[fic] we're here to stay.

[inthistwilight]

Their first summer brought a very painful lesson for Dylan. It reminded her why she stayed away from the sunnier states in her long years alone, well before moving to Chicago, living constantly on the move. As an insane heat wave hit Florida, the younger archangel was left with some horrible looking sunburn after only the first day.

Fletcher, on the other hand, hadn’t suffered such a sad fate. As someone who came from a country that saw rainy, miserable summers, he could take the sun rather well. And while Dylan burned red with it, Fletch tanned.

Dylan wasn’t too happy about that. Despite the two centuries under her belt, she could still be a little childish on some things. Mostly silly things. It just wasn’t fair.

Especially when she had to sit in the shade, eyes narrowed at Fletcher as he lounged by the pool without a care in the world out in the sunshine.

“Happy out there are you?” she half-shouted at him over her record player.

Fletcher couldn’t help but laugh a little, lifting his sunglasses and peering over at her.

“Stop yer poutin’, kiddo.” He said with a smirk. “Put some more sun screen on.”

“It doesn’t woooooork.”

“Not puttin’ on enough, that’s why.”

Dylan had practically marinated herself in the stuff, thank you very much, Mr. Hadley.

“Maybe they’ll invent somethin’ stronger.” He said placing his sunglasses back down.

And then he felt something hit his arm. Something cold. Jumping a little, he sat up and stared down at the quickly melting ice cube on the ground before him.

“Hey!”

Then there was another, this time it got him in the shoulder.

“Pack it in, Dylan.” He raised his voice a little in warning, not looking very impressed as the younger archangel stuck her tongue out at him.

The third bounced off the top of his head.

Dylan burst into a fit of giggles, that last one had been pretty comical. Fletch smirked and shook his head. Fine, he’d just have to ignore her.

“Very funny. Now d’ya mind?”

Dylan’s giggles subsided and she fell quiet. No more ice cubes came. Thinking she’d had her fun, Fletcher settled down once more, closing his eyes. A few moments passed in silence, nothing but the crackly sound of Bob Dylan playing on the record playing filling the air.

And then he felt someone behind him.

The next thing he knew, a handful of something cold was shoved down the back of his neck and he heard Dylan burst into another fit of laughter. Letting out a yelp, he leapt out his chair, fighting to get rid of the cold, cold ice from under his shirt.

“Oh my god, the look on your face!”

Fletcher let out a small, dry laugh. Oh, he was done. Done. Payback. “Right, that’s it!”

Before she had the chance to dive away from him, he grabbed her and easily lifted scooped her up in his arms. Dylan’s expression changed to uncertainty, her laugh cut short.

“Hey, wait! Wait, Fletch, what’re you—“ and then she realised. “Hey! No! Don’t thr—“

Too late. He threw her in the pool.

Resurfacing with a splutter, and yelping because damn this water is cold, Dylan threw the elder archangel a look that could probably kill if it could. Fletcher could only laugh his ass off.

Over four hundred years old and acting like a little shit. He couldn’t care less.

“No, the look on your face.” He howled.

Dylan was not pleased. At all.

“Serves you right puttin’ ice down me back.” He told her, smirking a little. He held out a hand to help her out again. “C’mon.”

She reached for his hand, and then, with the smallest of smirks, gave his hand a yank and with all the strength she had, pulled him in with her.

“Oh, ha ha.” He said with a flat look moments later.

Dylan giggled, an impish smile at her lips. “Okay, I promise not throw ice cubes at you anymore.” She said, pulling herself up to sit on the poolside. “Can we have dinner now?”

“Fine, fine.” He said with an eye roll and then gave her slightly red arm a light prod. “How about lobster?”

“Very funny, Fletcher.”