the best thing 'bout tonight that's we're not fighting --- [quibs]

Tiberius, no doubt, was a privileged boy in the eyes of some. In the eyes of others, he was a less fortunate boy with nothing to call his own. But Ty didn’t know which one to believe or not. Sure, he could play chess and write like somebody from the victorian ages, but that wouldn’t really get him ahead in life. However, he did know how to get what he wanted, that is to say, if he knew what he wanted. When Tibs looked at Quinn, looked at the life she had before her linage ruined it, he had no doubt in his mind that she was a privileged girl. Maybe it was because his family life was less than ideal, maybe it was because Ty didn’t actually know the meaning of family, or maybe he’d just always wanted what others had. So he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy for her mother or why she would just continue to cut up her meat like it was somebody’s heart. In any event, Tibs didn’t call her out on it, partly because he didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to her and partly because the less she ate the more he got and so technically both the demigods benefitted. 

He could feel her staring at him as she talked, and Tiberius kept cool as he calmly remarked back with a placid smile on his china face. “Chess is a wonderful academia activity to pursue. It is a shame that others do not share the fondness that I have for it. Maybe someday I will teach Quinn to play it, and she might be almost as good as I am.” It was an odd thing to say, considering that Quinn didn’t actually look at him while she said it, but Ty still felt the need to defend the game. Next to Quinn, chess held a special place in his heart, although Susan was quickly scaling the ladder and he wondered if someday he’d love the cat more than he loved the girl next to him. That probably wouldn’t happen, they would probably die before they were old enough to leave camp, most demigods did. Tibs kept eating his food; it really was delicious, he didn’t lie about that. Even so, he just saw how Quinn had no desire to eat anything set out on the table in front of her, and needless to say Ty was worried about her. He knew that one night of skipping dinner wasn’t going to kill her, and he would know because back at home he usually went to bed without supper, courtesy of his ever loving father. But they hadn’t exactly had a four star, five course meal in the car on the drive here. 

Tiberius couldn’t deny that he found Mr. Burke absolutely fascinating. For one, he was a man of science and fact, which is what the boy had admired when he’d found out that the world was actually full of magic and fables and myths. Ty didn’t like fantasy stories all that much. He thought they were untrue, not very useful, and they gave you false hope. Well, the demigod was tired of always having false hope, as it really got him nowhere except closer to heart ache and depression. Tibs had tons of false hope when it concerned Quinn and him, thinking that when they hung out again, that could be the time where he could openly admit his feelings without any sort of fear. Sometimes he wished Quinn would just say I love you to him everyday, instead of when one or both of them were dying, and even then she’d failed to say it. That was why Tiberius Winters was also a man of science, not only because he enjoyed that sort of thing, but also because magic and fantasy had hurt him in the long run, and he was used to cold hard facts. It could also be partly contributed to the was that Bradley had raised him, teaching him that the only things that mattered in life were money and manners, and everything else was unimportant. His father had taught him to put his ambitions before his own family, but Ty, being the kind and good and gentle soul that he was, couldn’t do that. 

Another reason Tibs liked Mr. Burke so much was that the man was such a good cook. He was a little irked now by the fact that Quinn hadn’t even bothered to try anything, but it wasn’t that big an issue. This was supposed to be a happy dinner - well, dessert now - and Quinn would only kill him later on that night if he mentioned her not eating in front of her mother and her mother’s boyfriend. Tiberius, despite only meeting Quinn's mother once, was happy for her. He wondered if this is what is father felt like when he met Lucy, as if the flame in his cold dark heart had been restored to a warm and loving, strong beating organ. How easily you could regain a true love, and how easily you forgot your former flame. Ty knew he could never find another person to love as much as Quinn Taylors, even if she was a burning flame that melted everything in her path. It felt wrong to love another person once you found the one. If he thought about it long and hard enough, Ty could see now why Quinn didn’t like Mr. Burke. And really he couldn’t blame her. At that moment, the demigod felt ashamed that he had taken such a shining, and retreated back into his mind, eating the apple crisp after saying ‘thank you’ to both adults in the room. 

To say that Tiberius felt guilty was an understatement. Well, not really guilty so much as horrible. He’d ignored Quinn during dinner, which was probably not a good thing considering how she acted before they went inside the house. She obviously didn’t like Mr. Burke, and Ty should have seen that. He always prided himself on knowing Quinn inside and out, but clearly he didn’t know enough about her. The demigod felt sick to his stomach, but it was out of wrongdoing more than overeating the roast or apple crisp. It was really quite good, better than what he got at camp at least. Ty sat up and looked at the ruby red apple in Quinn's hands, little claw marks showing the yellow flesh underneath. “My gods,” He said nervously, trying to diffuse the tension because he didn’t want to talk about dinner. It was a disaster. “you keep eating apples you’ll turn into one.” In all things good and heavenly that was the most lame thing Tibs could have ever said, but he was a lame person. He could never figure out what the right time to say something was, or even the right thing to say. He nodded, his grey eyes downcast because Ty couldn’t look Quinn in the eye. “Yeah, later sounds good.” He whispered softly, knowing that he’d still get punished. 

The son of love was still very apprehensive about sharing a bed with Quinn. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her or that he didn’t like her anymore. He just knew that he’d probably regret this in the near future, and this memory would become tainted and torturous like humans that spend too much time in hell, eventually becoming demons. And how was Tibs supposed to act? Stiff? As if all his bones and muscles were frozen rubber bands, and if he moved he’d snap and shatter into a million pieces? Or was it considered normal to cuddle with her, play with her hair and tell her how much he loved her? Ty had seen that in some romantic (or romantic comedy, he wasn’t picky. Although he didn’t get most of the humour.) movies he watched, as it was a guilty pleasure of his. However, he didn’t think Quinn would like that very much. When she tossed him the light rose coloured blanket, Tiberius wrapped himself in it, as if he could disappear completely. The fabric was soft and cool to the touch, and he could name the material off the top of his head instinctively. Susan padded over to Ty, and he caught her in the mountain of blankets, trapping her with him. “Susan says they smell nice. I think they do too.” 

Tiberius admired the work he had done, proud of another bed well made. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Bradley that taught him to make beds like this, all perfect and no wrinkles in it. That was Lucy, his stepmother. She had enforced bed making by the time the teenager was three, and by four he’d mastered it and did it everyday. Ty had shrugged at the comment about the apples, not really knowing what to say. He knew that Quinn was upset over dinner, and it was probably at him. It felt like her fiery anger was directed at him, poised to shoot him straight through the heart and leave third degree burns. It felt like Tibs was walking on weak wooden beams, and if he didn’t tread lightly enough or stepped on the wrong part that he’d fall into a pit of flames, licking his skin like deadly helllhounds. At least if they dealt with the dinner issue later Tibs could figure out how to diffuse the ticking bomb that was Quinn Taylors. 

The pink blanket was placed on top of the sheets, like a crowning glory. It was something that Tiberius would have picked for his own daughter’s room if he had one. He had often imagined having a family of his own, children to adore and love and care for, although Ty feared he’d turn out just like his father. Besides, he had thought bitterly whenever he envisioned offspring, you won’t live long enough to have them, coward. Maybe, though, because Tibs was a coward he’d live to have children, maybe even grandchildren if he was lucky. He shook those thoughts from his mind, fascinated that a thing such as a rose coloured blanket could bring dreams of the future. Tiberius looked at Quinn, concern evident on his pretty face. She couldn’t have been tired, he concluded, because she wasn’t showing any signs of fatigue. The light in her eyes had seemed to dim, which could only mean she was sad. “Oh Quinn,” The teenager said softly, wishing she wouldn’t put all the weight of the world on her shoulders. One person could only hold so much, Ty had found that out the hard way. 

Ty could tell that Quinn was getting frustrated with the fact that she couldn’t make the bed smooth and perfect. So he smiled softly, and gently took over, tucking in the sheets so it was like smooth glass rather than unwrinkled fabrics. There were some nights where even he couldn’t do this, when everything was just too much. The boy didn’t really sleep those nights either, and it showed the next morning with dark circles and purple bags. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen tonight, and Tibs didn’t think it would because there would have been signs. Anxiety, his ADHD acting up, and when he tried to read the words they’d dance off the page like ballerinas twirling in the Sydney opera house. Tiberius went over the covers with his hand, feeling the soft cotton and filling the air with lovely fragrances. The blankets really did smell nice, and secretly Ty wanted to steal one to take home with him, but he knew scents didn’t last forever. Nothing did, really. Even metal, tough and strong, was bound to wear down into tiny grey shavings in the end. Fiery flames were also doomed to shrink smaller and smaller, the light it radiated growing dimmer and dimmer until it was all just ash and weak smoke. You couldn’t keep everything forever, not even nice smelling blankets and loved ones. 

Then came the harsh words, and Tibs knew that he wasn’t going to convince Quinn to see it the way he did. Of course he wanted Mrs. Taylors and Mr. Burke to love each other, he was the son of Aphrodite for gods sake! Ty wanted to plan their wedding, make it the best day for the both of them, also he’d never actually tell Quinn that. She’d have his head if he did. But he could see that those two really loved each other, and he wished Quinn would stop being stubborn and see it that way too. He walked over and gently grabbed Quinn’s clenched fist, pressing her knuckles to his lips for just a moment before lowering them. Ty worked on unfurling her fingers softly and quietly, making sure not to use force. “It sounds to me like you don’t want her to be happy. I realise you probably don’t mean it that way but you give off this energy that makes it seem like you want your mother to be lonely. Quinn, what did you want her to do exactly? Ask for your permission to date? Have her write an essay on how much she loves the guy and how he’d make her happy?” Talking about this made Tiberius angrier, and he would have raised his voice a bit if he weren’t in a strangers house. “It’s her life, she doesn’t have to run everything by you first.” Letting go of Quinn’s hand, he ran his own through his thick black hair, exhaling and biting his lip. “I apologise. Tiberius Winters, son of Aphrodite, defender of love. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” 

Tiberius Winters was not a man of many talents. He couldn’t draw like Van Gogh, sculpt like Michelangelo, or sing like Caruso. He couldn’t do any sports whatsoever, and it was a miracle in itself that he didn’t get killed his very first battle. Really, Ty was pretty much useless in every way. Except, of course, when it came to Quinn. The demigod liked to think he knew Quinn well enough to comfort her, he liked to think she trusted him with her life. That was stretching it a bit, because Ty didn’t even trust himself with his own life, and if  Quinn had that faith in him then they were both as good as dead. The boy wasn’t a fighter, he was a lover, a stereotypical Aphrodite in the sense that he wouldn’t fight any battles unless for selfish gain. Quinn was his selfish gain. If there was some way to protect her, to make her a better person, than Tiberius would march into war just for her knowing full well he could die. He did everything for her, and standing here, hugging her as if he was trying to tape her shedding facade back together, was nothing out of the ordinary. “Of course it hurts.” Ty said, sincerity in his soft melted silver eyes. “It is supposed to hurt. You’re losing someone you relied on your whole life to another person that you’ve only just met. But that’s okay because there’s always going to be another person out there to catch you when you fall.” The demigod meant himself, obviously, because he would always be there for Quinn no matter what. However, he knew she was brilliant enough to figure that out all in her own time. There wasn’t a need to rush this relationship, despite what Ty’s heart said. His stupid beating half-frozen beating heart wanted to tell Quinn how much he loved her and how he’d never let her go no matter what. 

When they hugged and she spoke, Ty smiled, eyes closed. He loved just holding her in his arms like this, loved just standing there, pretending that the future was nothing and the past didn’t matter in any way shape or form. When Tiberius hugged Quinn he could forget everything he had endured. His father, being kidnapped, the ZA, being kidnapped again and almost being killed  by Kronos’ followers. That didn’t matter when he held her in his arms. She was his beacon, his everything, and he loved every second of hugging her. “Je ne voudrais pas être coincé avec quelqu'un d’autre” Ty whispered in french, not knowing that he had done so. There were three emotions where the boy spoke french; Anger, fear, and agonising affection. He wasn’t going to apologise to Quinn for speaking in a different language, she had to have been used to it by now. He laughed softly at the sarcastic remark Quinn made. “I’d like to see that. The mighty Quinn speaking a very formal I-message. ‘Mother dear, I feel incredibly hurt when you date one Mr. Burke. I would like it if you would stop because I asked you too. You’re loving, gorgeous, brilliant daughter, Quinn Taylors.’ Oh that will be the day.” Tibs thought he was funny, he probably wasn’t. They dived back into silence as they just stood there, and Tiberius wouldn’t have it any other way. He knew that eventually they would have to let go of each other and go to sleep, but when that happened he would fight tooth and nail to stop it. 

Ty was a man of few needs, despite coming from a wealthy, well-off family. He wasn’t like his father, who thought money was power and power was everything. The younger siblings thought that way was well, even Gabriel, whom Ty hoped to be more like him, started divulging into stocks at the age of eight, making money. But Tiberius didn’t care about money or expensive clothes imported from india. Give him a studio apartment, he was happy. Give him fruits and vegetables to eat for the rest of his life, he was content. As long as he had a couple of suits, a chess set, and some paper and quills and ink, Tiberius Winters wouldn’t complain. However, there was one thing without a doubt that he couldn’t live without and didn’t even want to try to. It was more a person than a thing really, and if you thought about it or went inside the demigods mind it was quite obvious who that person was, and it was quite cute and oh so predictable at the same time. That one person was Quinn Taylors. Tibs suspected if you tore him away from her, he’d wither and die like a flower cut off from its stem or a fish dragged out of water. It wasn’t an exaggeration at all, because when they were broken up and not even a couple, Ty felt like dying. He felt like there was nothing felt for him in the world because Quinn didn’t want him anymore. Everything they did together was like heaven to Aphrodite’s son. Even hugging was a light amongst the darkness. When Quinn spoke, the boy smiled, a warm, fuzzy feeling filling his entire chest cavity. He always felt that way when she spoke. “I volunteered for that job the moment I met you.” Ty said very sincerely, meaning every vowel and consonant. But then he realised Quinn’s tone of voice, how it sounded flirtatious and teasingly. “Oh wait was that meant to be a tease or something? I’m not good with these types of things. I’m not cool like you are. However, I do mean that. I will always catch you when you fall.”

If Tiberius could live in only one moment for the rest of his life, it would be this one. Just Quinn and him in each others arms as he thought they should be. For once the universe not trying to split them apart and allowing them this blissful moment of peace and quiet and solitude. He blushed a light pink, showing vividly across his pale complexion and Ty hoped Quinn wouldn’t notice. He always hated giving away his feelings to her, as he was afraid his feelings wouldn’t be returned. Although Tibs had started dropping little hints a couple of months ago, it seemed that she hadn’t caught on yet, or was merely ignoring the boy. That was okay, because Tibs knew in the end he’d get her. For Quinn, Tiberius Winters would wait one thousand years and more. However, at this moment in time, it seemed okay to let his guard down just this once. “I was merely complimenting you.” The demigod spoke, a little bit flustered, not wanting her to laugh at him for being so stupid and naive and sentimental. “Saying how loving and gorgeous and brilliant you are. Or, or did you mean the french? Because sometimes I just slip into it and I don’t know why or how. I can’t even remember what I said so I’m gonna shut up now, you probably don’t care.” Ty laughed off the last sentence nervously, hoping to all the gods up there (but mostly his mom because, hello, goddess of love) that he didn’t royally screw this moment all to hell. He was awkward like that, running moments that were otherwise perfect.