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Chapter Text

November 11, 2007

When you’re young, relationships don't mean the same things they mean to adults.

When you’re in the fifth grade, a relationship is heavily based on awkward hand-holding and bringing each other fun-sized candy bars. It has nothing to do with sex, sincerity, or any delusion that a marriage will come from two eleven-year-olds calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

But for Willa, a relationship was a betrayal. A betrayal of her betrothal, and, by extension, a betrayal of Timo and the family.

Not that Timo hadn’t had his own girls, ones that had made Willa overwhelmingly jealous, even when she’d been eight years old and convinced that holding a boy's hand would give you cooties. (Looking back on that she’d realized that ‘cooties’ was a bill of lies her parents sold her to keep her from hanging on Cosmo, or any other relatively attractive boy over the age of 13, but in their defense, she’d been a clingy child, and it had worked.)

It only made it worse that Ethan, the boy she’d been dating for all of three weeks now, was a red-headed gaje, with a lawyer and a police officer for parents. But he was nice, and he didn’t care that she was a ‘bad seed’, he only remembered her favorite candy and that she was allergic to carnations and blueberries, so when he said he liked her and wanted her to be his girlfriend, she blushed and said yes.

She was old enough to know that Timo was far from jealous, happy to hear about the flowers (weeds) Ethan picked her during recess and take them out for ice cream on Saturday afternoons.

She was also too young to understand why, just a day before their first ‘monthiversary’, he’d said they couldn’t be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore and had avoided her like she was the plague.

What she did know, sat in the passenger seat of Timo’s car, the candy bar and note she was going to give Ethan clasped in her hand as her bottom lip quivered, was that being broken up with hurt, and that she had no intentions of going through it again.

February 25, 2010

When Timo came stumbling home, tears in his eyes, with a fresh shiner and a beer bottle broken into his cheek, Willa knew she had to do something.

In Aunt Drina’s defense, it wasn’t like she hadn't tried to stop her.

Even if her definition of stopping Willa and Cosmo was to tell them exactly where to find what they needed while telling them where to absolutely not look.

In her own defense, Willa hadn’t taken the gun Aunt Drina hinted at, only the heavy metal bat next to the door.

Willa was a volatile cocktail of a human, brilliant and violently inclined, and Cosmo, well he was just Cosmo, sent along to make sure she didn’t actually manage to kill anybody when Timo wasn’t there to stop her.

Willa had always been overwhelmingly protective of Timo, kicking shins and spitting at even the nicest girls over her tenure as his betrothed. She’d grown out of her more childish reactions and had, in recent years at least, shifted to hating them in silence. But, at the end of the day, the idea of Bex Peirson, who’d hated Willa since the day she’d met her, hurting Timo, a boy who had never laid a hand on her, even to defend himself, was too much for her to handle.

So more broken glass and a smashed nose later, Willa returned to the two-story house next door, let Aunt Drina pick the glass out of her scalp and check her for a concussion, and set off to Timo’s room.

“Hey,” Willa had stood in this exact position plenty of times before, familiar with the nicks in the doorframe and the accidental fist-sized hole next to her head, looking in on her best friend, curled into himself on his bed. “Timo?” She had Aunt Drina's old laptop in her arms, and a large white splint over her nose. Sometimes she wasn’t sure what the family would do without Drina, the only nurse in the whole of their little neighborhood.

“Hey, sweetpea.” He groaned, wincing as he made room for her in the cramped twin bed, still hiding the cuts on his cheek against his pillow.

“Your mom doesn’t want you to lay on your stitches,” She said, gently ruffling his hair as she sat down. “Did she get all the glass out?” Timo only nodded, thankful for the dimness of the room and the distraction of whatever movie Willa was pirating as he settled his head on her stomach, crying quietly as she ran her nails innocently against his scalp.

She’d decided in the fifth grade that no boy would ever hurt her again, but sitting next to Timo, watching him sob over a girl who made him miserable, almost broke her heart in two.

August 13, 2011

It was always hard to tell what Willa had done wrong when she called.

Her words would mush together as she ran on, the sound of her nails being bitten down clouding the receiver as Timo attempted to decipher where she was and how soon he could get to her.

“They're saying I stole diamonds from old people.” Was the first clear sentence he managed to hear. “I need you to come bail me out.” Was the second.

He knew where Willa kept her spare funds, some of the only honest earnings to pass through her hands in her life, a few thousand dollars she’d earned from doing henna at craft fairs and farmers markets, crocheting plushies and clothes and drawing portraits on the pier. He also knew that Uncle Shad would have his head for bailing Willa out yet again.

But undeterred, he drove to the Miami precinct at almost 3:30 in the morning, cash and a change of clothes sitting on the seat.

“Mr. Proud! Here to bail out your juvenile delinquent again?” The officer stationed at the desk asked, thumbing through an old copy of GQ. “You remember that statutory rape is punishable by a fifty thousand dollar fine and up to six years in state prison don’t you?” Timo rolled his eyes, sliding his driver's license and the fifteen hundred dollars through the small slot in the glass between them.

“She’s not my girlfriend, I am a legal resident of the state of Florida, I have a valid high school diploma and I have never been charged in criminal court,” He knew that the state of his life was sad when he’d realized he had memorized the bail requirement for the state of Florida. “Now will you please give me back my idiot and tell me when her next court date is?” He leaned on the counter, head resting in his hands.

“Bring Monday, WilhelminaMae Clementine to the desk, she’s been bailed out,” The officer radioed, sliding Timo his driver's license, still giving the men a smug look as he held a twenty dollar bill up to the light, looking for marks of a counterfeit. “Her next court date is August 21. Happy birthday, by the way.”

Timo rolled his eyes again, attempting to ignore the officer's snide, albeit true remark. He turned twenty today, and his present from Willa was a two in the morning ‘please bail me out’ call.

“Timo,” He practically melted at the sound of her voice, watery and tired as she fell against him, sniffing into his chest. “I’m so unbelievably sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetpea. Let’s just get you home.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, only just realizing that he was still in his pajamas.

He knew Willa had absolutely stolen diamonds from the old couple she was working for, there was no use even asking as she sat in the passenger seat of his car, a pair of his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts sitting in her lap, ready for her to change into.

“Why are we going to Uncle Shadracks?” Willa asked, piling blonde waves on top of her head with a spare tie she kept on her wrist.

“Because it's better to tell him now than on the day you're sentenced for the grand theft and assault you committed,” Timo said, pulling in front of the house at the end of the street, a miniature Spanish mansion with quiet music coming from the sunroom.

“Indirect assault.” She corrected, crossing her arms over her chest in an unsuccessful effort to hide her chest, bare under the thin fabric of the shirt Timo lent her.

“Just come on, and be nice.” He walked in first, overly conscious of his loose black sweatpants and too small shirt, leaving a strip of skin bare between the waistband and the hem.

“Timo Proud! What can I do for you on this fine evening?” Uncle Shadrack, who by all signs, never slept, was still in his button-down, sitting in an armchair, smoking a Cuban cigar. “I see this is an informal meeting based on the clear outline of your cock in your sweatpants,” Timo sighed, hands snapping down to cover himself as he looked anywhere but Shad’s face. “I’m already aware your lovely fiancee was arrested tonight on charges of grand larceny and felony assault, so there’s no use trying to break it to me gently.”

“It was indirect assault,” She corrected, one arm still covering her chest while the other hand made its way to her mouth, a nail clasped between her teeth. “And it was a trumped-up charge anyway, so was grand larceny considering I never actually left the building, it will be negotiated down to attempted theft and I’ll be given another few months in juvie.” She said, oblivious to Shad’s fury deepening with every word she spoke.

“Another few months in juvie,” Shad growled, standing, straightening his shirt, and backhanding Willa all in the same breath. “If you two weren't so god damned valuable I’d kill you both.” The small girl reeled back, clutching the nose that had likely been broken once again, and was spouting blood like a fountain.

“Fuck! Shad!” She barked, tipping her head back in an effort to stem the flow.

“It was my idea,” Timo piped, stepping in front of Willa, who was swearing like a sailor, nose pinched shut as involuntary tears rolled down her face. “I told her what to do and how to do it.” He knew he’d take a beating for this, that he’d likely be spending his twentieth birthday nursing broken ribs and a bruised face. But he was a grown man and Willa, no matter how mature some aspects of her personality were, was a child, and he would take as many beatings as Shadrack could give if it kept her safe.

“So you’re telling me that you, Timo Keion Proud, told her, WilhelminaMae Clementine Monday, to attempt to steal ten thousand dollars worth of diamonds from an old Indian couple?” Shad asked, looking at Timo with some bizarre combination of confusion and surprise. “Because I have a hard time believing that a man who lets a fucking spider outside instead of killing it, is capable of thinking of a plan that diabolical,” Without warning, Shad clapped both hands over Timo’s ears, sending him plummeting to the ground, dazed and in pain. “But if you’re gonna take the fall for this, I’m not gonna stop you,” He pulled Timo up by the armpits, landing a sharp knee to his ribs, fracturing at least two. “I will tell you that you’re fucking stupid, though.” Shad landed a punch between his eyes, splitting Timo’s forehead with the large ruby ring he wore.

Later, as Timo sat in bed with Willa, who was profusely apologizing and begging for forgiveness she’d already been given, he realized that there wasn’t a single unforgivable thing she could do to him, because no matter how many of his ribs were broken, he would always forgive her.

Chapter Text

August 2, 2012

One full week.

She’d been stuck in the desolate hell hole that was Looking Glass Key for one horrible, exhausting week.

The owner of the bar where she’d been placed by her parole officer was a man big enough to apply for statehood, with a deep voice and a penchant for using classic literature against her criminally inclined disposition. Her boss was an ex-MP who’d been blown to hell and had his brain jellied into some odd form of insanity that gave him an obsessive compulsion to find lost things. The ex-MP's not a girlfriend was a U.S. Marshal who had questionable taste in clothing, men, and careers. Her probation officer, in her opinion, was the worst offender, a royal bitch who would do absolutely anything to get her back in juvie.

The judge had decided that she needed a change of environment during her probation, and so instead of sending her to the group home two streets away from the only family she’d ever known, they sent her an hour and a half away, to Looking Glass fucking Key.

She’d spent three months in juvie, only seeing her family through bulletproof glass or in a cramped room with a guard yelling at them for touching. She wasn’t allowed to access the internet, wasn’t allowed to have a phone capable of anything more than calling and texting, and even that was monitored, she was forced to work five days a week, from ten in the morning to ten at night.

Even if she’d had the inclination for unlawful behavior in the last one hundred and sixty-eight hours, she’d been too exhausted to do anything remotely criminal. She’d ended her night like the previous four, still in a greasy apron, collapsed on the floor of the trailer parked behind the Ends of the Earth, lacking the energy to so much as climb up to her bed when a knock sounded at the door.

She only yelled, muffled in the mound of dirty laundry she’d yet to do as tears of frustration welled in her eyes.

“Fuck off Leo!” She barked, still face down on the clothes as the door latch popped open.

“Is that any way to greet your best friend, sweetpea?” She used the last reserves of her energy to turn over, ecstatic to see Timo crouching behind her, hat held between his fingers.

“Timo!” She barely had the energy to hug him, relief clouding her senses as the familiar smell of his cologne floated around her.

“Hey, sweetpea,” He could tell something was wrong, with the dark shadows under her eyes and the uncharacteristically messy trailer. “You sick or somethin’?” He pressed his cheek to her forehead, checking for a fever.

“I’m fine, just a little tired,” She tucked herself against his chest, burying her nose in his neck. “I haven’t really been sleeping,” She wasn’t lying, stuck on this tiny key in an unfamiliar bed, she’d gotten maybe ten hours of sleep in the last week, running on Tylenol and unsafe amounts of caffeine. “I think I just need a nap.” She yawned, eyes falling shut against the soft fabric of the button-down as she attempted to ignore his chain digging into her side.

“I think you need to go to bed, sweetpea,” He helped her up, setting her down on the small couch built into the wall. “C’mon, let's get you a change of clothes.” He searched through the piles on her floor, managing to find one of his own hoodies and a pair of shorts.

“You’ll stay right, Timo?” She asked, beginning to strip as he covered his eyes.

“Yeah, sweetpea, I’ll stay.” He smiled, crouching in front of her as he ruffled her hair.

At nearly three in the morning, when the moon was still casting shadows through the skylight, Willa stretched against the sheets, smiling as Timo tucked himself against her chest. His legs tangled with hers, soft snores filling the humid air as the crickets chirped outside her door. She’d forgotten how much she’d missed this, his face crushed against her chest, the pad of her thumb running against his cheekbone. She knew she would ignore this in the morning, the pure love she felt with Timo in her arms, she knew that she’d never admit that this was the best she’d slept since before she went to juvie.

She would never admit that she was desperate for this to be her life, for him to fall asleep on her every night, for him to press a sleepy kiss to her lips when he’d just woken up. She’d never admit that part of her was desperate to be loved by Timo, desperate for him to give up on his never-ending attempts to dissolve their engagement.

September 19, 2012

Willa had tried to run away every week for the last six weeks.

The first time she’d been too exhausted to leave the trailer. Timo had ended up spending the night, and she’d been noticeably chipper since, not that anyone but Walter noticed, even if he didn’t mention it.

The second time, she’d been called in for a midnight shift during a power outage. Timo had left in a huff when Shad called him, practically begging the younger man to come pick him up from the outage traffic on the strip.

The third time, a sobbing Magdelena had called Timo, terrified that one of her friends had gotten mad at her. He’d rolled his eyes, kissed Willa on the head, and left with the promise of coming back later that week.

The fourth attempt had been thrown to the wind when Walter needed Willa to help him solve a puzzle, a skill she’d accidentally revealed when she mumbled the solution to a case under her breath after being excluded from the conversation.

The fifth attempt had been thwarted when Cosmo, ever the brilliant man, had gotten drunk and ended up sprawled at the base of the stairs, shoulder hanging limply from the socket where it should have resided. Aunt Queenie had called in a panic, begging Timo to run home and help Drina put the limb back where it belonged.

So, six wretched weeks later, Willa was still stuck at the Ends of the Earth, being babysat by the blonde Air Force cadet who had begged Walter for help finding his father.

Of course, having anything to do with Walter, said Air Force cadet had almost gotten her shot, and so, she’d spent the last hour hiding from paramedics and the police, desperately wanting to just be left alone.

She was beginning to believe that any semblance of peace was impossible on Looking Glass Key when she heard something moving behind her, adrenaline kicking in as she turned, only to have both hands caught. The cold metal of rings around her wrists told her who was restraining her before she’d even looked up, the sight of pale blue eyes and an ugly hat grounding her as she let her hands fall.

“Somebody’s jumpy,” Timo laughed, attempting to force the concern from his voice as he stepped back, giving her the space to calm down. “Something happen?” One arm curled around her chest the second he released her hands, the other resting in front of her mouth as she chewed at her nail.

“I’ve already been snuck up on once tonight, Timo,” She said, words muffled by the nail between her teeth. “I almost got killed by two hitmen men in neon velour.” She pulled the pendant of her necklace up to her mouth, without any nails left to bite off.

“Nefarious,” He pulled at the scarf tucked into his pocket, avoiding her eyes as they welled with tears. “How’d you escape?” He watched as she sat down, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Leo and Isabel. Military boy just got his ass handed to him.” She laughed a bit, lifting her head as Timo crouched in front of her.

“I’m glad it wasn’t him,” He laughed, setting his elbows on her knees, watching her shoulders relax with the physical contact. “Cause there’s nothing sadder than a Roma girl falling for a gaje boy,” He poked at her cheek, attempting to make her smile. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed. I’ll stay.” She huffed, squeezing his shoulder as he stood.

“Willa!” Leo’s voice boomed through the trees as his feet fell against the gravel. Without a word, she ushered Timo into the trailer, throwing the door shut behind him. “Willa?” He came around the corner, a rainbow wind chime in his hand. “You okay?” Leo asked, towering over Willa as she crossed her arms, once again biting at her nail.

“Yeah,” She said, all too excited to be in the safety of her trailer, where there was no threat of armed men in orange tight pants. “Is Cooper alright?” She’d beaten people far worse than he’d been hurt, the crack of the handgun against his temple reminding her of the sound of an ankle snapping under her heel.

“He’ll be sore in the morning, but he’s mostly fine,” He held the windchime out to Willa, a fond smile lighting his features. “I picked this up for you, to cheer up your trailer,” She resisted the smile pulling at her lips, happy to know he’d thought of her.

“They say music is the song of angels, and you’re our delinquent angel, so it seemed fitting.” He waved awkwardly as he walked away, looking back to watch Willa hang the chime on her awning.

“What was that about?” Timo asked, chest bare, sweatpants slung low on his hips, doing the dishes Willa had left in her sink from breakfast.

“Leo gave me a windchime to make my trailer look nicer,” She smiled at the sight of him, black ink standing out against tan skin. “Thanks for the dishes.” She pulled her top over her head, laughing as Timo turned his head, pretending to admire the wall.

“My shirt is on the table if you want it.” He shut his eyes as she walked by, topless, blue panties on display.

“You’re acting like this is something you’ve never seen,” She laughed, snapping the waistband of his sweatpants. “Either way, I’m decent now.” She laughed, taking off her rings as she sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed.

“Thank god,” He huffed, settling into his side of the bed, arms thrown over his head. “Somebody was starting to get excited.” She smacked him with a pillow, laughing as he pressed himself against her side.

“Save it for Lena.” She turned out the lamp next to her bed, leaving only the fairy lights twinkling overhead as his hand splayed over her stomach.

“You know she hates it when you call her that.” Timo kissed her head, chuckling as she nuzzled against him.

“Magdelena is too much of a mouthful,” She resisted the urge to press a kiss to the delicate skin of his neck. “Giving her a nickname is a service to other people.” Their legs tangled together, his nose pressed to her hair.

“Your name is a damn mouthful,” He pulled her closer by her waist, her back pressed flush against his chest. “WilhelminaMae.”

“My name demands respect,” She said, lacing their fingers as she pulled him closer. “You have to focus on what you’re saying to pronounce it right.” She blushed as his breath ghosted along the shell of her ear.
“Wilhelmina.” He whispered, slowly punctuating each syllable with a tap to her sternum.

Neither said anything further, falling asleep pressed together in the quiet trailer. Leo chose to ignore the unfamiliar car parked almost out of sight when he took out the garbage the next morning, and no one questioned the spring in Willa’s step the next day, or the unfamiliar shirt paired with her favorite jeans.

-_-_-

Ever the reliable girl, within two days of the attack of the juicy tracksuit assassins, Willa had packed up her trailer, raided the cash register and the honor jar, and called Timo to at last, free her from the Ends of the Earth.

“Sixty-two bucks?” Timo counted the bills Willa had managed to get, one of her bags slung over his shoulder as he leaned against the car.

“What’d you expect? It’s a shithole.” Willa said, zipping the last of her clothes into a bag.

“Shad is gonna kill me,” Timo pocketed the money, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the night I die.” He shook his head, still standing next to the car.

“Walter has a vault.” She blurted, setting her bag back down on a chair, as she dug the heels of her hands into her eyes.

She knew, even if she would never admit it, why she was telling Timo about the mysterious manhole in the middle of Walter's patio as she watched his interest peak. Willa told Timo about the vault because she knew the second she was home again, all his attention would go away.

She knew there would be no more sleepovers, no more sneaking out to swim at midnight or watching downloads of friends on his old laptop while destroying as many cartons of Chinese food as they could afford.

She knew she’d be confined to his old room once again, unable to move anything to keep Aunt Drina from weeping about how her ‘baby was all grown up’.

Even if she hated her probation officer, and Walter and his not a girlfriend, she was thrilled to have a space of her own, to have agency over the food she ate, the jobs she did and the amount of meddling Shad could do in her life. So, against every instinct she’d developed over the years, she decided to stay at the Ends of the Earth, in her cramped little trailer, waiting on the words she hoped would be next.

“I’ll stay.”

Chapter Text

October 5, 2012

In her sixteen years, Willa had never gotten much attention from boys.

Between forever being surrounded by Timo and Cosmo, being one of Shad’s right hands, and having her own violent reputation, she hadn’t exactly done well in the dating realm.

But sitting on a beach, in her favorite bikini, pretending to read as she watched a beautiful set of abs ride a jetski and stare at her like a piece of meat, she knew this would be a good day.

His face was nothing to write home about. His nose was too big and his eyes were too deep, and much to her own horror, he was, upon closer inspection, a ginger. But he was tall, and had big arms and a tattoo between his shoulders, even if it was some girly tribal stingray.

Her own tattoos were on rare display, black standing out against the teal of her crocheted bikini. Black and gray moths on either side of her sternum. A quote from her favorite book, Lady Chatterley's Lover, across the top of her right thigh in a serif font, “All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity.”. A quote from Timo’s favorite book, Song of Achilles, across her left in the same font “I saw then how I had changed. I did not mind anymore that I lost when we raced and I lost when we swam out to the rocks and I lost when we tossed spears or skipped stones. For who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty?”. The Welsh dragon under her right shoulder and the tulips on her ankle.

The boy, who seemed convinced that he looked like the next teen heartthrob, came jogging up to her the second he was out of the water, collapsing next to her in the sand.

“I’m wildly impressed.” She said, putting on her most charming smile as she pulled her shoulders back, presenting her chest as best she could.

“I’m Kevin.” He held out a hand for her to shake, distracted by her boobs and her tattoos as it hit her how terribly basic his name was.

“Wilhelmina Mae,” She’d been taught to introduce herself by her full name, as a social experiment, and as a small test. A test he failed to pass as she watched his brain stumble behind his eyes. “You can just call me Willa, though.” She shook his hand, noticing how his palms were remarkably uncalloused.

“You’re that girl who works at the bar on Looking Glass Key, right?” He seemed triumphant about remembering the name of the key barely 10 minutes from where they were currently sitting, like he wanted a pat on the back for knowing the answer.

“The end of the world?”

“Ends of the earth,” She corrected, fighting off the blush that rose to her cheeks as he ran his knuckles over her thigh. “I can’t help you score a drink, though, if that’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t exactly need help with that,” Stupid as he appeared, he could see his touch affect her, which seemed to keep him from stopping. “Do you play volleyball, Willa?” He asked, tracing the lines of the tulips on her ankles.

“God and things were going so well.” She had no interest in him, that much she knew, but she did have buckets of interest in being paid attention to.

“There’s a game tomorrow if you’d wanna come.” He offered, clearly misjudging her social standing in comparison to his own.

“Kev, I’m legally obligated to warn you that I’m on probation.” She knew it wouldn’t stop him from inviting her anywhere. He seemed like the perfect victim for a con, in desperate need of the most tame way to rebel, and a pretty girl with easily hidden tattoos must have seemed the perfect outlet.

“God and things were going so well,” He mocked, taking a handful of her thigh before jumping away, towards his precious jetski.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Wilmina.” She didn’t bother to correct his mispronunciation, far more fixated on the attention he was sure to provide if she could fit into his ideal of a ‘bad’ girl.

October 6, 2012

Willa’s violent streak had always done well in athletic environments.

Before she’d graduated, through an online program the juvenile court offered, she’d been dragged into cheerleading by Magdelena, who’d done her best to bond with the younger girl, before giving up altogether. Living in Miami, she’d also been persuaded to join the volleyball team, and in the spring of her seventh-grade year, the judge assigned to sentencing her had made her playing softball mandatory, in an effort to ‘safely let out her aggression’.

That being said, playing volleyball with a group of spoiled rich kids, who had likely never so much as seen a real handcuff, was a walk in the park.

Of course, what she’d forgotten about her violent streak, was that athletics had a tendency to bring out the worst in her.

“Willa!” Kevin, clad in a pair of awful patterned swim trunks and an orange polo, called, jogging up to the sportscar she’d so effortlessly snagged from some spoiled brat named Carmela. “You stole Carmela’s car?”

-_-_-

Since Willa was eleven, Timo had been convinced that she could get into criminal trouble in a locked box in the middle of a field.

“Slow down and use your words,” Timo barked into his cell, teeth clenching as he heard Willa's gasp on the other end of the line. He was already in his own personal hell, trying to navigate rush hour traffic with Cosmo singing an awful rendition of Nirvana in the back and Magdelena attempting to use a paper map upside down in the passenger seat. “I’m sorry for yelling, just calm down and tell me what happened, Wills.” He snapped his fingers above the center console, shutting Cosmo up before he turned the map in Magdelena’s lap upright, pulling onto a side street.

“I stole some bitches car and my idiot date crashed it, and my nose won’t stop bleeding which means my eyes won't stop watering and I need picked up from mile marker thirty nine on state road A1A.” She spat, words muffled around whatever she’d begun to chew on this time as panic seeped into her voice.

“God damn it, Willa,” At times, Timo was convinced he’d been blessed with the patience of a saint specifically to deal with Willa. “I’m on my way now,” He pushed the edge from his voice, hearing the poorly covered sob ring over the line. “Your ass owes me though. Big time.” Without a word, he decided to risk the ticket, forcing the wheel to the side as he made a very illegal U-turn.

“Thank you.” She didn’t use those words often, but her voice was weak, filled with emotion as she continued. “Really, Timo. Thank you.” She sniffled, and he could tell the receiver was pressed against her chest as she sobbed, hoping he wouldn’t hear.
“You’re welcome, kid,” He said, merging onto the highway. “Just stay put, I’ll be there soon.”

-_-_-

It was at this moment that for the first time in her life, Willa admitted that she was in over her head.

It was nearly six-thirty, and without a single car in sight for hours, she began to doubt that Timo was even on his way.

She’d never been a crier before, her tendency for waterworks was still a new phenomenon in her life. She hadn’t cried at six years old when her parents divorced and her father moved to Australia. She hadn’t cried at ten when she’d broken three fingers and her wrist after slamming it in a car door. She hadn’t cried at fourteen when her mother decided to up and move five thousand miles away.

But she cried when Uncle Shadrack beat Timo unconscious on his twentieth birthday, cried so hard her sobs had managed to stop the beating altogether. She cried the first time Aunt Drina visited her in juvie, so much her head hurt for days after. She cried when the judge sentenced her to a year's probation on Looking Glass Key, and she cried every night for the first week in her trailer until Walter snuck in and put up the fairy lights with a stupid note about being afraid of the dark. She cried when she figured out that it had been Walters's fault that Timo found her. (She’d almost been tempted to hug her boss upon finding out that he’d called Timo’s apartment, asking about Willa’s allergies while giving the name and address.)
She’d waited to cry when Kevin crashed the stupid car, keeping her composure until she was a safe distance away, waited until Timo snapped at her on the phone to open the floodgates she’d yet to close again.

She’d heard the car before she saw it, the wheels gliding against the pavement as the blue sedan approached, headlights almost unnecessary with the bright sunset in front of them.

She could see the relief on Timo’s face as he pulled up next to her, flicking his hazards on before jumping out of the car, and pulling her into his arms the second he reached her.

“You scared the shit out of me,” He ignored the blood seeping into his shirt, more distracted by a sudden whine, followed by sobs as she collapsed into him. “Cosmo, get me the first aid kit,” Timo said, smoothing a hand over Willa’s hair as she cried, fighting off his own tears as her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt. “S’ in the trunk, there should be a change of clothes in there too,” He ushered Magdelena, who was sitting perfectly still, petrified by the amount of blood pouring from Willa’s nose, out of the passenger seat, helping Willa into the car. “I’m gonna look at what’s hurting, okay?” She only nodded, still crying as Timo wiped her face with an antiseptic wipe.

“It’s broken,” She whimpered, biting her lip as he poked at her nose, red and swollen. “You’re gonna have to set it and splint it,” She dreaded the feeling, bones setting into place as her stomach turned. “On three?” She asked, her teeth changing as she grabbed hold of Timo’s wrists.

“On three.” He agreed, carefully taking the bridge of her nose between his fingers.

Before he’d finished saying the word one, a searing, nauseating pain shot through her head, blood pouring from her nostrils as she leaned away from him, emptying her stomach on the grass just outside the car. Cosmo looked just as queasy as Willa, hand held over his mouth as he turned away while Magdalena ran a hand over her hair, the blonde fighting the urge to swat away her hands as Timo profusely apologized.

October 7, 2012

To say the least, Magdelena Potten was a traditional girl.

She was always covered from collarbones to knees, with dark hair that flowed past her waist on the rare occasion it was let down. She wouldn’t be caught dead alone with Timo, even at nineteen, always surrounded by friends or family. She’d blushed on the rare occasion she’d held Timo’s hand or set her head on his shoulder, and even then, her attempts at affection were usually short-lived. She’d never been kissed, never held a job, never dared to defy her father's wishes, no matter the subject.

So, anytime Timo wanted to go out with her, no matter how innocent the occasion, he was forced to find at least two other willing participants to suffer through the painfully awkward interaction alongside him.

This time around, in light of recent events involving a crashed car, a ginger idiot named Kevin, and making Timo drive two and a half hours to get her from the side of the road, Willa was given the job of chaperone. Much to her luck, she’d been dragged on a double date with Magdelena’s younger brother Lysander, who not only owed his sister a favor but had a Texas-sized crush on Willa.

Much to Willa’s dismay, Magdelena had chosen a relatively upscale restaurant, meaning that by the time appetizers made it to the table, half the other tables were pointing and whispering about the girl with the black eyes and the bandaged nose.

“I think you look gorgeous,” Lysander said, sitting more than a foot away from Willa in the small booth, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“That’s sweet, Sander.” Willa resisted the urge to kick Magdelena under the table. The older girl had always insisted on treating her like a child, even with their minuscule age difference.

“You should start loudly talking about how you got it in an illegal MMA fight,” Timo laughed, hand wrapped around the amber glass of a beer bottle, his ankles crossed over Willa’s under the table. “It’ll explain why it looks so fucked.” Magdelena shook her head at his vulgarity. Sometimes, Willa wondered how they’d ever become a couple in the first place, like watching awkward teenagers who’d been set up by their friends.

“It looks so screwed up because this is the third time I’ve broken it,” Willa defended, knocking her heel against his, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m surprised it still works.”

“You’ve broken your nose three times?” Magdalena asked, shocked by the revelation.

“The last time was because this idiot headbutted me in his sleep.” She watched the confusion mount on Magdelena’s face, realizing what she’d just said.

It was easy to forget that Timo wasn’t hers when she’d woken up in his arms and would fall into them again in a few hours.

It was easy to forget that he wasn’t hers when she was his, mind, body, and soul, waiting for the day he decided to choose her.

Chapter Text

January 28, 2012

When Timo first found out he was betrothed to the little blonde that lived next door to him, he’d almost puked on the front lawn.

Willa was scrawny, and whiney, and even at five years old, she had a violent streak a mile wide.

But somehow, in the eleven years since he’d been betrothed to the scrawny little delinquent that lived next door, she’d grown into his best friend. Right in front of his eyes, she’d grown into herself.

She’d grown into someone who wasn’t allergic to blueberries anymore, but still wouldn't eat them. Someone who loves Mexican food and dark humor. Someone who agreed that Nirvana is one of the best bands to have ever graced the earth.

He’d watched her grow into an athlete, an honor student, and then a criminal, and somewhere in those eleven years, she’d become the person he told everything.

She’d become the person who broke Bex Pearson’s ankle at the cost of her own nose, ensuring she’d beat Timo up for the last time. She’d become someone he took beatings for, someone who wore his clothes to sleep and knew how to talk him down after a nightmare. She became someone he’d drive two hours to pick up from the side of the road, bloodied and sobbing.

She became the person he’d tell about Magdelena, about how her brown eyes sparkled and her laugh lit up a room. How he got butterflies the first time she held his hand and how he wished he could finally be alone with her, long enough to kiss her for the first time.

But he didn’t love her.

He didn’t love the way she slept in his arms, her leg hooked over his hip, lips a hair's breadth from his neck. He didn’t love the way she smiled, or how her hair curled in the humid air, or how she snorted a bit when she laughed. He didn’t love how she’d drag him into the nearest open space to dance when her favorite songs played, or that she’d never say no to any activity that involved the ocean, or how she played the guitar only in front of him. He didn’t love her brain, deceptively smart and able to comprehend concepts he graduated high school still unsure of.

He refused to love her, because she didn’t love him, and there’s nothing sadder than a man in love with a woman he can’t have.

-_-_-

When Willa found out she’d been betrothed to the black-haired boy who lived next door, she’d brought Uncle Shad as much candy as she could afford.

Timo was pretty, and strong, and good at baseball, and she’d had a crush on him since before he’d ever even spoken to her.

She’d spent eleven years growing up alongside him, growing into love with him.

She’d grown to love his unreasonable admiration for Uncle Shad. His love for football, and baseball, and hockey, even if she never understood why he was yelling at the TV. His minor obsession with Christmas and his hatred for cold weather. She’d grown to love the way his clothes smelled, like his mother's laundry detergent and cheap cologne. The way he slept, snoring like a freight train in as little clothing as humanly possible.

Somewhere in those eleven years, he’d stopped viewing her as an annoying kid and started treating her like a best friend.

He told her about Kezia, and Marcy, and Bex and Olive and Carmen, and eventually, he told her about Magdalena.

But she refused to admit to loving him, because there’s nothing sadder than loving someone you can’t have.

-_-_-

When Timo walked into the ends of the earth, Willa’s eyes lit up.

He smiled along with her and resisted the urge to kiss her as she skipped up to him, apron covered in grease and egg.

“Hi, cutie pie,” She said, rocking on the balls of her feet as she looked up at him, unusually chipper for nine in the morning. “Whatcha need?” She asked, smile widening as he handed her a bag of Haribo Peach Melba gummies from the international grocery store across from his apartment building.

“I gave Uncle Shadrack the ten thousand dollars,” He said, leaning against the counter as she filled a coffee cup for him. “I’m confident he’ll dissolve our engagement.” He could see her face drop, her eyes clouding over with regret as she passed him the coffee mug.

“When?” She asked, biting at her nail as she poured herself a coffee, dumping half the sugar jar into the white mug.

“No way to tell,” He avoided her eyes as she swiped at them, clearing the tears from her vision. “He wants to see both of us though.” She only nodded, hissing as she bit off too much of her middle nail.
“Alright, I’m just gonna run to the back for a sec.” She rushed off, lip bitten between her teeth, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You know you’re killing that poor girl, right?” A deep voice rang from the corner of the room, and all of a sudden, Timo had never regretted a choice more in his life.

“Tell her I got a call for a job.” Timo said, swiping a hand over his face as he walked toward the doors, leaving a ten-dollar bill in the honor jar.

“You love her?” Leo asked, stopping Timo in his tracks, tears welling in his eyes as he resisted the urge to turn back.

“Yeah, Leo,” He set his hand on the handle of the front door, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Yeah I fucking love her,” He said, shaking his head as he turned to face Leo, tears running down his face. “And I swear to god, Leo, if you tell her that, and you ruin her life, I’ll kill you.” He stormed out of the bar, the door slamming behind him.

He loved her.

He couldn’t comprehend that he loved her, that she wasn’t still the little kid next door, or the preteen drowning in his football hoodie at a freezing October game, or the sobbing fifteen year old begging him for forgiveness as he held his broken ribs.

He couldn’t fathom that she was seventeen, and gorgeous, and his best friend, and he wanted nothing more than to make her his.

January 29, 2012

When Timo picked Willa up the next night, it felt like everything, and nothing had changed all at once.

She greeted him the same way she always had, with the top of her head presented and waiting for a kiss, hands held behind her back, nails bitten to shreds. But this time, when he kissed her hair and opened the car door for her, everything felt more intimate.

The image of her, one leg curled under herself as she looked out the window, humming along to whatever punk pop ballad was playing on the radio station, had burned itself into his eyes years ago. But this time, when she set her hand on his knee, his body filled with warmth, a smile overtaking his face.

She started biting her nails on the way to the news station, and he swatted her hand back down, just like he always had, only this time, he kept her hand in his, watching as she blushed and took her hand back.

“Timo and Willa!” Shad barked, arms up as he smiled, not bothering to get out of his seat to greet them. “It does an old man's heart good to see you two together.”

“Uncle Shad,” Willa kissed his cheek, and Timo shook his hand before handing him the envelope, both moving back, bumping into one another as they stood. “It’s a small gift from us.” She pushed away the urge to bite her nails, instead twisting one of her rings as he counted the money in front of him.

“Where’d you get it?” He asked, nodding his head as he closed the envelope again.

“I’m a working woman. I saved it.” She said, fighting against her nerves as she watched him, too afraid to look up at Timo.

“Wages?” He asked, disgusted as he threw the envelope back at Timo, shaking his head. “The fuck have we come to when I’m takin’ wages?” He sneered, and glared between the pair, both their heads hung as he spoke. Willa used to be the only member of the family to stand up to Shad, but since he’d forced her to watch as he beat Timo senseless as a birthday gift, she’d learned to hold her tongue. “Why don’t you wanna marry Timo?”

“He thinks of me like a kid sister.” His stomach dropped as she mumbled her answer, picking at her cuticles, unable to look at either man.

“Well, Timo. You’re gonna have to find a way to change those feelings,” Shad announced, Willa’s head snapping up at the proclamation. “Cause those diamonds you brought me, they’re goin’ to fund a different cause.” He pulled a black velvet box out of his vest, tossing it at Timo.

“Or you could let these two make their own decisions.” Leo’s voice rang from the other side of the newsstand, a Vogue magazine spread between his hands.

“Damn it, Leo.” Willa yelled, nearly hiding herself behind Timo as Shad turned to the larger man.

“So this is your employer at the end of the world?” Shad asked, Leo towering over him, even as he stood. “Lash Shadrack.” He held his hand out for Leo to shake, only nodding when he didn’t take it.

“I didn’t ask him to come, Uncle Shad.” Willa said, hooking a finger into Timo’s belt loop as her anxiety mounted, the silence around them unnerving.

“It’s alright. He can hear this,” Shad leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as Willa worried her lip between her teeth, terrified of what would come next. “As head of the family, I’ve made my decision. I want you two married by the end of the year, and expecting by Christmas,” He said, watching as Willa shrunk even further behind Timo, resisting the urge to begin sobbing. “You’re dismissed,” He waved them away, opening a newspaper as he turned back to the bench in front of him, lighting a cigarette as the trio began to walk away, “Oh, and Timo, I’m giving you the weekend off, for some bonding time with your lovely bride.”

Willa’s hands shook as tears started to fall from her eyes, and Timo’s heart broke as he watched her crumble in front of him, the black box tucked into his back pocket.

She kept silent, teeth dug into her lip as he helped her into the passenger seat, pressing a kiss to her head before kneeling in front of her, carefully taking off her rings as she cried, placing them in the center console.

“You are not taking that girl home.” Leo insisted, arms crossed over his chest as he towered over Timo, glaring at him like he was the antichrist.

“Leo, she’s having an anxiety attack,” He said, rubbing his eyes as he stood, leaning against the door frame. “No offense, but I’m not gonna blindly trust that you know how to take care of her right now.” The sound of Willa hyperventilating was slowly digging a pit in his stomach as she clutched at his hand.

“I’m her guardian. It’s my job to take care of her.” Leo said, quietly stepping back as he noticed Willa shaking harder, knuckles going white around Timo’s hand.

“And I’m her fiance. I’ll take care of her,” He tapped Willa’s hand, gently letting her go before shutting the door, and walking over to the driver's side as he continued. “I’ll get her home in one piece. Just trust me,” Leo could tell how tired he was as he leaned against the car door, shaking his head as he bit his lip. “Please. Just trust me.”

-_-_-

In the two hour ride to the Ends of the Earth, Willa hadn’t said a single word.

Her tears had dried, and her shaking had calmed, but she’d never let go of Timo’s hand, doodling on the bare skin around his tattoos with a pen she’d found in the glove box. She’d never stayed quiet this long, lip bitten between her teeth as she concentrated, legs tucked under herself as he drove.

He parked in front of her trailer, and she stayed silent, letting go of his hand as she opened her door, stretching her arms as he unlocked the door of the trailer, letting her inside first.

She changed her clothes without a word, into a pair of pink boxer shorts and one of his old shirts, threadbare and covered in moth holes, moving around him as if he wasn’t there, changing next to her. She brushed her hair out and braided it without so much as a noise, climbed into bed and tucked herself in, turned away from him, arms wrapped around herself as he climbed in next to her.

“Wills?” He set a hand gently on her hip, thumb tracing against the skin where her top had ridden up. “Tell me what’s goin’ on in your brain, sweetpea.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, fighting the urge to press a kiss to the soft fabric of her shirt.

“Did Shad give you something?” She asked, voice not rising above a whisper as she stayed in the same position, facing away from him, arms curled around herself. “Money? A car? Or Magdelena?” She scoffed at the last idea, the edge in her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Did he give you something to convince you to marry me?” He could hear the pain in her voice, feel the shake in her shoulders as she cried.

“He didn’t give me a thing.” Timo whispered, pulling her closer against him, chest flush with her back.

“What about the box then?” She turned to face him, pushing him away from her as tears rolled down her cheeks. “The black box he threw at you. What was it?” She propped herself up, almost hitting her head in the cramped space.

He hadn’t even thought about what that had looked like, Shad simply informing him that his feelings needed to change, mentioning money, and then throwing him some mystery box.

Shad obviously knew what it would look like, a bribe in every sense of the word. The old man had always had fun meddling in other people's personal lives, so why not convince Willa that he’d bribed Timo into marrying her.

“I don't know what it is,” He said, taking the box from the small stand next to him, turning it over in his hand. “You’ve been with me the whole time, you know I haven’t opened it,” He held the box up to her, flat on his back, face illuminated by the fairy lights above them. “Go ahead. I promise it’s not what you think.” He turned to his side, knuckles brushing against her side as she flipped open the black velvet lid.

A ring looked back at her, glittering even in the dim light of the trailer. An emerald cut diamond, set in compass prongs, a horizontal kite cut blue sapphire to its left, and a horizontal marquise cut peridot to its right, all sitting on a dainty platinum band.

“I picked this,” She said, more to herself than to Timo as the shock of what Shad had given him set in. “When I was thirteen. I picked this.” She pulled the ring from where it was wedged in the box, slipping it onto her left ring finger.

“I understand the diamond, but what are the other two?” He asked, using the ring as an excuse to hold her hand, her fingers curling over his own as she laid back down, admiring the gemstones.

“They’re our birthstones.” She said, turning her head, their faces less than an inch apart.

Timo knew he couldn’t say he loved her. Not until she said it first. He didn’t want to force her into saying something she didn’t mean.

But here, staring into her eyes as their hands rested on her chest, he was sure. More sure than he’d ever been.

He was in love with Willa.

Chapter Text

March 19, 2013

Being woken up by your probation officer pounding at your door for a visit you’d forgotten about, the day a hurricane was expected to blow through, while you’re still asleep, with someone you’re legally obligated to stay away from mostly naked in your bed, was Willa's own personal hell.

“Shit!” Willa yelled, scrambling as she cracked her head against the low ceiling over her bed. “Timo! Shit!” She lowered her voice, shaking his shoulders until he groaned, turning away from her. “Hide!” She hissed, watching him register what was going on around him, still groggy as he clambered down from her bed, rushing into the bathroom room. “Coming Ms. Farrel!” She yelled, dropping down to the floor as quietly as she could, kicking Timo’s boots into a cabinet before pulling on the hoodie he’d left in the corner.

“Willa, if you don't let me into this trailer in the next five seconds, I’m coming in whether you like it or not,” Christina threatened, scowling as Willa threw her door open, leaning back against the bathroom as the older woman walked in. “You really couldn’t have woken up before I got here?” She asked, looking around the trailer for anything even slightly suspicious.

“Are you sure this is even legal?” Willa asked, wiping the mascara from under her eyes, her voice clouded with sleep.

“Uncooperative.” Christina said, not bothering to write the infraction down on her clipboard as she continued to search.

“Sure you don’t wanna check under my bed?” Willa sneered, her engagement ring catching the light as Christina caught her hand, examining the stones.

“Where’d this come from?” She asked, poking at the stones with her thumbnail. “Stolen goods?”

“Engagement ring,” Willa said, pulling her hand back to bite at her nail. “It’s clean. I was there when it was bought.” She said, glaring at the older woman. “I can give you the shop’s name if you’d like.” She forced an edge into her voice, pulling her sleeves over her hands.

“So you were recently in contact with Lash Shadrack?” Christina moved to the steps outside, ready to write the violation in her notes.

“Nope. He bought it when I was thirteen at Barclay's Jewelers,” Willa slammed the door as Christina walked down the stairs, the bathroom creaking open behind her as Timo stood, hands cupped over himself. “You can take your hands off your junk. She’s gone.” Willa said, collapsing onto the couch across from him, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Timo sighed, shoulders relaxing as he sat down next to her, smiling as she dropped her head onto his shoulder.

He’d yet to tell her that he’d broken things off with Magdalena, much less that he was in love with her, still waiting ever so patiently for her to say it first.

Ever since he’d realized he loved her, he’d tried to keep things the same. He hadn’t been more or less affectionate, hadn’t been around more or less, hadn’t started complimenting her looks or calling her names he didn’t already.

But in his realization, he’d begun to understand why he’d get butterflies when she put her head on his shoulder, or why he couldn’t get a good night's sleep if she wasn’t next to him. Why he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was or how much he wanted to kiss her.

How he’d thought these were normal platonic thoughts until now was shocking.

“Don’t leave until her car’s gone,” Willa said, standing up only to rifle through her hamper, searching for a pair of jeans. “And tell Magdelena I said hi.” She kissed the top of his head before leaving the trailer, still in his shirt and hoodie.

The Ends of the Earth being the designated shelter for Looking Glass key meant two things.

One, the bar had to be fully stocked and two, there had to be enough food to feed nearly 40 people for at least 2 days.

“Crockpots are all on and there’s a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven,” Willa walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you doing?” She looked at Walter, stirring a bucket of red liquid with an oversized ladle.

“Hurricanes!” He cheered, spooning the mix into a bar glass. “ And there’s Dark 'n Stormys, Long Island Iced Teas, and Monsoon Chasers.” He said, pointing to the three glass drink dispensers along the bar.

“Walter, you’re a weird, weird man,” Willa laughed, untying her apron before tossing it over the back of a chair. “I’m gonna go get a shower before the storm gets too bad.”

Walking into her trailer to see Timo leaning against her kitchen counter, boxers slung low on his hips, with damp hair and a newspaper in his hand, made Willa smile so hard her face hurt.

“Hey, cutie pie,” She leaned against the doorframe, pulling her sleeves over her hands. “Anything interesting?” She knocked her hip with his as she stood next to him, pushing her shoulder under his as she looked at the newspaper, cheek pressed against his chest.

“The new pope was formally installed and Lil Wayne was released from the hospital,” He kissed the top of her head, smiling as she read the article he pointed to. “Oh, and there’s a big huge hurricane coming,” He could feel her laugh against him, arm wrapped across his back as she balanced herself, smiling up at him. “Is your PO gone yet?” He asked, bumping their noses together, resisting the urge to kiss her as she crossed her eyes at him, giggling as she tried to make him laugh.

“Nope,” She pulled away from him, pulling her hoodie and t-shirt off, laughing as he squeezed his eyes shut, holding his newspaper in front of his face. “I’m gonna shower before the storm hits.” She wrapped a towel around herself, laughing as she shut the bathroom door behind her.

-_-_-

Timo learned to braid hair when he was eleven, and his mom was out for the day.

He’d been left with Willa, screaming until she’d turned blue, and he’d tried his hardest to do the simplest three-strand braid he could find.

The skill had come in handy with many a girlfriend, and now, sitting above Willa, helping her braid a strand that had come loose from her bun, he’d never been more thankful for it.

She hadn't even asked for his help, only smiled when He’d sat on the couch behind her, twisting damp curls around his fingers and braiding small strands as she sat on the floor in front of him, finishing her makeup.

“Thank you for helping.” She said, swiping a lip gloss wand over her lips, adjusting her top as she stood.

“Car gone?” He asked, blood rushing from his head as she leaned over him, looking through the blinds.

“Nope,” Willa blushed as he placed his hand on her waist, heat radiating from his palm, resting against bare skin. “Leo probably has her distracted with some tangent on Italian Renaissance philosophy.” She stumbled over her words, pulling back from the window to look down at Timo, his thumb tracing circles into her hip.

“Probably,” He looked up at her, a smile stretching across her features. “You know how much he loves to talk.” She brushed his hair back from his face, still blushing.

“I have to go in now,” She took her hand away from his face, nervously twisting her engagement ring. “For my shift.” He stood up, hand still firm on her hip as she laid her hands on either side of his chest, only separated by the thin hoodie he’d pulled on while she was in the shower.

He nodded, cupping her face with his free hand, thumb running gently over her cheekbone.

“I’m gonna be late.” She whispered, holding his wrist, not breaking his gaze as he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to hers.

Sparks danced behind her eyes as he pulled her against him, his eyes still closed as she pulled back, rushing out the door without a word.

-_-_-

After four hours of awkward small talk with her probation officer, refilling the crockpots and drink dispensers for the umpteenth time, and an extensive internet search on a missing girl who Walter had decided to find, Willa still couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

She’d run through the events in her mind at least a thousand times, how he felt against her, how soft his lips were, how gently he held her, her body running on autopilot as she doodled on a napkin.

She couldn’t stop thinking about his hands, calluses pressed into her, his eyes, glazed over with something she’d never seen from him as she ran out the door, too scared to face the emotions building in her chest.
She’d almost forgotten where she was, daydreaming about kissing him again, and again, and again, when the doors blew open, a mass of blue and green tumbling over the threshold.

She watched, in shock and horror, as the soaked mass struggled to close the doors behind him, stumbling into the bar on his knees when they had finally been latched.

“Timo?” Leo was the first to acknowledge him as Willa ran over, watching him stand, covered in mud and god knows what else.

“What happened?” She asked, pulling a small stick from his hair as he caught his breath.

“Your trailer blew over,” He took hold of her hand as she continued to pick miscellaneous debris off him, obviously relieved by the contact. “I had to crawl out the window,” She could see a bruise already forming on his forearm, along with a small cut along his hairline. “This place is nailed down right?”

“Are you alright?” She asked, checking him for broken ribs as Christina stalked up to the pair.

“‘M fine,” He assured, taking her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Just don’t try to use your bathroom anytime soon.” He pulled at her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, ignoring the prying eyes around them as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Timo Proud?” Christina asked, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at the pair, glaring as Willa jumped away from him.

“And who are you?” He asked, fingers still loosely twined with Willa’s, mud starting to dry against his skin.

“My probation officer,” Willa whispered, fighting the urge to crowd into his side. “Timo's my cousin.” She claimed, shaking her head as he held out his hand for Christina to shake.

“No, he’s not, you say he is because you’re both gypsies. He’s actually your fiance,” Christina corrected, sitting back down, cocktail in hand. “And you were hiding in the bathroom. I should’ve checked.” Willa bit at her nail, arms crossed over her chest.
“You’re gonna write me up for this aren't you?” She asked, head hanging, heels of her hands pressing into her eyes.

“We should focus our efforts on finding that missing girl, shouldn't we?” Christina asked, turning back to the buffering TV, tuned into the storm report.

“Willa, go get him cleaned up. He's tracking mud,” Leo waved them off, handing Christina a sandwich. “You know where my bathroom is.”

Sitting on the edge of a tub, in a dimly lit bathroom, with Willa stripping him from the waist up, was a dangerous situation for Timo.

She’d barely said anything to him, avoiding his eyes as she started the shower, putting the mud-covered clothes in the open washing machine.

He’d known just how badly he’d screwed up the second she left, his hands still hovering where they’d been on her body, lips still wet with the gloss she’d put on minutes earlier. But it had been all he’d thought about for weeks, and he’d hoped that maybe if he just did it, the impulse would finally leave him alone.

But god, he’d been so unbelievably wrong, because now that he knew what it felt like to kiss her, he only wanted more.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” He asked, pulling off his jeans, and handing them to Willa before testing the shower’s temperature with his hand.

“What is there to talk about?” She asked, pulling off her own shirt, white fabric streaked with mud from where she’d bumped into Timo. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. You kissed me. It was just a moment, though.” She peeled off her jeans, wet with the pitcher of Monsoon Chasers a customer had accidentally spilled down her front on her way back to Leo’s bathroom.

It hurt to say, tore her heart in two as she pulled off her tank top, standing in just a pair of panties and a thin bralette. But if she refused to get attached to the idea that he was interested in her, it would hurt less when he went back to Magdelena.

“Yeah. Just a moment,” He adjusted the temperature before stepping into the shower, still in his boxers, leaving the curtain open for her. “C’mon, you’re sticky. I know it’s drivin’ you crazy,” He held his hand out to her, water running over his hair, pasting it to his forehead. “Besides, the power could go out any minute, and then you’d be stuck in a cold shower.”

“You know me too well.” Reluctantly, she took his hand, stepping into the shower with him.

“Hey.” He smiled, setting his hands on either side of her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“Hi,” She ran her hands through his hair, gently rinsing the mud from the black strands. “We’re being very improper.” She couldn’t help but smile as he turned them around, tilting her head back until her hair was soaked through, blonde curls sticking to her back.

“When have we ever been proper?” He asked, hands threading into her hair. “It’s not our style.” He pressed his lips to hers, her hands on either side of his chest as she pulled back from him, resting her forehead against his.

“You’re in love with someone else.” She said, hands sliding down to rest on his waist.

“That’s all that’s stopping you?” She only nodded, blue eyes staring up at him. “Fuck it. I love you.” He kissed her again, a soft whine pulling itself from her lips, sending sparks through him.

Later, when the missing girl had been found and the hurricane still raged outside, Willa had whispered her own I love you, curled together on the couch in Leo’s office, her back pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her. He’d peppered her neck with kisses and said he'd known for years because she'd never been good at hiding things from him. So she’d kicked him, and kissed him goodnight, and pulled him closer to her as she fell asleep.