Definitely AU, set after Lantern and Garden, read those first. Or not.

Have no fear, I have updates for my other stories inbound, but I'm determined to finish out these dumb microfics if it takes me the rest of my life.

"So," Murphy whispered between labored breaths. "Thoughts?"

The room was starting to feel chilly, except for where her arm was pressed against mine, feverishly warm from her bare shoulder to the fingertips that idly traced the veins on the inside of my wrist. From the corner of my eye, I saw her look at me. When I turned toward her, she quickly looked back at the ceiling, smiling fiercely, her face flushed pink. "Comments?" She tugged the corner of the floral-print sheet up higher, like I hadn't just seen her wearing nothing but candlelight and a smirk. "Suggestions?"

I felt like I should say something, but my thoughts were still a tingly, pleasure-tangled jumble. I was pretty sure the only sound I could make was oxygen-deprived caveman noises. I just grinned as I laced my fingers through hers and brought her knuckles to my lips.

"Speechless. Okay. I'll take that as a compliment." Her voice was still rough-edged, and what little makeup she had been wearing was smeared, her hair was kind of a mess. Like right after a fight. I nodded in agreement.

Our evening of petty Halloween vandalism had turned into a chase, which had led to a clumsy, unintentional feel copped by yours truly. Which had turned into...

Well. I guess she had been just as curious as I was to find out how much of what happened between us at the fair had been due to that Red Court love spell.

Hurriedly discarded clothing trailed from the porch to the bedroom, marked progress punctuated by an overturned potted plant, a picture frame knocked from the wall in the hallway. We had barely made it into the house. Anyone who peeked over the fence would have seen us, all but going at it like hormone-addled teenagers in the dead grass in the backyard.

Even as a hormone-addled teenager, I had known that the only thing better than being with an amazing, gorgeous girl was being with the amazing, gorgeous girl who was also my closest friend. Turns out it's even better when you both actually know what you're doing. Or maybe it had been too long since it had been anything more than physical, since I had felt that sort of closeness to anyone. Or maybe that's just how it was for us.

Or maybe — probably — I was overthinking it. And the timing was shit, but it was incredibly hard to feel guilty and conflicted about it when she kept smiling at me like that.

"Kar—"

"Later," she interrupted, softly but firmly. She turned towards me, pulling my hand to her lips to kiss my fingers — a slower, gentler continuation of the way we had spent the past hour, a stark contrast to the bloom of bruises along her collarbone, the sting of sweat between my shoulder blades where her nails had bit.

More than an hour? The candle on the bedside table had melted down to a wick floating in a puddle of wax in a shallow dish, the only source of light in the room. I didn't remember lighting it, but I must have at some point.

And it might have been romantic, if not for the car alarms wailing next door, accompanied by some howling dogs. The streetlight outside her bedroom window was out, which made it easy to see the random sparks raining from the utility pole in the alley. Murphy was laughing almost silently over the intermittent buzz of electronic death throes, coming from the direction of the bedside table.

So maybe I had been a little… excited.

So sue me. "I, uh — sorry about your phone."

"That—" At the edge of my vision I saw her catch her lower lip between her teeth, a hint of hesitation. "That's not my phone."

"Oh." I blinked a few times in revelation. I pushed myself up on my elbows and turned toward her, interested. "... Oh?"

We stared at each other. Her eyes narrowed.

The wrought-iron headboard rattled against the wall as I lunged for the drawer. She scrambled upright between me and it, kneeling on the bed, clutching the flowery sheet to her body with one hand. For all the good it did her; I had already committed to memory every scar and freckle and softly-illuminated curve—

"Harry," she half-warned, half-pleaded, blushing furiously, trying not to laugh as she pushed her hair back from her face. A little bashful, which was kind of funny, coming from someone so… um. Enthusiastic. Thank god I'd taken up running when I had, otherwise I might not have lived through it.

"I just wanna say hello—" I reeled in the sheet, hand over hand from the other end of the bed, pulling her closer. "To your little friend—"

"Don't worry," she hissed through gritted teeth and pulled back with unsurprising strength. Most of those curves were muscle. "It's not a threat to you—"

As she said it, the buzzing abruptly stopped. We both glanced at the drawer, and then at each other.

"Definitely not now," she amended, grinning ferociously. I gave the sheet a yank and she toppled into my arms, catching my wrist in a joint lock as she did. Murph was far better at hand-to-hand than me, although apparently not so much while naked and giggling. We struggled. We rolled off the bed, dragging the blankets with us, and landed in a tangled, winded heap.

"Sorry about your, uh—"

"I'll let you make it up to me, birthday boy," she smiled, completely unfazed by being pinned beneath someone twice her size, watching with intrigue as I reached for the bedside table.

I put out the candle. "Deal."

next: Tarot