a laugh, before waving Hunter off “go sit down, I’m just gonna get a book, or- it’s getting cold, maybe a blanket too”

Hunter blinked, visibly hesitating at the idea, but ultimately nodded, going back to sit down with Flapjack.

And Darius knew exactly what he was doing as he immediately went to grab the softest blanket he could find, neatly folded up in his linen closet.

And he knew what he was doing as he gently thumbed over the spines of his books, before picking out a particular one he had adored as a child, from his small bookshelf.

Even if he hadn't though, by the time he got back Hunter's eyes were already so clearly drooping. And he had to jerk himself up when Darius came back into direct vision.

Hunter moved a bit so Darius could sit down, however, once Darius had, Hunter wasted no time in being in his space again. Increasingly intrigued by the objects Darius held. Looking at them like they held the key to the universe.

“Are you usually like this? All clingy?” Darius laughed again, and the teen just blew a raspberry.

“Brat”

“Bleh,” Hunter replied wisely.

Darius chuckled, utterly amused, before shaking his head dramatically “utterly heartbroken, by that statement. Little prince,”

“Bleh”

“My mother too? When shall this cruelty end?”

Hunter giggled.

Darius gasped, “you take amusement at my suffering?”

“Uh-huh!” The blond laughed.

Darius chuckled, messing up Hunter's hair “I say it again, brat.” he said fondly.

Hunter squealed, the sound high-pitched and loud, and so very happy.

Darius smiled, before moving to put the book on the couch arm as he began unfolding the blanket.

And he was planning on easily spreading it on the two of them, but when he was getting ready to put it on Hunter, he paused.

“Kid take off your cloak, I can’t imagine existing with that is comfortable” he really couldn’t. It was far too big. The golden guard should’ve at least been given a cloak that fit him. And sitting in that-

Hunter blinked, having completely forgotten he was wearing it, but nonetheless did as told. Doing his best to unclasp the unwilling clasping mechanism, before taking off the heavy thing and holding it uncertainly. Then after a moment, just holding it out to Darius.

Because he didn’t know what to do.

Darius paused, before nodding and spreading the blanket over Hunter’s lap. Patiently waiting until the boy’s palisman sat on the headrest of the couch before extending it too far.

Then he very carefully took and slowly folded Hunter’s offered cloak. He didn’t want it to get wrinkled after all, and Hunter just watched, visibly tense, for some inexplicable reason.

Hunter had been the one to hand it to Darius, why would he be nervous?

Then, once it had been set on the end table as well, joining the mostly-empty cup of water, and the small book for the time being. Hunter hesitated, before finally speaking.

“Promise you’ll give it back?”

Oh,

Oh.

Darius really did have to apologize for that huh?

He nodded, “don’t worry, in the morning, it’s all yours. I won’t take it away” again.

“ Promise? ”

The idea that Hunter had already given the cloak up so willingly before he even brought it up, left an unpleasant feeling curdling in the older witch’s stomach.

He had still been so scared it wouldn’t be given back. But Hunter still gave it up. Because he was told to, even when Darius hadn't meant it that way.

It was a sad, sad, thought.

Hunter was such a good little soldier.

And what a horrible thing that was.

“Promise.”

Hunter’s bird seemed to approve of the truth in that statement, offering a small trill. And Hunter visibly sagged in relief before he just nodded- another yawn cutting it off.

So then. With little hesitation, the older witch initiated act two of his plan. Carefully picking up the beige book. Small pages worn gently, from age and care.

Hunter was, as expected, immediately interested. Tired eyes, so utterly exhausted, that it made Darius’s own ache just looking at them- still wide just to analyze the little art embellishing the book cover. And anything else he could see.

Darius carefully held out an arm and Hunter slid into it again without a word, just looking at the book’s cover.

“Want me to read it to you?”

The young witch gasped, amazed at just the idea, like that was the first time he’s ever been offered it.

“ Can you?”

Darius chuckled fondly, “just this once.”

Hunter grinned and nodded with an amount of enthusiasm Darius was sure should give him whiplash. Before going and getting comfortable. Adjusting the blanket, and wiggling until he was satisfied with the comfort level. Then, Darius began.

“Tales from thicketdown forest.”

He opened the small, delicate pages to the beginning.

“Most people today live in big cities.”

“Big, bustling areas with lots of concrete and people living on top of each other.”

“And everybody knows how to get around and everybody says hi to their neighbors.”

Hunter’s attention was completely rapt already, considering every word said carefully.

He liked the book already, he decided.

“Some people live in smaller towns.”

“Smaller, not quite as bustling areas with fewer buildings and people live a little farther apart.”

“But everybody knows how to get around and everybody says hi to their neighbors.”

He glanced at Hunter, barely a portion of the page in and eyes already back to drooping, even as he was still so excited to listen.

Hunter yawned and rubbed his eyes. Sending a curse around as Darius yawned as well, maybe it was getting late for him too.

“Almost no one lives in the middle of nowhere”

“One minuscule area with one building and only one person living miles away from everyone else”

Hunter snapped himself back after closing his eyes for just a moment too long.

Hunter’s eyes were just so tired.

Maybe he could rest them, just for a minute, and if he paid really good attention then he wouldn’t fall asleep.

“But usually, they know how to get around and would still say hi to their neighbors”

“if they had them”

The teen’s eyes slipped closed.

And in an instant he was solidly gone, sagging into Darius.

Darius flipped to the next page.

“But no one lives in the Thicketdown Forest.”

“There are no buildings and no people.”

“Nobody really knows how to get around and there are no neighbors to say hi to.”

Darius was interrupted by another yawn.

Maybe it was time for him to retire as well. He carefully closed the book, unneeding of a bookmark. It would be easy to find his place on the second page. And he sat the little book on the end table, with the rest of the items.

A little disappointing that they couldn’t make it farther. Darius is sure Hunter would've loved it, and Darius hadn't read it in quite a while. But Darius could read it on his own time, and if Hunter wanted to, he could borrow it. Right now Darius was just fortunate Hunter fell asleep.

Because he’d met the kid when he was younger, and he sure was a spitfire. Darius remembers him distinctly being completely exhausted, for at least a couple weeks at a time, in several different phases for a mix of reasons. Some such as deciding ‘sleeping was actually not needed’. Or just stubbornness for a reason he had never told anyone. As well as fits of insomnia that left the poor kid wrecked.

He was fortunate Hunter fell asleep so easily.

He moved to get up, but was then struck by the realization he could, in fact, not move.

The brat had him trapped, Darius quite literally couldn’t move without waking Hunter.

He was too tired for this, and he really didn’t want to wake up the kid.

He sighed, throwing his socked feet up onto the couch and pulling the blanket up.

His back would hate him in the morning, but he really couldn’t wake Hunter up. The kid needed his sleep. And the bags under the young golden guard’s eyes which should not be that dark- agreed with him.

He was only sixteen.

And right now, not even that.

He needed his sleep.

Darius got comfortable, carefully summoning a pillow from his bed with his small abomination companion, before putting it under his neck, trying to minimize the amount of hatred his body would have for him in the morning.

He may complain about it to Eberwolf in the morning regardless. But no matter what, he wouldn’t regret it.

A worthy cause, for Hunter, to feel safe, and hopefully get actual rest.

Darius’s eyes grew heavy, and he yawned a final time, before wrapping his arms around the young witchling, and, eventually, drifting off too.

Flapjack settling in close by.

Only going to sleep with the final assurance that everything was okay.

That his witchling was safe, protected, cared for, and oh-so content.

And he was. It was a good night.

Despite all attempts otherwise, his boy was happy.

#toh hunter #toh darius #toh flapjack #the owl house #toh #darius daemonne #hunter daemonne #the cold one writes #hurt/comfort #age regression #Dadrius #toh fic #the owl house fic

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harper-clarington · 5 years

Text

Tender Touches || Romper

Where: Roman Lynn’s trailer

When: December 2, evening

Warnings: Being too cute, lots of emotions

Word Count: 8,950

Harper in bold, @roman-lynn in italics

Roman's stomach had been in knots since the uncovering of Sebrina Smythe's body. The last thing that he had expected while taking part in an all out brawl in the snow with Hunter Clarington was to stumble over evidence of the missing girl--much less her body. It had been a long 24 hours since the incident and despite his first instinct to stay inside and keep to himself, trying to scrub his brain of the graphic mental images , he decided to reach out to Harper.

He didn't want to leave his trailer, slightly worried that the Serpents would be slithering around, forming some sort of intricate plan for being blamed for Sebrina's untimely death. He snuck out, choosing not to take his motorcycle so as to not bring any attention to himself, especially since he was crossing over into the North Side. Within an hour, he had made it over to the Clarington residence, picked up Harper, and made it back to the South Side. They hadn't talked much on the way back, Roman leading Harper through the tree line in almost complete silence.

Upon them walking back to Sunnyside Trailer Park, Roman almost immediately noticed the smell of fire and heard a loud commotion. His heart beat in his chest, worried about the state of his home, his parent's, and his friend's. He took Harper's hand in his, turning to her with a concerned look in his eyes, "Stay close to me...and don't let go of my hand".

Harper had been feeling like shit since she got home from Sebastian's. She still hadn't talked to Hunter since finding out he'd known that Bri was alive because he simply didn't know how to approach the subject without screaming and never stopping. When Roman had invited her over, she'd jumped at the chance to get out of her house. The Clarington residence was huge, but at that moment it felt stifling.

Despite her low expectations for the South Side, she hadn't exactly been expecting the commotion that greeted the two of them when Roman led her to Sunnyside Trailer Park. She was fairly certain the place being on fire was unusual, even for this part of town.

She nodded, looking back at Roman and tightening her grip on his hand, feeling anxious all of a sudden, unsure what was happening and worried something would happen to them. "What's going on?" She hissed.

The chaos that was ensuing on Sunnyside Trailer Park was far from normal. Roman could see on the east side of the lot a small group of people forming; all holding various forms of weaponry between torches and baseball bats. The pandemonium was getting louder by the second and he could sense the anxiety coming off of Harper in palpable waves. He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over hers and let out a small sigh. "I--I'm not sure. They look like they're sticking to the East lot though, so we should be safe when we get to my place. Trust me."

Roman took a heavy breath and coaxed Harper to follow him in the direction of his trailer. He cautiously started walking, his head on a swivel as he gauged the situation around him. They walked for what felt like 30 minutes, stopping when he saw a shadow or heard the snap of a branch, until they finally got to his trailer. He walked up the wooden stairs, pulling his keys out of his pocket and with shaky hands, opened the front door. "After you," he said, trying to gain some composure as he invited her inside.

Harper relaxed a smidge at his words, and she let him lead her away from the angry crowd. Harper felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest, not quite sure what was going on or what she'd just witnessed. Her grip on his hand stayed tight as they walked through the night, the sounds of the mob eventually falling away. "Is that kind of stuff normal?" She asked as they arrived at his trailer after a stress-inducing walk.

She released his hand reluctantly so that he could get the door open, following him up the stairs and past him into the trailer. The space was bigger than she'd expected looking in from the outside, and certainly cleaner too. "Thank you."

Roman cringed at Harper's question, a sinking feeling burying it's way into the pit of his stomach. Of course Harper's first impression of the South Side had to be a bad one, it wasn't really her fault, but he couldn't look past the fact that even without all the chaos she would still probably think the same. Roman closed the door, clicking the turn lock and setting the chain in place, "I--No, it's not." Roman ran a hand through his unkempt hair and leaned against the door, "The South Side isn't what the Ledger portrays us as. We're not all gang members and drug lords."

Roman toed off his shoes and left them at the door, walking over to Harper with almost a defeated look on his face. "I honestly don't know what the hell that is," he admitted, motioning towards the door. His trailer was kept and somewhat clean, a random pizza box and a small baggy of weed sitting on the arm of his couch. He hoped it didn't turn Harper away, seeing how the other half lived. "You want something to drink?". he asked, "I think I've just got water and beer."

Maybe a few weeks ago, Harper would have disputed that assertion...but the last week or so had opened her eyes to the reality that not everything was as it seemed on either side of town. "Yeah, I'm starting to see that," she said quietly. She slid her flats off and then went over to the couch, curling up on one of the cushions as Roman puttered around. His trailer was cleaner than she'd expected, and cozy in a way.

"It was scary, whatever it was," she admitted, looking back up to meet his eyes. "Water is fine, thank you." She'd considered the beer, but alcohol was probably not wise considering her mindset at the moment. Harper shrugged off her jacket, before draping it over the side of the couch. "Are you living alone? Or — or does anyone else live here with you?"

Roman hadn’t seen Harper like this; he knew that she was close with Sebrina Smythe, but didn’t realize how much her death really affected her. Roman was sympathetic, and despite this just being a sexual thing between them two, Roman couldn’t help but want to help. There were no feeling involved—just sex—and even that would eventually fizzle out.

Roman watched as Harper got somewhat comfortable on the couch, grabbing bottled water for the both of them before sitting down, sinking into the cushions and letting out a breath. “I’ve never seen anything like that, to be honest.” , he mumbled “That mob out there—they weren’t Southsiders.” Roman lifted the lid of the empty pizza box, tossing it on the coffee table, not knowing how to act with Harper. “Yeah, it’s—it’s just me. My mom lives a few trailers down, so it’s not like it’s lonely or anything.”

Harper took the bottle of water from him, unscrewing the lid and downing a third of it down in one go before she put the cap back on. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling exhausted. "I don't understand...what did they do? What did they want?" Harper wasn't particularly fond of the South Side of town herself, but coming down to it just to make a scene seemed like it was crossing a line.

She nodded as he explained. "Sorry if this is too personal...you don't have to tell me but is there a reason you don't live together? Did you just need your own space or..." she trailed off, unsure of what she was asking. She hugged her arms around herself again, letting her eyes fall shut and pretending that none of this week was real. She opened them again. "Do you want to put on a movie or something?"

Roman’s jaw clenched and his eye throbbed, an unfortunate result of his fight with Hunter. He could hear the uneasiness of his own voice as he spoke, answering all of Harper’s questions. “ Revenge? Someone to blame? This—Sebrina’s death...”, Roman sighed, “Everyone wants to know who to blame and who better than us, right?” Roman shrugged, it was nothing new to him.

Roman kicked his feet up on the table, an attempt to stave off some of the awkwardness between them, and pointed to the only picture he had of his family, framed and hung on the wall next to the TV. “Other than I’m 21 and don’t want to live at home anymore?” Roman laughed, unsure as to if the truth was worth it to explain. “Dad was a little too rowdy when he drank, typical piece of shit. Mom won’t leave him, even though she’s sick of it. I visit often enough—to cook together and hang out. But, to answer your question, I make good money doing construction, so here I am.”

Roman’s eyes were fixed on Harper, gauging her reaction to everything he was telling her. He didn’t trust many people, but again, Harper was different. “Is—that what you want? I’ve got Netflix and if you feel like you’re going kind of crazy, well—I’ve got some weed."

"That doesn't make any sense...vigilante justice doesn't achieve anything and the sheriff thinks it was Sebastian of all people," Harper said, shaking her head. "Besides, Darius and I were talking about this...it — strangling is too personal for it to have been — been a gang thing, right? Too messy, too much evidence....at least if she hadn't been frozen for two weeks."

Harper's eyes caught sight of the fading bruises on Roman's face, and she frowned, reaching out to trace them with one hand. "What kind of fight club do you and my brother have going on, honestly? I don't get your animosity."

She looked over at the photo curiously. She could certainly understand wanting your own space...although at her house, with it being so big, it wasn't exactly difficult to avoid her parents. "I...I'm sorry, about your parents, I mean," she whispered, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze. She wasn't sure what the boundaries were here...what she was and wasn't allowed to do, but she couldn't not when he was sharing something so personal.

Harper shrugged. "I'm not exactly going to be paying it a lot of attention but the background noise would be nice," she admitted. She wasn't much of a weed girl. Didn't like not having clear airways for dance, and she hated the smell, but....fuck it, today was a bad day. "I...sure, yeah. That'd be nice."

“Just because Sebastian is Sheriff Hummel’s number one suspect, doesn’t mean the rest of the town sees it that way.” People on all sides of town had their own viewpoints on who the murderer was, but no one has any concrete proof leading them as to why. Even Sheriff Hummel—whose accusation of Sebastian was baseless, for the most part. “This isn’t a gang thing, D is right. If it had been, we wouldn’t have found the body.”

Roman’s breath hitched as Harper traced over his bruises from his recent quarrel with her brother. “I—we—“, Roman didn’t know what to say, stumbling on the right words. “We’ve just never gotten along. He—we’re from two separate worlds.” Roman shrugged, that was really all there was to say on the topic. Roman didn’t like Hunter because he acted like an elite, entitled, North Sider. He couldn’t speak for why Hunter didn’t think well of him.

Roman reached across the couch, grabbing the small Ziploc baggie of weed and nodded his head. “My parents are who they are, nothing to be sorry about”, he murmured before taking opening the bag and smelling inside. “Have you smoked before?”

Harper frowned. She wished people actually cared about bringing Sebrina's killer to justice and finding out the truth instead of jumping to conclusions based on their own biases. Her best friend deserved better than to be fodder for town warfare. "That's...oddly comforting, I guess."

She brushed her fingers down his bruise once more, shaking her head, a little bemused, a little fond. "Boys. So what? So are we. I'm not going to pretend I haven't looked down on South Siders myself but....," she shrugged. "I don't know, this whole thing has opened my eyes to things not being as simple as they seem, I guess."

She didn't know what to say to that. Her parents marriage had always appeared fine, at least to her, so she couldn't exactly relate to being on the other side of that. "Uh...like once? Tenth grade? I was bad at it and not a fan of the smell," she admitted. "But this week can't get worse so teach me your ways."

Roman hesitated, gently placing his hand over her knee. He didn't know what to say to Harper, he didn't know how to empathize with how great her loss was, or begin to understand how she was feeling. He didn't want to scare her; telling her that while it seemed comforting to know that not everyone in Riverdale thought Sebastian was guilty, that the real killer was still at large. A fact he was sure she was well aware of.

Roman cocked his head, watching as Harper tried to fit together pieces of a puzzles that just didn't work. " So are we, Harper. But, I mean--you can't tell me that this isn't anything more than what it is." It was true; beyond the obvious split in social class, there was no way that Roman would let himself catch feelings, much less from a North Side girl like Harper who could chew him up and spit him out in a matter of days. He looked down at his lap, a slight twinge in his chest as he spoke, "I think they are as simple as they seem. You just have to look."

Roman took an already rolled joint of the baggie, tossing the rest onto the table. Putting the butt between his lips, he reached into his pocket for his lighter and lit the end. He took a deep inhale, feeling the smoke fill up his lungs and let out a smooth, slow exhale. "I'm surprised you've done it even once to be honest." Roman took the joint from his mouth and offered it to Harper, "Don't let me be a poor influence."

Harper frowned, drawing back a bit. "I don't know what you mean. They're not. If someone told me a month ago I'd feel so safe with a Serpent, I'd call them crazy but I do." She drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them, annoyed by how dismissive the other was being. "Hell, you and Darius are the only people concerned enough for my safety to bother asking if I need a walk home or a ride somewhere. Hunter's too busy and my parents? They're occupied in their own world. So excuse me if I think we're all more than whatever stupid labels they stick on us."

A little embarrassed by her own outburst, she reached out for the joint, turning it over in her fingers and trying to remember what she'd done the last time she tried weed. "I wanted to win Prom Queen and that meant hanging out with every social group at school including the stoners. It worked, I won, but I had to smoke to do it," she explained, before placing the joint to her lips and inhaling. Someone, she fucked up on the exhale and ended up coughing, her lungs burning. "Ugh. I think I know why people like to bake this into brownies now."

Roman knew he had said all the wrong things, but he wasn’t lying. He took pride in being honest, no matter the consequence. Biting his lip, Roman ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I—fuck. Harper that’s not what I meant. I—I just meant that I take things at face value.”

He shifted on the cushion at the mention of Darius. He had been the one to push them together-in a completely professional way-so what reason did he have to feel on edge at hearing his name come off Harper’s lips. “You honestly think that I can be anything other than a Serpent?”, he asked, genuinely interested in her answer.

Roman frowned, patting Harper gently on the back as she coughed from the smoke. He took the joint from her, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “If I had the shit, I’d offer to make you a batch. I’m a somewhat decent cook”

Harper tilted her head, confused by what he meant. "I don't know what you mean then? Just because my brother doesn't like you doesn't mean I can't and the different sides of the tracks thing is just an excuse. Like...I'm not trying to make this more than it is. I just like spending time with you so who gives a shit?"

She paused at his question, leaning back into the cushions. "I don't know...maybe it's naive but I think anyone can be more than what they are if they really want to," she fiddled with one of her sleeves absently as she spoke, not fully realizing she was doing it. "Like...I don't know all that much about you besides your sexual prowess so I can't make any definitive judgements but I think so. What made you join in the first place anyways?"

She gratefully relinquished the joint, sucking in a fresh breath, turning a bit red. "Told you I was bad at that," she joked, before piquing up curiously at his next words. "Ooooh, chef Roman, consider me intrigued. What can you make?"

Roman’s heart stopped, his breathing gone shallow, his mind..confused. Maybe he was wrong, maybe living on one side of town versus the other didn’t actually matter in the end. Maybe he and Hunter could look past their differences. Maybe he and Harper—No.

“I like spending time with you too”, he said with a smile.

He blushed, a flush red rising to his cheeks. He thought back to the Serpents, remembering when he first joined at 16 years old. “I was 16 when I joined the Serpents, back when Dare’s old man was our leader. I wanted to join—wanted to feel like I belonged to something important.”

Bringing the joint up to his lips, Roman took in another drag, relishing in the way it worked into his chest. “It’s all about the exhale. Too fast and it hits you hard, too slow and you’ll end up coughing.”

Roman chuckled, reminiscing on his younger years, “Well, uh, if you didn’t know...I’m part Cuban. My mom—she taught me how to make fresh tortillas, empanadas, tostones.”, he said with a slight accent. “But, i know how to make other things too. “

Harper chewed on her lip. Part of her felt queasy at the idea that kids were being recruited into gangs that young — having the course of the future and the way people saw them altered by a decision they were making because they felt desperate. It didn't seem right. But vocalizing it might be...offensive in some way. Still, it seemed manipulative to make kids think that joining a gang was their only option. "Do you ever regret it?"

She smiled, trying to imagine a tiny Roman cooking with his mom. It was an adorable image. "Well you need to cook for me sometime, then. What else can you make?" She asked curiously, before reaching back out for the joint. "Let me try again."

“Not—no. There’s nothing to regret.” Roman shrugged, thinking nothing more of the Serpents, his indoctrination, or the current state of things. “There have been times when I’ve had to do things I don’t believe in 100% , but even then, the outcome has been decent.”

Roman passed the joint back to Harper, his hand on her back, just in between her shoulder blades. “Up to your lips, breathe in 5 seconds, out 4.” All this talk about food made Roman’s stomach growl, “Steak, burgers, i make a mean spaghetti”

Harper bit her lip, but didn't question it further. Who was she, from her glass tower, to question his choices? "Well that's good...I think having regrets is one of the worst things in life. It haunts you."

She took the joint between her fingers, leaning into his touch, and then slowly raised it to her lips, taking a slow breath in. She held it for a second, before releasing it, this time much smoother. "That was nicer," she murmured, smiling softly at him and passing the joint back. "You're a good teacher."

The sound of his tummy had her giggling, and she patted it lightly. "Maybe you should get something going right now. It sounds like you need it."

Roman took a third hit off the joint, this time feeling his thoughts go fuzzy around the edges. On his exhale, he choked out a laugh, “I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Should I be worried about corrupting you, Ms, Clarington?”

Roman’s stomach gurgled again and this time he was going to listen to his body. “Here. Come with me into the kitchen,”, he said standing up and stretching his hand out for hers. “I’ll teach you how to make empanadas.”

Harper rolled her eyes, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips. "I'm Miss Clarington now, am I? Fancy..,," she said, giggling. "But I don't know what it is either....maybe you should get worried once I start thinking this stuff doesn't smell like you killed a skunk."

She took the offered hand, allowing him to pull her off the couch. and she tangled their fingers together as he led her to the kitchen, excited to learn. She didn't exactly do a lot of cooking at home...they had a chef who made food for them after all, but....she was intrigued by the idea of it. "What kind are we making?"

Roman led Harper to the kitchen, picking her up by the waist and sitting her on the counter. “It’s not bad for you, depending on if you’re smart about it”, he called out over his shoulder as he opened a few cabinets gathering up the ingredients that they needed. “ It’s not Jingle Jangle—that shit gets you addicted after one go.”

Roman took the premade empanada discs out of the fridge, tossing them next to the rest of the ingredients on the counter. “Ground beef and cheese? If that’s cool with you?”

Harper yelped when she was picked up and then deposited on the counter, and she lightly smacked Roman in the shoulder once he pulled away. "Give a girl some warning next time!" She swung her legs as she watched Roman putter around the kitchen. "I just hate the smell...I think if I had the edible kind I'd be munching some all day. But yeah, no, you wouldn't catch me within 10 feet of jingle jangle. I've read some horror stories."

She knew there was a stereotype about rich people and drugs but Harper was so not about that life. "That sounds delicious. What do you need me to do?" She asked, feeling a bit useless. "I'll be honest, I don't cook much at all."

Roman placed his hands on either side of Harper's legs, their faces not but a few inches apart, and he winked. "Yes, Ms. Clarington", he joked playfully before pulling away. Roman knew he had promised to keep things non-sexual, but that was going to be difficult given the way she looked. She was cute like this, legs dangling off the counter and swinging just slightly, and Roman was fucked. Best to focus on the task at hand, he thought, his stomach growling again.

Roman wasn't all that surprised that Harper wasn't into drugs; there were a lot of well off people who could afford whatever they wanted that took advantage of trying a little bit of this and that. Hell, most of the Serpent's clientele were North Siders with too much time and money at their disposal. But, knowing that Harper was a dancer--it just didn't make sense.

Roman took out a pan, placing it on the stove top. "First step is that we've got to cook the beef.", Roman opened a bottle of olive oil and poured a little into the pan, just coating the bottom. He turned on the burner and then took a knife and opened the container of ground beef. "You wanna do it?", he asked

Harper rolled her eyes but there was no heat behind the gesture, vaguely amused by his antics. They were a good distraction from all the gloom she was feeling on the inside. She watched curiously as he padded around the kitchen, grabbing things and prepping to cook the meal, and she couldn't help but tilt her head to the side, admiring the way his arms looked in the shirt he was wearing.

"Um...sure," she replied, shaken out of her thoughts by his words. She slid off the counter and went over to the stove, taking the container from him. She glanced at the simmering oil dubiously, before holding her breath and flipping it into the pan, squeaking a little when it started fizzling.

Roman shook his head, unable to hold in a laugh as he watched Harper flip the entire container straight into the pan. It was painfully obvious that she didn't cook very often, if at all and he couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have someone take care of things like that for you. Roman was proud to be able to stand on his own two feet; knowing how to cook and clean the two things he always helped his mother out with as a kid.

"Careful of the oil", he warned. He took a spoon and began breaking up the meat, crumbling it so that it could cook faster. "What you want to do is just keep an eye on it. You don't want it to burn, but you don't want it to move it around too much so that it doesn't cook evenly through. Go ahead." Roman offered her the spoon, handle out, making it easier for her to grab.

Harper swatted at him. "Shush," she muttered, as she watched him expertly start breaking up the beef into little chunks. When she was little, she used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen watching their various chefs cook and bake, but as she'd grown up she'd had less and less time since she devoted more of her spare hours to her other interests. She could barely remember anything they'd explained to her at this point.

She took the spoon from Roman and nodded as his words, biting her lip as she started to slowly prod at the meat. It sizzled as it slid around and she flipped a few chunks over, curious. "What colour is it supposed to be when it's done?"

Roman bumped his hip against Harper, smiling at her fondly as she began stirring the ground beef around in the pan. He took a second to give her a once over, although it had been a tough few days, it looked like she was actually able to relax for a minute. Or so it seemed, he didn't want to assume how she was feeling, maybe she was just good at masking her emotions. Either way, Roman just wanted Harper to enjoy herself while she was here. Whatever that took.

"Brown?", he questioned , his tone slightly incredulous. His eyebrow went up in disbelief and he turned to face her, "You really haven't done this much, huh?". Roman took another pan out from the cabinet and set it on the stove top, he filled it up a quarter of the way with corn oil before turning back to Harper. "It's kind of cute", he admitted

Harper flushed at his tone, shrugging self-consciously. “There are different shades of brown,” she defended. “How dark are we talking?” She carefully broke up the beef so more, mixing it some more before leaving it to rest as she turned her head to look at him.

“Not really. I can press microwave buttons if I must but I’m kind of hopeless otherwise.” His compliment made her chest feel warm and she had to look away again to hide her blush. “I used to watch the chefs when I was a kid. Sometimes they’d let me pour or mix but I was too little to do much more than that.”

Roman shook his head in amusement, his brain conjuring up images of a young Harper, age 5 or so, mixing a bowl for cookies or something similar. His mind was stuck on one particular word, chefs, meaning multiple. He’d knew the Claringtons were rich, but apparently they were rich enough to have an entire Michelin 3-star staff.

“Like, fully cooked through brown. No signs of pink at all, but not burnt kind of brown.” He took a small packet of Sazón seasoning and ripped it open, tossing it on top of the ground beef.

“I was in the kitchen with my mom whenever I could.”, he said, his eye on the pan. “I still go over and cook with her sometimes”

Harper nodded, focused on mixing in the seasoning with the beef. The meat definitely needed some more time so she felt like she could relax a bit without burning it and ruining everything.

When Roman started talking about his mom, she couldn't help but smile. It sounded very sweet. Her own relationship with her mom was superficial at best. Bonding with the Clarington women was a lot of shopping, a lot of lectures about etiquette and being ladylike, and a lot of expectations about her place in the world. Harper was not very fond of it. "That sounds really nice...spending time with her like that, I mean."

Roman’s shrug was noncommittal, a small smile spreading across his lips as he reminisced on different times. He took the spoon from Harper and set it to rest on a paper towel while the meat cooked.

“You don’t have any memories like that with your mom?”, he asked curiously. His hand moved to Harper’s hip and his eyes glimmered as he stared at the girl before him. “We did stuff like that all the time...still do.”

Harper shrugged, turning away a little so she could watch the food and not his face. It felt weird to talk about something so personal...the only person that really understood the frustration she felt about her parents was Hunter and that was only because he shared a lot of the same frustrations.

"I mean we spent and still do spend time together," she said, slowly, not exactly sure how to phrase what she wanted to say. "I just don't think we do it for the same reasons you and your mom spend time together. Naomi Clarington really wants to have the picture perfect daughter and that means a lot of shopping and a lot of lecturing and all sorts of things like that."

Roman frowned, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion when Harper turned away. He withdrew his hand and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans, shaking off whatever Harper had going on.

He didn’t like-like this girl, so why did he have such concern for his feelings? Shrugging internally, Roman made a mental note to bed someone else so he wasn’t so hyper focused on Harper. He didn’t need to spend his time and attention on this girl when they would surely be over in less than a month.

He turned his attention back to Harper who was talking about her mother. She seemed cold and uninviting, completely different than his own mother. “Well, who says you have to be picture perfect? That puts a lot on you, doesn’t it?”

Harper sucked in a breath, picking the spoon up again just so that she had something to hold on to to ground herself. She was not going to get emotional about her family standing in a goddamn trailer trying not to fuck up cooking food.

"We're Claringtons. It's kind of part of the job description. Perfect marriage, perfect kids. Hunter's going to be the perfect son who inherits all of dad's stuff and I am expected to marry well and become a pretty little housewife who exists to boost my husband's ego and makes him look good," she said, trying to keep the edge of bitterness out of her voice. She wasn't sure if she succeeded.

How was she supposed to explain that when she spent time with her mother, it mostly involved a lot of polite criticism about her body and her choices? That she was too skinny, spent too much time on school, and oh, Harper darling, are you /sure/ you don't want to fix that nose of yours?

Roman shifted on his feet, wanting to reach out to Harper but not ready for her to pull away from him again. His previous thoughts on the North Side were changing in front of him, just hearing how Harper talked about her mother. Despite the fact that she came from wealth, Harper seemed to have a specific set of unrealistic expectations that she was supposed to reach. And by the looks of it, that wasn't what Harper wanted.

"But--What do you want?", he asked, cocking his head. From his first conversation with Harper, he knew that she had an affinity for dance, but in all the time that he had spent talking to her and spending time with her, he had never once asked her anything real about herself. "What about dance? Ballet? You like that shit, right? What's the point of going to college if you're just meant to be some side piece? "

Harper wrapped an arm around herself, running her other hand through her hair as she watched the beef sizzle. There was hardly any pink left as far as she could tell. It was kind of nice to just be allowed to relax and cook and talk with no expectations of anything else.

But his question caught her off guard. No one had really asked her what she wanted before. They just expected her to do what was asked of her. Even going to school had been something she'd fought for.

"I like dancing. I've loved it since I was a kid... but if it doesn't work out I don't want to just sit at home," she explained. "My parents didn't think I needed college. Like a degree looks good...a lady with an education is worth more than one without....but a career was never on the cards. Mom thought I should just get a fluffy type degree like art history or humanities, but I wanted the interior design double major so that if I can't dance I can still do something. I hate the idea of just sitting pretty at home like she does. She's just a trophy for dad and she's perfectly happy to do it."

Roman glanced over at the sizzling pan and lifted it off the stove, the residual heat pressing into his hand. The meat was finished cooking and he needed to drain it so it wouldn’t get the empanadas too soggy on the inside. With his one free hand, he held a paper plate covered by a napkin and poured the meat, the excess fat getting soaked up by the napkin.

Roman hadn’t seen Harper dance, but he could see the passion that she had for it with every reply about the hobby. He didn’t think it should be something that should just be tossed to the side so lightly. “Whose to say that it won’t work out?”, he asked. Roman had big ideas for one day—whenever he could get the hell out of Riverdale. He had wanted to be a chef as a young boy, evident by his fascination with food, but real life stood in his way. It didn’t have to be like that for Harper though.

“Worth?”, Roman repeated, a slight flush rising up his neck out of irritation. “You’re not—what? Do you have a price tag on you or something?” Roman shook his head, utterly surprised that this was apparently how the higher class treated their kids. “Harp—“, he started, before stopping himself short.

Harper pushed herself up on the counter, so that she could swing her legs again while she watched Roman cook. There was something peaceful about just being in his tiny kitchen with him, watching him putter around and make food. Everything smelled so good already...she couldn't wait to try it once it was ready.

"I want it to.... I want to be a principal dancer somewhere huge but the arts are.... you can't exactly rely on them. That's reality," she said, shrugging. It wasn't a fact that upset her. She enjoyed interior design too. Having a career in it would be something she wouldn't mind. "And hell, even if you do make it, one bad injury and you're out forever. It's good to have a back up and I like interior design even if my parents think the idea of me working is ridiculous."

At his words she paused, looking down at her hands instead of meeting his eyes. When he put it that way, it felt even worse. "I'm not like... going to be sold. But there are expectations that are put on me and one of those expectations is that my main goal in life should be to better the family. I'm a woman so of course that means through marriage. It's stupid but....that's the Clarington thought process for you."

Roman took out the empanada discs and laid them flat on the counter top. He took a few spoonfuls of the ground beef and placed that on the side and topped it off with a handful of cheese before folding it in half. Taking the back tines of the fork, Roman closed the dough so that none of the filling could escape.

Finishing the first one, Roman turned to look at Harper sitting on the counter. “I’ve not seen you dance”, he said matter of factly, tilting his head in her direction. “I think you’re smart as shit to have a back up plan, just in case.” He rest his hand on Harper’s leg, “So, if you think it’s stupid, then what’s to come after graduation?”

Roman moved to add the filling to the second empanada, following the same order as the previous one. His stomach growled again, louder this time and he laughed to himself. “Wanna help?”, he asked.

Harper smiled at his touch as she watched him fill the discs. "You need to do that. I'm quite good at it." At the mention of graduation though, she sobered up considerably. She hadn't really though about what was next. Hunter was expected to follow in their dad's footsteps but she knew he didn't want to do that. If he could push back, so could she, right?

But she'd always done her rebelling in the shadows. She was daddy's little girl. She'd never had to confront her difference in opinion with her parents head on. "I'm...I'm not sure. I know they have plans for me but I don't think I want to do it. I just...I just want to be Harper."

She slid back down to the ground, and went over to him, peering over his shoulder as he filled the discs, and then wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning against his back. "Alright, alright, show me what to do, Gordon Ramsey."

Roman daydreamed for a second about sneaking into one of Harper’s rehearsals to watch her dance. With how flexible she was in the bed, he could only imagine what she was like on the stage. He made a mental note to add that to his calendar before he came back to. “I think ‘Just Harper’ is pretty great”, he said with a playful shrug.

Chuckling as Harper wrapped her arms around his back, Roman lifted one arm so that she could move to his side. “Can’t do anything from back there, chef.”, he joked. He handed Harper a spoon and continued with his previous movements, explaining the steps as he did so. “Meat first on one half of the dough, then a sprinkle of cheese. Close it off and then use the back of the fork to close it completely”

Harper flushed a little, and elbowed him as she went around to his side. "Shut up, nerd. That's cheesy as hell." But she could admit to herself that his words made a warm feeling spread through her chest. Maybe Just Harper was good enough.

She listened attentively as he explained how to fill the empanadas and then she tried to imitate what he was doing, spooning in some of the meat and then adding cheese, before closing it and forking it shut.

She looked from his to hers. Hers was....kind of similar? She probably needed more practise with closing them. "Is that...passable, teach?"

The empanada that Harper showed to him looked somewhat flimsy and Roman knew it would fall apart in the oil. He didn't want to judge her work, but he was a perfectionist in the kitchen. He sidled up behind her, taking her hands in his own and reworked the edge of the dough flat with both of their hands. His heart was beating faster than it had ever been and he couldn't help but take a moment to ogle at Harper from the side.

He took the fork and made small indentations on the empanada dough with the back tines. "Like that", he whispered into Harper's ear, lingering there for just a moment.

Harper flushed when Roman took her hands in his, but she allowed him to guide her though what the empanada was supposed to look like. She smiled a little as he helped her push down on the dough, and then admired his finished work, before spinning around so that she could lean up and kiss him, slow and sweet.

"You're a man who takes charge in the kitchen, who would've thought?" she murmured against his mouth, before darting out from his arms and sliding back onto the counter, acting as if nothing had happened. "What's next, chef?"

Everything stopped the moment Harper slid into him and kissed him. Time slowed as did his movements and the kiss, although it only lasted a mere second, felt like it lasted a lifetime. Harper's lips were soft and smooth and she smelled like strawberries--her shampoo, he remembered. His mind supplied him a memory of the shower they shared together no more than a week ago. Oh, how the turns had tabled. Fuck

As Harper pulled away from the kiss, scampering across the kitchen, Roman shook himself out of his daydream. A small smile played on his lips, the corner just turning up, and he laughed. "Two more and then we can fry 'em", he answered, moving back to the counter and taking the next disc to be prepared.

Harper nodded, unable to hide her smile at the look on Roman's face. Part of her wanted to kiss him again, but it was also nice just being here, watching him do what he was good at. "It's probably faster if you just finish them," she admitted, shaking her head a bit at her own incompetence. "I'm an excellent mixer though, so if you have anything you need me to stir, I am so good at that."

All thoughts of everything going on outside of the kitchen, outside of her and Roman, were a distant memory for a brief moment. There was no murders, no darkness, no dead best friend, no secrets. Everything was just....this.

Roman made quick work of preparing the final two discs, quietly filling and closing them up. He turned on the burner on the stove, allowing the pan he had filled with oil earlier to heat up. Frying anything was always an ordeal and it was quite easy to get burnt, so he figured they should move across the kitchen . He walked far enough away so that he could still see the stove, but any excess oil wouldn't pop and burn him. "Unfortunately, there's no mixing with this one. Maybe next time.", he added with a shrug.

Hearing the oil start to crackle, Roman moved swiftly across the floor. "You should probably stay back for this", he warned. He added the empanadas two at a time into the oil, each of them cooking within 3 minutes. Every time one set was finished, he'd add the next until they had all 6 of them made and ready to eat. He turned off the stove and brought the plate over to Harper, "You ready?"

Harper couldn't help but grin at the idea of another cooking or baking session. She was already looking forward to it, as strange as it felt to admit, even to herself. "Alright. Maybe we can make soup. Or bake a cake. That's not hard, is it?" She scooted back a little farther as he prepped for the frying. It's like her body was waking up a bit from her haze of grief, and she'd only just realized she was kind of starving too.

She inhaled deeply as Roman fried the empanadas, excited to eat them. "Uh yeah. They smell delicious," she said, reaching out carefully for one of the first one's he'd fried so that it wouldn't be as hot. She held it between her fingers and took a small, dainty bite, chewing and swallowing before sighing happily, her eyes fluttering shut. "This is so good. You're a wizard."

"I'm really not, but I appreciate the compliment", he quipped. The aroma of the empanadas--of his childhood, were making his stomach growl with anticipation. With the hot plate in hand, Roman moved quickly back towards the living room and set them down on the coffee table. He shook his hands to cool them down and took in a breath. "Can you grab some drinks from the fridge? Beer or water, whatever you want?"

Roman took a seat on the couch, sinking into the couch cushions for a minute before taking a bite of one of the empanadas. He hummed at the taste, exactly how his mother made them and smiled. "I take it back, these are delicious. I think it was because of you" Roman winked and grabbed the remote in his hand, turning on the TV. "Got something in mind you want to watch?"

Harper nodded, opening the fridge and grabbing two beers. She wasn't normally fond of it, but she kind of wanted some alcohol in no matter how small of a quantity as she could get. She followed him into the living room and set the beers down on the table before sliding onto the couch next to him, unsure how close she was allowed to get. She kind of craved some cuddling but they weren't dating, and she wasn't sure if that'd be weird.

"Oh shut up, I didn't even do anything. You are a wizard." She glanced at the TV and shook her head. "As long as it's not super gorey, I'm fine with whatever," she said shrugging and leaning back into the cushions. She reached over and took another empanada, taking another careful bite.

Roman sensed something off with Harper, but whether it was uneasiness or discomfort he wasn't sure. He thought that up to this point in their evening he had done a pretty decent job at keeping her mind occupied off of everything that was happening in Riverdale. He studied her mannerisms for just a moment, she was close but not too close. Roman took another bite of his empanada and started to scroll through Netflix.

"You don't have to sit all the way over there", he exaggerated, patting the little bit of empty space between them. Finishing his first empanada, Roman kicked his feet up and popped the cap on his beer. He sorted through his Netflix watch list, trying to determine what he thought Harper would like. "I'm still like way behind on Stranger Things, if you wanted to watch that. Or well, I'm open to whatever"

Harper tried not to look too eager as she sidled over to him, pressing against his side, but she needed his warmth to ground her in the moment. She curled her legs under herself and leaned against his shoulder, going a bit red. "I like Stranger Things. The kids are adorable. Especially Will. He's my favourite. I'm glad they've been giving him more screentime in season 2."

She went quiet, focusing on her empanada and the comforting feeling of their bodies pressed together on the couch as he loaded up the show, curious to see what episode he was on. It was easy, in that moment, to forge, however momentarily, that her best friend was dead and never coming back.

Roman lifted his arm, allowing for Harper to slink next to him and bury herself in his side. He couldn't help but run his thumb across her arm as she got comfortable. As she spoke about the show, he took another swig of his beer, nodding in agreement but laughing slightly. "Ok, so don't hate me but I'm still on Season 1." Setting his beer on the arm rest of the couch, Roman queued up the show.

He didn't have a lot of time normally to watch TV, so he fell behind quickly, failing to keep interests in shows once the hype had died down. But, having someone to watch it with him made him a little more eager. "Will's the one who's all wacked out, right? In the Upside Down or whatever."

The feeling of arms wrapped around her made her relax even more. She could easily see herself drifting off here. Despite everything going on, she felt safe with Roman, like nothing could hurt her. It was a scary feeling but an exhilarating one all the same. "That's okay. Even though I love that we get more of Will in the second season, the first one is objectively better. Even if season 2 also sort of explores the will they/won't they of Nancy and Jonathan a lot more."

She watched him queue up the episode. She couldn't quite remember what happened in that one, but she was sure it would all come back to her as soon as it started playing. "Yeah, he's the one who disappeared. They're trying to get him back using El."

Roman snickered to himself, relishing in the irony of Harper's comment. In what he had watched so far, he hadn't seen any sort of relationship build between Nancy and Jonathan, but it seemed that the tension was going to build. Much like himself and Harper, they seemed to be potentially burgeoning on the would they/wouldn't they territory. Although, Roman hoped that it wouldn't get that far. It had been years since he had actually been in a relationship and he quickly found that it just wasn't for him. He preferred the casual, laid back, hook up. Harper wasn't that.

"I'm not going to lie...I've not seen this in months. So, I barely remember what's happening or who these people even are. " Roman shrugged, pulling harper close. Yeah, she defintely wasn't that, he thought. What am I going to do?

"You'll fall back into it. I can fill you in on any blanks," she offered, as the song's familiar opening theme started to play. "Yeah, she's pretty fixated on Steve in the first season but things don't go great for them in season two." She bit her lip, feeling a bit embarrassed, but they were already blurring so many lines, she didn't think it'd hurt to ask. "Would you....would you okay with running your fingers through my hair? It...it helps me calm down."

She could feel her face burning at the request, but she just wanted to sink into him and focus on the show playing in front of them and forget about everything else. "Thanks for all this. It's...it's nice to pretend the world isn't on fire sometimes."

Roman playfully knocked into her side, biting his lower lip, "Hey, no spoilers" . In truth, he didn't really care about the show, much more content to just laze on the couch a beer in one hand. As the opening theme wrapped up, Roman looked to his side at Harper, her face flush with embarrassment and her eyes on his. "Yeah, of course.", he agreed, "That was kind of the whole point of this, huh"

Roman repositioned himself slighty, allowing Harper to do the same so that he could entangle his fingers in her hair. He slowly ran his fingers down the length of her dark hair, content to be able to do this for her, given what she had been going through. He hoped that he could just make her world melt away.

Harper settled into his side, content to just feel his fingers in her hair and watch the show. She felt safe, and like her troubles weren't going to bother her as long as she was here. She could see herself falling asleep just curled up against Roman, and she found that she didn't really mind.

#para #roman

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