. sweet sour motivation

[nate peterson]

There was an alternate timeline where their spending Christmas together would be normal. A timeline in which he had been more attentive to her needs, she more communicative with him, the one night stand a thought unfathomable to the both of them. It was a path Nate had, perhaps delusionally, believed them to be on together. Getting the call to Europe had been something he'd been praying for since the day he first kicked a ball, a dream so obsessive his dad had spent a fortune taking him to England to watch a Manchester United match for his eighteenth. Seeing the reverence the Brits had for the game, how embedded into the culture football was, he had known that all he was working for was towards the one goal of ending up there, on British soil. It hadn't been until he met Cora that he had widened the scope of his vision, thinking about what it would be like to make it there off the pitch. He imagined them living together in a London townhouse, her family flying out to spend Christmas with them and marvelling at how far he had come. Instead he lived alone in that townhouse. He was extremely busy, but on the rare times he had time to think, it was obvious how lonely an existence it was. As she reminisces on his college injuries he smiles, feeling the warmth of a familiarity his showmance could never deliver. "Remember when I twisted my ankle but refused to admit as much for a week? You were sweet, fetching me stuff and not even saying I told you so when I finally saw the physio." He didn't allow himself to dwell on memories of them too much, rather preferring to allow his determination to prove her wrong spur him on. The thought of her watching his games is just as touching now as it was when she first admitted to it, but imagining her watching him collapse, his face twisted in agony... it was a clip he had never watched back and never wanted to. "Why didn't you message?" he asks finally, unable to help himself. Her fingers trace his leg and he wants to reciprocate, to take her hand in his. Instead he takes a sip of his cider. Soon he finds himself in the middle of an indoor snow drift, flakes settling into the cashmere of his sweater, his hair, his skin, melting in as if they were never there. He laughs again, giving her a push without getting up. He blows on the snow in her palm, letting it flurry into the air. "Here, you'll get frostbite," he says, taking her slender hand hand between his to warm it. He rubs her smooth, soft skin, still damp from the snow. He looks up at her, forgetting for a moment where they are, how they came to be here. Before he can stop himself, he pulls her down into his lap, cradling her on his knees. "See, knee's fine," he says, grinning down at her in his arms. "Now, time to tell Father Christmas what you want this year," he grins, leaning back into the couch without letting her go.

[cora wolfe]

There was a curse associated with inheriting wealth. It wasn’t something Cora’d ever change about her life, having grown accustomed to her lifestyle long ago and never really knowing anything else. But it gave her the opportunity to be listless without fault, not needing to orient around a goal or passion because in the end she was taken care of anyway. No professional or personal success would change anything, and as she’d never looked to notoriety or fame to begin with there wasn’t much she could really achieve. She’d won in the world, on the exterior. But looking to Nate, experiencing the very beginning of his coming-of-age story...she knew it had to feel so different. He’d earned everything he now had, a sense of accomplishment she wasn’t sure she’d ever glimpse. It was a worse feeling, she was sure, knowing that it could all be lost too. Cora had always had a fierce instinct to protect people, stemming with Sadie and the dissolution of her parent’s marriage. Even if it wasn’t always obvious she tended to put others first, nodding along to Nate’s memory with a conspiratorial grin. "It was literally purple, but god forbid you miss a single day of practice. I had to talk you into wearing that brace." Her nose scrunches at the mention of a physio, a Britishism that had to have come with time. She wonders briefly what his life’s like over there, what he was returning to. Who he was returning to. Her eyes catch with his question, unable to stifle that combination of guilt and sadness that probably read on her face as she shrugs. "You’d never answered before...and I figured at that time, when I’m sure you were hearing a lot of different scenarios, I’d be the last person you’d want to hear from." Would it have changed anything? She hesitates to ask, avoiding the question and a bigger step into seriousness because the time they had was so short anyway. Trying to stay here, now, and not think hours down the line when he could step on a plane and forget about her again. He had every right to do so, anyway, heartbeat rising in her chest as he took her hand. It still felt familiar, the way her palm disappeared in his grasp, how he looked at her then. As if they’d fallen back in time, coming to settle against his frame where somehow, in all her height and lankiness, she’d always felt so slight. "I’ll believe it when I see you back on the field," Cora grins, hyper aware of their proximity as her arms drift across his shoulders, brushing stray snow that hadn’t melted yet with her thumb. This wasn’t what she was expecting but she goes along with it, tapping on her chin with a gentle "Hmm," before leaning in to him, resting her head against his chest. "Unless you have a magnet for me in that bag..." she starts, almost waiting for him to shift our from under her. "I think this will work just fine." They’re still for a moment longer, Cora’s eyes fluttering closed to commit these few seconds to memory. The warmth of this room and the nostalgic scent of the holidays and how this all felt a little good to be true. "I want to kiss you, but I can’t," she eventually whispers, refusing to look up to gauge his reaction.

[nate peterson]

The one that got away. One of his sisters had referred to Cora in that most cliché of ways, and it felt close to what he felt but not entirely correct. The one that ran away. It had been a novel experience for Nate, not only used to having his pick of girls but also used to keeping them around, his gentlemanly manners enough for most to start envisioning white dresses and church bells. Not Cora. But then she never had been easily impressed. He studies her face as she scrunches her nose, before turning pensieve. Her answer is one he expected but it doesn't make him feel any better to hear it. His phone had been flooded with messages on that fateful day, people who he'd previously had no idea watched soccer sending their condolences and wishing him well. He'd scoured the list of those who'd sent them over and over, wondering if maybe he'd just missed her name. No dice. "It's stupid, I shouldn't have expected you to. I honestly had no idea you watched any of my games, I just figured you must have caught the news." "Well, you would have much sooner if American Airlines didn't want to ruin my life," he says, his heart hurting at the thought of yet another delay to his glorious return. In truth, he was going back to be checked out by the team doctor, who he suspected would make him hold off just a little longer. He'd have to crack out the old college acting skills. She's soon cradled in his lap, her slender body easing into his and making him yearn to pull her in for a kiss. Her perfume smells so familiar, his skin feels loaded with static electricity, so much so that he worries that he'll give her an electric shock. As she speaks he feels a pang of pain in his chest, guilt gripping his heart and making him seize up ever so slightly. "I had one for you, but I might have thrown it against a wall when you told me... what you told me." He's embarrassed by his own childishness. "I'll get you a Manhattan one as a placeholder, then get you a Kansas City one next time I'm home. Promise, cross my heart." The room suddenly feels very still. Nate wonders what Sadie would make of them if she returned now, right this very second. Would she be shocked? Or would she roll her eyes, unsurprised that it had taken so little time for them to slip into old habits? His eyes are on Cora's, searching them for something, though he didn't know what. She closes them, resting her head against his chest. He prays she can't hear his heart beating hard against his ribcage. Wondering what to say, what to do, he's at a loss for what to do. When she speaks, he laughs shortly, without real humour. "I know. Me too," he admits, his voice low against the backdrop of quiet Christmas jazz. He sighs, hating himself for this and so many other things. He rests his head back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to get a grip on himself. "God I'm a fucking idiot."

[cora wolfe]

"No,I should have. I’m sorry." Her palm’s thawed out from under his grip and she squeezes it in thanks, teeth pulling at her lip with the memory. It was still poignant enough, the nausea that had stirred in her stomach as she’d shoved her way out of the bar. Cora’d gone to dial him, then his dad, then his sister, slowing to a halt when she realized that she hadn’t been in touch with any of them in ages. What would she even have said? Something, apparently - another shot, lost. Another way she’d messed it up, not being there when she could have been. "I just...I knew how hard you worked, and was scared to hear the verdict for a while until I saw some sort of time table for recovery. Not wanting to face a tough conversation, huh, sounds really familiar..." Cora laughs under her breath but it lacks mirth, nothing humorous in her tendency to avoid serious subjects. It’s what had led her here after all, discussing the merits of different airlines instead of planning where they’d go the second they could vacation. Avoiding that what’s next?, choosing to keep her mouth shut but her choices open. Eventually sealing their fate without saying a word. It would never be something she was proud of, wincing as it came up even now. "Poor magnet," Cora has to force, though his promise soon after brings her shoulders away from her ears. It may not be an olive branch but it’s something, a flicker of hope coursing through as she pulls one of his hands to lace with hers. "Cross my heart," she repeats with a drawl, shifting to smirk up at him. "You haven’t lost that twang after all." It stills, then. The music’s still playing and the wind still whips outside the window but they’re stuck in a vacuum, eyes searching for a bit too long for something they likely wouldn’t find. Answers, atonement? Permission? Cora’s open palm splays over his chest, feeling their hearts beat out of sync, out of control, trying to get a grip on her own damn mind for a second so impulse didn’t take over. Finding it even harder to fight knowing he feels the same, eyes flying open at the admittance. Fuck. How the fuck did they get here? He has to be thinking the same thing, tugging on the hand she still held to get him to look back her way. "Hey," she starts, unsure of what she’s going for but pressing on regardless. "You’re not, don’t do that. You weren’t then, and you’re not now. I don’t really know the context you were going for but I’m going to be selfish and say it involves me, and we both know who the idiot is between us. I shouldn’t even be putting you in this spot." Cora hesitates before sliding back onto the cushion next to him, her legs now positioned across his lap and her mind a safe enough distance away to catch a breath. Trying to figure out what to say next, reaching for her mug again for more time to settle. ”What I really want is to see you play again, though. Maybe one day, when it’s normal to come visit, you could give me a London magnet in person."

[nate peterson]

He laughs sadly at her acknowledgment of how few difficult conversations they'd had. It wasn't something he had fully realized until she said it now, but then he had spent a long time reading into her body language, her texts, her silence. When he looks back on the last few months of their relationship, it's clear that the conversations he thought he was having were actually all inferences, never spoken aloud. "We all have our weaknesses, mine was apparently not being able to read the writing on the wall." And not being able to let go, though he wouldn't admit that out loud. It was pathetic how often his mind wandered to her, even so long after their split when all his wildest dreams were coming true. Out in Chelsea there were so many girls who went for her look, monied, their long blonde hair so shiny it was clearly salon a salon blow dry. Leggy, model types, all looking so similar to her that his heart skipped a beat, only to falter when they turned round and fell short of his ex, their voices all identical with that West London drawl. He imagines himself on that flight back to London and his heart doesn't pine for it as much as it had a mere hour ago. Her disappointment over the lack of a tacky magnet makes him feel terrible, so much so that he almost offers to ask his dad to mail her one, before thinking that offer through. What would Ned say if he asked him to send a fridge magnet to his ex girlfriend? The ex girlfriend whose name elicited a wince every time it was mentioned around his only son? Cora had become a forbidden word in the Peterson household, their very own Voldemort. Nate could not ask his dad to do that favour, not yet. He gives her hand a squeeze as her fingers thread with his. "Cross my heart," he repeats, though this time in the kind of exaggerated British accent that was best suited to Keira Knightley impressions on TikTok.  Why had he put them in this position? His heart is beating so fast and hard that he thinks he might pass out, the tension between them making it hard to breathe. He wants to relieve that tension, to cut through it somehow, but the only way he can think to do that would be with a kiss... unwilling to be that much of a hypocrite, he remains paralyzed until Cora eventually frees them from this tableau, slipping onto the couch beside him. He breathes a sigh of relief, though he can't help yearning for her still. He looks back at her, mulling over her words. "Sadie put us in this spot, let's blame her," he says, offering her a grin. He rests his hands on her legs, his thumb drawing slow circles around her ankle. What she says next gives him a thrill, one he can barely contain. "Yes! I've got 4 spare bedrooms, please, you and Sadie should both come. Bring your cousins if you want, bring anyone. I'll obviously get you guys the best seats in the house, real VIP treatment." He hears himself and cringes at his own enthusiasm. "I mean, if you wanted to. You could even pick your own magnet."

[cora wolfe]

"Hindsight’s 20/20, as they say." It wasn’t worth it anymore, to go back and reexamine where it went wrong. There’d be different views and different reasoning, neither of them getting exactly what they’d want to hear. Excuses would ring hollow, explanations would be frustrating...after this hell of a year, Cora couldn’t think of anything better than the littlest bit of a reset. Realizing what she’d done on her end, and trying to be better for it. As much as she’d want to admit she’d grown decently enough over their time apart, there’d never been much of a chance to prove it until now. For a new friendship’s sake...or whatever they were going to call this. It was nice, at least, that it still felt easy. Deep down there were still years of camaraderie and memories that existed, something to pull from even with the chemistry still palpable. He’d been one of her best friends before, someone that put her happiness over her wealth without a second thought. That’d been as much of a loss as the relationship, trying to stifle her laugh with her palm at his poor attempt at an accent. "Your teammates were right, that’s pretty bad," she admits through her snicker, patting him gently on the arm in sympathy. "I’d stick with the American. They probably find you endearing over there." The thought triggers another about his girlfriend, her unspoken name in the air as Cora pulls away. He’d mentioned it was a setup but even then, she doubts he’d have forgiven himself, or her, for breaching whatever arrangement that was for a kiss with an old flame. The contentious relationship he had with his mom defined where he clearly stood on cheating; to be honest, Cora was shocked he was still even entertaining her but didn’t want to ruin it regardless, lighting up at his invitation. "Be careful what you wish for, the McCarthy’s are a lot," she warns, though she knew he’d met them before at family functions she’d dragged him to. Charming as always, she’s all but dreaming of the day when the familiar turn of a lock finally sounds. "Speak of the devil," Cora murmurs, her frosted sister coming into view with multiple takeout bags and a triumphant grin, snow shaking out of her curls. "Hey Sades, want to go see this guy play sometime next year?" she asks, thumb pointing at Nate as her sister quirks a brow. ”Hell yeah, tell me when.” Cora looks back at him, eyes alight with a shrug of her shoulders, palms upright. "Just say when."

[nate peterson]

There had been plenty of times Nate had been laying in bed awake at night, rehearsing in his mind what he'd say to Cora if only he had the chance. He fantasized about coming face to face with her by chance, at JFK, or even at some industry do... somewhere he'd be with Kim on his arm, and of course, he'd be fresh off the back of a recent premiership win. He'd be on the cover of GQ, a billboard for Hugo Boss emblazoned with his trim physique sat behind them. He thought about how he'd tell her she was stuck up, about how it would be so clear to both of them that he was so much better off without her... it seemed strange now, that he could harbour so much resentment for her. Sat beside her, it was impossible to feel anything but warmth. Or maybe that was the alcohol. He finishes off his mug, the cider cooled but still delicious. He laughs, shaking his head. "You would be amazed by how not-endearing they find me. They keep asking me about Trump like I know him personally." He grins, raising an eyebrow as he leans in closer, "though I know just how much the Midwestern accent gets ya all hot under the collar." He speaks in a pantomime version of his own accent, or really, more like his dad's deep Minnesotan intonations. It was yet another thing he had been embarrassed about over the course of their relationship, and particularly around her family, when he'd work extremely hard to flatten it into something more neutral. However, a few drinks deep he'd slip right back on into it with full force, a habit that caused his college teammates to affectionately refer to him as the Hick. He waves a hand, batting away her warnings to be careful what he wishes for. "It's been such a long, lonely year, I'd invite the cast of Tiger King to my place if it meant I had some company." He hears himself and laughs. "God that makes me sound sad. I'm all good, promise, but I would really love to have you." The sound of the door disrupts the moment, and Nate is relieved that she didn't arrive moments earlier, when she would have found Cora on his lap. He laughs again, nodding. "As soon as possible works for me, how about you guys? Here, let me help with that," he says, getting up to go over and take a bag out of Sadie's arms.

[cora wolfe]

Looking back to the snow outside, Cora realized that this was as contented as she'd felt in the past few weeks. Between commiserating with Aisha about the holiday party cancellation, then hearing that her mother may be nowhere near the country in time for Christmas, Cora's mood had generally been sour. It had taken Sadie's confirmation she'd be back to lift her spirits, excited that she'd have someone she loved to spend time with no matter what happened. This little time with Nate, even if all over the place, had been a surprising bonus. One she was trying not to take for granted, twisting her expression into a grimace. "I hope you just play that 'Fuck Donald Trump' song on repeat in response." She leans in as well, eventually ruffling his hair as she laughs under her breath. "For the record, if you ever develop a full posh accent it will still remain my favorite." His subtle accent had always endeared her to him, different from that valley drawl she was so used to at Stanford. It just always rang so much more authentic, even with no rational reasoning behind that thought process, catching bits and pieces of it as he addressed the thought of her family coming along. "Well, aside from the murdered husband and the abused animals, the drama levels could definitely be on par with that cast. But I'm sure some would love to tag on." This'll be fun to explain. Cora can all but her the disbelief in Aisha's voice, wondering how in the world they'd gone from radio silence to a full blown vacation invitation as she catches Sadie's eye. She mouths a later at her sister's raised brow, another explanation owed as she follows in Nate's wake to help out. "All on Sadie, she's the one still in school," Cora says teasingly, already reaching for a slice of Rubirosa pizza. She's surprised when she finds it's still warm. "First of all, fuck you, I'm trying to get into medical school. Second, the first break I have you better be greeting us at Heathrow." "Only if you're not too busy being famous to make it," she adds dramatically, holding the pizza box up as a peace offering before genuinely wondering if he ever had trouble getting in and out of the airport. Probably. Cora chooses to change the subject then, surveying the damage Sadie'd done in the short amount of time she'd be gone. "Alright, what's your dream final American indulgence of the year? Between all these bags I bet it's here somewhere."

[nate peterson]

For as long as Nate had known her, there felt like an invisible axis between them. On Nate's side of that axis were words like 'homely', 'down to earth', and most of all, 'ordinary'. On Cora's, it was much more like, 'aspirational', 'out of touch', 'extraordinary'. It was a sliding scale and where he felt they lay on it at any given time could change; alone, they didn't feel so different, whilst around her family? The line was miles long. "I just pretend I've never heard of him," he says, grinning as she ruffles his hair. She talks and it's easy to believe what she's saying, though it doesn't stand up to much rational interrogation. Objectively he felt he had a terrible accent, the kind of accent only ever ascribed to characters in movies and TV for comic effect. Going to Stanford was the first time he'd really left the midwest for anything more than a vacation, and it had shocked him how suburban he sounded compared to everyone else. "I'll leave it up to you. I'm sure there's room on the jet, there's definitely room at mine." He feels a little bit lighter for the thought of Cora and co. one day coming to visit. He'd imagined his life in London to be full of visitors, it was why he'd bought a place with so many bedrooms, but these days it was only ever his cleaning lady who saw them. He's grinning at Sadie, letting her know that he'd forgiven her for the abush as he takes the bags from her arms. "You should have let me do this. Besides, you shouldn't leave her," he nods his head back at Cora, "alone here, y'know. She was trying to have an indoor snowball fight." He turns and gives Cora a little smirk, well versed in snitching on one sister to the other from his own family. He laughs along as they bicker, nodding as he puts the bags down and starts to unpack them. "Sure, sure, text me the flight number and I'll be there, no questions asked. Want me to make one of those paper signs to hold up at Arrivals?" The thought is bittersweet, sweet with the promise of a reunion, bitter with the idea that they'd need one since he'd be leaving to cross the Atlantic before they knew it. He takes a slice of pizza, using it to wave away the question. "Don't worry, I get escorted at Heathrow. Keeps the plebs away." Her question gives him pause and he has to really think about it. "I don't think it'll be in here, but the one thing I miss more than anything - present company excluded, obviously - is cornbread. Just not a thing you can get anywhere over there."

[cora wolfe]

"Good call," Cora murmurs, half listening. She's in her head trying to figure out the best possible combination of her family, a balancing act that existed in every facet of their lives. She knew their dynamic was unusual, so different from a typical home or lifestyle and full of personalities only heightened in certain situations. Every once in a while she wished it was a tiny bit more normal, but then again, what even constituted normal any more? She prods Sadie from her perch on the counter, another idea quickly forming. "You should bring Adam, Sades. I bet he'd jump at the chance." Her sister nods along furiously, rattling off details about her boyfriend to Nate between bites of her sushi, and it suddenly strikes Cora how grown up she seems. Even freshly 21, Sadie'd always carried a maturity that went beyond her years. Something that seemed to stand in stark contrast to Cora, mouth dropping open in shock as he ratted her out. "Oh great, I forget you two are little co-conspirators over here," she grumbles, rolling her eyes. It's another reminder that they'd remained friends over this time...though the thought now seems to warm her instead of stirring paranoia, watching them grin at each other. "Please. Stand right with the drivers, you can blend as much as possible." Cora laughs at the mental image, picturing him in a full suit or something ridiculous as they descended into baggage claim. It's enough to stifle her comment about flying private, already imagining the thrill of that reunion. Palling around London and seeing what his life was like now and feeling the magnitude of a stadium (hopefully full of fans once again) compared to their old college field. She trails her hand across his back unthinkingly on her way to grab a glass of water, pivoting when he mentions cornbread. Of all things. "Of all things," she mimics her own thought, Sadie not even attempting to sift through the bags. "Should have had you put in the request from the airport, I could have had Red Rooster deliver." She almost looks like she let him down, Cora softening at her sister's expression. "We'll bring so much over when we visit that you'll get sick of it. Cross my heart." She holds her hand over her heart for emphasis, winking at the nod to their previous conversation. "Any other requests? Should we make you a full blown gift basket? We need to know how competitive we have to be with your fans."

[nate peterson]

Leaning on the marble topped island in Sadie's kitchen, Nate couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as Sadie animatedly tells him all about her boyfriend. When Cora had first found out that he was still friendly with her younger sister he had been baffled as to why she was so upset about it, and he prayed to god it wasn't because she thought there was anything fishy going on between them. Nate's own sisters were his world and it had been exceptionally easy to add Sadie to the list as a third baby sister, not least because she was far less resistant to the idea than his real ones. "I just hope he's worthy of you, Sads," he says, dropping a piece of tuna sashimi into soy sauce and forcing it into his mouth in one. "If it ever turns out that he's not, say the word and I'll break his legs. In the meantime, of course he's welcome." He catches Cora's eye as she complains of their closeness, though he can tell that she's pleased. There was an ease with Sadie that he'd felt since day one, something about the younger Wolfe that made the whole family seem less intimidating. "You're kinda crashing our reunion, actually Cora," he jokes, grinning at Sadie as he says it. "Think you could do a few laps of the block while we gossip about you?" It was a laughable concept, since so many of his conversations with Sadie had been heavily loaded with both of their desires to see him reconcile with her older sister. He had felt so sheepish about telling her about Kim that he'd waited for her to find out from the press, and it had led to one of the only disagreements they'd ever had. A disagreement benched for now. He laughs at the mental image of himself buried in the crowds at Heathrow. The more he thinks about it the more excited he gets, and Cora was right, Sadie bringing Adam would be a great idea... more time for the two of them to reconnect. Of course, Kim is not present in this fantasy, a fact he quickly tries to overlook. As she walks past tracing his shoulders it sends a shiver down his spine, and he's glad Sadie's there, stopping him from reacting. "I know, I know. I ate so much bread and cheese and bready-cheese combos back home, cornbread is the only thing I'm still missing." He catches Sadie's expression and feels a pang of guilt, giving her arm a squeeze. "Don't give me that face. You're saving my ass here, you're the best host a guy could ask for. Honestly Sadie, seeing you succeed like this..." he glances at Cora. "You must be proud. You're doing so well, kid." He takes the opportunity to pour them all some drinks, laughing at Cora's comment. "No, no. then it'll be my turn to host. Anything you want, name it, your wish is my command."

[cora wolfe]

If she'd forgotten how close Nate and her sister were before she was quickly being reminded, watching the animated way they conversed amidst bites of dinner. It shouldn't have surprised her that they'd continued being friends, but it had hurt unexpectedly, realizing Sadie was continually a better judge of character. Much more of a forward thinker too, something she figured they both had in common. Goal-oriented, driven...Cora hadn't ready much into their conversations but saw they were extensive enough, her sister's own little stamp of approval. She also wondered briefly if either would have told her about this meet up if she hadn't coincidentally been around. It's a solemn thought, one she tries not to let in too far even as they continue to tease her. "Sure, I'll go to Billy's and shovel carrot cake into my face while you two talk shit. Sounds like a fair trade." Her sister's head perks up at the mention, spinning one of the boxes around to the familiar teal logo in triumph. Cora's momentarily taken aback but not surprised, more so trying to figure out how Sadie made all these stops as she gives her a hug from behind. "Sorry," she teases back at Nate from over her sister's shoulder. "Looks like you're stuck with me." She'd happily bear the bulk of their teasing if this was how the rest of the evening was going to go, let alone their future trip. The look on Sadie's face, then his when he spoke so highly of her...Cora's heart swells so quickly she has to look away from his gaze, taking a sip of her water to try to calm down. It was the same pride she always felt with Sadie, coupled with how much she loved that he saw the same in her. "Gee, thanks Mom and Dad," Sadie says, rolling her eyes before realizing her slip. It could have hurt but it didn't, kissing her on the top of her head in dramatic effect. "Always your biggest cheerleaders," Cora coos, Sadie shoving her off with a laugh. She takes a moment to ponder his question, resuming her perch on the edge of the counter and accepting the new drink with a smile. "He already knows what I want, though I'm now throwing that signed jersey back into the equation because memorabilia is my weakness. What about you?" "A double date at your favorite restaurant." "Sadie." She doesn't expect it, cutting her off quick with a glare. Did she mean him with her? Kim? Fuck, Kim. "Kidding. I want a tour of your favorite spots, starting with the one most likely to get us all drunk." It's a quick save but Cora still feels ill, the thought of them going out without her dampening her mood as she takes another swig of her drink.

[nate peterson]

The piles of boxes represented more food than he'd usually have on Christmas day, and Nate suspects that Sadie was doing her best to give them as much time as she reasonably could. It was insane to think that this was a twenty-one year old kid, and Nate makes a mental note to introduce her to Primrose, hoping that she might rub off on his own less accomplished sister. He feels guilty for thinking of her that way, though a deep anger towards her is still lurking within him as he thinks about her shitty boyfriend, as well as the fact she'd abandoned their dad to work and, more egregiously, spend time with their mother. The ultimate betrayal. Though he would have to forgive her one day, today was not that day. It didn't help that he felt like a hypocrite, able to sit here and laugh and flirt with his ex when she had done something similar to him. He consoles himself with the thought that his mom did it in a much, much worse way. "Here, let's see if this is all it's cracked up to be," he says, gesturing his fork at the box of carrot cake. A Cora favourite. He could remember most things she particularly loved, and surprisingly, many of them were as simple as a slice of carrot cake.  He laughed, lapsing back into his parody midwestern accent. "You're a chip off the old block, skipper." he says, playfully punching her on the arm. Sadie was a strange mix of the two of them, come to think of it. She was full of his drive and ambition, but also Cora's cleverness, her ability to see through others. "You'll have so much memorabilia you won't know what to do with it. Bring a spare suitcase." He leans back in his chair as Sadie speaks, choking on his drink. He ignores the comment but can sense Cora's discomfort. Out of Sadie's eyeline, he squeezes her calf as it dangles beside him. "That can be arranged too. I have to warn you that I'm really into old man pubs, so I hope you're not expecting the Shard."

[cora wolfe]

Cora's halfway through dinner but doesn't bat an eye at popping the box open and taking a huge bite, savoring the thick cream cheese frosting and perfectly baked cake. "Fuck, as good as ever, go for it" she breathes, closing her eyes at the decadence before a memory surfaces. She looks back to Nate then, a wry smile suddenly on her face. "I was about to say I swore you'd had theirs before, but then I remembered I ate the whole thing when you managed to have it shipped in for my birthday." One of many sweet gestures, picking up on her favorite things and affinity for kitschy collectibles without her outright admitting them. It's why her magnet collection was so coveted, confused when he assumed she'd lose them or eventually move on. As much as it reflected the various states he'd been to for tournaments back then it had also become a map of her own travels, poised to add Big Ben or something equally as obvious the second she could pluck one from a tourist shop. "Listen, Chelsea's merch department has no idea what they're in for," Cora boasts, envisioning the mountain of gear she'd inevitably end up with, whether by Nate's hands or her own. It was kind of a funny concept, realizing she could buy t-shirts and scarves and jerseys with her ex-boyfriend's name on them. But it was also one that filled her with that same kind of pride she had for Sadie - she'd wanted what was best for him and he'd gotten there. Maybe she'd been in the equation at the wrong time, or eventually wasn't meant to be part of it...but for now, it felt good to be on the in again, seeing his success and comforted in the fact that he seemed to be the same guy. Maybe a little more poised, more confident - but still the silly one she'd fallen for in college. The same one that could comfort her in the subtlest of ways, his touch on her leg confirmation enough to just let it go. Though she's already scheming what she'll say to Sadie later, Cora realizes with dread that the clock was ticking deeper into the night. Fuck. Was she staying over? Should she go home? In all honesty an empty apartment sounded miserable at this point, figuring she'd get the hint from her sister either way soon enough as she steadies herself with another sip. "That's even better, I can't wait to sing pub songs with 80 year olds. Adam thinks he can sing, maybe they'll pull him in for evening entertainment," Sadie's comment is enough for her to laugh mid-drink, imagining it all going sideways once they'd had one too many. "He does a mean cover of I Believe in a Thing Called Love, heard it in karaoke once," Cora confirms, leaning around Nate for another bite of cake. "Meanwhile this guy," she starts, pointing at him from above. "Was the undefeated air hockey king in college. Didn't lose once, including in the at least 100 times we played over the years." Cora grabs his shoulders affectionately, shifting to her left to catch his eye. "Real studs, both of ya. Total keepers."

[nate peterson]

He can't help the slow grin that spreads across his face as Cora tucks into the cake midway through a sushi course. Kim's professional life as a model would never allow for such things, and in all the top of the range, world class restaurants he had taken her for dinner, she had gotten him to snap a few photos of her with the food before barely taking a nibble. It wasn't her fault, much as he couldn't help not being able to drink during the season. In fact, it suited him, since most of his meals were barely seasoned huge plates of protein and little else, so at least he didn't have to worry about cooking for her too. But it was refreshing to sit here and eat what they wanted, without anyone mentioning the calorie intake. He shoves his fork into the moist cake, groaning with pleasure as he takes the bite. "Fuck, that is so good. I can't remember the last time I ate cake." He laughs at the memory, nodding. "Everyone thought you were bulimic after that, by the way. Couldn't understand how you could eat an entire cake and still look so good." It was true, and Nate had spent much of his time telling their friends that in no uncertain terms they were not to hassle her about it, since he didn't want her to develop a complex. That said, he also spent a good amount of time keeping an eye on her as subtly as he could, until he felt satisfied that she was okay. He keeps laughing, believing her at her word. Cora did not do things by halves, except maybe their relationship. He banishes that thought, instead thinking of her decked out head to toe in Chelsea gear. It's a strangely hot thought. He clears his throat, trying to clear his mind with it. But it was no good, the thought of Cora in a Chelsea shirt and not a lot else was permanently embedded there. He knew that whatever happened, he'd have a lot of explaining to do to Kim when his ex and her sister showed up one day.  Though it's a thought that brings him immense cheer. "It's true, it's true," he nods, grinning with pride. Weirdly it was a title he was as proud of as being a Premier League player, probably because Cora was there to see him win and maintain it. What she says next stings a bit, he can't help but wonder how he could be such a keeper if she didn't ultimately decide to keep him. But he pushes the feeling down. "This one though. Have you seen her sleight of hand card tricks?" he asks Sadie, pointing up at Cora now. Of course her sister would have, he was sure, but he was enjoying reminiscing too much to factor that in. "Few drinks in, any time there was a pack of cards anywhere, there'd she'd be, asking if this was your card and fishing it out from behind your ear." He looks up at her and feels the warmth of the memory, forgets where he is. Unconsciously, his hand comes to settle on her thigh and he gives it a squeeze. She had been magic, at least in his eyes. He clears his throat again. "Here, pass that cake over."