The Broadcast

  Candy and Marcus were watching the evening news. A grainy crystal-captured-photo showed a fairy mid-sprint, corset smoking, hair frazzled, and one heel in hand.

  A bold title overyed the footage:

  UNWELCOME ENCHANTRESS STRIKES AGAIN

  Anchorwoman: “This marks the fourth known attempt by a fae infiltrator calling herself Bubblina Wishflounce to enter Paddlewick territory.”

  Anchorman: “Citizens should be advised that while she is mildly dangerous, she is also deeply incompetent.”

  Anchorwoman: “If spotted, do not engage. Do not accept magical undergarments. Do not make eye contact with her handbag. Report her immediately to the Bureau of Sanctified Public Decorum.”

  Anchorman: “She may be in disguise but is almost always surrounded by minor glitter eruptions and the vague scent of peach mist, leading authorities to believe she is a boob fairy.”

  Anchorwoman: “Considered mid-tier irritating, but still a magical risk. If cornered, swat with a rolled-up Codex of Morality.”

  "Huh," Marcus cut in. "Haven't seen a fae try to get into Paddlewick in a while."

  "Well, Boob Fairy Week in Cleavendale did just end," Candy noted. "I hear they get a little hyped up for a while afterward."

  Anchorman: “And in unreted news, a reminder that tomorrow's fireworks dispy begins promptly at sundown. Seating etiquette is- "

  Candy muted the mirror. "Hey, can we go to that?" she asked.

  "Yeah, sounds fun," Marcus agreed.

  The Tradition

  Marcus should have read the fine print. When he agreed to attend the yearly Paddlewick Fireworks Dispy, he had thought, or once, it would be a harmless outing. A chance to rex. A chance to blend in without scrutiny. A chance to let Candy enjoy something with him.

  He had severely miscalcuted. Because, as it turned out...

  Chairs weren’t provided for wives.

  Husbands, fiancés, and male guardians were expected to offer their ps for their women. A wholesome dispy of marital unity, according to Paddlewick’s customs. A humiliating, awkward mess, according to Candy. Had they known this beforehand? They absolutely would have skipped it.

  In fact, they almost did. Candy had already muttered, "We can just go," and Marcus had half-turned, agreeing when Mr. Caneverre, one of Marcus’s senior clients at the treasury office, strolled by with his very correct, very corseted wife hanging on his arm and offered a warm smile.

  "Elwood! Lovely to see you out with the wife. Nothing like a fireworks dispy to remind us why we work so hard, eh? Family’s everything."

  Marcus smiled stiffly, nodded, and felt a pit open in his stomach. There was no leaving now. Not without questions. Not without consequences, and the st thing Marcus needed was for Mrs. Prim, Sergeant Strapforth, or his employer to hear that he had “denied his wife a moment of closeness.”

  So.

  Here they were.

  Candy perched on his p, tense as a coiled spring, arms crossed like she was physically holding herself together. Refusing to lean back into him in any way. Marcus, meanwhile, was having a completely different problem. Because sometimes, he forgot.

  He forgot how soft and warm Candy was now in her mostly hyper feminized body. Not to mention her full, perfect, peach-shaped bottom currently wriggling on his p.

  The Seating Arrangement

  "This is stupid."

  Candy grumbled, shifting continuously, while Marcus barely bit back a groan.

  "Please stop moving."

  "I hate this dress," Candy muttered, ignoring him and continuing to adjust it. "It’s itchy."

  "Then sit still and suffer."

  "Oh, great advice. Thank you, Husband."

  Marcus groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut. If she didn't stop moving around on him there was a specific issue that would definitely come up.

  "Candy."

  "What?"

  "If you do that again, I’m dropping you on the ground."

  "Oh just deal with it for a minute."

  Marcus did his best. He sat there thinking of Correction-ball statistics, work, grandma's underwear...

  "Wait," Candy stopped. Her eyes narrowed. "Marcus, are you..."

  The first crackle of light shot into the air, exploding into a burst of gold and blue. The sound rushed in a moment ter, a deafening BOOM.

  The crowd oohed and aawed. Candy forgot herself. Thank the gods that was good timing, Marcus thought, then focused very, very hard on the fireworks and not the woman sitting on his p.

  Candy, for her part, was actually watching the show now. Her tension had eased slightly, her arms loosening, her expression almost rexed. For once, she was too engrossed with something fun to grumble or fight.

  She was just… watching.

  Marcus could feel her breath slow, feel the faint rise and fall of her chest, feel the way she subconsciously leaned into him the longer they sat.

  And for the first time, he realized -

  Candy rarely rexed around him.

  She had never just let her guard down, well, at home sure, but not in public. But here, in the flickering glow of fireworks, surrounded by other people, sitting in his p because Paddlewick demanded it, she had, just for a moment, forgotten to be angry. And maybe he should have teased her for it. Maybe he should have pointed it out, smug and triumphant.

  But instead, he just let her be.

  The Unspoken Moment

  The fireworks burst overhead, lighting up the night sky with gold, silver, and violet ribbons. Candy sat stiffly on Marcus's p, spine like a rod, arms tightly crossed.

  She had spent the entire event refusing to lean on him, on principle, on pride, on sheer stubbornness. She was not touching him more than she had to. She was not going to be comfortable.

  And yet…

  As the fireworks danced across the sky and the warmth of the crowd wrapped around them, something in her loosened. Not all at once, but slowly. Her arms uncrossed. Her posture softened. And before she even noticed…

  She had leaned into Marcus. Rested her back against his chest. Let herself breathe in time with someone else. She didn’t even realize it until the final firework exploded in a cascading spray of silver. She blinked. Then jolted upright, scandalized by her own body.

  Marcus didn’t say anything. He just looked forward, pretending not to notice.

  But Candy could still feel the afterimage of it; that brief moment of rest, of ease. Of comfort. And it had felt...

  Okay. Maybe even slightly good. Her heart stuttered.

  Was it the spell? It wasn't supposed to change her mind, just her shape. But she did vaguely recall something about the magic still pulsing, maybe still changing her. She had been in shock at the time it was expined and had hardly heard what the mage had said.

  So, what did that mean? She crossed her arms again, harder this time. She was definitely going to have to follow up with that mage.

  She didn’t like this.

  Not one bit.

  (Author Note: If you want to read the short story of the fae Bubblina's attempts to enter Paddlewick, check out the short story “Bubblina the Border Bumbler” on here in the book The Boob Fairies of Cleavendale)