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thebrochtuarachs · 3 years

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Something in the Rain - “Interruptions”

A/N: I hope you like it. As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3 / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground : C6: Situations

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“What should I wear tomorrow?” Claire texted Jamie on the eve of their first official date. She wanted to have an extra time to shop should the need there be.

“What do ye mean?” he replied.

“I want to dress appropriately to wherever you’re taking me, James Fraser.”

“I see. Smart casual would do. :) Sorry, I dinna thought of informing ye earlier but wouldn’t it be hilarious if you dressed to the nines and we’re going to some sort of cattle farm”

“Exactly.” Claire replied with the eye roll and laughing emoji. “Can I know where we’re going?”

“Don’t ye want to be surprised?” Jamie messaged back and saw three dots typing afterwards.

“Hmm, thinking about it, yes. I’m excited to see the Jamie Fraser Date Experience.”

“Hope it doesna disappoint. I, too, am excited to see the Claire Beauchamp Date Experience. ;)” he replied, knowing the use of emoji will make her smile as he rarely uses one.

“I hope it doesn’t disappoint, too.” she replied with a winky face too. “Are you back in Edinburgh?”

“Just about to arrive home. I might just wash and then hit the sack.”

“Rest then, Jamie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Sassenach. I’ll message ye tomorrow when I’m on my way”

----

It has been four weeks since their accidental meeting at the sidewalk. After countless run-ins, lunches, and an absurd amount of consumed soy chicken, the day of their date has arrived.

When Claire accepted his invitation three days earlier, Jamie went into a slight overdrive trying to plan what to do. He meant to ask her out when he got back - but when he found out that she met Laoghaire, something pushed him to go for it before Claire had any wrong idea about his connection with Mrs. Fitz's granddaughter.

His first idea was to go all out - book the fanciest rooftop restaurant in the city, get the best chef he knew, and plan a private dinner for them. Fancy and exclusive seemed like a safe choice and a sure hit.

Then he thought about Claire and all their interactions so far - hole in the wall kitchens, asian street food, very light and casual. Jamie pondered on the idea and realized that jumping from that to an uber private dinner might not be the best, so he kept that card to play for later.

It was then he decided to just take their casual lunch to a casual dinner. He’ll just exchange one-hour savory chicken meetings for a comfortable, popular city restaurant and longer conversations. He also decided on wearing more casual clothes, opting out of his office suits that she’d seen him often in for a navy turtleneck, khaki pants and white sneakers.

Arriving at her front door, Jamie took one last stock of himself, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness, and knocked on her door.

What he saw next knocked him out.

Claire opened the door wearing a burgundy sleeveless jumpsuit that was both modest and sexy, yet casual enough. Pairing the ensemble with black heels, the garment hugged Claire’s curves in just the right places that left Jamie staring for a hot minute.

“Hi” Claire broke through his thoughts and he remembered his manners.

“Hi, Claire. Wow, ye look beautiful”

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. Going to stop traffic pairing blue on blue like that”

“Ye ready to go?”

“Yeah. Are we going to walk?” She asked as she locked the door to her place.

“Yes, I hope ye dinna mind. Ye live close by all the nice places to eat.”

“No, I don’t mind and also, very true.”

It was a short 10-minute walk before they arrived at Howie’s Restaurant.

“Howie’s. Interesting choice.” Claire commented as they walked to the hostess.

“We can go somewhere if ye dinna like it here.” Jamie offered.

“No, I actually quite like it here” she had to stifle a laugh at how adorable she found his tenseness was.

The hostess pointed them to the bar to wait for their table. Claire excused herself to the bathroom and Jamie ordered a light whisky for some liquid courage.

When the bartender served his drink, a familiar bloke sat beside him and greeted him.

“Jamie Fraser, hello!”

Jamie gulped the drink and turned to the man beside him. “Joe! It’s good to see ye, man!”

The two shook hands and exchanged more pleasantries.

“I’m actually meeting my wife.” He looked at his watch and then to the front door. “Oh, good, she just arrived!” Joe quickly waved her in and introduced her.

“Jamie Fraser, meet Gail Abernathy. Gail, Jamie.” he paused when Jamie extended a hand to her. “He was the guy who volunteered at our center two weeks ago. All the kids were just drawn to him.”

“No wonder.” Gail observed, her comment earning a jokey sigh from her husband. “So, Jamie, what brings you to this side of town on a Saturday evening?”

Jamie was about to share that he was on a date, but then right on cue, Claire arrives to greet the trio.

“Hello, everyone!”

“Claire!” Gail squealed as she gave her friend a tight hug.

“Lady Jane, you clean up good!” Joe remarked.

As they finished their greetings, Jamie quietly whispered to Claire to order any drink she’d like. The husband-and-wife duo caught on and couldn’t resist to pry.

“You guys on a date?” Joe asked frankly.

“First one, actually.” Jamie replied as Gail raised an eyebrow while Claire returned to his side, drink in tow.

Joe leaned closer to Jamie and pretended to whisper in his ear, “My date advice is don’t challenge her or don’t allow her to challenge you to a drinking game. You will lose”

Claire groaned while the rest laughed at her expense.

Just then, the hostess approached the pairs and told them their tables were ready. They exchanged their goodbyes and were led to their areas.

---

Jamie had been a perfect gentleman.

He opened her seat, allowed her to order and choose whatever she wanted from the menu (They both went to the steak and fries!), and is making just the right amount of banter.

Claire actually liked this dining choice - Howie’s comfort food really brought out the easy ambiance and conversation to their date. She didn’t mind going to a fancier place but she knew that if they were there, things would be too formal, delicate and shy. This was much better and she’d Jamie props for this.

Moreover, what made this official first date a little bit more fun is much of the first date awkwardness is gone. They’ve covered much of the basics about their life during their lunches - their families (both their parents are alive and have retired away from the city, Claire’s an only child while Jamie had an older sister), how they chose their careers and where they went to school (Jamie is Oxford Law while Claire is Cambridge Med, the school rivalry something they joke about), their current or main interests (horses for Jamie, herbs for Claire) and many other things.

So the evening was more or less less a continuation on what they’ve normally done - catching up on their days, sharing an interesting story at work or a photo they found on the web, asking more random questions - the only difference now is, there’s a more clear and intentional purpose for knowing these things and whole lot of shameless flirting in between.

Forty-five minutes in and halfway through their steak, a man approached their table. “Dr. Beauchamp, it’s nice to see you here!”

Jamie and Claire looked up and saw a slender man, not much older than they are with grey eyes.

“Tom, hi!” Claire swallowed a fry and grabbed a cloth to clean her mouth.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening but I saw you from the bar and just had to pass by and greet you. I mean at least, this time, not at the hospital or during check ups”

Claire smiled and made the introductions. “Oh, I’m sorry. Tom Christie, this is Jamie Fraser. Jamie, Tom. He is a teacher at the public elementary school. We met when I did the annual medical checkup for the kids. Also, I’m the peds of his kids, Allan and Malva.”

The mention of the word kids made Jamie release the tight fist he didn’t know he held beneath the table. He didna like the way the man eyed Claire but it was not his place - not yet at least.

Jamie gave the man a nod but ultimately wished he’d go. When neither said or did anything, Tom said his farewells and confirmed his kids check-up schedule in two weeks.

---

They decided to share a slice of chocolate cake and one last glass of wine each to cap off their dinner.

As they waited for their order to arrive, they got startled with a loud noise.

“Jamie, is that ye?!” one man said.

“Oh, heavens, tis!” another man replied.

Jamie could not hide the embarrassment he felt as the two blokes approached their table. Once they noticed Claire, they did not waste time introducing themselves.

“Hello, I havena seen ye before. My name is Angus” the thin, beardly man extended his hand. “And ye are?”

“Hi, I’m Claire.” she reached out but eyeing Jamie for confirmation that he knew these people.

“I’m Rupert.” the other man said. “We’re Jamie’s cousins”

“Distant cousins” Jamie retorted back. “What brings ye here?” he asked while glaring at them to leave.

“We have a double date” Angus shared, pointing to the table where two ladies were indeed waiting for them.

“Then I suggest you return to your dates then.” Jamie replied then proceeded to converse with the two men in Gaelic.

When the conversation was apparently over, Rupert sighed and turned to Claire. “It was nice meeting ye, lass. Please ask Jamie here to bring around one of our office events and meet the rest of the clan. I’m sure they’d love to get to know ye as well.”

Jamie stood up quickly and had to push the two back to their table before they said anything else that may ruin the evening.

“I’m sorry about them, Claire. They are quite the more, erm, rowdy members of my family.” he said as he sat down again.

“It’s alright. They seem really nice” Claire said, smiling. “So, clan huh? Just how big is that family of yours really?” She brought the conversation back up again hoping it would ease his discomfort.

Jamie visibly relaxed and then, they were back in their bubble, “How many generations back?”

---

Desert went by swimmingly with the chocolate cake and red wine proving to be a winning combo. After an almost three-hour dinner, Jamie asked for the check and insisted on paying for the meal.

They were one their way out of the restaurant then Claire was greeted by incoming guests.

“Dr. Beauchamp!”

Claire turned to look who called her. “Oh, please call me Claire. It’s nice seeing you here”

“Likewise. Please call me Meredith.” she quickly signaled to the man beside her. “This is my husband, Derek.”

“Of course, Dr. Shepherd.” Claire politely acknowledged him with the man insisting to be called casually as well.

“Anyway, I’d just like to say that I just read your latest paper in the Journal of Pediatrics. I look forward to hearing all about it in your visit to Seattle.”

Claire graciously accepted the complement with a smile and bow. “Thank you. We’ll catch up in Seattle in a few weeks, then.” Remembering her companion, she turned to her back where Jamie was patiently waiting for her. “Oh my, where are my manners. Meredith, Derek, this is Jamie Fraser. Jamie, this is Meredith and Derek Shepherd. They’re visiting doctors from Grey Sloan Memorial in Seattle.”

Jamie returned the pleasantries and shook hands with the doctors.

“Alright, I’ll let you guys go on with your evening. Sorry for the sudden call out” Meredith said.

“It’s no problem at all. A good night to you both as well.” Claire replied as she looked at Jamie and motioned for them to head out.

Once they we're out of the restaurant, Jamie lets out a light laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“I was just thinking that I’d never unexpectedly run into that many acquaintances in one evening, let alone in a date!” he shared, chuckling more as the thought further sank in his mind and Claire joined him in his mood. “It isna exactly part of the Jamie Fraser Date Experience”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be, there’s nothing to apologize for. I mean, who would’ve thought, right?” Jamie retorted, his humor infectious.

She was touched by his honesty, not just with the situation but the entire night. He was caring, makes great conversation, and is always authentic with who and how he carries himself. She cannot make a full judgement of his character yet, as that is something she is still getting to know, but she likes what she is seeing so far.

Taking a bold step, she wrapped her arm around his as they started walking side by side back to her place.

Jamie looked at her hand, smiled and hoped it conveyed to Claire the joy he felt at the moment. “Is this part of the Claire Beauchamp Date Experience?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Only to a rare few” she said as she slightly tugged him closer.

The walk back seemed shorter than the one they did earlier. Before they knew it, they were already standing in front of Claire’s building.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jamie exclaimed as he fished out his car keys and a grey miata lit up open beside them. He pulled out an exquisite posey bouquet of red roses and handed it to her. “These are for you.”

Claire took them and smelt it, “The flowers are beautiful”

“I hope ye had a good time, Sassenach”

“I had a great time, Jamie. Thank you”

After a beat, Jamie took a deep breath, gathering strength to what he was about to say next. “Claire, we’ve known each other for about a month now, became unexpected friends in a short amount of time, had our lunches and now, our first date. I hope ye dinna think this is too forward of me but...I like you and I would like to see you again or keep seeing you, I guess.“ They we’re holding each other’s gazes as he laid out his intentions and waited for her reply.

Claire sighed and was just amazed by him. Her previous encounters are usually with male friends who constantly hang out with her then a few months down, asks her “what they are” as if she had to know or feel that something was happening from the get go. So, Jamie's forthrightness and old-fashionedness was truly refreshing and she was more than willing to give it a go.

As a final check to their chemistry, she stepped closer, tilted her head and leaned in to him. Quickly responding to her actions, he held her face on one hand and placed the other on her hips to pull her closer. He followed her lead until their lips crashed into each other in a single deep kiss.

In that moment, both Jamie and Claire knew something big shifted in the dynamic of their relationship.

This was not usual.

This is different.

And oh so good.

They felt each other smile against their lips just as they pulled apart for air.

“I like you too, Jamie and yes”

A/N: Maybe not the first date you might've thought of but hope you liked it! As always, thank you for reading! Your comments, suggestions, and questions are always welcome. If there's a story or scene you'd like to know, feel free to drop it! :)This was my original idea for the date but as I was writing it, I was going back and forth about scraping the entire thing and think about something else. But the original thought kept developing in my mind so I went back and stuck with it and cross-fingers, hoped it worked and made sense. I knew she had doctor friends but adding the Greys Anatomy characters just came about since I've been binging the show and thought it'd be fun to crossover. Hope you're keeping safe and in line to get vaccinated for the COVID-19 shot! See you all in the next one!

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

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The Courting Ways of Wolves (Part 2)

It’s back! Dumb boys in love! Also Grandpa Vesemir gets some feels and Geralt does some math. Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

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Watching Winter at Kaer Morhen melt into early spring was always a beautiful process, but this year brought Geralt trepidation as well. Watching Ciri train had been wonderful, helping her learn the basics kept all the wolves on their toes, for the first time in many years actually thinking about motions that normally came from muscle memory.

Yennefer had flourished into her role as “Aunty Yen,” not sweetly nurturing, the way one often thought about with children, but a clever tongue and tough love that Ciri, granddaughter of the Lioness, seemed completely at home with.

Geralt was doing his best too. Ciri had started calling him dad about halfway through the winter, the first time happening at dinner and he’d very nearly choked on his ale. It sent something warm running through his veins every time, like good brandy that burned all the way down.

He was trying, words still didn’t come naturally, but somehow Ciri always seemed to be able to see exactly what he meant. Maybe it was Destiny, maybe just a hurt, lost child clinging to whoever was consistent in her life, but Geralt hoped it was more. More than anything, he hoped Ciri truly understood how cared for she was, not just by himself, but all the wolves, Jaskier, and Yennefer.

Ciri had whispered to him one day, still panting after training, asking if he thought Yen would mind if she called her mom.

Geralt had replied that he didn’t think Yennefer would mind at all.

Yennefer came to him later, a tender look in her eyes. There was something, not fragile in her eyes, but Jaskier had pointed out in a marketplace once, a beautiful porcelain vase that had been broken and artfully repaired with gold. Yen’s expression reminded him of that.

They sat for a while, then Yennefer said, “Will you be able to let go of her in the spring?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, although he was less than sure that parting from Ciri would be so easy. “She needs you, and time away from me. And to be around women.”

Yennefer nodded, gave Geralt a pat on the shoulder, and left. Geralt stayed, cloak wrapped around him as he sat looking out over the walls.

There was much that would happen in the spring, and his life, which had been pretty stagnant before, was changing more in these past few years than it ever had. He felt like Kaer Morhen itself, built to last and yet crumbling still, the weight of change and time and destiny tearing down walls.

He watched the sun go down.

Vesemir joined him, carrying two bowls of stew. Geralt took a bite of his and winced. It had been Eskel’s turn to cook. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vesemir’s mustache twitch with a hint of a smile. They ate the oversalted meal in silence.

“You know,” Vesemir said, and in the starlight the crags on his face looked carved in. “I come up here to think too.”

Geralt knew, but Vesemir wasn’t interested in talking about the battlements, he could tell.

“I think, most nights, about the ghosts within these walls. All of the little boys who died so that the School of the Wolf could be.” The wind picked up, howling like, with an excellent sense of the dramatic, a wolf.

“The Trials haunt me, Geralt. More than anything in my life, and it has been a long life indeed.”

“You saved me,” Geralt said. “Saved Eskel.” But he too remembered the still bodies carried out and buried in the night. How few boys remained. Remembered the screaming in the night, unsure how much of the sound was torn from his own throat, and what came from his brothers dying around him.

“I let them put you through it twice. That wasn’t salvation, lad.” Vesemir sighed. “I couldn’t have put a stop to the Trials, don’t know if I would have if it were possible, there have to be Trials to be witchers, and the world needs us, whatever it may believe. But maybe there was a better way. A kinder way. You were boys, little lads who went through so much pain.”

Geralt was startled to see a tear fall down the craggy face, burying in the moustache. Witchers could cry, but it happened rarely, tears could blur vision in a fight, and only very strong emotion, the sort they had been taught to suppress, could override the mutations.

And then Vesemir put an arm around Geralt’s shoulder and gave him an oddly nice hug. It could have cracked a boulder.

“Someone should have held you boys more,” Vesemir said, a touch abashedly. They looked out over the walls some more and Geralt wondered if the conversation was over, but Vesemir didn’t take the arm away.

“Ciri called me Grandpa today.”

Ah. That would explain a lot. Watching Vesemir interact with Ciri over the winter had been a delight and a surprise to the wolves. He’d even sat her on his knee and told her stories of when Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt were young like a, well, like a doting grandfather. Jaskier had been enthralled as well, naturally, but seeing Vesemir so soft, and sometimes looking a little sad, around Ciri, had been an education for the men who would always think of themselves as ‘Vesemir’s Little Lads’.

“She won’t be a witcher,” Vesemir said. “Couldn’t be even if we would want it, and I never would.”

“No,” Geralt said.

No,” agreed Vesemir. They looked out over the darkened landscape.

“I never wanted a family,” Vesemir said after a while where their breaths hung in the air before them. “‘O course, witchers aren’t supposed to, but you’ve built a nice little family for yourself, laddie. It’s not as may be, not like you’d find in villages or in your pet bard’s fancy songs. But you’ve a brave and rather headstrong daughter, and she has a mum, and a dad, and two already very protective uncles.”

“And a grandpa,” Geralt cut in.

“And a grandpa,” Vesemir agreed. “But a family needs a little more than that. There’s gotta be someone to teach the lass how to love.”

Geralt was about to protest that he’d seen plenty of loveless marriages, but then considered the results in the children. Jaskier was one, he knew. The sort of lost way Jaskier sucked up approval, when they’d first met, the way he’d drank up compliments like a man with water in the desert, whenever Geralt thought on it there was a sort of humming ache. He’d consulted with Eskel on the feeling, concerned it was illness. Apparently, it was just what happened when someone you loved was hurting and it wasn’t something you could kill or fix.

“It doesn’t need to be romantic love,” Vesemir said, obviously seeing Geralt’s face. “And she’ll know how to love family fine, and how to love friends, as you and Yennefer figure that out between the two of you. But your bard loves you, and the way you love him can teach her how to love others and herself. And if Ciri has another dad maybe you can worry less.”

Geralt chuckled. Ciri could have fifty parents, and Geralt would still lose sleep worrying. Vesemir smiled back at him, eyes crinkling and moustache lifting like a bristle brush that had learned to fly. Then he slapped Geralt on the back, and Geralt, the White Wolf of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken, the witcher who had twice survived the Trials, felt his spine compress like a spring and he was sure he felt a rib creak.

“Love Jaskier, lad. Hold tight to him. We rarely get good things.”

Then Vesemir walked back inside and Geralt stared after him. There weren’t many old witchers, dangers of the job and all that, but Vesemir was proof that witchers, like oak wood, only solidified with age.

Geralt followed him inside.

The next days passed in a flurry of activity. Ciri had been let off of training with the wolves to pack for her journey with Yennefer, and to be quickly given the rundown of the basics of magic. The wolves were packing as well, preparing to leave Kaer Morhen. In between final preparations and weapon repair, Geralt checked over The List.

The List was supposed to help him court Jaskier. It was the combined brainchild of everyone (except Jaskier, of course) at Kaer Morhen. More importantly, his intention to court Jaskier met with Ciri’s approval.

When the day arrived, Geralt felt a curious lump in his throat. He watched Ciri say goodbye to Eskel and Lambert, the latter picking her up and swinging her in an arc, letting her joyful whoop echo about the courtyard. Then she hugged Vesemir, and he crushed her very gently to him. And then she turned to him and Jaskier.

He was thankful that Ciri bade Jaskier goodbye first, watching the bard wipe a surupticious tear away as he held the blonde girl. It was Geralt’s turn and he didn’t know what to do. He cleared his throat.

“Follow Yennefer’s instructions,” he said. That didn’t seem like enough. “And don’t talk to strangers,” he said. It still seemed insufficient but he was out of advice so he stuck out his hand to shake. Ciri laughed and leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

He held her there, reveling in hugging his daughter, his child surprise, who was so full of surprises and he felt, for the first time in many years, the feeling of rather full tear ducts. He blinked them away.

“Good luck,” Ciri whispered in his ear. Jaskier wouldn’t have heard, but the witchers with their enhanced hearing surely had. Geralt nodded and set her down.

He coughed awkwardly and pulled out a little packet wrapped in burlap and some rough twine. Ciri beamed and pulled at the string so that the packaging fell away. A long piece of metal, bent into a thin U shape lay in his palm, the ends were surprisingly sharp. Ciri picked it up and examined it, then looked up at him questioningly.

“Hair pin,” Geralt said gruffly. “For your hair. And stabbing.” He mimed a clumsy, underhanded stab. “Eskel helped me silver plate it. For monsters. But also men, if they’re close enough.” He trailed off, knowing he sounded awkward. Who gave a self defense implement as a gift?

Ciri beamed at him again. “I love it,” she said, also miming a few stabs. He supposed that as a parent he shouldn’t be so proud of the light in his daughter’s eyes when she talked about stabbing, but he was almost certain that she got that trait from Jaskier, who tended to get...pointed about disagreements in pubs.

Yennefer stepped forward and carefully took the hair pin from their daughter, swooping her silver blonde hair back into a twist and sliding it in place. She placed a hand on Ciri’s shoulder and smiled at Geralt, and he was reminded again of that vase, stronger and more beautiful for the cracks in the facade. She then gave him a quick side hug and and even one for Jaskier, and opened a portal.

Geralt stared after his friend and his daughter long after the portal closed, until Jaskier, hand wrapped in a heavy mitten, gently took his wrist. They waved to the other wolves, and left, Roach walking obediently alongside.

And then it was just the two of them. Again. Just like the last twenty years. That thought occupied him as they made it down the Killer. The path down from Kaer Morhen was deadly, but that year Geralt made it down without thinking, keeping half a thought to Jaskier’s ambling form as he went.

How old was Jaskier?

He’d been eighteen or so when they met. Eighteen plus twenty-two was forty. Forty wasn’t that old for a human but Jaskier didn’t look too much different than he had at...Geralt did the math. Twenty-five? But there were signs. A few lines here and there, although Jaskier was insistent about his skincare. A line of silver, just a few hairs, probably unnoticable except to Geralt’s enhanced eyes. He was aging better than a human should.

Or perhaps not. Time was tricky for witchers, never staying in one place, never knowing people long enough to watch them age, he didn’t really know what to compare Jaskier to.

He did know how long humans lived though. And at the base of the mountain he came to a resolution, felt it settle in to his bones as deep as his mutations, deeper, even.

Twenty years, or nearly, where he hadn’t known Jaskier. Twenty more where he hadn’t admitted they were friends, or that he loved him. Eighty years in a human life span. And Geralt would love Jaskier, and make sure he knew he was loved, for the next four decades, give or take. He looked at his companion, paused as they were to give their feet and Roach a rest. The weak, watery sun of the early spring day fell on Jaskier’s face, dappled through the branches, which as of yet held no buds.

He pictured lines appearing, laugh lines, smile lines, crinkles carving themselves into the landscape of the familiar features. He pictured silver through the hair, more, in thicker streaks at the temples. Geralt saw a lifetime, Jaskier’s lifetime, in an instant. Silver covered warm brown, strong legs grew shakey, lines crowned a forehead and swept about clear eyes.

What would happen, Geralt thought, when Jaskier could no longer keep up? But Geralt knew what would happen. He’d take Jaskier to Kaer Morhen, or go with him to Oxenfurt, and spend his days with him. It had been a few short months since he’d realized he was in love with Jaskier, but that was only because Geralt’s skill with emotions was roughly similar to Jaskier’s apparent self preservation. Why had he let the lad talk to him in a pub? Had he loved him then? He remembered the shock of not being feared, of looking into clear, bright eyes and seeing admiration, the fierce protectiveness that had flared when he woke and saw the fool tied to him in an elven lair. Had it been love?

Watching Jaskier whisper softly to Roach as snow melted around him, Geralt was sure it had been. Destiny, Fate, the two bit tart who kept fucking him over, had given him his greatest blessing in a form that Geralt, up until that very second had considered a myth. Love at first sight. Love had brought him Jaskier, and Ciri, and a fast friendship with the most powerful mage on the Continent. Love had brought him a family in the form of a wayward bard with bread in his pants. And Geralt had forty more years to cherish him.

Step One the list had said in Eskel’s clear writing. Kiss his hand. Being mindful of Step Two, to mind his manners, Geralt crossed the clearing to Jaskier and took the thick woolen mitten in his gloved hand.

“May I?” he said. Jaskier gave him a baffled look, but nodded.

Geralt pressed chapped lips to a palm wrapped in knitted wool, and Jaskier smiled, albeit a little confusedly. It didn’t matter. Geralt wanted to spend the next forty years wrapped in that smile.

Then Jaskier asked him if he was feeling well.

#its a lot #tons of feels #did i shed a tear writing this?#no these falsies dont put up with water #but it was a close thing #grandpa vesemir #good mom yennefer #lowkey buffskier but not yet #geraskier #dyslexic Geralt #he's doing his best but emotions are hard

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aimeelouart · 3 years

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Ok I've spent a few months lurking and just being a lil too nervous to ask about The Royal House Perdel, but now that I've read the premise ohmygod I love it. I would pay actual money to read it as a book one day.

WHAT. You’re my favorite now. I love you. Take my firstborn.

Since I assume you’re also here for FF7, have a little gift writing of my protag at age 7 hopping dimensions and interacting with the SSC Firsts.

They should have known something was off when they were able to corner Cloud so quickly, but they definitely figured it out when he started giggling.

“Cloud…?” Sephiroth asked cautiously, crouched a short distance from him.

“Pfft, ahaha, your faces!” He said, pointing and covering his mouth with the other hand. Bright orange-red bled out from the root of his hair, spreading down as the strands lengthened and curled. He grew a little taller, a little ganglier, and his face…

Not his face. That wasn’t Cloud at all, though how the laughing girl had accomplished such an effective disguise was a question for another time.

“Who the hell are you!” Genesis exploded. “Where is Cloud!”

“He’s busy,” the little girl said, breaking off her laughter to stick out her tongue at them. “Meanie. He’s following a Virtue! You can’t interrupt that!”

Sephiroth growled, standing up. “Genesis, with me. Angeal, start a conference call. We will begin where we lost Cloud.” He and Genesis darted off, leaving Angeal with the strange new child.

“Wonderful,” he sighed, pulling out his PHS and doing as Sephiroth had commanded. “Another one.” He caught the girl’s arm when she nonchalantly tried to waltz past him. “And where do you think you’re going?”

She blinked. “That way,” she said, pointing.

“Not when you’ve⁠—is that Cloud’s hair?” There was a tuft of pale golden hair clenched in her hand.

“Duh,” she said, “that’s the rule for the spell. ‘A dear thing, freely given. Closer to the skin, more power riven.’”

Angeal struggled to parse through the bewildering statement. “Because Cloud gave you his hair, you were able to...cast a spell to look like him?” He tilted her arm, looking her over for materia, but saw nothing. “Where’s your materia?”

She blinked at him. “What’s materia?”

He decided to abandon the line of inquiry entirely. “Where are your parents?”

Her expression turned sheepish. She scuffed the toe of her sandal across the concrete. “Umm...Granda’ is gonna come find me soon...I’m probably in trouble.”

For the first time, Angeal noticed the glittering jewels held in the intricate lacework of her sandals. They certainly weren’t materia, but they did tell him that her parents must have been very wealthy. “And why are you in trouble?”

She flushed and looked away. “I’m not s’pposed to go through the Gates…” she mumbled.

“The gates?”

“The Gates Between. The ones that cross the Empty Spaces.” She stared down at her feet, and nervously plucked at the hem of her skirt. “Granda’ can open the Gates cuz he’s Imperator, and I can cuz I’m a Mage but he says I’m too little. I’m not supposed to be here, but...but it was calling me! I had to!” She looked up at him with wide, unnatural golden eyes and a pleading little pout.

He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

⁠—

Genesis took one look at the little redhead sleeping contentedly against Angeal’s shoulder and said “no, no, we already have one, put that back.”

Angeal looked tired and a little defeated, leveling Genesis with an unimpressed glance. With Cloud in the wind, all they could do now was wait for some sign of his whereabouts—probably in the form of demolished ShinRa property. Which left them to deal with everything else for a while instead.

“Believe me,” he said, “I’m not particularly happy about this either. But her parents are impossible to find. She doesn’t exist in any records—and I do mean any records. Even the Turks can’t find anything. And I can’t exactly just leave her with someone.”

Genesis narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“She has...abilities. You saw the disguise earlier, but there’s more.” He looked vaguely disturbed, glancing down at the kid like she was a ticking bomb. “A lot more.”

Sephiroth sighed. “Naturally. That seems to be the theme lately, strange children with inexplicable abilities showing up on our doorsteps.”

Finally, a hint of humor broke through Angeal’s tiredness. “Well, look on the bright side. At least this one actually trusts adults.”

“Too much, if she’s sleeping in your arms two seconds after meeting you,” Genesis scoffed.

“The polar opposite of Cloud,” Sephiroth observed, a little bit of humor entering his tone as well.

Angeal shook his head. “Her parents have the resources to keep her very sheltered, from what I’ve gathered. She seems to think that all adults are inherently trustworthy, especially if they, and I quote here, ‘look like they belong in Mama’s First Legion.’”

Genesis and Sephiroth both paused.

“That...makes it sound as if her parents have a personal militia at their disposal,” Genesis said.

“Yeah,” Angeal agreed wryly, “it does, doesn’t it?”

—

She was like a spot of sunshine in the interview room—not an interrogation room, though it did have a one-way mirror and an attached observation space—beaming up at Tseng as she sat on her knees in the chair across from him. Unsurprisingly, the Turks hadn’t exactly had a booster seat handy with their typical interview equipment.

“What’s your full name?” Tseng asked, soft and polite. It was only Angeal’s familiarity with the young man that allowed him to detect the very slight edge of unease in his smile.

Angeal could understand. It wasn’t often that even he was presented with such unconditional trust and guileless curiosity, and the Turks certainly must have experienced it much less.

The little girl opened her mouth and proceeded to deliver an extremely well-rehearsed answer. “Ameliora Octavia, First Mage of the House Perdel, Blessed of the Thirteen,” she rattled off cheerfully, “Crown Princess and heir to the Perdelesian Throne, granddaughter of the Virtuous Emperor Celsus Caesar Perdel and the Virtuous Empress Julia Atossa Perdel, daughter of Caius Julius Perdel, High King of the West, and Fera Tullia Perdel, High Queen of the East.” She gasped in a breath, having spent her entire lung capacity on the extended answer. “You can call me Lora, though, I don’t mind.” She resumed beaming at him.

Even Tseng didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Then Lora frowned abruptly. “Oh wait, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Tseng managed to get ahold of himself. “Why is that, Lora?”

She looked up at the ceiling as if trying to remember something. “Granda says that, uh, if I’m ever with strangers I’m supposed to...uhm...tell them ‘Lora’ but nothing else and wait until one of the Praetorians comes to get me.”

“I see. Lora, do you know where you are?”

“Nope!” she said, apparently unbothered by this fact.

“Do you know how you got here?”

“Uh-huh, I opened the Gate in the Archive because it was calling to me in the Strings, and then I walked the Empty Spaces until it felt right and now I’m here.”

Angeal glanced discreetly at the other Turks in the observation room. None of them seemed to know what the hell she was saying either, which was very reassuring.

Tseng looked like he wanted to sigh but restrained himself. “Do you know how to get back home?”

For the first time, Lora flushed crimson and ducked her head. “Umm...nooo…”

“No?”

“‘S why I’m gonna be in trouble...I know how to walk through the Empty Spaces but I dunno how to walk back yet…Granda will come find me, though.”

“How will he know where to find you?”

She blinked at him, and for a moment her unnatural golden eyes glowed like they had a SOLDIER’s mako gleam. “Granda will always find me,” she said. “He swore on the Thirteen the day I was born. ‘Sides, I’m a Mage. Magistra Mara says I look like a supernova when she uses the Strings to see me.” She smiled. “I’m hard to miss.”

“I see,” said Tseng, which was a bald-faced lie. “How old are you, Lora?”

“Seven and a quarter,” she said very seriously.

—

“Hey.” A little hand tugged on the bottom of his jacket and Reno practically jumped out of his skin. Shiva, it was the tiny unnatural demon child. With trepidation, he half-turned and looked down at her.

She was beaming up at him like he’d just given her the best gift in the world. He was absolutely certain that if he picked her up she would snuggle into his arms without a second thought.

It was hands-down the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“What,” he bit out, anxious to get away without looking like he was getting away. He could feel Rude laughing at him silently.

“C’mere,” she said, motioning him down. Reno glanced at her babysitter of the hour—Hewley—whose mako eyes promised death if he dared to scare or upset her. Reno weighed the odds for a long second and then slowly crouched.

Immediately, she buried her hands in his hair and started petting and patting, a puzzled little furrow to her brows. “Hey,” he said, jerking back a little, “what do you think you’re doing!”

“I’ve never seen hair like this,” she responded, peering closer.

“You have red hair,” he pointed out, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He could kill her a dozen ways with barely a flick of his hand and she was playing with his hair?

It was unnatural!

“Nuh-uh, my hair’s gold-red and and curls. Yours is all sticky-uppy and looks like an apple.”

“Well, that’s just how it was when I was born!”

“Oh. Huh.” Apparently that was enough for her. She released his hair and looked to Rude instead and Reno felt exactly zero shame for how fast he got up and moved out of range of her creepy, sunshiny eyes.

She motioned Rude down in the same way. He went, a lot more willingy than Reno had, even though Reno knew for a fact that is partner was also pretty fucking creeped out by her. All the Turks were. There was no one—no one—who had ever treated them with such unconditional trust. The little princess was genuinely happy to see them. Even Tseng was freaked out. Even Veld was, though he took it in stride like he did everything else.

Lora plucked the sunglasses right from Rude’s face and put them on. Her mouth made a little ‘o’ of surprise.

“Why would you want dark glass over your eyes?” She asked, holding them in place and looking around curiously.

Without missing a beat, Rude pulled a spare set of sunglasses out of his suit pocket and put them on. Lora giggled. Reno shamelessly abandoned his partner and speed walked away.

—

“Hello, my dear.”

Lora looked up, blinking at the strange man who’d addressed her. “Hello,” she said cheerfully. She was, technically, breaking the rules by wandering around like this, but she was just so curious. There were so many strange things in this place! And sometimes breaking the rules led to wonderful things, like coming here.

“Would you like to see something interesting?”

She gasped in delight. “Yes! What is it?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you,” he said, offering a hand. She took it without hesitation. It was weirdly cold. The man reminded her of her uncle Brutus, who stared at her all the time and Mama always glared at. Uncle Brutus was weird.

She remembered that she actually had to introduce herself here, because people didn’t automatically know her name. “I’m Lora, what’s your name?” she said.

The man smiled. “You can call me Professor Hojo, my dear.”

[Part 2]

#ask #original work asks #The Royal House Perdel #Tumblr exclusive writing #aimeelouwrites #fic reply #aimee's self-indulgent crossovers #ameliora octavia perdel

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lettheladylead · 4 years

Text

a quick visit

characters/ships: goldie, scrooge, beakley, scrooge/goldie, (slight) webby/lena word count: ~3500 summary: Goldie stops by the mansion shortly after The Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades! ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023359

Bentina had a bad feeling.

She often did when Scrooge took all four kids by himself and it was just adults in the mansion. Well, adults and Launchpad, who came by twice already - having forgotten that Scrooge wasn’t around.

It didn’t help that she hadn’t gotten Webbigail her own cell phone yet, so there were no updates coming from a trusted source. Scrooge didn’t know how to send a proper text and the boys just sent weird pictures and emojis so she was stuck in the dark until they returned.

Fortunately, the trip ended early, and as the family burst through the door only two days after leaving, the first thing Webbigail did was throw herself into her grandmother’s arms. “GRANNY! You won’t believe what happened in Florida!”

“Something tells me I will.”

Before Webby could open her mouth, Scrooge loudly cleared his throat. “Ahem, um...Webbigail, perhaps you should let me talk to her first. If you wouldnae mind.”

Webby considered that for a moment before doing a backflip and landing gracefully on her feet. “Okay! I’m gonna call Lena and Violet!” And then she rushed upstairs.

The boys were chatting amongst themselves, clearly interested in what Scrooge was going to say to Beakley but knowing they wouldn’t be allowed to stick around for the conversation. Louie in particular was excited to see steam come out of their housekeeper’s ears.

Beakley’s eye twitched as Scrooge grumbled a bit and motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. Huey and Dewey decided to go find their mom or Uncle Donald, while Louie stuck with his original plan and held his head against the kitchen door to listen in.

“What kind of danger did you put my granddaughter in this time?”

Louie almost snickered.

“So listen, Twenty-Two, I need to start by pointin’ out that it could’ve been much worse! She was far away from the real danger!”

No response. Louie worried he was missing something and leaned in a little further, but it seemed Beakley was just waiting for more information.

“...Goldie was there.”

“Don’t tell me you let her anywhere near Webbigail!” was Beakley’s very quick response. Louie knew the housekeeper hated Goldie, but she didn’t hesitate for even a second.

“Ah...well. Webby spoke to Goldie just as you would’ve wanted her to,” Scrooge said with a chuckle.

“Then what happened?”

“Ehh...Goldie ‘n I drank some youth water, got a bit rambunctious in our young bodies, and left Webbigail by herself in the middle of the woods.”

Louie waited. No sound yet. Maybe Beakley just killed him quickly and quietly and got it over with?

“Is that it? She’s well equipped for a few hours by herself. Better than spending anymore time with your thieving ex-girlfriend.”

What a disappointment. Louie scoffed and got up, walking towards the back of the mansion where he saw his brothers go earlier.

Beakley looked over at the door where one of the kids had been obviously spying, and then poked a finger in Scrooge’s chest. “If Webbigail goes on adventures with you, I expect you to be responsible for her. No running off with your girlfriend, no leaving her alone. Am I understood?”

He looked sheepish, but nodded. “I’m sorry, Twenty-Two. It was...I wasnae myself.”

“Oh, you were completely yourself. Just younger and stupider.”

“Quite right.”

There was a moment of silence before Beakley couldn’t help her curiosity. “So what did she take from you this time?”

He blushed a bit and smiled - a reaction she was definitely not prepared for - and started tapping his fingers against the top of his cane. “Ah...nothin’.”

“...really now.”

Scrooge had a look on his face that Bentina barely recognized - he looked lovestruck and downright silly - and it was making her eye twitch again.

“She took Isabella’s journal, but...then she gave it back. A lot happened yesterday. We...talked.”

“Goldie O’Gilt...talked. To you.” Beakley leaned against the counter and didn’t pretend to hide her disbelief.

Scrooge picked up his cane and swung it around briefly. “Oh, she talked, alright! Let’s just say, I havenae lost my touch when it comes to women.”

Now that was the least believable thing she’d heard so far. But Beakley bit her tongue on that remark. “...did you two sleep together?”

His blush deepened and his smile formed into a smirk. Pushing his hat up an inch with his cane, Scrooge just shrugged and said, “I would never kiss and tell.”

“That’s historically untrue,” she commented with an eyeroll. “Are you going to tell me you two are on good terms now? Or something equally terrifying?”

Scrooge shrugged again. “Hard to say…”

He started to hobble out of the kitchen, considering whether or not to leave Beakley with that non-answer, but chose to turn around at the door and expand. “...she’ll be visiting the mansion soon.”

And she felt a headache coming on as he waltzed out of the kitchen, leaving her alone to decide how many traps she needed to set up and how many items she needed to hide. Not that anything she could try would stop O’Gilt, who always seemed to be one frustrating step ahead of her.

This was a terrible turn of events. Not to mention unexpected. But, Beakley surmised, this was likely a long con that Scrooge hadn’t caught onto in his lovestruck stupor. She’d have to talk to Webbigail and get more details about what happened. She’d have an easier time figuring out what Goldie’s game was.

Webby was using her laptop to video call with her friends, going over the trials and tribulations of her recent trip.

“I still can’t believe Scrooge has a girlfriend,” Lena commented dryly.

Webby just laughed. “Yeah, it’s super weird. They just have...so much history together. But I thought it’d be cute! Or fun! Instead, it was just…” She couldn’t think of the right word.

Violet flicked at her hair. “Uncomfortable? Not only are they ridiculously old, but she’s betrayed him a number of times. I can’t imagine watching them interact was pleasant.”

“Exactly!” Webby waved her hands around. “And when we left the hotel they were all gushy and hand holding, but...I don’t know! Love after betrayal doesn’t really seem like a good idea.”

Violet nodded to that, but quickly noticed Lena’s awkward silence and turned towards her sister.

Webby, despite herself, also noticed Lena’s lack of response, and after replaying her sentence in her head, she immediately started to shake her head and laugh. “Ha, ha, well, I mean, you know, who knows!! It’s...I shouldn’t make assumptions! It was probably just weird because they’re so old! I don’t know the details, I should do some research! But maybe not too much research! Ha, ha, ha!”

Lena seemed comforted by that and just chuckled and shook her head. “You’re a riot, Pink.”

“I know,” Webby said with a smile, and she could tell Violet was going to comment on what just happened but was interrupted by a knock on Webby’s door.

“Webbigail, can we talk?”

“Oh, sure, Granny!” she yelled at the door. “Sorry guys, Granny wants to talk! See you later?”

The Sabrewings nodded and said their goodbyes as Webby shut the laptop in sync with Beakley climbing up the ladder.

“Scrooge tells me you were alone for quite some time,” Beakley said as she finished her climb and sat next to Webby on her bed. “How did you fare?”

“It was crazy!” Webby said enthusiastically. “I had hurt my back and mosquitos stung my eye and then suddenly I was alone with who-knows-what lurking around! But I used my quick wits and geographical knowledge to make my way back to the hotel in record time!”

Beakley responded with a few small claps. “I’m very proud of you.”

“It’s too bad I missed the fight, though!”

“Oh?” Now that made more sense. “So Scrooge and Goldie did fight, then?”

“Oh, no, I mean. Sort of, but that’s not what I’m talking about!” Webby proceeded to explain the situation with Ponce de Leon to her grandmother, not leaving out any details of what the boys and Scrooge had told her.

“Well...I supposed that explains his good mood.” Beakley put a hand against her beak in thought. “I can’t immediately tell what O’Gilt’s angle is, but I don’t trust this. If she tries to talk to you again, don’t give her any information she doesn’t already have.”

“Okay! Oh, and did you know she’s friends with Louie?” Webby added suddenly. “I mean, I guess friends might be a strong word. But they talked for a while and I was really surprised! Scrooge didn’t seem as surprised, but also...not. You know what I mean?”

Beakley let out a long hmmm in response. “...that’s interesting.”

“I was talking to Lena and Violet…” Webby tapped her fingers on her legs. “I don’t trust Goldie any farther than I could throw her, but...I don’t know, she and Scrooge seemed to be really happy together all last night and this morning.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it’s not like you can’t have a good normal relationship even if there was once a lot of lies and betrayal!” Webby started to play with her skirt. “I’m trying to keep an open mind!”

Beakley’s face scrunched up in thought and her eyes widened in realization. “Ah...Dear, if you’re projecting onto this, I can assure you that your relationship with Lena is nothing like that of the infamous McDuck-O’Gilt rivalry.”

“Oh.”

“Goldie O’Gilt is proof that some people can never change,” Bentina said forcefully. “And no matter what she says or how she acts or even if she chooses not to steal anything one time, that’s no reason to trust her. She’s going to break Scrooge’s heart again, one way or another.”

“...oh.” Webby frowned and looked down at her knees. “You’re probably right, Granny. Maybe I just...want her to be better.”

“I understand.” Beakley stood up and brushed invisible dust off her skirt. “I do, too. But it’s safer to stay alert than to try and expect anything good from her.”

She nodded. “Uncle Scrooge invited her here.”

“He mentioned as much.”

“But she said no.”

“Really?”

Webby played with her fingers while she spoke. “She said, and I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping! But she told him that ‘meeting the family is too domestic,’ which I think is weird because she’s already met all of us so what difference does it make?”

Beakley wondered why Scrooge seemed so sure that Goldie would be coming over despite her rejection. This was already starting not to bode well. “I need to speak to Scrooge again. Why don’t you go find the boys?”

“Okay!” Webby shouted and did a front flip off her bed, launching down the ladder and heading towards the pool.

Beakley grumbled and followed after, determined to figure out why Scrooge had lied or what was going on. She needed to be prepared if Goldie O’Gilt was coming to visit, and prepared for Scrooge’s inevitably whiny heartbreak. You’d think he’d be used to it after so many years.

She found him in his room, staring at the inside of some ancient-looking box. As soon as he noticed her, he slammed the box shut and tossed it back into the locked desk drawer he came from. Curious as that made her, Beakley didn’t have the energy to comment.

“Goldie said she wasn’t interested in coming here.”

Scrooge flushed and shrugged. “I mean...technically, yes, but you had to see the look in her eyes, Bentina! I know she’s coming.”

“I think you’re likely misinterpreting.”

“I know for a fact she wants to see Della, at least,” Scrooge said with his two pointer fingers up in front of him. “We talked about her for a while and she hasn’t seen her since her return, so…”

“I stand by what I said.”

Scrooge stood up and stretched his limbs. “I understand your negativity, Twenty-Two, but I feel good about this! I feel like -”

Both parties stopped talking and turned to look at the window, which was slowly being opened from the outside. Scrooge smiled brightly and Beakley’s frown deepened.

“Hey, Hun, how about we……..oh.” Goldie hadn’t noticed Beakley at first, and wrinkled her nose as soon as they made eye contact. “Great.”

Before the man of the house could let his lady inside, Beakley stormed to the window and grabbed it. “How about you use the front door like a proper guest!?” She slammed the window shut and Goldie didn’t move for a moment, then smacked the closed window before disappearing again. Beakley made her way to the foyer in angry anticipation.

Scrooge didn’t even know how to react to that and quickly rushed to the window to see what was happening. Goldie had gone back down to the lawn and she looked up to shoot him a quick wink before continuing towards the door. He almost didn’t believe what he was seeing, but hurried after his housekeeper anyway.

The doorbell ringing was a surprise to everyone, and Scrooge was double surprised to see all four kids running towards the front door even after they saw Beakley reach for the handle. Maybe they liked Goldie more than she did. That wouldn’t be saying much at all.

The door opened and Goldie groaned loudly. “Is this what it’s like to wait for someone to let you into a building? It’s awful. Scroogey, don’t make me do that again.”

Beakley rolled her eyes and moved to the side so Goldie could enter, and Scrooge just smiled at her instead of moving to give her a proper hello. She put a hand on her hip and looked at the small army of ducks who’d come to greet her for whatever reason.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming!” Webby said suddenly.

“Yes, well…” Goldie rolled her hand around by her head, trying to think of what to say. “Here I am anyway.”

“Here you are,” Beakley said harshly as she shut the door. “And what’s your plan for this visit, O’Gilt?”

Goldie gave the housekeeper a sultry look. “Oh, Bentina, always so suspicious of me. Scrooge asked me to stop by on my way back to D…”

Everyone leaned forward slightly, looking very interested in the next thing she was going to say. Goldie took note of that.

“...doing my own thing.”

The resounding disappointment was palpable. Clearly no one knew where she currently hung her hat, and Goldie preferred it that way.

“So he did. Apparently you’re here to ‘meet the family,’ but of course,” Beakley walked past Goldie and stood next to her granddaughter. “You already know everyone here.”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow, not sure if he should interrupt or let this play out. Goldie didn’t seem put off at all.

“Are you testing me?” Goldie asked with a smirk. “Of course I know you, Bentina. Or would you rather I call you Twenty-Two?”

Everyone looked up at Beakley, who scowled. “Bentina is fine.”

Goldie took a look at all four kids, who were currently lined up in front of her. Their...names? She knew their names. But that didn’t really matter and she didn’t want them to get too attached.

“Well, obviously I know Sharpie,” she said, motioning to Louie, who just shrugged in response.

Next came the red one. “...based on your clipboard, I’m gonna assume you’re the Smartie.”

“Not technically my name, but observant nonetheless!” Huey tapped his hat with his pencil.

“And you…” She looked at the blue one, who seemed overly excited at her presence and was pumping his knees up and down. “Well I’m not about to call you Toughie when you look like this.”

“You can call me…” Dewey pulled out his phone and pressed a button, playing a short track of loud electronic music. “TURBOOOO!!!” he shouted as he dabbed dramatically and the music ended.

Goldie just stared. “...ah, you’re just a mini-Della, aren’t you?”

Dewey spun around and snapped some finger guns at her. “Compliment received and appreciated! That’s how we Dew it!”

“Right. So. Sharpie, Smartie, Mini-Della.” She pointed to each of them as she spoke. “And lastly we’ve got Old Lady Vanderquack.”

Webby looked up at her grandma and gave a sheepish smile to Beakley’s irritated expression.

“I suppose I can’t very well call you that when the real old lady is right there,” Goldie said with a smirk. “I’ll just call you Pink.”

That elicited a small gasp from the little duck. “You can’t call me that! That’s what Lena calls me!”

“Oh? She’s got a claim on that name?” Goldie crouched down and leaned her arms on her knees (which were feeling much better than the day before, thank God). “Well I’m sure your Uncle has told you that I’m quite the claim jumper.”

Scrooge chuckled at that while Webby just squinted and tapped on her beak. “I guess, in a way, you kind of remind me of Lena.”

“Since I don’t know who that is, I’m going to assume that’s a compliment.”

“It is!” Webby clapped her hands together excitedly. “She’s my-”

“Webbigail,” Beakley interrupted. “Remember what I said about limiting the information you give to thieves?”

“Oh, right!” Webby stood tall and did a motion of zippering her mouth shut.

Goldie smirked and stood back up. “The less I know the better, I suppose.” She looked around the room. “Well I don’t see Donald or Della, but as far as I know, that covers everyone who lives here, right?”

Beakley rolled her eyes, but couldn’t say anything before Dewey jumped up. “Oh! I bet Mom would be super excited to see you! I’ll go grab her!” He rushed off to the pool.

“What, no fun nicknames for them, too?” Louie said sarcastically. “How boring.”

Goldie crossed her arms. “That’s not something anyone’s ever called me before.”

“First time for everything.”

Huey glanced between Louie and Goldie, sensing an unexpected tension that he didn’t know anything about. Clearly he’d be grilling Louie about it later.

Scrooge sighed and felt a familiar warmth in his chest. All he wanted was for Goldie to be a part of his family, and for the first time...it felt like it might happen. Despite Beakley’s objections, of course. He shuffled over and grabbed one of Goldie’s hands.

“Are you staying long?” he asked hopefully, but trying not to sound too desperate.

She glanced at him and sighed. “No, I don’t think so.” She pulled her hand away from his and placed it against his cheek instead. “Meet the family, you said. Not have dinner with the family or move in with you, right?” She gave him a few little pats.

Scrooge smiled even though he would’ve loved for her to stay longer. “Right. Whatever you’re comfortable with, Dear.”

The little domestic nickname made her heart flutter, and Goldie had to look away from him to avoid blushing. Fortunately, it was at that moment that Dewey was dragging the twins into the foyer behind him.

“What’s so impor-....oh!” Della paused as she looked up, Donald stepping up next to her a moment later.

They both looked at each other and then back at their guest. “Hi Aunt Goldie,” they said in unison.

“Donnie. Fly Girl,” Goldie responded, giving them each a curt nod. “Glad to see you’re both in one piece.”

Della elbowed Donald in the chest. “How come you didn’t tell me this was still a thing?”

He coughed and put a hand over his injured sternum. “I didn’t think you cared?”

“I dunno, I’m kind of mixed on it,” Della said with a shrug. “But I like to stay updated!”

They bickered for a minute and Goldie felt a bit awkward - she didn’t know Donald or Della very well and could barely understand a single thing Donald said. She assumed everyone else could understand him perfectly and didn’t want to be the odd one out, so she opted to look back at Scrooge again.

He was staring at her. This whole visit he’d just been staring at her. She did what he asked! She stopped by! She spoke to his whole family! Why did he still look like he wanted something?

Finally he looked away from her, seeing that most of the rest of the family was talking to Della about adventures they knew about involving Goldie. He looked back at her and smiled.

“...Scroogey, just ask me what you want to ask me.” She swiped a hand through her ponytail and sighed. “I’ll die of old age if I’m stuck waiting for you to spit it out.”

He took a deep breath and reached out to grab both of her hands this time.

“I want you...to meet my parents.”