Stuart finds that things start as quickly as a blink of an eye. A blink was all it took to make friends with the transfer student that didn't care about the blue of his hair from when he was young and insecure, a blink sees his parents age and his nana pass away, a blink is a car crashing through a café window hurtling into his face and two-fold when the perpetrator is serving time to care for him, a blink is him in law school studying hard, a blink is him wearing his badge polished bright as he enters the court house for the first time. A blink is walking into his boss' office in the winter morning, when the air was cold and the starts were dull.

A blink is when he sees her.

A blink is her in the mornings, greeting him with a smile as they clock in, when she's scurrying around the office in a flurry of quick steps when Paula works her, when she's talking quick and decisive, laugh crisp, cracking like a whip through the phone when someone tough crosses her. A blink is her bashful grin, triumphantly coy, a shimmering sheen in her eyes when she sips her drink and finds hot chocolate instead of everyone else's coffee from when he treats the office a week before holiday break. A blink is them crossing paths in the office, meeting eyes and polite smiles, gentle touches when papers pass between the tips of their fingers, little notes under peppermint tea, the flush of skin when she huffs in the cold air and the brightness of her aura when the season blends and she's blooming under the sun.

A blink is him looking for her when she enters the copy room, when he hears her laugh playfully from a coworker's joke, when he looks forward in the mornings despite the petty shit Murdoc is surely to put him through as he had done as a basis of principal.

A blink is him, burning deep in his chest so consumed in the night that it leaves him weak in the knees when he thinks of her to torture him once more.

A blink starts many things.

A blink in motion in Spring when the pollen count is high and his bad eyes are itchy and dry and she's suddenly there in his office hovering over him.

A blink is him finding her all around.

A blink starts him.

A blink of which creates them.

Stuart is very thankful that he is able to blink.


Springs melts away the winter grasp and like a tulip, she stands out in his vision like a shock of color in his system, bright like the glittering reflection water shines from under the morning sunrise.


She brushed the hair from his brow once more as he sighs from the brilliant sun spotting him in the eye through the window by the mischievous rays.

"All finished, Mr. Pot," she smiles, her petal pink lips curving up, her charming white hinting out.

He finds his breath quickening, his mouth numb as if filled with cotton balls, a whisper so quiet he isn't sure if she could hear him.

But then she brightens, more blinding than the sun, rouge painting her cheeks and the corner of her eyes again like crescents bending over her loveable cheekbones, hair cradling the line of her jaw, slipping around the slope of her neck. She shines him with her beam and his heart is pounding out of his chest so dangerously hard that he wonders if she could see it there thumping against his ribcage, flustered and flummoxed. He wonders for a split second if his heart would jump out and gift itself to her. Like a doll, how charming her hand is in his skin, like satin caressing, and a gentle coo blowing for only his ears to hear.

"Stuart."

In a blink, he knows.


He's waving an aide away for the night when a yawn escapes him and with a slightly dejected sigh, he peers down at his empty mug in his hand. The work day had ended quickly, sending those off without further ado. That applied to him as well, or so he had wished, grumbling at the hefty stack of papers in his clutch. Thanks to his frequent client, he was often not without work. Murdoc was, to say the least, a disaster that only being described as a burning dumpster fire filled with cow manure would possibly do him a slight justice. He had somehow found a way to smuggle a goat from the nearby zoo, riding on top of the pitiful thing around the city in a shoddy attempt to play polo, only to have swung the mallet against the bald head of an officer in a mistaken attempt to 'keep the ball rolling' or so he told him.


He spies a shadow in the dimly lit breakroom as he enters, the loud sound of the building's tea kettle going off in a steaming shriek, he pastes a friendly smile on his face as he steps into the small kitchenette.

"Got enough for-"

"Oh!"

Noodle's girlish voice exclaimed her shock in a high pitch making him wince in his own surprise, taking a sudden breath, he watched her widened eyes blink around the room, her lips pursing close, refusing to look at him as her cheekbones turned rosy.

"I apologize," she says after the pause, her hands fiddling with her cup, her manicured nails plinking placidly against the red painted ceramic.

He is quick to stop her, it was his fault anyway, "Don't be! You didn't do anything wrong and I scared you. I should be sorry, it really late and all the lights are off and it's really quiet and your back was turned and I could've made you burn yourself and-"

His voice tapers off, realizing he had been rambling, lowering his arm in shame as he also notes that he had been waving it around with his own cup still in held tight in his hand like a deranged lunatic. The silence comes up again and he wants to toss himself inside the bin like the rubbish he was for the awkwardness he had created. He locks his eyes at his shoes, tracing the brown leather as if it were interesting, a thought forming quick when he sees the rim of his cup, lifting it back up, showing her the navy blue.

"A drink! Let me make you a drink, with the kettle."

"Oh that's not-"

Her pretty mouth parts as he steps closer, he sets his papers down before moving to the kettle and pouring the hot water in his cup before looking back at her, he splays his hand out, gesturing to her, his eyes flickering at the candy-like gloss of her lips for a split second, "I insist."


Noodle hums in a quick thought before letting him take the mug, she watches him from behind, eyes tracing his form, discovering that his shoulders were surprisingly broad as his long arms move to open the cabinet, turning slight to open their fridge and pulling out something she couldn't see. She hears the drawer roll open, liquid being poured at the same time and soon the pings of the breakroom's metal spoons against a cup; paper tearing rips between and a plop sounds when he swivels around suddenly, the same shy smile she has come to link him to, present once more.

"It's probably still hot but it's done," he lifts his drink, the steam coming off, then turns the pick back up his files, the papers rustling under his arm.

"That's about it for me; I have to get back to work. Goodnight Noodle."


He scrambles to his office as quickly as he could, trying not to yelp when some of his tea spills over the rim and scalds his fingers.


He sleeps that night alone, head resting in his arms, grasping at empty straws when he tries to chase the afternoon's tender dream once more.