Like Islands in the Sea

by fluggerbutter

Amidst uphill battles, personal conflict, and an inkling that they might have to find themselves sooner or later, two of Ferryport Landing's most polar opposites form an unlikely friendship. And, throwing societal norms to the window, this friendship persists — through monster hunts, car breakdowns, and even the underlying dissent over the morality of the Creamsicle.

3. Java

In spite of a copious number of dinners and birthdays and holiday parties, they are not left unaccompanied again until November of the next year, where their meeting results in a brief but telling conversation.

It's Saturday. They're at the coffee shop, which is heated and crowded and loud; she says she's meeting a friend. He raises an eyebrow at her hair, which is piled atop her head in a bun that clearly took no small pains to construct.

"So it's a date," she says. "What's it to you?"

"Little bit young to be dating, aren't we?"

"And aren't you a bit too old to be single?" she quips.

He scowls. She smiles.

In truth, he worries about her. He doesn't much know why he worries about her so much as he knows he just does. She's so wholly trusting. And there are no shortage of people who would take advantage of the fact.

He has to stop and remind himself that it is because of her faith and willingness to see the best in people that she is friends with him at all.

"Fair enough."

She orders an innocent hot chocolate and waits with him for his cappuccino. "How's Snow?"

He winces. "You always ask about her."

"She's always relevant."

"She's never relevant."

"You don't mean that."

"Can't we just talk about someone else? Something else? Anything. The weather. A movie. The stray cat that's been running around."

"And you said I was being irrelevant. Why would you need to talk to me about any of that?"

"I don't need to. I want to."

The confession is unexpected for both of them. She gives him a funny look. "You want to talk to me?"

He reaches a gloved hand for his drink. "I like you."

"You're kidding."

"You're not an idiot, and you don't hate me. It's a rare combination."

"What? After the war—people love you."

"People respect me. It's different. People love you."

She sips her hot chocolate. "Well, you're not wrong."

The door to the building opens, letting in a blast of cold air that makes them both shiver. The boy who walks in is short for his age, curly-haired and doe-eyed in a way that makes him look younger than he is. Daphne's smile upon seeing him is warm enough to dissolve the winter wind that lingers.

"Time for me to go," Charming announces. He brushes against the boy as he walks out, piercing him with a glare that makes the poor kid whimper.