They both knew it was coming before it happened. She'd known it was coming for years, and John wasn't sure he could live up to a lifetime of anticipation, but he leaned in and kissed her anyway. He wasn't kidding about that abandonment complex. His friends had left him alone for months on end, the people of the cloister kept leaving him alone to face the invisible beast alone, and he was cut off from Atlantis. That was the worst. Being away from her for short bursts while he was on missions was one thing, but he missed her. Whenever he closed his eyes to meditate, he reached for her, and she was gone.

But when he kissed Teer, she was there, present, in his arms. She reached for the hem of his shirt, and he let her, and that was when the panic kicked in.

The last time he'd been with a woman was Chaya, and it had gone so wrong so fast --

No. The imprints were silent. And Teer was clairvoyant, not psychic. She'd never have to know about them.

Just how much had she seen in her visions, anyway? Her hands were unerring as she divested him first of his boots, then his trousers. She urged him up onto the bed, and then she began to undress herself, and –

Panic slammed through John. He hadn't done this - since Nancy. Years ago.

Revulsion bubbled in his throat, and he scrambled away from Teer. She must have misread him, because she crawled up the bed after him.

John closed his eyes and tried to breathe. The last time he'd done this for himself, voluntarily, not just because he'd been brainwashed into marrying a woman paid to babysit him, was back in college. At a party. He'd been drunk. The girl had been drunk.

Teer slithered up his body and straddled his thighs, pulled him in for a kiss, and then she stopped.

"John? Are you all right?"

Dammit. That kiss had gone so well. Kisses always went well. It was what came after that was always a disaster. Was he doomed to a lifetime of only regret, and never reciprocation? John shook his head. "Teer, I'm sorry. I - I can't do this."

She blinked at him. "You don't know how?" She started to draw back. "Surely a man of your age --" And then she glanced downward. "Or you mean you are actually unable --"

John was too panicky to attempt to defend his virility.

She sighed and sat back, drew her robe closed. "I always assumed I never saw much past the kiss so that the act itself would be an experience without expectation. I never thought --"

John dragged his knees up to his chest, scrubbed a hand over his face. "Never thought I'd say this, but it's not you, it's me."

Teer stroked his hair gently. "Perhaps you needed to be here as much as we need you here. Come, sit with me. I will teach you how to release your burdens."

John remembered Atlantis's offer to delete the other imprints and wondered if he should have taken her up on it (but he couldn't, because he was an imprint too, and --)

"I'm no good at meditating," he said.

Teer tugged on his hand. "Sit up. Try."

John sat up obediently. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

The serenity and understanding in Teer's smile made him want to screen. "Do not apologize. We owed each other nothing. Now close your eyes, and breathe."

John considered, for a fleeting moment, letting one of the imprints take over. Most of them had been programmed as skillful, responsive lovers. He could do that for her.

But he was pretty sure he'd hate himself when it was done.

So he closed his eyes and breathed (and wished he hadn't been so panicky, years later, when he was trying to teach Rodney to meditate).

Happy

“Are we in love?” He had waited until the table was cleared save for the two of them; keeping his voice low to be safe.

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if we’re in love. It seems to me the signs are there.” She just stares at him, trying to get into his head. Was this a joke? His expression said no, no it wasn’t. She sighs.

“Look Carey, I know we are close but no we not in love.”

“Are you sure? We trust each other, confide in each other, enjoy each other’s company, support each other, and….’ Carey leans across the table making a point to look right into her eyes. I’ve seen the way you have looked at me.” She finds it suddenly hurt to swallow. She has to force herself to look away. Carey smirks.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” She mumbles.

“Tell me the truth. Let go for once. Be happy Molly.”

“Be happy? Be happy?! Have you seen my fucking life?! I can’t have happy. But you think with you it’ll happen?!” With her outburst they were no longer alone. Her son and his mom staring at them desperately trying to read the scene and failing. Molly stands from her chair and walks out.

“Molly wait!” Carey calls out as he rushes after her.

Edited at 2016-01-28 12:26 am (UTC)

Bob has had more owners then Harry has had years on this earth and very few of them have made much of an impression on the spirit. oh there have been one or two who had some truly creative ideas that Bob longed to implement just to see the resulting chaos but for the most part they blurred together into a mass of boring human greed and ambition.

Harry has been different from the first moment he had been introduced to Bob. It may simply have been that Bob had never had a master so young or it could be that Harry actually respected him but Bob suspected that he had developed something of an emotional attachment to the boy simply because the boy was so very different from his previous masters.

Bob watches Harry, now old and sickly, and frets about what he will soon lose. He knows life extending potions, youth returning spells, even how to make charms that grant limited immortality but every time he had tried to bring it up Harry had turned him away with a resolute "No, Bob."

The last time he had been sent to his skull before the first sentence had fully passed his lips. Bob knew his eye sockets had glowed sullenly for the day but he was in no mood to discuss with Harry why he was so desperate not to lose the one wizard who saw him as something more then a verbal library, who indulged him in literary smut and let him play havoc when he desired to truly "stretch his legs", so to speak.

Harry had rarely treated him as a servant but always as a friend and it's only as he watches Harry slowly slide into living decay that Bob has come to realize how much that has meant to him. He cannot help his anxious offers, cannot help wanting just a little longer with the infuriatingly decent human named Harry Dresden.

"When I'm gone, will you still remember me?" Harry had asked him once, when Harry was so very young and Bob had not yet realized how precious Harry is.

"I never forget anything." Bob had answered, smug and condescending.

He wants Harry to ask him again. He wants to tell Harry that it was impossible for him to ever forget Harry.

"Remember me." Harry murmurs in his sleep and Bob knows that this is it.

He watches Harry's breath slow, then stop altogether. Bob pulls himself from his skull and settles against Harry's chest, the closest a sentient ball of light can come to a hug, and does his own equivalent of crying.

He's back in his skull by the time the council comes to collect the effects of the Great Wizard. Silently, in the safety of his own mind, Bob swears that no matter who he goes to next he'll never forget his one friend.

As crushes went, Ryan thought, it could have been worse. Chad might be an annoying jock who thought t-shirts were the height of fashion, but he was also a genuinely good person who was loyal to a fault. He also had a great smile and abs to die for. Plus, this was pure speculation on Ryan's part, but he thought that Chad might have a little bit of a crush on Ryan too. That was a good thing because Ryan knew what he wanted and being an Evan he did not shy away from doing the work to get it either.

He couldn't believe that he was finally here.

Laying next to John in the small bed, their bodies twined together, Rodney thought about the long journey that it had taken to get to John's side. He and John seemed to dance around each other like two planets in strange orbits, each reaching out in their own way, until they finally synced. And once they did - sharing that moment on the pier together, where John's hand had slowly inched to Rodney's - life finally felt right.

Sleep the farthest thing from his mind, Rodney propped his head on his free arm, perched on his pillow, and watched every breath that John took, the light sheen of sweat - evidence of their earlier frantic coupling that left them both breathless and spent - mixing with the dark hair that covered John's chest. The gentle rising of John's bare chest was mesmeric.

John stirs, stretching languidly before turning to Rodney. His eyes flutter open, emerald eyes locking on to Rodney's own, and a gentle hint of a smile starting on John's face. He reaches over, fingers caressing over Rodney's cheek before his hand snakes behind Rodney, landing on the back of his neck and squeezing lightly. "Let's get some sleep, Rodney," John manages sleepily, pulling Rodney to him. And Rodney lets himself be pulled down, head resting in the crook of John's neck.

He couldn't believe that he was finally here. But now that he was, he vowed to never leave.