Raising Isla | ENGLOT AU

Chapter 3: Progressing Bonds

It was Friday evening when a message chimed through on Calypso's phone - an announcement that Emery's bedroom door had tragically snapped off one of the hinges, and that, should she be available, she would ardently appreciate the help of her hands.

Though, when she went to inspect the damage, Calypso was certain it looked suspiciously like someone had kicked it in on purpose.

The original screws had bent, she noted, as Emery returned with two mugs of coffee a few minutes later. The only spares she had were flimsy and a miraculously awkward in size when paired to the screwdrivers she had on hand.

"You know," Emery began, passing Calypso her mug. "I always thought those tiny flush hinges were a stupid choice for these doors - they're heavy as lead." Emery began digging through Calypso's toolbox. "Here, try the torx, it should stop the metal from stripping -"

Her eyes flashed wide for a mere second, almost unnoticeably, as if she'd had to catch her own tongue before she slowly, sheepishly, handed Calypso the appliance in question.

Calypso raised an eyebrow. "Do you even actually need my help?"

"Of course," She insisted. "Who doesn't need a tall, strong, woman around to fix all their shit."

The sarcasm was faint but even Calypso, in all her obliviousness, could pick up on it. She just rolled her eyes, and set back to work as Emery buried her grin in her coffee.

...

She stopped looking for excuses after that. Subtilty turning brazen as she chose instead to simply text Calypso the word 'dinner?' whenever she felt the need for company. Which would follow her arriving at her front door and either staying, or walking Calypso downstairs back to her place.

She started helping with the cooking when she'd allow. But she'd just as often glare with amusement at her attempts.

Emery seemed to have decided they were 'seeing' each other. And there was truth to it, but in what sense Calypso was uncertain. She'd worked out that Emery definitely didn't have a boyfriend... or Girlfriend. A discovery that had sent her unexpectedly giddy for the few hours afterward, though she had done her best to hide it. But the feeling died pretty quickly when Emery let slip that the evenings spent with her were usually a consequence of her other friends being busy.

Calypso had been too interested in staring at her plate to notice the way Emery visibly winced immediately after admitting that, biting her tongue too late. You say the stupidest things sometimes Em , she scolded herself.

So, once the sky had turned dark and star-speckled, she'd made the decision - and it really hadn't been a hard one, to take Calypso's hand, and candidly lead her into her bedroom.

She hoped the bruise coloured marks they were painting on each other's skin with desperate and digging fingernails were enough of an admission, because with the warmth and weight of Calypso's body pressing her down into the mattress and the mouth against her neck that was making her eyes roll to the back of her head, words were suddenly becoming very, very difficult.

...

For once, the morning was warm. The gentle touch of the sun on Calypso's face letting her know the day had long since started without them, but there was nothing glaring about the light beaming through the window.

She woke to find Emery facing away from her, the slight distance caused by comfort more than anything she needed to worry about. Her breathing falling slow and even, her hair cascading in midnight waves down her back. Her eyes following the curves before settling on the exposed patch of skin from where the bedding had gathered around her hip as she'd slept. Pausing, as her eyes traced along the unusual pattern she found there.