Chapter Text
Sabrina cuts the lights and exits her car, leaning over to grab her backpack before turning to the quiet park.
The misting rain forces icy fingers through the fabric of her hoodie to her pajamas, prompting her to cross the grass at a trot, reaching up to make sure her hood is properly shadowing her face. The last thing she needs is for mortal police to see her and take her in for suspicious behavior.
Her luck must finally be improving because no one bothers her. Damp, cold, and still aching with the last dredges of her miserable conversation with her parents hanging over her, she clears her throat and says the magic words.
The statue trembles, smiling down at her in that empty construct way. “Who’s there?”
She puffs out a breath, blinking a few raindrops from her eyelashes. “Alex.”
“Alex who?”
“Alex-plain later.”
Instantly, a shimmer of magic travels down her spine and she appears in the entry way to the Golden Egg. The bouncer is busy telling off a drunk man who is wearing disturbingly little clothing. She gets a really bad flashback to the very first time she was here, and slips into the pub. The night life is well alive here at 1 AM, two people chugging beers at the barstools while bystanders egg them on. Several others are on a poorly partitioned dance floor, gyrating and clapping out of time with the music.
Sabrina weaves through them with expert precision, keeping her head down as she makes her way to the back of the room. Next to the door she knows goes deeper into Faerie, two fairy godfathers are standing in front of it, meaty arms crossed over their chests.
Shit. She didn’t think about this part. How is she supposed to get past them without causing a huge scene? As she’s trying to determine the quietest way to assassinate them or—okay, that’s drastic, maybe just knock them out—they look her way and she sees the smallest moment of recognition on their faces. One of them juts their chin at her, motioning for her to come forward.
Damn it. There goes her stealth factor.
Too tired and spent to bother running, she comes over to them. Before she can start pleading her case, however, they simply move aside and one even opens the door for her.
Not about to take the good fortune for granted, she slips inside the dim hall. The second they close the door behind her, the sounds of drunken partying fades into an after thought.
She remembers the way to his room from the few times she’s come to visit with her mom to observe her progress of helping rebuild Faerie. He’d shown her inside one time, teasing her about crashing there anytime. He’d meant it as a joke, but tonight she’s making him eat his words.
Of all the places she could go, it’s her safest bet. She’s not about to try a bunch of random doors just to end up setting off panic and alarm. The last thing she wants tonight is more questions and people breathing down her neck.
At his door, she takes out her lock picking supplies and fits the tension wrench into the lock, followed by the pick. In a disappointingly short amount of time, she pops the mechanism, feeling as everything clicks into place. For all those complicated lock puzzles Puck had made her over the years, he hadn’t bothered to make his own door more secure.
She creeps inside, shutting the door softly behind her, only untwisting the handle once it’s in place.
In the soft moonlight coming through a window, she can see that there’s a bit of a mess. On a coffee table in front of his TV, there’s several containers and piles of dirt. All along the couch are plants, obviously awaiting repotting.
She frowns, placing her hoodie and backpack by the door. Well, the couch is not an option then. Creeping forward, she comes to the four poster bed. The mattress is massive—beyond even a regular king. In the middle is Puck, lying on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes.
Plenty of space there.
She slips under the comforter. It’s cold on the edge, so she slinks a bit further, feeling the pillowy mattress shifting more than she expected under her, dipping her closer to his sleeping form.
Puck takes a deeper breath than before, and she freezes, only a foot away from him. He turns onto his side, sighing in his sleep.
After several seconds, she exhales in relief, settling more comfortably. She’s grateful it’s warm next to him, stealing the last vestiges of cold rain and the chilly family dynamics from her bones.
As she drifts off, her tired mind considers how disappointing it is that she feels safer here than she ever did in her old room.