The day had come.

It had happened one morning, and Valkyrie hadn't even been expecting it. She had been taking a shower, and reached over to place the shampoo on the shelf.

It was a nice shelf. It was Skulduggery's shelf. She had been showering at his house, after a case. He had called up the stairs that he was going out, and she had yelled back that she had heard. The shelf was made of glass.

Valkyrie had placed the shampoo on the glass shelf, and it had promptly shattered.

She yelped, trying to dodge the falling bottles, and stepped on a piece of glass. She cursed this time and nearly fell, catching hold of the shower curtain rod.

That had promptly detached from the wall, and Valkyrie was left with a piece of glass in her foot and holding the rod, water splashing absolutely everywhere.

For a moment, Valkyrie fumed, shutting the water off with a vengeance.

Valkyrie had then panicked. How was she even going to explain this? Oh, God, Skulduggery would never let her live it down. Every time it made sense—hell, even when it didn't, she could see him, what'd he say.

"Oh, like the shelf?" And then a smug tilting of the head, in the sort of—

No. Today was the day Valkyrie was going to hang a shelf.

She got dressed, pulling her soapy hair into a bun and praying she wouldn't happen to see China on this visit. She got on her bike and sped.

She had no idea where she would buy a glass shelf. She pulled into a department store and marched in, employees scattering. She wandered around a bit, admiring the massive amounts of lights and fans hanging from the ceiling.

A short girl approached, smiling hesitantly. "Can I help you?"

Valkyrie debated. "Uh, I'm looking for a glass shelf. Like," she held her hands apart. "This big? I broke mine. I broke my friend's, actually."

The girl nodded, moving through the aisles. They stopped, standing in front of a wonderful collection of electrical sockets.

"These aren't shelves."

The girl whirled, panicking. "I, um, I, um, I'm new."

"It's fine!" Valkyrie said, checking the time on her phone. "It's fine, really. Do you have any idea where the shelves might be?"

The girl looked half ready to start crying. "I, um…"

"It's not that I'm in a rush, but my friend doesn't know I broke his shelf. And he's going to be very smug about it."

"Smug?"

"He's just going to be an ass about the whole thing."

The girl looked terrified, then moved off once again. Valkyrie followed, praying this time the girl would find something. Lo and behold, they stopped in front of shelves.

"These all are wooden."

The girl looked pained, eyes flicking from the shelves to Valkyrie. "Um."

"You know, it's fine. Just…" Valkyrie grabbed a shelf, and some of the little pegs. "He probably won't notice."

They spent another ten minutes at the cash register, the girl panicking when the items wouldn't ring through. The manager appeared out of the back, looking a little stoned, and explained the processes slowly. Valkyrie was half ready to scream, but she kept the smile on her face.

"I'm really sorry…" The girl muttered as Valkyrie hurried back into the parking lot.

And Valkyrie sped home. She sped to Skulduggery's house, that is. It was a very uncomfortable ride—the shelf hadn't fit quite right in the compartment under her seat.

She arrived back at Skulduggery's house, no sign of the Bentley.

Alright. That had gone better than expected.

Valkyrie was then faced with the shower again. There was glass. There was water. She still had soap in her hair, and she could feel it drip down the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades. She placed the shelf on the toilet and went searching for a dustpan.

Skulduggery had always said he had unerring grace. Valkyrie had thought this meant that he didn't drop things very often. It apparently meant that the living skeleton didn't own a dustpan.

However, Skulduggery did own manila folders. He owned a lot, so Valkyrie borrowed two and swept up the glass.

Valkyrie fixed her attention to the curtain rod. That was simple enough to maneuver back into place. And then all that was left was the shelf. She hesitated, then placed the piece of wood back onto the little pegs that had held the glass shelf.

She removed her hands, and the shelf wobbled there for a few seconds, then fell into Valkyrie's waiting hands.

"Didn't think so," she mumbled, putting the shelf back onto the toilet.

When Skulduggery returned home, he found Valkyrie laying in an armchair, sprawled in an armchair, more like. He looked at her.

"What did you do?"

Valkyrie's stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"You did something."

"Wow, nice to see you, too."

He put his hands on his hips and looked around.

Valkyrie watched him. "Do you ever think that maybe you're a little too paranoid? Like, maybe all those years of being a detective has sent you looking for clues that aren't there? I think that's what's happening right now."

He looked at her, slowly. "What did you do?"

"What did you do?"

Skulduggery moved off into the house. Valkyrie stayed in the chair, eyes gazing at nothing. He had known. Of course he had known. There was never a chance he wouldn't know. It was only a matter of when.

"Valkyrie?" he called from down the hall.

"Skulduggery?"

"Why is my shelf crooked?"

"It was always crooked."

"Why is it wooden?"

"It was always wooden."

Skulduggery wandered back. "I'm almost positive I would remember if my shelf was wooden."

Valkyrie craned her neck. "You don't even use the bathroom. How would you know?"

"Did…Did you break my shelf?"

"No."

"Did you break my shelf and then replace it with a wooden one?"

"Nope."

"That would all be forgivable, of course, had you not hung it crooked."

Valkyrie sighed. "I hate you."


These are getting more ridiculous and your praise is only getting better and I'm like-?

I love you guys.