Darker London

Perhaps a white suit adorned with retro-style flowers wasn't the most covert thing to wear while Deirdre was on a creeping mission, but the flaming colour of her hair tended to negate sneakiness anyway. Luckily, Deirdre was so used to the way that Spectre felt, having spent a great deal of time around him, that she could tell the angel inside Spectre's house was in fact really him before she finished darting across the road.

( Wow no )

Thomas had told Stephie he would see her as soon as he was finished speaking with his therapist. And he had every intention of doing so right up until the point where he was heading towards their front door and he happened to glance into the other side of the duplex to see Spectre in the window. The other man, his ex-husband, hadn't even seen him, but resolve iced its fingers up Thomas' spine and he marched towards Spectre's door, his knock just a little louder than he meant it.

( A Talk Like Grownups )

For the first time since she had gotten pregnant, Deirdre really wished she could drink. It hadn't even been this bad the first six times Spectre had come over to whine, but it was now the seventh time since the first of February, and Spectre was once again flopped on her bed, so drunk that he was slurring his words. This time he hadn't even given her a warning text like he usually did, to make sure she was available for his moaning. He had just shown up after dinner, already unsteady on his feet. He had leaned against the wall, sipping at his vodka bottle, while she put the twins in bed. And she was fairly sure he would expect to spend the night like he had on the previous occasions, curled up in her bed, snoring so loudly it was difficult for her to sleep.

Deirdre loved taking care of her friends, and honestly there wasn't much she wouldn't do for them, but her patience was wearing thin. Spectre missed his ex-husband Thomas, and was upset at seeing how happy Thomas was with Stephie. But Spectre had also been the one to fuck off and leave his family in a lurch, which had led to the divorce in the first place.

"I just miss him so much it hurts," he managed to mumble, flinging an arm dramatically over his face.

"I know you do," Deirdre repeated, since she had run out of platitudes. She wasn't going to excuse him either. Her mother had left her when she was young, so Deirdre knew how it felt. There was no excuse.

Tasha's hand felt bony but warm in his own, reassuring him he wasn't alone. They were stretched out on the lawn of the courtyard at RMMH, grass tickling his neck. He had come to the hospital to speak with Amaris, but decided he needed some time at the last moment. Almost as if she had been waiting for him (and Thomas did wonder if Stephie had texted her) Tasha had been there when Thomas needed her.

( Well that was eventful )

Every now and then, Stephie’s anxious twitchiness made her reflexes sharp as scalpels. She did start to wonder, quietly and underneath the rampant trash talk she was throwing at Jinx, if trauma was giving her an unfair advantage at Mario Cart. But then there were too many times that it went the other way and she ended up reacting too much, spinning off the track and crashing into walls.

So not really an advantage at all.

( ... )

He hadn't meant for anyone to hear him cry. That was why he was doing it in the backyard at six in the morning, bent over the outside table with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. His laptop was in front of him, open to a page which was benignly informing him his electricity bill for the month was a hundred quid over what he currently had in his bank account.

( Destitute )

Stephie had been trying to work out her own feelings about Spectre for a while.

On the one hand, Spectre had done something that hurt her, Marie, Thomas and his kids. On the other, it was Spectre, and he wasn’t an evil angel hell-bent on tearing their lives apart, and Stephie was struggling a bit with the shades of grey morality this fact was causing. It was like Jinx, she couldn't hate him. The betrayal made her sick, but she couldn't hate him.

How could Spectre just... leave? How could he leave this family reeling in such an... ordinary, not-demonic, real-life way? He wasn’t possessed or kidnapped or anything. He just left.

It terrified Stephie, that he was even able to leave. The worst part of betrayal was that it never came from your enemies.

( ... )

Christmas with lots of families involved always got a little complicated, but the Littletons worked it out. They had their family gathering on the evening of Christmas eve after Thomas and the kids returned from Peter's Christmas eve dinner. They had dessert together and exchanged gifts, before the smaller family groups, (including Stephie, Thomas and Marie) would enjoy their more private Christmas celebrations in the morning.

( Is it an elf?! )

When her phone went off, and she didn't recognise the song (everyone Deirdre knew well had their own song assigned to them on her phone) Deirdre glanced at the time warily. She was in bed, and the clock read 4:02am. With a groan, Deirdre glanced at the stranger in bed next to her, her hair obscuring her face (what did her face even look like again?!) and instead of risking waking the girl, she slipped out of her bedroom before answering.

( Run to me )

Exhausted from chasing up leads on where Astrid could possible be, Thomas returned home around eight in the evening. The moment he entered the living room, he spotted his husband sitting there on the sofa, surrounded by his luggage. "I waited at the airport," Spectre said, instead of greeting Thomas, despite the fact that they hadn't seen each other in person for two months.

"Shit," Thomas said, feeling absolutely horrible. "Oh, babe, I'm sorry." The instant 'babe' was out of his mouth, it felt wrong. "I didn't realise that was today." And it wasn't like Spectre had spoken to him at time in the last two weeks to remind him when to be at the airport.

( Jump off )