Nesta was no where to be found.
The room was identical to his own, but the colors were inverted. His room was blue and silver, while hers was white and gold. That seemed strangely fitting.
She had been in here, he knew it. He had heard Feyre and her voice and he could still smell roses and rum in the air.
Cassian stepped into the main room after having checked the bathroom, the dressing room, the balcony- she had left.
Which was incredibly problematic, not only because Cassian really wanted to mess with her, but also because of what she could be doing in the city.
Night was in full swing, and the moon taunted him as he jumped the rail on the balcony and flew into the dark skies, following that thread through the city.
He first checked her apartment, the open window making it easy to get inside.
Nesta's room was a mess.
Clothes were strewn about everywhere, in what he could only assume was a mess from packing her bags. He could tell she had been here only moments before by the lingering scent.
He tried not to notice the heap of empty wine bottles in the living room as he searched for any kind of clue as to where she would be.
"Dammit." He swore under his breath. Lifting one of the bottles up, he noticed the rim was still wet.
She had drank all the wine she had in her apartment, then left.
"Dammit, Nesta." Cassian repeated as he quickly left her apartment to find her.
He knew where she would be. When the liquor ran out at home, there was only one place she would go for more.
________________________________________________________________________________
It burned like fire going down her throat. That was one thing about Fae liquor she would never get used to, was how much it burned going down.
Unfortunately, she learned all to quickly that it burned that much coming back up too.
She never drank when she was human, not like this. Maybe a glass of wine at an event or dinner, but the taste of alcohol had always turned her off. Made her sick just thinking about it.
Now, it was almost a punishment for herself.
It was a punishment until it was the pure bliss of fog and forgetting.
And tonight there was nothing she wanted to do more then forget.
Nesta had drained 3 bottles of human wine she had brought and saved for a rainy day. Unfortunately, human spirits were shit compared to Fae, so she had been nothing more then slightly buzzed when she left her apartment and came here.
Her favorite black hole.
The tavern had a name she had long forgotten, only knowing the way there and nothing more. The name had long worn off the sign hanging above the door. She didn't want to know what it was called anyway. All she knew was that the liquor was cheap, fast acting, and she could always find someone desperate enough to take home.
At that thought, she giggled. Nesta was not ashamed to be a giggly drunk.
She was doing just that as she sat back in the dimly lit booth, surveying the tavern for a nightly forget-me-not.
When her eyes met a pair as green as a meadow, she knew she had found him.
She didn't smile, didn't nod, only finished her drink without so much as a grimace- still making eye contact with the green stranger- and signaled the bartender for another.
To Nesta's pleasure, the stranger stood from his seat at the bar, grabbed her drink from the bartender, and walked over to sit across from her in her booth.
He was not not good looking. As he snaked through the tables and chairs, she noted how he walked with a certain grace, not sacrificing stature or power to do so. He was tall, probably five or six inches taller then herself. His hair was floppy and clearly styled to look like it was not styled at all. His dark skin was offset by his light hair, the firelight dancing off it beautifully.
Nesta couldn't help but stare at the scar that crosses his face, right across his nose, as he sat down and placed her drink in front of her.
His voice was so deep it rumbled like gravel in Nesta's bones as he spoke, low and quiet,
"Would you like to get out of here?"
Nesta ignored the goosebumps that raised on her skin at that voice and giggled as she reached for her drink, brushing his fingertips with hers as she reached for the glass in his hand.
"That's a bit forward." She countered, leaning back, letting one of her feet brush the strangers leg under the table. Her head swam and her vision was doubled.
She noted how he didn't stir at that as he responded, "I can tell we came here for the same reasons. Why would I waste time with pleasantries?"
Nesta slugged back her drink, draining all of it in one go, before sliding her hand across the table, grabbing the green eyed strangers drink, and draining it completely as well.
Then she slid her hand across the table to cover his, giggled her drunk giggle, and said, "Lets go to yours."
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Cassian almost gagged as he entered the tavern, the smell of smoke, liquor, and vomit coiling all around him. He tried to stifle his smell as he walked through the tables, saying hi to a few males he knew. He made his way to the bartender, wiping out a glass and wiping sweat from her forehead with the same rag.
Cassian took a seat.
The older woman, dressed in a blue tunic and a matching blue head scarf, said from a few feet away, "I'll be with you in just a moment, kid."
Cassian watched in almost horror as the old woman spat on the glass, shined it some more with the rag, and filled it with ale.
She then handed it to a waiter, a shorter brunette boy, and said "Table 7. Nanies Special." She then winked at the boy and crossed to Cassian.
"What can I get you, kid?"
"I'm actually looking for someone." He said, trying to ignore what he had just witnessed. "She's about yey high- " Cassian held his hand in the air, indicating where Nesta stood compared to himself, "- She usually wears greys or blues, auburn hair always in a bun, grey eyes..."
The woman only blinked at him.
Cassian sighed. "She's really mean, usually comes alone and leaves with someone, her drink of choice is absinthe and rum on the rocks."
With that, the bartenders eyes light up with excitement, as if recalling an old friend.
"Oh! Tankerd! Yeah, she left about a half hour ago." The old woman let out a thin laugh.
Cassian's eyebrows narrowed. "Tankerd?"
The woman picked up a cup from an empty seat and began to clean it as she spoke.
"One of my best costumers. She never says her name, so we call her Tankerd because she has the highest tolerance of any one here. Have you ever tried that drink of hers? It's her signature, orders it every time. 'Round here we call it the Maggot, cuz it feels like maggots are eating out your throat when you drink it. It'll get you face down on the floor with one sip, but she throws 'em back like she's drinking water. I can't even th-"
"She was here tonight, right? Did you see her leave?" Cassian interrupted the woman. His leg was bouncing under the bar, anxious to get out of here and find Nesta. He could still smell her here, through the smoke and spirits.
The old woman continued cleaning the glass. "Oh, yeah, there's rarely a night when she isn't here. She was with a taller fella, beautiful male. Damn, that Tankerd always manages to milk the best males out of this place. She really fin-"
Cassian interrupted the older woman again before she could go off on another tangent about how Nesta was sleeping with such great looking males. "Did you see which way she went?"
SPLAT
The bartender spit on the glass and rubbed the cloth on it. "Oh yeah, she left with the blonde bombshell and they were headed to his place. He's a regular too, he lives down in the Banks. You know, I never really-"
Cassian flipped the old woman a coin, thanked her, and then tried not to run out the door toward the Banks.
The Banks were a ramshackle neighborhood, almost as bad as the one Nesta's apartment was in. As he flew over the city toward the Banks, he felt that all to familiar feeling in his gut that told him Nesta and this 'blonde bombshell' were getting to know each other quite well.
His soul raged every time he knew something like this was happening.
And he knew every time it happened.
What was he planning to do? Rip in there and pull him off of her? Nesta would never forgive him. Nesta would be pissed to know he was even following her.
Why was he following her?
Cassian landed on a building just across from the Banks, feeling exactly what the male was doing to Nesta through the bond.
It killed him. It drove him to pure insanity even thinking about anyone else touching her. Especially after today, after what they had just been through.
Something so much deeper and and stronger then anger coursed through him. Still, something kept him on that rooftop.
Every time he could feel it. Every lover, every stoke, every touch.
Every time.
He had never told Nesta that. He doubted she would care.
If she did, she wouldn't be here.
He shouldn't be here. This was her last night of freedom, before being forced into a deal she didn't want with him.
Someone she hated.
When he felt Nesta's back hit the soft mattress, he flew back to the estate, and had a strong drink of his own.
________________________________________________________________________________
His lips tasted like berries, fresh and light.
His hands were soft and gentle, taking so much care wherever they touched her.
His eyes looked over her like she was a beautiful painting he couldn't get enough of.
He kissed her like she was the only person he had ever kissed.
So, she let him fuck her like that too.
Sloppy and loud and borderline unpleasant, it was clear he had not had much experience. He didn't object when she pushed his shoulders down against the mattress and topped him, bringing him to his climax quickly.
She, however, did not finish. It all felt wrong. To be with him, to let someone else touch her like that. Even now, laying in his bed with his arm around her waist, felt like she was out of place and foreign.
That feeling had been present before with her one night stands. That's why she drank and fucked like a mad woman, because on day- just maybe- it would go away.
After the beach today, after the bond was so much stronger now, she doubted that would ever be the case.
She sighed as she slipped herself out of his bed, put her clothes back on, and went back to the tavern.
She ordered two more drinks, hating how the bad sex and guilt had sobered her up. She didn't even know if she wanted to finish herself off, to drunk now to even walk back to the estate.
Nesta stumbled through the street, completely empty at this time of night. She knew from her time in the underbelly of Velaris that everyone had already found their nightly lover- whether it be drink or body- and had settled in.
She giggled to herself as she tried to keep her feet under her. Giggled at the pure idiocy of her situation. The giggle turned to a full on laugh, gut busting and head swimming, as she leaned against the gate of the estate.
She faintly heard the whoosh as a certain Illyrian landed next to her.
"Wh-" giggle, "What the absoleeewwoootte fuck do you want?" She let the lewo draw out as if it were a song.
Cassian didn't smile as he scooped her up, one arm under her legs, the other behind her back. She gave a small cry, which did draw a smile smile fro his lips. He flew her up up up until they landed in a large blue room. Nesta, through her hazy vision, recognized this as a room very similar to her own in the estate. She took the opportunity to smack his arm as they landed.
"Thisis your rom." Nesta sputtered out the words as he sat her down on in a chair. She watched him walk to the other side of the small table she was seated at and pour her a glass of something. Water.
"Yes, it is." He sighed, as if even being in her presence was physically draining. She didn't blame him.
She curled her legs beneath her in the chair, snickering again at how cat-like she felt, and pushed the glass away from her when Cassian set it in front of her.
Cassian rubbed his eyes harshly as he said, "If I put absinthe in it, will you drink it?"
Nesta was to drunk to recoil at his tone. She picked up the glass, taking a few tries to actually grab it, and drained it all as if it were a shot. She set the cup back down.
She didn't feel any more sober.
Cassian stood and walked to his bed, pulling off the throw blanket at the foot. As he passed her to go back to his seat, he draped it across her shoulders. She almost cackled at how warm and comfortable it was, snuggling herself down into it.
"You drank all the wine at your apartment."
Nesta's arms moved clumsily as she lifted her hands to her hair, undoing the messy ponytail and letting her hair fall down around her. She wrapped the blanket back around herself as she chortled. Being a giggly drunk was not beneficial when trying to have a serious conversation with bastard bat boys. Especially the one sitting across from her, staring her down.
"That issomething I did, ee-yes. And you stalked me, sooo I would say-" giggle, "we are about even, you winged fucking freak."
Hearing those words come out of her mouth made her laugh even harder. She had no filter when she drank, so this was going to be very interesting.
Cassian did not shrink back at her words. In fact, Nesta could have sworn a small smile was planted on his lips.
Nesta brought her hand to her mouth to cover her laughter as she said.
"I'm so sorry, I'm such an asshole." More giggling.
Cassian was just staring at her, smiling, and shaking his head.
Nesta noticed this was a reoccurring habit of his. The staring and smiling thing.
"Yeah," he said, laughing to himself, "You are."
"I hate you." She blurted. She didn't know why she said it.
He stopped smiling. "What?"
Nesta chuckled. "Your face looksso steeewwwpid right now." She sang, standing and feeling a little less woosy then before. The water had helped a little bit.
Nesta laid down on the bed, feeling her hair fluff around her. She was on her back, looking up at the ceiling. As she let her eyes trace the silver pattern as she said, "I hate you."
Cassian said nothing. She heard soft footsteps, then felt the bed compress under his weight. When she turned her head, she saw he was also laying on his back next to her, staring at the ceiling.
She laughed at absolutely nothing.
Cassian couldn't help but smile at that laugh.
It was something he heard so rarely. In fact, he didn't think he had ever heard it.
Hearty and loud and real.
He watched her frame shake with it, watched her eyes crinkle, and suddenly he was laughing too.
There the two of them lay, side by side, laughing at nothing. The air. The emptiness of the room.
Nesta tried but failed to control herself as she said,
"The sex-" wheeze "- the sex was so bad, Cassian." She broke out into a second fit of laughter.
Cassian lifted himself up onto his elbow, looked down at her, and said, "I know."
Nesta lifted her hand to pat his head, once, twice, three times as she said. "I know you know."
He looked confused. That only made Nesta laugh harder.
"How do you know I know?"
"It doesn't matter because now you know I know you know."
Cassian couldn't hold back his own laugh. "What?"
Nesta brought her hand back down and rested it on her aching stomach, closing her eyes and took a few deep breaths.
She was getting more and more sober. And she honestly didn't mind it.
"Exactly." She sighed.
Then she said, the room spinning slower and slower, "I don't hate you."
She didn't look at him as she said, "I would really like to. Hating you would be so much easier."
Cassian asked, almost whispering, "Easier then what?"
Nesta hated that she responded, "Easier then loving you."
Cassian wasn't sure he was breathing. Yet, somehow he found the air in his lungs to say,
"I don't hate you either."
Nesta dropped a pearl of laughter, and Cassian kept that in his heart.
She tilted her head, the white light of the moon caressing her cheek. She looked at Cassian, still rumbling with a silent laughter, and he smiled. Even as she said, "Yes, you do. You hate me."
He shook his head, a smile still on his face. She was still a bit drunk.
"No, Nesta, I don't hate you."
She was sobering up, but not fast enough. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek as she laughed and said, "Oh, you broken little boy, thatsso cute." She squeezed his cheeks like a grandma for emphasis.
Then she said, "Everyone hates me."
She patted his cheek before retracting her hand, resting it back on her stomach. She was vaguely aware of Cassian laying his hand atop hers. He was still staring at her.
Nesta thought that might be his favorite activity with how much he did it.
"That's not true." He said, snapping her out of her head.
She only chuckled a little at that, looking back up at the ceiling. "Even I hate me, Cassian."
Nesta furrowed her brows, thinking, "Well, I guess you can't hate me. But if we weren't mates, I think you'd like to." giggle "Hate me, that is. I know I'd like to hate you if I could-"
Cassian sprang up, interrupting Nesta's train of thoughts.
She lazily lolled her head to the side, seeing his eyes wide with...something.
"What?" Realization struck her in her ribs, and if she were sober she might have thrown up at what she just said. But she was still very drunk. So she burst with another round of that glorious laughter, and rolled to her side, now facing Cassian.
"Is it because I said the 'm' word?"
"I- um, well-" Cassian came around the bed, kneeling beside the bed where Nesta laid down, and she turned to face him as she spoke.
"It's just a word." giggle "You're scared of a damn word." giggle "I guess I am too."
"Nesta,-"
"Shhhhhhh" Nesta drew out the sound for far to long. She laid her head on her hands and she faced Cassian, still kneeling on the bed.
She smiled as she said, "I forgot we were trying to ignore the 'm' word. I can go back to fake-hating you now if you want."
Cassian was just staring at her. Again.
So Nesta sat up as she put an open hand on his face, pushing him back as she stood. As she began walking to the door, to her own room, she said to Cassian, "Stop doing that."
But Cassian grabbed her hand by the wrist, holding her back.
He looked up at her from where he was on the ground. He looked like a puppy. Nesta laughed again.
Cassian smiled as he asked, "Stay?"
Nesta was genuinely confused, but she still sat down in front of him on the floor. "I though we are still fake-hating each other?"
Cassian still smiled, a sight that made Nesta so full and bright she thought she would burst, knowing that smile was for her- just for her. Maybe a drunk fool, but still for her.
"Not tonight." He said.
She pondered a moment.
"Alright." She agreed.
Then a pulsing in her stomach and throat told her tonight was going to be rough.
She stood and ran to the bathroom, making it to the sink before the Maggot resurfaced. It burned like Helfire, springing tears to her eyes.
Cassian was there instantly, tying her hair back and grabbing toilet paper to wipe her mouth.
And there, in the bathroom, they spent the next three hours.
It was every two minutes, then every 7, then 15, then 30, then it was over. And she was sober.
And each time, Cassian was right there, a hand on her back and a glass of cold water ready. He was there for her through the whole ordeal, and even went to her room to get her a change of clothes as she took a quick 'bath' thats only purpose was getting the green eyed stranger off her body.
The idea she had ever wanted to go out and sleep with someone when Cassian was right here all night was absolutely ludicrous as she ran a toothbrush over her teeth the bathroom, waiting for him to return with a change of clothes.
A light knock on the door let her know he was there . She stopped scrubbing her teeth and opened the door a crack to receive the clothes.
An oversize deep purple undershirt greeted her hand.
"Cassian?" She questioned.
She finished brushing her teeth, searched the shelves for something like mouthwash, gargled, and spat into the sink as she listened to Cassian.
"Your door was locked, and I shut your balcony when I left earlier. So, here." He pushed the shirt through the door, dropped it, and shut the door on his end.
Though the shirt looked like it would go down to her lower thighs... she wasn't sure she was ready for Cassian to see truly how withered she was. She remember the sight that greeted her in the mirror earlier that night, the thin gangly creature she had become.
Nesta sighed as she re-opened the door a bit and said into the cavernous room, "Do you have any pants?"
She heard shuffling about the room, and suddenly a ball of cloth was thrown into the room, accompanying a, "Here you go!" from Cassian.
Even sober, Nesta couldn't help but smile at that. It was nice, not hating each other. This truce reminded her that it was okay to be taken care of. It was okay to accept help, if only for a bit. A part of her, the coward in her wanted to break it, to build that wall, to jab at him and hurt him and deny what she had said.
What she had said.
Nesta had done some stupid things while she was drunk, but using the 'm' word around Cassian now topped the list. Where did they go from there? And tomorrow they left for an indefinite amount of time to be sequestered on a mountain side together?
She almost groaned at the thought, dreading what tomorrow would bring as she finished pulling on the clothes Cassian gave her.
Fuzzy and about three inches too long, the pants were clearly made for sleeping as they were loose and warm. She had to tighten the drawstring all the way and wrap it around her waist to make the pants fir. The shirt was an undershirt, still incredibly comfortable and soft. This would work for the night.
She grabbed her jewelry and walked into the main room. She didn't say anything to Cassian as she went to the bed and slipped under the heavy covers, setting her jewelry onto the side table. The bed was heavenly, and Nesta was exhausted after a night of binge drinking, bad sex, and feeling to many feelings.
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Cassian watched her as she practically floated to the bed. She looked stunning in his clothes, her tall stature overthrown by how big the clothes looked on her.
She flopped down on the bed, burrowing underneath the covers.
And then Cassian realized that Nesta planned to sleep there. In his room. In his bed. With him.
Cassian knew this had to be a dream.
But as he watched Nesta's form in his bed rise and fall with her breaths, he realized that this was real.
His heart was heavy.
She was so much worse off then anyone knew. She went to that tavern almost every night. He bet she didn't even know 'bad sex' guys name. And she had thrown up for hours.
His world wrenched thinking about how many times she had to go through that alone, hunching over the toilet knowing that she would have no one to care for her.
Then and there, Cassian vowed to never let her feel that way again. He didn't know how, but he would find a way to be there for her, every time.
Even if she fake-hated him.
Where were they supposed to go from here? Nesta had drunkenly admitted...
Nesta admitted that she not only didn't hate him, but that she knew they were mates. That her ferocity, her coldness, her anger was all a front.
And she almost- almost- admitted that she loved him.
Cassian didn't understand why Nesta fought it. Why she had to be so stubbornly independent as to repress the bond just to spite him.
Easier then what?
Easier then loving you.
Cassian pulled his shirt off and changed his pants. He slowly stepped up the platform and crawled into bed.
Nesta didn't move.
So gently, Cassian brought an arm around her and pulled Nesta to his chest.
She stirred, breathing deeply, and flipped herself around to she was facing him.
Her grey eyes met his, not icy or cold, but open and foggy after having been pulled from her sleep. She gave him a small smile.
He reminded himself to draw that later.
Then, Nesta snuggled her head under Cassian's chin, wrapping her arms around his bare torso. Her hands were cold against his skin, raising goosebumps.
He tightened his arms around her.
Nesta kissed his shoulder and murmured into his skin, "Thank you."
And then she was asleep.
Cassian stayed up for a good hour. Savoring every second of the feeling.
The feeling of her breath on his neck. Love.
The feeling of his arms around her, one hand gently stroking her hair. Love.
The feeling of her legs tangled in his, feeling his heat leech into her. Love.
The feeling of Nesta at peace. That was the feeling he savored. Love.
She deserved this. She deserved to be happy each night. Love.
All he wanted in his 500 years of existence was to be the one to give her that.
Yet, as he fell asleep with his mate slumbering in his arms under the silver light of the moon, he knew this peace would not last.