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dontforgetoctober3rd · 5 months

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Come Go With Me

A Michael Gavey fic.

EDIT: Now with art! (just a sketch tho)

Summary: It's the spring of 2007 and Michael Gavey has so far kept to the vow he made to never socialize again after Oliver ditched him. Then he meets a cute girl at a coffee shop. Will the vow stand strong or immediately go down the drain?

Word Count: 3986

Rating: T (plenty of swearing, instances of misogyny, objectification of the female body, atrociously incorrect bagel eating, New York City slander, etc.)

Author's Note: yes, the title is the song by Expose. Also, I'm a corny writer.

Divider by @cafekitsune

“I don’t know or care what Oliver Quick is doing this summer,” Michael said, continuing to type on his laptop, not even making eye contact with whoever asked the question. The guy who asked left without saying anything further.

Some random guy in the library asked Michael if it was true that Oliver was going to be spending the summer with Felix on his family’s estate. It was more about prying into Felix’s business than him wanting to know anything about Oliver, Michael thought. Oliver was not on the same level of being interesting (in the eyes of the general student populace) that the Cattons were.

Michael didn’t give a shit that Oliver was going to fancy fucking Saltburn with his new, snobby, loser, nepo baby friends for the summer. Really, he didn’t. When Oliver humiliated him at the bar, he made the decision then to swear off any further socializing at the university. It was the best thing he ever did.

Already, he felt less anxious. He had more time to focus on his coursework. More time to read new books, attend off campus lectures. Walks in the park by himself were quite relaxing when he didn’t have to think about topics to keep a stilted, dying conversation going. He even went so far as to set aside time to play video games again. Every weekend, for one hour and a half, he lost himself in Fable on his Xbox.

Michael still felt the sting of the bar betrayal from time to time, as he thought he had finally found a true friend in Oliver (or at least, the potential for him to become one). The new, lone path taken had helped him realize that he was not the problem. Oliver was just an asshole, like the majority of those who went to Oxford.

Sometimes Michael wondered why people didn’t like him. Must be how smart he was. There was nothing weird about being good at math. What was so awful about being good at math, anyway? He guessed that most peoples’ biggest issue with his smarts was that it reminded them they were stupid. Oh well! Plenty of time for activities by himself now.

One of those activities was fast became his favorite, after only his fourth visit. Visiting a little coffee shop he had discovered near the river, he was able to “mingle” among people without having to talk to anyone. No one would bother him here and he would still get his dose of human contact which, after all, was vital to the psychological constitution of a person. As rigid as he intended on being with his new No Socializing At Oxford vows, Michael did not intend on becoming a psychopath. Besides, the baristas never got his order wrong. They never talked to him beyond the perfunctory taking of his order but after the third time, when he walked in, instead of asking what he would like the person at the register had asked “The usual?” and Michael would just say yes, thank you, and then pay.

Michael packed up his laptop, shoving it and the charger into his reusable Tescoe bag along with his notebooks. He stood and adjusted his sweater, checked all his pant pockets were buttoned up and zipped closed. He kept his visits only to every other day so as to not have the monotony grate on his nerves. The coffee shop made fresh bagels every day, however, and he had been looking forward to enjoying one all morning (his favorite was blueberry). He liked to eat his a certain way, scooping out the insides of each slice before finally eating the hollowed out crusts. Someone at school would surely have an opinion about his bagel-eating method (not that he cared) but at the coffee shop, Michael was left in peace.

Walking briskly through the library doors and outside in the crisp spring air, he didn’t even look in direction of Oliver walking up the steps into the library with Felix. They were laughing about something but Michael didn’t even breathe in their direction.

—---------

The delicious smell of bread baking hit him in a wave as he stepped into the coffee shop. It looked like a rush had just hit, the baristas busy cleaning and restocking various items.

“Hi! I’ll take your order right over here.” came the chipper voice. Michael turned.

Oh god, a new hire. An American one (he was pretty sure the accent he heard was American) Maybe he wasn’t entitled to feel irritated about changes in the store, it's not like he owned the damn thing, but Michael felt irritated just the same. This was HIS spot and someone new had just invaded it.

The new girl had long hair parted in the middle, tied back in a bun. The hair was turquoise. A very bright turquoise, almost neon, he would say. It pissed him off even more. Dyed hair was so fucking tacky.

He trudged to the register, hating every second of anticipating having to deal with someone new, someone chatty, even for something as impersonal as coffee.

The girl was almost as tall as he was, eye-level to him, smiling the fakest fucking smile he had ever seen. I mean, it had to be fake. Who looked this happy to be taking a stranger’s order? He didn’t even bother attempting to smile back. Whatever. Get my coffee, bitch Michael though.

“I’ll have a large vanilla coffee, sugar free, with a blueberry bagel.”

“Ah, so just cutting back on the sugar but can’t quite quit it altogether, eh?” the girl said with a wink and another smile, totally unperturbed by his attitude.

Michael pursed his lips and said nothing. The girl, still unbothered, looked down and clacked away on the touch screen. He quickly looked over her in the few seconds she imputed his order.

She had long, acrylic nails, painted a pastel kind of purple. Her name tag said Cat, which he guessed was short for Catherine. Maybe. Also her boobs were big. Not normal big, but stripper big. Not that he would know, but still. Too big for the word “boobs”, for sure. Tits seemed like a more appropriate word. If he had ever been to a strip club he was pretty damn sure stripper tits would look exactly like hers. And she had tattoos covering the entirety of her left arm. Classy, he thought condescendingly. No wonder she was working here instead of somewhere like a bank.

Michael wondered if she had tattoos on her chest as well…he was so sure he could avert his gaze before she noticed but suddenly her fingers snapped and her head lowered into his line of vision, a smug look on her face. Small wisps of hair hung in front of her ears, he noticed.

“You lose something. buddy?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean-I was just looking at your name tag.” he sputtered, fidgeting with a cuff of his sweater.

“Look, it's fine. They’re tits.”

Michael flinched slightly at her casual use of the word. It was one thing to talk like that with other guys, but girls? What was she trying to prove? Tits tits tits. He made a point to stare straight into her eyes and not look away while she continued to speak. “Its not a big deal, I promise,” she said, finishing up his order on the register and offering her hand to take payment.

Choosing not to respond, Michael set his Tesco bag on the counter so he could unzip one of his pockets to get at his credit card. The pocket it was in was hard to open and the zipper always caught, so two hands were needed.

“You can look, you know, just don’t be creepy about it.” she continued, as he struggled slightly with the pocket.

Michael did not look at her as he handed over the card.

Being branded a “creep” was the last thing Michael needed. He was already the Lonely Nerd at university, he really did not want to become the Creepy Lonely Nerd (that ogles stranger’s tits). Not that he would give a shit what people thought, but one less socially crippling label was better than one more.

“I mean, it’s not like I can leave them at home, right? I don’t mind a little look here and there!” she said with a laugh, handing back his card. Unbelievable. She was still talking about her tits!

“Can I get that to go?” Michael answered more than asked.

“Sure thing. Uh, what’s your name?”

“I’m Michael.” He was not staying here. He was not going to stay and become the Creepy Tit Guy. Given her outgoing nature, Cat would probably have something to say about the way he ate his bagel, too, he was sure of it. He would become Creepy Tit And Weirdo Bagel Eating Method Guy if he stayed. Maybe dealing with this at university would have been easier but this was supposed to be his relaxation spot. The coffee shop was ruined for him now, he would never come back. Ever. Fuck this place and fuck her.

“Alrighty, dude. Be right back!”

“My name is not…dude..” Michael stepped away from the register, his voice fading away to nothing as Cat got his order ready, unable to hear him. There was no one else coming in right now, it seemed he came during a lull. The other employees were still cleaning and restocking.

“Here you go!” Cat said with a smile, handing him his bagel in a paper wrap and his coffee.

Still not looking at her, he took his bagel and his coffee and got the fuck out of there, practically powerwalking away.

It was only until he made it to a nearby park bench that he finally saw what Cat had written on the other side of his bagel wrapper. A whole paragraph, practically. Michael, sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I was just trying to be funny, I swear. Enjoy your coffee. Hope you come back!

Michael felt relief for a moment, before loudly groaning and spilling some of his coffee as he made to slap his forehead with that same hand. He had left his fucking Tescoe bag at the coffee shop. His bag that had his computer, his notebooks, his finished papers for a couple of classes.

He had to go back. Fuck.

“Yeah, sorry, but she said she knew you.”

Michael swore. The cashier informed him that Cat had just left, her shift was over. She had taken the bag with her to the Oxford library. Apparently, she was a student there? Who fucking knew!?

“You need me to call the police?”

“No, that’s all right, I do know her.” Michael lied. “I told her earlier I’d be headed to the library later. She probably figures she can catch me there.” Without a single, civil ‘thank you’, Michael practically fled the shop.

He didn’t care how dumb it looked that he was frantically looking everywhere in the library for the familiar, turquoise hair. People always looked at him funny. It’s not like he could go to each of them individually and ask them hey could you please stop snidely whispering every time you look in my direction? Old Michael would go back to his dorm, have a cry, wonder why no one liked him and then quickly finish his homework in his dungeon of a bedroom before crying some more and then going to sleep.

New Michael didn’t give a shit. New Michael was focused 100 percent on his academics and self-care, and right now his academics were in jeopardy because that Tesco bag held papers he had yet to type (Michael liked to hand write his work first, he felt it was more thorough). Also, maybe New Michael should better remember to not forget his shit at random shops. Old Michael wouldn’t have forgotten. Whatever.

After scanning the entire first floor of the library, he stomped to the second floor. If she was a student here, how had he never seen her? The hair would have been hard to miss. Of course, it's not like he made it a habit to people watch anymore, especially in the library.

Suddenly, he saw her. Way in the corner, at a table right under a huge window, he saw her returning with her nose in a book from the shelves. On the table, his bag.

“Give it here.” Michael said, approaching the table. Cat looked up from her book.

God, she was pretty. He felt like a troll next to her. It was so fucking unfair. More importantly though…why was he telling her to hand the bag back? It was HIS. He should just take it and go, without a word. She had basically stolen it. The girl was a thief and took it to give him a hard time because she was a bitch, like every other pretty girl he had ever interacted with and been cut down by. Maybe he could like her if he gave it a try…but the days of trying to get people to think he was cool or amazing were over. She was a bitch and he knew it.

Mmm not what the note on your bagel showed, an annoying voice in his head began. That note could only have been written if she liked you because who would write that for a random customer? You should talk to her an-

Oh, fucking christ. Old Michael. Desperate-to-be-liked-by-someone-ANYONE Michael. Shut the fuck up, Old Michael. You are dead.

“Yeah, no problem, I mean it is your bag!” Cat said cheerfully, closing her book and holding the bag out to him. “Sorry you had to run all this way to get it, Michael.”

“Um, it’s ok. I run fast.” Michael said, immediately regretting it. God, that sounded so fucking stupid. He reached out for his bag.

Oh, so we’re no longer on that socializing ban, huh, Mr. Comedian? I mean, what was THAT?! Old Michael thought slyly. Shut up shut up shut up shut up!!!!! And, look! She remembers your name! SHUT UP.

“-couldn’t just leave it there, you know?” Cat had finished saying.

Michael froze. “Huh?”

What had she been talking about? Shit. “Uh, why not?” Please let that be the right response. Please let that be relevant to what she was fucking saying, Michael thought desperately.

Cat rolled her eyes, but still sounded…not like a bitch? “The laptop would definitely have been long gone if I hadn’t taken the bag. I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Oh. That was it. That had been all she had said. Michael nodded and mumbled his thanks, ready to go…except Cat still held onto the bag. And stopped him with her next words.

“You play Fable a lot?”she asked.

It’s a trap. She is going to make fun of you, he thought to himself. Just get your shit and go. His hand was also still on HIS bag. That she was not letting go of, for some reason.

“Yeah, I like it a lot.”

Oh, how riveting. That will make her swoon! Old Michael chimed in.

“Really?” Cat responded. Her tone wasn’t mocking. It was…interested? “I like it too but it feels unfinished, somehow. I wish they would release Fallout 3 for these new consoles already, I bet it would be 1000 times better than this crap that Lionhead put out.”

Michael nodded. She liked Fallout? She was impatient for the release?? Ask her to go with you to the midnight release next year!!! Ask her ask her ask her ask- No. Shut up. Be normal, for once in your life, be normal and chill about something.

“-able doesn’t feel like it’s TRULY a good rpg, where you can do whatever you want, you know? You can only go in one direction and can’t put off the main quest at all.”

She was still talking about Fable. She was still talking about video games, something they both liked, something they had in common.

This is your chance, you know. Old Michael piped in. Did any of those other people ever show even the slightest interest in the stuff you were into? Ever? Ask her out!

“Ok,” Michael began. “I see your point, but the mechanics of the game aren’t the star so much as the incredible story and character designs-”

While he continued to go on a tangent of Fable’s good qualities to Cat, trying his best not to sound too rant-y, Michael frantically gave the idea of asking her out some thought…

What if she said no? Hm what if she says yes?

It’s stupid. The release for Fallout 3 is next year. No, not even. It’s October of that year, so…over a year away! Almost two fucking years! What kind of weirdo would ask someone on a date almost two years from now?! Plus, she isn’t even into me. She just likes video games, like any other person.

Why is she still holding onto your bag, then? Old Michael thought smugly. Why did she write that little note on your bagel? Why did she remember your name? Why-

All right, all right.

“Right, so…want to come? To the midnight release for it? For Fallout 3?” Michael asked, throwing all caution to the wind and swallowing his preemptive rejection rage that already was bubbling up.

“For Fallout?” Cat said, still holding onto the bag. “Which store you going to?”

“Target.” Please say yes. I don’t even know you and I know it’s weird to ask you somewhere practically two years from now but PLEASE SAy YES, Michael thought.

“Mm, nah.” Cat, said, letting go of the bag to dig in her bookbag.

Shit.

Michael’s chest began to hurt, the hand holding his bag falling limply to his side. He could feel his eyes begin to water. She was just like the rest of them. Pathetic. So pathe-

“You should come with me to Game on Queen Street, they always price cut!” Cat said, whipping out her blackberry. “Whatever price we show them for the game, they’ll shave 5 off it! I mean, it’s not much but I’ll take what I can get! Here, put your number in.”

On sheer autopilot, Michael put his number in. He felt ashamed the entire time, having choked back a scathing insult at the last minute before Cat had shoved her phone at him.

“Are you ok?” Cat took her phone back, eyeing him with a concerned look.

“I’m fine! It’s just-probably something I caught the other day, I can already feel the sniffles coming on and whatnot. It’s nothing!” Michael babbled.

It cannot be this easy, Michael thought. It’s been this easy the entire time? Hanging out with a girl? Talking to her? Making plans? Why did Oliver never like him when they had so much in common?

Holy shit, forget about fucking Oliver! You have a date with your future wife! Old Michael practically screeched. Jesus fucking Christ, you are desperate. Shut the fuck up!! Be Normal!

“You wanna go back to the shop and get another bagel?” Cat asked, putting her books away and sliding on her bookbag. “ We could use my discount, that way-”

“Yeah, let's go.” Michael cut in. Grabbing her wrist and not waiting for her answer, he turned and began to swiftly move through the library. He tried not to get excited as Cat uttered a quick ‘cool’ and kept pace with him.

He also tried not to think about how awkwardly he was holding her hand. Everyone in the library was staring, he saw it in his peripheral. It had looked so cool in his brain but now everyone could see how his stupid hand around her wrist slightly resembled him holding his limp-no no no no noooo shut up shut up SHUT UP.

“Blueberry runs out quick.” Michael said, as they both briskly walked. “I went one time at around this hour instead of my usual time and I had to settle for onion, which is gross as shit.” You’re rambling, Old Michael chided. She fucking works there, she doesn’t need a play-by-play of bagel supply issues. Let her say something, idiot! The reason he never noticed her before, it turned out, was that she hadn’t dyed her hair yet. Cat also began to tell him about her history degree. Something about the American Gilded age and how she was deep into research of the British Astors or something. Michael surprisingly found himself not bored. Were her eyes fucking green? Oh, fuck, they were green!

They finally saw the shop in the distance. Right after his anti-onion bagel tirade and her talk of her studies, he set straight into a long-winded verbal onslaught on the statistics of how rare green eyes were. Micheal thought his heart would fall out of his asshole when Cat adjusted their hands so her fingers were laced with his. About halfway through the distance, he had cut in when she mentioned her favorite bagel flavor (pineapple) and talked her ear off the rest of the way about his bagel eating method, insisting on its practicality but really prepping her so that she wouldn’t be horrified when she saw him do it and ditch him like fucking Oliver. She laughed.

“That’s so L.A. of you. New York would hate your fucking guts, though.” she said, with a grin. “Good thing I’m a California girl! I’d rather deal with horrible traffic and scooped bagels than having to fight rats for sidewalk space.”

Right before they got to the doors, Michael went for it. “I’m telling people that you’re my girlfriend.”, he said seriously. She hadn’t run off when he had taken her hand (wrist). She had noticed the Fable stickers on his computer. She had remembered his name after one interaction. The American thing was a slight issue but hey, no one was perfect!

“Cool, because I already told the staff that you were my boyfriend when I took your bag!” Cat responded. “I told them you like to pretend you don’t know me when you get mad and I just play along to pacify you. It was the only way they were comfortable letting me take your bag!”

Be cool! Do not fucking freak out! Act fucking normal! Do NOT scare her away! Say something a fucking weirdo would never in a million years say! Old Michael reminded him.

“Let’s go back to my place after and study some calculus. Your grades in that sound horrendous.” Fucccccck. You just got yourself a girlfriend and this is the shit you respond with?! Old Michael panicked.

Cat smirked. “Only if you promise to fuck me into your mattress after.”

Michael stared at her, almost daring her to say she was kidding. When she didn’t and her gaze briefly dropped to his lips, he abandoned any doubts he had and turned to walk away from the shop, practically dragging Cat with him.

Cat giggled and adjusted herself to clutch at his arm with both hands, her legs and his in perfect sync as they made their way to Michael’s room.

—------------

“What the fuck?” Felix said to Oliver, pointing. Both were sitting on a bench, relaxing a bit before their next class.

“Didn’t he go fucking mental at you the first day? Not to be a dick or anything but is she safe with that guy?”

Oliver followed Felix’s finger and froze.

He gaped at what he saw:

Michael fucking Gavey, math genius slash freak of nature, walking happily with the pretty American girl who had said no to their bar hopping invite just last week. It was definitely surprising, but Oliver was now more determined than ever. If a fucking social reject like Gavey could get what he was after, then someone like himself was sure to have the same luck if he continued to put in the effort.

THE END

#Michael Gavey #Michael Gavey fic #ewanverse #writeblr #Michael Gavey fanfiction #fanfiction #I DID IT I FINISHED IT #*jeb bush voice* please clap #I WAS going to put smut in it but despite some excellent advice i still couldn't do it!#I need to practice more! i really want to write a good fuck one day!#curse my catholic upbringing ugrrrrhhhh #yes this is corny but have you taken into consideration the fact that I DO NOT CARE???#i live life on the cob baby #and if the only way to improve my writing is by embarrassing myself on this hellsite then so fucking BE IT

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enderspawn · 1 year

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theres this fic idea i’ve been thinking of for a long while now (honestly i've had this specific post drafted since may of this year, so maybe since january or so) and want to eventually write one day, but if im being honesty with myself i'm not sure if i ever will, so im at least putting it out there now.

its a chip analysis piece (likely in some kind of 5+1 format, primarily from jay’s POV) specifically between chip and his relationship with food. the simple fact he’s always been this scrawny malnourished street kid when growing up outside of the black rose means a lot to me, and it would likely cause a lot of habits or behaviors the others wouldnt have or possibly even understand to begin with which would be a fun thing to explore and how it can reveal more abt him.

scenes/topics that would be Covered will be under cut

1 ---

the first thing that immediately comes to mind is an analysis and expansion upon his canon interactions with food in canon, such as the bag of chip’s jay gives him on loffinlot or the cinnamon roll incident

for one, the fact that jay carries snacks at all is kind of indicative and would likely be the focus. use jay's pov to explain how she’s learned to bring snacks on adventures since teaming with chip (likely with comments being somewhat snide or huffy about it, or comparing him to a child demanding/needing a snack, since they are still kind of strangers and she doesn’t know much about chip).

(if desired, it could also expand on how he fuckin’ made that small bag of chips last so long. yes the true answer is “because it was funny” but like… rationing behavior? jay might make an absent note of it (due to her observant feat), but wouldn’t likely extrapolate further at the time. also may be cut entirely for messing with story flow too much to include as a detail.)

the cinnamon roll scene is… listen he literally tried to share food with someone and broke down crying doing so because he loves them and wants to share that. obvious example of using food as a language for love and appreciation (which, again, takes on another level when you remember he comes from a food-scarce background). like thats just a thing that happened i don’t care if it was a goof that’s just canon. bite me.

2 ---

observation of chip having "weird" behaviors with food. these include having a seemingly massive appetite and being sure to always clean his plate (you don’t turn down access to food and you take what you can in case you can’t do it again soon.)

but also: as part of chip kind of projecting onto ollie, he’s always trying to pawn more food onto ollie’s plate. sometimes it’s as subtle as saying he’s “not hungry anymore” and scrapping whats left to ollie (which would catch jay’s eye because previously he’s always finished his plate even when full and clues her in) to as obvious as literally giving him more and saying he needs to eat more.

both the above points would be stuff jay would 1. spot and 2. actually take note of/care about, around after desire island or so.

3 ---

immediately after leaving allport, i think seeing reuben would bring back a bunch of chip's old habits and cause him to backslide a bit. after all, even if they were a “family”, they were also still a gang of street rats. on instinct, he would end up showing a lot of food guarding habits (being overly protective of people taking it, hiding food in a stash, etc). he likely also had these habits for a while after joining with jay and gillion, but after episode 16 when they started slowly getting closer the habits faded because he knew he could trust them.

4 ---

this is such a minor point in comparison to the rest of this list but i can see it so clearly in my brain. chip has an apple (likely stolen tbh) and he takes a bite out of it and leans against a wall. jay either makes a snide comment towards him about it or just snorts or something, prompting chip to hold it up towards her and go “you want some?” in a snarky way (speaking with his mouth full all the while).

jay rolls her eyes and says yes and gets startled when chip actually throws her the apple. she yelps, catching it, then throws it back immediately while yelling something like “ew, no, you took a bite of it already! i was kidding! gross!” chip feigns being wounded and retorts with something like “and here i was willing to expose myself to your stink getting on my apple–” and cue bickering between them about cooties.

he just straight up was willing to share the apple, thoughts abt "the fact he already bit into it" don’t register for him bc its such a non-issue in his mind. he offers to share about any food he has/makes because its a silent way to show he cares. i don’t think he’s fully conscious of that fact though. in general i think chip responds a lot better to subtle actions showing love than words of love and this is just another example of that from him

(following this is likely where cinnamon roll scene would go in the fic, both timeline-wise and thematically, since this section is focused more or less on "sharing your food as a sign of love")

5 ---

this next section would be the most plot heavy or traditional “fic” affair, in that it’s not solely fluff padding/analysis and has some original storybits.

the crew would be stranded on an island. i don’t know how exactly, but the key parts is that they don’t have their ship, there’s no one else on the island, and they have limited resources/rations. presumably they know rescue is coming, but ideally they don’t know exactly when (for drama purposes, as well as to make proper rationing out supplies p much impossible). perhaps the grandberry crew is on their way to save them, but they ended up on this island after a storm and don’t know where they are to point the grandberry pirates to. something like that.

actually, this plays out very similarly to the ollie part as detailed earlier, but to the left. as the crew starts to struggle with rations, chip would start (subtly when possible) start giving up his own portions. either by feigning lack of appetite, persuasion, deception, etc. the closest he comes to stating the truth would be when someone (likely ollie) asks if he’ll be okay going without his portion and chip shrugs then leans back on his elbows with a smirk and goes “nah, i’m used to it anyway.”

this is when the rest of the crew also starts to pick up on chip’s behaviors, to the point it becomes a bit of an unspoken secret they don’t want to dig into. previously, and the reason the entire fic is from Jay's POV, shes been the only one observant enough to take notice off all these traits. this is when it becomes So obvious everyone notices it.

6 ---

preferably, near the beginning of the story (likely after the chip bag incident, but before jay starts noticing all of chip’s behaviors, so that she cares for him more than she’s annoyed by him but hasn't put together any real dots-- between section 1 and 2), there would be a section where chip is mocked for his short height (as the shortest of the crew, at around 5’4) and being VERY easy for gillion to carry.

then, after the island section (section 5), there would be another part where chip’s height and weight are commented on. i'm undecided if this would be another light hearted goof scene or a more “dramatic” serious scene (which if it was it would likely be tied to the island incident. maybe an injury or argument or something?).

either way, it happens because jay ends up lifting/carrying chip. jay “8 in strength” ferin. he’s just fuckin light. afterwards, chip would explain saying something like “its not my fault! cause like– outside of arlin, i was kind of a street rat growing up, yknow? they arent particularly known for having a stable food situation, didn’t get all the nutrients and junk you need to grow tall”. it starts as a joke and a kind of light-hearted ribbing defense, but kind of sobers up in that melancholic-nostalgic way by the end.

it’s the first time he directly states anything abt his upbringing and food to his crew, but its a confirmation. well, its a confirmation for jay. everyone else definitely knew something was going on, but jay is the one who is able to connect all the pieces bc she’s the only one whos noticed all the other pieces. she gets the Whole Picture of how his childhood and upbringing caused all these behaviors and kind of what they imply abt chip's behavior now (like the food sharing as love, smothering ollie, etc)

+ 1 ---

for a cheesy ending bonus, have jay use a mix of chip’s anecdotes abt the black rose and drey’s shaky memory to try and cook up a meal he used to have there. (for bonus, if desired she could reach out to lizzie too since lizzie lived with the old chef shay).

depending on author preference, either its good and chip cries because of the ~*memories*~ and the fact they cared enough, or it’s comically awful and not much at all like the original but the sole fact that they went out of their way to very obviously try SO hard to surprise him with this because they thought it would make him happy (as well as trying to speak to him in his own love language) makes him cry about it anyway.

(again, chip responds better to acts of love than words-- having his crew not only notice this abt him, but then do something to try and show that love hits him way harder than anything else could)

#jrwi #jrwi riptide #riptide #chip #ive sat on this for So long please acknowledge me JFKDLSJFKL #also i know i said i want to write it and i. still do!#but like. idk man. if anyone else gets inspired from this you can at least Ask if you can and you might get a yes. it depends fjdskflj #fanfic #(jeb bush voice) please clap #the. the fuckin acts of service post from hours ago caused this to ricochet back into my brain #and i want it Out please i need to read about contract law rn sir plea--#anyway. ''heres a fic idea i have'' my brother in christ the post is 1.7k #jrwi spoilers

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