Cross Your Ts [Valduggery, Skulduggery Pleasant Fanfiction]

Apollo 8

Valkyrie gasped and sat up, kicking the covers off the bed. She groaned, drawing her knees up and resting her forehead against them. It was still early—too early for her to really be out of bed. Covered in sweat, fueled with adrenaline, sleep wouldn't come back to her.

Valkyrie groaned and rubbed her eyes. She reached out, snagged the sheet, and wrapped it around herself. She stood and picked her way carefully through her room.

Valkyrie trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen. She leaned over the sink and drank from the faucet until she had cooled down.

"Glad to see you greet the day with your usual disregard for hygiene."

Valkyrie yawned in greeting. She began to rifle through the cabinets, wondering when they had last been shopping; most food she pulled down was expired. Finally, she chose the cereal that smelled least like cardboard and the carton of milk that seemed least likely to roll her stomach.

Skulduggery watched her from the middle of the kitchen, hands in his pockets. He hadn't changed suits yet, and Valkyrie wondered if he had just woken up.

"Coffee," Valkyrie said.

"Orange juice."

"Make me coffee."

"I don't like your tone. What are you doing up so early, anyways? Usually I have to tempt you out of bed with the promise of mystery and mayhem. Yet, here you are, wrapped in a bedsheet, scowling into your cereal."

Valkyrie didn't answer for a moment, shoving a spoonful of cardboard into her mouth. She chewed, giving him dirty looks until she swallowed. "I don't enjoy mayhem. Everyone thinks I do. I like... anti-mayhem."

"Of course you do."

"I do!" Valkyrie pushed her cereal away. When he didn't answer, "And I think I had a bad dream."

"Oh?"

Valkyrie rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand, frowning. "Yeah, it was weird, though. Nye was there. I was naked."

"You're usually naked."

"Shut up." Valkyrie leaned back in the chair and stretched her legs, yawning. "Well, either way, I'm up, so we might as well get going. Make me coffee and I'll get dressed." She stood.

"I still don't like your tone," he called after her.

Valkyrie took a quick shower, but her thoughts wandered. The dream ate at the edges of her mind. It was cold and clear and panic-inducing. She could remember more random facts about the dream—the table, the bright florescence, hands creeping down her torso—than she could the last few cases they had solved.

As she dried herself off, she had the strangest feeling she had dreamed it before.

Skulduggery was waiting by the Bentley, wearing a clean suit. He handed her a mug.

"You have a minute to drink it before I leave."

"But—"

"No drinks in the Bentley. You have fifty-three seconds."

Valkyrie protested her unfair treatment with silence in the car.

Skulduggery didn't seem to mind. He was thinking, and Valkyrie watched from the corner of her eye as his head tilted back and forth between options. His pointed finger tapped lazily along to whatever he was debating.

Today promised to be another hot one. Valkyrie was getting sick of the heat. It was still early enough where she could roll down the window and enjoy the breeze blowing back her hair. She let her hand play in the wind until the shadows of Roarhaven made her retreat.