“Please tell me you didn’t do it,” Nikandros said as soon as Damen picked up the phone. Instinctively, Damen looked around, as though he were going to find Nikandros staring at him in disapproval from across the street. Or behind him. Or perching from one of the buildings like a gargoyle.
“I only did it because of you, you know,” Damen told him.
“You did this because of me,” Nikandros repeated. “I was the one who told you this was going to happen. Kastor has been jealous of you for years. It was only a matter of time before he made a grab for your position. That’s why he-”
“Why he told our father that I was burnt out and needed vacation time? Why he’s helpfully filling in for me during my forced sabbatical?”
“Yes.” It was exactly what Nikandros had said, though not with those specific details. Nikandros, who knew everything, had told Damen that his brother would jump at the opportunity to show their father he was capable of being CEO. Damen just hadn’t listened. But now Kastor was sitting at the Editor-In-Chief’s desk - his desk - and he’d decided to start paying attention.
“Which is why I’m not going to sit down and be useless while the company prepares for its biggest deal in years.”
Jack wants to walk past Faber. Taking the long way back to the #HausSweetHaus.
They’re rounding Faber on the way home from the library. It’s 3 a.m. and the town of Samwell has a muted almost-hush about it. It’s never totally silent, even in the wee hours – these are the perils of being a college town – but right now, at least, a relative quiet has fallen over the grassy expanses and clustered buildings, a sort of intermission between the last drunken partygoer and the first early-rising athlete. It’s gentle somehow. The whole world is padded corners and soft curves.
Gentle, too, is Jack’s presence next to Bitty. As they pass by the wide windows and stone walls of Faber, Jack’s gaze lingers, as though he’s witnessing memories projected onto the surfaces. Bitty sees the light in his eyes, and something wobbles inside his heart that he’s afraid to name. He’s been… emotional, lately, thinking about Jack. Jack, who’s taking strides toward his future every day. Jack, who Bitty feels he’s just getting to know. It’s taken them long enough, but this … this is a real friendship they’re building, with late-night study sessions and sidelong grins. It gladdens Bitty’s heart in a way he’s not sure he understands. And makes him sad, because whatever it is, it’ll be gone within a year.
So I was never actually part of the event, but as a member of the cp fandom who is thoroughly enjoying the works coming out of the secret santa exchange, I would like to dedicate this drabble to the @captiveprince–ss admin! Thanks so much for putting this together!
Warning: mentions of prostitution
“This is really embarrassing. I’m a cop investigating a prostitution ring undercover as a prostitute and you’re a cop undercover as a patron and wow it turns out we’ve been investigating each other this entire time” AU
If you had asked Laurent several months ago, when he had started his investigation, where he would be right now, it wouldn’t take a detective to know that he wouldn’t say here. He wouldn’t have even guessed at the possibility that he would be sitting in a chair outside the task manager’s office, cursing both his own stupidity and the stupidity of whoever was responsible for such a colossal oversight.
He had heard of two detectives being placed in the same territory for a major case, so that there was less chance of both of them switching sides over the course of the investigation. But even that was rare. It was unheard of for two top investigators to be placed, not only on the same case, but unaware of each other, in opposing personas. Laurent pursed his lips in compressed rage and humiliation. How had anyone even possibly thought that this would end in any way other than-
It was Damen, sitting in the chair beside him, who spoke the words first. “So, you’re not a prostitute.”