wooden floors, walls and window sills, tables and chairs worn by all of the dust

[more_magic]

The calls haven't been coming at a rate Darlington might call constant, but come they have over the last week or so, steady enough to be suspicious. Always the same two numbers, the same two voices--one bright and chipper, the other almost oily in its overconfidence--and the same message, the thing he cannot parse. They call about investment opportunities, about return potential and competitive markets, and the only thing keeping him from passing it all off as an unfortunate run of wrong numbers is the fact that they call him by name, every single time.

There's something in all of it that reminds him of his childhood, the Layabouts and their infrequent visits that grew more urgent the sicker his grandfather got, until they'd become a temporary constant there at the end. His mother's bizarre health foods displacing Bernadette's casseroles in the fridge, his father wandering from room to room downstairs talking about assessing Black Elm like it was a specimen in a lab, a body on a table just waiting for the autopsy. To them, he supposes, it had been. They'd wanted him to sell, demanded it and bullied him the same as they had his grandfather, and their anger when he'd rebuffed them was still as clear now as it had been at fifteen, that day in his room.

This house is worthless, Danny. Worse than worthless. Only the land is valuable.

The profits can be shared. You can come to New York, take advantage of all the opportunities that will open for you there.

Do you really think you'll be some Lord of Black Elm, Daniel? You don't rule this place. It rules you.

There's no way this can be that, but it's on his mind anyway as he lounges on the couch reading, looking over at his phone when it starts to buzz. Seeing one of those now-familiar numbers, his thumb hovers over the Reject icon on the screen before shifting, tapping Accept instead. "Tell me why you keep calling me."

The conversation that follows is short, and unbelievable, and ends with him scribbling down an address on the flyleaf of his book. "You're going to lose this number," he says, just before ending the call. "I will never be interested in any offer you think up." He's out the door a minute later, hailing a cab outside Dimera. He nearly bungles the address; memory taking over for a moment, guiding his tongue to the more familiar cadences of his old one in Westville.

It can't be possible, but he'll never forgive himself if he doesn't check.

Darlington recognizes it from the moment they pull up to the drive; the gravel, the gentle curve, the stone columns flanking either side and the lamps dotting the pathways just beyond. The trees are in full leaf, green rather than the mottled oranges and yellows he remembers, but each of them is as familiar to him as they've ever been before. He pays the driver, his hand already trembling when he pulls the door handle to get out of the car and a hope he doesn't want to acknowledge fizzing in his chest.

It only gets stronger as he walks up the drive, the stones crunching beneath his feet. When the house comes into view--stone and crumbling towers, the solid wood of the door and the dark slate of the steps, each window glinting in the late afternoon light--he stops right where he is and stares. This was his home, his anchor, and the lack of it over the last seven months had been a loss too painful for him to acknowledge. Not until now, with it restored to him at last.

He fumbles his phone out of his pocket, pulling up Alex's number, texting her the address and a photograph he takes with shaking hands. Tell me I'm not hallucinating again, Stern. Get here and tell me this is real.

Comments

[more_magic]

"You mean you're not going to tell me Aunt Eileen promised to spring for a new couch again?" he says, teasing, grinning at her before he nods. "I'd appreciate that. We can split the cost on both." It's as important to her as it is a practical consideration for him, and if they're committed to making Black Elm a home for both of them--and to making everything else work too, where they're concerned--it's the kind of decision that matters.

His grin doesn't fade at what she asks next. "Absolutely. Wallpaper, too, if you'd like. The woodwork should be refinished, rather than painted, but for the areas that need it..." He sighs. "We're going to have quite the project, Stern."

[takecourage]

"I'm up for that if you are," says Alex and then she leans up and kisses his jaw. "It'll be fucking amazing when we've finished it."

[more_magic]

"If we ever do," he says, making a quiet, contented sound when she kisses him. Standing here with her, it seems like far more of a possibility that he will. That they will, in this place and thanks to each other. It might not be the former glory it could have been back home, the Gilded Age splendor of when it was new and fresh, flush with the first infusion of what would become the Arlington fortune, but it'll be theirs to treasure.

"I'd have worked on it alone," he says, "but I'm genuinely glad I don't have to." It's easy then to turn, to press forward and kiss her more fully.

[takecourage]

Alex doesn't say anything to that, just curls her arm around his neck and presses the kiss deeper. They've been making out like teenagers the last couple of days, messing around, but they've still been careful with each other. She's glad that they're on their way back.

[more_magic]

She deepens the kiss, and Darlington follows, his hand sliding up her back to hold her tight, fingers resting between the narrow lines of her shoulder blades. There's no question in his mind of pulling away, or calling a halt.

[takecourage]

Alex makes a soft sound against his mouth, pressing against him, trying to get as close as she possibly can. She never doesn't want him; the last few weeks have been driving her crazy. It's nothing she doesn't deserve, but that doesn't mean it's been easy.

[more_magic]

Darlington groans, equally soft, responding to the quiet noise that spills out against his lips. The further press of her body elicits a response of its own, heat flooding through him as he feels his cock stir in his jeans. He's wanted her more and more as they came back to each other--and really, he never stopped--and this is just another, further step forward.

The longer they kiss, the more it feels like the last step he needs.

[takecourage]

Both of her hands are shoved up under his shirt now, stroking over the firm muscles of his side, around to his back, her thumbs tugging just under his waistband, tugging his hips in tight against hers.

"Okay?" she asks, breathless.

[more_magic]

Her hands are warm against his skin, under his shirt, hooking beneath the top of his jeans to pull his hips almost flush with hers. "Yes," he says, leaning until their foreheads touch, his eyes looking into hers. The heat there isn't a surprise--not at all, when Darlington's sure she can see something similar in his. "More than okay."

[takecourage]

"Good," says Alex, nudging him backward a step until his back is against the wall. "Because this feels really fucking good."

[more_magic]

"No disagreement there," he says, letting her nudge him backwards, happy to be guided rather than the guide. Their offices had been one thing; this sometimes feels like their true dynamic, something not even Lethe's algorithms and their centuries of knowledge could have understood. "None at all."

His breath comes out in a quiet huff as his back hits the wall, another spike of heat racing through him. "What do you want?" he murmurs. "And don't say me, that's a given." He smiles, his hands going to her waist so he can slip fine-boned fingers beneath her shirt, against the heat of her skin.

[takecourage]

She rolls her eyes at him, shifting her body to rock into his hands a little.

"I want to fuck you," she says. "I don't know if that's allowed yet, but it's pretty much the only thing I can think about at the moment."

[more_magic]

He takes the rock of her body as an invitation, his hands starting to move upwards along her sides as the fabric of her shirt gathers against his wrists.

"It's allowed," he says. It's not giving in, or permission; just simple, plain desire. "Wanted. God, Alex, so much."

[takecourage]

"Okay, good," she says, pushing against him and then leaning back and raising her arms so that he can peel her shirt off if he wants to. "Because that's literally all I can think about right now."

[more_magic]

"You'll forgive me if I had a few other things on my mind, given the circumstances," he says as he strips her shirt off. He'd noticed earlier in an oblique sort of way that she hadn't bothered with a bra, but the bare skin beneath the cotton of her shirt still manages to surprise him. "But they are rapidly lessening in importance."

He pulls her back in, kissing her hard, one hand going to her tit as his thumb grazes her nipple.

[takecourage]

"I bet they are," says Alex, starting to unbutton his shirt, revealing the smooth skin of his chest. She tugs him with her, towards the center of the room. "Bed right here?"

[more_magic]

Darlington follows her again, pulled easily where she wants him to go, shedding his shirt once she has it unbuttoned all the way. "That seems perfect to me," he says, sparing just the briefest look around before his eyes return to her face. "We'll get the morning light and the view once we wake up. Not that I expect us to be paying much attention at all."

[takecourage]

"No?" she says, dropping her hands to his belt and starting to unbuckle him. "What do you think we'll be doing instead?"

[more_magic]

"Have you ever willingly gotten up before noon in your life, Alex?" he asks, his breath shivering as her hands go to his belt. "Maybe that's all I meant." He runs a hand along her side, over her hip, thumbing open the button on her shorts. "Then again, this might be a better idea."

[takecourage]

"I work really late, asshole," she says, grinning as she opens his jeans and starts to work them down around his hips, her movements growing more insistent. "And you know it."

[more_magic]

"Details," he says, groaning softly as Alex pushes his jeans down. He kisses her again, undoing her shorts the rest of the way and stepping out of his jeans. His cock presses against the soft cotton of his boxers, and even if he wanted to hide it, there's no way he even could.

"How do you want this, Alex?" he asks, working her shorts down, his hand sliding over the front of her panties, fingertips pressing lightly against her cunt through the thin fabric. "Tell me, you can have it."

[takecourage]

The panties are just plain cotton, but it doesn't matter, and she knows that. She cants her hips slightly, pressing into his touch. "Get down on the floor," she says. "I want to ride you."

[more_magic]

"As you command." He encourages the rock of her hips for a moment, his fingers rubbing slowly before he takes his hand away. Pushing his boxers down and off, he goes with as much grace as he can onto the floor. He kneels at her feet first, looking up at her, pressing a kiss to her belly just above the top of her underwear.

"I love you," he murmurs, easing her panties down before he moves to lie on his back, looking up at her, gorgeous and naked and utterly his.

[takecourage]

Alex sinks down to her knees, straddling his hips and then reaches for him. "Sit up. I want to be able to fuck you and kiss you at the same time." She waits for him to rearrange himself, reaching between them to steady his cock as she starts to slide down onto him.

[more_magic]

Danny doesn't say anything to that, just sits up when he's bid, his hands skimming up her sides as she starts to settle onto his cock. He groans again, his hips rocking upwards, his eyes on hers.