A/N: Insert customary apology about the lack of an update here. This time I have no excuse other than a lack of inspiration. As much as this is my favorite story to write, sometimes it can be hard to update Bash and Mary's love story, and with how much the writers have been spoiling us lately, in-universe has just been coming to me easier. But never fear! I'd never give up on this dumb little story, not with all I have planned for it.

But before we get to that, I know I don't normally respond to reviews, but there are a couple I'd like to answer. I read every single one of them - some of them multiple times - and I love all of you for them, truly! But I wanted to highlight Marie Meyer's review for the last chapter, because finally someone picked up on the title! That's been the goal, really, to make it seem that way at the start - Francis is the lover and Bash is the sinner. But if I do this right, hopefully everyone will start to question just who fits into what role, and how accurate those labels may not be. And once again to Marie Meyers - this time reviewing on one of my one shots - I do have both a twitter and a tumblr! My twitter is baryandmash and my tumblr is de-poitiers and I would love to see any of you on both platforms! I blog about this fic pretty regularly on tumblr, not so often on twitter. My twitter's more for updates about reignonline, liveblogging the episodes, and updating people about the status of our podcasts. ((Yeah, I do podcasts with some girls about the show. They're pretty cool, I'll post the link to reignonline on my author profile if you're interested!)) Anyway, if anyone's still actually reading this huge note, thank you and I love you. Let's get back to our favorite couple, shall we?

Once Mary had finished making the tea and set a mug in front of him, Bash eyed it warily, unsure of just what she'd given him. The look on his face must have been funny, because he could hear Mary's small huff of a laugh, even though she was clearly trying not to let it show.

"It's good, Bash, just drink it," she urged, taking a sip of her own. She'd poured her tea into a small delicate china cup with a matching saucer. It was clearly older than she was, and had a chip on the cup's edge that made him mildly worried she'd cut her lip. His own mug was more of the coffee variety, sturdy and thick, and he was grateful she hadn't given him the same kind of cup she was drinking out of. He might have snapped it in half on accident; he'd never done well with delicate things - only people.

So after making a great show of sniffing the tea - which made Mary roll her eyes at him and brace a hand on her hip - he finally took a sip, and furrowed his brows down at it. Mary set her own down quickly, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly.

"Oh god, is it bad? I can make some coffee-" she started, but Bash leaned back ever so slightly, just enough to keep the mug out of her reach. He still stared at the liquid, almost glaring at it, and hummed back at her.

"No. It's good," he said sincerely, taking another sip and then furrowing his brow again, something in his chest tightening painfully. "Is this green tea?"

"Yeah, I know some people don't like it, if you'd rather have something else-"

He cut her off again.

"No, Mary, honestly," he said gently, setting the mug down but refusing to let go of it as he looked up at her. "I was just expecting...British tea. Scottish tea. I don't know," he shrugged, cupping the mug in his hands and brushing his thumbs over it slowly. "My mother used to drink this a lot," he finally confided, when it was clear his behavior was confusing her, "near the end. I got fairly good at making it for her, before I'd make my own coffee. But she never managed to finish a whole cup after a while, so I just started finishing it for her. Never minded the taste, it just...reminds me of her," he explained, clearing his throat and finding it hard to meet her eyes. "Caught me a little off guard, that's all," Bash finished, taking another gulp of the tea. It burned his tongue and throat, and he was glad for it, especially when he felt Mary's hand on top of his. His eyes flicked back up to hers, the sympathy radiating from her making him uncomfortable and calm in the most bizarre combination he'd ever experienced in his life.

"I'm sorry," she started seriously, and he started to protest again, but she spoke over him, her voice gentle and earnest and impossible to ignore. "Bash. I'm not talking about the tea."

He paused, a small chill going down his spine, and he had to remind himself she'd lost a parent too. Maybe not as recently, but she understood, and so he nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Mary smiled at him softly before picking up her own cup and leaving the kitchen, the sway of her hips indicating that he was to follow. So he got up, sliding off the stool and following her into her living room, where she was curling up on one of the oversized armchairs he'd noticed on his way in, her gaze focused on the skyline they could see from her windows. The view wasn't great - the Valois family seemed to have cornered the market on skylines - but it was better than what he'd grown up seeing out of his window. He took the other chair, his feet planted firmly on the floor, and rested his forearms on his knees, his hands still curled around his mug protectively. Mary seemed to be lost in her thoughts, her legs bent at the knee and tucked under her body at an angle. She looked like a cat, curled up and staring intently at nothing in particular, until she spoke, still staring out the window.

"Do you miss her?"

There was no judgment in her voice, no pity. Still, it stabbed him in the gut and he took another gulp of his tea before he nodded. "Every hour of every day," he murmured, and he could feel her gaze on his face now.

"How did she die?" She asked a moment later, and Bash looked up. He wasn't having this conversation with her. He wasn't going to sit there and likely break down about his mother in this poor girl's apartment. So he started to shake his head, but Mary pressed it again. "Bash, you look like you're about to throw up," she said gently, and he shifted in her armchair. "Have you talked to Francis about...?"

"No," he said simply, seriously. His tone gave no room for argument. "If I'd had my way I would have kept the apartment. I wouldn't be here. Not...not here, here, just...here," Bash explained, feeling foolish, and swept his arm out at the skyline. Mary seemed to understand, though, from her nod, and while she took another sip of her tea he went on. "Francis has enough going on in his life. And I don't...I don't know that he'd understand," he said softly, studying his tea once more. "He's never not had the world at his fingertips. He thinks this is a blessing, and maybe it is. I don't know. But I'd...I think I'd rather be home," he said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "It was dirty, it was difficult, but it was home. This isn't me. This life isn't for me."

"It could be," Mary told him softly as Sterling wandered into the room, heading straight for the stack of blankets at Bash's side and hopping up onto it. Mary spared the dog a fond glance before continuing. "It would have been, if your parents had been married," she pointed out, "just like I could have been in your situation if my father hadn't been business partners with Henry. Life's never really set in stone, I don't think," Mary mused, leaning back in her chair. "Death's a different matter entirely."

Bash found himself nodding, wondering when the conversation had turned so grim, and couldn't help but feel the kinship he'd already felt towards her skyrocketing all too fast. "Was it hard for you?" He asked after a long beat of silence.

"Not as hard as it is for you," Mary sighed, reaching up and tugging at her ponytail before running her fingers through her hair. "I was young. I didn't know much better. It was hard leaving my mother, but that's difficult for anyone, and I still see her most summers. The transition...I don't know," she sighed, combing her fingers through her hair to redo her ponytail, while Bash watched her in near fascination. "It's a big jump, from here to Scotland. I never really felt at home here," she finished, wrapping the elastic around her hair and tightening the ponytail, "but I never really feel at home there, either. It's an odd feeling, but...I think if anywhere, I feel at home at Dartmouth. I don't know what I'm going to do when I graduate, where I'm going to go. But I don't think I want to stick around here," she whispered, dropping her hands into her lap, and Bash immediately thought about what Francis had said the night before, about her mother's desire for her daughter, and he wondered for a moment if Mary felt as stifled as Francis did.

"Are you unhappy?" He asked, and a smile flickered across her face.

"Not inordinately," she responded delicately, he grinned in spite of himself.

"Stop quoting Hitchcock and answer the question," he urged, and Mary laughed.

"That is my answer," she smiled, tilting her head towards him. "Now let's stop talking about such awful things. Francis would be ashamed at my manners, I'm supposed to be making you feel welcome here, not send you running back to - Harlem?" He nodded, a little surprise, and she nodded back, continuing. "He'd never forgive me if I made you feel uncomfortable living with them."

"You don't make me feel uncomfortable," Bash said quickly - too quickly, and he took a quick gulp of his tea, which was running low and very cold at that point. "Did...he really say that?"

"Not in so many words," Mary shrugged, standing up fluidly and taking her cup before reaching for his. He gave it to her, mildly stunned at the care his younger brother was showing through Mary, and she left for the kitchen, her voice muffled as she continued. "He wants this to work, I think. He didn't talk about anything but you for about a week before you showed up, and once you moved in, I didn't see him for days, he was so excited. He's just happy to have a brother, while Catherine..." Mary began, returning with fresh tea for both of them.

"Would probably decapitate me if she thought she could get away with it," he finished, one side of his mouth curling up in a wry smirk. He took his mug from her, nodding once. "Thank you."

Mary nodded back, smiling sympathetically. "Catherine's...intense," she agreed, stretching her calves and standing on tip toe for a moment before sitting back down and crossing her legs. "She means well, though. Most of the time," Mary said, laughing at his expression.

"I can't imagine that woman meaning well anyof the time."

Mary laughed harder at that, clearly about to say something when her voice returned to her, but was cut off by the sudden blast of music. She jumped, tea sloshing over the side of her cup and onto her bare thigh, and she hissed as she stood. Bash was dimly aware that the song sounded familiar, though it took him a second to stop staring at her thigh long enough to realize it was the ring of a cell phone. Mary had already disappeared, running into the kitchen, and came back out a second later, wiping her leg with a towel, and pulling a phone out from the neckline of her tank top.

If Bash had had trouble staring when it was just her thigh, bringing her chest into the picture was about ten times worse, and he immediately had to avert his eyes and think of any and everything he could that was the opposite of arousing, or risk thoroughly embarrassing himself in front of his brother's girlfriend. He was in the middle of a long division problem when the music stopped, and Mary's voice was nearly chirping out a hello. She paused, and he risked a glance at her, keeping his eyes firmly on her face instead of any of her exposed skin, no matter how tempting her collarbone and the tops of her breasts might be. She was furrowing her brows - adorably, too - before comprehension dawned, and she shot a glance at him, holding a finger to her lips. Bash blinked, raising his eyebrows, but remained silent as Mary turned away and lowered her voice slightly. He couldn't make out what she was saying, or how well it was going over with the other line, but right when he started really straining to hear, Mary moved back into the kitchen. He caught her throwing the towel out of the corner of his eye, and wondered just what the hell was going on.

He didn't have long to wait, thankfully, and a moment later she came back, staring down at her phone and tapping it rapidly before looking up at him, her thumbs still flying. "I'm so sorry," she started, but he waved her apologies away immediately.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just..." she sighed loudly, shaking her head, "friend emergency, thing. I need to go get her," Mary explained, still tapping on her phone. "Honestly, you'd think she'd learn her lesson by now, but..."

Bash remained silent, his eyebrows still raised almost expectantly, and when Mary finished with her phone she looked up again, giving him an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, it's my friend Kenna, she's...impulsive," she said carefully, "a little reckless. And no one else was picking up, so..."

"Avoiding the walk of shame?" He asked, amused, and Mary laughed in spite of herself.

"Something like that, yeah. I'm so sorry-"

"Mary, stop apologizing, it's fine," he said, standing up and moving towards the kitchen to set his mug in the sink. "Francis is probably wondering where I am, at any rate, I should go."

"I can drive you!" She offered quickly, clasping her hands together around her phone. "The address she gave me is on the way, so if you don't mind meeting Kenna, I can drive you home."

Bash thought about it, about to say no and run home, but remembered how long it would take him, and nodded. "That...that would be great, thanks," he said, offering her a smile, and she grinned back.

"Great! I'll go get changed, give me two seconds," she said, taking off down the hall, and Bash threw back his tea like a shot, marveling for the thousandth time at how much his life had changed in so short a span of time. Mary reappeared a few moments later, her hair still up but a tight pair of jeans and a loose buttondown that was more see through than anything on Mary had a right to be now on her body. She was toeing on a small pair of boots and had her phone between her teeth, and he had to swallow a laugh as she hopped a few steps before the shoes were on. Taking her phone out of her teeth with a grin and grabbing the keys from the counter, she headed for the door, stopping and looking back over her shoulder. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Bash said, following her out of her apartment as though he'd been doing it all his life, and then down to the parking lot. Her car was nice, but not as nice as he'd been expecting, which was comforting, and he didn't feel as awkward sitting in it as he felt in everything else in this part of town. Nothing was quite like home, but Mary was starting to feel dangerously like it, even - maybe especially - with that worried frown on her face as they headed out to pick up this mysterious Kenna.