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The Dead Canary always had a certain warmth to it, gold hints seeming to stream out of each lamp, bouncing off of the well-polished oak tables onto the old brick of the walls. It was cozy in a way that Artemis had yet to find in any of the city’s many establishments. There was an innately welcoming aura to the Dead Canary that Artemis had attributed to small-town charm in many drafts of Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye. Most of those drafts had been almost entirely discarded, Artemis having to acknowledge that her positive perception of the establishment, and the town as a whole, was far from unbiased.
Especially when the most welcoming aspect of the Dead Canary wasn’t anything to do with the business itself, but instead the people inside.
Specifically, the one currently attacking her eardrums from the table in the furthest corner.
“ARTEMIS!!!” Madison’s voice cracked with excitement as she stood from her seat, waving her arms wildly to get her and Paul’s attention despite the fact that the only other customer there was Doctor Henry, who was nodding off into the soup that Quinn had served him half an hour ago. “PAUL!!! WE’RE OVER HERE!!!” Paul eagerly waved back at the beaming sheriff— bouncing towards the table to pull Madison into a mutually enthusiastic bear hug.
Sybilus, who had shrunk down into his seat at Madison’s exclamation, shyly smiled at them both, raising a hand in greeting and then flushing a light pink when Paul released Madison to immediately slide into the booth next to him and give him an equally zealous squeeze. He awkwardly patted Paul’s back with the arm that Paul hadn’t managed to pin, eyes wide as he made eye contact with Artemis over Paul’s shoulder.
Artemis smiled apologetically at him, but couldn’t keep her amusement off her face, luckily for Sybilus, she was quickly distracted by Madison pulling her into an only slightly less bone-crushing hug.
“Glad you made it.” Madison’s eyes scrunched as she pulled back from the hug, hands lingering on Artemis’s upper arms as she grinned at Artemis in apparent delight, “I was worried that your car died on you again.” Artemis laughed, ignoring the nervous tightness that fluttered in her stomach.
“No smoke this time, although Paul did manage to get his hand stuck in a bench at our last rest stop.”
“There was a quarter between the bars— I couldn’t just leave it there!” Paul protested with a smile.
“Yes, you absolutely could have.” Artemis rolled her eyes, joining Madison on her side of the booth.
“Either way— glad that you could make it. It has been far too quiet here without y’all,” Madison said cheerfully, “I think Mary Jo and Ellis might have heart attacks if something doesn't happen soon for them to chatter about.”
Artemis smiled quietly, already settling into the peaceful chatter. Ever since Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye had wrapped up, she and Paul had been traveling to Connor Creek in between jobs, their train rides and road trips made possible by the many travel points the twins accumulated during their semi-frequent work trips. Between their time spent around the country working on cases and researching potential stories, and most of their free time being spent in Connor Creek, Artemis was starting to associate ‘home’ with Connor Creek far more than the small apartment she’d rented for years. The room that she and Paul always stayed in was unofficially theirs at this point, Paul’s dresser was usually covered by items he’d forgotten last trip whenever they returned, and books and folders sent over by Audrey and Agnes were far from an unfamiliar sight.
Artemis loved city life, she thrived in the high-intensity environment and enjoyed her time spent in loud coffee shops and bustling offices. But more and more often, she caught herself missing Connor Creek, missing the early mornings she would spend at the bar, sipping coffee with Desmond as Quinn set up the kitchen, her time spent at the back of city council meetings, fighting to hold her tongue unless addressed but taking furious notes to share with Madison afterward and—
Well, it was Madison she missed most of all.
It wasn’t as if her affection for Madison had been intentional, but Artemis was almost certain that enough time spent with Madison would make anybody fall. She was just so kind, earnestly interested in everyone and everything, throwing herself into everything she did with genuine optimism, never hesitating to lend a helping hand or smile.
She couldn't help it, something about Madison just made Artemis want to kick her feet and hold Madison’s hand and never stop smiling and all the other candy-cane-sugar-sweet nonsense Artemis would have sworn she’d left behind in her teenage years.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that Paul felt the same way. Not about Madison, Artemis thanked the Gods for that, but he loved Connor Creek just as much as Artemis did. Possibly more than she did. While Paul enjoyed his job, he only loved it because it meant he got to work with his sister. (And because he got to be “adventurous”, forcing Artemis to be as well). For Paul, Artemis was nearly certain that he could be happy anywhere— if he loved the people there. But Paul and Conner Creek seemed to be a perfect match even beyond his compatibility with the townsfolk. Maybe it was his werewolf blood, maybe it was his relentless friendliness, but Paul seemed to belong to Connor Creek as if he’d been meant to be there all along.
He thrived in the quietly eventful atmosphere, where something of note was always going on, even if those notable events were turtles blocking the road or Vern adding a vegan meat option to his menu for April Fools.
Paul was never more at ease than when he was in Conner Creek, joy seeming to bubble out him every moment he spent there.
And seeing her brother happy only ever added to Artemis’s own contentment.
Paul launched into his own rant about their latest job as Artemis let her mind wander, babbling about the alleged assassination attempt on a mayor cat they’d investigated the week before. Desmond dropped off drinks at their table not far into it, swapping out Madison’s empty lemonade cup for a fancy-looking beer bottle, likely courtesy of Quinn’s penchant for culinary exploration. Artemis and Sybilus both received creamy-looking vodka drinks in wide glasses, a caramel resting on the frothy surfaces. Paul’s drink— accessorized with a straw and chocolate rim— smelled like coffee beans and butterscotch had a baby in heaven.
Another perk of Conner Creek; Artemis and Paul rarely placed official orders. Instead, Desmond and Quinn tended to drop off a mixture of the twin’s favorites as well as new and testing dishes that they thought the twins might like. It was a symbiotic relationship; Rita would sometimes joke— between Quinn and the twins. While the majority of the townsfolk had been burned by Quinn’s more… unique recipes, Paul devoured nearly anything with meat that Quinn served him, and Artemis had long determined that eating the occasional questionable dish was far easier than facing Quinn’s potential ire. Meaning that the twins had quickly climbed the ranks of Quinn’s favorite customers, which had perks in and outside of the kitchen.
Madison peered over the table to check for the said chef, before opening the bottle on the edge of the table. A slight mist drifted from the opening as she rose it to her lips, and Artemis had to cut off the writer in her head that was eagerly amassing embarrassing words to describe the sight.
Ethereal, beautiful, distinct, cozy, lov-
The food, when it came, was hot and over-plated, but undeniably delicious. Artemis’ own alfredo mac’ n cheese served with sourdough drew a satisfied groan as she bit in, the rich flavour overwhelming her tastebuds and warming her as she ate.
Between Madison and Paul, neither Artemis nor Sybilus was needy for entertainment while they ate. They cut each other off frequently, both of them excitedly babbling into the cozy atmosphere with mutual enthusiasm as if parrying a birdie or volleyball, occasionally dragging Artemis or Sybilus into the conversation to help with a story or answer a question. But for the most part, Artemis and Sybilus were free to occasionally meet each other’s gaze in shared contentment while they enjoyed the presence of the two sentient lights beside them.
Artemis couldn’t help the smile that settled on her face.
She couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.
Artemis nearly slammed her head into the table laughing, her empty glass toppling onto its side as she struggled to regain her breath. Madison partially fell with her, hanging onto Artemis’s arm as she giggled at her own story.
Warmth spread from where Madison clutched her arm, and Artemis couldn’t convince herself that the alcohol in her system was to blame. Not when it was Madison whose bodyweight was hanging from her side, laughing with seemingly pure delight as she turned her head up to meet Artemis’s gaze.
Artemis was far too gay for this.
To both of their surprise, Paul made a frantic shushing sound that was practically as loud as their laughter had been. Artemis turned her head sharply, fully intending to snap at Paul for his blatant hypocrisy, but her irritation faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Sybilus had always been a bit of a lightweight, and he’d apparently had to deal with a rather combative out-of-town client— so despite the fact that Artemis knew that his one drink of the night had been far from hard, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he’d grown more and more tired throughout the evening. His head, which had been sinking towards the table and Paul in uneven intervals, had finally made purchase on Paul’s shoulder. He was fast asleep now, his face unconsciously tucked into Paul’s hoodie and his glasses askew.
Frankly, it was adorable, both Sybilus’s soft, content sigh as he attempted to burrow further into Paul’s hoodie. Perhaps even cuter was Paul’s blatant protectiveness of him, the way his arm was loosely wrapped around Sybilus in a steadying hold and he was clearly making an effort to keep his breaths even.
“Aww, well if that ain’t the most precious thing I’ve seen all week,” Madison whispered with a coo, and Artemis had to agree.
She pulled out her phone, snapping a few photos, and sending them to Madison with a teasing wink at Paul. Madison smiled at her gratefully, hand hovering over her pocket as her phone buzzed, turning back to Sybilus just as Paul began to delicately extract his glasses from where they were pinned between his temple and Paul’s shoulder. Her smile turned sour, regret tugging at the edges of her lips.
“I still can’t believe I used to see him as a threat,” She lowered her head, gaze landing on her hands. Folded on the table in front of her, they stilled and clenched slightly. Artemis froze, internally panicking as she tried to figure out what to do. She had never been the best at comforting people, far more likely to confuse or offend somebody rather than soothe. But Madison very clearly needed some comfort right now and-
Paul reached his arm that wasn’t being held captive by the sleepy accountant across the table, covering Madison’s hands with his own.
Thank you, Paul,
Artemis tried her best to communicate her gratefulness through her eyes alone, making a mental note to pick up some extra Jerky from Vern before they left for Paul. She followed Paul’s lead, her own hands joining the small pile.
“There was no way you could have known,” he argued softly, “You were just trying to protect everyone.” He squeezed her hands with an uncharacteristically solemn surety, “That includes him, and he knows that.”
“But still- I was willing to-” She shook her head, voice shaking. “I would have hurt him, “just because he was a werewolf.” She sounded tortured, and Artemis had to wonder how many nights of sleep Madison had lost thinking about this. “Hell, I wasn’t the only one.” Her voice rose as she straightened her back, eyes watering as she spoke, “The entire town would have happily turned on him and the others the moment they knew.” She deflated at the thought, voice cracking as she hunched over on herself. “I just... I can’t imagine how awful that must have felt,” Madison finished dejectedly. Artemis squeezed her hands softly, feeling helpless.
“Madison,” Paul’s voice was raspy with his own unshed tears, ever the tender heart. “Would you ever do any of that today?” Madison drew herself up quickly in shock,
“No!” She practically shouted, freezing before lowering her voice when Sybilus stirred and burrowed himself further. “No, of course not! Never!”
“Then you’ve learned!” Artemis interjected; voice awkwardly stiff but earnest all the same. Paul gave her a small proud smile, and Artemis continued, swallowing to try and buy herself time to collect her thoughts.
“Madison, you’ve grown so much since then. Yeah, you made a few mistakes— So did I!” She cleared her throat, her voice thickening with emotion, “Mads, none of the wolves blame you for what happened, least of all Sybilus.” Artemis separated Madisons’ hands and wrapped both of her hands around one of them, pulling it towards her. “They’ve all long since forgiven you Madison.” She squeezed Madison’s hand as comfortingly as she could. “It’s okay to forgive yourself.” Madison swallowed, looking down and taking a shuddering deep breath to steady herself. When her head came back up, she was pulling her hand from Paul’s hold to wipe at the few tears that had gathered on her cheeks.
“Thank you.” She said shakily, a soft smile returning to her face. Paul and Artemis both smiled back at her, Paul beaming while Artemis gave a more subdued one.
“Artemis,” She started, chuckling lightly as she straightened herself in her seat. “Why don’t we go for a walk? Then I can finish the story without having to worry about waking up Sybilus.”
“Sure,” Artemis agreed easily, trying not to sound too eager as she stood up to let her out of the booth. “Sounds good.” Paul approved the idea, raising his hand in a slight wave goodbye as the two made their way to the door before returning his attention to the man practically curled into his side.
Madison held the door open for Artemis, both tensing slightly at the sudden exposure to the crisp autumn air. The moon was almost full, part of why the twins had scheduled this weekend to visit, and it bounced cheerfully off the gold-glowing windows of the Dead Canary. The metal buttons of Artemis’ jacket also glinted in the silver light as she shivered, hair frizzing slightly as it dragged across her shoulders as the two began walking. There was an extra button attached to the chest of her jacket that especially caught Madison’s eye, its’ pink, purple, and blue stripes illuminated by the moonlight.
“The pin’s new,” She commented before she could think better of it, “Is it from a new podcast you’re recording?” Artemis paused, her free hand reaching up to touch the pin as if confirming to herself that it was there.
Wait a second,
Her free hand?
It was an inopportune moment for Madison to realize that they were still holding hands, Madison was holding Artemis’s hand, to say the least.
Madison locked her gaze on Artemis’s pin, trying not to blush as the butterflies in her stomach threatened to commit mutiny and overcome her senses. Then she realized what part of Artemis the pin was in front of and immediately tilted her head skyward, her blush deepening further as she tried not to panic.
“Oh, this? It’s my uh- It’s my pride pin.” She smiled fondly as she adjusted the pin on her jacket, “It’s not new, Paul got us matching ones years ago when I first came out to him.” She laughed lightly, like the memory alone still brought her joy. “I found it when I was unpacking from our last work trip and figured I should start wearing it again.”
“Pride pin?” Madison said, latching onto the familiar topic, pulling back her jacket to reveal her own striped pin on the collar of her shirt, “Like mine!!” Artemis paused, her jaw slackening for just a moment before smiling again with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, pretty much— yours is…” Artemis tilted her head to try and see the pin better. “Ah, yours is the lesbian pride flag, mine is the bisexual.” Madison nodded her head, smiling back at her even though most of her brain power was still being devoted to their joined hands.
They were still holding hands; Madison didn’t know what to do.
She should probably let go, should probably let the heat fluttering up her arm to settle in her chest disperse into the night air.
But the more she tried to build the strength to let go, the less she found that she wanted to. So instead, she tried her best to steady herself with an exaggerated breath and gripped Artemis’ hand tighter, who looked down in surprise as if she too had forgotten they were holding hands.
“Now uh,” Madison stumbled over her words, fighting the instinct to gaze back up at the sky to hide her still flushed face “-where was I in the story?”
“I believe-” Artemis cut herself off with a snort of laughter, “-that Agnes had just found the skunk hiding in town hall?” Madison laughed too, the tension in her shoulders melting away as easily as it had never been there.
Despite all the nerves that Artemis tended to bring with her whenever she visited or texted, Madison could never seem to hang onto that anxiety for too long. Not when Artemis’s mere existence brought so much peaceful joy to her heart.
“Right- so, Agnes had just started shrieking outta nowhere and nearly scared the living daylights out of me and Cliff-”
Sybilus groaned and shifted his head on Paul’s shoulder, taking Paul’s attention away from the brightly coloured memes he’d been scrolling through on his phone.
“Morning Sunshine” Paul chirped, chuckling as he smiled down at Sybilus as the man lifted his head off Paul’s shoulder to blink sleepily at his surroundings. He mumbled a barely understandable ‘morning’ as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and disturbing the arm Paul had draped around him.
“I-I’m terribly sorry I must have-” He cut himself off with a yawn, sitting forward in his seat to run a hand through his hair “drifted off for a bit there.” He blinked several times, before squinting and meeting Paul’s gaze confusedly. “Wait where are m-m-my, my uh-”
“Glasses?” Paul interrupted, reaching his free hand across the table to where they were neatly folded.
“I- uh- yes.”
“Yeah, they were nearly falling off while you were out,” Paul made an exaggerated motion with his hand to illustrate his point. Paul unwrapped his arm from around Sybilus, who didn’t even have time to mourn the loss of contact before Paul was turning to him and gently putting his glasses on for him. “I didn’t want them breaking,” He hooked the glasses behind Sybilus' ear, pushing some of his hair out of his face at the same time. Sybilus blinked twice, his still tired brain struggling to process. Paul, on the other hand, was seemingly unshaken. He smiled cheerfully at Sybilus as he drew back.
“Plus, I know falling asleep with glasses can leave me with a wicked headache.” He made an exaggerated gesture with his hand to illustrate his point, “So I figured better safe than sorry.”
Sybilus smiled nervously, mind racing as he tried very hard to pretend that Paul hadn’t just caused him a small fit of gay panic. Which was only made harder when Paul smiled back at him, apparently oblivious. Paul downed the rest of his drink, his arm resting on the back of the seat between them. To try and distract himself from Paul’s exposed bicep, Sybilus tried to turn and make conversation with Artemis or Madison, only to find empty seats.
“M-m-madison and Artemis left?”
“Hm?” Paul turned to face him, having an infuriatingly flustering quality of giving every person he talked with every ounce of his attention. Something which Sybilus honestly admired, but absolutely petrified him at the moment. “Oh, yeah.” Paul continued, still oblivious to the torment he was so continuously inflicting on Sybilus. He pushed his empty glass away, “Madison was telling a story and neither of them have quiet laughs, and since you were asleep, they went for a walk to finish the story. Which— full disclosure, was definitely a good call. Madison told me the story last week and I couldn’t breathe right for hours.”
“Alone?” Sybilus questioned, “At this time of night?” Paul gave him a bemused look,
“Well, since there isn’t a threat of,” he raised his finger to make quotation marks “werewolves’ anymore, why wouldn’t they?”
“Oh uh, no that wasn’t what I was uh, insinuating- er suggesting- implying.” Sybilus blanched, “I more meant, I wondered if they had uh- told each other about their feelings uh- finally.” He wondered if Rita would accept an advance on his offer for him to own his body after he died. Maybe if he specifically mentioned his skull, which Rita had said had a “romantic” shape on more than one occasion, she could be swayed.
“Oh!” Paul relaxed into his seat, having fully turned his body to face Sybilus. “No, unfortunately, Artie’s still in ‘denial’ mode.” He pouted, “I mean, I’m pretty sure she knows deep down that she’s head over heels for Mads, she’s smart enough to see the obvious. But she’s not about to admit it.” He perked up, eyes brightening as he asked, “Any progress on Madison’s end?”
“Madison’s still refusing to accept the p-possibility that Artemis might like her like that.” Sybilus said, smiling wryly.
“Ugh, they really are oblivious, aren’t they?” Paul said groaning, beginning to trace the rim of his glass with his finger.
“Oh!” He practically yelled, nearly startling Sybilus out of his seat. “Before I forget— Artemis and I were telling Madison about the podcast we did a few months ago on the kleptomaniac monkeys at that California Zoo— and when Artemis showed her pictures, she said that penguins were one of your favourite animals? And you would not believe how cute some of the pictures I got were-”
Paul kept talking, but Sybilus was quickly blue-screening, caught between inwardly cursing Madison’s name, trying not to explode at the brightness of Paul’s smile or kiss him because of it, and actually wanting to see the pictures that Paul was talking about.
“So I was wondering if you wanted to look over our notes?” Paul continued, “I also got some really cute pictures of them playing that even Lesley laughed at, we could look at those too!”
“I-'' Sybilus started, conflicted but knowing that more one-on-one time with Paul could not lead to anything good for his already pounding heart. But he couldn’t help but falter at the ‘puppy dog eyes’ look that Paul was giving him. “-Sure, that s-s-s-sounds great”
Paul lit up, grabbing Sybilus’s hand and pulling the two of them up from the booth, the two of them stumbling a bit in his excitement.
“Desmond!” He turned his head over his shoulder as he dragged Sybilus towards the stairs, “We’re heading up!!” Desmond, who had been joined by Quinn at the bar to share a bottle, nodded towards them— his intelligent eyes catching Sybilus’s for just a second with a teasing glint— before returning his attention back to Quinn.
Sybilus was so screwed.
“Oh come on!” Artemis yelled into the repentless night sky, ripping her hand from Madison’s to throw her arms to the sky in a dramatic gesture. Despite her complaints, the newly arrived rain continued to fall, several droplets splashing onto her face. Madison snorted, watching as Artemis scrunched her face in displeasure, amused despite her disappointment that they were no longer holding hands. Artemis whipped to face her, betrayal clear on her face as Madison struggled to compose herself.
“My house isn’t too far from here, just a couple blocks away.” She reassured her, trying not to laugh, “We can hide from the rain there.” Artemis sighed in relief and started walking again, her hands now bunched in her pockets.
“Thank goodness for that, these clothes are ok to get wet but I’d really prefer noT-”
The rest of her words were snatched from her as she slipped and nearly fell in the quickly slickening mud. Her flailing hands grabbed onto Madison’s arm, who had moved to catch her when she started falling. Madison struggled to support both of their weight, wobbling as she stumbled backward to try and stabilize, but eventually managed to get Artemis back on her feet.
“You alright there Artie?” She asked when Artemis failed to release her tight grip on Madison’s arm, despite the two of them being more or less stable.
“Huh?” Artemis looked up at her with wide eyes, “Yes, of course!”
She released her grasp on Madison, scrambling to re-establish distance between them.
“I’m f-”
And Artemis, with all the grace that years of training herself to walk in heels should have afforded her, managed to immediately unbalance herself, careening directly back into Madison, managing to bring both of them to the ground.
“F-fine.” Artemis finished, before bursting into semi-stunned laughing despite herself. It didn’t take long for Madison to join in, practically choking on air from where she was pinned beneath Artemis. She was supporting Artemis’s weight fairly easily, despite only one of Artemis’s arms having managed to assist Madison in slowing her fall.
Still laughing, Artemis shifted to plant her hands on the ground beside her, palms slipping in the mud as she tried to push herself up. She looked down, meeting Madison’s still shiny eyes, and had to pause and make a conscious effort not to let her heart at the sight that greeted her. With typical Schue-Horyn luck, Artemis had managed to fell them right into one of the few developing puddles in the street. The mud had splashed when they fell, and now Artemis’s palms and sleeve and the back of Madison’s jacket was soaked with muddy water. Madison’s hair hadn’t escaped the mess either, specks of mud littering the strands that had fallen from her ponytail.
If it had been anybody else, Artemis was sure she wouldn’t have thought much of the mess besides annoyance, much less been so affected by it.
But something about Madison laughing up at her—mud-spattered across her cheeks and hair like the constellations that had shined so brightly less than an hour ago— made Artemis’s heart leap in a way she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge. Madison’s lips were so close, slightly chapped but looking irresistibly soft all the same— and only made all the more tempting by their proximity— she could kiss them so easily if she wanted to.
Artemis swallowed, hard, and forced herself to resume moving off Madison, Madison’s eyes widening as she apparently realized their position and its connotations. They both jumped into a flurry of movement.
In Madison’s defense, it wasn’t meant to have been a kiss. She had just been propping herself up as Artemis began moving off her. But Madison had moved too quickly and Artemis too slow and their faces had bonked and-
In Artemis’s defense, it wasn’t meant to have been a kiss. It had been hard to get a grip in the slick mud, and she’d been distracted, and it was still raining-
It couldn’t even really be considered a kiss, their lips had barely brushed. But their lips had brushed and that was enough to send lightning up both of their spines— Artemis freezing where she was half propped-ep and Madison flinging herself backward back into the mud.
“Artemis,” She began hurriedly, her voice a desperate gasp, “I am so sorry I-”
Artemis grabbed at the front of Madison’s mud-stained coat, pulling her up from the ground as she leaned forward, connecting their lips again.
It was awkward, not that it had any right not to be. Artemis’s fingers were stiff from the cold, and both of them were decently wet and muddy by this point. Artemis’s top lip landed a little too high on Madison’s face, and Madison was too shocked to respond for the first few moments of the kiss.
It was just as blissful as any rom-com could dream of.
Madison took less than a moment to kiss back, her apology melting on along with her worry and turning into something far sweeter. Madison reached up to thread her fingers through Artemis’s hair, smiling into the kiss at Artemis’s appreciative hum. Their kiss didn’t pause or break as much as it should have, and they were both struggling to breathe by the time they parted.
“You kissed me.” Madison said, her breath still harsh as she beamed. Artemis looked to the side marginally, a blush prominent on her face and creeping up her neck.
“You kissed back.” She replied disbelievingly, a smile finding its way to her face in a moment of shared delight.
At some point during their kiss, Artemis had shifted her weight to be less on top of Madison and more straddling her legs— and her realization of this only served to further her blush. She tried again to move off of the pinned sheriff, but the mud hadn’t gotten any less slick since the last time she’d tried, and she only ended up falling back on top of Madison. Madison burst back into laughter, having been halfway through following Artemis into a sitting position only to once again be shoved into the mud.
“Like I said-” Madison managed to get out, her words accentuated with laughs, “My house isn't far from here. And believe me— I’ve got plenty of hot cocoa and blankets there.” She sobered herself as Artemis finally managed to climb off her and offer a hand up, the two of them finally managing to balance themselves. “And as for the kissing,” She started, taking Artemis’s hand with a gentle nervousness, “I’d love to do some more of it.” Artemis let out a sputter of surprised laughter.
“Yeah,” She said reflexively, before smiling and squeezing Madison's hand, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Sybilus had returned to consciousness slowly, a warm fuzziness cushioning his brain as he attempted to burrow further into the soft fabric beneath his head. Paul’s hoodie, even if Sybilus hadn’t yet identified it as such, engulfed him in a comforting scent that was only made stronger by his lycanthrope biology. He hadn’t wanted to wake up, hadn’t wanted to leave the soft and vague dream he’d been in, where he felt safer than he had since before the first campaign posters were pinned up around town.
But the lights and sounds of his surroundings— the clinking glasses and flickering bulb of the booth next to them— drew him back to the land of the living with heartless certainty, and Sybilus couldn’t help the small groan of protest that escaped him as his senses began to rapidly regain focus. The warmth beneath him had shook in response, a soft chuckle accompanying the movement that no amount of fatigue or toxification could make unfamiliar, not when Paul’s joy— every aspect of it— had been Sybilus’s increasingly addictive drug of choice ever since the shorter man had asked Sybilus’s name.
Being tucked against Paul was so heavenly Sybilus had half a thought to redefine divinity just to make the word wonderous enough to fit; so of course, it was torture in that same moment— to feel Paul’s fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his face as he re-oriented Sybilus’s glasses with gentle but unhesitant movements.
Sybilus wanted to die.
He wanted to live in the moment for years.
He wanted, desperately, to return even a portion of Paul’s tenderness— to give some affection back to the man who gave it so freely and sincerely— to give Paul the gifts that he had given Sybilus despite Paul being far worthier a recipient.
When Paul had removed his arm from Sybilus’s side, Sybilus hadn’t considered himself foolish enough to expect so much physical contact with the man to occur in the next ten years, let alone the next ten minutes.
Yet Paul, like so many times before, had proven Sybilus’s usually accurate and logical conclusions to be entirely false, tugging Sybilus down onto the bed— Paul’s bed, his brain very unhelpfully supplied, he was on Paul’s bed, next to Paul, whose hand was resting on the covers so so close to Sybilus’s— and suddenly Paul was half leaning against Sybilus to show him pictures on his phone.
Then, of course, he had to pull up the higher quality photos and notes on his laptop and had shifted back to lean against the headboard— as if he knew that Sybilus would follow him. As if he could suspect that Sybilus would follow him anywhere if only Paul would gesture or say the word.
The bed was not large— it had been designed to accommodate one person, not two fully grown men— so the two had maneuvered and squeezed to fit until they were lying parallel to each other. One of Paul’s legs was halfway on top of Sybilus’s, and Paul’s arm lay behind them on the headboard, resting dangerously close to wrapping around Sybilus’s shoulder. Occasionally, Paul would shift to adjust the screen, and if Sybilus focused, he could feel Paul’s arm hair brush against the back of his neck, summoning goosebumps in its wake with embarrassing ease.
Perhaps the most damning to Sybilus’s flooding heart, was how Sybilus had once again found himself with his head tucked beneath Paul’s.
Paul was currently halfway through a passionate rant about Macbeth, the conversation having moved on from penguins not long into the conversation, smoothly and eagerly sliding from one topic to the next ever since.
Sybilus didn’t mind at all, partially because it was Paul to whom he was talking, but also because he’d never had a particular fondness for penguins. Sure, he could appreciate a cute video of a pebble proposal or a baby penguin fluffing up as much as the next person—but he had also cried at three separate videos of baby deer walking that Rita had sent him at odd hours of the night, nearly lost his voice upon walking in on Aubrey’s cats cuddling, and had apparently “lost his ‘gosh-dammed’ mind when a skunk had tried to raise her babies in the town hall in a not so normal way according to Cliff Irons. (Which was an exaggeration, to be perfectly clear. Sybilus would defend that claim to his dying breath, if he ever got the confidence to begin defending himself to Cliff in the first place.”
The point was— penguins were not one of his favourite animals, and he was under no illusions that Madison had been unaware of that fact when she had made such claims to Paul earlier that night. So, no— he could not find it in himself to be even remotely disappointed in the change of conversation topic.
So now, Paul and Sybilus had both talked about their separate experiences seeing Shakespeare Productions live and the drudgery that was the curriculum surrounding them in school. Both had thoroughly enjoyed Hamlet but had found Romeo and Juliet to be overhyped— but while Sybilus preferred The Tempest, Paul had surprised Sybilus with both the fact that Macbeth was his favourite Shakespeare play, but also the intensity with which he adored it.
“I’m telling you, Macbeth was the funniest work of that time period once you factor in all of the rhetoric and ironies in it.”
“I’m sorry— comedy?”
“Well, I guess a tragic comedy would be more accurate— but you cannot tell me that Macbeth isn’t freaking hilarious.”
“I can!” Sybilus protested, voice high with disbelief and laughter, “That s-s-stor, that play was deemed a tragedy for a reason!”
From there, the conversation had only dissolved in what Sybilus could honestly say was one of the nerdiest interactions of his life. Which was saying a lot, considering the personalities and interests of his pack alone. Paul had pulled up several annotated versions of the script, as well as a forty-minute video essay that they’d only gotten seven minutes into before it was paused to open a new tab to question a new aspect of the discussion.
Eventually, their conversation had dissolved into Paul’s passionate ranting about the intricacies and comedic bits of the play, his hands enthusiastically gesturing and attempting to pantomime his arguments as he did. The topic would have been interesting anyway, but Sybilus found that his focus could have been quite easily kept no matter the topic— as long as Paul was speaking in that same bright, enthusiastic tone. He had moved on to character rankings sometime just before midnight when Sybilus’s head had slumped onto Paul’s shoulder for support through no conscious effort of his own— and his face had started to hurt from the near-constant smiling that Paul continuously prompted. In fact, the first time that Sybilus’s smile truly fell was when Paul cut himself off halfway through a thorough roasting of Macbeth himself.
“-Oh, sorry, am I talking too much?” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck subconsciously with his free hand as he laughed nervously. “I know I have a tendency to ramble a lot.”
It took Sybilus a few moments to process the question, but when he did,
“What?” He sat up slightly, dislodging himself from Paul’s side in favour of looking him in the eye, “No, of course not!” He titled his head in obvious conclusion as he tried to search his memory for anything he might have done to imply he was anything less than thoroughly enjoying himself. “I mean yes, you tend to ramble, but, I-I like he-hearing you t-talk.”
It was a statement, but his voice had nervously veered up at the end, his nerves punctuating Sybilus’s uncertainty as a blatant question. Paul cocked his own head at Sybillus, squinting his eyes confusedly.
“Why?” He asked, voice still devastatingly genuine— and oh, if that didn’t make Sybilus’s heart hurt.
“Why? W-why wouldn’t I?” He shuffled, pulling his legs beneath him to rest on his knees, clasping at Paul’s hands only to settle at his fingertips— cradling rather than holding Paul’s hands as he made uncharacteristically intense eye contact. Disbelief overwhelmed his words, painting them an obnoxiously emotional hue as he struggled to find the words.
“Paul, You’re amazing!” Paul looked back at him bewilderedly, a smile growing on his face before he even seemed to know what he was smiling about. “I mean, just as a starting point— you’re kind, funny, and utterly personable.” Paul raised an eyebrow, and Sybilus could see his brain churning.
“Really?”
“‘Really?” Sybilus parroted, feeling slightly as if he might faint.
“Paul, do you think anybody else could have done what you did here? Even when everybody was mad at Artemis, they, mostly, were still fine with you! And sure, Artemis listens to people, but we wouldn’t have trusted her enough to tell her we were werewolves if you hadn’t been there!”
Sybilus paused, eyes somewhat watery with emotion as he continued, “Paul, you are, undoubtedly; the most brave, compassionate, and trustworthy person I know.” He let out an almost exasperated breath, “
How could people not like you? How could I not like you?”
Paul blinked in surprise, and when he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft.
“You really think all that of me?”
In an instant the reality of what Sybilus had said, of just how much he’d revealed in a moment of lessened self-control, hit him.
He nearly pulled out his phone right then and there, to offer Rita that advance on his skull after all. He’d been under no false illusions that
he’d been subtle about his feelings for Paul before, but at least there’d been some degree of plausible deniability.
Paul was an investigative journalist for God’s sake! There was no way in all of Connor Creek that Paul wouldn’t put together the obvious writing on the wall—
The writing that transcribed their every interaction in looping cursive, memories, and text messages serving as continuous love letters, showing hints of the devotion that felt so all-consuming to Sybilus whenever the journalist happened to bump an arm against him, or send him a picture of a stray cat that had ‘reminded him of his fav accountant’, or really done anything that gave the world, and especially Sybilus, a little more of Paul.
“Yes.” He whispered, voice rough and desperate, “All of it— I meant every word.”
The way Paul lit up at even a hint of good or exciting news had more than once been compared to Christmas trees— but at this moment he was far more akin to an ever-exploding firework. Helplessly, relentlessly bright as his eyes sparkled and his cheeks split his face in a smile so wide it should surely hurt— fangs poking out ever so slightly from behind his bottom lip.
Sybilus was too gay for this, gay enough to call a rainbow straight without a shadow of irony. In other words, far too gay to think straight thoughts about a guy who could make the whole room feel lighter just by smiling like that.
“Thanks Syb.” Paul said, clapping him on the shoulder, and warmth grew from his invisible handprint to crawl up his neck and down his torso.
Paul’s smile was impossibly soft, a tuft of his bangs having fallen to cover most of one of his eyes as he met Sybilus’s gaze.
If you asked Sybilus afterward, he would insist that what he’d done had been a temporary act of courageous insanity— perhaps the universe passing on just enough of Madison and Artemis’s boldness to pull Sybilus’s hand forward— tucking away the erred strands and clearing the air for their eyes to fully meet.
Paul paused, head tilting ever so slightly as his lips twitched, a strange look on his face as he watched Sybilus freeze, his hand inches from Paul’s face.
Oh no ,
He shouldn’t have done that,
He should not have done that .
Sybilus hurriedly drew back, an apology on his lips.
That same apology died in his throat when Paul reached forward to grab his wrist and pull him closer.
Sybilus’s eyes darted between Paul’s hand and face hurriedly, struggling even more to find his breath as Paul’s other hand moved to carefully cup the side of Sybilus’s face.
Sybilus leaned forward slightly, lips hopefully parted and his entire body shaking slightly in disbelief.
Paul made quick work of the rest of the gap, his hand moving to cradle Sybilus’s neck and pulling him into a kiss with a happy hum.
Sybilus kissed like he was barely there; hands feather-light as they hovered over Paul’s waist. He kissed like he was scared Paul might push him away at any moment, reject him and the kiss despite the fact that Paul had been the one to initiate it. But as they continued kissing and Paul not only didn’t jerk away but instead shifted in an attempt to deepen the kiss, he relaxed into it.
He still kissed gently, but his softness shifted to something much more intentional. As his hands finally landed to hold Paul back, his grip altered as if he were cradling a delicate treasure, handling a rare specimen. He kissed Paul as if it were the only language the two shared, the only way he could communicate the love and adoration that felt as if it was consuming him whole.
He tilted his head in an attempt to further deepen the kiss but couldn’t keep himself from smiling into it.
Not that Paul could either— in fact he did even worse as he let out a giggle, the euphoria clogging the part of his brain that knew that you can’t really kiss somebody when you’re laughing, and Sybilus had never been able to resist Paul’s laugh. It didn’t take long for both of them to dissolve into giggles, the two of them practically collapsing into laughter and not really kissing at all until they were forced to pull back.
They didn’t go far, really just as far as Sybilus needed to be able to bury his face in Paul’s shoulder. His hands came up to grasp at the fabric of Paul’s hoodie as Paul wrapped his arms around him in a clumsy, earnest embrace. It was a mutual effort to attempt to calm themselves, but it was also a mutual sabotage. Just as one of them would calm down; the other would fail to hold back a snort and they would both dissolve into laughter again.
Finally, Sybilus pulled his head back, meeting Paul’s eyes from where he’d practically nestled himself in Paul’s lap— a fairly uncomfortable and deeply undignified position for a man of his size to be in, but one that he couldn’t even consider regretting.
“You kissed me.” Sybilus said softly, a quiet plea to Paul to reassure him that this was real,
“And you kissed back.” Paul affirmed, positively beaming.
One of them leaned back in— lack of air be damned— and the other followed suit, and they were kissing again.
They kissed a lot that night.
Some kisses were quick things, delightful bursts of affection made physical just by the fact that they could. They were light things, littered across each other's cheeks and foreheads in between whispered conversation and laughter.
Others were soft and long, lazy kisses that usually only ended by both of them smiling far too much to even pretend that they were kissing. Sybilus’s hands could linger on Paul’s arms or explore Paul’s delightfully thick hair that he’d been dying to touch since practically their first meeting. And in return, Paul would pull Sybilus’s whole body towards him in constant chasing of an embrace— like he just couldn’t get over the joy of having Sybilus there with him.
Above all, every kiss they shared that night was sweetened by an undeniable, underlying joy. An odd and rare mutual euphoria of
finally,
it’s us .
It was technically early morning by the time they fell asleep, Desmond and Quinn already rising horrendously early to begin preparations of the pastries and roasts of the day. Paul had stolen one of Artemis’s throw blankets, which did not come even close to covering both of them— but both of them were willing to pretend.
They fell asleep on top of the sheets, one of Paul’s arms pinned beneath Sybilus in a way that would almost certainly have it numb by morning. And for the second time that night, Sybilus fell asleep with his head tucked beneath Paul’s shoulder, breathing peacefully into his hoodie.
They hadn’t moved much by the time Artemis found them the next morning, having stopped in to change her clothes. She’d spent the night asleep on Madison’s couch, the two of them having nodded off halfway through a bootleg musical that Madison had on DVD.
The boys’ glasses had been left on Paul’s bedside table, perched on top of his sticker-adorned laptop. Sybilus had left his jacket hanging off of the desk chair, and his shoes were neatly arranged at the foot of Paul’s bed.
It was all horribly, adorably, domestic— and Artemis knew it was her duty as the older sister to snap a picture, whether to add to her blackmail folder or to send to Paul as one of the inevitable additions to his phone’s slideshow lock screen.
She didn’t bother being too quiet as she dropped her dirty clothes into the bin in the corner and grabbed some fresh ones from the closet. Madison’s shirt hung loosely off of Artemis’s shoulder; the emblem of an old Connor Creek junior softball team printed on the front— but Artemis was fairly certain that neither of them would be aware enough immediately after waking to notice. She rustled with her stuff in the bathroom louder than was necessary, half hoping to wake at least one of them just for the sheer pleasure of teasing them about it.
But neither of them stirred, both of them seeming to be perfectly content from where they were cuddled, so Artemis was free to quickly scribble a note with a spare pen to leave on the nightstand and grab her phone charger. She hurried out, sticking her arms through her back-up coat and grabbing her to-go breakfast from Desmond. The cool morning air was a welcome greeting as she stepped out of the Dead Canary, even if her morning was starting more than an hour earlier than usual. She climbed into Madison’s waiting truck with a smile and was greeted with a kiss despite the stop having been ten minutes at most.
Yeah, Artemis liked Connor Creek.
Quite a bit.