— Sʜᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋs ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ sᴏɴɢ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ

[twelfthsong]

  

— psl clara & john
modern au | catch me if you can

 

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[makemeasong]

[ Clara hadn't meant to inherit a shop that sold magic and a garden full of things, but she had. When her mum - a free-spirited herbalist who didn't mind medicine, just liked the hobby - died suddenly, her husband didn't want any of it and Clara couldn't let it go. Her mother's life was in the shop which had a small flat upstairs with no walls, just a neat open space. And so she'd moved in and studied all of her mother's books on plants and how to make tinctures and salves. Bouquets and flower arrangements too, and local treats like honey and jams. Of course, she doesn't really sell magic. Draughts to help people sleep made from the plants outside. Ointments for cuts and scrapes. Clara keeps the shop closed until she's learned it all.

She was still learning the plants in the garden when a knock in the middle of the night woke her. A woman fresh with bruises, asking for the 'freedom tea.' Clara has no idea what in hell that is and there's a moment when she and the woman stare at one another until it clicks. Clara tells her to come back the next afternoon.

And that's how she begins selling poison to women who need a way out. She had no idea her mother had this secret part of her; Clara wonders if her father knows, and after turning the shop upside down she finally found a notebook. Small, like a waitress would carry and it had five questions written down:

1. Why?

2. Have you gone to the police?

3. How much money have you saved?

4. Where will you go?

5. Can you live with what you've done?

The belladonna and the poppies. Both leave no trace and seem like a heart attack, a natural death. Just a tea before bed and that was that. Clara asks herself the last question often and decides that yes. If her mother could, she could to.

She makes sure to question every woman. There could be no flimsy reasons, Clara wouldn't allow it. She had a code made up in her head and kept track of clients with what looks like gibberish in the notebook. Business turns out to be better than good, and after six months she closes shop to take a road trip across America, beginning up in Washington State. It's something her mum always wanted to do with her, but now Clara can only do it for her.

She gets to California and is driving the coast when her very expensively rented classic convertible breaks down. She knows nothing about cars and puts the hood up. And of course, her mobile has no service. She decides to try her luck and lean against the car to see if anyone's nice enough to stop. She could wind up picked up by a murderer but wouldn't that be ironic?

She takes her chances. But she does wish maybe she'd worn a skirt instead. ]

[twelfthsong]

[It's pure happenstance that John is on the same stretch of coastal road when he spots the excessively eye catching convertible broken down on the side of the road.

He's on the tail end of a long overdue vacation, but could it really be considered a vacation when he had done a favour for a friend to stop by and guest lecture at their university? He didn't want to think about it and there wasn't any point with it all said and done. All he could do now was enjoy the rest of his vacation before he had to head back to London.

For what was the umpteenth time that vacation he had to shove away the thought of London and work. The assignment he'd been tasked on had somehow been escalated to his desk and he and his team were no closer to figuring out who was behind the string of murders leaving behind mostly fine widows. They'd taken to calling the killer the Botanist Ghost - a stupid name in John's opinion - but there had always been the faint smell of a garden and a tea cup left behind at several crime scenes.

He wasn't convinced personally that this wasn't just some coincidence. They lived in the UK for crying out loud - what was so odd about having a cup of tea before bed? But he wasn't the one calling the shots and the higher ups had given the directive to figure out the truth behind what was happening.

There wasn't any point in thinking about that now though. With no one else behind him in the rearview for miles he figures he might as well pull up in front of the woman leaning against the car. He hops out of the car, Doc Marten boots hitting the dirt as he strides over to her, Raybans still on to fight the glare of the sun on the ocean beside them.]

Car troubles?

[makemeasong]

[ For now, Clara's blissfully unaware of her mistake - letting too many women have the tea at a time. Her mother didn't leave any guidance in that regard.

When someone finally stops, she exhales and pushes her own sunglasses up to the top of her head. He's silver and tall, which she had no clue was a thing for her until now. Her lips are painted red and she has a light tan from a day laying on the beach reading melancholy poetry while people laughed around her.

Squinting at the man who stopped she smiles a little. It's not even an act, playing dumb, and she shrugs a shoulder. ] If that's what you call it when the car stops working. [ Of course, she notices his accent and she smiles more. ]

Of all the places to meet a Scotsman. Right here on the California Coast.

[twelfthsong]

[He can't help but snort slightly.]

I know I'm sorely out of place and shocked I haven't burned yet. But so are you. [He takes a brief second to hazard a guess, head tilting to the side flipping through all the accents he had grown accustomed to hearing living in London.] Lancashire?

[makemeasong]

[ Clara raises her eyebrows. ] Is that your side gig? Guessin' accents across the US to impress Americans?

[ She's only teasing and finally stands up to her full height - which is not tall at all. I dunno what's wrong with the car. ] You wouldn't happen to be mechanically inclined would you?

[twelfthsong]

[Secretly he's pleased that he seems to have guessed correctly but there's not much indication of it.] They're an easier crowd to impress over here if they can even understand you to begin with.

[John strides towards the car; it's impossible to tell what's wrong without getting a look under the hood or the underside of it.]

I've dabbled. [Dabbled was a humble word; he worked on a number of different projects in his spare time because it kept his hands busy and off other darker details that he sifted through when he worked.] Pop the trunk for me?

[makemeasong]

[ Clara does what he says, then watches him. ] Good with your hands then are you?

[ She asks it close to his ear, smirking softly. His fingers are long, she notices and wonders if maybe she's found someone to keep her company. ]

Clara, by the way.

[twelfthsong]

[Thankfully his face is obscured by the hood but he clears his throat; a sign at least to anyone that knew him that he was surprised by her tone. He doesn't answer her first question but he answers her second one.]

John.

[He's checking for all the usual suspects first before sighing and realizing he's going to have to crawl under the car to get a closer look.] Everything seems fine up here but I have to get under the car to really know.

[He's wearing a white t-shirt but he figures it's fine - he's got another waiting in the bag in his car so he could easily change.]

[makemeasong]

You don't have to do that. [ She waves it off. ] We'll leave it and I'll call the rental company once I've got a signal. That is, if you don't mind giving me a lift back to my hotel?

[ She meets is eyes with her wide brown ones, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. ]

Please?

[twelfthsong]

( continued from here )

[ John falls asleep shortly after her, happy and warm from the inside out. He sleeps dreamlessly through until he feels Clara's warmth shift from beside him to around him and he lets out a low, husky chuckle. He reaches for her with sleep-laden eyes, their bodies one in the early light of dawn, breathing her name as he joins her in her pleasure. When they're done he presses more kisses to every inch of skin he can before falling back into a drowsy sleep.

He wakes the next morning, pressing another kiss to her temple before gently untangling himself from her. After slipping on a pair of loose joggers and a t-shirt, he pads to the kitchen to start coffee and to cook. The house had felt comfortable before but it felt full now with the presence of Clara there. ]

[makemeasong]

[ When Clara wakes up, it's to the smell of coffee and she cracks an eye open. Smiling softly, she stretches out and dozes fo another five minutes before disappearing into the shower and using John's things since they're already there and hers are still packed away.

Scooping up the same button up shirt of his she'd worn for approximately two minutes the night before, she puts it on again but this time buttons it up. He'll just have to work for it if he wants the shirt off of her. Padding into the kitchen barefoot, she smiles and moves to his side to pour coffee. ]

This might be the sexiest thing I've ever walked in on.

[ She's teasing, of course, but she still appreciates that he's cooking for her, and he is extremely sexy. ]

[twelfthsong]

[ A leaves his lips as he pauses what he's doing to give he a gentle kiss on the head. The fact that she smells like a mixture of them both and that she's dressed in his shirt from the night before doesn't go unnoticed. ] Not that I'm complaining but it feels like you're giving off the impression it doesn't take much to impress you.

Breakfast will be ready soon. [ He pauses for a minute, realizing he should have asked. ] Do you eat bacon?

[makemeasong]

I do eat bacon. I'm a fan of meat in general.

[ She loves trying to make him blush already. ] Oh, it takes a ton to impress me. But a man holding a spatula before 9 am really does it for me.

[twelfthsong]

Well, thank god for that. I would have had to show you the door. Which would have made things awkward. [ John turns back towards the frying pan, but there's a telltale lift of his lips. ] Apparently I have a thing for women wearing my shirts better than I wear them.

[makemeasong]

Oh?

[ Clara grins wolfishly, then takes a sip of her coffee before setting the mug on the counter so she can hop onto the surface. Of course, it makes the shirt ride all the way up her thighs. She's wearing a pair of his boxers underneath. Apparently, she's claimed him in every way. ]

They're comfortable. And they smell like you, I like that.

[twelfthsong]

Am I going to have to get new clothes? [ Not that he minds at all with the telltale sign of amusement in his voice and the way his eyes are immediately drawn to the exposed skin of her thighs like a magnet. His gaze lingers appreciatively before he glances away again ] Not that that's a complaint.

[ Their breakfast croissants are completed a short time later alongside their coffee and fresh fruit and he carries it over to the dining room table. ]

I know what you're thinking - why does this man have so much food? Because there's a farmer's market nearby that I go to almost every other day.

[makemeasong]

Start investing now. [ Just a friendly warning as she slides off the counter and makes her way to the dining room. She sits with a leg under her body. ]

I was starting to wonder. But I do love a good farmer's market. I wouldn't mind going with you. We could cook supper together. [ She likes the idea of a leisurely stroll, holding his hand, picking out their food. Already, she can't stop thinking of domestic situations. ]

[twelfthsong]

( continued from here )

As Clara kisses him, John's eyes flutter closed, savouring the taste of her lips and her fingers against his cheeks. The contrast of her fingertips against his rough beard catches him off guard. It's not like he needs to think about his answer to her but there's a certainty that courses through his body, a desire to be with her - to run with her - that silences the doubt that had reared his head.

He nods into their kiss, hands gently cupping her face too. ]

I wouldn't have anybody else, Clara.

[makemeasong]

[ Her fingers lightly scratch at his beard before she kisses him again deeply, then drags him to the bed with her to make love to him again. That's what it is now to her; there was a time back in that restaurant she thought he'd be a fun fuck, but this is so much more. The food is forgotten until it's late and when they do eat, it's naked on the balcony, listening to the ocean while the moon and the stars shine.

But eventually, it's time to pack up, flying to two different locations for now. ]

So, you'll drive out to me soon as work's caught up, yeah?

[ Clara asks as she presses her hands to his chest, giving him a soft peck on the lips. ]

[twelfthsong]

[ John knows that this version of them - the vacation version of them - won't last forever, but he doesn't care. He'll take the reality as long as Clara is there beside him and he's able to care for her in the way that she wants to be cared for.

He nods, taking her hands in his and kissing them before returning her kiss. ]

Of course. I'll sort things out with work to see if they'd care if I work remotely. [ It wasn't underheard of, especially not in this day and age. ] You'll be able to fend for yourself until I get there?

[makemeasong]

If you mean sexually, then no, I might wither away. But I'll be alright in my little cottage. Seriously, you might hate it, it's small, John. Don't come with much. Maybe just a toothbrush and your top. Honestly, don't even bother with clothes.

[ She's semi-joking, but Clara feels self-conscious about it now, her cozy little home with it's one giant room and wall-to-wall plants and books. ]

[twelfthsong]

[ Pressing another kiss to her forehead he laughs. ]

I didn't mean that, I was talking more about the food thing. I'd prefer if you didn't wither away from either though.

[ Pulling back, he gazes down at her, brushing her hair behind her ear. ]

Good thing I'll be driving up then. I don't think nudity on the train is widely accepted. [ The speaker overhead calls out his flight's number for boarding and he pulls her close for another series of gentle kisses, unwilling to be parted from her but knowing that it wouldn't be for long. ] I'll call when I've landed. I'll call every day as long as you don't get sick of hearing me.

[makemeasong]

I'll live, I promise. I have something to look forward to.

[ Clara grins, then kisses him again. ] Go on, then. I'll have a surprise for you, soon as I open the door for you. [ It's a promise, and she reluctantly steps back so that he can board his train. ]

Don't forget that someone in a quaint cottage with a perfect fairy garden is waiting for you. And loves you.

[twelfthsong]

A surprise? [ He raises an eyebrow almost impishly. ] Well now I have more reason to sort things out with work, don't I?

[ He can't help himself and reaches for her hand, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles before finally parting. ]

Don't forget that you've also got someone in London that loves you.

[ And just like that he watches her fade into the crowd. When he arrives at his destination he does as promised, giving her a quick ring but getting her voicemail. Instead he opts for a voice memo, the sound of the crowds behind him playing background to his gravelly voice telling her that he loves her and was counting down the days until they were reunited. His flat feels colder without Clara's presence there even though she's never step foot in it, but it only urges him to sort his business out with work.

Settling back into work is more difficult than he thinks it would be; there's an urgency for him to see her but also a hope that what they had in California would continue here. He puts on a convincing show and no one seems none the wiser to the life change that happened to him in California save for ribbing about his beard and the colour to his cheeks. They fill him in on the lack of progress on the Botanist Ghost case, claiming that they've been quiet during his time away so they've put him on another set of cases. They're all awful of course, but he's able to compartmentalize everything just like he had before.

Eventually though he gets approval to work remotely on the condition that he drives out to wherever it is that he's required. He's off to Clara's practically the next weekend and it's on the drive up that he resolves he'll tell her about his real job then. He's rehearsing what he'll tell her when he pulls up to the cottage and walking up to the door, not even really taking in his surroundings because he's so engulfed in his speech. ]

[makemeasong]

[ As soon as Clara's home, she sends her friend on a well-paid for vacation, thanking her for all of her time. And then, Clara gets to work. She spends two entire days pulling up all the poisonous plants. But she doesn't completely get rid of everything: she breaks them all down to their respective parts to dry. She'll still have tea for a while, but once it's all out, she'll be done for good. Now she can use the money and save more wisely; if she's careful she'll be set for a very long time and be comfortable.

Once the plants are all ripped out of the ground, she turns the soil over, adds mulch, and puts in a nice swinging bench so that she can sit with a book, tea, and a blanket in her garden in the mornings. She has no such plans to tell John her secrets. You can't explain helping women kill their husbands in a gentle way.

The day she knows John is due to arrive, Clara secures all the tea sachets in her small wall safe, over a hundred little teabags all ready to go, along with a list of every woman she's sold to. Locking the door, she hangs the photo of her and her mum over it. She has no idea there's a case, or that she's about to establish a pattern her mother avoided for years. None of that is even a concern in her mind.

When he knocks on the door, she hopes she's enough of a surprise. When she opens it, she's standing there fully nude with a wide blue ribbon tied around her in a bow, like people do with cars. It's the silliest, most ridiculous thing she's ever done, but she's hoping to make him laugh. ]

Surprise!