TWELVE
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—IT was strange, the things Veronica fixated on now that there was a real guest in her house ━━ something the Flynns hadn't had in years ( other than the librarian her father was seeing ). A dusty picture of her and her father at a swim meet on the wall where she wore an ugly swim cap and goggles and was missing a tooth, around fifty open physics books sitting around the living room and taking up all the available seating, old trophies that Veronica had earned over the years now used as paper weights, and every little hiding spot with a deadly weapon: beneath the couch, strapped underneath the coffee table, on top of the fine China hutch, behind the television, the bread box on the kitchen counter. One needn't look too far in their household to get their hand sliced off. CPS would have lots to say about the Flynn household.
It was nothing to be embarrassed over ( though the swim picture was terrible for her reputation ); she just felt awkward that such a private part of her life was being showcased to a boy she'd met only a short while ago. Her home was her safe space where she was just Veronica, or maybe even Ronnie on the days she felt generous. She had the sudden urge to deep clean every surface and remove all traces of her and her father's vulnerability.
But Nakamura's face held no inch of judgement as he looked around his vicinity, only silent contemplation. He hadn't gotten a chance to look around before being roped into a long few hours of talking with her father about everything that happened. With the long story over, he was free to inspect every little thing. His eye seemed to latch onto picture frames and certain touches that were wholly hers like the trophies, exemplary report cards, and art pieces that all featured something gold. He laughed at certain photos and she cringed at every one.
"Cute," he chimed at one in particular with a smirk.
She followed his gaze to a well-loved picture and stared at it with resentment but also a twinge of nostalgia. It was of a fourth-grade Veronica at a high school science fair. Her father had dressed her up in a lab coat and done her hair in an Albert Einstein-fashion so she looked like a stereotypical mad scientist. The colorful tri-fold board behind her explained the fascinating mechanics behind Tesla Coils ( according to her father, she'd almost been named Nikola after "one of the greatest minds in history" ). She'd even built a mini version of the coils with high voltage batteries and wire to really seal the deal. She'd gotten a fancy, blue ribbon for that one.
Cute, indeed.
She rolled her eyes and waved him onward to the stairs. The sooner she got him situated in the guest room, the sooner she could start a complete clean-up of her house and forget he had ever seen a private part of her life.
The extra bedroom was nothing special, but Veronica still felt like her space was being invaded. She slept in this room whenever she got tired of her own, it held its own significance to her. The furniture was situated just right so that she never bumped anything on accident and so that she could see all four corners of the room from her bed. And here she was, offering it up to someone else so that they could use it. It was strange.
She left Nakamura at the door frame as she ripped off the champagne-colored sheets and comforter. There was absolutely no way she was letting him sleep on the nice, silk sheets she had slept on the last time she was in there. That was too familiar for them; it would be too familiar with anyone. He would get the clean and basic white ones.
As soon as she pulled out the new set from the rack in the closet, he walked over and took two corners to help her put the fitted portion on without prompting. They worked in silent tandem to get the rest on. It was such a menial task that she could have done herself within a minute or two, but he'd still offered up his assistance to make it easier ━━ or less awkward, she supposed. It churned her stomach in weird ways to participate in something so domestic with him. They should really be at each other's necks with swords ... or back to back against a common enemy. Not whatever ... this was.
Once she smoothed down the last infuriating wrinkle on the bedspread, she stepped back. "The bathroom is just the next door down. I'm pretty sure there are new disposable toothbrushes in the drawers somewhere."
"Thanks," he muttered, his gaze downcast. There had to be a lot on his mind and Veronica was not going to stick around to find out what those things were.
But before Veronica could escape to her own plagued thoughts and leave the room, her father peeked around the corner with a bundle of clothes in hand. "Hey, Ethan, I have some stuff that might fit you."
Veronica's eyes zeroed in on one of his ratty old camp t-shirts and she yanked it off his pile with a scowl. Nakamura wouldn't be caught dead wearing that and neither would she ━━ it was a neon eye-sore. Her father's smile tightened but he offered up the remaining articles to the boy.
Nakamura stepped forward and took them slowly. His visible eyebrow furrowed in what she assumed was a conflict of emotions. She couldn't be sure which emotions but she was sure all of them bordered on uncertainty. "Thank you."
"No problem," her father returned with a people-pleaser smile. "I understand what it's like only having a couple changes of clothes. Underwear was the worst —" He cut himself off from talking more about his unmentionables at Veronica's scathing glare. "Just throw the ones you're wearing straight in the washer — Ronnie will show you where that is. I'll start a load later tonight so you can have them back tomorrow."
Veronica begged the deities that Nakamura forgot the nickname 'Ronnie' within seconds. But some needy part of her wondered what he thought of the juvenile nickname, anyway ( and maybe a smaller part wondered what it would sound like in his voice ). She nodded stiffly to her father to let him know she'd show the boy where their dirty laundry should go. He gave a solid and pleasant grin in return, oblivious to the fact that she'd given up 'Ronnie' long ago. "If there's anything else, just let me know. I'll be grading midterm papers late tonight. G'night."
"Night," Veronica relented with a sigh as Nakamura only nodded.
Once he was gone, Nakamura turned to her with his mouth open. Ignoring the anticipation of the small part of her brain that wanted him to say it, she smacked his jaw shut with a flick of her knuckles to his chin. He jerked back, face scrunching up in surprise.
"Don't ever mention that name," she growled. "For all intents and purposes, that name does not exist."
"What name?" he chimed, the corners of his mouth slightly upturning.
Veronica did not invite him to come along for his funny bone, but it was hard to ignore the endearing quality's benefits to her sour mood swings. There was always something that kept her from befriending the jokers at school or camp. The Stoll brothers had ruined their chance at her companionship after they pickpocketed her special keychain ( she supposed only one of them committed the theft, but it was just easier to scorn both of them rather than expend energy trying to differentiate between the two ). Suddenly, she felt like she'd missed out on some sort of opportunity by refusing a friendship like that.
She rolled her eyes at Nakamura to hide the amusement in her gaze. "I'm right across the hall, come find me when you've changed."
It left little room for argument, just the way she liked.
She walked directly out the guest room's door and into hers, depositing Valkyrie on a bedside table in an easily accessible spot. If ever there was trouble in the night ━━ which had only happened once when Kelli and her fellow Empousai broke in ━━ she was prepared. So was her father, with his own retractable lance hidden securely in his bed frame. Again, the Flynn household was not short on sharp objects.
Veronica discarded her small bag of belongings onto a desk chair to go through later. She'd have to pull out the Harpy talon she'd earned in Antaeus' Arena and show it to her father. He'd have mixed emotions about it, but he would be proud in the end.
Two short, wooden knocks came at her door. She'd purposefully left it open a crack so that he wouldn't need to knock and could just alert her to his presence, but she supposed it worked.
"One sec," she called, moving around to grab her own sets of clothes that needed washing. The outfit she was currently wearing desperately needed a round, but Nakamura was at her door and she didn't trust a boy with hormones not to peek in at her. He didn't seem like the type to do something like that, but she wasn't about to test out that assumption.
She opened the door to leave the room and noticed he was, in fact, peeking in, but it appeared to be more for curiosity's sake than to be a Peeping Tom. He jumped back at being caught, cheeks flaming up.
"A lot of medals," he commented casually, not even facing her anymore. Just as well, her own face was probably red at seeing him in her father's clothing. The shirt was two sizes too big and the shorts hung inches below his knees. How embarrassing ━━ for both of them.
Getting over that as quickly as possible, Veronica sighed and shut the door behind her with a solid click. She drew the line at her house. Her room was far too personal.
"Comp. sports," she explained. He must have seen all the first place medals for all the competitive and school sports she'd done ( all individual centered, of course, because she didn't do teamwork ). Track and field, cross country, swim and dive, and even one for wrestling. Keepsakes of her victories.
"Ever thought of the Olympics?"
Oh, she had. Before she even knew what the Olympics even entailed, she'd just been drawn to the word itself. Something about it had always resonated with her, even before knowing her heritage. Of course, it all made sense ...
Olympics ... Olympus.
Once upon a time, Veronica had dreamed of becoming an Olympic athlete. Preferably for diving or for figure skating ━━ two of her favorite collections to watch. Even some of her coaches had given her brochures for special camps or contact information for certain athletes who went on to earn medals. Her father was an avid supporter of whatever she put her mind to, so she had pursued that path for a while.
But after the fifth private coach turned her down for being too 'un-coachable,' she gave up. If she were allowed to reach the top all on her own without outside help, she would. But that wasn't how the world of athletics worked. The rejections still stung to this day.
"No, never thought about it," Veronica lied, only to restore that feeling of separation from him. He was finding out too much about her too fast by being here.
What had she been thinking, inviting him along?
"Could be a future there," he hummed.
"That is not my future." She retreated away from him and walked down the hall to the laundry room. He followed her, footsteps light against the creaking wooden floorboards.
The declaration seemed to remind him of something and he took a deep breath. "The cab ladies. They said something ... "
Veronica stalked her way into the small room, throwing her things into the washer and gestured for him to do the same. He stepped in and did so, emptying his armful into the machine. Looking back at the door, she realized she should have deposited her stuff and then left before allowing him in. Now she was stuck in a cramped space and stuck in a conversation she didn't want to have.
"The Gray Ladies say a lot of things, and most of it is just nonsense. Don't think too much about it." She tried to shuffle past him but he purposefully intercepted her escape, only needing to sidestep a few inches to cut her off. "Seriously."
"O' powerful Flynn — "
She slapped a hand on his mouth and his eye widened almost comically with how close she had to be to do so. This room really was the worst place for a conversation like this.
"Don't repeat it, I know what they said," she hissed. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down. He didn't let go but she could easily break out of his hold if she needed.
"What does it mean?" he implored. "I've been thinking about it and thinking about it. What flaw could possibly fit that metaphor? 'Eating the world raw'? Hubris is the most common fatal flaw known to the Greek world, and you're not exactly trying to hide it. But something tells me there's more to it."
She stared at him blankly, wondering why he was choosing to go through his whole thought process. She'd rather him get mad at her ━━ because that seemed to be where this was headed ━━ and be done with it. Explaining where he was coming from only made it seem like he was giving her the chance to deny his accusations. But she wouldn't. They were all true.
"Let me guess, did you think some more on that?" she asked blandly, trying to hide any bitterness. "Lay it on me."
There was an imperceptible squeeze around her wrist before he dropped his hold completely. His single eye was scanning her face with indecision. "I'm still thinking."
And as he finally left the small space behind, Veronica couldn't help but hope that he never reached a conclusion.
—VERONICA owned a clock radio that she used for her alarm in the morning. When she woke up it would play Fort Collin's Radio 94.9. She liked the music selection and the announcer had a chill voice.
But that morning, she woke up to neither Reuben Marx's raspy greeting nor an alternative song.
She woke up to an alarmed shout from downstairs. One of her hands clenched around the dagger under her pillow while the other went to Valkyrie on her bedside table. She rose from her bed with purpose and prepared herself for some early morning adrenalin as she rushed down the stairs. But then the shout came again and she realized just what kind of shout it was.
There was a very distinct difference in her father's pitch whenever there was real trouble or there was trouble that he deemed to be real but was always just a small —
"Spider!"
"It's alright, Dr. Flynn!"
Veronica's steps faltered as she heard the boy's voice ( and her mind also ticketed his use of the correct term 'Dr.' She had to give him credit for being perceptive ). She huffed to herself and continued on, ready to diffuse the situation with a cup and piece of paper. She moved the last few feet to the kitchen doorway and found her father was kneeling on top of the dining table with a broad sword in hand, poised to attack the square centimeter threat.
"It's right there!" he shouted, using the sword to point to a far corner of the room. "No! Behind you!"
She couldn't help herself, Veronica grinned as she watched Nakamura spin around in circles with a crumpled paper towel in hand. She cocked her hip against the frame and shoved down a laugh as he actually got on his knees to look under the chair.
"Ethan, be careful!" her father yelled with trembling caution.
"Don't worry, I've got this," Nakamura promised with determination.
Veronica's smile fell slowly as she realized just how serious he was about helping her father take care of the spider. Despite how ridiculous it was, the fear the man felt whenever an eight legged bug was spotted was legitimate. Veronica had lived with it her whole life so she was used to his fits and knew it wasn't just a small deal, it was an actual phobia. The fact that the boy wasn't just humoring him and was actually trying to deal with the problem struck something in her heart, and it struck hard.
Deciding to finally make her presence known, she set her blades down on the table by her father and walked to the cabinet to pull out a small paper Dixie cup.
He looked at her with wide eyes. "Ronnie! It's in here. It was watching me as I cooked breakfast."
She didn't even have the mind to scowl at the name while there was faint mumble of pain as Nakamura accidentally bumped the left side of his head against the table's leg in his blind spot. Putting the boy out of his misery, Veronica also crouched to the ground and scanned the floor and any surface the spider might have scaled.
From underneath the table, the teenagers made eye contact and Veronica tried not to let on how grateful she was that he was doing this. But she wasn't sure how well she was able to hide an emotion that had hit her so deeply.
A little black dot moved in her peripheral and Veronica pointed over Nakamura's shoulder to the wall. She offered him the cup. "Less mess."
He nodded and reached out to take it from her, their fingers lightly touching at the transaction. Veronica sat back on her heels as she watched him turn to trap the small black bug underneath the cup.
Easy.
She stood up to retrieve a piece of scratch paper from her father's standing desk. "No, not that one! Use a new piece from my notebook."
Veronica ripped an unused page out of his calculations notebook and walked over to Nakamura. He slightly lifted the cup off the wall just enough for her to slide the paper under.
"Did you get it?" her father asked from behind them.
They stood up, Nakamura now holding the paper securely against the cup so the spider wouldn't get out. "We got it, sir."
The man practically slumped off the table in relief. "Thank goodness." He then looked around in suspicion. "Hopefully it didn't spawn in here."
"I'm sure it didn't," Veronica assured.
He nodded, still looking at the ceilings and floors warily. "Alright, well, you know where to drop it off."
Veronica sighed and acquiesced. "Come on, Nakamura."
They walked to the foyer where she put on a jacket and slipped on her shoes. Nakamura looked at her with a question in his gaze but did the same, trading off the spider as he put on his own coat.
Once they were outside, she explained the oddity of her actions. "We have to drop it off at least a block away."
"But there's got to be at least thousands of spiders between here and a block," he muttered, making sure he was quiet enough that her father would not hear. The unnecessary consideration plucked that weird string in her chest again.
"One spider makes all the difference."
And so they walked along the sidewalk for a whole block, the sun barely in the sky to watch them awkwardly avoid each other's eyes. Veronica knew she should thank him for his actions that morning, she knew it. But every time her mind replayed the scene, she felt that awful tug that spoke of forbidden feelings.
"My father's a son of Athena," she blurted finally.
"I know," Nakamura said and she almost hit herself. Of course he knew. "And if I hadn't known beforehand, I think it would have been relatively obvious after that."
Veronica nodded. "It's — well he's — " she stammered out, hating herself every second. "Thanks."
"You're ... welcome?" he returned. "What are you thanking me for?"
The scene rolled through her mind again and the words caught in her throat. "Arachnophobia. It's an irrational fear, but he really can't help it. So it always just kind of sucks whenever someone makes fun of him for it or laughs it off. Just — thanks for not doing that, I guess."
Nakamura didn't say anything more to that, and she was grateful. She was afraid she'd ramble more about how mushy it made her feel if he did. And mushy was the last thing she needed to feel around him.
They had a mission to do.
And feelings had no place in a professional relationship like that.
NOTES ;
THIS WAS PURELY ALL FLUFF/
ANGST/DENIAL.
LEGIT ONE OF MY FAVORITE
CHAPTERS TO WRITE EVER.
THE SCENE WITH HER FATHER
AND THE SPIDER HAS BEEN IN
MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG.
HER FATHER IS ONE OF HER
ONLY WEAKNESSES SO ETHAN
TAKING CARE TO HELP HIM
OUT IN A MOMENT OF NEED
WAS JUST REALLY IMPORTANT
TO HER
ALSO I WANT TO NAME A
DAUGHTER NIKOLA SO BAD
SO I THREW THAT IN THERE