Nessian - Prompt: " why did someone just tell me they ship us"
Comic Con was not Nesta's natural habitat. Swarms of sweaty, overexcited people bustling about everywhere, always enthusing and exclaiming and squeeing. As someone who considered it a sign of weakness to express anything other than cold disdain, she could not even begin to comprehend this species. The 'fandom' as Lucien, their PR manager, had called it.
She supposed she ought to be grateful that she was part of such a cult phenomenon. 'A Game of Courts' had been a gamble, her very first project as an actress and it involved full frontal nudity, endless travelling, and a five-year minimum contract. Rhysand, the visionary behind the show, was a remarkably persuasive man though. A foolish dreamer if ever Nesta had met one, but in his case, chasing his dreams had paid off. And now people wouldn't stop telling her how much they loved her.
"You're such a bitch," A girl dressed up as Nesta's character screamed during the meet and greet. "I love it!"
"Oh my Queen, High Lady of the Illyrians, Warrior from the Cauldron!" A man wearing a sculpted chest piece to give him fake abs had trouble breathing as he shook her hand. "You're welcome to destroy my self-worth any day."
She did her very best to smile politely and thank everyone for their support. Most of the rambled gushing people spilled over her was sort of coherent. References to the shows she would nod at respectfully, and every salivating comment about her tits could be filed away for ego-stroking purposes whenever she saw online derision about the fact that of all the Archeron sisters, she had the smallest bosom.
One thing came up time and time again, however, that sounded like complete nonsense to her. Though it pained her to show her ignorance, at the end of the meet at greet, she turned to Cassian.
The male beside her was loving the attention, as she knew he would. Women swooned before his bare chest, some even daring to ask to touch it. However, all apologized and shied away when they spotted Nesta's icy glare. She would not tolerate them inflating that arsehole's ego any further, thank you very much.
"Would you like a little sit down, Cassian?" Nesta asked with a sugary sweet simper and a smile. "It must be awfully tiring, holding up the weight of that enormous head."
"It is damn hard work," Cas said, stretching out like a cat fresh from sunning himself. "Good thing I've got such incredible upper body strength to support it."
Rolling her eyes, Nesta lowered her voice. "Though I consider you a meatheaded jock and a moron," always open with an insult, that was her policy when dealing with egomaniacs, "you probably spend enough time googling yourself to know the answer. Why did someone just tell me they 'ship' us?"
Cassian blinked back at her. "I don't recall boats ever being relevant. Not with winnowing existing. And given how we both have wings, I just don't see why everyone keeps referring to ships." She shut up the second she realized he'd broken into a deliciously smug smile. She pushed up onto her tip toes and placed a delicate hand upon his shoulder. "I swear to god Cassian, if something patronizing comes out of those over-defined lips of yours, I will end you."
"My dearest Nesta," Cassian said, his voice soft and low and far, far too dangerous. "Allow me to show you what that question means. You see all those fans queuing over there, watching us?" He nodded to the hoards of awaiting fanboys and girls. "See how they're quiet now? Well, listen to what happens when I do this."
With one hand he caressed the curve of her cheek, and with another he drew her closer by the small of her back. She would later adamantly deny the way her heart raced and her cheeks flushed as she gazed back at him, though fifteen different camera phones caught the incident and would later upload it to be immortalized upon youtube. Denial could do little to erase how she leaned closer when he bowed his head to kiss her.
The hall around them devolved to chaos. Shrieks of 'Oh-My-Gawd!' And stranger still, 'The ship has sailed!' erupted from the gathered crowd, and iphones flashed in a display as impressive as Starfall itself.
"All hail the High Lady of The Illyrians!" Someone bellowed above the mayhem.
"Commander Cas has got the mooooves!" Another whooped, punching the air.
"That, my dear," Cas whispered, breaking from the kiss to look back at her, his touch upon her cheek remarkably gentle, "is what it means when the fans say they ship us."