[Tawny Vokes]

Delighted screams and playful chatter filled the festive air from the gathered mass of people, all of different ages and experiencing varying levels of enjoyment. Children chased one another from booth to booth. Teenagers congealed in groups, standing around and talking, most of them too "cool" to show their excitement to their friends. Booth attendants cried out their challenges and boasted about their prizes, mostly stuffed plushies of the spooky variety. Costumed Pokémon and the like. And moving throughout the festival were a great number of performers, dressed in elaborate and impressive costumes that were likely months in the making. Over half of the attendees were in costumes themselves; Los Eurosian citizens determined to wring as much enjoyment as they could out of the week-long fun.

The little girl in front of Tawny tugged her along by the hand, cutting a quick, determined stride through the crowds, completely ignorant of the people she shoved unceremoniously past. Tawny cast apologetic glances over her shoulder at the most perturbed of them. She was on 'Aunt Duty', chaperoning her youngest niece around while Cooper, Elise, and the older children made a crawl through all the haunted houses that the fair offered. Belle had been too scared and Tawny had all but leaped at the excuse not to go herself, offering instead to take the girl off their hands. They'd already run through the majority of the booths. Had won a couple of consolation prizes; stuffed ghosts, jack-o-lanterns, and zombie teddy bears that Tawny could barely keep pinched in her grasp as she was dragged along. They'd had their faces painted. Caricatures done. Eaten their share of fair food — Belle had gobbled down an entire funnel cake herself, something Tawny made her promise not to tell her mother.

Now all that remained was the ferris wheel and surely that would be the end of it. How long could all those haunted rides take, anyway? Her wallet was beginning to feel the strain.

The line wasn't very long but Belle still stamped her childish impatience the entire time they waited, up until the very point the gates opened to them — then she lit up like the Halloween lights that were weaved through the spokes of the ferris wheel itself as she climbed into the cart. As Tawny moved past the attendant, he instructed them — in an exhausted, uninterested script — to sit together on one side, the festival too busy to allow a seat to go untaken when there was room. She opened her mouth to protest but Belle hopped back out of her seat to tug her impatiently inside, completely indifferent.

Tawny settled, wishing crossly that she'd been allowed the extra room for all the damn plushies she had to tote around. Not to mention the wings strapped to Belle's back as part of her princess fairy costume — they slapped at her face and tugged at her hair as the girl bounced beside her, babbling her excitement. She batted them away and pushed half of the stuffed toys onto the girl's lap, casting a slightly flustered and contrite glance toward the figure clambering after them, prepared to make apologies in advance.

Noah St Cloud - Hope this is good enough for a start! Wasn't sure if Noah would be in costume or not lol.

[Noah St Cloud]

OOC: Noah didn’t wear a costume to this cause he’s lame smh. please forgive this mess, it's late here lmao

Anyway, in today's episode of Noah's life: 

SPOILER: Click to show

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He was sure he’d seen her.

Briefly, through the crowd. Disappearing behind other bodies as quickly as he'd glimpsed her.

Noah was supposed to be on watch for gifted (entertainers with suspiciously good illusions and attendees whose ‘special effects makeup’ was a smidge too realistic to be painted on). He even had a Blackstorm bud to keep him company: Rufus. A stern, older man whom he’d miraculously convinced to buy them ice cream and stand by while Noah played the claw machines and aced the target shooting stalls. People liked to claim they were impossible or rigged. He liked to prove them wrong, and for his efforts he had a tonne of useless Halloween plushies piled up in his arms. Who said he couldn’t work and have fun at the same time? Especially when their work assignment was basically ‘wander around aimlessly and look at people’.

But now Noah was very much distracted. Because he kept thinking about how much more fun he could have if he tracked Tawny down, lured her back to his car or behind a haunted house. Perhaps he could take her back to his place for that tour he’d once offered.

“Noah? You good?”

His companion had noticed something was up. Unsurprising, since Noah was no longer dragging him around with exaggerated glee and generally being a chatty nuisance. He supposed it looked like he was actually working now; scanning the crowds with laser focus and cutting his way through them with intent.

He straightened, stare catching on familiar features. Dark hair and fair skin, big doe eyes and the short, slender stature he liked to tease her for. Luck was on his side. 

“Yeah, yeah, definitely – actually, do you think we could do this some other time? Sorry, man, just remembered some chores I have to do. Take these, would you?” He shoved his plushies into Rufus' arms, leaving the older man swearing and calling after him to wait, struggling to keep hold of his new burdens and scrambling to pick up the few that fell during the changeover. But Noah was already slipping away, making a beeline for Ferris wheel where he’d seen Tawny queueing.

The luck didn’t stop there; it looked like she was boarding the Ferris wheel alone. The attendant, with both impatience and boredom in equal measure etched deep into his frown, was calling for another person to get in beside her. The group of teenagers at the front of the queue refused to be split up, allowing Noah to sidle up to offer himself, and despite the few mutters that rose up behind him about cutting the line, neither he nor the attendant paid mind to them. He stepped up to get on –

And immediately burst into an incredulous laugh at the huge stack of toys piled beside her. Did she like plushies that much? The embarrassed flush on her face was adorable. He almost regretted dumping his own prizes on Rufus; he could have given them all to her.

“Fancy seeing you here, shot glass.” Noah slid into the cart with a megawatt grin and slung his arm across the back of her seat, angling himself towards her. He waggled his brow, as was customary whenever they interacted. “Were you waiting for someone? I hope you don’t mind if I trade places with them, keep you entertained…”

The pile of toys moved.

His gaze dropped and met another, openly staring up at him. After a beat he realised it was not, in fact, an unusually large, creepily realistic doll. It was a whole living child. “Oh.” He blinked, cheery expression collapsing into confusion. “Hi…?”

The blurry uncertainty swiftly sharpened to alarm. Tawny didn’t have kids. She told him she didn’t have kids. She wouldn’t lie about that, and he’d been in her apartment and there wasn’t a kid’s room in there but – her neighbours, they had children. And Tawny had nephews and nieces, he remembered. Was she babysitting? Shit. He couldn’t whisk her away when she had that kind of responsibility. Not because he wouldn’t if he could, but because he didn’t think she’d be open to child abandonment. Even if she were, first he would have to endure being stuck with the kid on the wheel for however long the ride lasted.

Abort mission, abort mission –

He quickly withdrew his arm, ready to spring to his feet with the hastily made excuse of forgetting to lock his car, but the attendant locked them in – trapping him – and before Noah could form a protest the wheel was set in motion. “Uh –” Eyes wide, he spared a quick, panicked glance at Tawny, hoping she knew how desperately sorry he was for having approached. The luck was all a lie. Fortune had deceived him. Why did the circumstances always have to be wrong when he saw her? What the hell should he do? He couldn’t flirt with her when a kid was right there! And he hadn’t been lying when he’d showed up drunk at Tawny’s apartment – he didn’t know what to say to them!

It was fine. It was fine, he told himself. The least he could do was try not to embarrass Tawny. Try to be normal and forgettable so the kid wouldn’t feel inclined to mention him to whoever it – she – belonged to. He took a breath, turning his attention back to it – her! – with his usual smile. (It wasn’t his usual smile; he could feel his hesitance creeping into its corners but maybe a kid wouldn’t be observant enough to notice. He certainly hoped so). 

He held out his hand. Kids liked to be treated like adults, right? Or was that teenagers? “I’m Noah.” God, he’d barely said anything and he already felt so patronising. Nevermind not knowing what to say to her, how was he supposed to talk to her? He’d stuck to his usual tone but was he supposed to use a baby voice? Like people sometimes did with their dogs? Should he explain how he knew Tawny? Not in detail – he reckoned he shouldn’t traumatise the kid by saying he’d saved her from drowning and for obvious reasons he couldn’t say he’d almost murdered her once. Shit. How would he explain their relationship? Was he Tawny’s friend? He winced. What an awful, awful word. But he couldn’t exactly tell the kid he was aiming to hook up with her babysitter. “I like your… face paint.” Yes! Compliments! Compliments were always a safe bet with most people. That would be safe territory, right?

Keeping his (strained) smile he looked down at the ground below with grim consideration. It wasn’t too high yet. He’d probably only sprain an ankle if he jumped.


Tawny Vokes

[Tawny Vokes]

The ferris wheel cart groaned and swayed with the man's weight as he plopped next to her. He laughed and slung a sly line, causing Tawny's primed apologies to quiet on her tongue; flustered affability preparing to sharpen into something cross and aloof. But when she drew her gaze to his, all expression wiped itself cleanly from her face, except for a small, surprised part to her lips. It was Noah — beaming wide and brow waggling. For a brief moment, her gaze flitted about his face in disbelief — were their meetings doomed to be happenstance and chance? Was she fated to always be this unprepared?

The beat of shock faded, melting away completely as his gaze dropped to the child seated beside her. Tawny watched his confidence and suaveness crumble into confusion, then dip further toward panic; arm quickly retracted and body poised to bolt. When the gate closed and the ferris wheel lurched into motion, a smirk (more amused than sympathetic) pulled across her face. Perhaps she did have an advantage in this instance. It made her inwardly squirm with delight, even as she lifted her brow in silent consolation and offered him a quick, pitying pout.

Belle only stared intently at his offered hand, her body pressing the tiniest bit closer against her aunt's side. A long, stretching moment passed and Tawny let it. Let the awkwardness linger. Watched each half-second deepen the uncertainty across Noah's face. Then finally, just as she was certain he was about to cut his losses and leap from the cart, she smiled sweetly. "Hi, Noah... this is my niece, Belle." She shouldered the girl playfully, encouragingly, before putting a hand over Noah's outstretched one and lowering it with a wry twist to her mouth. Even though it was obvious she was enjoying this whole thing, she gave his fingers a quick, supportive squeeze. "She's going through a bit of a germ phase."

She cast an appraising glance around the dingy ferris wheel bucket — thinking of all the grimy surfaces Belle had already touched. All the various booths, rides, and games she'd partaken in. The funnel cake she'd shoveled down with unwashed fingers. Her smile evened and she amended the statement: "A very... selective germ phase." Really, Tawny suspected it was just an excuse not to shake peoples' hands, though she wouldn't be surprised if Belle grew into someone who tended toward excessive orderliness. In stark contrast to Tawny, Cooper had always been neat and organized. She imagined she might have shared the faintly-OCD tendencies, too, had she grown up in a house governed by their chaotic, messy mother.

With awkward introductions out of the way now, the girl instantly perked, wide eyes brightening and all hesitance completely abandoned as she beamed wide. "I'm a fairy, princess kitty!" She giggled, bouncing a moment before lifting her hands — dumping her half of the plushies unceremoniously back into Tawny's lap — and arcing her fingers into pretend-claws while she scrunched her face into a gap-toothed, smiley snarl. "Grr!" She gave Noah no time to respond, but instantly snatched a plushie from the top of the pile while Tawny tried to keep the rest from toppling into freefall. "This is my pet pumpkin mouse familiar! Because I'm also a witch! Her name is Matilda and she's..."

Tawny quieted again, perfectly content to listen as Belle introduced each and every one of her plushies, shoving each one into Noah's hands one after the other. She didn't even attempt to hide the wide, too-pleased grin that pulled at her lips — occasionally she nodded encouragement, interjected the quietest, most enthusiastic 'wow', and even handed the next toy to her niece when she clawed for another. It was just too Good™. The wheel lifted them higher and higher, occasionally lurching to a stop to let people on and off, and when they reached the top and paused, Belle stopped too to pant breathlessly, winded by her ranting. Most of the plushies were now piled in Noah's lap and, just as Belle's lips parted around an inhale and she prepared to launch into another gush, Tawny pointed across the fairgrounds. "Look Belle, you haven't even looked this whole time. And I'm not going to ride again because you didn't enjoy it enough. Your parents and siblings are probably looking for us by now, let's see if we can pick them out."

Belle swiveled, tiny hands gripping at the side of their bucket as she swept her gaze across the people and lights below them, exclaiming her 'ooos' and 'aaa's and pointing. Tawny sniffed and, after a moment, finally cast Noah — and his towering lapful of plushies — a sidelong glance. "Just so you know, the questions are next. She's going to want to know everything about you. Will probably beg you to come home so y'all can play together in her newly-acquired kingdom. How good are your character impressions?"


Noah St Cloud
Feel free to god-mod the GREMLIN if you want. >8) I'm sure she'll be getting dizzy and looking pale and ill very soon.

[Noah St Cloud]

Despite appearances, it wouldn’t be completely accurate to say Noah was scared of kids. They frustrated him with their needling and tantrums and boundless energy, sometimes disgusted him with how unhygienic they could be, but obviously they were no physical threat (well, unless they had a gun, but Noah trusted most kids weren’t toddling around with pistols in their cartoon-themed backpacks), so no – he wasn’t scared of kids.

What spurred his alarm, what worried him in this particular scenario, was the emotional threat the kid posed to his thing with Tawny. And as neither woman nor child verbally acknowledged him or took his extended hand, it was easy to imagine that Tawny was dismayed by his presence. That she took babysitting very seriously and did not want him there, did not want him anywhere near her family (if the girl was indeed family), and if she were gifted, feared he’d try to coax the kid’s gift into the open (and honestly, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t be tempted if the opportunity arose). Those factors alone could cause Tawny to withdraw from him completely, especially considering she knew what he was capable of – whether he did it accidentally or not. And he knew – just knew – the kid would eventually frustrate him enough that he’d snap. Be callous and cold. Say something or do something needlessly hostile that would have Tawny appalled or enraged or both.

But just as Noah was ready to apologise and fling himself from the cart, Tawny took pity on him, smiling as she introduced the kid as Belle. Her niece. He blinked down at the kid, curious yet in some ways more tense than before; he could not mess this up. This wasn’t some random neighbour’s spawn who’d been shoved into her care for the evening. This was someone who'd presumably be around for the rest of her life, someone she was attached to, someone who might tell the rest of Tawny’s relatives about the weird man who got on the Ferris wheel with them.

Tawny's hand settled upon his, giving him a soft squeeze, and it gave him a feeling akin to finding a heated cabin in the midst of a snowstorm; he could do this. It was fine. He wouldn’t try to pretend he was good with kids, he just needed to be… not awful. He nodded sagely as Tawny moved his hand back to his lap, trying not to be offended that Belle seemed to be rejecting him already. “Understandable. Can never be too careful.” Her wary behaviour gave him some hope, at least. Maybe she was one of those quiet kids who’d entertain herself and let the adults talk.

Belle was not, in fact, a quiet kid who’d entertain herself and let the adults talk.

He almost flinched at the sudden flurry of noise and motion. Before he knew what was happening, the shy child clinging to Tawny’s side had been completely replaced – switched out for some overexcitable changeling. She giggled and bounced in her seat, pulling a face at him with a silly growl while all he could do was freeze up and stare in bemusement. What the fuck? How the hell was he supposed to react to that?! But Belle apparently didn’t need nor expect a response. She launched into introducing her collection of toys, forcing him out of his statue-like state as she started piling them into his hands. He struggled to keep them all inside the cart. Karma. It was definitely karma for having shoved his own winnings at Rufus.

He tried to be an attentive, engaged audience. Tried to ask a couple of questions that – well, Belle had looked at him like he was an idiot (like he should know how Miss Mittens – a cat plushie – was part-mermaid), so he shut up and followed Tawny’s lead; only nodding along and smiling (in a manner decidedly more strained than hers) as Belle barrelled on. 

It felt like an hour had passed by the time she finally stopped. She was literally panting as she caught her breath, and for a wonderful, wonderful moment Noah thought it was over. That she was done; she’d exhausted herself. A glimmer of hope flickered in his chest, his dark eyes losing their glazed appearance. Could he talk to Tawny now? Could this Ferris ride actually become somewhat romantic as he'd originally planned? No. Noah's eyes widened as, to his horror, Belle took a deep breath, looking all-too ready to launch into round two. Shit. How could he stop it? Could he dump all her toys on her and bury her under the vast pile? Would that be enough?? He was a second away from trying it when Tawny – his angel, his light, the saviour of the damned – took matters into her own hands.

She distracted the changeling with the view and rescued Noah from his plushie-centric-nightmare in one fell swoop. He almost slumped. Almost – because actually doing so would put several of Belle’s precariously balanced toys at risk and, unfortunately, they all had names and backstories; there was bound to be tantrums if he lost any of them. Tawny offered little comfort, only warnings, and the prospect of being pestered questions had his heart sinking all over again. At least he could have some fun fabricating answers, see how much Belle fall for. The prospect of playing make-believe, however… The look Noah gave Tawny was flatter than roadkill. “Let’s just say I’ve never considered voice acting a viable career choice.” 

Despite his despair, light swiftly returned to his eyes as he continued to look at her, remembering why he was suffering through show-and-tell in the first place. A flirtatious line made its way to the tip of his tongue but he stopped himself, mouth promptly falling shut again as he glanced at Belle. How much she was paying attention? To him, it looked like she was wholly focused on squealing over random things in the distance (it was kind of funny, he supposed. A bit. Not nearly enough for him to see the appeal of having kids though). It was probably safe. Maybe she wouldn’t even understand if she did overhear. But would Tawny be upset? Would she disapprove of him flirting with her while her niece was there? There was only one real way to find out.

Carefully adjusting the plushies in his lap, he propped his elbow on the back of their seat and reached out to touch Tawny’s cheek, sweeping his thumb across pale, freckled skin as he leaned towards her, voice soft and teasing. “I’d rather go back to your kingdom; I have some unfinished business there.” His hand slipped into her hair, his eyes dropping to her lips. The memory of how she tasted was seared into his brain and yet he’d gladly claim ignorance – beg for a reminder – if that was what it took to get a repeat. He might have kissed her right there and then, had they been alone. But he reluctantly dragged his gaze back up to meet hers, his own lips pressing into a grim line as he combed his fingers through her hair to rest on her neck instead. “Unless... you’ve still got plans with your family? In which case, I’ll make myself scarce. Go home to languish in my tragically empty bed and mourn what could have been.”

As much as Tawny interested him, he didn't want to meet her family. He wasn’t completely closed off to meeting them as individuals (gifts were gifts whoever they belonged to, and he’d love to assess how open Tawny’s sister-in-law would be to Blackstorm), but hanging out with a family unit didn’t appeal to him at all. Seeing them being all chummy with each other, having to tolerate multiple kids… The mental image made something within him recoil. Plus, considering this was only their third meeting, he couldn’t imagine Tawny would want to introduce him to them either. It would seem too... serious.

“Hey!” His hand snapped back as if he’d rested it on a hot stove. He formed it into a fist and leant the side of his face on it, trying to look casual and innocent as he blinked at Belle, ready to gaslight the hell out of her if she asked what he was saying to her aunt, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was tugging at Tawny’s sleeve, her forehead crinkled. “Why aren’t we moving anymore?”

Noah hadn’t noticed, much too preoccupied with gazing at the pretty woman he'd been craving for weeks. “Someone’s probably taking a while to get on,” he mused, then shot Tawny a mischievous glance. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”


OOC: the template is so pretty I cry 10/10 here's my ugly post
Tawny Vokes

[Tawny Vokes]

She had to give it to him. All things considered, he was handling it very well. Belle barrelled on, completely oblivious to the tightness in Noah's smile. The subtle rigidity to his enthused nods — nearly imperceptible, had Tawny not been looking for it. His dark eyes were wide and bright with forced interest but she suspected that the gleam in their depths was, in part, disguised desperation. She could sense his immense relief when the girl was finally distracted; her back turned and flitty, fickle attention carelessly cast elsewhere. Perhaps she should have snuck in a word of encouragement or praise amid her teasing warnings; just to let him know his efforts weren't unrecognized and she was admittedly impressed.

With Belle's redirection, Tawny could all but feel him backslide into the Noah she'd come to acquaint herself with. His flat, almost despondent response to her grim cautions earned him a tame, amused eye-roll and a slight tug to her lips. He shifted, adjusting the pile of arbitrarily-named toys more securely on his lap, and lifted a hand to sweep a thumb across her cheek. She tipped into the touch with a thoughtful noise, blinking her eyes slowly closed as she embraced the tantalizing tug of his memories, impossibly concentrated beneath the light, innocuous brush. In the same beat, she denied them, silencing their heedless demand and focusing instead only on the trace warmth of his skin. She turned her face to his, letting her eyes slide half-open to observe his dark gaze drop to her mouth — prompting the corners of her lips into a deeper tuck.

She could tell him that he'd, perhaps, been.... just a little... sorely missed around the kingdom. Then play it off as if it were the ferrets and the cat that were moping about in his absence — sighing about what-ifs and missed opportunities — when he teased her about it. But then Noah mentioned her family and Tawny could feel something in her chest tense; a bracing, swiftly-swelling unease that prickled through her, very nearly coaxing her eyes from his face in an uncertain, dodgy flit. His next words, though — assuring her he'd leave if she still had plans with them — brought swift, immediate relief. The seeping discomfort was soothed away as quickly and unbidden as it'd bubbled through her.

It was too easy to imagine that cold, prickling unease dropping like an icy stone in her stomach if he'd been excited to meet the Vokes clan. She could picture it now — Elise calling out and waving to them across the fairground, Cooper's arm in hers and their children fanned out around them. Belle racing off ahead to leap at her father while they all curiously studied the mysterious man who'd joined them. Eagerly prepared to needle her with questions and sly remarks when they had her alone, inquiring about who Noah was, how they met, and if it was serious. Begging that he be brought around so they could regale him with embarrassing stories and entertaining tidbits of Tawny's life; things she would be slow or reluctant to impart herself.

The wintery sweep of discomfort would then knife through her veins and make her freeze. Implore her to step in front of him. Place herself between them and him with a tiny shake of her head and a too-tense laugh as she tried to assure him — or convince him — that meeting them really wasn't necessary. And, in her experience, that sometimes prompted an eventual follow-up of undesirable damage control — inviting open a line of exhausting, sometimes argumentative, and occasionally even hurt inquiries.

Why, Tawny?
Why don't you want me to meet them, Tawny?
Are you ashamed of me, Tawny?
What is this then, Tawny? What are we, Tawny?
Tawny? Tawny?

She could have shuddered at the thought and how poorly she'd handled such situations in the past — floundering wordlessly in arguments, shrugging helplessly, raising her hands in defeat, becoming colder and harder as they continued, unaccepting of her silence. Needling her for an explanation she didn't know how to give. Almost always it would spell the end of something that was hardly started. And almost always... she was grateful for it.

It was a relief Noah wasn't interested. It was hard for Tawny to imagine placing anyone at Cooper and Elise's table beside her, but Noah even less so. He wasn't quite a stranger — it would be unfair to claim they knew nothing about one another. In some ways, she felt he knew more about her than most did. But still, whatever existed between them — if it was something at all — it didn't warrant something so personal. Likely wouldn't survive the sickly taint of it. It would become weird. It would make her weird. Not only that, but Tawny couldn't even imagine Noah enjoying it. No doubt he'd have his fun learning about and borrowing the many gifts her family had to offer, perhaps secure a new Blackstorm recruit in Elise, Cooper, or maybe even Poppy... but it was easier to imagine they'd share the discomfort. Especially if Belle already had him ready to injure himself to get away from her.

"I'm just tagging along. Entertaining the princess, fairy kitty — sorry, no — the fairy, princess kitty." She arched a brow as she amended the statement, trying to impart to him how important it was to get these details right where Belle was concerned. "While they do the fun, scary stuff that she doesn't like. I could always... sneak away. Perhaps we could do some fun, scary stu—"

Her niece called out, voice shrill and demanding, and tugged at Tawny's sleeve. Noah snatched his hand back as if he'd been caught out doing something bad and expected a fierce reprimand. It made Tawny chuckle. She allowed the feel of the laugh in her chest to smooth away all the budding reservations her churning, overactive mind had started to form. The laugh quickly cut off though, as Noah's answer to Belle shifted to a subtle, mischievous musing on their previous encounters.

Her lips tucked slyly upward into a knowing smirk and she offered him a mockingly unamused glance. It was a goad and it made her want to wait even longer. Stretch out her obstinacy for as long as he could stand. Maybe until he gave up on her completely. But... her smirk tugged awry as she thought back to their previous meeting and how brittle her resistance had been then. It really wasn't a feasible thought, was it? No. It was more likely that her desire to be petty would smash to bits the moment he had her alone, his hands exploring and lips parted against her skin.

"You know them!?" Belle cried out, taking the mischievous lilt rather literally and supposing it was the wildest, most incredible thing to wrap her little head around. She leaned over the side of the cart, squinting down to try and discern who was stepping onto the ride. "Hi, Noah's friend!" She screeched with a vibrant wave, prompting a few heads to glance upward toward them. "I'm Belle, his bestest friend!" She stuck out her tongue and then giggled delightedly. The felt flower-crown she wore atop her head slipped from her mess of brown curls and began a slow, feather-like descent to the ground. Belle gasped and lurched, trying to catch it, then cried out as it escaped her fingers. "My tiara! My tiara!"

Tawny pulled her back and the girl whirled on her with wide, distraught eyes, mouth opened around a whine. The ride lurched back into motion with a sway. "We can get it when we get off." Belle's lips pinched into a disappointed frown and she threw herself back in her seat with a pouty 'hmmph'. As Tawny observed the girl's twisted features, she noticed the sheen of sweat starting to break across her brow. Given the autumn chill, it was a bit misplaced. And she looked a little pale. She lifted a hand to lay her palm across the girl's forehead, testing for signs of a fever, but Belle pulled away with a defiant huff. Tawny inwardly sighed — it was definitely past time to return her to her parents.

"Well, you got lucky." Tawny said lightly, turning to offer Noah a tight, sarcastic grin. "She's not gonna say a word to either one of us now." Her smile fell slightly at the corners as Belle crossed her arms and began kicking her feet, deliberately making the cart sway and giving the occasional, audible pout, wanting her displeasure to be known. Kids. "Anyway, how are you enjoying the Festival? Honestly didn't expect this to be a typical prowl of yours."


Noah St Cloud

[Noah St Cloud]

Seeing Tawny had laughed when he’d snatched his hand away, Noah bumped his knee against hers and met her mockingly unamused look with a playful glare of his own. She was willing to slip away from her family, though, and the suggestion had him buzzing all over, both thrilled and smug that she would want to. That she would choose him over them, if only for the night. The question of whether she’d like a ride back to her place almost made its way past his lips, but he was interrupted, made to cringe by a too-loud shout as Belle lurched forward and started yelling at the people below, proclaiming she was his… bestest friend?

Noah stared at the bizarre changeling child, his eyes a little wide, only tearing them away to shoot Tawny an incredulous, questioning glance. All he’d done was listen to Belle rambling, and now she was calling herself that? Was it really so easy to earn her approval? A thread of suspicion stitched itself into his confusion. Was it a roundabout insult? Implying Noah didn’t have any close friends who might hold that position? He watched her giggle and stick out her tongue, her costume fairy wings appearing to flutter to life as they were jostled by her movements. Maybe not. Kids could be cruel but they usually weren’t that smart. He doubted she would’ve considered her word choice that deeply. Should he feel flattered, then?

Gravity claimed the flower-crown from her head, wiping the smile from her face. A cry ripped from her lungs and his first, carefully stifled impulse was to snort. Maybe this 'tragedy' would calm her down, serve as a lesson to sit still and chill out. But – seeing her lunge after it, hand outstretched with only the metal bar across the cart to hold her in, he felt a stab of panic. Felt his fingers flinch towards her without his say-so. 

But Tawny was quicker and pulled the girl back into the seat before she could take flight, not looking half as worried as Noah had fleetingly felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes slipping closed as Tawny assured her niece that they could retrieve the crown later. Kids were so dumb. No sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Not that he would care if anything of that nature happened to her, but in his mind she was an extension of Tawny. She would care. And that would affect him. Nothing would kill his chances with Tawny more than letting her niece splatter on the ground.

Belle was not appeased. Noah reopened his eyes in time to see her huff and pull from her aunt’s touch. Yet, when Tawny turned her attention to him with a sarcastic grin, he couldn’t help but feel a little glad that Belle’s mood had soured. Maybe she’d retreat into herself, brooding silently like he would on a bad day (if there was no one around to take out his frustrations on). But it wasn’t to be. Belle wanted her sulking to be felt by everyone around her, giving the occasional disgruntled noise and kicking her feet in motions intended to make the cart sway. Noah's brow twitched. He was sorely tempted to fight back. To throw his full weight around and really make the cart swing, scare the shit out of the kid and see if she wanted to continue being a brat then. But he was held back by the impression that she’d cry if he did so; there was a critical witness who he was trying very hard not to look like a jerk in front of.

Tawny’s question, thankfully, distracted him. He meant to feign offence but he laughed instead, grinning from ear to ear like a schoolboy with a crush. “Hey! I can have fun in all sorts of ways. Don’t pigeonhole me.” He sniffed, trying and failing to adopt a more sombre expression. “I’m having a great time, thank you. I’m particularly enjoying the view…” His smile shifted into something more sly and he teased his lower lip between his teeth, blatantly not looking at the festival. Not at the strings of fairy lights carefully arranged below, which looked like thousands of perching fireflies from afar. Not at the darkened, star-dusted sky above, nor the boardwalk lined with colourful stalls or the beach and the sea that ran alongside it. No, his gaze rested solely on her face, appreciatively tracing the line of her jaw to the pinkness of her lips, the freckles on her cheeks to the beguiling blue of her eyes.

Yeah, it was corny. He felt no shame about it.

He pouted with mock sympathy. “And I just know you would’ve been in awe – completely enthralled by the way I cut through the different games. I’m so sorry you missed the show, I know it must upset you immensely especially since my winnings could have rivalled Belle’s hoard.” He glanced across at the kid, half-expecting her to perk up again at the mention of more toys and maybe feel inclined to start a ‘my plushies are better than your plushies’ contest. It made him wonder if Rufus would have kept hold of his, grumbling as he tried to hunt Noah down or trudged back to his car to drop them at the hideout. Dour as Rufus was, Noah couldn’t imagine him dumping the plushies on the floor or in the trash, just a little too nice to risk upsetting Noah should he genuinely care about his prizes.

Belle remained pouty, refusing to lift her stare from where it burned holes into her kicking feet. Ah well, he’d tried.

While he could have left his answer at that and segued into a new topic, he was with Tawny, and telling her more than he would tell others just felt like the natural thing to do. He hummed. “To be honest, I didn’t come here for the hell of it. I was – I’m supposed to be – working.” He gave her a pointed look, hoping it was obvious he was referring to Blackstorm rather than whatever other job he’d lied about having, then reached for her hand to lace their fingers. It was ridiculous and a little alarming how stupidly, disproportionately pleased the innocent action made him. Maybe (aside from the obvious fact that he was attracted to her) it was because he felt he could do such a thing. Felt that she wouldn't shy from his touch and that she knew enough of him that his memories weren't as big an issue as they were before, should she happen to look.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “But you – you’re very distracting. And if you do sneak away with me – which I highly encourage, by the way – I doubt I’ll get any work done at all.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “And if you think about it, it’s your duty to steal my attention; stop me from causing trouble, save yourself from the paperwork of tidying it up later.” Grinning with his dark eyes gleaming impishly, he lifted their entwined hands to his face and kissed her knuckles.

But he lowered them as his gaze was drawn to Belle again, whose last ‘humph’ sounded a little… drawn out and wobbly, like a dog's plaintive whine. She’d stopped kicking her legs, hands curled into little fists in her lap. Though her face was brightly painted, it was visibly drained of the natural rosy cheer that had been present during her enthusiastic presentation of her toys, and there was a certain queasiness to the set of her mouth that he’d seen before. Mainly on himself, in club restroom mirrors when he’d had one too many. He frowned and dipped towards Tawny again, expression void of teasing this time as he eyed her niece warily. “Not that I would doubt your babysitting skills, but you didn’t let her drink something, did you? She looks like she’s been on a ‘ladies drink for free’ pub crawl for eight consecutive hours.”


Tawny Vokes

[Tawny Vokes]

Noah grinned, retorting that he could have fun in all sorts of ways and teasingly chiding her for thinking otherwise. She feigned a bit of abashment as if reasonably scolded. He then recounted how much fun he was having at the fair — she'd missed out on his impressive fair-game feats and was distracting him from his true work, as was her Sector-bound duty. He was particularly enjoying the view, he added, deliberately keeping his gaze on her. She nodded slowly, lips cracking with a tiny, knowing smirk as she choose to affably forgive the blatant line.

It was just the kind of cheese she'd giggle at beneath her blankets as she watched some holiday Hallmark movie, lost in the lulling stare of some dreamboat, hometown hunk. The same type of thing she'd find awkward and off-putting when it was presented to her personally. She might have called him out on it — rolled her eyes with a sly, unamused scoff and accused him of being a bit too smooth — but, as her eye fell deliberately from his gaze (suddenly a bit too fixed for her to confidently hold) to his mouth, the teasing dismissal softened on her tongue. As much as she expected them to, the words didn't twist at her unpleasantly. On the contrary, they warmed her cheeks — making her suddenly a bit too aware of the October air's chilly nip and, a beat later, thankful for the face paint that might conceal her faint flush.

He slipped his fingers between her own and lifted them to his lips, and she blinked, huffing an amused breath — for a split second, feeling herself the uncertainty in it. But before her mind could churn and make her thoughts difficult to manage, she reiterated to herself that it was a line. Words and gestures intended to charm. A simple game of tease and be teased to convince her back to his place, or to hers, to continue what they'd started and left unfinished before. The affirmation was mostly reassuring — those waters were far simpler, more familiar, and easy to navigate. But it also pulsed a quick, shuddering stab of doubt through her chest. An ache she willfully chose to ignore. He needn't try so hard, that small, uncertain impulse urged her to quickly tell him. To assure him it really wasn't necessary to muddle something so simple and straightforward with romantics. With cheese.

But the doubt sharpened to a swift, alarming point as she reluctantly acknowledged that it already was muddled. She was already muddled, tripping over herself to straighten out her thoughts before they could become fanciful and imaginative. With a sudden desperation, she snuffed out the rise within her before it could become vexing. Before it could frustrate her in its complexity and make her say something a touch too cold — a hint of dismissal that she'd regret the moment it left her lips, even as she leaned into it.

Her eyes brightened forcibly and she offered a sly grin, doing her best to conceal any of her inward uncertainty by presenting a response that was decidedly waggish. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I'm obligated to slip away and occupy your time. Keep you out of trouble. Perhaps we can make our own."

His attention flitted back to Belle and she was almost glad for the pull of his gaze from her face. She slipped her fingers from his and swiveled to look again at her niece, gaze poking about her face with rekindled concern. The paint above her eyes looked blotchy and prepared to smear, the intricate design bloated by beading sweat. "Belle?" Tawny prodded softly, slipping the cuff of her jacket into the palm of her hand so she could swipe it across the girl's brow; wiping away some of the paint before it could weep down into her eyes. The girl's tiny face pinched with stubborn disdain but she didn't pull away. Her kiddy snarl lacked true conviction and swiftly smoothed back into a grimace before she smacked her lips and hiccuped a small, warning burp. A formidable crease slanted her brow and Tawny's eyes widened as she watched the first, tiny, tell-tale heave.

"Belle." The name was spoken more firmly, this time with a hint of horror as Tawny watched the girl's shoulders scrunch close to her neck, panic gleaming in her wide, watering eyes. A million thoughts ran through her mind — to guide the girl to vomit over the side of the cart (fuck everyone below them), or even into her purse (fuck everything inside of it), but there was no time to act on any singular impulse. "No, no, n—" she lifted her hands, prepared to angle the girl away, but it was too late. Belle turned, leaned across her, and heaved. Tawny straightened helplessly, pressing herself against the back of her seat and lifting her hands, palms out, to either side of her; face tilted away, eyes pinched shut, and mouth pressed into a tight line as Belle emptied her stomach right into Noah's lap and its mountain of plushies.

"Oh... my God."

Belle collapsed against her, body racking with a quiet, distressed sob, and Tawny remained still, not wanting to open her eyes. As if she were to keep them closed, perhaps forever, she wouldn't have to acknowledge the horror of what just happened. But as the girl's sob hitched to a pitiful wail, she slowly cracked open an eye and settled her still-lifted hands on the girl's shoulder. "Hey, sssh, it's okay. You're okay." Biting her lip, she wiped at the vomit clinging to Belle's mouth with the cuff of her jacket and hugged the girl to her, then... slowly... reluctantly... sifted her gaze to Noah, eyes wide with apologetic horror. "Noah... oh fu—shi— I'm..." her gaze fell to his lap, then very quickly back up, eyes fluttering closed and lip pressing once more into a tight line. They would laugh about this later, right? She tried to summon the ability to do so now, but couldn't quite manage it. "I may have let her eat a whole funnel cake like ten minutes ago." And loads of candy. And a slushie. Elise ran a tight ship. They were a sugar-free household. Tawny was the Cool Aunt. She fumbled for an explanation and winced. "I'm sorry!"



Noah St Cloud
Wow, this is hot garbage lmao. XD I'm so sorry. I spent the first half of this post trying to say something over and over again in multiple paragraphs that I just COULDN'T get out correctly, the 2am struggle is f'ckin REAL. Please forgive the structure and lack of everything else in this post looooool. If I need to rehaul this whole damn thing tomorrow after some rest, don't be surprised lmaoooo. But also don't be surprised if I DON'T because the 1am struggle is also a 24/7 struggle if ya feel me~

[Noah St Cloud]

CW: grossness, sick


It was like a horror movie or perhaps a darkening dream, one where he could sense something bad was coming. Something that would ruin the scene for him, leave him disenchanted and aching to wake up.

It started with Tawny removing her hand from his. Not good. His fingers felt colder without hers threaded through them and he wanted nothing more than to reach for her again, perhaps with a tease about how little hers were in comparison to his. It was his own fault for diverting her attention back to Belle. He shouldn’t have done that.

The regret only grew as Belle grimaced, the queasiness that sallowed her face rippling into full-blown nausea as her cheeks puffed with a miniscule heave. Oh. Oh no. His eyes widened. He jerked backwards, desperate to escape. But he was trapped in the seat and the metal against his back was cold and unyielding, providing neither shelter nor compassion for his plight. A couple of toys were lost from the pile as he yanked his hands out of the way, sent tumbling downwards to reunite with Belle’s flower crown but, really, they were the lucky ones; they were spared from the Hell that cut loose half a second later.

Warm. But not the soft, enticing warmth of someone’s skin, nor the sticky, exciting heat of splattered blood. It was thick, too thick, and the wrong colour. The wrong scent. And it was in his lap, coating the pile of toys like a clumpy layer of icing on a nightmarish cake. With nowhere to run, Noah did not move an inch. He'd been turned to stone. A relic frozen in time, to be found centuries later like the fossilised citizens of Pompeii. In some ways, such a fate would have been kinder. The reality – that he was very much alive and Tawny’s niece had just upchucked on him – felt far more cruel. Far more surreal. Belle’s pitiful wailing sounded miles away and Noah was content to pretend that it was, that he was someone else, somewhere completely unrelated.

Only when Tawny apologised did Noah process the rest of her words and remember how to move again. With eyes still wide in disbelief, his face whipped towards her as he choked out a laugh, sharp with incredulity. “You let her eat a whole funnel cake? No wonder–” He cut himself off. Let the frustrated remarks waiting behind his lips peter out into a sigh as his gaze trailed back to his lap. “Shit.”

Belle whimpered and Noah's lips pulled unconvincingly into a small, tired smile. Someone else in his position might have cooed assurances that it wasn’t her fault (and, begrudgingly, he admitted she wasn’t entirely to blame; Tawny should have known better) but why hadn’t Belle said she was feeling ill beforehand? Why hadn’t she leaned the other way? Had she deliberately targeted him to chase him off from her aunt? Kids were the worst. “It’s okay,” he said weakly. It was not okay. But he’d live. He debated patting her back, to try soothing her as Tawny did, but ultimately decided he’d rather not. Considering her reluctance to shake his hand Belle probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture anyway, and he didn’t want to accidentally jostle her sensitive stomach and create an even bigger mess than he was already in. “Can’t be mad at my bestest friend.”

His gaze lifted to Tawny again. Despite it all, he snorted; the face paint both exacerbated her horrified expression and made their scenario all the more bizarre, and his mind flashed back to when he'd invaded her apartment and she'd implied kids were easy to deal with. He'd thought she was an expert in such matters! How could she let this happen? “Let it be known that now I do doubt your babysitting skills. I thought you were supposed to be the respectable adult between us two! Who am I supposed to call now when I have questions about taxes, hm? I obviously can't trust you anymore.” He tutted, his smile curling into something a little more genuine as he shook his head at her.

There was little point whining about what had happened. He decided to actively ignore the warm, seeping sensations on his lower half and to focus instead on his next steps, on what he could do. He looked down at his lap, his lips pressing into a line. “I’m going to sit very still until the end of this ride and hope the toys keep shielding me from the worst of it. Then when we get off I'm going to stand up very quickly and hope it stays on the toys. I’m gonna need to shower and… probably trash my trousers, or else wash the Hell out of them if they’re not too bad. I don’t think the plushies can be saved but I can replace them later if you want.” Possibly. As long as Rufus was as benevolent as he imagined.

Belle made another quiet, plaintive noise – a plea, Noah imagined, to save her 'friends'. He stifled another sigh. “I’m kidding of course. I’ll take them home and give them a lovely little bubble bath until they’re sparkling like new again. Obviously Matilda and the rest of the gang can’t be replaced. I wouldn’t do that.” He shot a deadpan look at Tawny, hoping she’d get the message that he absolutely would. He had no intentions of holding onto the soiled toys for a second longer than was necessary; as soon as Belle’s back was turned, they could be thrown in the trash by either him or the unlucky ride attendant waiting to receive them on the ground.

And oh, Belle’s back would turn. Tawny’s would; they’d need to separate from him to find Belle’s parents. Noah's stomach twisted. If he was going home to shower, would Tawny not want to wait for him? Would she want to see him at all after this had happened? Maybe she’d be repulsed. Reminded of it whenever he was near. And she'd cringe and their flirtations would become stilted and she’d eventually tell him she didn't want to see him anymore, or else she'd ignore his calls and drift away like she did to so many others (and he would laugh – a little hysterically – if this was where she drew the line. If turning up drunk to her apartment was manageable, if being covered in blood was acceptable, but sick was too much for her to ignore).

He smiled wryly to hide his sudden nerves, letting his head fall back against the seat as he watched her. “Not my most attractive look, I’m guessing. It won't be making the front cover of Vogue anytime soon, that's for sure, but... I don’t suppose you’ll still want to meet once I’m presentable again?” It might not even matter if she wanted it. Maybe she would have to stay with Belle, to take her home so the rest of the family could stay at the festival and have fun. Christ. It was all too tragic to contemplate. Romeo and Juliet had less problems than the two of them.

He quirked a brow. Tried to ignore how his heart felt uncomfortable in his chest, beating to an unfamiliar tempo. “Honestly, I’d be glad for another slumber party if nothing else. It was nice. I much prefer waking up to you than an alarm clock.”

As soon as the words left his lips, casual yet sincere, he bit his tongue to stop himself from wincing. He'd said too much. Felt himself bristle with something like embarrassment as he recognised how ridiculous he was behaving. How desperately; he was sat there, covered in sick, and he'd almost immediately sought reassurance that she still wanted him. Where was the subtlety in that? He wouldn't have acted in such a way in front of anyone else. He wouldn't care what they thought of him at all.

But Tawny was always the exception, wasn't she? He wanted her (of course he did – how could he not?) but as much as he could tell himself that he only wanted her to be another notch in his bedpost, that she was just another body he wanted to lose himself in, it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn't be convincing. Because he knew he would happily never touch a person like that again if it meant he could cuddle up to her each night.

God damnit. He would do whatever she wanted as long as he could spend time with her.


Tawny Vokes

[Tawny Vokes]

An eternity seemed to pass in the small moment between Tawny's horrified apology and Noah's sharp, disbelieving laugh. She could hear the frustrated struggle in his started words and inwardly winced, feeling a weight drop uncomfortably in her chest. Perhaps it would take a while to laugh about it, after all. She didn't doubt she deserved the incoming reprimand and would certainly receive a far worse lashing from Elise. But she could anticipate her sister-in-law's scorn. Was familiar with it. Knew how hot she blew and for how long she'd burn. How it'd pass and they'd be fine once she'd extinguished herself.

Noah's temper, on the other hand, was untested. Tawny had never seen him mad. Had yet to really piss him off. In her short duration of knowing him, he'd handled most everything with cool aplomb, almost seeming impenetrable and unflappable at times. The only memory she'd glimpsed of him returning a slight made against him had been explicitly bloody. What if this was enough to turn him off from her for good? Perhaps he'd be embarrassed enough, or so angry, that he'd firmly decide it was no laughing matter at all. That the consequences he brunted due to her actions were unforgivable. Or that vomit in the lap — though not particularly world-ending — was a red flag; an early indicator that she could be foolish and short-sighted enough to promise worse misfortunes in the future.

Her eyes darted between his, probing the depths for how bad it was. As incidental as the whole uncomfortable situation was, perhaps something so fixable would still be enough to harden his gaze upon her indefinitely. She herself was guilty of turning away from people at the very first unpleasant "thing"; decidedly separating herself from them the moment things weren't easy and perfect anymore. Growing detached and distant at the first irritant (no matter how mild), leaving them wondering what they'd done wrong.

And if he did turn away? Tawny recalled the eyes of those she did piss off. Angry gazes and accusing stares — sometimes bleared by tears of rage or betrayal — settled upon her, demanding explanation or reparation. There always came an inevitable moment where she would find little point in appeasing them. In trying to soothe or mend. It was a pivotal point that she reached far quicker nowadays than she had in the past and, once the point was passed, she'd decide it simply wasn't worth the trouble of winning back their warmth. Would instead, just... let them be angry. Let the hot, fiery flame in their stares go untended by her; to be put out by themselves in her absence or to fester in a way that was ultimately, admittedly, avoidable. Let whatever upset, no matter how small, go unfixed. Unaddressed and unresolved, often forcing them with her indifferent despondency to turn themselves away from her — herself too unbothered and unconcerned with the whole thing to leave them any other option.

Would she be able to do that with Noah? If he got angry and didn't want to talk to her, she would typically leave it at that. Wouldn't chase him down or try desperately to make amends. Wouldn't grovel or beg for the return of his attention. She made it a point not to need someone in such a way that their absence could wound. That their simple disinterest could reduce her to something pitiful and desolate. But she would... be sad, at least for a time. Would miss the look of his dark eyes on her, soft and half-lidded. Their tease and flirtations and the easy, effortless way they passed between them, perpetually threatening an amused curl to her lips. His acceptance of her Gift and the enthused invitation to use it, share it, guiltlessly and without fear of reproach. The possibility of those things (the perfect, ideal things that usually wouldn't be enough to balance the scale against all the uncomfortable, irritating other things) being suddenly denied to her — unlikely to be found so easily and completely in someone else — made the prospect of dropping him, or being dropped by him, a bit more difficult to imagine. A lump lodged in her throat, not as effortlessly swallowed down as it typically was.

Noah cut off his words with a sigh and his gaze fell to his lap before Tawny could really get a good read on what played behind his eyes. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and stifled the urge to tip immediately closer. To try and peer up at his face and satisfy her seeking. To measure the depths of his frustration; confirm if it made his gaze too unfamiliar or if there remained a bit of what she knew beneath it, still reachable. His mouth tipped into a small, almost obligatory, smile while he addressed Belle — reassuring her that it was okay. And then he lifted his eyes back to her, smiling a bit more assuredly. His words were achingly-familiar in their tease and Tawny was grateful for it — she could feel the relief course through her, much like the long-awaited exhale after an impossibly-held breath. It lifted her brow and she released the lip she was beginning to worry, letting it tug instead into a hopeful half-smile, meant to appear apologetic and even somewhat cowed.

She listened to his plan, nodding along while she rubbed at Belle's back, and smiled faintly at the girl's weak protest about her (most certainly lost) plushies. She'd forget about them in a day's time. Would have even if they'd made it home with her. And Tawny imagined, if Noah didn't want to leave the festival just yet — or if he wanted to go home in something marginally less soiled — they could probably procure a new pair of pants for him. From an employee station or the lost and found, perhaps. Maybe they could even bribe a costume off of someone. But he'd immediately suggested going home and showering, so she figured none of those ideas would appeal to him.

At his teasing comment about the vomit in his lap not being the most attractive look, Tawny lifted a hand to beckon pointedly at her festival face paint. When his words shifted to asking whether or not she would want to see him again, and then suggested another slumber party, she tipped her head. Let a long, contemplative moment pass while she looked at him, watching her without a trace of lingering resentment or frustration in his eyes. Watching her much like he had before the vomit. As if it had changed very little. Her chest twisted and she parted her lips to assure him he was being foolish — of course she'd like to still see him. But she pressed them back together and instead nodded slowly, forcibly stifling her own zeal.

"Okay, that's a sound plan." She spoke finally, nodding more confidently. "I'm going to call Elise and get Belle back to her parents. Once I've been properly chastised — since you didn't quite have the spirit for it and let me off easy," her gaze flit to him and her grin tucked at one corner, but the attempted mischievous gleam to her eyes couldn't quite cut through the lingering gratitude in their depths. "I'm sure I'll be freed of Aunt duties for the night." She dropped her gaze to where Belle had settled her head in her lap and swiped the girl's sweaty hair from where it clung to her face. "Or more likely for a couple of weeks." She blinked slowly, knowing Elise would kick a huge fuss and revoke Tawny's babysitting privileges for a while. Just until the kids frustrated her enough that a little bit of sickness (and the betrayal of letting them overindulge) became perfectly forgivable in favor of a brief spell of peace and quiet.

"And then..." she tucked her lips thoughtfully, eyes roaming the ground that was fast approaching, then lifted them back to Noah decidedly. "I could come over? We could salvage the night somehow. Go out for drinks? If you wanted, we could even raid some costume shop and get dressed up?" That could be fun. There'd be tons of clubs, bars, and other (less family-friendly) festivals full of people in costume making wild fools of themselves. "The tab would be on me, obviously." She certainly owed him now.

"Unless... you haven't finished off that bottle of whiskey? We could have a more private party if that sounds better." She might have accompanied the words with a wink but, at that moment, their bucket came to a stop at the ground and she lifted her eyes with wide, apologetic horror to the ride attendant as he approached them to lift their bar. She watched exhausted resignation shadow across his face — for a moment seeing in his eyes how close he was to quitting his job entirely — while he shucked a sigh, stifled a couple of curses, and turned to begin waving off the gathered queue.

Garbling a few quick apologies, feeling her face heat with embarrassment beneath the face paint, Tawny stepped off the ride and gathered Belle against her, grunting under the girl's weight as she guided her little arms around her neck and lifted, hugging the girl against her with her own arms clasped beneath her. The girl was too big and Tawny too slight for it to be easy — far unlike Belle being hoisted against her father effortlessly against a hip — but she clung to and nestled into her just the same, burying her sniffles into Tawny's shoulder. Tawny murmured some reassurances to her and then turned to observe Noah enact his own elaborate plan, hoping it went as well as he imagined.


Noah St Cloud

[Noah St Cloud]

The relief Noah felt when she nodded could have crippled him, and once the initial wave had washed over him, leaving his body warm and soothed like toasty bedsheets in winter, he felt the faintest prickle of alarm run along the nape of his neck. It was ridiculous. He shouldn’t care so much. And yet, it was becoming increasingly clear that he was collared and leashed to this woman until further notice. He'd become a loyal, entirely dependent little pet without even meaning to. Terrified of the day she would tie him outside in the snow.

Her plan to call Elise was met with a nod of his own, and though she grinned at him and said he’d let her off easy, he felt a flicker of guilt. Sure, he hadn’t chastised her, hadn’t been awful to her, but he still felt it was too much. He shouldn’t have reacted the way he did – wouldn’t have, in different circumstances. He prided himself on being unbothered and desensitised. Unflinching in the face of anything that could be considered stressful to anyone else. If Tawny or even a random inebriated acquaintance had been sick on him he would’ve found it hilarious. Still gross, but funny. He would have taken selfies with a ridiculously wide grin to commemorate the event, and whenever the opportunity arose afterwards he'd whip the photos out to embarrass the person with. But because it was Belle… Children wore him down. Tore off the bubble wrap cushioning his sharper edges. Emptied half the sand from the hourglass that was his patience.

Nevertheless Tawny suggested going to his house once she'd settled Belle with her family, and he beamed, not even trying to hide how pleased that made him. As much as their time at her apartment had ironed out any doubts on his part, had bolstered his trust in her and gave him hope she trusted him too, it felt a little too much to ask her to return to that isolated space in West Hook. Even if only for a few minutes, she'd been scared to tears while she was there. He'd been scared too, when he didn’t have a plan and only knew he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. But she was willing to go back. And while usually the thought of inviting someone to his home would make him tense and evasive, distant and blunt, Noah was very intent on getting her there. Maybe just to prove that she was as safe in his abode as she was in her own, and that though he wasn’t sure when or if he’d want her to go, he’d let her. She could leave whenever she wished. He wouldn’t try to trap her. She wouldn’t have to worry about him doing anything she didn’t want him to.

The follow-up proposal of drinks and costumes intrigued him. He loved Halloween. Loved the dumb decorations, the parties, the shamelessly provocative way some people dressed. Mostly, he got a kick out of celebrating a holiday that his parents had banned from his childhood home and declared ‘Satanic’. That didn’t mean he dressed up, though – not unless he’d been roped into a group costume or felt in the mood to put on a suit (what? He looked good in a tie – sue him) and splatter some (usually fake) blood across his face and neck. However, if it would get Tawny to dress up –

His mind skipped through a catalogue of increasing inappropriate outfits, lingering on the idea of a nurse costume. He wasn't sure how successful he'd be in convincing her to slip into any of them but then… if he were being honest with himself… he’d rather see her in his clothes again. Sans face paint. Perhaps just one of his button-up shirts. Or a hoodie and some knee socks.

He swallowed. Tried to pull his thoughts away from the dangerous direction they were freefalling into as the words ‘private party’ reached his ears. He had to remind himself that just moments ago he’d sworn he’d be content with spending time with her and nothing more. Christ. He was a weak, weak man.

Before he could begin to unpick his scrambled brain and formulate a response, their bucket reached its destination and the ride attendant (who looked seconds away from deciding crime would be an easier way to pay the bills) lifted the bar holding them in.

Noah waited for Tawny to stand up and move a safe distance away, smiling slightly at her flustered apologies to the harrowed attendant. He hopped up and skittered sideways in the hopes of avoiding splatter on his shoes as the plushies tumbled from his lap, and had to stifle a sigh when it didn’t really work. Damn. But it could have been a lot worse. He looked down at the pitiable pile with his hands on his hips – then snorted, recognising how he’d looked upon crime scenes with the exact same stance many a time. Honestly, was it really that different? Human fluids where they shouldn’t be, needing to be cleaned up...

The attendant, who’d briefly disappeared into a nearby booth, did not share his humour and shot him a withering glance as he trudged past with a sloshing bucket of water and a mop.

Tickled, Noah drew his stare to Tawny. He was ready to give her a thumbs up and a loud declaration that he’d survived the ordeal, but the sight of her holding a little dark-haired kid sparked an intrusive thought that short-circuited his brain for a second, jarring him enough that he almost choked on air – because what the hell?

He swiftly shoved the thought aside, focusing instead on how carrying her niece looked a little uncomfortable; Belle was probably slightly too big for Tawny’s slender form to hold her up easily. He stepped around the toys with a quick promise to the ride attendant that he’d be back to help him in just a second (maybe, probably not – if Tawny left the area there was no need to pretend and Noah would happily leave the stranger to deal with it alone) and approached the pair.

“Should I–” His hands hovered, not quite certain enough to casually pluck Belle from her arms like he might have if she were struggling with bags instead. “Do you want me to hold her for a sec? While you call her parents?” Maybe it wasn’t his place. Maybe he was too much of a stranger – he really didn’t know the etiquette surrounding such things, he just wanted to be helpful to Tawny. Should he even risk it? Belle had already made him nearly lose his cool once. If she decided to be sick on his back as well as his lap, he’d have to summon every ounce of his self-control not to drop her. “Or I can get your phone out for you while your hands are full?” That felt a little safer.

A soft smile pulled across his lips, his voice light with its usual tease. “And I would love to go out for drinks with you. I worry whether you’d be able to keep up with me though – dancing might be a bit difficult if you can’t stand up.” He tipped his head thoughtfully. “On the other hand, the whiskey at my house isn't quite finished and needs drinking, no tab necessary, and it is very good. I suppose it could also be payback for when I was drunk in your apartment; you could show me how it feels to have an unruly guest. And I owe you breakfast. And it seems unfair that I saw all of your home when you haven't seen all of mine.”


Tawny Vokes

[Tawny Vokes]

OOC: Hot garbage incoming lmao. Took some liberties with this one, lemme know if changes are needed!


Noah's dismount went about as well as expected and Tawny blew a slow, steadying breath from puffed cheeks, wanting very much to turn away before she could begin to feel queasy herself. But she forced herself to look the disaster in its face — Noah's jeans, his shoes, the ruined toys upon the ground, the tired disdain of the young ride attendant — and was simply thankful for the slight breeze across her face. Noah stepped to her and offered, somewhat awkwardly, to take Belle from her arms.

Tawny hesitated, her mouth falling open to quickly assure him that wasn't necessary. His discomfort with children hadn't only been stated weeks ago in her apartment but also demonstrated tonight. In his weak smiles, wild-eyed glances, and even now, in the uncertain way he held himself as he offered. To her, it didn't necessarily seem a disdain — though getting unceremoniously vomited upon could have understandably spurred such — but perhaps an uncertain aversion. A lack of grace that Noah was accustomed to wielding everywhere else. He'd done well, truly, but he'd been put through more than enough already. It had been fun at first, watching him flail a bit in a way she hadn't yet witnessed — the ferrets had made him flail, sure, but that had been markedly more hilarious, and this felt now like she was asking for too much.

But... Tawny pressed her lips back together as she grimly acknowledged how unwieldy Belle was in her arms. The weight of her was already coaxing a faint, warning ache in her back, and how many times would she have to jostle the girl more securely against her when she began to slip (likely further upsetting an already delicate stomach)? Juggling her and her phone would be impossible when she needed both arms to carry her and eventually, she'd have to set her down, chancing a fresh round of pitiful wails and protests.

Her eyes lifted to Noah's face, lingered for a moment on his soft smile, and she nodded. "If you could take her, that'd be... that'd be great." She shifted so Noah could slip Belle from her arms and blew another long, relieved, and steadying breath when she didn't buckle down or protest the changeover. "Thanks," she added, feeling that the simple word didn't quite do justice to the whole situation. Her eye drew to the felt flower-crown that had fluttered to the ground what felt like an eon earlier and she turned toward it.

With a backward glance at the pair over her shoulder, she pulled the phone from her purse and — at the very last moment, spurred by a quick, thundering bout of enormous cowardice — clicked Cooper's name instead of Elise's. She lifted the phone to her ear and cut a quick stride to the abandoned costume piece, kneeling to pluck it from the ground while listening to the phone ring. When it clicked over and Coop's voice, warm and smothered with amusement as if he were smiling, answered, she straightened with a snap and launched right into the whole predicament. She could pick out the muted tones of Poppy and Elise arguing in the background. Could picture Millie smirking on the sidelines, interjecting only enough to fuel the flames. Carter had probably pocketed his cochlear implant to blissfully ignore the whole thing while Evelyn stamped at everyone's feet and demanded they go home.

When Cooper asked if Belle was doing okay, Tawny turned to cast her gaze back at the girl in Noah's arms. He bore her weight much more easily than she had and the girl hardly appeared to mind; had nestled against him with little objection. Could have been sleeping, if Tawny didn't know better. A warm sort of relieved gratitude fluttered in her chest and she let a faint smile tease at one corner of her mouth. "Yeah, she's fine. See you in a bit." She heard Elise's voice, closer, asking what was wrong. With an inward grimace, tempered in a way by resigned amusement, she started a stroll back toward her pair of companions. "Hey, Coop? Calm her down a bit before she gets here, would you?" In her ear, Cooper chuckled, low and knowing. "Yeah alright, T, I'll do my best. See you soon."

Tawny disconnected the call — cutting off Elise's repeated inquiry, lifted now in both volume and insistence — and deposited the phone back in her bag, then lifted her eyes to Noah. "Okay, they're on their way here. The ferris wheel seemed the most obvious and easiest place to meet." She offered a faint grin, trying her best to display both continued apology and gratitude. "If you wanna bounce before they get here, that's fine. I could... text you wh—"

"Are you guys dating?" Belle lifted her head from Noah's shoulder and rubbed at her eyes with a small fist, smearing the tears from her cheeks and making her face paint even more unrecognizable. The murmured inquiry was soft-spoken and tired, but inquisitive in a way that assured Tawny the girl did at least feel better after emptying her stomach of all its sugary contents. Her relief was muted, however, by the question itself, and her fingers tightened around the flower crown in their grip. She smiled tightly and tipped her head, lifting her eyes to Noah with a similar, expectant lift to her brow.


Noah St Cloud

[Noah St Cloud]

With Tawny’s permission, Noah bent to take Belle from her arms. While he'd braced himself for more wails once the girl realised she was being given to him, the cries didn’t come. Belle – blatantly much more accustomed to the changeover process than he was – reached for his neck without prompting and settled against him with only a muted sniffle. As he straightened Noah did his best to mimic how Tawny had held her and, as an afterthought, strategically turned to stand so Belle couldn’t see the mess over his shoulder. He didn’t want the sight to prompt another upheaval, and in that position he could still keep an eye on Tawny, who’d wandered a short distance away to make the call and retrieve Belle’s flower crown.

Surprisingly, Noah didn’t feel too awkward. The thought of being left to look after a kid, even if only for a few seconds, would usually make him balk and cringe, and it was undoubtedly strange to be holding one but… it wasn’t so bad when Belle was quiet, with only the occasional sniff to distract him from trying to overhear Tawny’s phone conversation. Speaking of – it helped that Tawny was nearby, close enough to rescue him should things go suddenly and terribly awry. And although he imagined Belle was smearing a unique mixture of paint, snot, and tears on his sweater, it didn’t matter because she’d already done worse. The whole outfit was going to be washed anyway. He almost felt tempted to try calming her further, to turn the sniffles into complete silence, but his mind remained blank and unable to find the right words, reluctant to try patting her back in case it jostled her stomach.

Tawny wasn’t gone for long and Noah greeted her with a small (somewhat proud of himself) smile, nodding along as she announced Belle’s parents were on their way. She suggested he could leave before they arrived, an offer he was more than happy to accept, but before he could agree or she could say anything else, Belle stirred from his shoulder. And asked a question that made his heart drop.

Shit.

The faint sting of betrayal (he thought they’d been getting along great but now she’d thrown him into this?) was nothing compared to the slow-mounting panic in his throat, the nausea in his gut, the way his chest hurt as if baring the weight of cinder blocks. How the hell was he supposed to respond? His eyes flit traitorously to Tawny, perhaps hinting at his unease – but her tight smile and expectant brow offered little clue. It felt very much like a trap, and she hadn’t even been the one to set it.

His options ran through his head at lightning speed. Part of him wanted to ignore it. Laugh and change the subject. Insist he really should go before Belle’s parents arrived. But that was a cop-out, something that could hinder their relationship more than help it if she thought he was entirely opposed to the concept of being with her. Another part of him wished he could reflect Tawny’s expression right back at her, engage in a stare down until she caved and had to answer the question instead. Unfortunately, he didn’t imagine that would work.

Saying ‘yes’ had the potential the backfire massively. As much as he liked the sound of it and would gladly claim it was true in front of anyone who’d expressed interest in her, no such agreement had been made, and even if he played it off as a joke – just another tease meant to gently annoy or fluster her – it could make Tawny uncomfortable in an unignorably bad, festering way. He couldn’t shake the memory of how she’d reacted before, in her bed the morning after he’d slept over. The sheer panic. And as before, he felt himself shutting down. Smothering the ache in his chest into something more comfortably hollow. Anything he’d felt, anything he’d thought about – he just needed to get her into bed. That would put a stop to it. He only wanted her so much because she was playing hard to get, that was all there was to it. An age-old tactic that he himself had used on occasion. She didn’t care about him. Didn’t want him nearly as much as he wanted her.

“I’d be very lucky if we were,” he heard himself say. Playfully. He even shot a wink at Tawny to keep things light, only to decide it was probably safer to focus on Belle. Ironic, how the tables had turned. He’d rather listen to that child talk about her toys for a whole uninterrupted hour than traverse this particular minefield. He lowered his voice by just a fraction. “Your aunt’s very cool, much cooler than me – but don’t tell her I said that. It’s a secret.”

Belle giggled (and he might have been a little proud of himself if they weren’t in such a precarious situation), and whispered back at him. “She heard you.”

Noah raised his brows, feigning surprise. “Did she? I don’t think so. You’re silly.” He scrunched his nose and shook his head at her, smiling when she snickered again. He still couldn’t look at Tawny. He needed to do damage control. Needed to lull her. Like letting a stray cat edge its way indoors for the first time; leaving the door open, making sure they knew they weren’t trapped and could trust him not to lock them in. “Anyway, as I was saying – she’s too cool for me, so we’re not dating. But we get along just fine and I’m happy to be her friend.” He finally pulled his gaze back to Tawny, grinning, eyes narrowed playfully as he tried to ignore how empty he suddenly felt. “As long as I’m her favourite friend.”

That was the best he could do. All he had energy for. Hopefully she wouldn’t take it too seriously, wouldn’t run away so he could get it over with and be fine again. The only certainty he had – the only thing that he knew he could do that would please her – was that she didn’t want him to meet the rest of her family. He'd seen her relief when he first suggested keeping out of their path, and that was fine by him.

“I suppose I better get out the way before the cavalry arrives. Here –” He stepped closer, shifting to give Belle back to her and reminding himself that he didn’t care if Tawny would be uncomfortable, holding her niece's weight again for God knows how long while she waited. And yet, he still considered using the opportunity to give Tawny a quick kiss on the cheek, paired with a waggling brow and a teasing remark as he pulled away. He didn't. Inwardly flinching at the thought of the strained smile it could incur.

He took a step back. Allowed himself to glance down at his ruined attire with open exasperation. All of that, because he wanted one girl. He raised his gaze back to hers. “I’ll shower and then… I can pick you up? Or you can drive over when you’re ready?”


Tawny Vokes
OOC: it’s emo season for Noah lmao, I think we’re near the end c: Should we start a new thread at Noah’s? Somewhere else? Or would you prefer their meeting up afterwards to be implied/continued here? 

[Tawny Vokes]

OOC: Tbh, I'm fine with continuing here. In fact, I decided to move things along so much that I went ahead and just did it! However, if you'd prefer we started something new, then just let me know and I can edit and save the latter half of this post for a new thread. I took a couple of liberties. Do I even have to say "lemme know if changes are needed"? Can it just be forever implied that you can nudge me for tweaks at any point in time?

---


Belle's question lingered on the air between them. Tawny's breath held and she offered no help when Noah's gaze flit to her. There was an enormous amount of relief to be felt that her niece had leveled the question at him instead of her; she could easily imagine the numbness to her fingers and the skip to her tone as she tried to straighten out an answer that could neither wound nor jostle. There was a twinge of guilt, too, that she had made the answer something less simple and straightforward than it could be. That she hoped he didn't answer wrong even when she herself didn't know what would be right.

But Noah handled it much better than she could have and Tawny's smile relaxed into something genuinely warm as Belle giggled at him and his lowered whispers (that weren't really whispers). When he looked back to her, he was smiling and his eyes were bright and Tawny nodded, relieved. She took Belle back, letting her wrap around her like she had before, and then nodded again. "I'll drive. If you let me know when you're ready, I'll let you know when I'm on my way?"

As he stepped away, Tawny's lips parted and she called back out to him, brow crinkling with unbidden urgency. "Hey, Noah?" She sucked her lip between her teeth when he turned back. "Thank you." Her mouth quirked into a small, appreciative smile, then fell back as she momentarily searched for more to say. Thanks for what? For sidestepping her family? He hadn't forced her to make that ask. For not expecting more from her? For being cool? Not only with Belle and being thrown up on, but with her in general? With them and the precarious space in which she'd asked them to tiptoe? The morning after their initial slumber party had left her uncertain of where they stood. Almost expectant that he'd ghost her in the same way she'd done many others, unwilling to put energy toward a fight she was already seemingly content with losing. Unwilling to indulge her any longer once she'd stated her hesitance. She wouldn't have blamed him. How could she, when she hadn't reached out to him in the space between, either? But he'd materialized before her, the same Noah as he'd been before. Seemingly unbothered by her insistence on a stalemate.

It was too much — all of it too squirrely, disjointed, and faintly awkward — to put into words, so after a moment, Tawny (feeling once more a bit cowardly) only quirked her lips again and turned from him. Arms looped around her aunt's neck, Belle lifted her head and gave him a parting wave and a toothy smile behind Tawny's back. "Bye bye, bestest friend."

She quickly found a nearby bench to deposit them both, unwilling to tote her niece around when she was mostly fine now. Belle sprawled across the seat with her head in Tawny's lap, mumbling while her aunt smoothed a hand over her sweaty hair and apologized for making her sick. "It's okay, I feel better. And I like your new boyfriend, he's nice." Tawny huffed an amused breath through her nose, lips quirking. "Shut up, Belle." The amusement drained from her face entirely at the sound of her name spoken in an angry tone and she lifted her eyes to see Elise cutting her way toward them through the crowd. Apparently, Coop hadn't been very successful.


* * *

Forty-five minutes later, with a fresh face and fresh clothes (an outfit just a touch daring in case they decided to go out instead of stay in), Tawny lingered in her car, parked along the curb in front of Noah's house. Just as she had done when bringing over her "thank you for saving my life" gift basket, she observed the front of his unassuming home with mixed emotions. Glancing over the well-manicured lawn, she recalled fleeing his doorstep with tears tracked down her cheeks and a clenched fist of remorse in her chest. She'd been such a mess. A hollowed-out husk of a person dressed in his too-big clothes and with her own belongings clutched to her stomach in a flimsy bag.

It felt like a lifetime ago. As if that fearful morning had happened to a different person. Like they were memories that didn't belong to her; the bumbling, blurry retreat a glimpse through someone else's eyes instead. But Tawny knew they were hers — knew it had happened to her — because she could recall how she had felt so viscerally. Could remember the draining cold of sneaking dread as it seeped through her, abating her shock and stiffening her muscles. The clutch of fear as it widened her eyes and parted trembling lips around hopeful pleas. And then how vacant she had become when it all finally slipped out her mouth and down her cheeks to allow room for resigned acceptance.

It all seemed so... unbelonging... among the more pleasant instances they'd shared since.

It occurred to her, as she turned off her car and stepped into the street, that had she seen those particular memories in anyone else's head, she would be awfully concerned to learn they were willing to return. It was a thought she lingered in while she grabbed her small bag from the backseat and slung it across her back. As she locked her car and made her way up the drive, she excused her behavior by recalling more comforting memories; attempted to find justification for her returning in the remembered feel of his dark eyes upon her, non-threatening and imploring. The lack of fear within her when his fingers sought her skin. The sleepy outline of him in bed beside her and the momentary solace his warmth and presence had been. His efforts with Belle and always the soft, teasing lilt to his lips.

Only as an afterthought, Tawny acknowledged she hadn't yet experienced the bulk of those things when she returned to his house the first time to leave him the basket and more deliberate means to contact her. Where was the justification for that? Because he'd intrigued her? Saved her life? She'd opened the door to her apartment and invited him inside, not yet knowing he hadn't laid his threats at the feet of her family. What was her excuse then?

She approached his porch, thankful to shove away her wonderings as she paused to pull her bag before her and slip out the bottle of whisky she had tucked inside. It was the twin to his own and had camped beside her coffeepot for months. He'd mentioned his own bottle wasn't quite finished and she'd brought hers as back-up — just in case the night turned into one of those where they decided what he had wasn't enough. Reshouldering her pack, she stepped onto the porch and rapped her knuckles against his door. He was expecting her, she'd texted him she was on her way, but still, she felt the need to be let-in.

And when the door opened, she lifted the bottle with a cheery smile and a leap to her brow. "Hey! I brought more in case you're getting low. And as an apology for... y'know, all of that."


Noah St Cloud

[Noah St Cloud]

OOC: Yeah of course, it can just be implied c: The same goes for you; you can tell me to change anything whenever~




“Sure, that works for me.” Noah’s response was casual. Breezy. It didn’t matter how or when she got there – as long as she got there. He needed to get her out of his head. Needed to end this preoccupation and lay any curiosities to rest. He smirked, backing further away from her. “See you in a while.”

Yet when he set off in the direction of his vehicle, he didn’t get very far before Tawny called his name. It alarmed as much as it thrilled. He loved how it sounded, wrapped in her voice… but had she changed her mind? Was she about to call their meeting off? The thought almost made him keep walking if only so he didn’t have to hear the news in person. He twisted back. Watched her bite her lip before she thanked him with a small smile, and for a moment he thought she was going to say something more (though he had no idea what, exactly, he expected or wished for her to say) and the organ in his chest gave a small, treacherously hopeful shudder.

She only smiled again and turned away. Leaving Noah to wonder and want and stare unblinkingly after her with open hunger and longing – until Belle, bidding her own farewell from over her aunt’s shoulder, distracted him. After a beat he tentatively raised his hand to wave back at her, a little mystified yet somehow managing another strained smile. Then they were gone, and he sighed through his nose and shook his head as he asked himself what the hell he was supposed to do.


* * *


Showering didn’t magically provide the answers, and neither was he particularly inspired when he sprayed his funfair clothes down with a healthy helping of stain remover and shoved them in the washing machine. The hot water and the steady drum of it – pattering against his skin like rain – was calming though, helping to ease the tension from his shoulders and clear his head for a bit, and he was halfway finished buttoning up a shirt before he realised he hadn’t grabbed a plain tee as planned. It gave him pause for only a second. He didn’t want her to see him dithering over outfits, pulling things on and off as if it mattered, so he committed. Left the top few buttons undone and rolled up the sleeves so he could at least pretend it was a casual, everyday look for him.

As requested he messaged her when he was ready, and she replied to tell him she was on her way not long after.

Downstairs, he chose to flick on the lounge’s few table lamps rather than the ceiling lights, casting the room in soft, yellow hues. It was cosier that way. And hopefully it would make everything look a little different to her – a little less like last time. He moved the kitchen stools into a dark corner of the dining space, tucking them out of sight from the living area, laid blue throws over his couches, fluffed up and rearranged the pillows and – that was it. He wished his house were a little messier. To give him something to clean up. Because as it was, there was nothing else to do but wait for her. Maybe he could put something on the TV? Tawny liked a little background noise, didn’t she? Music had been playing when he’d arrived at her home, and she’d played some again while she was preparing breakfast. None of the available titles on Netflix appealed to him, though. Nothing quite matched the mood he wanted or were otherwise too distracting to have on. So he gave up. Wondered instead if he ought to light the fireplace and let the crackling of burning logs fill any lulls in conversation. 

He quickly dismissed the idea, settling on a sofa to scroll absently through his phone messages and, as an afterthought, send an apology and dishonest explanation to Rufus for his disappearance. If the goal was to get her to his bedroom, in the back of his mind he’d be worried about leaving the fire unattended, and it would make the scene a little more… romantic. He didn’t want it to look as if he was putting too much effort in.

Finally, there came a knock at the door.

Dark excitement paced within him, soothing in its familiarity. That was how he should always feel about her. Not the warmth or the aches. Not the nausea or uncertainty. Just simple, plain old want. He half-planned to pull her close as soon as he saw her. To press her up against the nearest wall and hook her legs over his hips, killing the conversation before it could start and thus ensuring he got what he needed. The sight of her on his doorstep, grinning with a familiar bottle in her hand, stopped him short, and (feeling oddly guilty and unable to pinpoint exactly why) he returned her smile with a light chuckle.

“My, my – aren’t you generous?” Guilty or not, his dark eyes roamed her change of attire with unconcealed interest as he reached to take the offered bottle and stepped aside to let her in, humming appreciatively once he’d closed the door behind her and lifted his stare back to hers. “Thank you. Do you want me to hang up your bag? You can take your shoes off or keep them on – whatever you feel comfortable doing. Make yourself at home.”

With those standard hosting duties and platitudes out of the way, he rested his hand on the small of her back to gently shepherd her into the lounge area, sighing airily as he did so. “I suppose I can accept your apology. Though I’m a little suspicious of an ulterior motive; is my company so unbearable that you feel the need to get hammered?” He grinned down at her. Winked as he let his hand fall away, having previously decided not to steer her directly towards the kitchen in case it reminded her a little too much of the previous instance he’d done so. You’re safe, you’re fine, you can trust me, he thought to her, hoping that somehow his mental assurances could be felt in the air. Relax.

Placing the bottle on the kitchen island, he narrowed his eyes at her over his shoulder. “Ah. I see what this is.” He shook his head. Tutted as he moved away to pull two whiskey glasses and his own near-finished bottle from a cupboard. “You want me to get hammered because I was so temptingly adorable last time.” He spun back to face her, put the gathered items on the island, and set about pouring their drinks. “You just loved seeing me stumble all over the place, didn’t you? I’m shocked and appalled by your audacity. But too bad! Unless you’re extremely dedicated, getting me back in that sorry state will be a far harder mission than you might expect.” He lifted his gaze from his task to wag a finger at her. “No more drunken pics for you.”

The accusatory act fell away with an easy grin. He’d filled their glasses halfway (almost double of what he’d usually pour if he were enjoying a drink by himself) but he didn’t bring them over to her immediately, instead pausing by the fridge’s ice dispenser as he quirked a questioning brow at her. “Ice?” He preferred it neat, himself.

Once she'd given her answer, he brought over their drinks, clinking his glass against hers once it was safely in her hand. “So…” He watched her, his eyes alight with mischief as he took the first, welcome and warming sip. “How was it after I left? Do you think you were sufficiently scolded for your bad behaviour?”


Tawny Vokes

[Tawny Vokes]

In the single, suspended second before the door opened, Tawny realized she felt almost... nervous. It was unfamiliar in a way that nearly made her uneasy. She was no stranger to anxiety but it should have had no place here — showing up on a doorstep in the middle of the night was nothing new. It was familiar territory and one she typically navigated with cool aplomb; with a too clear mind and a single, narrow idea of how she wanted the night to progress and where she'd be at the end of it.

It was the weight of the pack on her back, she decided. The knowledge that, at the bottom of it, was her toothbrush. Plucked from her bathroom counter and thrown in with everything else without a thought. As if she'd already decided she'd need it. Had decided she'd end the night, not by climbing back into her own car and driving home in some sort of slightly-regretful silence, but by climbing into Noah's blankets in a pair of his too-big clothes, seeking sleep in a bed that wasn't hers. Warmed by whisky and the feel of him.

When Noah answered the door and met her cheery greeting with a soft chuckle, she felt herself slightly soothe. His gaze was dark as it made an open sweep of her before him and she could recognize the consideration there. Familiar territory. She couldn't suppress a tiny, amused leap to her brow as she observed him in turn, looking clean and crisp with the sleeves of his shirt rolled to the elbow and the top buttons undone. She considered making a joke about how he might have dressed to be "intentionally tempting" — the three-quarter sleeves were unfair, after all — but she swallowed it down when she acknowledged, only a moment later, that the accusation could be too easily spun right around on her. Only a short while earlier, she'd stood in front of her mirror, gazing at her reflection as if she were him, testing where an eye might linger. Picking her clothes carefully; dressing up to go out all while orchestrating just how she might encourage them to stay in.

He took the bottle she held between them and stepped aside, a moment later offering the expected platitudes of a well-practiced host. She let him take her bag, toed out of her shoes, and was shepherded toward the lounge area. "Well, you're right to be suspicious. Ulterior motives are perhaps at play." The words were successfully light, tone only slightly distracted. She kept her mind carefully blank as she moved, focusing on the tease of his words instead of the weightless feel of her step. He stepped around her and she gratefully watched his back; glad to have a reason not to draw her gaze about the room. To not have to note the coffee table and recall how it'd broken her stumble or remember how quickly things had deteriorated the last time she'd stood where she stood now. "But getting drunk, this time, won't be so necessary."

She followed him more slowly into the kitchen, chuffing at his continued jest. "Temptingly adorable, is that what you call last time?" She glanced about as she shook her head, selling the disagreement with a lift to her brow and a tuck to her lips; humming dubiously despite knowing full well she had thought exactly that. Up until the point he'd grounded himself enough to be just plain tempting. The kitchen looked different in the night than it had in the day. The chairs had been moved and without sunlight pouring through the patio doors, it felt smaller. Somehow quieter. She returned her attention to him when he inquired about the ice and shook her head, then took the drink when it was held out to her.

With no chairs on offer, she leaned against the kitchen island and lifted the glass to her lips, a little too conscious and careful as she sipped (thinking of the last time she'd practically snorted coffee and spewed drink down her chin and his shirt). Tried not to notably grimace at the taste of it and only be proud when she lowered it without spilling a drop. "Oh, it was awful. She was pissed. Made Belle cry all over again. Almost made me cry. But... sufficiently scolded?" She let a smirk tug at one corner of her mouth, folding an arm across her middle while she dropped her eye to his chest and deliberated for a purposely long moment. "No. She let me off a bit too easy. And I think I deserve a little more than a slap on the wrist."

She lifted her gaze, letting it linger on the quirk of his mouth before raising fully to his eyes. "Which, if I remember right, I think I'm owed a house tour?" Familiar territory. The safest direction to take and the quicker the better. She quirked a brow and raised her glass again, attempting to conceal the deepening pull at her lip. Then as she sipped a bit more than intended and the burn hit the back of her throat, she faltered. "Fuck," she garbled, face twisting with distaste as she just barely managed not to snort or have to spit the drink back in the glass (likely shattering any illusion of proper seducing). "This is uh, ble — it's spicy."

Noah St Cloud
so sorry for the horrendous wait TvT
rinse, everyday: "tawny wake the fuq up u sad bich"