golden. [harlan]

"What the --"

With her jaw agape, Erika stopped at the entrance, her bright eyes the size of dinner plates as she openly gawped. Confused, she unfolded the slip of parchment and checked the building - it matched. She'd had to wrestle her brother for Harlan's address (literally) and he hadn't given it up easy because it was the dude code, whatever that meant, but Erika assumed it was just a bachelor pad…

Gingerly, she stepped inside the glistening lobby, with high ceilings and a pristine marble floor. A doorman appeared and it was clear it was residents only. "Hello," Erika said brightly, her smile undimmed. "I'm dropping off a food order," she explained, holding up the creased paper bag of Mexican food as the man pursed his lips as he looked her over. She wasn't dressed as he assumed her to be and she shrugged. He asked her what floor and she pretended to look at her bit of parchment to check.

"Dunno mate," she said casually, squinting. "Penthouse, apparently." The smartly dressed man stared at her. "You can deliver it, if you want?" Erika offered as she held the bag out, only for him to clear his throat and step back. He told her to wait and he was going to check with the occupant and Erika raised her eyebrows. "How many people have you got trying to sneak in here?" She called after him.

With his back to her, she didn't wait. Erika darted across the lobby and pushed the button for the lift, the gilt doors closing behind her as she pressed the button for the top floor and blew at a lock of her hair.

It wasn't late-late, only around nine in the evening but it was too late to be making house calls but Harlan had left her no choice. They had a long standing agreement - whenever she got back to the UK, they went out for dinner or drinks, just to catch up. But in a very uncharacteristic manner, Harlan had stood her up. No note, no cancellation, no explanation. So she'd waited, almost an hour before and she was two margaritas down. Something strange must have happened.

A discreet ding! announced her arrival and she stepped out, her heels sinking into the plush carpet of the hallway, almost toppling her. "Ow. Christ," she mumbled, one hand on the opposite wall as she righted herself, making quick movements to the door, where she knocked politely. And again. Then one more time.

"Hello?" Erika called, tapping one more time with her knuckles. "Harlan?" She could hear movement behind the door and she sighed. "I know you're in there," she replied. "Come on, open up," she coaxed, holding up the bag of food to the peep hole to show him, if he was lurking. "You've already left me hanging once tonight, twice is just bad sportsmanship," she teased, tapping her nails on the door in an annoying repetitive motion. "You have to let me in," Erika insisted. "I think your doorman's about to find out I'm up here illegally."



@Harlan Bellamy

Harlan poured himself another glass of wine. The deep red of Bordeaux stained the crystal glass— mesmerizing.

Swelling through his home was the sound of Debussy— the piano danced over marble and the strings ran over leather and canvassed art as it belonged there all the same. There was something particularly soothing about Clair De Lune as it dipped and peaked from the antique gramophone situated in the corner of the living area. The song seemed to fit the dreary, cold, London sky that he overlooked.

"Merl— fuck," At knock at the door, he nearly dropped his glass.

He hadn't been expecting anyone— "Oh shit..."  Immediately, he remembered he had made plans to meet Erika (before the New Years' debacle) when she arrived back to town. And he had completely forgotten. "Shit," He repeated as he jogged to the door to the sound of her singing from the other side. Before swinging it open, he cast a cursory glance down at his sweatpants and t-shirt. There was no going back at that stage.

"I'm sorry," Harlan apologized before even saying hello, raking a hand through his freshly wet hair from the shower. "I forgot..." He winced, biting his teeth down on his bottom lip. "Right, then, get in here before he finds you," He stepped aside with a half-smile. And he wasn't kidding, either. Security was tight in his building— not that he would have it any other way.

The door opened abruptly and Erika took a half-step backwards, the six pack of beer hanging precariously from her fingers. "Woah," she said as she looked at him in his casual wear. Her eyes were wide before her eyebrows came down in a rush to furrow - of all the years she'd known him, she didn't think she'd ever seen him in a pair of jogging bottoms.

"Woah," the tall blonde said again as her eyes almost popped out of her head. Big rooms, high ceilings. Erika rounded on Harlan swiftly. "Where are you hiding the Queen?" She joked with a grin, likening the place to Buckingham Palace as she stepped in and spun in a slow circle. It was beautiful. It wasn't really her taste (he'd seen her apartment full of knick knacks) but it was undeniably gorgeous.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug as she made herself at home and slipped off her shoes, holding the beer out towards him before she noticed he was drinking wine - and was that classical music? - and she tilted her head, her front teeth resting on her full lower lip softly. "I imagine he runs a tight ship," she joked about his doorman before she properly looked at him. Harlan looked tired, a little drawn, the shower he'd obviously just taken didn't look like it had cheered him up.

She took a step back, drawn to the large windows that showed the capital in all its nighttime glory and it took a lot of effort not to be distracted. "So, what's the matter?" Erika asked him, straight to the point. "It's no big deal," she assured him, meaning her being stood up. "It's just not normally like you, that's all. You had me worried."

Harlan had been so concerned about what Erika would make of his casual wear— he hadn't missed her eyes dropping, though— that he nearly forgot she hadn't been to his place before. A familiar wave of embarrassment washed over him as he followed her wide-eyed gaze, almost taking it in for the first time himself. He wished that he had put something out of place before she arrived. Make it at least appear to be lived in.

In truth, Harlan liked things with a particular sense of order. Even the fur throw casually draped over the back of one of the large leather couches was done just so. "I can't believe you haven't been here..." He commented, mentally making note of the number of times that he'd been to her place in Paris— most recently his drunken sleepover after finding out they were going to be godparents.

"It's all Griffins," He added, shutting the door behind him and running his hands uncomfortably over the fabric of his track pants in an attempt to not draw attention to every grand thing they had set him up with as part of the deal for signing. He figured it was meant to be some sort of negotiation tactic, but he would have signed on without it.

At the question, Harlan paused, his smile faltered. The blaring from the gramophone became more close as the song turned and he flicked his wand to lower the volume, an attempt to bide his time. "I've been—" He took a step to where he had set his glass down, grabbing the six-pack that Erika had held precariously on one finger. "Just busy," He half-explained but expertly skirted around the issue. He knew he couldn't fend her off for long, of course. It was Erika.

"Want a glass?" Of wine or for the beer, he wasn't sure.

"Me neither," she agreed as she shot him a look. In all fairness, she could understand why he hadn't extended the invitation to come over. Erika was a lot of things but topping the list in first place was the fact that she was terribly messy and this place was immaculate. She stepped into the space, her touch featherlight as she ran her fingers across the edge of the sofa before a sudden thought popped into her head - this would be the ideal setting for Kitty and Kevin's baby shower.

"Where can I get a job with them?" She joked with a grin as she shrugged off her jacket and, with hesitation, neatly folded and placed it on the arm of the sofa. "It's beautiful," Erika told him with a nod of her head. It wasn't quite her taste but Harlan already knew that. It might explain why this was the first time she'd been here.

Busy. Erika arched an eyebrow with a look that clearly told Harlan she didn't believe him but she nodded all the same, taking a step back to drop down onto the sofa and fold her long legs underneath her. "Okay," she went on, watching him carefully for a moment. "It just might have been nice if you could have had your secretary send me a note so I wasn't hanging around," she offered, reaching up to adjust her multiple strands of necklaces.

"Yes please," she agreed when offered a glass. "Get some plates, too?" Erika held up the bag for Harlan to see. "If you've been busy, you've probably not eaten," she reasoned. "I've got burritos, tacos, a quesadilla, a couple of chicken strips," she mused as she rummaged through the paper bag, pausing to squeeze a lime over the food inside out of habit.

The look on Erika's face—her brow quirked, knowing— was enough to confirm everything Harlan had assumed. She was too good at reading him to not do just that, read him. "Wine or beer?" He flicked open the cupboard with his wand and easily stretched up to grab either a pint glass or a wine glass, both of which were in their perfectly aligned places on the shelf and shining clear.

"Look, it slipped my mind, I'm sorry," He grabbed what she was after and then moved to the plates as requested, his shirt lifting up over his side as reached farther back for the larger ones. Based on the array of what she brought, two things were abundantly clear; they needed the space, and she knew he needed the food.

"I haven't," He confessed as he made his way over, the settings floating behind him and landing on the coffee table to arrange their food. That night he hadn't yet thought of what dinner would look like, so her showing up was pleasant in that sense. "Wait long enough to order the whole menu, did you..." He nudged Erika's shoulder as he sat down on the couch next to her.

"I'm sorry," He repeated, more genuinely the second time, as he watched a burrito unwrap itself from its foil confines in front of him, pausing to set it down. "How've you been? Good holiday?" Anything to change the subject. At least for the time being.

"Wine, please," Erika said quickly, seeing as the bottle was already open and she was faintly niggled by the possibility that Harlan might drink the entire thing by himself unless she helped out. That was the thing with a lot of people - the highs were astronomic and the lows were crushing. She held the glass out and sipped at it when it was poured.

"Okay," the tall blonde said again with a nod, her tone not unkind but she was frustrated. They'd known each other for years and he still didn't trust her. There was a difference between "mysterious" and "secretive" and she couldn't figure out which one he was. "I'm not mad," she clarified, just in case Harlan thought she might be before she let out a snort of laughter. "Lucky I'm here, then," she quipped, watching him with a reproachful frown.

"I was hungry," she offered by way of an explanation with a shrug, flashing him a smile as he sat down. "I'm glad you answered the door because I was going to eat the whole lot," she joked. Sort of. She dug out a taco and took a bite, sucking a spot of sauce off the pad of her thumb.

He apologised and Erika shook her head. "Either I came to check on you or Fenris would," she told Harlan with wide eyes and a faux frightened look. "I'm just happy you're okay," she said casually. Harlan was a man of many things but when he made a promise, he tended to keep it.

"I've been well," she said after she'd swallowed a sip of wine. "I'll always be well," she told him with a smile. "Holiday was great," she went on to say. Istanbul had always been one of her favourite places. "You know me, I'm not at home until I go rummaging around a temple," she joked with an eye roll. "I've got photos but they're for another time," she said, sensing he probably wouldn't enjoy the hundreds of pics of archeological sites and the occasional one of her in her bikini.

"But I got you something," she said, holding the taco up precariously as she extracted a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with a bow. It was a box of Turkish Delight. Erika loved the rosewater treat but it was a love-hate thing with a lot of people. There was also a small ceramic keyring of a Nazar, in shades of blue. "I know you're not superstitious," Erika went on before she took another bite of her taco. "But it never hurts to have a little extra protection."

"Better him than you," Harlan sat down the burrito and wiped his hands methodically with one of the napkins he'd brought over with the plates and silverware (the latter of which had been quickly deemed entirely useless). There was a smile on his face as he said it, somewhere between knowing and a bit morose. Between the Trickett siblings, he wasn't sure who was harder to avoid getting serious with.

Erika always seemed to draw things out of him.

Thankful for the change in direction onto her, Harlan relaxed a bit on the sofa. He didn't use it particularly all that much. The same could be said for a lot of the things in his place, of course. "Classic..." Harlan reached for a triangle of the sloppily cut quesadilla that dripped with cheese as he pulled it away from the tinfoil. None of their meal went with the expensive bottle of wine he'd opened in vain, but he didn't mind.

"Did you?" Guilt sank in again just when he thought he couldn't feel worse about bailing on her. Carefully he opened it after fully cleaning any grease from his fingers. "I think I owe you a Christmas present now as well..." He commented darkly though the smirk on his face betrayed him. In truth, she hadn't crossed his mind when it came to the list of people to buy gifts for— most of whom were family.

Sweets and a keyring. A very Erika Trickett gift. "Thank you," He said earnestly, studying the ceramic as it shone in the dimmed lights overhead, the fireplace meters away on the opposite end of the living room and quietly crackling away. "For all of this," He gestured to the food vaguely as he sat down the box.

She tilted her head, confused. She watched Harlan for a couple of seconds before she understood what he'd meant - it was a guy thing. They got together, they drank, they didn't really talk about anything but they all just seemed to telepathically understand each other. "I can always leave?" Erika asked, joking. "I'm sure he'd be happy to ditch the kids for a few hours," she explained before chomping on a slice of tomato. She chose not to take offence.

Erika paused, her food halfway to her mouth before she grinned. "I always get you something," she reminded Harlan gently. It wasn't quite a tradition but it was close enough. She gave a short laugh that echoed around the living room. "Bit late for that," she grinned again, unbothered. "Roll it over to this year if you must," she acquiesced. "My birthday's in May, so," she trailed off, hinting before she smiled to show she was kidding.

"You're welcome," she replied in mild surprise. "That's what friends are for," she told Harlan lightly as she swapped the taco for the quesadilla, wiping her fingers on the paper napkin, consciously not trying to spill anything on the plus sofa. She hadn't been her long but she was certain that everything in here cost more than her tiny little apartment back home.

There was a moment of comfortable silence as the fire crackled away merrily, a clock ticked softly from somewhere as Erika wiggled her bare toes. "You make it seem like people don't do this for you all the time," she said, finding it improbable. He had friends, agents, team mates, managers, family and goodness knew who else. "Salsa verde?" She offered, holding out a small plastic container.

When Erika mentioned that she always had gotten him something for the holidays his heart dropped again, the second time deeper into his chest. How had he never taken inventory of that before? "Right," He affirmed despite the frown that threatened to tug at the side of his mouth as it so often did.

Harlan was thankful for the respite that came with the pause in that line of conversation more so he could gather his own thoughts— an attempt to file away emotions into tidy and inherently separate boxes. The complication that came with the most human parts of life, he found, was almost too much to deal with when he was already feeling overwhelmed by it all.

"What do you mean?" He answered after her second question— rhetorical— though he most certainly was not talking about the salsa verde. "This is without a doubt my first amulet..." Harlan held up the keyring draped over his finger and he casually studied it in his palm, gaze eventually flicking back to Erika. "No thanks," He finally answered the question of dip.

"Sorry, I'm in a shit mood," To be fair, he'd been in a shit mood for the entire week leading up to that night. Maybe it was the Nazar, or the wine, or the subtle sound of the music softly humming away, but Harlan was feeling sentimental.
 

"No, you plank," Erika teased with a grin. "I meant checking in on you, bringing food and stuff," she shrugged, pulling on a stringy bit of cheese with her teeth. Harlan said it was his first amulet and she tilted her head, interested. "You're missing out," she told him. "They're lovely." Erika didn't think she was religious but she liked certain things about all of the religions and having some sort of divine insurance in her line of work was never a bad idea.

He declined the dip and she shrugged, unperturbed as she dunked the edge of her quesadilla into it before she looked up sharply. Erika frowned as she chewed in silence before she swallowed. "Sorry," she told Harlan, looking and sounding genuine. "I shouldn't have popped by unannounced." Though him not showing up tonight made sense - a low mood wasn't  pleasant for anyone to experience.

She knew enough about Harlan to realise that he wasn't particularly touchy-feely. Admitting that he was unhappy seemed to be a huge step for him. Erika shuffled closer on the sofa, just to show him she was listening as she reached out a free hand and gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Want to talk about it?" She asked him, letting him take the lead. His team was doing well, so Erika assumed it was a personal problem, though they only ever spoke about hers.

She flicked her big blue eyes over to Harlan's face as she studied him, genuinely concerned, before she realised she was staring at him and quickly averted her gaze to the stunning view out of his living room windows. "Make a start on the whiskey," she instructed, draining her glass of wine quickly. "If we're getting emotional, best we don't remember it," she joked with a smile.

Harlan had long set down his food and instead was chewing mildly on the inside of his cheek in thought. There was a pang of lingering and unavoidable guilt in it all— Erika turning up after he had bailed, with a gift, and now with a fucking apology. "Don't be sorry," He began, setting down his glass nearly-drained wine that was stained down the inside with deep legs of red wine sinking down to the base.

She asked if he wanted to talk about it though he figured she already knew the answer. There was a part of him that did want to— somewhere hidden between his ribs— but most of Harlan wanted nothing to do with those feelings. It was the fatal flaw in the emotional part of him that he was consistently running from.

"No, I don't want to talk about it," Harlan felt the need to fill the gap of air as she shifted closer to him and ran her hand over his shoulder. He didn't particularly want to talk about anything. Another bad idea. Erika mentioned something about whiskey but he was too lost in the haze of his own thoughts to fully register what it had been. His hand fell over her leg to pull her closer, the other at her side.

That was a lot easier than talking, he figured.

"Ah," Erika said with a wan smile. Of course he didn't want to talk about things but she did. Always. She consistently wanted to poke her nose in, to check on her friends and family but she respected his decision and she nodded to say so. Earlier on, Harlan had said he would have preferred if his brother had been here instead of her and she'd admit that she was hurt. But she was definitely going to tell Fenris to get over here as soon as he could.

"Okay, no problem," she said quickly as she rubbed his shoulder in slow, concentric circles in a soothing motion. A pang of sympathy rushed up to greet her. Here he was in this penthouse, this tower, all by himself. It was filled with lavish and expensive things but it wasn't really a home. It was lovely if not a bit stiff. Beautiful but cold. It must get lonely up here.

But his hand was on her leg as she was almost sitting on his lap before she could realise what was happening. Her first thought was it's a bloody good thing Fenris isn't here before she cleared her throat. Her hand had shifted to his other shoulder to steady herself as her hip was pressed up snugly to his, turning her face to look at him. It wasn't unpleasant (far from it) but definitely wasn't a good idea.

Instead, she slid her hand up his arm to rest her palm between his shoulder blades, her touch featherlight,  the gentle crackle of the fire seemingly too loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Harlan clearly needed someone and she was in the right place at the right time. Erika crossed her legs as she leaned into his side to rest against him in a side-ways hug, his hand sliding further up her leg in response. They didn't have to talk.

At the very moment Harlan found himself questioning his own motive he realized that he couldn't stop— at least not with Erika pressed up against him like she was, an affirmation of the many questions that had come to him after making that move. Was it simply a matter of wanting to feel close to someone? Or was it more of an attempt to avoid the topic of conversation so directly? A mix of the two, and then some, he figured.

Erika's hand draped over his shoulder (at what point that had happened, Harlan couldn't be sure) and her fingers— nails— danced below the neck of his shirt and over his shoulders. Though innocent enough in nature, Harlan could still feel the familiar pang of wanting something more from his toes to his skull.

The wizard hummed a thought from somewhere in his chest that cut through the deep breaths he had started to suck in to steady the blood that had started to pump straight to his heart. Maybe the whiskey wasn't all that bad of an idea after all. Harlan instinctively touched a hand to Erika's neck, his eyes following intently, though the surplus of the fabric of her blazer gave him pause.

Instead of commenting, though, he ran his thumb absently over the gold chains draped over her skin. "This is nice," The necklace, he meant. Necklaces? Merlin, what was he even talking about?. Without thought, Harlan nudged into where her neck met her collar and lingered over the area with his mouth, looking up to catch her eye to gauge her reaction before—

The hand on her neck made her swallow in response. Was she nervous? She shouldn't be. He was just admiring her necklaces. Nice, Harlan had said, and he was right - they were. Unable to help herself, she let out a snort of laughter, the gravity of the situation almost too much to bear. "Thanks," she said with a lopsided grin, pausing to bite her lower lip. "They're Indian," she explained, as if he gave a shit.

The bad thing was that this was nice and it had no reason to be. Harlan was obviously going through something. She was his friend and she wanted to help him. If Erika wasn't here, he'd go out and find someone else at a bar or pub or anything. It didn't matter that it was her.

She leaned back a little, settingling into the corner of the couch, the food and the wine long forgotten as Harlan's face hovered close to her clavicle. She inhaled quickly and held it. Her skin was tingling, goosebumps rising on the flesh of her arms in anticipation. Without realising she'd done it, Erika tilted her head back, her heart beating quicker before she stopped when he did.

There was a moment of hesitation. It felt heavy. They shouldn't even really be entertaining the notion but here she was, on his couch. Erika's hands slowly slid up Harlan's forearms to his shoulders again. "We --" shouldn't was what she was supposed to say but would it really be so bad? It wasn't like they hadn't done this before but that seemed a lot different to how it felt now.

Her hand was on his cheek and he seemed so sad, distracted, lost. Erika didn't want to take advantage but he wasn't drunk yet. Erika slid her hand down to rest on the side of his neck as she leaned forward carefully, a flicker of indecision on her pretty face before she closed to gap and pressed her lips softly to his.