A/N: Final chapter of this little storyline. Although I could write fifty chapters of them simping for each other in every era and never get bored. It's a sickness.
When Theo woke up the next morning, it took her a few moments to remember the events of the night before. It might've taken longer, were it not for the words on her wrist being the first thing she saw the moment she blinked her eyes open. The memories began to roll in from there. James - staring at her in the hall like she was some sort of new species of human. Then, later, finding out why. The kiss. The coffee. The walk home, during which they exchanged phone numbers - and the next kiss that followed…her uncles and her dad, crowded together in the living room window, not even pretending that they weren't playing the role of peanut gallery. It didn't seem to bother James, at least, who bore it with an only slightly embarrassed smile. Theo's own smile had remained stuck on her face for so long that she'd had trouble falling asleep.
Sliding her hand beneath her pillow, she groped blindly until she found her phone, and then she rolled onto her back, peering up at the screen through narrowed eyes. She had a few Facebook messages from random friends - the children of her dad's brothers-in-arms who were close in age to her - asking if the rumours swirling around were true. Ignoring them, she opened up her texts. At the very top was her conversation with James, although calling it a "conversation" was a bit of a stretch, because all it contained was a single emoji, a smiley face wearing sunglasses, which she sent him so he'd have her number.
Staring at the little box and wondering if it was too soon, too clingy, and too desperate to send a message already, she slowly sat up - deliberating and hesitating. And then three innocuous little dots sprang up, floating up and down just slightly to signify that he was typing on the other end. Theo smiled. At least, until they disappeared a moment later with no message to show for it. Then, another two moments went by, and they reappeared. The process repeated itself a couple of times over, and she knew she wasn't the only one plagued by deliberations this morning. Although there was something painfully endearing about the fact that she managed to make such a man nervous.
Knowing that she wasn't the only one feeling laughably unsure bolstered her courage, and she leaned forward and began to type. The second she did, he stopped entirely.
Theodora
Good morning B)
Apparently the opening line was what was giving him trouble, because his response came in fairly swiftly.
James
It is, isn't it? Unless the sunglasses are supposed to signify a hangover, in which case you have my condolences.
Theodora
No, just that im very cool
Like, too cool
Its a blessing and a curse
Pausing, she considered her next words and then continued.
Last night was nice
Really nice
James
Really, really nice?
Theodora
Dunno if id go that far
James
I'll try harder next time.
She could practically hear that low, rumbling chuckle of his as she read the message, and then her phone pinged with another.
When will next time be?
Theodora
Will you make fun of me if I say lunch?
Today?
James
I can't tease you, because I was going to suggest breakfast.
Today.
Theodora
I only said lunch bc I need time to look pretty
James
I very much doubt that.
Theo paused, reading the message and then rereading it. She knew what she wanted to send in return. She knew what she would have sent, had James not had a way of making her feel nervous and giggly and girlish and all sorts of things she usually wasn't when it came to flirting. Usually she said what she wanted to (within reason, obviously, she wasn't one of these pricks who spouted their every thought in the name of brutal honesty and played dumb when the consequences caught up), and if they didn't like it then they wouldn't like her, and it was best for all involved if it ended there.
But this was different. With James it very much mattered if she came off as trying too hard, or too forward, or…
Jesus Christ, she was being pathetic. And they were a bonded pair now, right? So if she was just herself, and if she just went with her gut, things would be fine. So she opened up her front facing camera, and cracked a smile. She didn't let herself analyse the result too much - knowing she'd just talk herself out of sending it if she did - and once it was done, she slipped from the bed, pulled her slippers on, and made for the kitchen.
Her dad was already in there, standing by the stove and frying up enough bacon and eggs to feed a small country - which meant, if she asked nicely, there might just be enough left for her once he'd served up his own plate. He greeted her with a knowing smirk.
"Don't," she said immediately.
"I didn't say a word!" he protested.
"I know, but I also know it won't stay that way."
His responding grin told her just how accurate that suspicion was.
"What do you think of him?" she asked, changing her tactic.
If they were going to have this conversation, better that she skip them right past the part where he spent a good twenty minutes needling her over it first.
"He's a good man," her dad mused "Didn't work with him a whole lot back in the day - but when we did come across each other, he impressed me. Normally, eight or nine times out of ten, when I invite somebody from that life round here once they're done, it's 'cause I'm worried they'll fall into crime if they don't have someone keepin' an eye on 'em."
Her dad spoke out of experience rather than snobbery or condescension.
"But with James? Never entered my mind. Thought he might struggle finding his feet, right enough, but I never worried he'd end up dipping his toes into gang warfare or anything. That he'd end up a bit lost, maybe, but not in a cell. Your uncle Jason gave 'im a job at his mechanic shop, but that's more about the routine than the wage or the CV. With folk like him the assumption is always they'll hang 'round a few months, get themselves straightened out, decide where it is they're heading next, then go there."
"It was a medical discharge, wasn't it?"
"Mm. Traumatic arthritis. Those ones take it worse because it wasn't their choice to leave, and it wasn't even their own actions that caused it. Not really. Not like it is if you get drunk and do something stupid. Just…bad luck."
"Arthritis?" she echoed doubtfully "He's only thirty."
"Traumatic arthritis," he repeated "It's not caused the same way as the usual kind - it's caused by injury. One obtained in action, in his case."
The corners of Theo's lips downturned and she contemplated his words, but she had the sense that they shouldn't discuss it further. If she was going to hear about it, it should be from James himself. It was personal. He should be the one to decide what she knew of the matter, and when.
Her dad seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time, though, changing the subject as he continued to cook.
"How are you feeling, then?"
"Blind-sided," she admitted "And a wee bit self conscious, I s'pose."
"What?" he snorted "Why's that?"
"He's so…put together. I'm a twenty-five year old who still lives with her da," she said flatly "If I was going to meet my person now, I figured he'd be a- a lad. Not so much an age thing but a having it together thing, y'know? He's anything but."
"Ah, but if all dads were like me, everybody would live at home 'til they were old and grey," he grinned "And it's not like you're at home all day in your pyjamas playing computer games. You've got a job, hobbies. A life. You're not in the basement covered in crisp crumbs. Why shouldn't you live here? You're more than welcome. Though I s'pose that'll change soon."
"I'll no longer be welcome?" she asked drily.
"You know what I mean." he said.
"We've said we're taking things slowly. Carefully. I'm not about to move in with him tomorrow. It'll be a…a gradual transition."
But still a transition all the same. Amidst her giddiness over James in general, she hadn't stopped to think about the far-reaching effects of the change. She knew she wasn't the only one feeling sentimental when her dad began dishing out the breakfast and ended up spooning twice as much as she'd actually be able to eat onto her plate - and by the uncharacteristic misty quality of his eyes as he did so. Something in her chest tightened. It felt like the end of an era.
"You're right," he said, forcing lightness into his voice "He's not a lad. But that's good - you'd've never had the patience for one. He's a damn good man, Theo. I couldn't be more relieved."
Theo knew where that relief came from, able to pinpoint it almost precisely down to her father's own soul-marking. It had long since been covered by a heavy black tattoo, but he'd told her what it had said long ago. Are you going to buy me a drink or not? It was all she knew of her mother, and all she particularly wanted to know.
"Shite people exist, and all people have a soulmate," he said the words she'd heard countless times from him "I didn't think you'd get a bad'un, but nobody ever thinks they or their own will 'til it happens."
"Under which circumstances they'd've found themselves sleepin' with the fishes?" she teased.
The wry, tight-lipped smile her dad gave in response to that suggested she wasn't too far off the mark.
"Maybe," he said "But I've raised you well enough to know you wouldn't need me to put 'em there. Even if I still would."
"Yeah, well, luckily for him and for your criminal record, I don't think that's going to be necessary."
Her dad chuckled, kissing the top of her head like she was a six year old before he sat down in front of his own breakfast "I've done time for less worthy causes."
If they were being nice to one another instead of their usual method of showing affection via the medium of gentle bullying, she knew things really were about to change.
When Theodora answered the door to him a little after noon, James was almost bowled over by her all over again. He knew he was predisposed to think so - by brain chemistry, or fate, whatever the case may be - but he was certain even if they lived in a world without soul markings, the sight of her would still astonish him. He'd dated women before. He'd even been fond of a few of them at the time. Admittedly, he'd hardly been a great lothario, and he'd lost much interest in it as he grew more concerned with his career, keenly aware as the years passed that surely his soulmate must be around the corner. It hardly seemed like a good first impression to make if he met them while in a relationship with another. Such a thing wasn't unheard of, but the idea always made him wince. Anyway, the fact remained that he'd hardly ever sat and stared at a photograph of those women as he did with the one Theodora sent him. Although he was at least just self aware enough to know that women would now be doomed to fall into two categories in his mind - Theodora, and those who could hardly compare.
He took comfort in the fact that perhaps she was looking upon past partners with the same modified lens now, although the thought flustered and unnerved him all in one, punctuated by errant memories of the smiles she kept fixing him with last night.
She must've just woken up when she sent the photo (and the notion that the first thing that occurred to her upon opening her eyes was to get in touch with him had a daft smile on his face the entire time he was getting ready), her hair in disarray and slight traces of residual eye make-up smudged beneath her eyes, a blue and white pinstriped duvet pulled up to cover her chest and the white tank top, the straps of which peeked out over her shoulders. No doubt the great point she was trying to make referred to the messy hair, the lack of makeup (that which hadn't been applied yesterday) and the still-groggy eyes that were narrowed against the sunlight streaming into her bedroom.
James barely noticed it, though, his attention instead caught by the wrinkle of her nose as she smiled with an odd sort of cheeky bashfulness at the camera, her eyes bright, and her hair practically glowing fiery crimson in the warm morning light. He was a lucky man indeed.
But working out how to respond? That was a problem. He wasn't savvy when it came to this particular method of communicating - it had always been more of a means to an end. A way of making arrangements, confirming those arrangements were still in place, and letting the other know if said arrangements had to be postponed or cancelled. It was a method of arranging further communication, not a mode of communication in and of itself. Until now. And while he was surprised at how much he enjoyed texting her, he felt hopelessly out of his depth. Was he supposed to use those little smiling faces in response to her? Would she expect a photo of himself back in return? Would it be a sign of some sort of lack of reciprocity when he didn't provide one?
He didn't send one back in return - but only because he felt so hopelessly awkward at the idea of doing so that he knew it would shine through in anything he took. He'd never taken a selfie in his life, and he had no intention of starting now. Not that this stringent view prevented him from saving the picture - only so that he could set it as her contact photo, of course. It was a matter of practicality. The fact that not another soul on his phone could boast of a contact picture was entirely irrelevant.
Formulating his plan for their lunch as he dressed for the day, he tried not to spend too long lingering in the mirror, suddenly caring about how he may appear beyond basic things like looking clean or well-kept. His hair was getting long - very long, brushing his collar - and he'd been considering giving it the chop before last night. Now? Now all he could recall was how she'd playfully tugged on an errant lock of it as he'd kissed her goodnight.
Christ, he was in deep. But he kept his hair down again today, and told himself it wasn't just in hopes of a repeat. Although of all the things they'd make habits of in the years to come, that would be a pleasant start.
In the end, he settled on his nicest pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and an army jacket (the "trendy" sort, not his actual army jacket), just so he'd no longer look like he was trying to emanate James Dean. Then, he packed a backpack full of the supplies he'd need for his idea. There was a certain kind of pressure to get this right, considering it was their first real date. A restaurant was too formal. Too public, too, in a town where everybody knew everybody and knew them well. They'd end up feeling like performing monkeys. But he knew from getting to know her last night that she shared his love of the outdoors, and wouldn't turn her nose up at his plans for their simplicity.
No, he had a good feeling about this plan indeed.
He knocked at Theodora's front door around midday, feeling fairly nervous but doing his best not to let it show on his face. But when she answered she was a vision in a blue day dress emblazoned here and there with little white flower patterns, and she greeted him with a warm smile and an even warmer hug. There was something realer about all of this in the light of day.
"Where are we lunching?" she asked as she led him inside "I don't s'pose you know the area well enough to have decided just yet?"
"That is where I'll need to enlist your help. I have provisions ready in the way of food, but a location escapes me. Somewhere scenic? Peaceful?...Private?"
The slight flush of her cheeks and the smile on her face stood in stark contrast to the accusation she levelled at him "You're sounding very sinister, you know. We only met yesterday and now you want to get me somewhere isolated?"
"Had I been more familiar with the landscape, I might've had the grave pre-dug," he replied drily.
"You know what they say - fail to prepare, prepare to fail," the voice of Tony Byrne cut into their conversation now, and James felt the horror hit his face before he could do much about it.
The upside of just how horrified James was at his having overheard that particular joke was that the look on his face seemed to amuse Theodora's father all the more as he stepped into the hallway from the living room.
"I…I was only joking," James said, and then winced afterwards - because in what world would that clarification really be needed?
"Good," he replied mildly "Saves me putting up missing posters - cost of printer ink being what it is these days, it's not really worth the bother."
"And on that very touching note," Theodora said drily "I'll be back in a minute - need to change my shoes."
The shoes she wore now were simple white slip-ons which looked like they hadn't seen much wear at all. That suspicion was compounded when her father spotted them and snorted.
"Look who's pretending she's a lady," he teased.
"Look who's pretending he's funny," she shot back, squeezing James' hand "I won't be long."
Her footsteps disappeared down the hallway as her father led James into the living room, and when what must've been her bedroom door clicked shut, James turned his attention to Tony and found him smirking his amusement.
Their home was cosy - simple. It suited them. A few photos were framed on the wall behind the sofa, and more were propped up on the bookcase at the far side of the room, but James resisted the urge to peer at them in favour of speaking to the man who continued to watch him with an amused expression.
"I feel like we're meeting for the first time," he confessed with a self-deprecating smile as they sat down on opposite sofas.
"If it helps any, you made a good impression the last first time."
James bowed his head "Good. Thank you. Although I hadn't really been trying last time."
"That's always the way, isn't it?" he sighed, scratching at his beard "I won't patronise you by giving you some speech about 'er being me only daughter, all that. S'pointless, isn't it? And if it was going to wind up being any of the guys I've brought into the fold here, I'm glad it's you."
He said it so painfully casually that it would've been easy to miss the incredibly high praise lurking within. But the fact that he said it so casually told James he didn't want to make a thing of that high praise. So he thanked him softly, and knew the look on his face likely spoke for his awareness of that fact. Thankfully, neither of them were the sort to build it up into an entire thing.
"Well," Tony sighed "She's been all smiles all mornin', and it hardly takes Columbo to work out why."
"I'll do everything in my power to see it remains that way," he said - although such solemn, heartfelt words hardly came naturally to any Englishman.
Could he say it to Theodora herself? Probably - later, so he wouldn't come on too strong. As they'd said, they were taking this slowly. Wisely. Making great confessions suited to a marriage proposal within twenty-four hours hardly abided by that decision. But saying it to her father was a different animal, and it had him feeling painfully self conscious. But Tony smiled and shrugged, before finally sighing.
"Well, can't ask for much more than that."
It was then that Theodora returned, her shoes replaced by worn Doc Martens, her hair tied back into a loose plait.
"You're not being weird, are you?" she greeted, looking between the two of them suspiciously.
"Not at all," her father was unbothered by the accusation "Just giving him the standard warnings. No direct sunlight, don't feed her after midnight, that sort of thing."
"I like to think it ruins the fun if you don't let him find that out for himself.
For his part, James was just relieved that they all delicately skirted the third rule from that particular film that they were referencing.
As soon as James had requested her help in choosing a location, Theo knew where she would bring him. They left his car on her street (the beauty of small town living), and less than ten minutes after setting off they were already out in nature. It didn't take long for them to shed most of the shyness that had managed to accumulate since they'd parted the night before - although it charmed her more than she'd admit that she somehow made him nervous at all, because he seemed so bloody stoic and collected.
They quickly fell into easy chit-chat, though, following up on whatever topics they'd brushed through the night before, broken up here and there by Theo's warnings as far as the terrain they traversed was concerned, if it grew particularly tricky or steep. In response to each warning, James smiled a little, amused, like he was wondering if she'd forgotten one out of the two of them was a soldier, and that one certainly wasn't her. If he could be felled by a set of mossy stone steps, he'd have hardly gotten very far in his career.
When they finally reached the bottom of the dene, and the quiet river which ran through it, she drew to a halt on the rocky shore.
"Alright, we've got two options from here. We could do down that way," she gestured to her right "Which is a pretty enough spot, but when the weather's as nice as this we're not likely to be the only ones there, which scuppers the privacy part of your request, or we could go the opposite way to my own secret little perch, but it'll require a small bit of climbing and, er, hoisting. I suppose."
"Hoisting?" he echoed with an amused smirk.
"To use the technical terminology."
"I like to think I'm in decent enough shape to weather it," he replied drily.
"You are," she said "I mean - you look like you are. Not that I've been sitting speculating- anyway. Good. Okay. We'll go this way."
He kept that little amused smile on his face as they turned left and began to slowly walk uphill.
"I wasn't trying to patronise you," she added as they walked "Just…my dad told me about the medical discharge. We didn't sit and gossip about it like old wives or anything, he just gave me the summary of it so that I'd know."
James was silent for a moment, and she wondered if she should have said anything at all, but then he replied, albeit somewhat sourly.
"I imagine when you hear of your- well, when you heard that I had been discharged, it felt rather prudent to make sure it wasn't because of dishonourable conduct," he allowed.
"I seem to remember vague threats of graves being dug," she replied, and that won another smile from him.
"It's a mild issue with my shoulder," he confessed finally with a sigh "Not all of the time, but enough of the time, apparently. There are flare-ups. Surely you can see the problem that lies therein."
"A flare-up at the wrong time could be disastrous."
"Precisely. I argued against the decision, but it ultimately was not my choice to make."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. As I said last night, I was far sorrier for it up until now. Although I don't mean to exert pressure on you when I say that."
"No, no, I get it," she nodded "But it sounds absolutely shite of me if I say it sounds like things happened that way for a reason when it wasn't me that got injured."
"I know what you mean," he said "And I was about to say so myself."
Their trek moved uphill, following the river until they reached a small waterfall. Then Theo veered left, leading him back into the tree-line and beginning to pick her way up a set of rocks that were mostly hidden by foliage. Their effort finally culminated in that promised hoisting as she reached up to the final ledge that was just taller than her head (which meant it was just low enough for James to see over the top of it) and pulled herself up slowly. It was a move that took a hell of a lot of care to pull off in a dress without compromising her virtue. At least she'd worn pretty knickers that day.
Once she was up, she accepted James' backpack and then scooted backwards on the great flat rock so he could climb up beside her. The ledge was fairly big - containing more than enough room for them to both sit comfortably with space to spare - and it was situated at the river's edge just before that river became a waterfall. The way the nearby trees were situated meant they were out of sight to all who may come by save for if those people were directly opposite them on the other side of the shore. She first found it when she was a teenager, and she'd returned over and over ever since. It just felt removed from the real world, somehow.
Judging by the look on James' face as he took in their surroundings, he quite agreed.
"Worth the climb?" she asked.
"Worth the climb," he confirmed "Thank you for sharing this secret with me."
He took that moment to shrug off his coat, too heavy for the climb and the weather both, revealing a white t-shirt beneath. Theo took a moment to lament that his forearms were just as perfect as the rest of him. She'd never get through this with her sanity, would she?
"Only because you promised me food," she teased.
As if reminded, he retrieved his backpack from her and began to unzip it. When she made sense of what he unpacked from it, her eyes widened - a small camping stove, a collapsible pan, and a tupperware container full of supplies.
"You're joking," she exclaimed "I was expecting a meal deal from Tesco."
"Oh, for you I'd at least pay full price," he said drily in response - but there was no mistaking how his shoulders squared and he smirked proudly in response to her delight "I have what we need for burgers. I hope that's alright."
"I was half expecting you to go and catch a fish from the river."
"There was no room in the bag for my gutting knife beside my good grave-digging shovel."
"Understandable. Carry on, then."
He set the stove down, brushing away any stray leaves or bits of grass so they didn't run the risk of setting a forest fire, and then set about preparing, pulling out the ingredients he'd need. The preparation he'd put into all of this was painfully clear - all of the ingredients carefully wrapped, including a little freezer bag of seasonings that might've looked very suspect had they been stopped and searched. Not wanting to feel too useless, Theo grabbed the little canister of gas that poked out of the backpack and affixed it into the appropriate compartment. When she looked back to James, she found him watching her, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.
"Stay away from Jason's lads if you're ever invited to their barbecues. They like to throw these onto bonfires. Deodorant, too. Anything in an aerosol can - proving several stereotypes about the Irish woefully true."
He breathed a surprised laugh, accepting the stove back from her and setting it down again before he drizzled a bit of oil into his fancy collapsible pan.
"Have I shocked you about the sort of people we are?" she teased.
"Not at all - although I'm not sure I've ever met a woman who tells wild anecdotes to try and distract from her own competency."
Well, he saw right through her there, didn't he?
"Didn't know how you'd take it," she shrugged "Some men like their women ornamental. I'm not meant to know anything - just sit back and look pretty."
"Those men are arses," he replied flatly "I'll count my blessings for my beautiful and intelligent woman every day."
And then her face matched her hair. Not just because of how sincerely he said it, but how casually too. Luckily, though, she was distracted by her own fluster by the trouble he was beginning to have with his hair - every time he leaned forward to go about sorting the most fancy picnic she'd ever had in her life, it fell down about his face again, no matter how many times he pushed it back.
After his first attempt and the corresponding grumble that went with it, Theo plucked the hair tie from the end of her plait.
"Here - can I?" she gestured between it and his hair.
Blinking his surprise, he nodded a moment later, straightening where he knelt so she wouldn't have to hunch over him. Ghosting her fingertips over the front of his hairline, down behind his ears, and then up the back of his neck, she carefully gathered all of his hair into her hands. As she did so, she smiled - at how he'd stopped working, and at the goosebumps rising on the back of his neck.
"Am I distracting you?" she teased quietly as she tied his hair back into a low ponytail.
She doubted he'd forgive her if she tried to give him a man bun. The chuckle that rumbled through him at that was warning enough that she'd soon regret that teasing, even before he spoke.
"Much in the same way you've been fascinated by my arms since I took my jacket off."
Well, that put her in her place, didn't it? She laughed, knowing there was no point in denying it.
"They're very nice arms."
"I'll trust your judgement on the matter."
Her work was done by the time he spoke, allowing him to turn his head to look at her as he did so. What he didn't account for, though (or hell, maybe he did) was how close she was, any clever comment dying on her lips at the sudden proximity, and the way his eyes drifted down to her lips. That was all it took.
Theo leaned in further still, looping her arms around his neck, and he shifted, twisting at the waist and abandoning his preparations to cup her jaw and kiss her properly. Judging by the way his lips slotted over hers without a hint of hesitation, he'd been thinking about this for just as long as she had - the hand not at her face coming to rest at her hip. The angle was still awkward, though, the rock tough beneath her knees, and it wasn't long before she wobbled and lost her balance, and some artful manoeuvring on James' part was the only thing stopping her from landing backside-first atop the (thankfully still unlit) stove and pan.
As it was, thanks to his saving the day, he ended up falling backwards onto his own backside, with her in his laps. The most impressive part being it barely disrupted the kiss at all - until they started laughing.
"I'm not squashing you, am I?" she snickered, pulling back but staying close.
"Hardly," he scoffed.
The hand that had fallen just above her knee to steady her squeezed, and then he seemed to question if he was being too forward, flushing a little and continuing.
"I'll be cooking in the dark at this rate."
"Not one of your skills?" she feigned disappointment - poorly.
"Not when I'm trying to impress," he said.
She smiled again at that - she couldn't help it, but she was certain her face was about to cave in from all of the bloody grinning.
"You already do that in bucketloads."
The soft look of pride that drew from him was a heart-stopper in itself. Her plait had more or less unravelled itself since she removed the hair tie, and he combed it back from her face with his fingers, regarding her for a moment which she did her best to endure without ducking her head shyly. She just wasn't used to such…such open admiration. Although that seemed a laughably weak word for what she saw in his eyes, and what she knew he'd see reflected back in hers.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured.
And that hardly seemed conducive to his griping that they'd need to forgo distraction if they wanted to eat today.
"Look who's talking," she countered.
She kissed him again - chastely this time, and then slowly pulled away, although it took a fair bit of work to pull away without injuring one or both of them. Once she was back in her own space (and once she managed to get there without accidentally elbowing or kneeing him in the face) she finally turned her mind to food. Although the ponytail suited him well, so there was no telling how long it would remain there.
"All right, all right, give me something to be useful with and I'll be able to keep my hands to meself," she said.
"That's not much incitement for me to give you a task," he pointed out.
Theo grinned her delight at the flirtation, sitting back and watching as he finally lit up the stove. If this was any indication of what the future might be like, it was looking bright indeed.
A/N: I just really liked the idea of their first date in this AU being slightly reminiscent of their first date in Tortuga in the main story where they cooked fish over a campfire for each other – like some things being wildly different in their circumstances, but certain threads being the same bc they're still the same people. Idk I just think it's neat ;_;
Anyway I know the exact nature of this trope is an excuse to write instalove, but man it's so tricky to do somewhat well, but I hope you guys enjoyed the conclusion to this little saga.
