Note: I'm aliiiiive! I'm also in a new position at work, and I started taking taekwondo, so my free time has pretty much been cut to nil. Apologies for the 3-month gap. How would you like some Jaspert fluff? *holds it out on a tray*

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Jaspert is having one of those days.

It's the sort of day that begins with almost being late for work because, in trying to be a good host, you've scorched your fingers cooking breakfast for your sister. Then, scarcely an hour later, you have to leave work and go straight home again because your sister has managed to get her knee bashed in and thinks she may need to go to hospital.

It's the sort of day where you sit in Accidents & Emergency for sodding forever, only to find your sister's more worried about missing a meeting than talking to the police or listening to what the physician's telling her.

It's the sort of day where you learn your sister's been chatting online with some bastard named Alek for two barking years and that her entire reason for coming down to London wasn't because she missed you as she'd said, no – it was to get close enough to Cambridge to sneak the little sod a visit.

It's the sort of day where you finally take your sister home (hoping the taxi drivers of London are properly bloody grateful for the small fortune you've handed over today), get her settled, and have to turn around again to go fill her prescription. Then, when you finally sit down – in a chair that doesn't bruise your arse like the ones in hospital – someone knocks at the door.

Jaspert tips his head back and groans. It never ends.

"If you've forgot your keys again, it's your own bloody fault," he calls out as he goes to the door, supposing it's his flatmate.

But it isn't. In fact, he finds himself face-to-face with someone he's never seen before. "Aye?" Jaspert says, eyeing the shorter lad suspiciously.

"Hello," the stranger says, very polite. "Are you Jaspert Sharp?"

"Aye," he says again.

The lad's got perfect posture, but now he somehow stands even straighter. "It's a honor to meet you, sir. Is Deryn here?"

Jaspert takes in the posh clothes, the German accent, the determined gleam in his green eyes, the uncanny knowledge of Deryn's whereabouts.

"Bloody hell," he says, and shuts the door in Alek's face.

Maybe the bastard will take the hint and leave. Jaspert rather doubts it.

He goes to his room, where Deryn's occupying his bed until Ma can come fetch her home. Her knee's propped up on a mass of pillows, the bag of ice lying atop; the crutches are leaning on the wall next to her head. She's got her earphones on and her eyes closed. For a moment he thinks she's asleep, but then she shifts and cracks one eye open.

Jaspert stands over her, crosses his arms, and demands, "How does your sodding boyfriend know where I live?"

She frowns and takes her earphones out. Music blares from them, tinny and indistinct. "What?"

"Alek. Why's he standing outside my door?"

He watches a hundred different things flash across her face, wondering what she'll settle on. Anger, apparently, as she scowls and exclaims, "I told him to stay in Cambridge!"

"And Ma told you not to give out your address to bloody strangers on the internet," Jaspert retorts.

"I didn't!"

Jaspert snorts.

"Get stuffed! I didn't." She stretches an arm out for her crutches, which he'd set just beyond her reach. She's not supposed to get out of bed for the rest of the day (excepting visits to the loo, of course), and if Jaspert has his way, she'll stay put until Ma arrives. "Is he still here?"

"Aye, probably," Jaspert says, intending to be heartless and let her flounder about… but actually watching her struggle is too much. He sighs. "Don't get up, Deryn, I'll let him in. But I'm telling Ma, you know."

"Fine," she snaps. He can feel her glare on his back all the way out of the room.

Jaspert pauses with one hand on the doorknob, telling himself that he doesn't really want to speak to the police two times today, and definitely not as a suspect, and then - properly fortified - opens the door.

"She's not to get out of bed," he says to Alek, whose resolute expression immediately becomes anxious. "You can come in, but only for a bit. She needs rest."

"Of course," Alek says hurriedly.

Jaspert reckons he'd agree to anything. He rolls his eyes, but steps aside and lets the wee bastard in. Alek dogs his heels all the way to the bedroom – where, Jaspert finds, Deryn has managed to sit herself up. She's pushing her hair behind her ears when he walks in, and yanks her hands down into her lap almost guiltily.

Deryn. Fussing over her hair because a boy's come round.

This is the bloody apocalypse.

Even worse: Jaspert now gets to stand off to one side, completely unnoticed, as Alek draws to a halt in the middle of the room and the two of them stare at each other.

"You Dummkopf," Deryn finally says. "What are you doing here? I said not to bother!"

Jaspert rolls his eyes again. Not that he was hoping to witness some teary-eyed, flowery reunion, but the bastard did drive over fifty miles in City traffic to see her, and that deserves some sort of… well, girlishness.

Maybe not quite the apocalypse after all.

"Yes, and I chose not to listen," Alek says. He lifts his chin and regards her with a stubborn, evaluative look that seems almost princely. "What on earth happened to your knee?"

She grimaces. Her foot twitches a bit on the pillow. "My own fault, really. Didn't hit that first tosser hard enough."

Alek looks aghast, which (damn him) is the proper reaction. "You were in a fight?"

"Aye, tell him," Jaspert says, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell him all about the three strapping lads you took on for no sodding reason."

"I had a reason," she retorts, glaring. "They tried to nick my bag. Your birthday present was in there," she adds in Alek's direction.

"God's wounds, Deryn, I'd rather have you safe than have a birthday present!" Alek says back. Shouts, really. Furious. Hands clenched into fists by his sides, as if he could strike out at the hooligans who'd tried to rob Deryn and settled for maiming her instead.

Also the proper reaction. Bollocks.

Jaspert looks to his sister, wanting to catch her reaction. When he'd said more or less the same thing this morning, she'd told him exactly where he might stuff it. He suspects Alek'll get a different answer.

Deryn holds Alek's fierce glare for a long moment, then shrugs and looks at her hands, which have knotted themselves in the blanket. "Aye, well. It's over there, if you want it."

Alek maintains the glare for another long moment – too long, as there's a sudden loud banging on the door and a very familiar voice yelling, "Oi, Jaspert! You in there, mate? I've forgot my keys!"

It never. Sodding. Ends.

Jaspert uncrosses his arms and pushes off from the doorframe, hoping Alek has enough survival instincts to not get up to any foolishness while unsupervised. (Deryn hasn't, obviously, or her ACL wouldn't be in need of a surgeon's attention.)

He yanks the door open. "Bloody hell, Newkirk, if you knew the day I'm having –"

But Eugene pushes past him with cheerful obliviousness. "Thanks, mate. Saved my life! Have you seen my Oyster card?"

"No," Jaspert says shortly. Eugene shrugs and begins searching the sofa for his wayward card. Jaspert cranes his neck, trying to see into the bedroom without actually going back there. He's not hearing any talking. Never a positive sign.

"Ha!" Eugene exclaims. He's been on his knees, one arm under the sofa, and now he stands, blue plastic rectangle clutched triumphantly in his hand. "I knew it was here. Er – d'you want to come with us? Arsenal's playing –"

Jaspert's already shaking his head. "Can't," he says, jerking a thumb in the direction of the bedroom.

"Oh, right," Newkirk says. He claps Jaspert on the shoulder on his way out again. "You're playing host. Say hello to Dylan for me, aye?"

His flatmate is dead clever with his work, but in the rest of the world – no. Newkirk mistook Deryn for a boy on her arrival three days ago, and has yet to figure out the truth. Deryn finds it funny – suggested the name, actually. If it prevents Eugene from "flirting" with his sister, Jaspert's all for it.

"Aye, I will," Jaspert says. Eugene disappears with a wave and a shouted farewell as the door closes behind him, keys forgotten yet again.

Jaspert puts his hands on his hips and looks towards the bedroom. Still not hearing any talking.

Bollocks, he thinks. The good news is, Ma's in such a state over Deryn's knee that this probably won't be noticed. Much.

He'd like to fetch a knife from the kitchen and burst into the bedroom like that fellow from The Shining. Instead he strolls back, pretending he isn't intensely interested in what they've got up to in his absence. "Visiting hour's about over, Alek."

Unfortunately, the wee bastard is sitting on the folding chair at the computer desk, out of arm's reach of Deryn and thus too far away to justify a thrashing.

It seems the argument's over, though, since Deryn's bag is lying unzipped at Alek's feet, and he's holding up a bright blue hoodie with a St. Andrew's cross emblazoned across the front and back.

Jaspert scowls at that. Alek's not Scottish, and he mislikes the thought of Deryn stuffing him into their flag. Almost as if she's branding the sod as hers.

Jaspert also isn't pleased by the wide, daft grins they're giving each other. He might be in for some flowery girlish apocalypse after all. He makes a strategic decision to pick a fight: "Christ Jesus, Deryn, you got your knee bashed for that?"

But the comment rolls off her back. She holds up something small and red, still grinning. "Jaspert! Isn't this pure dead brilliant? Alek got it for me – a late birthday gift."

Jaspert squints. A Swiss Army knife. It is, actually, a brilliant gift for Deryn.

Damn this boy.

"I didn't know if I could send it through the post," Alek says. He stands, hoodie in his hands, and inclines his head in Jaspert's direction. "I thought – since we were going to meet – I would save it… and when you didn't, um… that's one reason I came here. But I apologize for the intrusion. I'll leave now."

"Aye, have a safe drive," Jaspert says brightly, standing clear of the door and gesturing towards the exit.

"Wait," Deryn says quickly, sitting herself up higher again. "Don't be such a bum-rag, Jaspert. He could stay for dinner at least. You said you didn't have class tomorrow, aye, Alek? No worry about getting back too late."

Alek hesitates. "I don't wish to be a burden," he says carefully.

Jaspert narrows his eyes at his little sister. He's torn between kicking out this Internet stranger with perfect posture and clever presents, or keeping the happy sparkle in her eyes. He lefts himself waver a moment longer, pretending he could be heartless if he really wanted to, but she deserves something nice after a day like this… bloody hell, so does he, but that's another story.

"For dinner only," he declares, arms folded over his chest. "You do need to rest."

"Oh, aye, dinner only," she says, nodding.

Which is how Jaspert finds himself ordering curry takeaway for three.

… and how he finds himself, a few hours after that, dropping a heap of blankets and pillows on the floor beside the sofa and bidding Alek goodnight with a hard squeeze to the shoulder and a whispered, "Leave this spot and they'll never find your body, aye, mate?"

That done, he fixes up his own makeshift bed in the doorway to the bedroom and prepares to lose several hours of sleep to guard duty. Can't be worse than what he did in the RAF.

He looks over his shoulder at his sister, practically snoring under all those prescriptions. Ma will be here sometime tomorrow. He'll have to kick out the wee bastard first thing, then clean up so Ma doesn't fuss at him and Eugene for living like pigs – and take care of Deryn, including helping her to the loo and getting her dressed…

"It never ends," he says. He sighs, tips his head back against the doorframe, closes his tired eyes, and murmurs, "Doing the best I can, Da."

Aye, doing the best he can… even on one of those days.