Song: late night vibes playlist by How Are You ?

Ambrose let out a low groan as he laid face down on his bedroom floor. Jill walked up and down his aching back. Her small feet soothed the knots that'd been building up over the past couple of days.

It would almost be heavenly if Vincent wasn't squawking away somewhere above him like a dying bird.

"Ambrose, are you listening to me?"

"No," he replied, face squished into a pillow. "Go away, Vincent. I've done enough favors for you tonight."

Vincent huffed, trying to wrench the pillow out from under Ambrose's firm grasp. In response he merely tightened his grip. Ambrose grunted, jerking his body forward and dragging a giggling Jill along with him.

"Don't make me throw you. You know I will." Ambrose glared at the blob of Vincent's silky pajamas through blurry eyes. He gave one last harsh tug and hugged the pillow like a child calling dibs. "What? What is so damn important now, hm?"

Vincent shoved Ambrose's glasses onto his face then pointed at the expensive dishes before him. "Tada!"

Jill leaned forward, digging her knees into his back and drawing out another groan. A month ago that would've sent her into heat (like in those books her and Vincent secretly read, teehee) but now? Now all she felt was shame for her past self.

Her support group had slapped a lot of sense into her the first time she spilled about him. Having seven people wreck her with good intentions and zero sugar coating turned out to be exactly what she needed.

Embarrassment and well meaning humiliation were wonderful teachers for reigning in one's horny self. And, apparently, so was compassion and understanding.

It's easy to fall for a man when he's always saving you. Learning to separate your trauma from your savior isn't easy but it's worth it. Friendship is the only relationship you need in your life right now, babe.

That's what Linda, the group's therapist, said last week. Then when Jill showed everyone a picture of Ambrose she was the first one to fan herself. She even made a joke about needing a tall glass of water to quench her thirst.

Jill really liked that crazy old bat.

"What's all this for?" she asked, motioning towards the rows of spoons and forks. "And where did you get this stuff?"

She'd cleaned this entire apartment from top to bottom and she never saw any of the cutlery before her.

"Kiki is a heavy sleeper," was all Vincent said before turning his attention back to Ambrose. "So? What do you recognize?"

"Well," Ambrose picked up a fork, "it appears to be a fork. It feels like a fork. So, I think, and I hope I'm right here, that this utensil might be a fork."

Jill hummed when Ambrose glanced over his shoulder, holding it up with a blank stare. "You're right. That does look like a fork."

Vincent let out a long sigh as he arranged the placing into a more formal setting. "Vi strangolerò entrambi."

"I know my Italian isn't as good as it used to be. But did he just say he wants to strangle me?"

Ambrose snorted, redirecting her weight to his lower back. "Close. He wants to strangle us both."

"Ah, how rude."

"The rudest."

"Will you just—" Vincent pressed his hands to his eyes. An insomniac ridden giggle erupted from his glossy lips. His hands tightened into fists. After taking a deep breath he dropped his hands. Once he was back to his normal self there was only a touch of annoyance and sleep deprivation crossing his features. "You need to know this stuff or they're gonna eat you alive at the wedding."

"The wedding that's in two weeks."

"Those two weeks are gonna fly by." Vincent pointed to the dishes before them. "This is just one type of setup. Depending on the food they serve, a few spoons or forks might be added or swapped out. Same with the knives and placement. But this is just the first basic arrangement I could think of."

Ambrose propped his chin up on the palm of his hand. His exhausted eyes dragged over the stacked plates and endless line of spoons. Why were there so many damn forks?!

"This can't wait until I get off work tomorrow?"

Vincent shook his head. "You always absorb information best when you're tired."

"That's true," Jill agreed. She'd spent many nights studying with Ambrose until the moon showed its face. By then he became more of a teacher than a fellow student. "For some weird reason you're smarter when you're tired."

"Jilly agrees so this is happening. Ok, so..."

The napkin went on top of the soup plate. The soup plate went on top of the salad plate which then rested on the dinner plate. To the left was the dinner fork and the salad fork. Above that was the butter plate and the butter knife. To the right of that was the dessert fork and dessert spoon. And then to the right of the plates was the knife, salad knife, spoon, soup spoon, and an oyster fork.

"Why does an oyster need its own fork?" Ambrose mumbled, eyes heavy with sleep. The image of the arrangement was practically burned into his lids. "Makes no sense."

"Because."

"Because isn't an answer, Vincent."

"You sound like your dad." Vincent rearranged the setup then pinched Ambrose's neck to catch his attention. "Fix it."

He moved sluggishly. But, eventually, he got everything in its rightful place.

"That's pretty good!" Jill pet his head so that his messy hair stuck up in odd directions. "See. Vincent was right after all."

Ambrose face-planted into the pillow. He yawned into the fabric to avoid being on the receiving end of a dick joke from Vincent. "It's basically what I do at work. Only difference is this time I actually know the names."

His first week there he learned everyone had their own style. Betty took the time to teach herself the names. Max studied the shapes and sizes of each dish and utensil then matched it to the meal. Ambrose took to memorizing the provided pictures and hoping for the best.

He'd gotten pretty lucky. No one had stopped to ask him for a new oyster fork or salad knife since he started working. Which was great for him in the beginning. But not so much in the long run.

Ambrose memorized the set of dishes and cutlery before him just as quickly as they knew he would. He hated to admit it, but maybe there was a method to Vincent's madness underneath all of his theatricality.

After the tenth round of fixing the arrangement though, enough was enough.

Ambrose pushed himself up, making sure to gently move Jill off before she fell. "Enough. Go to bed," he said, pulling a half-sleeping Vincent to his feet. "Don't wanna look ugly for your day with Kiki tomorrow, do you?"

"I never look ugly," Vincent mumbled, rubbing his heavy lids. "It's physically impossible."

Ambrose snorted, stacking the dishes into a neat pile as Jill maneuvered him towards the door. "If the world had half of your confidence—"

"Bitches would be blessed," Vincent butted in. He yawned widely, dismissing the pile on the floor with a weak flick of the wrist. "Just leave it. I'll take it back later."

The chill of the wooden floor skimmed across his bare feet. He placed the set onto the island in the kitchen, making a mental note to take it back later. Vincent would forget, like he always did, leaving Ambrose to pick up the pieces afterwards.

Hopefully Kiki wouldn't go psycho on him for the thing that he was engaging in with Lilah.

His pocket dinged and he ignored the notification. He knew it was from instagram and he didn't want to see which one of his old friends had crawled out of the past to comment. Nor did he want to check his messages after one of his cousins snitched about his new "relationship."

Everyone and their nosy zie back in Italy knew about his new "girlfriend." He wasn't interested in having that conversation anytime soon. Especially not with his family.

When Jill tiptoed into the kitchen he was leaning against the counter drinking a glass of water. The cold pricked at his bare skin but he didn't mind. The lack of interest in her eyes was a new development but a welcome one nonetheless. Jill's lust was one less headache for him to deal with now.

Her small hands wrapped around the offered glass. She took a sip, keeping an eye trained on Ambrose's unflinching stature. Chunks of ice hit her teeth, making a clicking sound. She knew he wouldn't start the conversation so she did it for him.

"Question," she said in a low whisper, hauling herself onto the countertop beside him.

"Answer."

Jill let out a breath laugh, allowing the rim of the glass to swallow her rising smile as she drank. "Why did you say yes? Even with all the manipulation, which I have no doubt Vincent laid on real thick, it all seems... a little out of character."

She reminded me of you, Ambrose thought. Scared. Hurt. Trapped.

"I owe Vincent a lot," he said instead, avoiding her inquisitive stare. It wasn't the full truth. But it was a partial truth. "I think it's dumb but," he shrugged, "it's whatever. I give it a few weeks of her parading me around before the thrill of it wears off. I can stick it out that long."

Ambrose finished the last of the water then quickly washed the cup. If there was one thing he really couldn't stand it was dirty dishes being left in the sink.

"She loves coffee that's too sweet to handle. Same with her food."

"How do you know?" he asked, drying his hands on a towel. "Stalker much?"

Jill tried to kick him but he darted away, smirking at the failed attempt. "She does a lot of work at the cafe. I know all of the orders of my regulars and hers are always sweet." A gentle smile lifted her cheeks. "You should probably know these things since you're her boyfriend."

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. That old, cheeky, boyish grin he sported on the rarest of occasions made Jill's heart flood with warmth. He looked just like his dad when the moonlight hit his calm eyes just right. To see it was as heart-rendering as it was touching.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Jill grinned like a cat that ate the canary. "I think it's an interesting turn of events in your otherwise mediocre life, yeah."

"Wow." Ambrose chuckled, whipping her leg with the towel after wetting it a little. "Mediocre life, huh?"

"Mhm." Jill poked him with her toes, earning herself another quick lashing. "I'm gonna tell my group all about this. They'll eat it up."

Ambrose turned his back on her and wrung the cloth out over the sink. "I didn't know group therapy included gossip sessions." When he finished he hung it out to dry then turned, bracing himself on the black marble.

Jill shrugged, fidgeting with the ends of her sweater paws. "It's fun to gossip when we're not reliving swashbuckling tales of our husbands bashing our faces in for not doing anything good enough."

He was silent for a while, mouth turning down into a grim line as he absorbed her words. It did him no good to live in the past at such a late hour. So he squashed the rising anger that her words stirred within him and broke the silence.

"Swashbuckling," he repeated, raising a brow. "Now where'd you hear a word like that?"

Jill's gaze shifted to the floor for a short spell then lifted it to meet his playful stare. "It was in the comments under a video about The Pirates of the Caribbean. Kinda been wanting to use it for a while now because it sounds funny. Also, in case you were wondering, Will Turner is still as gorgeous as I remember him to be."

Ambrose snorted, shaking his head in amusement. "You used it wrong," he said, catching a glimpse of the past when Jill's face clouded over with confusion. It was like they were sixteen again and Ambrose was tutoring her about the latest mandatory book to read. She hadn't been the greatest with words back then either. "Swashbuckling means a daring adventure. A romantic adventure that's full of bravado and flamboyance."

"Huh." Jill's cheeks flushed a glaring shade of pink. She should probably stick to the basic books with basic words and spicy scenes that her and Vincent enjoyed so much. "My marriage was definitely not a swashbuckling adventure full of bravado and flamboyance." Her face screwed up for a second then she let out something between a laugh and a scoff. "Vincent's will probably be like that, though. Lucky bitch."

They shared a hushed round of laughter, careful not to wake the others. When Ambrose looked relaxed she took this as her chance to make good on the promise she'd made with Cameron.

"So..." Jill slid closer and mustered up the most innocent smile she could. "Cam Cam said something interesting earlier."

Ambrose slid his hands in his pockets, already knowing where this was going. "Did he now?"

"Mhm. He said he got invited to a sleepover this weekend."

"He did."

Jill wet the bottom of her lip, taking note of the way his eyebrow twitched. "Why won't you let him go?"

Ambrose let out a loud sigh, staring at the dark city life over her shoulder. "I never said no."

"You said you would think about it."

"And that isn't a no."

Jill fought the laugh threatening to crack her composure. "How many times did your dad say he'd think about something only to say no a few days later? If it wasn't an immediate yes in the Montgomery household then it was a firm no."

Ambrose cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly. "I don't remember things being exactly like that."

"No? Then I guess it's a good thing I have a good memory because it was exactly like that." When he didn't respond she pushed on. "Is he doing badly in school?"

Ambrose shook his head, almost offended by the implication that Cameron wasn't anywhere but the top. "At the parent-teacher conference Mrs. Black said he's one of her best students."

"Is he still talking back to her?"

"No."

"Are you mad that he's been moody lately?"

"No."

"Do you not trust the parents hosting the sleepover?"

Ambrose crossed his arms, rubbing his skin to garner some warmth. "The parents are fine. I've known them since Cameron was in preschool with their son. Plus..." Embarrassment curled within him. A flash of heat crept up the back of his neck. "Vincent ran a background check on them a while ago, ok? They're clean. Nothing to worry about."

It had been the one and only time, until now, that he'd accepted the help of Vincent's...

Connections.

"Then why won't you let him go?"

Ambrose opened his mouth to reply but not a single word came out. Why wouldn't he let Cameron go? He wasn't sure.

Liar, his inner voice hissed.

He was terrified of being apart from Cameron for a whole day. They'd never done that before and he didn't know how to start being comfortable with that possibility becoming a reality.

"Ambrose..." Jill paused but found the courage to continue when his conflicted gaze met hers. "You can't keep him with you forever, y'know? You've gotta let him go so he can do things on his own every once in a while."

Ambrose watched in silence as a wave of insecurity crept over Jill's anxiety-ridden face. A stray hair curled over her nose. She made no move to push it away, keeping her focus on him and him alone.

"Linda made me realize that it isn't good to live for others. At some point, you have to make yourself a priority. If not, then why even live?" she asked, the question being mostly rhetoric. "I made a checklist of things I always wanted to do but couldn't because Noah wouldn't let me. Every week, no matter what, I try to cross off at least two things. For me."

Removing himself from the position he'd been stuck in for eternity, Ambrose came closer. He leaned against the countertop and looked up at Jill. For the first time since puberty slammed into him like a truck and he sprouted like a sunflower, she was taller.

"What's the last thing you crossed off?" he asked, curious about her secret adventures.

"Making biscuits from scratch." Jill motioned towards the stacked tray on the table, looking pleased with herself. "Next up is going to the park and playing on the swing. I'm looking forward to my Cameron free Saturday to do just that," she said with a pointed yet playful stare.

A hint of a smile touched his lips.

"Vincent has plans with Kiki then too," she continued. "Tell me, what's the one thing you want to do for yourself, not for Cameron, that you haven't done in a while? First thing that pops into your head."

The answer was immediate.

"Do you remember when my dad took the three of us ice skating?" A soft look graced his sharp features. He nibbled on his thumb absentmindedly, getting lost in the old memories. "Down at—"

"Dilworth Park?" Jill interrupted with a similar wistful expression on her face. "Of course. We went every year. The lights were beautiful."

Ambrose hummed. "I could never take Cameron there because—"

"He hates winter and anything cold?" Jill grinned fondly. "Yeah. You're basically raising a bear. If he could hibernate, he probably would."

Ambrose chuckled softly. For a few stolen seconds he considered going. But then he remembered Cameron and reality came crashing down on him.

His heart ached and he tried his hardest not to let it show. He wasn't all too confident that he succeeded, if he was being honest.

"Right there," Jill poked his cheek, "something happened that made you not wanna go. What is it?"

"Cameron—"

"Would be fine." Jill poked his cheek again, this time a little harder. "You said it yourself. You and Detective Lodovico already had them properly vetted, yeah? So what's the harm in letting him go? What's so bad about you doing something fun without worrying about work and Cameron or me and Vincent?"

"There isn't anything wrong with it I just—" Ambrose buried his face in his hands, too overwhelmed to finish his sentence.

"You just forgot how to relax." Jill fixed his still messy hair. She was starting to sound a lot like Linda. That, oddly enough, made her a little proud. "You have to try. You can't live for him forever, Ambrose. You have to live for yourself too. Otherwise..."

You'll run yourself into the ground, she thought.

"Just... think about it. Ok?" She ducked her head so she could meet Ambrose's eye. "Really think about it."

Ambrose nodded, helping Jill jump down then gave her a light shove towards her room. "At least I know the therapy's working. That's a plus."

Jill shook her head, terribly endeared and vexed at the same time. "Good night, Ambrose."

He watched her go before muttering a quiet, "G'night, Jilly."

The silence became louder once she was gone. The air was a little crisper. His feet easily carried him to where his heart wanted to go. He made no effort to fight it.

Kneeling beside Cameron's bed, Ambrose smoothed out the line between his brows. If the nightmare was truly that bad then in a few hours he'd crawl into Ambrose's bed for comfort. And he would let him but they'd never speak about it because Cameron was trying to be independent.

Independent kids didn't need to sleep with other people, according to Cameron.

He got his juice and water all on his own. He made his salad by himself. He used his step stool to go into the fridge to get all the vegetables he wanted. He got himself showered and dressed, only wanting Ambrose to dry his hair when he was too lazy to do it himself.

One day he wouldn't need help getting in and out of the car. Eventually, he wouldn't even have to use that booster seat he hated so much.

Ambrose startled when Cameron's hand wrapped around his pointer finger. He hadn't done that since he was a baby. It stirred something melancholy within him that he wasn't quite ready to let go of.

The pained look on Cammeron's cherub face vanished. Ambrose moved the wispy blond hair covering his forehead out of the way. He admired his sleeping face. Over time, Cameron's grip on him lessened and then...

He let go.

Ambrose studied the features before him. Nothing had changed. He looked the same. And yet, he was still growing up.

Sometimes he hated how much Cameron looked like their mother when he was calm. Yet a small part of him liked that he resembled her more... peaceful days. It was like a piece of her lived on even while she wasted away beside their father's bedside.

Ambrose pulled the thick blanket up to Cameron's chin. After making sure the heater wasn't too hot, he quietly closed the door and slipped into his own room. He laid in bed, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep that granted him no relief.

In the early morning, the blanket shifted and there were small, warm toes pressed against his back. Ambrose stared at the blackout curtains until his alarm went off. Cameron grumbled, digging his heels deeper into Ambrose's back while he stretched.

The alarm continued to shout but Ambrose didn't move to stop it. He laid perfectly still until Cameron remembered where he was. Then he scampered out of bed and Ambrose listened for the open and closing of his door. When it happened he rolled onto his back, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He let the alarm ring for another minute before shutting it off and then the charade was complete.

Ambrose knew he couldn't keep Cameron beside him forever.

But as he watched Cameron eat a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar, he couldn't help but wonder how? How was he supposed to let go? How did he start? Just, how?

It killed him inside to know that the one person he needed to ask the most was already, technically, dead.

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QOTD: What are your thoughts on the conversation Jill × Ambrose had? Do you agree with the advice she gave?