Fairy Bookstore has the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla as I step through its doors.

The sign says it is closed.

Fallon probably had to close the shop early to come and get me. I felt a little guilty, knowing that she had to cut her day short. Business was slower than usual and almost nobody bought physical copies of books these days. She had taken over the shop as soon as she had graduated from college, eager to start her own business.

I admire Fallon's enthusiasm but sometimes I think she can bite off more than she can chew.

Fallon's hand was cold as she yanked me out of the car. Darien was parking the car outside. The rain had let up a bit, now a soft drizzle instead of a heavy shower. He was probably brooding as he parallel-parked.

The lights of the books store were off except for the light in the backroom which had a staircase that led to Fallons two bedroom apartment upstairs. I knew this place like the back of my hand.

Fallon bought this place from an old widow who was retiring. Believe it or not, it was a bakery. It was dirt cheap and when she first got the keys, it looked that way. For an entire year, the three of us had transformed the old-school bakery into a nice quaint little bookstore. Darien handled most of the handy work. In college, he studied sculpture and metalwork but given how tough it was to find jobs in that line of work, he worked in a carpentry shop. Fallon bank rolled us with a small fortune she inherited from her grandparents. I painted the walls and managed the social media page, over the months it had slowly turned into a place where college kids could come downtown and buy a book.

It smelled like old books and incense. I left a small trail of drops on the carpet as I walked through. My boots were in my hand.

Fallon was atop the stairs, jiggling with the doorknob. She muttered under her breath. "For the love of—" she twisted the key harshly till it finally gave way. "Oh, never mind."

"You're going to break that thing one day," I said, toeing my boots and socks off. I just pushed them to the side to let them dry.

Fallon was already inside, grabbing spare articles of clothing she had left behind. She precariously balanced three mugs in one hand and a bundle of clothes were nestled underneath her arm. I could see flashes of her blonde hair as she went to and forth, almost gliding as she tried to tidy up her 'messy' apartment.

It wasn't as cramped as other apartments were in the city. It had an open living room with a large ceiling that had been painted dark blue with constellations in gold paint. In the centre was a large blue couch with fluffy cushions that she had found in a garage sale two years ago and a coffee table that Darien had made when the old glass one broke. You could still see traces of the forties with the brick wall and mouldings. The old couple who lived here must've loved this place.

The curtains were a soft tone of pink that kept the light out during the morning.

The kitchen was painted in hues of orange and yellow which made the cramped space look bigger than it was. I could smell the herb plants as I walked past, looking for Fallon. Darien liked his plants, they were pretty much his. There were candles everywhere, some of which were still lit. I blew them out one by one. The last thing we needed was a fire.

It felt so eclectic but so much like her. I just felt a sense of comfort here. It felt lived in like a home was supposed to be.

"Don't mind the mess." She said from the kitchen closet where the washer and dryer was. "Don't be fooled. I'm usually more organised."

"What mess?" I said, squeezing the wet towel they had given me over the sink. She took it from my hands before I could hang it up. "Hey!"

"Go change out of your wet clothes," she said, pointing at her bedroom door. "And before you say you're fine, I have your clothes from the last time."

"When did you—?"

She winked, pushing towards her room. "Don't argue. Just get changed. I'll scrap up something for us to eat."

I sighed, closing the door behind me.

My clothes were hung in a corner of her closet. I had slept over last week when we had indulged in a bottle of cheap wine and tequila shots. Darien had abstained, choosing to keep an eye on Fallon and me. I'm certain he just wanted to make sure we wouldn't slip out of the apartment and cause some sort of trouble.

I held my old college sweater to my face and inhaled the scent of fresh flowers. I could never get my clothes to smell this nice.

I had been shivering in the car even with Darien's jacket. It was a comfy wool coat with brass buttons and the scent of fresh pinewood that stuck to it. I took in a lungful of it without thinking, warmth blooming inside my chest. My eyes fell closed without me noticing.

My face flushed red once I realized I was sniffing his coat like a creep. 

I laid down the coat on the bed, smoothing it out before I stripped out of my wet clothes and threw them into the hamper before taking a quick shower. I could still smell the scent of pine on my skin when I emerged out, which made me shiver.

By the time I had gotten dressed, it was dark outside. The rain had stopped and the sounds of the city continued.

Fallon was sitting on the countertop as Darien stirred something in a pot, glancing down at a cookbook with a perplexed look on his face.

"Are you sure we're supposed to add this?" He asked.

"Of course." She pressed her nail to the bottom of the page. "After stirring for half an hour at a simmer, add thyme and lemon before stirring again."

Darien looked unconvinced. He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at the soup. "Thyme and lemon? In soup?"

"C'mon! We had this in a restaurant a week ago."

"Yes, and that was made by a professional."

"But we have a cookbook." She argued, picking up and pointing to the instructions again. "That is practically the same. See!"

"Yes, a cookbook with very vague instructions."

"Why don't I just taste it?" Fallon took a spoon and dipped it into the soup. "It can't be so bad." She took a spoonful and her face immediately morphed into one of disgust.

I chuckled as I watched her spit out the soup into the sink.

"Chinese takeout, anyone?" I suggested, waving my phone.

"Yes, please. Anything but the batch of poison we made." Darien sighed, taking off his apron and draping over the dining chair in the corner before collapsing in it.

Fallon re-emerged with a glass of water. "That is the last time I ever make soup."

Darien snorted. "Technically I made the soup."

A half-hour later, we were sprawled out on the couch with empty cartons of Chinese takeout on the coffee table in front of us.

Fallon was watching an old rerun of Star Trek, gushing over Doctor McCoy while Darien and I quietly watched, eating our food. She was fast asleep halfway through, her head on his lap and her feet tucked underneath a blanket. I was pressed against Darien's side who rested his arm on the armrest.

He stared firmly ahead, regarding the whole episode with curiosity.

"I never understood why she liked this show so much," he said.

"That's because Fallon has good taste," I said. "Have you seen young Nichelle Williams?"

He rolled his eyes at that. "Of course you prefer Uhura."

"Only because she's such a badass."

On-screen Captain Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were trying to figure out why everyone was acting so crazy on the ship. It's had the classic melodrama of Spock, the craziness of Kirk, McCoy being the only sensible person there...and Sulu fencing. Iconic. The younger version of George Takai was quite the eyeful.

After a while, Darien leaned in. "Who do you think you would be?"

I didn't hesitate. "Oh, Scotty. Hands down. But Spock will always be my favourite."

He chucked. "Really. I felt you were more like Captain Kirk."

I nudged his side with my arm. "Our Captain Kirk is sleeping right now. Now you on the other hand are more like McCoy."

He turned over, giving me his full attention. Spock was crying in the background about feeling friendship for Jim. His eyes sparkled with interest.

"Oh? How so, Maria?"

I looked away, focusing on Captain Kirks's face on the screen. I could feel the heat of his body as I pressed against his side. "You're kind, compassionate, stern when you need to be and also have a wicked wit. You're the perfect McCoy."

"I suppose that makes sense." He said. I could feel his eyes stare holes into my face. "Why is Spock your favourite though? Isn't he too...I don't know, obtuse?"

"Well... I just think He's a great character but I'm not overly logical or constantly at war with myself. I like him as a character, he's complex and I enjoy watching him interact with the rest of the crew."

"Oh? What about Scotty?"

I grin. "I'm definitely like him."

"Now, that's surprising."

"Cmon. It's not. Do you know how many times that man comes through? He's practically a saint." I made a face. "The Enterprise needs Scotty. And Scotty needs The Enterprise."

Darien laughed silently, turning his face away. I grabbed a pillow and hit him with it.

I glance down at Fallon who's still passed out. She snores softly and turns her head, eyelids fluttering just so.

"What's so funny?" I whisper/yell at him.

He grabs the pillow and pulls it away from my grasp. "I don't see it."

"Then why even ask?" I cross my arms over my chest and lean back, watching till the episode ends.

Darien turns off the TV and scoops Fallon into his arms, taking her to her room. I start cleaning up, placing the plates in the sink. The apartment is dimly lit by the candles that Fallon had lit again. I snuffed each one out.

I could hear the sound of a truck passing through the street, its headlight briefly lit up the apartment and bounced off the candles that Fallon had scattered throughout the room.

Darien closed the door to Fallon's room quietly.

"You don't have to clean up, you know?"

I shrugged. "I don't want to impose."

Darien puts the rest of the dishes in the sink and turns off the kitchen light. Only the dim light of the fluorescent lamps filters through the room and illuminates his face.

"McCoy," he says, stopping briefly. He glances at me, his eyes shimmering slightly. "You're more like McCoy. If anything, I've felt more like Spock."

I blinked owlishly at him. "Huh," I said, absently. "Now that's a thought." 

He chuckles, bumping my shoulder with his. "Goodnight, Maria. Don't dwell on that too long."