Sophie 2.0 - Keefe x Reader

Trouble in Paradise

A/N: I'M SO SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE I FINALLY KNOW WHERE I WANT THIS THING TO GO SO LETS GOOOO

Rough corduroy pressed against your face. You grunted and shifted to get comfortable, and your cheek hit air. Your eyes burst open as you fell towards the floor, barely catching yourself in time. You held yourself inches from the wood paneling, butt in the air.

You had fallen asleep on the chair.

Brilliant.

You groaned and let yourself slide the rest of the way off of the chair. For a moment you just lay in the patch of cool sunlight, rubbing at the indents in your face and trying to remember the events of the last night.

You had unpacked, started reading, and . . . called Keefe. Holy crap. Holy crap how were you this dumb. Shock and exhaustion aside, there was no excuse. He barely knew you! And Sophie had specifically said not to get anyone else involved. Had you ruined the whole mission??

You sat up and took a deep breath. Overthinking and panicking were not going to help. Keefe hadn't been blocked from your Imparter, which meant either Sophie trusted him and you could talk to him, or it hadn't occurred to anyone to block him. Either way, you had established that he wouldn't tell anyone, and at this point it would be pretty obvious if he tried to. You sighed and leaned back against the chair. A brass rivet dug into your head.

The door slammed open and someone ran in, screaming at the top of their lungs. You darted behind the chair, heart pounding. Today just keeps finding ways to screw me over, doesn't it?

"Ohhhh Y/NNNN!"

Wait.

You popped your head up over the arm of the chair. "Keefe?? What are you doing here?! Does Mr. Forkle know about this?"

He grinned that roguish grin you had already come to know so well. "I'm your instructor for the day since Sophie couldn't make it. What we learnin'?"

"Uhm—" You stood, suddenly aware of your tangled hair, rumpled clothes, and morning breath.

"Did you sleep in your clothes?"

You felt my face heat. "I fell asleep on the chair—"

"Oh. Makes sense." He turned in a slow circle, inspecting your spartan home. "Nice place. I like it."

"Uh—thanks—so do I."

He completed his circle and faced you, palms together and fingers pointed towards you. "So what's on the itinerary for today?"

"I figured you would know. Aren't substitutes supposed to have the lesson plans?" As you talked you did your best to smooth your clothes and finger-comb your hair.

He frowned and strode towards you. You took an impulsive step back, but he caught your hands before you could go anywhere. Your neck heated.

"Stop. You look fine." All you could do was nod. He released your hands and stepped back, pushing his hair away from his face. "Ok. I think Foster said something about language lessons?"

"Yeah, I've been working on those. Not to brag or anything, but I've already got most of the six languages down." You smiled proudly. He tilted his head and gave you an appraising look.

"Huh."

He turned and started looking at the bookshelf.

"Wh—what does that mean?? Keefe—"

"You're quite adept at languages."

"I mean—I guess—"

"So let's skip that for now!" He spun around, arms flung out and pensive expression replaced with a grin. "We'll work on something far more important."

"Which is?" You was getting excited despite myself.

"The art of sneaking." He made jazz hands.

"I didn't expect you to choose something that would actually be useful."

The jazz hands stiffened and clapped over his heart. He fell to his knees, a look of anguish on his face. "Me? Making bad life choices? I'm hurt, Y/N, I really am!" You rolled your eyes, even though you were smiling.

"So how are we gonna practice sneaking, wise guy?"

He grinned, his trickster aura back in a flash. "Base Quest."

~*~

After a very long, arduous, and confusing game of Base Quest—which Keefe informed you was not meant to be played with just two people—Keefe finally let you collapse in the wingback chair.

"Do you have anything good to eat around here?" he asked, opening the cabinets.

"I haven't really eaten anything," You admitted. He slammed the cupboard of elixirs closed and slowly turned to face you.

"You haven't eaten anything?" You shook your head. "Why didn't you say anything??"

"It's fine I'm used to it—"

"Nope. I'm making you food right now. Sit in your chair."

"But—"

"No buts." He pulled an apron printed with KISS THE COOK across his chest—seemingly from nowhere—and started slamming things around the kitchen. You cringed, scared he would break something, but he didn't. He made as much noise as possible with the pots and pans, but soon enough a mouth-watering smell emanated from the kitchen.

"Dinner!" he called, setting two plates of steaming . . . something on the table. Elvin food was weird, to say the least, but it smelled good. Plus you were starving, so you weren't gonna complain. You sat across from Keefe. Your seat allowed you a view of the mountain sunset glowing orange and purple. You smiled.

Sophie burst in before you could even start eating. She was breathing hard, and blood dripped down her temple. Keefe stood so fast his chair fell backwards.

"We were too late," she said.

Now that I know how I want this to play out it'll hopefully update more often with longer chapters, but I figured I've kept you guys waiting long enough so you can have this bit now :)