For Storybookgirl for keeping this group going :)
Prelude
She loves dusk. From the garden seat she can see the lights flicker in the house and a hazy grey coat the shadows as the sun goes down. The calm of the night slows down the merry go round that sums up her life. The jolting of her heart in her chest and racing of her mind that she tries to hide beneath a calm exterior. He has noticed, looking at her quizzically and she knows that he wants to talk to her, but she's trying to perfect the art of slipping from his grasp. She can't keep running away, it's been three years for god's sake. Surely she's learned something in that time?
Stacie pulls her coat around her. Nervously she smiles at Mickey who joins her on the bench. She knows her friend will see through her just as he always had.
"Penny for them," he hands her a glass of wine.
"A pound." Stacie corrects with a smile, "never a penny with you."
"You know me too well," Mickey laughs and then wonders, "Missing America? You've been quiet since you've been back."
"No not in the least, I'm glad I'm home." She smiles at the doubt in his face, "it was time to come home. I needed more than America."
"If you want to go back, I understand."
She shakes her head, "I missed too much."
"Weetabix and Marmite? Isn't that what everyone misses?" Mickey teases her gently and then sees the sadness in her eyes, "Stacie?"
"I'm fine Mickey, honest."
"You were crying in your room last night." Mickey sighs, "Ash heard you. I heard you and we're worried about you."
"It was more about who I missed," She looks up and sees Ash hovering in the doorway, "I thought coming home would make me feel better but I feel worse, like I've missed out on his life even we did keep talking."
Mickey looks bemused and then Stacie sees his face soften as he works it out, "Ash?"
Stacie blushes and then looks sadly at Mickey, "Nothing will come of it, it's why I stayed in America, tried to get rid of the crush but every time he called me or wrote, I fell in love all over again. I thought I might as well nurse a broken heart here and be his friend."
"Oh Stacie," Mickey throws his arm around her shoulder and hugs her, worried that her usual confidence has left her. "You could have anyone."
"But not always for the right reasons," Stacie replies, "and not the man I want, so what's the point?"
Mickey thinks over his response, "Stacie, everyday we take risks, huge gambles. I don't think Ask even knows, he's a bloke and you know we're rubbish."
She sighs, "It's too big a risk to take. At least this way we're friends."
"And if he met someone?" Mickey says gently, "None of us want to do this forever. I don't."
"Really?" Stacie looks at him in surprise.
"I'd need extra protection from Emma on visits if I got banged up again. Anyway, don't be evasive, this is about you and Ash," he nudges her. "Does it help if I say I think you're perfect for each other?"
"A bit. Can you tell Ash too?" Stacie sighs when Mickey shakes his head with a soft smile, "What if he's scared off?"
"Ash? If you think he's a coward then I'll have to take back what I said, you don't know him at all. Ash isn't scared of anything or anyone, that's not always a good thing," Mickey drops a kiss onto her hair, "He needs you."
Inside Ash looks across the room at Emma. She's standing by the window looking mournful, a rare sight and then he too clocks the pair on the bench. He feels he must offer some explanation, "Old friends."
He wonders if he says this for his own benefit or hers as feels his half formed dreams fade away. He always knew he hadn't a chance against Mickey, he's tired and rough against his friend's smooth appearance. But he'd always had a hope, he never lost touch with Stacie in their three years apart and he was comforted that they picked up where they left off every time. But he's surprised that Mickey gave up on Emma. She's the only woman he has met who can hold their own against Mickey's often pig headed ego, the very thing he knows killed the over-before-it-stared fling between him and Stacie. Emma is a rare find.
Emma wakes from her sad reflection, "So I hear," then sighing she kisses his cheek, "Night Ash."
The wisdom of the young
"Don't do anything I wouldn't!" On this parting wisdom, Danny leaves the bar.
Ash sinks into his seat next to Stacie, "That leaves a lot of possibilities..."
"...excluding lap dancing clubs and chatting up married waitresses," Stacie finishes with a wink. Their victory over a ruthless property developer has given her some of her confidence back, "Oh come on, let's make a night of it, we've worked hard enough."
Ash studies the wine list, "You, me and good wine, nothing better." Her heart turns in her chest at his words, if only he knew. She watches him check his mobile, "Unless you want to go to Eddie's? Albert's running a poker game."
Stacie shakes her head, "No, wine and pizza to go. The sooner I get out of these clothes, the better."
Ash raises an enquiring eyebrow and she blushes, wishing she was so sure that she could flirt back, "It's been a long con and I really long for my pjamas!"
He grins, "I know, can't blame me for wondering..."
"You are allowed to." Stacie eyes him carefully, "I wish you..".
Her words are lost as the waitress appears and Ash orders a bottle of wine he hopes is a good vintage. "Excuse me, I think I might know you," the redhead hesitates. "You know my brother I think, Jimmy McCulloch. I'm Rosie."
Stacie sees Ash mentally calculate the risks of revealing himself and, post con decides it's fine. She doesn't predict him jumping to his feet and kissing the woman,"Rosie? It's been years."
"Six, seven?" Rosie smiles, her arms around Ash, "Have you seen Jim lately?"
"Yeah, in the Star about a month go, still pissed off with me," Ash shakes his head in confused amusement.
Stacie looks at him and then pointedly Rosie's arms which are wrapped around him with no success, "Why?"
Rosie is pretty, soft curls of red hair and a tattoo of a bird on her wrist. Her ring finger bears the ghost of a wedding ring. "You met through Jim then?"
"He still bears a grudge against you because you never went out with me. I had a huge crush on you," Rosie blushes as Stacie feels her heart sink to her shoes. "You and Mickey. You're both legends, Jim dreams of being like you, probably why he's a moody arse,"
Ash smiles, "I'm flattered. Praise gets you everywhere with me."
"How far is that?" Rosie winks.
Stacie wonders if stripping off would attract any attention. Irritated and unwilling to admit jealously she stands up, "I'm going home."
"Oh I am sorry, I should have thought..." Rosie bites her lip, "Sorry...?"
Ash looks at the fellow grifter, sees the tiredness in her eyes. He can't abandon Stacie. He finds his decision made when Stacie's fingers entwine with his, much to his surprise, "I'll walk you home."
"Well you know where to find me," Rosie smiles hopefully and glances down at their hands. Her face clouds over and she drifts back to the bar.
Stacie's hand stays in his as they walk down the street and he calls Mickey. His mind is only half on the call as he wonders why his 'good friend' has adopted this intimate gesture. They've held hands in cons, posed for those photographs, kissed and argued in character. This is them, with no disguises and he can't make sense of it.
She talks about the con, weather, Danny and Sean's latest tricks - anything but the connection between them, yet she still holds his hand.
He said, she said
She finally releases him as they enter the door of the portico house. It's silent and forebodingly dark. He flicks on lights in the hall and in the sitting room. The others must be at Eddie's. She feels jumpy and nervous, alone with him in this twilight world. There's a crackle in the air that Rosie has stirred and she's stoked by holding his hand, staking a claim that she can't rightfully make.
She curls up on the sofa and takes the offered glass of wine.
"So Rosie, that's a surprise," Stacie picks a thread on the arm, "she's pretty."
"Unlike her brother. He's hardly in a position to judge," Ash stretches out, "He's been married for years, had a mistress for longer."
"How would you not know if your husband had a mistress?" Stacie muses, "I'd know if any of you had another woman, and I'm not married to any of you."
"So if I invite you to my wedding at the last minute you wouldn't be surprised?" Ash teases, or at least that what he thought it was, but she seems to look horrified, "I'm taking the piss. You'd be the best woman."
"The best woman at a wedding is always the bride," Stacie retorts.
"That would suit you better," Ash grins, "Do you want to share a mexican?"
Stacie laughs nervously but resumes her investigation of the thread, and instead goes for the question that has bothered her for almost 1065 days, "Was there a special woman then, whilst I was away?"
"No, nobody important."
"But someone?" She feels a pang of hurt, that another woman has touched him.
"You?" He answers both questions, his answer would only have been her name if she had pushed him.
"Not unless you count Danny's attempts and failures."
"You and Danny..?"
"God no! It would be like incest and honestly, I stood no chance against a pneumatic blonde." She studies the menu and then, as innocently as she can muster, "are you going to see Rosie again?"
"What do you think?" Ash looks up, blue eyes peeling away her mask. It irritates her and she's so tired it's pointless attempting a poker face.
"No, you deserve better." She complains petulantly.
Ash runs his hands through his hair, "If you hadn't noticed, I don't have a queue of women lined up, least of all anyone who knows what I - what we - do."
Stacie is on her feet, eyes full of hurt, "I was a bloody gooseberry back there. I'm surprised you even remembered me."
"Like you remembered me when you went to America? And yeah, maybe you were a gooseberry, takes one to know one, I always was with you and Mickey," The words slip out before he can stop them.
"It's because of you that I left," He watches her leave the room, a whirlwind of dark hair and fury. Then he hears the slam of the front door and the rattle of the windows.
He's too shocked to move and wishes later than he had acted quicker, and been more aware of her distress. She's not answered her mobile. He has discretely checked Eddie's and several haunts but there's no sign of her. Cold and fed up, Ash hopes she might have returned. He climbs the stairs to her attic bedroom and peeks around the door. He doesn't know whether to laugh or swear when he finds her curled up on top of her bed, asleep and smelling faintly of wine.
Ash checks for any superficial damage and, finding nothing, he makes a gentle attempt to move her under the covers. She's indignant even in sleep so he settles for covering her in a thick blanket and removing her shoes. Closing the door quietly, he slips into his own room, showers and climbs into cool sheets, too worried to eat. He has replayed their argument in his mind several times, and all his instincts tell him that she's jealous but he can't begin to think why. Falling asleep, he curses the idiosyncrasies of being a bloke.
Fixing the fixer
Stacie wakes up with a crick in her neck and an orchestra of drums in her head. Bugger.
Carefully she moves, winces and works out where she is. Then remembers last night. Oh Ash. She feels worse. Horrendous for being such an obtuse bitch. She can remember sitting in a bar, drinking wine and then a few chasers for no reason than to forget that Ash has found someone else. In the cold light of day, it's not wedding rings but at midnight it felt like she'd lost him before she found him. And he's right, she did piss off across the Atlantic without a word and yet he's wrapped in her blankets. It's always him who makes sure she gets home alright. Tears brim in her eyes and she stands up carefully before apathy takes over. Despite the looming hangover she has to fix this.
Quietly she tiptoes down through the house and makes a large coffee, eats some toast, downs a painkiller. Upstairs, the bathroom mirror confirms that she looks a fright. She wipes away the panda eyes, furiously cleans her teeth and steps under the shower. It helps a little, the pounding ceasing as the painkiller kicks in and the biscuits stem any nausea. Pulling on a light jumper and jogging trousers, she slips back to her bedroom and wonders if a walk might help.
She peers out of the curtains and the light reveals a familiar figure on the sofa. She jumps nevertheless. His arms are open; "Come here."
Her heart is in her mouth as she tries her very best not to run. They've hugged a million times but this hug is a forgiveness she doesn't deserve. He is warm, safe and smells delicious, yet her heart pitter patters in her chest.
His first words, delivered into her hair, catch her off guard, "Don't bloody disappear again." She's not sure if his words refer to last night or America, "ever."
Apparently both. Then; "Why was it my fault you went to America? You said it was because of me. Last night when you walked out."
"Did I?" Stacie groans, 'I was talking rubbish.'
"Stace, I've been thinking about what you said when you went missing and most of the night, I'm not stupid." He waits, listening to her breathing and then finally she sighs and lifts her head. He is surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears.
"I didn't want to cross a line."
"But you came back for Mick," She can hear the confusion in his voice, "I saw you both in the garden. Emma did too."
"Talking, we were talking Ash, that's all, about..," Stacie hesitates, "why I came back. You don't think that I came back for Mickey? Does Emma think the same thing?" Ash nods and she looks horrified.
"So were you ever going to talk to me?" His face is full of hurt.
"I was and then last night and then..." Stacie hangs her head in shame at the memory of her petty tantrum. She looks fearfully at him, "Ash, I'm scared I'll lose you."
To her surprise he smiles easily at her confession, "If I don't know I can't make it better can I?"
He has been so patient and, as the daylight breaks through the curtains, Stacie knows that today could change not just them, but the group of grifters innocently sleeping downstairs. Summoning up all her courage she takes a deep breath, "I left because I had feelings for you. It was easier to go than break the rules about not getting involved. We've both said that before, we've both been in relationships with grifters. It was alright at first, Danny kept me and Billy busy. Then you called..."
Ash takes her hands, reassuring her with a gentle stroke of his thumbs on her palms,"I fell for you all over again. I missed you. I knew I was wrong to think you'd be like Jake or Mickey, and I'm wrong to think you might love me too after June, but I thought if I came back I could talk to you properly. When I find the courage to say something, you're being chatted up by a pretty girl."
She waits, the silence in the room suffocating her but she dares to look at him, worried he's laughing or horrified. His face bears neither expression. Thoughtful and curious with a gentle smile on his lips, he finally speaks, "All those years?"
She nods sadly, "You've looked out for me but I didn't know if that was you being the fixer or just because you cared for me. I'm meant to be able to read people but I couldn't read you."
"If you'd asked..."
"...would have you said yes?" She sees his eyes twinkle and can't help but smile herself, "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"
He rewards her with a grin, "Yep."
She takes a deep breath and tries to look serious when all she really wants to do is dance about the room just because he's still sitting here, "Ash, do you fancy going on a date with me?"
"There's something else I fancy doing first," and silences her squeal of protest with a kiss.
The one with the bag
Stacie sinks into the bath and revels in the peace of a silent house. She could easily fall asleep but she has plans to execute.
It has been over a month since her confession and she's barely had a chance to talk to Ash. He's been the inside man in a dodgy IT firm responsible for scamming thousands and it's been his job to take down their networks and destroy their databases. If he's not been at work, he's been mining their grifting network for the best technical brains. He has disappeared each day, blinking owlishly from behind glasses, wiping her lipstick from his cheek with a cheeky grin.
She's played the part of Danny's wife and had to socialise at dull dinners with arrogant bores. The only positive outcome is that Emma has thawed her icy attitude in her role as Mickey's insider associate. Stacie wonders if Ash might have spoken to her, if he has then she is grateful. Yet, for the first time, she understands why Mickey might want to give up grifting. It's too hard to play a character when you want to go home and be a real person with a real relationship. Once upon a time she could play anyone's wife but she needs Ash. Stolen kisses at the start of the day are not enough however passionate they might be.
The pace of the con hasn't let up. Only once did her guard drop when she had to pose as Danny's wife in fake wedding photos taken by Ash. She objected to her husband never being Ash. Or Sean, she added quickly but felt like she'd been too vocal nevertheless as Albert looks up sharply and Mickey looks curiously at her. Ash quickly cracks a joke about maybe one day and life carries on. She's aware that's twice he has obtusely proposed to her and it makes her smile.
She dries and dresses carefully, puts on a little make up, picks up her overnight bag, taking her house key from the table. Shutting the door behind her, she takes a moment to collect her thoughts before climbing to the cab.
Eddie's is quiet. It's Sunday night after all. Ash is at the bar with Mickey, both trying to educate Eddie who is forever confused. Stacie knows that her next actions will have implications to their dynamics as she puts the bag beside the bar. All eyes seem to drift to it and the thrum of conversation ceases from the table where Albert, Danny, Sean and Emma are sitting.
"Going somewhere?" Ash is the first to ask, quietly apprehensive, his eyes meeting hers, trying to read her.
Mickey shoots a look between the pair, his face serious. Even Eddie picks up on the change of mood and quietly steps away.
Stacie nods, "Brighton. I thought a week of candy floss would bring me back to England properly. I've got a cab outside waiting for us..."
Danny looks hopeful, "I love Brighton myself?" Sean nods in agreement.
"I think you may find you're not invited," Albert says quietly, smiling at the two younger men as Stacie steps into Ash's arms and kisses him.
"About time!" Danny cackles, "go and get a bloody room. Sean, you owe me a tenner."
"Ah, but you owe me twenty Mr Blue," Albert reminds them both, "I said Ash was the reason she came back."
"It's not funny when he's not listening," Sean sulks as the fixer ignores them, choosing to keep Stacie close as he picks up her bag and tells his friendly reprobates to behave as Emma and Mickey hug them both.
Mickey winks, "I hope you do nothing of the sort."
Making a bet
Ash sits in the hotel bar as directed by Stacie, in his best blue suit, nervous. He knows her so well and perhaps all their lives have led to this date but he's still more jittery than he knows is wise. He is still nervous about her getting cold feet or being stolen away. His thoughts prove unfounded as she appears in the doorway. Later he'll remember that she wore a red dress but in that moment her smile was enough. Sliding onto the bar stool next to him, she orders a glass of wine.
"So Danny let you divorce him," He kisses her cheek as she smiles, "Good because I love you more than him."
"Love you more than that," She looks at him coyly, a blush on her face as she realises it's the first time he's told her he loves her.
"Let's not talk about the con. All I'm going to say is that I found out enough to put me off men forever." Stacie looks dead pan at him and then laughs, "your face!"
"Oi!" He grins at her ruse, "Go easy, I'm nervous over here."
"Me too." She smiles softly, "You're the bravest man I know."
"I don't want to muck this up," he admits, "Still can't really believe it, you sitting here with me."
"I wish we weren't sitting here," She trails her finger up his leg.
He raises an eyebrow in curious, flirtatious amusement and she gently kicks his foot, "Don't, you'll make me think all sorts of wicked things."
"Such as?" Ash leans forward conspiratorially, "Bet my thoughts are filthier than yours."
Stacie leans closer, "Bet you the room service bill that mine are dirtier." Then she whispers in his ear, "We've waited long enough."
She's complicit when he leads her out of the bar and into the lift. Lust and nerves have taken up residence in her stomach and she's too nervous to eat. They stand hand in hand behind an elderly couple who smile as those who are happily married for many years might. They are talking the imminent arrival of their grandson. She feels Ash squeeze her hand and smile at her affectionately and she knows he's wondering what their future will bring too.
In the corridor, she kisses him and he needs no coaxing, his tongue slipping into her mouth, pushing her back against the wall. To his delight, she arches up against him, testing his control.
"C'mon, quick." She grabs his hand, hers shaking as she tries several times to open the room with the keycard. Falling inside, Ash stops for a moment and regards her, "Last chance to say no."
She responds by walking up to him, taking off his tie. He watches her fingers move quickly. Then gently turns her around, pulling down the zip on her dress, watching it drop to the floor.
"That's not fair," She feebly protests, enjoying the effect she has on him, his awestruck smile and reaches forward to flick open his shirt buttons, desperate to feel his skin on hers. Then he picks her up with a wicked grin, kicks off his shoes and places her on the bed.
Stacie recalls the same sounds of clothes being removed years ago in the limo, when she knew she had no right to touch him, a moment that may have set off this chain of events. His respect and reassurance in those moments compelling her to take another look. She can't recall anyone she has waited for this long. He is deserving of his nickname, a beautiful man who is worth the days and years. She moulds her body to his and, in his expert hands, comes apart passionately.
She slips from his arms in the morning light. He is asleep and she's hungry, for him and food. Finding the room service menu, she orders breakfast for them both - he won the bet - and is told it's a half hour wait. She remembers then that the bet is only won when the bill is presented. Speculatively she eyes the bed and the man within. There's a lot she can do in half an hour. Sliding under the duvet, she wriggles down his body and wakes him up just as she intends to at every opportunity.
Ash thinks he might be dreaming. He's almost certain that he's made love to Stacie and that she might be under the covers making her own entertainment with an infamous part of his anatomy. He doesn't actually want to wake up but as a jolt of pleasure darts through his body, his mind tells him it's all true. His body certainly feels like he's been performing intimate acrobatics. Carefully opening his eyes, he squints down and groans. He has decided he might be religious after all, he's got his goddess after all.