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Chapter Text

The first time Cassian met Nesta, he could admit he came ready to battle. It had been drilled into them— he and his brothers— that they were to be nice. Best behavior. This command was too obviously not directed at Azriel. Az was always polite. But Cass and Rhys had been very pointedly instructed by Feyre, the girl Rhys refused to admit he was in love with. It made Cassian laugh, this tiny college girl, waving her finger in his face and bossing him around with a smile. He shrugged and promised to do as she asked, but they all knew that if there was going to be trouble meeting the sisters, it would be Cassian’s fault. Too hot-tempered, too easily riled, too volatile, all the synonyms had been leveled at him over the years. And from what he heard from Feyre, he had no interest in meeting these sisters, too lazy and entitled to help Feyre keep the family afloat, forcing her to basically break child labor laws, working herself to the bone, leaving her with no future but what she could scrape together in underpaid, back breaking positions. If she hadn’t met that asshat Tamlin, and through him met Rhys, she’d still be barely eking out an existence scrubbing floors. And now he had to meet her too proud sisters. And he had to be nice to them, had to stay in the new family home paid for with blood money— money Tamlin invested in their dad’s company to help resuscitate Feyre’s family’s fortunes and she never got to reap the reward of. They were driving cross country, and when Feyre hesitantly brought up her family home as a potential travel break, Rhys had been against it, but couldn’t deny Feyre anything. It was a little nauseating, sure, but Cass was happy for his brother. After the death of his parents and sister, and the miserable relationship he had been trapped in prior, it’s like Feyre brought the life back to Rhys’s eyes, her vivaciousness and love woke him back up. Cassian would protect her with his life in gratitude for that.

So when the door was opened and Cassian met those cold, imperious eyes, he lost all reason. All of his promises to behave went out the window. He had never seen anyone so beautiful or unfeeling. He wanted to poke at her, see what lived under that icy, elegant shell of hers, knock her off that pedestal she put herself on and deign to bite at him. So when she caught him staring at her at the dinner table and called him on it, he unleashed on her. Told her all his thoughts on her selfishness and entitlement and neglectful abuse of his brother’s love, unwittingly revealing all of what Feyre had told them in private about her sisters, she angrily pointed out afterwards.

“I don’t need you airing out my family’s dirty laundry, Cass.”

Cassian knew he looked shame-faced. “Sorry, Fey. But your sister… is such a bitch.”

“Don’t say that about my sister.” She snapped back at him. “You’re going to get us kicked out for the night.”

“You shouldn’t call any woman a bitch,” added Az, seemingly only half paying attention to this conversation. “Especially one you want to fuck.” Three heads snapped to him at that, and Az looked up from the emails he was reading, eyes wide in surprise at the reaction. “What, it wasn’t obvious?”

“I don’t want to fuck her, she’s a b— she’s mean to Feyre.” He wanted to throttle Az after the knowing look his brother gave him. “Let’s just get to sleep so we can get the hell out of here ASAP.”

Rhys and Feyre agreed, and the sly look the two gave each other as they slinked off to their assigned bedroom telegraphed everything they were about to do. Gross. Cassian tried to settle into the couch they had assigned him for the night— he was too tall for it, he couldn’t get comfortable. Az’s face was lit by his phone in the darkness as he continued to obsessively read through emails. He was only a little shorter than Cassian’s height, but a slightly slimmer build, and for some reason, he had been assigned the larger couch, so Az settled in much more easily. Somehow, he knew this was Nesta’s doing, a petty bite back. For some reason, the thought made him smile. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep, to not picture her sharp, fine bones, the way she stared at him, a proud placidity but her eyes fiery, when he insulted her. Then she didn’t even respond to him, looked away from him as if he was beneath her contempt. Willed himself not to think of her breasts, which seemed…perfect. He’d not do it. He’d think of Mor, he’d think of that cute girl from the coffee shop by the office with the good ass who always smiled at him.

“Get up.” That cold imperious voice startled him, eyes flying open to see that face, still so beautiful even upside down. Nesta.

“I finally get comfortable, sweetheart, and now you invite me to your bed?”

“You’re deluded. Get up. We weren’t told you were coming, I forgot to give you sheets.”

“Sheets?” It was a couch. Although if it was secretly a pull-out couch, that’d be a lifesaver.

“This upholstery is imported French linen. Our deadbeat father spent an idiotic amount of money on it and we need to resell it. We can’t get your body oils on it.”

The implication, however slight, that Cassian was dirty hit a vulnerable point in him, but he got up and helped Nesta “make” the couch as best she could. She avoided his eyes the entire time, said nothing further to him, and moved on to Az.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” her voice was soft and gentle, but the smile she gave him was so tight and forced it came out a grimace. It was still much more than Cassian got out of her. “I should have brought it earlier, but I got distracted.”

“It’s nothing. We weren’t sleeping yet anyway.” Az gave her a soft, small smile of his own before getting up and taking the sheets from her to make the couch up himself.

“There’s towels over here, bathroom down the hall. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, but I’m above you if you need anything.” Az thanked her and she left.

“Why is she nice to you?”

“I have manners. I didn’t insult her 8 minutes after meeting her,” Az replied with an eye roll.

“Call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Cassian bit back, but he knew it lacked conviction, that the note of jealousy was present.

“You’re acting like a 2nd grader, pulling her pigtails to get her attention.”

“Am not.”

“You’re only proving my point.” Cassian could feel the smirk Az was giving him without needing to see it. “Just admit you’re into her.”

“She’s hot, but nothing special. Just finding a way to pass the time.” His heart stilled at the sound of the soft padding of footsteps, but started again when the footsteps retreated. He jerked his head in the direction, but was too late.

“Don’t worry. It was the quiet one.”

“You could go after that one— she’s pretty. Very pretty. Delicate, sweet. Your type.”

“She has a boyfriend, jackass. They both do. Did you even hear any of the dinner conversation, or were you too busy ogling the eldest?”

“Would you lay off? I would never be interested in someone so selfish and haughty.” But he couldn’t get his mind to stop thinking of her. Cassian rolled over and feigned sleep until Az sighed and got up to turn the lights off.

Cass was drifting in and out of sleep, his mind never letting his body abandon itself to rest, when he heard a a gentle snick of a door opening. He snapped his head to the sound, and was treated to the sight of Nesta, back to him, in a short blue silk robe, the hem hitching up dangerously high on her thighs as she reached up for a glass in the cabinet she opened. He swallowed thickly at the sight— her hair was wet and down and LONG, a similar color as Feyre’s but on Nesta’s elegant head, it was as if someone had cracked open her head and a molten bronze poured out. And her LEGS, those endless gorgeous legs that immediately put the image of them wrapped around his head— fuck Az. Az had put these thoughts in his brain, and now he couldn’t escape them.

Nesta turned to fill the glass with water from the sink, and Cassian was treated to just two seconds of her beautiful face oblivious of his attention before she looked up, met his eyes, and started, the shock making her loose the glass in her hand. He heard the shatter and a soft “fuck”, and was up in a second, going to her side and surveying the damage.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he said with a sly smile, taking the large glass shard she held in her hand and putting it on the counter.

“You didn’t,” she replied stubbornly, eyes not leaving the sink as she hunted for more pieces, but continued more quietly, gently. “Sorry to wake you.”

Cassian snorted. “You’re quiet as a mouse. I just wasn’t sleepy. Neither is Az, by the way, so you don’t have to whisper. He’s sure to be awake, he’s just too lazy to get up and help.”

“You’re the one who scared her, you fix it,” Az called from the couch.

Cassian couldn’t stop himself from staring at her, with the opportunity to be this close, but could tell she was stubbornly refusing to even glance his way, willing herself to ignore how his eyes were locked on her, those elegant features, those wicked eyes, her lips, god her lips. He was staring so intently that he wasn’t paying even a modicum of attention to the large shards of glass he was plucking out of the sink, so couldn’t be surprised when one sliced a long cut on his palm. He let out a groan of pain, and moved to lick the blood off his hand.

“Be careful,” Nesta hissed sharply. She turned on the kitchen light before yanking his hand from his mouth, inspecting it for any pieces of glass remaining. “Stay here.” She moved briskly, disappearing briefly before reappearing with a bandaid and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She grabbed his hand again and poured the antiseptic over the small cut and bandaged it carefully. “You’ll give yourself sepsis if you stick open wounds in your mouth.”

“Calling me dirty, Nes?” Her small hand was so warm in his.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, turning to throw away the bandaid wrappers before quickly clearing the rest of the glass out of the sink, carefully wiping it down to grab any errant shards.

Cassian wordlessly grabbed a glass from the cabinet she had opened originally and filled it with water, handing it to her with a wink. “Be more careful with this one.”

She grabbed it fiercely, and turned on her heel. “Goodnight Az,” she called out, ignoring Cassian’s eyes boring into her back.

“Night, Nesta!” Az didn’t even bother to look at either of them, but snorted a quiet laugh, waiting until the barely audible soft pads of her steps took her upstairs and into her bedroom before following up with “Not into her, hm?”

“Shut the fuck up, Az.”

Chapter Text

May, 3 years later

Nesta was never late. It was a point of pride, a quality beaten into her by a decade of strict French and Russian dance teachers liable to take a cane to anyone who made a slip in punctuality. But she was really flirting with danger this time. She knew it was because, essentially, she didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to subject herself to her little sister’s infantile friend group, the teasing and sexual innuendos and constant partying of these privileged LA rich kids— she hated it. But she had promised to come— it was her little sister’s college graduation, after all. Despite the slow path she and Feyre had been on to fixing their troubled relationship, despite Nesta wanting to make amends, she had barely seen Feyre the past few years. Every holiday, every term break Feyre got, she spent with Rhys and his family. Nesta and Elain had spent the past two Solstices at Rhys’ ski lodge, pretending not to be uncomfortable. The only other time they had seen Fey was a day and a half visit while Feyre was on a trip to New York with the entire Scooby gang in tow. Nesta and Elain never got to see her without her entourage now, or at least Rhys. She shouldn’t have been surprised— Feyre was always one of those girls to disappear into relationships. Her boyfriend’s friends became her friends, his family her family, his interests her interests, his home her home. Nesta knew she was partly to blame for this, for Feyre’s desperation for love, but she thought maybe her little sister would grow out of it, be better at holding to her own identity in a relationship. Elain, in her quiet peacekeeper way, agreed but Nesta knew she’d never broach the subject with their little sister. Nesta just needed to swallow the jealousy of those silly assholes who were stealing her baby sister away from her.

“Yo. YOOOO. HELLO,” Emerie was waving her hand in front of Nesta’s distracted face when she finally came to. “We have to leave in like, 15 minutes. You’re barely packed.”

“I know, I know. I was trying to come up with some terrible bug I could pretend to have so I could skip this whole stupid thing.”

“Feeling shy about the hot brother?” Emerie asked with a tone of too much innocence.

Nesta growled subconsciously. “You and I disagree about which one is the hot brother.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Nesta just sighed in response and flopped back on the bed, not bothering to expound on this line of conversation. “Can’t you come up with an emergency for me to have?”

“You’re not missing your sister’s graduation. Not again. You’ll guilt spiral.” Nesta knew Emerie was right. “Come on, I’ll help you pack.”

Nesta snorted. “Last time you helped me, I caught you trying to pack me all club clothes and no underwear. For a writers’ conference.”

“That was a joke. And you should have let me. You would have easily been the hottest assistant editor there,” Emerie shrugged unapologetically. She had migrated over to the closet and started sifting through.

“Promise me at least you’ll pack me stuff I can wear a bra with?”

Emerie gave an exaggerated sigh. “You never lean into how fuckable you are. It’s so frustrating.” She pulled out a tight cobalt blue mini dress that, the last time Emerie talked her into wearing, Nesta self-consciously spent the entire night pulling down to be sure it was still covering her ass. “Hm?”

“Absolutely not. Where the hell am I supposed to wear that, posing on top of a hot rod?”

“Celebration dinner.”

“Emerie.”

“Fine.” Emerie huffed as she threw it on Nesta’s bed dejectedly. She pulled out a much more modest sundress, a deep red one that reached her ankles. It was still backless, cut low, and held up with spaghetti straps, but at least she didn’t have to worry about an accidental strip show in it. “This acceptable, Sister Nesta?”

Nesta laughed, and nodded. Emerie folded it and put it in her suitcase, and the two continued to playfully battle over different items until she was mostly ready to go.

Emerie pulled a short floral sundress from the back of her closet. “I am insisting you wear this one. In front of the hot brother.” The dress was pretty— it had been one of her favorites….before. She’d had it for years, bought it back when she was living here the first time. It had a deep scooped square neckline that tied, and with the empire waist and hem that hit mid-thigh, it made her still dance-toned legs look miles long. It had darling puff sleeves and the fabric was silk in an abstract watercolor print, a mix of blues and greens and grays. She had received effusive compliments in it, was told it made her eyes shine like aquamarines and other ludicrous things. None of it was sincere, none of it was worth taking to heart. It was just a casual dress. But still, she hadn’t worn it for a while. Rarely did she want to feel like that anymore.

“Em…” she said it warningly. Emerie knew she was pushing, but Nesta knew that Emerie only pushed when she thought she needed to.

Emerie ignored the warning, rolling the dress tightly to avoid wrinkles and placing it in the suitcase. She didn’t look at Nesta, knowing the situation was too delicate to confront her, when she went on. “It’s okay, you know. To want someone like...that. To feel…desirable again. To feel beautiful. It was never that. It was never your fault.” She said it tenderly, and the vulnerability of the moment made Nesta’s heart seize and clench.

“I know. I know that. It’s been years, and it's not like I've been celibate since. But still sometimes it's just hard to not feel— breakable. Like sometimes I feel someone looking at me like that, and it just puts me back there, his hands—“ she broke off, huffing out a bitter laugh as she struggled to shake the feelings off. “We don’t have time for this. I’ll be fine. I’ll wear the dress.”

Emerie’s eyes were wide in surprise. “I’m doing too much, aren’t I, Nesta? You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel ready for.”

“If I had my way, I’d never be ready. You’re right. Gotta move forward.” She zipped up suitcase resolutely. “Just gotta grab my laptop and purse, and we go.”

Emerie drove her to the airport. Nesta was eternally grateful that somehow, she managed to have a friend in New York who still had a car. Thank gods Emerie had to lug all those boxes of books around for her store. The trip itself was uneventful. It was a long flight to LA, but Nesta settled into a window seat with a manuscript and let herself drift off into a nap and they had landed before she knew it. Feyre had offered to pick her up. Well, for someone to pick her up, because she still had one jury final before she was done with the semester, but Nesta had declined, even though her sister told her cab fare to the house would be exorbitant. Nesta didn’t care. She didn’t want to have to face any of Rhys’ family one-on-one like that in LA traffic. She’d pay a king’s ransom to avoid that.

Nesta was waiting at baggage claim when she flipped her phone out of airplane mode, with the aim to order an uber. The second she did, a flood of texts came in.

Feyre: can’t wait to see you! What time is your flight coming in? (11:27am)

Feyre: oh right. You’re on the plane already. I’m sure you sent me your flight details. (11:34am)

Elain: You better be on the plane. I’ll never forgive you if you bail on me, desert me with the little clique. (11:45am)

Feyre: Here it is! Flight 857, arrives 3:15 my time! I’ll text you the address for your uber.  (12:11pm)

Feyre: Although again— you don’t have to do an Uber. Rhys is happy to have someone come get you.  (12:13pm)

Feyre: IS it bad that this is one of the best conversations we’ve ever had? We should text on airplane mode more often haha. (12:14pm)

Feyre: Oh! Cassian volunteered to get you, because he’ll be near LAX anyway this afternoon. I gave him your number. He has a big red SUV, and he has all your flight info, so he’ll come get you when you arrive. (1:25pm)

Unknown Number: Hey, sweetheart. This is Cassian. Feyre told me you needed a ride from the airport. Text me when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting in the lot. (2:33pm).

Nesta was tempted to pretend she hadn’t seen any of these, but Feyre had conveniently never texted her address. Nesta supposed she could find a last minute hotel, but she knew that Feyre would be wounded by that. She had been hurt by the suggestion when Nesta had brought it up, insisted that Rhys had loads of room, and she wanted to spend time with her. Nesta sighed and resigned herself.

Nesta: Cassian. It’s Nesta. I’m still waiting at baggage claim, but I’ll find the waiting lot once I’ve got my stuff. (3:21pm)

Too curt. So she added in a new text. Thanks for coming to get me. Ok that wasn’t a LOT better, but it was something at least.

Unknown Number (Probably Cassian): I’ll come to baggage claim, just text me which door. It’s a long walk, and you’ll be carrying stuff. (3:23pm)

Nesta sighed, wondering if Feyre had lectured her family again about being nice to her terrible sister. This was far more gracious than the last time she and Cassian had interacted, when Cassian made some stupid innuendo about sleeping with her, refusing to back out of her personal bubble, and she slapped him. Looking up to check, she texted him her baggage claim door and put her phone back in her pocket. The conveyor belt started to move, finally, and she grabbed her stuff and headed out, searching for the big red SUV. It was nowhere to be seen. She looked up at the sign, double checking that she had sent him the right door, and when she confirmed it, figured it was a longer trip from the waiting lot than she’d thought, so she stood patiently waiting, a little tired and spacey and most of all hungry from the trip. So it was no wonder she didn’t hear Cassian the first few times he called her name.

“Nesta! Over here!” There he was, the giant, waving enthusiastically as he towered over a black Aston Martin convertible. “Earth to Nesta!”  She snapped to, forcing a tight smile on her face as she walked over to him. ‘The hot brother.’ An overgrown fratty baby, more like. Cassian was handsome, she supposed. His dark hair was in a messy bun, and his hazel eyes shining, his black tee doing little to hide his broad muscular chest. Emerie’s response to a picture while the three of them were stalking Instagram was something along the lines of wondering what it’d be like to “fuck a mountain”. Az was more beautiful, but Cassian was broad and rugged and handsome in a way the romance imprint she read manuscripts for were always attempting to capture. Nesta had always struggled giving a guiding hand on these descriptions— everything sounded antiquated and gender normative— people like Cassian and these sexy hockey players/Scottish lairds/lumberjacks/werewolves were “manly". Big and athletic and masculine in their beauty. Emerie had glared at her with such suspicion when she found Cassian’s Instagram profile, hadn't believed that Nesta wasn’t interested whatsoever. “He’s not my type,” Nesta kept insisting, but Emerie just shook her head and told her if that was the case, then her type was trash anyway.

“He just likes fucking with me. It doesn’t mean anything. He’ll drop some barely coherent double entendre and then laugh with Rhys about it. And then skip off with their cousin Mor, clearly about to go fuck. It’s disgusting.”

“He fucks his cousin?” Emerie looked appalled, and just for a split second, Nesta was tempted to just say yes and let this topic die forever. But honesty overcame her.

“Not cousin by blood— he was adopted, I think. Both he and Az were.”

“Blood or no, if he’s just toying with you as some sort of weird foreplay before he has sex with his cousin…”

“Yes. And this is the dick you want me to hop on, Em.”

“Not at all. I just want you to feel happy, and whole.” Emerie leaned in and kissed her roommate on the cheek, and until she insisted Nesta pack her ex-favorite dress, that was the last she brought it up.

Nesta was thinking about that dress, rolled up in her suitcase, when big handsome asshole Cassian walked towards her, grabbing said suitcase from her, and flinging her briefcase over his shoulder. Poor pitiable little dress. She had spent too much on it, considering, but she felt like something when she tried the dress on. Emerie was right— she had felt pretty in it. Desirable. The feeling was worth putting up with eating Cup of Noodles for a few weeks straight. And then, she just never seemed to want to feel that way anymore, and the dress hung abandoned in her closet.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Cassian put her stuff in the trunk before saying hello, moving to give her a stiff hug which Nesta even more stiffly received. “Good to see you, Nes.”

Nesta had long given up on trying to get him to quit the nickname. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” he said with wink, but didn’t push forward. I guessed right, Nesta thought. Feyre had told him to be on his best behavior.

She looked over the car, still puzzled. “Feyre told me you had a red truck, or a red SUV. I was looking for the wrong thing.”

Cassian shrugged and they both climbed in. “I borrowed Rhys’.”

Nesta looked at him, a little crunched into the driver’s eat, and couldn’t help a smile. “You barely fit in here. Your car in the shop?”

“Yeah. And I thought, might as well give you the LA movie experience, top down, wind in your hair, song on the radio.”

“Trying to convert me?” Nesta asked with a wry smile. “I’m a true New Yorker, you know. I’ve been married to that city since I was a kid. You can’t turn me.”

Cassian smiled, and took off from their spot. “They all say that. At first.”

The drive was…surprisingly pleasant. Cassian curbed his aggressive flirting, they traded the standard life details. Nesta knew Cassian worked for Rhys, hired for a VP position at the “family business”. She wanted to roll her eyes at the nepotism, but after all, until her family lost their money, she had a very country club, deb life upbringing. She had no right to judge others’ privilege. He loved LA, lived here most of his life. He asked about her job, about New York. He conscientiously avoided any topics about her childhood or parents or relationship with Feyre— Nesta could only imagine what Feyre told them about her heartless eldest sister. But they managed to skirt any snag in conversation, until he asked if she was dating anyone. Nesta hadn’t shared much with Feyre about her failed engagement— hadn’t even actually told her it had been called off. Elain knew of course, but none of the details, and Nesta had asked her not to tell Feyre. Nesta worried that if too much was revealed, it’d be too close to home for Feyre’s disastrous thing with that Tamlin guy. So she was shocked that Cassian was comfortable enough to bring it up.

“No, been single a while,” she told him, and hoped he wouldn’t ask a lot of follow-up questions.

“Can I ask… whatever happened with the engagement? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, it’s just Feyre didn’t seem to know. It just was suddenly not happening. Feyre mentioned when we met that you were getting married, but then by that Solstice, it was—“

“It didn’t work out. A guy we grew up with. I didn’t talk about it much with Feyre, didn’t want to bother her with the whole…” the words escaped her before she could stop herself. Cassian’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, and Nesta knew she’d have to say something to stop this conversation. “It’s fine. The breakup was just messy. Didn’t want to bother Fey with the silly drama. It’s been years anyway.”

Cassian went quiet after that, just a quick ‘sorry to hear that,’ before he turned the radio up. Nesta was grateful that he sensed her discomfort and let it lie.  But then the quiet awkwardness was overwhelming. “What about you? Single?”

“For now,” he said offhand.

“What about you and Morrigan?”

Cassian gave her a searching look, and then a wry smile. “Jealous, Nes?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. You two seem perfect for each other.” She was sure Cassian could hear the slight condemnation in her voice, she could see him stiffen, but he said nothing else about it. She felt an odd stab of guilt at her comment— she hadn’t bothered to get to know Mor, who seemed to hate her on sight, but dazzled and charmed everyone else. Nesta didn’t care for her— so classic LA fake. And it had taken about ten minutes to see she used Cassian as a shield from Azriel’s feelings for her instead of just having an honest conversation. Az was the only one of Feyre’s little group Nesta liked, and she had liked him immediately. It was painful to see him pining over Morrigan while Morrigan flirted outrageously with Cassian right in front of him. It was pathetically juvenile.

But she felt guilty and awkward for throwing it in his face like that— she didn’t know what exactly the nature of his and Morrigan’s relationship was, and it wasn’t kind of her to poke at it. Nesta was always doing this, especially with people she didn’t really know or like, giving rein to her temper, letting it say things she know she shouldn’t, saying it the wrong way. Her therapist had suggested a few other defense mechanisms, but it was a hard habit to break. So even though she wanted nothing more than to turn the radio up so the two of them could ride in silence, Nesta forced herself to try socializing again. “Am I taking you out of your way, going to Rhysand and Feyre’s place?”

He shook his head. “I’m in Santa Monica, but I figured I’d just stay at the compound for the weekend, with the party and all.”

There were two words that were unsettling in that sentence, and Nesta was at odds as to which she wanted to address first. “Party?”

“Of course. Graduation party. Rhys is throwing one, and it’s bound to be over the top, no one pouring themselves into bed before dawn.”

“Oh god,” she hoped she said it quietly enough, but the smirk on Cassian’s face said differently.

“Something wrong, Nes?”

“Didn’t bring a party dress,” she responded simply. A long night of Rhys’ vapid friends and EDM music sounded like hell, but she was going to try to be civil about it.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. It’ll be casual, and you look hot in anything.”

Nesta ignored the half-hearted compliment and pacifying comment and moved on to the second stressful word. “What do you mean, compound?”

Cassian looked surprised. “Feyre never showed off the mansion?”

“Mansion?”

“Yeah, he wanted a place in Brentwood, and it’s got about 10 bedrooms, so if you’re worried about having to bunk up with one of us, you’re safe.”

“Is that close to Feyre’s school?”

Cassian laughed and shook his head. “You don’t know much about LA, do you sweetheart?”

Nesta hated that Feyre had already moved in with this guy, living off of his seemingly exorbitant wealth, far from her campus. A pit of anxiety was slowly growing in her stomach.

Cassian must have seen her frown, because he added more gently, “It’s not a bad commute. And she’s a dedicated student.”

“But she is still a student. She’s young.”

“What do you mean? She’s an adult.”

“Kind of. I don’t mean to offend your brother, but— she’s so young to be making all these steps. And he’s older. Just…the dynamic makes me uneasy. And her ex was similar— older, more established, lots of wealth— and he was so terrible towards the end. I don’t want her hurt again.”

“They’re in love!” He said it with a big smile, but when he saw that this was not a big comfort to Nesta, added, “Rhys is a good guy. I promise. He’d rather die than hurt your sister.”

She snorted dismissively but let Cassian's words sink in, pondering. "He…” she swallowed, took the time to consider her words as her therapist suggested. “He does seem to love Feyre a lot.”

“He does. I promise.”

Nesta sighed and couldn’t help but continue. “I hope that’s enough.”

She had bitten her tongue, hoping to appease him. She really did want to avoid another fight. Every single time she had to spend time with these people, it ended the same way, and she had worked hard to get over some of this stuff, to be able to let this go. But still somehow, it seemed like Cassian was baited. “I’m surprised you’re this concerned for your sister.”

Nesta’s hackles immediately went up. “Is this where you launch into a diatribe about Feyre’s mean selfish sister who did nothing for her again?”

“Well, isn’t it true?” Cassian’s defenses rose too.

“Did it ever occur to any of you that maybe the perspective of a teenager caught in a bad situation was maybe not the most clear-sighted? You’ve known Feyre three years. I’ve known her her entire life. I love her, I would bleed for her. But she’s younger and more immature than any of you seem to be able to credit her. And that is exactly what I’m talking about— a bunch of people nearing thirty treating their friend’s eighteen year old co-ed girlfriend as if she’s a peer.”

“She’s twenty-one now. She’s not a child.”

“She ran off with someone over a decade older than her when she was still a minor. Now she’s living with someone else a decade older than her, and it’s only been a few years. I’m not saying she’s juvenile, I’m saying she’s 21 years old. I think you guys took the worldview of a traumatized teenager at face value. I think she doesn’t talk to me or Elain much because she knows the relationship is a little more complicated than the ones she has with you guys as her cheerleading squad. I don’t fault her for any of it— she needed that at the moment. But it’s time for her and you to grow the fuck up. If Feyre is upset about my failures as a big sister to her, she should damn well talk to me and I can apologize and give her some much needed context. But instead she complains to you guys about me and then forces you to tolerate me and pretend everything is fine.”

Cassian huffed, but seemed to reflect on this. “She IS young. And how old are you, oh wise and worldly one?”

“25.”                                  

“And you feel as if you have oh so much more maturity than the sister who is 4 years younger?”

“Three and a half,” Nesta gave him a knowing smirk. “And I didn’t say that I did. I just have a different perspective. And I don’t surround myself with a little fraternity of people determined to act like it’s Rush Week for the rest of their lives.”

“Don’t mock my family.” His voice had a low warning to it. They had arrived at large gate, and Cassian waited after buzzing.

“You’re the one forcing me to defend myself. Feyre is MY family. Stay out of my relationship with her.”

“What relationship? You’ve made no effort to have one with her. We’re more family to her than you’ve ever been,” His voice was full of spite and contempt as they drove up a long driveway to a massive California modern mansion. But Nesta was too angry to enjoy the sight, climbing out of her seat and slamming the door shut as soon as he came to a stop.

“Fuck you, Cassian.” Feyre, Az, and Rhys were standing at the front door to welcome her, in scared silence at the scene. Cassian slammed his door shut too, but still took Nesta’s suitcases out of the trunk and carried them to the door. Elain walked out then, and smiled a little tersely before she gave her big sister a hug. Nesta sighed into her, and gathered herself, walking over to receive Feyre’s welcoming hug too.

“I’m so happy you could make it, Nesta,” but Feyre said it sotto voce, knowing her sister would hate drawing any more attention to her entrance.

“Of course. I’m so proud of you, baby sister.” She turned to Az and gave him a genuine smile. “Good to see you, Az.” He smiled and returned the sentiment, and she turned to Rhys. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“You’re more than welcome.” There was always tension between Rhys and her— they were mutually suspicious of each other, but both were groomed to hide their mistrust and dislike of each other under a façade of civility.

Feyre took her arm and ushered Nesta into the house, Elain following closely behind, and the three sisters left the boys outside. Nesta knew it was an effort to deescalate her and Cassian’s fight, but Feyre also genuinely seemed eager to show her to her room, and to show off the house in general. Through the doors, she could faintly hear Cassian and the other two talking about her, and then Rhys’s snicker and Cassian’s booming laugh. Assholes. She refused to let him bait her like that again. In fact, she’d do her best to avoid him the rest of her trip.

Chapter Text

“Good trip, Cass?” Just the glimpse of Az’s knowing smirk had Cassian wanting to pound him into the ground. How did he always know? It was like his brother had somehow been privy to every dirty thought Cassian had had, how he had noticed how he could see Nesta’s black bra through her white shirt when he had accidentally caught a glimpse of the black lace peeking out the low scoop neckline and snapped his eyes back to the road in an effort to maintain some respectfulness. How he kept reminding himself to be respectful when he couldn’t help but notice how amazing her ass looked in those leggings. People weren’t supposed to look that hot coming off a cross-country flight.

Rhys just sighed. “She was giving you trouble already? I told Feyre inviting her was a mistake.”

Cassian grimaced. “No it wasn’t her. She was trying to be nice, I think. I wouldn’t stop badgering her, and I think I genuinely pissed her off this time.”

Az gave another obnoxiously knowing smile. “Still pulling pigtails.”

Rhys glanced between his brothers, and Cassian willed Az with his eyes to keep his mouth shut, but that was enough for Rhys to read his mind. “No way. Still?”

Cassian grinned conspiratorially, happy to play his role as always. Now it was especially useful if it distracted enough from Azriel actually badgering him. “I just need once, just to get it out of my system.”

“I beg of you. Do not fuck my girlfriend’s scary sister. No one needs that.”

“She lives across the country. No harm no foul.”

“Cass, I’m serious. Feyre— she’s it for me. She’s going to be around for a while. That means I’ll have to deal with Nesta for the rest of my life. Don’t fuck me over this way.”

Cassian stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to explain it, he was just… compelled by her. So he said flippantly, “I’ll make it good for her, don’t worry. I’ll fuck the nice into her.”

Rhys snorted a laugh, and when he called Cassian an arrogant asshole, Cassian laughed too. Az just shook his head and took Nesta’s briefcase from him. Rhys went off to find Feyre, but Az hung back, nodding briefly at Cassian to hang back too.

“How bad did you piss her off?”

Cassian grimaced again. “A lot. Or more like I hurt her feelings.”

“And saying you’ll fuck her into submission was…”

“I get it, Az. I was gross.”

“Yes. And you were a child. And you’re overstepping. For all you know, she has a boyfriend.”

“Not for a while, apparently,” he leaned over to peek through the window, make sure the others weren’t in listening distance. “She doesn’t seem interested, to be honest. It’s not just that she’s not into me. It’s like she’s closed herself for business.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know…” he trailed off, remembering how she seemed to tense at the topic, shared nothing. “But I think it’s something bad.”

Nesta avoided him for the rest of the day. Her sisters had corralled her as soon as she arrived, and the three of them seemed to be doing their best imitation of sisterly bonding. Cassian knew it was at least a little bit artifice. Feyre rarely spoke of or to her sisters, it seemed. At least, so it seemed to Cassian, but Cassian didn’t go a day without either spending time or talking to his found family. After a childhood abandoned, shuffling from foster family to foster family, isolated and desperate for love, from the second Rhys’ mother found him and found Az, Cassian couldn’t imagine a life without them. Or without Mor, his…sister seemed like a weird title, considering their history, but sister she was. Feyre was a sister too, immediately folded into their family. Cassian had thought he had found in Feyre a kindred spirit— another abandoned child, ostracized by her hateful sisters and neglected by her parents. But Nesta was a clanging rebuttal to this idea of Feyre. Nesta was hard and a little callous, but Cassian could no longer claim that she didn’t love her little sister. Elain was preternaturally sweet too. The two elder sisters were obviously closer to each other than either were to Feyre, but despite himself, Cassian couldn’t help wondering whether some of this was Feyre’s doing.

The three Archerons had spent the afternoon first touring the house and settling in, before Feyre stole one of Rhys’s cars to take them on a drive to the coast. Rhys denied being annoyed he wasn’t invited, and then denied being even more annoyed that they weren’t back for family dinner. He was still incapable of denying Feyre anything though, or blaming her, and so had subtly shifted the blame to the sisters. They probably insisted on spending time with her, one on one. They probably forced Feyre to take them sight-seeing, even though it should be Feyre’s weekend. They probably insisted on going out to eat, deciding they didn’t want the perfectly good food at home. Cassian noted that even though Rhys kept saying “they”, it was clear he meant “Nesta”. Elain was, to Cassian’s family’s mind, so pretty and meek and ingratiating, it was impossible to hold her to the same standards as Nesta. Nesta, from the outset, wasn’t remotely interested in ingratiating herself to Rhys, didn’t seem to want any relationship with him. Cassian had chalked this up to her haughtiness, to Rhys’ and Nesta’s mutual need for control and top dog authority. Perhaps that did complicate things, but their conversation in the car had shed another light on the situation. Nesta didn’t trust Rhys, and especially didn’t trust him with her little sister. It put up Cassian’s defenses, but he couldn’t deny that he understood her position. They had all willingly accepted her into their family, so eager and grateful for Rhys’s happiness, but from the outside, the relationship moved fast. And Feyre was so young. Nesta clearly had her own reasons for being wary of men, though Cassian doubted he’d ever get to know what they were. But even if she didn’t, the blowup between Tamlin and Feyre would have made Nesta extra cautious for her baby sister anyway. Cassian found himself resenting Nesta for this clarity, for forcing him to shift his perspective. He was a black and white kind of guy. He loved his family more than anything in this world, and they were supposed to be without fault, and everyone who opposed them was supposed to be a villain.

The rest of them ate a quiet dinner without Feyre. Mor did most of the talking, chatting and laughing airily even with the minimal responses. Even Az barely took notice, only responding when addressed directly, smiling only when prompted by a look from Mor. Cassian barely heard a word she said, and seemingly neither did Rhys. They settled in the living room, some of them doing their best to pretend not to be waiting for the sisters to return. Mor had dumped her feet on Cassian’s lap and demanded he rub them as they watched some stupid movie. Az had disappeared up to the room he had claimed for the weekend, and Rhys was stewing and drinking. The three sisters arrived, a little tired but looking happy, to this little scene. Cassian saw Nesta take note of his foot massaging, and a ghost of a grimace passed her face. He almost blushed at the sight and threw Mor’s feet down, but he resisted.

“Did you have fun, darling?” Rhys was at Feyre’s side in a moment, giving her a welcoming kiss on the cheek. “We missed you all at dinner.”

“Our apologies— it was our fault.” Elain blushed so sweetly. “We kept her — we were having too much fun at the Santa Monica Pier.”

“Watching the surfers,” Nesta added, smiling conspiratorially at her sisters.

“Lusting over the surfers,” Feyre corrected, smiling back. “But it was my fault. They tried to tell me we’d be late for dinner, but we were having so much fun, I said you wouldn’t mind.” She kissed Rhys’s cheek back, and while she had said the previous with confidence, a moment of hesitation appeared on her face. “You don’t, do you? I took them to Mercado. They loved it.”

“Of course not, darling. I’m glad you had fun.” He turned, and with too obvious effort, smiled at the sisters. “You’re not encouraging her to run off with someone and leave me, are you girls?”

“No no. We were looking for Nesta,” Elain explained. “She’s the single one.”

“Thanks, Elain. So glad to be the spinster sister at 25,” Nesta said sarcastically, but smiled privately to her sisters. “Even so, I was hardly the only one looking.” Cassian was eavesdropping, basically pinning himself to the couch to stop himself from leaping over the couch to join them, to force himself into Nesta’s eye line.

       “That tan guy with those golden brown eyes and the SMILE. My god. What was his name?” Feyre turned to Elain, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she pretended to ignore Rhys’s mounting jealousy. “His body was ridiculous.”

“B- something.” Elain answered. “But I liked the one with the dark hair— the one who was flirting outrageously with us.”

“Excuse me?” Rhys, who had draped an arm around Feyre’s waist, tightened his grip as his face fell into a heavy frown. “Who was flirting?”

Feyre just laughed, satisfied at her victory, and turned to give her boyfriend a kiss. “Don’t worry. He was only flirting outrageously with Nesta, I promise. He basically shoved his number into her purse when she didn’t take it.”

Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, who was smiling and shrugging nonchalantly. “He was hot. He invited us to a party, if anyone wants to go. Tomorrow night.”

“Are you going?” Cassian couldn’t help himself.

Nesta just shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what our plans were. I didn’t want to commit to anything. But he said I could bring as many people as I wanted.”

“You shouldn’t go alone. You should take one of us. For safety.” Fuck this pretense of  ambivalence. Cassian dumped Mor’s feet back on ground, and walked over to Nesta and the rest. Thankfully Mor hadn’t made a point of calling out him ditching her.

“I never said I was going at all,” she responded curtly, not bothering to look at Cassian.

“Oh you should! He was so charming. And handsome,” Elain insisted, before blushing and turning back to Rhys and Feyre and continuing, “if we don’t have plans, I mean.”

“Right. Feyre gets priority. Whatever you want,” Nesta agreed.

“Do you want to go?” Cassian knew that even though his brother had asked the question in earnest, Rhys was desperate for the answer to be no.

“Where is it?” Feyre asked Nesta, who opened her purse and took out a business card, looking at the handwriting on the back.

“10644 Bellagio Rd. Does that mean anything to you guys?”

Rhys gave Cassian a look of utter shock. “Bel Air?” He asked under his breath and Cassian confirmed it, though he knew neither had any reason to question it. “This guy was surfing in Santa Monica?”

Feyre shook her head. “We met him after. He was having dinner with people at Mercado, couldn’t keep his eyes off this one,” she said, nudging Nesta playfully.

“Is that bad? Should we not go?” Nesta prodded. “He seemed nice, but it’s really not a big deal. We just thought it might be fun, if we didn’t have other plans.”

Mor, still draped on the couch, called over, asking for the address again, and then after a moment spent too obviously google mapping it, squealed in excitement. “Oh Rhys. We have to. We’re going. Look.” She skittered over, holding her phone out for the group to see the massive white mansion on the map. “This is a 8-figure house.”

Nesta paled. “Oh we can’t. We can’t crash a billionaire’s party.”

Mor gave her a glittering smile, and Cassian couldn’t bury the snort in response. Mor couldn’t stand Nesta, but of course that’d be put to the side for some shiny rich guy’s party. “We’re not crashing. We’re invited. It sounds like he was basically insisting you go.”

“We don’t even know his name,” Nesta protested. “I have nothing to wear to a house like that.”

“We’ll go shopping!” Mor rebutted, and taking the business card out of Nesta’s hand, turned it over. “And his name is… Helion. Spellcleaver.” This information didn’t seem to move Nesta, so Mor, sharp-eyed always at getting her way, switched to a different tactic. “You want to go, right Feyre? And we didn’t have anything tomorrow night except dinner, right?” She gave Feyre and Rhys what Cassian knew Mor believed was her most persuasive pout, and when Feyre laughed, Mor beamed at what she knew was her victory.

“You don’t mind, do you Rhys?” Rhys sighed and shook his head, giving in as always. “Nesta?” She looked at her sister expectantly. “We can’t go without you.”

“He liked you. Don’t worry,” Elain said quietly, taking Nesta’s hand and squeezing it lightly.

Finally she sighed. “It’ll be fun. And I did say whatever you want, Fey.”

Mor cheered. Cassian always liked a party, but couldn’t help but taste the bitterness of jealousy in his throat. Nesta had been in Los Angeles for all of seven hours, and already some billionaire was throwing himself at her. Whatever sexual fantasy he had concocted for himself from the second Feyre asked if he could pick her sister up at the airport was dying in the wind now. Why would Nesta sleep with her sister’s friend who insulted her when she could have a hot billionaire who gave her devoted attention?

Not that he had any intention of “competing for her affections” with some Bel Air asshole. He didn’t think of her that way. Well, he did, but only because of the challenge. Once he was victorious, she’d be out of his system. And so what if he wasn’t buying his own persuasions of this less and less the more time he spent with Nesta?

And Cassian was even less persuaded the next morning, when he wandered out to eat breakfast to be treated to the sight of Nesta in a swimsuit reading as she and her sisters got some sun by the pool. God, her legs. Her waist— he could span the width of her waist with one hand, it seemed. Her breasts— he couldn’t get a clear view of them, her damn book was in the way, but if he took a few steps closer, he could almost see from…

“Put your tongue back in your mouth.” Az was at his side in an instant, smirking ruthlessly. Cassian briefly imagined breaking his nose.

“Morning!” Feyre chirped merrily upon spotting the brothers, unaware, it seemed, of the nature of Cassian’s thoughts. “Join us!”

Az smiled politely, and sat at the bistro table near Nesta’s sun chair, murmuring a good morning to Nesta as he passed her. She smiled openly and returned the courtesy. With that subtlety his brother had that Cassian could never manage, Az shifted the chair next to him out from the table with his foot, an eyebrow raised at Cassian to join him. Cassian felt rooted to his spot on the terrace, afraid suddenly to get too close to Nesta, afraid she’d catch him staring at her, or she’d read his open book face too easily. He’d have to get his staring in while she wasn’t paying attention to him, while she was speaking to Azriel in that silky low voice of hers. God, every thing she did shot straight to his cock. If he didn’t get to sleep with her tonight, he’d have to sleep with someone or he’d go mad. Cassian wondered briefly if Mor would throw him a bone, for old time’s sake. Just as a favor to his sanity. Azriel smirked during Cassian’s entire fifteen foot walk to the table— Cassian could feel it even though his own eyes were fixed on Nesta, taking every opportunity to soak in the sight of her while she was unaware. She was in a black shimmery one-piece that cut high on the leg and low v-neck at the breasts, held up with thin spaghetti straps. It had an iridescent quality, a golden shimmer that matched her tan, that made it seem almost sheer. Nesta turned over to get the sun on her back, and the backless edge scooped low near her perfect ass. Cassian had to swallow before he choked on his tongue. He sat down gingerly next to Azriel, and put his plate down.

“Good morning sweetheart,” he managed to get out. Nesta just turned briefly to glower before returning to her manuscript. There she was, the frigid bitch. Cassian guessed she was still mad about yesterday. It should have been a balm to his nerves, her iciness, but it only got his blood thrumming louder. “Good to see you too.”

Her sisters looked at Nesta expectantly. Clearly they had had been at least somewhat informed about Nesta and Cassian’s contentious car ride yesterday, because after a moment, Nesta managed to spit out “Good morning, Cassian,” without looking up at him and her sisters looked pleased, Feyre especially. Elain shot him a look with something approaching suspicion, or at least as close to suspicion as Cassian could guess guileless Elain could attain.

“Morning, Archerons,” Cassian continued, crunching loudly into an apple. “What are we up to today?”

“Don’t you have work?” Nesta asked mockingly. “It’s Thursday.”

“Don’t you?” He shot back.

“I’m on vacation. And I’m doing it,” she answered, raising the manuscript in her hands.

“Rhys gave us a long weekend. For little Feyre’s sake here,” he smirked at Feyre, who smiled before telling him to fuck off. “So what are we doing?”

“We’re hanging out at the pool, waiting for Rhys to finish his calls. Because he’s still working.” Feyre teased.

“Rhys works for fun. Don’t even know why he bothered to get a place with a pool, he actually prefers being on conference calls. Thank god he doesn’t expect Az or me to work the same way.”

“Where’s Mor?” Feyre ignored Cassian’s completely accurate description of his brother.

Cassian shot a look at Az, but was surprised to see his brother looking as stoic as ever, so he answered honestly. “Mor talked me into going out with her last night. I got home around 1, but Mor poured herself into bed around 6am. She’s not going to be up for much, I don’t think.”

“You left her at a bar by herself?” It was a surprising condemnation from Nesta, who cared as little for Mor as Mor did her, and seemed to relish an independence that Cassian would have guessed would rebuff any of those chivalrous gestures.

“Mor was not by herself,” Cassian snorted, and then snuck another shame-faced glance at Az, who still was not reacting. Interesting. “She met someone there, a woman— they hit it off.”

“Oh.” Nesta returned to her reading. “You still shouldn’t do that— it’s dangerous.”

Cassian shrugged. “Mor grew up here, she can take care of herself. And I’m only a phone call away.” And then, because he was an idiot, he leaned closer to Nesta, savoring the smell of sun and jasmine on her. “I wouldn’t let you alone in a club for a second, sweetheart. I’m all too happy to play bodyguard for you.”

‘Who’d guard me from you?” She snapped, and then looked guilty after the flare of temper died and she noticed her sisters staring at her, and Nesta murmured an apology. Cassian didn’t care though, didn’t want it, just accepted it by rote. Because there it was again— that fear. Actual fear. Cassian couldn’t tell if it was him, or it was men in general who made Nesta uncomfortable, but there was something she had buried that shot her defenses up so quickly at his interest. When Nesta excused herself to get a drink from the kitchen, asking them all if she could get them anything, Cassian followed.

“Are you okay, Nes?” He said it gently, quietly, knowing she’d balk at anyone else hearing or noticing her anxiety.

“I’m fine.” She took a large sip of the glass of water she had just filled. “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian searched her face. “You’re not fine.”

“You’re bothering me,” she snapped.

That wasn’t it. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I don’t mean to be. I can cut the jokes, if that’s it, Nesta.”

“You’re ogling me.” Well, that had been true, unfortunately. Cassian couldn’t seem to help himself. But when he saw that anxiety in her eyes, he made every effort to be respectful. Not a thing existed below her face.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll stop. Honestly. I couldn’t help myself.”

Nesta snorted, her voice bitter. “That’s the problem with you men. You think ‘can’t help yourself’ is a viable excuse.” She started to walk back to the pool, and shuddered when Cassian grabbed her wrist. He was brimming with fury, the clues falling into place.

“Who hurt you? What happened?” He made every effort to hold her gently, to will Nesta to trust him with this, to trust him to protect her at the very least.

“Does it matter?” She asked coldly, but made no effort to pull away from him, just stared those mesmerizing eyes into his, hard and flinty.

“Of course it fucking matters.”

“Why?”

Damn it. Cassian had to be careful how he answered. “You’re family. And no woman should have the fear in her eyes that you do right now.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for one more second, judging him, his sincerity, but didn’t give away her assessment. When she gently pulled away this time, he let her, releasing her wrist. “I’m fine, Cassian. Don’t worry about me.”

Cassian didn’t believe her whatsoever. “Do they know?” He nodded towards Feyre and Elain, who were blithely chatting by the pool.

Nesta shook her head. “I don’t want them to,” she said first, before then adding, too lightly, too falsely, “there’s nothing to know.” Cassian just nodded, a sign to her that he would let her have this lie and would keep the conversation to himself.

“I’m sorry.” He hoped she understood he was sorry for all of it— for making her uncomfortable, for making her remember, for the fact that it happened in the first place. And he watched as she nodded and put that hard-nosed mask back on, her fear and vulnerability put back away. Cassian followed her back outside silently, quietly considering that it was getting harder and harder to pretend Nesta was the simple picture he and his family had painted for themselves. By the time she flopped back into her lounge chair, she was smiling as she turned to her sisters, laughing easily as Feyre cracked a joke, made easy small talk with Elain about work, about her roommates, about Elain’s boyfriend Lucien.

“If this hot billionaire doesn’t work out, Lucien’s brother is dying to meet you. And he actually lives in New York instead of across the country,” Elain suggested airily, grinning at Nesta’s grimace in response.

“Elain, I’m not interested.”

“Come on, it’s time. It’ll be good to get back out there,” Feyre pushed. Nesta was facing away from him, unfortunately. Cassian was dying to see her reaction, if she looked pained, heartbroken, ambivalent. “And Lucien is gorgeous. I’m sure his brother is too.”

“I’m not into redheads,” Nesta said simply, then apologetically, “No offense, Lainy. You know I like Lucien.”

Elain just sighed. “Eris will have to wait, then. It’s fine. He’s the patient sort. You’ll come around.”

Nesta just groaned irritably, to her sisters’ amusement, and the group fell back into a silence as Nesta went back to work and the sisters dazed in and out of slumber. Az and Cassian talked quietly, until the heat got to them and the brothers changed and jumped into the pool to cool off. Rhys emerged shortly after, perfectly tailored and put together, thoroughly at odds with the rest of them.

“It’s almost noon— how long have you lot been lazing around?” He asked, smiling in what Cassian recognized was Rhys’ “charming mode”. Rhys sauntered over to Feyre’s chair and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Feyre, darling, are you even going to put on real clothes today?”

She flipped him off with a sweet smile. “I’m enjoying being done with school. And Nesta is working.”

Nesta looked up from her pages at her name. “I can reach a stopping point at any time, if we have plans.”

“Did you guys want to do some sight-seeing? Preferably of something other than hot men?” Rhys asked, still smiling charmingly.

“Nesta, you said something about needing something to wear tonight?” Elain added. “Is there somewhere we can do both?”

“If we’re shopping, we need to wait for Mor. She’ll know what to wear to a party like this,” Feyre added, not noticing when Nesta paled at the prospect. Rhys nodded in agreement and said he’d brave waking her up.

“I don’t think I can wear the kind of stuff Mor does. It’s a little…” Nesta trailed off, clearly considering the most diplomatic answer. When she came up with nothing, Cassian smirked to himself, wondering which aspect of Mor’s style was most concerning to Nesta.

“Mor can be a little much,” Rhys said with an eye-roll, “but Feyre is right. She’s keyed into these things. She’ll find you something that’ll work for you.”

Nesta looked at Elain with some alarm, but Rhys was off to wake the beautiful beast before the sisters could stop him. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later that Mor finally emerged, yawning and still in her matching shorts pjs, but hair and skincare regimen already done. She looked cranky already, but too dazed to release her ire on them. “Rhys says we need to go shopping?” She said on another yawn.

“For tonight. For that party.”

“Or maybe, if you don’t mind, you could look through what we brought? See if there’s something suitable?” Nesta suggested. She clearly did not want to go shopping, Cassian realized.

“Or you could borrow something. I have more stuff at my place, but we can start with what I keep here.” Mor gave the sisters’ a once-over. “You and I are not quite the same size— we’ll have to find something to fit those boobs of yours. And Elain might be a little shorter, but we can definitely make something work.”

Elain glanced at Nesta fearfully, and Nesta stepped forward, a little pale. “I think the concern is that we’re a little more…buttoned up than you, Morrigan. Stuffy.”

Mor’s eyes were glassy with sleepiness as she waved away this concern. “That won’t do for this anyway. But I’ll look through your stuff first, and we’ll figure it out from there.” She and Feyre led the girls upstairs, and they followed hesitantly.

The boys sat in silence downstairs. Cassian could feel Azriel’s eyes on him, and when he looked at his brother, Az’s grin made him want to punch him. “What are you smirking at?”

“Just wondering if you were feeling threatened yet? Or whether you were just excited to see Mor doll Nesta up in one of her get-ups.”

Az’s grin widened as Cassian grimaced, and the expression broke Cassian’s patience, and he shoved his brother. “I’m not some fucking lech,” he muttered, praying that this could be the end of this line of conversation. But he couldn’t help himself from adding “And she’s not going to sleep with that guy.”

“You seem confident,” Rhys crooned. Well, fuck. This would never drop now, not that Rhys was involved. ‘Have there been…developments?”

Cassian wanted to protect his pride, but he snorted in derision in spite of himself, and so gave in to the truth. “Yes,” he said, enjoying his brothers’ surprise. “I’ve managed to make her hate me even more.”

“So why are you so sure she won’t hook up with this Helion guy?” Az asked.

Rhys brushed an invisible piece of lint off of the blazer he was wearing. “I’d tell you again not to hook up with Nesta but… I’ve looked into this guy— he’s a major deal. Powerhouse producer but a spotless reputation. Throws these massive parties, hooks up with everyone, but no one has a bad word to say about him. Smart, charming, good-looking— you’ve got stiff competition, Cassian.”

“I’m not competing. I don’t know how to beat this into your heads— I’m not interested in anything but a one-off. If that.” When both his brothers chuckled in disbelief, an angry Cassian threw his hands up and started stalking off. “Besides, if Helion is all that, maybe he won’t even be interested in Nesta. He’s probably got all these gorgeous Hollywood starlets at his beck and call.”

“Tell yourself whatever you have to, brother!” Az called after him, and Cassian threw him the finger without turning around. Az was right— Cassian didn’t believe it. Whatever lies he could sell himself about how he felt, he knew Nesta was special. She had a beauty that was almost painful to behold. He was hardly some shy virgin when he met her, and from the second he saw that face, he was done for. That body, that ludicrous body of hers. People came out here to spend their life savings to look a tenth as gorgeous as Nesta. So fine. So what if he had a schoolboy crush on her. It didn’t mean anything. But that didn’t mean he liked the prospect of some handsome billionaire sweeping her away from him either.

Chapter Text

“No. No. Too day.” Morrigan had made peace with a dress Elain had packed, but was flinging every item Nesta had packed out of the closet onto the bed in rejection. “This is pretty,” she stopped at a favorite of Nesta’s, a gold and blue sleeveless ankle-length satin dress with a high neck and high slit. Mor inspected it, turning it around and holding it up to Nesta, before carelessly throwing it on the bed. Nesta had recklessly overpaid for that, but held her shriek of protest.

“What’s wrong with that one?” She asked.

“Everything you brought is too… staid. So New York.”

“I am from New York.”

“Well, I don't think you should advertise it the way you do.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed at the implication that it would be something she’d have to hide. “Elain’s dress isn’t very showy.”

“Elain has a boyfriend, and you are the reason we get to go to this party. This guy is going to expect you to look a certain way.” Mor reached the end of the clothes Nesta had brought, and was now inspecting the heeled sandals she bought at a sample sale, a pair of black strappy stilettos that made Nesta tall enough to feel like a supermodel. “I think I have something that will look good with these.”

“I’m not planning on hooking up with this guy. But even if I was, shouldn’t I go ahead and look like myself?”

“No not at all. You should look sexy.” Nesta never could tell whether Morrigan meant to be rude to her, or whether it was incidental. Everyone seemed to find her so lovable, even Elain, but Nesta remained thoroughly unconvinced. She was pleased to see that Mor had started hanging all her clothes back up, and gave her a begrudging thanks that Mor waved off. Morrigan picked up the dress Emerie insisted she pack. “This is too casual for tonight, but this. This is the kind of thing you should wear in general. I bet it makes your breasts look amazing.”

“I don’t like feeling exposed.” Nesta said a little grouchily, but the look Morrigan shot her told her that it was taken as judgment. It wasn’t, Nesta wanted to correct. It was discomfort— discomfort with being seen, discomfort from memories. But instead Nesta’s face flushed red and she said nothing, and Morrigan stiffened slightly.

“It’s your dress,” Morrigan argued.

“My best friend insisted I pack it,” Nesta argued back. The memory was now rushing back full force— she was usually better at burying it, but the moment this morning with Cassian left it floating at the top of her mind. Nesta felt too raw and weak to keep arguing. She felt ready to give into Morrigan’s makeover.

Morrigan looked irritated as well, and a little raw herself. Nesta supposed it was to be expected. After all, Mor was woken up and forced to dress up someone she despised after a night out and about four hours sleep. Perhaps, Nesta considered, she should cut her a little more slack. “I’ll be right back— I think the dress I’m thinking of for those heels is here, not at my place. I’m going to go check.”

It surprised Nesta that Mor seemed to have her own place— like Cassian, she moved through Rhys’ mansion as if it was her own home. What a fucked-up little friend group, Nesta thought. They all seemed to keep a full wardrobe here. Az, Nesta knew, was more private. He had his own home, needed his own space. But they were all so entrenched in this group, so inextricably tied to each other, how could they breathe? Nesta loved her friends deeply— they were her sisters too, who knew more of her secrets than the sisters she shared blood with — but the three still had their own lives outside of each other. They had their own friends, careers, relationships. Rhys’ friends— they worked together, they basically lived together, they spent all their time together. Feyre was the first outsider to have ever broken into their little crew. The single ones never mentioned another friend, a partner, a colleague. They were the only people to exist to each other, with the exception of any meaningless hookup. It was a wonder anyone, even eager for love little Feyre, could manage to penetrate these defenses.

Mor returned with three dresses carefully draped over both arms. “Okay, so we have options. This was my first choice— the Valentino— but I thought if you don’t like feeling exposed, this might be a bit much…” No joke. With Nesta’s height, it barely covered her crotch, and hung low enough to not be able to wear a bra. Nesta hesitated, doing her best not to offend Mor further. It was far too expensive to borrow anyway.

“It’s nice, but honestly…”

“Right. You’d feel naked. I was worried about your height in it anyway. So then I thought this would look great with those black heels you brought. And it's still hot, but a little more covered up.” It was a gorgeous slinky steel grey thing, something that would be at home in Nesta’s own closet.

“I love this,” Nesta said, turning it around on its hanger.

“I figured you’d like this one— it seemed more your style. No one would be happy if I completely remade you in my image.”

‘Cassian would,’ Nesta scoffed in her brain so loudly she checked to be sure Mor hadn’t heard it. When it was safe, she simply asked, “what’s the third?”

“Before you resist, I think the third is the answer. It’s one of my favorite dresses, but honestly I think you’ll look way hotter in it than I do.” Mor held it up— it was a black halter fit and flare dress with a corset top and a skirt that ended a few inches above the knee. “Now, about the naked thing— I do have a lining so you wouldn’t be so exposed, but the mesh panels REALLY look better without it. And you’ll be covered…ish.”

It was really beautiful. It was too beautiful. “You really think it suits me?”

Mor smiled that glittering smile that worked on everyone else. “Feyre said you used to be a dancer— I always thought of this as my ballerina dress. It moves beautifully.”

Nesta was struggling to resist it. She should, but she couldn’t seem to do it. “Can I try it on?” She asked a little shyly.

Morrigan clucked, an annoyed sound she probably thought sounded affectionate. “That’s what we’re doing here.” Nesta climbed into the dress very gingerly, terrified of marking or damaging it in any way— this was easily two months rent, she thought.

Nesta zipped herself in, and smoothed the skirt down before she looked in the mirror. She examined herself from every angle— the dress was stunning. It had been a while since she had been this person, Nesta realized. Expensive designer clothes and dressing to be stared at— she didn’t know if she could still do this. It was just for fun this time, she told herself. ‘Mother isn’t here to criticize, isn’t here to push you into something you don’t want.’ She needed to keep reminding herself, but still she felt on edge. The dress was constructed with a mix of sheer and opaque panels meant to echo the curves of her body, the bust sat low on her breasts. Nesta had been living in a uniform of Ann Taylor Loft conservative work dresses and cardigans Monday through Friday, and was often similarly apathetic about her weekend clothes too. This whole thing, this dress— maybe it was too big a leap. Not to mention that while she hasn’t exactly been a nun the past few years, she hadn’t even gotten done up for someone since Tomas, hadn’t had a single desire to do so. It was all too much. She’d just wear something she brought— even if it was too casual, at least Mor liked the Emerie dress. And to think Nesta had been concerned that that was too much.

“I was right,” Mor pouted before Nesta could reject the dress. “It’s so much better on you.”

Nesta did her best not to flush, just held her head high despite her embarrassment. “That can’t be true.” It didn’t matter if Nesta didn’t like her, she was honest enough to admit that Mor was a smoke show. She looked like she was born with a TikTok filter.

“No, on me it looks ordinary, but on you it looks elegant somehow. I think it must be your carriage.”

Nesta took another look at herself in the mirror, and shook her head. ”I don’t have your Coke bottle thing, and the dress needs it. I’m just boobs and legs in this.”

Mor scoffed, but not unkindly. “Every man’s dream then,” but still Nesta couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting in it, smoothing down the skirt in some attempt to make it magically longer. “We can ask a third party, if you want. We should get a male opinion— I’ll call Cass in here.”

“No.” The word cut through their forced civility like a knife, and Nesta couldn’t blame Mor for looking shocked at the tone. She gathered her wits a bit better, and sighed, murmuring “I appreciate it— if you think it’s right, I’ll wear it. We don’t need to involve anyone else.”

The look Mor gave her at this was searching, and then suspicious. Nesta didn’t really know what Mor wanted from her- as far as she was could tell, Mor seemed happy having Cassian at her beck and call. “You don’t want Cass’s opinion?” Nesta could tell
Morrigan was watching her carefully for her response.

Nesta snorted derisively. “He’ll just say something lewd and leave it at that. Doesn’t seem beneficial, no.”

This seemed to satisfy Mor, who just shrugged and then beamed her shiny smile. “Okay then. If you’re comfortable. You can change and we can tell the boys they don’t have to go shopping today.” Nesta nodded and started undressing, throwing on a linen shirtdress she had packed for sightseeing instead, haphazardly braiding her hair up in a coronet to get it off her neck in the heat.

“It seems unfair that we have to do all this, and the guys will throw on deodorant and jeans and call it a night,” Nesta grumbled.

“Deodorant if we’re lucky,” Mor added with a grin, though it seemed a little begrudged. “Don’t worry— I’ll make the boys dress tonight. Well, just Cassian really. Az does as he’s told, and I don’t know if Rhys even owns jeans.”

They spent the rest of the day basically going on a tour of Feyre and Rhys’s relationship. As broke and disinterested in shopping as Nesta had been, even that would have been better than this. “This is where Rhys hit on me at a party while I was still dating Tamlin” (LACMA), “This is where he stalked me as I was taking spin classes” (SoulCycle), “This is where we had our first date” (Toca Madera), “This is where we had our first ‘kiss’” (the unisex bathroom of the bar across from Toca Madera). At LACMA, at least there was other stuff to see, but “touring” a West Hollywood SoulCycle studio was not as interesting as Feyre seemed to believe. And no, Nesta had not warmed to Rhys, and he had not warmed to her either, but Nesta couldn’t deny that this was the happiest she had ever seen her little sister. So she tried to make her smiles genuine and she tried to look interested, but was relieved when Nesta saw that the rest of the party was as fed up as she felt.

“Rhys and Feyre act as if they invented falling in love,” Az muttered as an aside to Nesta. “We’ve all been waiting for the honeymoon stage to be over so we don’t have to suffer anymore.”

“Oh thank god. I thought it was just me,” Nesta whispered back. “I thought it was my cold and cynical heart getting sick of this and all of you were hanging on every word.”

“I’ve been wanting to slice my ears off for at least an hour, Nesta. Come on. Give me some credit.”

She smiled at Az for this, ready to laugh, and her smile widened when a faint blush tinted that beautiful face of his and he averted his eyes from her. “Don’t. They’ll know we’re laughing at them,” he whispered conspiratorially in her ear, but it was too late. A small snicker escaped Nesta’s mouth, and Az’s own echoed it, and suddenly she was conscious of five pairs of eyes staring at her and Azriel. Unbidden, Nesta’s own eyes shot to Cassian, who had seemed to stiffen irritably at the noise or sight.

“Sorry. Ignore me. Inside joke,” was all she gave in explanation, and although Elain rolled her eyes too knowingly, and Feyre frowned slightly, the rest of the group went back to ignoring Az and Nesta as Rhys and Feyre held court going through the excruciatingly dull details of their courtship. All except Cassian, who kept a steady gaze on her, or them. It annoyed her. Acting like he’d peed on her in claiming, because he hadn’t managed to nail her yet and wanted to keep her as his personal joke. Or was it that he didn’t like her getting close to Az, didn’t trust her enough to let her be friends with his brother? Azriel was private, Nesta knew, and knew that he probably didn’t disclose their friendship to Cassian, the fact that they kept in contact over the past few years with the occasional phone call and text. Nesta didn’t mind— she knew Az wasn’t hiding her or ashamed of her— he just kept his private life private. And she had no intention of crossing that boundary with him or giving up her friendship with him, no matter the weight of Cassian’s gaze.

The tour of Rhys and Feyre’s relationship drew to a close not long after, sparing Nesta’s sanity, and upon Mor’s insistence, they returned to Rhys’s house to get ready with hours to spare. This was already met with resistance— four and a half hours was excessive, the house had more bathrooms than they had people, so there was lots of showers and rooms to get ready, how long does it take to put on deodorant and some clothes, Cassian specifically whined— but Mor waved all these arguments aside, insisting that the boys take showers “FULL showers”(Nesta had no desire to find out what that meant), and do their hair while Mor took the girls for mani-pedis. And after the exorbitantly priced mani-pedis and blowouts, and talking Morrigan down from the idea that they also needed facials and eyebrow waxes, the girls returned home with Mor the party drill sergeant, ready to paint their faces. By the time Mor was done, Nesta felt just as plucked and prodded and scrutinized as she had when she was at home on break as a teenager, when her mother had insisted she join her and her father for a business dinner with some leering old perv, or trucked her from cotillion to cotillion. But the years of training had prepared Nesta for this, and she should stood straight and tall as Mor inspected her from every angle.

“You look good.” As a final evaluation, Nesta could live with that. Relieved, she started fussing with her skirt again, but Mor tutted and Nesta stopped. “Quit it. You look hot.”

Elain walked in and sighed dramatically. “Oh, Nesta, you look beautiful. It reminds me of when we were younger and you’d get all done up to go to some gala or event with Daddy and Mother.”

“I hated those things,” Nesta muttered under her breath, but after she caught a sharp look from Mor, added “thanks Lainy. You look gorgeous.” Elain was, to her mind, the most beautiful of the three sisters, more beautiful than Morrigan— all soft, sweet, delicate features. She had always understood that about her looks, too, and never fought against it— tonight she was in a soft pink dress with a tulle midi skirt, and looked out of a fairy tale. Mor was in a skintight red leather mini dress with long sleeves and a low scooped neckline, her golden hair falling in waves. She looked so glamorous and sexy in a way that made Nesta feel dowdy and gawky. When they walked downstairs to join the guys, Cassian had wolf-whistled at the sight of Mor— playfully, but Nesta couldn’t blame him.

“Look at you! You’re so fucking beautiful, you take my breath away,” Nesta heard Cassian say before Morrigan laughed, shushing him with a playful smack to the chest. Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Elain ducked behind Mor shyly, avoiding any attention, but Nesta refused to be cowed. She waited, gliding down on her own, holding her head high, refusing to give any sign of her nerves. She wouldn’t even deign to look at Cassian or Rhys, wouldn’t give any weight to their scrutiny, just sailed past them, but was grateful when Az walked up and took her arm.

“He doesn’t know what’s hit him,” was all Az said, giving her a quiet smile as he led her out to the cars.

Chapter Text

Cassian was no stranger to fights, to violence. He had beaten Rhys’s pompous ass the first time he had met him, he and his brothers had participated in both light-hearted and real scraps throughout the years, he’d gotten into some random bar fights, defending Mor or his brothers or even Amren once, when she got too drunk and mouthed off to some steroid-high idiot who bumped into her and spilled her drink. He had gone to college on a hockey scholarship, he was a bruiser— he knew it, and so did everyone else. It was juvenile, he knew, and he had since refocused his aggression into a workout regimen and sports. But he had never entertained a single thought of actually hurting one of his brothers until he saw Az with Nesta. She had always been warmer and friendlier to Az than she was to himself or Rhys or Mor. Cassian had long chalked this up to a sort of mutual understanding. Both Az and Nesta were reserved and introverted, they liked to hang on the fringes of the group, both had a sort of wry sardonic humor. And Cassian thought perhaps Azriel had decided to use Nesta as a distraction or diversion— not in a bad way, just someone to talk to to avoid his feelings for Mor. It was useful for Cassian too, because he felt less compelled to act as a buffer for Mor and Az when Nes was around.

But watching them today stoked a jealousy in Cassian that he had never experienced before. He had never fought for a woman’s attention before, never sweated anyone’s lack of interest, but as much as he told himself his attraction to Nesta was just sexual, just superficial, just his competitive spirit, watching her ignore him and talk, flirt, laugh with Azriel was agony. The way her ice blue eyes glowed as Nesta and Az laughed together at the restaurant. The intimacy she allowed with his brother while barely tolerating Cassian’s presence— the blush as Az whispered at her ear— he wanted to smash his nose into dust. The only salve was the fact that the two lived an entire continent apart, so the most they could have was a few stolen nights together. Never mind that just a few nights ago, Cassian had thought of that as a benefit he would take advantage of himself.

Any thought he had of that— any thought he had at all— vanished from his brain the second he saw Nesta coming down, ready to leave for the party. Her body was something constructed out of some absurd teenage fantasy of his, and this dress, this evil dress— it was a lure. But her face— that perfect, regal, siren’s face. Mor had done her makeup- Nesta seemed to ordinarily wear very little, but Mor had painted her lips red, accentuated those icy wicked eyes with black, her lashes impossibly long. Cassian’s voice dried out, and he had to hold himself up with a hand on the kitchen island, for fear he’d crumble to his knees. He’d do anything for one look from her, but she wouldn’t grant him one, wouldn’t give him a single second of blessed reprieve. She walked past him as if he wasn’t even there, and he followed her without thinking. His feet moved of their own accord, following after her in pure desire and instinct. But then, instead of catching her, instead of leading her to the car, there was Az, taking her by the arm, whispering so his lips grazed her small perfect ears, making her smile. And Cassian couldn’t even be angry with his brother, accuse him of stealing anything from him. He had told Azriel countless times he wasn’t interested. Even if Cassian knew Azriel hadn’t believed him for a second, his brother had plausible deniability.

They had to drive in two cars to the party— Rhys took Feyre in his Maybach, of course, leaving the other five to sort out their own ride. Mor winked and, once Rhys had left, snuck into the garage and emerged driving Rhys’s Bentley town car, throwing the keys to Cassian with a laugh. “His fault,” she shrugged, “for ditching us. It’s the least he can do, provide the transport.” Cassian laughed himself in agreement, climbing into the driver’s seat. Az opened the front passenger door for Nesta, but she refused it, demanding Az take it instead because “you’re so much taller”. Azriel reluctantly accepted, to Cassian’s frustration. He had had a moment of hope that he and Nesta could ride there together, he could tell her how beautiful she looked tonight. But oh well. Instead, the three girls sat in the backseat, Mor doing most of the talking for the entire car. When they pulled up to the mansion, Cassian’s heart fell in his stomach. He thought he had accustomed himself to wealth. He had grown up next to Rhys’s wealth, to Mor’s. They ran in wealthy circles. Cassian was self-aware enough to recognize that. He still felt so uncomfortable with it, still felt like they could smell the wrong side of the tracks, the low-rent orphan, on him. But this Helion guy lived in untouchable wealth. Every single car in the driveway (which he had hired a team of valets to park) was an Alfa Romeo or nicer. The mansion— a huge white neoclassical— made Rhys’s look…quaint. Cassian had been annoyed that morning when Mor had dropped in on his room at Rhys’s, holding a garment bag and insisting he wear it, and he had rejected the tie just to be willful. But now he was thankful. He pulled up to the valet stand, where a valet opened the door for him and Elain on his side of the car, Mor climbing after Elain. Az waved the valet off and opened his own door before opening Nesta’s for her, giving her his hand to escort her. Cassian was momentarily confused, before he caught what Az had seen first— a tall, broad-chested dark man standing on the portico with a gleaming bright smile just for Nesta. So this was him. He had thick dark wavy hair that fell to his chin with a streak of grey at his right temple, and a golden tan. He was older than them then, Cassian determined, and worked out regularly, the muscles obvious under the oxford shirt he wore. He'd guess early forties, and Middle Eastern in ethnic background. Helion walked up to Nesta immediately, arms wide open in greeting, clasping her arms and giving her a kiss to each cheek.

“Gorgeous. I was hoping you’d come, but of course you had to keep me in suspense.” His accent had a faint Britishism under the American. Cassian should be generous and determine that he probably studied/lived abroad. But this guy was smiling at Nesta and holding her, so he was a pretentious douche with an affectation. 

“Couldn’t let you get too confident,” Nesta answered with a sly smile. “This is your place?”

Helion grinned confidently, stepping back to give Nesta a good look— it was clear he was used to successful pursuit. “Do you like it?

Nesta studied the house, studied Helion, and Cassian almost laughed as the man shifted slightly under her scrutiny. She waited just long enough to put him on edge, before answering simply, “It’s nice.”

Helion winked perhaps knowingly at her purposeful pause. “It’s made all the more beautiful by your presence in it.” He waited again for her response, expectant of his charms’ success at chipping away at Nesta’s armor, and Helion’s happy face only slightly slipped when, after another pause, Nesta simply said, “thank you.”

Cassian wanted to deck him. Who talked like this? Helion seemed to notice Cassian’s aggression, a knowing grin drawing across his handsome face. “And who are your friends, Nesta? Sweet Elain I’ve met, but these strapping boys, and this golden goddess?” Nesta introduced them as her sister’s friends, and Helion greeted them all warmly, a seductive glint in his eye for each of them. “Tell me, do all beautiful people run in groups together?”

“Which one of us are you trying to seduce, Mr. Spellcleaver?” Mor answered with a smooth syrupy voice, the glint of her own matching Helion’s.

“I am a prisoner of beauty, Morrigan. Any pretty face can have me at their whims,” Helion answered. Cassian almost snorted, and in fact did when he caught Nesta rolling her eyes. Helion was undeterred by the gesture. “Though I will admit— rarely have I been so arrested by anyone as I was by her. Nesta is special.”

It was the wrong thing to say in front of Mor— she wasn’t used to other women’s beauty taking attention away from her own. It wasn’t even really her fault— just the terrible way she was raised by her creepy predator of a Weinstein-esque dad and her pageant mom, to view her beauty as her only value, an asset to be traded to men. But now she couldn’t help her frown, even as she admitted her agreement. Helion’s gaze never broke from Nesta, waiting for a response. She gave him none, just raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Well?” Nesta finally said, a brusque edge to her voice cutting through the inane flirtatious energy of Helion and Mor. “Are we allowed to enter the threshold, or is this all of it?”

Helion simply laughed, and linking his arm with hers, led her away. Cassian pretended not to watch as they left.

“She plays better than I thought she would.” Cassian couldn’t tell whether Mor was admiring or condemning Nesta. She was just staring at her vacated spot absently. “From what I’ve seen, I thought she’d be either a bitchy shrew or a scared mouse.”

Cassian just laughed. “She’s neither. She’s a jungle cat.”

“Nesta was raised to do this,” explained Elain. Cassian had completely forgotten about her existence until she spoke. “Our mother was obsessed with the idea of using Nesta to climb the social ladder. Too much reading about the Middletons, I think. She used to make Nesta sit in on our father’s meetings and dinners with clients to learn how to…win men over, I guess. From when she was about eight or nine onwards. When she wasn’t studying or at dance class, anyway. Even after she left for school, whenever Nesta came home, she’d be shuffled to galas and dinners and cotillion. Nesta had to learn everything, she had to be perfect, she had to have the best education to attract ‘the best men.’ And then when it was clear that she was going to go pro, Mother thought it was fated. Nesta would end up with someone like this Helion or better.”

“Eight or nine? That’s sick.” Azriel, who Cassian also had forgotten was there, chimed in.

“Our mother put all her hopes in Nesta. It was perverse. A younger client friend of our father’s became infatuated with her at fifteen, asked our father if he could date her— of course Dad said no, but the guy basically asked if he could put her on ‘hold’ until she was legal. All the education, all the discipline our mother forced on her did exactly what it was supposed to. It was sick, you’re right— our parents allowed this man too much access to our lives, considering he was only there to creep on their underaged daughter. He’d go all the way to New York to Nesta’s ballet recitals, come to our family dinners. Until we lost our money anyway. Then, suddenly, Nesta wasn’t such a draw anymore. I think she felt guilty, that she didn’t ‘trap’ him while she could, once things became so dire. But, poor or no, I was grateful. He always made Nesta so uncomfortable. I would have hated if she was the one who got trapped by him.”

“They didn’t push you or Feyre this way?” Mor asked, narrowing her eyes. “You’re all plenty beautiful.”

Elain just shook her head. “I’ve never had Nesta’s drive and Feyre… well Feyre was young. And she’s always been wild. And willful. Mother basically ignored her, considered her a lost cause.”

“And yet you and Feyre have both settled down with someone your mother would have been proud of, — so young, too. And Nesta is still single,” Mor noted, and again, Cassian couldn’t tell if the statement was admiring or condemning.

“Well, we didn’t have the concept ruined for us. We were allowed to believe we could fall in love, be happy.” Elain’s voice remained sweet, but there was a note of steely warning in it now. Cassian wondered if they all discounted the middle Archeron sister, assumed she was just a Bambi-eyed little girl. “I think Nesta just has gotten sick of the whole thing. Doesn’t want to marry rich, but doesn’t believe in love either. She’s talked herself out of needing any of it, needing anyone.” She looked out into the party and the rest of them followed suit, catching a sight of Helion’s pressed suit of Nesta, who seemed nothing more than drily amused by it. “I’m still hoping something or someone snaps her out of it. I want her to be happy.”

Cassian could feel Az’s eyes on him, and so he stubbornly snapped his gaze away from Nesta, forcing a large smile on his face. “Come on, golden goddess. Let’s get hammered on this guy’s dime before Rhys gets here and tells us to behave.” He threw his arm around Mor, who rolled her eyes and told him to never call her that again, but laughed as they walked to find the bar.

He and Mor managed to get three drinks in before Rhys and Feyre finally showed up, suspiciously late and rumpled. Cassian supposed he couldn’t blame them taking advantage of some alone time with so many house guests. The more Cassian drank, the less convincing was his not stalking Nesta. She had been swept into Helion’s social circle, barely had a moment to interact with them since they had arrived, just floated from group to group being introduced. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Nesta smiling, Nesta talking, Nesta making others laugh, Nesta laughing herself — it was a pretty but inauthentic laugh, bright and bell-like. It gave Cassian a wild desire to draw out her real laugh for himself. And then, finally, Nesta dancing. Cassian knew she had been a professional, or at least semi-professional, but seeing it for himself, the way the music seemed to move through her, even just club dancing, or when Helion offered to “teach her” how to salsa, and then she proceeded to wipe the floor with him- it was intoxicating, watching her lithe body twist and sway. It was a siren’s call to his blood. He needed to be there, to try and move with her, to watch up close the way she seemed to come alive with the music. But it was impossible, that siren’s call drew men to her like flies. Helion was hesitant to give up his dancing partner to anyone, but the consummate host did his duty and didn’t monopolize her. Still, the queue to dance with her was endless. Once she had started dancing, Nesta hadn’t had a single break. Every time a song would end, she’d turn around and someone new would ask for a dance.

“Aren’t you getting in line?” Az asked, drink in hand and a weather eye on his brother. Cassian knew without looking that Az had that same insufferable smirk on his face that he had had since Nesta’s arrival.

“Don’t feel like dancing,” he replied.

“It might be your only chance,” Az pressed.

Cassian just shrugged, feigning a casualness he didn’t remotely feel. “I don’t care. Besides, I don’t feel like being one of a hundred.” He made the mistake of looking at Az then, and there must have been some emotion he hadn’t successfully hidden on his face, because at the sight, Az’s smirk widened.

“Do you mind if I have a go, then? I’d like a dance.”

Cassian’s desire to beat his brother into the ground flared again in his gut, but he just said, “If you want.”

Az, in that quiet way he had, slinked to the dance floor and tapped Nesta’s shoulder, interrupting a dance with a handsome black movie star Cassian recognized but couldn’t place. The actor’s resentment only showed for a split second before he released Nesta to Az with a resigned smile. Az whispered something to Nesta again, and she laughed— still pretty, but more real this time. And then that snake maneuvered her to the fringes of the dance floor, giving Cassian a better view as Az spun her around, grinding with her as she threw her head back  against his chest and laughed again. He couldn’t make out anything the two said as they danced, but they talked almost the entire time. Cassian supposed he had to make peace with the fact that he had lost for the night— but still, it was a shocking thing for his brother to have done. They had never competed for women— not even really for Mor. He wondered if this was payback for that whole stupid debacle. Cassian couldn’t deny that he knew what Az had felt for her, back when they were teenagers. But it wasn’t that he wanted to take Mor from Az— it was that he wanted to stop Mor from taking Az from him. It was selfish, and cruel, and incredibly childish. And if this is how Az wanted to take his revenge, Cassian supposed he couldn’t blame him. But he could and did hate him a little for it.

But then, Az kept looking over at him while he was dancing, finally rolling his eyes like his brother was an idiot, and jerked his head in a gesture to tell him to come over. Cassian shook his head, and Az mouthed VERY clearly ‘stop being a fucking moron’, and Cassian caved. On his arrival, Az whispered to Nesta first, who looked momentarily aghast and then nodded, and Az took her hand, giving it to Cassian.

“Some creep won’t leave Nesta alone - not Helion or the movie star. A blond guy. Keep her safe, will you? I’ve got to find a restroom.” Az said this smoothly, loudly for both Nesta and Cassian to hear, but winked at his brother so quickly and subtly above Nesta’s head, the woman was none the wiser.

Cassian was suddenly struck shy, a completely foreign feeling. He ducked down, asking if she wanted to continue dancing, and when she said yes, Cassian’s hand involuntarily squeezed hers. “Just one though. I’m getting tired, and the creepy guy is getting closer.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Cassian snapped tersely, and when he felt Nesta tense in fear in his arms, relaxed his grip and smiled. “You doubt I can take care of it, sweetheart?”

Nesta scoffed. “Hardly.” She stared him down, unflinching, as she continued. “You’re built like a tank. But I don’t want a scene.”

‘There won’t be one. Unless he refuses to get the message.”

Nesta smiled, and averted her gaze, amused by some private joke. “I didn’t take you for the white knight type, Cassian.”

“Only for you, Nes.” She rolled her eyes, and he took it as a sign to finish the conversation and get back to dancing. Nesta fell into the dancing easily, as unperturbed and relaxed and blood singing with the music as she had been with any of her other partners. Cassian, however, was a bundle of anxiety. He never felt comfortable dancing, on display this way. He was athletic, but dancing was a physicality, a physical freedom he couldn’t understand. And it was made even worse by how naturally it came to Nesta, how her grace and her love for the music bled from her, breathed through her. And the feel of her in his hands— the slim waist, the delicate warm hand— they made his hands feel like awkward paws. And now, Nesta had paused her giving herself away to the song and was searching his face, and for a split second, he saw a warm knowing expression pass over her. He smiled sheepishly. And then she stood on tiptoes to whisper to him.

“Relax.” His eyes snapped to hers as she floated back down, looking at him. She smiled, the first genuine smile he could remember her giving him. It stopped his heart. “Your every muscle is tense.”

He blushed, and released her hand to use his to rub the back of his neck self-consciously. “You’re too good at this. I feel like some clumsy animal compared to you.” He waited for her to cosign the insult, but she just smiled again, even warmer and kinder. She took his hand again, and wrapped it around her waist to meet his other one.

“The trick is getting out of your head. No one cares. No one is watching. Everyone feels awkward dancing.”

Cassian just laughed. “That’s too obviously untrue. You dance as easily as breathing, and no one can tear their eyes away from you. And they’re just counting the seconds to show you how much better at this they can be than me.”

She turned in his hands, pushing her body into his as she continued to dance and sway, moving his hands to her hips as she leaned her back into his chest. Nesta was a different person when she danced— freer and more honest. “Show them how wrong they are, then. Dance like you want to be dancing with me. Touch me. Act like you’re trying to seduce me. That part should come easy to you, at least.”

Cassian smirked, stunned by her assertiveness. “I’ve never seen you like this, Nes. Where’s the prim little lady?”

She shrugged. “Dancers are taught to be uninhibited with their bodies. When they’re dancing.” She nodded quickly to the left, “And the creepy guy is watching.”

Between some dark possessiveness and the glorious feeling of Nesta’s ass grinding against his dick, Cassian was quickly losing his grasp on his own reason, and growled, unconsciously tightening his grip on her hips. Nesta bit out a laugh, and he was momentarily startled. “You dance better angry,” she said in explanation, still smiling. “Like Kevin Bacon.”

Cassian couldn’t help it. His laugh was booming. He wrapped his arms around Nesta’s waist again, more tightly this time, and ducked his head into her neck. “Is this okay?” He whispered into her skin. “Can we play this up a bit?” Nesta nodded, and Cassian could’ve sworn he saw her give a nervous swallow, before he put his lips on her neck, kissing lightly. He looked briefly to see a blandly good-looking blond man glower in their direction before Cassian closed his eyes, willing him away so Cassian could just enjoy this moment, this sensation, without any distractions or caveats. Then he could pretend that Nesta actually wanted him to do this, was thinking about him as more than just a prop, was thinking about him the way he couldn't stop thinking about her. Wasn’t thinking about trying to get away from some asshole whose nose deserved a fist smashed into it. Cassian let his mouth climb up her neck to her jaw, to her ear, and it wrenched a moan of pleasure from Nesta that shot straight to his dick. He wanted, he needed to make her make that sound again. He dove in again, his right hand moving back to her hip, drawing small circles with his thumb, his tongue escaping his mouth to lick the salt and sweet sweat from her skin, when—

“This is cozy,” a familiar voice interrupted, the smirk audible in the tone. If it had been Azriel, Cassian would have actually beat him into the ground, but Rhys was almost as bad.

“Some guy won’t leave Nes alone. I’m standing in for Az as bodyguard,” Cassian spit out with anxious haste, and to his horror, he felt Nesta stiffen and distance herself at the words.

“How gallant.” Rhys’s eyes refused to leave Cassian’s, as if he was reading Cassian’s mind to see just how much his brother was lying to him. Nesta writhed a little to free herself from Cassian’s grasp, and Cassian reluctantly let her go. She walked off, and before anyone else could accost her, Az met her and took her hand. They whispered briefly to each other before his brother led her outside to the gardens.   

“Thanks for that,” Cassian grumbled, shoulder checking his brother as he stalked off in search of the bar.

Rhys simply followed after him. “Do we need to discuss again how much I don’t want you to fuck my soon-to-be fiancée’s sister?”

“I remember, Rhys.”

“Do you? Because that really didn’t look like you respecting my wishes.”

Cassian found the bar, and with a tight grimace, ordered another whiskey water. “We were just dancing. She needed a buffer. That’s all. Stop reading into stuff.”

Both Rhys and the bartender snorted in derision. Cassian’s eyes snapped to the bartender in irritation. “The hot brunette in the black dress? You call that ‘just dancing’?” The bartender simply shook his head as he poured a whiskey for both of them. “Then the last time I went ‘just dancing’ had me taking doxycycline for 2 weeks.”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Cassian smiled as he grabbed the glass handed to him, and dropped a ten into the tip cup. “Thank you.” The bartender just rolled his eyes and turned around. Cassian turned back to Rhys, and swirled the glass in his hand before taking a large drink. “Besides, how bad exactly would it be? If I hooked up with Nesta.”

“Jesus Christ, Cass.” Rhys sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m struggling over here, Rhys. There’s something about her— I can’t stop myself around her.” Cassian blushed again, his hand unconsciously rubbing his neck again. “Just once. Just tonight. No more than that.” Cassian felt the falseness on his mouth as the words left his mouth, but ignored it. He had no space to explore that right now. At least she’d be leaving again soon, and he could pretend to go back to normal.

“So in the off-chance that you manage to talk Nesta into your bed - because obviously she’s the one with the say here -  I then have to explain to Feyre that her sister, the one she’s working very hard to reestablish a good relationship with, you just used her for a one night stand.”

“Nesta’s a grown up. I’m a grown up. And trust me, she’s not going to mind.”

“I swear to god, if you say something like ‘you’ll make it good for her’, I will let Azriel kill you.”

Cassian snorted out a harsh laugh. “I didn’t mean that. I meant that she doesn’t care for me. I won’t be using her-- we’ll be using each other.”

Rhys sighed again. “Well, I can hardly dictate Nesta’s behavior. I suppose she can do as she pleases.”

“How come Az never gets these lectures from you, anyway?”

“Az has a lot more self-control than you do,” Rhys answered easily, brushing lint off the shoulder of an immaculate jacket.

“He’s the one tied to her hip tonight.”

Rhys shrugged and with a sly smirk. “Doesn’t seem to bother Nesta.”

Cassian growled. “And thanks to your damned interference, I’ll never get her away from Az now.”

That managed to wring a laugh out of Rhys, who slapped Cassian on the back, “Oh damn,” he said sarcastically, “So sorry, brother.” He headed back to Feyre then. And unfortunately, as Cassian looked out the window wall to the garden and saw Azriel and Nesta sitting cozily together, Cassian believed Rhys might be right.

Chapter Text

“Thank you,” Nesta squeezed Az’s hand, smiling up at the man, considering, just for a moment, if it would be possible to fall in love with him. He was so gentlemanly and kind, and so so handsome. The thought stirred something in her, but the realization that it was lust, just a sudden, potent desire to see that beautiful face staring up at her from— okay. She’d stop thinking about it now. Nesta used all her self-control to stop herself from blushing.

“You looked as if you needed an escape,” Azriel squeezed her hand back, and smiled down at her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her out to a corner of the gardens less crowded.

Nesta leaned into his body. “I like you so much more than your brothers,” was all she gave in explanation.

Az huffed in amused disbelief, very quietly. “Is that so?” He led her to a bench and sat her down. “More than Cass?”

Nesta studied him carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes. It is so.”

Azriel just laughed, a lilting quiet thing. “Poor Cass.” Nesta snorted, and Az laughed again at the sound. “You can’t be ignorant of it.”

She just shook her head. “He’s playing a silly game, and I don’t want to join him. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You could be right. It’s hard to tell, with Cass. He’s good at hiding stuff, under that happy-go-lucky doofus routine.”

Nesta smiled. “And you’re so forthcoming, is that it?”

Azriel smiled in return. “That’s why we get along, you and I. No masks. No secrets.”

Nesta laughed outright at that, and pulled Azriel down to join her on the bench, leaning her head against his arm. “You’re the only one who gave me a chance— of your guys’s little crew.”

Azriel reached down and took Nesta’s hand again, folding it in his. “You’re not as big and scary as you pretend. I could see that immediately.”

The smile that pulled from Nesta was so pure and full of warmth. “Thank you. Thank you for that.” She looked up to see Helion, grinning widely and headed towards them. “Oh Christ. This again.”

Azriel laughed again. “Not interested?”

Nesta scoffed. “Maybe you men could learn that sometimes subtle works better than the full-court press?”

“I only do subtle, Nesta. It doesn’t work as well as you’d believe.”

“There’s nothing you can say to make me believe people don’t fall at your feet at that pretty face of yours.”

Azriel smiled, too knowingly. “Takes one to know one,” and put a claiming hand on Nesta’s knee at Helion’s arrival.

Helion clocked it immediately. “Is this supposed to discourage me? I’m happy for both of you to join me. It’s a large bed.”

Azriel laughed, turning to Nesta and saying conspiratorially, “I think you and I both have it wrong about this. I think Helion makes it obvious that it’s just a numbers game.”

Helion laughed. “I won’t deny it. And your obvious rejection only makes the game more enticing. But I could have sworn it was a different glowering hunk ready to rip my head off for talking to you, gorgeous. Where’s the giant one?”

Nesta shrugged. “Dancing with Mor, I’d bet.”

“Terribly rude of you all to come only to taunt me, all paired off as you are.”

Nesta smiled a sly cat’s smile. “I’ve brought you five new best friends, all of whom live in LA. Are you not grateful?”

Helion matched her Cheshire grin with his own. “Of course I am, my dear. But it doesn’t make up for the wound that you will go back to New York and leave me unsatisfied.”

“And what satisfaction exactly do you expect me to give you?” Nesta narrowed a wary eye on him.

Helion’s grin widened. “A dance or two at the very least. And whatever those might bring.”

“I’ve danced at least 4 songs with you.”

“Ah but then I saw you with the big Angeleno, and I will not be outdone. Coming to my party and looking at some other man like that.”

Nesta couldn’t help it, the blush came fast and furious, and it rendered her claim of ignorance irrelevant. She accepted his hand taking her to the dance floor, just to end the conversation.

Helion, for all his ludicrous flirting, was a sweet, polite man, and a good intuitive dancer. Nesta enjoyed their time fine, but when, true to his word, he released her after their two dances with a kiss on the cheek, he seemed to understand Nesta’s disinterest, and accepted it with grace. The reaction filled her with guilt— she would always be a failure at this. She’d be a chronic disappointment to her mother, even if the woman was in the grave, letting a man like Helion Spellcleaver slip through her fingers. And her mind taken up by a fratty muscle-bound egomaniac who seemed to live to poke at her, point at all her failures and faults. Nesta had meant it when she told Azriel that she didn’t want to be a pawn or trophy in Cassian’s games, but she couldn’t stop her stomach flipping when her eyes accidentally fell on him in a crowded room. She resisted letting her eyes do it more than every so often, made worse by the fact that whenever her eyes did, his eyes were already on her. Even when he had Morrigan in his arms. What a fuckboi, staring at her like that when he was taken, or whatever he and Mor were. And she had no desire whatsoever to compete with Mor. It was a ridiculous notion anyway— she wasn’t interested. She refused to be interested.

Nesta tore her eyes away just as she saw Mor whispering up to Cass from the bar. Where was Az? How could he bear this? She both hoped he was spared the sight and was desperate for him to sweep in out of nowhere to save her, to distract her. But no luck— he was still in the garden, probably.

“You’ve been avoiding me, baby.” It was an unfamiliar voice that made Nesta turn her attention away from searching for Az/ignoring Cassian.

“I’m sorry,” she answered reflexively, her face falling slightly when she saw the aggressive blond man she’d be desperate to avoid in front of her. He was attractive enough ,she supposed, it was just a bad feeling, an instinct she refused to ignore anymore. That stare that made her feel like prey, that smile that felt greedy and domineering. She didn’t want to kowtow to that look ever again. He had that smile on his face now, and Nesta took an unconscious step backwards. He followed until she found herself backing into a stranger. She apologized, and the blond man used the opportunity to step into her space even further, and grab her hand to pull her away. Nesta tried to pull away as civilly as she could, but the man’s grip only tightened.

“No need to run away. I just want a dance.”

“No thank you. I’m a little tired.” Nesta, in spite of herself, was starting to panic. That feeling was overcoming her again. Don’t make waves, she thought. Don’t make things worse. Don’t stoke his temper. Just get away.

“Come on. You’ve got one more in you.”

“Maybe some other time.” She needed to get away right now. She needed to make her way out the door to the garden. Az would spot her and—

The man pulled her sharply so she fell into his chest, and used the opportunity to dip his head against her ear, his hot clammy breath on her skin as he whispered, “No way. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Nesta pushed him away, sick of politeness now, her hands shoving him away as best she could. “I don’t care. Please stop.”

The guy feigned defeat, raising his arms to let her slip away. Nesta turned heel in an effort to escape as quickly as possible, but as soon as her back was to him, the blond man simply clamped his arms around her waist, trapping her arms against her body, and carried her this way to the middle of the dance floor. She was so taken aback, the shock stopped her from trying to get away. He put her down, but kept his clasp on her tight, starting to grind against her aggressively and off rhythm. Nesta was trying to fight her panic, her disgust at the weight of his grasping hands on her hips and the hot breath on the back of her neck as he whispered inanities about how much he wanted to fuck her at her. As much as she wanted to break free from him, her instincts roared at her— she couldn’t make this worse. She wouldn’t let him hurt her. She played along, just enough to stop him from getting angry, she hoped. His right hand climbed up her hip, slipping beneath the thin silk of her dress, his left grabbing her breast. She felt queasy. She asked him to just let go of her dress, making up some excuse about wrinkling it. The blond man just smirked and squeezed her breast tight and hard enough to make her wince, telling her he’d have to replace the dress, because he couldn’t stop thinking about ripping it off of her. Nesta hated this, every touch soiling her skin. The song had to be almost done. She just needed to keep it together for the rest of this one song, and—

With a snap and a thud, suddenly she was released. Nesta skittered away as soon as she felt free of the blond man’s hands, not bothering to glance back to see what the hell was going on until she was a safe distance. Then, she turned to see the blond man crashed to the floor, cradling his face as blood poured out of his nose, and Cassian standing over him like a wrathful god. The entire room had stopped their partying to stare at the three of them, but Cassian didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t you fucking touch her again,” he spat, and there was such violence and anger in his eyes that Nesta rushed to Cassian, to pull him out of his fervor.

“Cassian,” she said gently, but aside from a brief flicker in her direction, his eyes still fixated on the blond man with the promise of bloodshed. Nesta tried again. “CASSIAN.” She reached out and gently took his arm in hand. His attention snapped to her then and he took a deep breath, then another, before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She let him, hoping it was enough to steady him.

“Come on dude. You can’t pretend she wasn’t asking for it, a girl like-”

Nesta would never find out what sins she committed to deserve this, because before the blond man could finish his sentence, Cassian reached down to punch him in the face, the movement punctuated with an audible crack. “Shut your mouth, you piece of shit.”

Nesta pulled him back by his shirt sleeve, afraid she was going to have to literally pull Cassian away from killing this guy, but the second she said his name, he locked his eyes on her again. They were blazing with an angry ferocity that almost scared her, and something in her face must have showed it, because a second later, he softened and stood, wrapping an arm around her waist this time. “We have to go,” Nesta told him in a low voice, “Before the cops come.”

“The cops won’t come, Nes. Unless they want to hear about this man sexually assaulting you,” the second part he said loud enough to be sure the blond guy and the rest of the party heard.

“Cassian, I think you broke his nose.”

Cassian began steering her away from the blond man, still writhing on the floor. “No. I didn’t break his nose.”

“Oh. Good,” Nesta said with a sigh of relief.

“I broke his cheekbone.”

“What the fu—”

“Later, sweetheart. Let’s talk about it in the car.” He took his free hand and used it to cattle-whistle to his brothers, Az having entered from outside at the commotion, and Rhys pretending to not notice a thing while he and Feyre talked to a few people on the second floor landing. Both brothers responded immediately, Az finding Elain in the kitchen and leading her and Mor to Cassian, Rhys and Feyre moving quickly to Cassian and Nesta. “I gotta get Nes home— there was an incident.”

Rhys raised a single too-knowing eyebrow. “How big an incident?”

Cassian looked a little shame-faced for the first time since it happened. “I’m not sure how big of a prick he is, but potentially…aggravated assault?”

Rhys sighed. “Can he be paid off?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask,” Cassian shrugged off his brother’s irritation.

Az stepped in, looking over Nesta as if checking for injuries. She smiled tightly at him to let him know she was fine, and when he seemed to notice her dress’s disarray, she smoothed out the wrinkles and pulled the straps of the halter back into place as best she could. “The blond man?” His voice had a lethal coldness to it, and when Nesta confirmed it, he continued in that same ruthless tone. “He won’t do anything. He has priors. I’ll take care of it.”

Finally they let Nesta speak. “Guys, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it— just keep Cassian out of trouble.”

“I said I’ll take care of it, Nesta.” His tone was still ice, but Az reached his hand out to give Nesta’s a squeeze.

“I’m still taking Nes home. You guys stay if you want.” Cassian looked down at Nesta for confirmation, and frowned as he saw her shaking her head.

“Cassian, I said I’m fine. I don’t want to to be rude. If you guys want to stay, I’m happy to stay.” Nesta didn’t remotely want to stay, she wanted to shower the fingerprints of that asshole off her skin, and watch “You’ve Got Mail” in her pjs. But she didn’t want to be the problem sister yet again. Didn’t want to ruin her little sister’s fun yet again.

“Nesta, if you want to leave, it’s totally okay. We can go.” Feyre reached for her with too much concern in her eyes. Nesta hated it. She hated that she was the fragile one again, that once again her baby sister had to take care of her, and all these people who resented her for that dynamic were watching her accept that care again. And not only that, but Nesta was once again the party buzzkill.

“Feyre. Stop.” Nesta snapped before she could stop herself. Feyre pulled her hand back as if she’d be burned, and Rhys once again narrowed his eyes at Nesta. Overbearing, self-inserting asshole. But he was right. Nesta sighed again, and calmed herself as best she could. “Sorry Fey. I didn’t mean that— I’m just a little worked up, but I’ll be fine. Let’s just relax and try to have fun.”

“No.” Cassian’s voice was resolute. “Rhys, give me the Maybach keys. I’m driving Nes home. She shouldn’t stick around this shit.” He reached his hand out to Rhys, who hesitated before relenting and placing the valet tag in Cassian’s hand. Cassian stuck it in his back pocket and pulled out the his own tag to trade. “You guys have fun. Rhys, drive everyone else home.”

“What car did you drive?” Rhys asked absently, tucking the valet tag into his wallet.

Cassian smirked, a levity in his eye for the first time since the blond man incident. “Bentley.”

“Asshole,” Rhys grimaced. The sour look stuck on his face until, looking up at Nesta, guilt or consciousness clearly struck him and he gave her a soft smile, looking as earnest as Nesta could guess the man could muster. “I’m sorry this happened, Nesta. Feel better.”

Nesta nodded, and then thinking better of the situation herself, answered with a small smile of her own. “I’m sorry to have interrupted the evening. You guys have fun.”

“Think nothing of it. Let my brother take care of you.” Rhys gave a polite nod, and after Feyre gave her a kind smile and a hug goodnight, led her sister back to the party. Elain hugged her too, and asked if Nesta wanted her to go home too, but Nesta gave her a more conspiratorial smile and told her to have fun before they had to go home to the old ball and chain. Elain rolled her eyes at this, but gave Nesta a more honest grin and joined Rhys and Feyre. Mor looked a little shaken as she gave Nesta a kind goodnight before she too joined the others, leaving only Az with the exiting pair.

“I can go too, if you want. If you want company,” he told Nesta with a kind smile.

“Maybach only has two seats,” Cassian interjected quickly.

Something about this response made Az smirk, and he pushed onwards. “Well, I can take Nes home, if you want. I’m not a party person anyway. And that way, you can stay, Cass.”  Azriel’s glittering eyes never left Cassian’s face, his grin widening as he found something there he’d been searching for. Nesta, confused, started to look up at Cassian too, but was interrupted before she could find whatever it was Azriel had as Cassian turned to the door, his arm around her waist forcing her to follow.

“Nope! I’m tired. You stay. Get everyone else home safe.”

“IF you’re sure!” Az called after the pair, and Nesta could hear a laugh in the usually stoic man’s voice.

“I’m sure, Az!” Cassian called back, and then continued under his breath, “you motherfucker.” Nesta wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to hear that addendum or not, but the scowl on Cassian’s face discouraged her from asking about it. He released her waist, but before Nesta could step out of reach, took her hand in his. She looked up at him in question, and at her glance, Cassian answered. “Stay close to me.” His voice was terse, but not unkind, and it dawned on Nesta that he was perhaps far more on edge than she had realized. He rushed them out, and they were at the front door waiting for the car before Nesta even realized it.

“I didn’t say goodbye to Helion— I should go back in and do that.” Nesta pulled out of Cassian’s hand, even as it tightened slightly as she made to leave.

“Don’t.” His voice was still tense, but he released her easily. “Helion will be fine. We can text him later.”

“I’ll just be a second.” She was stuck in her spot, but she turned towards the door.

“Nesta, don’t go back in there alone. I’ll—“ at that, Cassian looked down at the hand he had released, and paled at the sight of fingerprints on her lower arm. Nesta hadn’t noticed the bruising, but the blond man had grabbed her tightly— she had grimaced at the feel. She looked back up at Cassian, a little embarrassed, and was stunned to see a cold fury on his face. He was breathing too…purposefully. Evenly. As if to calm himself. “Is that from—”

“It’s nothing,” Nesta cut him off. “I bruise easily.” This did nothing to chase the fury from Cassian’s face. “I’m FINE, Cassian. Quit overreacting.”

“He hurt you.”

Nesta snorted. “Well, you broke his face for it.”

Cassian stared at her for a second, and finally, finally, as he seemed to take in her words, the fury dissipated and he broke out into his barking laugh. The shock of it made Nesta laugh too.

“You two are in good spirits, considering the scene I just left.” Helion’s smooth bass voice interrupted their laughter, as the host of the party glided out to the portico where they were standing. He was smiling, but Nesta flushed with shame anyway.

“I’m so sorry for that,” Nesta searched her brain for a reasonable excuse that didn’t embarrass Helion’s guest any further, but came up with nothing.

“Don’t you dare apologize, my dear, that’s my job. I’m sorry this happened. I don’t really know him, but the scumbag has been dealt with. I was just letting you know, in case there was anything I can do to entice you to stay.”

Nesta smiled politely, ready to acquiesce, but was interrupted by Cassian. “I think Nes will feel more comfortable calling it a night. If you don’t mind.” Nesta shot him a look to convey just how little she liked him speaking for her, but Cassian shrugged the look off easily with a wide grin at both Nesta and Helion.

“Of course, I understand. You have my number if you need anything. And I’ll see you in a month in New York.” Helion’s eyes flicked ever so briefly at Cassian, mirth dancing in them, as Nesta nodded and told him she was looking forward to seeing him then. “Get home safe, you two.”

Nesta waited until Helion was inside and out of eyesight before she smacked Cassian on the chest. “I don’t know where the hell you get off, speaking for me like that. Overbearing prick.”

Cassian snorted. “I’m sorry, I misread the situation. Did you actually want to stay and have that guy blow smoke up your ass for another hour or two?”

“No,” Nesta scoffed. “But I could have handled it myself.”

“No,” Cassian rebutted. “You would have agreed, because you don’t want a scene. You did the same thing with your sisters.” 

“You don’t know that. Maybe I wanted to stay.”

This time Cassian outright laughed, but it was harsher than his usual warm boom. “Please. You are desperate to leave. I can see it all over your face.”

Nesta couldn’t deny it, so she just gave a huff and stood silently until the car arrived. She would have kept her silence, but the sight of the car they were taking home wrought a scoff from her before she could stop it. So ostentatious— she couldn't believe it of her sister, that she’d be so taken in by this nonsense. And now they’d be driving to the ostentatious mansion her little sister lived in. She had to give that to Feyre - it was an unexpected come up, considering the poverty out of which they had only recently dragged themselves. Their mother would be so surprised and proud- and Nesta wished that that thought didn’t fill her with a mixture of shame and contempt. And then she kept going back to Cassian, to the shock of it. She hadn’t even known he was in the room. Nesta was not one who enjoyed violence— she was arrogant and classist enough to consider it, on the whole, sophomoric and barbaric. But violence aside …no one had ever come to her defense like that. Not her father, not her ex-fiance, not even her sisters. She couldn’t make sense of it, why he rushed in that way. For her. Cassian hadn’t had a kind word for her in three years, but he was there, protecting her, in an instant. Nesta let herself lose herself in these thoughts on the quiet drive back to Rhys’s.

Chapter Text

Nesta hid herself as soon as dinner ended, first in the kitchen cleaning up then her bedroom. She didn’t trust either herself or her facial muscles to control themselves any longer. The way this old man (fine, so what if he was only 28) was staring at her infant sister (again, who cared if she was technically legal) like he couldn’t wait to tear her clothes off, or with those heart eyes, like he was going to drag her away to some isolated mansion so he could trad wife her up. Just wait until he found out that Feyre could barely microwave a hot dog without burning something. And the name-dropping, it was insufferable. Oh, he bought a Hilary Pecis and a lesser Bonnard at Feyre’s suggestion, and now they’ve already accrued 50% their purchase price in value. His cousin Mor was trying to suggest he buy a Cessna, but he was considering a Bombardier timeshare instead. Oh, who was Mor? You know Morrigan Woodforde, the influencer/socialite? Of course you do -  she’s best friends with Eden Chang, the designer, and part of that whole blonde supermodel girl gang? Rhysand’s pretentious droning was still ringing in Nesta’s brain. She had stared at the same page of her book for twenty minutes, unable to concentrate, when her phone dinged, and Nesta (foolishly, it turned out) picked it up, eager for the distraction.

Elain: Oh crap! I forgot to set out linens for the brothers downstairs. You don’t mind, do you? Before they fall asleep.”

Nesta: Elain…

Elain: Thanks, sis!

Nesta grumbled, but tucked her feet back into her bedroom slippers and shuffled down the hall, grabbing the spare bedding - old cartoon covered sheets from their childhood- from the linen closet. She passed the sheets to the boys, unable to hide her irritation from Cassian, who of course seemed to enjoy poking at it. She pretended to herself that his arrogance completely spoiled the charm of that smirk he seemed to always wear. Luckily, Nesta managed to swallow her irritation and be more polite to Azriel. She liked Azriel. He was quieter, more self-aware, less pompous than his brothers.

  Nesta settled in better when she returned upstairs, putting on her noise cancelling headphones so she could hear her own thoughts better, cozying up with a blanket over her knees on her window seat, losing herself to a different world.

Just as Selden finally got his head out his ass and told Lily he loved her, Brahms’ Piano Quartet was rudely ripped off her ears, and Nesta all but jumped out of her skin.

“For fuck’s sake, Elain. You scared the bejeezus out of me.” Elain was hovering over her, looking impatient.

“I’ve been calling your name for like, five minutes. I hate those stupid headphones.”

Nesta grumbled as she put her book down and tucked her knees in tight, making room for Elain to sit beside her. Elain was, as always, in a full matching set of pajamas. This night’s chosen ridiculous print was wedding themed, with cartoon dogs as bride and groom. Elain tucked her fluffy pink slippers-clad feet under her knees and looked at Nesta expectantly.

“….well?” Elain finally gave in and asked.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t we going to talk about this? What do you think?”

“Of him? What’s there to think. He’s a douche.”

“Rhys is nice!” Nesta couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Elain thought everyone was nice. To be fair, everyone was nice to Elain, but she was also so willfully obtuse.

“He’s smug.” Nesta knew Elain couldn’t refute this.

But she tried anyway, shrugging. “Maybe he was overcompensating because he was nervous, meeting the family.”

Nesta all but snorted. As if Feyre ever gave a shit about their opinion. But Elain was looking at her with such optimism, she caved as always. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

And Nesta knew from Elain’s beaming smile, she had done enough. “He seems to like her enough. I think he’s in love with her.” Nesta distrusted that dreamy tone of voice of her sister’s. It’s the tone Elain used when she was convinced she had fallen in love with that dipshit Graysen back in the third grade. And as a consequence, Elain ignored his constant cheating up until he not only slept with her friend Addison, but also took Addison to his senior prom, telling his still-girlfriend that it was because “Addison could afford a nice enough dress to go with him.” If Elain was using that voice, she’d forgive almost anything in the name of love.

“Feyre’s a baby. She shouldn’t be in love.  She should be going to school. She should be exploring her options.”

“She’s just two years younger than me, and I’m in love. She’s three years younger than you, and you’re getting married.”

“That’s different.” And Nesta’s nerves were too raw to even try to come up with an answer vague and palatable enough to tell Elain. And then it came to her. “You and Lucien were nauseatingly made for each other. And we’ve known Tomas for forever. Feyre just met this guy. She’s only just getting over that jackass who dragged her away from us.”

“She seems happy, Nesta. She seems happier than I’ve ever seen her. You have to admit that.”

Nesta huffed her inability to refute this. “Fine, yes. I give.”

“Anyway, I didn’t even come here to talk about them. What do you think of the brothers?” There was a rare mischievous gleam in Elain’s eyes, and Nesta distrusted that gleam even more than that silly dreamy voice.

Nesta, aware she was being observed closely, raised a single eyebrow at her sister before she got up, taking her robe off the hook on her closet door and wrapping it around herself as she answered airily, “Azriel seems nice. Cassian is a jackass.”

“He shouldn’t have said that about you,” Elain agreed.

No, he damn well shouldn’t have. Calling her a snotty little princess who used her poor baby sister as a workhorse and a servant so she didn’t have to get her hands dirty. Who deserted her family for years so she could live the high life in New York. “You know he got all that bullshit from Fey, right?”

Elain just sighed. “Let’s not make a court case of this, Nesta. We both know Fey doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. Can we let it go?”

No, Nesta decided. “Fine.”

“Cassian is rude,” Elain said thoughtfully. “But still. I think the brothers are gorgeous.” Ahh, that was what this was about.

“What about Lucien?”

“Of course I think Lucien’s gorgeous, more gorgeous. I’m just saying. What, you’re not allowed to find other men attractive? Tomas really would have a problem with that?” Tomas would wring her neck at the notion. Tomas berated her for twenty minutes when he caught her staring too intently at Henry Cavill when he forced her to watch that “Witcher” show. But Nesta kept that kind of thing from Elain. “Come on, indulge a little with me. Give me some sisterly bonding. I won’t tell Tomas if he’s the jealous type. Just admit it. The brothers are hot.”

Nesta held out as long as she could, groaning. “Fine! You’re right. Azriel is... beautiful. He’s like a perfect human specimen.”

Elain sighed. “He’s what I imagined the princes in fairy tales looked like growing up.” The mischievous glint was back as Elain watched her, continuing, “What about Cassian?  Aside from the insulting you, I mean. Before that. You always liked the bad boy better.”

Nesta shrugged, and she knew her feigned nonchalance was thoroughly unconvincing. Trying to purge her mind of the way Cassian’s strong biceps flexing slightly as he move the heavy roast beef dish out of the oven. The back muscles rippling beneath his tee shirt as he helped her tuck the sheets into the couch cushions. That damned scar through his dark thick brow that made his handsome face more dangerous, more roguish. “He’s hot, if you’re into the beefcake thing.”

“Do you think he’s beefcake? He’s not all gym rat looking, I don’t think. Like those guys who carry the mystery drinks around in old plastic milk gallon containers.”

“No, not like that. He’s too tall to get all out of proportion like those gym bros do, and he doesn’t have that weird veiny thing they get either. He doesn’t look like a bodybuilder, just…fit. Strong. Athletic,” Nesta agreed absently, her imagination plagued by the feel of warmth as his large strong hand shook hers, the way he sort of towered over her. Nesta did not get to feel towered over often. Fine. So she thought he was hot. That was before he outed himself as an arrogant asshole who didn’t know how to control his mouth. Nesta shook off these thoughts, only to see Elain staring at her, amused. “What?” She snapped.

“Nothing!” Elain protested. “I’m just enjoying bonding! You never talk about this stuff with me. I knew you liked him.”

“I don’t like him, I’m engaged.” Nesta retorted.

“It’s not mutually exclusive. I’m not saying you’re going to cheat on Tomas. I just could tell from the way you were looking at Cassian.”

“Like how.”

“Like you couldn’t stop yourself,” Elain answered with a knowing eyebrow raise. “Anyway, I hardly would encourage it, even if you weren’t with Thomas. He seems like a fuckboi. I just wanted you to admit something so obvious.”

“You little shit,” Nesta threw the shorts she had grabbed from the dresser to change into at her sister. Elain dodged them and threw a pillow back at her. “Why do you think he’s a fuckboi?” Nesta couldn’t disagree, but it was odd to catch Elain speaking poorly of a stranger.

“I heard them talking downstairs, the brothers. Azriel was trying to get Cassian to admit he was rude to you because he liked you, and Cassian admitted that you were hot, but he was only looking for a way to pass the time.”

Well. That compliment hit her backhanded. Only hot enough to fuck with. Nesta should have known. Still, she told herself, it amounted to little. She was engaged. And even if she wasn’t, she wasn’t someone to fuck with, in any interpretation of the word. Cassian had no chance anyway. “They know I’m spoken for, though.”

Elain scoffed. “I don’t think Cassian cares. Besides, he was too busy staring at you to hear anything being said.”

“He was just trying to rile me up.”

“He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even after you called him on it. He was staring at you so hard, I was afraid his fork would miss his mouth and he’d stab himself in the face.” Elain stole Nesta’s brush from the nightstand table, and gave her long straight hair a few strokes before she stood up. “I’ve got to FaceTime Lu. He wanted to know how things went.”

“Goodnight, Lainey. Tell Lucien I’m mad at him for ditching us for this miserable dinner.”

“Goodnight! I’ll let him know!”

Nesta shook her head, trying to tuck Elain’s opinions and eavesdropped discoveries away into a box in the far corner of her brain, not to be explored, and forced her mind to ease as she climbed into the shower and washed her hair. She put her pajamas on, ready to tuck herself into bed and look forward to all these people leaving tomorrow, when, thirsty, she cracked open the door to try to hear if the downstairs guests had fallen asleep. All she heard were the not-very hushed giggles and moans coming from the guest room. That jackass couldn’t keep it in his pants for one night? At least they hadn’t put Fey and Rhysand in Dad’s room, like Elain suggested. Nesta suspected even that wouldn’t stop them. It was a pigsty, anyway. But a few steps towards the stairs, the downstairs seemed quiet and dim, so Nesta felt safe to sneak down.

She glided to the kitchen easily. It was one of the benefits to years of ballet- the foot control. The quiet tread.  She ignored the men lying a few feet from her, or tried to. Nesta didn’t know whether or not Cassian was really asleep, but her ever cell tingled with awareness of his presence all the same. The lopsided smile, the way those warm golden flecks in his hazel eyes glinted at her as he stared up at her from the couch. Why did he affect her like this? Her mind was swimming, her attention impossible to get under control, when she saw those gold flecks watching her from under those dark brows.

Her awareness was still absent for a second, too distracted as she imagined tracing that sharp line of his stubble-laced jaw with her lips when she realized that she wasn’t just imagining this. Cassian was real. And awake. And staring at her. Nesta shrieked and dropped the cheap thin glass she was holding, grateful it had just hit the farmhouse sink, instead of the floor. The Real, Not Imagined Cassian was there in an instant, crooked smirk on his face as he guided her away from the glass. As they cleaned the mess, Nesta tried not to take in his clean, fresh scent- bar soap and peppercorn and something woody. Her mind disappeared somewhere filthy again when she watched as he lifted his cut hand to his mouth, noticing the full lips, the long dexterous tongue— she needed to stop reading those damn books, Nesta decided. More Edith Wharton, less books with shirtless men on the covers. 

After she cleaned his cut and bandaged him, Nesta all but fled, locking her bedroom door not out of fear of anyone coming in, but locking herself in. She was too afraid of her own fixated brain, her pounding heart, the heat climbing all over her skin, the slickness of - well, that was too embarrassing to admit, even to herself. No one had ever made her feel this way, not once. She felt dizzy and stupid and naive, especially as Elain had confirmed her suspicions. It didn’t matter how drawn to him she was, Nesta was not to be trifled with. And Tomas, she reminded herself. She had Tomas. She was marrying Tomas, she was supposed to be in love with Tomas. So, when Nesta and Elain waved Feyre and her merry band off the next morning, Nesta told herself that the only thing she felt was relief. Now she’d never have to see him again.

Chapter Text

It was taking Cassian considerably longer than usual to talk himself down from his anger. He was a hot-head. He knew his reputation for it was well-earned, but Cassian also knew that anyone who knew him well knew that his anger was just a flash fire— quick, and violent, and easily burned out. But this one, this one refused. His heart refused to settle. And he was afraid that it had consequences - that he had in fact managed to scare Nesta. In the immediate aftermath, she hadn’t shied away from him. In fact, she seemed to glean some amount of comfort or security from his presence and his touch, but she herself had flared with anger when it was just the two of them. And she seemed shocked at his behavior. Cassian couldn’t bring himself to regret punching that asshole, but the silence Nesta was punishing him with was stifling. He just couldn’t seem to stop himself. That look of fear on Nesta’s face, it was as if she had been too familiar with that feeling. He couldn’t live in a world where that was true, couldn’t live with himself if he left her to be that scared and pained.

But now she wouldn’t speak to him. She had snapped at him when he, admittedly, gone a little alpha male in insisting he take her home, but since then, it was nothing but silence. Fifteen, twenty minutes of torture, until finally, as soon as they drove up to the gates of the house, finally, a reprieve.

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes away from the window, and her voice was so soft, so unsure, that Cassian briefly thought he might have dreamed her speaking in desperation for a break from the silence. “Why’d you do that?”

He was in the middle of dialing the gate code when she said it. “Excuse me?” He turned to her, willing her from the back of her head to look at him.

Nesta sighed and gave in to Cassian’s silent request. The silver grey in her eyes were startling. “Why’d you do that— why did you hit that guy? Why’d you rescue me?”

Cassian reminded himself to breathe. “To be honest, I had hit him before I even realized what I was doing. It just came over me. You were scared. I don’t think you’re a person who usually needs rescuing, sweetheart. But you wanted it. You wanted help, you wanted out. No man should behave that way. There’s no way I would stand for it.”

Nesta blinked, and that silver was gone, and her eyes were just ice blue and shockingly vulnerable. She looked young, and Cassian reminded himself that she was young, and it wasn’t her fault that she had lived too hard a life in those few years. Maybe she had a point about Feyre too. She seemed to be considering her words carefully, and Cassian had parked the car before she managed to get the thought out. “I mean, why did you do it for me? You don’t even like me. I didn’t even know you had seen me, and then all of a sudden, you were just…there.”

The two sat stock-still in the heat of the turned off car. Cassian swallowed, his turn to take the time to put his thoughts together, to not reveal too much of himself. Didn’t want to tell her that he hadn’t managed to keep his eyes off her all night, how even when he tried, whenever she was around, he inadvertently kept catching sight of her, his desires overwhelming his rationality. Didn’t want to say that the look of fear on her face made him sick with anger, but it was coupled by his own sick, unjustified jealous possessiveness when he saw anyone else’s hands on her. Or how he kept having to work at disliking her, or his desire for her would overwhelm everything in him. He didn’t want to reveal any bit of that, so instead he just took a long breath and said, “I’d do it for anyone,” and hoped she believed him. It had the benefit of being true, even if it was painfully obvious it wasn’t the whole truth.

Nesta gave this a thought, then nodded and got out of the car. Cassian followed her, but by the time he had taken the time to hang the keys on the “correct” ring of Rhys’s board (uptight douche), she had disappeared into her room. Cassian sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, resigning himself to having fucked this up, as he had every interaction with Nesta. He went to his own room to change, hearing the shower attached to Nesta’s turn on, and hurried his way downstairs to watch TV. Nesta emerged shortly, switching between tugging at the hem of the short shorts of her pajamas and rubbing her arms to warm herself as she made herself a drink of water in the kitchen.

“You okay?” Cassian called back to her, willing himself not to look at her. Fix your eyes on the TV, Cassian. Stop thinking about Nes’s legs. This is not the night for that.

“Just cold. Everyone told me it’d be so hot— I didn’t pack for AC.”

Cassian dropped the remote down on his seat and walked back upstairs to his room, opening a drawer to pull out a hoodie, and, when he arrived back at the couch where Nesta was now sitting, handed it over.

“Oh. You didn’t need to— I’m fine.”

Cassian snorted. Was that sentence some sort of compulsion with her? “Put the sweatshirt on, Nes.”

“My hair’s wet.” Cassian had no idea why this would be significant, but it did make his eyes flick to her, to catch sight of that dark honey hanging down her back. At his confusion, Nesta explained, “it’ll get your hoodie wet.”

Oh. As if he’d give a shit. Cassian shrugged. “Keep it for while you’re here. The temperature drops a lot at night.”

Nesta seemed to accept this, and pulled the hoodie over her body. Nesta was taller than average, but Cassian was 6’5”, and the sweatshirt dwarfed her. She pulled it down over her shorts. And that dark possessiveness took root in Cassian’s heart again. He hadn’t intended it, he really was just offering it out of courtesy, but now, when it looked like it was the only thing Nesta was wearing, it looked like a claiming. Cassian snuck glances, pretending to be watching the TV as Nesta braided her long wet hair, letting it hang by the side.

“Want to watch something?” He had no idea what he had put on the television— he couldn’t pretend as if he’d absorbed any of it.

Nesta curled her legs under her. “Sure. Whatever.” And before Cassian settled on anything, added, “Nothing scary.”

Cassian smiled. “Deal.” He found some benign romantic comedy he could ignore while trying not to stare at Nesta. Nesta mentioned having seen it and enjoyed it, and settled in, unconsciously moving closer to Cassian as she made herself comfortable, moving her legs out from under her. Cassian threw a throw he knew Feyre relied on while they were watching tv on the couch over Nesta’s legs, and didn’t even regret how it took the legs out of eyesight when she thanked him.

They got about halfway through the movie before Cassian heard a soft snore from beside him, and turned to see Nesta’s drowsy head bob up and down. Her resistance to sleep made him smile, and he reached out to lean her up against him to stop her from falling asleep in an uncomfortable position. He considered turning the tv off and moving off the couch to let her sleep, but thought perhaps after the night she had, Nesta would like to sleep in more privacy, not deal with everyone pouring in as they came in for the night or woke up. So instead, he softly called her name, trying to wake her gently. Cassian supposed it made sense, the crash out after the adrenaline rush. Nesta didn’t budge. Cassian jostled the arm she was resting on lightly, and still she didn’t nudge. So he chuckled softly, and gently shifted out from under her, laying her head down on the couch briefly before he slid his arms under her knees and back to pick her up.

“What’s going on?” Nesta asked, her words slightly hazy.

“I’m taking you up to your room— you fell asleep.”

She started to shift slightly, shaking her head. “No. No I should wait up for people. For Feyre.”

Cassian tightened his hold on her slightly. “It’s fine, Nes. You’re tired. We’ll see them in the morning.”

Her eyes were open now, and she shook her head. “I already ruined their night. I should stay up and…” She started to wiggle her way out of his arms, but Cassian didn’t let her escape.

“You ruined nothing, Nes. Let’s just go to bed. Tomorrow is another day.” Nesta gave up the fight at that, and Cassian carried her upstairs with ease. She was featherlight, he thought. Concerning, really, considering every meal he’d ever had with her, Nesta ate almost nothing. And Cassian would rather think about this than about how he loved the feel of her in his arms, how well she fit there, how soft her skin was. They were to her room before he knew it, and with a softness and affectionate he’d wouldn’t have felt right for showing before tonight, Cassian laid her gently down on the bed and, brushing the hair out of her face, tucked her in. “Goodnight, Nes. I’m here if you need anything.”

He started to pull his arm from under her upper back, but Nesta caught it lazily in her hand before it was too far. He looked down at it, stunned.

“Sweetheart,” his body and better sense warred, but he wouldn’t be that guy, “Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t want to be alone right now. Just cuddling. Just until I fall back asleep.” Nesta confirmed. It was still a bad idea, he thought, but his will-power was only so strong. So Cassian nodded in agreement, she released his hand, and Cassian walked around to the other side of the bed, crawling in gingerly, as if he was afraid she’d change her mind at any moment. He lied there, still as a statue, urging his mind to quiet. This is not how he had ever imagined things going — he never thought he’d get here. And even if they didn’t even touch tonight, he couldn’t bear the thought of ruining it. She trusted him this much, she felt this safe with him. He wouldn’t push a single boundary.

And then she turned towards him, her eyes looking mesmerizingly blue and a little vulnerable. “Did I make things uncomfortable?”

Cassian was still lying still as a statue, staring at the ceiling. “No. No I’m fine.”

“You look like a corpse.”

“I’m trying to be respectful.”

Nesta huffed softly. “I won’t read into anything, Cassian. Just be normal.”

He did his best to settle, to will his muscles into relaxing. But still he just lied there, stiff as a board. Until he heard a soft huff, and suddenly Nesta’s arm was draped over him, and he could feel the warm press of her body against his side. He stiffened more at the sensation, and then almost laughed at the frustration in Nesta’s voice as she said again “RelAX.”

“Nes, you don’t know—“

Nesta’s huff of annoyance at this was sharp and pointed. “Cassian. I’m not drunk. I’m awake-ish. I don’t think you’re taking advantage of anything. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Just say so. This doesn’t have to mean anything. I just don’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now. I just need a warm body. Can you do that? Do you mind doing it?”

Cassian tried again to breathe some ease into his body. “No. No, I’m happy to do that, Nes.”

“Thank you, Cassian.”

“Turn around. I’ll big spoon.” Nesta obeyed, and Cassian rolled over and cradled her body gently to his own. He let himself enjoy how perfectly she fit there for just a second before he banished that thought. With his free hand, he started stroking Nesta’s beautiful hair, just barely making contact with it, and the motion seemed to crack Nesta apart. She gave a shuddering breath and seemed to be choking back a sob. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

A sharp choking noise sounded again. “I’m fine,” she managed to get out.

“Are you crying?”

“No!” Her response was sharp and obviously a lie, and after a pause where she seemed to realize the futility of the lie, Nesta continued. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“‘Course not, Nes.” Cassian was at a loss for what to do, so he just continued as he was, gently brushing his fingers against her soft hair in silence, hoping it was enough to tell Nesta without words how much her comfort, her presence, mattered to him. And as her body stuttered in a rebellious sob, Cassian cursed himself. Any thought he had ever had on his feelings for Nesta being just fleeting, just shallow attraction, had blared in his head as a lie now. He loved the feel of her in his arms, the tenderness and vulnerability she hid behind that wall of ice, the fortitude of her spirit that almost concerned him. Cassian found himself oddly content, just holding her like this. Her sobs evened out quickly, as if her body had to just purge them after everything, after the adrenaline surge. Nesta nestled into his body. And Cassian confronted himself with just how fucked he was.

Rhys had been doing better this time at masking his dislike of Nesta, as had Mor. As they should have, because they had all sat down for a family meeting before the visit without Feyre to impress upon themselves the importance of keeping this weekend a happy and civil time for Feyre’s sake. Cassian had received an extra verbal warning, Az had sat stone-faced with his arms crossed the entire meeting and rolled his eyes at the end. But Mor, who had organized this summit in the first place preemptively, had managed in between stressing the importance of making the graduation weekend special for Feyre and swallowing their feelings about her sisters, had managed to ever so subtly called Nesta “cruel ice princess” “viperous” and oddly, “a drunk slut”. It was that last one that had devolved the meeting, as Amren, who like Az was stone-faced and silent up to this point, implied that Mor would be the best to recognize a drunken slut as “one of her own kind,” and Rhys had to split the women up before things got out of hand. And they cut the meeting short there, with Cassian getting yet another warning not to “rile up the vicious sister.”

And yes, perhaps the extra warnings were merited, because he had managed to piss her off in less than forty-five minutes from plane touchdown. But this is what he had never managed to explain to Rhys successfully— Nesta just did something to him. She set his nerve endings alight, and he just wanted all of it. He wanted to piss her off, he wanted to set her alight too, so he didn’t have to be alone with this feeling. And the ice princess had always refused to give him anything unless he pissed her off enough. Maybe Az was right, and Cassian’s emotional maturity was set at seven years old, pulling pigtails to get the pretty girl’s attention, but god he wanted it. If he was honest with himself, Cassian had wanted this— to keep her safe in his arms, to feel the softness of her skin as he held her. And since, until tonight, this had seemed impossible, he’d take her rage, her bite. After all, he liked that too—it made him come alive.

Cassian was busy talking himself (and his dick) down, when Nesta suddenly turned over to face him. Awkwardly, unwilling to give up the closeness, Cassian let his top arm continue to droop over her, and out of nowhere, Nesta took his other hand in hers.

“Thank you,” she said, so quietly and vulnerably that Cassian thought he might have imagined it, looking down at where their hands were connected. She opened his hand with hers, taking her thumb to rub over the large pads of his palm, pushing gently but purposefully before turning it and doing the same over the knuckles. It took Cassian a second to realize what she was doing, that she was soothing his dominant hand. The hand that had done the punching.

“You don’t need to thank me, Nes. You never need to thank me for keeping you safe.” Her eyes shot to his at that, and Cassian wondered what she saw there, because at the sight, her walls seemed to come down, that shyness and haughtiness fleeing, and he felt like he could see right through her. God she was beautiful. Cassian was used to beautiful people— he was surrounded by the rich and genetically/surgically blessed of LA. Mor was outright famously beautiful. But Nesta was something else— an impossible, heartbreaking beauty. Without even realizing he was doing it, his free hand reached up to tuck a lock of freed hair behind her ear, holding her gently there, as his face had leaned into hers, eyes never breaking from that staggering blue of her own. He waited an interminable second to give her a chance to shut him down, to flee. But she didn’t. She just kept staring back at him, almost daring him on. So, breathlessly, after years of talking himself out of it, he took his shot.

The feel, the taste of her, was heaven. Cassian had kissed her almost tentatively, still terrified of the rejection that could come at any second, but after his lips touched hers, and that rejection never came, he was emboldened. He wrapped his hand gently around the nape of her neck, drawing her in closer. Every next step she allowed, he took eagerly, moving quickly from fear she’d cut off his second advance. But again, she didn’t. And he forged ahead. He felt lightheaded, as if he was still a little drunk, and he pulled back in an attempt to return to some sanity.

“We should stop. This isn’t….it’s not right, sweetheart. Not after tonight.”

But Nesta just frowned up at him, looking slightly…offended. “I’m not some broken doll, Cassian.”

He dragged himself back, his dick screaming obscenities at him. Cassian really looked at her then. A little pale. A few tear tracks down her cheeks. But still so fierce, so beautiful. “I’d have to be an idiot to think of you that way.”

“Other people do.”

Cassian looked at her, at this rare vulnerability, as if he was trying to imprint each tiny detail into his brain, every speckle of grey in her eye, the exact connect-the-dots of her freckles, the exact curves of her lips. “If they do, then they can’t really see you, Nesta.”

“So, better they see me as a bitch?” Her voice was a little sharp, but there was a sparkle of something in her eyes. Challenge. Teasing.

“I shouldn’t have said that about you,” he admitted.

But then she shrugged, a small, private smile on her lips. “I am one. Sometimes.”

Cassian smiled back. “Bitches get stuff done?”

Nesta nodded. “Bitches get stuff done.” She slipped off the bed at that, turning briefly to say “don’t leave yet,” before walking into her bathroom, not bothering to close the door. Cassian heard the faucet running briefly, and Nesta returned with a few of the shadows gone from her eyes and the tear tracks gone. She sat back down on the bed, her legs curling under her as she sat upright rather demurely. Cassian pushed himself to meet her line of vision, shifting to a seat. It was the right thing to do, he reminded himself, changing their trajectory, though his body was tight and angry with him. But he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to caress her cheek, ghosting his thumb over the path the tear had fallen, and his heart began to race when Nesta keened slightly into his touch.

“I know what it’s like to have to be tough, Nes. You don’t need to be. Not with me.”

But she just straightened ever so slightly as he dropped his hand. “I’m fine, really. Nothing even really happened. I just…don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully in obedience. “Should I leave? Let you get some sleep?And when Nesta shook her head, this time a little shyly as her upper teeth caught at the soft flesh of her bottom lip, the relief hit Cassian like a wave breaking shore. “You’re lead, sweetheart. We can try to fall asleep, we can sit and talk - whatever you want.”

Nesta just stared at him for a second, seeming to consider her options as Cassian stared back into that intoxicating mix of steel and sky. He reached for her again, his body moving unconsciously as his hand came to rest at the nape of her neck. He used his thumb and forefinger to gently massage the tenseness he felt there, never tearing his eyes away from hers. Cassian felt as if time had frozen, his breath caught in his lungs, when Nesta slowly leaned towards him and caught his lips with hers. His tongue met hers in an instant, thrilling again at the taste of her. His heart stopped beating, and then she pulled away, looking a little hesitant as she stared back up at him shyly. Cassian’s hand still at the back of her neck, he pulled her into him gently and returned her kiss, not letting her mouth leave his as his other hand reached for her legs, helping her crawl into his lap. Her skin was warm silk.

Cassian’s better judgment was screaming at him to stop, but his willpower was long gone. He wanted to devour this woman. “Nes,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing the beautiful downturned corner of it. “Nes, tell me you don’t want this.” He couldn’t help but still be terrified of the answer. He moved his kisses down to her jawline, going slowly to guide her to allow him her neck, her throat. “Nes. Tell me to stop,” he said gently against her skin. She said nothing, just moaned ever so softly at the feel of his lips on her pulse point. “Nes, please. Tell me you don’t want this, before I lose my mind.”

“I want this. God I want this,” Nesta finally managed to get out breathlessly. “Why’d you wait so long?”

“Thank fuck.” He pulled his shirt up off over his head. “Thank fuck, sweetheart.” He waited for her okay to pull his hoodie off her, then her tank top. Her breasts were bare to him now, and he willed himself to not glance down, to keep his eyes on her face. His inner war must have shown on his face, because he was startled by Nesta’s sudden laughter. “What?”

“You look like your neck is about to snap.”

Cassian grinned a little sheepishly. “Sorry. I was trying not to be too obvious.” He took this as permission to kiss a meandering trail down to her nipples, stopping along her neck, her shoulder, before taking one and biting it lightly, the moan she released at his teeth making his cock now painfully hard. He groaned himself, tongue lathing over the bitten flesh. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted my mouth on these? How long I’ve wanted this?”

Nesta’s annoyed huff in answer gave him a very good idea that she knew exactly how long. “I already asked you— why on earth did you wait?”

Cassian paused his ministrations at that, surprised, looking up at her. “I had no idea this was on the table.”

“Maybe you should have stopped messing with me long enough to ask, then.” There was an unwelcome edge to Nesta’s voice, but just as Cassian was about to fuck himself over and do the emotionally intelligent thing and address it, Nesta shook off the edge and took Cassian’s jaw in hand to pull him up to kiss him deeply. Well, screw emotional intelligence anyway.  “Never mind,” she continued in a heady whisper. “It’s happening now at least.”

Cassian kissed her more urgently, more roughly now, pausing only to say “Let me make it up to you, Nes. For making you wait.”

“Oh?” She tried for a playful tone, but was too breathless. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Let me taste you. Let me make you cum until you lose your mind, so you can understand what you do to me.” He pulled back to watch her response to that, to see if she accepted the request, and at the sight of her blown out eyes and the most adorable pink flush to her cheeks, a giant grin of pride and desire unleashed itself on his face. He got to work, gingerly pulling down first her shorts then her panties, and then climbed back up to take her mouth, pulling the bottom lip gently in his teeth to echo the motions. He settled back down at the end of the bed, prying her knees tenderly open and pausing a second to enjoy the view. If he never got anything more, if he never got to touch her again, at least he got this. This beautiful sight could be forever imprinted on his brain. The exposure made the light pink flush on Nesta’s face turn red, and after staring a second too long, she covered her face with her hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Should I stop?”

“No!” She snapped, and then blushed again at her own reaction. “I mean… can we…I’ve just never—“ she cut herself off, stymied, it seemed, by her own embarrassment.

“You’ve never— are you a virgin, Nes?”  It wasn't possible- he knew, from what her sisters said. But her sisters could have been wrong and the fear froze him all the same— not out of fear or lack of desire, just a sudden bell toll to his conscience. Not like this— not drunk after some party— not after some guy almost assaulted her. He pulled back a little bit, sitting back and letting her close her legs again.

“No! I’m not a virgin. It’s— no one has ever done that. For me.” She blushed deeply, and said in a quiet voice, “my ex told me it was gross. I just…never wanted to ask anyone after that.”

“Your ex sounds like an asshole, sweetheart.”

“You have no idea,” that dry edge was back in her voice, and Cassian wanted to drive away whatever memory was haunting her.

“He’ll never get to know what he missed out on then, Nes. Let me take care of you— we’ll go slow. You tell me what you like and what you don’t.” This, Cassian thought, he could do. This made things less complicated, he decided. Cassian was a goal-oriented person, after all. He liked set objectives. And he’d never had a objective he wanted to clear more in his life. Cassian let Nesta resettle herself, watching as she tried to stave off any reaction on her face, to let it rest into an expression of calm neutrality— and fail, as she could do nothing to rid herself of that intoxicatingly shy pink flush to her cheeks, no matter what she willed the rest of her face muscles to do. He loved it. He loved watching the inner war. And he couldn’t help but smirk when Nesta’s mustered courage let her snap “Well? What are you waiting for?” at him. He kept his gaze on her face, seeking silent permission, as he gently pried her knees back open, his lips climbing kisses up her thighs, his cock straining at the sound of Nesta’s gasp as he finally lapped gently at her center.

Cassian wasn’t sure if Nesta was even aware that she was speaking, each word and sound wrenched from her in a sort of breathless abstraction. “Oh god….oh fuck.” He danced his tongue in and out of her, taking a sort of gleeful victory in Nesta’s reactions.

“Do you have a problem, sweetheart?” He asked teasingly, drawing his mouth away from her pussy to grin at her.

“Shut the fuck up and keep going.”

Cassian obeyed, but moved slowly, more teasingly. “So you do like it. I wasn’t sure,” he whispered into her skin, moving up to her clit and oh so slowly flicking it with his tongue. “You were so wet already, Nes. Should I feel cocky?” He started to use his index finger gently, teasingly, inside of her as he lapped her clit, feeling her tense, feeling her build— it wouldn’t take much more, Cassian thought. Should he slow? Should he keep her as on edge as Nesta kept him every minute he was in her company the past few years? The idea gave him some petty glee, but if he never got to do this again. If this was the last time he’d ever have Nesta, he couldn’t risk not satisfying her. Couldn’t risk her thinking any other man could do this better. So instead, he sped up, followed the waves and crests of her more dutifully, adding another finger and crooking them slightly as he refocusing his efforts until he felt a gush of wetness and heard Nesta utterly scream his name. Cassian had the fleeting thought that maybe he should have made sure everyone else was still out of the house before they did this, but as Nesta’s body started to quiver in the aftershocks of her orgasm, and he wrapped his arms around her upper thighs to help steady her, Cassian decided he didn’t give a shit if the whole world heard this. This was heaven. He kissed the inside of her tremulous thighs, keeping his large hands wrapped around them, waiting for her to still, letting her catch her breath. And as soon as she did, Cassian grinned back up to Nesta. “Ready to go again, Nes?” He asked but didn’t wait for her answer before delving back in again, feasting on her with even more abandon. The second orgasm came more quickly but less violently, and Cassian didn’t bother to ask before he dove in to bring her to her third.

“Cassian! Please… please,” he looked up at her, her eyes glazed as she panted. “I can’t…”

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” Cassian knew he was being an asshole at this point, but this was intoxicating. He could eat her out forever, subsist only on those delicious little sounds and cries.

“It’s too much… I can’t…anymore…” He wanted to tease her more, but when Nesta instead reached out her arms for him, Cassian couldn’t stop himself from climbing into them. She sat up instead, and started to reach down to untie the string of his joggers, tugging on them aggressively. He took charge, letting Nesta reach up and kiss him deeply. “It’s your turn,” she said, but Cassian shook his head.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Next time.”

“Why not?” She looked confused, and a little…hurt, Cassian realized. He could practically see her shove her vulnerability back down, to put up her defenses, and before she was a fortress entirely, Cassian reached around the back of her neck to draw her to him and kissed her tenderly.

“Don’t you dare, Nes. Don’t you dare persuade yourself that I don’t want that from you. That’s not what I mean.”

She stiffened slightly even more. “But you don’t want that from me. You just said.”

“I don’t want you to think that what we just did was transactional. You don’t have to pay me with a blowjob for that. I liked it. I’m happy to do it again to prove it, if you like.”

“NO,” she bit out, and then laughed, blushing. “I didn’t mean that it wasn’t….It was way too…” Her eyes narrowed at what Cassian knew was an arrogant smirk on his face. “You get what I’m saying,” Nesta finished.

Cassian laughed to prove he did. “Some other time, then.”

“Can we do something else, then?” She seemed to be searching his face for something, but he didn’t know what. He only knew that Nesta was so beautiful like this. She was achingly beautiful always, but he had never seen her so unguarded, so soft. If the world got to see her this way, the whole world would be in love with her, he thought.

Cassian smirked. “What, like a board game?”

Nesta snorted. “Like fuck. Can we fuck?”

It pulled a laugh out of him. “You know, Feyre told us all you were this prim and proper little debutante. Ladies don’t ask gentlemen to ‘fuck’, sweetheart.”

“What a waste of time, then,” she grinned back. “I suppose if you’re offended, I’ll have to find a non-gentleman to ask.”

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian growled, and reaching under her, grabbed her ass in both hands and squeezed. “I wouldn’t bring up another guy right now. I’m in a dangerous state.”

“Oh?” She wore an expression of false innocence. “Are you worked up?”

“I told you already, Nes. I’m going out of my mind.” She raised a sardonic eyebrow at that, and reached into his pants, her delicate fingers searching and slipping into the waistband of his boxers. His cock ached, and nearly jumped into her hand as she slowly trailed the edge of one delicate finger up the length of his shaft. “Nes, for fuck’s sake,” he managed to grind out as he resisted retreating.

“You do seem tense,” Nesta replied thoughtfully, her eyes on her hand’s movement as she reached for him in his joggers. If she flicked those bewitching eyes at him at this second, Cassian knew he’d come in her hand at the sight. As it was, he grasped for his self-control as she took him in hand and squeezed lightly as she stroked him. “Can I help, Cass?”

“Get over here, you witch.” He took her free wrist and tugged her towards him. “I’m going to get these pants off. And then you’re going to ride me until we pass out.” His cock sprung up forcefully once freed from his clothes, and Nesta dutifully obeyed, climbing on top of him. Cassian held her by the waist, guiding her down his rigid dick gently, easing her into adjusting to his size. The feel of her was even better than he had imagined— he had loved the feel of her on his fingers, but on his cock it was…transcendence. He started slowly, just rolling into her, lavishing every inch of her skin he could with attention with his lips, and as his mouth met her breast, nipping lightly at the skin, the nipple, he felt Nesta start to clench around him. Cassian quickly lost rein on his desire and took her hips in hand to drive harder, faster, into her. He realized his own orgasm was coming too quickly— he needed to draw one more from her before he took his own— and started drawing gentle circles around her clit before stroking it roughly and quickly in tempo with his thrusts. She came again with a scream, her glorious pussy throbbing around him and immediately taking his own orgasm. Cassian cried out her name as he spilled into her, the exertion taking hold and slumping his head onto her shoulder as he caught his breath. Her name echoed in his brain like a mantra in time with his caught breaths. Nesta Nesta Nesta. He drew his head up off her shoulder to see her staring at him, and he moved quickly to kiss her, to bury himself in her, before he settled them both back down on the bed and curved his body around hers. They laid like that for a few moments, bodies connected in a mutually dazed bliss, until Cassian went to the bathroom for a washcloth and cleaned Nesta before they laid back down facing each other now, Nesta eventually succumbing to sleep.

Cassian laid with her and continued to stare at her in her sleep, letting his thoughts wander, when a terrifying thought coursed through him. He could never be rid of her now. He knew he had been lying to himself about this “getting it out of his system”, but it’s like she was written into his skin, his organs and blood thrumming with her name. What the fuck was he going to do? His imagination kept projecting random scenes in his mind— Mor and Rhys’s faces catching them in bed when they got home, Feyre gently lecturing on him on whether this was a particularly good idea. “Nesta is…complicated,” she’d say, her face concerned for..which one of them, Cassian didn’t even know. Rhys would be furious, would insist that Cassian would wreck anything for a good lay. Az would look obnoxiously knowing. And Mor. Mor would be…disgusted? Livid? Probably both. And she’d be an asshole to Nesta in response, and Cassian wouldn’t know what to do about it.

Well, shit. Because suddenly it was obvious that he actually hadn’t thought about this at all. Rhys was right— this wasn’t some random girl who had pissed off Mor at a bar. Nesta was going to be around for a while. For forever, if Rhys got his way and Feyre said yes. And what was tomorrow going to be? What did Nesta expect? If Feyre’s explanation of her oldest sister - and Nesta herself - was anything to go by, Nesta had expectations. She deserved more than this bullshit— both his own and what his family would come up with. And now he couldn’t foresee the next morning being anything but horrifically awkward. So like a coward, he waited until he could see that sleep overtook her, and gingerly climbed out of her arms and bed and into his own, willing his heartbeat to stop racing and let him fall asleep.

Chapter Text

TWO AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER

CASSIAN

“She is coming, right?” There was a hesitation in Feyre’s voice as she asked Elain. Cassian concluded they could only be talking about Nesta. Feyre only had that hesitation when the topic was Nesta, torn between hope and wariness.

“Yes. She said yes. She just was slammed with a late final and then work before she could fly out, she said,” Elain explained matter-of-factly.

“I should have said I’d drive out to pick her up. I should have insisted…”

“Darling, you already paid for her ticket. You’ve done more than enough for Nesta.” Rhys smiled down at his love as he entered the conversation, wrapping his arm around Feyre’s shoulders affectionately. Technically speaking, of course, Rhys had paid for Nesta’s ticket, offering the second Feyre mentioned wanting her there but knowing the cost was prohibitive. She offered Elain too, but Elaine’s boyfriend was determined to spend the holiday with her, and also determined not to spend it with his own family, so volunteered to pay. Apparently he was rich.

“Nesta is…complicated. Promise you’ll be nice.”

“Wasn’t I nice when we met with her?” Rhys asked, affronted. A loaded silence fell over the group. “Well, I was. You can’t hold me responsible for Cassian.”

“I can when he’s obviously being your mouthpiece, Rhys.” Feyre leveled a gaze at first Rhys, then Cassian.

“I promise to be good. I mean it this time,” Cassian said.

“Good,” Feyre replied. “Nesta’s been having a hard time lately, I don’t want to make things worse.”

“Has this hard time been going on the past 22 years or so?” Rhys asked with false innocence. Feyre smacked him, and they both laughed.

“She broke up with her fiancé, she’s back in New York, she’s struggling. It’s a lot.” Elain said, her face impassive.

Feyre looked a little guilt stricken for laughing, and turned to talk to Elain seriously, ignoring the boys. “What happened with Tomas anyway?”

Elain just shrugged. “Nesta won’t say. It was only about a few weeks after you guys visited. She came home late from a date, I didn’t see her until late the following afternoon when she was dressed with full makeup, bags packed, and told me she was moving back to New York. I asked her about Tomas, and she told me it was over and not to tell him where she was before she handed me a post-it with her new address. Then she hopped in an Uber to the train station.”

“That’s all you got?” Feyre was aghast.

Elain rolled her eyes. “I know you think Nesta and I are in cahoots and you’re on the outside, but Nesta doesn’t always share her deep, dark secrets with me. I’ve barely talked to her since.”

Cassian had been munching on an apple rather fixedly as a pretense he wasn’t listening to every little tidbit of this gossip, but this was getting a little too interesting. With a mouth full of apple, he asked, “If neither of you have talked to Nesta, why do you think she’s not doing well?”

The sisters glanced at each other conspiratorially. Feyre looked ghost white, but Elain shook it off better. “Just an inkling. She’s gotten so thin.” God bless her, but it was unconvincing. Too obvious bullshit.

Rhys snorted. “Neither want to rat Nesta out for partying constantly and drinking her life away and sleeping with anyone within reach. Sister code.”

“Rhys - ” Feyre started in warning.

“Come on, Feyre. She couldn’t even be bothered to show up to your dad’s funeral.”

“I told you, she’s going through something.”

“Yes.” Rhys shot back. “Alcohol.”

Elain stood at that. “I’m going to go unpack, check on Lucien. I don’t want to stick around to gossip about my sister.” She made her way upstairs to the bedroom assigned to her and her boyfriend, who had fallen asleep shortly upon their arrival. He was pleasant enough, Cassian thought, in this sort of old-fashioned way, but Lucien had only managed about fifteen words to them all before he excused himself and passed out.

Feyre turned back to Rhys, who was now standing next to Cassian’s island stool, a unified front. “I mean it. Be nice. Don’t bring up the engagement, the drinking, any of it.” She started to leave, but was stopped by a yawning Mor. Mor too had fallen asleep, out cold first in the car on the drive-up, and still a little hazy after they unpacked. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her usually perfect hair was mussed with flyaways sticking up on the left.

“What are we talking about?” She asked, only half-conscious.

“We’re getting lectured on how to behave around Nesta.”

That woke Mor up, her eyes going wide. “I get to meet the infamous Nesta! What’s up with the evil bitch?”

Feyre threw her hands up in annoyance.

“I’m just joking, Feyre. I’ll make nice. Although I’ve heard…not great things.”

“I already told all of you, I shouldn’t have said that stuff about my sisters. It wasn’t right. You have to pretend you don’t know any of that.”

Mor wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, and nodded at Cassian to make room for her. He sighed in fake exasperation but scooted his chair out so she had room to perch up onto his lap. “I don’t mean that stuff. I heard some shit from old friends in New York.”

“Heard what?” Feyre asked hesitantly. There it was again— that wariness.

Mor waited, considering her words. “I’ve heard she’s…sleeping around a lot.”

Cassian laughed, but the sound was hollow. “How on earth could you know that?” 

Mor just shrugged. “We have a mutual friend or two.”

“They sound great, talking about a woman that way.”

Feyre held a hand up to silence the conversation. “Look, I’ve heard the rumors, but we’re not talking about it anymore. Just please. Everyone be nice. Be pleasant. Don’t bring up the engagement, the drinking, or any of it. Let’s make it a nice holiday.”

The three obeyed, and Rhys led Feyre to the basement to start unloading the holiday decorations, leaving Mor and Cassian on their own. Azriel entered the kitchen shortly after, but as his presence made Mor put on her usual performance, giggling and carrying on as she hung onto Cassian like a lamprey, Az left quickly. Cassian nudged Mor off, feigning exhaustion (he was driver after all), and deciding to take a quick nap before heading outside for a long walk. He woke up two hours later, dry-mouthed and in desperate need of some fresh air. He tugged on his Tims and threw on his fleece-lined flannel jacket and headed downstairs. Everyone had turned in for a nap, it seemed, as the first floor was dead, so Cassian just walked out the front door as quietly as his big boots would allow, breathing in a smogless atmosphere for the first time in months. His soul felt right here, Cassian decided, the memories of past Solstices flooding through his mind. Rhys’s mom Ines ushering the boys outside so she could making supper without them underfoot stealing food. Rhys’s little sister Serena tagging along after them, desperate to be part of their gang, even though she was far too small. Of course, there was the other stuff. Avoiding Rhys’s father too- stern, buttoned up, cold. Quick with his fist after a drink or five. Azriel throwing a rock-laced snowball at him the snowball fight after Mor.

Cassian was lost in a fog of memories when he saw a thin figure trudging up the driveway, yanking her suitcase in angry spurts through the snow, cursing the entire time. She was still so beautiful, for a cruel disaster of a sister. Elain was right, though. Nesta had lost too much weight, especially considering she was already pretty skinny. He couldn’t stop watching her until it finally dawned on him that he should help. “Hey! Nes! Glad you made it! Let me help you with that!” He ran towards her far more easily in his big boots than she was able to move.

“I’ve got it,” Nesta snapped back.

“Sweetheart,” he forced a bright smile on his face to let Nesta know he was just teasing, “you’re pulling up half the driveway up with you as you go.”

The smile did nothing to assuage her. “Maybe if you guys hadn’t forced me into coming to the middle of nowhere-”

“Oh. We’re in Big Bear. Did no one explain to you-?”

But Nesta ignored him as she continued. “Then I wouldn’t be out here, dragging my ass up some mountain in the boonies, freezing and ruining my boots.”

Cassian looked down and frowned at the soaking wet brown suede combat boots at the end of her long legs. “Aren’t you from the East Coast? Don’t you have proper snow boots?”

“They're in my suitcase,” she grumbled. “I didn’t have time to change into them before I caught the bus from the airport.”

“You should have taken the time, Nes. Any longer out here, you’ll lose a toe.”

The glare she fixed him with was as icy as their surroundings. “I’m fine. And don’t call me that.”

“Still with that, huh? What’s your issue with nicknames anyway? It’s a sign of endearment.” Again, Cassian smiled, a shield against that glare. He had to admit he liked it though. Nesta was beautiful when she was fiery.

“Not in my experience,” she answered. But her answer wasn’t fiery. It was bitter. Loaded.

“Elain calls you Nessie,” he prompted.

“Elain should never have told you guys that,” she shot back. Nesta was all sharp edges today, and Cassian unconsciously took a step away from her. At that, she sighed, and wiped a hand over her face. “Look, can we wrap this up so I can say hi to Feyre before I crash out?”

“She’s busy decorating, but you can go say hi.” Cassian nodded to the door, and watched as Nesta headed in She was different, even though it’d only been six months since he’d seen her last. She’d been bristly, defensive, irritable when he met her, but it was something else now. A weak shield. Nesta seemed…depleted. Burnt at the edges. Cassian should remember not to push too hard this weekend. He watched from the window as she hugged Feyre mechanically and spoke as little as possible before disappearing upstairs. Once the coast was clear, he joined his family.

“Well,” snipped Mor. “She’s charming.”

Feyre barely acknowledged this, just watched the stairs after her sister, her face full of concern but also defeat. “I just don’t know what to do. I know she’s not well, but she’ll bite my head off if I suggest that, or offer help, or-” Tears began to well, and Rhys was at her side in an instant, arm wrapped around Feyre as he shushed her, trying to calm her.

“We’ll do whatever we need to, darling. We can get Nesta the help she needs- or if she refuses, well. That’s her own choice. But either way, we’re not going to let it ruin your birthday.”

“Or Solstice,” Feyre reminded him, her smile tight through her tears.

“Or Solstice.” Rhys confirmed with a squeeze. “Though obviously one of these holidays takes preference over the other.”

Cassian filed all this information away in the folder he kept in his head for Nesta. He hadn’t intended to do this, but he couldn’t help himself. Every time he so much as heard her name mentioned, he felt his heart rate spike. At his family’s request, Cassian started on dinner, abandoned in the kitchen as Mor, Feyre, and Rhys “decorated” by hanging one ornament every ten minutes or so, their time used up by drinking through two bottles of wine and cackling loudly enough he heard it over the stovetop fan on high and meat sizzling. Elain and a bedhead Lucien eventually joined the merry band, thought both first  volunteered to help Cassian before being shooed away. He considered letting them stay just to keep him company, but he didn’t like extra hands in the kitchen. Especially untrained hands. Besides, soon enough Az would be down, and he wouldn’t want to subject himself to the hubbub of everyone else just yet.

Cassian hadn’t been cooking long when he began to feel a bit in the weeds. He hadn’t gone through the kitchen since last year, and it’d been forever since they stocked the pantry. So he had stepped away, just for a moment to root out the polenta in the butler’s pantry he knew he had bought when he smelled a hint of that tell-tale acrid smell. “Shit!” He dropped the can of tomatoes he needed, and bolted back to the stove.

Nesta was already there, calmly stirring. “Your mirepoix was about to burn,” she explained coldly, her eyes not leaving the pan.

“Everything good, Cass?” Rhys called from the other room.

“Fine!” He answered as he approached Nesta slowly. Nesta was cooking. She was being helpful. He didn’t want to startle her into scary mode again.

“You cook?” He ventured, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

She shrugged. “Not well. Just out of necessity.”

“You know what mirepoix is, though,” Cassian pointed out.

“I got addicted to Top Chef in school. I think it was like…vicarious eating.” Her words were flat and matter-of-fact, like she expected him to understand all the nuances without explanation. “What are you making?”

He couldn’t believe it. Nesta was actually making conversation- they were in the Upside Down. “Osso buco.”

“Elain will pitch a sobbing fit if there’s the threat of eating baby anything.”

Cassian chuckled. “I actually thought about that. It’s beef shanks. No babies harmed.”

She nodded, stirring once more before handing off the spoon. “This is done.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” The word was out of his mouth before he thought better of it, and Nesta glared it down as if afraid the word would attack her. But she said nothing about it. “You seem like you’re feeling better.” His eyes were locked on the garlic he just dropped into the heat, grateful that it was a step that required focus.

“More than forty-five minutes sleep in a day will do that for you,” she replied. “Marcella puts a lemon peel,” she added, nodding to the pot.

“Shit, you’re right.” He rooted around for a lemon, only to be handed a long peel by Nesta, who’d been leaning against the counter with it in one hand, a potato peeler in the other. He thanked her again and threw it into the pan.

“Burning yourself out?” Cassian meant it innocently, just thinking about Nesta trying to juggle work and school. But the sisters’ and Mor’s gossip from earlier came back to him. At the sight of his blushing, he could tell Nesta took it the wrong way.

“Yes.” Just that one word was like a slap. “School’s hard. Work’s hard. New York's hard. I got a little burnt out. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” he agreed immediately, inwardly cursing his obviousness as he dumped the shanks back into the heat. “Watch this for me, will you? I gotta grab something.” He returned to the pantry and picked the diced tomatoes off the ground. “What are you studying?”

“English lit.”

Cassian smiled. “Useful,” he quipped lightly, returning to his spot in front of the stove. He tipped a bottle of white wine he’d salvage from the rampaging horde into the pan before opening the can of tomatoes and letting the tomatoes slosh in.

But Nesta just shrugged it off. “I’ve got a job- well a job-slash-internship- at a publishing house already. That’s what I want to go into. I don’t care if the pay is shit.”

“Almost done?”

Nesta nodded. “Last semester coming up.” 

“Looking forward to it?” He stirred the stew. “I was dreading it. I was clinging to college with my fucking fingernails.”

“I’m kind of over it, to be honest. I had to overload my courses to catch up after I dropped out, so the fun parts of college are lost on me. It all seems a little immature. Besides, I think it’s different when you go to school in a big city. There’s not really campus life. We just go out to the clubs.”

“You only just went back this year?” Nesta nodded. “How are you finishing already?”

“I graduated high school early, enrolled right away.”

Cassian moved the pan into the waiting oven, dusting his hands off onto his jeans. This was probably a stupid idea, but he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the afternoon. And this was probably the best opening he’d get. “Want to take a walk with me?”

Nesta eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“To get some fresh air. Get away from these idiots’ noise.”

“No,” she shook her head frowningly, “why are you asking me to come?”

“I’m enjoying talking to you.”

“Bullshit.” But there was just a hint of a smile as she said it.

“Come on, Nes. I won’t bite,” he said easily. “Go put your boots on this time, I’ll meet you at the back door.”

Cassian waited, hands in pockets, back leaning against the wall, when Nesta scuttled back down, feet in brown fleece lined snow boots this time, and a marshmallow puffy coat. Her brown hair hung out the back of the grey knit cap in a braid. The hat brought out the storminess in her eyes. Despite everything, she looked beautiful.

“You’re cute,” he admitted, pulling her braid.

“No one thinks that,” Nesta shoved his hand away, but her touch was light.

“Then they aren’t looking.” He opened the door before she’d change her mind. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They trudged along slower than Cassian liked for a little while. By no stretch of the imagination was Nesta an outdoorsy girl, so he let her set the pace. It was all pleasant enough. He continued to ask her about school and work. Her answers were short, but civil. She asked him a few questions about his job, about the family’s traditions, but it was clear she did so out of courtesy, rather than interest. After a few minutes, they fell into a comfortable silence as they continued the walk.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Nesta’s words sliced through the quiet like a machete.

“What do you mean?”

“Six months ago, you couldn’t stand me, and now you’re inviting me for walks and asking about my major. What gives?”

Cassian stopped in his tracks, sighing deeply. “It seemed like you weren’t interested in joining the others. And I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

He took a rallying breath. “About some things that have your sisters worried.”

Nesta eyed him down, and Cassian found himself standing a little straighter, a little stiffer, under her gaze. “So you did hear something about me- thought so.”

He shuffled uneasily. “Look, I thought it might be a little easier if you and I just talk about stuff, instead of everyone jumping in. I know it can be hard, especially if your sisters get a little emotional-”

Her wide eyes should have been a warning sign. “Cassian, this is extremely inappropriate. I don’t even know you people. Why on earth should I talk to you about this?”

Nesta was right, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I took my mom’s death hard too. Drank too much. Fought too much. Fucked too much. Everyone says it’s to numb the pain, but it was the opposite. Like I was in such a fog of emptiness, I did anything to feel something. To remind myself I wasn’t dead too. So I get it. But you can’t give way to that.”

“Why not? You did.” Nesta practically snarled the words out. Cassian had to give it to her, she had teeth, this sister. More than the other Archerons.

“Because your sisters need you. They’re suffering as well. They can’t waste time and effort worrying about you too.”

Nesta bristled at that, and Cassian supposed that there was perhaps a more delicate way to say that. “Who said I asked them to? That I even wanted them to? I don’t want them  - I don’t want anyone knowing my business. They don’t- you don’t know anything about what I’ve been going through, how I’m coping.”

“Well tough shit. You have people who are worried about you, that's a good thing. Who worry about what to do about your drinking, and wasting your money partying-”

“Am I wasted now? Did I sneak wine in the kitchen while your back was turned? And I have no money to waste, thanks to that piece of shit dad Feyre idolizes for some fucked reason. I have a part-time job and a scholarship to college given to me largely out of pity. I don’t ask Feyre or anyone else for shit.”

“Except for paying you to fly out here.” It wasn’t nice to point out, Cassian knew that. But it was true.

Nesta looked stricken. “Glad I took the time and effort to have that held over my head.”

Cassian groaned, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look, this is coming out all wrong. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not here to judge you, sweetheart-”

“Do not call me that, you patronizing ass.”

He breathed out the irritation, breathed in the calm. “I’m not here to judge you Nesta. I just wanted to give you a sympathetic ear, maybe talk you through things.”

She stared at him for a long minute. It made his skin itch. At first, the only thing he could read on her face was shock, but as the seconds ticked by, he watched the shock morph into…contempt. “Is that really what you think you’ve been doing, Cassian?”

He stared back at her, shocked himself this time. “Of course.”

And the harsh bark of laughter he got in return startled him out of his skin. “You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought then.” At that, Nesta turned and left, making her way slowly as she slogged through the snow. Cassian stood there in the cold, watching her and wondering how the hell they’d get through the long weekend.

Chapter Text

TWO AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER....CONT.

Cassian

Nesta barely ate the osso buco she helped with the night before, just poked it around enough to distract her family from the three glasses of wine she drank, then excused herself for bed. She didn’t eat the family’s traditional brioche French toast and sausage Cassian made for Solstice breakfast the next morning either. So he was surprised to find her hiding out in the kitchen again when he entered, ready to start cracking on Solstice dinner. 

Before, when it was just them, Az helped Cassian make a feast like they used to have in the neighborhood. A mountain of food, like when Cassian’s mom would host the potluck- her way of getting out of cooking, at which she was a self-confessed misery. Even after his mom got sick, and Rhys’s parents took Cass in, that was still their Solstice. It was Rhys’s mom who finally taught Cassian how to make all the food he loved growing up.  So in honor of both his moms, he’d make pozole, tamales, enchiladas, buñuelos for their Orphan Solstices, all through college and after. Sometimes more. Way too much for the four or five of them. Mor always ended the meal whining about how she was about to bust a gut, and Rhys always pointed out if she didn’t fill up on margaritas, it wouldn’t be a problem. “I’m honoring your traditions!” she’d shout. “No you aren’t,” the boys would all end up answering in unison with a laugh. But Feyre’s family had always done a formal roast dinner, so that’s what they were doing this year. Rhys’s request. God, he was gone for that girl. They had only started months ago, and Rhys was already trying to wife her up. 

“Hey.” Cassian kept his distance from Nesta, the spooked horse.

She looked up from her book. “Hey.” A nod of acknowledgement before she returned to the page.

“I’m sorry. I said some stupid shit yesterday.” 

“You did.” Cassian huffed and shook his head, giving up and returning to looking for the large baking sheet. “But I do think you meant well, even if you fucked it.” Nesta waited until he was out of view to continue. 

“I started off meaning well, but…I have a temper. Maybe you can relate. And I shouldn’t be nosing into your private life.” He yanked the baking pan he needed under a pile and put it down on the counter with a clang before looking at Nesta. She was less armored today, her hair atop her head in a messy bun, dressed in shorts and dwarfed by a men’s t-shirt that hung like a sack around her thin frame. She still had dark circles under her eyes and was paler than her sisters. But still so goddamn beautiful, it ricocheted through Cassian’s heart. 

“I appreciate that.” He wasn’t going to get an apology out of her in return, he knew that, so Cassian smiled at her next best thing. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You were saying some bullshit, but I was mad at my sisters.” 

“I know, sweetheart.”

She gave him the ghost of a smile. “Still not okay with you calling me that, though.”

“Fair enough.” Cassian began taking the groceries out of the fridge, and Nesta went back to her book. He caught the cover image- a headless muscular male torso, with tattoo-sleeved arms crossed in front of a shirtless chest. Cassian smiled to himself. She wasn’t so tough, this one. “We good?”

“For now.” 

“Will you bite my head off if I just say that if you want to talk to someone, I’m always available?” He tried to say it casually, but the words came out tentative.

Nesta didn’t bite his head off though, just shrugged coolly. “Unnecessary and presumptuous. But accepted.” 

“Ok, Webster’s dictionary. Is this bodice ripper you’re reading important, or can you give me a hand?”

Nesta snapped her book closed. “I don’t chop stuff.”

And Cassian grinned. “Works for me. I don’t trust you with a knife.” 

The two moved along in mostly silent accord for the afternoon, and Cassian found himself liking her company, taciturn as it was, more than he should. Mor sauntered in to search for more wine and all but recoiled at the sight of the two of them, moving in the kitchen in wordless civility. She fled as soon as she could make up a decent enough excuse for running away. 

“What the fuck were you doing?” she asked him in a frenzied whisper later after their big Solstice dinner. “Are you nuts? How could you expose yourself to her poison this way?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he answered with a tired sigh. “She’s not nearly as bad as she seems. She’s just…curt.”

 “She doesn’t even deserve to be here.”

“Nesta is Feyre’s sister.” Cassian tried to keep hold of his patience. 

Mor snorted in response. “She doesn’t deserve that either.” 

“Can you not make one of your big deals out of this? She was just helping me cook, that’s all. I’m not marrying the girl.” Not that she’d want that. Not that she’d even give Cassian the time of day, if he tried. 

“Fine. You’re right. We promised to be nice.”

“Yes, Mor. You’re free to start at any point here.”

She rolled her eyes and sauntered off at that, announcing that dessert was almost ready, and it was time for presents. 

The gift exchange was just what he predicted it to be– Mor’s annual hideous present- this time a bright orange and turquoise Aloha shirt he’d be gifting to Goodwill at first opportunity. Az got a pair of sunglasses he’d never indulge in buying himself. Rhys gave Feyre a mountain of presents, which seemed to embarrass her a little. 

“It’s too much ,” she whispered.

“It’s your birthday and Solstice. And you have quite a few I need to make up for,” he insisted. 

The sisters exchanged little. Feyre gave Elain a painting of a flower that apparently Elain was studying, and Nesta a hand-painted journal, and Elain gave Feyre a sketchbook, and Nesta a regular book. But Nesta had brought nothing. “It’s okay,” they insisted. But Nesta didn’t even have the decency to apologize. 

“We never did gifts for Solstice,” Feyre did her best to excuse her hard oldest sister. 

“Two of you adapted just fine to normalcy,” Mor quipped. “Perhaps some of us aren’t the giving type.” 

Nesta ignored this. Ignored Mor entirely.

Rhys coughed awkwardly. “I did have one thing for you, Nesta. From me and from Feyre. Although it’s a little…involved.” He rose and pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. Nesta took it hesitantly, opening it and taking out a key and small fob on a keychain, and then a folded sheet of paper. She looked up questioningly. 

“That is the key to my apartment in New York. It’s refurbished- elevator, doorman, porter, manager on property. Upper East Side three-bedroom at 72nd and Park. Completely paid for and at your disposal.”   

Nesta looked dumbfounded. Cassian guessed he probably did as well. Why would Rhys do this?

“Why would you do this?” Nesta asked, unable to hide her bewilderment. 

Rhys tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. “Your sister and I would like to help you,” he answered, wrapping an arm around Feyre’s shoulders. “We know you’ve been struggling, what with your tuition and how expensive the city can be.”

Nesta stared at the key in shock. She started shaking her head. “This is very generous. Far too generous. I can’t–”

“You’d be watching the property for me. But–” Rhys glanced meaningfully at an anxious looking Feyre before continuing, “we did have one…condition.”

“A condition?” Underneath her stunned expression, there was a suspicious gleam in Nesta’s eye.

Rhys nodded. “The apartment is yours as long as you need it. As long as you go to and finish a four week inpatient recovery. On me, of course. Feyre’s found a beautiful center, you can detox and dry out in comfort. It’s near the beach, there are horses. Really take some time for yourself. And then, once you’re done, the apartment is yours.”

The room fell silent, all of them pretending not to watch Nesta. Pretending Rhys hadn’t just unlocked the tiger’s cage in the room. Cassian hazarded a glance at her, and he could have sworn he saw literal flames in her eyes. But instead, she just took a deep breath, rose to her feet, and looked at Feyre. Feyre looked petrified. 

“How dare you.” Nesta’s voice was low and menacing. 

Feyre’s eyes went wide. “I’m just trying to help you–”

“We’re done.”  There was no question- the words were final. Nesta's face was unforgiving ice as she went upstairs. They all sat in silence as just a few minutes later, Nesta reemerged with her bags and stormed out the front door, letting it slam behind her. Elain stood to go after her, but seemed stuck in place. Lucien put a hand on her arm and whispered something no one caught to her, and Elain sat back down.

“I was only-” Feyre started, but Rhys shushed her.

“You were trying to help. We knew this could happen. It’s up to Nesta.”

“But I should go talk to-”

And Rhys cut her off again. “Let her cool down. She’ll see reason.”

At that, without a word, Cassian stood himself, and grabbed a blanket and his jacket out of the coat closet, shrugging the jacket on as he followed Nesta out the door. 

“Hey. Thought you might need this.” Cassian held up a striped wool blanket for Nesta to see. 

She was visibly shivering, but still she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re freezing.”

“I have my incandescent rage to keep me warm,” she retorted, but when her teeth chattered at the final word, Cassian shot her a look. Nesta rolled her eyes. “Fine. Thanks,” she said curtly, but she held out her free hand to take it from him. She unfolded it and covered her legs. 

“Mind if I…?” He gestured to the free spot on the steps beside her, and Nesta shrugged.

“It’s more your house than mine.”

They sat in silence for a minute, Cassian making no comment as Nesta let her cigarette burn down without taking a smoke. He was deliberating turning around and just going back inside when finally, after a reviving huff, Nesta spoke.

“I suppose that’s what yesterday was about, huh. You were warming me up for this?” She gestured vaguely behind her at the window, where Cassian could see his family pretending not to watch the two of them. 

Cassian sighed. “I had no idea they were planning that. I would have tried warning them off if I had.” 

Nesta nodded pensively and took another drag. She blew it away from Cassian and fanned the smoke away with her hand. “But you don’t disagree with them.”

“Look, you’re right. We don’t know you. But no one here wants to see you blow up your life, Nesta, not any of us. Don't you get that? The drinking, and the sleeping with strangers-- that shit is dangerous. It's reckless."

“I’m fine . I’m working, I’m maintaining a 3.5 average. I’m not exactly waking up on the streets in  a pool of my own vomit here.” 

“Why are your sisters worried, if there’s nothing to worry about? If you’re as okay as you say.”

“I’m not okay. I recognize that I’m falling apart. But I resent my sisters- especially Fey- forcing their way in on my business and then passive aggressively complaining to everyone about what a burden it is even though I don’t want their help. I don’t want or need their help or their concern. I just want to be left alone. ”

“Ok. You’re right. We only know what Feyre’s said about you. But if what Feyre’s said about you is true, then yes. It’d probably be good for you to dry out somewhere. And alone isn’t going to help you. It’d be good if you accept you have people who care about you, and for you not to be so proud that you force yourself to suffer. To struggle.The apartment is a good thing, Nesta. There’s no shame in taking a helping hand when it’s offered to you.”

“And if that hand is holding so many strings that suddenly I’m a goddamn marionette?”

Cassian groaned in frustration, letting his head fall into his hand. “If you can explain the situation, maybe they’ll drop the mandatory rehab. They don’t want to control you. Rhys isn’t like that.”

Nesta snorted and laughed. “How long, exactly, have you been working for him? Living at his beck and call?”

“Don’t talk shit you know nothing about,” he all but growled.

“Right back at you.” Nesta shot him a glare. “And Rhys isn’t even who I was talking about.”

“You mean Feyre,” Cassian confirmed. “That’s ridiculous. Feyre’s doing this because she loves you.”

“Bullshit.” At that, Nesta put out her cigarette and stood, holding out the blanket he brought for her for him to take. “ Maybe Feyre loves me. But what she loves more is getting to be this unholy combination of martyr/hero complex you guys foster in her.” 

“What are you even talking about, Nes?” But Nesta rolled her eyes and ever so slightly shifted her seat away from him. 

Cassian huffed angrily. What the fuck was this poor little white girl’s problem anyway? Acting as if she was the only one in pain. Acting as if she’s the only one who has experienced loss. Didn’t she know how goddamn lucky she was? To have family- to have blood? Cassian was set adrift in this world, and the only blood he knew and loved had died on him so long ago. And he was so fucking grateful for the family who found him and loved him. With no reason to, biological or otherwise. “Of course Feyre is doing this because she loves you. Of course Feyre loves you. Both your sisters do, although I’m struggling to see why at the moment.”

“Because I obviously don’t deserve it?” Her voice was low and dangerous.

Cassian snorted, but kept silent.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Nesta rounded on him. “ This is what I’m talking about. Poor little abandoned Feyre. She just loves her horrible heartless sister so much, and for what?”

“Yeah! For what. Why’d you come if you couldn’t bother to be civil? If you couldn’t be bothered to even bring a gift?” He wished he could shake some sense into her, couldn’t understand how she could give up so easily the things he cherished and envied the most. Belonging. Family. She’d take all that love and compassion and understanding her sisters were willing to grant her and throw it in garbage for what- pride? Cassian huffed, the cold air visible as he exhaled. “I don’t get why you can’t see it, Nes. Are you just this much of a spoiled princess? Don’t you realize that if you keep throwing away the love people give you freely, at some point, they’ll learn to stop giving it?”

Nesta stared back at him, silent and looking staggered by the words. Good. Maybe something finally eked through that iron skull of hers. They stood like that for a few moments until they heard the rumble of tires on gravel. Cassian looked up, his face still stormy, as a large green Ford truck rolled up the driveway, stopping in front of the door. A middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard climbed out. “Nesta Archeron?”

“That’s me,” Nesta said, not a word or glance to Cassian before she picked up her suitcase and handed it to the man. “Rufus? Uber?” 

“Yes ma’am.” He took the suitcase wordlessly and threw it into the backseat of the cab of the truck. 

Nesta nodded, and walked down the front steps towards the truck. 

Cassian was dumbfounded. “You’re leaving? Just like that?” 

She climbed into the passenger seat before she answered. “What the fuck would I stay for?” Nesta slammed the door shut, and Rufus the Uber driver followed suit, driving Nesta away from him on Solstice Night.

No one mentioned Nesta the rest of the night, but a tension had fallen over the party. Elain had been pleasant enough, but she and Lucien had excused themselves to bed as soon as possible. Feyre went along good-naturedly as always, letting Rhys wrap himself around her, laughing as Cassian played his role of making an ass of himself to lighten the mood. But Cass wasn’t fooled by her acting– he could tell she was a heartbeat away from weeping. So he kept trying. He dug out their old photo albums, the yearbooks. Told her about the time Rhys was flirting with Cassidy the head cheerleader, trying to show off his new Beemer- his gift for being elected student body president– but his little sister Serena was sitting in the driver’s seat and accidentally hit the gas and ran over Rhys’s foot. And how Rhys shrieked like Jennifer Love Hewitt in a horror movie and Cassidy never gave him the time of day again. Feyre went to bed laughing hardily enough that Cassian felt he did his job, chasing the depressing shadows away. 

“Thanks for that,” Rhys told him the next morning as the brothers waited for Az to begin the annual snowball fight. The girls and Lucien were still in bed. 

“I can’t tell if you’re being sincere or not,” Cassian smiled as his brother as he shoved him towards a large snowbank. “You didn’t come off all suave Rhysand Sidra, CEO last night.” 

Rhys rolled his eyes. “No, but even though you could have done it without humiliating me, you got Feyre’s mind off things.” A noise of frustration escaped his normally controlled brother. “If she wasn’t doing it herself, I could kill Nesta for last night.” 

But Cassian bristled at that, not fully understanding why. “Don’t say that. We’ve all been there.” What, exactly, would Rhys have done if Cassian had forced him into rehab when Rhys was drowning his grief over the car accident that took his mom and Serena away from them? 

“Yeah exactly. But if she doesn’t want help–”

Cassian was openly angry now. “The way you went about it was so shit, Rhys, and you know it. Dangling the carrot like that. Trying to force her into rehab. Fuck, we don’t know the girl- we don’t even know if she needs it. Feyre doesn’t even know if Nesta needs it.”

“Feyre is her sister , and she’s trying to help–”

“Feyre is nineteen , Rhys. She doesn’t know shit about shit. None of us did at nineteen, and we all pretended to, same as her.”

This shut Rhys up for a second, looking uncharacteristically shame-faced. Az was slinking out the door finally when Rhys finally broke the awkward silence. “Twenty.”

Cassian glanced at him. “What?”

For reasons Cassian couldn’t decipher, Rhys started walking backwards away from him at that, his eyes on something behind them. “Feyre just turned twenty.” Rhys turned and started bolting away from the house at that.

Cassian stared after him in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?”

And if Rhys had bothered to answer or no, Cassian would never know. Because at that moment, a pile of snow hit the top of his head, stealing the breath from his lungs. The snow snuck in everywhere- his coat collar, embedded into his loose curls, down the crack of his ass. Cassian turned slowly, feeling exactly like a yeti, to see Azriel laughing hysterically as he held a snow shovel aloft over Cassian’s head. 

“You motherfucker,” Cassian growled, reaching like a wild man as his brother leapt away from him. 

“Let the games begin, Cass!” Az called back. 

And that was their first full family Solstice.

Chapter Text

The Morning After….

NESTA

Nesta knew Cassian had left her bed well before she opened her eyes. She could sense it when he left, felt the loss of that ridiculous warmth his giant body exuded. When she woke fully the next morning to his deserted half of the bed, she couldn’t help feeling slightly…disappointed. No deep wound. Just a little…insulted. She had no desire to make anything of last night, was perfectly happy to forget about it entirely, but it couldn’t help but sting to be confronted with the fact that for Cassian, sleeping with her was an embarrassment. Although she knew not to expect anything better from him. Nesta knew Cassian would flee as soon as he got what he wanted, if he even really wanted it. If he wanted to sleep with her for anything more than a long-fought win. A stupid little victory he finally got to claim. Well, it was no skin off her nose if he was enough of an asshole to claim it, even if there was one brief moment last night where she let herself believe that maybe she had been wrong about Cassian. His gentleness, his sort of stupidly dazed admiration, his confidence that there’d definitely be a next time- she thought there was a chance it was honest. But then he had barely waited an hour to prove her instincts right. Well, she wasn’t going to be broken hearted over it. If he didn’t want her, if he wanted to be ashamed of her, that was fine. Nesta would live. She’d be back in New York in a few days, and Cassian would be a distant memory. Until the next time Feyre forced her to interact with the clique.

  Nesta threw her pajamas back on, pointedly ignoring the XXL hoodie crumpled on the floor next to her shorts, and made her way downstairs. It was already about 9:30, but she assumed that with the late night, she would be the only, or close to only, one up. She hadn’t even heard the rest of them get back from the party last night. But when she got to the kitchen, Rhys was already making coffee and dressed for a bakery run, Azriel was leaning against the far counter near the coffee maker, drinking from a white dog with the words “Tastes Like Updog” in big black block letters  and pretending not to notice Morrigan perched on Cassian’s lap on a stool at the kitchen island. She was laughing showily as she fed him blueberries from a basket in front of them, his arm wrapped around her waist holding her to him, trying to avoid the berries. And she responded by leaning into him, her head thrown back to nuzzle his face. At that particularly nauseating sight, Nesta couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

She refused to be fooled by this man ever again. She had given in to something last night— not by sleeping with him. Nesta had long ago made peace with the fact that she wanted to sleep with Cassian. But he had been so protective, so damned kind last night, Nesta let herself be fooled by it. It was a sort of blessed reprieve. He made her feel safe and wanted, instead of cautious and possessed the way men tended to make her feel. No, it was before that. It was dancing with him in the first place, it was entertaining his flirtations when Nesta knew unequivocally that it was bullshit. She had told Az she knew Cassian was playing games with her and when she said she didn’t want to play, she meant it. But she had given in anyway. Now, less than ten hours after Nesta had slept with him, he was flirting with another woman right in front of her. What the fuck was she thinking, showing up here now? She should have snuck out, Uber herself to some breakfast alone for some peace of mind. In fact, maybe she still could—

“Good morning, Nesta!” Rhys’s voice was falsely bright. Well there went that idea. Cassian’s eyes snapped to her at the sound of her name, and he sprung to his feet, dropping Mor to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

“What the fuck, Cass?” Mor snapped irritably. Cassian murmured an apology, and gave Morrigan a hand getting back on her feet. Nesta couldn’t stop herself from noticing the blush erupting on his tan cheeks.

“Hey Nes,” The words were half-swallowed, though Cassian’s eyes followed Nesta as she walked across the room. Mor was still muttering annoyed little asides.

“Hey.” Nesta’s tone in return was short, and she didn’t bother even correcting the nickname or looking at him, just continued making her way to Az, who was holding out a plain blue mug for her. “What’s up, dawg?” She greeted him with a dry smile.

Az actually smiled back. “Morning, Nesta. Sleep well?”

“Perfectly,” she answered, holding the mug out for him to pour a cup.

He did, and then nodded to the fridge. “Cream in there. Rhys is letting us call dibs on which pastry we want for breakfast.”

Nesta simply shrugged as she fixed her coffee. An embarrassing three teaspoons of sugar and a dash of cream for Nesta to swallow the bitterness down, hardly the hard ass black soul the world thought her.

“Your sister sleeps like the dead,” Rhys announced to the whole kitchen, a desperation to end the awkwardness too obvious in his voice. But his smile at least was genuine this time. He really did love Feyre, she had to give him that. She needed to give him a more honest shot, Nesta knew, but something about Rhys put her on edge. That slickness, the age gap, the way neither would look anyone in the eye and give them a straight answer of how they got together.  Nesta was slowly becoming a misandrist, she knew that, but all of that added up to something that gave her hesitation with Rhys. And he hated her. She knew that too. But at this point, it seemed like he was going to be around for the long haul, and she needed to make peace with that and with him for her relationship to Feyre’s sake. “I left her comatose in bed. I went to this wonderful little French bakery on Olympic and got her an almond croissant, so one of those is reserved for her. These two,” he nodded with an exasperated sigh at Cassian and Morrigan now sitting on a stool apiece, “are fighting over the one mango cruffin they had left, but we have a good mix. Any preference?”

Nesta, still resolute to not be a problem this trip, (ill-advised fucking aside) just smiled. “I’m good with anything. I love a pain au chocolat,” she said with a shrug, “But I’m easy.”

And because of course she couldn’t help herself, Morrigan whispered (not quietly enough) in Cassian’s ear, “So everyone says.”

A hush fell over the kitchen as everyone decided the best way to smooth over this situation. Nesta could feel the back of her neck heat, an immediate offended anger rushing to the surface.

“Morrigan!” Rhys finally reprimanded quietly. Cassian had reared back at Mor’s words but said nothing, just averted his eyes from Nesta. Az’s face was still that same studied blankness, but there was a cold anger emanating from him anyway. “Mor, that was extremely cruel, especially considering the events of last night.” Morrigan actually looked sheepish at that. She must have forgotten. Something - the rage, the offense, the…fine, the hurt - must have shown on Nesta’s face, as hard as she was trying to school it into a face of neutrality, because surprisingly, Rhys gave her a look of genuine concern. “Are you okay? After last night, I mean.”

“I’m fine,” Nesta answered firmly. “No permanent damage. Thank you for letting me bail on the rest of the night. I wouldn’t have been much fun.”

“Of course. We were concerned for you, but we knew you would want to turn in. Feyre and I would have been happy to come with you.” And for once, Nesta actually believed Rhys.

She waved this concern off. She hoped they didn’t all treat her with kid gloves now, just because some guy was a creep to her at a party. “It’d have been a waste. I just fell asleep to a movie pretty much right away.” And Nesta didn’t dare let her gaze stray to Cassian, but she could feel eyes boring into her. “How was the party, after we left?”

“Not bad, all things considered. Azriel helped Helion get rid of your attacker quietly. He’s not for you to worry about though. We didn’t know if you wouldn’t like the mess of pressing charges, especially since you’re heading back to New York in a few days, so we…arranged things.” Rhys took a very purposeful sip of coffee to cut off having to answer Nesta’s followup questions.

Nesta raised a questioning brow. “Arranged things?”

Azriel snickered lowly. “He’s alive, don’t worry. Although perhaps…not having the best morning today. The LAPD are aware of the situation, and everything is just fine for the good guys.”

“And how was the party aside from that?”

Rhys replied “good!” just as Azriel replied with a noncommittal shrug.

“Rhys met a few useful UK contacts, apparently, and Feyre and Mor got wasted on French 75s and almost broke Helion’s massive glass coffee table dancing on it.” Azriel explained.

“He seems like a really great guy, Nesta. It’s a shame you couldn’t stay longer to spend more time with him.” Every word out of Rhysand’s mouth was loaded, but Nesta couldn’t understand why. Why on earth would he care if she hooked up or dated Helion? She already got them into the party after all. “Are you planning on staying in contact?”

Nesta walked over to Az, who handed her her pain au chocolate from a to-go box. She took a bite- outrageously delicious- and eyed down Rhysand, trying to ascertain his motive. “He’s taking me to dinner when he’s in the city next month.”

“Oh!” Rhysand couldn’t stop the wide beam illuminating his tired face, and even Mor and Cassian seemed to tune in, both frowning at the news. Nesta couldn’t imagine why Mor would be upset by that- she had dolled Nesta up exactly for this purpose. Azriel just looked amused. “That’s excellent. And you’re going.”

She shrugged. “He wants to take me to Masa. Of course I’ll go for that.” Nesta had no intention of taking Helion’s pursuit seriously, but she liked him enough to spend an evening with him. And, if a certain muscle-bound asshat was going to pretend they didn’t sleep together, why couldn’t Nesta entertain a handsome, powerful billionaire for the night? Especially if he was going to buy her the most expensive omakase in Manhattan. Cassian could stare daggers at her all he wanted. He was the one with with his “friend’s” fingers in his mouth the morning after. Nesta could do as she wanted. “Where’s Elain?”

“… she drunk dialed her boyfriend at 5am East Coast time and I think she’s hoping to sleep until it didn’t happen.” Rhys said with a private smile, though his arms were still tightly folded across his chest.

Nesta laughed outright at that. This was the least contentious conversation she’d ever managed to have with her sister’s pompous boyfriend. Maybe she could do this, make nice with these people. “Lucien is infatuated with Elain. I bet you anything they spent the whole call having Lucien apologizing for not being lucid enough for her drunken ramblings.”

And not a moment later, Elain was walking downstairs, her ear glued to her cell and her eyes bloodshot and bleary. “No, honey, of course I’m not mad at you for not being up to talk to me, it was the crack of dawn. I’m happy to talk to you whenever too. I love you too. I’ve got to go— I’ll call at a more reasonable hour.” Nesta raised a knowing eyebrow at Rhys and Azriel, and was shocked but pleased when the former roared with laughter in response.

“Okay. Wow.”

“And we thought you were whipped,” Azriel added, nudging his brother.

“Who’s whipped?” Elain’s voice was raspy and tired as she smiled that beatific warm smile of hers at the whole breakfast party, stopping behind Nesta to drop a kiss on the cheek of her big sister. Even as lovely as Elain always was, the late night’s wear was obvious on her.

“Lucien,” Nesta answered easily, with a roll of her eyes.

“Nesta was explaining to me that Lucien is a better boyfriend than me, because I’d be annoyed if Feyre drunk-dialed me at the crack of dawn, and Lucien is just apologetic.” Elain smiled and demurred, but looked pleased to be so called out. The four of them nattered on emptily along these lines. Though the rest of them pointedly ignored it, Mor and Cassian kept their whole show going for the entire morning, their flirting undeterred by the flying shards of puff pastry as they ate their breakfast.

Nesta was honestly more embarrassed than furious. She had seen through Cassian at the outset, and this morning was a humiliating consequence of not listening to her own instincts. But, she told herself, she could easily overcome her momentary lapse of judgement. So what if Nesta had always been attracted to him? So what if she had persuaded herself that his frankness and a swaggering cowboy brand of jovial charm wasn’t unappealing? Nesta knew better than this. She’d learned this lesson already.

She thought back to that first Solstice, when she was such a mess. And Cassian, despite shoving his head so firmly up his own ass, genuinely seemed to care about her, care about the mess. He was gentle with her, he didn’t make her uncomfortable. On the contrary, he seemed to make an effort to give her a refuge from the rest of them, letting her hide out with him in the kitchen. And then Cassian blew it all to shit two times in a row- first by calling her an alcoholic ( correction: a slutty alcoholic) and implying that Nesta didn’t deserve her sisters’ love and didn’t return it. Yelled at her for selfishly showing up empty-handed, when no one had bothered to tell her there was a gift exchange. The Archerons didn’t do gift exchanges- their mother had found it “gauche” for reasons never explained. They simply picked up little things for each other throughout the year. Or they had when the money was good at least. Holidays were the only times of the year her parents made an effort to spend quality time with their daughters- Father actually made a point to be home for them, not off of on business trip. Mother carved out time in her social scheming. So that’s what Nesta prioritized. Nesta, still scrambling to finish her degree on time on top of her internship, took time off she didn’t have to fly across the country to get on a three hour bus ride to Rhys’s mountain lodge, all to spend time with her sisters. And for her trouble, Feyre and Rhys tried to bribe her into going to rehab and Cassian had called her an unlovable brat.

Ok, maybe with hindsight Nesta could admit she was being sulky and antisocial. She was in a bad place at the time- she hoped her sisters could understand that. Nesta knew they talked about it amongst themselves often enough. Between their father’s death and the Tomas debacle and Nesta doing everything in her power to shove those two things down down down into the forgotten crevices of her brain- Nesta was in bad shape that Solstice. But she hadn’t been prepared to have it thrown in her face that way. The Uber to the airport and flight change fees to go home early had been far more than she could afford, but it was worth it to get out of there.

Then there was the second Solstice debacle— she had been better, clearer then. Stopped drinking so much and fucking dubious strangers, stopped trying to lose herself in any form of distraction. Her life felt saner, and her job at the publishers’ was real now. She felt healthier, and if not completely whole, then closer to it than before. She went to group as well as her own therapist. She talked to Elain regularly and Feyre semi-regularly. Nesta brought presents that Solstice for her sisters and even a bread and butter gift for Rhysand. She talked with Cassian a bit. He looked at her that way that made her feel… anyway. It was all ruined when Cassian and Morrigan exchanged matching lingerie, gleefully laughing, completely oblivious to the pain they inflicted on poor Azriel. And, to a lesser extent, herself. She had determined right then not to give Cassian any more mental real estate. And, up until this weekend, Nesta had succeeded. He was weak, she realized, on top of being arrogant. But still, the notion that he was embarrassed of her, that he was the one pretending that last night didn’t happen… it was a jab at her ego, she had to admit. The only thing to be done is to not give an ounce of evidence that it had mattered to her either.

Nesta got herself ready for the day and prepared herself for having to interact with them again. Feyre had grad rehearsals and a party of her own to go to— no non-alumni invited, she had told them all gleefully— and so the rest of them were at liberty for the day. Elain had, before what was about to be a monster hangover, mentioned Uber-ing into the city to do some actual LA sightseeing, the kind that would bore the natives in the group, and Nesta had agreed eagerly for some alone time with Elain. Feyre’s only caveat was that they don’t go to the Getty without her, and Nesta suspected the rest of them were eager to have the evil sisters out of their hair for the day. So Nesta dressed in hopes of bullying Elain and her hangover into sticking to the plan, and was disappointed that, instead of being ready to go, Elain was still in her nightdress, drowsily poking away at a croissant she was just dipping distractedly into a small jam jar.

“Oh! I thought… weren’t we going to go sightseeing?” Nesta tried to inject a note of innocent obliviousness into her tone.

“Nesta— I can’t. I’m sorry, my head. It’s all hitting me now.” Elain made a show of putting her head down on the countertop, as thought the weight of holding it up was too much effort. “It isn’t my fault,” she followed up, “They made me drink tequila.”

Morrigan laughed her bell-like laugh, and Nesta hated her for it. A flare of jealousy roared that they were trying to steal Elain from her too until Nesta buried the paranoia back down. She smoothed her sundress, distracting herself from her dark thoughts and her awkwardness. “It’s fine,” the words coming out sharper than she wanted, like always. “Do you need anything for it?”

“They’re making me eat and drink water and stuff. You go. Have fun. Take lots of pictures for me.”

“By myself?” Nesta couldn’t stop the incredulity from leaking into her voice.

“You like being by yourself. You always say so.” Nesta did always say so, but she didn’t really mean it. She said it to not hold her sisters under obligation to spend time with her.

“You can borrow one of the cars, if you wish.” It was a genuine offer from Rhysand, although Nesta suspected it was one part guilt from what Mor said, one part desire to get her out of their hair.

“You’re not going off alone, are you?” Cassian’s voice cut in, a little rushed and agitated. “That’s not a good idea- you should take someone with you. For safety. So you don’t get lost.”

“I’m sure Nesta has Google Maps, Cass. If she wants to go off alone, I think we should let her.” Nesta could no longer tell if Rhysand sticking up for her was for her sake or his own.

“No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t drive.” This entire scene was making her all the more miserable. She felt awkward and burdensome and disliked, and she couldn’t figure out a graceful way out of it. Nesta hated seeming helpless, hated the vulnerability the last few days had made her confront. She couldn’t bear to see the pity and frustration and contempt in the eyes of her sister’s found family. And Nesta was especially determined not to look at Cassian, couldn’t bear to see whatever pity or embarrassment lurked behind his eyes. “I’ll just Uber to-”

“I’ll take you. I’m sick of hanging around the house anyway.” Azriel was at her side in an instant with his long, quiet strides.

“But we’re all hanging today!” Mor’s voice had a tinge of a playful whine, and Nesta had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She had never gotten a clear answer on the dynamic between Az , Cass, and Morrigan, but when in full force, it struck her as desperately high school. “I thought it was beach day!” No one had made any mention of this or extended an invitation to Nesta, of course.

“Who’s stopping you? It’s Cassian’s house you use as home base for beach days, not mine.” There was a cutting quality to Azriel’s voice that seemed to surprise the rest of the crew, perhaps noticing finally that Az’s patience was running thin with things ever unchanging. “Go to the beach, I’ll show Nes around for a few hours. Maybe we’ll join you after, if we want.”

“Oh, you don’t want to sit in traffic just to look at silly tourist traps! Come to the beach— you too, Nesta. Of course.” Oh, gracefully done, Morrigan, thought Nesta.

“I’m the native. I’ll take Nesta, if she insists on going sightseeing.” Cassian’s voice was rough and terse, and Nesta still refused to look at him. She hated that he put it that way, as if she was acting the spoiled child, ruining everyone else’s fun.

“I’m from here too, jackass. Go to the beach, we’ll see you later.” Azriel nodded towards the driveway at Nesta, and she followed his direction, waving goodbye to the others and telling Elain to text her if she needed anything.

“Az, I think Mor really wants you go, and I know the city better-” she heard Cassian say, and again Nesta could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head.

“I want to take Nes.” Azriel cut him off shortly, before softening his tone. “Go have fun at the beach - I know how you like having socially acceptable reasons to be shirtless in public.” Nesta heard a soft chuckle as she went out the front door, and stood awkwardly trying to listen in on the conversation after she left, but the walls were too thick and they were speaking too quietly.

Azriel joined her quickly, and she hopped into his sleek black sportscar that he had left in the driveway. “Well. Where are we off to?”

Nesta looked sheepish. “I don’t actually know. It was Elain’s plan. I just…”

“Wanted an escape?” Az finished. Nesta nodded her agreement. “I’ll take you to cool places then. We’ll skip the whole Chinese Theater bullshit. You like music?” She gave him a look. “First stop Amoeba.”

The two of them spent the entire day together. Azriel was a wonderful host— he seemed to intuit what would hold her interest. He took her downtown to a massive beautiful bookstore with meandering labyrinths of books that Gwyn and Em would love before they wandered around, poking in at the Broad before driving past the Witch’s House. Then they went to Melrose and shopped a bit in some consignment shops, where Nesta bought this incredible vintage clutch bag, hand-embroidered and constructed to look like a bouquet of flowers for Elain’s birthday present. Azriel had so consciously not brought up last night or any of his family members until she had the bad instinct to do so herself. They were sitting at the counter of an old diner eating French dips when the thought that Nesta had been stewing on ever since Azriel came to her rescue that morning erupted out of her.

“How come it doesn’t bother you? That your family dislikes me.”

Azriel shrugged. “I know what it’s like, to feel like the wrong puzzle piece. To not be able to hide or move past your guilt and regrets as easily as others seem to, to feel burdened by your feelings. I’ve always liked you for it— you don’t pretend. You wear that ice princess mask, but you don’t lie to yourself. I love my family, but they have their own bags of mess and they do a piss-poor job of addressing them most of the time. I’d never let that influence the way I felt or the way I treated a person.”

“Even me? Feyre’s bitch of a sister?” Nesta said with a sly smile.

“Even you” Azriel sighed before he continued. “Can I ask you a personal question in return?”

Nesta swallowed her bite of sandwich. “Shoot.”

“What happened with you and Cassian last night?”

Damn his perceptiveness. Nesta knew Azriel could read anything he wanted from the way she just went ghost white. “What do you mean?”

“If I didn’t already suspect something, that face just told me everything. I figured something was up with the way you two refused to look at each other this morning, but the way you just asked that question definitely implied that you knew it bothered someone else. Had to mean Cassian did something stupid.”

“We didn’t avoid each other this morning.”

“You’re right— Cassian was very determinedly trying to get your attention when no one else was looking, but you downright refused to give him the time of day. Come on. Don’t make me pry it out of you or Cass. Just tell me.”

Nesta sighed and gave a brief recounting of the night before, up to and including Cassian sneaking out after he thought she fell asleep and pretending as if nothing had happened this morning. She tried to play it off like she was unbothered, but Azriel’s canny eyes told her she hadn’t succeeded in persuading him. “It’s not like I’m in love with your brother. Just so you know.”

“Ok.” She bristled at the word, but a glance at Az told her he meant it as an acceptance, not sarcasm.

“It was just a little…insulting. And I feel like a fool. I told you I wasn’t going to fall in with his stupid game and I got played anyway.”

Azriel sighed. “I don’t want to betray my brother’s confidences or try to glean the motives behind his dumbass actions but I don’t think Cassian himself understands what he’s doing.”

“I suppose I just need to swallow my pride and get over it. Just a few days, and then I’ll go back to New York and who knows when we have to see each other again.”

“Have to? I’m insulted,” Az replied with a grin.

Nesta smiled widely in return. “Have to refers to the rest of them, you know that. You’re welcome to crash on my couch anytime.”

Azriel looked down at his hands, a little sadly, though Nesta couldn’t read why. “If you mean that, I’ll take you up on that. It’d be nice to get away for a little while.”

“Of course I mean it. You were a great tour guide, and I was ready to hate LA. I’ve got to return the favor.” Azriel’s smile in response was still a little sad, but a wonderful idea sparked in Nesta’s head. “Actually, I have a tour guide I suspect you’re really going to love.”

Azriel chortled knowingly, as if he already knew her scheme. “It’s a shame things are…uncomfortable between you and Cass. He’d be much better guide— he loves this city in a way I never could. He could take you to all the best hidden, just for locals spots— which trucks have the best tacos vs. which are just for the Silverlake poseurs, which beaches aren’t swarmed with people to watch the sunsets. He knows how to see this city at its most beautiful.”

Nesta laughed. “You were claiming the exact opposite thing this morning.”

“You needed rescuing, and I can never help myself from doing that for the damsels.”

Nesta reached out and intertwined her fingers with Azriel’s. It would make picking up their sandwiches again awkward, but, although the gesture surprised him, she could tell they both got comfort from the touch. “You were wonderful today. Truly. Thank you.”

Azriel hesitated a moment before he dropped a soft kiss to her cheek. “Anytime, Nesta.”