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2022-12-03
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you call it a complication, I call it clarity

Summary:

“You said… every time you think you’re getting a handle on things, it gets more complicated…” Bigby starts, his hands resting on either side of her hips, blocking her against the counter. Their eyes meet, and her words die on her lips as his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip.

[...]
 
“Well... there was somethin’ I wanted to say... something that’s only gonna make it more complicated...”

Notes:

Erin Yvette is doing a signing on Instagram tonight, so I wrote fanfiction in preparation :)

Work Text:

Snow has almost tricked herself into believing that Bigby is asleep, that he’s not in agonising pain with silver toxicosis setting in with each passing moment.  

She could imagine he’s happy, safe even, if not for the way Swineheart is muttering to himself, followed by the clink of metal slugs against the only glass that they found in Bigby’s apartment.  

Snow has, somehow, managed to block out Colin’s incessant commentary about vets, turtles, and who knows what else.  

She’s leaning against a countertop in the kitchen, the smell of the blood left her almost retching when she was closer. The distance is helping Swineheart too, that’s the real reason – of course it is.   

Snow doesn’t believe that thought. She knows the real reason that she’s distanced herself over here.  

Her heart is burning with the pain of Bigby, riddled with bullets… the way his eyes closed as he lay in her arms, his body falling limp.  

Her arms were burning as she dragged him out of the alleyway and into a cab. The taxi driver looked traumatised by the way she yelled at him to drive to the Woodlands, the promise of the fare doubled if he didn’t ask questions.  

And he didn’t.  

For that, Snow is grateful.

He drove them to the gates, even offering to help Snow in carrying Bigby to the door, though she refused his offer and instead threw several bills from a wad at the driver, enough to cover a cleaning fee, the double that she’d promised, and some more too.  

She still feels guilty for the fear he must’ve felt though.  

She isn’t worried about that now though.  

She glances over at where the doctor is working under lamp-light, his brows furrowed in concentration and his tongue poking over his bottom lip.  

“Hey Snow, you gonna tell any of us low lives what the hell is goin’ on?” Colin’s voice hits her ears, and Snow resists the urge to squirm away.  

“It’s messy Colin, something bigger and messier than Bigby and I had anticipated…” she trails off, unsure of what she could say to try and reassure Colin.  

He shouldn’t even be here – but for once, she feels sympathetic towards the pig. He’s staring at his best friend, likely his only friend, facing death. He’s as scared as Snow.  

“You want a smoke? I can grab one of Bigby’s…” she offers, scanning for the package abandoned on a countertop a few minutes ago.  

Colin’s eyes light up at the offer, a slight nod is sent her way. Wandering over with the carton in hand, she holds one out to Colin. She plucks a lighter from the table, and with several attempts, she lights it – the same way she has seen Bigby do so many times before.  

“Thanks, Snow,” Colin says and holds in the smoke until Snow is back at the other side of the kitchen, the distance something they’re both grateful for.  

There’s a groan from Bigby that catches the attention of Snow and Colin, but neither of them moves out of fear of disturbing the doctor.  

And then the voice of the doctor fills the deafening silence, “we can’t keep meeting this way, old boy.”  

Snow feels relief at the doctor speaking, surely Bigby is going to be fine.   

He has to be.   

There’s a response from Bigby, Snow can’t quite hear his words, but she hears the sarcasm lacing his whisky-rough voice. She smiles to herself, looking down at the floor, and the blood that covers her clothing.  

To everybody around, it must be blindingly obvious how she feels about Bigby. If only she had the confidence to tell him.

***

As Snow led Swineheart to the door, she couldn’t hide the fear gnawing at her. Swineheart rubbed her shoulder, as though he knew the war inside of her mind. He offered the only thing he could offer – a care suggestion for Bigby: rest. With the advice noted, Swineheart rubs her shoulder and then, he’s gone.  

The closing of the door is another resolution, but it doesn’t deal with the problem of unresolved tension with Bigby. She longs to lay in his arms, to hide away from the world that surrounds them and use him as a shield. She can't look over at him without imagining a different life that they could have.

“Do you want a drink? Something to eat maybe?” Snow asks, looking over. She’s met with his bare chest as he wanders over.  

“Hey Colin, you wanna head out?” Bigby comments, predicting the complaint and offering the pig a cigarette. With the smoke billowing from the pig’s mouth, he leaves the apartment.  

“You said… every time you think you’re getting a handle on things, it gets more complicated…” Bigby starts, his hands slowly resting on either side of her hips, blocking her against the counter. Their eyes meet, and her words die on her lips as his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip.  

So close.  

Bigby lets his eyes drop to her lips, and then further down, before looking back up at her. Snow slowly nods, she remembers confessing those words in the back of a cab – it feels decades ago that she nearly confessed her love to him in the back of the cab.  

But her nerves overwhelmed her again, and instead of saying those three words, she said be careful. There’s something about the way he said it back, that was enough for Snow to know that he feels the same.  

It still doesn’t ease Snow’s fears though.  

“Well... there was somethin’ I wanted to say... somethin’ I need to do... something that’s only gonna make everything more complicated...” he adds and slowly eases to stand upright, allowing Snow to leave, to flee to the safety of her home.  

She doesn’t want to though, she’s more than content here, and she wants to hear Bigby say it, she wants to hear him say those three words.  

“Go on Bigby...” she whispers after several moments, having struggled to find her voice.  

He shakes his head, “if only it was that easy...”  

Snow raises her eyebrow, lightly massaging his shoulders. There’s a crackle in the air between them, the tiny gaps filled with tension.  

“Bigby... you should rest...” Snow mutters, though she doesn’t want to part from this moment. Bigby shakes his head and crowds her against the counter again. He’s at war with his mind, she can see the thoughts fighting. Eventually, he sighs.  

“I don’t know what’s going to come, this case is messy... this case is going to end in death, it’s going to kill somebody, somebody who doesn’t need to be killed... It’ll probably be me, but right now... all I care about is making sure you’re okay...” he murmurs.  

“And Snow... I can’t... I don’t...” he bites his lip, slowly lifting his eyes until hers lock onto his. He bites his lip for a few moments, before giving in to his desire, capturing her lips. Snow stills for a moment, before melting into his arms, resting her hands on his chest.  

The bandages jostle beneath her hands, and she becomes aware of what brought them here tonight. She lifts her hands to his shoulders, slowly squeezing at his skin, something to ground her to this moment.  

“Snow...” he utters, his voice husky as he slowly parts the kiss. His lips are red, puffy almost, and his eyes are tinted yellow, a reminder to Snow of who she’s with, what he is.  

“Bigby...” she responds, her chest heaving. That was, quite possibly, the best kiss of her long life. She wouldn’t mind another...  

He smiles as their eyes meet; a light flush covers his face.  

“Snow... I love you... I know everything is a fucking mess, but I can’t carry on how we are... I need to get it off my chest, at least before...” he trails off, unsure of how to say what he wants to say. He’ll never say it out loud, but the thought of dying does scare him – and if he didn’t at least tell Snow how he feels, that scares him more.  

With the words hanging in the air between them, he stands back and gives her the space to move.  

“If you want to leave, I understand,” he says, and begins to wander towards the refrigerator in search of whiskey.  

He gets all of three steps away from her before he hears a small voice say her name. He turns to face her, ready to apologise to run and hide or to...  

He needn’t worry further.  

Snow reaches up and brushes her hand along his jaw, their eyes meeting again. The space between them narrows until she can feel each of his breaths against her lips.  

“Snow...” he utters, “tell me not to...” 

Instead of responding, Snow stands up on her tiptoes and captures his lips in another kiss. Snow’s hands grip his hips as she backs up until he’s holding her against the wall, more than enjoying the domination that he’s showing.  

Somehow, Snow manages to get her hands to work to ease her jacket to the floor, unbuttoning her blouse. Bigby tugs it from her skirt, it falls to the floor as he bites along her neck, leaving tiny bruises. 

“Snow...” he whispers, voice strained. Their eyes meet and she bites her lip, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.  

“Show me, Bigby... I'm not going anywhere...”  

The promise is clear. Bigby grins, dropping to his knees in front of Snow. He pulls her skirt down with a rough yank. It pools at her feet as her legs part. Wearing only her underwear and her heels, she should feel bare. She shouldn’t feel so...  

Safe.  

Bigby smirks up at her, his teeth slowly sharpening as he nibbles along her thighs, less careful with hiding the bites and bruises. 

Snow lets out quiet gasps and moans, almost whimpering when Bigby’s grip on her hips tightens. She lets a quiet curse slip, and Bigby can’t quite believe he’s been able to make her walls fall.  

Snow White, always so uptight and pristine, reduced to a cursing, babbling mess under his touch. He slowly drags his middle finger along the front of her underwear, soaked. She lets out a gasp, hips slowly writhing against his finger.  

“Bigby... please...”  

He looks up at her, his eyes tinted yellow again. Their lust is palpable. 

Snow winds a hand through Bigby’s hair and bites her lip as their eyes meet.  

“Please...” she whispers. Bigby smiles and drags his tongue along the front of her underwear, the red fabric almost soaked. His hands reach up and pull the underwear from her body, letting the scraps go flying over his shoulder.  

He glances up at Snow again, asking the question that needs to be asked, without saying a single word.  

“I’m sure...” Snow responds, brushing her hand over his jaw for a moment. The sharp prickle of his facial hair is a reminder that he’s here, he’s alive, and he isn’t dead yet. And for tonight at least, he’ll make sure that she’s okay, no matter what happens. 

Bigby slowly lifts one of Snow’s legs over his shoulder, and the sound of her heel clattering to the floor barely hits their ears. With a cursory glance up at her, they lock eyes as his tongue reaches out and finds her clit.  

Snow lets out a soft gasp at the first touch of his tongue, her hand still resting on the back of his head. Bigby slowly lifts one hand from her hip, reaching up to find her other hand. The moment of affection only adds to her pleasure as his tongue works at her, each deft stroke leaving her writhing against the wall.  

It's not often that Snow can overlook the scent of smoke that permeates through her clothing, but she really couldn’t care about what it smells like right now.  

“Look at me...” the growling voice of Bigby catches her attention. Unaware of when her eyes had lifted to look at the ceiling, closing without her consent too, she slowly lowers her gaze until their eyes meet. His chin and nose are wet, it doesn’t hide the grin that covers his face.  

His hand slowly moves from her hip to her core, a light chuckle can be heard as two long fingers draw circles over her clit before moving further back, dipping in for only a moment before pulling back.  

Replacing his fingers with his tongue again, he unbuttons his trousers to ease the ache between his legs. Snow moans lowly, the only warning Bigby gets as her orgasm washes over her. She writhes against the wall as her chest heaves until he slowly helps her sit on his knees.  

“Christ Bigby...” she utters, struggling to even say a word.  

He laughs and kisses her neck for a few minutes, “I ain’t finished yet, Snow...”  

He stands up, holding Snow in his arms as he kicks his shoes off, his trousers falling away after a moment of being stood. He flicks them away, watching as they land at the door to his bedroom.  

“You gotta tell me to stop Snow, if you don’t want this, you gotta say...” he murmurs, some warped fear that she may not want this sitting firmly in his mind.  

“Bigby, take me to bed...” Snow responds, brushing her fingers through his hair as she kisses him deeply. Bigby moans into the kiss as he wanders through to the bedroom.  

He lets Snow land on the bed from just high enough that her breasts bounce, something he greatly enjoys the sight of.  

He’s a simple man. He has simple pleasures.  

Reaching over, he opens a drawer and pulls out a condom, letting it land beside the bed. His hands rest at either side of her head as he leans down, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Snow’s hand finds his shoulder, something to ground her to the moment. Bigby’s hands shake as he reaches behind Snow’s head, removing the clip that holds her hair in place. It billows onto the pillow around her head, a sight Bigby never wants to forget.  

He sits back on his heels and then climbs from the bed to kick his boxer shorts aside. Snow smiles lazily, biting her lip as she drags her eyes over his toned chest, her eyes catching on the littering of scars.  

Guilt twangs at her chest as she realises that those scars...  

He was dealing with Fabletown work, just like the scar at his side.  

“Hey...” his voice is low as he nudges her gently. The thoughts dissipate, and in their place, Bigby’s caring eyes are there.  

“I... what you said... I feel the same, Bigby... I tried to hide it, tried to pretend I didn’t... but I do...” she murmurs. Saying that four-letter word terrifies her – the last time she loved somebody, it was Prince Charming.  

What she feels for Bigby is different. It encompasses her whole being. Seeing Bigby fills her body with a spark, with a flame that only dies when he’s gone, and then it’s an ache.  

It’s more than love.  

It’s the Happily Ever After that she deserves, not the one that she got from Charming.  

A gentle kiss from Bigby pulls her back to the moment. He’s kneeling above her, love filling his eyes and a small smile on his face. Reaching up, she brushes her thumb over his cheek, leaning up to kiss him deeply.  

Bigby reaches down and removes his boxer shorts, letting them fall aside. They don’t stop kissing, even when they should. Instead, when Snow parts to catch her breath, he leans down and kisses her neck, letting his hand wander down to her thighs. Her legs part and Bigby grins, lightly raising his eyebrow.  

“God damn...” he murmurs. His fingers circle her clit again, a smirk on his face as she reaches up and grips the pillow beneath her head.  

“Please...” she whimpers. Bigby smiles and slowly slips two fingers inside of her again, hearing her moans get louder. Leaning down, he kisses her again, swallowing her moans. He never wants anybody else to hear her moaning so gently, they belong to him and him alone.  

She fumbles around for a moment, and he realises what she’s reaching for, the condom. He chuckles and sits back again, stroking his cock.  

“Are you sure?” he asks. She nods and smiles, reaching over to squeeze his hand.  

“I am...” she murmurs.  

Smiling, Bigby opens the condom wrapper and rolls it on, grunting at the friction. Snow’s legs part further, winding her legs around his waist. Bigby grins and leans down to kiss her as he lines up, nipping her bottom lip as he eases into her, the light sting enough of a distraction.  

“Fuck...” his voice is husky. Snow’s body is adjusting to him, he can feel her slowly relaxing under his touch. His hands drag along her body, mapping out the pale skin and committing it to memory.  

Regardless of what happens in this case, he’ll make sure that they both always remember tonight.  

He lightly massages her hips, waiting until she gives something, any confirmation that she’s okay. He massages her hips, littering kisses over her face, neck, and shoulders, anywhere he can reach.  

“Please Bigby...” she whimpers. He smiles and kisses her again as he slowly rolls his hips. Snow lets out a gasp, reaching up to hold onto Bigby’s shoulder. He smiles fondly and kisses her knuckles as he builds a steady rhythm, letting the occasional grunt slip.  

Snow gasps, each of Bigby’s movements building her lust. He leans down and kisses her deeply, thrusting deeper, faster. Snow gasps, moaning lowly as she falls back against the bed. He holds her knee as he shifts his angle, thrusting deeper and harder. 

"Fuck... Bigby... please..." she begs. He chuckles and lets his hand wander along her chest, tweaking her nipple before it heads further, circling her clit. 

Snow whines, her hips rolling against his as they make love. 

Snow's whines become almost high-pitched as she lets out breathy moans. 

"Bigby... I'm close... please..." she begs. He chuckles and raises an eyebrow, kissing her again. 

"You gonna come for me?" he asks, applying a fraction more pressure with his thumb. 

Snow gasps and grips the pillow tighter, a litany of curses and moans tumbling from her mouth as she arches her back and comes with a moan. 

Bigby groans as she tightens around him, the pressure just enough that he's coming soon after, moaning as his head falls forward, his grip on her hips tightening until he's likely to leave bruises. 

He slowly pulls out of Snow and lays beside her on the bed for a few minutes. Snow smiles as she rolls over to look at him, grimacing at the sweat covering her body. 

Bigby slowly climbs off of the bed, removing the condom. He watches Snow for a moment, still delirious from her orgasm. Leaning down to kiss her gently, he covers her with the thin blanket.  

He turns to make his way to the bathroom, stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist and the soft voice of Snow, “stay...”  

“I’ll be back in a sec... I just wanna clean up,” Bigby explains, lightly massaging her hand. Snow nods, openly dragging her eyes along his body. He chuckles and kisses her knuckles before wandering through to the bathroom.  

He returns a few moments later, kneeling beside the bed. He kisses Snow’s forehead gently as he pulls the duvet back and cleans over her thighs and sensitive core. Snow smiles lazily up at him, brushing her hand along the side of his head.  

He leans down and kisses her again, slowly sliding into the bed with her. Snow rolls into his embrace, resting her head on his chest.  

“How are you feeling?” Bigby asks, stroking his fingers through her hair. Snow smiles and looks up at him, rolling her eyes.  

“You’re the one who got shot, I should be asking you that...” she chuckles. Bigby shakes his head and kisses her gently.  

“I’ve had worse.”  

That doesn’t reassure Snow, but instead of making an issue about it, like the old Snow would, she curls against his chest. He lightly massages her shoulders for a moment, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.  

“Whatever happens...” he trails off. He knows what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to describe his feelings.  

Snow seems to understand though. Leaning up she kisses him deeply, her hands resting on the pillow at either side of his head. Bigby smiles into the kiss, his hands winding around her hips.  

Both are too tired to do more, but they continue making out until sleep overwhelms them.  

***

Colin wanders into the apartment as a clock ticks over to 4:17am.

The door closes silently behind him.

He expects to see Bigby and Snow still on the sofa, or just about anywhere in this shitty apartment. It's so small that he should be able to find them within a few seconds.

But... he can't.

There’s clothing littering the floor – the scraps of Bigby’s shirt still sitting in the chair where he was being treated a few hours ago, a blue blouse in front of a cabinet, Snow’s jacket close to it.  

Her skirt is next to the wall.  

And in the doorway to the bedroom, there’s a scrap of red fabric and Bigby’s trousers. 

Colin shakes his head and leaves the apartment, perhaps Snow will be more tolerable tomorrow.