#In London tomorrow for the day before our flight home - where I will resume to panic over my assignment due Wednesday:-)

[fangirl-writes]

Home Sick

70s!Roger x Reader x Ben

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of sex, Roger being a little shit

Notes: How does this universe work, you ask. Shhhh, I tell you, just let us live in fantasy land. Aka I watched BoRhap again and I'm a sucker for Rog and Ben. Also very inspired by @strangeandwonderfulconcepts​ ‘s versions of this couple. I feel like it’s kind of all over the place, though.

Summary: Ben's away for filming and you're left at home with Roger who's working on Queen's new album and annoying you.

“Roger Taylor, I swear to God!”

Ben bit his lip as a smile spread across his lips, trying not to laugh at your outburst. He was sat in his hotel room, phone pressed to his ear, enjoying the small amount of downtime he had before filming resumed the next day. “What’s he done now?”

“He keeps poking me in the ass with his drumsticks. Oh!” You (who was back at Roger’s mansion in Surrey) cried out again. “Roger I will throw this lamp at you!”

Ben heard Roger’s muffled reply in the background. He could picture the mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh, so the lamp’s important but that TV you threw out the window- it is not different!”

Ben couldn’t stop smiling. The bickering was a little childish and silly, but it warmed Ben’s heart to hear the two people he loved the most bicker about nothing.

“And put that damn cigarette out! You’ll burn the house down with that nasty habit.” 

Ben could tell Roger was right next to you now as he said. “Ben thinks it’s sexy. Don’t you, Ben?”

“Yeah, well, Ben also thinks you look sexy in leopard print.”

“Hey!”

Ben couldn’t hold back his laughter now.

Both you and Roger were smiling at his laugh on the other end, playfully shoving each other to get closer to the phone so you could hear him.

You let out a squeal suddenly and Ben heard the crash of something that he assumed to be the lamp mentioned earlier. “Honestly!”

He could hear Roger laughing as he ran away. You’d obviously missed him with the lamp.

“God, Ben, I’ve got to go. Our boyfriend is being a pain in the ass and I’ve gotta kiss the brains outta him. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“’Course. Tell Rog, I love him.”

"Of course,”

“G’night, Y/N,” Ben said. “Love you.”

“We love you, too, Ben. Goodnight.”

You hung up and Ben sat there quietly for a moment, the phone still pressed to his ear as he remembered the sound of the laughter. God he missed them.

He’d worked on projects this long before but they’d always been right there in London where he could grab a taxi or have Roger come and pick him up at the end of the day. Now he was out of the country and he realized how much he took for granted the time he got to spend at home.

He assumed Y/N and Roger were accustomed to the situation. Roger was always gone on tour for months after they released a new album and Y/N sometimes had to travel for work, but Ben was always at home with one of them. Now he was the one branching off. 

He set the phone on the nightstand and laid down in the white sheets of the hotel bed.

It felt odd, almost foreign to him; laying alone in a bed. Roger wasn’t there to snuggle his face into his neck or play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Y/N wasn’t there to spoon him or tangled their legs together. No playful fighting over the covers, no cold feet or wandering hands, no drumming of Roger’s fingers against his arm, no Y/N drawing shapes on his back. It was funny to think how much he’d grown accustomed to the feeling of not just one but two people (his two people) laying in bed with him.

He fell asleep with those thoughts and a longing ache in his chest. 

Meanwhile, you were chasing Roger through the house, trying to take his drumsticks from him after he’d poked you in the ass one too many times. The two of you had just finished up doing...things and were enjoying a sweet moment until the drumsticks made a return.

Roger was laughing hysterically and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grinning from ear to ear.

You were clad in only Roger’s white button up, your underwear, and socks while Roger had opted to only return to his boxers.

Suddenly he was cornered in the kitchen and you jumped onto his back, reaching an arm over his shoulder for the sticks still clutched in his hand, but he’d stuck his own arm out over the countertop so you couldn’t reach them.

“Roger, give them here!”

“Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged!”

Roger burst into another fit of laughter and you giggled into his ear, still straining for the drumsticks.

You eventually gave up, dropping your hand and laying your head on Roger’s shoulder, breathing heavily as the laughter died down. He dropped the drumsticks on the counter and hooked his arms under your legs to help hold you up; a smile still on his lips and his cheeks sore from laughter.

You closed your eyes and it was silent for a few moments.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, lovie?” He asked softly.

“Thinking that Ben would’ve been filming or taking pictures of us if he’d have been here...”

Roger hummed in agreement, walking from the kitchen towards the lounge. “I miss him, too,”

You still had your eyes closed, trusting Roger to set you down gently wherever he was taking you. “I wish you weren’t working on the album so we could go see him.”

“Me too. The boys’ve been exhausting lately. I love ‘em, but there’s only so much you can take sometimes.”

“Well, three explosive personalities plus Deacy-”

“Hey, you haven’t seen Deaks mad. It’s scary.”

“Yeah, well, I try to stay on his good side unlike somebody I know who likes to push buttons.”

Roger rolled his eyes as he deposited you onto the couch. You laughed as you bounced off the cushons before laying down, Roger crawling on top of you and laying on your chest.

“We would not fit nearly as well on this couch with Ben,” You commented with a grin.

“Yeah, we’ve tried, though. One of us always ends up on the floor.”

“Or squooshed,”

“Or both,”

You both smile, an ache running through your chests.

“He’s been gone far too long.”

“Yeah, when’s his film ‘sposed to wrap anyway?”

“Not sure. Should ask him when he calls tomorrow.”

Roger groaned. “Tomorrow is so far away.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “Indeed it is,”

You fell into a comfortable silence after that. You putting Roger to sleep as you massaged his scalp and you lost in thought, staring at the ceiling.

“You think the boys might give you a few days off if I promise them you’ll be less grumpy when we get back?”

Roger looked up at you with a pout. “I am not grumpy.”

“You are too,” You said, a smile spreading across your face. “You miss Ben and when you miss one of us you get grumpy. Like that time on tour when you snapped a drumstick when you weren’t able to call us one night? Or when you busted a tambourine after we weren’t able to make it to the nearest show? Or when-”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m destructive.”

You laughed and Roger laid his head back down on your chest. “I suppose they might give that a go.”

“Then I’m calling Freddie,”

*** Ben woke up the next morning reaching out across the bed; searching for warmth that wouldn’t be there. He groaned, heart slightly heavy, as he shut off his alarm.

A shiver ran up his spine as he sat up and he cursed himself for not turning up the temperature before heading to bed. That had been the one advice Roger had given him before he departed. “When waking up alone in your hotel room, the temperature will always be colder than you want it. Check it before bed.”

He didn’t have time to dwell on his heartache before he had to gather his bearing and head to the set for his early shoots, but he missed Y/N’s good luck kisses and, oddly, Roger’s smack to his bottom before he would head out the door for a day of filming.

He shut the door to his hotel room and shook his head, trying to shake the homesick thoughts from his mind.

They wouldn’t do him any good anyway. It’s not like he’d be able to satisfy the ache.

Or so he thought.

***

You and Roger were currently sat on a plane, headed for Ben’s filming location.

Roger’s blonde hair was stuffed inside a cap and he had on a dark pair of sunglasses in an attempt to hide his identity. You’d asked him if he’d dye his hair black but he outright refused the offer.

“Love, I know you want this to be a surprise, but even if any paps or fans see us Ben hardly checks that stuff when he’s not filming. I doubt he’d bother while he is.”

You sat next to him, asleep, eyes closed with your sunglasses on, hair loose around your face, and the hood of your jumper pulled up on your head. Your earbuds playing your favorite music.

It was an early flight and you’d been up most of the night preparing for this spur of the moment trip. You wanted everything to be perfect.

“I can sleep on the plane,” You’d told Roger.

And you did. 

Roger laid his head on top of yours as you dozed on his shoulder, a book held between his fingers to pass the time, but, truthfully, he couldn’t focus on it. For some reason he had a lot on his mind.

The three of you hadn’t gone public with your relationship, but the paps had taken notice of Roger’s “mysterious lovers” and Ben and Roger had been seen talking at a party a few times, heaven forbid, but Roger had never dwelled on it before. You didn’t go to events together, never went on vacations together, Ben and you still had your own apartments away from Roger’s house so when he was gone on tour you wouldn’t be questioned coming out of his house while he wasn’t there; you’d taken practically every precaution to make sure the press wouldn’t find out before the three of you were ready.

Roger dug into his jacket pocket for his phone, discarding the book onto the table in front of him.

He opened social media with good intentions.

#rogertaylorxy/n-l/n

OMG did you see the way Roger looked at Y/N during the interview? #hearteyes

Roger is so in love with Y/N. They should just get together already. #(your-ship-name)

(you-ship-name) is real ❤

Roger resisted the urge to like any of them before moving on.

#rogertaylorxbenhardy

Ben said he wasn’t looking for a relationship rn but he looks at Roger says otherwise 👀

Roger and Ben spend an awfully large amount of time together for two people who claim to be ‘just friends’.

Forget Maylor have you seen the way Hardylor look at each other?

Roger snickered quietly. Okay, maybe he and Ben weren’t doing the greatest job either.

He stroked his chin for a moment before taking to the keyboard again.

#benhardyxy/n-l/n

Y/N and Ben seemed awfully friendly during her interview with him #(your-ship-name)

Have you seen the pictures of Ben and Y/N at that coffee shop together??? I bet it was a date 💘

Y/N brought Ben a flower at the BAFTAs to put in his suit pocket and he never took it out! I bet he still has it.

Observant, Roger thought, Ben definitely still has the fake flower.

He hummed in thought. What if...

#benhardyxy/n-l/nxrogertaylor

Y/N spends a lot of time with Roger Taylor and Ben Hardy outside of a professional setting. Who’s she dating though??? What if it’s both???

OMG BEN AND Y/N WERE SEEN LEAVING ROGER’S HOUSE! IN THE MORNING!!!

I bet Y/N Ben and Roger are all dating and just keeping it on the down low. We’ve all seen the heart eyes they give each other.

Y/N and Roger just got on a plane heading to the place Ben’s filming in as seen by his Instagram story. Coincidence?

Roger’s eyes went wide. He checked the timestamp: 20m ago.

Well, Y/N was right. Maybe he should’ve died his hair.

“Looking for something in particular?” Y/N asked, eyes now opened sleepily and looking at phone screen from his shoulder.

“Not really,” Roger replied. “Just curious. Seems the fans are supportive...and onto us.”

He handed you the phone and you squinted at the screen.

“Queenskiller, huh? Clever person.”

“I can see why you were paranoid now,”

You laughed. “We’re almost there. As long as it’s not obvious where we’re going, we’ll be fine.”

***

“And CUT! Good work today everyone, let’s wrap up for lunch.”

Ben sat up from his position where his character had just been beaten to near death and went to get the fake blood cleaned off of him by the makeup designer.

The radio in the trailer was fading out a Beatles song and fading in Bohemian Rhapsody.

It made Ben’s heart ache.

“Hey, did you see Y/N L/N’s new interview with Harry Styles and Elton John?”

The makeup artist removing the makeup shook their head. “Not yet, is it good?”

“Of course. She asks them about their collaboration, similar tastes in style, and she doesn’t mention their sexualities like every other interviewer does.”

“Thank god for her, she’s a blessing. All those other nosy interviewers don’t ever ask anything interesting. The celebrities always do all the work to make the interview enjoyable. At least Y/N is interesting.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. He was proud.

“Have you heard she might be dating Roger Taylor?”

“The Queen drummer? Yeah. I heard they were getting on a plane together this morning.”

“Secret honeymoon?”

“Maybe,”

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. They got on a plane? They didn’t mention they were going anywhere on the phone.

“Ben, you okay there, dear?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry. Just lost in thought.”

Ben exited the trailer with a clean face and a wandering mind.

It wasn’t unlike Y/N and Roger to be spontaneous but Roger was working on the album and he thought Y/N had another interview today.

Ben shook his head and pulled out his phone. Whatever. He’d just call them and get things cleared up. He was done on set for the remainder of the evening anyway.

He hit the home phone number and waited as it rang.

And rang. And rang.

“Thank you for calling Roger Taylor’s home phone, but I am currently out at the moment. Leave a message and I might call you back.”

Ben hung up.

Okay, so they weren’t home. No big deal, he could still call your cells.

He hit your contact and waited as it rang.

***

You were rolling your luggage out of the airport with Roger when I Saw Her Standing There blasted from your phone.

Recognizing Ben’s personal ringtone, you picked up the phone. “Hey, Benny, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just got done filming. Hey, did you and Roger go somewhere? Makeup artists were gossiping about it.”

You gave Roger a panicked look before quickly answering. “Oh, no. Must’ve been wrong. We’re just out for a walk.”

Roger rolled his eyes at your terrible lying skills.

But Ben seemed relieved. “Oh. I thought you might’ve gone somewhere and forgotten to tell me.”

“Oh no, not at all we just-”

Roger pulled you cellphone from your fingers and pressed it against his ear.

“Ben, you don’t need to worry about us. We’re doing fine.”

The rental car you and Roger had gotten pulled up and you quickly tossed you suitcase in the back and jumped in the passenger. Roger took the keys and got in the driver’s seat.

“I know, but I just wanted to make sure. Kept eating at me.”

“Ben, baby, where are you at, right now?”

“Uh, outside the set just about to head back to my hotel, why?”

“Oh, no reason. What hotel’s that again?”

“Lotus Hotel, why?”

“Just curious. Are they treating you right or do I need to make a phone call.”

“Christ, Rog, it’s find. Don’t freak. Are you driving? I thought Y/N said you were on a walk.”

“Oh, we just got back to the house and need to head to the store. Nothing too interesting.”

“A trip to the store with you is always interesting.”

“He’s not wrong,” you chirped from your seat and Roger sent you a playful glare, making you laugh.

Ben smiled. “Gosh I wish I could speed up the production. I’ve been gone from you two way too long.”

“Believe us, Benny, we agree. Hold on, gonna give you back to Y/N,”

He handed you your phone back as you handed him his for directions to the hotel.

“How was filming?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“All right. Filmed the fight scene today, that was interesting.”

You hummed in response.

“Hold on, Y/N, I just got in a taxi- yes, take me to the Lotus Hotel on thirteenth please.”

“Thirteenth?” Roger cursed. “Stupid phone says twelfth.”

“It’s on the corner of the two. He’s coming from the other direction, remember?” You replied, hand covering the receiver.

“What was that, love?” Ben asked.

“Oh, nothing, Roger just missed the turn, again.” You quickly replied. “You said you filmed a fight scene today?”

“Yeah, my character, Jack, got the piss beat out of him in a fight. Gets pretty bloodied up.”

“Well, you know nothing can make that pretty face of yours prettier than blood.”

“Is that a reference to my bloody nose? ‘Cause I keep tellin’ you it was a one time thing.”

You laughed. “Just teasing you, baby,”

Ben let out a laugh of his own, leaning back against the leather seat. “I really miss you guys.”

“We miss you, too. I hope that- Roger it was right there! Oh, jesus, Ben, I gotta go, Roger’s missing turns again. See you soon.”

The line cut off before Ben could question you. See you soon?

***

“’See you soon.’?! Bloody hell, Y/N, why don’t you just give away your own surprise.” Roger said.

“Well, if you hadn’t missed the turn I wouldn’t have had to hang up!” You retorted. “We need to get there before him, remember?”

Roger stuck his tongue out at you as he turned the car around.

You stuck yours out as well and it turned into a fit of giggles throughout the car.

Finally, Roger pulled into the hotel’s parking lot and parked the car in a spot.

“Your turn to call him, Mr. Taylor,” You said, getting out of the directions and handing him his phone.

Roger put the phone to his ear and waited for Ben to pick up.

“Roger?”

“Benny! Made it to the hotel, yet?”

“Uh, no, close though. You not driving anymore?”

“Nah, Y/N is in the store. She wouldn’t let me go in with her. Thought I might get a little more chat outta you before she comes back.”

Ben laughed. “I guess I’ll allow that.”

“Popular boy, ain’t ya?” The driver asked as he turned the corner into the hotel lot.

Ben grinned. “Yeah, I ‘spose I am.” He handed the driver the money for the trip. “Keep the change.”

The driver tipped his cap at Ben and Ben got out of the taxi.

“Sorry, Rog, what were you saying?”

“Oh, not much, just wondering who let you walk off set in those joggers. They look hideous.”

Ben looked down at the old green joggers he was wearing with a laugh. “Yeah, I need to get a new pair- wait, how’d you know I was wearing joggers?”

Ben heard a whistle and turned around.

Y/N was waving and smiling from where she was sat on the trunk of a car and Roger was stood next to her, phone still pressed to his ear, with a big ol’ grin on his face.

Ben dropped the phone from his ear, ending the call, and ran over to them.

Roger intercepted his boyfriend, who practically jumped into his arms, and Y/N hoped off the car to join them in the hug. Ben wrapped an arm around her, squeezing the two of them tightly, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re here!” He said, pulling back finally.

You and Roger laughed.

“Y/N’s a bad liar,” Roger quipped, nudging your side.

“Hey! I’m not the one who got lost!”

“I missed one turn!”

Ben kissed them on the cheek. “Shut up, the both of you, please.”

You and Roger melted, forgetting your bickering and appreciating his presence.

***

Ben went to sleep that night with both of you in his bed.

Roger had immediately turned down the thermostat and Y/N rubbed Ben’s shoulders to relax him. They fought over the covers, had a pillow fight, and made sure that Ben was in the middle.

It felt right. It felt like home.

“You two are amazing to me,” Ben said as his partners snuggled into him.

“You deserve it,” Y/N mumbled, laying against Ben’s chest, his heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

“Don’t ever leave us this long again,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to Ben’s neck.

Ben smiled. “Guess you two will just have to come see me, again,”

#ben x reader x roger #roger taylor x reader x ben hardy #bxrxr #benxrogerxreader #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy imagine

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute and @somebodyswatson

Chapter Seventeen The Silver Doe

HARRY POTTER SIGHTED IN LONDON: NARROW ESCAPE IN THE MUGGLE UNDERGROUND

Hermione screamed and dropped her half-full coffee cup as Ron handed her the paper.

“Is he alright?!”

“I think so.” Ron sat down next to the campfire. “I didn’t read it closely, but it says ‘narrow escape’ doesn’t it?”

Hermione’s heart raced as she read the article. He’d been found in a shop for poisons and venoms — highly suspicious, the author noted — and he had been chased by an unnamed Snatcher through Knockturn Alley, all the way to the Underground. The author also noted how Harry had failed to pay his fare, and closed with, “Before she was Obliviated by the Hit Wizards sent to clean up Potter’s flight, a Muggle woman described how Potter had nearly turned over her pram with her baby still inside of it before disappearing on the Muggle train. Hit Wizards were posted at stations along the line, but Potter was not seen again.”

Knowing that Harry had made it away safely eased Hermione’s anxiety. She read through the paper for any other news about the Order, but she found nothing else of interest. The Prophet always made the world sound as peaceful as possible, while praising the progress the Ministry made in weeding out Muggle-born witches and wizards from the community. It made her sick.

She passed the paper back to Ron, who looked over the front page with mild interest.

“What do you think he was doing in a poison shop?” Ron asked.

Hermione refilled her coffee. “I expect he was looking for something to destroy the diadem.”

“Yeah, but even if he found something, it wouldn’t do him any good,” Ron had said.

“Don’t look at me like that’s my fault!”

“I wasn’t —”

“How was I supposed to know he was going to leave?”

“Hermione, I wasn’t blaming you. I was just thinking out loud.”

Ron might have said several times that it wasn’t her fault that Harry had left, and he might claim that Harry’s pointless trip to a poison shop that had nearly gotten him killed wasn’t her fault either, but she knew that neither of those things was true. She was the one who had fought with Harry the most, after all, and she was the one who had told him that all of his ideas were too risky. Harry might as well have singled her out by name in the note that he had left them:

I know you’re both going to be upset with me, but I finally understand that I have to do this alone. I can’t ask you to risk yourselves or your families any more than you have. I hope you’ll forgive me.

— Harry

She sipped her coffee and avoided looking at Ron for the rest of the morning. They didn’t even speak until that evening, when he said he was going to find food. Hermione let him go without even looking up from her Runes dictionary. It was better for him to disappear to work out his temper rather than sit in the tent, fidgeting with his Deluminator and making it impossible for her to read.

Once he had gone, she reached into her beaded bag and pulled out Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem.

She really hadn’t meant to steal it from Harry. That hadn’t been in her head at all. She had come in from watch that night, and before waking Harry for his turn, she had decided to take a look at it. Besides, her enchanted bag was probably a safer place than Harry’s bag, so why shouldn’t she hold onto the diadem?

And if he hadn’t run off, it’s not as if she would have kept it secret that she had moved it. She hadn’t done anything wrong, really.

Hermione stared at the silver band and the words engraved on its edges. Wit beyond measure… Hermione felt unfortunately short on wit these days. She had no idea how to destroy this Horcrux, nor how to find any of the others. She didn’t know what Dumbledore meant by leaving her a children’s book, nor how he expected them to accomplish something he hadn’t even finished. And, on top of it all, she didn’t understand why Harry had left.

There was his note, yes, but it didn’t explain much. Something in Harry had changed after reading Rita Skeeter’s description of Dumbledore’s relationship with Grindelwald. Hermione had read and reread that chapter, but whatever Harry had seen, she didn’t.

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, and she shoved the diadem back into her bag.

He sounded excited, and she was immediately filled with suspicion. When she went to see what had him so happy, she found him holding up a pair of chickens.

“Did you steal those?”

“What? No. They’re wild. Or they were. Good find, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

She and Ron both set to work preparing the chickens for cooking. They worked in silence, and Hermione thought it was more pleasant than most of their evenings since Harry had left. It was certainly better than the bickering they had made a habit of.

“I was thinking,” Ron said suddenly, and Hermione wondered if he had read her mind somehow and intentionally broken the silence to annoy her. “It’s getting close to Christmas, isn’t it?”

“A month or so, yes.”

“I had an idea for it.”

For months now, Hermione had been thinking of nothing except how to find and destroy Horcruxes. She did not have room for something as trivial as Christmas.

“Should we hang baubles from the tent poles?” she suggested icily. “Or perhaps we ought to add a wreath on the tent flap? And make sure to take them down each time we move campsites? We could make a garland out of chicken and squirrel bones.”

Ron very obviously bristled, as he always did when she took that tone of voice. “Didn’t realise it was a crime to want to do something nice for once,” he snapped.

“I’m not sure if you noticed, Ron, but hunting for Horcruxes doesn’t leave us a lot of time for something nice.”

Ron snatched her plucked chicken from her and shoved it onto the stick they had been using to cook their meals.

Her stomach turned unhappily, but surely it was just hunger, and not any sort of guilt. She was in the right, after all. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything helpful while she spent hours poring over her research.

“Can I finish what I was going to say about Christmas?” Ron asked.

Hermione pursed her lips and reached into her bag in search of the herbs Harry had gathered for them before he had left. “What do you want to do for Christmas?”

“I think we should stay with Bill and Fleur.”

She opened her mouth to give Ron a dozen reasons why that was a bad idea, but he cut her off.

“I’ve thought it all out, and it’s a good plan. Their home is further south, on the coast, so we won’t have to worry about freezing over in the middle of watch, and they’re probably under less surveillance there than the Burrow would be, so we can stay there for a bit, and we won’t have to spend so much time hunting and foraging. You’d have more time to study all your runes and whatever else you need to do. And Ginny will probably come around because she’ll be home from Hogwarts. She might have talked to Harry. She could even help us talk to Harry.”

Hermione paused her search for the jar of herbs. “How do you know they aren’t being watched?” she asked.

“Well, Bill and Fleur don’t work for the Ministry or anything like Dad does.”

“No, they just work for Gringotts, don’t they? That’s nothing the Death Eaters care about.”

“It’s still a good idea!”

“It’s risky.”

“So is camping out in the countryside all winter. Just last week, Snatchers set up their camp not far from ours. We can’t avoid all risk.”

She bit down on her lip. That was part of why Harry had left, wasn’t it? She had told him that all of his ideas were too risky.

“We can look,” she finally said, “and make sure we’re not going to be picked up by any waiting Death Eaters or Snatchers first.”

She risked a glance at him and saw he was grinning from ear to ear. She wondered if she’d seen him smile at all since before Harry had left. Her face grew warm and she quickly resumed her search for the herbs.

“They’re staying in my aunt’s old house on the beach. We used to spend summers there, and I know the cliffs pretty well. We can pick out a spot to watch from for a day and make sure the coast is clear.”

“Where did you say it was?”

“It’s in Cornwall, outside a place called Tinworth.”

Her searching hand finally closed around the jar she wanted. “We’ll go tomorrow then, and see if they’ll have us for the week.”

Ron was still smiling as she sprinkled the herbs over the chicken. It wasn’t long before their campsite was filled with the scent of roasting chicken and rosemary. Ron complimented her cooking, and she blushed at his praise, even though he had done most of the work and the herbs themselves had been Harry’s.

The next day, just as she had promised Ron, they packed up the campsite and Apparated to Tinworth. It was not a large village but it was lovely. Ron led her along the cliffs until they could see a house in the distance, decorated in white-washed seashells. She could see why Ron wanted to stay here.

“See?” Ron said, gesturing at the cliffs and the horizon. “It’s not an easy place to keep a secret watch on. Nowhere to hide. Long as we stay inside, no one should know we’re there.”

Hermione still thought it best to stay cautious. She and Ron could easily set up a camp here, with no one the wiser, and keep watch on the cottage. It would not be hard for Death Eaters to do the same.

By the time sunset arrived, she still was not ready to concede.

“We should give it at least another day,” Hermione said.

Ron picked at what was left of yesterday’s chicken. “We haven’t seen anything!”

“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing to see. If you and I are spotted, it’s not just us they’ll come after, it’s your whole family. Including Ginny, who’s away at Hogwarts and can easily be taken without warning. We have to be careful.”

Ron tossed a chicken bone into the fire. It sparked and cracked. “Fine,” he grunted. “I’ll take first watch then.”

Hermione returned to the tent, but she didn’t get into bed. She was tired — exhausted, really — from the stress of traveling and hiding, but there was still work to be done. There was always work to be done, and there would be until she solved the puzzles she had been left with.

She opened up her copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Harry’s note slipped out from between the cover and first page, and she quickly tucked it back in. It wasn’t the reason she had opened the book, and she didn’t want to dwell too heavily on why she had decided to keep the last thing Harry had left for her with the last thing Dumbledore had given her.

Instead, she turned to “The Tale of the Three Brothers.” There was nothing about the story itself that stood out from the others, but at the top of the page was the symbol from Dumbledore’s signature: a triangle with a sort of eye in it. She grabbed a spare piece of parchment and her ink bottle and set to work deconstructing the symbol in an attempt to decode its meaning.

She rewrote the lines of Dumbledore’s unusual mark into a handful of different letters and runes, but it meant nothing to her. She didn’t even know why she was looking into this. The symbol, whatever it was, had been written down by Dumbledore long before Voldemort had even been born, let alone begun creating Horcruxes.

But then why had he left her a book with the same marking?

While she read and worked, it was easy to lose track of time. The steady roar of the ocean below helped with that, creating an almost hypnotic work space. She drew and redrew the symbol for hours, tried hundreds of different rune translations or abbreviations, but nothing made sense to her.

She was so focused that she might have kept working straight through the night, or at least until Ron came to trade watch shifts with her, if he hadn’t poked his head in the tent and hissed, “Hermione — come see this.” He flicked his Deluminator and extinguished the light in the tent.

“Ronald!”

“Sh — just come look.”

“How can I look when you’ve taken all the light?” she grunted, abandoning her notes at the table and joining Ron on the cliffside.

Sometimes, when she was ignoring him, he would turn the lights out to get her attention. She was about to scold him for doing so now when she saw why he had insisted on darkness. He had even extinguished their small campfire to get a better look.

There were no lights to indicate the shoreline, nor even lights to mark where Bill and Fleur’s cottage was. There was nothing but inky blackness, as far as they could see, except for, down on the shore, a small silver light.

“It looks like a Patronus,” Hermione whispered.

“It’s been sitting there for twenty minutes. Don’t they usually move about?”

Hermione fidgeted with the strap of her bag. If it was there to guard against a dementor, maybe not, but the air didn’t feel unusually chilly. Cold in the sea spray, yes, but not abnormally so. There was no frost on the ground, and she could still see the stars above them.

“Maybe it’s waiting to give someone a message?” Ron suggested. He squinted. “Harry’s Patronus is a deer, isn’t it?”

Whatever the shape below them was, it was large and four-legged, but Hermione was not certain that it was a deer. It could just as easily be a horse or a cow.

“I’m going to get a closer look,” Ron said, and was already moving towards it before Hermione could stop him.

“Wait, Ron!” she hissed. “You’ll fall off the cliff without light to see by!” but the ocean drowned out her warning.

She gave an exasperated sigh and whispered, “Lumos.” Hermione kept her wandlight pointed down, aimed at the edge of the cliff just so she could see where not to walk, and hurried after Ron.

Someone had cut stairs into the cliffside. She and Ron walked carefully down the wet stone steps until they reached the soft sand of the shore. The waves rolled up the shore, creeping ever closer to the cliffside as the tide rose.

Now that they were level with the Patronus, it was very clearly a beautiful silver doe.

“What do you think?” Ron asked Hermione.

“I think that’s definitely not Harry’s Patronus.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because Harry’s Patronus is a stag.” Hermione pulled on Ron’s jacket. “We should go back to the campsite —”

But Ron was already approaching the deer. As he stepped closer, it turned tail, and bounded down the coast. Ron ran after it.

“Wait!”

Hermione bit down on her lip. She looked up at the cliffs above. She saw no lights, no signs that someone was watching them. She hurried after Ron.

As they ran down the coast, the soft sand was abruptly replaced with hard rock. The doe turned from the shoreline and bounded out into the ocean, bouncing from rock to rock. It ignored the waves crashing into the rocks around it. The sea spray fell right through its incorporeal form and washed over the rocks, leaving them cold and slippery.

Hermione risked raising her wandlight to illuminate the deer’s path. It was not impossible for them to follow, but it would be dangerous, especially in the dark.

“Wait, Hermione, move that light back —”

Hermione saw it too, and did as Ron asked in search of the strange silver light that had reflected her wandlight back to them.

There, in the middle of the ocean, tip buried in stone, stood a great silver sword with a ruby-studded hilt. A wave crashed over the rock, obscuring the rock briefly, but even as the water fell away, the Sword of Godric Gryffindor stayed firm.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron, and the doe vanished.

“What’s it doing here?” Hermione asked, though she knew Ron wouldn’t have an answer.

“Accio Sword,” Ron shouted, but nothing happened. He handed Hermione his wand. “You want to hold the light while I go get it?”

She took the wand without thinking, and immediately tried to give it back to him. “No! It’s dangerous!”

“Yeah, I bet it is.” Ron took a careful step out towards the water. A wave rolled over his shoes, and he waited until it had passed before pressing on. He reached the edge of the outcropping. There were a few rocks within jumping distance, but the sword was further out, another ten feet from any of the rocks Ron could reach. There was no way to get to it without a short swim.

Hermione followed. The rock was slippery and she tested her footing on each step before putting down her full weight.

“Ron! Don’t!” She hoped he could hear her over the roar of the ocean waves as they crashed into the rocks. She flinched as the cold spray doused her.

“Keep the light steady!” Ron called back to her.

“Ronald Weasley, come back right now!”

Ron’s long stride reached the next rock easily. He found a grip in the pits of the rock, made by constant battering from the ocean, and pulled himself onto it, just in time to be drenched by another wave.

Hermione lost sight of him for a moment in the ocean spray, but when the wave receded, he was standing on the rock, just drenched from head to toe. She couldn’t hear him over the ocean crashing around them, but she knew the shapes of the curse words on his lips.

Hermione reached the edge of the initial outcropping and, despite her shivering, tried to hold the light steady on the next rock for Ron. He jumped across the gap, and Hermione gasped in horror as he slipped, falling to his knees.

“Are you alright?” she shouted.

He flashed her a thumbs up, but his face was pulled into a grimace.

“Ron, just come back. We can get it in the morning.”

He either couldn’t hear her or chose not to. Another wave slammed into the rocks, soaking Ron and splashing Hermione.

He could make one more jump onto another rock and get a bit closer to the sword, but it was not a direct path. The most direct path was through the water. Ron was already eyeing the sword.

Hermione bit down on her lip. The wave receded, and as it did, Ron slid into the water.

She could tell from the way he was moving that the water was not especially deep, at least not as the wave went out. It was still up to his shoulders, though, and it pulled on him easily. His entry had been straight towards the sword, but already he was a few feet off course.

Hermione knelt on the edge of the outcropping and held her hand out. “Forget the sword, just come back!”

As if the ocean had heard her, it swelled forward. The wave rolled over her and she lost sight of Ron. She coughed and spluttered and when she had her bearings again, she could no longer see Ron in the water.

“Ron!”

She cast her wandlight about the rocks and the ocean, until she found him climbing onto the rock with the sword.

“Don’t touch the blade!” Hermione warned him.

Ron gave her another thumbs up. He used the pits in the rock to pull himself to the crest, then yanked on the sword’s hilt. It didn’t budge.

A wave crashed over Ron and he clung to the sword to keep from being swept away. As the water receded, he wiped his soaked hair from his eyes. “Hermione, I need my wand!”

“What if you don’t catch it?”

“Don’t throw it! You’re a witch, for Merlin’s sake.”

Hermione used her wand to Levitate Ron’s wand across the water. He snatched it out of the air neatly, then aimed it at the base of the rock.

“Wait —”

Hermione’s warning came too late. With a blue flash, Ron split the rock apart and pulled the sword free, just as a wave crashed into him. He went tumbling into the water. Hermione screamed.

She searched the water for any sign of him as the wave receded. She waited anxiously for his head to pop up, spitting out water and fighting to get back to her. Her light finally found his red hair, bobbing along with the swell of the ocean, but otherwise unmoving.

Hermione scrambled down into the water. She had thought she was cold and wet enough, just from the spray of the waves, but it was nothing compared to submerging herself. Her muscles and joints protested with dull aches and her thick, curly hair became twice as heavy.

She held her wandlight over her head, trying to keep it trained on Ron as she treaded water. Occasionally, her toes brushed the slick rock of the ocean floor, but only when the waves were at their lowest.

The current pulled her further out to sea. She didn’t fight it, not yet. She swam towards Ron, though it was slow going with only one arm. The motion of the water helped, and she pushed off the rocks Ron had jumped on to propel her forward. Getting to Ron was simple enough. It was getting back that would be difficult.

She wrapped her arm around his chest and turned him so that his head was above the water. His lips were blue, and blood matted the side of his hair, but he moaned and coughed in her arms, which she took to be a good sign.

The same current which had pulled them out pushed them forward suddenly. Hermione kicked with it, desperately, even as it threw her into the rock Ron had broken to retrieve the sword. Her shoulder throbbed where it struck the rock, but she scrambled for a hold, something to keep her and Ron from going farther out to sea.

She could do this, she told herself. She would simply use the rocks as anchors, and let the waves carry her forward. She just needed to get Ron to shore. Wherever the sword was, they could find it another time. She just needed to —

“Hermione,” Ron gasped.

“I’m right here,” she said, but she was already eyeing the next rock, preparing to push off towards it.

Ron mumbled something, but she didn’t pay attention. She didn’t have time. The water was coming back in. She pushed and kicked, aiming desperately for the nearest rock.

Her aim was slightly off, or the current was stronger than she had calculated for. The wave tumbled over her head, throwing her and Ron about like ragdolls. She didn’t know what rock she hit, but something struck her back and her grip on Ron faltered.

She managed to catch part of his jacket as the wave pulled them back out. Hermione kicked her way to the surface and pulled Ron up with her. She readjusted her grip so she could keep his head above the water. She held her wand light up and watched the shore drift further away from her even as the wave broke against it.

She realised it was not the current pulling on her after all. What kept pulling on her chest was the beaded bag slung around her shoulder. It was, bizarrely, trying to drag her out to sea.

She tugged on the strap, but it resisted her movement. Hermione lost all light for a moment as she plunged her hand into the water to see if perhaps the bag was caught on something. To her surprise, the bag felt hot.

Too late, she remembered Harry’s story of how the diadem had nearly killed him during his duel with Voldemort. She wasn’t sure how it knew that it was in danger from her and Ron, but it did, and it was fighting desperately to survive.

She yanked on the bag and tried to kick her way back to shore. It was like fighting her way through the Devil’s Snare she, Ron, and Harry had faced their first year in Hogwarts, except this time, she didn’t dare relax.

She pulled at her bag again and it ripped apart.

“No —” She lunged forward, catching the diadem on the end of her wand, but there was nothing she could do as the rest of the contents of her bag spilled out into the ocean.

Her books, her clothes, their medical supplies and potions, her cauldron, and even Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait from Grimmauld Place tumbled from her bag and into the water. Hermione stifled a sob, but knew there was nothing to be done. She kicked again, and this time, without the bag pulling on her chest, she was able to make progress.

Another wave propelled her and Ron forward, and she used its force to climb up onto the rock. She didn’t stop there. She dragged Ron across the slippery rocks towards the shore. She only fell twice, scraping up her hands and knees as she did, but nothing worse. It could have been so much worse.

She collapsed onto the shore beside Ron, diadem still attached to her wand, and as she looked over Ron, she saw his hand still gripped tightly around the sword.

Hermione searched him for any sign of injury, other than the blow to his head. He was bruised and battered, but she saw no cuts from the sword. At least he wasn’t going to die from basilisk venom.

She didn’t have the Healing experience that Harry did, but she did know first aid. Hermione laced her fingers together and placed the heel of her hand against Ron’s chest. She pushed repeatedly, counting to herself, though she couldn’t remember exactly how high she was supposed to count. It had been a few years since she had attended a training course with her parents. Was it a count to fifteen? Thirty? Fifty?

She settled on twenty-five, then pinched Ron’s nose closed. She closed her mouth over his and breathed out with all her strength. She took in a deep breath and repeated.

Tears fell from her cheeks to Ron’s cheeks as she returned her hands to his chest. She begged him to breathe, cough, anything to let her know he was still alive. If he had died for that stupid sword, she would never forgive him.

She could feel his chest dip with each press of her heel, then rise as blood moved back into the space. After another set of compressions she leaned down to breathe into his lungs again. Her lips had hardly touched his when he spluttered beneath her and pushed her away.

She fell back into the sand and he rolled over onto his stomach, coughing until he vomited a stomachful of ocean onto the shore. He groaned weakly.

Hermione couldn’t stop crying.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she repeated between sobs.

Ron rubbed his head and flinched. He mumbled something, but his speech was slurred, she couldn’t make it out.

“You hit your head hard, Ron. Can you walk? I’ll help you to the cottage —”

“The diadem,” he finally managed to get out. His hand reached weakly for the hilt of the sword.

“Ron, we can’t worry about that right now —”

He pressed the sword hilt into her hands. His words were unintelligible, but she knew what he was trying to say.

“I can’t — but I’ll get you to Fleur, and she’ll fix you right up, and you can take care of it, I promise.”

“Hermione.”

He was unfocused and unclear, but so stubborn. She took the sword and looked at the diadem, still interlaced with her wand. The diadem quivered in the sand, like it knew what was about to happen. She remembered what Harry had told them about the locket, how it had tried to tell him secrets about Dumbledore. She wondered what the diadem would try to tell her.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“You’re pathetic,” a voice hissed from the Horcrux. It was high, reedy, and Hermione could only assume it was Voldemort’s. The sword trembled in her hand, even as she lifted it.

“Who do you think you are? Nothing but a skinny little girl. A child. A Mudblood.”

Something flickered in the sapphire gem, and then, something Harry had not described, took place. From the stone in the diadem, a shape began to emerge. A woman, tall, fair, with long straight hair that hung to her back and pale, graceful arms that reached out to Hermione seemed to rise from the diadem.

Hermione screamed and fell backwards. She might have even scrambled away if Ron was not there at her back.

“You don’t belong here,” the strange, terrifyingly beautiful woman said. “You don’t belong anywhere.”

Ron tried to say something to her, but she wasn’t sure if he was unintelligible because of his head injury or if the strange woman before her was too mesmerizing. Even as her words cut into Hermione’s very soul, Hermione could not look away, could not raise the sword against her.

“It’s your fault, you know. If you were braver, if you were stronger, Harry never would have abandoned you. You’re not worthy of love, child.”

Hermione’s lips trembled.

“I know what you want. I know what you seek. You scoff at beauty because you can’t have it. You crave power because you think it will satisfy you, but you know the truth. You foolish little girl, you know that it will not earn you respect. You will not earn anyone’s love. You can’t earn what you don’t deserve.”

Ron squeezed her arm. Hermione swallowed down her tears of fear, anger, and sorrow, and stood.

“You’re just a wretched little Mudblood —”

Hermione swung the sword through the strange and terrible vision. The blade crashed into the diadem and an earsplitting shriek howled over the echo of the waves. The woman vanished into pale, smoky wisps, and something inky and dark oozed from the crack in the diadem.

Hermione dropped the sword and collapsed into sobs. She was distantly aware of Ron wrapping his arm around her. He was warm, which felt nice on the cold beach. She leaned into him.

“Hermione?” His voice was hardly a whisper, but she could tell he was putting a tremendous amount of effort into the shape of her name.

She took a moment to get her breathing under control before looking up at him.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

She said nothing. She wasn’t sure she could speak without falling apart just yet. Ron seemed to understand.

He pressed his forehead against hers and looked down. It was a strange way to avoid intimacy, when they were already so close together yet so dimly lit, with nothing but Hermione’s wand, now half-buried in sand, to illuminate their faces.

“I — I’m afraid of all those things too,” he whispered. Each word was drawn from him slowly, inhibited by the damage to his head, but it only made his confession mean that much more to Hermione.

She took his face in her hands and, ever so gently, pressed their lips together.

It was a soft kiss. Nothing like the face-sucking she’d watched him go through with Lavender, and nothing like the long, passionate kisses she’d once shared with Viktor, but it was… nice. There was something wonderful in the way he hesitated, in the way they brushed against each other only briefly before pulling away. Like indulging would be too decadent, too overwhelming for the both of them.

She buried her face into the crook of his neck. “We need to climb the cliff.”

Ron groaned, a noise made of both complaint and compliance. She knew how exhausted she was, how her muscles ached and her lungs throbbed with each breath. She imagined Ron was in much worse shape.

“Did you manage to hang onto your wand as well as the sword?”

Ron shook his head then winced. Hermione picked up her wand and pressed the sword into Ron’s hand. Then she turned to the ocean and waved her wand.

Accio Wand, she thought, and Ron’s wand lifted out from the water and soared into her hand. She thought of the contents of her beaded bag, scattered about the ocean. They would have to wait for morning light, after Ron was taken care of.

She returned the wand to Ron, and pulled his arm over his shoulder so that he could lean on her as they walked.

They did not get far before her foot nudged against the diadem and she hesitated. She looked down at the broken halves, severed with a single blow — her doing. Within an hour, the tide would come in and wash what was left of the diadem away. It would disappear into the ocean. It was, she thought, a fitting enough end.

Together, she and Ron began the hike up the cliff to Shell Cottage.

#hermione is the most unreliable narrator #it makes a great love hate relationship with her chapters #harry potter everyone lives #hp everyone lives #hp everyone lives au #hp fic #dh

[miss-m-and-her-blog]

He’s My Girl (Chapter 10)

TITLE OF STORY: He’s My Girl CHAPTER: 10 AUTHOR: miss-m-and-her-blog WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: AU Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance, Action, Drama FIC SUMMARY: He’s a guy, she’s a boy in disguise. He’s an actor, she’s a stuntman or -woman. How can it ever work when the famous Tom Hiddleston stars in an action film, with Charlie or Charlene as his stunt choreographer? RATING: T WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: I didn’t go through describing every detail (the names at least) about Tom’s family here, because I strongly believe that Tom’s family, is something he can show us fans a glimpse of but not all of it. I suggest maybe the readers focus on fluff moments between Tom and Charlie, though haha :D FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: 

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The whistle of the airplane engines can be heard from the departure lounge of the Heathrow Airport as Tom and Paula sat beside each other. Paula had her legs folded and up at the seat while she leaned in against Tom who held her hand tight. Tom placed a kiss on the top of her head as he would miss his girlfriend so much. Paula looked up to him, her beautiful pale-blue eyes reflecting his sadness.

Then he spoke, “Why don’t you just take me with you? We’ll visit your Mum.”

Paula’s brows furrowed then she sat up, “Then you’ll miss Christmas with your own family.”

Tom sighed, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Paula cringed and shook her head, “Don’t be ridiculous. You sound stupid saying that.”

She looked away, but Tom just gulped down as he felt hurt with the way she reacted.

“What’s so wrong if I wanted to meet your mother?” Tom demanded an answer.

Paula now untangled herself from Tom; she was not ready to explain those kinds of things to him right now. She didn’t say anything, which made Tom ask more, “Maybe I just don’t reach up to your parents’ expectation. Is that it?”

Once again, she didn’t respond and she just distanced herself from Tom. Tom wanted to know why Paula is this way; she tends to dismiss talks about her parents, but Tom just wanted to know the truth.

“I didn’t know I’m dating a girl who doesn’t want to introduce me even to her mother.”

Tom was not careful enough with his words; Paula shot a dark look at him.

“Fucking drop it, will you?” Paula hissed.

Tom wanted to reach out for her; hold her and make her let down her guard.

“Just tell me something… I love you, Paula; I’ll accept anything about you; I’ll understand everything that you say and feel… just tell me anything.”

Paula had her back at Tom, and he was guessing what was going on in her mind as she went quiet as the dead. As much as Tom wanted to hear more from her, they heard from the PA that the flight to Los Angeles is ready for boarding. She got up and reached for her bags, not even bothering to ask Tom to help her. He could only watch her grab her luggage and take her backpack, but, before leaving, she said, “Next time, don’t ask me again about my mother. I don’t like talking about her with other people.”

Then, she left as she didn’t even give Tom a kiss goodbye.

“Text me when you get there!” He shouted as she was already too far away.

Tom sat there for the next few minutes, confused and also a bit hurt as to why Paula acted that way. She was the only woman he dated that didn’t want her parents introduced to him. And it leaves Tom hanging and wondering why Paula is so sensitive when it comes to her parents. When he finally stood up, Tom grumbled but then he found himself brushing the argument between him and Paula away and off of his mind.

I may never know what Paula feels, but I have to understand her. If you love someone, you have to accept them for who they are. He thought as he left the departure lounge.

Charlie sat over the sill of the 4th-floor window, looking at the hazy afternoon sky. The production crew and stunt team were already getting ready for the Christmas dinner at the dining hall at the ground floor, but he didn't want to join in for the fear that Dodong might recognize him. Charlie had no choice but to spend this day alone.

Before Ian left for Malibu, he had given Charlie a hoodie as a Christmas gift.

So you won't forget me whenever you wear that. Ian told him before he left the hotel.

Charlie decided not to come with Ian and spend the holidays with him; he didn't want to disappoint Ian, because they are friends, but he didn't want to take advantage of Ian's feelings for him.

As the cold air had wrap itself up into his arms, he also felt hungry and melancholic. How Charlie wished that he is in L.A. right now with her wonderful cousins and her fun-loving Uncle and Aunt.  His Christmas would be better if he is with his family. He couldn't get home because his money is not nearly enough for a round-trip ticket to L.A., he thought that it was better to save the money and endure the homesickness.

Charlie found himself trying to gulp down the lump in his throat, until,

"Charlie?"

He turned his head only to see Tom, with a backpack on, ready to leave.

"Why aren't you with the prod crew? You're all alone up here." Tom's concern was more than evident.

Charlie put down his legs and faced Tom, "I... I just wanted to be alone," his voice was flat, but Tom bit his lower lip, feeling sorry for him.

Then Tom said, "This is all my fault. If I didn't argue with Ian, you would've been in California right now."

Charlie shook his head, "No, no--It's not your fault, Tom. I couldn't really go home; the airplane tickets right now are very pricey so... it's better to save up my money."

They both stared at each other. Tom blamed himself all the while he looked at Charlie's sad almond eyes. Charlie tried to muster up a smile, but instead, he looked like he was cringing.

Finally, Tom spoke up, "This won't do. Come with me."

Charlie almost jumped when Tom reached out for his wrist, "Come where?"

"I have to make it right. Spend Christmas with me."

Charlie's eyes bulged out of its socket after hearing that, "With you?"

Tom shrugged, and corrected, "With me, and my family."

"But! But, Tom--!" Charlie wanted to refuse but the way Tom held now his hand felt like he just became putty in Tom's hold.

"No, come with me. Get your things, we're leaving," Tom's instructions were strict, and Charlie wouldn't dare disobey it.

Charlie went to their room and Tom came with him to help him get his backpack.

"When we'll be back?" Charlie asked as he threw in two shirts inside his pack.

"Tomorrow or maybe the 28th," Tom explained.

Charlie looked back at him, and he wasn't sure what else he had put on his bag. "But, wouldn't the shooting resume on the 27th?"

Tom waved it off and said, "That's the least of our problems. Come on! Hurry up, we haven't got all the time."

Charlie quickly closed off the clasps of his backpack and threw it over his shoulder. The next thing he knew, he is now with Tom inside the elevator; until they arrived at the entrance, waiting for the valet to bring Tom's car. Charlie tried to process everything that is happening right now, his crush is taking him home to his family for Christmas.

Because he pitied you, you idiot. That's why he's tagging you along. Charlie scolded himself internally.

Tom's car finally arrived, a Chrysler SUV. Charlie rode shotgun at the left side of the car; when he looked back at the rear seat, it was full of perfectly wrapped gifts.

When Tom finally sat at the driver's seat, Charlie asked, "Are these all for your family?"

Tom took a quick glance, "Yup. Everybody's in Suffolk right now. My parents, my sisters, my brother-in-law and niblings, and a few cousins, aunts, and uncles. You have to meet them because they are all amazing."

Charlie's face went red at the thought that Tom would have to introduce him to his family.  Tom saw it and he immediately responded, "Don't worry. I got your back. Though, Mum could ask you some questions, but it's all right."

Charlie only sat back as Tom started to drive out from the hotel driveway. He wasn't expecting this to happen at a such short notice, but Charlie has no choice but to let it happen.

The drive to Aldeburgh took them almost four hours. As the car passed by the boulevard, Charlie saw the rows and rows of establishments near the beach.  The bleak water of the beach reflected the grayish duskened skies and the blanket of snow had fallen over the shores, but Charlie had never seen something so scenic in his life before.

"This is where my Mum grew up. I spent summers here too, and once brought Tay--" Tom stopped mid-sentence then continued, "I brought one of my exes here... I wanted to bring Paula, but she had to be with her mother."

Charlie glanced at Tom for a moment. "Couldn't Paula make time to come here with you?" Tom didn't answer that.

He knows Paula couldn't and won't make time just to come here with him in Aldeburgh; quietness fell upon them after. Even at night, Charlie’s fascination with the homes and shops that lined now the street that they are driving through to had left him wide-eyed amazed.

He only saw places and houses like those in foreign films that sometimes he watches, back when he was still in High School as Charlene. There was something about these places in Europe that caught Charlie’s attention and fancy. Sometime when his father, Bo-Gyeong, was still alive; he wished that they would live overseas. Maybe they’d have a house in Venice; live in Spain or even in London.

Just in some faraway land where no one knows who they are; and Bo-Gyeong would be happy, and at least the sad memories of his mother would be lifted up from him. But, it never happened. Charlie’s father was taken too soon from him. This time, Tom noticed Charlie had been too quiet as he slumped over the edge of the car window.

“Charlie? Are you all right?” He turned his head towards Charlie.

He snapped from his reverie and looked back at Tom, “I’m all right. This town is just so wonderful... it looks magical in the snow.”

Tom smiled, “That’s why I love spending Christmas here. Especially with my family.”

Charlie only smiled back at Tom. Charlie had seen Tom happy as always; forever smiling and enthusiastic as a puppy whenever he’s on set. But this time, he had that certain warmth and glow around him that made Charlie feel at home. This side of Tom is a new sight for him; and he is grateful that Tom is kind enough to show to him this another layer in his personality and also the courtesy of bringing home so he won’t be alone this Christmas. When they reached the part of town where more houses stood and line the streets, Tom drove on at the end street and when reaching the second to the last house, he stopped the engine.

“We’re here,” He tapped Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie saw him point at the house in front of them, grand and yet humble-looking. The facade of the house glittered and twinkled with all the decorations placed upon the roof, the front porch, and also the lawn. They both got out of the SUV, but Charlie couldn’t help but stand there, gawk at the house while Tom was busy at the car.

“Charlie, can you help me bring out the gifts?” Tom opened the door to the rear seat, and Charlie quickly went to Tom’s side.

He gave Charlie two large paper bags that both contained eight or more gifts, while Tom took in his arms the larger boxes.

“Can you handle that?” Tom asked Charlie.

He only nodded in response. Tom set the alarm of the car; then they walked over the low iron gate that enclosed the lawn. When they got to the porch, Tom had his free hand push for the doorbell. They waited for a few minutes for the door to open, and when it did, three children popped out of it and attacked Tom.

“Uncle Tommy! Uncle Tommy’s here!” said one of the fair-headed girl that pounced on Tom as he fell down on his butt at the porch, the box turned at his side.

The children--two boys and a girl, were jumping around and giving Tom kisses and hugs. Tom was helpless as he lay there on the wood floor of the porch.

Charlie’s eyes widened then he let out a crisp laugh when he saw how defenseless Tom is with his niblings. He retorted by tickling them and hugging them which filled the porch with the children’s laughs.

Then, an old woman, her hair white as the snow outside, came to the door to see what her grandchildren had done to their poor uncle.

“Hi, Mum,” Tom waved at his mother while the children sat on his chest and one who hugged him.

“Tom, my dear boy! Oh, you little rascals, get off of your uncle!” She tried to pick up her grandkids off of Tom and he helped himself stand up to his feet.

Tom firstly gave a warm and long hug to his mother, Diane, whom he had not seen for months.

“Mum, I want you to meet my friend, Charlie Go,” Tom held out a hand to Charlie and Diane faced him.

Charlie felt nervous at first when Diane peered through the wrinkles of her eyes to have a look at him. But, he calmed off when he saw her lips stretch out in a smile across her face; a smile he recognized that is the same as Tom’s.

“Why, dear, he’s a handsome young man! How do you do, Mr. Go?” Diane held out a hand to shake Charlie’s.

Charlie accepted the old woman’s hand with all respect, “Please call me Charlen--erm, Charlie. It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

Diana softly tapped the back of Charlie’s hand, “Oh, call me Diane. Come on in, you two must be freezing! Tom, dear, give me that box,” Diane took the smaller box stacked up top the other box Tom is carrying, then she motioned to them, “Come in, come in.”

Charlie felt so happy and warm just because of how Diane had received them and the way they were introduced to each other. He felt like a small child again in those Christmas gatherings that the Gosengtian clan had every year when he still lived in Manila. Tom followed Charlie at the door; he immediately saw his older sister, Sarah with her husband; his younger sister, Emma and her boyfriend, and some cousins, uncles, and aunts gathered at the fireplace, sipping tea and warming themselves.

His father, James, immediately stood up from his rocker and went to his son. The semi-circle they formed at the fireplace scattered as Emma and Sarah came to Tom to give him the warmest of hugs and the brightest of smiles. The children, along with the first three that greeted them at the front porch, flocked over them while Tom greeted each and everyone Happy Christmas. Charlie stood beside the tall and elegantly decorated Christmas tree that mightily held its place at the corner of the house. He only observed them for a minute, he didn’t wanted Tom to bother with him; he wanted Tom to savor the moment of being home again.

I’ll be here. Just please, enjoy it, Tom. I’ll be okay here. You’ve been kind enough to let me come with you. Charlie thought.

Then, Charlie, who is that time distracted by the glittering things hanging at the Christmas tree, suddenly felt Tom’s hands reach for his shoulder and pull him closer.

“Everybody, this is my trainer, Charlie Go. He’s also part of the stunt team and damned good martial artist,” Tom huffed jovially that Charlie wished he didn’t blush.

Everyone waved at him and even shook his hand, then Tom spoke again, “He couldn’t go home to L.A. to spend Christmas with his family, so, he’s going to spend it with us.”

Charlie tried to smile instead of cringe, because he didn’t want to hear their pity for his situation but, he only heard positive responses and agreement to Tom’s words. The convulsing warmth of joy tried to get out of Charlie’s chest when he now realized that he is fully and endearingly welcomed by Tom’s family.

“You are most welcome here, Charlie--can I call you Charlie?” Tom’s older sister, Sarah, placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Oh sure. Thank you very much, this means a lot to me,” Charlie replied to both Sarah and Emma who are conversing with him now.

For a while, Tom left Charlie to his sisters; then he went to the kitchen where his aunt and Mum are preparing the feast that they are going to have for the evening.

“Mum, let me help you with that,“ He immediately took the heavy pot that Diane held.

Diane could see that Charlie is now caught in a good conversation with Tom’s Dad, uncles, brother-in-law, and Emma’s boyfriend.

She turned to her son and said, “Charlie is a good looking young man," but Tom noticed how his mother stressed on the word man.

Tom chuckled, “He is. Almost all the girls on set, and even Paula’s assistant, Gwen; they all have a crush on him. I’ve got a rival to the ladies now, Mum,” He didn’t mention Ian as one of them that is obsessing over Charlie.

Diane only shook her head and remarked, “But... He looks a little bit--”

Tom spoke first, “Don’t say gay, Mum.”

Diane smiled, “I was going to say effeminate, dear. Or maybe he’s just soft-spoken.”

He shrugged, then he looked over to Charlie’s position at the living room where he is now fully engrossed with a conversation with the men, maybe he is now telling them the action sequences for the film.

Then, he heard James ask Charlie, “How old are you again, man?”

“I just turned 24 last November,” He replied cordially.

Tom paused, then he thought, He told Al Greener that he is just 19. We all know he’s just 19.

He was too deep in thought that Diane had to press her fingers into his arm, “Tom, my dear, would you be a doll and bring this to the table?”

Tom turned to his mother and took the heavy pot that contained the stuffed turkey for the main course of the dinner. For a while, he saw Charlie feel his phone vibrating through his pocket; then he stood up to excuse himself to receive that call. Charlie had to go outside and when he’s finally at the porch, he answered Lily’s call.

“Hello? Couz?” He spoke over the line but he only heard the Gosengtian family scream Merry Christmas over the phone that it made him giggle and gasp with joy. It was just the 24th there in L.A. and he is sure that all of Uncle Barty’s children and grandchildren are present for the Christmas Eve dinner.

He also heard Demi shout out, “Merry Christmas, Cha-Cha! We miss you!” before he heard Lily speak, “Oh, Cha! Merry Christmas, girl.”

“Oh, Merry Christmas, Lily. I miss you guys. How’s the **Noche Buena?”

“Of course, still so Pinoy* and Chinoy*! Papi made the egg rolls too salty,” Lily sighed then he spoke again, “So, how’s your Christmas?”

Charlie looked around and saw the snowfall over the lawn and coat everything in its path the white magical flakes that Charlie could watch forever, “It’s more than fine, Lily.”

Lily sounded a little drunk over the phone, maybe his older brother, Bobby, had just challenged him to a drinking game earlier that Charlie also knew so well.

“Why? Is Dodong there with you? And the rest of the guys of the stunt team? Oh, Dodong and his biceps and triceps...” Lily’s voice went ditzy as he started to imagine the muscular Dodong.

Charlie answered, “No, I’m not with the crew. I’m here with Tom... and his family.”

Lily, who is now at the rooftop of their house, had to straighten himself when he heard that from Charlie. He even felt like he lost the drunken feeling when Charlie mentioned Tom’s name.

“What? Couz, can you say that again? You are with Tom?” He almost shouted at the phone.

“And his family too. I couldn’t spend the Christmas with the crew; Dodong might see me there. I had no choice when Tom asked me to go with him here in Suffolk... I went with him,” Charlie looked down on his shoes then waited for Lily to speak again.

“You have to be careful, Cha! They don’t use spoon and fork for eating like us Filipinos do, or chopstick like Koreans!” Lily exaggeratedly joked over the line that made Charlie snort with laughter.

“I know, I know. They’re Europeans,” Charlie replied, still chuckling.

“But, seriously though, Cha--Be careful. Tom might be friendly with you, but don’t let him blow your cover,” Lily now sounded worried.

Charlie paused before answering; of course, he would never let Tom know of his secret, but it already has gotten too complicated when his feelings for Tom had been thrown in the mix.

“Yes, I know that, couz.”

Before he could speak again, Tom opened the door and went to Charlie, “Charlie? Dinner’s ready. Come on in.”

Charlie then bid goodbye to his cousin, “Lily, I have to go. Take care there, and Merry Christmas, girl.”

After a while, Charlie put down his phone and pushed the lock button. Tom’s eyebrow raised, “Lily? Is she a girlfriend?.”

Charlie shook his head, “No, Tom, that’s my cousin--Lily. LilyShimmers. He’s a make-up artist and he has a channel on Youtube.”

Tom remembered the make-up artist that Paula once told him about, the one she wanted to do a video with because she adored the Youtubber so much.

“Oh, I know him. He’s your cousin?”

“Yeah. From my mother’s side.”

Tom could see that Charlie is sincere, but then, they couldn’t let the dinner go cold and so, “Let’s get in. Dinner’s ready.”

Charlie only nodded with a smile, then they both got inside the house. Tom lead Charlie in the inner dining room where the whole family already sat, the food and drinks served at a very long table that almost occupied the whole room. Charlie’s eyes bulged as he saw the served stuffed turkey, Yorkshire puddings, roasted potatoes, and more than Charlie didn’t know what to call them as the dishes are British. It was not the usual Filipino Noche Buena that he is accustomed of. Tom sat at the other head of the table and a seat is reserved beside him. He pointed it out to Charlie and there he found his place.

James, who sat at the head of the table, proposed a toast, “To my son, Tom; thank you, for being home this Christmas.”

They lifted their glasses and drank the champagne, except for the children. Someone said grace and afterward, they all started to eat.

Charlie only followed what Tom ate as he didn’t know what to take first. Then, an aunt of Tom’s asked Charlie, “Is this your first time spending Christmas here in Suffolk?”

Charlie kindly replied, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Another one of Tom’s aunts asked Charlie, “I guess a girlfriend is missing you right now.”

Charlie smiled, “No, Ma’am. I don’t have a girlfriend right now. And I never had one.”

The women at the table looked at Charlie; there are two truths in what he had just said, the first one is that he didn’t really have a girlfriend all his life because as Charlene, he is a straight woman; then the second truth, he never had any relationships all his life.

“Tom, dear, you have to find Charlie a girlfriend. As a friend’s courtesy,” Diane remarked.

Tom only chuckled after gulping down the turkey he had just chewed, “I don’t know, Mum. I guess it’s up to Charlie because I don’t even know what’s his type.”

Charlie threw a surprised look at Tom. He doesn’t know if Tom is implying that he is gay or if he is really just being honest that he has no idea what Charlie prefers. Tom, who started eating again, actually means the former. The only thing that he knows about Charlie when it comes to his love life is that Ian had found a place in it and Ian’s more than willing to make a mark on it. Once again, not that he needed to stuck his nose up in their business, but he still doesn’t approve of Ian’s behavior and motives.

The dinner continued until 8 o’clock. After the dessert was served, Tom’s sisters and cousins had enticed him and Charlie for a drinking session at a local pub not far from their home. The younger members of the family, along with Charlie, went outside, while the elders and the children stayed at home.

Charlie still wore the hoodie that Ian gave him, but he had forgotten to pack a scarf. They were already at the porch, waiting for Tom to come out. All of them in the group, Tom, his sisters, and their beaus, and their cousins are completely dressed for the cold weather, but Charlie was not. When Tom saw Charlie only wearing a hoodie, he paused, “Charlie, you’ll freeze to death only wearing that.”

Charlie, who tried not to let his chatter while he spoke, “No! I’m okay.”

Tom didn’t believe him, and so, he went inside the house again and rummaged through the paper bags of gifts he had brought for his family. He searched for the gift he had wrapped for Paula.

Tom wanted to give that to her if he had persuaded her to come with him there in Aldeburgh, and he failed at that. He ripped the wrappings and it revealed a thick, long red scarf.

This would do. He thought.

When he came out, he handed the scarf to Charlie, “I was supposed to give that to Paula--but anyways, it’s yours now,” Tom explained.

Charlie initially didn’t want to accept it because it was meant for another person, but Tom gave it to him, and it was enough to accept it. He drew back the cover of his hoodie to put the scarf on his neck. Charlie spent a snowless and warm Christmas in the Philippines back then, that now, he has quite forgotten how to put on a scarf properly.

Tom, felt anxious when Charlie fumbled with the length of the scarf, and so, he helped him, “Here, let me.”

Emma and Sarah only watched as Tom towered over Charlie while he placed the red scarf on his neck. If Charlie weren’t a guy (in their eyes at least), they would’ve thought that Tom cares for Charlie.

Charlie tried not to let the evidence of his embarrassment appear on his face after Tom had just wrapped the scarf on his neck.

“Let’s go,” Tom finally said and they started to walk to the pub.

They all sat at a long table that is situated over the brick wall of the pub. All of them had beers as their drinks, Tom sat opposite Charlie at that time. Tom’s cousin, stood up to take selfies and group pictures. They posed as comically as they could and Charlie was no exception to it.

Then, to spice up the drinking session, one of them proposed to have a game of something like Never Have I Ever. A strong drink was ordered, the pub’s best bottle of Vodka--a Smirnoff.

Charlie, who can already feel the effects of the beer, agreed to the drinking game. The Smirnoff was opened and they can already smell the distinct scent of the liquor. For the sake of the game, the vodka would be drunk straight but in a shot glass only.

“Here’s goes the game; each one of us would be asked by questions that can only be answered by yes or no, and to answer is to drink,” Emma explained as all of them are now giggling and excited for the drinking game.

“But, what would happen if you don’t want to answer?” Tom asked aloud to his sister who sat at the other end of the table. He only asked that for fun but he already knows what will happen.

“You have to do a dare,” Emma shot a knowing look at each and everyone at the table to which it was met with a cheer.

Charlie suddenly felt that he wanted to be out of it, but, he didn’t want to look disrespectful; they already took him in for dinner, and perhaps a drinking game won’t hurt. The game started with Sarah’s husband, that will go around that will end with Charlie. Each question became more and more embarrassing at every turn; some drank to say yes, while others who don’t want to answer had paid a price.

When it was Tom’s turn, he was asked by Emma’s boyfriend, “Do you still think about Taylor Swift?”

Tom let out a sigh, then, his thin lips curled into a smile. They were all waiting for him to answer, even Charlie. He threw back the vodka into his mouth and all of them jeered and laughed at Tom.

He held out his hands, “Hey, I do think of her sometimes. But, all I can think about now is Paula.”

Finally, it was Charlie’s turn, this time, it was Emma who asked the question, “Are you still a virgin?”

If he was Charlene at that moment, he might have laughed loudly and refused to answer that kind of question; but he is Charlie right now, and he only had a tight smile on his face and he tried to look composed but not shy. Charlie took the shot glass full to the brim of vodka on his fingers, and he also downed the shot glass in one gulp. He felt the warm surge of the liquor go down his throat and warm up his chest, he had forgotten how strong vodka is.

Before he could pass the shot glass to the next person, another cousin of Tom asked Charlie, “You must like someone, though.”

Charlie didn’t want to answer that, but he is not sure if it’s the vodka that gave him the strength to say, “Yes, I do. But I’m not hoping for any chance that one day he would notice me.

For a moment, Charlie wanted to slap himself on the face for letting that slip out. They all froze as they heard that directly from Charlie; it’s a he that he is pining for. Tom also head that, and at that time, he finally concluded that Charlie is gay and he might also like Ian. But there, was something off with what Charlie had just said, that his crush might not even feel the same way as he does.

“Okaay... So who’s turn is it now?” Sarah tried to break the ice again as all of them fell quiet after Charlie had just declared something like that.

The game continued, but Tom watched Charlie (who had backed out of the game.) He doesn’t mind if his friend is gay, but somehow, he felt that Charlie is hiding something greater than his own sexuality.

They both caught each other’s glances, his blue eyes seeing through his brown eyes. Charlie felt helpless over Tom’s gaze. If only he could outright tell Tom who he meant when he answered that, he wondered how Tom would react to it. He looked away and pretended to laugh with them as the game rolled on again. Tom had his gaze fixed on Charlie and he could feel Tom’s eyes.

Don’t let him blow your cover. Lily’s words echoed to Charlie’s ears.

Somehow, there was a part of that wished that he shouldn’t have gone with Tom. His feelings for Tom is what would bring his secret purpose down to the ground, and probably all of his efforts in disguising himself would just be in vain.

Around dawn, they all went back home drunk and laughing. But Charlie had chosen to isolate himself a little from the group. When they arrived at the house, all of them had settled fast into the rooms to finally lay down and sleep. Tom, who is just mildly drunk had chosen to go to bed but he had forgotten about Charlie who at that time had only taken a blanket and his pack to lie down beside the fireplace. But, with all the drinks Charlie had, he lay awake near the fireplace as he observed the fire crackle and the flames dance over the logs.

Why did you have to say that? Now they’ll think you’re gay. But Tom... It’s either he’ll figure it out or just think that I am a gay man. The thoughts swirled up and down in Charlie’s mind, making him more dazed than the vodka he had just taken.

The daylight had started to shot through the windows and curtains. Charlie turned to the grandfather clock that is situated near the corner that leads to the stairs. It just ticked 6 o’clock. When he was just observing the clock, he saw legs come down by the stairs; long legs that belong to Tom.

They both looked at each other but Tom grimaced, “Blast it, I forgot to let you use one of the rooms!” he harshly brushed a hand from his forehead to his hair.

Charlie sat up, “No it’s all right. I wanted to be here.”

Tom only clicked his tongue, blaming himself for not treating his guest right.

“If you still wanted to sleep, you could use my room. I’m going out, actually,” Tom pointed upstairs.

“I can’t. I don’t really feel like sleeping, anyway,” Charlie explained.

Tom then took steps toward him, “Do you fancy taking a walk to the beach?”

Charlie smiled slowly, a walk on the beach is not at all awful and it might shake things off of his mind, “Sure.”

They went out, Tom had a thick jacket on and a scarf while Charlie, he still wore the hoodie from Ian and the scarf from Tom. The two men that he is crushing on right now and he is wearing something that came from them. They walked near Aldeburgh Beach, the snow still fell slowly over the shores, but at least the faint glow of the sun is starting to rise beneath the white puffy clouds.

Tom breathed in the cold sea breeze into his nose, something he always loved to do. Then he turned his eyes to Charlie who is looking far away at a flower shop at the end corner where the boulevard ends.

“What are you looking at?”

Charlie brushed off his bangs from his face, his short hair is already growing long and he will be needing a haircut soon if he wants to keep his disguise.

“The flower shop. I remember my mother, as early as 5 o’clock; she already had set up the flowers that she would sell. She used to peddle roses at Chinatown; that’s how she met my father.” The way Charlie say it made Tom feel the same reminiscent feeling that Charlie has.

Tom picked up a pebble at the snowy shore and held it in his hand, “To think of it, you never told anyone about yourself. Not even the fact that you are already 24 when I know you’re just 19.”

Charlie felt the stab of panic in his chest when Tom said that, he must’ve heard him when James asked him last night.

“There are a lot of things that I haven’t been honest with,” Charlie was just a few words shy of his cover being revealed to Tom.

“Anyways, how did your father met your mother?” Tom wanted to know more about the tale Charlie had left open for him.

“My mother’s name was Rosanna Gosengtian. She lived in Manila most of her life; taking all kinds of jobs to support her family. One time, when she was peddling roses in Chinatown on a Valentine’s Day; my father, Bo-Gyeong saw her.”

Charlie swished the snow below his soles and smiled, “My father, came all the way from Seoul to the Philippines to study English because it’s cheaper there. But he never knew that he would meet the love of his life in Manila.”

Tom motioned to them to sit in a raised wall that separates the road and the beach. They sat beside each other so close that Charlie could feel Tom’s strong knees touching his own.

“Where are they now?” Tom asked again, they both now face the gray and icing open sea.

Charlie looked down on his lap, “I’m an orphan now. Mama died when I was just 4--Kidney failure. Then Appa last year--Pneumonia. Diseases that takes hard working people’s lives.”

Tom felt the sudden silence to be a blanket of sadness that had just been draped over them. Tom thought, maybe the reason why Charlie don’t talk that much about himself is that everything about him is too painful to talk about. But, he admired Charlie. Being all alone yet he could hide it so well has amazed Tom because it only meant that he is resilient enough to face this world’s challenges.

“I’m sorry, man,” Then he put a warm hand over Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie, for a while, forgot his silly feelings for Tom and felt that his touch was someone a friend would give.

“Thank you, Tom. But, hey, I still have my extended family. I live with them now in L.A.,” Charlie now sounded cheerful.

Tom felt himself smiling when Charlie did. But when Charlie looked over to Tom’s face, the same glow he had when they are on their way there to Aldeburgh, surfaced again; and for Charlie, Tom had never looked so wonderful and resplendent to his eyes now that he is seeing this side of him. Once again, his crush for Tom had crept up again in his chest that made his heart pound. If only he could set aside his feelings for Tom, he would.

Tom, placed down his hand and started to form a question in his mind. He just wanted to ask Charlie and clarify everything, “Charlie? Can I ask you something? I hope it won’t offend you...”

Charlie nodded, “Sure.”

Tom let the words slip, “Are you really... Gay?”

Charlie immediately knew that Tom is curious, and maybe also because of what he just said at the pub had caught Tom’s attention.

“You already said that I might be gay for Ian, back at the hotel, remember?” Charlie quipped.

Tom tried to let out a laugh but he couldn’t, then Charlie said, “Does gender have to matter when it comes to love?”

For a long moment, they didn’t spoke. They just faced again the gray winter sea and let the quietness shroud them. It was a vague thing that Charlie had just said, but Tom knows that it’s the answer that had satisfied his curiosity. But, all the more, it added up to list of things he admires from Charlie. He believes in true love, he stays strong even though he is an orphan; he’s not afraid to let his thoughts be known, and he helps a friend (Julian) in the matters of love.

Tom then pondered, he had admired a lot of people all his life, but never this way with Charlie. He believes that he is fond of Charlie and the way he is.

But I do hope it’s just admiration. He quietly thought to himself.

The sound of waves breaking down the shore was the only thing they could hear right now. Charlie didn’t speak as he wanted to relish the moment with Tom.

If only he knew, that’s what Tom also wanted; to sit quietly beside him.

---

*Pinoy/Chinoy: Demonyms of Filipino and Filipino-Chinese

**Noche Buena: Dinner that Filipinos have during Christmas Eve

#my fanfics #tom hiddleston #AU!Actor Tom #hiddlestoner #thfrustration #thfrustration submission #jessica as Charlie/Charlene #fanfic #fanfiction