ginger's closet

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Kastle Appreciation Week, Day 1: The Moment You Started Shipping Them

Daredevil (2x06): “My son, Frank Junior, he used to grab a handful of cookies and take ‘em and hide ‘em in that bench. You know, he’d play soldier. Oh, yeah? Then he’d fall asleep down there. He’d be sleeping on a pile of cookie crumbs. When I was a little girl, I did the same thing. Except ginger snaps and broom closet. Oh, yeah? Pretend it was a spaceship. Take me far away. Did you? I guess we need that, right? We need to get away sometimes.

just the beginning

Wherein Waverly shares a favorite spot with her favorite friend, Nicole.

A beautiful sunrise, a cup of coffee, a good conversation… what else do you need?

Also on AO3. Approximately 4,840 words.

Other WayHaught “just friends” fics:
just blowing off steam  |  just coffee  |  just another tuesday


It was less the doorbell that woke Nicole Haught and more the launching of her terrified cat off her thigh. Alarmed mewling accompanied sharp pinpricks of hind claws as the ginger cat disappeared down the hall (presumably to the hall closet: Calamity Jane’s favorite hiding place).

Nicole started to swear after the damn cat, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort it as she sat up in bed. Exhaling in a slow hiss, Nicole ran her fingertips over the clusters of scratches on her thigh. (If only this was the first time this had happened… or if only it was to be the last.)

Perfect. Just perfect.

The doorbell chimed again. Reaching for her phone, Nicole noted the time: 5:36AM. The darkness outside her bedroom curtains confirmed the early hour.

What the hell?

Nicole padded down the hall in socks, flannel pajama bottoms and a light long-sleeve shirt, shivering slightly against the settled chill of the rest of her house (her bedroom had the luxury of a small heater). She vaguely thought about grabbing her gun, but dismissed that idea (considering burglars don’t usually ring first).

Approaching the front door, Nicole stepped into a pair of tan, hard-soled house slippers. She clicked on the porch light before throwing open the door, revealing…

Waverly Earp?

“Good morning!” Waverly chirped, jostling a pair of travel coffee cups enticingly.

The old porch lamp threw harsh yellows across a Waverly Earp dressed in warm-up pants, a dark crop top and her usual heavy leopard-print coat. Her hair was tied in a side ponytail, a light dusting of make-up accented her eyes and lips, and a range of gold bracelets jangled down both wrists.

Of course it would be Waverly. And as “Waverly” as ever, even this early.

Stepping onto her door mat, Nicole rubbed her arms against the cold (and resisted the temptation to smooth down her hair). “Uh, morning? I thought—“ Nicole paused and looked at her phone again. “—I thought we were meeting before my shift at 9.”

A sunshine-sweet reply. “We are!”

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