A/N: Set sometime after the first series, possibly Ian attempting to win Amy back after Korea. (I know, I'm original.) The writing styles in these will be somewhat different from each other, as will the characterization–I'm experimenting. Slight AU, because these seem to imply that there's no more danger.
I do not own The 39 Clues series.
i. words fall through me
"Amy!" Dan yelled. "It's another one!"
Amy sighed and closed her book with a reluctant snap. Maybe one day she would be able to make it through an entire chapter without being interrupted–imagine that.
She took the stairs two at a time and pulled the front door open to find a package, wrapped meticulously in lacy sparkly paper, sitting innocently on the front step.
Resisting the temptation to roll her eyes, she plucked the package from its resting place on the doormat and brought it in, shutting the door not-so-quietly behind her.
"Another one?" Nellie sighed as Amy passed through the kitchen. "What's in it this time?" Though Nellie was growing increasingly tired of the trails of glitter Amy had been tracking through the house, the packages often provided weeks of entertainment and teasing material for both the former au pair and Dan.
"No idea," Amy replied, "and I'm not sure I even want to know."
"Might as well get it over with," Nellie advised, turning back to her cooking. "Though I guess it could always have a freak accident with one of Dan's swords..." she mused.
"Thanks," Amy told her, a smile briefly appearing on her face, "but we're supposed to be promoting peace between branches. It wouldn't exactly look innocent if something bad happened to a package from the future leader of the Lucian branch while it was in the hands of the future leader of the Madrigal branch, would–"
"Sure, that's what you don't want," Nellie grinned.
"Nellie!" Amy began to approach the color of the tomatoes Nellie was stirring into the meal. "It's not like that at all."
Nellie looked unconvinced, but let the subject drop for the moment. "Just open it, okay?" She would come back to it later, Amy knew.
Amy set the package on the table and swore that about half the glitter fell off right then and there. She figured Natalie had decorated all the packages–lace and glitter, shiny paper, and ribbons and frills just didn't seem like Ian at all.
To be completely honest, the gift was lovely–gold and jade teardrop earrings–and had they been from someone else, she probably would have accepted them in a heartbeat. With Ian, she only felt a growing sense of irritation from the gifts that seemed to be attempts to buy her back.
"What now, Nellie?" she asked, plopping herself down into a kitchen chair and resting her head in her hands.
Ian Kabra was feeling extremely confident. Cocky, some might call it, but no, that would be him believing he was the best, which he wasn't.
(To be fair, though, he was one of the best. Kabras always were.)
Amy had probably received his gift by now, he realized. He was sure she would like the earrings; after all, they matched the necklace she always wore. The streets of Attleboro blurred quickly past the window of his limousine. No, nothing could go wrong.
After leaving the gift on the kitchen table, she had retreated to her room to be alone with her book. It had taken her awhile to get back into the plot and the characters, but even Ian Kabra couldn't stand between Amy Cahill and a good story.
And then the doorbell rang. Amy flopped back onto her bed, holding back a groan of frustration. "Can someone else get the door?" she yelled. "Anyone?"
Silence.
Amy heaved herself off the bed and regretfully away from her book. All was quiet for a few seconds. Peaceful, even. It wouldn't last long. She thumped down the stairs two at a time again–a warning call for anyone who dared to get in her way after her reading session had been interrupted–and undid the locks on the door, jerking it open with a brusque, "What do you want?"
Ian Kabra simply blinked. "I'd like to talk," he told her. "Might I come in?"
She had seated him on the back porch swing with a tall glass of lemonade, not saying much, but glancing back at him from time to time as she cleared several stacks of books and assorted weapons. He didn't try to make conversation. He didn't need to, Ian realized.
"So," she lowered herself onto the swing and stared off into the distance, "what was it you wanted to talk about?"
There was no rush here, Ian had decided. He remained silent a little while longer, looking to the horizon where Amy's gaze was directed.
"You," he finally blurted out. It was extremely unlike him to be so direct, to show his hand so early, he knew. Yet somehow it didn't matter all that much, not right now.
Her face was red now, she was absolutely sure of it. Forget coral or crimson or fire-truck red, she was probably past maroon by now. Amy couldn't remember the last time she'd blushed this hard. Or was it upon receiving the latest gift? She couldn't remember–all she knew was that her face was burning and Ian Kabra was smirking at her.
She wasn't surprised at either of these facts.
"And," she finally choked out, "why me?"
"Because," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Did you like the gifts?"
"Do you want me to be honest?" she sighed, "Or should I tell you what you want to hear?"
"So you didn't like them."
Amy covered her burning face with her hands, peering out at him every so often. "No," she murmured.
He took the news silently. "But I want you back," he told her quietly, amber eyes unblinking and unnerving. "And you don't want these gifts. And–"
"Ian." she turned her entire body to face him and a pleasant sort of warmth spread through her limbs. It felt amazing to deal with this problem head-on rather than avoiding it, like she might have before the clue hunt. "I don't want to be bought back. It's not–" she hesitated, then felt a great deal of bravery wash over her and forged ahead. "It's not that I don't like you," she felt her face grow warm after forcing the words out of her mouth, and he glanced slowly up at her, "but I just think … well, maybe you could try something simple, something free."
"Something free?" The look of doubt on Ian's face was priceless. "Like what, exactly?"
"Like–" She could tell Ian was growing more impatient and irritated by the second, but she had dug herself into this hole and she was going to get herself out of it. "Like–"
And then neither of them were speaking, but their mouths brushed together in a way that Amy, despite her extensive knowledge of everything, could only describe as beautiful. She quivered as he circled her slowly in his arms, and after several moments, finally regained enough awareness to rest her hand against his almost-smooth cheek.
"Well," she murmured when they awkwardly broke apart, "I was sort of thinking of an apology."
"But wasn't that better?"
There was a strained silence. Amy grew fidgety under Ian's gaze, and for lack of something better to talk about, she smiled slightly. "You still owe me an apology, you know."
A/N: These oneshots will be semi-AUs, set after the first series. I can't imagine there'd be enough peace in the Cahill lives for this moment, but it's fun to imagine anyway. I started these about two years ago, and have constantly been editing them. I figured I'd better post them sometime.
Thank you for reading :)
-TimeTravel6
