Late Night Date Night Kawaii

Marc gave me a homework assignment like five bajillion months ago, that was to "Write something Remy did that was romantic for Rita. I dunno." So it's not like I'm shipping OCs. See, HE'S shipping OCs.
== Shadows ==
December 28th, 1890
For hours, the only sound in the empty library was the soft scrape of turning pages, and the whisper of leather covers against each other. Rita replaced one stolen book and slipped a new one off the shelf, carrying it to an ornate desk. In the dying candle's flicker, its yellow pages were yellower. Her dark eyes flicked over the calligraphy, and she sank back into the chair's yellow velvet cushion.
Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn.
What the hell is this Celtic garbage? Rita flipped a few pages further, positive the book had been in English before.
When Hafgan’s men saw their leader at his end, they realized there was no other king but Arawn.
The turning page sliced down the fetch's thumb. She hissed and bit the wound, tasting its iron. In her pause to nurse the injury, a click sounded outside the library. A door shutting. The Harvest King closed her book with a soft puff and rose like a wraith from the chair.
In the foyer, a dark figure glanced over his shoulder. He crossed the high hall under stripes of shadow between streaming shafts of full moonlight that made his hair glow the same cold white as Luna.
Rita twisted up her mouth to bite down her smile, and slipped toward him along the dark wall. When he turned his head, his eyes were twin red stars.
Whoa. She hesitated, sliding a hand around the little mirror in her pocket. "... Remy?"
Blue eyes locked on her, and white teeth smirked. "Why are you awake?"
A relieved chuckle split her lips, and she melted out of the darkness. "Because I was, like, I couldn't sleep, I dunno," She snuck right up to him, wringing her hands absently. "Why are you awake?"
"I dunno," His smile didn't waver. "I-" His gaze flicked back to the heavy front doors, and Rita saw it again. The crimson lights in his eyes. "-had something to do."
Her heart quaked, remembering the red Jack's eyes had been, right after he gutted the fetch she was looking at. "Okay." Back to blue when he looked down at her. Chill out, Rita. "Did you kill a Border Reaver?" Good, yeah, way to be unoriginal.
It wasn't a bad strategy: Remy seemed baffled by the question every time she asked it. "Why do you think I just go around murdering Border Reavers?"
Her smile widened. "I heard you killed another one. Just, like, totally exploded it."
"That definitely didn't happen." He shook his head. "I didn't 'explode' a Border Reaver."
"Sure you didn't," She brushed snow flurries from his jacket sleeve, scrutinizing the frozen debris absently. "Sooo, like, where'd you go?"
It was dim, but Rita was certain he was stifling a grin. "Aren't you going to bed?"
She craned her head back to squint at him, searched his poker face for clues. "It doesn't snow in Los Angeles."
"So, you're not going to bed," He took her hand and squeezed. "Are you hungry?"
Hers was warm, but his was so soft. She bit her lip, but the smile had already spread across her face. "It's 1am, that's how people get fat." Romantic.
He snorted. "Maybe, but it's 10am in Paris. That's practically breakfast time. Little late, actually."
Rita blinked four times. "P-P-Paris?"
The Fetch-King feigned an aloof shrug. "I'm in the mood for crepes."
Her smile turned lopsided and open-mouthed. "Like, real Paris?"
No casual nod was ever so triumphant. "Yeah, real Paris."
She flung her arms around his neck, inhaling deeply. Vintage Tabarome. She hadn't smelled it since the night they'd come to 1890. How did he get more? "Remy," She hissed in his ear, "I wanna go to Paris."
"Well, alright." He hugged her and pretended not to notice her sniffing him. "If you want to tag along."
== Mirrors ==
The Deep Hedge at night was rather like it was in the day, except maybe Hedgier. The couple chattered in hushed tones, mostly at Rita's insisting, along a path the Harvest King wasn't familiar with. Their walk wasn't long. At a red rock on the trail, Remy guided her in a direction that wasn't exactly starboard or updown, and the weird halfway world oozed and then popped back, but different. Mintier.
"Whuh." Rita stumbled, craning her neck to see what the hell kind of trod that was.
"Oop," He caught her by the arm, flashing a smile. "Was rough my first time through it, too. Being taught how to use it cost two fingers of the person I love dearest, one of 'em 'ad to be a thumb."
"What?" She was dazed by what he said more than by the new trod. "Who's fi-... How did-?"
"I'm pulling your leg," He assured her, but his paranoid girlfriend was checking her hands anyway. "Um. It's this way."
Category:Fiction