#For an exceptionally good look of a change of perspective fuckin with you real bad please see: Atticus LaPorte of the Rose&Laporte series

[belethlegwen]

What is a niche aspect of G/t that you dearly love that you don't get a chance to really talk about?

How it reflects on self-image.

I think that's the niche one that I don't talk about enough, though I bring it up a little bit in my works. The idea that, particularly in most media where you aren't used to being at the perspective you're suddenly in (you're small around people who are bigger, or big around people who are smaller, and it's something you've either never experienced before or haven't experienced much) how that will change how you see yourself.

Melanie in The Rescue for example has existing concerns about her appearance and how people see her to begin with, and that becomes wildly amplified when someone small is nearby. She covers her mouth while she's eating, she tries to keep her head and face pointed up and away when she's feeling extremely self-conscious.

If you hate the idea of constantly being noticed, judged, critiqued, scrutinized, etcetera, then suddenly being a Giant to someone else/other people has to be fucking hell. Any issues you have with your self-image normally aren't exactly put aside when your face is the size of a movie-screen and you know people's eyes don't usually come with those lovely hollywood-glam filters they put over actors in film.

As a Giant are you now more worried about being in the way? About being a problem for people? About causing damage or harm accidentally? Or are you being pressured to do more, be more simply because of how other people see you?

On the flip-side of that, if you're suddenly small, do you feel much more vulnerable? Do you feel like you're under significantly more threat? Have you lost a feeling of control that you desperately needed to keep a sensation of being safe?

Do you feel disposable? Do you feel useless? Are you more of a burden now than you were before, so reliant on others in a world that isn't built to help you? That might not feel like it's even interested in helping you?

Do you feel invisible? Easily forgotten? If you were used to being the center of attention before, does this absolutely shatter that or suddenly make that lifestyle feel like a waking nightmare? \

Do you feel like you're not enough?

If you were having those issues and feelings before, how are they amplified or changed now? How are they messed with, skewed, possibly erased in some cases?

I try to bring a good bit of these perspectives into my writing where I can, but it can be exhaustingly introspective and feel extremely heavy both to read and to write, but I can't say that I'm not fascinated by it.

Thank you so much for the ask, love! <3

#asks and answers #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t author #g/t writing #gtauthor #author thoughts #gt #big little thoughts #g/t community #sfw g/t #size difference #For an exceptionally good look of a change of perspective fuckin with you real bad please see: Atticus LaPorte of the Rose&Laporte series #adjacentperception's Rose & Laporte directory is full of Small Man Big Struggle in this regard and I really absolutely get lost deep in it #I feel bad enough about blemishes and pimples and the like NOW #if I was big? #Hell on earth my man #Fo real

[tcswritings]

Of porch swings and trampled flowers. (rewritten scene/WIP)

It has been two rather weird months for Orla and Mick and both are trying to make up their minds about that new unspoken thing between them while they’re also trying to have a great time at their friend’s birthday party.

(TW: several mentions of very! irresponsible alcohol abuse)

******

It was only nine thirty in the evening but the party was in full swing already. Orla O’Connell made one careful step after the other through the room full of people and eventually the narrow hallway, balancing some empty glasses on a tablet, hoping that she would get them to the kitchen safely and she was relieved when she saw Damien waiting for her.

“Made it!” she laughed. “There you go, quite a big haul, eh?”

“Ah! You’re a gem!” Damien said, taking the tablet from her. “I dunno, man. Was ‘Please put your empty glasses back in the kitchen!’ too much to ask?”

“I guess, yeah. People be people.” Orla shrugged and followed her friend into the kitchen. “Are you enjoying your party?”

“Yeah, it’s been great so far! Best thing is that I saw about ten people already whom I have never met before.”

Orla laughed and she gave Damien a little pat on his shoulder. “That’s amazing, your reputation precedes you!”

“Heh!” Damien laughed. “What reputation are you even talkin’ about?” He placed the tablet next to the sink and started putting the glasses into the dishwasher.

“That you throw great parties?”

“Aw, you’re cute! However, that would rather be Mick, not me, eh?”

Orla could suddenly feel her heart beating a little faster and she tried her best to hide her excitement about the mention of Mick’s name. She merely bit her lip and nodded and let out a little laugh, doing her best to look and act entirely casual. She knew she was being silly - it was nearly impossible for Damien to have the slightest idea about her feelings, as it was for everyone else.

“Have you seen him, by the way? I know he’s here but he kinda just showed up, said hi and I haven’t seen him ever since and... ”

Orla didn’t answer. She had just stopped listening as her thoughts started wandering off like they had so often in the recent past. Her feelings for Mick had changed a little over two months ago - at the New Year’s party, to be exact. Something had happened between them that evening. Well, at least something had happened with her. Orla hadn’t been able to figure out where exactly it came from; all she knew was that there had suddenly been a moment when, for some inexplicable reason, she had the strong desire to kiss her friend.

Orla remembered the moment well - they had sat in a round with some others and everyone laughed about a little anecdote that one of their friends had just told and Orla and Mick had looked at each other for a few moments, and she had been entirely startled by her own thoughts and she couldn’t help but feel that he had noticed and maybe even felt the same.

There was the catch, though: Orla had no idea at all if Mick felt the same. There had been times when she was almost certain that he did and there had also been times when she was certain that she was merely imagining things. There had also been times when she questioned her own feelings, when she asked herself whether she was maybe just particularly fond of the idea of him and her together, that her feelings weren’t real and that she was just projecting. She had always thought of Mick as exceptionally good-looking after all. He was also cute and surprisingly sensitive, and while he could be a handful (and there was just no way around admitting that) he was always very gentle with her. A gal can get carried away so easily. Especially this gal. Orla was more than aware of her tendency to crush on every handsome lad that would cross her way and she could usually shrug those moments off with a smile.

This whole situation felt different, though, and no matter from which perspective she tried to look at it - something had definitely changed. She could no longer be in the same room with Mick without feeling like she did and she figured that it was about time to do something about it albeit she still had no idea what that something could be. She could feel frustration rise up every so often and she was afraid that this weird state would somehow affect their friendship in the long run. Whatever the outcome may be, she needed to put an end to her pathetic secret pining... although she really preferred the outcome in which he would just smile at her and bend down so their faces would be close and-

“Orla?” Damien asked, gently poking her shoulder. “Hey, you still there?”

Startled, she turned her head. Oh. “Hm?”

“Where have you been?” Damien asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uhm, sorry, kinda just drifted off for a sec. What is it?”

“Have you seen Mick?” Damien repeated his question. “I’m wondering where he went and you guys usually stick together and-”

“We do?!” Orla’s eyes went wide. “Is that what you-? Erm, I mean- I dunno where he is. Sorry. Haven’t seen him.” she said quickly and after a few moments she added “Probably somewhere outside with Declan, Ryan and Daryl. Doing something stupid, as usual.”

Damien gave her a weird look. “Okay then?” he mumbled. “Guess he’ll show up sooner or later, eh? Well, anyway, thanks for getting me those glasses back.”

“Any time. Let’s just try and make sure those idiots out there don’t wreck your entire house. And hey, my offer still counts. If you need help cleaning up tomorrow just gimme a honk, right?”

“Aw, you’re the best. It’s fine, though, my parents are only coming back in a week and Jake and Jessie already promised to help. You just go and have fun! Hey, we’re gonna have a drink and a chat later, eh?”

“You bet we are!” Orla grinned, hoping that her little awkward moment would quickly slip Damien’s mind again. “I’m gonna have a stroll ‘round the house. Just yell ‘GIN TONIC!’, and I’ll be right with you!”

“Attagirl.”

*****

It was rather unusual that Mick would disappear from a friend’s party just like that and as she left the kitchen, Orla had already made the decision to look for him. She let her eyes wander around as she walked through the rooms but there was no sight of her friend. Not anywhere. It was rather impossible to oversee him after all so it seemed that he really wasn’t here and Orla began to feel really sad and disappointed.

Could it be that he had left already? That short after he showed up, just like that, without saying goodbye?

‘Nah, he wouldn’t.’ she thought to herself, and when she came back to the hallway once more from what felt like her fifth round around the house, she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, huffing in frustration. There they were again - the doubts. The self-consciousness. The insecurity.

There was still a chance that Mick was simply avoiding her after all. Maybe he had somehow sensed her feelings. He was good at perceiving moods and other little things and as much as she cringed at the thought - it was most certainly a possibility. Maybe the thought of being with her had put him off so bad that he could no longer stand being around her. Orla let out another heavy-hearted sigh as a loud and familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“ORLA! Oh god, there you are! Get your phone ready, this is gonna be fun!” Declan called, jogging across the hallway over to her. He was a bit out of breath and needed a moment to rest, leaning against the wall by putting his hand to it and taking a deep breath before he went on. “Do us all a favour and film this. It’s grand, it’s shocking-”

“What is it?!” Orla batted Declan’s hands away as he started fumbling around with her handbag.

“Daryl just ate half a fuckin’ glass of Russian Pickled Cherries!” he told her, slightly appalled because she wasn’t as excited about that fact as he was.

“Ew, what?”

“And now he’s about to drown a bottle of whiskey for good measure. It’s gonna be so much fun, just come!” Declan took his sister by her shoulders now and pushed her through the hallway towards the living room.

“Not again! I can’t believe you guys still encourage him to do that shit, y’know, considering-“

“Aw, we’ll look after him, as usual.”

“One day, one o’ your stupid little ‘jokes’ will go wrong and put his life in-”

“I said we’ll look after him.” Declan interrupted. “We always do.”

Orla sighed. “And why can’t you use your own phone?”

“Dunno where it is, left it somewhere, just come on now! To the living room!”

“Why can’t you ever look after your things-”

“Now come!”

Just as she was about to protest some more, Orla gave it a second thought. Her little remark to Damien earlier didn’t come out of nowhere after all - if there was anything remotely stupid happening, Mick usually wasn’t far away and Daryl McKenna’s next attempt at drowning an entire bottle of whiskey while everyone was cheering for him was the epitome of stupid and while she didn’t enjoy the thought of it (or better said, the thought of what was bound to happen about half an hour later), Mick most certainly would.

The thought gave her hope. He had probably spent the last thirty minutes with Declan and Daryl and she was certain that she would eventually spot his face among the others in the living room. There was no way Mick O’Loughlin would miss a friend making a fool of themselves.

“Alright, alright, just get your hands off me already!” Orla hissed and freed herself from her brother’s grip. She eventually followed him back to the living room and she found that Declan hadn’t promised too much: most of the guests were already looking expectantly at the slightly chubby guy with the horn-rimmed glasses and the long and tousled red mane in the middle of the room, holding a bottle containing a clear golden liquid into the air. Daryl was putting on a little show, as usual, and even Orla couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him. Daryl had a good portion of charisma, she had to give him that. He knew how to entertain people, it was something he had in common with her brother.

Among the watchers was also Damien, of course, apparently torn between amusement and concern. “My parents just refurnished this room so if you gotta puke, do it outside!” he called but Daryl merely laughed his remark off.

“Get your phone out already!” Declan urged, pushing Orla a little further into the room. She rolled her eyes and pulled her phone out of her handbag, unlocking it and handing it to her brother.

“Here. Do it yourself if it’s that important to you! And don’t you dare losing or breaking it!”

“Neat!” Declan beamed as he took the phone and Orla took the opportunity to  look around the room again.

There were many familiar faces but she still couldn’t spot the face she was looking for. ‘How can that be? He must be here!’ she thought, and she felt her body becoming tense.

As Daryl did his thing, the crowd cheered, as excpected, and Orla watched him with a mix of disgust, concern and also deep respect for a few moments. She smirked, as she knew he would never make it. Drowning a bottle of whiskey without facing the worst consequences was nearly impossible for anyone and not even Daryl was careless enough to take a risk like that. He would give up soon, she knew him well enough and he had done it like that before. He was usually all hot air with nothing behind it, he would pretend to have a coughing fit or something and he would put the bottle down, leave the room in a hurry and hope for the best.

At some point Orla didn’t feel like watching any longer and she certainly didn’t feel cheerful either.

“I’m out of here!” she called and patted her brother’s shoulder but Declan didn’t even take notice of her as he was concentrating on capturing the rather disturbing scene on film, probably already thinking of ways to make it go viral and Orla scoffed before making her way out of the room.

She eventually found herself back in the large kitchen. Damien had switched the lights off and Orla could now see all the little lights outside in the garden that lit the way to the Callaghan’s back porch.

Perfect. A little bit of fresh air, a smoke and some solitude would certainly help her to feel more relaxed again. She took another can of beer from the freezer, carefully opened the glass door and stepped outside, taking a deep breath. It was surprisingly warm for an evening in March and Orla strolled along the way to the back porch, enjoying the little rush of fresh air and as she gazed into the clear sky, she couldn’t help but smile at the twinkling stars.

The porch was lit by a few lights on the ground. As soon as she reached it, Orla could hear a faint creak and she drew her eyebrows together in confusion but when she saw what, or better said, who had caused the noise, she let out a surprised laugh.

*****

“There you are!”

Mick O’Loughlin sat on the porch swing all by himself, slowly moving it back and forth with his legs. When he heard Orla talk, he looked up but his expression was difficult to read. He didn’t say anything and merely shrugged.

“You’re missing all the action, y’know.” Orla tried again after a few moments.

“What action?”

“Daryl emptied an entire glass of Russian Pickled Cherries and now he’s attempting to drown an entire bottle of whiskey.”

“Again?”

“He’s Daryl. We always knew he’d try it again at some point.”

“True. He’s stupid.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Silence.

“What’s it with you today?” Orla eventually asked, moving a little closer to the porch.

“Nothin’.”

“You been sitting here all night or what?”

“Kind of.”

Mick still didn’t really look at her and Orla felt the frustration rising inside her again. She began to worry whether he even wanted her around.

“I brought beer! Can I sit with you for a bit? Or do you want me to go?”

“Mh-mh.” Mick shook his head.

"You don’t want me to sit?” Orla asked carefully. He was obviously in one of his weird moods.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Orla smiled and instantly felt a little better.

“Okay then. Move over.”

At least he could stand being around her so his mood probably wasn’t about her. She stepped on the porch and sat down next to him, looking at his profile for a few moments. Still curious about what had caused his mood, she took the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.

Together they moved the swing back and forth in silence a few times before Orla dared to speak again.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, her voice soft now.

“Nothin’.”

“It ain’t nothing! I’ve known you since forever, don’t you forget that?”

“Just not really in a party mood, I guess.” he sighed.

“You’re still here, though. What’s keeping you from going home if you’re not feelin’ it?”

Mick now looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and Orla facepalmed herself in her thoughts. “I mean, I don’t want you to go, of course, but, I mean, you could?” After a few moments she added: “I’m sure everyone would understand.”

Again, silence.

“Hey, I’m worried. You’re being weird!”

Still no answer.

“Come on, you gotta give me something to work with, Mick!” Orla now cried out impatiently, half-amused, half-desperate.

Mick now groaned and leaned back, stretching out his long legs. “It’s nothing!” he insisted and snatched his cigarette back from Orla’s hands, taking one last drag before flicking it away.

“I don’t believe you! You’re so bad at lying, it’s ridiculous!”

“Well, fine, there’s somethin’ but I dun’ - I mean. I dunno how t’ bring it up without soundin’ like a total fucktard.”

‘Fine, we’re making progress’, Orla thought. “Hey, you’re talkin’ to me and you never cared about that before. Speaking fucktard is what we do, it’s our thing!” she laughed.

“Not this time, though.”

“Why not? Just tell me what’s wrong, please!” she pleaded again, starting to feel really worried.

“ Orla, I- god, it’s so stupid.” Finally, he looked into her face. “Did I, like... do anythin’? Have I somehow pissed y’ off or so? Have ya been avoidin’ me?”

Orla frowned. The question took her by surprise. “What? What makes you think so?”

“I dunno either, it’s just -” Mick bit his lip. “I dunno, I feel y’ have been tryin’ to avoid me.”

“Wha- no. What? No! No, I-” Orla stammered. This conversation had just taken an unexpected turn. “To be honest, I was- I was wondering the same. About you, I mean. That you’ve been avoidin’ me! At least sometimes.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Well, why would I?”

They looked at each other for a few moments, dumbstruck, and Orla’s heart started beating faster again. She still didn’t know what to make of this moment but at least it seemed that she hadn’t been the only one noticing that something was very, very different.

“I dunno.” Mick sighed, looking back to his hands in his lap. “Shit’s been hella weird since New Year. Right? Tell me I’m not just seein’ things, please.”

Alright. Now was the moment. Orla felt an odd rush of relief washing over her and she moved a little closer - no matter what, they would settle this now and she would finally be able to move on.

At least that was what she hoped.

“You’re not seeing things.” she admitted. “I dunno either but... oh lord.”

Orla looked into Mick’s eyes. The porch was lit just enough so she could see a little spark in them and her little wave of relief instantly faded and the sheer nervousness was back.

This was probably the hardest thing she would ever have to do.

She took another deep breath. “I’ve been... getting lost in thoughts every now and then, y’know. About you. And me. And what I would like to do but... can’t because I’m an anxious wimp.”

“Thoughts? Y' mean... ?” he asked, surprised, but otherwise his expression was once again hard to read.

“Ugh, I don’t know, okay? I just- I’ve been wondering if we could maybe- I don’t know.” Orla looked away again and closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking. No, her entire body was shaking. She was really close to having a panic attack now and, all of a sudden, the prospect of a few more months filled with secret pining wasn’t all too bad.

This particular moment had been so much easier in all her wild theories. Also, much more elegant. She felt like an idiot - this was huge and she didn’t feel ready at all. “Just forget about it, okay? Maybe we should just go back inside and see what-”

She stopped mid-sentence because Mick had just reached over and taken one of her hands in his, intertwining his fingers with hers. Her heart skipped a beat.

Oh my god! she thought. What is happening? Is this really happening?

“If I’m guessin’ right now, well.” he shrugged. “I’ve been a fuckin’ wimp, too.”

“How can you be so cool and calm about all this?” Orla gasped, still not believing that this was actually happening.

Mick now let out a laugh, sounding baffled. “Wow, what? I’m not. It’s just- it kinda makes sense now, doesn’t it?” He gently brushed her thumb with his and squeezed her hand gently.

Orla closed her eyes again, breathing in and enjoying the affectionate little gesture. This was all new territory now. It didn’t even feel wrong. In fact, it felt very, very right.

“So I take it you’ve been, well... wondering, too?”

“Aye, I’ve been wonderin’.”

Could it really be this easy? Was this really the way to solve the issue? Shouldn’t there be more talking and elaborating? A battle plan or maybe at least a little bit more of thinking it through?

“I still don’t know if this- if we- if this is a good idea.” Orla stammered. “We’ve been friends for so long now, don‘t you think it’s weird? At least a little bit?”

Mick shrugged before he eventually tilted down his head a little, leaning in for a much anticipated kiss and although her heart (and lips) had been longing for this moment for weeks now, Orla wasn’t quite convinced yet.

“What if this goes wrong? I couldn’t stand to lose-” she breathed out but as her lips accidentally brushed his now, she was unable to go on. Her eyes were still closed and her lips slightly parted.

“Why would it go wrong?” he murmured back, putting his free hand to the back of her neck, gently tickling it. “Please dun’ leave me hangin’ now.”

Orla let out a funny little whimper, somewhere between fear and excitement. She knew there was no going back now anyway, too much had happened between them within the last five minutes alone, and so she finally let it happen.

The kiss was everything she had hoped it would be and more; sweet and full of longing and it tasted like so much more and she could feel an entire army of butterflies going wild in her stomach and after a little while, Orla drew back her hand that was still in his, reaching up and cradling his face in both of her hands now, losing herself in the bliss of the moment.

When they broke apart, only a few inches, after what felt like five hours later, merely to catch some air and not actually letting go of each other, Orla chuckled, playing with Mick’s hair at the back of his head. “Shouldn’t we go back inside?” she managed to say, her breath shaking and her heart still beating fast.

“Ya wanna go back inside?” he murmured against the side of her neck, nuzzling it, sending a tingling sensation down her spine.

“If you keep doing this, I’d rather drag you into that garden shed over there and do a little more to you than this.” she gasped.

“Temptin’.” Mick smiled against her skin as he proceeded to gently tilting up her chin, giving her another kiss and biting her lower lip.

‘Holy shit, where did he learn that?!’ Orla thought to herself, eventually pulling him into another kiss, a rather hot one this time. Her hand crept under his shirt and when he didn’t object (not that she expected him to), she let the other one follow, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her.

“Damien already asked about you.” Orla murmured after another little while, in between heated kisses.

Mick eventually pulled away and looked at her in disbelief. “What? We’re kinda in the middle of somethin’ here and y' think about Damien?”

“Nah, I just- it’s kinda rude, isn’t it?” Orla shrugged, biting her lip now. “He’s our friend and it’s not even close to midnight and we’re party guests after all... I dunno, I think we’re being rude.”

“Eh, so I guess that means ‘Bye bye, garden shed.’” Mick moaned in utter dismay, leaning against the backrest of the swing again and letting out a dramatic little sigh, but Orla knew he was only mocking her.

“You’re a horrible person, O’Loughlin. Alright, five more minutes. Go!” she encouraged him, making a little gesture with her hands that told him to come closer again.

“Naw, y' can’t just switch me on and off and on again, like fuckin’ television?”

“Why are you being weird now? Just do what I say for once?” Orla reached for his face again, cackling and trying to pull him close.

Mick chimed in laughing now, pulling away from her as far as he could. “I’m a human being, I have feelings!”

“Stop fighting and. Make. Out. With me. NOW!” she urged, laughing and making a silly kissy face at him. “I know you wanna! MWAH!”

“Not when ya make that face!” Mick now tried to push her face away with one hand (as carefully as he could, of course - he didn’t want to hurt her after all).

“You’re terrible, I hate you!” Orla giggled.

“Naw, ya don’t- OW, fuck OFF!” Mick cried out and swiftly pulled his hand away from Orla’s face - she had just bitten his thumb. He looked at his hand and then back at Orla, eyes wide in shock.

“That’s what you get for being like this, arsehole? You can’t win this anyway, just give in to me and my charming advances.”

“Tsk.” Mick scoffed but he was all too happy to oblige. Orla scooted closer, pulling him into another kiss, sweet and gentle again and she wondered why she even brought up the idea of going back inside and joining the party again - she didn’t really feel like it after all.

Just five more minutes. she thought. Maybe ten. Maybe sixty.

Just as she was getting lost in the moment again, a loud noise pierced the air. The sound of what appeared to be shattering pottery had both of them jump apart in shock but that alone was nothing compared to the following howling of some very familiar voices and both Orla and Mick looked over to where the noises were coming from.

“AYYEE, SORRY BUD. Didn’ see ye over there, man!” Daryl cried out, failing to supress a laugh.

“YOU BROKE A POT!” Ryan Boone, Daryl’s best friend, stated the obvious.

“SHHHH I KNOooOOoooOW!” Daryl hissed, still not able to stop his giggling. “We can’t let Damien know, he’ll be MAD!”

Orla and Mick looked at each other. As much as both would’ve loved to keep their moment up - the mood was definitely ruined for now.

“I dunno know about you, but I really dun’ need these two idiots seein’ us like this.” Mick mumbled, biting his lip.

“Me neither.” Orla sighed. “Okay, you go and look what those morons are doing over there and I sneak my way around the bushes and pretend to come out of the house, how’s that?”

“Sounds good.” Mick agreed and as Orla was about to get up, he held her back. “Eh, Orla?”

“Mh?”

 “One for the road.” He pulled her down into one last kiss. It may have been the shortest of the few they had shared until now, but it was the one that almost knocked Orla off her feet and left her breathless and dizzy and for a second, the garden shed option came back to her mind but she did her best to brush it off. Not now. It was all going so fast and while she hated the interruption, she decided to take the chance to recollect herself a little. Couldn’t hurt.

“Now go, I see ya in a minute.” Mick stood up and gave her one last smile before he darted around the corner.

*****

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, man?” Mick called at his two friends as he stepped around the corner.

“HE’S ALIVE!” Daryl roared as he recognised the tall and slim figure walking their way. He stumbled towards his friend, arms wide open.

“No, Daryl, NO, you’re too drunk to walk, come back!” Ryan called after his friend. “Oh my god, just listen for once. Seriously, though, Mick, where have you been?”

“Didn’t feel well, needed a minute.” Mick answered as Daryl flung his arms around him. “So I heard ya did the whiskey thing again, how’d that go for ya?”

“He’s drunk and broke a pot.” Ryan pointed at the pile of fragments to his feet.

“YeahIdid.” Daryl slurred, eyes closed, quite obviously not feeling all too well.

Looking at the mess at Ryan’s feet, Mick bit his lip, now dragging the drunk Daryl with him who was still clinging firmly to his waist. “Yeah, you did.”

“I didn’ meanto...” Daryl murmured, apparently having a hard time to stand on his feet.

Mick patted his head a little, trying his best not to laugh. “Naw, ‘course not.”

“What’s going on here, guys?” a familiar female voice called from across the lawn. Orla quickly walked over to the three of them, her eyes narrow in confusion. She looked at the scene, putting her hands to her waist and letting out a sigh.

“Daryl’s drunk, Ryan’s desperate and that pot down ‘ere is fucked.” Mick curtly explained the situation to her. He couldn’t help himself - he flashed her a little smile which she returned. It’s not like Ryan or Daryl had any clue about what had happened between them just a few minutes ago.

Orla felt it would be wiser to get back to acting like nothing happened, though, so she regained her posture and when she looked around the garden, something else caught her attention. “Oh NO, Daryl, you trampled all the flowers!” she cried. “Damien will be pissed, why do you always make such a huge mess wherever you go?”

“Idin’meanto!” Daryl whined. Apparently he had just reached the stage in which he could merely let out weird noises.

Orla sighed. “Declan’s drunk as well. I don’t know how he did it within the short time I let him out of sight but he’s singin’ along to Queen with Jessie-”

“DECLAN! I’M COMIN’!” Daryl suddenly cried out, eventually letting go of Mick and stumbling towards the house with flailing arms. He looked hilarious.

“Daryl!” Ryan called after him again in despair. “Watch out- ah, fuck it, you never listen anyway.” He looked at Mick and then at Orla, and his face lit up as he took a giant step over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You look ravishing as usual, Miss O’Connell. You’re free tonight?!”

“What-” Orla grimaced but Mick already stepped in.

“Alright, time to get back in and take care of Daryl and Declan!” he said firmly, squeezing himself between the two, putting an arm around each of them. “C’mon, let’s go! Go!”

And as they made their way back to the like that, Orla couldn’t help herself. To let him know that their moment wasn’t over just yet, she slid her hand into the back pocket of Mick’s jeans. He didn‘t look at her but she could see him smile and as she felt his finger brushing the side of her neck she was certain that the remainder of this evening was going to be just grand.

*****

“So, Damien and I put Daryl into the guest room. He’s sound asleep.” Mick told Orla as he took her by her upper arm, guiding her around the corner into the kitchen.

“Thank god.” Orla sighed. “He should really stop acting like that.”

“Aye, he should, but what can ya do. Any news from Declan?”

“Well, Jessie said he’s cradling his Jameson and has regressed to some weird toddler state. He squeaks and cries any time someone tries to take his bottle away.”

Mick closed his eyes and bit his lip as he tried not to laugh. “Beautiful.”

“However, I regret to inform you that Ryan and Jessie have now claimed the garden.” Orla sighed. “I don’t know what exactly they’re doing over there but it looked like some sort of a séance or so. They’re whispering really weird incantations together.”

“What the hell?”

“Just... don’t ask.” Orla shook her head.

“Jessie’s so cute when she’s drunk.”

“I know, right?” Orla laughed and she looked back up to Mick again. “Well. I’d love to pick up where we left off earlier but all the rooms are full of people.”

“Yeah. Ya never know who’s watchin’.”

“The kitchen is empty, though.” Orla smiled. She looked down and up again, taking the chance to grab Mick by his belt and dragging him further into the kitchen.

He played along and followed her with a little smirk but nodded at the glass door, towards the garden where Jessie and Ryan were currently having what looked like a serious laughing fit. “What about those two out there?”

“Ah, they’re busy necromancing.” Orla shrugged, letting her hands wander up his chest before standing up on her tiptoes and putting her arms around his neck.

“They could still see us?” Mick noted but he found himself not really caring that much as he pulled Orla a little closer now.

“The kitchen light is off and hey, if they should see anything, we can still tell them that they’ve been seeing ghosts.”

“Hm!” That was enough for an answer and Mick threw his doubts overboard with a little shrug before he smiled and bent down to kiss Orla once more and just before the two could get lost in the moment again, they heard someone howl nearby.

“WOW, it’s dark in here!” a female voice cried.

Orla and Mick jumped apart again, quick enough before the intruder turned on the light, both letting out a faint-but-exasperated groan.

“Oh my god...” Mick moaned and he and Orla both shielded their eyes from the light. “What the fuck, who are you?”

The girl let out a stupid laugh. “I’m Linda. I’m Damien’s classmate. And yoouu... are incredibly cute. A little rude, but cute.” Linda slurred as she made a step towards Mick, who merely frowned and backed away.

“And you and I need to leave,” Orla interrupted her. “You’re drunk and you should sit.” she added, trying to put on her nicest smile as she grabbed Linda by her shoulders, pretending that she was just a gal worried about another gal in solidarity. As she guided the girl out of the kitchen, she turned around to Mick who merely put on a slightly disgruntled expression that told her “Go off, it’s fine.” before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Orla tried to mouth the words “I’ll be right back!” at him but when Linda made a weird retching noise, she made a face in disgust, “Eugh.”,  and darted out of the kitchen to the next loo as quickly as she could, pulling the drunk girl with her.

*****

“Alright, I guess she’s fine, I put her into the room where Daryl is and-” Orla looked around the kitchen that was still lit but Mick was no longer there.

“Shit.” she grumbled as she let her shoulders drop in frustration, putting her hands to her hips and pressing her lips into a thin line. The Callaghans had a large house and yet it was practically impossible for two people finding some privacy.

“Damn you, Linda.” Orla muttered and she turned off the light as she left the kitchen, eager to look for Mick a second time this evening.

*****

(to be continued)

#orla #mick #orla x mick #made some minor edits and will maybe do some more later once I'm home #god I love my idiots so much lol #I could write six books about them and the side idiots alone