ohh my, I wonder what’s the most uncomfortable moment they’ve ever had together? and does Mia ever test Will in front of other people, or is it something private?
It was the kind of night that invited indulgence, that slurred time into something thick and honeyed. The bar was dim, the amber light pooling in glasses, the low murmur of voices punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. Mia, draped over the back of his chair, her chin on his shoulder, fingers idly toying with the collar of his shirt. And Will, weary, indulgent, letting her exist in his space as she always had.
A stranger, faceless in the recollection, reeking of whiskey and cheap bravado, clapped Will on the back, grinning with the familiarity of drunks. “Lucky bastard,” he slurred. “Snatched up a damn nymph, didn’t you?”
It was as if the world shifted, tilted, and Will was suddenly seeing himself through someone else’s eyes. Not as a guardian, not as a man whose hands had spent years pulling her out of nightmares and wiping her tears, but as him, the stranger, the lecher. The weight of her against his back, the way she curled around him, it was nothing new. It was familiar, comfortable. But suddenly, it was wrong. And the worst part, the most unbearable part, was the question that struck him like a knife between the ribs:
Did she see him like that too?
His stomach churned, nausea creeping up his throat. He wanted to peel her off of him, to shake off the sickly film of implication that coated his skin. But when he turned to her, she was already watching him, head tilted, that unreadable little smile playing on her lips.
And he, coward that he was, said nothing.
Mia’s most uncomfortable moment probably came in their home, in the thick, suffocating heat of a night. There was this sudden warmth seeping through cotton, the acrid scent already filling the room. A moment of disbelief, then horror, her body betraying her, reducing her to something helpless, infantile.
She sat frozen in the dark, throat closing up, humiliation burning her cheeks.
She looked like she wanted to disappear, to fold into herself like paper. Instead, she clenched her jaw, fists gripping the sheets as she spat, “Don’t. Don’t say anything.”
But Will, of course, didn’t. He simply leaned in, dropping a kiss on her forehead with the slow patience of a man approaching something skittish. He did not wince at the scent, or said anything other than “this is normal, it can happen”.
About testing: Mia had always been a little monster. A beautiful one, a clever one, but a monster nonetheless. She understood things before she should have, learned how to wield them before she had any business doing so.
She knew her friends watched him, whispered about him behind cupped hands, giggled when he passed by. He’s so hot. Your dad is so hot. She would roll her eyes, scoff, play at being annoyed. But then she would perform.
Drinking from his glass just to watch their eyes widen, their glances flicker between them. Sitting too close, draping herself over him, all casual, all innocent. A hand on his arm, a playful tug at his sleeve, a whine curling in her voice when she called his name. And Will, who knew, who always knew, would stiffen—just slightly, just enough for her to feel it.
She had the power to make them jealous, to make them envious. And she wielded it with a wicked little grin, with the knowledge that she could push, and push, and push—
And he would let her.