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This section contains moderately mature content.

Webb prided themself on their witty repartee. Their cunning linguistic ability. Their capacity for shittalking in virtually any situation. It was quite embarrassing to find that the only thing they were capable of mumbling was: “Please don’t stop.”

They felt Ariadne’s lips move—a grin, maybe. But she seemed too eager to say anything in response, leaning in and pressing her mouth against the curve of Webb’s neck, letting out a little sigh as her teeth grazed Webb’s skin, stinging faintly, before sinking in.

It was every bit as good as Webb remembered it being. Better. Embarrassingly good. The sharp, sudden prick of Ariadne’s fangs, exhilarating in its own right, was followed by a swell and bloom of heat that rushed through Webb from head to toe, drawing an involuntary gasp out of them. Ariadne’s mouth was hot, her tongue dragging against Webb skin as she swallowed, and Webb bit down hard on their own lower lip to stifle a groan.

This part was heady, dizzying, in a masochistic sort of way—feeling pleasure seep in as they palpably experienced the sensation of something being taken from them, their lifeforce starting to ebb away. Their senses were heightened. They felt everything keenly—the scratch of the carpet under their palms, the heat of Ariadne’s body pressed against them—and every sound was loud, from the rustling of Ariadne’s hoodie to the crackling of the fire, the audible parting of Ariadne’s lips as she drew back briefly, her breath coming fast.

Webb clenched their hands briefly, then recklessly draped both arms around Ariadne, tugging her back down, tilting their head further to the side with a breathless noise. “Again,” they demanded in a low voice.

Ariadne let out a startled noise, hoarse and almost delirious. “Bite, again? I don’t, don’t need to—”

She bit again, a little higher up, a sharp nip followed by a deeper puncture. Webb let out a shaky gasp this time, their fingers rucking up the hem of Ariadne’s hoodie, clutching onto to her. She responded by sucking eagerly at their neck, moaning a little as she drank greedily, one of her hands framing Webb’s face, tangling in their hair. She was half on top of them now, braced on her knees and one elbow, nipping and nuzzling her way up until she nipped at the edge of Webb’s pointed ear.

Something absolutely short-circuited in Webb’s head and they made a noise they really hoped Ariadne wasn’t paying attention to.

Unfortunately, with her face pressed so closely against Webb’s, it seemed like she had heard it, which meant that Webb was forced to take drastic measures. When Ariadne tugged back with another breathless gasp, turning to stare at Webb and probably to ask them to explain their whimpers, Webb did the only sensible thing to stop her from speaking, sliding their hands up her back and tugging her down into a kiss.

It was a light kiss at first—they were both in a bit of a frenzy, but Webb didn’t want to wildly misread the mood and apply tongue where tongue was not wanted. Ariadne seemed startled for no more than a hot second, though, immediately easing into it and parting her lips more than willingly.

The kiss was hot and wet and fast and eager and messy. Webb felt teeth clack, and didn’t stop. Ariadne’s fangs caught briefly on Webb’s tongue piercing, and she retaliated by dragging her tongue against one of the rings in their lip. Her hands were rucking up Webb’s curls, tugging and petting. They felt a little pinch at the tip of their ear and bit at Ariadne’s lower lip, earning a pleased growl in return.

Somewhere around the time they were hauling Ariadne up to straddle their waist, their hands skating up her back and over her bare shoulderblades, Webb heard footsteps on the stairs. They weren’t altogether certain that alone was enough to get them to stop, but Ariadne clearly heard it as well, pausing to sit up slightly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her cheeks were flushed a bright, rosy pink, and she had blood smeared on her mouth all the way down her jaw.

She looked dazed and bright-eyed and a little feral, looking down at Webb with an expression that was surprised and delighted and faintly confused, and that was a little too much for Webb to handle—a thousand watts of someone frankly way too good for them.

Webb turned their head to look towards the entranceway as Faraday appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing his gaudy coat loosely as he towelled off his hair. He froze in place, eyebrows going way, way up.

“Oh,” he said politely. “By all means, don’t mind me, I was just. Passing through. Carry on.”

At the same time, Lore rematerialized halfway into one of the armchairs, their hands over their face. “I’m sorry Webb, I should have noticed him coming and stopped him, I was just, I got, um, distracted—”

Webb let their head fall heavily back against the floor, throwing an arm over their eyes and groaning. “I hate everyone in this room. I’m going to bed. Wait, give me all the Devil Cremes, and then I’m going to bed, with the cakes…”

“I’m sorry, Webb!” said beautiful, traitorous Ariadne, who was laughing so much that she could barely disentangle herself from where the two of them had gotten frenetically handsy on the rug. “Oh no, oh dear, you’re a mess, I’m a mess…”

“I’ll fetch you two some washcloths, shall I?” Faraday offered mildly, heading into the other room without waiting for a response. Webb groaned, sitting up and shuffling back to give themself space. They couldn’t quite see how much damage was done, but they felt a significant degree of stickiness from their mouth down to their collarbone. At least they made a frankly zealous effort to wear black.

Ariadne was eying them keenly, licking her teeth clean. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help you clean that up a little…?”

“No, no, I think it’s well and thoroughly crossed the weirdness event horizon…!” Webb protested. They tried to acknowledge Faraday as little as possible when he returned with the warm washcloths, though they did take theirs to start wiping down their mouth and neck. The wounds were already almost completely closed, though they’d likely bear the little pinprick marks for a couple days.

Faraday sank into an armchair opposite, idly patting Ariadne’s hair as she cleaned herself up as well. He looked infuriatingly amused. “You didn’t really need to put that many holes in them,” he told Ariadne fondly in a not-that-quiet aside.

“I’m sorry!” Ariadne wailed softly into her washcloth. “They tasted like, like macarons…”

“Macarons?!” Webb echoed, affronted.

“Like moist tres leches cake…”

“No. Which is it? It can’t be both, those are nothing alike!” Webb demanded.

“… besides,” Ariadne told Faraday, ignoring Webb pointedly, though the color was still high in her cheeks, “Webb likes that sort of thing. Webb, you have a tongue piercing?”

Webb obligingly stuck their tongue all the way out, rolling their eyes. “Sure,” they drawled. “It’s because piercings are stainless steel, which is mostly iron. One day, I’ll cross paths with the fae that wronged me, and I’ll suck his dick off as punishment.”

Ariadne looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified, and settled for doing both. Faraday raised one of his unnecessarily perfect eyebrows.

“I think it has to be cold iron, Webb.”

Webb shrugged. “Maybe regular steel is effective in close range. I’m willing to vengefully suck dick to find out.”

Lore chose that moment to ooze out of the ceiling like an enormous, precipitous droplet of condensation, dumping about a dozen pre-wrapped snack cakes into Webb’s lap.

“You should eat,” they advised Webb seriously. “After a blood donation.”

Webb gathered up as many of the cakes as they could, which meant shedding them in a haphazard candy trail back to the bedroom as they stalked away. Pausing to fling them all onto the bed, they realized that nobody had followed, let out a sigh, and dragged themself back to the door, draping themself dramatically against the doorframe.

“Please,” they sighed. “I’m exhausted. Are you all coming, or what? It’s colder in here, and I demand to be the functionally platonic and utilitarian sandwich filling.”

The slightly worried expression on Ariadne’s face cleared up immediately, and she gave them a wide, toothy smile, rising to her feet and seizing Faraday’s hand. “Yes, yes,” she said. “We’re coming. It’s the least I can do, right?”

“It is,” Webb agreed, “the least you can do.”

They turned to find Lore watching with a little smile on their face, head tilted to the side. Before Webb could react, Lore leaned in and lightly brushed up against Webb, an ephemeral embrace.

“Get some rest,” they murmured. “I’ll keep an eye out for any danger, and keep the fire lit. I’ll wake you all in a few hours.”

Webb swallowed, their throat suddenly dry, and ducked their head. “Thanks,” they said roughly. “I owe you a lot.”

“It’s my pleasure to help,” Lore said softly. “It’s nice to feel… meaning.”

Meaning. That stuck in Webb’s head as they stripped down to their tank top and boxers, crawling under the heavy blankets that smelled nothing like home. They pulled them over their head and shivered, hearing Ariadne and Faraday moving around in the room as they dimmed the lights and moved to join them.

The thought of sharing a bed with them was foreign and terrifying, but, they were loath to admit, the idea of being alone tonight was even worse.

The blankets shifted, the room dark enough now that Webb—even with their enhanced vision—could only see in shades of gray. They felt Ariadne climb in first, wriggly and hot to the touch, now, after feeding; Faraday followed a bit more cautiously, giving Webb their space.

Webb immediately shoved their cold feet against him.

“Ah, fuck—” Faraday protested. “Webb.”

There was a crinkle from the other side. “What is—is that a cake wrapper?” Ariadne complained.

“Shhh,” Webb murmured. “I’m trying to sleep.”

And despite everything—the strangeness, and the despair, and the discomfort of an unfamiliar bed curled up between two people that were already too familiar—Webb found that sleep claimed them quickly, swift and deep and relentless.

***

They dreamt, as always, of the hunt.

***

Morning, if it could even be called that, came far too quickly. They awoke feeling warm and secure and blissfully comfortable—only to find that they’d curled up in the crook of Faraday’s arm in their sleep, their head resting on his shoulder, face pressed into his hair. They jerked upright so quickly they almost smacked into Ariadne, who had been shaking their shoulder to wake them, and who let out a squeak.

“Oh! Sorry…” she whispered apologetically, her bright eyes almost glowing red in the dim light. “Lore says it’s time to get going if we want to make it to the Drawing Dead before it closes closer to dawn…”

“I also ordered pizza,” said the shadows at the foot of the bed, which made Webb jump before recognizing Lore’s soft, sibilant voice in the darkness. “Not, um, the healthiest breakfast, but the options are limited in terms of who’s willing to risk delivering out here at 3AM…”

Webb groaned, rubbing sleep from their eyes, and flopped heavily back onto the bed. They definitely had to get going… They had let themself relax enough that much of the night’s events and the looming threads had vanished from their mind for a bit, but now they had work to do.

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Webb took a seat in front of the fire next to Ariadne, stretching their legs out and resting their weight back on their hands. “Thanks,” they said. “It doesn’t surprise me that Faraday takes forever in the shower. I’ve seen that hair.”

Ariadne laughed. “I like to be supportive, especially because I do enjoy looking at him.”

“Fair enough,” Webb said agreeably. They let out a sigh after a moment, watching the fire rather than Ariadne, feeling the light heat on their face. “He’s… he’s an alright guy.”

“You two… seemed like you got off the wrong foot, a little,” Ariadne said hesitantly. “Though, I suppose—it’s been a bit of a stressful night for all of us.”

Webb’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “You noticed me barking at him all night, you mean. It’s alright. I… he just stirred up some memories of someone I didn’t want to think about, and I have, understandably I think, not been at my best tonight. It’s nothing personal.”

Ariadne exhaled. “Ah… that can be tough, I know. I’m… I mean, that doesn’t sound fun, but I’m glad it wasn’t anything more personal. He can be stubborn, and vain, and kind of cocky at times, but he really is the kindest, most wonderful person…”

Webb rolled their eyes, making a face and nudging her in the side. “You don’t need to sing his praises,” they complained. “I’m too single and stressed out to handle it. You two are fine. You’re remarkably good, beautiful people. The type that stories are written about. Adventurous romances with heaving bosoms and great hair. He’s a romance cover Fabio.”

Ariadne let out an indignant, hysterical giggle. “No!” she gasped, horrified.

Webb glanced over at her, grinning widely at the expression on her face. “Feel the power of his passion! Experience unforgettable ecstasy in his arms! With one look, he ignites the fire in your—!”

Ariadne grabbed a couch cushion and smacked them with it, still laughing. Webb joined in, sprawling backwards, letting her continue to weakly smush it onto their face. “Nooo,” Ariadne groaned. Then: “Wait, were those real taglines? How did you know those?”

Webb grabbed the pillow and swung it back, using it to prop up their head instead. “Such violence,” they sighed. “And then unfounded accusations…”

Ariadne rolled her eyes. She had a nice expression on her face, Webb thought—more relaxed, now, that little worry line vanished from between her brows. Without thinking, they reached up to lightly tug at her hair, earning a surprised blink in response.

“Webb?” she asked uncertainly, looking down at them.

Webb hadn’t thought that far in advance. They stared back at her, then dropped their hand again, turning over onto their side. “You’d seemed a bit… troubled, before I came to sit down. What’s… I mean, obviously there’s a lot on your mind, and I imagine I know the worst of it, but if there’s anything I can help with…”

Ariadne’s expression softened. “Oh. That’s… very nice of you.”

“I need you focused and in proper form so we don’t all die horribly at the hands of vampires or sword-wielding phantoms,” Webb muttered. “My niceness has nothing to do with it.”

“Uh huh.” Ariadne grabbed another pillow and flopped down beside Webb. “That’s true. I’m so sorry I accused you of altruistic intentions.”

“Well. Just don’t do it again.”

Ariadne laughed. It was a pleasant sound, light and airy, like it surprised her every time she felt that happiness bubble up. She sobered again after a moment. “I’m… fine. I feel like maybe to you it’s come across like I’m a woman with a plan, here to drag you into my noble and self-sacrificing quest, but I’m honestly just… a big scared idiot that tumbled into this by accident.”

“You could have just stayed out of it,” Webb pointed out. “Let me get apprehended by the Inquisitors, left me to my fate. Let the vampire clans sort out their own shit. You’ve clearly had a good thing going with Fabio for a while. Why risk it?”

Ariadne twitched a bit at the nickname, but managed to stay focused, which Webb found honestly impressive in its own way. “I could have,” she agreed quietly. “But I’ve still got quite a few years ahead of me, and that’s a very long time to have to live with being a coward.”

Webb whistled softly, draping one arm over their eyes. “Some of us manage,” they said lightly. “But yeah, I’m aware that’s a common sentiment.”

Ariadne was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” she said eventually. “Anyway, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a hero or anything, but… I’m going to do my best to keep you safe. And to do something about Grimm before more people get hurt.”

“I don’t need…” Webb started, then just trailed off uselessly. Who were they kidding? Of course they needed protection. They always had. “… I mean. I appreciate it. Try not to do anything stupid. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

They jumped a little when they felt Ariadne tangle her icy cold fingers with Webb’s, giving their hand a squeeze. They moved their other arm so they could peek at her with one baleful eye. She was leaning close, her eyes bright, one fang lightly indenting her full lower lip.

“I am so good at doing stupid things,” she said earnestly. “But I’m willing to do my best. For you.”

“Fuck,” Webb gasped. “Those are so cold. You were holding tea, under a blanket, in front of a fire, are you fucking Elsa? Please actually do let it go.“

Ariadne let out a flustered noise, tugging her hand back. “Sorry! I’m—”

Webb dragged both of their hands down their face, already internally chiding themself for their impending decision, and rolled over to look down at Ariadne. “I said literally thirty seconds ago that I needed you in good shape to protect me from ravenous vampire hordes who have a specific bone to pick with me. You’re hungry, right?”

Ariadne’s eyes widened. “I… am running a little, a little light… I’m sure I can pick up, um, you can get blood from some of the corner stores, in little packages like a Capri Sun, I can just—” she rambled, looking flustered.

“And they probably taste like the equivalent of getting one of those horrible prepackaged cold hamburgers,” Webb said impatiently. “Also, who knows what’s in those? Besides,” they added, looking her over, raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

Ariadne whined, covering her face with both hands and stomping her feet against the rug. “You smelled good before only then you took a bath and now you smell like a cupcake!” she wailed softly.

Webb stared down at her for a long moment, then abruptly burst out laughing, collapsing back down, half on the pillow and half on top of Ariadne. They heard her let out a surprised little oof, before she started to tremble, then helplessly start to laugh as well.

“… okay,” she gasped after a moment. “Okay, okay. If you don’t mind—I won’t take a lot. I don’t want you being too out of it later, either.” She shifted slightly, hand skating lightly up Webb’s arm, touching at their jaw. They felt an impulsive desire to pull away, but forced themself to relax, letting out a heavy breath and trying to make themself more comfortable.

“I can promise you that this is not the first time that I’ve let someone bite me,” Webb said dryly, which was completely true. But this was the first time that it was with someone they actually planned to continue having some sort of meaningful interaction with afterwards, which had to be why they felt a little strange about it, their stomach fluttering, their heart beating a little faster.

Ariadne, of course, would have to have noticed that. She swallowed, licking her lips.  Her expression was more focused now, her ruby red eyes heavy-lidded as she eased Webb back, leaning over them, her pale hair sliding down like a curtain on either side of their faces. For a wild moment, Webb imagined closing the distance and kissing her; had to force their hands to grip the carpet to keep them from sliding down her waist.

She tilted Webb’s chin up with two fingers, leaned down, and pressed her lips lightly against Webb’s neck, letting out a warm gust of breath. Webb felt their heart hammering, their breath catching in their throat. They heard the crackle of the fire and breathed in the scent of Ariadne’s hair, sweet and freshly-washed.

“Are you nervous?” Ariadne whispered. “Should I stop?”

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Webb rose up, rubbing their face with their hands, and let out a sigh. “I’ll take you up on that offer of a bath,” they said tiredly. “And then I think lying down, at least, is probably on the agenda.” They weren’t entirely sure that sleep would actually happen, but they were willing to make an effort.

“I’m good here by the fire for now,” Faraday offered up, tugging Ariadne a little closer to him again. “Though if there’s another shower, we might make use of it…”

“I’m sure you will,” Webb said dryly. Rather than wait for another retort to that, Webb just turned to Lore. “Well, lead the way, gracious host.”

Lore’s cheeks puffed a little, and they huffed out a coil of smoke and shadow. They seemed a little pleased, though. “This way… Faraday, Ariadne, I’ll be back for you soon,” they promised. Faraday just waved a hand amicably as they headed out.

Lore led the way into the bedroom, drifting lightly ahead of Webb. They seemed like they were able to walk and move like anybody else, but also didn’t strictly need to, and made no sound. The loose coils of their dark hair reached to about mid-back, and swayed with startling realism as they walked.

Before they could stop themself, Webb reached out and lightly ran their fingers through the tips. It felt simultaneously like hair should, shifting silkily under their touch, while also yielding a little too much, cool and flowing.

Webb tugged their hand back, flustered, as Lore turned to look at them. “Sorry,” Webb muttered. “As exhaustion increases, impulse control decreases.”

Lore shut the door to the bedroom behind them, giving Webb a smile that was a little shy and more forgiving than Webb probably deserved. “It’s alright,” they murmured. “You’ve had a very long night. And I doubt you’ve ever seen somebody like me before.”

“You’d guess right about that,” Webb agreed, pausing to look around the room. It was, much like the rest of the tower, tastefully but elaborately decorated—every inch the rich eccentric collector’s home, with an edge of the arcane, like a storybook wizard. The rugs were plush and comfortable, the bed piled high with pillows and a deep red duvet. Velvet curtains muffled the sound of raindrops from outdoors. There were even more bookshelves in here, and a set of kaleidoscopic stained glass lamps that cast a soft reddish-gold glow.

The bathing area that Webb had spotted earlier was set off to one side—able to be part of the room, like some fancy hotel rooms Webb had seen, but with a curtain for privacy. The actual facilities other than the bathtub were through a separate door into an ensuite.

“There are towels there,” Lore offered. “I’ll… I’ll leave you to it, you can just, if you need anything you can—” They started to stammer, drifting messily towards the door again.

Webb tugged their cardigan off and hesitated. Their impulse was to just toss it over the back of a chair, but the chairs here were so nice. They settled for awkwardly draping it onto one of the towel racks instead. “Go get Ariadne and Faraday set up with… whatever,” Webb grumbled, finding that their own cheeks were burning for some reason. “Then… I mean, I’ll pull the curtains around, so… I guess, I’d like it if you came back in after? So we can just… talk a bit.” They huffed a laugh. “It’ll be just like old times, with me speaking to empty air.”

Lore seemed to almost vibrate at that, hugging their elbows and ducking their head. “Sure, sure, I’ll, um. I’ll do that. I’ll see you soon, Webb. Help yourself to any of the soaps.”

They vanished back into the other room without bothering to open the door again—they just phased directly through it. Webb stared after that for a moment, decided not to think too hard about it, and started the water running in the tub. The room felt too big and empty and open now that Lore was no longer there with them, so they tugged the privacy curtains firmly closed before pulling off their shirt and binder and pants.

Skirting around to the little set of drawers next to the tub, Webb found—to their surprise and faint amusement—a vast array of little bath bombs, bubble baths, and soaps. They’d have to ask Lore more about that, later. They chose one at random, tossing it in and watching it instantly foam up pink, which was, sure, good enough. They could work with it.

Sinking into the warm water felt like an immediate mistake. They’d been barely holding themself together all night, their emotional composure strained and taut like a favourite t-shirt from high school they’d long since grown out of. Feeling the relaxation and warmth and vulnerability all at once—it was almost too much to handle. They felt their head buzzing with it.

“Fuck,” Webb breathed out, sinking down a little further into the water. This was all so fucking surreal. They didn’t even have a bathtub in their apartment, just one of those cramped glass showers. They were trying not to breathe too hard and rapidly inhale bubbles.

“Um, Webb?” Lore called through the curtains, uncertainly. Webb jumped, accidentally launching their foot across the tub and sloshing water inelegantly over the side.

“Shit!” they stammered. “Hi, yes hello.”

“Hi,” Lore said, their voice sounding concerned. “You… are you alright?”

“I haven’t drowned myself yet, so I’m calling that a win,” Webb squeaked. “Don’t worry about it. How, how’s it going? Your place is nice.” They half-heartedly tried to mop up the spill by tossing the towel at it.

“It’s… fine,” Lore answered, still sounding a little dubious. Webb could see a little bit of smoke coiling around the edges of the curtain. “Ariadne and Faraday are taking turns using the shower on the third floor and charging their phones. We discussed ordering pizza at 3AM, but they opted to leave it to you.” Their tone turned slightly amused at that.

“Delivery pizza sounds like the sort of horrible breakfast you’d want to have after your life falls apart and you get not nearly enough sleep,” Webb said agreeably, splashing a bit of water onto their face. After a moment, they sighed. “Listen, the bubbles are covering all my naughty parts. You want to just come on in here…? I’ve spent years talking to the air not knowing if you’re listening, and I’m sort of over it, you know?”

There was a pause in response to that, and for a moment Webb wondered if they’d overstepped. But then the curtains shifted, not parting so much as unfurling, and Lore’s shadowy-yet-solid shape reformed, perched uncertainly at the end of the tub.

“I’m sorry,” Lore said, after the silence hung for a moment. “I didn’t… I should have shown myself to you years ago. I’d wanted… but I was afraid.”

Webb tilted their head back and waved a hand, sending some tiny bubbles scattering and drifting. “I imagine you had your reasons,” they said. “Besides… sometimes you have to wait for the right moment.” They weren’t altogether sure they’d have been receptive to Lore making any sort of overture up until now. The letters, the occasional meeting… that was about all that Webb had been willing to commit to in terms of a friendship, or any relationship at all.

Tonight had obviously changed things, but what that would look like after all the chaos had faded and things were back to normal… Webb couldn’t even fathom it. All they could do was just take it one moment at a time in the frenetic sort of fog one entered into when each moment might very realistically be their last.

Lore had scooped up some of the bubbles in their palms and were looking at them very fixedly. “Shadowfolk are very secretive types,” they said quietly. “There are things that I just can’t tell you about me, or what I am, but on a personal level, I just always found myself very interested in people, yet… unable to connect with them.”

“I can relate to that a little,” Webb said dryly. “Honestly, sometimes it’s just more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Yes,” Lore said earnestly, “I was… I mean, for the most part, I thought I’d been doing fine. I was able to watch, and learn about people, and build up my home and my collections, and usually that felt like enough. But sometimes…”

Sometimes, Webb thought, you were alone in the middle of the night with a world that seemed very vast and very empty, and the realization of your own infinitesimal lack of consequence was stifling. Loneliness was a word for it, but cosmic insignificance came just as close.

“Sometimes you wondered what it was like to invite a cute creeper such as myself to get naked and indulge in your impressively extensive bubble bath collection?” Webb teased.

Lore’s hair started smoking like a snuffed candle. “Wh—that’s not what I was going to say!” they protested. Their voice was still mellow and soft even when they were visibly and audibly flustered, which Webb found charming. They gave Lore a lopsided grin.

“What, you’re saying that the bath bombs were for you?”

“Yes!” Lore said helplessly. “They’re mine. As is the bed, and even the tea. I don’t enjoy the hassle that’s required to be able to eat, but otherwise I can… I can engage with most physical things on… on some level…”

“I see,” Webb mused. “That’s very interesting.” They let the teasing tone drop, and sat up slightly, looking at Lore more seriously. “I mean it. I… do want to know more about you. What you get up to, what you think about all this, and—”

Don’t do it. Stop. That’s too much. We’re not doing that again.

“—and, I mean,” they trailed off, suddenly hoarse, pulling their knees up to their chest. “This is already… a lot. Thanks for helping us out and not throwing me out into the street in the middle of the night. Are you—do you want to come with us, later? When we head to the Drawing Dead? I’d… if you’re willing, I’d really like to have you around. You’re powerful and all,” they add hastily. “Useful.”

“Ah, mm,” Lore tilted their head to the side, that thoughtful look on their face again, their dark eyes wide. Somehow they seemed a little brighter in their face, though it was all inky shadow. “… I’ll go with you. If the Inquisitors really are after you, and the vampires… it would be… cowardly and irresponsible to stay out of it. Even if I’m not really accustomed to getting involved in such things. Though… if it’s alright with you, I’ll probably just—stay out of sight, unless I’m needed.”

Webb let out a breath, a little line of tension between their shoulders easing. “… I’d appreciate that more than I can say,” they told Lore. “I really… could use all the help I can get.”

Lore smiled. “I think you have more people willing to help you than you realize,” they said gently. “Don’t worry, Webb. We’ll figure things out.”

Webb broke eye contact hastily, clawing some of the bubbles closer to their body. “… it’s starting to get a little thin in terms of coverage here,” they muttered, rather than acknowledging that. “So unless you plan on sticking around to get an eyeful—”

“Should I pretend I wouldn’t like to?” Lore asked demurely.

Webb’s jaw dropped. “I,” they managed, scrambling to find a quick retort but not expecting Lore to try to gain the upper hand. “I, you can. Do what you want?”

Now Lore seemed flustered again, unfolding themself and practically oozing across the floor and back under the curtain. “It’s fine, I’m sorry!” they called back softly. “Please, take the time you need, and make yourself comfortable. I’ll make sure the bed is—ready, for you.”

At a loss for anything else to do, Webb just laughed, tilting their head back and closing their eyes, letting out a long breath. “For me and the weird hot couple in the other room, yeah,” they muttered.

“I do have other rooms that I can prepare downstairs,” Lore said slowly, “though they’re quite chilly at the moment. But I thought you’d perhaps, mm, enjoy the option of…”

“Lore, you little scamp,” Webb said with appreciative amusement. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be fun, as long as the two of them don’t get too handsy.”

“Ohhh, nooo, whatever would you do…”

“Oh, you’re meddlesome, I see. That figures.”

Webb hadn’t slept in a bed with anybody else for about a decade. On some level the idea filled them with an existential level of dread. On the other hand, the idea of being alone right now yawned like a sucking void of terror in the periphery of their subconscious.

They heard Lore laughing softly, and relaxed a little more. Somehow, knowing that Lore would be around—whether or not they were visible—regardless of what happened was reassuring. Webb tried not to examine that though too deeply, either.

Hauling themself out of the tub, Webb drained it and grabbed their towel, hastily drying themself off and running their hands through their slightly damp hair. They shimmied back into their underclothes, loose pants, and tank top, then grabbed a throw blanket from one of the armchairs to wear as a makeshift cape as they padded back into the sitting room.

Ariadne was sitting by herself immediately in front of the fireplace, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She, too, had opted for the blanket cloak school of fashion, and her blond hair was slightly damp, drying with a bit of a wave to it in the heat from the fire. Her expression was pensive, lost in thought, but she looked up quickly when she heard the door, flashing Webb a little smile.

“Hey,” she said warmly, with an unusual edge of something Webb almost thought was shyness. “Faraday’s just taking his turn getting washed up. He takes about three times as long as I do, generally. Do you… want to have a seat?”

[Please suggest or +1 an action in the comments.

As a reminder, it can be thoughts, words, deeds, or curiosities!]

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It’s the end of a loooong week, and we’re halfway through, so I’m taking a break tonight ♥ Thank you so so so much to everyone who’s been commenting and engaging and cheering me on.  I love y’all so much and it means so much to me to get each and every comment. I’m looking forward to the next couple weeks and I hope I can do you proud!

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[ Please read the kickoff post before commenting! ] 

A pair of cool hands cupped Webb’s face; a feeling of pressure, of skin-but-not-skin, firm yet yielding.

Webb’s eyes snapped open.

“You looked like you were thinking very hard,” Lore murmured. They were leaning over Webb, kneeling in midair as though it were nothing, expression somewhere between sympathetic and amused. “And like you were giving yourself a headache.”

“I’ll give myself a headache if I want to,” Webb muttered sullenly, cheeks heating up under Lore’s touch. “… more of a headache. As many headaches as I want.”

“Yes,” Lore agreed patiently, releasing Webb and letting their hands rest in their lap. “But I don’t like to see you hurting yourself.”

Webb slid bonelessly down in their chair until their head was practically on the cushions. “Frankly, how dare anybody in this room be nice to me.”

Ariadne let out a helpless laugh. “Could it be that you inspire it in others?”

“They do,” Faraday agreed.

“I do not,” Webb protested, deeply offended.

“In any case,” Faraday said in the same even tone, as though Webb hadn’t said anything at all, “my vote is that we spend a little bit of time here resting while we have the opportunity. If anything happens, or if we pick up a particularly interesting lead, it’ll be easier to react and stay sharp if we’re well-rested.”

“Mm,” Ariadne agreed. “And even if we head out at three or four o’clock, we’ll still make it to the Drawing Dead before closing time.”

Webb had a sneaking suspicion that the concerns about rest and well-being were for their sake, given that they were in a room with a vampire, a witch, and an otherworldly living shadow, but the more petulant their thoughts became, the more they thought that perhaps the others were onto something.

“We can rest,” they allowed, letting out a deep sigh. “I mean, no promises. But I’ll at least try.”

Lore gave them an approving smile. “Please, then, make yourselves at home. Feel free to get out of some of your wet outer clothes. We can put them in front of the fire, here…”

Ariadne hopped up to help move some things around to make that easier, launching into an immediately animated conversation with Lore about their book collection. Webb closed their eyes again and let the quiet chatter and the heat from the fire wash over them, peaceful, for a moment—

“… I can feel you watching me,” they muttered, without bothering to open their eyes.

Faraday let out a soft laugh. “Ah. Caught,” he said. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Webb?”

Webb was silent for a moment. “Well. Clearly some things do.”

Faraday also paused at that, almost an audible wince. “… I suppose.” He let out a sigh. “I wanted to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

“What’ll you do if I say I mind?” Webb drawled. They shifted in the chair, kicking off their boots so they could curl their feet up underneath them, looking over at Faraday. The witch had his hands lightly resting on the embroidery hoop in his lap, his expression rueful, a bit displeased.

It was the most interesting expression Webb had seen him make. “Never mind that. Fine. Go ahead,” they prompted impatiently.

Faraday sighed. “… I wanted to ask why you seemed, in particular, to dislike me. Was it something I did? Something I said?”

Webb picked up a little decorative coaster from the side table and began to fiddle with it, spinning it around on the glass and watching it fall. “Maybe you just have that kind of face.”

“There’s no need to be childish, Webb,” Faraday said, and he just sounded so disappointed that for a moment, Webb just saw red.

“Childish?” they hissed, with the presence of mind to keep their voice down. “You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t know anything about you. I’m working with you because I have to, not because I like you.”

Faraday’s lips were pressed into a thin line, his dark brows drawn together tightly. He sat up a little straighter. “I’ve been getting the impression that you don’t want to let anybody know anything about you,” he retorted, voice still low but now with an edge of impatience. “And you’re clearly miserable about it—”

“Nobody asked your opinion, Jasper! Just let it drop!”

Faraday’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, very quietly.

Webb shut their mouth and stared back at him, frozen, the coaster in their hand clattering back onto the glass.

If Faraday had said anything further, Webb would have felt justified in lashing out again. But he just drew in a deep breath, and exhaled, looking remarkably sad for something that was clearly none of his business, and looked back down at his embroidery.

Webb just felt tired.

“… you didn’t do anything wrong,” Webb said, closing their eyes and letting their head thunk back against the armchair. “You just reminded me of someone whose ghost I was already having trouble letting go of, and I was prickly about it, and that was shitty of me. It’s not on you.”

“I’m sorry I pried,” Faraday said after a moment. “I should have assumed that you had a good reason and that it wasn’t any of my business.”

“It wasn’t any of your business,” Webb agreed. “But I am of course a very hot riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, and I can’t blame you for wanting to get inside of me.”

Faraday laughed like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. Webb allowed themself a thin sliver of a smile, cracking one eye open to look over at him. He’d relaxed slightly again and was looking over at Webb with a small smile, brows creased in relief.

“I know we don’t know each other very well,” Faraday said. “But I thought perhaps we could eventually… perhaps. And you see, I felt like I was getting off on the wrong foot. I am a very competitive person by nature, and Lore is obviously lovely, and Ariadne is a dream, so I was feeling quite put out about it!”

Webb laughed despite themself, leaning forward and resting their elbows on their knees. “Oh, you’re blaming your bad attitude on my overwhelming charisma, is it?”

“Yes—no! Honestly, good grief, whatever makes you happy, you strange thing.”

Whatever makes you happy. As if Webb knew what that was. But they just stretched out and gave Faraday a lopsided grin. “Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ariadne was padding back over to join them, but stopped just at the edge of the rug when she saw them chatting. Webb could see her teeter in place, as though she were trying to undo the fact that they’d already caught sight of her, and made a face when Webb caught her eye and beckoned her closer.

“Sorry,” she murmured, taking a seat again next to Faraday and crossing her legs. She’d taken off her outer leather gear and was wearing a pair of loose black lounge pants and a thin hoodie. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“It’s alright,” Webb drawled. “Faraday was just being nosy about my personal traumas. But we’re past it.”

Faraday made a face again, and Ariadne looked confused and mildly alarmed. Webb took the opportunity to pull out their notebook and wave it around, shifting in their chair as Lore drifted back over to join them as well.

“In the spirit of sharing secrets,” Webb said, “I do have a line of contact to the Inquisitors. In a manner of speaking. Maybe. I thought I’d write them a little note, but I didn’t want to be furtive about it.”

They filled the others in on how the notebook worked and thumbed it open to the most recent page. Written in spiky, crabbed writing across the top of the page was a single sentence:

No matter where you go in this town, we will find you.

“Oh no,” Lore murmured, leaning closer to peer at it. “And we want to… try to correspond with these people?”

“I’m going to write them a message, and they can take it or leave it,” Webb shrugged. “Technically, I didn’t do anything wrong, and they can’t do anything to me right now. I don’t think we have anything to lose.” They paused. “Alternatively, I can just start writing fuck, fuck, fuck, and getting the pen to just cuss everywhere…”

“Maybe that can be the backup plan,” Ariadne suggested.

Webb flashed her a little grin. “Can one of you lend me a pen? I don’t want to write it in Waffle House crayon, I’d look like a serial killer.”

Faraday handed them a pen. Webb hunched over the notebook, trying to keep the message brief, professional, and to-the-point, and feeling like they were at least moderately successful at some of the above:

I understand that you’re probably a little frustrated. It seems like you’ve got a tough job to do, and I’d be willing to bet that you don’t receive health and benefits.

My name is Webb. Clearly, you know. What you probably don’t know is that I’m innocent. I’m working to try to deal with the asshole that’s responsible for the things you think I’m responsible for. If at the end of the day you care more about actually eliminating the real threat here, and you’d like to call a truce and propose an exchange of information, I’m willing. You know how to reach me.

Webb snapped book shut and slid it back into their jacket. They had no other means to get in contact with Jenny at the moment—they didn’t often collect personal details about their clients when they booked in online, though that would clearly have to be a policy they would need to revisit in the future, if there was a future in that sense—and none of them knew how to get in contact with Veracity yet. Sia, Webb wasn’t sure if they wanted to actually reach out to directly in case she was in league with Grimm, in case that tipped him off, but they could—

Webb felt a finger flick their nose. They jerked, looking down to find Ariadne kneeling next to the chair, reaching up to poke at them with a playful, fanged grin.

“Enough thinking for now,” she said, faux-sternly. “I could see the wrinkles gathering on your face like spiderwebs. Let’s put the book aside and leave our phones alone for a bit, and just try to relax for a few hours. Faraday is right—we’re all going to need to be in good shape later on. Body, mind, and soul.”

Webb glanced over to where Lore was hovering nearby. They gave him a little shrug in response.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me,” they said softly. “I’m obviously going to agree with her.”

“Surrounded by traitors,” Webb muttered. “Fine… we can… we can relax…”

Somehow, the idea of figuring out how to relax seemed almost as daunting as sorting through the options of which vampires to get in contact with and when and how. Clearly some of that showed on their expression, because Lore laughed a little, leaning over the back of the armchair to look down at Webb.

“The bed in the adjacent room is made up for use,” they said softly. “If anybody else wants a different private room, I can set one up on a lower level, though it will take some time to get warm. Anyone is welcome to use the bathing facilities if you’d like, and although I do recommend sleep at least at some point, I also have books and games if you’d like that.” They hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of food, though, if anybody gets hungry… I tend to keep only tea snacks on hand, since I don’t exactly eat. I can order something to be delivered.”

“I won’t be hungry for a while,” Webb said honestly, “probably not until morning, so I’m good.”

“I’m, uh,” Ariadne mumbled a bit. “I don’t need any human food, but thanks.”

Webb abruptly felt very aware of Ariadne’s presence pressed close to them, her arms curled up next to their thigh. They glanced down to see that she’d apparently realized the same, her eyes going wide, a very faint flush crossing her pale cheeks as she leaned back a little, knocking over a pillow in her haste.

“I see…” Lore said thoughtfully. “Well, if you need anything, don’t, um, be shy. Webb…? What would you like to do?”

[Please suggest or +1 an action in the comments.

As a reminder, it can be thoughts, words, deeds, or curiosities!]

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